My Idol

Negative thoughts do not let go easily. They swallow every feeling and every memory, and they feed on what they take. Let the mind sink all the way into that swamp, and that is the end of it: a helplessness no words can name comes rising, and the head offers nothing but the worst possibilities, turning them over and over.

So once a negative thought has begun, you ought to shake it off as quickly as you can. That is never a simple thing. Most of the time you need some spark to manage it, and I knew that all too well.

Could this be the spark? I couldn't tell.

What was eating into me now was loathing turned on myself. Each time I recalled Natchan's words, each time I looked at her messages, it only grew. Was it really all right for the person I was now to speak with her at all?

"Hhh. Haaah…."

My breath came short. Sentences blaming me, tearing me apart, played on without end inside my head. Why? What had I done that was so wrong? And the useless fear would not leave — that someone nearby might recognize me and try to do me harm.

Right. A useless fear. There isn't even a past life of mine that anyone could uncover. Nothing about me is ever going to come to light. It's a worry I don't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠need to spare a thought for. I know that. I know, and still….

I'm afraid of the stares I feel in the classroom. When people talk, I worry they're speaking ill of me.

"So anyway. Today…."

"Oh, right. Tomorrow, that cafe, for the first time in ages…."

A glance around brought the uniforms of my school into view. I didn't know the name of a single person wearing them, and still the panic found me without effort.

"I-I don't want this…."

I covered my ears out of habit and shut my eyes, and all that remained was the rattling sway of the subway.

"Hnnn…."

Why did I turn out like this in this life? I truly don't know.

I had been waiting since a month ago, counting down on the calendar. But now I was a little afraid. If I watched Natchan shine in a way so utterly unlike me, I felt I would fall into despair.

M-chan's judgment was exactly right. The others in my generation had already started singing and dance lessons. I, on the excuse that I was still a student, had only toured the studio and stopped there. But that was an excuse and nothing more. M-chan had probably noticed — noticed that I hate going outside, hate meeting people, and I'm dodging lessons because of it. She would have had to notice. If lessons don't begin until the 3D model is finished, it will already be far too late. If I had truly wanted them, being a student would never have stood in the way.

"Hhk…."

Disgusting. I am so disgusting. There must have been so many people who seriously wanted to take on this VTuber industry. People like that would have taken the singing and dance lessons with a smile, however hard they were. I hate that someone as worthless as me stole their place.

"Hk— hnnngh…."

I had thought, in my own way, that I was immune to hate like this, and to Calamities. Negative thinking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is my default, so a certain amount of malice I could endure easily enough. I had already been through plenty of Calamities. I thought I could laugh and call them nothing.

All of that was my own delusion. The Calamities I had faced until now, if I am honest, had almost never gone in a truly ugly direction. They were the sort of thing everyone could laugh off. Even if real malice had slipped in among them, its number and its size were minute.

The Calamity now is different. Agitation soaked in malice has already swollen it to a tremendous size, and of course the malice bound up inside it has grown just as vast.

"No."

I never sighed. Just getting to play with Ku-chan, whom I had loved since before I debuted, was happiness enough.

"I know."

But it won't go away. I hate myself like this too.

"…I guess so?"

To this company called Stars Flow, to my peers, to my seniors, to Natchan — all I do is get in the way, don't I? I hate it. I'm ashamed. I'm disgusting. I hate me.

The tears come pouring. They pour without end, as if to say that the promise I made Miss Koga is one I can no longer keep.

And that is why.

I don't think I can grant that request, Senior Natsune.

"Ah, yes…."

Lately, every time we talk, Miss Koga worries about me. No one knows better than I do that I am in a bad way, and I have been hiding it as hard as I can. Does it show that badly?

"Ah, th-that's… I've been w-working really hard lately, so maybe I came down with something, and I don't feel w-well."

I'm sorry, Miss Koga. I couldn't keep the promise I made you. Lately, every time I lie down in bed, I cry. Because I hate myself. Because I can't stand me.

"Ah, I— um! I think I have to, have to hang up, Miss Koga. I-I'm sorry…."

I cut the call short and stared up at the ceiling.

"She noticed. Of course she did…."

Miss Koga is frighteningly quick to catch on. That an ugly Calamity about me broke out after the collab with Senior Kurokami. That I have been ego-surfing and reading every one of those posts. She probably knows all of it.

If she also learns that I broke our promise, she will surely come to hate me. So however quickly she sees the state I am in, I could not ask her for help.

"Hhk…."

I hate it too, a Calamity starting because of me. As if I could have any confidence. I always feel like I'm walking on thin ice.

"M-Mom, S-Sis…. Hhk, I miss you…."

I'm mad at Mom, who can't come home until next week. I'm mad at my sister, living on her own. I don't want to be alone.

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chime.

Every time, after I cry, the shame comes on in a great wave. However deep I sink into negative thoughts, that never changes.

"Haa…."

Am I really forty years old in my head? The thought came with the sigh as I read the DMs Natchan had sent.

Honestly, I had decided not to watch this one. Shameful talk for a long-standing Eighth Star, but I didn't think the person I am now could feel happy even watching Natchan's first anniversary.

I watch her streams because the watching itself is a joy, and because it gives me strength. If I watched her anniversary stream and still could not be happy, I was afraid that before long even my affection would cool. Better, I had decided, to wait until I felt better and watch the archive then.

But if Natchan goes so far as to say this….

"Like I could ever refuse…."

Is this the right thing? I don't know. Even so, if I have a wish, it's that I will be able to enjoy Natchan's first-anniversary stream.

A chime.

That was the title of Natchan's first-anniversary stream.

The waiting screen held an illustration slipped inside an album: Natchan mid-performance, smiling bright and holding out her hand as if to say take it, and beside her another Natchan in workout clothes, throwing herself into dance practice. In the lower right, written large: 1st Anniversary.

One year. Thinking back to the day Natchan first went live, it still didn't feel real.

The chat was packed with Eighth Stars waiting for the broadcast to begin, and the number waiting live was already close to ten thousand.

The peak concurrent viewers for my collab with Senior Kurokami had been six thousand, I was sure of it….

As expected of the very person they said had brought a new golden age to the VTuber industry. My proud oshi. Natchan.

"…Haah."

Before I knew it, the clock on the computer read 7:59 p.m. I was nervous even though the stream was not mine. What, exactly, was the reason? Was I fluttering at the thought that I got to watch Natchan's first-anniversary broadcast? Or if it wasn't that….

With that thought, a minute like an eternity passed, and the alarm announced eight. In the same instant the illustration turned like a page in a book, and a video began to play.

What it showed was the path Natchan had walked for a year. It began with her debut stream, then game streams, her 3D debut, chatting streams, her birthday stream, and more. The kind of direction that any Eighth Star would have no choice but to be moved by.

At the last, a scene from yesterday's anniversary waiting stream — the most recent of them all — and the album closed.

That was the album's title.

Then the screen drowned in black. A moment later it brightened, and there—

Against a gorgeous, wide stage, Natchan ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stood smiling radiantly, her right index finger thrust high into the sky.

The stage of my idol, Natsune Nanase, had begun.