{June 12th, 2010}
Tokyo didn't care about dreams.
It crushed them under glass and steel.
It demanded sacrifices-hours, weekends, weekends, health, sleep-until nothing remained but bloodshot eyes and aching bones.
Motoaki Tanigo had lost himself somewhere between midnight meetings and Friday deadlines. Space blurred under fluorescent lights. The calendar had become a univocal record of tasks done and promises unkept. The city around him was both alive and dead-a paradox of humanity that ran on autopilot.
He remembered vaguely liking music. Watching anime. Feeling something... what was it.. Jojo? North Star?- something..? Maybe. But now all he felt was fatigue. The weight of a career that demanded more than he had to give. The guilt of not being present-for his own life.
He walked that evening with no goal. His tie was loose, collar rumpled. His steps were mechanical, breathing shallow. A dull ache climbed from his chest, a clanging dissonance of loneliness and failure.
"...I guess I really will die from overwork..."
His words came out depressingly.
He just sank to the concrete bench beside the entryway, back against cold brick, embrace by emptiness.
He closed his eyes, imagining he was warm, breathing easier.
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The moment he let his guard down, the alley behind him lurched to life.
A shriek. Not human. A tortured mechanical cough. Like memories of screams looped in reverse.
He opened his eyes.
Stood.
A creature emerged-taller than a man, twisted like a scar in flesh. Its skin hung in flaps of gray and rotten muscle. It moved with predatory intent, raising a metal pipe-rigged together like a makeshift weapon.
Tanigo's breath froze. Everything did.
He stared, too exhausted to scream. Too overwhelmed to run.
The monster advanced, clicking closer while its twisted face stretched into an unhinged attempt at a grin.
Tanigo exhaled a whisper.
"Stop. Please..."
But the Jyamato roared, swinging the pipe in an ominous arc.
There was no time.
No strength.
All he could do was close his eyes and wait for his demise.
...
..
.
Until...
A voice rang out.
"I don't think so!"
Steel rang against metal and something crackled with impossible grace. The Jyamato's swing was stopped. Its wrist snapped, arm retracted, pipe fell. Sparks from another weapon cracked the air.
Tanigo opened his eyes.
He saw someone-something-standing on the concrete rim of a dry fountain. White and red armor glowed under neon-lit skies. Nine long tails that flowed behind his back. A kitsune mask stared down at him, the yellow 'Eyes' reflected his own amazement.
Those golden eyes stared right through the darkness of his soul.
Clink. Clank.
The Jyamato lunged again. It roared. Its form blurred with rage and desperation.
The fox figure didn't even deign to fullly faced it.
A hand moved. A flick-The Jyamato exploded in a flash of light. It dissipated into glowing motes of ash.
Tanigo's heart hammered in his chest.
The fox unmoved. Divinity incarnate. A performer in silence.
Tanigo felt the echo of the deed resound in his bones. He wanted to stand, to speak, to understand.
He stumbled forward and barely managed a fee words.
"Wh-Who are you?"
The figure didn't brandish a name, but stepped down from the fountain's edge - Towering his form with tall stature. He looked at Tanigo.
From out of nowhere... he produced something-small-
A bread? That... emanated small steam.
A melon pan. Perfectly shaped with golden crusts, warm and sweet enough to make a bakery sing.
He tossed it.
"Catch."
Tanigo caught it like someone preserving a fragile promise.
"Name's Geats," came the muted reply.
"A pun. From kitsune. I go by Isshin Kuromiya, if you'd prefer."
Tanigo studied the mask. He heard the sincerity behind words.
"Why...?" The middle aged man croaked, his voice raspy.
"It shouldn't matter why I chased you. Just know... you looked near death. And that's sad."
"And.."
Isshin knelt.
Raised his voice to no one but the night.
"Everyone deserves a second chance. And no one deserves to rot."
"..I don't want you to be sad, like me."
The world around them was cold. Still.
Isshin pressed the bread into Tanigo's hands.
"Eat."
Tanigo bit. He closed his eyes. The bread was sweet. It warmed him from the inside out.
"What... what are you?"
The kitsune leaned back.
"A Kamen Rider of some sort. Though you may not know of it. Maybe a god of mischief. Doesn't matter."
He studied the skyline.
"Make something beautiful. Something human. Something that gives others hope-"
He turned his mask toward Tanigo.
"Sing. Dream. Smile."
"That is... Something that you can do."
Then he was gone-Just like that,
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Tanigo didn't return to his apartment.
He walked into the night until dawn fell.
Then he walked toward his office-no hopes, no certainty. Just determination.
In the HR office he signed the resignation.
He didn't pack everything. Didn't say goodbye. He just left.
That night, with the leftover melon pan, he felt the ghost of his smile.
He found a noodle shop. He ate something that wasn't packaged ramen. Something steam-filled, warm, human.
Then six years later, he bought a bankrupt domain with all his saved budget, a company name: Cover Corp.
Something in his chest had reignited.
Another year, and months later, he hired the first talent for Hololive-a timid voice with a big heart named Tokino Sora.
She would later on inspire many beings to join the agency, and rose as the first light in entertainment.
She was the first Talent.
He called it "Hololive Production."
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{End}