Operation Kaiju Influencer, Commence!

I propped my textbook open as Sae droned on about classical literature. Next to me, Kurumi's head kept bobbing forward before jerking back up, her eyes glazed. The pizza had hit her hard.

"Stay awake." Sae's firm voice cut through the drowsy afternoon air. She poked Kurumi with a pencil.

"But I don't wanna..." Kurumi whined, face pressed against her desk.

I tried focusing on the page in front of me. Something about a guy wandering through old Kyoto, pining after some noble lady. Usually this stuff bored me to death, but today the words flowed differently. My mind kept drifting back to the cafeteria - Little Shit's proud squeaks as he heated the oven, everyone crowded around that stupid pizza like it was the best thing they'd ever eaten.

The corner of my mouth twitched up. I caught myself and quickly squashed the smile.

"Alright, that's it for today." Fujita-sensei's voice cut through my thoughts.

As I packed up my bag, I let out a sigh. Right. KaiKool shift tonight. Back to the land of overpriced drinks and corporate mascot hell.

"Ryū-chan!" Kurumi materialized beside my desk, suddenly wide awake. "Can I come watch you work? Please?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you interested in my job?"

"Since, um, forever! I promise I won't be distracting. I'll just-"

"Stare at Sae the whole time?"

Kurumi's face went pink. "Yes! I mean, no!"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't muster any real annoyance. Maybe it was the lingering warmth from lunch or maybe I was just getting soft. "Fine. Just don't distract me."

"You're the best, Ryū-chan!"

I slung my bag over my shoulder, Little Shit crawling up to his usual perch. The classroom emptied quickly - everyone eager to escape the stuffy air and Sae's lessons. But Toukawa-san remained at her desk, scribbling notes, oblivious to the exodus.

She looked... lonely.

"Hey." I walked over, casting a shadow across her page. "We're heading to KaiKool. Want to come?"

She didn't look up. "Can't. Need to finish this chapter."

"The world's ending and you're still studying?" Kurumi bounced over. "Come on, live a little!"

Toukawa-san's pencil stopped moving. Her shoulders tensed, but she kept her eyes fixed on the page.

I got it. Some people cling to routine when everything else falls apart. Back when Dad first left, I'd obsessed over organizing my video collection by system.

"The café's got good AC," I said. "And quiet corners. You can bring your book."

Toukawa glanced up, expression guarded. "I don't want to intrude."

"Look. The world is ending. Having a little company might make it easier."

Little Shit chirped in agreement, reaching toward Toukawa-san with his tiny claws. She blinked, surprised by his gesture.

"...Fine."

"Yes!" Kurumi threw her arms around Toukawa-san, who stiffened, then gave her a few awkward 'please get off me' pats.

Sae smiled faintly as she held the classroom door. "Shall we?"

***

We walked down the empty street, each of us moving at our own pace. Kurumi skipped ahead, spinning around every few steps to make sure we were following. Toukawa kept her eyes glued to her book, somehow avoiding debris without looking up. Sae marched in perfect rhythm, while Little Shit bounced between all of us like a hyperactive pinball.

Me? I dragged my feet, already bracing myself for yet another round of complaints from my manager.

"Hey, weird question." Kurumi slowed down to walk backward in front of us. "Where are all the reporters? Weren't they swarming you yesterday, Ryū-chan?"

I blinked. With everything that happened at school, I'd completely forgotten about the media circus.

"The Kaiju Quarantine Division requested a media blackout," Sae explained. "We can't risk misinformation spreading about Little Shit."

"Makes sense." Toukawa finally looked up from her book. "The military wants to control the narrative."

"Well, I won't let the military control me!" Kurumi whipped out her phone, thumbs flying. "Check out what I just posted!"

She shoved her phone in my face. There on the screen was @LittlePoopOfficial's profile, complete with a photo of me passed out at my desk, Little Shit curled up on my head.

"When did you even take that?" I snatched at her phone, but she danced away.

"It's perfect! Shows the real bond between you two." Kurumi beamed. "We've already got 10,000 followers!"

"Great. My drooling face is now internet famous."

Little Shit squeaked happily, clearly proud of his social media debut.

"Once we hit monetization requirements, you can quit that silly café job." Kurumi twirled, her uniform skirt swishing. "Think about it - professional kaiju influencer!"

I perked up at that. No more customer service hell? The thought alone made my steps lighter.

"That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard." Toukawa-san's deadpan voice cut through Kurumi's excitement.

My steps slowed. Being an influencer did sound stupid, but...

"How much could we actually make?"

Kurumi's eyes lit up. "With Little Shit's popularity? We could make bank! Remember that penthouse you told me about? The one your manager keeps talking about?"

I did. Manager had gone on and on about her dream place in Shinjuku - two stories of pure luxury, a rooftop garden, floor-to-ceiling windows. She'd go on and on about hosting fancy dinner parties while I scrubbed burnt cheese off pizza pans.

At the time, I'd rolled my eyes at her rambling. But now...

"Come on Ryūka, think bigger! The fanciest place in Tokyo!" Kurumi spread her arms wide, nearly whacking Toukawa in the face.

Tokyo. Dad use to sit at our cramped kitchen table, spreading out real estate listings across coffee-stained papers. He'd point to photos of Tokyo apartments, eyes bright with possibility.

"When I make it big," he'd say, "we'll have a place where you can see the whole city. Maybe even Mount Fuji on clear days."

That was before the company layoffs, before he had to take that job overseas. Before everything changed.

We never did get that place. But maybe...

"Those kind of penthouses go for, what, fifty million yen? You really think we could afford something like that?"

"Are you kidding? Look at these engagement numbers!" Kurumi thrust her phone at me again. "People love him! And you too, even if you're grumpy in the photos."

I glanced at Sae, who gave a slight nod. "The public's fascination with that kaiju isn't going away anytime soon."

My own place. Even if the world ended tomorrow, it'd be nice to have my own place. No more missing walls and Gran Gran's strict shower schedule. No more watching Mika-senpai's perfect Tokyo life through a screen.

"Sooo?" Kurumi bounced on her toes, phone clutched to her chest. "Are we doing this?"

I looked at Little Shit, who gave an encouraging squeak. Even Toukawa-san had lowered her book, watching with curiosity.

"Fine. But no more sleeping photos."

Kurumi squealed and launched herself at me, nearly knocking us both over. "Yes! Yes! Operation Kaiju Influencer is go! We'll get you that penthouse, Ryū-chan. I promise!"

"Kurumi!" I complained, but I couldn't find it in me to push her away. Little Shit joined in, tail curling around our legs as he squeaked, probably already dreaming of his future as a social media star.

"Not to burst your bubble," Toukawa closed her book with a snap, "but fifty million yen? Even with viral posts, you'd need years to save that much."

She had a point. Even with Little Shit's fame, that kind of money seemed impossible.

I stopped mid-thought. Up ahead, a massive line snaked around KaiKool's entrance. The crowd buzzed with energy, phones raised high like some weird cult ritual.

I did a quick count. At least fifty people, probably more wrapping around the corner. Each one meant another order to remember, another mess to clean up, another complaint about why their kaiju-themed parfait didn't look exactly like the display model. I'd rather face the Furnace Kaiju again than deal with this crap.

Wait… were they here for Little Shit?

I sighed, watching a group of high school girls squeal over something on their screens. Probably that cursed sleeping photo.

I should've quit when I had the chance.