Wakana's neck turned a little red. He looked at Marin, who was currently staring at her own reflection in the mirror, her eyes wide. She looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
"I just meant that I respect her work," Wakana stammered.
"We know what you meant," Riho teased, moving to the side of the wig to start on the layers. "But you should see the way she talks about you when you are not around. She came in here last week for a trim and spent forty minutes talking about how you can tell the difference between twenty shades of red fabric just by feeling them. I think she might be your biggest fan."
"Riho-san, stop it!" Marin yelled, her voice muffled by her hands. "You are going to make him think I am a stalker!"
"I do not think that at all," Wakana said softly, surprising everyone in the room. He looked at Marin's reflection in the mirror, and for a second, their eyes met. "I am her biggest fan, too. Seeing her bring these designs to life is the best feeling in the world."
The salon went quiet for a beat. Even Riho paused her scissors. Manabu and Hikaru exchanged a look that was hard to read, but it seemed like a mix of surprise and approval.
"Well," Riho said, clearing her throat and returning to the wig. "It seems I do not need to do much more teasing. You two are doing a fine job of it yourselves."
The next hour was a masterclass in collaboration. Riho and Hikaru handled the technical styling, while Wakana provided input on the movement of the hair.
He wanted the wig to have a bit of a breeze effect, meaning the layers needed to be light enough to move when Marin walked, mirroring the movement of the skirt he had built.
Manabu eventually stepped in to help with the invisible styling.
He showed Wakana how to use a specialized clear glue to keep the smallest strands of the bangs perfectly in place without making them look stiff or greasy.
"You should use this for your Hina dolls too," Manabu suggested, handing him a small bottle. "It does not damage the paint if you are careful. Though honestly, if you ever get tired of dolls, come see me. I could teach you how to do some killer nail art with that steady hand of yours." He joked.
"Thank you, Manabu-san," Wakana laughed, taking the bottle. "I'll let you know how it goes."
By the time they were finished, the Riko Amanai wig was a work of art. It looked incredibly natural, with soft, navy blue waves that cascaded down the back and perfectly framed bangs that made Marin look even more like the character.
Riho stepped back, admiring the work. "There. The Star Religious Vessel is ready for her debut. What do you think, Designer-kun?"
Wakana walked around the mannequin head, looking at the wig from every angle.
It was perfect. The way the light hit the navy blue fibers made them look almost like real hair, and the proportions were exactly what he had envisioned when he was sketching the uniform.
"It is perfect," Wakana said, bowing to the three stylists. "Thank you so much. I could not have done this on my own."
"We are a team, remember?" Hikaru said, patting him on the shoulder. "Just make sure you take good photos at the convention. I want to see the full set together."
As they packed the wig into a specialized travel carrier, Riho pulled Marin aside for a second. Wakana could not hear what she said, but he saw Marin's face turn an even deeper shade of red before she nodded and quickly walked back to him.
"Alright, let us get out of here before Manabu-san starts talking about our future wedding or something," Marin joked, though her voice was still a bit shaky.
They said their goodbyes and headed back out into the cool evening. The walk back to the station felt different again.
The weight of the professional world had touched them, but instead of making things more complicated, it felt like it had solidified something between them once again.
"They were really nice," Wakana said as they boarded the train. "I was worried they would think I was just some kid who did not know what he was doing."
"Are you kidding?" Marin said, sitting down and pulling the wig carrier close to her. "They were obsessed with you. Riho-san told me after you paid that you have the hands of an artist and that I should make sure to keep you around. She said guys like you are rare."
Wakana leaned his head back against the train window. "I am not going anywhere, Marin. I have a lot more costumes to make for you."
Marin looked at him, and for a moment, the bustling train carriage felt quiet. She did not respond with a joke or a tease. She held her hands together and pulled her shoulders in, closer to her face, trying to hide her rising blush.
"I know," she whispered.
...
The rest of the week was a flurry of final preparations. Wakana spent his nights doing the cleanup work he had mentioned to Shiki.
He used a tiny pair of embroidery scissors to snip away every loose thread, and he used a handheld steamer to make sure every fold of the midnight blue Gojo uniform and the white Riko top was crisp and perfect.
He also worked on the prop for the Gojo costume. Since he was going as the younger version of Satoru Gojo, he did not need the blindfold, but he did want to have the small, round sunglasses.
He spent an afternoon at a local thrift shop finding a pair that was the exact right shape, then used a bit of lens tint to get that specific dark blue-gray color from the anime.
By Friday night, everything was packed. The Gojo household was quiet again. Wakana sat on his floor, looking at the two suitcases by the door.
One held his gear, and the other held Marin's.
He pulled out his phone and looked at the photo of them from the first convention again.
They had come so far since that first day in the handicraft room. Back then, he was still not as close to Marin. Now, he was... something else, and he was heading into a convention not as an assistant, but as her partner.
He thought about what Riho had said about gravitational pulls. He did not know if he believed in fate, but he knew that every time he looked at Marin, the world felt a little bit more in focus.
Wakana smiled and turned off his light. He did not have trouble sleeping this time. He felt a calm and steady confidence. He knew the stitching was strong, the fabric was right, and the wig was perfect.
But most of all, he knew that when he stood next to Marin on that convention floor, he would not be acting.
Because throughout Heaven and Earth, he alone is th—
Ahem.
...
Saturday morning arrived with a sky that was a deep and clear blue, exactly the color of Satoru Gojo's eyes.
Wakana met Marin at the station, and the moment he saw her, he knew it was going to be a day they would never forget.
She was wearing a simple sundress, her blonde hair catching the early light, but the way she smiled at him told him she was already mentally stepping into the role of the Star Religious Vessel.
"Ready, Gojo-kun?" she asked, her voice bright and full of hope.
"Ready, Marin," he replied.
As they boarded the train, heading toward the heart of the city and the massive event hall, Wakana felt the weight of his promise. He was not just a designer anymore.
He was the one looking out for her, through every thread, every fold, and every gaze.
And as the city blurred past the window, he realized that this was exactly where he was meant to be.
The Hidden Inventory was about to begin, but this time, the story was going to have a much happier ending.