Chapter 190: The Prankster Plays Her Hand (Trolling the Alliance)

My conversation with Izumi/Ichigo leaves me emotionally flayed and mentally exhausted. She has confirmed she is Ichigo (or at least, she has all but admitted it). She has analyzed my entire disastrous love life like a sports commentator. And she has openly, unashamedly, flirted with me. My brain has not recovered. I walk around in a daze for the next two days, replaying her words, her laugh, her infuriatingly charming ambiguity.

This, of course, does not go unnoticed by the Goddess Guard.

"Onii-chan, you have been staring at that piece of toast for ten minutes," Rina says suspiciously at breakfast. "Are you in a coma? Did that witch Izumi curse you?"

"He is probably just processing," Haruka analyzes from the living room (she has started just letting herself in in the mornings, claiming she is "optimizing the group's carpool strategy," which is a lie, as we all take the train). "His CPU is limited. The new data from the 'Ichigo Variable' likely caused a system overload."

"Rui-kun, are you okay?" Aiwa asks timidly via text, probably sensing my existential crisis from across town via her LUNA powers.

I am not okay. I am confused, flustered, and increasingly intrigued by the one person I should probably be staying far, far away from.

Haruka, however, is a woman obsessed. My vague, panicked report of the cybercafe interrogation ("She is just trolling me! She did not confirm or deny anything!") has not satisfied her. She is convinced Izumi is Ichigo, and she needs definitive, irrefutable proof. She decides to arrange another "chance" encounter, this time on her own terms.

"We are holding a full-team, mandatory strategy meeting for Winter Comicon," she announces to the group. "Friday. After school. In the Cosplay Club room. Attendance is mandatory." She then, very unsubtly, has Kenji "accidentally" leak the details of this "top-secret" meeting in a place where he knows Aiwa will overhear him. Kenji, believing he is now a double agent in a complex game of espionage, performs this task with the subtlety of a flashbang, practically shouting the details in the hallway while Aiwa is nearby.

Haruka's plan: If Izumi is Ichigo, she is a master manipulator who is clearly interested in our group's dynamics (and me). The temptation to eavesdrop or even crash a "top-secret" strategy meeting involving all her rivals would be irresistible. Haruka is baiting a trap, using our own meeting as the cheese.

Friday arrives. The Cosplay Club room is thick with tension. Rina, Haruka, and Aiwa are pretending to discuss booth layouts, but they are all constantly glancing at the door. Kenji is "disguised" as a pile of fabric in the corner, "on watch." Miki and Hana just look like they are resigned to their fate.

Right on cue, thirty minutes into the meeting, the door slides open.

It is Izumi. She is holding a large, fancy-looking box of pastries from an expensive bakery. "Hey!" she says cheerfully, her gaze sweeping the room. "I was in the neighborhood visiting a fabric supplier," (another blatant lie, the fabric district is miles away) "and I heard you guys were having a super-secret strategy meeting. Thought you might need snacks. Strategy is hard work."

She walks in, completely unfazed by the six pairs of stunned, suspicious eyes locked onto her.

Haruka immediately launches her prepared attack. "Sato-san. How… convenient. We were just discussing the schedule for the Winter Comicon. Specifically, Ichigo's panel on 'Advanced Armor Articulation and Emotional Expression in Male Cosplay'." She is testing her again, seeing if she will take the bait.

Izumi's eyes light up, but not with panic. With genuine, critical interest. "Oh, that panel?" she asks, setting the pastry box down. "The one where he is going to discuss load-bearing joints in thermoplastic versus 3D-printed resin?" She scoffs lightly. "His theories on that are fascinating, but slightly flawed, in my opinion."

Rina, Haruka, and Aiwa all freeze. This is not casual fan knowledge. This is highly specific, technical critique.

"Oh?" Haruka presses, her eyes gleaming. "Flawed how?"

"Well," Izumi says, grabbing a cookie from Hana's stash (much to Hana's surprise), "Ichigo – or so I have read in his build logs, obviously – he overlooks the inherent flexibility of high-density EVA foam when properly heat-sealed and reinforced with Kwik Seal. It allows for a much more natural range of motion, especially around the shoulders and knees, than his rigid resin-printed joints." She proceeds to give a ten-minute, university-level, incredibly detailed critique of Ichigo's own published, award-winning techniques, pointing out flaws and suggesting improvements with the casual confidence of a master craftsman.

The room is silent. Rina, Haruka, and Aiwa are speechless. This is not just insider knowledge; this is expert knowledge, delivered with the casual authority of a peer, or even a superior.

"How…" Rina finally manages to say, her voice barely a whisper. "How do you know all that?"

Izumi just shrugs, finishing her cookie. "I am a fashion design student, remember? Theatrical costume specialty. I read a lot. Plus," she adds, turning her mischievous, infuriatingly charming smile on me, "I just find the subject… fascinating. Almost as fascinating as 'Starlight Paladin' lore."

She then turns to me, completely ignoring the three stunned goddesses. "By the way, Rui-kun," she says, her voice dropping slightly. "That takoyaki date was fun. We should definitely do it again. Maybe my place next time? I make a killer kimchi-jjigae."

A date. She called it a date. In front of everyone.

Rina makes a small, strangling sound. Haruka's eye starts to twitch. Aiwa looks like she has just been punched in the gut. Kenji actually drops his pen.

Izumi has just, in one masterful move, confirmed Haruka's "Izumi = Ichigo" theory beyond a shadow of a doubt (at least to everyone in this room), dismissed her rivals' best techniques as "flawed," and openly declared her romantic interest in me, all while maintaining the thinnest possible veneer of plausible deniability ("I just read a lot!").

She gives me one last, devastating wink. "Well, enjoy the pastries! Good luck with the... strategy!" She turns and strolls out of the room, leaving behind a trail of utter devastation, the scent of expensive butter, and three cosplay goddesses on the absolute brink of a collective emotional meltdown.