Makoto walked to his car, hands still trembling as he pulled out his phone.
Makoto: Need me to bring anything for that project of yours?
His phone buzzed before he'd even backed out of the driveway.
Ayane: Just your big, nerdy brain. ;)
Ayane: And maybe some of those melon pans from the konbini near your place. The ones with the extra cream.
Ayane: Oh, and my roommate is out for the night, by the way. Just FYI.
He was halfway to her apartment, a bag of melon pan on the passenger seat, when his phone buzzed again. It was a new photo in the "Cosplay Project" group chat. He glanced at it and nearly swerved into the curb.
Yuna and Mika were in his bed. Naked, wrapped in his blankets, their heads on his pillows. Yuna glared at the camera with a possessive, feral look in her eyes. Mika smiled sweetly, though something sharper lurked beneath the surface.
And there, on his nightstand, sat the empty box from his new Raiden Shogun figure. The limited collector's edition he'd been saving for months. The figure itself was tucked between Mika's breasts.
A roar of pure rage almost ripped from Makoto's throat. He almost slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt in the middle of the street. His vision went red as he furiously typed into the group chat.
Makoto: I WILL SPANK YOU SO HARD YOU FORGET YOUR OWN NAMES IF YOU RUIN MY RAIDEN FIGURE!
He paused, then added:
Makoto: But it's a nice photo, by the way.
He shoved his phone in his pocket and drove the rest of the way with grim determination.
When he knocked on Ayane's door, she opened it, wearing something completely different from the Yor costume in her picture.
Tiny black shorts that barely covered her ass. A tight white off-the-shoulder sweater was straining against her chest. Her hair was up in a messy bun held with chopsticks. And she was wearing her glasses.
His brain stuttered.
"Hey," she said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. Her gaze traveled slowly over his lipstick-smeared clothes. "Looks like you had a busy afternoon. Did you lose a fight with a cat?"
She led him into her apartment. Posters of obscure vintage mecha anime covered the walls. Shelves overflowed with manga. A high-end custom gaming PC hummed in the corner.
And in the middle of the room, on a large soft rug, sat a pile of Gundam model parts. "Here's the project." She gestured at the scattered pieces. "I'm having trouble with the assembly. I was hoping you could give me a hand."
She sat on the floor, legs crossed. The shorts rode up, revealing a glimpse of her inner thigh.
Makoto shrugged. "A typical bait-and-switch, huh? Here I was, expecting some hot Yor photoshoot, and it turns out to be a Gundam instead." He handed her the bag of melon pan and nonchalantly opened her fridge. "As expected from you, Ayane. You got anything to drink?"
Ayane laughed, the sound bright and musical. "What, you don't like Gundam? I'm hurt."
She pulled out a melon pan, her fingers brushing his for a moment. She took a bite, smiling. "And for the record, I never said anything about a photoshoot. I just said I needed help with a project."
She gestured at the fridge with her half-eaten pastry. "Help yourself. I've got water, beer, and a bottle of sake I've been saving for a special occasion." She took another bite, watching him. "I think this qualifies as special, too."
Makoto facepalmed, though he was smiling. "Spare me the sake. Last time we drank together, you almost started a karaoke show on your balcony while naked."
Ayane's cheeks flushed pink at the mention of the karaoke incident. "I was celebrating! And for the record, my rendition of 'A Cruel Angel's Thesis' was flawless."
He grabbed a bottle of water. "And your fridge is empty again. You're not eating properly. Have you been busy?"
She finished her melon pan, her expression turning thoughtful. "I have been busy, though. Midterms are killing me. And this part-time job isn't helping."
She gestured vaguely at the Gundam parts and sighed. "But I'm free tonight." The mischievous glint returned to her eyes. "And I'm hungry. And I'm a terrible cook." She gave him an encouraging smile.
Makoto smirked, his gaze traveling over her body. "So what would I get for cooking you dinner and helping with your Gundam, Miss Ayane?"
Ayane's smile turned predatory. She uncrossed her legs and stretched them out with a soft sigh. The movement made the tiny shorts ride even higher. "What would you get?" She picked up a piece of the Gundam's leg armor, examining it with feigned interest. "Well, my undying gratitude, of course."
She looked up at him through her lashes, glasses perched on the end of her nose. "And you'd get to stay the night. My bed is surprisingly comfortable. Like I said, my roommate really is out of town tonight."
She leaned forward. The sweater gaped, revealing the curve of her breasts. The scent of sweet melon pan and her perfume drifted toward him. "And if you're a very good boy," she whispered, eyes locked on his, "I might even let you help me with measurements for my next cosplay."