Sunlight spilled into the apartment like it owned the place.
Maris lay tangled in a blanket burrito, one foot hanging out like it had given up negotiating with the rest of her. Her alarm was already on its fifth snooze. Somewhere in the room, a half-drunk energy drink from last night stood like a tiny, glowing monument to poor choices.
Her phone buzzed again.
> 9:42 AM – Agency Reminder: Morning meeting with creative leads (Peko, Reina, Manager Kuri). Don't oversleep again. Seriously.
She blinked. "Mmmh."
Translation: I'm already late.
One flop later, she was on the floor, dragging herself to the bathroom like a corpse with a brand deal.
The mirror didn't lie—her hair looked like she lost a fight with a wind demon. She splashed water on her face. Then again. And again.The dream felt too real... lately many strange things were occurring. She knew why, but she couldn't really understand actually why. It's like knowing the purpose of something but not actually the purpose of it on your life .
She was still tired. But alive. Mostly.
But she knew she was changing ,, But not into someone foreign.Something she always was.
Ten minutes later she was booted up, headset on, voice mod calibrated. Her Maris model blinked at her from the screen: ocean-blue hair, smug smile, that signature glint in the eye that said "Yes, I did eat the last slice of cake."
"Okay, girl," she whispered to the model. "Time to pretend you don't have anxiety and half a hangover."
The agency call began.
"Maris! Morning! You're late," Reina sang, her own model sporting bunny ears and a suspiciously sharp carrot.
"I was early in spirit," Maris replied, sipping from a chipped mug labeled 'I Stream Therefore I Am (Sleep-Deprived)'.
Manager Kuri popped in—holographic clipboard and all.
"We've got the Anniversary Project kickoff today. And yes, we're doing the memory lane segment. So… dig up your debut files."
Maris paused.
The mug wobbled in her hand. Just a little.
"Oh. That old thing?"
"Yup! Fans eat that stuff up. We're uploading raw clips too—authenticity, baby."
Authenticity. Right.
Later, alone in her room, she opened the folder.
She hadn't touched these files in years. Not since… that day.
The cursor hovered over one labeled:
"MARIS_DEBUT_RAW_1A—DO_NOT_EDIT"
Her finger twitched.
Click.
The screen flickered.
Not immediately. It wasn't broken. It was hesitant—like something inside had to wake up first.
Then, the familiar startup jingle played. Off-key. Loud. The very first version of her intro.
It shouldn't have felt this strange.
But it did.
As the video played, her chest grew tighter. She remembered the lines before they came.She remembered being scared.
She watched her own voice tumble through the stream.She smiled. But it didn't reach her eyes.
The stream booted up like a reluctant toaster.
Background? A looping ocean scene with the saturation turned up to eleven.
Music? Slightly compressed lo-fi with a seagull crying somewhere in the distance.
Then—her model appeared.
"Huh"
Adorable yellow eys with a black and white themed hoodie and silver hair with black strands appeared crooked. Off-center. One eye blinking, the other... confused.
"Wait—uh, hi? Can anyone hear me? Is this on?"
The live chat lit up like a microwave with a fork in it:
> "WE HEAR U, FISHHY"
"mic's working! vision? debatable."
"you're sideways. is this lore or a cry for help?"
She fumbled with her settings. Zoomed in too close. Full nose cam.
"Oh, ew, sorry—nose reveal wasn't scheduled for today."
> "SHE NOSED US"
"i've seen god and it's nostrils"
"new vtuber meta unlocked"
"BRUH,"
The model T-posed briefly. Like a seagull preparing for takeoff. Then went to normal.. it seemed.
"Okay, okay—let's start this right."
She sat up straighter. Or at least tried.
"Hi. I'm Maris Tide. Official sea fish. Bubble tea enthusiast , a little good in singing (although like a truck) and proud owner of absolutely zero streaming experience."
> "THIS FISH AND I SEEMED TO BE SAME LOLL "
"already more relatable than my therapist"
"First cat girls now FISH GIRL .. bruh seriouslly??.Gotta catch em all"
She held up a sticky note and squinted at it.
"This is my debut script. It says: 'Be mysterious. Mention water. Smile, idiot.'"
She blinked at the camera.
"…Water."
> "WATER MENTIONED. WE'RE IN."
"THE LOREEEEE"
"girl why are you actually me rn"
"Bruh #water"
"LOL"
"LMAFO"
""
""
Maris laughed. It wasn't polished. It cracked a bit.
"I don't have a deep backstory. No magical trident. Just… me. Trying this. Hoping it's not a mistake."
A long beat.
Then—genuinely—
"Thanks for showing up, even if I'm a mess. Maybe especially if I'm a mess.But.. i look forward to work with you all."
> "Bruh.... it was worth spawnig here."
"idk what this is but I love her already"
"protect this energy at all costs. "
"GUYS IM OFFICIALLY NEVER EATING FISH LOL"
"LOL"
She smiled, wobbly and real.
"Let's see how far we can swim together."
The screen faded to soft blue waves.
Maris sat there, headset askew, the glow of the monitor painting ripples on her face. Her mug was empty now—when had she finished it?
She blinked. Once. Twice.
"…I was such a dork," she whispered, a crooked smile tugging at her lips.
Then softer, almost to no one—
"But that… really was me, huh?"
For a moment, she didn't feel like Maris Tide, or Figueroa, or whatever name the internet knew.
Just a girl staring at her own echo, wondering how a mess like that ever became something people loved.
Her cursor hovered again—this time, over a second file.
It didn't have a name. Just a timestamp.
And it was dated before the debut.