Backstage was a flurry of activity. Staff and handlers rushed around, communicating through headsets and walkie-talkies, making sure everything was running smoothly. In the center of it all stood the Kawai Kitty costume—bright, pastel-colored, with the signature oversized head and glittery bow.
Raito stood before it, expression unreadable.
He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, neatly folding it and setting it on the table beside him. His jacket followed, then the undershirt, revealing a surprisingly defined physique beneath—lean muscle traced with old scars that caught the overhead lights.
The two female staffers assigned to assist the mascot swallowed in unison. One of them quickly turned around, pretending to check something on a clipboard. The other tried her best to act nonchalant while stealing a quick glance.
Why is he so composed about this? she thought, cheeks dusted pink. Is he a model? A bodyguard? No way this guy's just a fan...
Raito, of course, noticed none of it. He simply stretched his arms once—practical, efficient—and stepped toward the mascot costume.
"Do I need to remove anything else?" he asked, completely unaware of the flustered air around him.
"N-No! You're good!" one of them said quickly, handing over the lower half of the costume. "Just slide into this part first."
The suit fit surprisingly well, albeit a bit snug around the shoulders. Raito adjusted the oversized mascot head last, letting it click into place with a soft snap. A soft mechanical hum activated near his ear as the voice modulator turned on.
The taller assistant stepped forward and tapped the side of the helmet. "Okay, so the voice box will play your lines. All you need to do is greet the fans, do some of the classic poses, and—uh—wave. A lot. Just act like the real Kawai Kitty. You'll do great!"
Raito nodded once from within the plush mask, silent and composed.
"You're, um... surprisingly cool-headed about this," the shorter one said, trying to meet where she assumed his eyes were.
"I've seen worse," Raito replied flatly, the voice coming out in a peppy, pre-recorded "Let's sparkle together, nya~!" that made both women jump slightly.
He moved toward the stage entrance with all the calm of a soldier walking into battle.
"Good luck, Mr. Kitty!" one of the assistants called out, biting her lip to stop from laughing.
Raito turned slightly, gave a thumbs-up, then stepped into the light.
On the convention floor, a small crowd was already gathering at the Kawai Kitty photo zone. Children clapped excitedly. Parents pulled out phones. Fans in homemade cosplay squealed.
"IT'S HER!" one shouted. "KAWAI KITTY'S HERE!"
Raito walked forward, surrounded by cheers, the massive costume swaying gently with his measured steps.
He lifted one paw and waved slowly. The voice box played, "Always keep your paws positive, nya~!"
With every step, he felt the absurdity of it all—yet he remained focused.
He was here for the merchandise. The experience. The legacy.
And if that meant dancing in a mascot suit while a voice chirped out pre-recorded cat puns?
So be it.