Aoyama thought about it for a moment. He didn't see anything wrong with Ayumi's suggestion.
It was just a simple explanation. If it would get the corporate suits off his back and allow him to return to the peaceful life of a shut-in drawing manga, then fine. He'd do it.
"Also, since we're launching the international account, the company thinks it's a good idea for you to have an official presence on our domestic social media, 'Skyline,' as well," Ayumi continued, her voice sounding a bit more optimistic. "Does that sound okay to you, Sensei?"
"Sure, why not? No problem at all," Aoyama said, his tone as casual as if he were agreeing to a coffee run.
"Great! I'll get everything set up on our end. I'll send you the login details and the secure VPN link for the international site shortly. Thank you for being so cooperative, Sensei!"
"It's fine," Aoyama muttered. He hung up the phone.
He didn't actually mind. He wasn't the type to hide behind anonymity forever, and he understood the necessity of public relations in a world driven by engagement metrics. But what Ayumi hadn't accounted for was Aoyama's specific brand of "initiative."
Ayumi had meant for him to wait until the Manga World legal team had properly registered and verified the accounts.
Aoyama, however, was already walking back to his workstation.
"Pochita! We have work to do! Important work! Ready to head back?"
Pochita barked twice, his tail wagging with a rhythmic thud-thud-thud against the sidewalk. The man and his dog jogged back to the cramped rental apartment.
Once inside, Aoyama booted up his computer.
"Setting up an international account... let's see."
He didn't wait for the company files. He fired up a high-speed VPN, a "ladder" to the outside digital world, and navigated directly to Twitter.
The process was simple enough. Within minutes, he had a new handle. He uploaded a high-res cropping of David Martinez's face as his avatar and set his display name to 'Aoyama.'
With a practiced flourish, he typed out his first-ever tweet in English:
"Hello everyone. This is the official account of 'Aoyama,' the author of Cyberpunk 2077: Edgerunners."
He hit post. He didn't have to wait long for the first ripple in the digital pond.
---
In the US, a young man named Mike was scrolling through his feed, looking for news on the latest manga translations. A new tweet suddenly popped into his timeline, recommended by the algorithm's mysterious logic.
{Hello everyone. This is the official account of 'Aoyama,' the author of Cyberpunk 2077: Edgerunners.}
Mike froze. He was one of the few, dedicated fans in the US who had been following the fan-translations of Edgerunners religously. Seeing a tweet from the "Sensei" himself was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
But then, he stopped. He clicked on the profile.
No "Verified" blue checkmark.
No followers.
No following.
And search as he might, the official Manga World corporate account wasn't following this 'Aoyama' guy.
Mike's excitement vanished, replaced by the cynical coldness of a long-time internet user. 'Oh, give me a break,' he thought. 'This is just another pathetic scammer.'
He tapped out a reply, deciding to have a little fun with the fraud.
{Mike: Are you really the 'Aoyama' who writes Edgerunners? For real?}
In his small studio across the world, Aoyama's computer pinged with a notification. He saw the reply instantly.
He typed back with deadpan sincerity:
{Aoyama: Yes, I am the author of 'Edgerunners,' Aoyama. It is nice to meet you.}
"Pfft..."
Mike, sitting thousands of miles away, let out a sharp laugh.
{Mike: Come on, bro. If you're going to lie, at least put some effort into it. This is just embarrassing.}
Aoyama frowned at the screen. Why didn't this person believe him? Was his English that bad? No, the grammar was perfect,he'd even used the System to double-check the nuances.
{Aoyama: But I really am Aoyama. I am not lying to you. Why would I lie about my own name?}
{Mike: Haha, sure. Prove it then. What evidence do you have that you're the real deal?} Mike shot back. He was thoroughly enjoying the "trolls" latest attempt at a defense.
"I have to prove that I am me?"
Aoyama sat there for a moment, genuinely troubled. He scratched his chin, his eyes wandering around the room until they landed on his own reflection in the darkened monitor.
"I guess I have to show them a talent I've never revealed before!"
His eyes hardened with a strange, manic determination. He typed out a final response:
{Aoyama: I really am Aoyama. And to prove it to you, I'll tell you a secret: I can actually fly.}
Mike stared at the screen, his face twisted in a mixture of confusion and pity.
'Wait... what?'
Is this guy a child? A mental patient? What does "being able to fly" have to do with being a manga author? Does he think he's some kind of superhero?
Mike suddenly felt a wave of guilt. He felt as if he'd spent the last ten minutes bullying a kid or someone with a genuine psychological condition. He could practically feel the judgment of Jesus staring down at him from the Heavens.
'Screw it,' Mike thought. 'I'm out. I'm not engaging with this anymore.'
He closed the tab, intending to let the poor guy be.
But a few minutes later, a browser notification popped up. The 'Aoyama' account had posted something new.
{Aoyama: Check my latest tweet. I can fly!}
Mike was beyond confused now. Was the guy serious? Was he actually going to try and "fly"? Or was this some kind of avant-garde marketing stunt?
Compelled by a morbid curiosity, Mike reopened the site.
There was a video.
He clicked play, half-expecting a jump-scare.
Instead, the video showed a young Asian man with sharp, clean features, wearing a blue-and-white striped shirt. He looked decent enough, but there was something... off about his expression. He looked like he was taking a joke far too seriously.
The man in the video looked at the camera, then glanced nervously at the ceiling.
He stepped back, his face a mask of grim intensity.
"Now," the man said in the video, his English carrying a slight accent, "I will take off!"
Mike watched, his mouth hanging open. He was now 100% certain this guy was a psychiatric patient. No sane person would...
The man in the video jumped.
He didn't fly. He didn't even hover. Under the relentless, unyielding laws of gravity, he slammed back down onto the floor with a bone-jarring THUD.
Mike's eyes widened to the size of saucers. He sat there in total, stunned silence.
---
"Ouch... the cost of flight is high. That actually hurt."
Aoyama winced, rubbing his sore heels as he limped back to his desk.
Pochita watched him with a look of profound canine concern, let out two soft barks.
"I'm fine, Pochita. Don't worry about it." Aoyama chuckled.
Surely, that skeptic would believe him now. Nobody would ever film themselves doing something that stupid unless they were the real, eccentric author.
Now, all he had to do was draft a proper explanation about Maine and the nature of cyberpsychosis.
His phone rang on the desk.
"Hey, Ayumi. Something wrong?"
"Sensei! We've got the account ready! I'm sending the password and the VPN link to your email now." Ayumi's voice was high-pitched with excitement. "Just remember to follow the drafting guide I sent you. Be professional, okay?"
Aoyama blinked, his gaze moving back to the video he'd just uploaded.
"Ah... about that..."
"What is it, Sensei?"
"I already registered the account myself. And I... well, I've already started the proving process."
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]