I woke up tangled in a cocoon of pillows and blankets, one leg half-hung off the edge of the bed, the other wedged under a body pillow. My chest rose and fell with a long, quiet exhale. Sunlight was already slipping through the curtains I'd forgotten to close last night fully. A soft golden beam stretched across the floor, brushing over my desk, my cosplay tools scattered there, and the corner of my mirror.
I sat up slowly, blinking against the light as the blanket slid off my chest. My breasts were out in the open, soft and round, rising with each breath. Sam would've made some cheeky comment if she walked in. "Birthday girl, huh? Trying to seduce me again?" she'd say, with that dumb grin of hers. I'd have signed something sarcastic back while turning red all the way to my ears.
I gave a lazy stretch, arms overhead, spine cracking in three places. My boobs lifted with the motion, nipples brushing the hot summer air. My body wasn't perfect; my thighs touched, a my belly with a soft squish, which went over my pants a tiny bit. I looked okay. Sam called me a "snack." I didn't agree… but I didn't correct her either.
I padded over to the mirror on bare feet. The wood was cool under my soles. When I stopped in front of the glass, I took a long, full look at myself. Bright red hair dyed last night, with Sam cackling like a gremlin behind me, now cascaded messily down my back. My blue eyes looked tired but excited. My face was a bit puffy, cheeks naturally round. Naked from the waist up, I saw every soft curve, every stretch mark, every little roll. And I smiled.
Today was my birthday. I turned, bending over slightly to grab the blue skirt from my chair. I tugged on a panties, smoothing them out with a palm before sliding the skirt on. It fit snug around my waist, the frills bouncing slightly as I walked back toward the bed to grab my bra, shirt and chest piece.
After putting on my bra and shirt, the foam armor went on next. It took a bit of effort, had to pull the sides together and fasten them with Velcro. The yellow cross sat square in the center, bold against the deep grey. Right below it was the red fairy emblem I'd painted with trembling hands at 3 a.m., nearly ruining it twice from panic.
The foam around the collar was still scratchy. I adjusted it, then adjusted it again. Didn't matter, though, as it always itched. I gave up and ran my hand down from my neck, over the curve of my belly. My thighs shifted with each breath, pushing gently against the skirt's lining.
I bent over again, this time tugging on my black boots. The tightness around my calves was kind of comforting. I stood up fully and flexed a little in the mirror. Boots, gloves, foam armor, red hair, sunlight… I brushed a few strands of hair over my ear. My silver earring caught the sun just right. My heart thumped. I pressed a hand gently over the fairy symbol. I checked my phone: 7:23 a.m. Sam would be here soon.
I stepped away from the mirror, boots clunking softly against the floor. I reached for the knife on the dresser, just a plain one from the kitchen drawer. And I walked over to the doorframe. I leaned my back against the wood, standing as straight as I could manage. Then, with a flick of the wrist and a little upward stretch, I dug the tip of the knife into the frame just above my head. *Thunk.*
I stepped back and lowered the knife, then I placed it back on the nightstand. I mean, maybe I was cheating cause I was weird boots, but not like I cared. Right beside the doorframe, the old height chart still clung to the wall. Faded wallpaper, rockets, and cartoon stars, something my dad had put up when I was still tiny.
My fingers found the fresh cut, traced over it slowly, then down. Eighteen little lines. All carved by me. Some were uneven, a few were crooked, but they were mine. I stopped at the newest one, a bit higher than the last.
**154 cm.**
A smug grin tugged at my lips. I hadn't grown much, but hey, upward progress is upward progress. I turned away from the wall and grabbed my small black notebook from the drawer. It was already open to the latest page. I picked up the pen tucked into the spine and leaned over the desk, scribbling quickly but neatly.
**July 12
Weight: 60kg
Measurements: 91 – 70 – 93**
I stared at the numbers for a moment. The doctor liked it when I kept records. Said it helped her track things over time. Still not happy about my waist, but Sam said I'm perfect. Liar. I closed the notebook and slid it back into the drawer. My fingers lingered on the edge of the wood for a second longer than they needed to. Then I shut it gently and checked my phone again.
**7:39 a.m.**
Crap. Sam was probably already speeding down the street like she was auditioning for Fast & Furious: Nerd Edition. I still needed to grab my bag. I pulled it off the hook beside the dresser and slung it over my shoulder. In the kitchen, I quickly snatched two water bottles from the fridge and stuffed them into the side pockets of the bag. Then a small pouch of snacks—mostly energy bars, one emergency chocolate, and a crinkled pack of gum. Convention survival kit, basically.
Before heading to the door, I turned toward the photo on the kitchen shelf, the one frame that never collected dust. Mom, mid-laugh, with her eyes squinting the way they always did when she couldn't stop smiling. Dad was standing beside her, grinning like he'd just said something cheesy and was proud of it. His arm was around her shoulders. Her head was tilted toward him. They looked like the kind of happy people that only existed in movies.
I stood there for a moment. Then I reached into the fridge and pulled out the tray I'd prepped last night. Neatly sliced strawberries, melon, and little segments of peeled orange. Their favorites. I placed it carefully in front of the frame. For a second, I just… stood there. Staring at the picture. I bowed my head low. A few stray drops fell to the floor, tears I didn't try to wipe away just yet.
I straightened up slowly, wiping my cheeks on the inside of my glove. My fingers were clumsy in the foam, but I got the job done. A smile tugged at my lips, tired and crooked. I raised both hands, slowly, and signed:
"Mother. Father. I'm heading out now."
Then I gave one final bow. I turned and walked to the front door. Keys, bag, phone, all checked again, even though I'd already checked twice. Then I pulled the door open. The heat of the day rolled in like a soft, familiar hug. I stepped outside, locking the door behind me, and dropped down onto the front steps.
The stone was already sun-warmed. My skirt fanned gently around my thighs as I sat, resting my arms on my knees. The bag settled between my legs. Across the street, someone was watering their plants. A dog barked in the distance. Car tires rolled by slowly and smoothly.
I breathed it in. The quiet hum of life, the rustling leaves above. The breeze tugs lightly at the frills of my skirt. The way the shade from the tree out front dappled everything in little patches of light. It felt peaceful. I wasn't usually outside this early. Especially not like this.
I kept my eyes down. A couple of people walked past. One of them slowed, and I saw the corner of their glance out of the corner of mine. Their expression flickered: surprise, amusement, curiosity. My cheeks burned.
I hugged my knees a little closer, glancing up just enough to watch them walk on. I didn't blame them. If I saw someone dressed like this sitting on a front step, I'd probably stare too. It made something flutter awkwardly in my chest. I was just starting to doubt whether waiting outside had been a good idea when it happened.
"HOOONK!"
The horn blared out like an airhorn in a funeral, loud and completely unnecessary. I jolted hard enough to nearly roll off the step. My head snapped up, and there she was. Sam. Leaning out the open driver's side window of her tiny silver Mini Cooper, grinning.
Her laugh came next, wheezing, contagious, and unrepentant. She waved at me, still cracking up. "Sorry, Aiko! I had to!" she called, then reached across to pop the passenger door open from the inside. I stared at her for a second, blinking slowly, then gave her my best death glare. Not that it ever worked on her.
Still red-faced, I stood, dusted off my thighs, and marched over to the car. I tossed my bag into the back seat and slid into the passenger side with an exaggerated sigh. Sam was still giggling under her breath as I slammed the door shut. She looked over at me and wiggled her eyebrows. "God, you really are adorable when you're mad."
I rolled my eyes and lifted my hands to sign. "That was such a dick move. I nearly had a heart attack." She cackled even harder. And just like that, the anxiety melted a little. I didn't even bother buckling in at first. I just stared at her. Sam had one hand on the wheel, the other still wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. Her blonde curls were pulled into a messy half-bun, and she was wearing that smug expression she always got when she knew I couldn't stay mad at her for long. Which, unfortunately, was most of the time.
Her tank top was slightly rumpled, and the Wendy cosplay jacket tied around her waist flared out over the seat. She'd pulled it together last minute, of course. Sam never planned. She just winged things and somehow always landed on her feet, usually with a dumb grin and a crowd of new friends she forgot to text back.
I sighed through my nose, leaning back in the seat and lifting my hands again. "You're the worst."
She smirked. "You love me for it, admit it." I shook my head, but my lips twitched. She tapped the screen on the dashboard and put on one of our shared playlists. Some mix of anime openings, JRPG battle themes, and whatever upbeat pop she insisted wasn't cringe, even though it absolutely was.
"Also, why didn't you use the voice app?" she said, eyes flicking to the road as we pulled off the curb. "I thought we were gonna practice that." I pulled out my phone, thumbs tapping fast.
["Habits die hard, I guess."]
The app spoke in its soft robotic tone, and Sam gave a small shrug. "Still sounds better than that weird translator guy from Star Wars." I typed fast.
["Eat my entire armored ass, Sam."]
"Wow," she said with a mock gasp. "You're spicy today. Don't threaten me with a good time?"
I didn't reply. I just stuck my tongue out. She grinned wider and hit the gas. The Mini Cooper took off with a quiet rumble and a shaky panel that always made her car smell a little like burnt plastic. Her "baby," as she called it, even though the passenger-side mirror was taped on with something suspiciously close to electrical tape.
The early morning sunlight stretched across the highway, making the windshield glow gold. We settled into a steady rhythm, her humming off-key, me scrolling on my phone, pretending not to peek at the GPS. It would take around an hour to get there…
"So," she said, about twenty minutes in, "do I get Best Friend points for dragging your sexy ass out of the house today?"
I nodded once, reluctantly. "Good. Because I'm charging five bucks per compliment at the con and I need emotional backup."
I glanced over. She pulled into a rest stop parking lot and reached back to fix her hair. I leaned forward to help, smoothing down the front and re-centering the headband.
"Thanks," she muttered, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel while I adjusted the pins. "By the way, if anyone hits on you today, just blink twice and I'll body block."
I tilted my head and signed lazily:
"You'll body slam them."
She grinned wide. "Obviously." The GPS chirped something about a freeway junction, but neither of us really listened. We were already deep into a conversation about which Final Fantasy class we'd main in real life. Sam said Dragoon. I gave her a flat look and typed:
["You'd jump off a roof by accident in the first five minutes."]
"Fair. But I'd look amazing doing it." By the time we got close to the city, we'd already run through a list of favorite anime betrayals, ranked every major food stall at last year's con, and made a solemn pact to not spend more than forty bucks in the dealer's room. Which, obviously, meant we were going to spend at least a hundred.
It wasn't until we hit the downtown exit that Sam let out a groan. "Ugh. Parking's gonna suck, isn't it?"
I pulled out my phone, tapped quickly:
["You know it is. Doesn't matter if we had come early."]
"Accurate," she muttered.
It took almost thirty more minutes just to find a space. Every lot was full, or had cones, or angry people waving us away like we were trying to rob their spot. But eventually, somehow, she found a narrow parallel spot two blocks away from the convention center.
"I'm amazing," she whispered.
"You're reckless," I signed. "And lucky."
We grabbed our bags and stepped out into the noise of the street. Cosplayers were already walking around, some in full gear, others just in wigs and hoodies. Sam swung her arm around my shoulders.
"You ready, Red?"
I looked over at her. That big dumb grin. That radiating confidence I couldn't borrow, but always admired. I nodded once. The moment we stepped through the doors of the convention center. There were so many bodies. So many voices. A burst of air-conditioned relief welcomed us from outside.
I tugged my bag tighter across my shoulder, trying not to let the sheer number of people overwhelm me. My boots thudded heavily across the tiled floor. Foam armor creaked with each step. A group of teens dressed as demon slayers passed us on the left, and one of them did a double-take at me. Then a thumbs up.
My cheeks warmed instantly. I signed a quick "Thanks," unsure if they saw it or if they understood. Sam caught it, though. She leaned in, smug. "Told you. You're hot stuff in foam."
I rolled my eyes and gave her a playful shove. She responded by grabbing my arm and dragging me toward an open hallway with banners overhead. "Photo corner first," she said. "That lighting? Chef's kiss. Also, we need bait."
I tilted my head. Bait? Sam turned, winked, and pulled a small sign from her tote bag that she must've made without telling me. In bold, glittery pink letters:
"$5 FOR A PHOTO WITH THE BIRTHDAY KNIGHT"
And under it:
(Proceeds go to Pocky and impulse buys.)
I facepalmed. "You will love it," she said sweetly. And to my surprise… I didn't hate it. Actually, the first few people came up within minutes. Most asked Sam first, but she'd point to me and say, "She's the star today." I struck stiff poses at first, arms at my sides, trying to look cool. Thankfully, Sam started coaching me like some kind of chaotic gremlin director. "Tilt your head! Sword pose! Look fierce!"
I hated how good she was at making me laugh without making a sound. More people kept coming. A few gave compliments; one guy said my armor looked "cleaner than some of the pros." One girl asked if I was Erza from Fairy Tail. I typed into my phone and showed her:
["Erza Scarlet. Armored Heart Kreuz variant. It's my first time cosplaying."]
She squealed. "No way! You nailed it!" And just like that, some of the anxiety I'd been carrying all morning melted away. I stood a little taller. Smiled a little easier. Sam made sure we didn't spend a single cent in the first hour. All the photo money, every time she passed me a five, she did it like we were criminals exchanging drugs, but super poorly. "Your cut, partner," she whispered dramatically, stuffing bills in my bag. I couldn't help but laugh.
We found a quiet corner inside with working air conditioning and collapsed onto a bench. I unscrewed my water bottle and took a long drink, the cool plastic comforting in my gloved hands.
Sam stuck out her hand expectantly. I raised a brow. "What? I'm thirsty too." I reached into my bag for the spare bottle, but as I fished around, she just snatched the one I was holding and took a sip without asking. I blinked at her.
She finished the last half of it in one go, licking her lips, and gave me a cheeky grin. "Too slow, short stack." She stuck out her tongue and shrugged. "Oops. Birthday tax."
I resisted the urge to throw the bottle at her. After rehydrating and eating a protein bar that tasted vaguely like apple, we decided to do some light shopping. I say "light," but within ten minutes, Sam was already trying to justify a third yuri manga bundle to me by mouthing "it's for the culture."
We took our time browsing booth after booth, art prints, plushies, keychains, stickers, pins. I caught myself staring at one vendor's resin statues way longer than I should've. I didn't even like the franchise. I just liked how detailed the sculpting was.
Eventually, Sam grinned and nudged me. "Ready for the good stuff?" I blinked. Then frowned. She gestured dramatically toward a roped-off hallway covered in bold red letters:
18+ SECTION — I.D. REQUIRED
I gave her a flat look. "What?" she said. "They've got the weirdest merch back there. Some of it's literally cursed or the best things here. You have to see it."
I signed: "I'm not buying a dildo shaped like a dragon tail."
She burst into laughter so hard she had to lean on me for balance. "I mean, maybe a strap would be better."
I sighed and showed my ID to the staff at the entrance. Inside, the air changed, a little warmer, a little… sweatier. Tables were lined with statues in suggestive poses, body pillows, lewd keychains, and acrylics.
Sam was already flipping through a manga bin, her expression one of pure academic focus. I wandered a few feet away, pretending not to stare at the… questionable figures on the display shelves. Some of them were downright beautiful. Others… horrifying but strangely hot.
That was when I noticed something. A flicker of movement. A gentle sprinkle of… dust? I frowned. Something grey was falling from the ceiling. Just a faint trickle at first, like powdered chalk. I looked over and saw it landing on Sam's head. I tilted my chin up and followed the trail to its source.
Above her… a beam. Bent. Cracked. Barely holding, and my stomach dropped. I didn't think. I just moved, and I shoved her hard. Sam barely had time to blink before the beam snapped with a deep, awful crack above us. Something slammed down on me; it had to be that beam. My body hit the ground with brutal weight, face-first into the floor. My cheek smacked tile, and a cold jolt shot up my jaw. For a second, everything was soundless. I couldn't move. I tried, tried to shift my legs. Nothing. My arms twitched, useless. I couldn't even feel the toes anymore.
There were voices, blurry, garbled, like they were coming from inside a paper bag. People shouting. A man yelled for someone to call for help as he and a bunch of other men removed the beam from my back. I felt pressure leave, and then gentle hands, shaking, trying not to hurt me more.
Her face hovered just above mine. Her eyes were wide, frantic, rimmed red with panic. She was saying something. Fast. Over and over. I couldn't catch any of it. Just the shape of her mouth, the desperation in her breath, the way her hands trembled as they cupped the side of my face. Her lips formed my name again and again.
I blinked slowly. Tried to smile. She was safe. That's what mattered. My eyelids felt heavy. My heartbeat slowed in my ears, slow, steady thumps slowing down. I didn't want to close my eyes, but my body was doing things without me now. Her lips formed different words.
Three of them. Words I'd never seen her mouth before.
"I love you."
My breath hitched. She said it again, slower this time, like she needed me to understand. "I love you, you idiot. That's why—why I always...."
Her voice cracked mid-sentence. She broke down beside me, pressing her forehead against mine. I could feel her shaking. "You can't die, Aiko. You can't. Because I love you. And I never told you. Not once. Because I thought it would scare you off."
Tears hit my cheeks. "You never saw it, did you?" she whispered. "All those times your mom teased us. All the jokes your dad made. They knew. They knew the moment we had our first sleepover. And you just—God, how were you so dense?"
I wanted to laugh. Even with a broken body, I wanted to laugh and cry and tell her I didn't know. I really didn't. I thought it was just teasing. Just… them being my normal parents. I'd never even thought she might—
And now here she was. Confessing. Crying. Holding me. I tried to raise my hand. Just a little. Anything to touch her back, to squeeze her wrist, to tell her I understood now. That I remembered every sleepover. Every gentle brush of her hand that lingered longer than it should've. Every time she looked at me like I hung the damn moon, and I just assumed it was friendship.
Was I really that clueless? Yes, yes, I was. And now… I couldn't even figure out how I felt. Sam was still talking. Still crying. Her hands were holding my face. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave her like this. Not with the truth finally out. Not with this ache blooming in my chest, full of everything I hadn't realized I'd wanted. I can't leave her. Please, if there is a god, please don't separate us. All that remained was her.