2 It’s only natural to have a childhood friend
Classes ended without incident, and school was out for the day.
The tablet robbery committed by my step-sister this morning was—well, nothing new.
Ayari is always the one bringing chaos to my high school life.
We've only been siblings for two years, but I've already gotten used to her causing trouble.
That beautiful, blonde French girl getting involved was a bit irregular, but she simply got dragged into it.
It wasn't something I needed to bring a box of sweets and apologize for, so I decided to just forget about it.
"Masato!"
I was walking down the hallway when a voice called out to me from behind.
"Oh, it's just you, Yui."
Her voice carried well, so I couldn't pretend I hadn't heard her and had no choice but to reply.
The person approaching me from behind was Torimi Yui.
She had a black bob cut, and while her expression was notably strong-willed, her features were well-proportioned.
Standing at around 150 centimeters, she was even shorter than the petite Ayari.
She wore a thin hoodie instead of a blouse with the sleeves rolled up, paired with a standard mini-skirt—a rather sloppy take on our uniform.
"Going home alone again? You should really make some friends," Yui chided as she caught up to me.
"I'm fine. It's not like it bothers me," I replied dismissively.
I've known Torimi Yui since elementary school—she was what you'd call a childhood friend.
Even an unsociable introvert like me couldn't just ignore a childhood friend.
Yui and I were in the same grade, but we were in different classes.
In addition to a step-sister, I somehow also had a female childhood friend.
Both of them were cute, so people sometimes envied me, but it wasn't like I gathered them together of my own free will, so I didn't see what there was to be jealous of.
"I'm the one who's bothered as your childhood friend, you know," Yui sighed.
"Why would you be?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Despite her feminine appearance, this childhood friend of mine used the masculine pronoun boku.
I wasn't really sure why, but she had been like that since we were kids, so I was used to it.
"Masato, you're always just drawing pictures at school every day. Aya is worried about you too, you know?" Yui pressed on.
"Ayari is just amusing herself at my expense," I retorted plainly.
Naturally, my childhood friend and step-sister knew each other, and if anything, the two of them were much closer.
Rather than Ayari and I being siblings, it was more like Yui and Ayari were sisters.
"Hey, Masato," Yui called out, her tone shifting slightly.
"What?" I answered, glancing at her.
"Are you making another game?”
"I'm planning to."
I answered without a shred of hesitation.
I liked drawing, but I didn't just draw because I liked it.
My "main profession" was game development.
Drawing was nothing more than a single part of that process.
"It was called The Mirage's Future Tree, right? I didn't really get that one," Yui admitted, tilting her head.
"A lot of people had that impression," I agreed with a wry smile.
The Mirage's Future Tree—a visual novel I created in middle school.
I sold it on a distribution site as an indie game, or what you'd call a doujin game.
It was a story about a protagonist who wandered into a mirage-like city where the line between reality and illusion was blurred. Meeting others who had also wandered in, they had to cooperate—and sometimes clash—to unravel the mysteries hidden within the city.
I was in charge of all the graphics, while the other tasks were handled by external staff or utilized royalty-free assets.
Except for the scenario—though I didn't really want to touch on that.
"But there was a lot of feedback saying those mysterious parts were exactly what made it good. That it was fun to theorize. The discussions were getting pretty heated," I pointed out in its defense.
"You sure are positive, Masato. Always looking at the bright side," Yui remarked, amused.
"There's no need to take unnecessary damage by worrying over negative comments,"
The strength to withstand criticism was an essential skill for a creator—or so I was told.
"Did your dad tell you that?" Yui asked, hitting the nail on the head.
"...Something like that," I muttered.
Yeah, I was just parroting my father.
"Don't you worry a bit too much about your dad rather than the criticism, Masato?" Yui pointed out.
"For better or worse, the old man leaves a huge impact," I sighed.
My childhood friend Yui had also known my father for a long time.
My father, Akiba Tatsuya, was a game developer.
He worked at a major game company and was currently a director.
He originally started as an illustrator, but eventually got involved in scenarios and game design. As he worked across different departments, he naturally settled into the director role—or so he claimed.
Settled into? Was he joking?
Even though he was already well past forty, he barely ever came home, opting to sleep at the company and pour himself into his work.
Staying overnight was technically prohibited at his company, though.
He had remarried, yet the old man completely neglected his new wife and daughter.
"He definitely leaves an impact. Even someone like me who hardly plays games knows the name Akiba Tatsuya," Yui nodded in agreement.
"It's a complicated feeling when your parent's face is that well-known," I grumbled.
"Your dad was even on the cover of Gemutsu recently, right?" she added playfully.
"Ugh... Please forget about that. I'm embarrassed just thinking about it," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.
Game Tsuushin, or Gemutsu for short, was the biggest gaming magazine out there.
Usually, they featured newly drawn illustrations for games on their covers, but on very rare occasions, they used photos of developers.
When I saw the cover featuring my old man with his arms crossed like a ramen shop owner, I literally held my head in my hands.
"Akiba Tatsuya... Akitatsu, huh," I muttered.
"You're just fixated on that name, Masato. You overthink absolutely everything," Yui sighed.
Akitatsu was credited as the main scenario writer for The Mirage's Future Tree.
It was a pen name my father had used back when he worked for a tiny, obscure company, long before he joined as a major game developer.
He didn't use that pen name anymore, but any self-respecting gamer worth their salt knew exactly who it was.
"In the end, The Mirage's Future Tree only sold well because it had Akitatsu's name attached to it," I lamented.
"There you go, saying things like that again," she replied.
Yui let out an exaggerated sigh.
Sometimes her mannerisms are just too theatrical...
"You worry too much," Yui scolded. "Your art was well-received too, so you should be proud of it."
"My art is the absolute best. But my art isn't the reason the game sold," I replied flatly.
"Jeez, you're such a pain," she groaned.
Yui slapped me hard on the back.
"I'm the one validating you here! I'm telling you that you did a great job!" Yui declared proudly.
"..." I remained silent.
Yui possessed the kind of beautiful voice that seemed to resonate directly inside your head, even in casual conversation.
Being praised in that voice didn't feel bad at all.
Honestly, I suspect Yui was partly to blame for my overinflated ego.
"Next time, you can just make one without relying on Akitatsu," Yui suggested brightly. "When are you making your next game?"
"That's easier said than done..." I murmured in response.
She made it sound so simple, but finishing a single game from start to finish was a grueling undertaking.
Sometimes, once you actually started development, it could wrap up surprisingly fast.
In fact, the actual production period for The Mirage's Future Tree hadn't even taken a full six months.
Compared to major consumer games that take years to develop, it was an unbelievably short timeframe—but then again, what I had made was a doujin game.
Modern doujin games were primarily sold via digital distribution.
Though they were occasionally sold at conventions and similar event venues as well.
Developed by small teams on shoestring budgets, the scale of these projects was modest—yet nowadays, many of them were playable on consumer consoles, making it a genre that had exploded in popularity over the last few years.
There were even doujin games pulling in sales figures that utterly dwarfed your average commercial title; you could certainly say it was a field full of dreams.
At this point, though, I was far more concerned with player feedback than with chasing profits.
"I'll be looking forward to your next release, too," Yui smiled.
"You don't even play games, Yui," I pointed out.
"W-Well, it just makes me happy when you get praised! Don't make me spell it out!" she stammered defensively.
"I wasn't fishing for compliments or anything... but if you're looking forward to it, I guess I have to do it," I admitted with a wry smile.
"Exactly! Do your best, do your best!" Yui cheered.
Once again, I found myself encouraged by that beautiful voice of hers.
For a tsundere, my childhood friend was awfully good at hyping people up.
"Phew... You know, you're the only person at school I can actually talk about games with," I sighed.
"That's right! I'm the only one who knows about your family situation and your game development," Yui boasted proudly.
"Ayari knows too, you know," I corrected her.
"Aya is family. Outside of your family, I'm the only one who knows. And the only one you can talk about games with," she insisted.
"If that's the case, you should play more games yourself, Yui,"
"I've already played through The Mirage's Future Tree ten times!" she retorted.
"Ten times That's the first I'm hearing of this! It only has one route, so playing it over and over doesn't change anything!" I exclaimed in shock.
"I-It's fine, isn't it?! It's only natural for me to take an interest in a game my childhood friend made!" Yui shot back, her face flushing.
"...I suppose that makes sense,"
Even if it was a form of entertainment you had no interest in, you'd probably want to check it out if someone you knew was involved.
"But ever since you started making games, things just feel kinda..." Yui trailed off.
"Kinda what?" I prompted.
"Distant—never mind! Just do your best if you're making another game! A-And if there's anything I can do to help..." she stammered, quickly changing the subject.
"I wouldn't ask you to go that far. Game development is seriously brutal, so I can't just drag other people into it," I told her honestly.
"...You could drag your childhood friend into it… at least," she murmured softly.
"Huh?" I asked, missing her words.
"You heard me! I said it's fine to drag me into it... but actually, never mind!"
"O-Oh, right. Let's just leave it at that," I replied, taken aback.
Game development was truly an endless series of nightmares; I'd hesitate to drag even Ayari into that kind of mess.
As I nodded in agreement with my own thoughts, Yui glared at me—
Then she abruptly turned her face away.
"You're going to the Ota Building again today anyway, aren't you, Masato?" Yui asked.
"It's the Oda Building, not the Ota Building," I corrected.
The Oda Building was a run-down, two-story multi-tenant structure tucked away in a corner of Akihabara.
Oda was also Ayari's former surname, and the building had ties to her side of the family—but that was beside the point.
Since my step-sister constantly referred to it as the "Ota Building," Yui had picked up the habit and started calling it that, too.
Despite correcting her even, I was starting to slip up and call it the Ota Building.
That building in Akihabara was my current battlefield.
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