The Sawtooth Oak (1)

The shrine buildings shown to the surface had been moved down to the foot of the mountain. The true main sanctuary—the honden—had not. Halfway up the slope, it still kept the seat it had always kept. Behind the hall of worship stood that sanctuary, and farther behind it, a small building. There the shrine maiden Akaba Akane lived, and remaining there to tend the place was her charge.

Shrine staff who came and went for their shifts did not climb this far. Neither, save for real cause, did her grandmother, the woman known to the world as the head of Koma Shrine, who kept to the buildings the surface was permitted to see. Those who came all the way to this place, Akane aside—the shrine's one and only miko—were gods, and guests.

Fewer, even, than those. So it was a real surprise when the tiger that welcomed her home—licking her face, though, being a spirit, it mercifully left her dry—came padding up with news that a guest had called.

There was no lock on the building where Akane lived. The air of the place was so curiously old that a door lock was unthinkable at a glance, and yet there was not so much as a flimsy hasp. The reason was simple enough. Those who knew nothing of the hidden world would, almost all of them, be led astray and left wandering the mountain paths before they ever arrived, and those who did know it would never dare any foolishness in a shrine where a god kept house. There were always exceptions with something wrong in the head, of course… but a youkai capable of forcing past a god of the mountain to do Akane harm would have rendered a physical lock meaningless from the start. The shaman's house, therefore, had no bolt at all.

…In principle.

"That was never permission to walk in whenever you liked."

She glanced at the sneakers left in the entryway and frowned. They were entirely too familiar. Still wearing that crumpled look, she stepped into the bedroom—

"Oh, Akane-chan. You're finally back."

Her eyes met those of a werewolf rolling around on the futon spread over the floor. Beautiful black hair shed a faint blue under the fluorescent light, and triangular ears pricked toward the doorway—toward Akane.

Tsunashi Tenka. A junior VTuber at Anathema Production, and a childhood friend with whom she had spent her early years. A classmate, too, whom she had ended up meeting again at the same high school even after coming home from a stretch abroad.

"Ghk—?!"

"Out. You're shedding."

Akane looked down at her, closed the distance in a few strides, and kicked her in the side. Tenka clutched her ribs and tumbled across the tatami. Watching that, Akane clicked her tongue.

Hands jammed into the pockets of a tracksuit steeped in the smell of fish, what came back to her were the words traded over dinner. An Apostle's, for the most part.

"Not a very kind thing to say to a young lady."

"You would make a fine bride."

Without thinking, she toyed with her bangs, which she had once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dyed gold. It was not the sort of thing she was used to hearing. Most of the world's verdict on Akaba Akane came down to scary or looks like a delinquent, and even when it turned kind, all that ever leaked out was the occasional reliable, or cool. To be treated as a proper woman was an exceedingly rare case. Widen the sample to viewer chat and there was a fair amount of it, true enough—but hearing it said to her face was another matter entirely.

That a thing like this should catch on her at all left her faintly incredulous. Was there still some splinter of a girl's heart left in her? ……Even so. The feeling itself was not entirely bad.

And then there's this one…….

Akane let out a long sigh. Barging into someone else's house and simply taking over the futon—honestly. She wasn't even sure the girl looked at her as a woman. No. Before any question of women. Opposite or same, weren't they far too free of reserve? She knew it was only because they were close, because they knew each other that well. Knowing it didn't stop the sigh. She drew down the zipper of the tracksuit, pressed her nose to the collar, and sniffed, and her brow drew in a fraction. Grilled fish was all well and good. The smell was the problem.

"Move over."

She tossed the clothes into the laundry basket without much care and, down to her underwear, kicked Tenka in the waist again. Less a blow this time than a few prodding taps. Once Tenka reluctantly scooted to the edge of the futon, Akane dropped onto her back in the space that opened.

"Not going to wash?"

"Later."

She answered short, gaze fixed on the ceiling, without so much as a glance Tenka's way.

"More to the point. Why'd you come?"

Tenka barged into the place Akane lived often enough, but the hour was the hour. Even she wouldn't show up without some errand. So Akane thought as she asked, and Tenka rolled onto her side and nodded.

"Something came up at the company. About a job."

A job. Which was to say, a sponsored stream. At those words Akane rolled her eyes toward her.

"A collab. With you?"

"Mm. Not that. It's a job Ninomae-chan got."

"……And why are you telling me?"

It wasn't a story that couldn't be told. They were colleagues at the same agency, and who had landed what sponsorship made perfectly adequate passing talk. But it was not the sort of thing you came all the way to someone else's house, waited, and then brought out. Not unless it was Akane who had received some unusual offer.

"Strictly speaking, this itself isn't the job… It came up while we were talking about an offer that came in for Mary. And because of that, word at the company was that we ought to ask you for advice."

"Advice? They streaming some game with a Japanese-mythology motif? Not that I see my name coming into it either way."

Never mind consulting a working shrine maiden. Ninomae herself was an undergraduate in folklore—and not merely some college student, but that madman's own disciple, who by all accounts took the top of her department as casually as she ate. If the duties of a miko themselves were the issue, perhaps. Outside that razor-narrow range, Ninomae was the greater expert.

"What could it possibly be, for them to say a thing like that?"

"Mm. Honestly, even I doubted my ears the first time I heard it. You know collab cafes, right?"

"Obviously. You Gen 2 kids are about due for one of those, come to think of it… Wait. From everything just now, it sounded like a job with only Mary tied into it. Don't these usually happen as a group?"

At Akane's reaction Tenka let out a thin little laugh and went on.

"……What?"

She cradled the cup carefully in both hands and took a sip of fig tea, steam curling softly off it. On the monitor was the stream screen, the broadcast already finished. She had talked at full tilt the whole time, and her throat was raw; she drank off the last shallow pool of tea in the cup and wet it.

"Nnngh…!"

Ninomae stretched, and a small smile came to her. Once a broadcast ended, she was not the only one quietly pleased that today, too, had been a day well spent.

"…Huh."

The phone she had left beside the desk lit up. She picked it up from the corner of her eye. A call from Manager Hatsuna—silent mode, so there had been no ring.

"Hello?"

"Is something the matter?"

Hatsuna Miho, general manager over the Gen 2 talents, was not the type to call unless it was business.

"Oh? What kind of sponsorship?"

Electronic instruments? I don't know how to play a single thing. Ninomae tipped her head.

"The recorder I learned in elementary school is the whole of it."

"…We're VTubers, though?"

What, exactly, did they expect from people who streamed with their faces hidden? A newest-model avatar with a sheet mask plastered across it? Turn the question however she would, the intent was nothing but a puzzle.

"Ah… true. I wouldn't necessarily have to study the sponsored instrument myself, would I? Bring in someone who can play, run an utawaku, and that ought to be enough……."

What followed, at least, she could halfway accept.

"Large ones? Two of them?"

"A social game? Out of nowhere?"

Ninomae's eyes widened a little. It was not a thing she had expected in the least.

"Hmm……."

"No."

Ninomae thought a moment, then said it.

"I think it's better if I don't. I've played my share of collection games on mobile, so I know how this goes. They get filed under otaku right alongside us, but press on it and the lineages are completely different."

Otaku games and virtual idols plainly occupied different territories. There were people who liked both games and VTubers, of course…….

"I figure we'd be lucky just to get out of there without being torn to pieces."

"Sorry? What do you mean?"

The manager's thinking seemed to run a little apart from her own.

A fair number ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would simply let it pass: oh, they've brought in an odd guest. And if even a few among them took an interest in this side… no, even short of that, if the algorithm were someday kind and they thought oh, I've seen her before and leaned in, that alone would be a windfall. So Miho explained it.

"I see… there is that way of looking at it."

If their chances of ever becoming customers on this side were already scraping the floor, then writing them off from the start and walking in anyway was one way to go about it. Ninomae nodded again.

"Yes. In that case, I suppose it would be all right to go, just the once. Was the invitation only for me?"

"I see… Ah, now that I think of it, I forgot to ask. What game is it, exactly?"

"You should have opened with that!"

Ninomae shot up out of her chair as she shouted.

"Th-that—more than that, a first-anniversary broadcast on the Japanese server? There was such a thing?! I mean, I thought the odds were high! I did think so!"

"Ahem… S-sorry. I got carried away without thinking."

She cleared her throat and somehow pressed the feeling back down, but it was already too late. An awkward current carried even across the line.

"Ah, anyway. You said there were two things, didn't you? What's the other?"

"What in the world is it?"

"……?"

The two of them were quiet for a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moment.

"So you mean ginger. Jinjā…?"

"Eh…?"

The situation itself, she did not understand. The response, she did. In anything touching the anomalous, a specialist on the order of an Apostle was not easily found. Of course, to a manager who knew nothing of the hidden world, it could only prompt a baffled tilt of the head. Why drag along an ordinary person?

"Anyway, understood. This weekend… the company will be tied up with Tama-senpai's live. Would Monday be all right?"

Once the call had more or less wound to a close, Ninomae looked up at the ceiling.

…Just how do things have to turn for a sponsorship like this to come in? The sigh rose out of her on its own.