First thing in the morning, I head straight to the guest room, still wearing my pajamas. I open up the laptop and see the page for the video I uploaded the night before: Ochiba Kareki’s gloomy self-introduction.
Below the video is the number of times it’s been watched.
And that number, amazingly, is 53,012.
I take one look and exclaim, “We did it, Abaddon! I was right!”
“Wow, I guess things really can blow up overnight.”
I’m very pleased. I’m not quite as ecstatic as I was when I finally found my neighbor’s social media account after months of trying. But I’m about as happy as when I won rock-paper-scissors at lunch and scored an extra flan for dessert. Okay, maybe I’m not that happy. School lunches seem less pressing now that I have a steady supply of food and a roof over my head, but things were different back then.
At any rate, I’m feeling good.
“Hey, look at you. I almost never see you without some kind of sarcastic expression,” says Abaddon, as if he can read my mind.
“…Is that so?”
Ignoring him, I start checking the comments.
A significant percentage of people are making references to Misaki Hanano. They understand how we got here, and now they’re praising the Ochiba Kareki character. I figure that’s probably how the video got to 53,012 views.
“There was a girl in my class like Hanano who had a head full of flowers. A real idiot.” “Tbh, I prefer Kareki.” “What a difference from Hanano.” “Her depression is so real, it almost hurts.” “Hanano’s try-hard attitude was all foreshadowing.” “I hope this was intentional. Otherwise the people behind this channel must be really embarrassed.”
Suddenly curious, I type Ochiba Kareki’s name into a search engine. It seems we’re being talked about on an anonymous forum. I find a thread someone put up in the VTuber section making fun of our channel, and it has a ton of responses.
People on social media are talking about us, too. Not enough to trend, but the video’s URL is being posted all over, thanks to some accounts that like to follow new VTubers.
From there, blogs that compile news on this kind of topic put out articles summarizing the entire string of events. A gloomy VTuber, unable to fully sell her upbeat character model, has now switched her appearance. I assume a lot of the viewers came from those sites.
“They sure aren’t holding back in the comments.”
“Views are views. Let’s be content with them.”
“Omg, they changed the model instead of the person using it.” “I can’t believe they already redid the model. That was so fast. They’ve gotta have some crazy tech, right?” “The new model matches her depressing voice perfectly lmao.” “This model fits her way better.” “Can’t believe how natural she sounds.”
Given the context, I decide to take these comments as congratulatory.
They aren’t going to listen to me, no matter what I say, and it would probably take a lawsuit to shut them up for good. I can’t do that as a minor, and if it went to court, I’d have to reveal my identity—a lethal mistake for someone in the death game.
Getting bashed is irritating, but my only choice is to simply endure it.
“Hey, look at this number here. It was zero yesterday, but now it’s really high.” Abaddon points at the screen.
“Oh, that’s the number of people subscribed to our channel.” I didn’t have any yesterday, yet now I have almost a thousand. “A pretty high percentage of the people who watched must have subscribed. If what I read on the internet is right, it usually takes around one to two hundred thousand views to get a thousand subscribers.”
“I guess that means society thinks highly of what you’re saying.”
“Judging by the comments, their praise is mostly for the quality of the younger sister’s 3D model. If someone else had been playing Misaki Hanano, I think that alone would have made her popular.”
“You’re always so modest about these things. Are you embarrassed? How unusual.” As always, the demon focuses his efforts on lighthearted banter.
What’s wrong with being embarrassed? I’ve never experienced anything like this before in my life. I feel like I’m floating. The information displayed on the screen might as well be something from another world.
“This also means we meet the requirements for monetization,” I say, trying to change the topic.
“Oh, yeah. We can get money for uploading videos, right?”
“Yes. I never thought we’d make it this far.”
If we can earn some real money, we won’t need to rely on Futarishizuka as much. There are a lot of obstacles to overcome—like getting permission from a guardian and opening a bank account—but it seems worth looking into, at least.
If this goes well, my dream of leaving the villa and moving in next to my neighbor, wherever he ends up, could actually be feasible. Come to think of it, I wonder where he’s living right now. Last time I asked, he said he’d evacuated to a hotel close to our old apartment building.
“Talk about attractive prospects! We won’t have to bother the landlady nearly as much.”
“Yes. My thoughts exactly.”
It seems I have a new motivation to upload videos, aside from Futarishizuka’s contest. Maybe I can be more optimistic, just like I promised Robot Girl.
There’s no rule saying I can’t keep up my channel after the contest is over. If all goes well, and I start to see the potential for steady income, I can ask the landlady about monetization.
“I’m always surprised by the weird things human beings want,” Abaddon remarks as he watches Ochiba Kareki’s self-introduction.
I agree with him there. Personally, I thought Misaki Hanano had a much better chance of success. Of course, going against the grain is also a tried-and-true method, but unfortunately, those sorts of characters naturally wind up incredibly negative. Is the market really that saturated, and the viewers that bored with the status quo?
Well, I’ll probably start to see the bigger picture if I just keep uploading. I once read that the people producing a product often fail to appreciate its true value.
“I think we should keep trying to cater to niche demands,” I say. “We want to keep up the views, so let’s do our best on the next video. For now, I’ll work mainly on writing scripts during school.”
“I’d rather you pay more attention to your studies!”
There are more than ten days left in the contest. Maybe I should aim for first place. After all, there’s a reward on the line.
If my neighbor’s going to fall, I want to fall with him, as far as we can. And I can only do that by winning.