Water Bomber

It all started on April 25th, 2022.

You were deep into a Monster Hunter Wilds session with your longtime friend Sakura, her laid-back boyfriend Toji, and someone new—Eunbi, Sakura’s friend from her dance crew.

“Unnie, are you having fun?” Sakura asked cheerfully as the four of you tag-teamed a particularly slippery Mizutsune. The fight had been long, but Eunbi was chasing its armor set for what she described as “aesthetic purposes.” In her words, it was “so pretty it hurts.”

“Yeah, Sakura-yah. I love it. And thanks to you guys, I’m finally getting the hang of it.” You grinned, watching your avatar tumble through the Mizutsune’s water blasts.

You hadn’t met Eunbi before tonight, but there was something instantly warm and charming about her. The way she spoke—soft, thoughtful, punctuated with unexpected laughter—made you feel like you’d known her longer than just a few hunts. When you tried to picture her, your brain filled in the blanks with soft edges and big eyes—just… cute.

After a few more runs, Mizutsune finally dropped the last part Eunbi needed. She let out a giddy little squeal as her hunter jogged toward Emma the blacksmith. You smiled, just listening to her hum with excitement through your headset.

About five minutes later, Eunbi returned to the lobby wearing the full Mizutsune set—sleek, iridescent, and very, very pink.

“Whoa, Eunbi, you look amazing,” Sakura said.

“Total fashion kill,” Toji added with his usual dry tone.

You chimed in with a grin, “Honestly? Worth the grind. You look great.”

Eunbi giggled. “Thank you all so much. Seriously, if it weren’t for you guys, I’d still be drowning in bubbles.”

You laughed along with them, but as the clock ticked past midnight, you rubbed your eyes and leaned back in your chair. “Alright, I should call it here. I’ve got actual grown-up stuff to do tomorrow.”

“Wait, Daigo,” Eunbi said just as you were about to log off. You paused.

“I know I can’t invite Sakura and Toji—Sakura’s got rehearsal for the concert—but… as a thank-you for helping me tonight, I wanted to invite you to Waterbomb.”

You blinked. “Wait… seriously?”

Eunbi’s voice was playful. “Mhm. You in?”

“Yeah… okay.” You weren’t quite sure what you were agreeing to. The name Waterbomb rang a bell, but not loud enough to shake anything loose. You barely had time to ask before Eunbi added:

“Let me get your Instagram.” She sent a follow request a second later and DM’d you the full event details.

You tapped over to her profile, expecting a few selfies and maybe the occasional food post. Instead, you scrolled down and froze.

Clips from previous Waterbomb festivals filled your screen—Eunbi on stage in a soaked crop top, dancing like a tidal wave. Her moves were magnetic, sensual, commanding—and suddenly, your brain made the connection. That Eunbi. The performer. Sakura’s ex leader in izone

Your mouth went dry.

Something primal stirred at the back of your mind, like an alarm clock you hadn’t meant to set.

She had invited you.

The weeks before Waterbomb pass in a rhythm that feels easy. Familiar.

Each night, you and Eunbi dive into Monster Hunter hunts together—sometimes just the two of you, sometimes with Toji or Sakura dropping in between rehearsals. You start recognizing the way she fights: quick, clever, a little chaotic. You don’t say it out loud, but you love watching her win.

After each session, she sends you outfit options. Just little photos, usually mirror selfies or snapshots against her bedroom wall. At first, they’re tame—an oversized hoodie here, a floaty sundress there. She always adds a caption.

“Too boring?”

“Be honest, this makes me look like a grandma right?”

“Cute or just…eh?”

You reply dutifully—sometimes with jokes, sometimes with emojis, and sometimes with a well-placed “Ma’am 😳.” She eats it up.

But the outfits start getting bolder. Skin shows in different places. A crop here, a side slit there. You know the game she’s playing, and even though you’re trying to keep it casual, your reactions start slipping through.

And then she sends that outfit.

A red plaid crop top. A white bra peeking just beneath. Faded denim shorts riding high on her hips.

You stare at your phone for a solid ten seconds, maybe more. You blink, like maybe you imagined it. You did not.

You Facetime her without thinking. She picks up immediately, already grinning.

“So?” she asks, voice sweet as sugar. “How do I look?”

She knows what she’s done. You can see it in her eyes, in the slight tilt of her head, in how she’s trying not to laugh.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to sound composed. You’re not.

“Look… I’m gonna be honest,” you say. “I have nothing polite to say about that outfit.”

You pause, watching her expression shift slightly—just enough for the tension to crack a little.

“…But I promise you—every single thing I have to say is positive.”

Her giggle is quiet but victorious. She bites her lip, smiling like she just won a bet.

And in that moment, you realize two things:

1. You are absolutely not ready for Waterbomb.

2. She’s known that from the start.

A few days after the Facetime call, Eunbi texts you mid-afternoon.

Eunbi:

“You busy this evening? 👀”

You weren’t. Not really. Just pretending to work, letting your thoughts drift toward Waterbomb more often than you’d admit.

You: