Semifinal Roars: The Wolf's Fury and the Broken Clock
"Phew~! Thank you! Yui made it to the semis! It's all thanks to everyone's cheers!"
The Japanese VTuber Kurogami Yui perked up her sharp black wolf ears and wagged her tail with a goofy grin.
The cheers and superchats pouring in from fans welcoming her to the semifinals made her burst into giggles. But as her turn approached, the real her beyond the monitor grew more and more anxious. She couldn't leave her parched lips alone, chewing on them nervously.
Of all the orders...
Her screen corner showed the live broadcast of the Virtual Voice Fight semifinals, Match 1. Right now, on stage, the powerhouse favorite—nicknamed the Truck—was belting it out: Sion.
Sion's explosive high note tore through the speakers like it would shred them, making Yui's shoulders twitch. Sion's semifinal stage was jaw-dropping, plain and simple. Up through the round of 16 and quarters, she'd just seemed like a "really good singer." But now? It was like she'd released the parking brake on a beast, unleashing everything.
Crisp yet overwhelming volume, pitch steady as rock even at stratospheric highs. Even Shin Se-young gaped in awe, caught on camera.
The reactions were brutally honest. Kurogami Yui swallowed her despair listening to Sion. Her weapons were piercing rock vocals and sticky mids and lows—explosive volume she could proudly flaunt. But Sion was the exception. She had that power and then some, with details and stability light-years beyond. Yui knew the gap all too well; the community roasted her as "Sion with 2s on the dice" or "Budget Sion Mk. II." To Yui, Sion was an idol-like idol, a towering wall she dreamed of scaling someday.
Right after Sion...? Me...?
Sion was the away player in Semifinal Match 1, and Yui the home in Match 2. Grabbing the mic right after Sion scorched the stage, with the crowd's ears at peak sensitivity? Inevitable comparisons. She could already picture the comments: Yui's got a ways to go compared to Sion. Her breath caught at the thought.
At the MC's call, Yui took a deep breath and lightly slapped her cheeks.
"Hi! Ready wasuyo."
No sinking into defeat. My weapons are strong too. If precision fell short, unleash brute-force destruction. After a brief deliberation, Kurogami Yui swapped her song. Still in practice, but intense. The backing track kicked in—a track from her favorite J-pop band. Distorted electric guitar slammed the air, and her avatar's eyes flashed red. The bubbly wolf vanished; she devoured the mic.
Deeper, more desperate than usual. At the chorus climax, she scraped her vocal cords for a powerful hard-rock scratch technique. A throat-shredding roar pierced the band sound and soared. Raw explosive power, abandoning perfect control for primal howls.
When the song ended, Yui panted raggedly and checked the monitor. The chat was heating up again.
"Hehe."
She'd seized the vibe with raw energy. Her throat throbbed a bit, and details were rough since it was still practice material, but this was a huge win, right? She'd dodged getting buried under Sion comparisons. She still didn't think she could beat her, but the impact might've been even better. At least, she hoped so for her fans.
Whew— what if I make finals?
The issue? Finals meant facing Sion again. If this had been a direct clash, it'd be an honorable defeat. Yui figured her odds of advancing over her opponent Luna-ri were higher. The community echoed that cold consensus: finals would be Sion vs. Yui. No one denied Luna-ri and her composer were stellar artists—charming vocals, killer arrangements, fresh originals. But crowds craved stimulation. Luna-ri's delicate, cautious style couldn't erase the afterimages of Sion and Yui's sky-high roars, or so everyone assumed.
One wildcard, though.
"Eh? Another original?"
Another witty, addictive original like in quarters? Yui shook her head. Novelty only shines the first time.
No matter how good the songs, same style won't cut it. People get bored fast.
But the moment the backing track started, Yui's certainty cracked.
Scratch—scritch—
The needle scraping an old LP, then electric guitar crashed in. Shockingly, the same band sound as Yui's. But the texture differed. If Yui's was molten lava torching everything, Luna-ri's was steady bedrock. Strings dominated, tapping Yui's heart.
Band music this soft and beautiful?
No pounding intensity—instead, a comfortable stroll. Analog, literary vibes, yet unmistakably band fusion.
I gaze at the clock that's stopped
White dust dances in the air
If time turns back to that spot then—
I'd rather it stay broken forever—
Luna-ri's drowsy, dreamy tone shifted. She cranked up her usual restraint on huskiness, unleashing thick, textured vocals. That rich smokiness synergized insanely with the vintage band sound.
Urgh—whooo—
She toyed with the backing, like massive strings awaited her command.
Regaining confidence, Luna-ri owned the stage—no sky-piercing highs needed. She just surrendered to the drums and beat, raising her voice freely. Yet every husky whisper clawed at hearts.
"...Uso da yo. (No way.)"
Kurogami Yui muttered softly. A few viewers fretted over her odd tic, but only her pursed lips twitched. Luna-ri's vocals through 32-, 16-, and 8-strong were great, sure. But not this great. It felt like she evolved with every song. True blossoming.
What Yui felt wasn't mere defeat—she wasn't that competitive. I thought sky-high notes that make your ears ring were everything. But you could make sounds this cool without them. How'd I miss that? Feels stupid. Singing isn't an octave contest. Luna-ri's freedom, that heart-shaking melody—it was too good. A beat that'd suit even her J-pop-loving self.
Yui's red eyes wavered. What if flashy highs weren't the only answer? What if someone crafted a song that perfectly showcased my tone? Gave me a weapon made just for me... Could I stand fearless before Sion or other monsters? Sing joyfully like Luna-ri?
Luna-ri beamed post-song, her cat avatar in wolf pajamas absurdly cute—more than Yui's wolf RP. Annoying for such a cheap model. Yui's gaze locked on the composer credit below Luna-ri's stream: Young-il.
Indignation, inferiority, unnamed emotions, fierce possessiveness coiled in her chest.
Young-il... Young-il sunbae.
Kurogami Yui resolved to dig into Luna-ri.
What the hell, she's killing it.
I'd lounged casually but dragged my work PC over for better sound. Back-to-back stellar stages—no regrets on my picks. Total satisfaction.
"Way better than practice...? What the...?"
Luna-ri had shredded the semis. I'd thought practice peaked it, but no. Live, she digested the song beyond what I'd seen. Na-ri grinded like mad that week. I'd been yanked around as composer, listening all day. Imagining her extra solo practice? Total practice freak.
Her happy voice echoed: The song's improving—it's fun! If she hadn't clung to me, I'd have been thrilled. Grateful points... uh, calls feel normal now? And the cash?
Talking to Na-ri wasn't awkward anymore. We weirdly skipped personal stuff, so her voice didn't drain me like before. Keep practicing like this, and I could chat normally with any girl?
Break time post-stage: message from Luna-ri.
Persistent.
...Or maybe she was skipping the win. That Sion VTuber in finals? God-tier. Straight monster. Live vocal specialist. Luna-ri improved tons, but... Singing what she wants and bowing out gracefully? Not bad. It was my darkest-days song—didn't crave exposure. But sold for cash, no take-backs. Her call.
I sent that well-wish.
Ding—
Like she'd read my mind, the reply shot back.