seven the youth (ultraseven for adults) postscript

Postscript

This postscript is being written in a private room at a mountain hut at the 8.5th station of the Fujinomiya Subashiri Trail. Outside, there is a terrible storm, and thunder is roaring right by my ears. The purpose of this climb is to jump into the crater of Mount Fuji. That said, I have climbed to the summit several times before for that very reason, but I have never actually gone through with it. It is always those who make the most noise about dying who lose their nerve when the time comes. Some of my students, who were fine until the day before, quietly disappeared from this world as if they were just absent due to a cold.

"Seven the Youth" has finally been written to the end. Although it is an homage, from the perspective of Tsuburaya Productions and fans of the classic works, it must be a truly annoying and infuriating piece of work. Several years ago, due to physical and mental reasons, I took a leave of absence for about two years. Being on leave might seem easy at first glance, as you are freed from difficult work, but in reality, it is a truly harsh period where time stretches out infinitely with nothing to do, and the future is completely invisible. I kept thinking that I just wanted to disappear, and that time gave birth to this work.

During my leave, I watched the "Ultraseven" DVDs over and over again. The image quality isn't great, but I also rewatched the re-imported version of episode 12, "From the Planet with Love," and the Dracula version. While looking at the internet and literature, I absorbed as many scenarios as possible that were not realized in the filming, and the concept for this work was already vaguely formed in my mind. The protagonist does not transform, possesses psychic powers but is a flesh-and-blood human-sized human, and the enemy aliens are also close to human form. He is a perfect hero who can defeat enemies in an instant. The setting is his hometown, the Chuo Line connecting his home and workplace, and cities I have visited, and I have included people I have connections with. I made the content somewhat for adults. Of course, I would like you to understand that respect for the original is the premise.

Moroboshi, Hataori, and Amabe, who appear in this work, are all avatars of myself. Hataori is me during my leave, Amabe is me closer to my usual self, and Moroboshi is an image of my ideal self, including his age. "The Youth," as introduced in the work, is the name of a band I was in during high school, and there are actual models for Furuda and Soma, centered around the leader, Kiriya. Even now, decades later, we still hang out, and when our schedules align, we go to meet "Moroboshi Dan" at "Jolly Chapeau" or "Hayato Ichimonji" at "Battamon."

I met Kiriya in high school, and his knowledge of "tokusatsu" was off the charts; I was impressed, wondering if there were aliens in the world who were this well-versed. Even now, he collects figures and occasionally sends me photos he has taken. It was Kiriya who designed the title back for this work and came up with "Yes Hope!". I once lived with Furuda in an apartment in Kugayama; he has an outstanding sense of humor and is now at the vice-president level of a certain amusement park. Soma was the manager of a certain adult entertainment shop. When we were children, there were small paper bags hanging at the storefront of a neighborhood candy store, and you didn't know what was inside until you pulled them; they contained tokusatsu photos, and I would spend my allowance on them. I remember being moved when I showed Soma a photo of "Spell Alien and the Hundred Windows" in high school, and he had the same one. It is thanks to The Youth that I was able to return to work; I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you.

During my leave, I began the daily routine of typing "Seven the Youth" into my feature phone in Japanese and sending it to the members of "The Youth." At first, I thought it would end in a few episodes, but even subtracting the time spent caring for my parents, I had more than enough time, and in the end, I made it to the final episode. It takes power to live and to die, and I was looking for something to sublimate that power; not only did I complete this work, but I also obtained a cooking license, an amateur radio operator license, and a large motorcycle license. Looking back, it's hard to believe I had that kind of power; it sounds like a lie.

The reason I decided to publish it was that I happened to have some time and heard about the existence of note from an acquaintance. When I found the feature phone I had left alone for several years, charged it, and checked my emails, there was the time I should have spent during my leave, the time I had almost forgotten. Reading it back, it's a nonsensical and immature text, but since I had gone to the trouble of creating something like this, I thought I would leave it in some form. The reason I rewrote it in English was to cover up those clumsy parts and because I felt that only those who wanted to read it should read it. There are few responses, but I am very happy with the modest reactions, such as people leaving likes and comments, or people reading it through translation software. I cannot thank everyone who read it, however imperfectly, enough.

You might think, "Isn't everything going smoothly?" But that is not the case. It is embarrassing to admit, but the reason is marital discord. It has been over a decade since my second marriage, but due to our respective workplaces, we have been living apart from the beginning. It was fine when we first started dating, but things started to go wrong after I took my leave. I had already realized that we were looking at different worlds. I had an ideal of wanting to be in a relationship where we could hold hands in front of our children even as they grew up, but unfortunately, I don't think such a future will come.

I have tried to repair it many times, but none of them have worked, and the more I try to reach out, the further away it seems to get. Since the children were born, we have barely spoken, let alone touched. Even when we are together, our interactions are done via email or through the children. I feel that if I had been with anyone else I had dated before my current wife, I would be happier as a couple than I am now. But the children are precious. What I think here is that if I had been with anyone else, I would not have met my current children. I am grateful to my wife for giving birth to our children.

What is repeated in our email exchanges is that she has no time for herself because of childcare, and that I am barely involved in childcare, so am I even a father? My wife lives near her parents' home, and her grandmother and others help with childcare, but I think my wife dislikes that too. What my wife says is certainly sound logic. It is so full of sound logic that there is no room for error, and it is suffocating. I asked her just once if she could let me touch her, even just a little, but I was rejected as if I were loathsome. The other day, I finally received a message saying, "Let's part ways when the children are independent." Which will come first: the children becoming independent, my heart disease worsening, or me jumping into the crater?

Considering the evil deeds I have done so far, I have no choice but to fall into hell. Perhaps I said terrible things during my leave. To be honest, if I could, I would like to try to make things work with my current wife again. "I'm sorry for everything, I was truly wrong." I am always ready to apologize with those words, putting my heart into them, but I wonder if it is already too late. What do the children think of their parents, who don't even talk when they meet? This is just my own selfish imagination, but I can't help but feel that they are saying to me as they grow up, "You don't have another life, so you two should just get along."

The thunder still hasn't stopped. I have strayed far from the postscript, but I felt it was important to leave this work behind, if only to spur myself on in my pathetic state. My wife and children will probably never read this. But I want someone, anyone, to know how I feel right now. Sometimes, just being heard makes things easier. It is not smooth sailing; it is heavy and painful, and I want to escape this suffering as soon as possible. Even if the god of salvation is dead, can I still go on living? I want to use a blade of light to slice through this mind and body, which are being invaded by the alien of anxiety.