Crazy Ones Valentine Event — Tomoko
The Aftermath of the Competition
I sat in the backstage, leaning against the cold wall, my legs stretched out in front of me. The noise from the audience still echoed in my ears, but it felt distant now, like a fading dream. My mind was blank, my body numb. The result of the startup competition was out, and it wasn’t what I had hoped for.
My idea — ONE Cloud Storage, a decentralized internet app — had captivated the audience. I had more votes than anyone else, even Ryoya Saionji, the golden boy of the tech world. He was a former judge of this event, a childhood friend of Hyouka Natsume, and now my competitor. But the judges’ scoring had turned the tide. Two of them, initially impressed by my innovation, suddenly began picking apart my pitch.
“You don’t even have a product yet,” one of them said, his voice dripping with condescension. “How can we trust something that’s just an idea?”
I wanted to argue, to explain that the whole point of this competition was to secure funding to turn the idea into reality. But I stayed silent. What was the point? Ryoya Saionji had already prepared everything. He had connections, influence, and a polished product to show off. I had nothing but a vision and a dream.
Hyouka, the third judge and CEO of Natsume Technology Corporation, had sensed something was off. She stepped in, her sharp eyes narrowing as she pulled out her phone and held it near the microphone.
“Let me ask you something,” she said, her voice calm but cutting. “Your companies claim to support innovation and disruption. Yet here you are, dismissing an idea that aligns perfectly with your own mission statements. Why is that?”
The audience murmured, and for a moment, I thought she might turn things around. But in the end, the judges gave me one point each. Just one. Hyouka had already left the stage by then, her expression unreadable.
I sat there, my back against the wall, laughing softly to myself. It wasn’t a happy laugh — it was empty, hollow. My eyes felt heavy, my chest tight, as if a blade had pierced through my soul.
Ryoya Saionji. He had gone out of his way to crush someone like me, someone with nothing but an idea. How desperate. How pathetic. But then again, maybe I was the pathetic one for thinking I could compete with him in the first place.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride. The audience had seen my vision. They had seen the potential of a decentralized internet, even if the judges refused to acknowledge it. Someone out there would make it a reality. It was only a matter of time.
But I couldn’t wait. I had to face the truth: I wasn’t cut out for this. Not yet, anyway. I had my little sister, Tomoko, to think about. At just 18, she was already a PhD holder, a genius working on quantum computing. Her research had the potential to change the world — far more than my startup ever could.
I needed to take a different approach. I needed to give up on this silly dream and focus on supporting her. To do that, I needed a job. A stable income. And there was only one person I could turn to: Hyouka Natsume.
She had been close to me lately, trusting my abilities despite the rumors that had tarnished my reputation. Maybe if I asked her for a job, she would give me one. That way, I could support Tomoko financially while contributing to her research in whatever way I could. Quantum computing was the future — internet, AI, security, medicine — it would revolutionize everything. And if I couldn’t be the one to lead that revolution, I could at least help my sister get there.
I closed my eyes, burying my face in my knees. The world around me faded as I drowned in my own thoughts.
Hyouka Natsume’s Arrival
Just as my mind began to drift into emptiness, I heard footsteps approaching. I didn’t look up until I heard her voice.
“You’re not going to sit here all night, are you?”
It was Hyouka. Her tone was as sharp as ever, but there was a softness in it that I hadn’t noticed before. I raised my head slowly, my eyes still empty, my face expressionless. She stood there, her arms crossed, her sharp suit perfectly tailored, her presence commanding yet oddly comforting.
“Your idea was brilliant,” she said, her voice firm. “The judges were idiots. You know that, right?”
I didn’t respond. I just stared at her, my mind too tired to form words.
She sighed, crouching down to my level. “What are you so stressed about? You came in second place. That’s not nothing.”
I forced a weak smile. “I’m just upset that you’ll have to go to dinner and dance with Ryoya. You lost the bet, after all.”
For a moment, she looked caught off guard. Then she laughed — a rare, genuine laugh that made her seem almost human. “I never bet on you winning first place. Technically, I won. You came in second, and you won the audience vote. That’s more than enough to prove my point.”
I blinked, surprised by her logic. “So you’re not going to dinner with him?”
“Of course not,” she said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. “I don’t owe him anything. Besides, I have better things to do.”
I hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Hyouka-san… can I ask you for something?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“I need a job. At Natsume Corporation. I… I want to join your team.”
She studied me for a moment, her gaze piercing. “And what about your startup? Your decentralized internet dream?”
I shook my head. “It’s not going anywhere. Not right now, at least. I need to focus on something more practical. Something that can actually make a difference.”
She nodded slowly, as if she understood more than I was saying. “Alright. Come to my office tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
As she walked away, I felt a strange sense of relief. I hadn’t told her my true intentions — that I wanted to support Tomoko’s research, that I believed quantum computing was the future. But for now, this was enough. I had a chance to start over, to rebuild. And maybe, I could find a way to make my dreams a reality after all.
Walking Home
The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the city as I stepped out of the ramen shop, a takeout bag in hand. Tomoko’s favorite — tonkotsu ramen with extra chashu. The aroma wafted through the paper bag, and I couldn’t help but smile faintly. She’d probably been too absorbed in her research to eat properly today. Again.
The streets were quieter now, the rush hour crowd thinning out. I walked slowly, my hands in my pockets, the bag swinging lightly at my side. The cool evening air brushed against my face, carrying the faint scent of rain. My mind wandered as I navigated the familiar route home, the rhythmic sound of my footsteps grounding me.
Joining Natsume Corporation was a step in the right direction, but it wasn’t the endgame. It was a means to an end — a way to support Tomoko and her quantum computing research. But as much as I wanted to focus on her dreams, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my own vision for a decentralized internet still had potential. Maybe not now, but someday.
I thought about the competition, about Ryoya and his polished product. He had resources, connections, and a team behind him. I had none of that. But I had something he didn’t: Tomoko. Her genius was unparalleled, and her work in quantum computing could be the key to unlocking the next generation of technology. If I could find a way to merge her research with my vision, we might be able to create something truly revolutionary.
But how? Quantum computing was still in its infancy, and the practical applications were years away. Natsume Corporation was focused on profit, on tangible results. They wouldn’t invest in something so speculative. Not unless I could convince Hyouka otherwise.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Convincing Hyouka would be no small feat. She was pragmatic, calculating, and ruthless when it came to business. But she had also shown a surprising amount of faith in me. Maybe, just maybe, I could appeal to her sense of ambition. If I could frame Tomoko’s research as a long-term investment, something that could give Natsume Corporation a competitive edge in the future, she might be willing to take the risk.
Of course, that would mean revealing my true intentions. I hadn’t told Hyouka about Tomoko yet, about how much her research meant to me. I wasn’t sure how she’d react. Would she see it as a conflict of interest? Or would she appreciate the honesty?
I shook my head, pushing the thought aside for now. One step at a time. First, I needed to prove myself at Natsume Corporation. I needed to earn her trust, to show her that I was worth the investment. Then, maybe, I could broach the subject of Tomoko’s research.
The Road Ahead
The streetlights flickered on as I turned the corner, the warm glow illuminating the path home. My thoughts drifted to Tomoko, to the way her eyes lit up when she talked about quantum entanglement or superposition. She was so passionate, so full of life. She deserved every opportunity to succeed, and I was determined to give that to her.
But I also couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that I was giving up too easily on my own dreams. Maybe I didn’t have to choose between supporting Tomoko and pursuing my vision. Maybe there was a way to do both. If I could find a way to integrate quantum computing into the decentralized internet concept, we could create something that was truly groundbreaking. Quantum network, quantum internet, quantum entanglement-based communication channel, who knows?
The idea was still vague, half-formed, but it was a start. I’d need to talk to Tomoko, to see if she thought it was feasible. She’d probably have a dozen ideas already, knowing her. And if anyone could make it work, it was her.
As I approached our apartment building, I felt a sense of resolve settle over me. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but I had a plan — or at least the beginnings of one. And for now, that was enough.
The Quantum Spark
The soft hum of Tomoko’s computers filled the room, a steady backdrop to the chaos of her desk. Papers covered in equations and doodles were strewn everywhere, along with half-empty mugs of tea and a lone sock that had somehow ended up next to her keyboard. She was sitting cross-legged on her chair, her oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Strands of her loose, messy hair fell over her face, shifting slightly as she moved, but she didn’t seem to notice. She had that look on her face — the one where she was so deep in thought that the rest of the world might as well not exist.
I leaned against the doorway, watching her for a moment. She was muttering to herself, something about qubits and entanglement, and I couldn’t help but smile. Even when she was lost in her own world, she had this energy about her, like a spark that could light up the darkest room.
“Tomoko,” I called out, breaking her concentration.
She spun around in her chair, her eyes lighting up when she saw me. “Oh, hey! I didn’t hear you come in. Did you bring food? Please tell me you brought food.”
I held up the bag of takeout I’d picked up on the way home. “Your favorite. Ramen from that place down the street.”
“You’re a lifesaver!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her chair and practically skipping over to me. She grabbed the bag and peeked inside, her nose wrinkling in delight. “I was so hungry I was about to start eating my own notes.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” I said, following her to the small table in the corner of the room. “You’ve eaten stranger things.”
She stuck her tongue out at me, already slurping up a noodle. “Says the guy who once ate a whole jar of pickles at 3 a.m.”
“That was one time,” I protested, sitting down across from her. “And I was stressed.”
“You’re always stressed,” she said, her tone softening. She reached over and poked my arm. “You need to relax more. You’re going to turn into a robot if you keep working so hard.”
“Says the girl who’s been coding for 12 hours straight,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow.
She grinned, unbothered. “That’s different. I’m having fun.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the kind of silence that only comes when you’ve known someone for so long that words aren’t always necessary. Tomoko was humming under her breath, some anime theme song she’d probably been listening to on repeat for days. It was oddly soothing.
After a while, she set down her chopsticks and looked at me, her head tilted to the side. “You’ve been quiet tonight. Something on your mind?” she asked, her voice gentle yet laced with an air of certainty — as if she already knew the answer. It was one of those moments that reminded me why I admired her so much; her intuition was uncanny, and her sharp mind never missed a beat.
I hesitated, the admission weighing on me like a silent failure. Finally, I shrugged, a half-hearted gesture that did little to hide my dismay. “I lost. The startup competition.” The words hung in the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of sesame oil and the bittersweet taste of disappointment.
Tomoko’s expression didn’t change much, but her eyes softened, and she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “I know,” she said simply, her voice calm but laced with understanding. “I saw the results online earlier. I was waiting for you to bring it up.”
Of course she knew. Tomoko always knew. She had this uncanny ability to stay ahead of everything, even when she seemed completely absorbed in her own world. I should’ve expected it. Still, hearing her say it out loud made the loss feel a little more real, a little heavier. I sighed, pushing my half-finished ramen bowl to the side. “Yeah. I didn’t want to dump it on you right away. You’ve got your own stuff going on.”
She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your stuff is my stuff. We’re a team, remember? Even if you’re too stubborn to admit it sometimes.”
I chuckled despite myself. “Yeah, yeah. Teamwork makes the dream work, or whatever.”
“Exactly,” she said, pointing her chopsticks at me for emphasis. “So, tell me. What’s the plan now? Because I know you, and you’re not the type to just give up. You’ve already got something brewing in that overactive brain of yours, don’t you?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Maybe. It’s… not fully formed yet. But I was thinking about what you’ve been working on — quantum entanglement, superposition, all that. What if we could integrate that into the decentralized internet concept? A quantum network, or even a quantum-based communication channel. It’s still vague, but… I think it could be something. Something big.”
Tomoko’s eyes lit up, the way they always did when she was presented with a new challenge or idea. She leaned back in her chair, tapping her chopsticks against the edge of the table in a rhythmic pattern as she processed what I’d said. “Quantum entanglement-based communication… That’s not just big. That’s huge. If we could pull it off, it would revolutionize everything — data security, transmission speeds, even the way we think about connectivity.”
“Exactly,” I said, feeling a spark of excitement for the first time since the competition. “But I don’t know if it’s even feasible. I mean, I’m not a quantum physicist. That’s your domain.”
She smirked, her confidence radiating like a force field. “Feasible? Maybe. Challenging? Absolutely. But that’s what makes it fun. And you’re right — it’s not just about the tech. It’s about creating something that could change the world. A decentralized quantum network… That’s the kind of thing people write papers about. The kind of thing that wins Nobel Prizes.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Nobel Prizes, huh? You’ve already got your acceptance speech ready, don’t you?”
She laughed, a bright, infectious sound that made the room feel warmer. “Of course I do. But don’t worry, I’ll thank you in it. Right after I thank my cat.”
“Glad to know I rank above the cat,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help but smile. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and for the first time in days, I felt like the weight of the competition loss was lifting. This wasn’t the end — it was just the beginning of something new.
Tomoko stood up suddenly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Alright, no time to waste. If we’re going to do this, we need to start now. I’ve got some ideas already — nothing concrete, but enough to get us started. Let me grab my notebook.”
She darted over to her desk, rummaging through the piles of papers and mugs until she found a battered notebook covered in scribbles and sticky notes. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning the pages rapidly. “Here,” she said, pointing to a diagram that looked like a cross between a circuit board and a constellation. “This is something I was playing around with a few weeks ago. It’s not exactly what you’re talking about, but it’s close. If we tweak it a bit, we might be able to use it as a starting point.”
I walked over to her desk, peering at the diagram. Even though I didn’t fully understand all the symbols and equations, I could see the potential. “This is amazing,” I said, shaking my head in awe. “How do you even come up with this stuff?”
She shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s just how my brain works. I see patterns, connections. It’s like… everything in the universe is part of this giant puzzle, and I’m just trying to figure out how the pieces fit together.”
I glanced at her, struck by the intensity in her eyes. She was in her element, completely in her zone. And in that moment, I knew we were going to make this work. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever obstacles we’d face, we’d figure it out. Together.
“Alright,” I said, grabbing a pen and a blank sheet of paper from her desk. “Let’s do this. But first, we need a plan. A real one. Not just vague ideas and half-baked theories.”
Tomoko grinned, her excitement palpable. “Oh, we’re way past vague ideas. This is happening. And when we’re done, the world won’t know what hit it.”
As we sat there, hunched over her desk with papers and notebooks spread out around us, I felt a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt in a long time. The road ahead was uncertain, and it wouldn’t be easy. But with Tomoko by my side, I knew we could tackle anything. Together, we were unstoppable.
Tomoko suddenly paused, her pen hovering over the paper. She looked up at me, her expression softening. “You know, I’ve been working on this for months, and you’ve barely asked me about it. I get it — you’ve been busy with your startup and everything. But sometimes it feels like you don’t even notice what I’m doing.”
Her words caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to respond, but she held up a hand, cutting me off. “No, it’s fine. I’m not mad. I just… I want you to see this. Really see it. Because it’s not just some random project to me. It’s my passion. And I want you to be a part of it.”
She stood up and motioned for me to follow her. We moved to the small carpeted area near the window, where a low table was surrounded by cushions. She grabbed her laptop and brought it over, plopping it down in front of me. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up lines of code. She was so close I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo — something sweet, like strawberries. Her shoulder brushed against mine as she leaned in to point at the screen.
“See, if you tweak this part here,” she said, her voice low and focused, “you can reduce the error rate by at least 30%. It’s all about optimizing the qubit interactions.”
I stared at the screen, but my attention kept drifting to her. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about quantum mechanics, the way her lips curved into a smile when she solved a problem — it was impossible not to be drawn in. She was brilliant, and she knew it, but there was no arrogance in her. Just pure, unadulterated passion.
“You’re amazing…” I said before I could stop myself.
She blinked, looking up at me with a surprised expression. Then she smirked, her cheeks turning pink. “Well, duh. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you put up with me,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes soft. She leaned back in her chair, studying me for a moment. “You don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here to help, you know. Whether it’s with your dream or… whatever else.”
There was something in her voice, something that made my chest tighten. It wasn’t just her words — it was the way she looked at me, like she saw through all the walls I’d built up over the years. Like she knew me better than I knew myself.
“I know,” I said quietly. “And I’m grateful for that. More than you realize.”
She smiled, a small, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt charged, like the calm before a storm. Then Tomoko broke the tension by reaching over and stealing a piece of pork from my bowl.
“Hey!” I protested, swatting her hand away.
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What? You weren’t eating it.”
I shook my head, trying to hide my smile. “You’re such a brat.”
“But I’m your brat,” she said, sticking her tongue out at me again.
And just like that, the moment passed. But as we went back to eating and talking, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. Something small, but undeniable.
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