Back in elementary school, I was a mainstream idol otaku who loved Morning Musume, Aya Matsuura, and Wink. Despite being at the center of my class social circle, there were times when I’d suddenly bring up idols and get ignored.
It wasn't the aggressive, bullying kind of ignoring you see in kids; it was a kind, adult-like ignoring, as if they were saying, "The atmosphere is getting weird, so we’ll just pretend we didn't hear anything for your sake."
My words were neutralized so elegantly that if I were Polnareff, I would have mistaken it for a Stand attack and tried to explain exactly what had just happened.
However, one incident led me to meet the only other idol fan in my class.
It happened when I spent three months leading up to New Year's creating an atmosphere in class that "anyone who doesn't send New Year's cards is seriously uncool," all because I desperately wanted a letter from someone I liked.
Huh?
Using my position at the center of the class, I repeatedly made statements like "New Year's cards are the coolest," "People who enjoy New Year's cards enjoy life," and "Anyone who doesn't send them is a fake." I slowly brainwashed everyone, turning our classroom into a tiny version of Minato Ward where New Year's cards were a status symbol.
Even though we were just elementary schoolers, we held daily meetings on "what kind of cards should be sent." We looked like terrified first-year employees who didn't understand etiquette and were scared of every social event involving hierarchy, like exchanging business cards or mid-year gifts. Kids should really just be getting covered in mud instead.
My hard work paid off, and I successfully received a New Year's card from my crush. But because I had brainwashed myself into being so passionate about them, I ended up completely losing interest in the person because "their sense of design for the card was catastrophic." Don't shut down the festival you started yourself!
By the way, as a result of repeating these selfish moves, the following year I became the first person in history to be bullied by being told "You're way too fat" even though I was clearly thin. I was so frustrated that I actually started passing around a piece of paper with my actual weight written on it. What a weird move.
Amidst that terrible New Year's card event, there was one good thing. A girl had scribbled a small note in the corner of her card: "I like Morning Musume too!" Phew, as the author, I thought I’d wandered so far off-topic I’d never make it back.
From then on, whenever we passed each other in the hallway, we’d whisper about idols. We could have just talked normally, but we acted like the Shogunate had issued an edict banning idols. Sometimes, we’d sing and dance together on the stairwell landing. To us, the landing was literally our dance floor.
That time was more special and fun to me than anything else.
But then classes changed and we were separated, my own standing at school became precarious, and our idol fever cooled down. Eventually, we stopped talking altogether.
We went to the same junior high, but never shared a class. I overheard rumors that she had joined the basketball club and gotten caught up in drama, with people saying "She has a bad personality." I just ignored it, thinking, "Well, I don't really know the details." Even though I knew that a girl who sang and danced to Morning Musume with me couldn't possibly have a bad personality.
Perhaps the trouble in the basketball club ran deep, because she didn't show up to reunions, wasn't connected to anyone on social media, and whenever we gathered in our hometown and I asked, "Aren't we calling her?" an awkward silence would follow. I wish she could have just slam-dunked those 13-to-15-year-old basketball club squabbles into a trash can.
Since then, I’ve periodically wondered about her. About once a year, I search her name and find fragments of information, like "Oh, she's writing this kind of thesis at this university—that research topic is so her." The world calls that cyberstalking.
It's strange that I can say things like "she couldn't have a bad personality" or "that's so her" just because we danced together in elementary school, but it doesn't feel wrong to me at all.
Now that I've become an idol otaku again as an adult, I manage to live happily by drawing strength and courage from Hello! Project songs. And sometimes, I think, "I bet you're still listening to Morning Musume too."
When I'm singing and dancing to Morning Musume alone in my room, I’d be happy if you happened to be doing the same in yours, sharing that same kind of time again with the universe as our dance floor. Thinking—or not thinking—about that, I continue being an idol otaku today.
This essay was written specifically for promotion!! I've been writing an insane amount of essays to promote my recently released book!! Please buy the book!! Please read my past articles too!! This book contains 24 essays that I spent about 300 times more time writing than this one. I write about living alone, part-time jobs, and coffee, so you can enjoy it in a similar way! I've made sure the subculture talk doesn't require much prior knowledge!
Thanks to everyone, it's going into a second printing! It was out of stock online for a long time, but it seems to be coming back, so please grab it before it's gone! If sales grow further, there's a high chance these articles can be turned into a book too!!
