Lilas Ikuta's singing voice resonates with the fragile parts of the heart.

Hello. This is Iwori Sakurakoji.

Actually, I started writing this article around the end of April or the beginning of May, and it has been sitting in my drafts ever since.

The feelings I couldn't quite put into words back then, I feel I can properly summarize now that I have attended the Saitama performance of "Denko Sekka," the largest capacity concert in YOASOBI's history.

I would be happy if you read it to the end.

The other day, while I was out for a walk and playing the songs on my Walkman on shuffle, Lilas Ikuta's "Answer" started playing.

I had just reached a crosswalk and stopped at the red light.

Thinking once again what a wonderful song it is, I tilted my ears and heart toward Ikuta-san's voice.

It was painful and sad, yet it felt like a gentle light shining through a gap in the clouds.

When these lyrics played, tears welled up in my eyes.
I used to be the type who didn't cry very often.
I wonder why I've suddenly become so tearful...

I think Ikuta-san's voice is dignified and has a core, yet there is something fragile and fleeting about it.
That is what leads to her unique sense of transparency, and it is indescribably wonderful.

It seeps straight into the weak and fragile parts of the heart, as if resonating with them.

It seems to gently wrap the scars hidden deep inside with the softness and warmth of a feather.

And yet, it also seems to provide a strong pillar, like a diamond, to support the heart.

I think it is a singing voice that possesses everything: the kindness to stay by your side, the strength to support you, and a sense of closeness that comes from knowing the pain of a wound.

When you are running recklessly and wholeheartedly, you don't even know if you've crossed the goal line.

But when you suddenly stop and look back, wondering, "How far will I keep walking like this?", you see "countless goal lines" behind you.

That one, and this one too.
They were all, in fact, individual "goal lines."

And the very fact that I am here now becomes 'proof that I have made it through.'

That realization, which only came because I had the time to stop and look back, and these lyrics that weave it together so carefully, are unbearably gentle and I love them.

When I swallowed my tears, I suddenly felt that Rira-san's voice resonates with 'fragility' and 'weakness'.

The word 'resonance' is a physics term referring to 'a phenomenon where, when two sound-producing bodies with the same frequency are placed side by side, if one is sounded, the other also emits a sound.'

The unique 'weakness' and 'fragility' that have become the charm of Rira-san's singing voice have the same frequency as the 'weakness' and 'fragility' inside my heart.

They vibrate in harmony with the 'weakness' and 'fragility' that I usually pretend not to see or haven't even noticed.

It is as if she gently wraps around those parts that suddenly emerge, telling me, 'It's okay to be just as you are.'

That is why I love Rira-san's singing voice, and why Rira-san is someone I admire.

To cherish weakness as weakness, yet keep a strong core in my heart and stay grounded. I want to be a person who can give kindness to those around me, precisely because I carry both strength and weakness.

That warm, gentle, yet dignified singing voice, and the music that Rira-san weaves, will continue to be my amulet.