The city was louder than Kenji remembered. Neon signs buzzed, street performers filled the air with clashing notes, and cars honked as if trying to out-sing each other. Yet beneath the noise, Kenji felt something sharper—anticipation.
The contest hall loomed ahead, banners stretched across its walls: City Youth Music Contest – Preliminary Round.
Kenji tightened his grip on his guitar case. His palms were slick, but his heartbeat wasn't fear anymore—it was rhythm, steady and insistent.
"Two weeks, gone in a blink," Haru muttered beside him, carrying a crumpled bag of snacks. "You ready for this, Kenji?"
Kenji's golden eyes flicked toward the entrance where contestants crowded, tuning instruments, humming scales, whispering strategies. Among them, he saw two familiar silhouettes.
Ryo Tanaka, posture sharp as a blade, his entourage orbiting him like planets. And Jin Arakawa, leaning casually against a pillar, strumming a soft melody that somehow cut through the chaos.
Kenji's throat tightened. Rivals, both of them.
The System's voice hummed quietly in his head.
> [Quest Active: Surpass Ryo Tanaka in the Contest.]
[Secondary Quest: Outshine Jin Arakawa in a Public Performance.]
Haru nudged him. "Hey. Don't get lost staring at them. You're here because you've earned it. Remember that."
Kenji exhaled slowly and stepped into the hall.
Backstage was a maze of curtains, wires, and muffled voices. Contestants tuned, argued, or sat silently, clutching sheet music like lifelines. Kenji found his assigned corner, laid down his guitar, and began his warm-ups.
His voice rose, stronger than before, breath steady, every note clean. Weeks of training were carved into each sound.
A shadow fell across him.
"Not bad."
Kenji looked up to find Jin standing there, guitar in hand, his smile easy. His voice carried no malice, only curiosity.
"You're Kenji Sato, right? The one who posted Chains."
Kenji nodded. "That's me."
"I listened. Raw, but powerful." Jin's gaze sharpened slightly. "I'm looking forward to hearing you today."
Before Kenji could respond, another voice cut through.
"Don't waste your time, Jin."
Ryo strode past, his smirk razor-sharp. "Raw power means nothing without control. And control is something Kenji will never have." His eyes locked on Kenji's. "When we're on stage, you'll remember your place."
The tension snapped like a taut string. Jin raised an eyebrow, then walked off, strumming casually, unbothered. Ryo lingered a moment longer before turning away, his entourage following like shadows.
Kenji's fists tightened around his guitar strap, but Haru appeared just in time. "Ignore him. Do what you came to do."
The contest began. One by one, performers took the stage, voices rising, instruments clashing, some stumbling, some soaring. The audience clapped politely, sometimes louder, sometimes barely at all.
When Ryo stepped up, the hall shifted. His presence was sharp, commanding. His voice cut with precision, each note honed to perfection. The crowd erupted, judges leaning forward, impressed.
"Damn," Haru muttered. "He's good."
Kenji's stomach twisted, but he forced himself to breathe. Ryo wasn't just an obstacle. He was a wall Kenji had to break.
Later, Jin's turn came. His voice flowed smooth as silk, effortless, weaving around his guitar like water. The crowd didn't just clap—they swayed. Some even stood, carried by his rhythm.
Kenji swallowed hard. Ryo was fire. Jin was water. And he—he had to find his own element.
Finally, Kenji's name echoed across the hall.
He stepped onto the stage, lights blinding, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing down. His knees threatened to lock, but he forced himself forward, gripping his guitar like an anchor.
He strummed once. The sound rang out, clean, resonant.
A hush fell.
Kenji closed his eyes. He thought of the System, of every night spent tearing his throat raw. Of Haru's relentless support. Of his mother, of the shame he once carried, and of the hope blooming in his chest now.
And then he sang.
The first note shook with nerves, but the next carried strength. His breath held firm, his tone steady. The lyrics weren't just words—they were his truth, carried on the wings of Lyric Resonance.
The spotlight pulsed with him, amplifying every emotion. Each chord poured his soul into the air, raw yet sharpened by training.
By the time he reached the final chorus, the hall was silent. No whispers, no doubts. Only his voice filling every corner.
When the last note faded, Kenji opened his eyes.
The crowd erupted.
Haru leapt to his feet, shouting louder than anyone. Judges scribbled furiously, their eyes wide. Even Jin's smile had deepened, his gaze thoughtful.
And Ryo—Ryo's smirk was gone. His jaw was tight, his stare burning.
Kenji bowed once, his chest heaving. For the first time, he didn't feel like the boy who had broken on stage.
He felt like a contender.
Backstage, the System buzzed again.
> [Performance Complete.]
[Result: Audience Captivated.]
[Reward Unlocked: Confidence Aura (Passive).]
Kenji's body hummed with a strange warmth. The fire inside him no longer wavered. It burned steady, unyielding.
This was only the beginning.