The digital clock read Thursday, 11:42 PM. The house was quiet, enforcing Mika's strict curfew, but Makoto's mind was loud and chaotic. The only light came from the dual monitors, casting long shadows across the walls that looked like reaching hands in the corners of his vision.
Makoto was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance in the moonlight filtering through the curtains.
His stomach churned with excitement and dread about the interview the next day. "What if I freeze? What if they ask about scalable architecture and I start talking about Gundam waifus? What if they realize I'm just a guy who got lucky with a chatbot script?"
Makoto sat up, kicking off the covers. He couldn't sleep. The pressure sat on his chest like a stone. It's just an interview for a job, but he felt like he was interviewing for their future: For Yuna's gacha fund. For Mika's peace of mind. For Ayane's snacks. For Mafuyu's stability.
Makoto walked out of his room, the floorboards cool under his feet. He needed water. Or maybe just to pace until he collapsed.
He stopped in the hallway and saw a thin line of light under Yuna's door. "Curfew violation," he thought. "Mika's going to scold her."
He knocked on the door softly. "Yuna?"
There was a frantic scuffling sound, the click of a console being turned off, and then silence.
"I'm sleeping!" Yuna's voice called out, unconvincingly awake. "Go away, dream demon!"
"It's me. Can I come in?" He whispered.
A pause. Then, Yuna's voice came out from inside, "Fine, be quick! But if you tell Mika, you're dead."
Makoto opened the door. Yuna was sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by plushies piled like walls around her. She was wearing her unicorn pajamas with the hood up.
Her face was illuminated by the faint glow of her phone, which she was hastily trying to hide under a pillow. "You look like a wreck, big bro," she observed bluntly.
"Thanks, I feel like one." Makoto walked over and sat on the edge of her bed. Yuna's room smelled of lavender and faint sugary candy. It was a mess of clothes, manga, and cosplay props, but it felt safe.
"Can't sleep?" she asked, her voice softening.
"No. Just… thinking."
"About the interview?"
"Yeah."
Yuna sighed. She pulled her phone out from under the pillow and tossed it onto the mattress. She shifted, leaning back against her headboard, studying him.
"You're shaking," she stated. "I can see it. You have that look you get when you're studying too hard before a test."
"I feel like a fraud, Yuna," Makoto confessed, the words tumbling out. "I mean, look at me. I graduated from a community college with no experience. My portfolio is some fan sites, a shabby cosplay site, and a horny chatbot."
He sighed, "These guys are real engineers. They probably went to real universities like Tokyo University or Keio University. They probably don't have to explain why their code includes a tsundere variable."
He put his head in his hands. "What if I can't do it? What if I fail? We're running out of money. I'm supposed to be taking care of you guys, but I'm barely keeping it together."
Silence stretched between them. He waited for a sarcastic remark or a jab about his incompetence. Instead, he felt a small hand land on his head.
Yuna was patting his hair, it was awkward and stiff but surprisingly gentle. "You really are an idiot, big bro," she murmured. Then she moved, crawling across the bed until she was in front of him. She grabbed his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks together. "Look at me."
Makoto looked. Yuna's gray eyes were serious, stripped of their usual mockery.
"You think you're a fraud?" she asked. "Because you didn't go to some fancy school? Because you learned to code and got into a CS Major so you could make mods for games?"
She scoffed. "That just makes you resourceful and stubborn. Do you know how hard it is to mod a game without documentation? You did that. You built a website for our cosplay group that sold hundreds of thousands of yen worth of merch. You built Aiko-bot in two days."
She let go of his face and sat back on her heels. "You're not a fraud, Makoto. You're just weird, like me. And weird is good. Weird gets shit done."
She reached under her pillow again. This time, she pulled out a small, worn notebook with stickers all over the cover. "Here," she said, shoving it at him. "Read it."
"What is this? Your diary?" Makoto's eye frowned as he took the notebook.
"No! Just read the last page, you pervert!" Yuna groaned.
Makoto opened the notebook. The pages were filled with messy handwriting, sketches of costumes, and lists of gacha banners. He turned to the last used page.
Harem Scarem Merch Sales this month: ¥85,000
Yuna's Stash (Emergency Fund): ¥174,000
Mika's VT Consulting Gig: ¥115,400
He looked up, confused. "What is this?"
"It's our backup plan," Yuna said, crossing her arms. "I've been saving my allowance: The money from selling my duplicate figures, part of the profits from the cons. I even… I even skipped a few banners."
She looked away, blushing furiously. "I have 174,000 yen saved up. It's in my piggy bank, literally."
"Yuna, the girl who would sell her soul (or maybe her body to him) for a 5-star character, had been saving money? For me?" Makoto looked at the notebook, then at Yuna. He felt a lump in his throat so big he couldn't swallow. "You saved money," he whispered. "Instead of pulling for Kafka?"
"Don't remind me," she groaned, flopping back onto the pillows. "It was physical pain. But we needed it more."
Makoto stared at the note, his brain struggling to process the information. "But... why? You always complain about not having funds for your rolls or your new cosplay."
"Because I'm not a child anymore, you idiot!" she shrieked, the old Yuna flickering back for a second before she settled. She looked away, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her Raiden Shogun duvet. "Because I noticed you looking at the bank account at three in the morning."
"I saw you skipping lunch so Ayane could have her matcha and I could have my beefsteak. Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I'm so selfish that I wouldn't notice my own… my own big brother sacrificing himself for me?"
"And Mika too," Yuna continued, bulldozing over his emotion. "She's been taking side contracts: consulting for some startups, doing CV reviews, and mock interviews with graduates. She didn't tell you because she didn't want you to feel bad about not being able to provide. But she's making bank."
"Who the heck is paying for a consultation from a college student?? How did she find clients anyway?" Makoto was planning to retort, but he stayed silent and kept listening.
Yuna pointed at the notebook. "We aren't helpless, Makoto. We aren't just leeches waiting for you to feed us." She grabbed his hand, her grip tight. "You aren't our ATM! Well, maybe you're my own ATM, but..."
"But you're our Makoto. You're the guy who cooks for us and listens to our drama and puts up with our bullshit and still loves us." Her voice cracked. "If you fail tomorrow? So what? We have money and skills: I can sew and make more costumes. Ayane can market anything. Mika can run a company if she wants to. Mafuyu can cook better than a Michelin chef."
She leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "We will carry you. If you fall, we pick you up. If you can't pay bills, we pay them. Because you are mine, you are ours. And we take care of our family."
She leaned in, her forehead pressing against his. "If you keep failing, we will carry you until you can walk again. Because that's what a family does."
She took a deep breath, her chest heaving. It was the longest, most sincere speech she had ever given. "So stop acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, big bro. It's on our shoulders too. All five of us."