※This article is a repost of originally published on note on September 29, 2019.
Being born a man, there’s probably a moment in every man’s life when he dreams of becoming a beautiful girl avatar.
Thanks to the rise of VRChat, where you can live out your ideal self, more and more of my male friends spend their days flirting with virtual girls—who, of course, are also guys on the inside. It’s no longer rare for middle-aged men in VRC to date each other or even get caught in messy breakups. The problem is, when you look at it visually, it all just looks like a yuri anime.
Anyway, enough about the real-life hellscape of virtual worlds. Let’s talk about Pri☆Chan.
Starting from its second year, Kiratto Pri☆Chan introduced a new main character: the Virtual Pri☆Chan Idol, Daia. (Formally styled “Virtual Pri☆Chan Idol☆Daia.”) Her catchphrase is “~da mon!,” and her psychedelic rainbow-themed design immediately tells you she’s a being who could only exist in the digital world.
Her signature line is “I'm here, and yet I'm not here!”
A single phrase that perfectly expresses the essence of the virtual—visible before your eyes, yet absent from this place.。
She first appeared in episode 51, the season one finale. Most adult fans were so caught up in Emo and Anna’s emotions that they didn’t even notice the debut of this “Virtual Pri☆Chan Idol.”
From a park monitor, Daia greets everyone. The main character Mirai Momoyama responds with something along the lines of, “I don’t really get it, but that’s amazing!” —the kind of clueless comment you’d expect from an out-of-touch executive at a tech company.
Before Daia’s appearance, a quiet, long-haired girl with bangs covering her eyes walks past the screen.
Such a flawless me-kakure(bangs cover one or both eyes) design—I haven’t seen one this good since Waku Waku 7. I was thrilled. Who could she be?
Her name is Daia Nijinosaki. She’s a classmate of Mirai and her friends, but painfully shy and practically invisible at school. Yet she loves idols more than anyone, watching every one of their performances alone in her room. When the dazzling stage lights reflect in her eyes, her pupils shine in rainbow hues—a perfect visual metaphor.
By the way, those rainbow-reflecting eyes, with Mirai’s figure mirrored inside, were even turned into an acrylic keychain.
Watching live performances is cute enough, but Daia takes it further—lining up eight monitors to watch Mirai and her friends from every angle. She’s basically running an idol surveillance command center. This quietly obsessive devotion is the truest hallmark of a Pri☆Chan character.
She sits alone in a dark room, illuminated only by her monitors—the purest image of an otaku ever animated. Any seasoned viewer feels both pity and kinship. By this point, most of us had guessed that Virtual Daia and Nijinosaki Daia were the same person.
That seemed obvious… until episode 70, “The Summer Daia Festival! It’s Blazing Hot, da mon!”, turned everything upside down.
Daia talks to Daia.That’s right.
The Daia we’d been watching all this time wasn’t a projection she controlled; she was simply an ordinary girl watching from the other side of the screen.
“Do you want to debut too?” Daia asked Daia.
The other Daia flustered, and after a brief pause, she replied softly,
“I see.”
It was a line that could be heard as resignation—or as quiet understanding.
That delicate ambiguity was beautiful.
The story continued for a while, with the true nature of the virtual Daia still shrouded in mystery.
For a while, the true identity of Virtual Daia remains unknown, until episode 76, “Kira-nichiwa! The Day Daia and Daia Met, da-mon!” finally reveals everything.
The real Daia had based her virtual counterpart on the princess from a picture book she read as a lonely child. The princess loved sewing and made beautiful dresses for princesses all over the world, connecting with others through fashion.
Inspired, little Daia learned sewing from her grandmother, who told her,
“When you play with others, you might discover new things to love.”
But back then, Daia didn’t really understand what that meant.
Years passed, and Daia became the reclusive otaku we know—watching idol lives in a dark room, surrounded by glowing monitors.
Through Pri☆Chan performances, she began designing clothes, just like the storybook princess.
Almost by accident, she entered a contest with her designs.
At this point, the number of monitors increases to three —
even as she keeps living her shut-in life, you can see how her “favorites” are quietly growing through idols.
Eventually, she ends up with eight monitors — a setup that would put any hardcore otaku to shame.
Then, the prize from the contest finally arrives — the Design Palette.
Daia places inside it the outfits she has imagined for herself, one after another,
and with a wish in her heart — “I wonder if it’ll understand how I want to shine like Mirai-chan?” —
she registers the navigation character’s name as Daia.
Thus was born another Daia—an AI modeled after her imagination, resembling the princess from her childhood storybook. (Any copyright issues were quietly ignored.)
Her nav-AI knew everything about her creator’s heart.
“You’re Daia, and I’m Daia too.”
“Daia wants to do Pri☆Chan, right? You want to make lots of friends like Mirai and the others, right? It’s okay—Daia can do it!”
And as time passed, the two of them worked together as partners, holding festivals and enlivening the world of Pri☆Chan.
Yet, the closer Nijinosaki-san herself drew to Mirai-chan and the others through those days,
the stronger her yearning to shine as an idol grew—until it brought her to tears.
Finally, Virtual Daia declares: “It’s time for you to debut!”
This time, virtual Daia doesn’t deflect with an “I see.”—she listens, ready to accept her feelings.
And so, in episode 77, “The Mysterious Idol Debuts! Da mon!”, excitement spreads through the Pri☆Chan world as a new idol’s debut stream is announced.
Special programs, live shows—everyone supports the newcomer.
Meanwhile, Daia hides in her room, terrified.
Daia begins to line up one negative word after another.
Still keeping her secret to herself, she goes so far as to say that making her own debut would be “just too convenient…” —
a painfully low sense of self-worth that borders on despair.
Her only understanding companion, the other Daia, gently pushes her forward:
“But even so, Daia still wants to make debut, right?”
And then, when the live performance of her admired Mirai-chan and the others begins for the newcomer’s debut,
Daia finally breaks down, crying out from the depths of her heart:
“I want to become a Pri☆Chan idol… I want to be like Mirai-chan!”
“Then take first step. No… Even just a half step,”
replies her other self.
Perfect understanding. You don’t need to solve everything at once. You just need to start.
And so, Virtual Daia offers her avatar—the radiant figure in the virtual world—to her real self.
The avatar belongs to Virtual Daia, and the song is sung by the real Daia — together, the two decided to become one single idol.
“Slowly we'll find out how to seize your happiness together. Daia and Daia, will get through it together!”
Only Daia could guide Daia.
How beautiful is that?
“It’s Daia’s job to guide Pri☆Chan idols! So come on, Nijinosaki Daia—become a Pri☆Chan idol, da mon!”
At last, the mentor who once guided others guides herself.
Her debut performance begins!
I cheered from behind my own screen, full power.
Her song, “Friend Password,” echoes across the stage—its lyrics inspired by the picture book she loved as a child. Mirai alone senses the truth.
※Lyrics Once upon a time, there was a princess searching for a smile Wandering in her dreams, she found A sparkling rainbow palette Her fallen tears eventually became seeds And at the time of that encounter, the flower of hope bloomed When a connection ties together two hearts, Do you think that's when you become true friends? She'll give you all that you desire But in return, she wishes to know The password to everyone's heart When she felt this thrilling sensation all at once, She felt as if she, too, could become a true friend She'll give you all that you desire But in return, she wishes to know The password to everyone's heart
“You did it, Daia.”
And then...
“Daia stands on stage, and Daia sings.”
“I'm here, and yet I'm not here!”
The Daia over there, and the Daia standing here—
a live performance that could only be born from the union of the virtual and the real.
I never imagined that the true meaning of her catchphrase would be fulfilled here... and I couldn’t hold back my tears.
No longer the lonely girl watching from a dark room,
but an idol shining under rainbow lights.
Together, they found what “favorite things” truly mean.
Conceptually, Kiratto Pri☆Chan captures the essence of Virtual YouTubers perfectly—introverted people spreading their wings through their avatars.
It’s a vision of the VR future that’s both emotional and beautifully realized.
Neither Sharon Apple nor Hatsune Miku—something entirely new: the Virtual Pri☆Chan Idol.
With the chaos and uncertainty surrounding VR culture over the past year, Pri☆Chan delivered an answer both timely and moving:
A quiet girl on the edge of her classroom becomes a top idol in a virtual world.
In an era where the Internet is our second reality, this was the purest dream of all.
I expected some anime to tackle the rise of Virtual YouTubers eventually—but to think an anime for kids girls would do it this gracefully, with such perfect buildup and emotional payoff… incredible.
Before I knew it, my desk was overflowing with Daia merch.
Episode 77, “The Mysterious Idol Debuts! Da mon!”
…A perfect 100 out of 100!!!!!
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