Chapter Text
“Hey, hey, hey!” Powerline cheered, appearing full frame and rocking his signature shades. “Powerline here! I’m looking for the next generation of stars to carry the torch forward. That’s right-I’m launching Powerline’s Power Stars, a brand-new talent showcase to discover the very best of the best!” He pumped his fist up, bright smile on his face.
He kept talking but the frame soon began to move to the space behind and around him, showing a theater and arena.
“I’m inviting you-and your crew-to submit an audition for a chance to be part of this incredible journey. This is more than just a show: it’s an opportunity for me to pass on my experience, training, and blessings to the next big talent ready to shine.”
The video snapped to the outside of the facility, Powerline in frame as the camera began to move closer and closer to him.
“All details, including frequently asked questions and how to enter, can be found at the link below. The final date for submissions is June 27th,” he wagged a finger, smiling at the camera with his usual swagger. “Good luck to everyone-and remember, the key to success is to always… STAND OUT!” With a final pump of his fist the video ended.
June 30th
“And we have one more submission-turned in thirty minutes before the deadline,” Frankie groaned, rubbing at his temple. The man had lived through too many all-nighters in the music industry to mistake last-minute for genius.
“Ahahaha! Brings back memories, huh, Frankie?” Powerline snickered from where he lounged in a plush seat, long legs stretched out, a cup of water in one hand and a bowl of plain, unsalted popcorn balanced on his lap.
“A sign they did this at the last second,” Harmon muttered, scrolling through the file beside them, his tone half-bored, half-annoyed.
“Or-” Powerline reached over and bopped Harmon’s nose with a finger, grinning wide- “that they took their time. Crafting. Perfecting. You can’t rush heart.”
Frankie sighed, muttering something about romanticizing chaos, but already queuing up the file.
“Come on, play it,” Powerline urged, sitting forward now, eyes gleaming with the same excitement he’d had the first time he ever sent in a demo.
A bright and electro sounding theme began to play, a dark room appeared, sea themed and filled with life as bodies shifted before the camera drew toward a boy lounging on a throne made of seashells and shipparts.
“This is all hands on deck,” the boy's head snapped up, bright blue eyes lined in black and framed by equally inky hair; his voice sharp enough to split the air. He rose, slow and deliberate, a smirk curling his lips as the spotlight seemed to follow his every move.
“Callin’ out to lost boys and girls,” he prowled forward, his steps echoing against the floorboards. His crew, the other members of his group, stirred and leaned toward the light. “I’m gettin’ tired of the disrespect.” A scoff. A glance that swept them all like a blade. He slammed his hand down on two shoulders—command, not request. “We won’t stop ’til we rule the world! It's our time, we up next,” A fist punched skyward.
“Next! Next!” Green hair and wolf ears answered, their voices cutting sharp as steel.
“Our sail’s about to be set.” Yuu’s finger pointed, and lavender hair, flame hair, grinned and answered.
“Set! Set!”
Laughter tore from his throat as he spun, drawing them tighter, his voice rising like fire. “They ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Tell ’em who’s in charge so they don’t forget!” The floor shook with the roar: “What’s my name? What’s my name?” He flung his arms open, as if accepting praise.
“Yuu!”
“Say it louder!” He vaulted onto the table, eyes blazing. “What’s my name? What’s my name?”
“Yuu!”
Arms outstretched, the room bent to him. “Feel the power! No one’s gonna stop us! Soon the world will be ours!”
Their cries hit like thunder.
“Ohhh!”
“What's my name? What's my name?” He demanded, all of them circling him as if they were there to lift him up. “What's it? What's it? Say it, say it,” he demanded just as an overlay of his voice singing out came. “Say it loud!”
They swirled around him, blades gleaming, ropes swinging, maps unfurled. The chant rose, a fever, unstoppable.
“Yuu-ah! Yuu-ah!” they chanted, the boy turning on his heel to saunter back to his throne.
“All eyes on me, let me see 'em,” he demanded, making a come here motion while still walking away.
“Yuuuu-ah! Yuuu-ah,” they all chanted still, walking around to grab ‘weapons’ and get ready to fight.
“What's it! What's it!” Yuu demanded, plopping back down on his throne. “Say it! Say it!”
“Yuuu-ah-ah-ah!” They sang, tossing swords, rope and weapons about and making themselves look like pirates.
Green and lavender clashed blades, sparks flying. Spade and wolf scaled the walls, nets snapping free. Red hair hurled a crown, spinning through the air until Yuu caught it one-handed.
“I’m the queen of this town.” The crown landed on his head like it was forged for him. His grin widened. “I call the shots—you know who I am.” And just as quickly, it was nothing. He tossed it aside, letting it crash uselessly to the floor. “I don’t need no fake crown. Stand up to me—you don’t stand a chance,” it went back to Yuu, as the name they sung implied, as he shot up and crossed his arms. “It's our time we up next!”
The crew surged, weapons raised, chants burning louder, sharper.
“Next!”
“My crew's as real as it gets,” Yuu sang as he sauntered between them.
“Gets!”
Yuu’s laugh ripped through the chaos, savage and sure. “The worst is now the best,” Yuu huffed, going to red hair and surprisingly they sang together. “And leaving us here will be their last regret!” Back on the table, he was a king, a tyrant, a star, his group on either side of him grinning manically. “What’s my name? What’s my name?”
“Yuu!” They cried, hands holding weapons shooting up to the sky.
“Say it louder!” He commanded, smiling down at all of them. “What's my name? What's my name?”
“Yuu!”
“Feel the power!” Now he said that like it was a command. “No one's gonna stop us,” he began to move like he was telling them it was something that was owed to them. “Soon the world will be ours! What's my name? What's my name? What's it! What's it? Say it! Say it!” He fell back into the waiting arms of the green haired teen and the wolf beastman.
The stage throbbed with bass as Red Hair prowled forward, his grin cut like a knife.
“You know what they say—” he leaned into the beat, shoulders rolling with swagger, “Bad ones have all the fun.” Yuu’s glare sliced toward him, but Red Hair only smirked, teeth flashing in defiance. “Never learned how to count—” he wagged a finger, playful, mocking. “’Cause I’m number one.” He spun, arms wide, dragging the crowd’s attention with him. The crew clapped, stomped, howled their laughter as he basked in the chaos. “Ready or not, here we come! We always get our way—” his voice curled into a laugh that sounded like trouble incarnate. “It’s a pirate’s life, every single day!”
“Hey!” The crew bellowed back, weapons raised high.
Red Hair jabbed a finger toward the throne, where Yuu was sitting back on his throne, legs tossed over the arm rests. “He’s the captain-” his voice sharp, unyielding. “I’m the first mate.”
He swaggered close to Spade Boy, kicking him in the shin before dancing away, cackling.
“Enemies seasick, can’t see straight!” He staggered dramatically, eyes rolling, before snapping upright again with a vicious grin. “Call ’em fish bait, throw ’em on a hook!”
A heavy iron hook appeared in his hands—he twirled it, then flung it into the air with a laugh.
“Yuu’s so hot, they get burned if they look!”
The crew roared, voices ricocheting off the walls, laughter spilling like fire.
And then-silence.
Yuu rose from his throne, slow and deliberate, as if the world had stopped to watch. His eyes glittered, his smile all teeth.
“All eyes on me.” His voice cut sharper than any blade. He crooked a finger, beckoning, demanding. “Let me see ’em.” The crew obeyed, heads snapping toward him as if caught in his gravity. “I see your eyes on me, boys—hey!” Yuu’s gaze locked with Red Hair’s, the smirk fading just enough to show the crack of challenge. “You know what my name is.” He leaned forward, every word dripping with command. “Say it. Say it louder!”
The hook Red Hair had tossed spun through the air one last time-straight into Yuu’s waiting hand.
Yuu caught it with a laugh that rang like victory. “Hook me.”
The music detonated again, lights bursting like cannon fire as the crew surged around him, chanting his name with wild devotion.
The scene split wide open: ropes swinging, boots stomping, sparks raining from clashing steel. Fireworks cracked in the night outside, their color spilling into the room, framing the chaos in wild, glorious light. The beat crashed back in like a cannon.
“Ha-ha!” Yuu barked, spinning the hook once before tossing it aside, laughing like the deck itself belonged to him. “Ho!” He shoved Spade Boy playfully, catching him before he could stumble. “Woah!”
The crew flooded forward, surging like a tide.
“Come on!” Yuu roared, vaulting onto a stack of crates. His arms flung wide, a storm given flesh. “What’s my name? What’s my name?”
The chant split the air. “Yuu!”
He stomped his foot down, the sound cracking like thunder. “Say it louder! What’s my name? What’s my name?”
“Yuu!” they screamed, voices ragged, eyes blazing.
“Feel the power!” Yuu’s voice cut through the storm. “No one’s gonna stop us. Soon the world will be ours! What's my name? What's my name?”
The crew erupted, scattering across the ship like sparks from a fire. Green Hair and Lavender Hair swung from ropes, steel flashing in mock battle. Wolf Boy scaled the mast with Spade Boy at his side, their snarls swallowed by laughter. Red Hair and Flame Hair spun maps, cards flicking like shuriken across the boards, each landing with a staccato thwip.
Overhead, fireworks exploded, painting the night in gold and violet. The colors showered down, lighting their faces as the chant rose, louder, unstoppable:
“Yuu-ah! Yuu-ah!”
The camera swept wide — Yuu stood high on the mast’s yard, arms lifted like a conqueror. His grin was wicked, unshakable, his eyes burning with triumph.
“Ooooh, say it louder!” he belted, the sound soaring with the fireworks.
“Yuu-ah! Yuu-ah!” the crew roared, swinging, stomping, climbing, every movement drenched in rebellion.
“Ooooh, say it louder! What’s it? What’s it? Say it, say it!” Yuu demanded, each word a lash of command.
The crew answered with everything they had left, voices colliding like a wave:
“Yuu! Yuu! La la Yuu-ah! Yuu! Yuu! La la Yuu-ah!”
The camera snapped closer, spinning with the crew’s frenzy, before cutting hard back to Yuu—alone in frame, arms spread wide against the raining sparks.
He didn’t need to say it anymore.
The final roar was theirs.
“Yuu!”
The screen cut to black.
Still the name rolled through the storm, relentless:
“Yuu, Yuu, la la Yu-. Yuu-ah, Yuu-ah, la, la Yu-ah! Yuu, Yuu, la la Yu-. Yuu-ah, Yuu-ah, la, la Yu-ah!”
It was no longer a chant. It was a coronation.
“Yuu!”
When it ended, the room was quiet for a full beat.
“…Frankie,” Powerline said at last, his sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?”
“That they somehow passed both screening tests and will be called onto the show?” Frankie coughed, already pulling up the submission details. His fingers flew over the keyboard, searching for a group name, for anything official.
Powerline leaned forward, eyes still glued to the replay on his tablet. “That felt like… when I first started. Messy. Unpolished. But all heart. I like them.”
“They called themselves… First Years,” Frankie muttered, squinting. “No agency backing, no manager listed, no official editor either. Just… this.” He turned the monitor so they could see the scrawled group entry form.
Harmon barked a laugh. “Of course. Teenagers. Who else names their group after their school year?”
Frankie ignored him, continuing: “Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, Ortho Shroud, Sebek Zigvolt, and Yuu Arden. All between fifteen and sixteen.” He glanced over his glasses. “Barely old enough to drive, much less perform on live television.”
“Exactly!” Powerline burst, pointing at the paused frame on screen-Yuu in the center, the others circling like fire. “That’s raw potential. Give them direction, give them training, and they’ll shine.” He breathed, looking like he had a fire under him that they haven't seen in years.
“They also requested roles,” Frankie added, scrolling down. “Yuu as Manager, Ortho as Editor. Though they wrote they’d be willing to serve as backups if the show required.”
“Bold.” Harmon tilted his head, smirking despite himself. “Not just performers, but trying to control the production side too? Kids don’t lack confidence.”
“They’ll need it,” Frankie muttered, still skeptical. “Reality TV eats confidence alive.”
“We’re cutting it close,” Harmon said, raking a hand through his hair. “But they can still be part of Powerline Power Stars. It’s only a month and a half of filming—they’ll adapt to the reality of stardom quick enough.”
“…Wow.” Powerline’s voice had softened. He pulled out his tablet, replaying their audition video with fresh eyes. “It feels like when I first started. All over again.” He whispered lowly, eyes softening at the video before him. “…You kids are gonna make it…I feel…”
Powerline only smiled wider, already replaying the video for a second time.
AT ACE'S HOME
“Haaa? We got selected?” Ace groaned, arms flung behind his head. “What a hassle! Just take the fifteen-hundred madol and decline!” He whined, knowing that they would still be paid if they decided to decline in the end.
Deuce shoved the phone under his nose. “It says here the first day of filming has a one-thousand madol compensation per group. The amount goes up the longer you stay, especially during elimination round. Room and board included.” Ace grunted, taking it and pursing his lips in thought, wanting to but…not.
Jack frowned. “…How long are we talking?” He hummed, sitting down in the sun while he was looking through the book, interested in what else was in there.
Epel skimmed. “Filming continues straight through until a winner’s chosen.” He read a bit more. “Challenges happen over 2-3 days, but the days are gonna be packed with 10-14 hour shooting days, and are consecutive. We’ll also be going from one challenge to another.”
Sebek squawked, eyes widened in alarm at what was expected of them, “When does it end?!”
Ortho tapped the date. “Finale’s a week before school starts. But—look.” He pointed at the fine print. “They accepted me as the group’s editor, and Yuu as our manager. We can still perform, but those are our main roles unless they shuffle us around.”
Ace groaned louder. “So just the thousand, unless we keep passing?” He asked, looking around at all of them, the rest of them shifting unsure of whether they really wanted to do this.
“Until we get kicked out,” Yuu answered flatly.
“Until we get kicked out,” the others echoed.
Epel tossed his head back before lolling his head to look over at Ortho who waited for them to ask him to send a reply. “Fine. Ask what day we need to be there and what we’re supposed to bring.”