Chapter 51: The Weaver's Secret and a Festival's Promise

The next morning is dedicated to the mission. The five of us, a truly bizarre procession, make our way through the winding, picturesque streets of Orihata to the weaver’s workshop. The building is a beautiful, old wooden structure that seems to hum with the gentle, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the looms inside.

We are greeted at the door by Mrs. Sato, the master weaver. She is an elderly woman with a face like a roadmap of Japanese history and an expression that suggests she has seen it all and been impressed by none of it. Her skeptical gaze sweeps over us, lingering on me and Kenji with particular disdain.

"You are the cosplayers," she says, her gravelly voice leaving no room for argument. "And you have brought… boys."

Before Miki can launch into her carefully prepared, respectful introduction, Kenji steps forward, his chest puffed out. "Greetings, master artisan!" he bellows, giving her a deep, theatrical bow. "We are Team Ectiqa! We have come on a sacred pilgrimage to witness your legendary craft! Your hands are the looms upon which dreams are woven! We are not worthy!"

Mrs. Sato just stares at him, her expression a perfect, stony mask of unimpressed silence. Miki reaches out and yanks Kenji back by the collar of his shirt with surprising force.

"My sincerest apologies, Sato-san," Miki says, bowing low. "He is our… intern. His passion sometimes exceeds his social awareness."

Thankfully, Rina steps forward and saves the entire expedition. She speaks to Mrs. Sato not as a customer, but as a fellow artist. She does not gush. She speaks quietly, respectfully, about her project, about the character of Seraphina, and about the importance of finding a fabric with a true "soul."

Mrs. Sato listens, her stern expression slowly softening. She sees the genuine, fiery passion in Rina's eyes. She gives a curt nod and leads us inside.

The workshop is mesmerizing. Rina is completely captivated, but Kenji's short attention span is already failing. He starts wandering too close to a loom, and Miki has to physically restrain him from touching the delicate silk threads.

When Mrs. Sato finally shows us the prismatic silk, Rina's reaction is one of pure, silent reverence. She connects with the old weaver on a level the rest of us cannot understand. Surprisingly, I manage to contribute something useful.

"The armor pieces will need to be attached directly to the robes in some places," I say to Mrs. Sato, examining a corner of the fabric. "What is the tensile strength of the weave? I do not want to risk a tear during a performance."

Mrs. Sato turns and gives me a slow, appraising look. It is the first time she has acknowledged my existence as anything other than a piece of furniture. She gives a single, sharp nod of approval. "The boy is practical," she grunts.

The mission is a resounding success. We place the order, and Mrs. Sato even agrees to expedite the custom dyeing process for us.

With our work done, we are released into the town to enjoy the festival preparations. The atmosphere is infectious. Rina, high on her success, is in a particularly bold mood. She drags me towards a small shrine on the edge of the festival grounds.

"Look, Onii-chan!" she says, pointing to a stall selling small, wooden charms. "They have 'couple's luck' ema! You are supposed to write a wish on it together to ensure a happy future! Is that not romantic? We should totally get one! As a joke, of course."

"No," I say, my voice flat. "Absolutely, unequivocally, no."

She just laughs, her mission of flustering me for the day a complete success.

Later that evening, as the sky darkens and the lanterns begin to glow, the five of us find a perfect spot on the riverbank. The first firework screams into the air and explodes in a brilliant cascade of golden light, reflecting in all our upturned, happy faces. In this one, perfect moment, the chaos is forgotten. We are not a team of rivals and romantic disasters. We are just five friends, sharing a beautiful, fleeting memory under a sky full of manufactured stars.