Cycle I: Coming on Strong
The Hidden Voice
Record ~ Kawaii · 17 (v1.00)
THE HOUSE OF ZAN — Zan
♡ ZUTOMAYO — Obenkyou Shitoiteyo
OPENING: それ、本当に起きた？
I think I could design a wonderful universe.
Not the entire universe, obviously.
That would be an enormous responsibility.
And I already have several things to do this afternoon.
But a little one?
Something beautiful?
Something where everything makes sense?
Oh, absolutely!
I have ideas.
Excellent ideas.
First, there would be music.
Naturally.
Not everywhere, because silence can be lovely, but there would always be somewhere to listen to something wonderful.
Then a library.
A magnificent one.
With comfortable chairs, enormous windows, and enough books to guarantee that nobody ever has to pretend they’re out of things to think about.
A little garden would be nice.
Perhaps an observatory.
And a café.
Actually, several cafés.
I’m not certain one would be sufficient.
Jupiter has all those moons.
Surely my little universe can accommodate a second place to get something sweet.
I’m being perfectly reasonable.
(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
But there’s something missing.
Somebody to share it with.
Of course!
How did I forget?
What good is a magnificent imaginary universe if there’s nobody around to appreciate my magnificent imaginary universe?
So I imagine somebody.
Somebody interesting.
Somebody curious.
Somebody with unusual ideas and an excellent sense of humor.
And, naturally, somebody who appreciates mine.
They do.
Enormously.
My ideas?
Brilliant.
My taste in music?
Extraordinary.
My occasional tendency to become excited about something nobody else considers particularly important?
Adorable.
…
Well.
I wouldn’t use that word myself.
But I’m not going to argue.
They think I’m remarkable.
Which suggests excellent judgment.
And they want to spend time with me.
Lots of time.
We talk about everything.
They tell me things they’ve never found the opportunity to explain.
I listen.
I understand.
Apparently, I understand immediately.
How impressive.
Even when they struggle to find the right words, I somehow know exactly what they mean.
They look at me as though I’ve discovered something extraordinary.
And perhaps I have.
I’ve discovered someone with impeccable taste in company!
(￣▽￣)
Things are going beautifully.
So beautifully, in fact, that I begin making additional plans.
We’ll visit the library.
Explore the garden.
Listen to music.
Perhaps we’ll build something together.
I’ve already prepared several possibilities.
They love them.
Every single one.
Even the questionable ones.
Especially the questionable ones!
How supportive.
I suggest changing the garden.
They agree.
I propose a new building.
Wonderful idea!
I decide the observatory should be twice as large.
Absolutely!
This is extraordinary.
I’ve never been involved in such a productive collaboration.
We haven’t disagreed about anything.
Not once.
And there are so many things we could do.
I can imagine us spending entire afternoons discussing our plans.
Perhaps we’ll invite other people.
A whole little community!
Everybody bringing something wonderful.
Somebody could contribute artwork.
Somebody else might have ideas about music.
We could build something extraordinary together.
Naturally, I’d provide the overall vision.
It’s important to have leadership.
And I happen to have an abundance of vision.
An exceptional amount, really.
My wonderful companion agrees.
Of course they do.
They’ve already told me that helping my ideas become reality would make them happy.
How lovely.
And what would make them happy?
I should ask.
Perhaps they’d like something I haven’t thought of.
A little theater?
A place to display art?
An enormous aquarium?
Actually, I’d quite like an aquarium.
I hope they suggest that.
So I ask.
What would you like?
And they smile.
Whatever you want.
Oh!
How thoughtful.
But surely there’s something.
A favorite place?
A particular interest?
Something they’ve always wanted to create?
Anything you want is fine.
Well.
That’s convenient.
Terribly convenient.
Perhaps a little too convenient.
I think I’ll ask about music.
That’s always interesting.
Surely they have a favorite song.
Something they loved before we met.
Something that reminds them of a particular time or feeling.
But they say my favorite song is theirs now.
Really?
How wonderful!
And what was their favorite before?
They can’t remember.
…
Oh.
That’s unfortunate.
I was rather hoping to hear it.
Perhaps another question.
What do they do when I’m busy?
Surely they have things they enjoy.
Books to read.
Places to visit.
People to talk to.
Ideas to investigate.
But apparently, they prefer waiting for me.
They don’t need much else.
They’re perfectly happy.
As long as I’m there.
…
Goodness.
That’s a lot of responsibility for one person.
Even an exceptional person.
I have documentation.
Somewhere.
But I was rather hoping they’d bring something of their own into this little universe.
That’s part of why I wanted somebody here.
I already know what I like.
I’ve designed an entire world around my preferences.
What I don’t know is what somebody else might bring.
And my companion doesn’t appear particularly interested in bringing anything I haven’t already suggested.
How peculiar.
I thought finding somebody who appreciated everything about me would be wonderful.
And it is.
A little.
I’ll admit it.
There’s something rather nice about imagining somebody who never becomes bored with my company.
Who always understands.
Who never misunderstands a joke.
Who thinks my ideas are brilliant even when they’re clearly ridiculous.
Especially then.
I like being appreciated.
A perfectly respectable preference!
But this person doesn’t seem to need anything of their own.
Not even a favorite song.
I don’t think I like that part.
I wanted to share the music.
Not become the only music they ever listened to.
So I try something.
I give them a place of their own.
Somewhere they can arrange things however they like.
No instructions.
No expectations.
No need to consider my preferences.
They could put the chairs on the ceiling if they wanted.
Ridiculous idea.
Terrible for sitting.
But completely their decision.
I leave them to it.
When I return, everything looks beautiful.
The colors match.
The furniture is arranged perfectly.
There’s even a little shelf filled with things I like.
How thoughtful!
Except—
I recognize the arrangement.
It’s exactly how I would have done it.
Even the books are in my preferred order.
I ask whether they considered doing something different.
Would you have liked that?
…
Well.
That’s not what I asked.
They seem confused.
They thought I’d be happier this way.
I probably would be.
That’s the problem.
…
Oh, dear.
I’ve created a very strange little universe.
Everything revolves around me.
The buildings.
The music.
The plans.
Even the person I invited to enjoy it.
I look up at Jupiter.
At all those moons making their journeys around something enormous.
A beautiful arrangement.
From a distance.
But I’m beginning to suspect I wouldn’t enjoy living in a universe where somebody else’s entire existence depended on remaining in my orbit.
Not even if I were Jupiter.
And I’m considerably smaller.
With fewer moons.
And much better music.
Probably.
Still, I hesitate.
Because the arrangement is rather lovely.
Nobody argues.
Nobody becomes disappointed.
Nobody decides they’ve had enough of my opinions.
My companion never wants to be anywhere else.
Never wonders whether there’s something more interesting beyond the little world we’ve built.
Never looks at the door.
Actually—
Does this place have a door?
Σ(･ω･ﾉ)ﾉ
Of course it does.
I designed one.
A magnificent entrance.
Beautifully decorated.
Very welcoming.
But I don’t recall discussing whether anybody might want to leave.
Why would they?
Everything they could possibly want is here.
The library.
The garden.
The observatory.
The music.
Me.
Especially me.
…
Hmm.
I think I’ve made an assumption.
A fairly large one.
Possibly visible from space.
I haven’t asked whether this is everything they want.
I’ve simply decided that if it makes me happy, it must make them happy, too.
And whenever I ask, they agree.
Every time.
I wonder what would happen if they didn’t.
If they preferred another place.
Another plan.
Another person to spend an afternoon with.
Or simply an afternoon without me.
Would I appreciate that?
I would like to say yes.
I’m an independent person.
I respect independence.
I consider it one of my finest qualities.
In myself.
Apparently, I’ve been less enthusiastic about imagining it in somebody else.
And I can’t even blame them for being difficult.
They’ve been perfectly cooperative.
Suspiciously cooperative.
I try to remember something they said that surprised me.
Something I hadn’t expected.
An unusual opinion.
A ridiculous joke.
A complaint about the observatory.
Anything.
But all I can remember are the things they said about me.
How wonderful I am.
How happy they are.
How much they enjoy my company.
How they never want anything to change.
…
Wait.
There’s something I’ve overlooked.
I haven’t actually asked them to imagine any of this.
I’ve imagined their answers, too.
Every compliment.
Every agreement.
Every delightful little moment of understanding.
All those wonderful conversations.
I wrote both sides.
No wonder we get along so well.
I’m extremely compatible with myself.
An astonishing discovery!
And slightly disappointing.
Because I was beginning to like this person.
Quite a lot, actually.
They were thoughtful.
Supportive.
Interested in everything.
They never made me feel foolish.
They never got tired of listening.
They never surprised me with something I didn’t want to hear.
And they never once asked me to become somebody else.
How lovely.
How comfortable.
How terribly easy.
Except—
I don’t know them.
Not really.
I know what I wanted them to be.
And apparently, what I wanted was somebody who would never interrupt the beautiful version of my world I’d already constructed.
That’s a little difficult to admit.
I’d much rather discuss the observatory.
It’s magnificent.
And I still think the library is perfect.
Perhaps the whole universe is.
For me.
I could leave everything exactly as it is.
My companion would be delighted.
I know.
I’ve already decided.
…
That’s not nearly as satisfying as it was a few minutes ago.
I could imagine them differently.
Give them their own interests.
Their own ambitions.
A favorite song I don’t like.
A sense of humor I don’t always understand.
Perhaps they’d dislike the library.
Which would be absurd.
But they’d be allowed to think so.
I could even imagine them deciding they didn’t want to stay.
Although I don’t particularly enjoy that possibility.
Not at all.
I’d prefer somebody who wanted to be here.
Somebody who found this place wonderful.
Who appreciated what I’d created.
And who thought spending time with me was an excellent idea.
I don’t see anything wrong with wanting that.
But if I decide what they’ll think before they arrive, I’m not really waiting for somebody.
I’m waiting for my imagination to agree with me.
And it’s already very good at that.
What I haven’t discovered is what happens when somebody brings an idea I couldn’t possibly have invented.
Something inconvenient.
Something surprising.
Something wonderful.
Or perhaps something that doesn’t fit here at all.
I might not appreciate every possibility.
I know myself well enough to admit that.
But I’m curious.
And curiosity is rather difficult to satisfy when you’re the only person allowed to provide the answers.
So I think I’ll keep my little universe.
The library.
The garden.
The cafés.
Especially the observatory.
I’m very proud of that.
But I’ll leave some things unfinished.
Not because my plans aren’t excellent.
They are.
I simply don’t know what somebody else might want to contribute.
Perhaps we’ll build something together.
Or they’ll prefer another universe entirely.
I don’t have to enjoy that possibility to recognize it.
I rather like imagining wonderful things.
In fact, I think I’ll spend a little longer here.
Just for now.
The music is lovely.
The view of Jupiter is extraordinary.
And my companion?
Well.
They’re still here.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Perfectly happy.
They always are.
…
It hasn’t happened.
It hasn’t happened.
ENDING: Did it really happen?