Hope Comes to Those Who Refuse to Let Go

They say hope finds those who refuse to let an opportunity slip through their fingers.

"Whoa… they're really going at it."

Clack, clack.

Drawn to the post as if possessed, I found myself murmuring ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠under my breath as I eagerly scrolled through the original write-up and every comment beneath it.

Somehow… the content was far more ordinary than the title had led me to expect. Watching people pull out whatever scraps of knowledge they had and trade opinions about VTubers — and about Nia — was genuinely fascinating. If I had to put it into words, it felt like watching foreigners debate the traditional culture of my own country.

My heart started racing all on its own, wondering what kind of impression these people would form of Nia.

That aside… what even is this site? Pioneer? I've never heard that name in my life.

For someone who practically lived on online communities, this was a complete blank. Pioneer ran on a thread-based format, the same kind you'd find on America's ODit or Japan's 5Oh. Maybe ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the reason I'd never heard of it was that, unlike the Korean boards I knew — where each forum hosted its own separate posts — this place had simply never been on my radar.

But hang on. Nia was a VTuber with 6 million subscribers? That's weird. The Nia I knew was hovering around a million…

Something snagged in my mind as I kept scrolling. Further down in the comments, someone had casually stated that Nia's subscriber count was 6 million.

That was genuinely strange. The last time I'd checked her numbers, she'd been sitting at just over a million at best. So why was this person stating 6 million like it was an established fact?

And this title bothers me too. "From back in the day"…? VTubers had been around for less than a decade. They were brand-new content.

Yet everyone here was talking about them like ancient history, and not a single person pushed back. They all just accepted it as natural.

It felt like I'd grabbed hold of a thread of something in a fog so thick I couldn't see an inch ahead. The reason I'd died and reincarnated into Nia's body. The reason I'd fallen into this incomprehensible place. Maybe — just maybe — I'd found a key that could unlock the mystery of everything that had happened to me.

"Just a little more. Let me dig a little deeper. I need to be sure."

Muttering to myself, I moved the mouse and clicked the word Pioneer in the upper-left corner. A site notice unfurled across the screen, declaring that this was a place dedicated to the exchange of information.

I really lucked out. This is exactly what I needed.

For someone starving for answers, this was a golden opportunity. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for picking this site after searching Nia's name, then began combing through Pioneer with the thoroughness of someone chewing every bite of a meal.

Information was like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a puzzle — leave out even one piece and the whole picture warped. I couldn't afford a stupid mistake like that. Careful, but bold. That was the way.

"Hmm… so in the late 2040s, a great war engulfed the entire world — triggered by runaway environmental collapse along with economic and political crises."

"After seventy percent of humanity died, the war just… fizzled out. Then roughly thirty years of anarchy followed, until the Human Union finally emerged and began rebuilding civilization from scratch."

I muttered to myself as I read through the wiki-style encyclopedia Pioneer had put together. After thrashing around in that ocean of information for several dozen minutes, I finally managed to boil the history of this place down to a single line.

"I see. Humanity collapsed once. Which means this is the future — about eighty years past the time I lived in."

Whoa, whoa.

Early 2100s by the Gregorian calendar, then? So this was the twenty-second century. The kind of time leap I'd only ever dreamed about.

I crossed my arms and nodded a few times with the face of someone who finally understood… then my eyes flew wide and I slammed my fist down on the desk.

Thud.

"Th-th-that's impossible! A great war wiped out humanity once?! And because of that, culture withered and the connection to the previous generation was severed — so there are no games, no anime, no movies?! What is this, the opening of some disaster film?!"

I couldn't help but be horrified. All the more so because this wasn't some other world — it was the perfect, unbroken future of the Earth I'd lived on. Was this how the protagonist of Planet of the Apes felt staring up at the ruined Statue of Liberty?

I'd lived a reasonably peaceful life. The knowledge that the future had turned out this wretched left me dizzy.

And if I hadn't died of a heart attack while watching one of Nia's streams? I'd been twenty-five at the time. Young enough to still be alive when the war broke out in the late 2040s. I almost certainly would have been swept up in it.

Dying early had spared me from that fate — so was I supposed to be grateful, or was I supposed to grieve? I pressed my lips shut and leaned back in the chair, thoroughly lost.

Forget the war. …Eighty years in the future. That means Nia is already gone from this world.

But the thought filling my head wasn't the great war that had reshaped the planet while I was gone. It was Nia. My oshi.

The war had killed most people in the first wave, and the apocalypse that followed had finished off the rest. Nia had been an ordinary woman aside from being a VTuber. The odds she was still alive converged on zero. Even if she had somehow survived, she'd be over a hundred years old.

It was a strange thing. She was my favorite, sure — but the simple fact that I'd never be able to meet someone whose face I'd never even seen left my chest this cold. Too cold, too raw, too sad… I drew my feet up onto the chair, wrapped my arms around my knees, and squeezed my eyes shut.

If I'd known it would feel like this, I never would have looked.

My heart was so heavy I couldn't even manage a sigh. I quietly buried my face against my pale knees.

Hope comes to those who refuse to let an opportunity slip away. I hope that day comes for all of you, too — someday, without fail.

For a moment, I thought I heard Nia's voice.

Come to think of it, she had said something like that once. That hope finds the people who keep trying and never give up.

But what was I supposed to strive for in a situation like this? What was there left to hope for…

Wait. Hold on.

A thought struck like lightning through my skull.

If this really was a world eighty years past the time I'd lived in — and if Nia had kept streaming as tirelessly as she always had, all the way until she hit that incredible 6-million-subscriber mark — then how many of her videos were out there that I'd never seen?

"…She said she'd do a concert for her birthday."

I opened my eyes.

I stared blankly at the pale hand right in front of my face, then clenched it tight.

Right. The encyclopedia had said that most pre-war data was too damaged to recover by ordinary physical means. But according to that same encyclopedia, it wasn't completely impossible.

"Data Salvage."

Salvage was a word for maritime recovery — hauling up sunken ships and cargo. But in this world, when you stuck the word data in front of it, the meaning transformed. It meant extracting data from the servers and archives of the previous civilization that had somehow survived the great war.

Nia's videos would still be sitting on OTube, one of the biggest sites in the world. They couldn't have vanished completely from this one.

Which meant it wasn't too late.

"Well, look at that. I just found a reason to work myself half to death."

I shoved the chair back and stood up.

Why I'd opened my eyes again in Nia's body — honestly, I still had no idea. It could have been some supernatural phenomenon. Maybe a god had handed me a mission. But that wasn't my problem right now. Something far more important was shimmering right in front of me.

"Hoo. Let's figure out this world somehow and find a way. And then…"

The motivation that had been guttering out flared back to life like a spark catching dry tinder, and the realization came to me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as naturally as breathing. All those gifted people I'd envied — maybe even resented — hadn't been born grinding from day one.

"I'm going to find Nia's streams!"

They'd had a reason, just like I did now. Something that made them desperate enough to try.

I was sure of it.