The final day of Otakufest always hit different.
It wasn't just the exhaustion — the sore feet, the peeling tape on the staff badges, the way every volunteer looked like they were running on 40% battery and sugar packets. It was the nostalgia that kicked in early. That weird little ache you get when you realize, "Damn… this only happens once a year."
Hydro felt that ache more than anyone.
Last year he was just some dude helping at a booth.
Now, somehow, he'd become part of the backbone of the event.
The sun was dipping behind the convention hall in Nagashima Spa Land, splashing the place in that warm golden-orange glow that made everything — the banners, the half-collapsed stage props, the cosplay wings sticking out of bags — look straight-up magical. Even the dusty corners of the loading docks looked kinda aesthetic for once.
Hydro tugged at his staff vest, already half-unzipped, and balanced two cardboard boxes in his arms.
"Bro, careful with that!" someone yelled behind him.
He turned.
It was one of the senior staff, Renz — the guy who lived off milk tea and stress. His glasses were fogged up from running around all day.
"These boxes have the prop swords for the winners. Don't drop 'em, okay?"
Hydro smirked. "Relax, they're just foam."
"Yeah," Renz wheezed, "but they're *expensive* foam."
Hydro didn't argue. He honestly didn't have the energy to. Three days straight of handling lines, assisting guests, giving directions, dealing with confused parents, fixing bent props, and catching people from fainting? His soul was on power-saving mode.
He headed toward the backstage area where the awards ceremony would be happening later. Inside the function hall, the final-day evening energy was hitting its peak — crowded but not chaotic, loud but not overwhelming. The kind of atmosphere where you could feel that everything was winding down but still alive.
Staff ran around with walkie-talkies.
Cosplayers snapped their last photos of the night.
Vendors started packing up merch, still trying to squeeze in last-hour sales.
That typical con smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and food-truck fries clung to everything.
Honestly? Hydro kinda loved it.
He placed the boxes on the awards table, triple-checking the labels the way Renz taught him.
Best Craftmanship
Best Armor
Judge's Choice
Best Performance
The foam swords and acrylic trophies glimmered under the yellow fluorescent lights. They looked cheap up close, but somehow they still held that symbolic weight. Like, people really fought tooth and nail for these things — sewing all night, gluing foam, painting armor, praying props wouldn't break on stage.
Hydro got it.
Props break.
People break.
He'd broken a bit too, over the years.
But he didn't think about that yet. Not tonight. He just wiped his forehead with a towel, grabbed his walkie, and leaned against the wall.
"Hydro, you free?" came a voice through the radio — Peach, the head organizer.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"We need two more staff outside Hall B. Some crowd overflow."
"Copy," he said, pushing himself off the wall.
Another day, another sudden mini-crisis.
HALL B
Hall B was swarming when he got there.
The stage inside was holding its last big collaboration photoshoot — that massive one where all the Shonen protagonists, Genshin characters, Valorant agents, and random maid cafés lined up together like a fever dream crossover.
"Hydro! Over here!"
Two staff members waved him over. They were already tired beyond belief.
"We're trying to funnel the crowd through that side," one explained, pointing at a temporary barricade, "but people keep circling around the wrong way."
Hydro nodded. "Got it."
He dropped into work mode — the part where he wasn't Hydro the immortal boy, or Hydro the overpowered cosmic anomaly, or Hydro the kid running from a blood-soaked past.
Just Hydro the staffer with a semi-broken walkie and a vest that didn't fit properly.
He held the barricade steady while another staff adjusted the strap. He guided cosplayers, making sure armor pieces didn't get caught in the metal bars. He answered questions from confused parents and first-time attendees. He calmed a kid who lost his group by scanning the badge QR code and calling their team.
Low-key? He was carrying half the load without even trying.
Someone dropped a prop shield — he caught it.
Someone tripped over a mic cable — he steadied them.
Someone nearly spilled their drink on the soundboard table — he snatched it mid-air.
The others noticed.
"Dude, how are your reflexes still that sharp?" one staff member asked.
Hydro shrugged, awkward. "I drink soda."
"Bro, soda doesn't make you Spider-Man."
He laughed. "It does if you believe."
They cracked up, lightening the mood for everyone. That was Hydro's secret talent — making work feel like it wasn't killing you inside.
He helped organize the photo line. He lifted a stage light that two people were struggling with. He even helped a dude fix a broken prop scythe using duct tape, cable ties, and some kind of wizardry.
The staff genuinely appreciated him.
Not because he was strong.
But because he made everything easier without bragging or expecting praise.
Hydro never said it out loud, but… this was the closest thing to "normal" he ever felt.
But then… it happened.
That moment where his brain just dipped.
Where his body was here but his mind wandered somewhere way darker, way quieter.
He was supposed to help roll the speaker racks into storage. Easy task. But as he grabbed one of the rails, his vision tunnelled for a second. The lights dimmed. The crowd noise blurred out like someone turned down the world's volume.
Then —
Kabuto's face flashed in his mind.
Not angry. Not vengeful.
Just… watching.
Ghost.
God Eater.
Old battles.
Old timelines.
Blood he didn't want to remember.
His hands froze on the speaker cart.
"Hydro? Yo? Bro, you good?"
He blinked.
One of the staff, Joshua, stared at him with a concerned face.
"Oh — yeah. Sorry. Zoned out," Hydro said, forcing a smile.
"You looked like someone unplugged you."
Hydro laughed it off. "Nah, just tired."
But inside, he hated this feeling.
That random dissociation that kicked in whenever life got too peaceful.
Like his brain didn't trust quiet moments.
He pushed the speaker rack with the others, trying to hide the slowdown.
Joshua nudged him lightly. "You sure you're cool for night shift?"
"Yeah, don't worry," Hydro replied, but his voice didn't even convince himself.
He'd always been good at hiding things… until he wasn't.
Renz passed by, handing out bottled water. "Hydro! Need one?"
He caught it midair, flawless reflex.
Renz blinked. "See? Spider-Man reflexes. That's not normal."
Hydro: "Just adrenaline."
Renz: "No one has adrenaline 24/7."
Hydro didn't answer. He just took a long gulp and pretended he couldn't hear the concern in their voices.
By 8:15 PM, the final wave of activities was slowing down. Staff began their last and longest grind of the day: guarding the outdoor zones.
That area always hit the most nostalgic.
The open-air parts of conventions had a vibe nothing else could beat:
Soft wind.
Warm yellow lights.
Food trucks selling overpriced takoyaki.
Cosplayers chilling on the nearby grass.
Photographers doing last-shoot-of-the-day scenes.
Someone blasting anime openings through a tiny Bluetooth speaker.
Hydro stood near the exit line with four other staffers, their reflective armbands glowing under the street lamps.
This place felt like childhood, honestly — that same vibe as school fairs, lantern festivals, late-night strolls after an event. It had softness in it he didn't see anywhere else.
"Alright team," Peach said through the radio, "last patrol rotation. Make sure the crowd flows out smoothly and no one sneaks into the loading bay area."
"Copy," Hydro responded.
He moved with the group, slow pace, scanning the area like he was born for it. The food truck smoke drifted along the breeze. Conversations were quiet now — less hype, more chill.
Couples taking selfies.
Cosplayers comparing photos.
Someone repairing a broken wig clip.
A group sharing Pocky on the curb.
A dad carrying a sleepy kid dressed as Nezuko.
A vendor packing up leftover shirts while humming.
Hydro took it all in.
Even the imperfections — the flickering lights, the trash bins filling too fast, the sound system guys arguing over a cable — it was all nostalgic. Real. Human.
Joshua walked beside him. "You ever think about how next year's event will feel?"
Hydro shrugged. "I don't really plan that far."
"Fair. But it's wild, right? Seeing the same vendors every year… same crowd energy… same problems. Feels like home."
Hydro didn't say anything.
But yeah… maybe it did feel like home.
Another staffer, Keiko, joined them. "Guys, look."
She pointed at a group of cosplayers performing their final TikTok dance. They were laughing too hard to keep the formation clean. One of them tripped. The others kept dancing anyway, chaotic but adorable.
"Man," Keiko sighed, "I'm gonna miss this."
"Same," Joshua said.
Hydro stayed quiet but smiled.
Then came the classic con-night moment — the "last burst."
Vendors yelled out last-minute discounts.
The Entire crowd surged for final photos.
Some guy ran by shouting "FREE STICKERS!" which made half the hall chase him.
Hydro held the barricade steady while the others redirected foot traffic.
The wind brushed his hair. His vest flapped softly. The Manila night sky was hazy, but the moon was peeking through.
For that one moment… he felt normal again.
By 9:10 PM, the crowd had thinned.
The stage lights inside were shutting down.
Music faded out.
Staff started doing final sweeps.
The energy dropped from "con hype" to "everyone is tired but emotionally soft."
Hydro walked with the team, checking each corner.
"Area A clear."
"Food truck lane clear."
"Perimeter secure."
Peach's voice came through: "Good work. Take five, everyone."
Hydro nodded to the others, stepped aside near a metal bench by the edge of the parking lot, and sat down.
His legs felt like they were made of bricks.
His hoodie was sticking to his shirt from sweat.
His fingers ached from holding props all day.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a cold can of soda — not energy drink, not sparkling water, just regular soda, sweet and nostalgic.
Click.
The tab cracked open with that iconic hiss.
Hydro leaned back, sighing as he took the first sip.
God, that hit so good.
The cold sweetness.
The carbonation biting his throat.
The breeze cooling his face.
The event noise fading into the distance.
Lights reflecting off the can's silver surface.
He didn't need peace often…
But this? This was enough.
He closed his eyes.
Not zoning out this time.
Just resting.
Just breathing.
For once, he felt like a normal teenager at a normal event… not an immortal anomaly with a cosmic curse dragging behind him.
His walkie crackled softly at his side, but no one was calling him yet.
Just silence.
Just the soda can cooling in his hand.
Just the last night of Otakufest wrapping around him like a soft blanket.
Hydro took another sip and whispered under his breath:
"…wish this part didn't end."
And yeah — maybe that was the first sign that Volume 2 was about to flip everything upside down.
But for now?
He just drank his soda.
Under the yellow lights.
On the last night of Otakufest.
Everything quiet.
Everything nostalgic.
Everything calm before the storm.