Is There Life After Idol?

"True beauty is something that attacks, overpowers, robs, and finally destroys."

- Yukio Mishima

Finding a mysterious idol game, one man glimpses heaven... and is then cast back down to earth. Incorporating themes of weltschmerz and saudade, this tragedy asks the question: Can anyone hope to recover from love? By Nabocchan. Lyrics translated by Honya.

Part I: Baby maybe Koi no BUTTON

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The alarm clock rings. Another day. Another sunrise, another empty promise, another agonizing cycle of seventeen-thousand breaths – no, not agonizing.

Even that would be an emotion. Even that would be better than this.

I turn to the clock. It is ticking, far too slowly, as seconds fall off my life. Each click sounds another moment between me and the self I've always wanted to become, widening an eternal gulf. But, of course it does. Humans begin dying the moment they're born; it was naïve of me to think dreams would be any different.

Next to it, in a shattered frame, a single worn photograph.

So, tell me, Hanayo. How am I supposed to go on living when there's nothing left to live for?

Of course, I already know the answer to that. That was the price I paid for my ambition; in embracing that single glorious dream, I had to have known that my recompense would be this purgatory – the greatest curse, to live beyond success.

It was only three months ago. It feels like an eternity now; those days are separated by the void we call “finality”, forever shining on the other side of the cosmos. I was still a legitimate human being then. I can see the transformation in my mind's eye: the weight dropping off, the stubble taking root, the gauntness of body and soul beginning to manifest. Under the steady pressure of Time, the corpse rots; the glowing life is forever snuffed out, and Hope sluices from the frail frame as it decays.

Do not pity this cadaver. It is already dead, without soul or humanity. It has been dead since it chose to strive for ecstasy. Perhaps that emotion was itself fatal, overloading a system adapted only to a monochrome series of days.

No. Ecstasy wasn't fatal; it was addictive. Within that moment of contact, it had cruelly intertwined with my essence, become necessary for survival.

And then, it had left.

When I had discovered the game, it seemed like a divine windfall. Free of charge. Free of judgment. Just a fun little diversion, a swirling menagerie of tiny delights. I quickly became hooked, and as I spent more and more time with my idols, I had less and less to dedicate to my job, my family, or myself. My wife grew envious. I could see the darkness overtake her, as she began to resent my new happiness. She was “concerned”, and she made it her mission to destroy every bastion of solace I could find. She wanted to go to bed when I was playing; she wanted to talk about my work when I was playing; she wanted me to feed the kids while I was playing.

One day, I simply abandoned everything. I blocked every number I could think of, stepped out into the rain, and called a taxi. I traded my once-comfortable home for a tiny apartment. No matter; the home had become a cage. Full of distractions from the only thing I cared about anymore: My idols.

I began to sell off my possessions. I felt no attachment to the material world anymore. My suit could buy me around 100 Loveca gems, my watch 200. When I had sold everything I owned, I returned home for the first and only time. Someone had changed the lock, but I could make out the silhouettes of my wife and kids gathered around a television set. I left.

Then, the unthinkable happened. I achieved a high enough rank to unlock new content instantly, and had collected and idolized every girl. Certainly, I could have waited for each update, exhausting each new content as soon as it arrived – with my near-unlimited supply of Loveca, I could play forever. But... I couldn't bear the wait. I couldn't bear returning to my normal life. Watching the anime and consuming all possible content sustained me for one sleepless week. But then that was over too, and it seemed I would have to confront reality.

I couldn't do it. I secured a prescription for sleeping pills, hardly a difficult task given my exhausted state but the only time I had left my apartment in months.

As I sat in bed, gazing up at the constellation of characters I had pinned to my ceiling, I had one last thought of comfort: people used to think that when you died, you became part of the stars. Perhaps...

As I shivered, the container of bright, sugar-coated capsules rattled in my hand. Candy for adults.

Rebirth. That was another ancient belief. The glorious hope that when you faded away, you would remanifest in some other form – thus life was not something to be wasted and discarded, but a constant presence. If I were reborn, I knew I would want to become an idol. But even in reincarnation, would that be possible for a soul like mine?

My lips parted slowly as I gathered my will for the final act.

Honoka, Kotori, Umi, Rin, Maki, Nico, Eli, Nozomi... Hanayo... Here I come.

I tipped back the container.

Part II: Bokura no LIVE Kimi to no LIFE

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I awoke groggy and drenched in sweat, as if from a bad dream. The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air, clearing my hazy mind.

Behind me, I could just make out an imperious tablet attached to the red wall.

“Otonokizaka High School”... Could it be?

I looked down at my hands. I didn't look any different. Maybe a bit healthier than I remembered, better-rested, but still undeniably me. What was going on?

“Heyyyyyyyyyyy!”, a voice called from across the courtyard. That voice...

Nozomi Tojo was standing before me. Shocked, I tried to think of something to say.

“You're my least favorite girl,” I tried. Shit, bad choice.

She either didn't hear me, or pretended not to.

“Nabocchan, we've been waiting for you!”, she sang. Nabocchan was the username I had chosen. “Are you ready to manage us and direct live performances?”

I felt like I was receiving far too much information, far too quickly. But it didn't matter. I had trained for this more than anyone else. I had been born to do this. I nodded.

The next few weeks flew by like a dream. I scouted, formed a group, and carried out a few minor performances. The bond between me and the others grew; I had become part of their world, just as they had become part of mine. Looking back, those were the only days of my life where I was truly happy.

All too soon, the big show had come upon us. We were asked to play in front of the whole school, during lunch – this would be the performance that made or broke us. Truly, an Expert Mode- worthy gauntlet. Our setlist covered the three aspects of idoldom: Pure, Smile and Cool – more specifically, we would start with Mogyutto "love" de Sekkinchuu!, continue with Aishiteru Banzai!, and end with Wonderful Rush. The required LP alone would make this show require a veteran idolmaster. It would require... Me, Nabocchan, the rising star of the idol world!

The performances demanded such attention that I hardly remember doing them. The set passed by as a flurry of circles, a neverending string of commands... But I rose to the task, and by God, my girls didn't miss a beat.

What I do remember is the celebration afterward. We had made it. We were a recognized idol group now, and Otonokizaka High had been saved – and it was all thanks to me.

As I was hoisted up by my legion of beautiful girls, the sun shone down upon my face, and I finally understood – this was the meaning of life. To give it your all, and achieve your dreams. Just like these idols had been singing about all along.

I smiled, raised high above the crowd. The wonderful afternoon was so warm and comfortable, and I had worked so hard on the performance, that I dozed off right there.

Part III: Snow Halation

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Painful consciousness invaded my mind, a familiar feeling now. My head felt like it had been split in two, and my stomach was in agony. Something smelled awful.

I opened my eyes to find that my face was caked in vomit, my pillow stained with dried bile. Small capsules littered the floor, and half-digested ramen was spread across my sheets.

I rose slowly and gingerly tiptoed to my phone. I had to use up my LP for today, in order to regenerate them as soon as possible.

LoveLive booted up as it always did, and Hanayo appeared.

“White rice is so amazing,” she cried. “I wonder how it gets so white...”

The same greeting as always. Had nothing changed?

I called her name, but she didn't respond. We were apart again, flung across the banks of the Milky Way. The thin glass screen was an impermeable barrier, separating me from happiness for all of eternity. I broke down there, swiping my framed photograph of Hanayo off my end table. As I wept, I slammed my phone again and again into the ground, making choking noises, as if to release the hope trapped at the bottom of Pandora's Box.

When I stood back up, I saw that my screen was broken, and my idols were gone. Outside, the first snows were drifting gingerly down. My legs buckled, and I embraced sweet oblivion.

Idol. A figure of devotion, representing divinity. A receptacle for emotion, yet one incapable of reciprocating it. How could I have been so foolish...

I tried to call up my wife, to explain my mystical calling. To explain the only time in my life where I had been worth anything. She hung up.

No one would believe me. None of them could stomach the truth that even someone like me could be something at one shining moment, that even I could touch my dreams momentarily. It was of no consequence. As winter faded and the snow melted, it was time for me to leave behind my empty shell.

It was Christmas Eve when I stepped out into the world for the first time in what seemed like eternity, and the last time for all of eternity. As if bearing a sacred ark, I held the Best Live! Collection disc. The streets were decorated for the new year, aglow with lights and awash with festive cheer. The snow shimmered in the winter sun as I stepped upon its virgin surface, defiling the white perfection.

Without really knowing where I was going, I found that I had traveled to my old home. Did I want to see my kids? My wife? Or was it simply muscle memory?

Regardless, fate would not be so kind. Other people had taken up residence there, a young couple. I wondered what I must look like to them, with only a moe T-shirt and boxers to stand against the biting winter air. They hung at the window for a moment, promising human contact, then they too faded away, the curtains sweeping shut. I had yet again been denied the warmth of companionship.

I kept walking, until I found myself in a park. The streets were empty, and the grass buried by heavy snowdrift – it was like the surface of the moon. I looked at my CD one final time, then snapped it in half. The plastic's edge was razor-sharp, and as I touched my hand to it, a sudden warmth burned against the chill.

The warmth comforted me. I saw a thin stream of crimson trickling from my fingertip, quickly losing its heat.

I held the CD against my neck, its curvature gently cradling my delicate flesh, and pulled in a single, fluid motion.

Like a child, I tumbled into the fresh snow. It blushed at my presence, a deep red. I felt absolutely relaxed. The clear sky was truly beautiful.

Laughter welled up deep inside me. I was going to return to my idols, where I belonged. Though I couldn't form the words anymore, I mouthed them, singing along to a few choice lines:

...Before I knew it, my “True emotion” had grown so large.

...It’s painful only seeing it as a dream!

...Shall I name this heartrending pain “Snow halation?”

...It’s vexing but it’s a pure-hearted devotion called love.