Maimoto Keisuke. 40 years old. Single. A farming VTuber whose early graying hair is a constant worry. In front of everyone, he laughs loudly, plays mahjong, and gets fired up watching sports. But in the memo pad of his smartphone, there is a list he shows to no one.
"Have I managed to make everyone who's ever been involved with me happy?"
This is the story that unfolds far behind the image he shows on screen. The members of Nijisanji have been saved by him without even noticing. In return, wha
Behind the Blooming Score Sheets - The Poison Fangs Behind a Smile — Kagurasaka Shuichi's Sweet Trap
For the past week, ever since that night when he saw Nazuna's trembling hands, a small thorn had remained lodged deep in Maimoto Keisuke's chest.
His sleep was shallow, and he woke several times during the night. He would pick up his phone from the bedside and unconsciously open the "Maimoto List." The name he had just added at the very bottom glowed quietly in the dark screen.
【Akatsuki Nazuna. Newcomer. Teaching her mahjong. Frightened by SNS notifications. Needs observation】
Below that, one more line.
【Protect her smile】
Maimoto traced those characters with his thumb.
(*Protect, huh*)
He muttered in his mind and let out a small sigh. What could a 40-year-old man do for a 17-year-old rookie liver? Teaching her mahjong was about all he could manage.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was moving around her.
That day, at the mahjong parlor Novelba, the look on Nazuna's face the moment her phone vibrated. Being that terrified just from a notification sound wasn't normal.
Maimoto got out of bed and opened the curtains.
Outside the window was an overcast sky. Low clouds hung heavily over the residential district. He had a meeting at the Nijisanji main office this morning.
The major cafe chain "LUCKY BEANS" had contacted him about wanting to sponsor the Maimoto Cup.
Maimoto washed his face in the bathroom and looked in the mirror. His bangs, mixed with premature gray, clung wetly to his forehead. A small scar above his right eyebrow. His deep brown eyes looked somewhat tired.
"...Nothing for it."
He muttered to no one in particular and swept his bangs back.
The sponsor offer was, honestly, something to be grateful for. The Maimoto Cup cost about 800,000 yen each time. Venue fees of 350,000, equipment rental of 150,000, prizes and miscellaneous expenses of 300,000. All of it came out of Maimoto's own pocket.
"I don't want to dirty the tournament with money" was his creed. But realistically, shelling out 800,000 every time was rough. Even so, he didn't want to create a situation where someone would lose for the sake of someone else's promotion.
So he intended to at least hear out this sponsor proposal. Just listening wouldn't cost him anything.
Maimoto slipped on a black shirt and gently touched the silver ring on his left ring finger.
A keepsake from his late mother. Touching it before going out was his usual habit.
"I'm heading out."
He said it aloud. In the empty room, the voice was quietly absorbed into nothing.
The Nijisanji main office was located in an office building in Minato Ward, Tokyo. Floors 7 through 9 belonged to Nijisanji.
When Maimoto stepped off the elevator, the receptionist gave him a slight bow.
"Good morning, Maimoto-san. Meeting room 3—your guest is already waiting."
"Oh, thanks."
Maimoto raised a hand with a smile and walked down the corridor. Posters of Nijisanji-affiliated livers lined the walls. One of Japan's largest VTuber agencies, with over 150 livers. Within that, Maimoto occupied a position described as mid-career to veteran.
In front of meeting room 3, Maimoto paused for a moment.
(*Alright, let's do this*)
He steadied his breathing lightly and knocked on the door.
"Excuse me."
When he opened the door, a man was sitting alone at the far end of the meeting room.
He wore a black suit and sat with perfect posture. His black hair was slicked back, oily in appearance. The parting on the left side was unnaturally precise. Behind his thin, wide-open eyes, the frames of his glasses glinted coldly.
When the man saw Maimoto, he slowly stood up.
"I've been waiting for you, Maimoto-san."
The voice was polite and soft. But beneath that softness, he sensed something bottomless.
The man smiled.
"My name is Kagurasaka Shuichi, representative of Tenrise Promotion. I'm here today as the sponsorship liaison for LUCKY BEANS."
"Ah, hello. I'm Maimoto."
Maimoto accepted the business card with a smile. Printed on Kagurasaka's card was the Tenrise Promotion logo and the title of Representative Director.
(*Tenrise Promotion... I've heard that name. If I recall, it's an agency that manages VTubers*)
Maimoto sat down across from Kagurasaka.
"Thank you for making time today. Let's get straight to it—please take a look at this."
Kagurasaka slid a document across the table.
It was a contract.
"A sponsorship contribution of 2 million yen from LUCKY BEANS. In exchange for applying this to the Maimoto Cup's operating expenses, there are several conditions."
Maimoto lowered his eyes to the contract.
Two million yen.
That amount was certainly attractive. For someone shelling out 800,000 from his own pocket every time, he wanted it so badly he could taste it.
But.
Maimoto's eyes stopped at a certain clause in the contract.
"...Transfer 60% of operational rights to Tenrise Promotion?"
His voice dropped lower.
Kagurasaka nodded, still smiling.
"Yes. The decision-making authority for tournament planning, operations, and participant selection would be transferred to our company. Of course, you would continue to serve as the face of the tournament, Maimoto-san."
"...So what you're saying is, it wouldn't be my tournament anymore."
Maimoto raised his face from the contract. His deep brown eyes fixed squarely on Kagurasaka.
"Now, don't be so hasty. It will still be your tournament, Maimoto-san. We're simply helping to make it a better one."
Kagurasaka's tone was like that of someone speaking to an old friend.
But Maimoto understood.
This man, behind his smile, was sizing up his reaction.
(*This guy... he's no ordinary salesman*)
Maimoto leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"So, what else is there?"
"Oh? You noticed."
Kagurasaka narrowed his eyes, looking pleased.
"Actually, there is one more thing. Would you look at this clause?"
Where Kagurasaka pointed.
There, an unbelievable line was written.
*'To maintain the fairness of the tournament, advance adjustment of match pairings is permitted.'*
Maimoto read those words over again. Twice. Three times.
(*Advance adjustment of match pairings...?*)
He chewed on the meaning of those words in his head.
In other words, it meant this:
To make Kagurasaka's affiliated talents win, they would match them against only weak opponents. That kind of "adjustment"—the contract would sanction it.
Something quietly grew hot deep in Maimoto's chest.
"...Hey."
His voice dropped lower.
"That's not mahjong."
Kagurasaka tilted his head slightly.
"And what do you mean by that?"
"Adjusting the pairings in advance means deciding the winners and losers from the start. Who the hell finds that entertaining? The participants, the viewers—everyone's being made a fool of."
Maimoto clenched the hand resting on the table into a tight fist.
"My tournament isn't like that. Mahjong is fun because you play with real skill. Some people win, some people lose. But everyone plays seriously. That's why the people watching get fired up too."
"Mahjong reveals a person's character."
Maimoto said it, looking straight into Kagurasaka's eyes.
"Cheating rots a person's character along with everything else."
The meeting room fell silent.
Only the low hum of the air conditioning echoed through the room.
Kagurasaka stared at Maimoto's face for a while.
Then, slowly, he opened his mouth.
"...Maimoto-san."
His voice was as polite as ever.
But his eyes were not smiling.
"You are truly an upright person. Which is precisely why there is something I must tell you."
Kagurasaka pulled a smartphone from the inner pocket of his suit.
He tapped the screen and turned it toward Maimoto.
"This is a story from about two years ago. A certain junior liver was struggling. Her stream's concurrent viewers never reached triple digits. An anonymous account clipped her streams and spread them around. As a result, her subscriber count increased by 30,000 in a single month."
Maimoto's breath stopped for an instant.
"I know exactly who that anonymous account belonged to."
Kagurasaka, still smiling, stared into Maimoto's eyes.
"Then there's this. About a year and a half ago, a rookie liver had her past SNS posts dug up right after debut and got flamed. To protect her, a certain person went directly to management. 'I'll take responsibility for this girl.' That person used his own credibility as collateral to put out the fire. I know who did this, too."
Kagurasaka's voice was calm, as if telling an old story.
But each word pierced into Maimoto's chest.
"Maimoto Keisuke-san. The anonymous clip-spreading you did in the past. And the back-channel intervention to protect a flamed rookie. What do you think would happen if these became public?"
Kagurasaka placed the smartphone on the table.
"What would your fans think? 'Maimoto was using his juniors for his own fame'—if rumors like that started spreading?"
"...Stop."
Maimoto's voice resonated low.
"Stop what, exactly?"
Kagurasaka tilted his head.
"I am merely stating facts. What you did may have truly been out of goodwill. But the world won't see it that way. Especially in today's SNS landscape."
Kagurasaka picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk. Tap, tap.
"Maimoto-san. I'm saying this for your own good. This contract is also meant to protect you. If we take over operations, you'll be freed from troublesome matters. The tournament will grow bigger. Your reputation will improve. It's not a bad deal, is it?"
Maimoto clenched his fist beneath the table.
His knuckles turned white.
(*This bastard... he dug up my entire past*)
Something cold crawled down his back.
His own goodwill, being used as a weapon.
Helping his junior. Protecting a flamed rookie. Those acts were now material to strangle him with.
(*Even so*)
Maimoto slowly raised his face.
"...Kagurasaka-san."
"Yes?"
"I don't regret any of it."
Maimoto's voice was quiet.
But beneath that quietness, there was a definite heat.
"Helping my junior back then, protecting that rookie—all of it, I did because I wanted to. Not to get praised by anyone. So whatever you say to me, it doesn't matter."
Maimoto stared straight at Kagurasaka.
"And besides, if I flinch here, it's over. I'm not handing my tournament to someone like you."
Kagurasaka stared at Maimoto's face for a moment.
Then he let out a soft laugh.
"...I see. You're exactly as the rumors say."
Kagurasaka set down the pen and leaned back in his chair.
"Well then, I'll take my leave for today. But Maimoto-san—just remember one thing."
Kagurasaka, still smiling, leaned in close to Maimoto's ear and whispered.
"Everything you've protected—I'll ruin it all for you."
That voice was cold as ice.
A chill ran down Maimoto's neck.
"...Bring it on."
Maimoto forced a smile over his trembling voice.
"Try it."
Kagurasaka smiled pleasantly and left the meeting room.
The sound of the door closing.
Maimoto sat there for a while, unable to move.
(*...What the hell is that man?*)
His heart was beating an ugly rhythm.
Maimoto picked up the contract left on the table.
And tore it to shreds.
"...Don't screw with me."
His voice was shaking.
After leaving the meeting room, Maimoto walked through the corridors of the Nijisanji main office.
His steps were heavy.
(*How much does that man know about my past?*)
The clip-spreading. The flame-war defense.
Both were things he had done. But he had never told anyone.
And yet Kagurasaka had laid out the details as if he had seen everything.
(*Is that something you can find out by investigating? No—information that specific...*)
Maimoto looked out the corridor window.
An overcast sky covered the city of Tokyo.
(*And that left hand*)
When Kagurasaka had set down his pen, Maimoto had seen it.
Kagurasaka's left ring finger was missing.
To be precise, everything from the second joint onward had been cleanly severed.
(*Was that... an accident, or*)
Maimoto unconsciously touched the silver ring on his own left ring finge
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