[ He will not fail here, regardless of the abuse his body suffers through. He is an idol— Tenshouin could not break him of that, and he will not allow a temporary lapse in activities to hold him down. Fear if fuel to propel him past his past— the thudding of his heart in his chest if excited, if afraid, is the same speeding of his heart. It is the same adrenaline, his voice is the same exalted voice it has always been— to walk on stage and to feel no stirring in his breast would be the true death of the artist.

The audience, after all, loves it. It's different than the awed silence of the audience he recalls with Valkyrie, intimidated and hushed until they broke out raucous at the end. They are responding to him now, children grinning and dancing while people cheer. It has been too long, "lives" and "games" paltry performances that impart only pain— this is a performance to drain venom from wounds, to instill them with energy. If he is tired, so be it. Afterwards, he can rest, pass out if need be, but he would not inflict this upon souls who love music and are yearning to be free— in this moment, he will use his voice to carry them what he can of heaven. If his steps falter near the end, if he must stop and hold a pose, he will accept necessity so long as his voice can ring out, solid and true. Sacrificing his own vitality is a small price to pay. ]