"Sure, sure," Makoto chuckled, a warm, indulgent sound. He bought the doujinshi, the artist giving him a knowing, slightly unnerved smile.
He handed the book to Yuna, then, on a whim, reached up and patted her head, his fingers running through the soft, synthetic fibers of the Ganyu wig. "My Ganyu gets head pats, too."
Yuna's eye twitched violently. For a split second, she looked ready to bite his fingers off.
Then, inexplicably, she leaned into the touch, a soft, almost imperceptible movement, her horns bumping gently against his palm.
"…Hmph." She snatched the doujinshi, tucking it safely away.
"At least you have decent taste in art." Her cheeks were a faint, betraying shade of pink as she glared up at him. "But if you pat me like some kind of pet one more time..."
She was cut off as a group of other cosplayers passed by, their eyes lingering on the two of them, on the fresh, angry hickey peeking out from under her collar.
Yuna's expression shifted in an instant, the bratty, possessive stepsister replaced by the sweet, demure, elegant Ganyu.
But her hand, hidden from view, slid into his, her grip like a vise, her smile sharp enough to draw blood.
"Let's go, Traveler," she purred, her voice loud enough for the passing group to hear, as she dragged him away.
The moment they were out of earshot, her voice dropped back down to a familiar, venomous hiss: "And if you even think about patting another Ganyu, or a Paimon, or any other female in skimpy clothes, I will personally feed your entire bank account to my weapon banner."
Makoto just hummed happily as she dragged him through the teeming, chaotic crowd. "Fine, fine, I'll follow you."
He looked at her, at the way the convention hall lights caught the shimmer of her costume, at the determined, almost manic, energy in her stride, and a wave of pure affection washed over him. "Are you having fun, Yuna?"
Yuna stopped dead in her tracks, the crowd parting around her like a river around a boulder.
For a long, silent moment, she just stared at him, her Ganyu wig slightly askew.
"…Shut up," she muttered, but there was no real venom in it. Her fingers tightened around his.
"Of course I am, you idiot."
A beat of silence. Then, her voice softer, a raw, unguarded admission: "Even though you're embarrassing. And gross."
Suddenly, she yanked him into a side hallway, a blessedly quiet, secluded space away from the prying eyes of the crowd.
Up close, in the dim, fluorescent light, he could see the faint sheen of sweat at her temples, the way her chest was rising and falling a little too fast.
"…This has been the best con ever," she admitted in a rush, the words tumbling out as if they were being ripped from her throat.
Then, before he could even process the raw honesty of her confession, she surged up on her tiptoes, crushing her lips to his in a clumsy, desperate kiss that tasted of lemonade and dango and a shocking, overwhelming sweetness that was all her own.
She pulled back just as fast, her face a brilliant, furious shade of scarlet. "N-Now let's go before..." Her voice cracked. "...before they run out of the limited edition pins!"
And with that, she was dragging him again, her grip desperate, almost frantic.
As if she were afraid that if she let him go, the fragile, beautiful spell they had woven around themselves might break.
Makoto's mind was reeling. The kiss, so unexpected and raw, had short-circuited his brain. "That was… cute," he managed to stammer out, his voice a little breathless.
"It was like I was just kissed by the real Ganyu." He giggled as they reached the pin booth.
He bought a matching set without even thinking, a pair of intertwined Ganyu and Traveler pins. "You're making me fall for you all over again, Yuna."
Yuna's entire face went redder than a Pyro slime.
She snatched the pins from his hand with trembling fingers. "D-Don't say stupid shit like that!" she stammered, her voice cracking as her eyes darted around, checking to see if anyone had overheard his stupid, heartfelt, utterly honest confession.
But when she pinned one of the matching pins to his collar, her fingers lingered. Just for a heartbeat.
"…There," she muttered, pointedly avoiding his gaze.
"Now everyone will know that you're taken." Her thumb brushed over the cool, smooth metal of the pin, a silent, possessive claim.
Then she was stomping off again, her bells jingling furiously. "H-Hurry up!" she yelled over her shoulder, her back still to him.
"The cosplay contest is about to start," Her voice hitched. "And I need you to hold my stuff while I go win!"
The unspoken plea hung in the air between them: She wanted him to watch her. Only him.
"Of course," he called after her, his voice a little thick. "Go and show the world our costume, my Ganyu."
He watched her go, a proud, fond smile on his face.
Then, a final, teasing jab: "And you can come crying to your big bro if you lose, Yuna!"
Yuna whirled around so fast that her horns nearly impaled a passing Klee cosplayer. "I WON'T LOSE!" she shrieked, her face burning with a fierce, competitive fire.
But when the judges called her name, she hesitated, just for a second, her eyes finding his in the crowd, a silent, searching glance filled with something terrifyingly close to genuine vulnerability.
Then she was on stage, and she transformed.
She was no longer Yuna, his bratty, possessive, beautiful stepsister.
She was Ganyu, elegant and ethereal, a vision brought to life under the hot, bright lights.
Until the Q&A portion.
A judge asked, "And what inspired your beautiful cosplay?"
Yuna, without missing a beat, her voice ringing out clear and proud: "My disgusting older brother's wallet."
The crowd roared with laughter. Yuna grinned, a triumphant, wicked thing, until the judges announced the winners. And she was in second place.
The moment she was offstage, the Ganyu persona evaporating, she slammed into his chest with enough force to knock the wind out of him.
"IT WAS RIGGED, TOTALLY RIGGED!" she snarled into his shirt, her fists clenched, her small body trembling with furious indignation.
"That Raiden had fishnet STOCKINGS, not the official tights! And her booba sword was clearly made of foam, not..."
"Come on," Makoto soothed, his arms wrapping around her in a comforting hug.
"Second place isn't too bad for your first contest." He patted her back, his hand running along her spine in a slow, calming gesture.
"Your big bro will still give you a… consolation reward, okay? And be careful, or your tears might smudge your makeup."
Yuna's grip on his shirt tightened, her face still buried in his chest. "…Shut up," she mumbled, but there was no real anger in it.
Her shoulders trembled, not from rage, but from something far more fragile, something that looked an awful lot like genuine disappointment. "It's not about the stupid prize…"
She pulled back just enough to glare up at him, her carefully applied Ganyu makeup slightly smudged. A tiny, glistening tear track tracing a path through her foundation.
"I wanted to win for you, you idiot," she admitted in a rush, then immediately looked horrified that she had said the words out loud.
Her hands flew up to cover her face. "Ugh, forget I said that! And stop looking at me like that!" She peeked at him through her fingers, her cheeks blazing a furious, beautiful shade of crimson.
He flicked her forehead, a gentle, affectionate gesture. "You dummy," he said, his voice a low, soft rumble. "You were already the most beautiful cosplayer in my eyes, dummy sis."
Yuna's breath hitched, her eyes widening. For a moment, she just stared at him, a complex, unreadable emotion in her gaze.
Then, her face crumpled into something dangerously close to tears. "S-Stop saying nice things out of nowhere!" she stammered, swatting at his chest halfheartedly. "It's weird!"
"…So what kind of consolation reward are we talking about?" she muttered, her voice a low, reluctant grumble, trying to avoid the subject.
She already knew the answer. And the way she leaned into his touch, her body molding against his like she belonged there, told him that she was more than okay with it.
He paused, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face, throwing the question back at her. "Hmm, I wonder what kind of reward my little Yuna wants?"
Her entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The vulnerable, disappointed girl was gone, replaced by the familiar, predatory demon he knew and loved.
A slow, wicked grin spread across her face as she leaned in, her breath a hot, tantalizing puff against his ear.
"You know exactly what I want," she purred, her fingers trailing down his chest in a slow, deliberate path that left a trail of fire in its wake. "And if you're lucky…"
She pulled back with a haughty sniff, adjusting her wig with a practiced, elegant motion.
"…I might even let you take it while I'm still in the Ganyu outfit."
Her smirk was pure, unadulterated sin. "Consider it your prize. For tolerating me all day."
Then she was dragging him toward the exit, her grip on his hand unbreakable.
And the way her hips swayed, an exaggerated, provocative motion, told him everything he needed to know; she knew exactly what she was doing to him. The little demon.