After a week packed with special lectures and group projects, the second week of the workshop had arrived. To head to our field trip, each group boarded their assigned vehicle.
“…”
Inside the van driving through the heart of Tokyo’s roads, silence prevailed. Outside the window, countless pedestrians bustled through the Tokyo streets, and vehicles noisily navigated the roads, but within the van, it felt like another world quiet and still.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Everyone in our group remained silent. Of course, it wasn’t the awkward silence of people who’d just had a big fight. It was simply the kind of silence that happens when there’s nothing to say.
Chen was reading a book so boring it could make you yawn just by looking at the cover. Yamada was staring blankly out the window.
Chai had her eyes closed, as if trying to stave off carsickness. Meanwhile, Goto and Mija occasionally shared snacks and exchanged a few words.
But their conversation was brief since Mija quickly moved back to sit next to me. Looking at her, I said,
“…Huh? Weren’t you still talking with them?”
“Well, Goto and Yamada said my Japanese sounds like a manga character’s. And… I got so embarrassed after hearing that, I couldn’t talk much more.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I just feel safest sitting next to you, Hana-chan.”
“It’s special to have someone who speaks your native language when you’re abroad.”
“Hehe, true.”
Mija eventually put in her earphones and began reading a manga. I felt a bit sorry for Goto, who kept glancing at her wistfully from the front seat, but Mija didn’t have any obligation to force herself to get closer to anyone.
‘Judging by that earnest look on Goto’s face, I don’t think they were teasing her. Maybe they meant it in a cute way.’
Well, there was still about a week left in the workshop. Perhaps Goto’s feelings would reach Mija eventually. If not, they could always become pen pals.
Looking back, our group was quite an odd mix. Chai, Chen, and I couldn’t speak Japanese at all, Mija couldn’t speak English, and Yamada and Goto bickered endlessly when they were together.
A combination doomed to tire everyone out if more than three of us interacted at once.
How had the groups been arranged so precisely like this? The moment our leader-coordinated classes were over, our group had fallen into endless silence.
‘When I was in elementary school, I couldn’t stand kids who were loud and chaotic. But after getting used to the lively atmosphere of Hanul’s constant buzz… this kind of indifference between people feels oddly uncomfortable.’
Now that I thought about it, Mija, Mari, and Juri had all bonded unusually quickly within just a week. Maybe this kind of distance was the normal pace for most groups.
As I glanced at my quiet group, a clear voice suddenly broke the silence. It came from the teacher sitting in the passenger seat at the front.
“Everyone, we’ll be arriving at our field trip destination soon.”
“!”
Everyone turned their gaze to the windows at once.
What we saw was the headquarters of Japan’s largest publishing company, Seito Publishing.
The building, resembling a giant checkered encyclopedia, was clad in neatly arranged brown square tiles. The lobby was bustling with countless employees, all impeccably dressed in black-and-white suits.
The vehicle passed by the Seito Publishing building and stopped in a parking lot tucked into a side street. We stepped out of the van and walked toward the main building of the publishing company.
Mija tilted her head back in awe.
“Wow!”
“So this is the biggest publishing company in Japan?”
Inside, a pristine lobby greeted us. The ceiling stretched two stories high, and at its center stood a large sculpture. The piece, seemingly inspired by books, was designed to resemble stacked pages.
Our teacher led us to a corner of the lobby, saying, “If anyone needs to use the restroom, feel free to go now.” Chai was the only one who headed straight to the restroom.
Mija excitedly watched an advertisement for a popular anime adapted from a Seito Publishing book playing on a screen at the front of the building, with Goto timidly trailing behind her.
Meanwhile, Chen, Yamada, and I aimlessly looked around, still somewhat dazed.
A little while later, Chai returned from the restroom.
“Whew…I had a rough time with that carsickness. So, what are we doing next?”
“…”
Yamada shook her head.
Chai nodded as if she understood.
“Ah, so we haven’t started yet?”
“…”
Yamada gave another small nod.
“Why does Chen look so grumpy?”
“…”
Yamada shook her head again.
“Ah, I get it. Reading in the van made him carsick too. Yamada, you’re feeling fine, though?”
“…”
Yamada shook her head once more.
“Got it. Thanks for answering.”
“…”
“Since we’ve got nothing to do, want to explore together?”
“…”
Yamada nodded.
I couldn’t help but feel a bit dumbfounded watching them. Chen, too, seemed at a loss for words, his lips quirking in disbelief.
How does Chai even understand her?
Yamada rarely spoke unless it was about something she found interesting. From what I’d seen, she wasn’t exactly shy it was just hard to figure her out. Honestly, I felt closer to Chen, at least in terms of mutual understanding. But surprisingly, Chai had started to decipher her nonverbal cues.
Before long, the two were walking side by side, casually taking in the sights. Despite being much taller than Yamada, Chai adjusted his strides to match her leisurely pace.
If he acted as relaxed around Goto as he does with Yamada, Goto probably wouldn’t dislike him so much.
As I was thinking that, a voice called out to us from behind.
“Hello, everyone.”
We turned to see a woman dressed in a sleek black suit smiling warmly at us. Her neatly tied hair and polished appearance gave her an air of professionalism.
“I’m Junko Tachibana from Seito Publishing’s International Public Relations Department. I’ll be guiding your tour today.”
“Oh, nice to meet you.”
Tachibana spoke fluent English, her words clear and confident.
“And… if you don’t mind me asking, would one of you happen to be Ms. Go Hana?”
“!”
Her words made me open my eyes wide in surprise.
*
– “I know this is a very bold request.”
“But my senior no, a colleague has insisted on having a meeting with Ms. Go Hana. May I ask if this would be possible?”
– “May I ask what the meeting is about?”
– “That is…”
Tachibana continued apologizing profusely to both the supervising teacher and the rest of the group before finally explaining.
– “They would like to ask for your input on a virtual idol project inspired by one of your works.”
– “!”
The intriguing proposal left me with little choice but to agree. In the end, I had to split off from my group and follow the person Tachibana introduced to me. Together, we boarded an elevator.
The man greeted me as soon as we met, his English polished and courteous.
“Hello. I’m Ryuuichi Ito, the team leader of Seito Publishing’s International Digital Content Planning Team 2. It’s an absolute honor to meet you, Ms. Go Hana.”
“Oh, I’m Go Hana, a student at Hanul Comprehensive Arts School.”
Without wasting any time, he began guiding me through the building. As expected from Japan’s largest publishing company, there were countless departments and sections, all bustling with activity.
“…”
Honestly, I found the process of following him more exciting than the tour itself. It felt like I’d been dropped into a secret mission from a drama, my heart racing with anticipation.
– Ding!
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors slid open, revealing the floor where the International Digital Content Planning Department was located.
The scene that greeted me was chaotic yet purposeful. The hallway was lined with piles of documents and stacks of books.
Employees hurried past, scrutinizing manuscripts or staring intently at computer screens.
“This way, please.”
“Yes, of course.”
He led me to a meeting room. Inside, I took a seat as directed. On the table lay several documents.
“I can’t read much Japanese, but… it looks like they’re about voice actor hopefuls or idol trainees?”
Ito turned on a monitor connected to his laptop and played a video.
The screen displayed an animated girl a cheerful, doe-eyed character performing a short song and dance routine.
The video quality wasn’t the best, and the graphics were a little rough, but the character’s movements were impressively natural, almost as if a real person were controlling her.
By this point, I was starting to piece things together.
“…”
They were serious.
This company was genuinely trying to create a VTuber.
‘They’ve come this far, just a few months after <Saintess Chris> was introduced to the world….?’
What kind of lightning-fast progress was this?
How is this even possible? How did they manage this?
It must have been an era when the foundational technology hadn’t even been properly established yet.
That’s probably why they showed me a rather rudimentary version of Saint Chris’s Sanctuary.
I was surprised at first, but as I thought it over calmly, I wondered if it might be content of a different branch entirely.
Ito spoke in a serious tone.
“This is part of a project our team has been attempting for several years now. The ‘Virtual Mascot Project’… Currently, we call it the ‘Virtual Idol Project.’ The idea is to showcase music and performances through animated characters instead of real-life interactions.”
“…”
Hmm…
“To be honest, we were in the midst of developing the ‘Virtual Character Mascot’ project when we came across your work. It led us to make a bold pivot in our direction.
We’re now aiming for a concept where fantasy residents with ‘virtual personalities’ read Seito Publishing’s works and engage in real-time interaction.”
“…”
Unbelievable.
“Of course, in the beginning, the focus was on real-time communication through media, but there was a lack of equipment and, more importantly, too few people understood the concept of virtual spaces.
In the end, we downgraded our goals to indirect communication using pre-recorded motion capture animations, distributed via foreign streaming sites and video platforms.”
“…”
How could this happen…!
“The ‘virtual’ and ‘interaction’ concepts that you showcased in your work… I firmly believe they will be groundbreaking in the content market moving forward. That’s why we’ve thrown everything into revising the direction of our existing project.”
“…”
After hearing Ito’s explanation, I came to a conclusion: It’s definitely VTubers.
“…”
“Damn it! So, they’ve been born already?!”
I looked at Ito’s blazing eyes and couldn’t help but ask what drove him to move so quickly.
“What made you plan such a project, Team Leader?”
“In any form, I wanted to give a new opportunity to people who couldn’t achieve their dreams in reality. Especially for those with talent like aspiring idols or voice actors—who never got a chance to step on stage. But we faced many obstacles while interacting with the media.”
“!”
A second chance.
Hearing that, my heart began to race.
“Most importantly, all of our team members believe that the ‘virtual personality’ concept you proposed could serve as a breakthrough for delivering dreams.”
“I see.”
Ito bowed his head and made a request.
“Even if the concept was bound to emerge eventually, was it just one clear example that set everything in motion, aligning with the existing project to develop explosively….?”
Looking at him, I couldn’t refuse.
“I can’t provide technical assistance, but I might be able to share some examples I know and offer a few pieces of advice. For instance, creating an environment where the ‘virtual personality’ is clearly separated from the actor portraying it…”
I also shared thoughts on topics like maintaining an appropriate distance from the audience and ideas for utilizing content. In essence, I handed Ito a cheat sheet from the future. He listened attentively, nodding constantly while taking diligent notes.
However, obstacles still remained. No matter how many compromises were made, it was uncertain whether this era’s technology could fully realize the vision.
Even so…
“If I can help people inspired by my work… Besides, it wasn’t even my original concept—someone would have discovered it eventually.”
For a while, I continued brainstorming with Ito, discussing ideas (or more accurately, solutions) for the direction of the “Virtual Idol” project.
And then, a few hours later.
Leaving behind Ito, who bowed deeply in gratitude, I rejoined my team members who were still busy with the publishing house tour.
“Hana-chan, where have you been?”
“…Michi-chan, doesn’t the term ‘Virtual Idol’ sound so cool to you?”
“?”
The die had already been cast.
Whether the next generation of VTubers would succeed or not was still uncertain.
But I couldn’t help hoping that, thanks to this unexpected encounter, someone out there would be able to seize their second chance.