Shibuya Hal was the leader of Neo-Porte and a man who kept protecting his friends. But his kindness was slowly shaving away his own life. One day, overwhelmed by a relentless streaming schedule and mental exhaustion, he collapsed. When he woke up, he found himself in a strange, pure-white space. There, a self-proclaimed 'Manager of Fate,' a girl named Chloe, appeared. She told him, 'You were supposed to die three months from now. But I want to give you a chance to do it over.' Hal laughed it off
Neo-Porte Regret: Shibuya Hal Dies Twice - Disappearing Comrades: The Night of Establishment and an Unshakeable Sense of Unease
Dawn breaks. Shibuya stirs to life again.
Haru stood before the streaming studio on the second floor of Neo-Porte's headquarters. His light brown hair was sticking up from sleep again this morning. The dark circles under his amber eyes had grown deeper over the past two weeks.
(Two weeks since the time leap.)
Since he'd met that girl named Chloe in the pure white space. Since she'd told him he would die in three months. Since he'd returned to this world one month in the past.
Haru traced the old wristband on his right wrist with his left fingers. The fabric was frayed, the color faded. Three years ago, the five founding members of Neo-Porte had bought matching ones.
(I have to protect them.)
The words echoed heavily in his chest.
Haru held his IC card to the reader. A beep. The lock released.
The studio was cool. A soundproofed room about fifteen square meters. High-end PCs, microphones, cameras, lighting. Around three million yen worth of equipment per studio.
Haru turned on the computer.
The screen booted up. He opened the list of archive data saved on the server.
(Last month's gaps. Every Tuesday, late night. Three hours' worth.)
Two weeks ago, right after the time leap, he'd noticed something off. The missing data wasn't a system error. Someone was deleting it on purpose.
Haru had been analyzing the deletion patterns on his own. What disappeared was always the same: every Tuesday, from midnight to 3 AM. Three hours. Same day, same time, every week.
(Too regular. This is a habit.)
Someone was coming to this studio every Tuesday night.
A small, unpleasant premonition pulsed deep in Haru's chest.
"...Haru-san."
A voice made him turn.
At the studio entrance stood Tanaka Yoshiaki, the equipment manager. Forty-five years old. A former sound engineer with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a scruffy beard. He wore work clothes, a towel wrapped around his neck.
"Good morning. Checking the data again?"
Tanaka spoke in a calm voice.
"Yeah. Something's been bothering me."
Haru answered without looking away from the screen.
Tanaka came over and peered at the monitor.
"...Tuesday night again."
Tanaka's voice dropped slightly.
Haru looked up.
"Tanaka-san. Do you know anyone who comes to the studio during that time slot?"
Tanaka hesitated for a moment.
"...Actually."
Tanaka wiped sweat from his forehead with the towel around his neck.
"Rei-san borrowed the late-night shift key once a week. For a while."
Haru's fingers stopped.
"Rei?"
"Yes. Last month. He said it was for equipment checks. He'd go into the studio alone, late at night."
(Rei. Late at night. Alone.)
Something began to turn slowly in Haru's mind.
"...Did he seem any different?"
"No, not particularly. But he was quieter than usual. He'd greet me, but... how should I put it. The air around him was tense."
Tanaka spoke as if choosing his words carefully.
"...I see. Thanks, Tanaka-san."
"No. If I was of any help."
Tanaka gave a slight bow and left the studio.
Haru remained alone before the computer.
The list of missing data on the screen.
Every Tuesday night. Three hours.
(Rei borrowed the key for equipment checks.)
(For equipment checks.)
Haru repeated it in his mind, as if convincing himself.
"...For equipment checks."
He muttered it aloud.
But his heartbeat wouldn't stop.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Deep in his chest, something pounded like an alarm bell.
(Rei is my closest comrade. Doubting him is insane.)
Haru shook his head.
He closed the computer. Stood up.
(Right now, there are things I need to do.)
Haru left the studio.
——
Fourth floor. Talent lounge.
Haru was passing by the lounge when—
"Haru-kun."
A small voice stopped him.
He turned.
Takase Mina stood in the corner of the lounge. Twenty-six years old. One of Neo-Porte's founding members, the only woman among the original five. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied back in a single bundle. White blouse, gray cardigan. A petite woman with a rather plain impression.
"Mina. What are you doing here?"
Haru forced a smile.
Mina glanced around, checking their surroundings.
"...There's something I want to talk about. Just the two of us."
Mina's voice was lower than usual, serious.
Haru guided her to a sofa in the back of the lounge, away from prying eyes.
They sat facing each other.
Mina's hands were clenched tightly on her lap. Her fingertips were slightly white.
"What is it? So formal."
Haru spoke as gently as he could.
Mina took one deep breath.
"...Lately, something seems off with Rei-san."
Haru's smile froze for an instant.
"Rei?"
"Yeah. During last week's meeting. While you were speaking, Rei-san was writing something in his notebook the whole time. I happened to be sitting next to him. I caught a glimpse."
Mina lowered her voice.
"It looked like he was recording what you were saying."
Haru went silent.
(Rei recording what I say?)
"You're overthinking it."
Haru laughed it off.
"Rei supports us more than anyone. Taking meeting notes is normal for a manager."
"...I guess."
Mina looked down.
"Mina. Rei has been supporting us since the founding. You know that."
Haru looked into Mina's eyes.
Mina raised her head. Her eyes were serious.
"I want to believe that too. That Rei-san is a good person. I thought so too."
Mina's voice trembled.
"But, Haru-kun. ...Doesn't it overlap with what happened two years ago? With *his* disappearance?"
Haru froze.
(Two years ago. *His* disappearance.)
Memories surged back all at once.
Two years ago. When Neo-Porte was finally gaining traction. One of the founding members suddenly vanished.
A week with no contact. Then a resignation letter arrived by mail.
No reason was written.
Since then, no one had heard from that member.
(Back then, there were signs too.)
(Small discomforts piled up, and then, suddenly.)
Haru swallowed. His throat was dry, sticking together.
"...Mina."
Haru squeezed out his voice.
"That was different. Rei was the most worried back then."
"...Yeah. You're right. Rei-san did so much back then."
Mina nodded slightly.
"Sorry, Haru-kun. I said something strange. I've just been a bit on edge lately."
Mina smiled weakly.
"Don't worry about it. But if anything happens, don't carry it alone. I'll handle it."
Haru patted Mina's shoulder.
Mina gently placed her hand over his.
"...You're too kind, Haru-kun. That's why you're always wearing yourself down."
Mina's voice was hoarse.
Haru couldn't say anything.
Mina stood up.
"Thank you. Talking helped a little. Well, I'll get back to work."
Mina left the lounge.
Haru sat on the sofa, unable to move for a while.
(Mina's right.)
(I want to believe in Rei. I have to believe.)
(But what happened two years ago won't leave my head.)
Haru gripped the wristband on his right wrist tightly.
——
Fifth floor. President's office.
Haru stood before the desk.
There was an old locker in the corner of the room. Haru opened it.
He pulled out a file.
The founding documents from three years ago.
Haru placed the file on the desk and turned the pages.
The first page. A photo of the five founding members.
Haru. Rei. Mina. And two others.
Everyone was young. Everyone was smiling.
(The day this photo was taken, we all talked about our dreams.)
Haru traced the photo with his finger.
The next page. Receipts for used equipment.
The first streaming gear Haru had bought with his entire savings. An outdated PC, a secondhand microphone, a scratched camera.
(Back then, everything was trial and error.)
He turned more pages.
The capital contribution ratio document.
Haru's finger stopped.
It read:
Mitsurugi Rei — 45%
"...Forty-five. Percent."
Haru muttered aloud.
(Rei put in the most?)
Haru hadn't known.
Back then, he was desperate to keep things running. He hadn't had the luxury of caring about contribution ratios.
(And yet, the one on stage was always me.)
Guilt spread slowly through Haru's chest.
(What did Rei think of me?)
Haru closed the file.
He shut his eyes.
That night three years ago surfaced behind his eyelids.
——
Three years ago. A room in a rental office in Shibuya.
Five people huddled together in a room about ten square meters.
On the desk, cheap alcohol from the convenience store and snacks.
On the wall, a handwritten sign reading "Neo-Porte Founding Celebration" taped up.
"We're gonna do something huge from now on!"
Haru raised his paper cup.
"We're going to create the next generation of VTuber culture!"
"Ohhh!"
Everyone raised their cups.
"Haru-kun, you're so passionate!"
Mina laughed.
"But can we really do it? We don't have anything."
"We have dreams, motivation, and each other."
Haru laughed.
"...You really are that kind of man."
Rei said quietly.
"Haru. You stand at the front. I'll support you from behind. Is that all right?"
"Of course. With you here, Rei, I've got a hundred men's strength."
Haru wrapped his arm around Rei's shoulder.
"Let's aim for the top. All of us."
"Let's aim for the top!"
Five voices echoed in the small room.
The heat of that night.
The bond of that night.
The promise of that night.
——
Haru opened his eyes.
(Rei wouldn't forget that night.)
(Rei is my comrade. I have to believe.)
Haru clenched his fist.
(I'll keep believing. If I don't believe in him, who will?)
Haru returned the file to the locker.
——
Night.
An izakaya called "Tanuki" in Dogenzaka.
A small shop tucked into a back alley off Shibuya's main drag. A red lantern swayed out front.
Haru waited at a corner seat at the counter for Rei.
The shop was bustling with office workers and young people. The smoke of yakitori and the smell of beer mixed in the air.
"Haru, sorry to keep you waiting."
Rei entered the shop.
His black hair, parted seven-to-three, was stiffly set with hair product. Cold gray eyes. A small piercing in his left ear. He wore a black suit with not a thread out of place.
"Nah, I just got here too. Sit."
Haru patted the seat beside him.
Rei sat next to Haru.
"What's this about, suddenly? You inviting me out for drinks is rare."
Rei adjusted his glasses with his right hand, a habit of pushing them up.
"Once in a while is fine. I wanted to drink with you, take it slow."
Haru smiled.
The server came, and they ordered beers.
Mugs were placed on the counter.
Haru picked up his mug.
"...Rei."
Haru spoke while staring at the foam.
"I'm glad you're here. Alone, I couldn't have done anything."
Haru's voice was slightly trembling.
Rei turned toward him.
"...What's gotten into you?"
Rei's voice was calm.
"Nah, I looked at the founding documents today. I found out just now that you put in the most capital. And it made me remember a lot of things."
Haru took a sip of beer.
"Back then, I was just desperate. I couldn't see anything around me. I didn't properly understand how much you were supporting me."
"...Haru."
"But now I get it. Because you were there, I made it this far. Because you were there, Neo-Porte grew this big."
Haru looked into Rei's eyes.
"Thank you, Rei. Really, thank you."
Rei stared into Haru's eyes for a while.
Then he smiled faintly.
"...I'm the one who should be grateful you were here."
Rei raised his mug.
"Because you stood at the front, I made it this far. Without your charisma, Neo-Porte would've collapsed long ago."
"Charisma is overstating it."
Haru laughed, embarrassed.
"It's not an overstatement. You have the power to draw people in. I don't."
Rei's gray eyes flickered with something for an instant.
"...Let's toast. To Neo-Porte's future."
Rei raised his mug.
"Yeah. To Neo-Porte's future."
Haru raised his mug too.
Clink.
The glasses rang softly.
They drank their beer.
"Speaking of which, do you remember the day we founded this?"
Rei said, laughing.
"That rental office was really tiny. With five people in it, we couldn't even move."
"Right, right. We taped a paper to the wall. 'Founding Celebrati
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