The Weeaboo’s Prologue I’m not a weeaboo! I’m j-just an anime enthusiast. I know about Japan because I study it! I’m praaactically fluent in Japanese! Reading manga doesn’t define me as a person, you know.
I’ve been super into Japan for, like, ever. I’ve been drawing anime for who knows how long. I swear, my funeral certificate is gonna list my cause of death as Japanese snacks!
I wonder if they’ll save my art. The doujinshi I draw is too good to be forgotten! Y’know, with handsome guys in waistcoats and cute girls in skirts and all that. Those designs are pretty much impossible to do in real life. And I would know because I cosplay - that is, I wear costumes to look like anime characters. I have over a dozen official cosplays. I’m the best …show more content…
Conventions! These big events of stale sashimi and overpriced merchandise! It’s fun because everyone dresses up as characters from anything Japanese. I’ve gone to my fair share of cons, and man, you wouldn’t believe the number of Hatsune Mikus. Not that I’m complaining…
Speaking of which, I think I have a story.
The Weeaboo’s Tale Anne sprinted like her life depended on it. Her zettai ryouiki cosplay flailing in the wind, she charged towards the convention center, shoving her money into her plastic-and-duct-tape skirt pocket. She slid to a stop in front of the large building, narrowly avoiding a collision with a merchandise booth. She ignored the concessionaire as she darted through the main doors. “Oh, thank heavens,” Anne whispered, heaving against the wall, looking around at the meandering crowds. “I’m not late after all.” She started towards the aisles, but didn’t get very far, as she felt a massive blunt force hit her. With a loud clatter, someone fell to the floor.
“Oh! I-I’m sorry!”
“Ah, geez!” Anne hissed, picking herself up. “Did I hurt you?”
“I don’t understand,” she said. The girl, wearing a nearly perfect Hatsune Miku outfit, backed away. Anne almost didn’t realize that she’d responded in Japanese.
“Oh, I speak Japanese! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you. Are you okay?” Anne …show more content…
“She says it’s 4,000 yen,” Anne translated. “Are you sure you have the correct price?”
“Prices change. So what? It’s still 5,000.”
“He says it’s 5,000. I’m sure it’s not his fault…” Anne explained apologetically. Seeing the girl’s seething expression, she quickly offered, “What if I pay the difference?”
Kazuka yelped. “N-No! I-I don’t need your handouts, a-and-”
Anne slammed 1,000 yen on the counter. Kazuka appeared shocked by her indignance.
“...R-Really?” she whispered, wide-eyed.
“Yes,” Anne replied. “And you know what, Kazuka?” she asked. “Do you know why I’m doing this?” She clenched her fist. “Because even if I don’t someone them well, I’m still entitled to do good things for them! E-Even if I don’t really know why I’m doing it myself...” She smiled faintly, “I know that they’re good people, and that they really want to thank me, a-and I want to be able to appreciate them too!”
Kazuka placed her hand over her mouth, eyes brimming with water. Trembling, she pulled Anne into a hug.
“I-It’s not like I like you or anything…” she mumbled into Anne’s vest.
“That’s a shame,” she giggled.
The vendor rapped his table. “So are you buying the plushie or
I’ve been super into Japan for, like, ever. I’ve been drawing anime for who knows how long. I swear, my funeral certificate is gonna list my cause of death as Japanese snacks!
I wonder if they’ll save my art. The doujinshi I draw is too good to be forgotten! Y’know, with handsome guys in waistcoats and cute girls in skirts and all that. Those designs are pretty much impossible to do in real life. And I would know because I cosplay - that is, I wear costumes to look like anime characters. I have over a dozen official cosplays. I’m the best …show more content…
Conventions! These big events of stale sashimi and overpriced merchandise! It’s fun because everyone dresses up as characters from anything Japanese. I’ve gone to my fair share of cons, and man, you wouldn’t believe the number of Hatsune Mikus. Not that I’m complaining…
Speaking of which, I think I have a story.
The Weeaboo’s Tale Anne sprinted like her life depended on it. Her zettai ryouiki cosplay flailing in the wind, she charged towards the convention center, shoving her money into her plastic-and-duct-tape skirt pocket. She slid to a stop in front of the large building, narrowly avoiding a collision with a merchandise booth. She ignored the concessionaire as she darted through the main doors. “Oh, thank heavens,” Anne whispered, heaving against the wall, looking around at the meandering crowds. “I’m not late after all.” She started towards the aisles, but didn’t get very far, as she felt a massive blunt force hit her. With a loud clatter, someone fell to the floor.
“Oh! I-I’m sorry!”
“Ah, geez!” Anne hissed, picking herself up. “Did I hurt you?”
“I don’t understand,” she said. The girl, wearing a nearly perfect Hatsune Miku outfit, backed away. Anne almost didn’t realize that she’d responded in Japanese.
“Oh, I speak Japanese! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you. Are you okay?” Anne …show more content…
“She says it’s 4,000 yen,” Anne translated. “Are you sure you have the correct price?”
“Prices change. So what? It’s still 5,000.”
“He says it’s 5,000. I’m sure it’s not his fault…” Anne explained apologetically. Seeing the girl’s seething expression, she quickly offered, “What if I pay the difference?”
Kazuka yelped. “N-No! I-I don’t need your handouts, a-and-”
Anne slammed 1,000 yen on the counter. Kazuka appeared shocked by her indignance.
“...R-Really?” she whispered, wide-eyed.
“Yes,” Anne replied. “And you know what, Kazuka?” she asked. “Do you know why I’m doing this?” She clenched her fist. “Because even if I don’t someone them well, I’m still entitled to do good things for them! E-Even if I don’t really know why I’m doing it myself...” She smiled faintly, “I know that they’re good people, and that they really want to thank me, a-and I want to be able to appreciate them too!”
Kazuka placed her hand over her mouth, eyes brimming with water. Trembling, she pulled Anne into a hug.
“I-It’s not like I like you or anything…” she mumbled into Anne’s vest.
“That’s a shame,” she giggled.
The vendor rapped his table. “So are you buying the plushie or