It was a bright summer morning in Calatonia.
Sunlight spilled freely across the streets, warming concrete and glass alike. The air carried the lazy hum of a city fully awake, vendors setting up, joggers pacing sidewalks, early commuters already deep into their routines. A few pedestrians were glued to their phones and laptops, lost in their own worlds.
It was the kind of morning people believed good things could happen.
Prince adjusted the guitar strap on his shoulder as he moved with the crowd toward the nearest transport stop. His steps were steady, practiced, but his tail flicked just slightly, a tell he hadn't quite mastered hiding.
One year.
It had been exactly one year since he woke up in this world.
He still remembered that first morning too clearly, opening his eyes, expecting a ceiling fan and cracked paint, only to find unfamiliar walls and hands that weren't his own. Pink hands and pink fur.
A pink panther staring back at him from a mirror that didn't belong to him. Strangely enough, this new identity shared his name and interests, but the differences were undeniable.
The first shock? It was no longer 2026 it was 2016.
There were no COVID lockdowns, no Diddy parties, no naked wife walking at the Grammys, no ongoing war, no wildfires in Hollywood. People moved freely, blissfully unaware of the global disasters that had shaped his original timeline.
This world looked like Earth. Felt like Earth. Cars, phones, buildings, money, everything familiar enough to lull you into forgetting that nothing was actually the same. The biggest difference was obvious the moment you looked at anyone for more than a second.
Animals... Everywhere.
Foxes in suits, crocodiles on bicycles, rabbits in workout clothes, birds perched on traffic lights scrolling through their phones.
No humans, just them.
Hours of scouring the internet yielded no explanations. After diving as deep as the second page of a Google search, he gave up and accepted his fate.
Honestly, what other choice did he have?
"Maybe Scrat designed this world by accident... After all, that nut-obsessed squirrel did break up Pangaea and rearrange the solar system." It was a stupid thought, but at this point, nothing seemed impossible.
Despite the world's technological similarities to his own, there were odd discrepancies-particularly in entertainment. Movies, celebrities, and songs he once knew either didn't exist or had bizarre equivalents. There was no Ed Sheeran, but there was Ed Sheepran, whose song Thinking Out Loud was still a hit. Taylor Swift's, Love Story existed too-though he wasn't sure if she was a wolf... or a fox.
This led to an interesting realization: he could recreate songs from his world and pass them off as his own but fate had other plans for him.
A year ago, he hadn't planned on becoming a criminal.
It had just… happened. He'd been robbing a bank.
Alone.
Small job, quiet job. In, out, gone. He'd been in the vault when the door opened not with alarms screaming, but with confidence strolling in.
A wolf.
They'd stared at each other over stacks of gold.
Wolf had smiled.
"You too, huh?"
Ten minutes later, the vault was empty. Thirty minutes later, Prince had an offer.
"You're good," Wolf had said, leaning against the getaway car. "Ever thought about not working solo?"
Prince hadn't trusted him.
That should've been the end of it.
Instead, it had been the beginning.
A year later, Prince was one of the Bad Guys and now he was late for an audition.
He climbed into a taxi, gave the driver the address, and leaned back as the city rolled past the window. Familiar, strange, comfortable.
He still didn't know why he'd been brought here.
Or how.
He only knew that this world had given him two things: a second life and a second chance.
The cab stopped.
Prince stepped out and froze.
Calatonia Arena loomed ahead, massive and alive. Thousands of contestants crowded the entrance, voices overlapping in nervous excitement. Instruments everywhere, cameras, families. Hope so thick it practically hummed.
RISING STAR: AUDITIONS TODAY
"So this is it," he murmured.
The show had dominated the country for years. Careers were made here. Dreams were crushed here. Sometimes both on the same stage.
There were singers everywhere, some confident, some terrified, some clearly here for attention alone. A rabbit wearing a ninja costume waved at cameras. Someone else had dressed up as Po in Kung Fu panda. A group nearby wore sci-fi armor that clanked every time they moved.
"This world never disappoints," Prince muttered.
Adjusting his guitar strap, he navigated through the dense crowd, careful not to bump into anyone. The weight of his instrument made maneuvering difficult, but he managed. Upon reaching the registration counter, he found himself in a long line. Half an hour passed before he finally reached the front.
The Rising Star registration had already been completed online. Contestants only needed to present their downloaded forms for verification before being guided to the audition hall.
"Contestant number 633?" she confirmed, checking her list.
"Yep."
"Take this ID card and head through that door." She scribbled his number on an identification badge and handed it to him. "If you're lucky, your turn will be today. Otherwise, come early tomorrow."
Prince accepted the card, glanced around the bustling hall, then proceeded toward the designated door. The security staff checked his ID and let him through.
The hallway led to a massive waiting room, packed with over a hundred contestants. Seats were scarce. Some people had brought their own chairs, while others sat on the floor or stood.
Prince drew a few glances upon entering especially with his unique color of fur, but interest in him faded quickly-he was just another hopeful among many. Finding an empty corner, he sat down and placed his guitar beside him.
"I wonder if my turn will come today."
Prince found an empty corner and sat down, setting his guitar beside him.
He checked his second-hand wristwatch, a relic from his body's previous owner.
8:30 AM.
He exhaled slowly.
This body's past self had a job as a waiter in a bar, which barely covered rent and food. The old Prince had never dared to audition. He loved music but never believed he was good enough. But now that he posses this body, everything changed.
With that, he had submitted a video audition online. To his surprise, he had been selected for the preliminary rounds.
A year ago when he came here, he'd been stealing to survive. Lying because it was easier. Wearing masks because they worked.
Today, he was here for something real.
No aliases, no tricks. Just his voice.
A staff member entered the room. "Auditions are starting. You'll have five minutes when your name is called."
Time stretched.
One by one, names were called. Finally-after what felt like an eternity-he heard it.
"Contestant number 633! Prince Jefferson!"
Prince immediately stood up. Grabbing his guitar, he followed the staff member toward the stage.
It was time to shine.