After another exchange of emails, we confirmed our appointment with Kuga for tomorrow morning. We would be meeting at the offices of Otherworld Productions Inc. in the Tokyo metropolitan area. We’d already explained that there were two of us—my neighbor, the one using the 3D model, and me, her manager.
By the time we’d finished up with Kuga, dinner was ready, so we headed to the living room and ate with everyone else. The main topic of conversation was our progress in the view-count contest. Ms. Futarishizuka had submitted two videos that day, and they had each garnered almost ten thousand views. Adding these to her initial submission yesterday, she was at almost thirty thousand.
Miss Hoshizaki hadn’t shared her channel name, so we didn’t have a concrete read on her current status. But judging by how boldly she spoke to Ms. Futarishizuka, I suspected she had a similar number of views. The same went for Type Twelve. I’d also learned of my neighbor’s success today.
All of this meant that I was most definitely in last place. I had to get tens of thousands of views to stand a chance. There was no way I could catch up.
As far as I could see, there was only one option: to help my neighbor and Abaddon win the contest. That way, I would avoid any strange requests from my workplace colleagues. It might seem like a cowardly choice, but it was what I had to do.
The following day, we went to one of the most well-known office districts in Tokyo. There were lots of other IT companies in the neighborhood, all with a lively, optimistic vibe.
Peeps and I had spent the previous night at Ms. Futarishizuka’s villa, then met up with my neighbor first thing in the morning. After eating breakfast with Ms. Futarishizuka, Lady Elsa, and Prince Lewis, we scrupulously got ourselves ready and departed. For transportation, we borrowed one of Type Twelve’s terminals.
We arrived at our destination in just a few minutes—a famous building housing several well-known businesses.
“Check out the size of this place. It’s so pretentious!”
“Please be careful not to wander off and get lost, Abaddon.”
“No worries! It’s impossible for me to ever lose sight of you.”
“That’s actually kind of creepy.”
“As long as you understand.”
“……”
Naturally, my neighbor and Abaddon were with me. The demon was using his strange powers to hide himself as he bobbed up and down in the air next to her. I’d been worried an isolated space might break out; this area was very crowded, and it seemed like a real possibility. Thankfully, nothing like that had happened so far. Maybe most Disciples intentionally avoided busy areas for that very reason.
My neighbor was dressed in street clothes; the police might stop us if she was walking around in her uniform, so I’d asked her not to in advance. The outfit she’d chosen gave off an especially formal impression. This was probably the work of Ms. Futarishizuka, who had provided the clothes.
We went inside and took the elevator up to OtherPro’s office. At the reception desk, I gave Kuga’s name, and we were promptly shown to a conference room. The space was extremely typical, and we sat down and waited there for a few minutes. Soon, a man in a suit appeared at the door.
“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”
My neighbor and I rose from our seats; it was time to exchange business cards.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “My name is Kuga. I’m the board director and COO of Otherworld Productions.”
His tone was casual, but the revelation came as quite a shock. Our guy was really high up the ladder. Of course, this wasn’t all that unusual in a company with only two hundred to three hundred employees—especially in the entertainment industry, where the average age was lower. The fact that he was in a position with lots of freedom to make decisions also explained the flexibility we’d seen in his emails. Still, he’d clearly prioritized this interview over any internal company meetings.
“I’m Sasaki of SC Industries,” I said, concealing my surprise.
I’d hastily prepared a business card that morning after breakfast. I’d completely forgotten that, ever since leaving my previous place of employment, I no longer had a business card I could use in these situations. I couldn’t exactly give him one that said I belonged to the police department, after all.
The company name I’d given was real. After discussing the matter with Ms. Futarishizuka over breakfast, she allowed me to use one of the many domestic corporations she owned. The midsize business was safe, its conduct good and aboveboard; it wouldn’t be an issue if a third party looked into it.
For my contact information, I used the info linked to my bureau phone. If any problems arose, I’d simply use the power of the state to make it look like nothing ever happened. After all, the contest was related to our pretend family, and the boss had approved of it as part of our job with the bureau. Miss Hoshizaki would probably be thinking about how much hazard pay she’d be getting for working outside the office.
“Um, my name is Kurosu,” said my neighbor.
“And you’re the one behind Ochiba Kareki?”
“Yes, sir. That’s right.”
Incidentally, Kuga turned out to be more overbearing than we’d imagined. And to put it bluntly, he looked kind of scary. His short, spiky hair was dyed a bright color, and his suit was gaudy, with thick stripes. He wore an expensive-looking lustrous shirt and necktie, and his glasses were slightly tinted.
It all suited him perfectly, too. I found myself losing the mental battle already, and this was only our first meeting. I figured he probably wasn’t, but he really looked like a yakuza.
“You’re much more youthful than I thought you’d be,” Kuga said with a little smile. “If I’m being honest, I’m kind of shocked.”
My neighbor and Abaddon were optimistic about being scouted. Kuga, however, didn’t seem to know quite how to deal with a minor. After all, plenty of VTubers were in their thirties and above.
“I apologize,” I said. “I should have told you in advance about Kurosu’s age.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. We’ve got plenty of younger ones these days.”
“Ngh…”
As Kuga spoke, my neighbor suddenly gave a start. She’d already been sitting up straight; now she was practically leaning over backward.
“Are you okay, Kurosu?” I asked.
“Y-yes. Don’t mind me.”
“Well, all right.”
“Mr. Sasaki, Miss Kurosu, please, have a seat.”
Prompted by Kuga, we settled back into our chairs. My neighbor and I sat next to each other, with Kuga seated across the table from us. Abaddon was floating behind my neighbor, as usual. The door was to my left, with a display screen to my right, and a whiteboard was facing me, behind Kuga. Next to the door was a clock; it was a little past ten AM.
Normally, my neighbor would be at school right now. Unfortunately, she’d had to take the day off. This company wasn’t open on Saturdays, so we didn’t have a choice.
That said, I’d done a little online research the day before and found out that children who worked as stage actors, voice actors, and the like often took days off school to attend work or lessons. They’d continue like that until they graduated middle school, when they’d typically transfer into a high school geared toward students involved in the performing arts. This had been news to me, and I was quite impressed.