The First Edit
If I had to name my one true specialty, it would undoubtedly be video editing. I had spent years refining raw footage, sculpting rough gems into something far more watchable and enjoyable. From ordinary YouTubers’ videos to fan-made Kirinuki clips of VTubers, I had been doing it ever since I became an adult. Three years of experience already. I was confident enough in my skills to say that the money I earned could support me living alone.
“At least it’s fortunate that YouTube is booming right now.”
For someone whose entire livelihood had revolved around YouTube, this ten-year regression was, in a way, a blessing. Being able to do exactly what I was good at felt almost like luck. If an electrician were sent back to ancient times, their expertise would be completely useless. The era was shifting toward internet video. From television to internet broadcasting and YouTube. In that moment, video editing became an incredibly strong selling point.
Alright, direction decided…
Once I had identified my appeal, I needed to create a portfolio that showcased it. For me, adoption was no different from getting hired. I had to strike a balance between my own benefit and the other party’s, then place myself in a clear superior-subordinate relationship. I would have to sell my abilities to the adopter with absolute thoroughness.
To do that, I need to make a video first.
And for video editing, a computer was indispensable. Fortunately, the director of our orphanage was famous for granting the children’s requests. Among the kids, she was even nicknamed “Pushover Teacher” in the most affectionate sense.
With a soft click, I closed the notebook where I had written my plan and headed for the director’s office.
“No.”
The moment my plan collapsed.
“PC bangs are full of scary older brothers and sisters. At least wait until you’re a little older, Sua.”
The director spoke in a gentle, coaxing tone. Hearing her words, I opened my mouth as if remembering something I had forgotten. The director still lived in the past; she had that classic “old-fashioned” streak. That was why she treated places like PC bangs as dens of delinquents and strictly forbade them. I could only nod helplessly.
She reached out and patted my head.
“Why did you want to go to a PC bang? Was there a game you wanted to play?”
“No… I just wanted to try using a computer.”
I couldn’t tell her the truth. Who would believe that a child wanted to make a portfolio so she could get adopted? Pretending I wanted to play games would have been more believable, but since I had never played games, I didn’t know enough to fake it convincingly.
Yet my answer seemed to strike something in the director’s heart. With an apologetic expression, she lifted me up.
“I see… Kids these days all have computers to play on. You must have heard your friends at school and felt envious.”
“Uh…”
“Then let’s do this. We’ll use the computer together. But you mustn’t tell the other children. Understand?”
She smiled brightly, pressing a finger to her lips. What an unexpected windfall! I nodded vigorously.
“First, I have some work to finish. Can you wait beside me for a bit? After that, I’ll teach you how to use it.”
She brought over a chair and sat me next to the computer desk. From a child’s perspective, the computer didn’t look all that different from the office machines of the modern era. Well, I had never really used computers properly until middle school, so of course I wouldn’t remember what they were like back then.
I quietly watched the director work. Then, suddenly, a familiar screen caught my eye.
“What are you doing?”
“Remember the dance the children performed today? I recorded it. I’m just making it look nicer. Oh, you were in it too, weren’t you? Want to see?”
Following the director’s pointing finger, I looked at the screen. A low-resolution video was playing, faces barely distinguishable. I spotted myself immediately—the yellow dress I had worn since the day I opened my eyes, the long hair reaching my waist, the awkwardly forced smile. What made me stand out even more was my noticeably different build compared to the other children.
I really am unusually small. Is my growth just slow?
Even compared to the kids I shared a room with, there was a noticeable height difference—about the width of a fist—and I was much lighter too. I had wondered if there was something wrong with me, but since I wasn’t taking any medicine and the teachers never mentioned anything, I had simply accepted it.
“The children are so lovely. Our Sua is cute too. I’m editing this so it looks even better and can be shown to many people.”
As she spoke, the director brought up another program window. I hadn’t been mistaken. It was Windows Movie Maker—the free program that let anyone edit videos. I remembered using it for the first time in middle school during a technology and home economics performance assessment. The assignment had been stop-motion animation. Because you could create dynamic motion easily by taking photos instead of recording video, it had been simple to make impressive scenes. One of my best works back then had been a live-action school version of KartRider.
Whether this was now a memory or something from the near future, I couldn’t look away from the editing program I hadn’t seen in so long.
Just then—
Brrring—
The landline on the desk rang. The director stopped what she was doing and picked up the phone.
“Yes.” “Ah, I forgot.” “Understood.” “I’ll be right there.”
She set the receiver down.
“Is something wrong?”
“I forgot I had a meeting with the teachers today. I’m sorry, Sua. Can we do this another time? I really need to go.”
“It’s okay. But… could I stay here a little longer? Our room is a bit cold.”
“Of course. Just don’t touch anything else, alright?”
Everywhere was the same: the highest-ranking person always had the coziest space. Our orphanage followed the same rule. The director’s office was the warmest, followed by the staff room, then the children’s rooms. It wasn’t unbearable, but every so often a cold draft would brush against your skin, and you couldn’t help envying the teachers who could wear short sleeves indoors.
Knowing how the children felt, the director didn’t refuse my request. After giving me a quick reminder, she grabbed her coat and left.
“……”
Her footsteps faded, and soon the room fell completely silent. If she was going to a meeting, she would be gone for at least thirty minutes. Maybe over an hour if it ran long. That was more than enough time.
I forced my rising smile back down and approached the computer. Even sitting in the director’s chair, the monitor was too high, so I had to kneel on the seat.
“Haa… It’s been so long since I touched a computer.”
My fingers brushed the keyboard and mouse. The smooth yet solid feel of plastic transmitted through my fingertips. Compared to the equipment I used to use, the quality was noticeably lower, but it was more than enough to reawaken my senses.
“My fingers are short, so shortcuts are a bit tricky.”
I pressed the basic Windows shortcuts, re-familiarizing myself with the keyboard. Being in a child’s body made it slightly difficult to reach and press distant keys at the same time.
“Still, it doesn’t matter. I can just avoid using shortcuts.”
I couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t only because I was touching a computer after so long. I loved video editing. After becoming an adult, I had become so absorbed in it that I edited for over ten hours a day. The process of turning raw footage into something beautiful. The way flat video gained depth. The way emotions in an interesting video became even more vivid. And the joy of someone watching the finished product and feeling happy. That was an irresistible happiness to me.
So I loved editing. And now, right in front of me, sat an editing program and raw footage. How could I possibly resist?
Tap—
I pressed the spacebar. The video loaded in Windows Movie Maker began to play.
It was a free program, so the available effects were extremely limited. Only default fonts for text, no sound effects or BGM. Only one project could be created at a time, the frame rate was fixed at 30fps, the timeline wasn’t intuitive, and the tools were unfriendly. The possibilities were severely restricted.
But—
Tap, tap-tap, tap—
There was no greater sense of accomplishment than creating the best possible result with limited resources.
“…Alright, then. How should I cook this up?”
As I spoke, the corners of my mouth were already lifted high, completely unrestrained.