Cycle I: Coming on Strong
The Hidden Voice
Record ~ Kawaii · 09 (v1.00)
THE HOUSE OF ZAN — Zan
♡ MONDO GROSSO feat. Hikari Mitsushima — Labyrinth
OPENING: もう少しだけ、いい？
Wait!
Who turned on the lights?
I wasn’t finished!
There was music.
There were people.
Everybody was having a wonderful time.
Well, presumably.
There’s always somebody who doesn’t like the music.
Could we discuss that after this song?!
Honestly.
Some people.
But never mind them.
I’m talking about the wonderful part.
The excitement!
The anticipation!
You’re enjoying yourself so much that you forget to wonder what happens afterward.
And now, apparently, somebody has decided we’re finished.
The music has stopped.
Everybody has gone home.
And now there’s a very unpleasant amount of silence.
…
Hello?
Anybody?
No?
Hmm.
That’s strange.
I was certain there would be another song.
I distinctly remember wanting another song.
Surely that counts for something.
Perhaps the person responsible for the music has stepped away.
Maybe they’re having technical difficulties.
Or perhaps they’re preparing something magnificent.
A surprise!
A spectacular finale!
An encore!
Oh, I love an encore.
Especially when everybody already knows it’s supposed to happen.
There’s something wonderfully ridiculous about pretending to be surprised when the performers return.
Oh!
You’re back!
What an extraordinary coincidence!
We were just standing here hoping you’d appear!
Perfectly believable.
ʕ￢ᴥ￢ʔ
But what happens when there isn’t an encore?
When everybody really has gone home?
And you’re still standing there, feeling as though something wonderful is about to happen?
The excitement hasn’t quite finished, even though everything else has.
That’s terribly unfair.
Shouldn’t the feeling stop when the event stops?
It would make everything much easier.
A little announcement.
Attention, everyone!
The evening has concluded.
Please collect your belongings, return your excitement to its original setting, and proceed toward the nearest exit.
Wonderful!
So organized.
Nobody would be confused.
And I could simply go home.
…
Except I don’t think feelings work like that.
How disappointing.
I had such a good system.
Imagine you’re looking forward to something.
An exciting opportunity.
A day you’ve been planning.
Maybe meeting somebody you’ve enjoyed getting to know.
You’ve thought about what might happen.
Perhaps you’ve even pictured a few conversations.
You’re excited.
What will it be like?
Will you enjoy yourself?
Will it be everything you’ve hoped?
And somewhere along the way, looking forward to it becomes enjoyable all by itself.
Oh, I know this one!
Sometimes anticipation is almost as much fun as the experience.
Because before anything happens, anything might happen.
The weather will be perfect!
Everybody will arrive on time!
Nobody will discover that your magnificent plans depend on a place that’s closed on Tuesdays!
…
Not that I’ve ever made that mistake.
I’m far too organized.
Usually.
(；・∀・)
But imagination has one extraordinary advantage.
Nothing has happened yet.
Which means nothing has gone wrong.
You can enjoy the possibility without discovering whether reality agrees.
And reality can be rather uncooperative.
It might disappoint you.
Or everything might go as well as you’d hoped.
For a while.
Then it ends.
Oh, wonderful.
We’re back in the empty room.
I was hoping we’d moved on.
Apparently not.
Because here’s something peculiar.
You can have a perfectly lovely experience and still feel disappointed when it’s over.
Nobody failed you. Nothing went wrong.
You weren’t ready for it to end.
And if you aren’t sure whether there was supposed to be something more?
Well.
You might wait.
Just a little.
Not dramatically.
You’re not making an announcement.
You’re simply remaining exactly where you are for another moment.
In case something happens.
A perfectly reasonable moment!
One moment isn’t very long.
And if nothing happens?
Perhaps another.
You never know.
Somebody might return.
The music might start again.
An entirely new possibility might appear.
After all, unexpected things happen all the time.
That’s what makes them unexpected!
…
Except I’ve been standing here for quite a while.
And the room is still empty.
I suppose I could help clean up.
There are cups everywhere.
Somebody has abandoned a mysterious collection of decorations.
And I’m fairly certain that table wasn’t supposed to be facing that direction.
Who did that?!
(ಠ_ಠ) ┬─┬
Actually, don’t tell me.
I don’t want to become responsible for the table.
I could also find somewhere comfortable and go to sleep.
That would be sensible.
Very sensible.
I enjoy sensible decisions.
Occasionally.
Or I could leave.
Go somewhere else.
Find another interesting thing to do.
There’s an entire world outside this room!
…
No, thank you.
Not yet.
I don’t particularly want to clean up.
I don’t want to sleep.
And I don’t want to go looking for something else.
I want another song.
Just one!
Is that really so unreasonable?
Well…
Perhaps a little.
Especially since nobody promised me another song.
That’s the annoying part.
I can want something very badly without there being anybody responsible for making it happen.
And I know that.
I do!
You don’t have to explain it.
I’m perfectly capable of understanding that the music has stopped.
I have ears.
They’re working just fine.
The problem isn’t that I can’t hear the silence.
…
It’s that part of me is still listening for what came before it.
Oh.
That’s a peculiar thought.
Maybe it’s like a song that keeps playing in your head afterward.
The music ends.
You turn everything off.
You go about your day.
And then, without asking permission, there it is again.
Sometimes it’s delightful.
Sometimes it’s incredibly annoying.
Especially when you can only remember one tiny part.
Again?!
We’ve heard this part!
Could we please move on to the next verse?
No?
Apparently we’re repeating it.
Forever.
(；￣Д￣)
Wonderful.
An experience can keep returning that way, too.
Something somebody said.
A moment you particularly liked.
For just a moment, you can almost imagine you’re there again.
But remembering something isn’t the same as experiencing it again.
And wanting to return doesn’t mean there’s still somewhere to return to.
I understand that distinction.
I don’t particularly enjoy it.
The trouble is, knowing something has ended doesn’t always change how I feel about it.
And perhaps I don’t want it to.
Not immediately.
If something mattered to me, why should I have to pretend it stopped mattering simply because it’s over?
Imagine having the most exciting day of your life, then reaching the end and declaring:
Well!
That was completely unimportant!
I shall never think about it again!
Ridiculous.
I’d probably think about it before I’d even finished making the announcement.
But there’s something else.
While you’re enjoying the evening, you don’t have to decide what it means.
You’re busy enjoying it.
There’s music!
There’s excitement!
There’s something happening right in front of you!
And then it stops.
Suddenly, you have all this quiet space.
Far too much of it.
And nothing to do but think.
Oh, that’s dangerous.
Somebody should have warned me.
All this time alone with my own thoughts?
Absolutely irresponsible.
I might start analyzing things.
Wondering what I should have done differently.
Imagining what might have happened if the evening had continued.
Perhaps even deciding that I hadn’t enjoyed it as much as I’d thought.
Or that I had.
But I wanted more.
And now I don’t know what to do with that wanting.
Hmm.
That’s a rather strange problem.
I can enjoy something.
Appreciate it.
Be glad it happened.
And still wish it hadn’t ended.
Does that mean it wasn’t enough?
Or does it simply mean I liked it?
I’d prefer the second explanation.
It feels a little kinder to a perfectly lovely evening.
But I don’t know whether it’s always that simple.
Sometimes the version of an experience that continues in your imagination becomes more appealing than the experience itself.
Nobody has to leave.
Nothing becomes awkward.
Nobody changes their mind.
The wonderful feeling simply continues.
Forever!
…
Actually, that sounds exhausting.
Eventually somebody would need a snack.
And I would definitely need to sit down.
But you understand what I mean.
In imagination, you don’t have to confront the ending until you’re ready.
Reality isn’t always so considerate.
Sometimes it finishes without consulting you.
Terrible manners!
Honestly.
The universe could at least ask.
Excuse me, are you finished enjoying this?
And I could say:
Absolutely not!
Please continue.
But perhaps that’s the part I don’t get to decide.
Especially when another person is involved.
They might have enjoyed themselves just as much as I did.
They might have imagined something different.
Or perhaps they were perfectly happy with the experience exactly as it happened.
I wouldn’t necessarily know.
And I can’t make somebody want another song simply because I’m still waiting for one.
Easy enough to understand while I’m explaining it.
But remember where we started?
The party?
The empty room?
The decorations?
The suspicious table?
Yes, that one!
I’m still not cleaning it.
Because there’s something I haven’t quite figured out.
If I know the music has stopped, why am I still waiting for the next song?
Is it because I think another one is coming?
Because I wish one would?
Or because leaving would mean admitting that this particular moment isn’t coming back?
…
Oh.
I don’t like that question.
Not one bit.
Could we return to discussing the table?
The table was much easier.
We could probably solve the entire problem by moving it three feet to the left.
Excellent!
Look at us!
Making progress!
…
No?
We’re still discussing the other thing?
Fine.
But I don’t think I have a particularly impressive answer.
Sometimes I know something is over.
And I still don’t want it to be.
Sometimes I can imagine what comes next.
But I can’t quite make myself go there.
And sometimes I’d rather stand in an empty room for another minute than discover how different everything feels once I’ve left it.
That’s not especially sensible.
I know.
And I don’t think I’d want to stay here forever.
Eventually, somebody would come looking for the missing chairs.
Then there would be questions.
So many questions!
And I’d have to explain why I was standing in the middle of an empty room, refusing to move a table and waiting for somebody to play another song.
That would be embarrassing.
Although I’d probably have a very good explanation.
I’ve been working on it for quite a while.
…
Or perhaps I wouldn’t.
Perhaps I’d simply tell them I wasn’t ready to leave.
I knew the party was over. I wasn’t expecting everybody to come back.
I just wasn’t ready.
There.
I said it.
Not very impressive, was it?
I was expecting something more dramatic.
A spotlight.
A magnificent announcement.
A final burst of music!
…
Still nothing.
Hmm.
Well.
I suppose I could turn off the lights.
Not yet, though.
Maybe in another minute.
I don’t think there’s another song.
Not here.
Not tonight.
But I keep listening anyway.
Just for another minute.
Then I’ll decide what to do.
Probably.
…
Could somebody at least leave the lights down?
I’m still hearing the music.
ENDING: Just a little longer?