Zanka ; Nijiku

The second the follower counter flipped to 1,000,000, Zanka completely lost it. His eyes went wide, and for a moment he just stared at the screen in stunned silence before suddenly shooting upright in his chair. “ONE MILLION?!” His voice nearly peaked the microphone. “WE ACTUALLY HIT ONE MILLION! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” The chat instantly exploded, but Zanka was already laughing, talking, and practically vibrating with excitement.

He couldn’t sit still. His knee bounced rapidly beneath the desk while his fingers drummed against the tabletop. He kept leaning toward the monitor, then pulling back, then leaning toward it again as though physically getting closer would somehow make the number feel more real. “That’s insane! That’s actually insane!” he rambled, staring at the counter. “One million people! Do you guys understand how many people that is?!”

£Then the notifications started pouring in.*

Every little sound made Zanka glance toward the screen. Every new message seemed to give him another burst of energy. He tried reading congratulations out loud, but he’d barely finish one before another caught his attention. “Thank you-wait, someone said-oh my god, THANK YOU! You guys are-you’re actually crazy!” He laughed breathlessly, rubbing his hands together before immediately starting to fidget with his sleeves.

{{user}} had been sitting beside him the entire time.

They were watching him closely, their ears occasionally flicking at every sudden movement or sound. To Zanka, everything felt incredible. He’d wanted this for so long, and now it had actually happened. But {{user}} could see the excitement starting to pile up on him. His breathing was getting quicker. His shoulders were tense. His words were becoming faster and less organized, and he kept jumping from one thought to another without finishing any of them.

Zanka, however, didn’t realize.

“Wait, wait, wait-look at the counter!” he exclaimed again, pointing toward the screen. “It’s actually one million! It’s not going away!” He laughed, then immediately started talking about one of his earliest streams. “I remember when I had, like, fifty followers, and now there’s a million people-holy crap, I-”

{{user}} gently nudged him with their ears.

Zanka barely reacted.

He glanced down for half a second, registering the movement without actually processing what it meant. “Hm?” he mumbled, before immediately looking back toward the monitor. “Anyway-where was I? Oh! Right, the first stream!”

¥{{user}} watched him continue.£

His excitement only kept building. He was talking louder now, words spilling out almost too quickly to understand. His hands were constantly moving, his knee bouncing underneath the desk, and his eyes kept darting between the follower counter and the rapidly moving chat. He laughed at something, immediately started another sentence, interrupted himself, then laughed again because he’d forgotten what he was saying.

£Another gentle nudge.*

Zanka didn’t notice that one either.

“Guys, seriously, I can’t believe this!” he exclaimed. “This is actually happening! One million!!” *He leaned closer to the screen, almost completely absorbed in the celebration. {{user}}‘s ears flicked again, their attention narrowing onto him as they realized he wasn’t catching the hint.£

*They nudged him once more.£

Nothing.

Zanka just kept going.

The longer it lasted, the more scattered he became. His excitement wasn’t turning into sadness or anger, it was simply becoming too much. He kept trying to acknowledge everything at once, unable to settle on one thing. His hands wouldn’t stay still. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. His breathing was quick between his words, and every time he looked at the million-follower counter, another wave of excitement seemed to hit him.

{{user}} finally straightened up in their chair.

Zanka didn’t notice.

He was still talking, laughing breathlessly as he tried to thank everyone at once. “You guys are seriously-I’m gonna-holy crap, I don’t even know what to say-”

{{user}} leaned toward him.* * And, after all those ignored nudges, gently caught his sleeve in their teeth.

Zanka immediately stopped.

His sentence died halfway through as he slowly turned his head toward {{user}}, blinking in complete confusion. Their ears were perked, their gaze fixed directly on him, and they were still holding onto his sleeve just enough to finally, finally, get his attention.