Episode 1: And It Was the First Time Anyone Had Ever Invited Me.
You know what anime photography is?
Not drawing — no, it’s nothing like that.
It’s taking all the materials different people have drawn and turning them into footage on screen.
…Well, you don’t really need to know. Probably nobody cares.
◇◆◇◆◇
The photography floor is usually quiet.
Keyboards and mice. The occasional exhale, or the creak of a chair.
But inside every screen, tiny colour shifts and gradations of light are happening,
and everyone sits in silence, nerves stretched thin.
I’m one of them.
Kishimoto Mio, second year out of vocational school, photography staff.
Personality-wise… I’m what you’d call the introverted type, and I know it.
Somewhere along the way, try not to stand out became a reflex.
But I hate cutting corners,
so I always do my work properly — that’s the kind of position I occupy.
And yet —
“Oh wow, the flare on this cut is way too strong. Who did this?”
“…Oh. That was me.”
From the seat next to mine, another cheerful monologue.
Ashida Riwa-san.
She quit a different industry after two years and jumped into anime photography — two years older than me, but we started at the same time.
From Kansai, loud, casually dressed, and just a little… sloppy.
But she’s probably the fastest worker in our cohort at photography.
And the one who catches your eye the most.
I looked up from my screen toward the voice.
There she was.
Sleeves pushed up, fringe shoved back with one hand,
even the way she moved the mouse was somehow light.
(…she’s noisy. also — how does she always look like she’s having fun?)
It’s not that I dislike her. We just don’t click, that’s all.
Her energy, the way she reads a room —
she’s probably what I’d call hard to be around.
I let out a slow breath and was about to turn back to my monitor when —
“Hey, Kishimoto-san. Isn’t the camera movement slightly off on this composite timing?”
She spun her chair toward me and leaned toward my screen.
Then looked at me and smiled.
“…h-huh!? Oh — yeah… it might be…”
My heart lurched at the sudden closeness.
Instinctively looking away is a bad habit of mine.
“Right? Honestly, if they’re just gonna fix it later anyway, I wish they’d stop submitting stuff half-baked.”
Still smiling, she turned her chair back around.
The swing of her hair left an afterimage at the edge of my vision.
◇◆◇◆◇
“Alright, looks like there’s nothing more tonight — that’s a wrap. Good work, everyone.”
8 PM. Our senior photography supervisor called time.
Rare for us: finishing on schedule.
I shut off my monitor and slumped back in my chair for a stretch.
(Tonight I can catch my favourite VTuber’s stream live…!) — a tiny internal fist-pump —
…and that was the exact moment.
“Hey, Kishimoto-san. Wanna go for drinks?”
Riwa-san leaned over from the seat beside me with a beaming smile on her face.
The smile was like she wasn’t thinking about anything at all — but probably, like always, understood everything perfectly.
“Eh — oh, no, I’m kind of — “
“Come on, just this once? Looks like everyone else is going too.”
Riwa-san’s fingertip tapped my elbow, just once.
Around us, the rest of the cohort was filling with that warm going-out energy. Come on, come on.
…There was no gap to slip through.
It wasn’t like I’d never been to drinks with everyone before.
We’d all gone out a handful of times — I’d just sort of blended into the group each time.
Riwa-san had been there too.
But —
This was the first time she’d invited me directly.
Kishimoto-san.
For just a second, when she said my name, I forgot to breathe.
(My VTuber’s stream… the archive will stay up anyway.)
I’d been twisting the strap of my bag between my fingers — and caught myself, and stopped.
“W-well… if it’s just for a little while, I guess I’m okay.”
Riwa-san broke into a full smile.
Like she’d known exactly what I’d say from the start.
“Great. — Hey everyone, Kishimoto-san’s coming!”
“Oh, for real? Let’s go, let’s go, proper cohort night out!”
“Kishimoto, you never come. Finally figured out our nights are fun, huh?”
The voices rippled around me.
I stood up a beat late, swept along by the current.
The bag on my back felt heavier than usual.
Just drinks — that was all I thought this was.
On my phone, a notification lit up: stream starting now.
But the next moment, the screen went dark and disappeared into the night.
— I still had no idea that tonight would turn into the kind of night it did.