Sulks, Reconciliation, and Bocchi Cosplay
The two walked with their mouths firmly shut. Myeongjeon let out a deep sigh. Ever since they'd been dragged out of that clothing store earlier, they'd been refusing to communicate with the world, sticking to a consistent "I'm pissed off" attitude.
How long are they gonna keep this up... Guys old enough to know better—why the hell were they acting like this? They weren't little kids or anything... As Myeongjeon mulled it over, she suddenly remembered something she'd forgotten. Come to think of it, these kids were kids. Not adults—actual children. High school sophomores and juniors. Of course they were at that age where this was normal. In human relationships, eliminating "fights" was damn near impossible. Couples who'd lived together for decades argued; even those head-over-heels-in-love pairs fought. So how could kids who'd only known each other for a year—hell, not even as friends, but thrown together suddenly to form a band—not fight? The real miracle was that they hadn't clashed until now. Myeongjeon scratched her head lightly and thought,
Yeah, when you put it that way, it makes sense. They've been getting along fine on their own from the start... Except for Seoha, who needed a bit of discipline, they've all followed without complaint.
She had a rough idea of the reason. It was probably her. Sure, not anymore, but that past as a delinquent, the charisma radiating from her looks, the overwhelming skill. And following her guidance actually made their skills skyrocket, brought results, let them make music properly. Who in their right mind would rebel against someone like that or stir up band drama? You'd be shaking in your boots, terrified of getting kicked out just for existing.
So maybe a little clash isn't so bad. Human relationships were like that—if the rift wasn't too deep, they bonded even stronger after bumping heads. Myeongjeon thought that as she glanced at the two with their lips stubbornly pursed. Stubborn mouths. But eyes that darted around, sneaking peeks at the other. The classic "I wanna make up but I can't lose face—someone step in and fix this" vibe. But neither wanted to speak first. Pride and all that. The silence stretched on until Hyein broke it.
"Is that another clothing store? Let's check it out."
Even after heading back into a store, the kids kept up the silence. Myeongjeon wondered if she should step in and opened her mouth—but Hyein beat her to it.
"My kid here always wears nothing but drab stuff if I don't drag her out..."
"Huh?"
Hyein grabbed Myeongjeon's shoulder and slyly pushed her between the two. Myeongjeon blinked in confusion at suddenly being thrust forward, but quickly caught on to Hyein's intent and sighed inwardly. It's sweet she's trying to make them reconcile... but why me?
"Won't you recommend some clothes that'd suit Suyeon? Hmm?"
"Uh... y-yeah!"
"Sure."
It was so obviously a setup. But unable to refuse the gesture, the kids grabbed Myeongjeon—who'd already given up and resigned herself—and dragged her from corner to corner...
Hyein's reconciliation attempt flopped. Not because the two had egos too big or Hyein's effort fell short.
"Why the hell do you keep dressing me in this crap...!"
"It suits y—"
"Hey! Just grab whatever fits size-wise! Anything that comes to hand! Make it neat! Bland! Why are you turning clothes into patterns and slapping on accessories and going all vintage this and that?!"
After dozens of minutes playing human mannequin, Myeongjeon finally snapped. As the others hesitated, she calmed her boiling frustration and stared at the ceiling. Open the closet at home and it's stuffed with clothes, yet she always whines "I got nothing to wear" and buys more. Kids in Africa starving, dying of thirst, freezing without clothes—and here we are obsessing over fashion, tossing unworn stuff, buying new, wearing once or twice, repeat. That's why the world's so messed up. Save money, save resources, think about what really matters—instead of blowing cash just 'cause you can. How many clothes does a person need? A few pairs of underwear. One or two outer layers. Work clothes. Going-out clothes. That's plenty to live. Why so much? Back in my day, even wanting clothes was a luxury, buying them was...
The awkward atmosphere wrapped up thanks to "Suyeon's mom" and Suyeon's explosion. Still a bit tense, but better. After hotel dinner, Iseo stepped out for a walk. Past the short park in front of the hotel, there was a mysteriously docked boat by the sea... and night views across the bay. A pretty romantic city vibe. Wandering aimlessly through the park, she popped into a nearby Lawson.
"Welcome~"
Iseo grabbed an ice cream, headed to the counter. The part-timer gestured at her transit card toward the reader, speaking Japanese.
"Thanks~"
Even convenience stores greet here? Did they in Korea? She'd never noticed before, so who knows. Leaning on the parking lot guardrail, Iseo ate her ice cream.
"What the—why're you here?"
The voice calling her snapped her out of mindless munching. It was Seoha. Seoha bought ice cream too, and silence resumed. Iseo pondered what to say. How to start? "Sorry" feels too submissive—Seoha was wrong too. "Fashion's subjective"? Or "Flower patterns are still a no-go"... might sound like picking a fight.
"Your ice cream's dripping."
"Huh? Shit..."
Seoha's warning jolted her. So deep in thought she hadn't noticed. Half-melted coffee ice cream stained her white tee—permanent mark.
"Wipe it with this."
"Ugh... thanks."
Seoha pulled crumpled wet wipes from her pocket. Not fully gone, but better than nothing. Iseo finished the ice cream, thought of her fave tee now trash-worthy... and chuckled.
"Suyeon's right. Already thinking of tossing it."
"Huh?"
Iseo glanced at the night sky. City lights—no stars. But somehow, she felt the North Star. Unchanging.
"Sorry."
"...Yeah."
Just a short word sufficed. Conversation over, back to silence. Park chatter, store lights, distant nightscape, chirping crickets—all around them.
"But that pattern was still kinda iffy."
"...What'd you say?"
No clue when or how they'd made up, but Iseo and Seoha seemed closer. Myeongjeon was relieved—no headache—as she boarded the train. Destination: hotel near Enoshima beach. Luggage and Hyein (who begged off tired, staying at the inn) dropped there first. Morning plan: circle Enoshima before swimming.
Crowded but not full-on "city" like Tokyo or Yokohama—everyone seemed thrilled.
"Oh yeah! I just remembered..."
"What."
Iseo piped up like she'd recalled something. These moments usually meant trouble for Myeongjeon, who eyed her warily.
"Enoshima's a Bocchi the Rock holy site."
"...Oh! Right! Take the Enoden... get off at Enoshima Station! Then pilgrimage from there."
"Bocchi the Rock? That cartoon with the song?"
"Why can't you remember? Bocchi the Rock. Bocchi the Rock."
Myeongjeon stared blankly at the sea, wondering why she needed to track anime. Unrelated to her beyond the song—why memorize? But the world—and Iseo—wouldn't let her.
"So, let's cosplay. Enoshima and all—Bocchi characters."
"...Huh? Cos...play? Uh..."
"Sounds fun."
Quick buy-in from the two. Hyeona hesitant on "cosplay," Seoha positive. Myeongjeon gawked, lost amid their chatter. Still not fully modern-adapted.
Cosplay. Portmanteau of "costume" + "play," Japanese origin. Long story short: dress and act like fave characters.
"Why the hell would I do that?!"
Naturally, Myeongjeon shut it down hard: "Not even if you held a knife to my throat." Already pissed at dying, waking female, living as one—now imitate cartoon characters? Over her dead body (Seo Myeongjeon's already buried).
"C'mon, together~!"
But her iron wall crumbled under the trio's coaxing. Iseo: Enoshima chance! Hyeona: swept up, regrettable impulse. Seoha: just fun, do it. Couldn't just flop over.
"Fine, whatever... But don't you need costumes first? We don't have any. Can't do it without, right? Gotta have outfits."
Desperate escape attempt: No clothes or wigs—impossible! Akihabara maybe, but not here. She figured it'd work.
...Until Iseo fetched suspiciously shady rentals from a shady shop via phone.
"Why me in this..."
"Fun~ Kinda yukata vibe. Rare chance outside Japan."
Instruments and character-matched: Suyeon pink wig, Iseo red, Seoha blue, Hyeona yellow. Four (cosplaying) high school girls marched boldly to Enoshima Shrine.
...A few steps in, they glanced around. Matching outfits. Pink, red, blue, yellow wigs. One even with guitar case—in this heat.
"...Eh? Nande? (Huh? Why?)?"
The words slipped from the others. For some reason, it felt like narrow bridge showdown—no backing down.