I used to dress up for Halloween every single year.
Not because I had to. Because I wanted to.

It was my annual excuse to go full nerd without apology.
Stormtrooper, Jedi, Sith, obscure anime references… I went all in.
And at some point, the costumes got more elaborate.
More expensive.
Less like play… and more like armor.

I remember justifying it ... like I had to.
“Sure, it’s pricey… but it’s for the premiere of Revenge of the Sith.”
“Okay, it’s clone trooper armor, but I’ll use it for events!”
“Actually, I joined the 501st Legion ... it’s official now.”

I was an adult. I earned my own money.
But something in me still needed permission to be that kind of fan.
To be seen in that light.

But then I put the suit on…
And man ... I was badass.

One with the Empire.
Elite. Sharp. Clean. Commanding.
Sure, technically a bad guy...
But I looked good.

Wearing that armor gave me power. Not fake confidence ... amplified confidence.
It didn’t hide me. It shaped me.
And I fed off the looks, the compliments, the pictures, the awe.

But then came the hospital visit.
Part of the Legion’s mission was to support Make-A-Wish events, sick children, recovery centers.
So I said yes.

And everything changed.

I remember walking through sterile hallways ... visor fogging slightly, heart pounding.
We were supposed to be there for fun.
A distraction.
A dream walking in full armor.

And then I saw their faces.

One child ... small, tired, hooked up to machines ... suddenly sat up straighter.
Eyes lit. Mouth opened.
And for a second, I wasn’t a grown man in a suit.
I was real.
To them, I had walked off the screen.
I was there… for them.

Behind the helmet, I cried.
Hard.
Grateful no one could see my face.

That was the shift.

After that, every time I suited up, I stopped chasing the high from adults.
I started watching for children.

Not just the sick ones. All of them.
Their joy wasn’t filtered.
Their wonder was immediate.
And their ability to melt through your cool-guy shell? Unmatched.

It reminded me of something I hadn’t said out loud before ...
When I was a kid, I saw stormtroopers the same way.
Not scary.
Just… awesome.
Commanding. Clean. Larger than life.

And now here I was, wearing the suit I used to stare at.
And offering that feeling to someone else.

It didn’t stop there.
I joined Tokyo Theatre For Children.
Started performing in stage shows ... full costumes, full commitment.
I became “Baby Bear” in Three Little Pigs Out West.
And I loved it.

All of it.

Because somewhere along the way, what started as cosplay became a calling.
The costume never stopped being cool.
It just stopped being about me.

I dressed up to escape.
To disappear.
To become someone else.

But instead…
I found myself standing in front of a child, helmet on, tears quietly falling inside.
And I realized…

Sometimes, the armor isn’t there to protect you.
It’s there to carry the version of you that’s finally ready to be seen.