"If you still get second place this time, I will console you again, Yuna," Makoto said, smiling and waving after them.
Yuna snapped back to reality. Her eyes, which had been soft and dreamy, narrowed into their familiar competitive slits. "Second place?!" she hissed. "Are you kidding me, big bro? After all that? We're winning first place. No question."
She adjusted the katana at her hip with a determined glint in her eyes. "And if we don't..." She gave him a tempting look. "...you're going to be doing a lot more than just 'consoling' me."
Ayane just laughed. "Don't worry, boss," she said, slinging an arm around Yuna's shoulders. "We've got this. The power of friendship and crippling debt is on our side."
Mika, her makeup perfect, her expression calm, just gave a confident nod. She adjusted her bamboo muzzle. "Mmmph," she said, making a muffled but surprisingly determined sound.
As their group walked toward the main stage and waited for their turn, Makoto called out. "Do your best! Mafuyu and I will cheer for you from here!"
With a wink, the girls walked towards the backstage like a chaotic, unstoppable force of nature: Yuna, the furious, possessive queen. Ayane, the confident usurper. And Mika, the manipulative princess.
They were his harem, and they were about to take over the world. Or at least, a mid-sized anime convention.
As the contest started, Makoto and Mafuyu found a spot in the crowd. Mafuyu looked at the three of them standing in the wings of the stage, and then at him. "They're... they're amazing," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. She took Makoto's hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "I'm so glad that I'm a part of this."
"Well, you should join them next time, Mafuyu-nee. I know how great you look in a costume, too," he said.
And then, he almost choked when he heard the team name.
"Yuna and The Backups." The name echoed through the hall, a monument to Yuna's tyrannical ego. Makoto let out a choked laugh. Mafuyu just covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with delighted giggles.
But when Yuna's team walked on stage, the entire hall went silent.
The lights hit them, and they were no longer just girls in costumes; they turned to the powerful Hashiras and demons. Yuna's Shinobu was a terrifying, beautiful specter of deadly grace. Ayane's Mitsuri was a vibrant, joyous explosion of color and life. And Mika's Nezuko was a heartbreakingly beautiful tragedy.
Yuna moved with the fluid, precise steps of a dancer, her haori fluttering behind her like the wings of a butterfly. Ayane struck a series of poses, each one more dynamic and charming than the last. And Mika just stood there, a lost and captivating presence, her head tilted, her pink eyes wide and empty.
The crowd went silent, then erupted with a roar. The stage lights were blinding like a supernova of heat and white light that bleached the world of all color.
For a split second, Yuna's composure faltered. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. The roar of the crowd became a distant, indistinct ocean of sound. She felt a familiar, almost forgotten tremor of stage fright.
And then, she found Makoto.
Her eyes scanned the dark, anonymous sea of faces, and there he was. A ridiculous fatso in his cheap Muzan kimono. The sight of him and Mafuyu was an anchor, a grounding force that pulled her back from the edge of panic.
Her breath, which had been shallow and frantic, deepened. The trembling in her hands stopped. The world snapped back into sharp, terrifying focus.
She remembered the last time she had been on a stage like this: The GenshinCon. She had been a different person then: Just a lonely, angry girl in a Ganyu costume she made with her stepbrother.
She was desperate for a victory and validation, for something to fill the gaping, empty hole in her heart. And she had lost. She had cried in his arms, showing her pathetic, humiliating display of weakness as she opened up to him.
But this time was different. She wasn't alone, not anymore.
To her left, Mitsuri-Ayane was a vision of unhinged joy. She was practically vibrating with excitement, her smile wide and charming. She gave Yuna a wink, sending a silent message: "We've got this, Main Wife."
Yuna remembered the endless, sleepless nights they had spent hunched over the sewing machine until their fingers were raw and bleeding, their eyes almost burning with exhaustion. She remembered the arguments, the insults, and the surprising moments of shared respect.
Ayane was a loud, obnoxious pain in the ass. "But she was competent, she was someone I could trust to give our costumes the best look," Yuna nodded.
And to her right, Nezuko-Mika, a beautiful and silent doll. But underneath the muzzle, behind the pink, empty eyes, Yuna knew there was a mind as sharp and cold as a manager.
She remembered how Mika had helped Ayane plan their marketing strategy, the ruthless efficiency with which she had secured the best booth location for them, and how she had negotiated the best deal for their photobook.
Only now, Yuna noticed that Mika had somehow become an indispensable member of their team. "Yes, she is a heartless, manipulating bitch. But she's our manipulating bitch, she has never been heartless toward us."
And in the audience, Makoto. The fat, perverted pig who was the center of their insane little universe. The one who had seen her at her worst, at her most broken, and had not just stayed, but had loved her for it. The one who had built this family.
A question from the judge snapped her back to reality. "So, Yuna-san," the judge said with a smile on her face. "This is an incredible group. What's the story behind your team?"
Yuna smiled as she took the microphone. The plastic felt cool and solid in her hand. She looked out at the crowd, at the sea of faces. And she didn't see strangers, she only saw her big bro. And she smiled, a genuine, happy smile.
"The story?" she said, her voice a little too loud. "The story is about a fat, disgusting, perverted demon lord."
She glanced at Makoto in the crowd. He was shaking his head frantically, his expression screaming, "Don't get me involved while I'm in this ridiculous Muzan kimono."
Yuna saw his desperate head-shaking. She saw the look of "please-for-the-love-of-god-don't" in his eyes. And she just grinned.
"And we're his very loyal and very... enthusiastic wives," she continued, her voice a sweet purr that echoed through the entire hall. "All our efforts, our makeup and costumes, are just to compete for his affection."
The crowd, which had been cheering, went completely silent. And then, they erupted in a new, different kind of roar, a roar of degenerate appreciation. "Whooo!" a guy in a cheap Goku costume yelled. "A true harem protagonist!"
Ayane threw her head back and laughed crazily, its sound amplified by the stage microphones. Mika just gave a slight bow from behind her muzzle, showing her perfect wifely devotion.
And Makoto just stood dumbfounded in his ridiculous Muzan kimono, in the middle of a sea of cheering, laughing weebs. He had never imagined he would get the spotlight some days, and he wanted to die.
Mafuyu patted his back with sympathetic amusement. "Oh dear," she whispered. "I think you're famous now, honey."
Makoto hid his reddened face in Mafuyu's bosom. "No, I don't know any of them! Take me away from here, Mafuyu-nee!"
Mafuyu let out a small, startled "eep!" as Makoto suddenly burrowed his face into the soft, warm valley of her chest. Her entire body went rigid, and a blush flooded her face from her neck to the tips of her ears.
Her maternal instincts won. The desperation in his gesture melted her heart in an instant. Her arms came up instinctively, wrapping around his head, cradling him against her chest in a gentle, protective embrace.
"Oh my," she whispered, her voice soft and amused against his hair. "There, there. It's alright." She couldn't help but let out a delighted giggle. The big, scary demon lord, the man who had faced down her abusive ex and commanded a harem of terrifying women, was hiding from the spotlight like a shy child.
It was the most endearing thing she had ever seen.
Mafuyu gently patted his back, her touch soothing and maternal. "Don't worry, honey," she whispered. "They'll announce the winner soon, and then everyone will forget." She peered over his head towards the stage.
Yuna stood there with a look of satisfaction. Her eyes were locked on him, on the way he was hiding in Mafuyu's chest, and her expression hardened slightly with familiar jealousy.
Ayane was leaning back, practically howling with laughter. She had to hold her stomach while tears of mirth streamed down her face.
Mika just stood there, her head tilted like a perfect doll. But Mafuyu could feel the way her hands, hidden in the long sleeves of her kimono, were clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists.
The judges, four flustered-looking convention staff, were conferring with each other, looking from the three girls on stage to the cowering demon lord in the audience.
"Well..." the head judge finally said, clearing her throat into the microphone. "That was certainly the most memorable team introduction we've had all day."