Total Total Total Total Total, Let's Follow Momo

The moment I was dragged out by the scruff of my neck like a cat being hauled off by its owner, the first-generation members came stomping toward me with their cheeks puffed out. I figured I was about to get pinned to the ground and have my back enthusiastically beaten, but boy was I wrong.

“Unnie. If you were going to prepare something like this, you should’ve told us in advance.”

“Exactly!”

“I was seriously shocked, you know~.”

“It did piss me off a little. But… it was good. Nice job.”

The four of them surrounded me from all sides and hugged me tight. A full encirclement attack closing in from every direction. Somebody save me, kids. I’m so short I can’t even breathe in here.

“Hey guys, Jia’s about to suffocate to death.”

My mouth was covered too, so I couldn’t even speak properly, but at the boss’s words the four of them immediately backed off. One hundred and forty centimeters really does put you right at chest height. I almost actually died of asphyxiation just now.

I shook my head to clear it, and soon Maru spoke up in a subdued voice. It was the same tone she’d used last week when she apologized after the I'm a Wolf collab stream.

“I’m sorry… I tried to pull off a hidden camera prank and almost ended up hurting you…”

“Hidden camera?”

“Everything about leaving you out during dinner was part of the hidden camera. If it made you feel bad, I’ll apologize for all of it. It was all my idea and everyone just went along with it. I’m the worst one here…”

Mazia, mysterious one-win.

So that’s what the ostracism was about. I’d actually enjoyed being able to quietly devour those perfectly grilled large shrimp. Wait, does that mean even back in school I was being left out and never noticed? I thought I was just a voluntary loner.

Anyway, seeing Maru on the verge of tears made the words “I was wrong too” reflexively pop out of my mouth. Maru Management Manual, Chapter One: If Maru starts sniffling while apologizing, lie and say it was both our faults.

Luckily I had a surprise of my own prepared, so I had something to say.

“No, it’s fine. I tricked you all too so I could show you this. So we’re even.”

But calming her down any further was beyond me right now—my physical condition was a complete mess. The grilled shrimp had restored me somewhat, but the accumulated fatigue from the afternoon barrage of compliments from the members hadn’t completely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠disappeared.

Once I realized all my work was finally done, the tension drained away and drowsiness hit me like a truck. My eyes kept blinking shut. As I rubbed them with the back of my hand, Maru gently placed hers on my shoulder and asked,

“Are you sleepy?”

“Yeah. I’m starting to feel pretty tired.”

“Already?! No way. Just hang in there a little longer.”

“…Is there still something left to film?”

At that, Maru fidgeted, rubbing her hands together as she answered.

“Not exactly… We prepared something separately too…”

There was no way they’d prepared anything just because it was my birthday. So they must have each prepared something on their own for the one-year anniversary. That made sense. Fireworks and all—yeah, you need stuff like that for a proper anniversary. Vlogs are boring if you only shoot during the day anyway. You need pretty night scenery for the background too.

“Want me to help? Just tell me what you need.”

At that moment, the boss looked over from a distance and shook her head. Maru said something similar right after.

“No, it’s okay. Really, it’s fine. Just sit here and rest.”

It was a little disappointing that my help wasn’t needed, but if the boss said to stay put, then staying put was the correct move.

“Got it. I’ll be right here. Call me if you need anything.”

Mazia stared blankly into the crackling campfire, lost in the flames. To the six others, that was finally the signal that the operation could begin. After all, the person who had been running away the whole time and trying to stay off center stage had finally accepted that she was the main character and was sitting still.

A short distance away from Jia, the six of them set a cake on the folding table and gathered up the presents they had each prepared. Rain grinned.

“This is totally a win. I thought we were completely screwed, but this is actually pretty good, right?”

Komari laughed as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Well, I didn’t think it would go perfectly from the start.”

“You’re trying to blame me again, aren’t you?”

“Why are you getting all defensive? I didn’t even say anything?!”

Dora, who had been watching Komari and Maru’s comedy routine, murmured,

“Anyway, I’m glad we could do this at all~. Let’s give her the presents quickly! I hope Miss Jia likes them. Hehe.”

And so Do-hee and Team Leader Kang lifted the disposable table with the cake on it and marched toward Mazia. The rest followed behind holding the gifts and began to sing.

“Happy birthday to you~.”

Jia, who had been sitting in her chair spacing out, shot upright. She looked startled as the cake with lit candles approached her. She stared at it with wide round eyes, then glanced around nervously before starting to clap along to the rhythm.

The moment they saw that, smiles spread across everyone’s faces.

“Happy birthday to you~.”

And so the birthday song reached its climax. To our beloved Jia, Mazia, Miss Jia. Happy birthday!

The different titles they used for her were all mixed together, but of course Jia—who could distinguish audio tracks while watching multiple streams at once—had no trouble sorting them out. Only then did she realize the cake was for her. Her eyes darted around as she asked carefully,

“This… is for me?”

Do-hee set the table down and stroked Jia’s hair.

“Yep. Now blow them out. You have to make a wish.”

The next thing Mazia said made everyone sigh in unison as if they’d rehearsed it.

“So this isn’t the one-year anniversary cake.”

She said it as if that were somehow more important than her own birthday cake. Everyone clearly wanted to say something, but they were all too afraid of ruining the mood, so the conversational baton naturally passed to Do-hee.

With no other choice, Do-hee asked on their behalf.

“You saw us bringing presents and cake and that’s still what you say…?”

“Weren’t we supposed to prepare random gifts for each other to celebrate the one-year anniversary?”

“?”

“…?”

Do-hee stared at Jia, and the first-generation members exchanged glances, but in the end they had no choice but to look at Mazia. Logically speaking, what Mazia had just said was completely incomprehensible.

No. It was her own birthday. She could clearly see the cake and presents being prepared. And she never once thought they might be for her?

Do-hee clicked her tongue and let out a huge sigh.

“If we were doing a gift exchange, we would’ve told you to prepare something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too…”

“Why would I? I’m not even a first-generation member.”

“Oh my god. Then why do you think Team Leader Kang and I prepared gifts?”

“You two see the kids all the time, so…”

“You see them too! Right now in the entire company, the only three people who see these four kids’ faces in person every day are you, me, and Team Leader Kang!”

Do-hee must have been getting a headache, because she snatched the box sitting on top of the gift basket Maru was holding and practically shoved it into Jia’s arms.

“Just take it. It’s your birthday present.”

“Ah—wait—”

Mazia’s attempt to refuse was overruled by the successive barrage of gifts.

“Shut up and take it.”

“Take the present!!”

“Happy birthday present~.”

“Tada, happy birthday!”

“Congratulations, Team Leader Jia.”

Mazia, now holding an armful of presents, muttered,

“Um. I don’t have any hands left to carry these. My bag is already full too.”

“Agh!”

Cheon Do-hee grumbled as she pulled the holographic projector and battery pack out of Mazia’s overstuffed bag. She set the now-empty bag beside Jia and said,

“That projector looked pretty nice. I’ll buy it secondhand from you. I’ve been wanting to set one up with safety features at the company entrance. Oh, so now the bag’s empty? Perfect, you can put all the presents in it and take them home. Right?”

“Huh? No, that’s my projector—”

“I’m buying it. How much? Just name the price.”

Mazia, who hadn’t smiled once while holding the pile of gifts, finally let a small smile appear on her lips.

“If you come with me to the gaming room on the weekend, I’ll give it to you for free.”

“You’re ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠killing me. Just open the presents first.”

“Um. I don’t think my reactions will be very good. Can’t I open them alone when I get home?”

Cheon Do-hee squeezed her eyes shut. If she kept listening to Mazia, this birthday party was going to turn into a negotiation and persuasion session.

“Either take them home, open them there, and write individual thank-you letters to everyone, or open them here, say thank you, and read the letters when you get home.”

It was a relief that Mazia usually listened to Do-hee.

“I’ll open them here.”

The presents I ended up receiving more or less reflected each person’s personality.

Dora gave me a fluffy animal onesie with warm brushed lining, complete with cat ears and a tail. Rain brought sweet champagne, claiming that rap, soul, and groove all come from alcohol and that it would be good for the kids to drink. Komari gave me a gift card for game coins I could spend freely on the package game platform Steam. Maru said I needed to brush my hair often to keep it healthy and gave me a wide paddle brush that looked like it could double as a ping-pong paddle, along with high-end hair essence. Team Leader Kang said it bothered her how my bangs kept falling into my eyes while I worked, so she gave me a comfortable headband that didn’t squeeze too tight and a set of hair clips. And finally, the boss gave me… a piece of paper.

…Well, if it had been an ordinary piece of paper I wouldn’t have liked it, but this was more valuable than any of the other gifts combined.

I carefully tucked it inside my phone case. I’ll save it until right before my birthday next year and use it then.

Anyway, I did express my thanks to everyone, but I wasn’t sure if it came across properly. They all seemed happy, but… people who receive gifts often know exactly what kind of gratitude makes the giver feel good. Someone like me, who isn’t used to receiving things, can only parrot the same responses. Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ll make good use of it. Those were the only expressions of gratitude I could manage.

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t just because Komari and Maru kept squeezing in from both sides and taking up my space. The same thought kept circling in my head.

Kids like Maru would definitely feel hurt if I gave them a half-hearted thank you. Maybe there was a better way to express it that suited each person.

I figured I’d think better if my body had a little more freedom, so I got up in the middle of trying to sleep, carefully stepped over the kids’ feet, and slipped out of the tent…

“…What the—weren’t you tired earlier? Why are you up again?”

The boss was sitting blankly in front of the dying campfire, head tilted back as she gazed at the stars in the sky.

Suddenly feeling playful, I pulled the boss’s letter out of the inner pocket of my jumper.

“Hey. If you do a public reading here, you’re really dead.”

“It was a joke.”

“…Read it at home. It’s embarrassing.”

Grinning, I slipped the envelope back into my pocket, dragged over a camping chair, and set it beside the boss. Then I wrapped an unused log in a few sheets of newspaper and tossed it onto the wood that was only burning around the edges.

Whoosh.

The fire spread across the newspaper and slowly transferred its flames to the bone-dry log. I sat down heavily beside the boss and asked her quietly,

“Receiving presents seems really difficult.”

“Why?”

“If I don’t like a gift, it shows all over my face. It happened a few times when I was young and my friends started avoiding me.”

The boss paused for a moment, but the rustle of her windbreaker told me she had turned to face me.

“You didn’t seem like that today?”

“I’ve become more socialized. I can manage a white lie or two now.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Maybe, but I’m still bad at expressing gratitude. If I really love the gift I can manage a couple of sentences… but beyond that, ‘thank you’ is pretty much my limit.”

The boss let out a small laugh and turned back toward the fire.

“That’s more than enough. How much more do you think you need to do?”

“A short thank-you feels way too cheap compared to all the effort the giver put in.”

“Hmm.” The boss hummed, then gave an example.

“When you send me a donation, how many times do I need to say thank you before you’re satisfied?”

“You don’t have to say anything at all.”

“Exactly. That’s it. Just the fact that your oshi reacts is already good enough, right?”

“I guess so.”

“It’s the same with everyone else. They gave you those gifts because they like you. Even if you just say ‘thank you,’ they’ll be happy. If someone thinks, ‘I gave her a present and all I get is one ‘thank you’? I’m going to turn dark…’ then that person is just a black-soup fan.”

“Oh. I get it immediately.”

But as I listened, another thought occurred to me.

“Still, that only applies when you’re giving a gift to your oshi. And since I don’t stream, I can’t be everyone’s oshi.”

“Even among regular people, there’s a similar concept to oshi, you know? Someone you’re truly grateful to. A benefactor. That sort of thing.”

“Is that so?”

The boss let out a long sigh and stroked my hair.

“What do you think is the reason we went this far for you?”

“Something like… duty chocolate…?”

“You’re killing me. Who goes this far just for duty chocolate?”

The boss grabbed both my cheeks and said,

“Simply put, you’re basically our oshi, okay?”

“……?”

“If you don’t understand, just accept it like that. I don’t know how to explain it properly either. It’s gratitude. Appreciation. It’s all mixed together.”

Then she hurriedly stood up, scooped sand from around the campfire with a small shovel, and roughly put out the fire. The moment the flames died, the cold winter wind blew in. Only the moon in the sky illuminated us as we willingly threw ourselves into the cold.

“…Anyway, let’s go back inside. It’s late.”

Honestly, I still didn’t understand. I had only worked hard for the boss, for the company, and for my own selfish reasons. How had that become something worthy of gratitude? And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she even called me something like an oshi?

Even after the boss went back into the tent, I sat in the camping chair for a long time, thinking. It was a story I simply couldn’t accept.

Then, when the cold finally drove me to crawl back into my sleeping bag, I came to my own conclusion.

…So I’m something like an oshi, huh.

You don’t choose to become an oshi. It’s when you slap someone so hard on the cheek that their head spins, they glare at you, and then they fall in love at first sight. That’s an oshi. That’s why you can’t tell them not to like you or not to look at you. The person who became a fan didn’t choose it either. After all, I ended up here right now for that exact same reason—following the boss.

To forcibly break that kind of heart? That would be wrong.

In other words, since the boss said so, it was certain that I had somehow become something like an oshi to the VTubers. Denying it wouldn’t change anything.

But I was lacking. I was an insufficient person. An oshi is an object of admiration, but I wasn’t someone worthy of admiration.

…However, I wouldn’t run away.

I was in Parallel. And I would continue to stay in Parallel. Until the second generation, third generation, fourth generation. Until the day I could see with my own eyes the moment we stand shoulder to shoulder with VchuVchu.

So even if I couldn’t become a perfect person, I shouldn’t be an insufficient person to those who had made me something like their oshi.

I could learn that by watching a role model. My favorite oshi—the one who works hard at streaming. Momo, who always tries to show something to her viewers and makes an effort to interact with them as often as possible.

I flipped over my phone and stared at the boss’s birthday present I had stored inside the case.

…People don’t become holy virtues for no reason. If you follow in your oshi’s footsteps, you naturally end up on that path.

The next day, I handed out crudely torn coupons to the six of them and said,

The six of them, sitting around the bubbling morning ramen, fell silent for a moment. The stares directed at me felt so intense that it naturally became a form of mirror therapy. I see. So this is how it feels when you give someone a present and they don’t react.

“…If you don’t like it, you can give them back.”