With Ochiba Kareki now somewhat famous, my life becomes hectic. One of the bigger changes is how I spend my weekday mornings.
“Abaddon, I don’t have time to make anything for breakfast, so I’ll eat on the way to school. Would you mind going to the kitchen and grabbing me a piece of bread? Just one is fine.”
“I saw that coming, so I made breakfast for you while you were asleep!”
“What? Is that some kind of joke?”
“Hey, now! Of course not. It’s in the dining room. Go on, grab some grub!”
I dedicate all my time after our pretend family sessions to video recording, and it’s cutting into my sleep. What’s more, my alarm clock is now set to go off thirty minutes earlier.
“I’m just surprised. I didn’t realize you were so resourceful.”
“Well, I’m reluctant to leave your bedroom while you’re sleeping. This house is big, you know? But you were already sleep-deprived before. It would break my heart to see you skip meals and get sick.”
“Then I’m sorry for troubling you. I appreciate it.”
It’s thanks to my partner that I’m still functioning day-to-day. Despite what you might think, he’s great at housework. Not only does he help me cook whenever it’s my turn to make dinner for the pretend family, but he also pitches in with laundry and cleaning, all voluntarily. I’m scared that if he helps me any more, I’ll never be able to repay him.
On Sunday, two days after our recording at the studio, the video goes live. Abaddon and I head to the guest room and watch it together on my laptop. When Ochiba Kareki talks in the video, she sounds a bit more like a stranger than usual.
“Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! What luck, drawing such a good item! Then again, I would expect nothing less from someone of my caliber! Now, who’s driving in front of me? Oh, Rolling? Yes, just stay right there. Perfect.”
“No! No no nooo! Don’t shoot! You’re not allowed to use the red ones behind meee!”
“Oh, sorry. My shell is going for Kihouin…”
“Hwaaahhh?!”
As I listen to the recording, I find my attention drawn to Kihouin and Rolling; they have a lot of presence. Their voices are sharper and ring better than Kareki’s. I’m really starting to understand why they’re the highest earners of the group.
“Listening to us side by side really makes it clear how much longer they’ve been doing this.”
“Kareki is reserved when she talks, so you’ll have to focus on your tone of voice if you want to compete. That said, even though you’re muttering for most of the video, I think it still leaves an impression.”
“You don’t need to force yourself to compliment me.”
Comments start popping up as soon as the video goes live. The response to Kareki is mixed.
“This Kareki girl is kinda annoying, isn’t she?” “She’s bothering Lady Reika too much.” “Nah, Lady Reika is practically asking for it.” “This can’t be ad-libbed. She’s too new for that.” “They must have had a script. Otherwise, how would so many items be hitting her? Lmao.” “This is more of an event for the second-strings anyway.” “Lady Reika is such a good person!” “I kinda like her, personally.”
We’re being talked about, even if it’s only as an aside to Kihouin. That was the point of the stream, so in that way it’s a success. But when I think back to our exchanges that day, my feelings become more complicated. Also, those attack items constantly hitting Kihouin really was pure coincidence!
I see one or two comments with familiar icons and usernames: They’re from the group of haters who have been bothering me since the days of Misaki Hanano.
“Kareki picking a fight with her has gotta be ad-libbed. As someone who loved Hanano fr fr, I can tell.” “God, how much does she hate Kihouin?” “It’s so obvious she’s gonna lose her place in this group soon.” “I bet she didn’t have anyone to eat lunch with on the day of recording and didn’t know what to do with herself.” “I have a feeling she’ll graduate because of bullying at some point.” “Suddenly, I’m really looking forward to this.”
Sadly, they’re exactly right.
Either way, just as the company hoped, our channel gets a whole bunch of new subscribers, thanks to the stream. I was hovering around ten thousand before, but the day after the stream it’s doubled, reaching a shocking twenty thousand.
Abaddon is all smiles. “You did it! You got more subscribers on Kareki’s channel!”
“Does it make you happy that she’s getting popular?”
“Of course it does! The more popular she gets, the more income you have. She’s an important partner for achieving financial independence. And I’m sure our younger sister will be happy about her success.”
“You’re right about that.”
I’ve already spoken with my neighbor and Futarishizuka about monetizing our activities. We decided to open a bank account for that purpose in my name. But my neighbor said he’d set things up so that any financial exchanges would go through Futarishizuka’s corporation.
If I can keep up my current views, I can expect tens of thousands of yen per month. I asked Futarishizuka if I could start paying for my own living expenses right away, but she turned me down, saying she would rather I save it for the future. The amount is a drop in the bucket for her, and paying for everything, including rent, is well outside the realm of possibility for me. I would only have been satisfying myself. And besides, Futarishizuka probably expects rewards, not money, in return for her kindness.
“At this rate, we’re definitely in the running to win the view-count contest.”
“I hope so.”
I pretend to be calm as I answer him, but inside, I’m the happiest one here. I’m certain my neighbor will place last, and, if things work out, he’ll have to grant my request. Lately, whenever I get into bed, I can’t stop fantasizing about it.
The only problem is the poll. The day when everyone votes for their favorite second-string member is fast approaching, and there’s barely any time to canvass. Winterfest is scheduled for next Saturday, only two days after the poll. The vote is an important part of the event, too, probably meant to build up hype for it.
And if I win, will I have enough time to prepare? Of course, the second-string members aren’t expected to draw in viewers on their own, and I can’t imagine they’ll be entrusted with any major tasks. The first-string members are supposedly the core of the event.
Either way, being able to participate at all is much better than the alternative.
Ever since our studio recording, I’ve been calling for votes every day.
“Hello. It’s Ochiba Kareki. I want to talk about the second-string voting I told you about yesterday. I’m sure you all think asking for votes is being cocky for such a gloomy loser. But think about what it’s like at school and in the workplace. Sunny characters can only exist where there are depressing ones to contrast with them.”
While the channel has gotten more subscribers, it’s still sitting around the bottom of the group’s rankings.
“Think of me as the garnish under the sashimi—the fresh cuts of fish on top only look appetizing because I’m here. I know you have other favorites in your hearts, but if you have any votes to spare for a little strip of daikon like me…”
By our estimation, I’ll need at least one hundred thousand subscribers to ensure my participation, based on past years’ performance. At the moment, I think we stand a fifty-fifty chance.
Abaddon is already raring to go. “If you do get in, that angel’s Disciple will be so disappointed.”
“If it comes down to it, we’ll just make them cry again.”
“Oh, how coldhearted. You’re so cruel.”
“Me? I think you angels and demons are to blame for having this proxy war in the first place.”
“Ha-ha, guess I can’t argue with you there!”
The day after our studio recording, Kihouin and Rolling contact me and invite me to a collaboration stream. They say it’s a live stream, and we’ll both share the same screen online.
I’m not sure what they’re after. I think maybe this is their way of performing a public execution on a detested kouhai. Nevertheless, this is the perfect chance to access their established fan base. I can’t say no—not if I want to win the poll. I ask the youngest daughter about it, and she tells me that equipment-wise, there shouldn’t be a problem.
“A live stream, huh?” asks Abaddon. “I don’t know. Anything you say will instantly be heard by the whole world, right?”
“I don’t think we can avoid doing things like this if we want to make money in this business.”
“What if people form an internet mob and come for you, complete with torches and pitchforks?”
“That’s quite the visual.”
“I’m just worried. You’re already kind of unfriendly.”
“A job like this, with lenient rules and working conditions, is a great choice if I’m going to be continuing in the proxy war. The only careers with more freedom are things like author or investor. Personally, I think we should be happy with what we have.”
“Well, I won’t press the issue if your mind is set on it.”
Obviously, I’m anxious, but the benefits of collaborating with Kihouin and Rolling are too great to ignore. I’m well aware of how good it feels to milk a couple of famous streamers for extra viewers. While I sense a fair bit of danger from the phrase live stream, I decide to accept.
This is probably how a person gets addicted to politics.
The stream is scheduled for the very next evening. After our pretend family time is finished, Abaddon and I head home.
The theme of the stream is ASMR. When Kihouin and Rolling first explain this, I’m confused. I don’t know what the abbreviation means. But since the meeting is being held over video chat, Abaddon—who knows the term, for some reason—explains it to me, and I’m able to skillfully play along.
According to Abaddon, it’s a really good way of getting views. That said, I have a lot of hesitation about doing it on a live stream.