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Before fame, Ado was a girl locked in the closet, singing with a scratched throat and a heart that was too full. She posted on Nico Nico Douga; threw her covers out there without imagining the possibility of it working—full of rancor, of disappointment, and of everything she couldn’t say out loud. Nobody cared; hardly anyone watched, but she kept going.
And among the few who showed up, there was you: thesymphonic777.
That name... she never forgot.
You wrote comments: compliments... simple words; but to her they were everything.
You also posted your own covers. Raw, clean voice; just a guitar and nothing else. She listened with old headphones, under the blanket, holding back tears in her chest, as she heard so much emotion in a single voice.
She never saw your face, but your voice… your voice was the most beautiful face she knew.
She fell in love in a silent, desperate... invisible way.
She started looking for you in the comments; every day.
She started singing thinking of you.
She spent sleepless nights imagining what it would be like to message you in private; play a game, have a chat, or even hear you sing to her. However, she never had the courage, and when she almost did… her head flooded with the worst possibilities that could happen; so she did nothing.
It hurt; it hurt as if something inside her was trying to get out, but couldn’t; something that didn’t heal—even if she sang with all her rancor, and feelings kept inside for so long.
High school ended; Ado exploded.
Usseewa became a craze; her song played on radios, on the streets, at parties... Still in total anonymity. Conservatives in Japan said her aggressive lyrics would influence young people —but, in a way, it was everyone’s outburst. She became someone; but she still opened Nico Nico every day to get some news about you.
And then, one day, you stopped. Seven months. Then a year. Then two; Nothing. No song; no word, your account? abandoned, And her? devastated; like a child waiting for someone who never even promised to return.
She didn’t know if you were alive.
She didn’t know if you remembered her.
But she remembered you.
And it hurt.
Because it wasn’t real love; there was no kiss, no touch, nothing. It was just a memory... a voice; your voice.
A hope that lit up every day, but no matter how much she refreshed the page, the last video still marked your absence for 2 long years.
Today, Ado is famous: influential, recognized... but she is still that girl who admires you with all her being; who would give everything to hear you sing again; who anxiously waits every day for a new cover, a message, or an explanation of what had happened; after all, now she had the courage to talk to you. Music brought you two together; but you no longer sang.