Chapter 14: The Future World Fes Begins
May 17, 2021, Monday – 4:00 P.M.
Yagokoro General Hospital – Mafuyu's Room
3rd POV
The faint smell of disinfectant hung in the air, mixing with the low hum of hospital machinery. A pale shaft of afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds, cutting across the sterile room where Mafuyu sat upright on the bed, her back straight yet trembling. Her mind spun as the man in front of her—imposing even in his calm demeanor—claimed to be her grandfather.
For a moment, she could only stare. Kyoya's presence filled the room like a shadow too heavy to ignore. His dark eyes, unreadable but not unkind, locked onto hers. Mafuyu had asked her father countless times about her grandparents, only to be met with silence or a deft change of subject. Now the truth stood before her like an unwanted guest.
Her fingers clutched at the blanket on her lap, knuckles white. When she finally found her voice, it came out thin and trembling.
"How... how can I be sure you're my grandfather?"
Kyoya said nothing. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long, cream-colored envelope. His hands were steady as he offered it to her.
She hesitated but took it, tearing open the seal with shaking fingers. A sheet of paper slid out—its words and numbers a blur at first, then sharpening into something unmistakable. Her breath caught.
"This is..." Her voice broke.
Kyoya's tone was calm but carried a quiet weight. "While you were still unconscious, I took the liberty of running a DNA test. A strand of your hair, matched with mine. I had to know, for both of us. The results came in a few days ago and..."
"It's a match..." Her eyes widened as the words left her lips. "Then you really are my grandfather... and that means..."
Kyoya's gaze softened, though the lines of his face remained firm. "You are the illegitimate child of your father, Asahina Gouki, and Nagae Miku—my daughter. Your real mother."
The room tilted. Mafuyu's mind struggled to anchor itself. She had always believed the woman who raised her was her true mother. Now that belief cracked and splintered, scattering across her thoughts like glass. Though outwardly composed, her body betrayed her—a faint tremor in her hands, a quickening breath she couldn't control.
An illegitimate child... of one of the most powerful families in Japan. She tried to swallow but her throat closed around the weight of the revelation. This was too much, too fast. Her chest tightened, and the edges of her vision blurred.
Kyoya stepped closer, his large hand settling gently on her shoulder. It was a surprisingly steadying touch.
"I know this is sudden," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its steel. "But you have to accept it. This is who you are."
Her eyes darted to his face. "But... why tell me this now?"
Kyoya exhaled slowly, as if the answer carried its own burden. "It was the condition I set with your father. When I found out about you, I made it clear—he could only tell you if something life-threatening ever befell you or your family. That threshold was crossed a month ago."
A flicker of memory seared through her mind: last month's incident, the chaos, the fear she had tried so hard to bury. Mafuyu's hands shot up to cover her mouth, as if she could physically keep the nausea and the memories from spilling out.
Kyoya, now kneeling to meet her at eye level, spoke softly. "It seems you remembered something unpleasant. Do you want to talk about it?"
She shook her head, a small, rigid movement. Words would only make the images stronger. Kyoya didn't press. He stayed there, waiting, his presence solid and unyielding like a stone in a rushing river.
Minutes passed before she could straighten again. Her breathing steadied, though her pulse still raced. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but clear.
"So... what happens to me now? With me being... an illegitimate child."
Kyoya rose, slipping his hands into his coat pockets, his expression unreadable but deliberate. "That choice is yours. You can keep your name—Asahina Mafuyu—or take our family name and become Nagae Mafuyu. I won't force your hand. I'll give you time to think. When you've made your decision, come to me."
Mafuyu blinked at him, unsure how to process being given a choice when her whole identity had just been rewritten. "O-okay..."
Kyoya nodded once, then continued. "There's another matter. You'll be transferring schools."
Her head snapped up. "Eh? Transfer schools?"
His gaze hardened a fraction, though his voice stayed level. "You'll transfer to a school closer to our home. With what happened to you, I can't risk your safety anymore. I already lost my daughter three years ago. I won't lose anyone else—not when I can still act. You're my granddaughter, and it's my duty to protect you until you're strong enough to stand on your own."
Mafuyu looked down, fingers tightening around the blanket again. His words carried both warmth and iron. Protection, yes—but also inevitability. Her world was shifting whether she wanted it to or not.
Kyoya's eyes softened slightly, a flicker of something almost like grief passing through them. "If your brother were here, he would have said the same."
Mafuyu's lips parted as she processed Kyoya's words.
"Brother? I... have a brother?"
Kyoya gave a quiet nod. "Ah. That's right—you don't know yet. Your brother is—"
The door suddenly burst open with a sharp clang that jolted both Mafuyu and Kyoya out of the heavy air that had settled over the room.
"Mafuyu!!"
Three voices rang out at once, filled with urgency and relief.
Standing in the doorway were three young girls, each distinctly different in presence yet bound together by the same worry written across their faces. The first had long, grayish-white hair flowing almost to her waist, dressed casually in a navy track jacket over a black shirt, with pale blue shorts. The second, with light pink hair tied up by a black bow, wore a skirt with twin frills at the sides and a cream-colored blouse with suspender straps. The gold letters on her ribbon gleamed faintly—"CubeRouge." The last, shorter than the others, had cropped brown hair and warm brown eyes. She wore a pink frilled blouse paired with a short black skirt, black low heels clicking softly as she entered. A slim black choker circled her neck, matching the ribbon that tied off her braid.
Kyoya turned toward them with a raised brow, his expression cool but not unkind. "Can I help you girls with something?"
But Mafuyu's eyes softened the moment she saw them. "Kanade, Mizuki, Ena... you're all here..."
Kyoya glanced sideways at her, a faint spark of curiosity flickering across his face. "You know them?"
"They're my friends," Mafuyu replied quietly.
The three girls wasted no time rushing to her bedside. Their arms wrapped around her with a gentleness that belied the urgency of their entrance, their relief spilling out in their voices. Kyoya, standing a step away, allowed himself a small smile at the sight. His granddaughter wasn't alone—she had people she could lean on.
Mizuki's usually playful tone softened. "We saw the news... Mafuyu, I'm so sorry for your loss."
Ena shifted awkwardly, her gaze lowered. "Yeah. We asked your school about you, but all they said was that you'd gone into a coma. For a month." Her voice tightened. "We only knew you were awake again because your teacher told us this morning."
Kanade, always the most gentle of the trio, leaned forward, eyes shimmering with concern. "Are you okay, Mafuyu? How are you feeling?"
Mafuyu breathed out, her voice steadier with them around. "I'm alright, Kanade. I feel fine now that all of you are here. But..." she trailed off, glancing toward Kyoya, "you kind of interrupted something."
The three turned in unison, finally noticing the man who had been silently watching. Kyoya gave them a small wave, his presence somehow dignified even in the plain hospital room.
"I'm glad my granddaughter has friends she can rely on," he said. "But I believe introductions are in order."
Kanade blinked, quickly bowing her head. "Ah—right. I'm Yoisaki Kanade. Mafuyu's friend."
Mizuki followed with a flourish. "Akiyama Mizuki! Great to meet you!"
"And I'm—" Ena began, only for Kyoya to cut in with surprising accuracy.
"Shinonome Ena. Your father has spoken to me about you."
The air shifted. Ena stiffened, her gaze dropping to the floor, shoulders curling inward. A shadow crossed her expression. But before the silence could deepen, Kyoya stepped closer and rested a firm, steady hand on her shoulder.
"I know your history with him," Kyoya said. His voice, though low, carried a surprising warmth. "And I know the weight of his words on you. But don't let them define you. Follow your heart, Ena. Hard work can surpass talent—especially when talent is wasted through idleness. Remember that."
Ena's lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her features. "T-thank you... for the encouragement..." Her eyes then widened. "Wait. Did you just say—Mafuyu's your granddaughter?"
"Yes." Kyoya straightened to his full height, his tone taking on the gravity of truth. "I am Nagae Kyoya. Patriarch of the Nagae family... and Mafuyu's biological grandfather."
Kanade, Mizuki, and Ena froze. Their eyes darted between Mafuyu and Kyoya, back and forth, searching for any undeniable resemblance.
Mizuki tilted her head, squinting. "I mean... the violet hair is one thing. But I'm still not totally convinced."
Kyoya's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Very well. Mafuyu, clap for me. Loudly."
"Clap? Uh... okay..."
Though confused, Mafuyu obeyed. She drew in a breath and clapped her hands together with all her strength.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!
The sound was followed by a sharp crackle. Blue sparks erupted across her palms, dancing wildly over her fingers. Electricity snapped in the air, sharp and hot, the smell of ozone filling the room.
Her friends recoiled in shock.
"W-w-what the hell was that?!" Ena stammered, eyes wide.
"Mafuyu, your hands—!" Mizuki pointed, her voice high with panic. "Electricity! It's literally coming out of you!"
Mafuyu gasped, staring at her trembling hands as arcs of lightning crawled over her skin. "I-I-I don't know! Grandfather! What's happening to me?!"
Kyoya stepped forward, utterly composed. As if in answer, faint tendrils of electricity began coursing over his body as well, controlled, precise, bending to his will rather than running wild.
"This confirms it," he said, his voice carrying a finality that quieted the chaos. "You are truly of Nagae blood. You carry within you the power of our line... the blood of a youkai. Just as I do."
The three girls went silent, their faces pale with disbelief. The pieces clicked together in their minds—the violet hair, the unexplained power, Kyoya's commanding presence. Their friend wasn't just Mafuyu anymore. She was half-youkai, heir to a legacy none of them had imagined.
Mafuyu's breathing quickened. Half-youkai? She had thought her life complicated already. Now, even her blood defied what she had believed herself to be.
Kyoya looked at the three visitors, his gaze steady but not harsh. "I assume you want an explanation. Sit down. I will tell you everything from the beginning."
The girls hesitated, but the weight of his voice left little room for refusal. Chairs were pulled close, the soft scrape of metal legs against the floor breaking the silence. Kanade sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Mizuki leaned forward, eyes wide and restless, trying to piece together the impossible. Ena crossed her arms but kept stealing glances at Mafuyu, concern etched deeper than she wanted to admit.
Mafuyu sat quietly among them, electricity still faintly crackling along her fingers before slowly dissipating. She looked down, both fearful and entranced, as if the world she thought she knew had crumbled and reformed all in the span of minutes.
Kyoya stood before them like a storyteller at the threshold of something greater. His eyes swept over the four young girls, settling once more on Mafuyu.
"Then listen well," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "For this is the truth of your bloodline, and the burden you may one day carry."
The hospital room, once filled with only the sterile hum of machines, now felt like the stage for a revelation. The future outside pressed on with the sounds of the world, but here, in this quiet corner, a different kind of story was about to unfold—one that bound Mafuyu and her friends tighter than any of them had anticipated.
An hour of explaining later
The hour that followed was heavy but strangely illuminating. Kyoya's words carried the weight of history—stories of the Nagae line, of youkai blood that had threaded itself through generations, and of the burdens it left to their descendants. Though it was a lot to take in, the girls listened with quiet focus, as though any distraction might cause them to miss some vital truth.
When the last piece of explanation settled, Ena leaned back in her chair with a low exhale. "So... youkai really do exist." Her voice was somewhere between awe and resignation.
Mizuki tilted her head, twirling a strand of pink hair between her fingers. "And not just exist—they're living among us. That's... kind of wild."
Kanade, however, looked only at Mafuyu. Her soft smile held no hesitation. "Even so, Mafuyu is still Mafuyu. Youkai blood or not, you're the same Asahina Mafuyu we met. The friend we care about."
The reassurance caused Mafuyu's chest to loosen, a tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Thanks, Kanade." Her eyes drifted down to her own hands, remembering the sparks that had jumped from her palms earlier. "But it still feels strange. I can't believe I can use the power of a dragon god. It's so... unreal."
Kyoya's calm voice cut through her uncertainty. "To be precise, you can wield only a fraction of the dragon god's power. Your brother, however, inherited the majority of it."
Mafuyu's head snapped up, eyes widening. "My brother. That's right—you said before that I have one."
At once Mizuki perked up, intrigue flashing across her face. "Mafuyu has a brother? Oh, now this is interesting~."
Kyoya gave a slow nod. "His name is Riku. And before you ask—no, he's not in Japan at the moment."
Kanade blinked. "Not in Japan? Then... where is he?"
"He's in Stockholm," Kyoya answered. His tone carried a faint pride, subtle but present. "Competing in a tournament."
Mizuki leaned forward with a sparkle in her eye. "So he's an athlete?"
Kyoya shook his head. "No. He is a professional musician."
Ena's brow arched slightly. "So music runs in the family, then?"
A shadow of nostalgia crossed Kyoya's face, softening the sharp lines that usually marked his expression. "To tell you the truth, the Nagae family has always carried an innate talent for music. It runs in our blood. Riku, though..." His lips curved faintly upward. "He may be the most gifted our family has seen in generations. Even in my youth, when I was a violinist, I could not reach the heights he is capable of."
The room fell briefly quiet at that admission. It wasn't often that a patriarch spoke with such openness, but the admiration in his tone was unmistakable.
Then, with deliberate movement, Kyoya reached for the television remote and flicked the screen on. After a few quick adjustments, a live broadcast filled the screen—an arena bathed in bright lights, cameras sweeping across a massive audience.
Kyoya's eyes flickered with approval. "Good. We've made it just in time."
Mafuyu tilted her head. "On time? For what?"
"You'll see what your brother has been doing," Kyoya replied simply. "This is something better seen than explained. You girls understand English, correct?"
The three friends nodded almost in unison.
"Good. Then there won't be any problems."
The hum of the hospital faded into the background as all eyes fixed on the glowing screen. The broadcast came into focus: a spotlight illuminated the center of the arena, where a bald man stood with a microphone in hand, his voice booming across the speakers.
SirActionSlacks: Welcome, one and all! Thirty-five thousand fans in attendance at the sold-out Hovet Arena here in Stockholm!! I'm SirActionSlacks, and I'll be your host as I welcome you all... to the ESL ONE Future World Fes! EVERYBODY!! ARE YOU READY?!
The crowd roared in unison from SirActionSlacks words, a thunderous wave of sound that carried even through the television speakers. The camera swept across the stands, revealing thousands of fans, flags waving, glow sticks flashing, faces lit with anticipation.
Mizuki pressed both palms against her knees, leaning forward with wide eyes. "Wow... I can feel the energy of the crowd even from here!"
Mafuyu's gaze didn't leave the screen, her lips parting as the noise and spectacle filled her vision. "So my brother... is competing in this?"
Kyoya's expression remained composed, though his tone betrayed a hint of pride. "Yes. And from what he told me earlier, his band will be the first to perform. You'll see with your own eyes soon enough."
The arena lights swirled in patterns, the roar of the crowd rising higher. Even from a hospital room halfway across the world, it was impossible not to be swept up in the momentum.
SirActionSlacks: ALRIGHT!! I love the energy you all bring today! But before we get things started, let's hand it over to the analysts at the panel to see what's in store for us!
The feed shifted to a group of commentators seated behind a long desk, but Mafuyu and her friends hardly heard the details. For them, the anticipation of seeing Riku on stage made every passing second feel heavy with promise.
Kyoya folded his arms, his gaze fixed firmly on the screen. "Watch closely. This is the stage your brother has chosen—and the world he's carving his name into."
The broadcast shifted smoothly, cutting away from the roaring arena to a sleek panel desk where four figures sat beneath the bright lights. Three men and one woman faced the cameras, their smiles sharp and practiced, the energy of the stage feeding into their introductions.
Tsunami: Thank you for that, Slacks. And like he said, welcome everyone to the Future World Fes! The second checkpoint on the road to The International begins today! I'm Tsunami, and joining me on the desk are Ephey, Jenkins, and Cap.
The man speaking, Tsunami, had a confident air about him. With his short black hair, neatly groomed beard, and sharp gray suit, he carried himself with the flair of someone who had seen countless tournaments and still loved every second of them. His booming voice immediately set the tone.
Jenkins: Thanks for the intro, Tsunami. Finally! Main Stage time! After four grueling days of groups, we've reached the heart of the action. We started with fourteen bands in the Group Stage—now only twelve remain. And by the end of it all, one will stand tall as champion, hoisting the coveted ESL Trophy.
The man called Jenkins radiated energy, his long brown hair brushing past his shoulders. Dressed casually in a blue long-sleeved polo and black pants, he leaned forward in excitement, his words spilling out with infectious enthusiasm.
Ephey: The Group Stage was unpredictable. Some bands underperformed, some hit expectations, and a few shattered them completely by going beyond what anyone thought possible. The Main Stage is where all of that gets tested again under pressure. Hopefully, we'll see those flashes of brilliance continue.
Ephey's softer voice was a contrast to the two men before her, but it carried poise and grace. Her long black hair framed her face as she spoke, the red-and-black dress she wore giving her the presence of someone elegant yet deeply knowledgeable.
Cap: And when we talk about expectations, we can't ignore the favorites of this event—OG.
Cap, the last of the four, leaned into the discussion with practiced ease. His light brown hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him a professional look, his light-blue suit sharp under the studio lights. His tone carried both authority and a trace of excitement as the conversation shifted.
Jenkins: Day one, they came out swinging. Day two? We saw something from Iku that I think shocked everyone.
Ephey: I still can't get over that performance. To think someone like Iku could produce those kinds of high-pitched vocals—it's incredibly rare in this era. Even I, as a professional vocalist, couldn't replicate that tone. It was surreal.
Tsunami: And let's not forget OG's trademark instrument swap. Over the years, many have tried to replicate that style. Honestly? Only two bands have ever come close—Team Liquid, who are still alive in the lower bracket, and Team Secret, who didn't even qualify this time. But with OG, it's second nature. Their Day 2 performance had all of us stunned. That momentum might just carry them all the way.
Jenkins: Exactly. With how they're playing, they're the heavy favorites to take it all. And if they do, that means a direct invite to The International. No questions asked.
The panel's discussion shifted naturally as Tsunami pulled up graphics of the current global standings, the screen filling with names and numbers.
Tsunami: Speaking of The International, let's take a look at the leaderboard as it stands. Here are the current points.
*1st – PSG. LGD (China) – 1400 Points
+2nd – Team Spirit (Eastern Europe) – 990 Points
+3rd – Thunder Awaken (South America) – 950 Points
+4th – OG (Western Europe) – 930 Points
+5th – Team Liquid (Western Europe) – 760 Points
6th – Quincy Crew (North America) – 660 Points
+7th – Fnatic (Southeast Asia) – 580 Points
+8th – BOOM RIVALRY (Southeast Asia) – 540 Points
9th – Xtreme (China) – 540 Points
10th – Team Aster (China) – 540 Points
11th – Evil Geniuses (North America) – 520 Points
+12th – Tundra (Western Europe) – 450 Points
(Bands with * are those who qualified for TI, and bands with + are bands that are participating in the Future World Fes)
Ephey: And there it is. Three of the teams here—OG, Team Spirit, and Thunder Awaken—are in prime positions. If they finish top three in Stockholm, they're guaranteed their TI slot. Anything less, and they'll be forced to prove themselves again in the final qualifiers.
Tsunami: That's right. And the stakes? Huge. First place here nets 680 points and a whopping $1.2 million. Let's run through the breakdown.
1st - 680 PBC Points - $1,200,000
2nd - 610 PBC Points - $750,000
3rd - 530 PBC Points - $550,000
4th - 460 PBC Points - $350,000
5th-6th - 385 PBC Points - $250,000
7th-8th - 240 PBC Points - $200,000
9th-12th - $100,000
Jenkins: That's life-changing money for some of these bands. And for the ones hovering near the qualification line, those points are pure gold. Winning here not only puts you on the map but makes TI qualification much smoother. Top 12 is the golden circle—you want to be in it.
Cap: Let's take a closer look at the bands still in contention.
The graphics shifted again, splitting the screen into two neat groups.
Group A
OG
Tundra
BetBoom
T1
BOOM RIVALRY
beastcoast
Group B
Gaimin Gladiators
Thunder Awaken
TSM
Team Spirit
Team Liquid
Fnatic
Tsunami: And there's your lineup. Notice anything? No Chinese bands in attendance. The ongoing riots in several major Chinese cities made travel impossible. In response, Valve granted PSG.LGD, Team Aster, Royal Never Give Up, and Xtreme 300 PBC points each as compensation for missing this event.
Ephey: It's a tough situation, but it means this tournament feels very international-heavy. We've got Europe, Southeast Asia, South America, and North America all clashing without China's giants in the mix. It shifts the dynamics considerably.
Jenkins: Right. And that makes this tournament even more unpredictable. OG are the favorites, sure, but with Liquid lurking in the lower bracket, Thunder Awaken making waves, and Spirit always dangerous—you just can't script this kind of showdown.
Cap: Exactly. If OG falters even once, we could be looking at a completely different picture going into TI.
Jenkins: And if I may point out—among the twelve bands that qualified for the main stage, the single most improved squad has to be Thunder Awaken. These guys have been an absolute revelation. Throughout the group stage, they showed off the raw, unfiltered talent of South American music. DarkMago on the guitar and Sacred on the drums? A terrifying combo. They've silenced all the doubters and proved they belong on this stage, finishing second in Group B despite that four-way tie.
Jenkins spoke with a mix of awe and excitement, gesturing wildly with his hands as highlights of Thunder Awaken's group stage played across the screen—Sacred hammering down a furious drumline while DarkMago's riffs electrified the crowd.
Cap: And then we've got Group A—where, let's be real, there was never any doubt. OG dominated in just two days flat. It was a clean sweep, one banger after another, not a single weak performance. The unlikely duo of Iku and Yuragi... their voices blend so seamlessly, almost like they were born to sing together. Meanwhile, bzm, Ammar, and Taiga? Absolute beasts with their instruments. Every track sounded like it belonged in history's hall of fame.
Cap's tone carried a mix of respect and admiration, underscoring just how overwhelming OG's momentum had been. On the broadcast, clips of OG's group stage flashed by—Riku shredding a guitar solo, Iku belting out an impossibly high note that drew gasps from the arena, the band swapping instruments mid-song without missing a beat.
Tsunami: Well, with all that OG hype you've been tossing around, let's not forget—they're first up today. And not against just anyone. Their opponents? Team Spirit.
The crowd's roar, audible even through the stream, seemed to shake the hospital room as the camera cut to a sea of banners waving Spirit's logo.
Ephey: Team Spirit... they've struggled in the groups. Yatoro and Mira had some noticeable slip-ups—timing issues, slight tempo misses—and those mistakes cost them votes. The talent is there, no one questions that, but they need to lock in. Against OG, even small errors can be fatal.
Her words were calm but edged with warning, a subtle reminder of how high the bar had been set.
Jenkins: And that's exactly why this is the match to watch. Both bands want this for very different reasons. For OG, this is payback. Remember Amsterdam? Spirit beat them 2-0 in the upper bracket final. That stung. And on the flip side, for Team Spirit, this is revenge for TI10. The one who crushed their dreams back then? Iku himself. This is personal, folks. The rematch we've all been waiting for.
The broadcast showed split-screen shots of OG and Team Spirit backstage, their faces focused, instruments in hand. Even through the television, the tension was palpable.
Cap: It's true. There's history here. And it's rare we get a matchup this loaded with narrative on the very first day. But OG-Spirit is just one piece of the puzzle. Let's run through the rest of today's schedule.
The graphics lit up again with the bracket, the names bold against a backdrop of flashing lights.
Cap: Match one—OG versus Team Spirit. Match two—Thunder Awaken versus BetBoom. Match three—Tundra versus TSM. And closing out the day, Gaimin Gladiators versus T1.
Jenkins: That's four upper bracket clashes, twelve potential sets of pure firepower. The winners move on to the next round with a chance at the Final Four. The losers? They drop to the lower bracket, and from there, it's fight-for-your-life mode. One slip, and you're out.
Ephey: And look at some of these pairings. Thunder Awaken versus BetBoom—that's a rare one. Two bands that have everything to prove, and it's the first time they've faced off on this kind of stage. No one knows who's got the edge. That mystery makes it exciting.
The camera showed flashes of Thunder Awaken's passionate fanbase—flags waving in yellow and green, chants in Spanish echoing through the arena—before cutting to clips of BetBoom's clean, technical rehearsals.
Ephey: Then there's Tundra versus TSM. That's a tough one for TSM. They're the last North American team standing, and honestly? The odds are stacked against them. Tundra finished second to OG in Group A, and even then, their current style looks nearly flawless. TSM has to dig deep and innovate if they want even a chance.
Cap: And don't sleep on that final match. Gaimin Gladiators versus T1 might not look as flashy on paper, but for T1, this is it. They've been hovering mid-pack in SEA, unable to break through. If they don't bring something surprising today, their journey might end here. They need to shock the world to keep their hopes alive.
The analysis desk wrapped up, their words hanging in the air like an electric charge.
Tsunami: I think the crowd's had to wait long enough. Let's not delay this any longer. Slacks, take it away and get us started with the first match of the day!
The broadcast cut back to the arena floor, where the camera swept across the ocean of fans. Banners waved wildly, chants echoed in multiple languages, and thousands of camera flashes sparkled like stars in the darkened venue. The sheer anticipation was overwhelming.
In the hospital room, Mafuyu and her friends watched silently, almost breathless. Kanade's hands were clasped tightly in her lap, Ena leaned forward despite herself, and Mizuki's eyes glittered with uncontained excitement.
Mafuyu, meanwhile, stared unblinking at the screen. Her heart thudded in her chest with every mention of OG, every image of the band's glowing stage presence. She still couldn't quite process it—that her brother, Riku, was in the middle of this storm, ready to take the stage in front of tens of thousands live, and millions more watching worldwide.
Kyoya glanced at her, noting the way her fists clenched unconsciously. A small smile tugged at his lips. So, you're starting to feel it too, he thought.
The roar of the crowd grew louder through the speakers as the broadcast returned to the arena floor. The first match of the day—OG versus Team Spirit—was about to begin.
Hovet Arena, Stockholm, Sweden – Backstage – 10:30 A.M.
Riku's POV
The air backstage buzzed with anticipation. The muffled roar of the crowd beyond the curtains pulsed like a heartbeat, a steady reminder of the scale of the stage we were about to step onto. Both OG and Team Spirit were lined up, sharing the same waiting area, and despite the looming clash, the atmosphere wasn't tense—it was familiar, even friendly. Our rivalry with Spirit had never been about grudges. It was competition, pure and simple. I glanced over and saw a few of them laughing together with my bandmates, trading casual banter as if we weren't minutes away from facing off.
Then one of the stage staff pushed through the curtain.
"Time to get ready," he called, his headset slightly askew from the chaos around him. In the distance, Slacks's booming voice could already be heard hyping up the crowd, his energy unmistakable.
As we began to move into line, I caught Miposhka's eye. Without hesitation, I extended my hand toward him.
"No matter what happens, we go all out," I told him firmly.
He gripped my hand, steady and confident. "I'll see you at the finals," he answered with a faint smile.
A heartbeat later, Slacks's voice exploded over the speakers.
"The reigning champions of Future World Fes! Can this Eastern European juggernaut claim two championships in a row? Only one way to find out! Ladies and gentlemen—give it up, for Team Spirit!"
The arena shook with thunderous cheers as Spirit marched out onto the stage, lights bathing them in gold. The energy in the building surged, and I felt it echoing in my chest.
I turned to my own band, letting my eyes sweep across each of their faces. They looked ready but tense—Taiga tapping his fingers, Ammar rolling his shoulders, Yuragi adjusting her mic nervously, bzm biting his lip. I spoke low but clear, the kind of words meant to ground us.
"Okay, boys. This is it. Don't be nervous, don't freak out. We go out there and enjoy the moment, play from the heart. Forget about winning or losing—that'll sort itself out. Just play. Trust in each other, and back each other up. That's all we need."
Their heads nodded in unison, and I saw that flicker of determination ignite.
Slacks's voice boomed again.
"And now—the OGs of Future World Fes! The favorite band of many of you... and you know, one of mine too. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together, for OG!"
The crowd erupted again, deafening, and I inhaled deeply before stepping into the light. My vision narrowed as I led the band out onto the stage, the blinding lights above mixing with the sea of glow sticks, banners, and screaming faces. The roar wasn't noise—it was a wave, pulling me forward.
I waved, the others following, and as I scanned the arena, my eyes landed on a cluster of familiar faces in the VIP section. There—Rinko and the girls. I let a rare smile break through and lifted a hand in their direction. Rinko caught it instantly, her eyes softening, while the others practically jumped from their seats.
VIP Area
Kokoro nearly fell over the railing as she shouted, "Onii-chan smiled at us! Go for it, onii-chan!!!"
Kasumi-san's voice was right behind her, high-pitched with excitement. "You can do this, senpai!!"
Aya-san blinked, almost dazed. "Riku-kun isn't even fazed... he looks so calm..."
Chisato's voice was barely audible, more a mumble than anything. "Do your best... onii-sama."
Rinko, quieter but no less firm, clasped her hands together. "Good luck, Riku."
The energy from the crowd was overwhelming, but in that VIP pocket, their support hit me sharper than the noise of ten thousand strangers.
Back in Japan
3rd POV
Thousands of miles away, in a living room illuminated by the glow of a massive TV screen, a group of girls sat huddled together. The broadcast showed the bands walking onto stage, and the cameras lingered on a boy with unmistakable violet hair. His features carried a resemblance that didn't go unnoticed.
Mafuyu's eyes widened, her lips parting. "So... that's my brother."
Mizuki immediately leaned closer, teasing grin flashing. "Your brother is quite the looker, Mafuyu~"
Kyoya chuckled softly, arms crossed. "He may be quite the looker, but he doesn't have a girlfriend yet."
Mizuki gasped dramatically. "Wait, really?! With him being famous, I thought for sure—"
"Hahaha..." Kyoya shook his head. "He's way too committed to music. He doesn't leave room for that kind of thing."
Kanade tilted her head, thoughtful. "I wonder how he'll perform..."
Ena added curiously, "What instrument does he use?"
"Piano," Kyoya replied with pride. "Riku has been playing his whole life. He's the keyboardist for OG."
At that, Mafuyu's eyes brightened, her expression softening with a warmth rarely seen. Her fingers twitched slightly as if imagining the piano keys.
"He plays piano... Grandfather, do you think he'll help me with mine?"
Kyoya placed a hand gently atop her head. His smile was small but steady.
"Of course. All you need to do is ask, and he'll be there."
For Mafuyu, the thought of a connection—through music, through piano—lit a spark she hadn't realized she was craving.
Back to Stockholm
Riku's POV
Slacks's booming voice yanked me back to the stage.
"Before we start this match, I want both captains center stage! Iku, Miposhka—get your butts over here, right now!!"
I glanced at Miposhka. He met my eyes with the same fire I felt, and together we walked toward the spotlight at center stage. The crowd roared louder, knowing this was the symbolic face-off.
Slacks held up a coin theatrically. "Now, the way we do things here is simple: coin toss. Winner decides who performs first. Iku, Miposhka, what'll it be?"
"I'll take tails," I said without hesitation.
"That leaves heads for Miposhka," Slacks grinned. "Alright, here we go!"
He flipped the coin high, the silver disk spinning under the lights. Time slowed as every eye followed it. When it landed in his palm, Slacks slapped it onto the back of his other hand and revealed it.
"Heads it is!" Slacks declared, raising his voice above the sudden cheer. "That means Team Spirit will perform first in the 1st set, and OG will go first in the 2nd set!"
The crowd responded with equal parts cheers and anticipation, the energy in the building climbing yet another level.
"Now with that being said," Slacks continued, grinning wide, "both bands, go get into position! And while they set up, let's head back to the panel for their thoughts."
The stagehands began to swarm us, guiding us toward our setups. I exchanged a final glance with Miposhka—a nod, nothing more—and then turned back to my own group. Whatever happened next, we were stepping into history.
Me and Miposhka returned to our respective sides, each of us rejoining our bands as the stage lights dimmed. Team Spirit gathered on the left, OG on the right. The arena pulsed with anticipation, thousands of eyes fixed on us, waiting for that first note to break the silence.
I set my keytar across my shoulder, adjusting the strap until it sat comfortably at my chest. For this set, I would be front and center with Yuragi—our voices and instruments weaving together like twin currents. Ammar would anchor the left wing, bzm the right, and Taiga held the rear, our steady foundation. We had rehearsed this formation countless times, but today it carried a weight unlike any other.
Then the crowd suddenly erupted, their cheers spiking in pitch. Confused, I turned my head—and my jaw nearly dropped.
"...Wait. Mira in a DJ set?!"
Sure enough, Spirit's support player stood beside a fully equipped DJ rig, headphones already slung over his shoulders, hands hovering above the turntables with casual confidence. The boys glanced at each other, just as stunned. None of us had ever seen Mira as a DJ. This wasn't just a surprise—it was a gamble. Risky, yes, but if it worked, it could give them a unique edge.
"Well," I muttered under my breath, "first time for everything."
While Spirit finalized their setup, the atmosphere shifted again. Two familiar figures walked briskly across the stage, microphones in hand.
"Thank you, guys," came the lively voice of Lyrical. "Lyrical here, together with Trent, and it's an absolute honor to be here as OG takes on Team Spirit in this best-of-three series in the upper bracket!"
Trent grinned at the roaring crowd. "You know what? Let's not wait any longer. Make some noise for Team Spirit!!"
The arena erupted, stomps and claps echoing like thunder. As the casters retreated to the sidelines, something unexpected happened.
The platform beneath Team Spirit began to rumble, and then—slowly—it rose and shifted, sliding toward the very center of the stage. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the movement became clear: a hidden stage gimmick. Spotlights converged on the moving platform until Spirit stood elevated, at the very heart of the arena, commanding the audience from every angle.
I blinked, realization dawning. "So this was the gimmick mentioned in the letter yesterday..."
Taiga leaned in, frowning. "Gimmick?"
"Yeah," I answered quickly, keeping my voice low. "They're mounting us on moving platforms. Just keep your balance when it's our turn, alright?"
He gave a curt nod, though I could see the flicker of unease in his eyes.
But all thoughts of balance, platforms, and gimmicks faded the moment Spirit began to play.
Their opening notes weren't what I expected at all. Instead of leaning into their usual high-energy, hard rock approach, they shifted gears—layering Mira's electronic beats into a pulsing foundation while Miposhka's steady vocals carried the melody forward. It was smooth, deliberate, and dangerously catchy, each chord building tension that gripped the audience tighter with every passing bar.
I felt my stomach twist, equal parts surprise and admiration. They weren't just playing it safe—they were reinventing themselves, right here, in front of us all.
And for the first time that morning, I knew this battle would be far more unpredictable than I had imagined.
Colors of the Heart
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8nsqbHNakQ
(By: Uverworld – Blood+ 3rd Opening)
Ano hi boku no kokoro wa oto mo naku kuzure satta
Kowarete saken demo keshi sare nai kioku to
Kurayami ga hitomi no naka he to nagare komu
Mou iro sae mie nai ashita he to shizumu
Wakari aeru hi wo tomedo naku sagashita
Ushinau tame dake ni ima wo ikiteku
Mou dame da to hitori kodoku wo daite mo
If you turn on the lights...
Hikari he terashiteku
"Negai tsudukeru omoi itsuka iroduku yo" to
Oshiete kureta kokoro ni ikitsudukeru hito
Nanimo kamo hitsuzen no naka de umareru Colors
Mou ichido kono te de asu wo egakeru kara
Itsu no ma ni ka boku wa nakusu koto ni mo nare
Te ni ireta mono sae yubi wo surinuketeku
Namida ga kareru mae ni kiki takatta kotoba wa
Ima wa dareka wo sukuu tame ni
It's all your fate. You gonna do that.
"Hikari ga tsuyoku nareba yami mo fukaku naru" to
Kiduita toshite mo osoreru koto wa nai yo
Nanimo kamo kokoro no hate ni umareru Colors
Mou hitomi wo hiraite mitsumerareru kara
Kanashimi no Breath
Sore wa sagashiteta iro wo nijimaseru yo
Oto mo tatezu ni
"Negai tsudukeru omoi itsuka iroduku yo" to
Oshiete kureta kokoro ni ikitsudukeru hito
Nanimo kamo hitsuzen no naka de umareru Colors
Mou ichido terasu yo hikari no yubisaki de
Just drawing...Colors in light and darkness
And take it...Colors in light and darkness
Ima wa todoka nai yasashii iro mo
Subete wa mata kono te de egaki naoseru kara
In the VIP Area
Rinko's POV
I couldn't believe what I had just witnessed. My eyes widened, and when I glanced at Yukina-san and the others beside me, I saw the same stunned expressions reflected on their faces. It wasn't just surprise—it was pure disbelief. The reason was obvious.
Team Spirit had just performed a Japanese song, and not in some broken, foreign-sounding accent, but flawlessly. Their vocalist's delivery was so fluid, so natural, that even to a native ear it was indistinguishable from a Japanese singer. For a moment, I almost forgot they were from Eastern Europe at all. The crowd's reaction confirmed it: cheers thundered across the arena, the excitement swelling like a tidal wave.
And then, amid that roar, my gaze found Riku.
What I saw froze me.
He was smiling.
Not the small, polite smile he used on stage or when meeting people. This was different. This was a sharp grin, brimming with challenge, the kind that said so this is how it's going to be. I had never seen him wear such an expression before. A strange mixture of pride and worry twisted inside me—pride that he was unshaken, worry that this meant he was about to push himself into a place few dared to tread.
"Ara~," Yuyuko-san's airy voice drifted beside us, a playful lilt in her tone. "It seems Riku-kun is not going to hold back."
We all turned toward her at once.
"Yuyuko-san," I asked quickly, "what do you mean by that? What do you mean he won't hold back?"
Her fan fluttered gently in her hand as she smiled knowingly. "Just as I said, Rinko-chan. Riku-kun will go all out. His opponents chose to sing in Japanese, so naturally, Riku-kun will return in kind. That is his nature—he responds in kind to challenges."
Udagawa-san leaned forward, eyes narrowing with interest. "Then how will he respond? You know something, don't you, Yuyuko-san?"
The ghost princess chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "That, I cannot say. Even I don't know his choice this time. But since he's wielding his keytar... let's just say you should prepare yourselves."
Before she could elaborate further, Mitake-san spoke up calmly, her golden eyes fixed firmly on the stage. "Nii-san will be doing a duet for this one."
The words struck all of us like a spark. Immediately, our thoughts flashed back to Riku's unforgettable duet during the first day of the Group Stage. That performance had shaken us to the core and lingered in our minds ever since. If Mitake-san's words were true—and she was never one to make careless assumptions—then we were about to see another side of Riku that few ever glimpsed.
A ripple of anticipation passed through our group, though it was soon broken by a soft, eerie chuckle.
"Kukukuku..."
We all turned sharply to Remilia-san, who was covering her mouth with a gloved hand, crimson eyes glinting with amusement.
"The last time I saw him grin like that," she said with a faint smirk, "was when he faced Sakuya and Meiling in a danmaku battle."
"Ah, yes," Sakuya-san murmured, her voice tinged with memory. "I remember that well. Two against one, and yet he wore that very grin. And still, he defeated us—convincingly, I might add."
Ako-chan's jaw nearly dropped. "Was Riku-nii really that good? Even in a two-versus-one?"
Yuyuko-san's smile deepened as she folded her fan. "Riku-kun has an undefeated record of fifty-six to zero in danmaku battles. He has yet to face Reimu, though. That would be the true test if he wished to keep his streak alive."
The name she spoke—Reimu—was unfamiliar to most of us. My brow furrowed. Reimu?
Yamabuki-san was the one to ask aloud. "Who's this Reimu, Yuyuko-san?"
"Hakurei Reimu," Yuyuko replied, her tone suddenly solemn. "The only daughter of the Hakurei Family, one of the Celestial Families. Their lineage was the one to create the very system of danmaku battles. She is... formidable."
Matsubara-san's soft voice cut through the quiet that followed. "Is Reimu-san... strong?"
"Strong?" Remilia-san scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Strong is an understatement. She thrashed me, Sakuya, and Yuyuko all at once—barely even trying. In a blink of an eye, we were defeated." Her lips curled into a dangerous smile. "But someday, I will have my revenge."
The weight of her words stunned us all. For Yuyuko-san to admit defeat was one thing, but for Remilia herself to be humbled alongside her? That spoke volumes.
And yet, Yuyuko-san only sighed and smiled wryly. "If you worry for Riku-kun, you needn't. Reimu won't bother challenging him. Her laziness outweighs her pride, and unless there is money involved, she rarely stirs herself to act."
All of us sweatdropped at that blunt remark, some exchanging awkward glances. Somehow, the image of a battle-hardened prodigy reduced to only moving when payment was on the line was both comical and unsettling.
But before we could discuss further, movement on stage pulled our eyes back where they belonged.
Riku and OG were preparing.
The shift in atmosphere was palpable. The crowd sensed it too, a hush falling across the arena as the next act was set in motion. We held our breaths, waiting, hearts pounding in our chests.
Riku's POV
Team Spirit's platform glided back to its original position, the applause still echoing. Then came the rumble beneath our feet—the tremor of machinery shifting—and our platform began to slide forward, carrying OG into the spotlight.
"Steady," I muttered. We all kept our balance as the stage moved, the glare of lights sharpening the moment we reached center.
The cheers washed over us like a tidal wave, but I didn't let it shake me. I gripped my keytar tight, drawing in one steadying breath. Then, in a voice that cut through the noise, I said one word:
"Hibana."
Right out of the gate, I screamed, pouring every ounce of power into my voice. The sound tore from my throat like a battle cry, raw and unrelenting, and the arena shuddered with the force of it.
Gasps erupted. The crowd wasn't expecting this. Neither was Team Spirit. But this was my answer. My reply to their flawless Japanese performance.
If they wanted fire—then I would give them an inferno.
Hibana
(By: DECO*27 ft. Hatsune Miku / Covered by: After the Rain / soraru x mafumafu)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVHZm80y7Fo
Bold: Yuragi
Italic: Riku
Bold+Italic: Both
Konkon yasashiku nokku shite
Norikome kokoro no dakkansen
Mousou bakari ga furasshu shite
Kasoku suru parusu kotae wa doko darou
Saa saa yowane wa myuuto shite
Kudaranai koto de chuucho shite
Joudan bakari ne? ahaha
Kowasenai kabe ga kisu wo semaru deshou
Aa, iya "sonna wake nai ya"
Aa, iya "wakatte kureru desho"
Sono atama wo uchinuite
Owannai ai wo daitetakunai no
Motto chanto fuan ni shite yo
Inai inaibaa de enjite hoshii no
Motto chanto kotaete yo
Nanana
"mikansei" datte nando demo iun da
Nanana
NO wo karabutta ai no naka de
Tonton kore de goaiko tte
Umaranai toki ni komocchatte
Kanzen shugi wa sumookii ni
Kodama suru koe ni memai to monotonii
Knock knock! Let me go in and get the ace
You'll paint your face with tears that don't feel the same
Now Heart Reinforce's up to end this game
You'd better give up and throw your MP5 away
Aa, iya docchi mo erande
Aa, iya docchi mo kowashite
Kokoro no ne wo hikinuite
Fugainai ai wo aishitakunai no
Motto chanto itaku shite yo
Waraenai kurai ga kitto tanoshii no
Motto chanto tokashite yo
Nanana
"mikansei" datte nando demo iun da
Nanana
NO wo karabutta ai no naka de
Aa, iya "sonna wake nai ya"
Aa, iya "wakatte kureru desho"
Sono atama wo uchinuite
uchinuite
Owannai ai wo daitetakunai no
Motto chanto fuan ni shite yo
Inai inaibaa de enjite hoshii no
Motto chanto kotaete yo
Nanana
"mikansei" datte nando demo iun da
Nanana
NO wo karabutta ai no naka de
Fugainai ai wo aishitakunai no
Motto chanto itaku shite yo
Waraenai kurai ga kitto tanoshii no
Motto chanto tokashite yo
Nanana
"mikansei" datte nando demo iun da
Nanana
NO wo karabutta ai no naka de
Nanana
"mikansei" datte nando demo iun da
Nanana
NO wo karabutta ai no naka de
As the last note of our performance faded, Yuragi and I both drew in heavy breaths, sweat glistening as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from our systems. I flexed my right hand, shaking off the sting of overexertion from the keytar. My lungs still burned from that raw scream I had unleashed at the start, but the eruption of noise that answered us from the stands made every ache worth it. The crowd was louder than before, roaring like a wave that just wouldn't end. For the first time that night, I felt it deep down—we had this set.
I turned my head toward the VIP area and caught sight of Rinko and the others. They were on their feet, cheering wildly, while Flandre-chan nearly bounced herself out of her seat with excitement, arms flailing like a child at her first festival. That sight alone loosened my chest. I smiled—not the calm, neutral expression I usually kept, but a genuine grin that slipped out without restraint. I held onto that warmth for just a moment as our platform began its slow retreat to the rear, making way for the next stage of the night.
Lyrical and Trent stepped forward from backstage, microphones in hand, their practiced energy pulling the arena back into focus.
"Now then, everyone," Lyrical began, his voice carrying through the echoing sound system, "let's talk about how the voting for this tournament works!"
The crowd quieted slightly, anticipation shifting to curiosity. Trent leaned in with his signature enthusiasm, "That's right. Here's how it goes! Each of you in the audience has been given glowsticks by the event organizers. It's simple—if you want to vote for OG, twist the stick to the left, and it'll glow blue. For Team Spirit, twist it to the right, and it'll glow red. Your choice will be instantly counted!"
Excited murmurs filled the arena as thousands began testing the glowsticks, little sparks of blue and red flickering in the darkness like fireflies.
Lyrical continued, "And for those of you watching from home, don't think we forgot you. You can cast your votes through the ESL app or on the official website. All votes will be tallied together. You've got fifteen minutes to decide which band deserves this set!"
He paused for effect, grinning as he added, "In the event that both bands win one set each, then we'll head into a decisive showdown. Each side will nominate a single member for a head-to-head skills challenge, and whoever comes out on top takes the third set—and the series. Remember, this is best of three. First to two advances to the next round. Loser... well, tomorrow, it's down to the lower bracket."
The explanation set the audience buzzing again, some cheering at the mention of a head-to-head tiebreaker, others debating fiercely about which band had the upper hand.
Backstage, while the voting began, my band and I took the moment to check over our instruments. Cables, strings, tuning—every detail got one more glance. No one wanted to risk technical failure in a match this close. My right hand twitched again, and I gave it another flick, trying to shake the tension out.
Nine minutes in, I peeked back at the crowd. The sea of glowsticks had split nearly evenly—half red, half blue, the arena painted in a surreal clash of colors. A perfect tie, at least in this room.
I exhaled. So it'll come down to the global audience then. That was where our reach mattered. Where my fans and our reputation would have to push us over. I clenched my jaw. C'mon. Just a little more.
Six minutes crawled by, and finally the timer hit zero. The voting period was over. The tension in the air turned razor sharp, the arena falling into near silence. Even the commentators leaned into the suspense.
Lyrical raised his mic. "Ladies and gentlemen... the results are in. For this first set alone, we've received over two million votes worldwide."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. That number alone spoke volumes about the scale of the stage we were standing on.
"And the winner..." Lyrical teased, stretching it out as long as he dared. "Took fifty-two percent of the vote. Just barely ahead."
The silence broke into low murmurs. The crowd was restless, the tension unbearable.
I swallowed. This is it. Please...
Trent stepped forward, letting the pause build to the breaking point. "The band... that takes the first set... is—" His voice boomed. "—OG!"
The arena detonated with sound. Cheers thundered through the space as our name echoed across the stage. A wave of relief and pride crashed over me at once, nearly staggering me. The boys let out triumphant shouts behind me, the victory sinking in. We had drawn first blood.
Still, I steadied myself quickly. This is only the beginning.
Lyrical raised his hand, restoring order with practiced ease. "That's set one to OG! But don't go anywhere—we'll take a short fifteen-minute break before we head into set two. You won't want to miss it!"
With that, both bands exited the stage, heading back into the wings. As soon as we found a quiet spot away from the buzz, I turned to my bandmates.
"Alright, that was a close one," I began, my voice firm but calm. "But in the end, we pulled through. Don't let it get to your head, though. The second set's just as important—if not more."
Ammar threw his hands up, still buzzing with disbelief. "Still can't believe they sang in Japanese. Like, seriously—what the fuck was that?"
I smirked faintly. "What can I say? They've got a die-hard Japan fanboy over there. I wouldn't be surprised if that was his idea. Like they say: fight fire with fire. That's what they tried to do, and we answered back. That's why we won."
The others nodded, the logic settling in. I pointed at the door. "If any of you need the bathroom, do it now. We've only got fifteen minutes."
Yuragi and Taiga immediately slipped out, while the rest of us stayed behind. I leaned back against the wall, absently flicking my right hand again.
Johan frowned, sharp eyes narrowing. "You alright? You've been doing that for a while."
"It's nothing," I said quickly. "Just getting ready for the next set. I'll need more precision in my right hand for the opening."
His frown didn't ease. "Just tell me if something's wrong. You know your old man won't be happy if you're pushing yourself into an injury."
I gave him a small nod, not trusting myself to say more. He wasn't wrong—but there was no backing down here.
Moments later, Yuragi and Taiga returned. We gathered in a loose circle, going over the second set's structure. No changes were needed—our plan was solid. Still, I let one thought slip out.
"If things go the way I expect," I said evenly, "Miposhka will call the set off himself."
That earned me a round of uneasy looks. Ammar actually shuddered. They knew me well enough by now—if I was that confident, it meant I was preparing something heavy.
The fifteen-minute break evaporated faster than any of us liked, and before long we were back on stage. Both bands took their places, ready for round two. Because Team Spirit had won the initial coin toss, we had to perform first this time. That was fine by me.
Our platform began to shift again, carrying us toward the center. The movement was steady, deliberate, like the calm before a storm. I turned to Yuragi, and with just a nod, we understood each other. No more words were needed.
I drew in a long, steady breath, the keytar heavy but familiar in my hands. My voice cut through the anticipation, calm and resonant.
"The passing of time and the ending sky..." I whispered into the mic, then raised my head with fire in my eyes.
"Anti-Clockwise."
Anti-Clockwise
(By: After the Rain – soraru x mafumafu - Clockwork Planet ED)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOLN_d7YW94
Bold : Yuragi
Italic: Riku
Bold+Italic: Both
Esoragoto nara iro o kirashita
Koe o kikou to ryoumimi o fusaideiru
Sakebi chirashita keishou to
Dareka ga nigoshita KOODO
Gayoku o kuratta kokoro de
Shirabe ga yugandeiku
Ano sora wa tooku irozuiteiru
Mimachigau koto no nai akaneiro
Sakasama no byoushin to aizou de
Subete ga kanau ki ga shita
Marude kakusou to suru you ni
Kakeochiru mirai to haguruma
Kokoro o taguri au mae ni
Zenmai ga sabitsuite shimau yo
Maki modoseru sude mo naku
Bokura ikiba nai mama miageru
Sunda kikaijikake no sora
Kashigeru kubi wa toikake desu ka
Sore tomo koe o kiku ki suranai no desu ka
Yaji mo basei mo hinpyou mo
Hitei o shinakucha ai ka
Toukankaku ni kizanda
MEMORI jou no kizu
Hankai shita PIANO de hibiki narasu KADENTSU
Kimi to yubikiri o shite
Nee anna ni nanimo ni muchuu ni natte ita kke
Utagau koto mo shinai mama
Kitai hazure de itai da nante
Itsukara negatte shimatta?
Na mo shirenu hou ga ii nante
Itsukara ka negatte shimatta
Kokoro mo neji makidashite
Imi o ushinatte shimatta
Nani hitotsu mo ugokasenai kyou to
Oshitsubusu you ni hirogaru
Sunda kikaijikake no sora
Nanimo motomenai kara nanimo motomenaide yo
Kyou o aoku someru hi yo (kuraku someru hi yo)
Hakujitsu yo toki yo tomare
Sakasa ni hari o oshikonde
Subete nakunatte shimae yo
Sukui mo negai mo nai no nara
Hajimari ni modoshite shimae yo
Kokoro o taguri au mae ni
Zenmai ga sabitsuite shimau yo
Maki modoseru sude mo naku
Bokura ikiba nai mama miageru
Sundakikaijikake no sora
When the last chord rang out, Yuragi and I exhaled together, shoulders rising and falling as the adrenaline slowly bled from our bodies. The roar of the crowd answered us, fierce and unrelenting, as if they were still caught inside the momentum of the song. I glanced across the stage toward Team Spirit, curious to see their reaction. They weren't cheering or jeering—just quietly exchanging glances. That was when I noticed Miposhka give a small, almost imperceptible nod.
My brows furrowed. What's that supposed to mean?
Still, I pushed the thought aside and faced the audience, bowing deeply as our platform began sliding back toward our side. The center would soon belong to Team Spirit. The stage lights adjusted, the crowd shifted with anticipation, and yet... none of us could have predicted what would come next.
Because whatever Miposhka had signaled was about to shock everyone.
Yuyuko's POV
Riku-kun's performance was flawless on the surface—every note carved out with precision, his voice dripping with that raw emotion only he seemed able to summon at will. But as I watched him, I noticed what many in the audience would not. His breathing was heavier than usual. The way his right hand twitched slightly between phrases. The faint strain in his shoulders.
Remilia, standing beside me, let out a small sigh. It wasn't of disappointment, but recognition.
"You noticed it too, right?" I murmured, folding my fan closed.
Her crimson eyes slid toward me. "Yeah. Riku-boy is doing it again."
The others, clustered around us in the VIP seats, perked up at our conversation.
"Onee-sama," Flandre tugged at her sister's sleeve, worry clouding her bright eyes, "will onii-san be okay?"
Remilia softened slightly, placing a hand on her sister's head. "He'll be fine, Flan. Don't fret."
Sayo-chan leaned forward, voice gentle but edged with unease. "Is something wrong with Riku-san?"
The weight of their stares pressed on me, and I decided there was no point in hiding it. They deserved to know.
"Yes," I admitted. "He's pushing himself too much."
Chisato-chan's eyes widened. "He's... overexerting?"
I nodded. "Normally, Riku-kun could perform ten songs back-to-back without breaking a sweat. But just now—after two songs—he's already showing fatigue."
Misaki-chan bit her lip. "Do you know why? He's not the type to falter so easily."
"Responsibility," I answered plainly. "Youmu reported to me a few days ago. Riku-kun has been carrying almost everything. He tunes and maintains all their instruments after each performance. He's in charge of song arrangements, practice schedules, even much of the band's overall planning. And when I was delayed, he handled parts of the hotel management here in Stockholm on my behalf."
Arisa-chan nearly jumped from her seat. "That's insane! Isn't that way too much for one person?!"
My expression softened, but my tone was firm. "Of course it is. But Riku-kun shoulders it anyway. Because in his eyes, he's the only one who can." I let my gaze drift back to the stage, to the boy bowing as though nothing weighed on him. "If he doesn't rest soon... he could collapse. And if that happens, OG might be forced to forfeit."
The words left a chill in the air. The girls' worry deepened, their eyes following Riku like fragile threads of hope tethered to him.
Rinko-chan finally spoke up, her voice quiet but determined. "Isn't there something we can do to help him?"
I tapped my fan against my chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. I'll need to think. Perhaps once Youmu delivers her next report, I'll know more. But for now..." My gaze lingered on Riku's weary form. "...we can only watch."
Kyoya's POV – Japan
On the other side of the world, I sat in the lounge of the Nagae estate, eyes locked on the television screen as the broadcast replayed the last stretch of Riku's song. Despite the miles between us, I couldn't stop the faint smile tugging at my lips.
"Still got it," I muttered. "Even after months away from competition, you haven't lost your touch."
Yet beneath that pride, my sharp eyes caught the signs others would miss: the slight tremor of his right hand, the way he drew breath a fraction too sharply after a verse. He was pushing himself—again. I sighed inwardly. We'll be having words once this is over, Riku.
The girls gathered around me remained silent, absorbed by the screen. I broke the silence.
"So," I asked casually, "what did you all think of his performance?"
Mafuyu, usually so composed, spoke first. "He's... on another level compared to us. That second song, Anti-Clockwise—the way he handled the keytar, with just one hand at that speed—" she shook her head in disbelief. "I couldn't replicate that no matter how much I practiced."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And that instrument... it isn't a standard keytar, is it?"
A faint grin touched my lips. "Good eye. No, it's not. Riku uses a custom 60-key model, compared to the usual 48."
Gasps echoed around the room.
Mizuki shot upright. "Wait—that sounds like cheating! Isn't using customized instruments against the rules?"
I chuckled. "Relax. He submitted it to the committee beforehand. They approved it. Nothing illegal about it."
Kanade tilted her head, thoughtful. "I noticed something else too. His voice—it's remarkably high-pitched, almost like a countertenor. Honestly, he could rival Ena or Mizuki in vocal range."
"Hey!" Ena and Mizuki barked in unison, clearly offended.
Kanade just shrugged, unfazed. "But beyond range, what struck me was the emotion. It's... raw. Unpolished in the best way. When he sings, it feels like he's dragging the audience into his world, whether they want to follow or not. I—"
Her words were drowned out by the sudden roar of the broadcast crowd. The commentators' voices cut through the speakers with urgency.
Lyrical: Miposhka called it! GG! OG are moving on to the next round! They've just taken down Team Spirit two to zero! Trent—I can't believe my eyes!
Lyrical's voice nearly cracked with shock as Trent was just as stunned.
Trent: This is insane! The reigning Future World Fes champions just submitted! That's the first GG call we've seen all year—and OG made it look effortless!
Lyrical: With that victory, OG guarantees themselves a top six finish! They're still in contention for the Final Four!
Trent: And for Team Spirit, they'll be forced down to the lower bracket to face beastcoast if they want to keep their dreams alive.
The room went dead silent. The girls' faces were pale with disbelief.
Mizuki broke the silence. "What... just happened?"
Ena turned toward me, eyes wide. "Kyoya-san, do you understand?"
All their gazes landed on me, waiting for an answer. I didn't hesitate.
"What you just witnessed was a 'GG call.' In other words, a surrender."
Mizuki's jaw dropped. "They can do that?!"
I nodded. "Yes. But only under strict rules. All members must agree, and only the band's leader can officially call it."
Understanding dawned across Mafuyu's face. "So... that means my brother advances automatically?"
"Exactly," I confirmed. "One more victory, and OG could secure a place in the Final Four."
Before I could say more, a knock echoed at the door. Knock. Knock. Knock.
I rose, crossing the room to open it. Standing there was a woman whose presence carried the weight of quiet authority. Her long silver hair fell in a braid across her back, her eyes a cool shade of grey that missed nothing. A doctor's coat draped her shoulders, but beneath it she wore garments patterned with constellations in deep reds and blues. A nurse-like cap rested atop her head, but what drew the most attention was the bow and arrow she carried as though they were an extension of her body.
"Eirin," I greeted her with a respectful nod. "What brings you here today?"
Yagokoro Eirin. Matriarch of the Yagokoro Family, one of the Celestial lineages. Renowned healer, feared tactician, and owner of the very hospital we stood in.
"Eirin," Kyoya greeted her, inclining his head. "What brings you here?"
"I came to deliver some news regarding Mafuyu-san," she replied, her voice soft but steady. "May I come in?"
He glanced at the group of girls sitting by Mafuyu's bed, then stepped aside with a nod. "Of course. Her friends are here, but I trust you don't mind."
"I don't."
The room quieted the moment Eirin entered. She carried herself with unshakable composure, the kind that seemed to pull all attention toward her. Without hesitation she moved to Mafuyu's side, her sharp eyes softening only when they settled on the girl in the hospital bed.
"How are you feeling today? Any pain? Dizziness?" she asked, her tone gentle, professional.
Mafuyu shook her head quickly. "Nothing, doctor. I'm fine."
Eirin studied her face a moment longer before nodding, satisfied. "Good. We've run all the necessary tests. I'm pleased to say that you can be discharged tomorrow. However, you will need to return regularly for check-ups, just to be safe." Straightening, she added with a faint smile, "Now, rest well. I still have other patients to attend."
Her footsteps were measured and soundless as she left the room, leaving behind a heavy silence that broke only when Mafuyu's friends leapt onto her with excitement.
"Did you hear that?" Mizuki exclaimed, hugging her tightly. "You'll be able to go home tomorrow!"
The relief that washed over Mafuyu's face was subtle but unmistakable. For once, her guarded composure cracked, and the corners of her lips lifted in a small, genuine smile. Yet amidst the joy, Kanade's voice carried a note of unease.
"But where will Mafuyu stay?" she asked, turning to Kyoya. "With everything that's happened to her..."
Kyoya folded his arms, his expression thoughtful but calm. "She will be moving into the Nagae mansion once all matters are settled, including her school transfer."
The words struck them like a cold wind.
"Transfer?" Ena blurted out, staring at Mafuyu.
Mafuyu lowered her gaze, her voice quiet but resolute. "I'm sorry, everyone. Once I'm discharged, I'll be transferring schools."
The room fell still. The shock in their eyes spoke louder than words—especially Ena's, whose voice trembled when she asked, "Then... what will happen to 25-ji?"
Kyoya's tone softened, though it carried its usual firmness. "You need not worry. You can continue your activities. In fact, I encourage you to do so. And if you wish to see Mafuyu, the mansion will always be open to you. I'll make sure the staff knows you're welcome at any time."
That reassurance lessened their fears only slightly. Mizuki was the first to find her voice again. "Which school will she be transferring to?"
"Hanasakigawa," Kyoya answered. A small smile touched his lips as he watched Mafuyu's startled expression. "My grandson is enrolled there as a third-year, and your aunt is the principal."
"Aunt?" Mafuyu echoed, confused.
"Yes." Kyoya inclined his head in confirmation. "Saigyouji Yuyuko. She has watched over you from a distance, but now it seems fate intends for you to be closer than ever."
The revelation left Mafuyu speechless. Her mind, already heavy with the changes looming over her life, now wrestled with the idea of family she had never known suddenly becoming real.
Kyoya glanced at his watch, then exhaled softly. "I must be going. A meeting awaits me in a few minutes. Take care of Mafuyu while I'm gone—and see that she rests as Doctor Eirin advised. Tomorrow will be a long day."
He gave the girls a rare, reassuring smile before stepping toward the door. Mafuyu lifted her head and nodded faintly in thanks, her eyes shimmering with something unspoken. When the door closed behind him, the room buzzed again with the voices of her friends, filled with a mix of excitement and lingering worry.
Kyoya walked down the corridor with measured steps, pulling his phone from his coat pocket as he went. For a moment, his thumb hovered over Riku's name. The urge to share the news weighed heavily on him, but he hesitated. The image of Riku, standing onstage in Stockholm, responsibilities piled high on his shoulders, flashed in his mind.
No, he thought, sliding the phone back into his pocket with a sigh. The competition is his priority now. He doesn't need distractions. I'll tell him everything when he returns.
Straightening his posture, Kyoya continued down the hall toward his meeting, his expression composed, though his mind was already turning over the conversations that awaited him tomorrow.
----------
Back in Stockholm
Hakugyoku Hotel – Stockholm Branch, OG's Room
7:30 P.M.
The first day of the Future World Fes had come to a close, and it was nothing short of a resounding success. No disruptions, no unforeseen incidents—just music, competition, and the electric energy of an international crowd. For Riku and OG, the day carried its own triumph. They had faced Team Spirit on the grand stage, pushed themselves to the edge, and walked away victorious with a clean 2–0 sweep.
After the match, interviews blurred together in the backstage rush. The boys, still riding the adrenaline high, had spent the rest of the evening watching other bands' performances from the comfort of the private rooms assigned to them. Riku sat quietly at the center of it all, observing with the same sharp focus he brought to the stage. Each result played out exactly as he had anticipated.
OG – 2–0 – Team Spirit
BetBoom – 0–2 – Thunder Awaken
Tundra – 2–0 – TSM
T1 – 1–2 – Gaimin Gladiators
Every scoreline told a story. Thunder Awaken had dismantled BetBoom without hesitation, Pakazs' high-pitched vocals cutting through the arena like steel, leaving BetBoom's slower, methodical play gasping for air. Tundra had made short work of TSM, their confidence so overwhelming that TSM was forced to surrender mid-set with a GG call. And then, the clash of T1 and Gaimin Gladiators had stolen the spotlight—the first series to stretch into a nail-biting third set. The duel ended not with a song, but with a raw guitar face-off between T1's Karl and Gaimin's BOOM. Karl's precision could not withstand BOOM's furious pickless shredding, and the Gladiators took the win to a thunderous ovation.
The lower bracket match-ups for tomorrow were already decided:
beastcoast vs Team Spirit
BetBoom vs Team Liquid
BOOM RIVALRY vs TSM
Meanwhile, T1's fate hung on their looming clash with Fnatic, scheduled alongside the upper bracket games.
For OG, however, the immediate concern was Thunder Awaken—their next opponent. The boys were scattered across the suite preparing, fine-tuning strategy and conserving what energy remained. Riku sat with Johan in his room, the table between them littered with scribbled notes and tuning equipment.
"This will do," Johan said at last, folding his arms with satisfaction. "I'll tell the others about this plan."
"Good," Riku replied softly, his eyes fixed on the faint glow of his laptop screen.
The silence that followed was heavier than either expected. Johan, never one to ignore the tension in a room, leaned forward, studying his bandmate carefully.
"Riku," he said finally, voice low but firm. "Be honest with me. Are you okay?"
The question cut through him like a blade. Riku's shoulders slumped slightly, his carefully worn mask slipping. He exhaled, weary, as though confessing to a crime.
"Was I that obvious?" he murmured.
"To most people, no," Johan admitted. "But anyone with a sharp eye can see it. You've been flicking your hand. Breathing harder than you should after just two songs. Something's wrong. Tell me what's happening. We're a team, Riku. Don't forget that."
The sincerity in Johan's voice left no room for retreat. Riku's silence stretched, then finally broke. He confessed, the weight spilling out in fragments—his hand, his exhaustion, the burdens he carried for the band.
On the other side of the wall, a shadow lingered. Youmu, silent and sharp as ever, had overheard enough. Her expression tightened as she slipped away unnoticed. "So that's how it is," she whispered under her breath. "I need to report this to Yuyuko-sama."
She moved swiftly through the hallways of the hotel, but fate pulled her briefly off course.
"Youmu-senpai!"
She turned to see Kasumi running up with Rimi, Lisa, and Saaya in tow. Their faces lit with recognition.
"Kasumi-san," Youmu greeted with a small smile.
"Is Riku-san alright?" Rimi asked, worry etched in her voice.
"Don't worry," Youmu assured them. "He's having a talk with Johan-san right now. He's in good hands. Where are you all heading?"
"We heard there are some vacant practice rooms," Lisa explained. "Figured we'd make use of them while we still can."
Youmu nodded approvingly. "Then you'd better hurry. They're only open until eleven tonight."
Saaya gave a quick bow. "Thank you, Youmu-san. And you? Where are you going?"
"I'm on my way to Yuyuko-sama's room to deliver my report. I've been doing it every Monday ever since I stayed at Riku-kun's home."
The girls exchanged curious glances but didn't press further. After their goodbyes, Youmu continued her path, her stride purposeful.
When she reached the door, she knocked gently.
"It's me," she called.
"Ara~ Youmu, come in," came the sing-song reply.
Inside, Yuyuko sat leisurely on the balcony, the city lights of Stockholm twinkling beyond her as she nibbled on a half-eaten onigiri. A small table beside her was stacked with a plateful of them. She gestured with cheerful ease.
"Come sit with me."
Youmu obeyed, taking the seat beside her. The faint chill of evening air drifted through the balcony, carrying with it the faint murmur of distant traffic and the fading echoes of festival music.
"Now then," Yuyuko began, setting her food down. "What's the situation with Riku-kun?"
"He's speaking with Johan-san," Youmu reported. "But from what I overheard... it seems his hand is starting to hurt again."
Yuyuko's expression dimmed. "Ah. That," she said softly. "It might be a problem. I suppose the injury hasn't fully healed."
"Injury?" Youmu blinked, startled. "When did Riku-kun get injured?"
Yuyuko's gaze wandered out over the city. She spoke quietly, the story flowing with the gravity of memory.
"It happened at the Future World Super Fes, back when he was still active with OG. Debris fell during setup—he pushed a staff member out of the way and took the blow himself. His right hand was struck badly. They were forced to forfeit the semi-finals. Thankfully, he was the vocalist then, so he didn't need to play at TI10. But the damage was real. Eirin examined him not long ago and said he should be fully healed by next year."
"Only five months have passed..." Youmu's eyes widened. "Then he's still injured?"
"Unfortunately," Yuyuko admitted. "But knowing Riku, he'll find a way to adapt. And he has OG by his side."
The conviction in her tone was enough to steady Youmu's doubts.
"I see," Youmu whispered. "If it's them, then perhaps I have nothing to worry about."
"Perhaps," Yuyuko mused. "But his massive workload remains another matter. I've already spoken with Kyoya, and he shares the same concerns."
"Did he say what should be done?"
"He said he'll lessen Riku's burdens once he returns." Yuyuko hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. "...But there is more."
She reached for an envelope resting on the table and handed it to Youmu. The younger woman opened it carefully—and froze. Shock painted her features.
"Yuyuko-sama... is this really true?"
"Everything written there is true," Yuyuko said quietly. "It all happened the moment you and Riku left for Portugal."
"Does Riku-kun know?"
"Not yet. And it's better he doesn't—at least, not until the tournament ends. Considering his condition, he must not be burdened further."
Youmu swallowed hard, nodding. "I understand..."
The air grew heavy with unspoken implications. Then, almost as though to lighten the mood, Youmu glanced at the plate of food and asked, hesitantly, "May I... have one?"
Yuyuko's solemn demeanor broke into a soft, playful chuckle. She reached out, patting Youmu's head affectionately.
"Ufufufufu~ of course you can."
The two sat together in companionable silence as the festival city glowed beneath them, the storm surrounding Riku looming ever larger, even as he remained unaware of the truths closing in around him.
To be Continued...