The four members of the Last Light stuck their heads through a small gap of space between the marquee tent and the edge of the stage. From this position, they could catch a glimpse of the area in front of the concert stage while remaining hidden in the evening’s shadows. The noise of the crowd had reached the girls while they finished their preparations, but with only sound to go off of, it had been easy to imagine any number of people were gathered for tonight’s show. The actual size of the crowd remained a mystery until the magical girls peeked through this gap.
“That’s a lot of people,” Ami said. “I mean, like, that’s a lot of fucking people.”
Her emphasis was appropriate—the crowd before the stage now put the one during Iris’s showcase to shame. Thinking back to the concerts Adah had been to herself, the number of fans here was even greater than some of the events she’d attended. Even though all the lights in the area were pointed at the stage, Adah could still distinguish the individual people within the crowd thanks to the penlights many of them held.
The lights shone in each of the girls’ colors—purple for Adah, red for Rika, green for Ami, and blue for Emi—as a way for the fans to represent their support of different members. These particular penlights could swap between multiple colors, and it was common for most of the crowd to switch to a certain member’s color when they had a solo or some other standout moment. By counting those lights, you could estimate how many people filled that crowd—give or take, since some devoted fans held multiple at once. Seeing those hundreds of lights floating above the crowd, it struck Adah that this concert was no imitation. This was the real deal.
Of course, she’d been treating it as the real deal all along, but now the true meaning of a “concert” had manifested in front of her eyes. She finally understood what that meant.
When she’d appeared on television, or spoken to the smaller crowd earlier in the day, or posted her thoughts to a digital audience of thousands, she’d always felt like the person in control. She had been the one with the microphone or the platform, and her audience was free to react however they liked, but they couldn’t really influence her. Their interaction was a one-way street.
But even looking at tonight’s crowd from a distance, before even stepping onto the stage, Adah knew something was different. The size of this crowd was a power all its own. If they came together to demand something of you, you’d have no choice but to comply or run away. This was a crowd capable of booing someone off stage, of shutting the whole concert down regardless of how much work had gone into it. Once an idea took hold of this mass of people, you couldn’t argue against it no matter how hard you tried.
The idea of standing in front of a crowd like that made Adah’s heart shake like it was trying to flee on its own. It beat as erratically as it had when she stuck her scythe through the Cruelty’s portal, and she felt the same intensity of pressure on her chest as she had that day.
Yet, this was the proof her plan could work. If this crowd could exert that kind of power over her, then they’d be capable of doing the same to the regional government. Adah had gathered the army she needed to win this war.
“It’s going to feel good when they chant your names,” Adah said to her teammates, and maybe a little for her own sake, too.
“There’s so much blue,” Emi said.
Although all four penlight colors were well represented tonight, Emi’s blue was the easiest to notice out of all of them. It seemed the Raindrop Rally Force members had collected into clusters throughout the crowd, holding up their blue lights in unison. Packed together like that, the blue lights were the first that caught your eye when gazing over the crowd.
“Where did those even come from?” Rika asked. “The fans didn’t bring their own, right?”
“This was another one of Seb’s ideas,” Adah explained. “He wanted to give them out for free, so we could set a standard for any future concerts. Well, in the end, I was the one who paid for them.”
“Where the hell did he go, anyway?” Ami said. “He said he was taking photos, but I didn’t see him all day.”
“Up there,” Emi said, pointing to a tree at the edge of the clearing in front of the stage.
Just as she said, the boy was perched atop one of the barren branches partway up the tree, where he and his camera could see clearly over the crowd. That high up, his camera lens caught and reflected the moonlight, but you still wouldn’t notice him if you didn’t know where to look.
“Guess we should have been checking above ourselves all day,” Adah said.
Though, for the sake of the carnival guests, she hoped he had stayed grounded during the day.
“Girls,” Grace’s voice called out from behind them. “You’ve got four minutes. Time to line up.”
To kick the concert off, Adah planned to run on stage before the rest of her team and do a little emceeing. She would ramp up the crowd’s excitement by introducing her teammates one at a time. If she did her job right, they could carry that momentum straight into the first song and avoid any awkward transitions. Their setlist began with one of the higher energy songs in their repertoire, so it was essential that the crowd was ready for that level of intensity right away.
At Grace’s prompting, the four magical girls walked to the side of the stage and lined up at the bottom of the stairs leading up to it. Adah would go first, followed by Emi, Ami, and finally Rika. While they were lined up, Grace gave their outfits and sound gear one last check over.
“You know,” she said, “I honestly don’t recognize a single one of you. I think you could be whoever you want to be tonight. If it’s working on me, those people out there are going to believe in whatever fantasy you show them.”
“You sound like Lina,” Adah said, though she couldn’t dismiss her manager’s feelings as easily. Grace wasn’t the type to throw words around so carelessly.
“Then maybe she’s right about this,” Grace said, taking a step back to observe the team all at once. “Even in your battles, I usually just see you as the same four girls I met when you first arrived at the agency. For the first time, I think I’m seeing you the way your fans do.”
Grace had always felt like more of an older sister than a manager, which was probably the reason Adah and her teammates so often acted in ways that gave the woman a headache. However, Grace’s words gave Adah the sense that their relationship had been much the same from her point of view, as well. Each member of the Last Light had joined the agency not long after high school, so to Grace, they had probably all seemed like kids.
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Maybe her reaction tonight was a sign they had grown in ways beyond becoming better magical girls.
“Knock it off!” Ami shouted. “We can’t be getting sappy right now. We gotta get hyped up!”
Apparently as a means to help everyone get energized, Ami reached out and smacked her sister on the back of the shoulder, where her skin was exposed by her outfit. The smack made a loud pop as Ami’s hand came into contact with her sister’s skin, prompting a pained yelp out of Emi.
Emi spun around and moved to find an angle from which she could retaliate by smacking Ami’s back in return. The boisterous twin took her payback in stride, simply laughing as Emi smacked her twice for good measure. In fact, Ami must have found the whole thing fun, since she immediately broke their lineup so that she could get behind Rika and smack her, too. Rika, perhaps deciding that Adah shouldn’t be the only one left of the pain train, ran to the front of the line and delivered a blow to her captain’s back.
As a proper leader, it was Adah’s duty to put this monkey business to rest. She unleashed a decisive slap upon the back of each of her teammates, then assumed her position at the front of their lineup.
“Everyone’s energized now, right?” she said. “Save the rest for the fans. None of you are allowed to step back down these stairs until you’ve left everything you’ve got on that stage. Let’s not regret a single thing about tonight.”
“Yes ma’am!” her teammates shouted together.
Adah wasn’t sure how to feel about being called “ma’am” by a bunch of girls who were nearly the same age as her, but at least they were all on the same page. Ami had been right that the time had come to focus on the concert, and they all needed to stay in lockstep for the next hour.
The backing track for Adah’s introductory segment started to play over the stage’s speakers. The music consisted of a simple beat with an ethereal melody playing over the top—something that could fade easily to the background as Adah introduced her teammates, but that would still set the tone for the show to come. As Adah had hoped, the crowd erupted into cheers at this signal that the show was about to begin.
As long as the buildup to this moment had lasted—with all the training Adah and her team had done, all the planning the Committee had organized, and all the support the coalition teams had offered—the moment itself arrived without ceremony. It simply became reality.
The backing music proceeded into its next phase as the beat picked up speed. That was Adah’s cue to run on stage and greet the crowd. The only barrier between herself and her first concert as a magical girl was own willingness to climb those stairs.
Of course, that was no barrier at all.
“See you soon,” Adah said to her teammates.
Then she switched her microphone on and ran up the steps to the stage.
At the very least, Lina had been correct about one thing. Once she was standing at the center of the stage, Adah didn’t recognize the world around her at all.
The stage lighting halfway blinded her, much like the lights had both times she’d been on a television set. Yet, the world beyond those lights wasn’t shrouded in shadow like the TV studio had been. The light coverage on the stage wasn’t overwhelming, and Adah found several angles at which she could see hints of fans’ faces illuminated by the moonlight. More importantly, even when her vision was limited, the colors of the penlights stood out defiantly against the blur of darkness.
Adah noticed that a white light, almost like a magic aura, was also shining off of her own body. The shine must have been the result of the white of her outfit and its many silver decorations reflecting the stage lights, but the glow pulled Adah’s mind back to when she had used her scythe’s power on herself. Here she was again, a radiant silhouette in the dark of night.
Though, she couldn’t lose herself to such daydreams. The crowd wouldn’t let her.
Hundreds of voices roared, cheered, whistled, and screamed at her. Their ruckus easily broke past whatever protection her in-ear monitor offered, and filled her head like the sound of wind whipping past her ears. This was the sound of her army.
Adah hadn’t planned what happened next. She didn’t even come up with it on the spot, as some improv that might suit Twilight Heartbreak. The idea just hit her, she wanted to do it, and her body moved on its own.
Twilight Heartbreak raised her eyebrow and tilted her head toward the crowd. She cupped a hand to her ear and waited. Since she’d stepped on stage, she still had yet to speak a word.
All the same, her audience understood her meaning. They roared again, even louder.
“Better,” Heartbreak spoke into her microphone and let a grin slip onto her face. Her voice returned to her through her earpiece, perfectly clear.
She strut across the stage—mostly to make room for her teammates to run up and join her, but also to get a different view of the crowd. Now that Heartbreak was up here alone, most of the penlights in the audience had shifted to her purple color.
“Despite how it may seem,” she continued, “I’m not fond of being alone. Shall I invite some friends to join me?”
The crowd cheered in agreement. Adah felt her heart thump. Without her having to try much at all to entertain them, the fans clung to her every word. This must have been the sensation the Apex Vox girls had spoken about. Idols and their fans had an unspoken agreement. The fans would always show their wholehearted support, and an idol would always perform without reservations. As long as they both let loose like that, neither of them had anything to worry about.
And if the fans were ready, Adah had no reason to keep them waiting any longer.
“She might appear to be a sweet and silent kitten,” Heartbreak began, “but she could tear your throat out as easily as a lion! The Raindrop Reaper!”
As Emi climbed the stairs and ran on stage, the sea of purple lights in the crowd turned blue and the shapeless roar of the fans morphed into a coordinated cheer from the Rally Force members. Emi stood at the center of the stage, staring out into the crowd without a word until the noise started to die down.
As soon as the energy from the audience began to drop, Emi held up her microphone and demanded, “More.”
The cheers spiked up once again, and Emi showed her approval with a casual peace sign.
“I warned you about your throats, and you still risked it,” Heartbreak said. “Our next member doesn’t let off the gas until the job is finished, so I’m sure she will expect the same from all of you. The Frostfist Berserker!”
Adah didn’t even need to finish Ami’s introduction. Ami’s fans had started up a chant of their own before she got even halfway through speaking. Although, this wasn’t so much a chant as it was them screaming “Zerkyaa” until their lungs ran out of air.
Ami’s entrance was full of enough energy to match their yells, as she nearly sprinted onto the stage and hopped up and down to the beat of the backing track.
“Not bad,” Ami said into her mic as her fans caught their breaths. “Make sure you practice before the next concert, though. I want ya to go even longer next time, understand?”
With her greeting wrapped up, Ami ran up to Emi and purposefully bumped into her. The two of them knocked each other back and forth with their hips and shoulders like they were playing musical chairs while Adah got ready to introduce their final member.
Adah glanced toward the side of the stage, where Rika was waiting to make her own entrance. When they met eyes, Rika smiled. It wasn’t a smile full of confidence or assurance, but it was a smile nonetheless. It told Adah all she needed to know. Rika was ready.
“They say a fairy’s song will lure you to your doom, but is there something wrong with such a pleasant death?” Heartbreak said. “Whatever is waiting for me at the end of her song, I’ll gladly listen to her voice until the very last moment. I know you all feel the same. Lightburst Lyrika!”
What greeted Rika was neither chants nor unabashed yelling. Rather, the sound was full of shrieks and at least a half dozen confessions of love. Her reception seemed fit for a boy band performing in front of a bunch of teenagers. Perhaps that was the unique quality Lyrika lent their motley crew.
Once at the center of the stage, Rika held up a hand and silenced the crowd.
“Don’t waste it all now,” she said, her voice as sharp as Adah had ever heard it. “We’re about to give you so much more to cheer for.”
Despite that directive, the crowd had no choice but to erupt into cheers again. Now that they had cycled through each member’s color, the penlights throughout the audience shifted back to represent whomever that fan’s personal favorite was.
“These are my best friends,” Heartbreak said, “so you better scream as loud as you can for them!”
Adah assumed her position at center stage, with Rika to her right and Emi to her left. Ami took up the other wing position on Rika’s right. The backing track faded away, and the crowd hushed along with it. Only the quiet of night remained, like the world was waiting for Adah’s final cue.
“Let’s start with something fun,” she spoke into her microphone—softly, like delivering the last rites to a man she’d just killed. “This one’s called I-Die-Idol.”