Work Text:
Late afternoon sunlight shone through Gojo’s curtains, gold spreading across the small desk where Wakana sat hunched over. The laptop glowed quietly before him. Photos filled the screen. Hundreds of them.
Shinju had sent the full set that morning, neatly organized in folders. Wakana only meant to review the costumes’ quality. That was nearly two hours ago, and he hadn’t moved since. On his computer screen, Marin stood beneath falling cherry blossoms. The Izumo costume’s sleeves fluttered in the breeze, ribbons floating gently around her arms. Sunlight had caught in the pink wig.
Shinju had captured the moment perfectly. Wakana leaned in, heart tugging sharply. “She looks… incredible,” he murmured, something tugging unexpectedly in his chest.
He straightened up in his chair. Not she. The costume looked incredible. He forced himself to focus. Costume structure. Fabric movement. Lighting balance. He clicked to the next photo. Marin was laughing mid-pose. The sleeves had drifted around her as she turned, clearly breaking character for a moment. The expression was bright, completely unrestrained.
Wakana paused. That hadn’t been planned. He remembered: Shinju commented on the wind. Marin tried to pose, but a petal landed on her nose.
She’d burst out laughing. Shinju had taken the photo anyway. Wakana stared at it, his heartbeat racing despite himself. The costume looked good. But what pierced him was her, the wild delight in her eyes. He clicked on another folder.
Hina Photoshoot.
Marin stood in the elaborate kimono he’d assembled. Traditional layers flowed, the colors echoing the hina doll he’d made. Some photos showed her poised and elegant; in others, she couldn’t stop smiling.
Wakana felt warmth rise in his chest. “That project was difficult,” he said softly.
But the result was worth it. He clicked again, and the third folder opened.
Enobu Matsuyama - Self-Made Cosplay
Marin posed dramatically in the outfit she made. One sleeve was shorter, and the hemline was uneven. Yet in every photo, her smile was impossibly proud.
Wakana felt his breath hitch, something warm tightening in his chest. He slumped back, stunned by the pride growing inside him, edged with a delicate ache that left him reeling.
He thought of the day she showed him, nervous and excited, pretending not to care about his opinion. Wakana rubbed his temples. Something seemed off.
All the photos blurred together: Hina doll, cherry blossoms, crooked cosplay. Different costumes, same person.
Marin laughing. Marin concentrating. Marin excitedly explaining the character details. Marin leaned too close to the camera to check the photos. Marin spun in new costumes just to see how the fabric moved.
Wakana exhaled slowly. “…Kitagawa is amazing.”
He realized, with a start, that his thoughts hadn’t been focused on cosplay at all. His brain raced. Why am I so drawn to these photos? What is it I keep coming back for? He paused, awareness slowly dawning.
He clicked through more images. Marin smiling, posing, concentrating, looking embarrassed after Shinju’s compliment.
His chest tightened, warmth flooding him. A fragile thought surfaced, trembling and urgent: When did I start looking forward to seeing her this much? Wakana froze, pulse racing, fixated on the lit screen. Marin was looking directly at the camera. Her smile was bright, her aura was warm, and she was alive with emotion.
His heart skipped. “Ah...”
The realization landed quietly. He worked tirelessly because he kept seeing her in his memory. Every project felt brighter because of her. It wasn’t just the work, the sewing, and the fabrics. Those still mattered, but looking back…
That wasn’t why he kept returning. Marin under cherry blossoms, sleeves moving in the wind. He stared, hands lowered to the desk.
“…I…”
The word slipped. Wakana pressed both hands over his face, cheeks burning, heart beating so violently it rang in his ears. Panic and confusion rushed through him. Images flashed through his mind in quick bursts. Marin leaned across the workbench, eyes beaming while she talked about characters. She spun excitedly in a finished costume. Marin laughed when something went wrong during a photoshoot. Every memory appeared unusually bright. Too bright.
Wakana lowered his hands again and stared blankly at the laptop screen. “No, wait…”
He tried to steady his breath, but a warm ache twisted in his chest, restless and raw. It had been there all along; he’d just refused to face it. Each of Marin’s smiles shifted something inside him; each compliment left an imprint that remained long after she was gone, and each time she leaned in close, his thoughts scattered completely. “…That means…”
The thought hovered just out of reach. For the first time, he feared finishing it. His brain stopped. A knock sounded at the door. “Wakana?”
His grandfather’s voice drifted in from the hallway. Wakana jolted upright. “Yes?!”
“You’ve been quiet for a while,” Kaoru said. “Everything alright?”
Wakana gazed at the screen again. Marin’s photo filled it. His face turned red instantly. “Yes!”
“You sound very loud for someone who is alright.”
“I’m fine!”
Kaoru laughed. “Well, Marin called earlier.”
Wakana froze. “Eh?”
“She said she’s finished organizing the photos that Shinju sent her. She wanted to show them to you.”
Wakana turned to the laptop. The folders were open. “Yes… the photos. I see.”
“She sounded very excited,” Kaoru said.
Wakana swallowed. “Yes... she usually is.”
“Are you going to meet her?” Kaoru asked.
Wakana stared at Marin’s smiling face on the screen. His chest thumped. “Yes, I am.”
The café near the station was alive with its usual crowd. Marin sat by the window, grinning at her phone, bouncing in her seat. Wakana entered, and she immediately waved both arms theatrically. "Gojo! Over here!”
Wakana smiled and hurried over. “Kitagawa!”
Marin smiled widely. “I got all the photos from Shinju! Look!” The screen was filled with images of cherry blossom shoots. Marin leaned in, excited. “This one's my favorite!”
Their shoulders nearly touched. Wakana went rigid, warmth sweeping across him like a wave. Marin’s gaze caught his, unguarded and dazzling.
“Well?” she asked, smiling gently. Cherry blossoms. Soft sleeves. Marin laughing.
He smiled without realizing it. “It turned out beautifully.”
Marin’s face lit up. “I knew you’d say that!” She bent closer to the phone again. “And look at this one!”
Wakana watched her scroll, a warm ache blooming in his chest. Marin was still talking about poses and lighting angles. Wakana barely heard her.
His fingers clenched slightly around the edge of the table. The earlier realization pulsed inside him. But Wakana’s thoughts were soft and vivid. I like her. The words settled quietly in his mind. Afternoon sunlight seemed to shimmer, bright and strangely hopeful.