Chapter 196: The Lair of the Lioness (and a Private Confession)

The text message lands in the green room with the force of a perfectly aimed grenade.

"She is summoning him?!" Rina shrieks, her voice reaching a pitch that is probably audible to dogs in the next prefecture, all her earlier confusion replaced by a fresh, potent surge of possessive fury. "Like some kind of… evil queen summoning her captured, emotionally vulnerable prince?! Absolutely not! You are not going! I forbid it!"

"On the contrary," Haruka says immediately, her eyes gleaming with a sudden, intense, analytical light. Her brief moment of emotional vulnerability is gone, replaced by the calculating strategist. "He absolutely is going. This is the perfect intelligence-gathering opportunity. A chance to see her base of operations, her 'lair,' as you called it, Rui-kun. We can finally get some concrete data on her resources, her methods, her… true nature."

"Are you insane?!" Rina whirls on Haruka, her face flushed with anger. "You want to send him alone?! After she just metaphorically (and almost literally) declared war on us, revealed she knows all our secrets, and publicly flirted with him?! She will eat him alive! She will… she will… brainwash him with her witty banter and her confusingly attractive androgyny!"

"A calculated risk we must be willing to take for strategic advantage," Haruka states coolly, adjusting her perfectly tailored (non-cosplay) jacket. "We are blind. We need eyes inside. Rui-kun is our only asset."

"I am not an asset! I am a person!" I protest weakly.

"Rui-kun, you… you should not go," Aiwa whispers, looking genuinely terrified for me. "She is… she is very intimidating. What if it is a trap?"

"It is definitely a trap!" Kenji agrees, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and secondhand excitement. "A honey trap! The oldest trick in the spy book! She will lure you in with her witty banter, her deep knowledge of retro anime, and promises of ramen, and then… BAM! Brainwashed! You will be forced to become Ichigo's sidekick, 'Crimson Squire Rui'!"

"That… actually almost sounds cool," I mutter, before shaking my head violently. "No! Bad Rui! Stop being tempted by the cool-sounding-but-evil-sidekick route!"

"This is getting us nowhere," Miki says, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Rui-kun, you are a seventeen-year-old boy. You are not a trained spy. You are not 'bait'. And you are not going alone to the apartment of a woman you barely know who is a master of manipulation." She fixes me with a stern glare. "However… Haruka-san has a point. This is a critical opportunity for intelligence. Therefore, you will go. But," she holds up a hand, silencing Rina's immediate protest, "you will be equipped."

My life is a joke. A terrible, terrible joke. I am now being fitted with spy gear, supplied by Miki (where does she get this stuff?! Did she mug a secret agent?!). She pulls a tiny, flesh-colored, state-of-the-art wireless earpiece from her bag. "This is a two-way communicator, high-fidelity, short-range," she explains calmly. "Hana, Kenji, you are surveillance team one, parked across the street. Rina, Haruka, Aiwa, you are tactical backup and analysis, one block over, do not engage unless I give the signal. The signal will be me texting 'ABORT MISSION' in all caps, followed by at least three screaming cat emojis. Understood?"

I just nod numbly, feeling like a character in a movie I desperately want to stop watching.

Twenty minutes later, after a tense, silent taxi ride (paid for by Miki, charged to the 'Cosplay Club Emergency Fund'), I am standing outside the sleek, nondescript high-rise in a quiet, wealthy neighborhood I did not even know existed. This is definitely not a college dorm. This is LUNA-level funding. I am sweating, the tiny earpiece in my ear itching.

"Okay, Rui-kun," Miki's voice whispers in my ear, tinny and distant, making me jump. "The wire is hot. We are reading you loud and clear. Proceed with caution. And try to describe your surroundings for the audio log. Be subtle."

"This is insane," I mutter under my breath, feeling like the world's stupidest secret agent.

"What was that, Onii-chan?!" Rina's voice cuts in immediately, sharp and jealous. "Are you already talking to her?! Why is your heart rate elevated?! Miki, what is his heart rate?! Is he excited?!"

"Rina, get off this channel! Comms discipline!" Miki snaps back.

I take a deep breath and buzz the apartment number Izumi sent. The lobby door clicks open instantly. I walk into the pristine, silent elevator, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

The elevator door opens directly into her apartment. And my jaw drops. The place is massive. A huge, open-plan loft with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire glittering Tokyo skyline. One side is a stylish, minimalist living area with a ridiculously large sofa, a high-end kitchen, and a state-of-the-art entertainment system. The other side… the other side is a full-blown professional cosplay workshop that makes Rina's setup look like a child's craft corner.

There are industrial-grade 3D printers humming quietly. A professional, floor-to-ceiling spray booth with heavy-duty ventilation. Laser cutters. Industrial sewing machines. Racks upon racks of completed costumes, including the flawless, gleaming crimson armor of Valerius, the iconic, terrifyingly perfect helmet of Zero, and at least three other famous male hero costumes I recognize instantly from Cosmode magazine covers.

It is definitive. It is irrefutable. The cool, witty gamer girl I have been secretly meeting, the one who trolls Rina and Haruka for fun, is, without a single shadow of a doubt, the undisputed king (queen?) of male cosplay. My mind is a pretzel.

"So," I say, my voice barely a whisper, forgetting entirely about the live wire in my ear. "It… it really is you."

Izumi is standing by the kitchen counter, casually pouring hot water over coffee grounds using some kind of complicated, scientific-looking contraption. She is in her "off-duty" uniform: ripped jeans, an old, faded 'Galaxy Gladiators' t-shirt (a deliberate choice, no doubt, the troll), her blonde hair piled messily on top of her head. She looks tired, but she gives me a small, genuine, almost shy smile that is pure Izumi.

"Took you long enough, Sir Rui," she says, her voice her normal, husky alto. "I was dropping hints the size of a giant robot, and you and your little detective agency were still looking for 'statistical anomalies'." She gestures to the costumes. "Guess the secret is out. Coffee? It is single-origin Ethiopian."

"He is in the lair!" Kenji whisper-shouts directly into my ear, making me jump violently. "It is confirmed! Subject Ichigo is Subject Izumi! The plot twist of the century! She is offering him a suspicious beverage! Do not drink it, Rui! It could be a truth serum! Or poison! Or just really expensive coffee!"

I subtly try to smack my earpiece, pretending to scratch my ear. "Uh, yeah, coffee sounds good," I manage to stammer out to Izumi, who is watching me with an amused expression.

"But… why?" I ask, taking the steaming, fragrant mug, my hands trembling slightly. "Why the Ichigo persona? Why hide that you are a girl?"

She gestures for me to sit on the plush, modern sofa (which probably costs more than my family's car), taking a seat on the opposite end, curling her long legs up. "Practicality, mostly," she says with a shrug. "When I started, the cosplay world was even more of a boy's club than it is now, especially in the 'heroic male character' and 'complex armor build' niche. It was easier to be taken seriously as 'Ichigo,' the mysterious, talented guy, than as 'Izumi,' the girl who was maybe too good at making armor and props. The mystique helped sales, too. Created a brand. It was just… a business decision."

"So the deep voice, the 'Crimson Knight' persona… it is all just an act?" I ask, fascinated, sitting gingerly on the edge of the sofa.

"Mostly," she admits, taking a sip of her own coffee. "The voice is a bit of vocal training – I have a naturally low register anyway. The 'Ichigo' persona is just… my confidence, dialed up to eleven. My 'LUNA' mode, if you will," she winks, confirming she knows that secret too, probably from eavesdropping on our various public meltdowns. "It is just armor. Like Aiwa's. Just… more arrogant. And with better PR."

She says it so casually, so openly. It is completely disarming.

"She is good," Haruka's voice murmurs analytically in my ear. "Admitting weakness, building rapport by creating a parallel to Matsuki… classic manipulation tactic. Stay sharp, Rui-kun."

"And you knew about Aiwa being LUNA?" I ask, ignoring the voice in my ear and trying to sound casual.

"Please," she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "It was painfully obvious from the first Cosmode meeting. The mannerisms, the 'Starlight' pendant, the way she kept looking at you like you were a lost puppy she needed to save while simultaneously trying to hide behind her own hair. She is a terrible spy. Talented artist, brilliant technician, but a terrible, terrible spy."

"And you just… let us all run around trying to figure everything out?" I ask, a little annoyed. "You trolled us! At the supermarket! At the arcade! In the green room!"

"It was hilarious," she says, her eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated mischief, and she takes another sip of coffee. "You were all so serious, so wrapped up in your little 'Grand Alliance' and your 'Rui Schedule.' It was like watching a very dramatic, very poorly written high school soap opera. I could not resist poking the bear." She grins. "Or, in your case, the perpetually terrified, endlessly fascinating hamster in the middle of the snake pit."

"I am not a hamster!" I protest weakly.

"You kind of are," she counters, her grin widening. "But that is beside the point. I did not just bring you here to mock you, Rui. Well, not just to mock you." Her expression softens, the playful, trolling light fading into something more serious, more vulnerable, a look I have never seen on Ichigo or Izumi before. "You looked like you were about to break. Back at the Comicon. And frankly, Rina's public confession, and then Aiwa's… that was a lot. Even for a seasoned chaos agent like me."

We sit in silence for a moment, just drinking our (admittedly amazing) coffee. It is the first truly peaceful, honest, non-surveilled (or so I think, ignoring the buzzing in my ear) moment I have had in what feels like a lifetime. Here, in the secret lair of Ichigo, the world's most elaborate troll, I finally feel like I can actually breathe.

"So," I ask finally, the question that has been burning in my mind ever since the kabedon, the question my surveillance team is probably screaming into their end of the comms. "Why me? Why all this? The winks, the dinner invite, the hints, the trolling? Why reveal yourself to me? What is your endgame here, Izumi?"

She looks at me, her gaze direct and uncharacteristically open. "Endgame?" she muses, a small, self-deprecating smile on her face. "That sounds so… Haruka-like." She shrugs. "Honestly? At first, it really was just fun. You and your little harem… it is the most entertaining, high-stakes drama I have ever seen. My life," she gestures around the sterile, perfect, beautiful apartment, "is all work, all schedules, all performance. LUNA, Ichigo… it is exhausting, being that perfect all the time, maintaining two separate, high-profile brands. But you guys?" She laughs, a genuine, warm sound that is pure Izumi. "You are a beautiful, chaotic disaster. You are real. Messy and complicated and completely nuts. It is… refreshing."

"So you are just… amusing yourself? At my expense?" I ask, feeling a flash of annoyance mixed with… something else?

"Partly," she admits without a trace of shame, her honesty brutal. "But then… it got more complicated." She leans forward, setting her mug down on the low table, her expression turning serious. "It got complicated when I started talking to you, Rui. At the cybercafe. At the ramen shop. When you were not 'Rina's brother' or 'the bait' or 'the clueless protagonist'."

"What do you mean?" I ask, my heart starting to pound again, a slow, nervous, unfamiliar rhythm.

"I mean," she says, her voice soft, losing its sarcastic edge, "you are… different. You are not a screaming fanboy like Kenji. You are not a calculating rival like Haruka or a possessive… well, like Rina. You are just… you. A decent, kind, hopelessly awkward, surprisingly insightful guy who is just trying to survive being surrounded by crazy people." She smiles, a small, almost shy smile that is completely different from Ichigo's smirk or LUNA's serene mask. It is just… Izumi. And it hits me harder than any of the LUNA-Lite blushes. "You are the only normal person in this entire equation. Including me."

"I am really not normal," I mutter, thinking of the spy gear in my ear. "My life is a circus. I am the confused clown juggling emotional grenades."

"Exactly," she says, her smile widening. "And I like the circus. And I think…" she pauses, taking a visible deep breath, as if bracing herself for a final boss battle. "I think I really, genuinely like you, Rui. Not as a game. Not as a joke. Not as a pawn. Just… you."

There it is. The confession. Not a public declaration of war like Rina's. Not a tearful, past-focused one like Aiwa's. Just a simple, direct, terrifyingly honest statement delivered over amazing coffee in a high-tech cosplay lair/apartment.

"You… like me?" I stammer, my brain officially melted, my entire operating system crashing. "Like, 'like-like'?" (Smooth, Rui. Very smooth. A true poet).

"HE IS IN! SHE CONFESSED! IT IS HAPPENING!" Kenji's voice shrieks in my ear, followed by Rina's inarticulate roar of pure rage and a loud smack.

Izumi hears the tinny shouting from my earpiece, and her eyes narrow. "Seriously?" she sighs, looking more annoyed than surprised. She holds out her hand. "Give it."

Defeated, I pull the tiny, flesh-colored earpiece out and drop it into her open palm. She looks at it with disdain, then brings it to her mouth. "Hello, Team Rui," she says, her voice the cool, amused, husky tone of Izumi. "Rui and I are in the middle of a very important, private conversation. So be good little spies and listen quietly, okay? Or I might just have to… 'confiscate' your handler permanently. Izumi out." She clicks the earpiece off, tosses it onto the coffee table, and turns back to me, her smile returning, but now tinged with a predatory, mischievous light.

"Now," she says, leaning in a little closer, the atmosphere in the room suddenly charged and intimate. "Where were we? Oh, right. My confession." She looks at my stunned, blushing, completely horrified face. "You are just too much fun, Rui-kun."