Yeet!

"There - Booth 342."

"'Mecha-Baka: That Time I Accidentally Became the Pilot of a Giant Cleaning Robot' by... Huro?" Gomi squinted at the sign. "What's so special about this one?"

"Shhhh!" My sensors locked onto a familiar figure at the front of a line that stretched around three virtual corners. Cleansuke stood perfectly straight while holding a stack of manga volumes.

"Wait, isn't that-"

"Quiet!"

The line shuffled forward. Cleansuke approached the signing table, placing each book down at exactly measured intervals.

"Welcome to-" The mangaka looked up and froze. His wild green hair stuck out from under his cap. "Tanaka?"

"Greetings, Huro-sensei." Cleansuke bowed. "Your work has excellent technical accuracy regarding joint mobility and hydraulic systems."

Huro waved his hand dismissively at Cleansuke's stiff posture.

"Come on, Tanaka! Drop the robot act. We've been Dai-Bōku teammates forever - you're making me feel old here."

"Calculating appropriate friendship parameters. Adjusting formality settings to 'best friend' mode… Yo dawg! What's crackalackin' my homie? Your manga is totally tubular!"

"Did... did you just download Urban Dictionary?" Huro's pen slipped from his fingers.

"Affirmative, broski! Downloaded entire friendship lexicon database. Would you like to engage in traditional friendship activities? Options include: fist bumping, sharing deep emotional trauma, or braiding each other's hair."

"But I'm balding under this cap."

"Initiating Plan B: emotional trauma sharing." Cleansuke sat down cross-legged right there in the signing line. "Please tell me about your childhood pets."

The line behind them started grumbling.

"Listen, Tanaka, maybe we should-"

"FRIENDSHIP HUG PROTOCOL ACTIVATED."

"Wait, no-"

Before Huro could escape, Cleansuke had him locked in what looked like a perfect recreation of a bear hug from an anime. 

"Can't... breathe..." 

Cleansuke eventually released Huro from the crushing hug. Huro stumbled back, gasping for air while adjusting his now-crooked cap.

"That was... different, Your hugs used to be more, uh, normal? But I guess I needed that after not seeing you for ages."

"Hug pressure exceeded recommended parameters. Adjusting for future reference."

"Hey man, sorry I've been MIA from the matches." Huro scratched his neon green hair sheepishly. "These manga deadlines are brutal. My editor's been camping in my apartment making sure I don't slack off."

"Your absence has resulted in a 47.3% decrease in team efficiency."

"Yeah, yeah, I know I'm letting the team down." Huro waved at the growing line of impatient fans. "Tell you what - I've got a panel about Mecha-Baka coming up in an hour. I'll save you the front row seat, okay? Consider it my way of making up for ghosting you lately."

"Processing offer... Front row positioning will provide optimal viewing angles. Offer accepted."

"Cool. Now let me get back to these signatures before my fans riot."

"I didn't know you were friends with manga artists." Gomi munched on what looked suspiciously like grass from the convention center's decorative plants.

"I can have friends outside school, you know. Huro was our collector before Nezumi. He'd always show up late to matches because he was drawing manga between rounds."

"And you never thought to mention this?"

"It never came up! Besides, look who's talking - you never told me about that mall ban."

"That's different."

"Just follow Cleansuke. We can't lose track before the panel."

Gomi nodded and trailed after Cleansuk as it marched through the convention center. The crowd thickened as we approached the main stage area. Suddenly, a wave of squealing fans surged forward, brandishing cameras.

"Is that the real MoeMaster7000?"

"Oh my god it's her!"

"Over here!"

I spotted Reiko in her stunning Mecha-Baka cosplay. The quantum-threaded fabric shifted colors under the convention lights, mimicking the iconic armor panels from episode 12. Her modifications to the UwU dress created perfect mechanical joint aesthetics without sacrificing the elegant silhouette.

"Oh my god, she actually used the experimental fiber-optic hair extensions we discussed!" I vibrated with excitement, causing my chassis to rattle. "Look at how they pulse with her movements!"

"Weeb alert," Gomi mumbled through a mouthful of grass.

"Gomi, we have to do something! Knowing Cleansuke it might out Reiko in front of everyone! Reiko will never forgive me if her real identity gets exposed!"

Sure enough, Cleansuke was already pushing through the crowd.

Gomi started pulling the grass from her mouth.

"Gomi, no! That's disgusting!"

"Got any better ideas?" She rolled the wet clump between her fingers. "Besides, it's organic."

"Gomi, don't you dare-"

"Yeet!"

The wet green ball sailed through the air in a perfect arc.

Splat

The grass ball landed right on Reiko's weathered shoulder guard.

"YOU THREW GRASS AT REIKO KUROMIYA?"

"Yep!" Gomi beamed. "Three years in a row, county fair cow-pie tossing champ. I didn't earn that title for nothing."

"We are so dead."

Reiko's head snapped toward our hiding spot. Her eyes widened as she spotted Cleansuke's distinctive figure through the crowd. For a split second, panic flashed across her face.

"So sorry everyone, but I need to handle a wardrobe malfunction!" Reiko's voice carried over the crowd with practiced charm. "Can't let my costume fall apart before the big panel!"

The sea of fans parted reluctantly as Reiko strode toward us, her quantum-threaded dress rippling like liquid metal. Without breaking stride, she grabbed Cleansuke by the collar and yanked my body down a side hallway.

"Quick, in here!" Reiko shoved Cleansuke through a service door marked 'Staff Only.'

"Analyzing grass stain composition. Recommended cleaning solution: white vinegar and-"

"Not now! Are you trying to blow my cover?"

"Negative. Current mission parameters include assisting with cosplay activities as discussed during our previous intimate encounter."

Reiko's face went scarlet. "We do NOT talk about that! Besides, I specifically told you not to come today!"

"Incorrect. You terminated our previous interaction without establishing clear parameters regarding convention attendance."

"Because I kicked you out of my workshop after you k-" Reiko caught herself, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. "After that thing that didn't happen!"

"Processing relationship status... Current standing: complicated. Recommended action: discuss feelings openly while maintaining proper cleaning protocols."

"There's nothing to discuss!" Reiko jabbed a finger at Cleansuke's chest. "You're going to turn around and pretend you never saw me here. Got it?"

"Unable to comply. Primary directive requires thorough cleaning of grass stain on costume piece."

"What grass stain?"

Cleansuke pointed at Reiko's shoulder. She twisted around, eyes widening at the green smear on her perfectly weathered armor.

"Oh no. No no no. The quantum thread fabric is ruined!"

"Please remain calm, Grass stain removal is within standard cleaning parameters."

"But the quantum threading-"

"Will require careful disassembly of shoulder guard components."

Reiko hesitated, then slowly unfastened the complex array of clasps. Cleansuke's fingers worked to help ease off the armor piece.

The door burst open. Yuriko stood frozen in the doorway, her notebook slipping from her fingers.

"I-I was just looking for a quiet place to practice my panel presentation..." Yuriko's eyes darted between Cleansuke's hands on Reiko's partially dismantled costume. "I didn't mean to interrupt... whatever this is!"

"This isn't what it looks like!" Reiko clutched at her loosened armor.

A ceiling tile then crashed down between them. Nezumi tumbled through the gap, landing in a crouch. She wore a terrible disguise - just a fake mustache and detective hat.

What the hell was Nezumi doing in the ceiling?

"I knew something fishy was going on!" Nezumi pointed dramatically, her mustache slightly askew.

"Analyzing current social situation. Multiple relationship parameters detected. Initiating emergency protocol: group therapy session."

"NO!" Three voices shouted in unison.