Thanks to my neighbor’s help, Ochiba Kareki is now a member of a major talent group.
That afternoon, after our meeting, an email arrives from someone at the company—not the director we met earlier, but someone doing managerial work. They explain what I need to do next.
Most of it is just paperwork—my employment contract and other formalities. When my neighbor sees Abaddon and me struggling with it, he swoops in and handles it all. Since we lack any corporate experience, a lot of it is beyond us, and he proves a huge help. All I do is set up a new social media account.
That gives me time to record and upload a new video that afternoon, just like I did yesterday. I’m following the email’s instructions, which said to continue my current uploads as much as possible.
The next day, Ochiba Kareki is officially announced as a new member of the company. I suppose they’re trying to strike while the iron is hot. Internet trends come and go in the blink of an eye, and Ochiba Kareki might well be at the highest instantaneous wind speed of her VTuber career right now. Lots of people debut with a major agency only to quickly lose momentum and disappear.
“Look! The number right here has another digit!”
“You sure do like numbers, Abaddon.”
After the official announcement, my channel’s subscriber count surpasses ten thousand. It seems big companies have a frightening amount of influence. The video I uploaded to go along with my debut now has close to one hundred thousand views.
The previous videos have gotten more views as well. All in all, I think I’ve managed close to three hundred thousand. At this point, I could very well win the contest.
“I mean, isn’t that the best way to measure Kareki’s popularity?”
“I’m surprised you know that.”
“I borrowed your smartphone while you were asleep and studied up!”
“I’m still near the bottom of the company’s rankings, though.”
“Just goes to show how much you humans have multiplied in the last hundred or so years.”
The company I now belong to is the best in the industry. It employs over a hundred talents, and even the worst performers have tens of thousands of subscribers. From what I hear, even casual live streams regularly get over ten thousand views. It’s going to take more than a bit of exposure to approach their level.
There are comments from the haters, too.
“Joining an agency? What timing. I bet they set the whole thing up.” “Yeah, I knew there had to be more people behind all this.” “It was I who raised the Ochiba Kareki girlie, you know.” “But in that case, why didn’t she get more views on her earlier videos?” “Ugh, I’ve lost interest. I only support indies.”
They can say what they want. Almost a hundred comments have been posted to the video already. At this point, their abuse is just white noise.
“Hey, check out this person. Doesn’t their user icon look familiar?”
“Isn’t that the character the landlady is using for her video game streaming channel?”
“Yeah! That’s the one!”
It seems even Futarishizuka commented. “Wow, huge congrats! You’ve got Shizu’s full support! Are you ever gonna do a live stream?”
“Are you gonna do a live stream?”
“I didn’t have any plans to.”
Thanks to the younger sister’s help, editing my videos takes zero effort. In effect, the mechanical life-form’s super-science means that, while live streams might be easier for the rest of society, the opposite is true for me.
Above all, my introvert nature makes me resistant to talking to an audience for an extended period of time. And I’d have to check everything in advance to avoid leaking any personal information. Plus, I have school on weekdays and pretend family time after that. I can write scripts during class, so it makes more sense to maintain the quality of my videos that way.
Two days later, the company asks me to record a video alongside some other group members at a studio in Tokyo.
Among the participants, I see a few names I recognize from my trip to the office the other day. When I look them up on the internet, I can tell they’re famous in the industry. I compare our number of subscribers; their count has two more digits than mine. They must be some of the top VTubers in Japan.
It seems like this recording was already planned, and they’re bringing me in as a last-minute addition. My neighbor thinks they’re trying to use it to promote Ochiba Kareki, and that it’s a sign they have a lot of faith in my success. For that reason, I agree to take part. It’ll get me out of the classroom and all its chaotic interpersonal relationships, too—two birds with one stone.
As always, we use the mechanical life-form’s saucer-shaped terminal to get to the office. It brings us to the right neighborhood in Tokyo, and we head through the throngs of suit-wearing office workers toward our destination. The building doesn’t look like anything special from the outside; there are plenty of others just like it nearby. But apparently, this one contains a recording studio.
As we stand there, in front of our destination, my neighbor glances at his wristwatch and says, “I’m sorry. It looks like we arrived a little early.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I reply immediately.
That’s right—my neighbor is with us once again. I told him Abaddon and I would be fine on our own, but he insisted that it would look bad to send a minor here by herself and asked to come with us. Of course, I’d rather spend as much time with him as possible. I give him an apologetic look, but on the inside, I’m filled with joy.
“I read online yesterday that as a rule, newcomers should arrive about thirty minutes early to this kind of job,” I explain. “I don’t know if that applies to this specific industry, but getting here early shouldn’t pose any problems.”
“Then, if you don’t mind, why don’t we spend the extra time at a nearby café?”
“Huh? Really?”
The idea of going with my neighbor to a café makes my heart leap. This has never happened before.
But just as the thought crosses my mind, he vanishes.
It’s not just him, either; every passerby around us and every car on the street disappears, too. All the endless city sounds fall silent.
We’re in an isolated space.
“Reveal thyself, Abaddon.”
“You got it, partner!”
Fortunately, my neighbor wasn’t caught up in this.
Abaddon’s body, floating next to me, begins to transform at my command. His flesh expands from within, splitting his skin apart. His short, boyish figure is swallowed up in an instant. This metamorphosis shocked me the first time I saw it, but I’m used to it now. I barely even notice the meat juices dripping off him and onto the ground.
“I think I detected something from over there. Just for a moment, though.” Abaddon, now a hunk of flesh, turns to look in a specific direction. Or at least, I think that pointy area is his front. I, too, felt the presence of an angel’s Disciple from over there, though it disappeared right away.
“If this was a coincidental encounter, we can’t take the initiative and attack.”
“We’re concealing ourselves, too. Should we wait and see what happens?”
“Yes, I think so.”
The best scenario would be for the isolated space to collapse without incident. Plenty of cars and trains run through this area; it’s very possible a Disciple traveling through the city suddenly came within range of us.
We wait around for a little while, but my neighbor never reappears. And I can’t sense the angel or their Disciple at all.
“Considering we just got out of the mechanical life-form’s terminal, I doubt they were tailing us,” I say. “If they were lying in wait, that means someone at the company is involved in the proxy war.”
“Not a pleasant notion. And just when you found a way to earn some money, too.”
“Yes. So I would like to identify them if possible.”