【Vodcast 2】

“Today, we have a special guest from The Zeros.”

The host leaned back in his chair, legs crossed comfortably, a practiced smile on his face. “Yup—if you’re thinking Kyroxfun, you’re absolutely right.”

The camera pulled back, revealing Akira seated across from him. Akira lifted a hand and waved, bright and effortless. “Heya, guys!”

Behind the camera, the manager caught his eye and gave a small nod.  You’ve got this.

This was a vodcast known for inviting popular streamers, well, more often than not, controversial ones. The Zeros’ management had nearly declined the offer. In the end, they agreed for one reason alone: Akira was good under pressure. 

The host turned toward him. “Kyroxfun, you’ve been quite the topic lately.”

Akira chuckled, shoulders relaxed. “If you’re talking about Dream_warrior03, then I’ll say the same thing I always do. just rumors.”

“Oh?” The host smiled, amused. “So you keep up with the rumors.”

“I like tracking trends,” Akira said lightly.

“Dream_warrior03 was at your place pretty late, wasn’t she?”

Akira hummed, unfazed. “The stream ended late. She left late. That’s all.”

The host nodded. “Fair enough.”

“And the modelling?” Akira added smoothly. “That was management’s decision.”

He glanced past the lights. The manager looked pale, speaking to someone off-camera. Akira’s smile tightened, just a fraction, before he turned back.

What's with him?

Akira tilted his head. “Anything else? Or should we switch to games now?”

The host laughed softly and shook his head. “Before that… I found out you’re not actually a high school graduate.”

Akira blinked. His eye twitched. “I think your source might be mistaken—”

“Not just that,” the host interrupted calmly. “It seems you dropped out of two schools.”

The room felt quieter.

Akira’s breath caught. He looked toward the back again. The manager was gone.

He swallowed and faced forward. “You’re digging a bit deep, don’t you think? And unfortunately, you’re still wrong.”

“You seem eager to dismiss it,” the host said mildly.

“Because it isn’t true.”

The host leaned forward slightly, voice lowering, not sharper, just more precise. “Then you can deny this, too, right? That you were involved with your aunt.”

Something hollowed out inside Akira.

His smile fell away. The lights felt too bright. For a moment, the sound in the room dulled, as if cotton had been pressed into his ears. A word resurfaced in his head, Minato, and vanished just as quickly.

His eye continued twitching as he forced his lips to move. “C-come on. You shouldn’t bring my aunt into this.”

The host didn’t raise his voice; he seemed almost amazed. “We’ve spoken to a former servant from your household.”

Akira stood abruptly. His chair scraped loudly against the floor. His hands shook, sweat breaking across his palms and temples.

“Please stop,” he said, breath uneven. “She raised me. As a parent. This is—this is sick.”

“We have proof,” the host replied. “Photographs.”

Something snapped—not loudly, not all at once. Just a clean, terrifying break.

Akira moved before he realized it. His fist struck the host’s face.

Shouts erupted. Hands grabbed him from behind, dragging him back. The lights blurred. His pulse roared in his ears.

“Cut this. Cut this now,” someone barked.

The manager appeared at last, face tight, already speaking to the crew. Akira struggled against the grip holding him.

“They’re lying!” Akira shouted, voice cracking. “They’re making this up!”

The host stood, wiping at his mouth, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction.

“There it is,” he said calmly. “The confidence finally collapsed.”

Akira lunged again but was restrained.

“We’ll handle the compensation,” the manager said quickly, stepping between them. His tone was too smooth and professional. Even detached. He didn’t look at Akira for long.

“Take him back. I’ll resolve this.”

As Akira was pulled away, the realization settled heavier than the hands on his arms: 

There was no going back.

In the car, the manager sat next to him. They were driving him back to his apartment.

"Akira, they will remove the part where you struck him. You owe me for paying them." The manager spoke while he kept looking ahead. 

"A-and what about the accusations?" Akira had his arm pressed against the door.

The manager sighed.  "Kid, you clearly know they aren't accusations."

Akira's vision blurred for a moment.

"But I don't think they had pictures; the host said that to trigger you, and he won."

"What do I do now?" Akira mumbled.

"The management will handle the apology on your behalf. You stay quiet for now."

Akira walked to his apartment, and in front of the entrance, once more, a bouquet. He clenched his fists, picked it up, and smashed it into the wall. White petals scattered across the floor.

He walked in, welcomed by the silence. He collapsed near the door, shoulders trembling. 

I did the same in school, too. I only know how to hit.

He quickly took out his phone; the internet was quiet, maybe too quiet. He opened the host's profile. 

[Haha, I was hit by a wildcat.]

His chest tightened.

His phone rang, almost shocking him.  He picked up without reading the caller's name.

"Akira."

The voice made him numb. 

"A-aunt... they know... again."

"Do you want to stabilize your streaming career, or do you want to come back and live with me?"

He moved the phone away from himself and brought it back close. "Excuse me?"

"Listen carefully. You can deny it, but this rumor will stay. Or you can stop streaming and come back." She was quiet for some time.  "Or you could say I forced you into it all." 

His stomach twisted.

"I can't do that."

"Aren't you the type to use anyone as a scapegoat?"

"Maybe I am." He said softly. "But I still cannot."

She said something, but this time he ended the call.

He could feel his eyes tearing up, not from sadness but fear. At times like this, he mostly feared himself.

One call. 

If it works. Good.

If it doesn't, then life wasn't fair.

He pressed the call before he could think any further.

After a ring, Jitsuko picked up before she could say a word. 

"Will you come?" He spoke in a low voice. "I don't think I am thinking straight."

"I am coming."

She spoke without any reassurance or prying, but for now, it was enough.