Chapter 3: Sneaking Mission

Our house is a detached two-family home, with the first floor housing our parents’ workspace and our family’s living quarters. The second floor, once our grandfather’s domain, now belongs entirely to me and my sister, Akane. There’s no indoor passage between the floors—just a weathered external staircase linking them, which gives the place a secret-base vibe that I secretly love.

Our rooms are hardly study sanctuaries. They’re gaming dens, plain and simple. Akane’s room, in particular, screams streaming setup—anyone stepping inside would know instantly what she’s about. Our whole family, parents included, are gamers through and through, so this setup is just par for the course. You’d think our place would be a magnet for other students, but oddly enough, it’s never turned into a hangout spot. Not that I’m torn up about it.

Right now, I’m in Akane’s room, helping her prep for her stream. She’s a virtual streamer, going by the name ‘Yuuhi-chan’. No face reveal—just a 3D avatar on-screen, paired with her real voice. For an indie creator, she’s doing pretty well, with her subscriber count on the streaming platform Amatch recently surpassing thirty thousand.

When a stream hits that level of popularity, the money starts rolling in. Akane’s got that covered, and I’m just the assistant pitching in. No pocket money from her or anything—I get fair pay for my work and even file my taxes properly. It’s all above board.

Akane, finished with her stream setup, glanced at my hand, catching sight of my shiny new smartphone. “We should get started soon—wait, huh? Nii-ni, is that a new phone?”

“Yeah, kinda,” I mumbled.

A flash of this morning’s events crossed my mind—something pink flickered in my memory, and I shook my head slightly to push it away.

“Why’d you get a new one?” Akane pressed, tilting her head. On the PC screen, fully prepped for the stream, her avatar—a girl with black cat ears—mimicked the motion perfectly, tracking her movements through the camera. “Weren’t you super attached to your old one?”

“Nah, well… just felt like it,” I said, dodging the question. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but explaining what happened in detail felt like a bad idea. She’s got a straightforward streak—both a blessing and a curse—and she’d probably say something like, “You better make her pay you back for that.”

Spotting the stopwatch app I’d need to time the stream, I lifted my head. “…Figured it’d be nice to go on a whim-driven adventure every now and then.”

That was a lie.

Akane and her on-screen avatar shook their heads in unison. “You’re so bad at lying, I can’t even come up with a comeback.”

“…Whatever. I was just in the mood,” I muttered, brushing it off. “Aren’t you starting the stream? If not, I’m heading back to my room.”

It might’ve sounded a bit high-handed, but I had to keep some shred of dignity as her older brother. Akane turned to me, her expression a mix of exasperation and pity.

“Nii-ni.”

“What?”

“You can head back if you want, but if you switched phones, doesn’t that mean you’re short on cash? Don’t you need to work? If we don’t do the stream, I’m obviously not paying you for the part-time help, y’know.”

I threw both hands toward the heavens in mock surrender. “All right! Let the glorious labor commence!”

The stream went off without a hitch, as fun as ever. During these sessions, I take on the role of Akane’s sidekick, a black cat 3D model dubbed Kuro-chan. I don’t speak—just hit shortcut buttons to churn out template meows like “Nyaa!” or “Nyaa…” or “Nyan” as her mascot character.

This pitiful brother, reduced to a meowing sidekick, is somehow a hit with the viewers. So much for my brotherly dignity—where did it even go?

＊

Adventuring on a whim every now and then isn’t so bad—that’s what I’d boldly told Akane a few days back. But that didn’t mean I was ready for my entire world to be turned upside down.

When did things start getting strange? It all traced back to that Friday when my smartphone broke. Today’s the second Friday since then, a full week later. For seven straight days, I’ve been haunted by her words.

Her, of course, being Toudou Mashiro.

By Monday—the one after the smartphone incident— the sting had dulled a bit. It all started with a simple greeting.

“Morning, Kuroki-kun. The weather’s great again today—feels so nice, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yeah.”

What were the odds of a morning greeting from someone as stunning as Toudou Mashiro? No idea. Caught in her direct gaze, I instinctively looked away. We’d never even properly exchanged hellos before this. To play it off, I casually pulled out my new smartphone.

The moment Toudou spotted it, her face softened with what looked like relief. “Ah, so you did switch models? That’s good.”

“Y-yeah.”

My reply was pathetic, like some nervous grade-schooler. Still, I forced a polite smile, telling myself, She’s probably just mixing an apology with some small talk to check in. By tomorrow, we’d surely slide back to being strangers, no greetings, no nothing.

But then came Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday—Toudou Mashiro greeted me every single day. “Morning, Kuroki-kun, another hot one today, huh?” or “Kuroki-kun, you always go for bread at lunch, don’t you? You a fan of coppé pan?” or “Kuroki-kun, I’m really sorry about the smartphone. I’ll be more careful when I’m chatting behind you from now on.”

Each time, all I could manage was “Y-yeah” or “Y-yeah” or, you guessed it, “Y-yeah.” Was I a sea lion or something? My own mental jab stung, considering how I could only parrot the same lame response.

I’m 176 cm tall. With about a 10 cm difference, Toudou Mashiro’s probably around 165 cm. Yet her presence carried this overwhelming pressure, like a celebrity’s aura, making it impossible for me to string words together properly. What was she thinking? Why keep this up? I was completely thrown off-balance. Still, I held out until Friday—give me some credit for that.

I was convinced things would settle back to normal next week. But that hope shattered far too easily.

Friday started with, “Morning, Kuroki-kun. Coppé pan for lunch again today?” and ended with, “Bye-bye, Kuroki-kun. Yep, coppé pan today too. See you next week.”

A chill shot through me. The last school day of the week, and she hits me with see you next week? Talking to Toudou Mashiro wasn’t unpleasant—far from it, it was almost blissful. But it was wrecking my nerves. At this rate, my heart might actually give out. I genuinely believed that.

I had to do something.

These past few days, I’d been drawing way too much attention. I knew how it worked—get too friendly with a beauty for no clear reason, and you’d end up on the radar of her in-school fan club.

Alone in the classroom after Toudou left, I steeled myself to talk to her.

“Before my heart gives out, I’ve gotta change things,” I muttered. “If I chase after her now, can I still catch up?”

Toudou had left the classroom alone. This was my shot. I didn’t have her contact info, so running after her was my only option. Was she still by herself? Come to think of it, I’d overheard one of those sharp, popular girls inviting her: “Mashiro, wanna hit up karaoke?” but she’d brushed it off saying, “Sorry, I’ve got plans.”

“There’s no other option,” I told myself. “Before weird rumors start flying, I’ve got no choice but to do this!”

And so began the “Perfect Distance Operation”—driven by a ridiculously lame motive.