Ichimatsu, in a room full of purple, in a simple cat-eared hoodie and headphones adorned with oversized halves of a lychee, decides to skip the pleasantries and go right into his song. Taken down an octave, naturally, catchy but melancholic. HAIM’s If I Could Change Your Mind. His voice is on the soft side as he glides through the melisma and sad lyrics as if he was in the middle of an unsettling dream.

“Welcome to the Canta singalong livestream. Listen to songs, sing some stuff, ask me things. You’re two days in, you know the drill. Don’t go too crazy. Choromatsu takes over tomorrow. Blah blah blah. Let’s cut the shit and talk about ats.“

Ichimatsu looks tired. The rings under his eyes are quickly covered up by an offscreen makeup artist’s hands, and he’s out the door. Shaking hands, he does his best. Ordering at a restaurant, well. He tries, and Jyuushimatsu takes over. Leaving a concert venue, he yawns in exhaustion, and is promptly overtaken by people with cameras and bright flashes.

He dashes into the van, arrives in what looks like a lavender colored bedroom, closes the door, and slides down the back of it. His backside hits the floor, and he lifts an arm to a mini fridge, pulling out a drink with a pinky-purple label.

“Sometimes, life’s exhausting.”

The next day, he thanks the makeup artist before getting up, telling them they did a great job. He shakes hands, and actually smiles. Someone goes in for a hug and he barely panics at all. He speaks up to order some tea, and Jyuushimatsu looks amazed. He leaves the venue, and turns the walk to the van into a race. He opens another soda and smiles.

“You’re doing your best, so treat yourself a little. You earned it today. Lychee flavored, only for a little while.”

A bassline plays under his rendition of the jingle. “Sing a song for Canta.”