The glow of the laptop screen was the only light in the small room, casting long shadows across Makoto's face. The clock in the corner read 10:14 AM. Beside him, a half-eaten bowl of cold ramen sat forgotten with a single chopstick resting on the rim.
It has been a week since the Tokyo Anime Festival ended. Makoto was in his room, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars. He clicked the refresh button on his banking tab again, hoping the numbers would rearrange themselves into something less scary.
But they didn't.
¥42,350 (~280$). That was it, the sum total of his worth.
He let out a long breath that sounded like a deflating tire. Forty-two thousand yen, that was everything he had. It barely covered petrol for two weeks, let alone food for four people, utilities, and the endless stream of cosplay supplies Yuna called essential.
Makoto scrolled down the transaction history. It was a disaster.
HobbyLink Japan: ¥12,000 (Premium Grade Yae Miko Wig, by Ayane)
Supermarket: ¥8,500 (Wagyu Beef For Yuna's Morale, by Mafuyu)
Amazon JP: ¥22,500 (Blue Yeti Microphone, by Yuna)
Mihoyo: ¥5,000 (ZZZ Monochome for new banner, by Yuna)
"Why the heck did Yuna spend that much for a high-end mic anyway?" Makoto grunted and opened a job-hunting tab.
The results were even more depressing. Junior Software Engineer roles that were once common are now gone. The IT industry had changed, and the market was full of people looking for work.
Every third listing mentioned AI-assisted coding or Prompt Engineering. Algorithms didn't need sleep or a place to live, so they were replacing the junior devs. Every entry-level listing had hundreds of applicants. Makoto felt helpless.
He opened another job board. The listings blurred together: Junior Software Engineer, entry-level, must have 3 years of experience. Must know Python, Rust, C++, and a dozen other programming languages, including Chinese and Spanish. The HR must have been hallucinating while posting it.
Makoto clicked on a data entry job listing. "Minimum wage..." He sighed and closed it. He couldn't support them on minimum wage, especially with Yuna's spending habits and the life he wanted to give them.
The door to his room creaked open.
Makoto jumped and minimized the banking tab, pulling up a half-finished Python script. "I'm working!" he yelled, his voice cracking.
Yuna stood in the doorway wearing oversized shark pajamas. The hood was up, her face was framed by felt teeth. In the dim light, she looked like a small, grumpy sea monster holding a Switch and a bag of sour gummy worms.
"You're breathing too loud, big bro!" she announced. Her voice was flat and tired.
Makoto blinked. "I'm... breathing?"
"Yes," Yuna said, shuffling into the room without looking at him. She stared at the floor and kicked a stray sock. "It's distracting. I'm trying to beat this boss, and every time you sigh, I lose my rhythm."
She flopped onto his bed and buried her face in his pillow. "It's annoying, stop it!"
Makoto turned his chair around. "I'm sorry, Yuna. I'm just stressed."
"Well, then stop being stressed," she mumbled into the pillow. "It's making the house feel weird."
He looked at her. Usually, she would demand attention or lecture him, but tonight, she just lay there like a lump of gray hair and shark fin. She seemed tense for reasons that had nothing to do with video games.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Yuna didn't answer for a while. Then she let out a groan and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Her face was pale, and her eyes were shadowed.
"I'm hungry, but I don't want to eat." She held up the bag of gummy worms as they had offended her. "These taste like soap."
"They're sour apples," Makoto said.
"They're soap!" she snapped, sitting up. "And the air freshener in the living room smells like burning plastic. Did you change it?"
"No," Makoto said, confused. "It's the same lavender one Mika bought."
Yuna huffed and crossed her arms. "Well, it stinks. Fix it." She glared at Makoto. He braced himself for a verbal lashing, but Yuna's face crumpled. Her lower lip wobbled. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she whispered, her voice thick.
"Like what?" Makoto groaned.
"Like I'm being unreasonable!" Yuna grunted.
"I didn't say anything." Makoto talked back.
"You thought it!" She scrambled off the bed and marched over to him.
Makoto tensed, expecting a punch to the arm. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She clung to him with a desperate strength, her small body trembling.
"Just hold me, idiot big bro," she mumbled into his shirt. "I feel wrong. Everything feels wrong."
Her lower lip began to tremble, and tears filled her eyes. Before Makoto could react, she tightened her grip around his waist.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, her voice muffled. "I don't know why I'm so mad. I feel weird. Everything is too loud, and everything smells like old socks, and I just want you to hold me."
Makoto froze with his hands hovering over her back. This was different from her usual prickly behavior. He felt a protective warmth in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her small, trembling form.
"It's okay, Yuna," he murmured, stroking her hair. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"You better not," she sniffled, gripping him tighter. "If you leave me alone for even a second, I'll find your hidden folder and delete every single one of those Anya H-doujin. I mean it."
She stayed there for a long time until her breathing evened out and she fell into a light sleep on his lap.
===
Half an hour later, after Makoto had carefully tucked a still-mumbling Yuna into his bed, he got back to his computer. He stared at the screen, where the balance was ¥42,350, then turned to the girl who claimed to hate him but clearly needed him.
The responsibility felt heavy on his lungs. "Mood swings," he thought. "Maybe it's her period and the stress from the cosplay project. Or maybe she wasn't eating well."
A soft knock on the doorframe interrupted his thoughts.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, boss." Ayane leaned against the doorframe, wearing one of his old band t-shirts that barely covered her thighs. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and she held a cup of matcha.
"Just tired, Ayane," Makoto sighed. "The job market is a mess right now. I don't know if I can find anything before the bills are due."
Ayane walked over to him, moving with fluid confidence. She stopped inches away, and the scent of her skin filled his senses. "You worry too much," she said, her hand landing on his shoulder to knead the tense muscle.
"You think we're just here for the free ride? We're a team, Makoto. If things get tight, I'll take on more shifts. Mika will find a way to monetize something we didn't even know we had. We've got your back."
She looked down at his lap with a grin. "But right now, you're too wound up, Makoto. You're thinking about numbers and resumes, and your body is paying the price."
She didn't wait for an answer when she sank to her knees on the floor.
"Ayane, wait! Yuna is still here," Makoto whispered, his heart hammering.
"Let her watch," she murmured, her voice low. She reached up and unzipped his fly.
Makoto's cock sprang free, already semi-hard from the adrenaline of Yuna's outburst. Ayane stared at it with hungry eyes. She leaned forward and licked a slow, wet stripe from the base to the tip, tasting his skin.
"Mmm," Ayane moaned against his thigh. "You taste like stress, boss. Let me fix that for you." She took him into her mouth, using her tongue to swirl around the head while her cheeks hollowed with suction.
Makoto gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white. He looked down at her, watching the way her dark hair fell and the way her throat moved. It was a sight that usually sent him over the edge quickly.
But tonight, the balance of ¥42,350 wouldn't leave his mind.
Every time he started to lose himself in the heat of her mouth, a mental image of a rejection email flashed in his mind. He thought about the cost of the food they ate and the electricity running the lights. He thought about their future.
Ayane noticed. She slowed down and pulled back with a wet sound. She looked up at him with glistening lips. "What is it?" she asked, her voice soft. "You're not here, Makoto. Your cock is hard, but your head is a thousand miles away."
Makoto let out a ragged breath and felt himself softening. "I can't, Ayane, I'm sorry. I keep thinking about what would happen if I didn't get a job. I feel like I'm failing you all."
Ayane stayed on her knees for a moment. Then she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his thigh, wrapping her arms around his legs.
"You're not failing anyone," she whispered. "The only way you fail is if you stop loving us."
She held him there, the warmth of her body seeping into him. She smelled of cheap shampoo and matcha, a scent that grounded him. "You're carrying a lot, we know," she whispered. "You don't have to be the hero or the demon king every second, Makoto. Take a deep breath, just be here with me."
They stayed like that for a long time. Makoto crumbled in the arms of the girl who usually just wanted to play. He let the anxiety wash over him and slowly ebb away under the weight of her comfort.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and held on tight. "Thank you, Ayane," he mumbled against her shirt.
"Don't mention it," Ayane murmured, kissing the top of his head. "But you still owe me, though. I'm putting this on your tab." She pulled back and grinned. "Raincheck on the blowjob?"
Makoto managed a weak smile. "Raincheck."
"Good." Ayane stood up slowly and reached out to zip his pants back up, a surprisingly tender gesture. She grabbed her unfinished matcha. "Now, close those tabs and go to sleep." She pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
Makoto watched her walk away, his heart heavy with love and resolve.
He went back to his desk as the silence of the apartment felt like a countdown. The glowing numbers on the screen were the last thing he saw.
It was still a terrifying number. But with Ayane's warmth lingering, it felt slightly less like the end of the world.
He opened his email one last time before bed. There was a new inbox message, so he clicked it.
Subject: Regarding your application for Junior Web Developer - NeoTech Solutions
Dear candidate,
Thank you for your interest. However, at this time, we have decided to move forward with a candidate whose skills more closely align with our current needs, specifically in AI-integration...
Makoto stared at the screen until the words blurred. He closed his laptop, leaving the room in absolute darkness. He closed his eyes, smelling the lavender air freshener drifting in from the hall.
"Tomorrow," he promised himself. "Tomorrow, I will fix this."