The cab began to slow as it neared a massive mall nestled in one of Tokyo's vibrant commercial districts. Kokoro, whose back had been tense the entire ride, finally exhaled a long, quiet sigh. His palms were slightly sweaty, resting awkwardly on his knees. Sitting just a few centimeters away from him was his current mission target—the ever-smiling stepsister, Nakahara Naomi.
He had spent the whole ride glued to the window, eyes avoiding hers like his life depended on it.
Naomi, on the other hand, had her eyes closed for most of the trip—not from exhaustion, but sheer survival. The moment she laid eyes on Kokoro's ridiculous full-tone white get-up—a plain white shirt, white shorts, and spotless white sneakers—she nearly burst out laughing. She knew herself well. Her laughter was explosive and hard to stop once it started, and laughing right beside a stranger? Unforgivable. So she closed her eyes, head tilted slightly, feigning a nap while fighting giggles inside her chest like an active volcano.
Please don't make me open my eyes again, she pleaded silently.
As the cab slowed to a gentle halt, both of them sighed—one from tension, the other from restraint.
The elderly cab driver peeked through the partition, his voice as gentle as a grandpa patting your head.
"That'll be 500 yen, my dears. Quite the peaceful ride, huh?" he chuckled warmly.
Both Naomi and Kokoro nodded in unison like synchronised soldiers desperate to disembark. Wallets came out at the same time in a clumsy rush, the two clearly eager to part ways.
After handing over their yen, Naomi was the first to bolt. The door clicked open with a soft chime, and she slipped out, her long legs already carrying her toward the mall entrance at a brisk pace. Her short messy black hair fluttered slightly as she walked, her white sneakers squeaking faintly against the tiled path.
Kokoro, stunned by how quickly she fled, blinked once before sliding out behind her, muttering under his breath, "Jeez, she's fast..."
He stood still for a moment, looking up at the structure before him. The mall was absolutely massive, its glass-paneled walls reflecting the Tokyo morning sun like a jewel. Giant LED screens above the doors played vibrant ads: limited edition collabs, ramen challenges, idol group performances. The giant banners outside flapped in the breeze, advertising everything from luxury bags to anime cafés.
"Damn," Kokoro muttered, eyes glinting. "This mall looks cool…"
A uniformed security guard greeted him at the entrance, waving a metal detector with practiced movements.
"Good morning, young man. Arms out, please."
Kokoro complied as the detector waved over his sides and chest. A polite pat-down followed.
"Just a formality. All clear, you're good to go," the guard said with a small nod.
As he stepped forward, the automatic doors whooshed open, releasing a gust of chilled air and a wave of bustling sound.
Inside, the mall was a kaleidoscope of motion.
Multiple floors extended above him, ringed with glass railings and lit by a massive crystal chandelier that sparkled like a galaxy. The ground level was packed—an aroma of cinnamon buns and roasted coffee beans wafted from a bakery café on the left, while the right had an open-concept bookstore with staff in aprons offering samples of new releases.
Kokoro's eyes darted from one side to another:
A group of middle school girls squealing in front of a plushie vending machine.
"Ah! It gave me the limited edition one! I'm gonna cry!!"
Two stylish high school boys posed in front of a mirror near a clothing boutique, discussing hair gel brands like samurai preparing for battle.
Further down, a mother chased her toddler who had sprinted toward the ice cream kiosk.
A makeup demo was being held just beyond the escalators, with two influencers livestreaming their reactions to a "lipstick that changes color based on your mood."
He passed a pet store window where a small white puppy yawned behind the glass, and a couple cooed at it like it was a divine creature.
Above it all, background music played softly—some upbeat idol track on loop—accompanied by the indistinct chatter of thousands of lives overlapping for the day.
Kokoro took it all in with a blend of admiration and mild sensory overload. "I kinda wanna explore…" he whispered, lips curling into an amused smirk.
But no. Focus. Disguise first. Chaos later.
As he stepped into the main atrium, he scanned the map directory on a large digital screen:
Fashion (1F)
Food Court (2F)
Entertainment & Arcade (3F)
Books & Stationery (4F)
Costumes & miscellaneous items shops (B1)
"There we go…" Kokoro mumbled. "Basement level."
Still, the atmosphere around him was infectious.
The energy of Tokyo's biggest malls wasn't something you could replicate in manga panels. It was vivid. Noisy. Full of movement and color. Real.
He let himself smile for a few seconds more before heading toward the escalator. Though his mission was clear—get the disguise, get out—Kokoro knew this moment was one he'd remember. Something about today felt surreal. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it was fate. Or maybe it was just Tokyo being Tokyo.
Still…
"Let's just hope Naomi doesn't suddenly turn around and catch me here," he whispered under his breath.
Kokoro vanished into the descending escalator like a secret agent on his most bizarre mission yet.
_________
_________
As the escalator hummed softly as Kokoro descended to the basement level, the platform lowering him with mechanical grace. A handful of other shoppers stood behind him—some chatting, some on their phones, others too deep in thought to care about the world around them. As the steps leveled off and Kokoro stepped forward, he was greeted by a vibrant, almost chaotic realm of color and movement.
The basement level was an entirely different beast compared to the polished elegance upstairs. Neon signs flickered over store entrances. Cardboard standees of famous anime characters towered near shop doors, beckoning fans to enter their colorful worlds.
To his left, a group of teenage boys were trying on clown costumes at a stall.
"Bro, you look like a cursed birthday balloon," one snickered.
"I told you not to pick the pink wig!" another laughed.
The saleslady nearby, in a frilly pastel uniform, simply smiled, her eyes twinkling as she rang up another customer's fake elf ears.
Across the aisle, a group of girls emerged from a store, giggling and holding up matching cat-ear headbands.
"This one totally suits you, Mari!"
"Oh my god, let's do a group cosplay for Comiket!"
Kokoro watched all of this unfold with a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Man... I love this kind of chaos," he muttered under his breath.
Before him stood a costume shop named 'Hikari Closet', its sign glowing in shifting pastel lights. Without hesitation, Kokoro stepped inside—and was immediately swallowed by the wonderland.
It was like stepping into a parallel world.
Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, lined with boxes of wigs, bags of accessories, and racks of costumes ranging from full-body anime suits to pirate outfits and traditional samurai robes. Overhead, music from a magical girl anime played softly, harmonizing with the chatter of staff and customers alike.
Kokoro wandered deeper into the maze, eyes gleaming.
Near a mannequin wearing a magical boy uniform, he spotted a shimmering katana prop displayed diagonally on a stand. It wasn't real—but it was so well-crafted that it shimmered under the LED lights.
His feet stopped instinctively.
"…Goddamn," Kokoro whispered, eyes wide. "It even has a realistic sheath…"
He reached out, fingers twitching to grasp the hilt.
But after a moment of trembling restraint, he pulled his hand back and groaned internally.
No. No, damn it. You're not here to buy a damn prop sword. Focus, Kokoro. Mustache. Beard. Disguise.
Still, he couldn't help but meander through the aisles like a child in a dreamscape.
Around one corner, a girl was holding up a vampire cape to her boyfriend.
"Try it on, try it on!" she laughed.
"What? I'll look like a Dracula with allergies!"
Elsewhere, a mother struggled to keep her twin boys from knocking over a mannequin in a ninja outfit.
"Ren! Touya! Put the foam nunchaku down before you break something!"
Kokoro ducked between shelves, avoiding a cloud of feathers from a fallen angel costume. He passed several salespeople on his way through the maze.
"Looking for anything in particular?" asked a soft-spoken saleslady with fox ears perched on her head.
Kokoro shook his head politely. "Just browsing. Thanks."
A man in a green apron and plastic elf armor grinned. "Need help with a fantasy cosplay?"
Kokoro laughed. "Nah, just getting lost a little. On purpose."
"Oh, we get that a lot," the man chuckled, moving on to help another customer.
After several more detours and intentional distractions, Kokoro finally found what he came for: a rack of disguise accessories tucked near the farthest corner of the shop.
He plucked a black mustache from the rack, then a matching black beard, and stood in front of a small mirror.
"...Yeah," he muttered, adjusting the items to his face. "Kinda looks like a knockoff detective, but hey. Mission success."
He brought the items to the cashier, where a young woman with bubblegum-pink hair and a frilly vest greeted him cheerfully.
"Hope you had fun exploring! It's like a maze back there, huh?" she asked, scanning the items.
Kokoro scratched the back of his head, a bit embarrassed. "Y-Yeah. Honestly? I kinda got too into it."
The cashier giggled. "It happens to the best of us. You're not the first guy I've seen blush after an hour in the prop section."
Kokoro laughed sheepishly, cheeks tinged red.
She slid the mustache and beard into a small shopping bag and smiled.
"That'll be 6,300 yen."
He opened his wallet, handed over the cash, and took the receipt with a small bow of thanks.
As he turned to leave, the cashier waved.
"Come back if you ever need a wizard hat or a chicken onesie!"
Kokoro waved back over his shoulder, muttering, "Let's not rule that out…"
With the bag in hand and a grin playing on his lips, Kokoro stepped out of the costume shop and back into the lively pulse of the mall, his mission accomplished and his inner manga geek fully satisfied.