Back in Stockholm
Hovet Arena – Main Stage
The stage was now soaked in blue light. The crowd was restless, cheering as the final checks were made. Riku stood at his post behind the triple keyboard rig, calmly adjusting the mic height. His gaze met Yuragi's, and for a brief moment, words weren't needed.
A single nod. Mutual understanding.
Yuragi's voice carried through the arena, deep and sure.
"The world is carrying off of you... The Comet Train's Bell Rings."
The Comet Train's Bell Rings
(By: After the Rain – Soraru x mafumafu)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEn5Hd8kP3Y
Bold: Yuragi
talic: Riku
Bold+Italic: Both
sayonara no serifu mo naku
saigo no page da
mou ressha no bell ga naru
kono yozora de kagayaita hoshi mo
seiten no sora de wa miotosu you ni
'shiawase' de wa 'shiawase da' to
kizukanakunatteita
sonna taai no nai hibi ga
kono yubi no sukima
koboreochita
shuuten mo nai you na
hateshi nai yami no mukou
suisei no ressha de
mou kimi wa kaeru
iku tte mo naku
ichi do myakuuttara
kono kimochi datte tomatte kure ya shinai no ni
iisobireta kotoba mo
ano natsu no sora no mukougawa
sekaijuu no hoshi wo atsumete mo
kasunde shimau kurai
kimi wa kirei da
hane no you ni nemuru you ni
neiki mo tatezu ni
'yuuhi ga ochiru made asobou?'
ashiato ga hitotsu tachidomatta
kimi wo mada suki shiteiru
ano natsu no mukou de nankai datte koi shiteiru
konna kodomojimi ta kimochi no mama da
'hai' mo 'iie' mo nai
demo otogibanashi mitai na wan frame wo
nozonde wa yamanai you na
yowamushi na boku de gomen ne
shizukesa wo tokashite
asayake mo mada minu sora ni
kane wa naru
'mou kaeranakya'
potsuri yume ga samete yuku
ikanaide yo
shuuten mo nai you na
hateshi nai yami no mukou
suisei no ressha de
mou kimi wa kaeru
iku tte mo naku
ichi do myakuuttara
kono kimochi datte tomatte kure ya shinai no ni
mou kono te wo hanashitara
suisei ga o wo hiitara
iisobireta kotoba mo
ano natsu no sora no mukougawa
The final note of the song faded into the air like a breath held too long, and for a brief, fragile moment, the arena was still. No cheering. No roaring crowd. Just silence—thick, reverent, almost sacred. Then, one person started clapping. Another followed. Then another. The rhythm spread like a ripple across a lake until the entire arena was on its feet, applauding not out of hype, but out of something deeper—respect, sorrow, wonder.
But what caught everyone off guard wasn't the applause—it was the tears. Thousands of faces in the audience, glistening under the dim lights. No wailing, no shouting. Just quiet tears and trembling smiles.
Yukina blinked, momentarily dazed.
"...What was that?" she murmured. "Why are there... tears...?"
She turned toward her bandmates and froze. Rinko was dabbing at her eyes with a small napkin, her shoulders trembling slightly. Ako tried to act composed beside her but was wiping her own tears just the same. Sayo stood still, chin slightly lifted, but a single tear trailed silently down her cheek. And Lisa—Yukina's gaze softened—Lisa wasn't holding back at all, tears streaming freely as she let out a small laugh between them.
"Lisa..." Yukina whispered.
Lisa shook her head, her voice quivering with something raw. "I'm alright, Yukina... but damn—how can Riku sing a song with that much emotion...?"
From a few rows back, Chiyu crossed her arms, clicking her tongue with a smirk that couldn't hide the hint of admiration in her tone. "That son of a bitch. He used his eyes from the jump."
The others caught her words and turned toward the stage. Sure enough, Riku stood beneath the soft white lights, and both his eyes glowed faintly—each marked by a six-pointed star pattern.
Aya gasped. "He's doing what he showed us back at CiRCLE..."
Chiyu grinned, tilting her head. "So, you decided to go all out, huh? Figures. Get ready, girls—I've got a bad feeling we're about to get dragged into a full-on feels trip. Pareo! Get me some—"
Before she could finish, the mood shifted again. The audience noticed movement on stage. Riku and his bandmates exchanged brief glances—small nods of understanding, no words needed. Then they began switching instruments.
Arisa leaned forward, eyes wide. "Oi, oi, oi, oi! Are they doing what I think they're doing?!"
Saaya nodded slowly, smiling with disbelief. "I think they are, Arisa."
Maya adjusted her glasses, her voice brightening with excitement. "The OG classic!"
The once-teary crowd erupted again—this time with pure thrill. The quiet reverence gave way to cheers of nostalgia and awe as the audience realized what was coming.
Riku slung Yuragi's guitar over his shoulder, testing the strings with a few deft strums. Yuragi took up bzm's bass, spinning it once before settling into position. bzm slid onto the drums with an easy grin, while Taiga grabbed a guitar and Ammar slipped behind Riku's old keyboard setup.
Chiyu watched with a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "It's kinda safe to say OG's got this in the bag."
No one argued. They all felt it—the quiet confidence, the years of chemistry. These weren't just bandmates playing music; this was a family stepping back into their rhythm.
Riku stepped forward to the mic, the guitar glinting faintly under the light. The tears were gone now, replaced by a calm focus. The kind that came only when one poured every last ounce of emotion out and found peace on the other side.
He exhaled slowly, then spoke into the mic.
"Now for the second..."
He looked over his shoulder at the others, who gave him small nods in return. Then, with a faint smile, he continued, his tone soft but steady—
"...The world is dyed in the colors of the seasons... swaying from season to season."
As the first gentle notes of the keyboard rang out, the arena was caught in a spell once again. The melody shimmered through the air—melancholic, beautiful, and strangely comforting. It was the sound of time passing, of memories fading and returning all at once.
And just like that, the crowd's voices fell silent again. They weren't watching a performance anymore—they were witnessing a moment.
Swaying from Season to Season
(By: After the Rain – Soraru x mafumafu)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7sr5zv1EkI
Bold: Yuragi
Italic: Riku
Bold+Italic: Both
Minagami kara
Hana wa michi mo se ni
Komorebi ga ashi o tometara
Soko de owakare
Kuchi ni nokoru
Zutto suki deshita
Koi kogareteiru jikan nado
Boku ni nai no da
Machigatte mo Machigatte mo
"Kimi wa koishicha ikenai yo"
Bare nai you ni mimiuchi shita
Ano hi wa haruka no sora
Yozakura yo mae Odore Yume to
Utayomidori o nosete
Asunaki haru made yuke
Tatoe kimi ga wasurete shimatte mo
Suzukaze yo mae Odore Natsu to
Asebamu kimi no kami ga
Kumo ni kakurete mo Zutto mitoretai
Kisetsu no oriori ni te
Ayasu you ni
Togishite kureta yo wa
Sukue domo yubi no sukima o
Sururi toketeiku
Kimi ni furete
Yasashiku sarete kara
Machi nozondeita kisetsu ga
Itazura ni sugiru
Machigatta na Machigatta na
"Kimi ni koishite shimatta na"
Amai mono wa mou iranai kurai
Suki mitai desu
Akisame yo mae Odore
Hakutei to richi no shirabe
Hoho no shitamomiji
Amamoyoi Ui o Kasa de yori sou riyuu ni
Kazahana yo mae Odore
Yoru no shijima o tsurete
Sono te hidari no pokke ni iretara Yori soou
Kisetsu no oriori ni te
Shiki oriori no kaze ga
Kimi o suteki ni kazaru
Tooi yume no mata yume e
Boku o tsurete itte yo
Haru to kurokami Natsu no asase
Akiiro no hoho Fuyu wa neoki no warui kimi mo
Boku wa Boku wa
Dore mo suki datta yo
Sanshi suimei Somaru kimi to
Hyakka ryouran no hibi yo
Kioku no kanata e
Zutto mitoretai
Zutto sawaritai
Sayonara Sayonara
Kisetsu no oriori ni te
The echoes of Riku's voice faded into the air like the last ember of twilight. For a few fragile seconds, silence reigned over Hovet Arena—no cheers, no whistles, just the quiet hum of hearts trying to make sense of what they'd just felt. Then came a single clap. Another followed, and another, until the entire arena joined in slow, synchronized applause. But this time, there was no shouting, no thunderous roar of excitement—only the steady rhythm of hands meeting in shared reverence.
Everywhere you looked, people were wiping their eyes. The melody had not been loud or grand, but its weight lingered in the air like morning fog that refused to lift. It was a silence that spoke volumes—a silence that hurt and healed at once.
Up in the VIP area, Roselia sat among the others. For once, even Yukina had no words. But Rinko—usually the quietest among them—was frozen in place, her face flushed scarlet as her trembling hands clutched the handkerchief on her lap. Her heart was pounding so fast that it almost hurt to breathe.
Riku... so this is what you were trying to tell me... all this time.
Ako blinked, noticing the redness in her friend's cheeks.
"Rin-Rin, are you okay? You're beet red."
"I'm fine, Ako-chan," Rinko whispered, forcing a faint smile. "Just... overwhelmed."
Meanwhile, Kyoya exhaled deeply, a rare, knowing smile forming beneath his calm exterior.
"To think that Riku had the courage to sing that song," he murmured. "I suppose he finally got it."
Yuyuko crossed her arms with a small grin. "Well, that was faster than I expected. I was betting on at least another six months before he figured it out."
Sayo turned toward her in confusion. "Got it? What do you mean, Yuyuko-san?"
Yuyuko looked toward Kyoya for permission. When he gave a small nod, she leaned forward. "You all know that Riku was sent to Hanasakigawa to experience what it's like being a high school student, right?"
Rinko, Sayo, Chisato, and Kanon nodded. They'd all shared classes with him; they remembered the day he transferred in.
"Well," Yuyuko continued softly, "there was another reason—something deeper. He wasn't just sent there for normal school life. He was sent to find something that was missing inside him."
She glanced at Chisato and Kaoru, who both straightened in their seats.
"Those two know what I'm referring to."
Every pair of eyes turned toward them. Chisato froze, her lips parting but no words coming out. After a deep breath, she looked at Kaoru, who gave her a reassuring nod.
"It's because..." Chisato said carefully, "Riku didn't know how to express love."
Gasps echoed around the VIP section. Even Riku's childhood friends—Chiyu, Ran, and Kokoro—were taken aback.
"Wait," Lisa said, blinking. "You mean that kind of love?"
Chisato nodded slowly.
Ran lowered her gaze, her tone quiet but steady. "So that's why... he always treated me like a little sister. I thought he just wasn't interested, but..." She smiled faintly, trying to hide the sting of realization. "I understand now."
Moca gently patted her shoulder. "You okay, Ran~?"
"I'm fine. Really," she replied, though her eyes said otherwise.
Tomoe frowned. "So he can't express love at all?"
"Not exactly," Yuyuko said. "He can express familial love, but when it comes to romantic love..."
Her voice trailed off, and the entire row let out a collective "Ah..." as comprehension dawned.
Kyoya folded his hands together. "It's something we, his family, carry guilt for," he admitted quietly. "From the moment his parents discovered his talent, they poured everything into building his career. His life revolved around training, composing, performing... but love? Affection? He didn't receive much of that. Not the kind a child truly needs."
Misaki's expression softened. "So the lack of love made him... closed off?"
"Exactly," Kyoya said. "Yuyuko and others tried to fill that void, but it was never enough. Not until he met you."
He turned his gaze toward Rinko.
"Me?" she asked, startled.
Kyoya nodded. "Riku once told me something after meeting you for the first time. He said, 'That girl with the black hair... she's inexperienced, but she's different from the others. Her music is unique... I like it.'"
Rinko's lips parted in disbelief.
Kyoya smiled faintly. "He's always seen Ran, Kokoro, Kaoru, and Chisato as dear friends—siblings, even. He'd do anything for them. But you... you were something else entirely. I've seen him zone out mid-practice, staring into space like he was chasing a memory. I suspected it was you who filled that thought."
"Ah, so Riku-kun basically fell in love at first sight with Rinko-chan!" Hina blurted out cheerfully.
"H-Hina-san!" Rinko squeaked, face turning crimson. She covered her cheeks with both hands as the others laughed softly.
Saaya leaned forward. "But Kyoya-san, what does the song have to do with all this?"
Kyoya's smile faded into something gentler, almost melancholic. "Everything," he said. "That song... it's the one he wrote two years after leaving for his professional journey. Every lyric, every chord, carries the feelings he could never say aloud. It's a confession written in melody."
He looked directly at Rinko. "Do you still have the necklace he gave you?"
"Yes..." she said, reaching into her pocket and holding it up—a simple silver amethyst pendant that gleamed faintly in the light. "I promised him that when I became a better pianist than I was before, I'd return it to him. But... I also promised myself I'd confess to him once Roselia performed at Future World Fes. And now..."
Her voice trembled, words faltering. Yukina placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, silently shaking her head as if to say, You've said enough for now.
Kyoya nodded approvingly. "Then let's leave it at that. Riku's not finished yet. They've still got one song left."
Everyone turned their eyes back toward the stage. Down below, the lights dimmed once again.
This time, only Ammar sat behind the drums. Bzm switched to guitar, while Taiga took position at the keyboard. The crowd murmured, uncertain of what was coming.
"They've switched again," Rei muttered, leaning forward in her seat.
At center stage, Riku stood still, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered briefly on the empty guitar stand beside Taiga—the one he'd specifically requested to be set up the night before. He exhaled softly and closed his eyes.
"Kanon," Lisa whispered, "did you see that? Why did he look at the guitar stand?"
Kanon shrugged, her brow furrowed. "I'm not sure..."
Even Kyoya and Yuyuko exchanged puzzled glances. For once, neither of them had an answer.
Then, the moment hung still. The lights shifted from pale blue to a deep, dreamlike violet. Riku turned his head toward Yuragi, and their eyes met—a silent signal between brothers-in-arms.
Yuragi's voice echoed first, soft yet resolute.
"The world was half asleep and half awake..."
Then Riku's tone joined his, deep and haunting, carrying through the arena like the whisper of dusk itself.
"Dusk... Mistaking it for a Dream."
As their harmonized voices intertwined, the final act of OG's performance began—one last message from the boy who learned how to turn love into music.
Dusk, Mistaking it for a Dream
(By: After the Rain - Soraru x mafumafu)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zI9z-Z-VpHo
Bold: Yuragi
Italic: Riku
Bold+Italic: Both
honomeku kage ga yureru
itsu kara mihoreta darou
sayonara shiyou owakare shiyou
kimi ga furimuku sono mae ni
yohou doori no ame wa
moegi wo nurashite yuku
dokoka e yukou shigatsu no kobosu
tameiki ni nosete tooku made
hitotsu haru wo tagaeta toki ni wa
kitto surechigau ashita datta
are mo kore mo omohayui hibi datta
kono yo no itoshiku byoudou na
jikan ga kita mitai da
sakura (sakura) futari no yoru wo umeta madoromi deshita
meguriau omoi kishikata yukusue
tsudoi hitohira futahira irodoru
sore wa (sore wa) yume to mimagau hodo no itazura deshita
yagate yoru ga kuru mae ni tsutaenakucha
taguri yuwaita ibuki
nokosareta toki nante
ikubaku mo nai sore demo kowai
ne wo haru kokoro ga hagayui naa
kyoubi arifureta itomagoi
oshinabete aganau you ni
kuremadou hodo yowaku wa nai sa
kono yo wa hitoshiku tanjun na
sakeba chiru hana no you ni
sore wa (sore wa) imawa no kiwa wo koeta yubikiri deshita
yukuri naku mo yume no you na toki wo tadoru
kokoronokori datte nai wake nai kedo
tayutau yamiyo ni chuu wo mau
arigatou arigatou
ano koro yori mo mae wo muketa yo
For a brief moment after Riku's final note, time seemed to stop.
Then, during that heartbeat of stillness, something impossible happened.
A shimmer of light—soft and ethereal—formed beside Riku on stage. The glow took shape, delicate as starlight crystallizing into flesh and color. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the image of a young girl appeared: long blue hair that flowed like a calm sea, a white blouse paired with a sky-blue dress, and on her head, a familiar hat adorned with two peaches. In her hands was a guitar shaped almost like a star, glinting under the lights. She stepped beside Riku, and he simply smiled—quiet, knowing—and nodded to her.
The arena fell into collective disbelief.
Chisato's hands flew to her mouth. "No way... that's—"
Kokoro froze mid-breath, her eyes trembling. Then, in an instant, recognition hit her like lightning. "Onee-chan? ONEE-CHAN!!!"
She shot up from her seat, ready to run straight for the stage, but Misaki and Hagumi held her back with all their strength. "Wait, Kokoro!" Misaki hissed. "You can't just—"
"But that's my sister!" Kokoro struggled, tears spilling from her eyes. "That's Tenshi! She's right there!"
Even Chiyu—who was rarely caught off guard—stared in shock. "Tenshi?! What in the world is she doing there?!"
Arisa's voice cracked through the noise. "And that guitar—!"
Kasumi leaned forward, eyes wide. "It's the same as my Random Star!"
Kaoru, for once, wasn't being dramatic. Her expression was solemn, touched by awe. "So that's why there was an empty stand... ani-sama, ane-sama... you two planned this all along."
Rinko's fingers tightened around her necklace. Her voice trembled. "Tenshi... even in death, you're still chasing your dream..."
Meanwhile—half a world away in Japan.
At the Hinanawi mansion, Aichi and Kaguya nearly spat their drinks all over the screen when the girl appeared.
Aichi's eyes widened in disbelief. "Nee-san!? What—how!?"
Kaguya's face paled, the cup still in her hand. "Tenshi... you—" She groaned softly, shaking her head. "Riku's got a lot of explaining to do once he gets back."
Aichi let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. I can already tell me and him are going to have a very long talk... sooner than expected."
Back in Stockholm, the atmosphere inside Hovet Arena shifted from astonishment to quiet reverence. The girl—Tenshi—wasn't just a projection. She moved with the rhythm of the music, her fingers brushing the strings of her guitar in perfect harmony with Riku's band. The chords that rang out had a warmth to them—a tone too human, too real, to be an illusion.
The audience watched, breath held, as Riku and Tenshi stood side by side, playing together as if they had always shared the stage. It was a scene beyond comprehension—one part miracle, one part farewell.
The melody deepened, the lights softened to a twilight hue, and Tenshi joined in—gentle, almost like a whisper carried by the wind:
sakura (sakura) kimi to deaeta koto ga shiawase deshita
meguriau omoi kishikata yukusue
tsudoi hitohira futahira irodoru
kimi to tadoru tsukiyo wo kobamu hodo no yarazu no ame
sore wa yume to mimagau you na
sore wa koi to mimagau you na toki deshita
Her words floated through the air like fragments of moonlight, wrapping around Riku's voice until they became one. Together, they painted a sound that didn't just echo—it lingered, like the memory of a dream you don't want to wake from.
When the final chord fell, Tenshi lowered her guitar and turned to Riku. They bowed to each other, quiet smiles exchanged through tears neither of them tried to hide.
Then, as gently as she had arrived, Tenshi began to fade—light dissolving into the air like petals scattered on the wind. Riku's hand reached slightly forward, fingers stopping just short of where she'd been. His eyes closed, and a single tear traced down his cheek.
Yuragi placed a hand on his shoulder. Riku didn't say a word—just gave a small nod, steadying his breath.
Then came the applause.
This time it wasn't quiet—it was raw, thunderous, alive. The arena erupted in cheers that carried grief, awe, and gratitude all at once. Some fans sobbed openly; others smiled through tears. Even the most stoic faces couldn't hold back emotion.
Up in the VIP section, Yuyuko let out a soft chuckle behind her fan. "Ara~ I didn't expect Tenshi-chan to make an appearance."
Remilia wiped a tear from Flandre's face before smirking. "Very unexpected indeed. Kukuku... well played, Riku."
Yuyuko's expression softened, the mirth in her tone fading into quiet respect. "Still... for Tenshi-chan to appear like that, she must've used a lot of energy to project herself on stage."
Lisa, concerned, looked her way. "Then... what happens to her?"
"She'll likely need to rest inside Riku-kun's mindscape for a while," Yuyuko explained. "She'll recover, but it'll take time."
Kasumi, still clutching her guitar pick, frowned. "But... why did Tenshi-san have my Random Star?"
Arisa sighed, her voice gentle. "Because, Kasumi... the Random Star originally was hers. After she passed away, her family gave it to us. Her father told us that Riku had gifted that guitar to her as a birthday present."
Kasumi blinked, her heart twisting at the thought. For a moment, she wondered if she even deserved to use it anymore. But then she remembered the way Riku looked when Tenshi appeared—the faint nod, the silent approval in his eyes. That was enough.
She straightened her back, gripping her pick with renewed resolve. Then I'll make sure I honor it, she thought. I'll play with everything she left behind.
Back in the VIP seats, Kyoya leaned toward Mafuyu, who had been unusually silent.
"Well, Mafuyu," he asked softly. "What do you think?"
No response came at first. She just stared at the stage—at the empty space where Tenshi once stood. Everything she'd seen tonight defied logic. Her brother had just made the impossible seem effortless. It was breathtaking... and terrifying.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
It wasn't fear of the supernatural—it was fear of how calculated everything seemed. Every step, every note, every transition—Riku made it all look natural, but there was precision beneath it, a quiet mastery that went far beyond mortal limits.
She felt a large, warm hand rest gently on her head.
Kyoya smiled down at her, eyes soft. "You don't have to understand it right now," he murmured. "Just be proud."
Mafuyu's lips parted, but no words came. She just nodded, leaning subtly into the gesture.
As Riku and OG finally left the stage, the crowd still stood on their feet, clapping long after the last light dimmed. Even as the staff began resetting the stage, the air was thick with emotion.
Then, a familiar voice echoed from the center stage mic.
"Ladies and gentlemen," SirActionSlacks boomed, his tone a mix of awe and energy, "what an unbelievable performance we've just witnessed! Now... it's time for the moment of truth."
The crowd's roar returned full force.
"The voting system is simple," he continued, pacing with his usual flair. "Both the people here in Hovet Arena and those watching online can cast their votes! Rank your favorite bands from first to fourth—like so: 1st – TSM, 2nd – OG, 3rd – Gaimin, 4th – Tundra—and at the end of one hour, the band with the most first-place votes will be crowned the winner of the Future World Fes!"
The crowd cheered louder, phones lighting up across the stands like constellations.
Kyoya leaned back in his seat, a rare expression of quiet pride softening his features. "It's out of their hands now," he murmured.
Yuyuko smirked behind her fan. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure, Kyoya. Riku's music doesn't just win votes—it rewrites hearts."
As the audience began casting votes and commentators hyped the results, the camera panned to the backstage corridor.
There, just out of sight, Riku stood alone for a brief moment—head tilted upward, eyes closed, as if still listening to a voice only he could hear.
"Thanks, Tenshi," he whispered under his breath. "You can rest now."
And with that, he turned toward the others, the faintest smile on his lips, ready to face whatever came next.
Hovet Arena – OG's Locker Room
Riku's POV
We finally wrapped up our performance, and for the first time all day, it felt like we could breathe again. The rush of the stage still lingered, but now came that odd calm that always follows a storm — exhaustion tangled with relief.
Johan, ever the social one, suggested we invite the other bands to celebrate a job well done. We didn't need much convincing. The catering tables were overflowing with food, and even with our appetites, there was no way we could finish it all.
Within minutes, the room was packed — members from Gaimin, Tundra, and TSM all piling in with trays and boxes of their own. Someone brought sushi, someone else pizza. It was chaotic, loud, and alive — exactly the kind of energy that reminds you you've done something worth celebrating.
For almost an hour, we talked, laughed, and replayed moments from the stage. Nobody dared to crack open alcohol, though. We all knew the results were still hanging over our heads, and no one wanted to risk being the one who stumbled onto stage later half-drunk.
I sat back on one of the folding chairs near the TV, sipping orange juice, half listening to the conversation and half focused on the broadcast. Sheever's voice came through the speakers.
"Now before we reveal the winner of the Future World Fes, there's one more thing we'd like to show everyone. Please turn your attention to the screen for a special presentation."
That made the room go quiet fast. The boys caught my look — they knew what that tone meant. A showcase, maybe an announcement. My gut told me exactly what was coming.
The screen faded to black, then cut to old footage — grainy, loud, and nostalgic.
2011.
"There you have it! Na'Vi are your inaugural International Champions!"
The first-ever TI. The moment everything started. The crowd back then was small, the stage modest, but the energy was raw — you could feel the birth of something bigger than anyone expected.
2012.
"Standing ovation from the crowd! And that's it! Na'Vi are going to the Grand Finals for the second year in a row!"
The Play. Even now, it gives chills. The moment that defined not just a match, but an era.
2013.
"Alliance wins! They win TI3! Alliance just won 1.4 million dollars! They are your International Champions!"
I still remembered watching that one live as a kid. The crowd exploding, the players in tears. It was more than music or competition — it was legacy.
2014.
"Newbee are your TI4 Champions! China's second championship in three years!"
And with that, the torch passed east. China's rise — structured, powerful, unrelenting.
2015.
"And from UniVeRsE! IT'S A DISASTAH!"
That one made everyone in the room laugh. The timing, the chaos — the kind of legendary moment that lived forever in memes and history books alike. EG's miracle. North America's first.
2016.
"TWO TIME FUTURE WORLD FES WINNERS!! YOU ARE GONE!!! THE FILIPINOS HAVE ELIMINATED OG!!! TNC HAVE DONE IT!!! THE DREAM IS A REALITY!!!"
TNC. The biggest upset in TI history. A team of underdogs that flipped the script and made the world pay attention. The pride in their faces — I'd never forget that one.
2017.
"Team Liquid are the first band in TI history to whitewash a Grand Final! 3–0 onto Newbee!"
Complete dominance. The room erupted when this played. Johan actually stood and saluted the screen.
2018.
"CEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEB!!!!!!!"
The roar from the crowd hit even through the recording. That solo, that comeback — the kind of moment that only happens when belief refuses to die.
2019.
"OG are your two-time TI Champions! They've done it, Fogged!"
The impossible made real. The only band to go back-to-back. The reason every one of us dared to dream bigger.
2020.
"Can Yatoro give the crowd another encore here at TI10? Absolutely! Yatoro!!!"
A new name, a new story. The camera panned over Team Spirit, the next generation taking the crown — and you could feel the torch being passed again.
Then the screen went black.
A long pause. Then a single cherry blossom petal drifted across the dark.
My heart stopped.
More petals followed, and the words faded in — elegant, simple, and heavy with meaning.
"The stage is set... For the first time, twenty bands will be chosen... to take battle in the Land of the Rising Sun."
The screen shifted — showing Hakugyoku Arena bathed in gold light. Then the Black Dragon Palace. Both places burned into my memory.
"The battle... awaits."
And then it appeared.
The International 2021
Tokyo, Japan
The entire locker room went wild. The roar of the live crowd outside could be heard even through the walls — waves of cheers that refused to die down.
Skitter turned to me, eyes wide. "Hey, Iku. You knew about this?"
I shook my head slowly. "No. I thought Singapore was supposed to host next year's one."
But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became. Why Japan, why now. I remembered Slacks pulling me aside back in April, half-whispering something about expansion, about a new stage.
Sneyking leaned forward. "You figured something out, didn't you?"
I nodded. "Yeah. He told me months ago they were scouting a new addition to the circuit — something fresh to shake the format. Looks like Japan made the cut."
Timado raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying your country's entering the official rotation?"
"Exactly." I grinned. "It means more competition for you guys. And more work for me, since I'll probably be stuck running around behind the scenes making sure no one blows up the logistics."
Ace laughed. "I can't wait. Tokyo, huh? That's going to be wild."
I let out a small chuckle, half excitement, half nerves. "Yeah. Wild's one word for it."
Silence settled for a beat — the kind that follows big news. The boys were still grinning, trading theories about venues, crowds, setlists. I just sat back, watching the replays still looping on the TV.
The clips, the cheers, the moments that made us — and the quiet realization that maybe this time, Japan wasn't just hosting. We were stepping into something far larger than any of us had touched before.
I stood up, stretched my shoulders, and glanced at the half-empty plates scattered across the tables. "Alright, guys. Let's clean this up. I've got a feeling they'll be calling us back on stage soon."
No one complained. We moved easily, wordlessly — stacking dishes, tossing wrappers, straightening what little chaos we'd made.
And under it all, I could still hear the crowd outside. Cheering. Waiting.
The storm wasn't over yet.
A few minutes passed before the room returned to order. The sound of rustling bags and soft chatter faded as Riku and the others finished cleaning up the mess left from their post-performance nerves. Despite the calm, a faint energy lingered in the air—something sharp, tense, and electric. Then came the knock on the door. One of the stage staff appeared, clipboard in hand, voice steady but urgent.
"Everyone, it's time."
Those words alone sent everyone's pulse racing.
The team moved as one, their footsteps echoing softly down the corridor that led to the stage. The closer they got, the louder the roar of the audience grew—a living wall of sound that vibrated through the concrete floor. When they stepped into the light, ODPixel was already waiting center stage, a white envelope glinting in his hand under the spotlights.
He didn't need to say much. The envelope said it all.
Riku's heartbeat quickened. His hands felt cold, but his chest was burning hot.
When the cheering settled, ODPixel raised the microphone, his tone deep and commanding as the lights began to dim. "Ladies and gentlemen," his voice boomed, "the time is now. Voting has officially ended, and I have the results... right here."
The crowd erupted, the sound washing over the arena in waves of anticipation. Thousands of fans, camera lights flashing, banners waving—every pair of eyes locked onto the man holding destiny in his hands.
Then, the lights went out.
Four spotlights pierced the darkness—one on each remaining band. Riku squinted beneath the beam, its brilliance making the scene around him vanish. It was just them now. OG, TSM, Tundra, and Gaimin—four forces that had battled through every hardship to reach this moment.
"The rules are simple," ODPixel continued. "When a band's light goes out... that will be their placing. The final light standing—our champion."
The tension was unbearable. Even the crowd fell to a hush as the first pause struck.
"In fourth place..."
The silence stretched. Then, with a snap of fingers, Gaimin's light vanished. A wave of surprise rippled through the audience. Even Riku blinked in disbelief—Gaimin had been a powerhouse. Their elimination so early was the first shock of the night.
The team bowed and left the stage amid applause, their shadows fading as ODPixel spoke again. "And now, three remain..."
The second pause was shorter, sharper. "In third place..." Another snap—Tundra's light went dark. The crowd gasped, a roar following moments later.
Now, only two beams remained.
Riku lifted his gaze, his light meeting TSM's across the stage. He could feel their energy even from afar—strong, confident, proud. They were the last hope for North America, and OG stood as Europe's unbroken titan.
The world seemed to stop breathing.
"Two bands remain," ODPixel's voice softened, then deepened again, charged with reverence. "OG and TSM. The juggernaut of Western Europe and the final bastion of North America. Both have given us performances for the ages. But tonight... only one will claim the crown."
The crowd erupted once more, their chants blending into a single heartbeat of anticipation. Riku's vision tunneled. He felt his body tremble, every second stretching into eternity.
The announcer raised the envelope, tore it open, and pulled the slip of paper free. Riku's lungs froze. He closed his eyes, unable to bear it. The world went silent.
"And the winner... of the ESL One Future World Fes Stockholm... is—"
The pause lasted a lifetime.
"OG!"
The lights exploded into gold.
Confetti burst from the rafters, and the arena erupted into thunderous celebration. The moment the name left ODPixel's lips, Riku's knees gave out. He fell to the ground, tears stinging his eyes as disbelief crashed into relief. The noise was deafening, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
The boys rushed to him—Johan, Taiga, and the rest—piling over him in unrestrained joy. Their laughter mixed with tears, their shouts swallowed by the sea of cheers. Taiga grabbed Riku by the arm and pulled him up, his grin wild and bright.
"We did it, Riku! We actually did it!"
Riku tried to answer, but no words came. He just nodded, smiling through the tears that refused to stop. On the side of the stage, Johan was already on a video call with Misha, holding up the camera to capture the chaos.
Riku turned, spotting TSM across the stage. Their light had dimmed now, but their expressions were proud, respectful. He approached them quietly amid the roaring noise. "You guys were amazing," he said, voice low but sincere. "You pushed us harder than anyone ever has."
The opposing team smiled back, shaking his hand firmly. "Same to you," one replied. "You earned it."
When Riku returned to his team, the trophy stood waiting—a gleaming monument of everything they had fought for. He looked at the others, and without a word, they knew what to do. Together, they lifted it high, the crowd's cheers reaching a fever pitch as the golden light of victory bathed them.
Meanwhile, in Japan — Eientei
The quiet evening air broke with laughter and cheers. Inside the grand hall, Kaguya threw her arms around Aichi, both of them smiling as tears formed in their eyes.
"He did it, Aichi! Riku won!"
Aichi nodded, his usually calm demeanor giving way to visible pride. "Not just him, Kaguya-san," he said softly. "It was him and Nee-san... they both did."
Kaguya's expression softened. "You're right."
From across the room, Mokou watched them, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She exhaled, closing her eyes as the warm light of the monitor flickered across her face. "Guess the kid really made it," she murmured. "Good for him."
Back in Stockholm — VIP Area
The VIP section erupted the same moment the announcement came. Kasumi's voice pierced the air first.
"Senpai did it, Arisa! He won!"
Before Arisa could respond, Kasumi threw her arms around her. Arisa, for once, didn't push her away. "Alright, fine... I'll let this one slide," she said with a reluctant smile.
Saaya clasped her hands together, eyes glistening. "Congratulations, Riku-kun."
Tae and Rimi were clapping, Rimi's tears flowing freely as she struggled to speak.
Nearby, Ran stood quietly, her lips curving into a small, proud smile. Moca nudged her teasingly. "Like what you see, Ran~?"
Ran didn't even look away from the stage. "I'm just happy to see my brother smile. Nothing more... though," she added softly, "I think I already know what our next song's gonna be."
"Oh?~" Moca grinned. "Can't wait to hear that one.~"
A few seats away, Kokoro and Hagumi were jumping up and down, hugging tightly. "Rikkun won!" Hagumi cried.
"Hm!" Kokoro beamed. "This calls for a celebration!"
"Not here!" Misaki shouted, facepalming.
Kaoru, ever the dramatist, twirled her hair as she smiled. "Congratulations, Ani-sama. Though, Chisato, you seem... contemplative."
Chisato crossed her arms, though her lips trembled with a faint smile. "It's nothing. I'm just... happy for him."
Kaoru chuckled softly. "If there was ever a time to show it, dear, it would be now."
Chisato looked away. "No... that's not my style."
Still, as the spotlight shone on Riku's smiling face, she couldn't help but clench her fist—just once, tightly—before relaxing again. Kaoru noticed, her grin widening. "Obvious as always."
Elsewhere, Hina had wrapped herself around Sayo like a ribbon. "Riku-kun won, onee-chan!"
Sayo groaned, trying to pry her off. "Get off me, Hina! Not in front of everyone!"
Remilia and Flandre were among the crowd as well. Flandre nearly jumped out of her seat. "Onee-sama! Onii-san won! Can I go see him?"
Remilia chuckled softly, resting a hand on her sister's head. "Let him have his moment, Flan. We'll celebrate when we return to the hotel."
Across the row, Chiyu had risen from her seat, clapping once before turning to her band. "Iku's one step ahead of us now," she said, voice firm. "Alright girls, once we're back in Japan, it's practice time. He gave us the opportunity—let's make damn sure we earn it. Understood?"
"HAI!" RAS chorused in unison.
Yukina, sitting a few seats away, whispered almost to herself, "So this is what it feels like... to win a Future World Fes."
Lisa smiled beside her, warmth in her tone. "Don't worry, Yukina. One day, we'll stand on that same stage."
Yukina nodded, her eyes never leaving the golden figure holding the trophy aloft. "Yes... one day."
Then Ako suddenly gasped. "Girls! Where's Rin-Rin?!"
The room fell silent. Everyone looked around—left, right—until Kyoya pointed toward the back corner, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
They didn't need to say a word. They all knew where Rinko was... and what she was doing.
Back on the stage
Riku's POV
The lights above the stage gleamed like a thousand captured stars, reflecting off the silver edges of the massive trophy that stood proudly at the center podium. The moment TSM exited the stage and Misha's video call ended, the air shifted—lighter, warmer, electric with triumph. Riku and the rest of OG gathered near the podium, their footsteps echoing faintly over the fading cheers. But before they could approach, another figure stepped forward with a microphone in hand—SirActionSlacks, his trademark grin as wide as ever.
"Well, gentlemen," his voice boomed across the arena, "I think everyone here knows what's coming next. But before that... how about a few words from our champions?"
The crowd roared again, flashes of light from cameras creating a flickering storm.
Riku stepped closer to the mic, ready to speak—but before he could, something soft pressed against his back.
He froze.
The audience gasped in unison as a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist. When he turned, he saw her—Rinko—her black hair shimmering faintly under the spotlight, her eyes glistening with tears. She looked both terrified and relieved, her blush clear even from a distance.
"Rinko...?" Riku's voice faltered. "What are you doing here?"
She clutched him tighter, voice trembling. "I just... I just wanted to congratulate you directly. You... you kept your promise." Her words broke slightly near the end, her forehead resting against his chest. "I'm glad you did..."
Riku felt his throat tighten. For a brief second, the roaring crowd faded away, and all that existed was the warmth of her trembling form against him. He lowered his hand, resting it on her back as he whispered, "I told you, didn't I? I keep my promises."
Rinko didn't answer, only pressed herself closer. The cameras caught every second of it—the crowd erupting into cheers, some whistling playfully while others simply clapped, touched by the moment.
Slacks, half-grinning and half-stunned, leaned toward the camera as he continued his live commentary. "Well, folks... that's one hell of a victory hug if I've ever seen one."
The other members of OG chuckled softly, giving the two a bit of space. After a moment, Riku patted Rinko's back gently, breaking the hug. Her eyes were red, but she smiled as he took her hand, holding it firmly to assure she wouldn't slip away into the crowd.
Slacks turned his attention back to the microphone. "Alright! Now that our champion's gotten his well-deserved embrace, I think it's time we hear from the man himself."
Riku turned toward him, adjusting his mic as the cheers began to quiet. The noise in the arena was still thunderous, but manageable enough for his words to carry.
"Riku," Slacks said theatrically, "you answered the call, took the substitution, and once again proved that when OG needs you, you deliver. Five-time Future World Fes winner—how does it feel to stand on this stage again?"
Riku paused, waiting as the crowd erupted once more before settling. He smiled faintly, the weight of the moment settling over him like a comforting warmth.
"It's... kinda surreal, man," he admitted, laughter in his tone. "Honestly, I didn't expect to be here at all. This wasn't part of my plan. I was just enjoying my life as a high school student back in Japan. But, you know—when OG calls for help, I always answer. These guys... they're my brothers. Playing here again—it felt amazing. And seeing all this support..." He gestured toward the crowd, his voice thickening slightly. "Man, I love you guys. Truly."
The audience roared in response, their voices carrying emotion and pride.
Slacks grinned. "Well said, my man. Now, about that young lady holding your hand—mind telling the world who she is?"
Riku glanced down at Rinko, who looked as though she wished the earth would swallow her whole. He chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. "She's someone very important to me," he said simply. "She's the reason I'm here. I promised her I'd win this... and I did."
A soft "aww" swept through the arena, and Slacks laughed into the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think we can all agree—that's one promise worth keeping."
He turned, gesturing dramatically toward the shining trophy behind them. "Alright boys, I think it's time. Look ahead of you—the trophy is yours. Go get it!"
The crowd roared once more, the deafening applause echoing through every inch of the arena. The five members of OG stepped toward the podium, Rinko and Johan following closely behind. The trophy stood there, gleaming under golden lights, reflecting their faces—tired, elated, victorious.
The team formed a circle around it, each placing a hand on its cool metal surface.
Riku took a deep breath. "Alright, on my mark," he said, voice low but steady. "Three... two... one—lift!"
The trophy rose high above their heads, catching the stage lights in dazzling brilliance. Confetti rained from the ceiling in shimmering streams of gold and white. The cheers were overwhelming, a roaring ocean of joy and celebration.
Riku laughed breathlessly, helping keep the heavy object steady. "Man, this thing's gotta weigh fifteen kilos," he joked, his arms trembling slightly. "Feels like lifting the damn world."
The others laughed with him, still shouting in triumph. For that single moment, everything—every hardship, every fight, every sleepless night—was worth it.
When the time came to pass the trophy around, Riku handed it off, his eyes finding Rinko waiting just behind Johan. She was smiling softly, both proud and shy. He walked to her, still catching his breath, and leaned closer.
"Rinko," he said quietly, "tell the others to go back to the hotel. ASAP."
She blinked. "Eh? But why?"
Riku smirked faintly. "After this, our podcast starts the moment we get back. Seats are limited, so you'd better hurry if you want front row."
Her eyes widened slightly, then she nodded. "O-Okay! I'll tell them!"
Riku gave her a gentle pat on the head, earning another cheer from the nearby fans. She hurried off toward the exit, weaving through the stage crew as Riku turned back to his team.
The golden lights above shimmered on their faces, the confetti still falling like snow.
Riku lifted a hand toward the crowd. "Alright, boys," he said, his grin returning. "We're done here. Let's head back to the hotel!"
The others echoed his words with a unified cheer, fists raised high. The crowd answered with one final, thunderous applause that seemed to shake the entire Hovet Arena.
For Riku, that sound—the mix of pride, love, and joy—was the loudest and most beautiful music he'd ever heard.
----------
Hakugyoku Hotel Stockholm Branch – AVR
5:30 P.M.
Third Person POV
The golden hour sunlight spilled across Stockholm, its amber hue glinting off the glass windows of the Hakugyoku Hotel. The streets outside were still humming with energy from the just-concluded Future World Fes, fans chattering and recording vlogs, their voices echoing through the evening air. Meanwhile, at the hotel's AVR hall, the champions of the night—OG—were already shifting into their next engagement.
After the festival's finale, the group wasted no time. They'd packed up their gear, thanked the stage crew, and taken a shortcut through the less-crowded streets, saving themselves precious minutes. Even with the fatigue in their faces and the ache settling in their limbs, the adrenaline of victory still kept them moving. They were on a tight schedule—thirty minutes until the podcast began.
Now, they were backstage, seated on a couch under soft fluorescent lights, a quiet tension humming in the air as techs moved around adjusting mics and lights. Riku leaned back, absently scrolling through his phone until a familiar name popped up. It was Rinko.
"We're already inside," her message read.
A faint smile crept across his face. He typed a quick reply, then slipped the phone into his pocket just as the stage door opened.
"Alright boys," said Juan, OG's CEO, in his upbeat tone. "Let's get this rolling."
The murmur of the crowd beyond the curtain swelled as Juan stepped forward to the stage, his voice soon booming from the speakers.
"Welcome, everyone, to the Monkey Business Show!" he announced, the audience erupting in cheers. "And this is our Future World Fes Aftershow! Let's get this started—and please give a warm welcome to your seven-time champions... OG!"
The response was thunderous. The moment the curtain lifted, chants of "OG! OG! OG!" filled the hall. The boys stepped out together—Riku at the front, the championship trophy gleaming in his hands under the spotlights. Cameras flashed like starlight as the group waved to the roaring crowd.
Riku set the trophy on the pedestal in front of them, the engraved plate glinting beneath the stage lights. Then, with casual synchronization, the seven of them took their seats behind the long black table at center stage. Juan sat in the middle; to his left were Yuragi, Taiga, and Riku, while to his right sat Ammar, bzm, and Johan.
Once the applause settled, Juan leaned forward with his trademark grin.
"First of all, congratulations, guys! What a performance out there—you made history again. How are you all feeling tonight?"
Riku chuckled softly, his voice still rough from performing. "I feel good right now, man. After winning it again, it feels unreal. But I won't lie—I'm dead tired. Can't wait to get some sleep after this."
The crowd laughed, and Juan nodded knowingly. "Fair enough. Ammar, what about you? We didn't hear much from you after the set. How's the feeling settling in?"
Ammar gave a small, reserved grin. "I'm feeling great, for sure. It's been a hell of a day. Honestly, I'm just... grateful. Nothing much more to add."
Juan smiled, then turned toward the opposite side of the table. "Alright, Yuragi. Scale of one to ten—how are you feeling?"
"Ten," Yuragi said without hesitation. "Absolute ten."
"Nice and clean. Taiga, what about you?"
Taiga's smile softened, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and pride. "I feel amazing, man. I can just imagine my parents back home watching this. It feels like I finally made them proud. Winning this took a weight off my shoulders."
The audience gave a sympathetic cheer. Juan looked next to the last man on his right. "bzm, my friend—you've been quiet. How about you?"
bzm leaned toward his mic, expression deadpan. "Okayish?"
The whole hall burst into laughter, the boys shaking their heads while Juan slapped the table, laughing.
"Oh, come on, man, that's the most bzm answer ever!"
The lighthearted tone carried through the first part of the show. They reminisced about the group stage chaos, the nerves before the finals, and the surreal moment of standing under the confetti rain once again. The camaraderie between the seven was natural, flowing—each word layered with the warmth of shared victories and scars earned together.
Then, midway through the discussion, Juan leaned forward with a mischievous look. "Now, Riku... I heard there's something you wanted to share?"
The audience stirred in anticipation. Riku blinked for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Oh, that! Yeah, I've been dying to talk about this one."
He turned to Ammar, who was already shaking his head in mock protest. "So, this fucker Ammar—"
The audience erupted in laughter immediately.
"—had the craziest tactic during group stage prep. We called it the 'Ammar Test.' It was Day 3, right? We were picking songs for the day, and he goes, 'Did you perform this in public once?' I said, 'Yeah.' He goes, 'Alright, we're doing that one.' Then I recommend this new song I wrote, two months before the tournament started, and he goes, 'Did you perform this one before?' And I'm like, 'No, I just wrote it.' And he goes, 'Not happening.'"
The audience laughed harder, the other boys nodding along as Riku reenacted the conversation with exaggerated gestures.
"I'm sitting there like, 'Bruh! I'm fucking confident we can kill it with this one!'" Riku continued, grinning. "And honestly, if we had used it, we might've pulled eight million votes easy. But to be fair,"—his tone softened slightly—"it was never about ego. Ammar was just making sure we stuck with songs we're comfortable with. No one carries the full pressure alone. And that's one thing I've always respected about him—he cares for the whole team."
The crowd responded with applause. Ammar gave Riku a small nod, half embarrassed, half proud.
The podcast continued on that high note, with banter and laughter keeping the atmosphere bright. Eventually, Juan announced the start of the Q&A segment. Hands shot up across the audience, fans eager to get a moment with their idols. The camera swept over the crowd as Juan held out his hand.
"Alright, let's pick one lucky fan—Riku, you choose."
Riku scanned the audience for a moment before pointing toward a man in the middle rows. "You, in the blue hoodie," he said with a grin. A staff member handed the man a microphone.
"To the lucky person," Riku said, leaning slightly forward, "tell us your name, where you're from, and your question."
The man stood up, his voice a little shaky from excitement. "Uh, hi! My name's Todd, I'm from France, and my question is for Iku." He paused briefly as the audience murmured in anticipation. "Coming into this tournament and winning it—do you think about coming out of retirement after this?"
The air shifted slightly—quiet, curious. All eyes turned to Riku.
He leaned back, thoughtful, his expression softening under the lights. "Hmm... coming out of retirement," he echoed. A small smile tugged at his lips. "I can't. Not right now."
The crowd murmured quietly, listening closely as he continued.
"I still have a lot on my plate back in Japan. There are... family matters, and responsibilities that I can't just ignore. But I still keep in touch with the competitive scene. Like I've always said—if the call comes, I'll answer it. It'll just depend on the schedule I've got."
His gaze drifted briefly toward the back rows, where Rinko and a few familiar faces sat, quietly watching. "I'll say this now," he added. "I'm not vacant from July to September. A lot needs to be handled back home. But once things settle down... I'll be back. Maybe with OG, maybe a band I'll form in Japan, or maybe as a producer for someone new."
The room broke into applause—cheers of relief, admiration, and excitement. The fans were overjoyed knowing he wasn't walking away for good. Even Juan smiled, clapping along. "That's what we like to hear," he said warmly.
The rest of the Q&A followed in lighter tones—questions about favorite songs, stage rituals, and their thoughts on the next Fes. Each answer was met with laughter and cheers, the warmth of shared memories carrying through the hall. It felt less like an interview and more like a family gathering—a shared exhale after weeks of tension and triumph.
As the clock neared 7:00 P.M., Juan wrapped things up. "Well, that's all the time we've got, everyone. Thank you for joining us for this special aftershow! Once again, congratulations to OG—seven-time Future World Fes champions!"
The audience rose to their feet in a standing ovation as the lights dimmed to gold. Riku stood, looking out over the sea of faces—fans, crew, friends—all cheering them on. He exchanged glances with his bandmates, exhaustion giving way to quiet pride. Another victory. Another chapter closed.
As they stepped off stage, the last echoes of the crowd's applause faded behind them. Riku let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in hours.
"Alright," he muttered with a faint grin, "time for dinner."
And just like that, the champions exited the stage—not with the roar of instruments or the flash of fireworks this time, but with the soft, steady satisfaction of a day well-earned.
Unknown Location – Deep Within the Mountains
Third Person POV
The night wind howled through the cracks of a fortress buried within the jagged spine of a mountain range, its walls draped in shadow. The structure stood ancient and grim, its black stone exterior absorbing every flicker of moonlight. Inside, the air was cold and still, disturbed only by the faint crackle of torches that lined the chamber walls.
At the heart of the fortress was a circular room — wide, austere, and silent. Around a long, obsidian table sat five figures, their presence alone enough to warp the air with tension. At the head sat a man with a scar tracing down his cheek, his eyes like tempered steel: Brendan Reed, the Commander of the Black Fang.
He straightened from his chair, the weight of command emanating from every movement.
"Linus," he began, his tone low but sharp.
A man stepped forward from the shadows — tall and broad-shouldered, his blonde hair untamed, his black eyes burning with restless fire. He wore a maroon coat that fluttered faintly with each movement, a massive sword strapped across his back like a symbol of defiance. Linus Reed, son of the commander, younger brother to Lloyd, and feared by allies and enemies alike as "The Mad Dog."
"Father," Linus said simply, his voice firm but edged with that familiar wildness that gave him his name.
Brendan's gaze drifted next. "Lloyd."
A quiet nod came from a man seated nearby — composed, deliberate, his silver hair falling slightly over his eyes. Lloyd Reed, the elder son, mirrored calm where Linus carried chaos. He didn't speak; he didn't need to. His reputation as a tactician and swordsman preceded him.
"Ursula."
The woman who answered wore poise like armor. Her short indigo hair framed her face with sharp elegance, her dark violet dress fitting her figure with regal precision. Ursula, known in the underworld as "The Blue Crow." Her eyes, cold and calculating, revealed nothing as she inclined her head.
Finally, Brendan's gaze shifted toward the far pillar — where a quiet figure leaned, half-hidden by shadow. "Jaffar."
The man looked up with eyes like crimson glass. His red hair fell slightly over his face, and a pair of curved daggers gleamed faintly at his hips. Jaffar — "The Angel of Death." His expression never changed, emotionless and detached, yet his presence carried a suffocating edge.
Brendan surveyed the four of them — his most trusted, his most dangerous. The Four Fangs.
"Good," he said finally, lowering himself back into his seat. "Now that the Four Fangs have gathered... let the meeting commence."
The torches flickered as his words echoed across the stone chamber. The silence that followed was heavy, each breath measured. Plans, ambitions, and bloodlines hung in the air like ghosts waiting to be summoned.
Somewhere deep beneath the fortress, unseen mechanisms stirred — the sound of gears and whispers blending into the night.
Between Dimensions
Far from the mortal realm, beyond the reach of mountains and time, a river of shimmering red light flowed endlessly through an expanse of nothingness. It was a space that existed between existence itself — where reality bent and shadows breathed.
Upon that river rode a woman seated gracefully on a floating boundary, her figure haloed by the faint glow of the shifting dimension. Her violet eyes shimmered like distant stars, serene yet sharp enough to pierce the truth of worlds. Her long blonde hair danced weightlessly in the dimensional current.
A pink lace parasol rested on her shoulder, while her pale fingers toyed idly with a folding fan, concealing a faint smile. She wore a deep purple dress that swayed with the currents of energy around her, the crimson ribbons adorning her hat and hair drifting like threads of fate.
She was Yakumo Yukari — the Matriarch of the Yakumo Family, the strongest among the Celestial Families, and the leader of the Seven Sages.
From her perch in the void, Yukari gazed through a shimmering rift — a window showing faint silhouettes of the Black Fang fortress. Her expression was unreadable, though amusement glimmered faintly in her eyes.
"So, it has begun," she murmured, her voice soft but carrying a strange authority that resonated through the dimension itself. "Let's see what secrets they hide... and what kind of trouble they plan to unleash."
She raised her fan slightly, concealing her mouth as a chuckle escaped — soft, lilting, and unsettling.
"Ufufufufufufu~"
The sound echoed through the endless void, rippling across the dimensions like a melody no mortal could hear. Beneath her, the river of light shimmered brighter — as if reacting to her amusement.
Yukari turned her gaze upward, where countless worlds shimmered like constellations in the distance.
"Shinomiya Oko..." she whispered, eyes narrowing with faint intrigue. "Let's hope your story doesn't end before it begins."
And with that, the Matriarch of Boundaries vanished into the folds of space — leaving behind only the faint scent of cherry blossoms and the echo of her laughter that lingered between realities.
To be Continued...
Future World Fes Stockholm Results:
1st – OG – 680 PBC Points - $1,200,000
2nd – TSM – 610 PBC Points - $750,000
3rd – Tundra – 530 PBC Points - $550,000
4th – Gaimin Gladiators – 460 PBC Points - $350,000
5th-6th – Thunder Awaken/beastcoast – 385 PBC Points - $250,000
7th-8th – BetBoom/Fnatic – 285 PBC Points - $200,000
9th-12th – Team Spirit/Team Liquid/BOOM RIVALRY/T1 - $100,000
13th-14th – Evil Geniuses/Mind Games
Professional Band Circuit Standings (Post Future World Fes Stockholm):
1st – OG (Western Europe) – 1610 Points*
2nd – PSG.LGD (China) – 1400 Points*
3rd – Thunder Awaken (South America) – 1335 Points*
4th – TSM (North America) – 1030 Points
5th – Team Spirit (Eastern Europe) – 990 Points
6th – Fnatic (Southeast Asia) – 865 Points
7th – Tundra (Western Europe) – 800 Points
8th – Gaimin Gladiators (Western Europe) – 760 Points
9th – beastcoast (South America) – 745 Points
10th – BetBoom (Eastern Europe) – 685 Points
11th – Xtreme (China) – 540 Points
12th – Team Aster (China) – 540 Points
Bands with an (*) are qualified to The International in Tokyo. Minimum required points are 1,200. The top 12 bands that has the most points after the Future World Fes in Arlington will qualify to The International. Every member change throughout the season will be minus 30 PBC points for each member change on the band.