Mari Tomari is a VTuber who uses a voice changer to play a cute girl, but inside, she's a nearly thirty-year-old man named Mario. Tonight, she's streaming, throwing poison at her audience while raking in superchats. But the moment the stream ends, his smile vanishes.
"Ah... I'm exhausted."
In the corner, fiddling with her phone, is Yuki—his childhood friend and manager. She's the only one who knows Mario's true face. She's watched over his "real self" since they were kids.
"Good work. Your cl
Behind the Bunny - In my natural voice, until it reaches you
It was a morning after the rain.
Outside the window it was still dim, and the remnants of last night's storm lay quietly across the city as damp air and puddles left on the asphalt. Mario stood in front of Yuki's apartment.
Last night, he had bolted out of Yuki's room. Leaving behind only the words, "Sorry. I'm still going." Yuki's tear-streaked face was burned into the back of his eyelids and wouldn't leave. What had he been thinking, out there in that rain?
(I destroyed Yuki's life. If I stay close, I'll destroy it again.)
That was what he'd thought, and so he'd tried to leave. But in the end, here he was again, standing in front of her door.
Pathetic.
Mario thought that from the bottom of his heart—about his own weakness.
He took the elevator and got off on the third floor. The sound of his footsteps in the hallway echoed absurdly loud. His heart was pounding like a drum. He checked the number on Yuki's door and reached for the intercom.
That was when something caught his eye.
A single sheet of paper, taped to the door.
*"Get out, accomplice."*
Violent, handwritten characters. Traces where red marker had been traced over again and again. How much despair had he felt last night, seeing this notice? The memory came back vivid and raw.
His fingertips trembled.
(Just like I thought—because I came here, Yuki is...)
The instant he thought that, there was a click, and the door opened from the inside.
"...Ah, I knew you'd come."
Yuki was standing there.
Her shoulder-length black hair was tied up in a single bundle, as always. Slightly frizzy, soft hair. Her gentle brown eyes narrowed into crescent moons when they found Mario. On her left wrist was a cheap bracelet—the matching pair they'd bought together, long ago.
Perhaps noticing Mario's gaze, Yuki smoothly peeled off the notice taped to the door.
"This was stuck on again when I woke up. The neighbors would be startled, so I have to clean it up."
She said it as if nothing had happened, folding the paper in half. Her movements were so natural, so calm.
Something deep in Mario's chest tightened.
(What broke wasn't just your life. Your peace, your everyday—I destroyed all of it.)
The thought brought a hot surge rising up from the back of his throat.
"...Yuki."
His voice came out hoarse.
"Because I came here, your life got torn apart too. Even that notice—it's because of me..."
Mario hung his head.
He couldn't look Yuki straight in the face.
"Mario."
Yuki's voice grew just a little stronger.
"I'm by your side because I choose to be. It's no one's fault."
The words were gentle, and yet they carried a strength that allowed no argument.
Mario raised his head.
Yuki was looking straight at him. Her eyes were filled with their usual kindness, yet he could clearly feel the core of steel beneath them.
"...Come in."
With that, Yuki walked toward the back of the room.
Mario stood frozen in place for a while.
(This person is always like this.)
(No matter how shameful I am, no matter how pathetic, she always accepts me like it's the most natural thing in the world.)
Mario slowly stepped into Yuki's room.
---
Yuki's room was, as always, neatly tidied.
Few possessions, everything orderly. And yet it didn't feel cold. By the window sat a small houseplant, its green adding a soft touch of color to the room.
In one corner was Yuki's workspace.
A large monitor and a PC for editing clip videos. On the bookshelf beside it, files were lined up neatly.
Mario's eyes happened to land on that bookshelf.
On the spines of the files, dates and what looked like titles were written in meticulous handwriting.
*"Tomari Mari Stream Records 2021.04 - 2021.06"*
*"Tomari Mari Clip Response Analysis"*
*"Tomari Mari Superchat Trends Monthly Report"*
Mario was speechless.
On the shelves was an enormous quantity of material related to Mario's streaming activities. Stream logs, viewer count trends, comment analysis, clip video responses. All of it organized beautifully in chronological order.
It was like a history book recording everything about Mario's activities.
"...All of this—you did it?"
"Yeah. As your manager, it's only natural."
Yuki answered as if it were nothing, making tea in the kitchen.
"I transcribe all the stream content so it can be reviewed later. It comes in handy when making clips."
"...Transcribed all of it? Do you have any idea how much that is?"
Mario's voice trembled.
"It's no big deal. I like that kind of work."
Yuki carried a tray with two steaming mugs to the table.
"Here, go ahead. Warm tea. Your body must be cold."
Mario wrapped both hands around the mug.
Warm.
The warmth seeped slowly from his fingertips into the core of his body.
(I never knew how much time and effort this person poured into me.)
(She's been supporting me all along, and I never even tried to notice the weight of it.)
The center of his chest grew warm.
It wasn't just the tea's warmth.
---
Mario noticed a cardboard box placed carelessly in the corner of Yuki's room.
Inside, streaming equipment—brutally destroyed—had been shoved in.
The PC monitor's screen was shattered to pieces, the audio interface's casing was dented, the microphone was snapped at its base. Things worth no less than 800,000 yen—the lifeline of Mario's activities—had been reduced to mere junk.
Mario just stared at the sight in silence.
Last night, when the Bunny Hunter man had visited Mario's home, the equipment had already been destroyed.
(It was everything I had.)
(With this, it's really all over.)
The thought made the strength drain from his body.
"...Yuki."
Mario squeezed the words out.
"I can't stream anymore."
It was the truth.
There was no money anywhere to replace the equipment. Superchats had plummeted, all sponsorships had been canceled. His savings wouldn't last more than a few months with rent and living expenses.
"Tomari Mari ends here."
Mario's voice was flat—flat enough to surprise even himself.
Despair strips a person of emotion.
Yuki said nothing and stood in front of the closet.
She opened the door and pulled something out from the back.
"Mario, here."
What Yuki held out was a laptop and a small USB microphone.
"My backup equipment for clip editing. It's old, but it still works."
Mario stared at it, dumbfounded.
"It won't produce exactly the same sound. But with this, you can do it."
Yuki's voice was quiet and strong.
"You don't have to quit streaming. You just change how you do it. Right, Mario?"
Mario looked back and forth between the laptop and the microphone.
An old-model laptop. A cheap USB mic that couldn't have cost more than a thousand yen.
Stream with this?
"...It's impossible."
The words slipped out of Mario's mouth on their own.
"Mario."
Yuki looked straight into Mario's eyes.
"You can stream without a voice changer. You talk in your real voice. If it's a radio format, you don't need high-performance equipment."
"Stream with my bare voice...?"
"Yeah. I want to hear your real voice."
Yuki said it with a slight blush.
The moment he saw that smile, something stirred quietly deep in Mario's chest.
(In front of this person, I've always worn a mask.)
(As Tomari Mari—the perfect, ideal figure.)
(But Yuki knows the real me.)
(And knowing that, she's telling me she wants to hear my real voice.)
Mario drew a deep breath.
"...All right. I'll try."
His voice was honest—honest enough to surprise even himself.
---
Night came.
Mario sat in front of the small table in Yuki's room.
Before him were the old laptop and the cheap USB microphone. That was all the streaming equipment there was. No ring light, no soundproof panels, no voice changer—nothing.
(I'm about to stream with my bare voice.)
(With the voice of a twenty-nine-year-old man.)
The thought made his stomach clench with a sharp pang.
"It's okay. I'm right here beside you."
Yuki sat quietly next to Mario.
Her presence became a support for his heart.
Mario opened the management screen for the streaming platform "Muse Live."
He would create a new channel.
The name...
"...What should I call the channel?"
"Hmm... How about 'Mario's Room'? Simple and easy to understand."
"...Your taste."
Mario gave a wry smile.
"Ahaha, sorry, I have no naming sense."
Yuki let out a small laugh.
That laughter loosened his tension, just a little.
"...'Mario's Room' it is, then. Nobody's going to watch anyway."
Mario muttered that and moved the cursor to the start-stream button.
His fingertip trembled.
(I'm scared.)
(Right now, I'm about to expose my real self.)
(With the voice of a twenty-nine-year-old man.)
(People might say I'm disgusting.)
(They might call me a fraud.)
(But I've decided—I'm not running anymore.)
Mario bit down hard on his back teeth.
And then, he clicked.
---
The stream began.
What appeared on screen was just a pitch-black background and a small icon.
The viewer count was fifty.
(Fifty people...)
(There used to be thousands of viewers.)
(But now, fifty.)
(And most of those fifty are probably here to tear me apart.)
Mario brought his mouth close to the microphone.
"...Ah, ah. Can you hear me?"
His voice was shaking.
His raw, male voice, without the voice changer.
Even to himself, it sounded terribly unreliable.
The comment section began to move.
*"Fraud."*
*"Disappear."*
*"Give me my money back."*
*"Gross."*
*"A man's voice—disgusting."*
Countless words of malice streamed across the screen.
Mario's heart shrank into a tight knot.
(I knew. I knew this would happen.)
(But it still hurts.)
(Can I endure these words?)
Beside him, Yuki quietly placed her hand over Mario's.
Warm.
Mario felt that warmth.
(Yuki is here.)
(I'm not alone.)
Mario drew a deep breath.
And then he opened his mouth.
"...I've been lying all this time."
His voice was still trembling.
But it wouldn't stop anymore.
"I'm not Tomari Mari. Tomari Mari was an ideal I created. A cute, cheerful, sharp-tongued girl loved by everyone—a perfect girl. She was the ideal I wanted to become."
The comment section was still filled with abuse.
*"What are you saying now?"*
*"Don't make excuses."*
*"Do you have any idea how many fans you hurt?"*
Mario followed those words with his eyes and continued.
"...Three years ago, there was a VTuber group called Noctaria. I was watching their streams. Just a viewer. But one night, suddenly, all of the group's archives disappeared. At that time, I couldn't do anything. I could only stare at the screen as it vanished."
The scene from that night three years ago rose in Mario's mind.
A pitch-black screen.
Videos disappearing one after another.
And Mitsuki's face, on the verge of tears.
"...After that incident, I kept blaming myself. Noctaria broke because I did nothing. I abandoned Mitsuki. ...But recently, I've come to understand. There might have been something behind that incident—something I didn't know about."
Mario's voice gradually stopped trembling.
"...So I want to know the truth. What happened that night three years ago. And I want to tell it in my own voice, with my own words. ...I won't lie anymore. Not as Tomari Mari—as Mario, I'm here."
Mario said all of it in one breath.
His heart was pounding loudly.
His head was spinning.
(I just exposed my real self.)
(Was that the right thing to do?)
(I don't know.)
(But I don't regret it.)
The comment section went silent for a moment.
The abuse stopped.
And after a while, it started moving again.
*"Huh?"*
*"What are you rambling about?"*
*"Disgusting."*
*"Nobody cares what you did."*
*"A fraud is a fraud."*
Mario accepted those words in silence.
(That's right. I'm a fraud.)
(I hid the truth and took money from fans.)
(That's unquestionably a sin.)
(So being cursed at is only natural.)
The thought made his heart feel just a little lighter.
Thirty minutes had passed since the stream began.
The viewer count stayed at fifty, barely changing.
The comment section was still overflowing with critici
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.