Confessions From the Shadows: My Eyes Were Always on You, Sakura Miko
Hololive Production. A place where countless talents sparkle and shine. Everyone's eyes are glued to the stars laughing on stage. But not mine. My eyes were always on that girl in the corner of the hallway, practicing her dance moves desperately, messing up again and again.
My name is Shirase Kotone. As a plain, ordinary staff member, I have always watched her from the shadows. Miko-senpai—Sakura Miko. A person who stumbles so many times, looks like she's about to burst into tears, yet still ma
Confessions From the Shadows: My Eyes Were Always on You, Sakura Miko - Observer of Shadows — A Night of Flames and Tears
The girl on the monitor was smiling.
But something was wrong.
Shirasawa Kotone set down the can of coffee in her right hand. The surface of the lukewarm black coffee trembled faintly.
It was past eleven at night on the sixth floor of Cover Tower. The manager division office was empty now. Only Kotone remained, sitting at her desk under the pretext of overtime. Her black bob cut, trimmed neatly at the shoulders, reflected the monitor's pale blue light. Her large, cat-like brown eyes—sharp enough to see clearly even in the dimness—were fixed intently on a single girl displayed on the screen.
Sakura Miko.
A VTuber belonging to Hololive Production. Over two million subscribers. A wildly popular talent, known for her waist-length sakura-pink hair and her bright, reddish-pink eyes.
She was still streaming now. Answering viewer comments one by one with a smile.
" Everyone! Thank you for watching again today-nye!"
The feed was coming from streaming booth 3-C. Kotone liked watching her from this angle. From Kotone's monitor, she could see Miko's left shoulder, just slightly lowered—something that never showed up on the stream itself.
*(She's exhausted...)*
Kotone's powers of observation picked up even the smallest details like that. A year and four months since she joined the company. As a talent support staff member for Team 3, she had been watching Miko the entire time.
Cheerful, clumsy, but someone who never gave up more than anyone else.
It was about half a year ago that she first saw Miko practicing dance in the corner of the office hallway late into the night. Through the small window of the empty lesson studio, Stella Hall, she had caught a glimpse of Miko drenched in sweat, falling over and over again.
From that day on, Kotone's eyes had always followed her.
"...Huh?"
Kotone let out a small sound. Miko's smile on the monitor had frozen for just an instant. A mere 0.1 seconds. A normal person wouldn't have noticed. But Kotone could tell.
The comment section was starting to turn ugly.
*"Disappear."*
*"You're disgusting."*
*"Why don't you just quit streaming?"*
Some offhand remark of Miko's had been clipped maliciously and was spreading across social media. A so-called flame war. Kotone opened another window and checked the trending topics. Miko's name was lined up alongside words she didn't even want to see.
Her chest tightened sharply.
" It's about time to wrap up for today-nye... Everyone, see you tomorrow!"
The stream cut off.
Kotone didn't miss the moment Miko's face appeared for the last time—the instant her bright streaming smile vanished without a trace.
Voices came from the hallway outside the office.
"Good work todaaay!"
It was Miko. Greeting the other staff energetically. Kotone rose from her desk and quietly peered into the hallway. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her dark green staff jumper and held her breath.
" Ahaha, I made a little mistake on the stream the other day, but... it's fine, I'm not bothered by it-nye!"
*I'm not bothered by it.*
Contrary to those words, Miko's fingertips were trembling faintly. Her voice was pitched just slightly higher than usual. It was supposed to be her normal energetic tone, but the final "nye" had cracked.
Kotone's chest tightened again.
*(...That's a lie.)*
Her powers of observation told her so. Miko was hurting. She was hurting so badly, but she couldn't show it to anyone, so she was forcing herself to smile.
She wanted to call out to her.
But... what would she say?
Was "Are you okay?" something she was allowed to ask, given her position as staff? And besides—Cover Corporation's internal regulations, the "Talent Relations Guidelines." Commonly known as the TRG. A rule prohibiting private, intimate relationships between talent and staff. It had been established three years ago in the wake of a scandal called the "Nanasan Incident."
Violation meant reassignment or resignation.
Kotone's feet wouldn't move.
Still smiling, Miko disappeared into the elevator.
Midnight.
Kotone finished her work and was about to go home. But somehow, she couldn't bring herself to press the button for the first floor, and the elevator descended to the basement.
Basement Level 1. A floor with nothing but storage and a rarely used restroom.
A quiet place with no one around.
She didn't quite understand why she had come here herself. Somehow, while thinking about Miko, her feet had moved on their own.
—She heard a voice.
From the direction of the restroom.
A faint voice, like someone sobbing.
Kotone's heart pounded loudly.
*(...Miko-senpai?)*
She crept closer, muffling her footsteps. The white light of the fluorescent lamps fell on the cold tile hallway. The restroom door was slightly ajar.
A voice leaked out from inside.
" Uuu... *hic*... why, why is this..."
It was Miko's voice.
A hoarse, tearful voice, completely different from her usual cheerful tone. A weakness she would never show on stream, a vulnerability she couldn't show anyone—it was there, beyond that door.
Kotone stood frozen.
*(I have to... call out to her.)*
She thought.
But her feet wouldn't move. The TRG rules. Her position as staff. And—her own cowardice.
All of it bound Kotone's body in place.
" No one... understands... I'm trying so hard, and yet..."
Miko's sobs hurt.
Her chest ached as if she'd been struck.
Kotone sank down on the spot. The coldness of the tiles seeped through her jeans. She leaned her back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights seemed unbearably bright.
*(Just watching isn't enough.)*
She murmured it in her mouth.
"It's not enough..."
When she actually voiced it, it was a terribly small sound.
Miko-senpai was always struggling alone. Even when she failed, even when she fell, she streamed with a smile. Even when she got flamed, she couldn't show anyone her true weakness, and she was in a place like this, crying by herself.
*(I have to protect her.)*
She didn't know if she had the right. But that's what she thought.
The sound of crying still came from the restroom.
Kotone couldn't stand up. In the end, she stayed sitting there for about thirty minutes. Miko's crying gradually grew quieter, and eventually, the sound of running water came—and Miko emerged.
Her eyes were a little red, but it looked like she had fixed her makeup.
Without noticing Kotone, she walked towards the elevator.
Her small back grew distant.
The regret of not having called out to her spread slowly, achingly.
Twenty-five minutes by train from Cover Tower.
Room 203 of Maison Kamuro, an eighteen-year-old apartment building. A one-room unit, seventy-two thousand yen a month in rent. Kotone returned to her room and sank down right in the middle of the dark space.
She opened a drawer.
From inside, she took out a small acrylic stand.
A stand of Sakura Miko, smiling.
She actually wanted to display the merch. But she restrained herself and kept it hidden deep in the drawer. Even though she was staff, if she displayed goods of a talent outside her assigned team, people might think it was strange.
" ...Miko-senpai."
She murmured, and held the acrylic stand to her chest.
The plastic felt cold against her.
*(Just watching isn't enough.)*
She thought it once more.
She looked at the calendar. On the simple one hanging on the wall, she had written in small letters, "Miko-senpai's Birthday Event."
Seven days left.
"...Seven days."
She still didn't know what she could do. There was the wall called the TRG, her position as staff, and her own cowardice—but she didn't want to let the birthday arrive without doing anything.
*(At the very least, something...)*
She wanted to protect her.
She wanted to support her.
Was this feeling just admiration? Or was it love?
She still didn't quite know.
Putting the acrylic stand gently back into the drawer, Kotone looked outside the window. The orange light of the streetlamps filtered in thinly through a gap in the curtains.
Just a little longer until dawn.
Kotone stood up and collapsed onto her bed.
*(Starting tomorrow, I'll move.)*
She had no concrete plan. But she only had seven days.
That much was certain.
Staring at the ceiling, Kotone closed her eyes. On the back of her eyelids, Miko's fading smile—the one she had shown at the very end of the stream—was seared into place.
She wanted to make that smile real.
That alone was everything to her right now.
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