Everyone Has Talent. If Only We Could Realize It - Volume 1 Chapter 0.1

Episode 0: Let’s Introduce the Protagonist First

In the 2020s, all the self-important adults say it’s old-fashioned to judge others by their faces.

You can scroll through social media and find countless posts bragging about happiness regardless of how one’s face looks, and people interviewed on the streets unanimously declare that personality matters more than appearance.

And it’s not because they’re trying to sound cool; they’re just honestly stating what’s true for them. In fact, nowadays, when people think about starting a relationship, not caring much about the other person’s appearance has become quite common.

Immersed in the hit battle royale FPS game “EPEX,” exchanging Direct Messages with someone of the opposite sex you met there… That’s the digital native’s way of flirting. Dating apps? Those are just for sugar dating.

Yet, at eighteen, despite being a youth adrift in such times, I—Ikebukuro Gakuto—couldn’t fully buy into what these self-proclaimed advocates of inner beauty were saying.

I mean, come on.

“Your profile pics, everyone’s either a handsome guy or a beautiful woman…”

Selfies. Anime illustrations. Either way, they’re setting up something ridiculously cool.

You definitely want to be seen as cool by others…

While thinking this, I unloaded a barrage of 9mm Parabellum bullets into the face of a handsome player (avatar) that appeared before me.

When the victory animation played, I unmuted my WIZCODE (an app for calls and chats), and exchanged praises with my teammates.

“Gakuto-dono, that last shot was a nice one.”

“Thanks, thanks, Sieg-san.”

“Seems like those guys were all talk just like the ones showing off on streams. Disconnecting out of embarrassment as soon as they lost, the young ones these days really don’t know manners.”

“Isn’t that embarrassing?”

“Indeed.”

Gakuto is me. Ikebukuro Gakuto. Just a name I randomly picked.

The person I’m talking to is Sieg-san, a friend inside the game. I don’t know his face or real name. All I know is that he has a cool, deep voice and works with computers.

His old-fashioned way of speaking, seemingly influenced by anime characters, feels a bit odd, but I don’t mind it much as a part of his personality.

“By the way, have you listened to ‘Seeker’s’ new ‘Sung It’ video? It was uploaded the day before yesterday.”

“‘Laughing at the Seabed’?”

“Indeed, indeed.”

Sieg-san laughed cheerily,

“The combination of the sound of sinking into the deep sea and the clear singing voice is so soothing to the ear. I’ve been somewhat insomniac lately, so it’s been a great help.”

“That song is specialized in healing. It seems to hit the spot for the weary youth of today.”

“Seeker” is an ordinary person who does vocal activities on the net—a so-called “singer.”

With 80,000 subscribers on their WAYTUBE channel, they’re still considered minor if the boundary between a celebrity and a non-celebrity is between 100,000 and 1,000,000 subscribers. However, every original song or “Sung It” video they post is of abnormally high quality, evidenced by the high average of GOOD counts and views.

A quietly popular, underground favorite—if the media were to introduce them, those would be the words used. A rising female singer, that’s “Seeker.”

“I’m glad you like it. Hahaha.”

Joy seeped through his voiced words.

And with good reason, for “Seeker” was a singer I had recommended. It feels genuinely good when someone praises something you like.

“When you preached to me, I was half in doubt, but oh dear, I never thought I, a clumsy one, would become so deeply engrossed.”

“Hearing ‘unknown singer’ makes one wary, I suppose.”

“Hahaha. Indeed, one should not judge a book by its cover. This person, I shall take it as a lesson… Ah, but there’s just one unfortunate thing.”

“Oh?”

Even my interjections started to sound old-fashioned. Conversations with Sieg-san are fun, but the contagious nature of his speech is a bit troublesome.

“They’re hiding their face during activities.”

“Ah, well, they’re a V, so.”

V… A slang derived from the initial of virtual. On WAYTUBE, those who hide their real faces and instead use anime-character-like avatars for their activities are called VTUBERS, and for short, V.

Within the V community, there are further classifications like video creators and streamers. Vs who mainly upload singing videos, like “Seeker,” are sometimes called V SINGERS.

“So, you’re saying they might be ugly?”

“I’ll kill you.”

I inadvertently let out an inappropriate expression.

Even though I always try to be polite to people I meet online, if someone picks a fight, that’s a different story. Like a major country that never yields to terrorists, if a bomb is thrown at me, I retaliate without mercy.

“Are they hiding their face because they lack confidence? So, they might be ugly?”

“Some people just prioritize their privacy.”

Saying that, I unfollowed him on TWITTER.

“I heard that having a bit of flesh makes a cuter voice. So, are they fat?”

“Please retract that statement. It’s rude in all directions. And there are plenty of people who look and sound cute normally.”

Saying that, I removed him from my EPEX friends list.

“I saw ‘Seeker’s’ real face leaked on the net, and they were indeed ugly.”

“No, that was a fake.”

“Oh? How can you be so sure?”

“Uh. Well…”

My hand, moving to remove him from my WIZCODE friends list, stopped.

I searched for a suitable excuse while glancing sideways.

The digital numbers displayed on the bottom right of my computer showed it was 9 o’clock at night.

“Oops, it’s already this late. I have to cook dinner.”

“You’re running away.”

“No, I’m not. We cook our meals at home.”

“Hmm. Leaving me with a hint of concern will make me even less able to sleep at night…”

“Keep ‘Laughing at the Seabed’ on loop then. Bye!”

I forcefully ended the conversation and hung up. Sieg-san seemed to have more to say, but if the conversation continued, I might have let slip something unnecessary.

Feeling somewhat guilty, I decided to follow him again on TWITTER and re-add him on EPEX. That should make us even.

Relieved that I managed to dodge the topic, I let out a sigh, turned off my computer, and stood up.

Leaving my room, I headed to the kitchen. Opening the storage under the sink, I grabbed a couple of cup noodles that were haphazardly packed, tore open the plastic with practiced hands, and poured in boiling water from the electric kettle—preparation complete.

Not a fan of cooking? Of course, I am. I firmly believe that cooking for oneself is better than surviving on junk food or convenience store meals three times a day. It’s healthier, and I think people who don’t cook are foolish. But, that being said,

(It’s bothersome! I don’t want to do it!)

I’m a fan of cooking, but that doesn’t mean I always do it. Humans aren’t always able to do what they know is right.

Plus, these days, even if you want to cook, ingredients are quite expensive. A healthy diet is a luxury in today’s world.

After preparing two cups of noodles, I grabbed a pair of cheap blue and pink plastic chopsticks, and hurriedly headed to the room next to mine—my sister’s room.

“It’s time to eat.”

I called out and opened the door without waiting for a response. Someone who doesn’t know us might think it’s rude to open the door without permission, but for us, it’s perfectly normal.

The room was pitch dark. Even with someone entering, there was no sign of movement.

Turning on the light, the room was in a terrible state. Clothes were strewn about, and opened delivery boxes were carelessly left around. It looked as if a burglar had just ransacked the place, but I wasn’t the least bit panicked.

Because this is the norm. This is how this room is supposed to be. If it were neatly organized, that would be more suspicious.

“You’re not listening again. Too absorbed in whatever you’re doing.”

Sighing lightly in the empty room, I headed straight for the closet without hesitation.

“Whoa!?”

As soon as I opened it, a wave of hot air hit me, and I involuntarily stumbled back.

“How can you stay in such a place for so long?”

“Hmm… What’s wrong, Brother?”

A sleepy voice that seemed to melt into the air.

Wrapped in a sense of lethargy like a dried-up jellyfish, she slowly turned around—it was a girl.

Her hair, which hadn’t been cut at a salon for over a year, grew wildly long. It was a beautiful silver color—or at least, that’s how it appeared to my malfunctioning eyes—probably due to some chemical reaction from not being exposed to sunlight and only bathing about once every three days. In the dark closet, it strangely sparkled.

Wearing a baggy T-shirt sloppily, it covered down to her thighs, but it was clear she wasn’t wearing any sort of pants underneath. Probably just underwear.

Her face alone could be called beautiful—at least, that’s what I’d confidently assert—but her too-long bangs made it hard to see her facial features clearly. If someone who didn’t know her were to consider her unattractive, I couldn’t argue.

“Dinner, Shika.”

“…Tonkotsu?”

“One of them. The other is chili tomato. I’ll let you choose your favorite.”

“I hate spicy stuff.”

Saying that, Shika—my sister, Ikebukuro Shika—snatched the tonkotsu noodle cup from my hand.

Peeling off the worn-out sticker with clumsy hands, she grimaced for a moment from the steam hitting her face.

“Thanks for the meal… Yum.”

“It hasn’t even been three minutes.”

“I like it firm.”

“There’s no firm or soft option for cup noodles…”

While I was amazed, I looked into the closet.

A sealed space with no air conditioning.

This place, designed to store clothes, was clearly not being used for its intended purpose.

A desk and computer, a condenser microphone, an audio interface, headphones, sound-absorbing material to prevent echoes, and soundproofing.

On the computer screen was a wallpaper of a beautiful girl character with steel restraints on her head.

“Were you recording?”

“Nope. Editing now.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“That last video, my friend was praising it.”

“‘Laughing at the Seabed’?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“I see. That person likes blue. Pitiful.”

“Pitiful?”

“They want to listen to it when they’re tired. I think they must be so tired they can find comfort in that color.”

“Come to think of it, they did say they were having trouble sleeping…”

…Anyway, not even a hint of happiness from being praised for her song. If it were me, I’d be jumping around, flaunting a proud face and humming happily. But I guess the sensibilities of a genius differ greatly from those of an ordinary person like me.

If she weren’t my sister, our paths would never have crossed in this lifetime—such overwhelming talent.

Yes, the genius V SINGER “Seeker”—the mysterious girl quietly gaining attention in the underground scene—is none other than my sister, Ikebukuro Shika.

Let me clarify just in case, but the protagonist of this story isn’t me.

I’m merely a narrator, an ordinary person who continues to follow the life of a genius named Ikebukuro Shika from the sidelines.

In the process, I might get involved in some special story, find a lover, or climb the stairs of success, but those are just by-products and have nothing to do with the main plot.

This is the story of Ikebukuro Shika, a singer who rises to prominence and eventually throws the world into turmoil.

It begins in a classroom where only the face matters, depicting the youth and struggles of geniuses.