Unused Muscles Hurt
"Hngh... ugh... grr... hngh..."
I was shuffling around my room, letting out these pathetic groans. The reason was simple—nothing I could endure without the sounds spilling from my lips. It felt like someone had beaten my entire body with a club, pulverizing every inch. In plain terms, it was muscle soreness.
Ever since that day I witnessed Reiko's devilish naming sense and character design, I hadn't seen her in person. Not that I felt particularly slighted by it; if anything, it made perfect sense. Reiko wasn't some low-level employee—she was a section chief. It'd be weirder if she stuck by my side all day, doting on me. When I'd sensed something off and asked about it, she assured me her position wasn't that high up, and she wasn't that swamped. But even if that was true, wasting someone as capable as Reiko on a nobody like me would be wildly inefficient.
For those reasons, she'd gone back to her regular duties, and I'd been following the personal schedule she'd sent via SNS. That had been my routine...
"Huu... huuuh..."
With trembling hands, I lifted the glass of water to my lips, somehow swallowing the pre-sorted pills I'd laid out by type. Then I set the glass down with a sigh. This might sound like some illicit drug ritual, but really, my arms were so sore that even the weight of the glass felt burdensome.
Sticking to the schedule turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Was "enjoyable" the right word? Anyway, throwing myself into set tasks at precise times and dates gave me a real sense of preparation. Tanaka's studio was a fair distance away, sure... but my voice wasn't just for streaming—it was something I'd have to manage for the rest of my life. If I framed it as proper care starting now, this level of effort was worth enduring.
Of course, learning proper vocal care didn't explain why my whole body was screaming in agony right now. The real culprit? Good old exercise. Muscle soreness comes from working out, right?
The fitness club Reiko recommended had a trainer—a woman with a refreshing smile—who greeted me warmly. I'd always pictured trainers as hulking muscle machines radiating intense heat, so seeing her threw me off at first. But once we started, those thoughts vanished. She'd reviewed my various physical exam results beforehand, so she knew my fitness level and didn't push anything extreme—which I couldn't have handled anyway.
All I did was... walk briskly on something like a treadmill. I name it, I don't know. At first, I wondered if this even counted as exercise. But soon I was panting, and not long after, drenched in sweat, gasping for air. The realization hit hard—not from some grueling workout, but just from walking a bit longer than usual, and my body was creaking like an old door. It was beyond pathetic; a deep self-loathing welled up from somewhere inside.
Still... doing this should build my stamina over time. With a pro trainer handling it, and me diligently popping these pills... Oh, right. I need to eat too. This frail body of mine got queasy just from downing a handful of meds with water—my appetite was that weak. I hadn't eaten today yet...
Reiko's "homework," I guess... Anyway, to wrap that up, I'd need to cook some rice soon. Making a meal from scratch every day was a hassle, but with my small portions and lack of pickiness, the side dishes she'd brought covered me fine. It wasn't tough. Better than my old habits of one cup ramen a day or gyudon every other day, which I knew weren't doing my health any favors long-term...
Hmm... For now, I'll hit the cook button and watch some streams while waiting for my stomach to settle.
I scooped rice into the pot, rinsed it under the sink. Some folks scrub it like dirty laundry, but I don't see the point. Rice isn't filthy—just shake off any dust or excess starch. Once the rinse water looked about right—clear enough?—I clicked the cook button. Electric rice cookers aren't the best for flavor, but I'm no cooking contest judge flipping tables over "Who made this slop?!" Just eat it and move on...
Dragging my shaky body to the desk, I plopped into the chair in front of the PC. I desperately wanted to collapse into bed, but even my phone felt too heavy in this state...
"That's what I told you! There's enemies there."
"Sorry, I wasn't sure if I could make it."
"And we even lost the mid... Ugh, worst."
I pulled up a stream from Hanasaki Nanoha—the same senior I'd watched before. Right away, her angry voice scolded someone. The guy replied without much remorse, and the chat exploded in laughter. Old-school term, but it was a laughing prairie out there.
Was discovering my first stream belonged to a company senior fate or coincidence? Fate sounds cooler, so let's go with that. Anyway, they were playing Valkyries, an FPS game. She seemed to like FPS from her last stream too. Women dig them more than you'd think. Valkyries—shortened to Val or Baru in Japan (official service name Zen Otome Senki, but nobody uses it)—blended old-school tactical movement, team comms, and synergy with unique character skills for maximum chaos. I didn't play much, but FPS inherently scratches that primal dopamine hit of beating others, so it's addictive.
Watching? Eh, over years of streams, it never really clicked. I just watched. Maybe 'cause I don't game much.
As I spaced out on the screen, death logs piled up for Nanoha and her team, each muttering their last words. Suddenly alone, she tensed up, focusing hard and inching forward—
"AAAAAAAAA!"
"Hear footsteps?"
"Nope."
"If it were me, I'd fake a sound toward A, wait for them to peek, then bait to B while actually going A."
"Hungry... Uber?"
Her dead teammates offered zero useful callouts—just chit-chat or deliberate distractions. No surprise she got wiped without a fight.
"OK, NTNT."
"That's not NT at all! If you're dead, shut up!"
"Whoa, harsh..."
"Nanoha-senpai, dropping f-bombs? Disappointing."
The collab voices over chat were obviously trolling her—clear as day they were tight. She'd go serious, they'd play the straight man to her tsukkomi rage. Chat wasn't mad at the "idiot" jabs; they loved her reactions. The stream flowed great. The game? Not so much—scores ballooned into a massacre.
Nanoha yelled at them to focus for ranked, they ignored her, someone dipped for Uber mid-chaos... Watching the mess, I realized the rice cooker had beeped done. I wobbled to the fridge, portioned side dishes onto plates.
With tiny meals, no need for full spreads—just balance nutrition and call it good. Lucky Reiko brought long-lasting stuff... Plates looking like buffet samples, rice bowl in hand, back to the chair. No table, so floor picnics weren't ideal—this was comfiest.
I finished eating while enjoying senpai's stream. Man, these sides are tasty...