Chapter 7: Still Frames
The buzz of the system's soft chime broke the quiet.
[System Notification – Time Drift Balanced]
[You are maintaining a low-impact influence threshold]
[Stability: Secure]
[New Passive Mission Available – "Echo Drop"]
[View mission details? Y/N]
Cal clicked yes, more out of habit than intent.
[Mission: Echo Drop]
Type: Passive
Objective: Quietly seed a single moment of an emotional scene from future media.
Method: Clip must be no longer than 60 seconds, no commentary, no overlays.
Reward: +40 points
Suggested Content: "March Comes in Like a Lion" – Episode 10, Shogi Scene
Risk: None
Goal: Emotional resonance spread via underground reposts.
He glanced at the clock: 3:28 AM.
A grey, half-awake part of him thought, Why not?
The clip loaded—Rei Kiriyama sitting in that still, tense room, eyes hollow but focused, hands trembling over the shogi board. Opposite him sat an opponent twice his age, who didn't understand that this wasn't just a game—it was Rei's only place in the world.
Sixty seconds. No narration. No introduction.
Just the tension of silence, and a boy too young to carry that much sadness.
Cal clicked "Confirm."
[Uploading Clip…]
[Estimated Spread: 8 reposts across underground 2010-A forums within 24 hours]
[Tagged automatically: "Unknown source" | "Fragmented anime moment"]
That was the rhythm now. Quiet uploads. Still frames from stories yet to exist. Tiny moments dropped into a sea of noise.
No fanfare. No viral explosion. Just… presence.
And still, it meant something.
Later that morning, Cal went out for a walk again.
He hadn't realized how much the act of walking—of being part of the world without engaging with it—had become part of his new ritual.
The city streets of 2025 felt no different from the past. At least on the surface. Faces moved by in silence. Neon lights flickered on corner shops. A bus honked in the distance, loud and tired.
But to Cal, it felt like both timelines were overlapping now.
In his head, he imagined how these streets looked fifteen years ago. Less digital signage. Flip phones. People still bought physical manga in bulk. He'd never been there, but somehow, he could feel it.
Streaming to 2010-A had changed him. Not just in how he saw media, but how he saw people.
The boy sitting across the café from him—sleeves rolled, sketching on a napkin—might be an animator. The girl with earbuds, watching something on her phone, might be seeing his stream on some bootleg upload. Not directly. But maybe. Just maybe.
And yet, no one knew who he was.
That anonymity wasn't lonely anymore.
It was freeing.
Back home, he opened the system dashboard.
His total points now sat at 575. Enough to request a full 4K upscale of any future film. Or even bank it for a double-stream session.
He hovered over the request menu.
What next?
He didn't want to burn a major title too quickly. Not after Your Name. Not when it still echoed in message boards and low-res mirror uploads. It was too soon.
He wanted his next full stream to mean something.
But something subtle.
Not a punch. A whisper.
He scrolled past the blockbuster entries.
Then paused.
"Colorful (2010)"
Runtime: 2h07m
Emotion Rating: High
Engagement Forecast: 30-70 viewers
Classification: Underrated / Posthumous recognition
A soul trapped in a borrowed body. Regret. Redemption. Loneliness. Healing.
He remembered crying the first time he watched it. Not because it was sad, but because it understood the sadness he couldn't articulate.
It was the kind of film you didn't talk about at parties. The kind of film that sat quietly with you until you were ready to feel again.
He clicked Reserve.
[Full Stream Reserved: "Colorful" – Scheduled for May 18th, 10:00 PM JST (2010-A)]
[Streamer Overlay: Off]
[Chat Mode: Silent / No Interaction]
[Estimated Points Gain: +80 – Based on viewer retention]
That was the right move. Slow. Honest. Just like he wanted.
That night, after warming up leftover curry and cleaning a single plate, Cal sat back at his desk and scrolled through analytics.
His latest clip—the March Comes in Like a Lion scene—had been shared 11 times.
Only 98 views so far. No direct comments.
But one repost on a tiny shogi message board had stuck out:
"This hit harder than it should have. I don't even watch anime. Who made this?"
Another reply had said:
"No idea. It just showed up on a streamer rip channel. Kinda haunting."
That was enough.
He didn't need his name in lights.
He just wanted them to feel it.
Near midnight, as Cal adjusted the covers and prepared to sleep, the system pinged once more.
[Passive Mission Chain Unlocked – "Silent Streamer" Tier 2]
[Condition: Remain below 75 viewers average for 5 consecutive uploads]
[Reward: System Access Upgrade – Scene Slicing Tool]
He raised his eyebrows.
A slicing tool? That meant he could trim scenes with more precision—focus on tiny, powerful fragments instead of uploading full episodes or films.
Another way to remain invisible.
Another way to leave deeper cuts.
Perfect.
He turned off the screen, the glow of the system fading into darkness.
Outside, it was raining again. The kind of soft rain that doesn't ask for attention.
Just like him.
End of Chapter 7