The final jingle echoed through the convention speakers:
"Thanks for coming to Kawai Kitty Con! See you next year, nya~!"
Raito exhaled a slow breath. Mascot duty was finally over.
He had survived thugs, sweat, and an actress with sharp intuition—all in a pink cat suit.
Back in the staff room, he folded the costume carefully, each motion methodical. Every tug of the zipper, every brush of fabric back into its bag, was like sealing away a chaotic day. The suit was repaired, the voice box replaced, and the mission—more or less—complete.
"You know," Kurai drawled lazily from within his mind, "there are demons with less patience than you. You might've missed your calling as a tortured saint in pink."
"I'm not in this for sainthood," Raito muttered internally as he slipped on a black shirt. "I just wanted one peaceful day. That was clearly too much to ask."
He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and exited through the back halls, avoiding the remaining staff and last-minute autograph seekers. The crowd outside had thinned to stragglers and weary fans dragging plushies twice their size.
Yumi was easy to spot.
She stood near the curb, juggling several large Kawai Kitty shopping bags and a wriggling Emi in her arms. The toddler looked tired but happy, her eyes sparkling every time she caught sight of someone in costume.
Raito approached silently.
"Took you long enough," Yumi called as she spotted him, grinning.
He glanced around subtly. No Akemi. Good.
"Sorry," he said calmly. "There were still a few tasks to wrap up."
Yumi huffed and handed him the bags. "Here. Everything from your list. I had to wrestle a few collectors for that ultra-rare figurine, but I got it."
He took the bags with a respectful nod. "Thanks. I owe you."
"You definitely do," she said, shifting Emi on her hip. "She behaved surprisingly well. Didn't cry once."
Raito checked the baby carefully—Emi looked content, holding a small plush in her arms. Her gaze met his and she cooed softly, a sleepy little grin forming on her face.
"I guess she likes mascots," Yumi added, glancing at her. "Though I still can't believe you're a Kawai Kitty fan."
"I am," Raito said flatly, without hesitation.
Yumi blinked. "Really?"
"I like the themes. It's relaxing." He loaded the bags into his trunk.
"Somehow, I didn't expect that from you," she thought out aloud. "But hey, everyone needs their comfort shows."
Then her tone shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Oh, and by the way… something weird happened earlier."
Raito looked up, pausing.
"It's about Akemi Inoue," Yumi continued. "The voice actress of Kawai Kitty. You know her, right?"
Raito kept his expression neutral. "Just from the show."
"Well, she was found in a back hallway surrounded by unconscious men. Big ones. Security says they didn't see anyone go in or out, and she wasn't injured. Just standing there, calm as ever, like nothing happened."
Raito raised a brow, his posture calm. "Did she say what happened?"
"Nope. Wouldn't talk about it at all. Just smiled like it was a publicity stunt." Yumi folded her arms, frowning. "There's no way she beat them herself. Which means someone helped her. But she's not saying who."
Raito shrugged, loading the final bag into the car.
"I try not to worry about things outside my control," he replied. "Emi's safe. You got the merch. That's enough for me."
Yumi eyed him, clearly trying to read between the lines. "You're really don't care huh"
He gave a small, curt nod. "I hear that often."
With Emi buckled securely into her car seat and the merchandise safely packed, Raito climbed into the driver's seat. Before he pulled away, he glanced at Yumi through the window.
"Thank you again. For everything today."
"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure the costume is clean when you decide to wear it again ."
He nodded once more, then drove off down the quiet city road, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the buildings.
Yumi remained standing at the curb, watching the car vanish into the distance.
She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"That guy," she murmured, "always keeps something hidden."
The bags at her feet rustled in the breeze—bright, pink, cartoon-covered memories of a strange day. One that left more questions than answers.
Yumi exhaled again.
"…And somehow, I still trust him."
The words hung in the air longer than she expected. Her eyes widened slightly as the realization settled in.
"…Wait—what am I saying?"
A warm flush crept onto her cheeks.
She quickly shook her head, glaring down at the sidewalk as if it had personally offended her. "Get it together, Yumi," she muttered under her breath. "You're a detective, not some lovestruck schoolgirl."
The pink bags rustled again, caught in the breeze—bright, ridiculous, and strangely comforting—just like the man who left them behind.