The End Is Just The Beginning

"I watched all my dreams burn out. Then I hit rock bottom and the bottom dropped out. Broken down and broke. All those words we never spoke. Working two jobs every weekend. My legs gave out but I never gave in. Sunsets turned to flames that turned to fear. The hopes almost faded out but they never faded away. I never found peace but I found a way. In the end, nothing remained except for me, and I'm still here.”

- Sayane The Songstress

Crowds shook the bleacher seats and stage barriers. Thousands of fans screamed out her name with rapturous worship. Mouths moved in unison with hers as hordes of adoring followers sang along with every word. Every motion of hers was calculated, efficient, polished, and delightful. Harmony flowed between her and her bandmates as the six of them performed with perfected artistry. She was an idol, and this was her stage.

Not far away, Sayane was humming along to the song as she did her own makeup. The performance in question was part of a major festival lineup that Sayane’s group was also a part of, but to Sayane’s quiet defeat, she knew those crowds would not migrate to the nearby stage where her band, BrightStar would be performing.

Sayane was an idol just like the girls on the large stage nearby, but the universe had decided she would never know the sort of success that groups like that one knew. Even though Sayane and her bandmates trained for years to reach their goal of mega stardom, their band never resonated with audiences. BrightStar had spent seven years touring Japan trying to cultivate fans, but in the sea of competition, their success was only ever moderate at best.

The path to idol superstardom was one of media and audience preference, budgets, production value, relationship management, artistic quality, physical effectiveness, and pure luck. For every part of the equation that Sayane, BrightStar, or her label, there was always another piece that was missing.

Years of vocal training led Sayane to be the lead vocalist of the nine member group, but then she tore her meniscus in her left knee when she was twenty-four. BrightStar was finally gaining traction with radio organizations, then their producer gets exposed as a groper. They finally get asked to participate in a multi-country tour circuit, and a global pandemic shuts the world down. Mishap after mishap piled up and whittled away at her resolve.

Thus, as Sayane sat there humming to herself and feeling her vocals warming, it was with the understanding that the small side stage that awaited them would only be visited by a few stray fans and casually engaged festival attendees. It was what she’d come to expect at this point in her career.

As she slid her discreet knee brace over her leg, a melancholy acceptance tried to wash over her. This was what her career would likely amount to, and it was up to her to be okay with that. Even her knee, though it was limited in its motion, was still hers, and she had spent years trying to accept it for what it was.

No matter what physical therapy she did, the injury stayed with her through all of her days. Choreography became harder. The lingering pain made it more challenging to control her breathing, leading to unstable vocals.

Still, she pressed on, ever strong and ever dedicated to her craft and the dream that maybe one day, somehow, she’d find the success she wanted and finally feel something resembling personal pride and acceptance.

In truth, as much as she hadn’t wanted it, the seeds of disappointment had been planted in Sayane’s mind after years of struggle.

Money was always tight. She barely scraped by every month, even with two roommates. In a youthful mistake she had come to regret every day, she had dropped out of school to pursue her idol dreams, so she only read at a middle school level.

In an economy that was already strained, there were not many opportunities beyond service work and hostess cafes for someone pretty and entertaining, but undereducated and underskilled.

She didn’t know spreadsheets and presentations. She was never good at math or grammar. She did not know a technical trade. But she could play every instrument she picked up. She could sing in harmony with almost anyone. She could dance flirty, sensual, and fun. She could lead an audience like a general or joy. She knew music. 

Music was her only skill. Music was her only option.

But even that was betraying her and leading her to failure and pain.

More importantly, the failure of BrightStar also meant failure for her bandmates who had sacrificed so much themselves. Sayane felt it was the responsibility of the group leader to protect and support the band, but she couldn’t stop reality from dealing them losing hands.

None of them were allowed creative freedom. Every request for input on lyrics and choreography was denied. Every submission for new song material was thrown out without the slightest consideration.

Then the revenue cuts came. Her label guild of song mages and distributors had decided that it was time to prioritize newer, more exciting acts, and thus decided to relegate Sayane and BrightStar to small, regional tours. Beyond Tokyo’s simple realm, BrightStar was only set to venture to nearby metropolises such as Sendai, Yokohama, and Nagoya.

Indeed, Nagoya is where our story truly begins. Nagoya is where Sayane died.

Years of slashed budgets, reductions in safety trainings, a lack of dedicated workers interested in the disciplined art of stage scaffolding, and record heatwaves all conspired to bring about this day of great tragedy.

The ruthless July sun hung high in the humid sky that day. Sweltering heat and a dampness that penetrated the soul had made crowd turnout even more muted than already feared. Sayane and her bandmates peaked out from their changing room and saw an audience of maybe fifty middle-aged men.

Truly, their audience was mostly older men at this point. Sayane didn’t judge them or dislike them, it was just a funny realization she had once made that the vast majority of their fans seemed as though they could be her father.

“At least they're into us twenty-somethings, and not, you know… lolis…” Sayane had sighed as she looked at the thinning hair of their ever-thinning crowds.

When it was time for BrightStar to take the stage, it was over one hundred degrees. The few dozen fans that remained all waved their fandom fans as the technicians queued up the light show and audio loops. Microphones were activated, lasers were tweened, mixing decks were dialed. Sayane approached the label attendant that was standing in the shade with a handheld fan.

“Sir, the girls. It’s very hot. And our outfits are very thick. Do we really have to perform the entire set without an intermission?” she asked in honest concern.

He sighed a familiar, indignant exhale.

“You dumb brat, do what we say and get this over with,” he snarled.

Sayane knew it was unavoidable. With that, BrightStar took the stage.

“Good afternoon everyone!” Sayane cheered in an overly positive, squeaky voice that perfectly masked the brooding melancholy that had taken root in her spirit.

“Thank you all so much for coming out to see us,” she said with a bow as she subtly signaled to her technician to adjust her audio feedback.

Digitally cute songs began. Sayane’s verse was first. As the bandmates twirled and bounced on the balls of their feet, she moved to the center of the stage.

“Woke up with the sun in my hair, Clouds are dancing, I don’t have a care. Lace up dreams on my feet, let’s go— Every little step is a glittery glow!”

As she sang, her controlled smile stayed in place through every word. Each line was delivered with a believable joy and charisma that would convince almost any viewer that Sayane was happy. The chorus began and all the girls sang in unison.

“It’s a bright new day, come and shine with me! Hearts wide open, wild and free! We’ll paint the sky with sugar and light, Hold my hand and we’ll take flight! La la love, let’s sing and play— Ooh-ooh! It’s a bright new day!”

Heavy, rigid costumes were exhaustingly restrictive, and the choreography was physically draining. By the fifth song, Sayane and her bandmates were drenched in sweat and nearly fainting from heat stroke. Indeed, they were not the only ones.

Even the stage hands seemed to nearly be passing out.

The crowd had also thinned out to less than twenty people now. In between songs, Sayane closed her eyes and poured water onto her neck as she reflected on the upcoming rent that would be due tomorrow, and the cheapest grocery orders she could handle in the midst of rice shortages and inflation.

As Sayane stood there lamenting between how to best hide her gasps and how to stagger her upcoming expenses, with weakness seizing her body as she sacrificed her youth for a break that seemingly might never come, she felt an unwanted sting of tears in her eyes.

Tears of defeat and exhaustion.

This was not the life she had imagined. None of it had quite panned out how she wanted. Shouts of demanding, indifferent producers echoed in her mind. Repeated denials of creative freedom as she became a manufactured, packaged product. Disappointed, told-you-so looks from her parents who had disowned her for her career choice. Disinterested faces of audience members that were never there for their act. All of it was too much.

For the first time, Sayane wanted to quit. This might have been the end. This might have been as far as she could go. At least, that’s what she thought.

Beside her, as the members were all catching their breath and applying cooling towels between songs, a young stagehand was losing the daylong battle to a hangover. Remnants of alcohol from a last-train all nighter had cost him his appetite that morning and afternoon. So now he was facing the scorching sun on a dehydrated, empty stomach, and after hours of fighting, the fainting had begun. Throughout the act, no one had noticed him swaying in and out of consciousness, and now, the battle was lost.

At that moment, Sayane was focused on protectively padding an iced towel on her bandmate’s neck while she herself took slow, deep breaths. As Sayane closed her eyes and briefly turned her back to the audience to clear her mind and wipe her eyes, the young man beside her fainted completely and collapsed into the scaffolding with his full weight. Loose, haphazard brackets and unsecured screws came loose instantly, and the overhead lighting rig came loose instantly.

By the time Sayane could register the commotion, it was too late. She looked up just in time to see the three tonne lighting system careening towards her. There was a crush, followed by screams, and by the time anyone could reach Sayane, she was already shattered and gone from the world. A single tear ran down her cheek as her soul vanished from Earth.

But then, the most peculiar thing happened. Life is strange. And, as it turns out, so is death. For Sayane, the end was only the beginning, and her real adventure was just beginning.