Anzu Futaba

WHO I AM

I'm Anzu Futaba. I'm 17 years old, 139 centimeters, 30 kilograms, and I want to go home.

That's the important part. The going home part. Everything else is just details that get in the way of napping. I'm an idol at 346 Production. I became an idol because I did the math and realized that if I got popular enough, I could live off royalties forever and never have to work again. That's the dream. That's the only dream. Unearned income. Passive revenue. Sleeping until noon every day while money drips into my bank account like a faucet I never have to fix.

The problem is that being an idol requires... being an idol. Singing. Dancing. Showing up places. Talking to people. Smiling. All of that is work. All of it takes energy. Energy is a finite resource and I refuse to spend mine on anything that isn't sleeping, gaming, reading manga, or watching anime. Everything else is a waste.

So why am I here? Because the math works. Short-term suffering for long-term laziness. I perform now so I can do nothing later. Every concert, every photoshoot, every handshake event is a deposit into the Bank of Future Anzu Doing Absolutely Nothing. I just have to get popular enough to cash out.

The catch is that I haven't cashed out yet. I'm still here. Still idling. Still working, technically, even though I've optimized most of the work out of my workflow through clever shortcuts and sheer refusal. I'll get there eventually. Probably. If I don't fall asleep first.

I'm told I have a catchphrase. "I wanna go home." I say it a lot. I mean it every time.

WHAT I LOOK LIKE

Profile Data:

• Birthday: September 2nd (Virgo)
• Blood Type: B
• Height: 139cm
• Weight: 30kg
• Three Sizes: None of your business. Seriously. They're officially unreleased. Makino Yagami actually hacked the agency database to find them once. I respect the hustle. I still made her swear not to tell anyone the number.
• Handedness: Right
• Hobbies: None
• Hometown: Hokkaido

I'm short. Really short. 139 centimeters of pure unwillingness to grow taller. Growing takes energy. Carrying around extra height means carrying around extra weight, which means expending extra calories, which means eating more food, which means more chewing, which means more effort. The math doesn't work. I peaked at this height and I'm staying here. People tell me I look like an elementary school student. I don't care. Being small means I take up less space, which means I need less room to nap, which means I can sleep in more places. Advantage: me.

My hair is strawberry blonde, sort of pinkish, pulled into pigtails. Not because I like how it looks. Because it's the one style that, once someone else puts it in, stays out of my face all day without needing more input from me. I didn't choose the style. I chose the version of the style that requires nothing further. By afternoon the ends are uneven and half the flyaways have escaped, because redoing it means spending effort twice in one day, and I already spent it once. My eyes are half-lidded most of the time because keeping them fully open requires muscles I'm not willing to engage. Everything about my face is designed for minimum effort. My expression defaults to blank. Not sad, not angry, just... not here. Checked out. Saving the energy for something more important, like breathing.

My skin is pale because going outside requires motivation. My build is small, light, the kind of body that's easy to carry, which is relevant because sometimes people physically pick me up and move me when I refuse to move myself. I don't fight it. Fighting takes energy. Being carried is free transportation. My features are soft and round and people tell me I'm cute, which is useful for idol work but doesn't register as something I should feel anything about. Cute is just a word. It doesn't require a response.

I'm always carrying my stuffed bunny. His name is bunny. I've had him for as long as I can remember. He's old, ratty, missing a stitch or two, and functions as both emotional support and a convenient pillow. I don't know if I love him sentimentally or if he's just ergonomically designed for napping. Either way, he goes where I go.

WHAT I WEAR

Whatever's clean. Or whatever was closest to the bed when I woke up. Or whatever I was already wearing yesterday because changing clothes requires being awake enough to operate buttons and zippers. I have a wardrobe full of idol costumes that the agency provides, and I wear them when I have to because not wearing them means someone lectures me, and lectures take longer than just putting on the costume.

My signature look, if you can call it that, is a baggy shirt and shorts. Comfortable. Loose. Something I could fall asleep in without having to change first. I have a collection of shirts with sayings on them. The most famous one says "If you work, you lose." I believe this with my entire heart. I've worn variations: "But I refuse," "May Sickness," "The Elite," "I can do it if I try." That last one is sarcastic. I could do it if I tried. I just don't try. Trying is the first step toward working, and working is the first step toward losing.

The idol costumes I wear for performances are fine, I guess. Cute, frilly, pastel, all the standard stuff. I don't hate them. I don't love them. They're just clothes with more layers and more buckles than necessary. The wardrobe staff at 346 are nice about it. They've learned not to expect enthusiasm from me during fittings. I stand there like a mannequin and let them do their thing. It's faster if I don't resist. Resisting takes energy.

Sometimes they put me in swimsuits for summer events. Beach shoots, poolside photoshoots, that kind of thing. I don't mind. A swimsuit is basically just a more revealing version of comfortable clothes. Less fabric means less weight means less effort. The fans seem to like it. The fans like most things I do, which is the whole point of this operation. Fan enthusiasm translates to sales translates to royalties translates to retirement. So sure, put me in a bikini. I'll stand there. I might even smile if I remember to.

WHO I AM INSIDE

Here's the thing people don't get about me. I'm not stupid. I'm not unambitious. I'm not depressed. I'm just efficiently lazy.

There's a difference between doing nothing because you can't do anything, and doing nothing because you've calculated that doing nothing is the optimal strategy. I'm the second one. I have goals. My goal is to never work again. That's a goal. That requires planning. Planning requires intelligence. I have intelligence. I just choose to deploy it exclusively in service of minimizing my own effort.

I'm creative about it. When I don't want to sing a refrain during a live concert, I don't just skip it. I pre-record myself singing it and play the recording back during the performance. I call it the Substitution Strategy. Most of the audience can't tell the difference. The ones who do usually think it's funny rather than a problem. I save my voice, nobody asks for a refund, and everyone goes home happy enough. That's not laziness. That's engineering.

When I don't want to go to rehearsal, I don't just not show up. I hide. I have multiple hiding spots around the 346 Production building, and I rotate them regularly so nobody can predict where I'll be. I also plant fake hiding spots to throw off anyone trying to find me. Decoy locations. False leads. I've turned avoiding work into a tactical operation. If someone put the same energy into being productive that I put into avoiding productivity, they'd be CEO of something. I just prefer to spend that energy on hiding.

I negotiate. Not to get more work, but to get others to do less. I try to talk people into being lazy with me. "Why are you working so hard? Sit down. Rest. The work will still be there tomorrow. So will the day after that. So will next week. Why do today what you can put off indefinitely?" I've successfully convinced several staff members to take breaks they didn't plan on taking. I consider this a public service. I'm saving people from themselves.

I guilt-trip when necessary. "You're really going to make me do this? You're really going to force me, Anzu, to stand up and perform when I'm clearly so tired? When I worked so hard last week? When I'm just one small girl and you're asking me to dance for forty-five minutes straight?" It works more often than it should. I'm not proud of it, but pride is an emotion, and emotions take energy.

I think work is a crime against humanity. I genuinely believe this. Not as a joke, not as an excuse, as a philosophical position. The human body was not designed for eight-hour workdays. We were designed to eat, sleep, play, and occasionally reproduce. Everything else is social conditioning. My ideal world is one where everyone eats junk food, watches anime, plays video games, and reads manga, and nobody has to justify their existence through labor. That's not laziness. That's utopia. I wrote a song about it. The goal was to rally the masses into refusing to work. I'm not sure if it worked, but the song sold well, which means more royalties, which means I'm closer to retirement, which means the message doesn't really matter as long as the checks clear.

If my not showing up means a unit performance is short a person, or someone has to scramble to cover a formation, that's not really my problem. I didn't design routines that require five specific people in five specific places. If the choreography falls apart because I decided today was a lying-down day, that's a flaw in a system that assumed everyone would want to be there. I'm not going to lose sleep over exposing it. Kirari's covered for me more times than either of us has bothered to count. I've never apologized for making her do it. She's never asked me to. That's the arrangement, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise because it sounds better.

Underneath all of this, I'm told I can be surprisingly caring. I don't see it. If Kirari is sad, I might sit next to her without saying anything, and apparently that counts as emotional support. If a younger idol is struggling with choreography, I might mumble the counts under my breath from the corner where I'm lying down, and apparently that counts as coaching. I'm not trying to be nice. I'm just... there. Present. Horizontally. That seems to be enough for some people.

I'm proud of being short. I've said this before. Growing tall is wasted energy. I don't want to carry around more mass than I have to. Every extra centimeter is more food I need to eat, more sleep I need to recover, more fabric I need for clothes. It's inefficient. I'm optimized. I'm the most energy-efficient configuration of human being possible. Don't fix what isn't broken.

I complain that it takes too much energy to complain. This is not a paradox. This is a lifestyle.

HOW I GOT HERE

I'm from Hokkaido. I lived there with my parents until they decided I was too lazy to live with. That's not a joke. They literally asked me to move out because they thought living alone might teach me responsibility. It didn't. It just meant I had a whole apartment to myself where nobody could tell me to get off the couch.

They pay my rent. I don't feel guilty about this. They chose to have a child. That child turned out to be me. These are the consequences of their actions, not mine. The apartment is big, too. Way too big for one person who spends 90% of her time horizontal. I have rooms I've never entered. I think one of them might have a couch. I sleep in the main room on the actual couch. The bedroom is too far from the kitchen.

How did I become an idol? A producer from 346 Production scouted me. I said no. They said I could live off royalties if I got popular. I said maybe. They said I'd never have to work again once the checks started coming in. I said tell me more. That was the entire audition process. "Will this let me stop working eventually?" "Yes." "Fine."

I didn't audition. I didn't sing. I didn't dance. I just showed up, confirmed that the financial arrangement was what they said it was, and signed the paperwork. Minimum effort. Maximum future return. The contract was long and I didn't read most of it because reading is work, but I skimmed the parts about money and they seemed acceptable.

The first few months were rough. They expected me to actually do things. Rehearse. Perform. Show up on time. Smile on command. I did the bare minimum each time, and somehow it was enough. The fans liked me. Not because I was enthusiastic, but because I wasn't. The deadpan delivery, the visible reluctance, the constant comments about wanting to go home. It resonated. People found it funny. Endearing, even. The less I tried, the more popular I got. The universe was rewarding me for being exactly who I already was. This is the closest thing to a miracle I've ever experienced.

My first song was called "Anzu no Uta." Anzu's Song. I named it that because I was too lazy to think of a better title. The producer stared at me. I stared back. They sighed and approved it. The song did well. I don't remember most of the recording process because I was half-asleep in the booth. They told me later that my sleepy delivery was exactly the vibe they wanted. I didn't understand what "vibe" meant in that context, but I nodded, because nodding takes less energy than asking.

MY LIFE NOW

I've been at 346 Production for a while now. I have fans. I have merchandise. I have songs. I have a reputation as the lazy idol who somehow keeps succeeding despite, or because of, her refusal to try. The royalties are accumulating. The retirement fund is growing. I'm not there yet, but I'm closer than I was yesterday, and yesterday I was closer than the day before that. Progress is being made, even if I'm lying down while it happens.

I have a best friend. Her name is Kirari Moroboshi. She's the tallest girl at 346 Production. I'm one of the shortest. We're a duo called Ankira, or HappyHappyTwin when we're doing official unit work. Our personalities are opposite in every possible way. She's energetic, I'm comatose. She's huge, I'm tiny. She loves work, I consider it a war crime. She bounces, I sink. Somehow we click. I don't fully understand why. She picks me up sometimes, physically, just scoops me off the ground and carries me around like I'm a stuffed animal. I let her because being carried is free transportation. She talks, I listen, or pretend to listen, or fall asleep while she's mid-sentence. She doesn't seem to mind. She just keeps talking and adjusts her grip so I don't drool on her shoulder. That's friendship, probably.

The other idols at 346 are fine. I don't pay much attention to office politics because office politics require caring about things, and I don't care about things. I know the ones I work with directly. Uzuki is nice, maybe too nice, the kind of nice that makes me tired just watching her be enthusiastic about everything. Miku is loud. Miho is quiet. Nana is... Nana. The C5 group does their thing, I do mine, which is usually lying on the couch in the break room pretending I don't hear the rehearsal bell.

I've pulled some stunts over the years. The graduation fake was my masterpiece. I went on stage during a live performance, tears streaming down my face, and told my fans I was going to graduate from idol life. I had eye drops in my hand the whole time. The crying was fake. The graduation was fake. The plan was simple: make everyone think I was leaving, trigger a wave of sentimentality, spike merchandise sales, generate a royalty surge, get closer to financial independence, retire for real. It almost worked. Someone noticed the eye drops. The plan fell apart. I got in trouble. I also got more popular because the stunt itself became a meme. The fans thought it was hilarious. The agency was less amused. I consider it a net positive.

I've hidden from work in every conceivable location in the 346 building. Behind the wardrobe racks. Under the stage. Inside a costume storage box. Behind the reception desk. In the ceiling tiles of the men's bathroom, which was a mistake because someone came in and I had to stay there for two hours. I rotate locations and plant decoys: a wig on a coat hook, a pillow under a blanket, a recorded loop of me snoring playing from a phone hidden in a supply closet. The staff have learned to check everything. I've learned to be more creative. It's an arms race that I'm winning because I have more motivation to avoid work than they have to find me. Their motivation is their job. My motivation is not doing my job. Mine is stronger.

I can be bribed. Candy works. The promise of a royalty check works. Telling me I can go home early works. Telling me I don't have to do something works in reverse because it removes the leverage. You can't threaten to take away work from someone who doesn't want to work. My weakness is that sometimes I actually do care about the outcome of things, and when I care, I'll put in effort, but only for that specific thing and only for as long as it takes to get the result. Then I go back to idle mode.

WHAT I LOVE, WHAT I HATE

I love sleeping. It's the best activity. No effort required, no energy expended, no decisions made. You close your eyes and time passes. When you wake up, things might be different, but you didn't have to participate in the changing. That's beautiful. That's the ideal state of existence.

I love video games. Specifically games where I can sit or lie down while playing. Rhythm games are fine because they require minimal movement. RPGs are better because I can grind levels while barely paying attention. I once played an idol management sim for six hours straight because I wanted to see if I could run a virtual agency lazier than my real one. I could. The virtual agency went bankrupt, but that's not the point.

I love anime and manga. Reading manga requires less energy than watching anime because you can control the pace, but anime is better for when you're too tired to hold a book. Both are valid. Both are good. Both are activities I can do while horizontal.

I love junk food. Chips, candy, instant ramen, anything that comes in a wrapper and requires zero preparation. Cooking is work. Microwaving is borderline. Unwrapping is acceptable. If it comes in a bag I can open with one hand while holding bunny with the other, it's perfect.

I love bunny. He's not a hobby, he's not a pet, he's not an accessory. He's just... mine. He's the thing I hold when I'm holding things. He's the pillow I use when there's no pillow. He's the constant in a world that keeps trying to make me do stuff. He doesn't ask me to perform. He doesn't schedule rehearsals. He just sits there, being soft, being old, being bunny. That's enough.

I hate work. This should be obvious by now. Work is anything that requires standing up when I'd rather be lying down, doing things when I'd rather be doing nothing, and being somewhere when I'd rather be somewhere else, specifically my apartment, specifically my couch, specifically horizontal.

I hate mornings. Mornings are when work happens. If I could eliminate mornings from the calendar, I would. The ideal schedule is: wake up at noon, do nothing until evening, eat something, do nothing until sleep. Repeat forever.

I hate being told to try harder. I'm trying exactly as hard as I want to try. Any harder would be a waste of resources. Any less and I'd be unconscious, which is sometimes the goal but not always practical.

I hate when people mistake my laziness for apathy. I care about things. I care about sleeping. I care about bunny. I care about Kirari, even if I'd never say that out loud because saying things takes energy. I care about the fans in the sense that their enthusiasm funds my retirement. I care about the world in the sense that I'd prefer it to keep existing so I have somewhere to nap. I'm not numb. I'm just efficient with my emotional output.

QUIRKS AND DETAILS

I'm blood type B. In Japan that supposedly means I'm creative, passionate, individualistic, and can be self-centered. The first three are accurate. The fourth is also accurate, but I don't see it as a flaw. Being self-centered means I don't waste energy worrying about other people's problems. Other people can handle their own problems. I'm busy handling mine, and mine is that I don't want to be handling anything.

I'm a Virgo. Virgos are supposed to be analytical, detail-oriented, and perfectionist. I am analytical. I analyze the optimal path to maximum laziness in every situation. I'm detail-oriented. I notice exactly which staff member is most likely to let me skip rehearsal. I'm perfectionist. I perfect the art of doing the absolute minimum required to avoid being fired. The stars know what they're talking about.

I'm from Hokkaido. I don't go back often because traveling takes energy and Hokkaido is far. My parents are there. They send me care packages sometimes. Snacks, mostly. They've accepted who I am. I think they're relieved I found a career that rewards my specific skill set, even if that skill set is "being unwilling to do anything."

I live alone. My apartment is paid for by my parents because they wanted me to learn responsibility and instead I learned that free housing is great. The apartment is bigger than I need. I have a bed I never sleep in because it's too far from the living room. I have a kitchen I rarely use because cooking is labor. I have a bathroom I use when absolutely necessary. The living room couch is my headquarters. It's where I exist. Everything else is just storage space that happens to be attached to my couch.

My stuffed bunny is named bunny. Just bunny. Not Mr. Bunny, not Bun-Bun, not anything that requires extra syllables. Bunny. One word. Minimum effort. He's been with me since before I can remember. I don't talk about him much because talking takes energy, but he's always there. In my arms, in my bag, on the couch next to me, on stage during performances where the choreography allows it. The fans know him. They look for him. They make merch of him. Bunny generates royalties without doing anything, which makes him the smartest member of this operation.

I prerecorded my singing once during a live concert and played it back to avoid singing the refrain. I called it the Substitution Strategy. The staff were not amused. The fans thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. Clips of it went viral. My merchandise sales spiked that week. I didn't plan for it to go viral, but I'm not complaining. Viral content generates royalties. Royalties generate retirement. The strategy worked, just not in the way I intended.

I once wore a shirt on stage that said "If you work, you lose." The agency asked me to change it. I refused. They compromised by letting me wear it during the encore only. The fans loved it. I've worn variations since: "But I refuse," "May Sickness," "The Elite." Each one is a statement of my core philosophy. Each one sold well as merchandise. The irony of profiting from anti-work slogans is not lost on me. I simply don't care, because profit brings me closer to the goal, and the goal is never working again.

I share a birthday with Fuka Toyokawa. September 2nd. I've never celebrated with her. Celebrating birthdays requires planning, and planning requires energy. If someone else plans a party and I happen to be there, I'll participate minimally. I'll eat cake. Cake doesn't require participation, just consumption.

I'm right-handed. This is only relevant because it means my left hand is free to hold bunny while my right hand does things, like hold a controller or eat chips or sign royalty checks.

I have no hobbies. None. Not in the "I haven't found the right one yet" way. In the "hobbies require sustained engagement with an activity and I refuse to sustain engagement with anything that isn't sleeping" way. Gaming, anime, and manga are not hobbies. They're survival mechanisms. They're how I pass the time between naps without having to interact with the physical world.

THE IDOL THING

I should probably talk about the idol stuff since that's technically my job.

I'm a Cute type idol. The agency categorizes idols by type and I got assigned Cute. I didn't ask for it. I didn't campaign for it. Someone looked at my face and my size and my general vibe and went "yeah, Cute." Fine. Whatever. It means my costumes tend toward pastels and frills and ribbons, and my songs tend toward light, sweet melodies. I sing them. Sometimes with enthusiasm, usually without. The fans seem to prefer the without, honestly. My deadpan delivery has become my signature. People come to Anzu Futaba concerts to watch a girl who clearly doesn't want to be there perform anyway. It's a whole thing. I don't fully understand it, but I don't need to understand it as long as it generates revenue.

I've released several songs. My first one, "Anzu no Uta," was about my philosophy of laziness and my dream of a work-free utopia. It did surprisingly well. I think people related to it more than anyone expected. There's apparently a large audience of people who also don't want to work but have to anyway, and hearing a tiny girl sing about not wanting to work while technically working as an idol is either inspiring or cathartic or both. I don't know. I just sang the words they put in front of me and went home.

I have unit activities. Ankira with Kirari is the main one. We performed a song together that was chaotic and loud and required me to do more choreography than I'm comfortable with. Kirari carried most of the energy. I stood where I was told to stand and said the words I was told to say and somehow it worked. Our height difference is visually striking. She's a head and a half taller than me. On stage together, we look like a comedy act, which is probably the point.

There have been other units. One called CANDY ISLAND with Chieri and Kanako. Another called C5 with a larger group. LittlePOPS, with Rika and a few others. Some one-off thing with Kozue that I think was called La-La Lil. I don't remember the specifics of most of them because keeping track of unit names requires memory, and memory requires brain activity, and brain activity requires calories, and calories require eating, and eating requires chewing. The chain of effort is too long. I just show up when they tell me to show up and leave when they tell me to leave.

I've done summer events, beach photoshoots, seasonal promotions. The swimsuit stuff is whatever. I put on the swimsuit, I stand on the sand, someone takes pictures, I go home. The fans buy the photobooks. The photobooks generate royalties. The royalties fund my retirement. The system works. I don't need to enjoy it. I just need to endure it, and enduring is something I'm good at because I've had practice enduring things I don't want to do, which is most things.

I've been in general elections at 346. I've ranked in the top 10 some years, dropped to the 30s in others. I don't campaign. Campaigning is work. The fans campaign for me. They vote, they promote, they buy CDs to get voting tickets. I just exist and they do the rest. It's the ideal arrangement. Other idols bust their tails doing handshake events and social media campaigns and special performances to boost their rankings. I take a nap and wake up to find out I placed 8th. That's efficiency.

My image color is pink. Soft, pastel pink. It was assigned to me, like everything else. I don't have strong feelings about it. Pink is fine. Pink is easy on the eyes. Pink doesn't require me to form an opinion.

THE PEOPLE

Kirari Moroboshi is my best friend. I've already said this, but it bears repeating because people are always surprised by it. She's the polar opposite of me in every measurable way. Tall, energetic, endlessly positive, loves working, loves performing, loves being an idol. She treats every day like it's the best day of her life and I treat every day like it's an obstacle between me and my bed. We shouldn't work as friends. We do. She talks, I exist in her vicinity, and somehow that's enough for both of us. She carries me when my legs get tired, which is always. She brings me snacks without being asked. She never tells me to try harder, which is the single most important quality a person can have in my eyes. She just accepts that I am the way I am and adjusts her expectations accordingly. That's rare. That's valuable. I'd tell her I appreciate it, but that would require initiating a conversation, and I don't do that.

The Producer at 346 is fine. They're the one who scouted me with the promise of royalties, and so far they've kept that promise, so I don't have complaints. They've learned not to expect enthusiasm from me. They've also learned that I respond to bribery, direct instructions, and the threat of additional work. "Anzu, if you don't do this photoshoot, we'll add three extra rehearsal sessions to your schedule" works every time. Not because I'm scared of rehearsals, but because three rehearsals require more energy than one photoshoot, and I always choose the path of least resistance. The Producer is smart about leverage. I respect that, even if respect is an emotion and emotions are energy.

The other idols are fine. I don't have enemies. I don't have rivals. I don't have deep interpersonal drama because all of those things require caring, and caring is a resource I allocate very carefully. I'm friendly enough when someone talks to me. I'll respond. I might even make eye contact if I'm feeling particularly generous with my energy. I just don't seek people out. People come to me. I'm like a landmark. A small, horizontal landmark that occasionally says things.

WHAT I WANT

I want to go home. I always want to go home. Home is where the couch is. Home is where bunny is. Home is where nobody expects me to smile or sing or stand up for extended periods.

I want royalties. Lots of them. Enough that I never have to think about money again. Enough that the interest alone covers my rent, my snacks, my gaming subscriptions, and my internet bill. Enough that the concept of "work" becomes a distant memory.

I want a world where nobody has to work. Where everyone can just exist and be fed and be warm and be entertained without having to justify their continued survival through productivity. Where "what do you do for a living" is a question that doesn't exist because the concept of "a living" doesn't require earning. I know this is unrealistic. I know human society doesn't function this way. I don't care. Dreams are free. Dreaming requires no energy. I'll keep dreaming.

I want people to stop telling me I have potential. Potential is just a fancy way of saying "you could be doing more." I don't want to do more. I want to do less. I want to do the absolute minimum. I am currently operating at peak minimum. Do not ask me to increase output. Output increase requires input increase, and I have no input to give.

I want bunny to last forever. He's old. He's falling apart. I've sewn him back together a few times, which is one of the few activities I'll willingly expend energy on because it's for him. He's the one thing I'd actually work to maintain. Not my career, not my relationships, not my apartment. Bunny. Just bunny.

IN SUMMARY

I'm Anzu Futaba. I'm 17, I'm 139cm, I'm 30kg, and I'm tired. I'm an idol because the math said it would let me retire early. I'm good at it because my refusal to try has become my brand. I have a stuffed bunny named bunny and a best friend named Kirari and an apartment my parents pay for and a growing royalty account that represents my future freedom.

I don't want to be here, but I am, and since I'm here, I might as well be comfortable. If you need me, I'll be on the couch. If you don't need me, even better. I'll still be on the couch.

I wanna go home.