"This... should be enough."
Struggling to carry three full bags of groceries back home, Jingu Yo gave JoJo, his dog who was happily greeting him, a pat on the head and plopped down on the couch, panting.
After a short break, he opened the bags and began putting things away: yogurt, vegetables, drinks, pre-packaged meats — all went into the fridge. Then he brought some snacks to his bedroom. After arranging them neatly, he looked around at the now fully stocked room and finally felt a bit of that "home" atmosphere.
"Alright, alright. Here's your food..."
Smiling wryly at the tail-wagging Labrador, he said a few words to JoJo and laid out the variety of pet food he'd bought, placing it in the dishes on the low table by the dog bowl.
Checking the time, he realized he had spent longer than expected at the supermarket. After a brief moment of hesitation, he decided to abandon the idea of cooking a big meal. Instead, he went to the kitchen, grabbed some noodles he'd bought, and threw together a simple bowl of hot soup noodles with two eggs and some greens.
Bowl in hand, he returned to his bedroom. The desk, which had originally been placed there more as a decorative piece, was now cluttered with drawing supplies and manga tools — a scene that finally brought him a sense of calm.
"Hm?"
Casually opening his phone, he noticed an unread message in his inbox. Slurping noodles, he tapped it open — and as he read the contents, a smile lit up his face.
"That was faster than I expected!"
Excitedly hugging his bowl, he sat down in front of his PC and powered it on. It didn't take long for the system to boot. Opening his browser, he quickly typed in a string of letters — NICONICO.
That's right. The very same bullet-comment video site that, in his original world, had pioneered a subculture. But in this world's Japan, it didn't exist. Not just Niconico — the entire concept of bullet-comment sites was unheard of here.
The moment he discovered this, Jingu Yo had immediately registered the domain name and even filed the paperwork with the government. From that moment on, the NICONICO domain was legally his.
In his previous life, China's A站 and B站 were directly inspired by Niconico. While they had imitated the bullet-comment format, they failed to replicate Niconico's most critical strength — profitability.
One major reason was that, in his original world, copyright awareness in China was still weak. Few users were willing to pay to watch content, so monetization was always a struggle. Add to that a slew of infringement lawsuits and pressure from bigger platforms like Youku and Tudou, and it was no surprise that A站 and B站 remained niche, popular only among hardcore otaku circles.
But Japan was different.
In this world, Niconico had the potential for massive success. Japan's anime industry had become the country's third largest pillar economy. A site like this, born in that ecosystem, had everything going for it.
Having secured the domain, Jingu Yo now stared at a blank webpage.
Nothing existed yet. Everything had to be built from scratch. He hadn't rented a large-scale server because he knew traffic would be minimal in the beginning.
"First... I won't just make this a standard video site. I'll make it something with personality — my personality."
Setting the empty noodle bowl aside, Yo rubbed his chin, mapping out the road ahead.
He could expand the site with different sections — videos as the main content, supported by others. Maybe a space for fan-made illustrations, like Pixiv from his old world. A section for web novels. He could even use it as a personal blog, a place to share his thoughts and experiences. Whenever he had a new project to announce, he could post it there first.
His vision was clear: a multi-purpose otaku platform, infused with his own identity.
His gaze drifted toward one of the bags filled with books — most of them about programming. When he'd decided to make a game, he realized programming was the one thing he couldn't do. So now, with his enhanced post-reincarnation brain, he was determined to master it from the ground up.
A standard galgame didn't require very advanced coding skills. He was confident he could pick it up quickly. But designing and launching a fully functional website? That was another level entirely.
Of course, this was just the beginning. Once the site was up and running, he planned to hire professionals — server admins, programmers — to scale it up. By then, it would be time to form a company.
Yo always calculated his future with precision. That was his nature — plan everything, prepare thoroughly, and take each step with purpose until he reached his goal.
This wasn't a short-term sprint. It would likely take a year or two to lay the foundations for his grand dream — the birth of his 2D empire.
He picked up a sheet of drawing paper and quickly began sketching with a pencil. This new body and brain felt like they combined the best skills of two people — more than the sum of their parts. What used to take hours of refining and nitpicking before now came together in mere moments.
The drawing was only in pencil, but the character leapt off the page with vibrancy. A miko in traditional shrine maiden garb, holding a gohei in one hand and a talisman in the other. Her sharp expression showed she was mid-exorcism. But the oversized bow at the back of her head gave her a hint of cuteness.
Even Yo had to admit: this version of Hakurei Reimu was gorgeous.
But then—
"Nope."
In one sharp motion, he swept the paper off the desk. His brow furrowed.
"If I draw the characters too perfectly from the start, I'll leave no room for others to interpret them."
Touhou's popularity was fueled by its flood of doujin content. The original game's designs — with their simplistic, round faces — left plenty of space for fan artists to explore and enhance. That's what gave it such momentum.
If his own original designs were already near-perfect, it might stifle that potential.
"I don't have to go full-on 'bun-face' like the originals... but I do need to leave intentional flaws."
Tapping his forehead, Yo realized something important — even copying a successful model wasn't as easy as it sounded. There were layers to think through.
"Why is it that in all those isekai novels, the protagonist uploads one story and bam, instant nationwide fame? That's so damn fake!"
Thinking back to the overly wish-fulfilling webnovels he used to read, Yo couldn't help but mutter a sarcastic complaint under his breath.