Chapter Twelve: Last Minute Gifting Spree

Los Angeles was a bustling city with an always-on social scene and economy to match. Finding a retail store that was open in the morning wasn’t too terribly hard. As it turns out, there was one of the numerous perennial comic cons going on not far from downtown. With it came a cottage industry of pop-up stalls and, for lack of a better term, ‘weeb stuff’.

It was there, pursuing the stalls with my Vespa just out of arm’s reach (the better to prevent theft) that I saw it. A little chibi funko-pop looking thing of Yuki☆ herself holding a microphone. Who knew they even sold things like that? Next to this figurine was another of a bright and colorful anime-style character with a distinct star-theme. They were on sale—and in a bundle at that.

“Excuse me.” I pointed at the two figures. “Uh, what’s the deal with that one?”

“Oh? That’s a V-tuber!” said a cheery early-twenty-something merchant type. “Its Yuki☆’s online persona. It’s rare to have a V-tuber’s true identity also be famous, but not unheard of with certain celebrities. Rarer still that she uses the V-tube identity as her real-life stage name.”

“One of them V-tubers, huh?” I shrugged. “I’ve… heard of those. I’m with it. I’m hip. Uh, what’s it do?”

The stall-jockey had a look like they were about to launch into a long-winded rant about something they knew way too much about.

“Well, you see, she started as this early indie model V-tuber on the Japanese side of the internet. She happened to get picked up by a big agency in 3-D just as she was getting big on YouTube and Niconico. There were rumors she’d graduate, but as an indie, that’s not really a thing. She can keep doing it as long as she wants, really.”

I glanced about the stall. They had a matching set in some other, more detailed style. It was more expensive but, hey, I’d been doing gangbusters this past week or two. I could afford it.

“Theoretically,” I spoke slowly. “Purely in theory, do you think this would work as a gift for the actual Yuki?”

The merchant gasped. “Omigod, I don’t know. Some celebrities love dinky little merch of themselves like this.”

I checked my phone. I was out of options and time. Heck, I grabbed two pairs.

“I’ll get her to sign one copy and get it back to you!” I said.

The stall jockey looked like this was the happiest day of their life. They eagerly took my card. No sooner had the transaction cleared than I was back on my Vespa and on the road.

+++

The quad-set of figurines sat safely boxed up in my coat pocket. Not the best birthday gift I’ve ever given someone in my life, but it was technically personal and had a funny story behind it. That will get you far.

I zoomed through the streets as traffic picked up. I had Yuki’s house saved a half-dozen times from all the delivery jobs. At this point, I could nearly navigate by instinct.

So, Yuki☆’s a stage name, huh? I wondered to myself as I drove. Would definitely explain the ☆. Still, there I was calling her Yuki all casually. What was her true name? Suddenly, it was like I knew little about her at all. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

The gate guards kept the bar gate down at all times. I did wonder how they kept the place secure at night…

“Stop right there,” said a rather lazy-looking security guard. “This here’s a restricted neighborhood.”

“I’m aware,” I said.

I tried to remember if this guy had been on-duty during one of my previous deliveries. His face escaped me.

“You a delivery driver?” asked another, older-looking guard.

“Well, yeah.”

“What are you delivering?”

“Oh, well, I’ve got this.” I slapped the top of my FECC. “But I’m not delivering that today. It’s, uh, a birthday party.”

“You’re delivering to a birthdayparty?”

“Actually, I was invited,” I said.

Times like this made me wish I’d bothered to get Janae or Yuki’s numbers. I didn’t exactly look like someone who lived around these parts.

Mercifully, the security gatehouse received a call around this time. That first guard pulled out a standard cell phone.

“Uh, this is Real Estate LLC Presents The Neighborhood at Beverly Hills Front Gate,” said the guard. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Hello, Miss Campbell. Uh-huh.”

The guard focused on the call, then looked back to me.

“Very well.” The call cut off. “You, uh, you’re good to go.”

Mission successful, I rolled on through the wide-open avenue and on to that now-familiar mansion. With that obstacle cleared, I once more wondered what Yuki’s true name could be. I got the impression that even Janae did not know.

+++

Yuki’s driveway was relatively crowded with three fancy limos. Each had clearly received a full wash and wax the previous night. My well-worn Vespa appeared positively run-down in comparison.

Still, this didn’t seem like a terribly busy party. I thought a bit about who Yuki may have invited. The other actors at the wrap party hadn’t mentioned anything about it.

I walked up to the door, as I’d done before.

“One moment.” Janae’s voice was obvious over the intercom.

The door unlocked remotely through some hidden command. Must be one of those smart homes. Sounds of social mingling came from deeper inside. I let myself in.

The party people were not actresses and Hollywood types. They weren’t guests from back in Japan either. Instead, they appeared to be a collection of people from all over. I recognized a few people from the previous day’s shoot. They’d been a few girls on the film crew who helped roll up some of the lighting.

“Glad you could make it!” Yuki said from atop a flight of stairs.

I’d never actually been this far into the house. It was three stories tall, with a wide staircase up to the second floor that looked like it was part of the Titanic ballroom. I resisted the urge to whistle, presuming it would be uncouth.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” Yuki said again.

“I’m kind of surprised you didn’t convince me to deliver another food order,” I said with a smile.

Yuki let out a faux-offended ‘pshaw’ type sound.

“I didn’t want you to work on your birthday,” Yuki said. “In fact, I have a special surprise for you. Consider it my treat.”

An enticing aroma affected my senses. I could smell it coming from what I presumed to be the kitchen. A sweet, vanilla smell. It could only belong to a cake. Yuki☆, mysterious and beautiful J-pop starlet, had baked a cake for me. Well, for us. It was her birthday too.

“Happy Birthday, Mister Delivery Driver!” she said.

“Happy Birthday to you,” I told Yuki.