"The Enfants Terribles world tour is over?!"
As soon as Enfants Terribles returned to Japan following the conclusion of their world tour, the entire broadcasting industry fell into a frenzy. Though they had briefly stopped by Japan during the tour, they had stayed for only five days before departing for Europe. Now, producers and directors were practically salivating at the thought of the ratings the band could pull in.
"Get in touch with Strawberry Productions immediately."
"I don't care if you have to beg or perform a dogeza. Use any means necessary to get them on our show. If you have to, tell them we'll even throw in a slot for B-Komachi, that group they're pushing lately, as a side deal."
While the members of Enfants Terribles were resting in their respective homes, the entertainment industry moved with frantic desperation.
Last time, the networks had held back out of consideration for the band's exhausting schedule and their mere five-day window in the country. Now, however, the band was completely free.
Since they had just finished a world tour, their schedule should, in theory, be wide open.
Driven by those soaring expectations, every TV station and advertising agency in the country sent out proposals simultaneously. However, contrary to their hopes, they all received the same rejection from Strawberry Productions.
"They rejected an offer from DENTSU? We control fifty percent of the Japanese advertising market!"
"Our program exports its platform rights overseas—it's a global hit! They rejected us without a single moment of hesitation?!"
The industry professionals were naturally disgruntled, but they couldn't help but concede to the band's sheer audacity.
"Well… if they need a break, I guess there's nothing we can do…"
"I'm so jealous of ASAYAN for getting that boost from them! Seriously jealous!"
In the entertainment world, the ultimate weapons were public recognition and the size of the fandom. Since Enfants Terribles had become global superstars, they held all the power in the industry. They were the 'Super-A' clients whom everyone had to cater to, no matter how much they had to suck up to them.
"At least they work hard when they actually show up. Even the picky Akashiya Sanma has nothing but praise for those kids."
"True. They're professional when it counts. They don't half-ass their variety appearances."
"Strawberry Productions handles the coordination well, too. That Saito Ichigo guy is very straightforward and efficient."
Indeed, Enfants Terribles' label, Strawberry Productions, was a highly competent organization. Unlike the conservative and insular traditional labels, they proactively offered hooks that the broadcasting stations would love, ensuring mutual benefit while using that leverage to walk a tightrope with the networks.
Frankly, with results like theirs, people were willing to overlook their behavior. From a network's perspective, wasn't it better to have them appear when they were in peak condition and shatter rating records than to force a mediocre appearance?
Moreover, as fellow Japanese citizens, those in the industry had witnessed Enfants Terribles bringing national prestige to the country. Even if the band was a bit blunt, most were willing to give them a pass.
"I just hope they release their second album soon."
In this atmosphere, only one task remained for Enfants Terribles.
They had to create an album that surpassed their first, which was already being hailed as the masterpiece of the century.
That thought weighed heavily on the minds of the band members and everyone in the Japanese archipelago alike.
I was dreaming.
I was in a dream where I was performing an Unplugged stage in the worst possible physical condition—much like Kurt Cobain did for MTV right before his death.
In the dream, I was singing while holding an acoustic guitar, my eyes gaunt and hollow.
"The next song is 'Where Did You Sleep Last Night.' We won't be playing 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' for this set. The band almost fell apart after releasing [Nevermind]. You guys know we don't really include it in our setlists anymore, right? Oh, and Enfants Terribles will never disband. I'm living a proper life now. I have two kids, after all."
The 'me' in the dream seemed to have gone through a lot since the release of the second album. But wait… two kids? The band almost falling apart? It felt like many things had happened after that second release.
After performing for a long while, I began to hear a melody I didn't recognize. The version of myself that had only been singing Kurt Cobain songs started performing a track I had never heard before.
"This next one is dedicated to my wife. She went through a lot because of me."
As the 'me' in the dream finished speaking, the audience began to whistle and cheer wildly.
Just what kind of song was it to get that reaction? And then, that unfamiliar melody flowed again. It was incredible. The acoustic guitar… so lyrical. As I focused on the melody, my consciousness began to drift away from the dream, as if I were being ejected.
Masterpieces often reveal themselves in dreams. If so, the song I had just heard was bound to be something special.
"Ah! Dammit…!"
The moment I woke up with a curse, Ai, who was in her pajamas, stared at me with an odd expression.
"Hide, did you just curse…?"
Ah. It's only been one day since we started dating, and I already swore in front of my girlfriend.
'Damn it. I really need to cut back on the profanity.'
I shook off the sleep and watched her. Ai was standing at the sink, brushing her teeth with a dazed, sleepy expression. It was such a heartwarming sight that a goofy smile spread across my face just looking at her.
Wait. Didn't I say in the dream that the song was for my wife? Memories of the previous night—what happened at the open-air bath under the influence of alcohol—came rushing back. I felt that if I channeled those feelings, I could produce an absolutely stunning track.
Songs are always best when they stem from personal experience.
"Ai!! Thank you!! I love you!!"
"Eh…? Uh-huh… me too."
I immediately pulled my guitar from its case. Melodies that usually refused to come were now overflowing like a fountain.
"Hide, what are you writing?"
"A love confession song for you."
For some reason, Ai seemed to freeze with a sound like a small explosion, but I kept writing as the ideas flowed. I was turning last night's events into music.
Humming the melody, I continued scribbling the notes. What would be a good name for this song?
Ah, 'Last Night on Earth' seems perfect.