Mg
Inspired/influenced by the biggest masterpiece of our time, "Roommates", is an attempt at the genre of my own (though nowhere as good as Roommates). Takes place in an unnamed Scandinavian country; it's my first story and English isn't my mother language so it's probably pretty stiff.
Day one
Like many other places around the world, Japanese culture had become rather popular in the capital of my country, so a number of years ago, a two-day open-air Japanese culture festival had popped up to be held every spring, in one of the bigger parks close to the center of the city. As a closeted weaboo, it was only natural for me to go there. The first year I went alone, not having any friends at the time also into Japanese stuff. The festival was pretty typical, I assume, with Japanese food stalls, different games for the kids, and performances of martial arts, dances and so on. In contrast to “real” festivals in Japan, however, this was held during the day.
The stalls and performances were okay, but what really caught my surprise - and interest - was all the cosplay taking place, so I spent most of the two days looking at that. It was a real thrill to see my favorite characters being brought to life, but I was too shy to approach any of the cute girls walking around. Talking with someone one-on-one would have been okay, but they were always in groups with their friends, so I didn’t know how to join in, especially just when I was just wearing plain clothes.
So with nothing much happening, I skipped out going for the next couple of years. Entering university, I made a circle of fellow weeaboo friends and one of them suggested that we go to the festival that year. Figuring it would be better to go with someone else than alone, I agreed. Barely anything at the festival had changed, perhaps for some furries having showed up for some reason. After making our round to visit the stalls, we kept our eyes out for any cute girls to chat up. However, even though we could now act as wing-men for each other, we didn’t have much luck in getting to know any of the cosplayers. First of all, most of them seemed to still be teenagers, while we were in our early twenties, and once we did find someone our age, they had obviously gone to the festival to flirt with strangers. It probably didn’t help that we were not cosplaying ourselves, but we thought that that would be overdoing it.
The following year, my friend suggested we go again, and with nothing else to do, I agreed. An extraordinarily warm day for spring, I showed up earlier than planned, and wandered around while waiting for my friend. That’s when I saw her for the first time. In the midst of the sea of middle-aged people studying the exhibit of a Japanese garden, and the cosplayers with their big, complicated costumes, I caught a glimpse of a simple and traditional sailor school uniform. The pureness o
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