A sensation sweeping the nation!

Overhead lights dimmed, enveloping the titanic stadium in darkness.

Which was the cue for a quarter-million people present physically, and two hundred times that number globally, to make some noise.

Wherever fans were had become a Salvatrice concert, but Sora was there for the real deal, wrapped up in a tie-dyed tied-off shirt, plentiful fishnets, and a cute little skirt. And the obligatory glowing hoops to add to the little colorful sticks in both hands. He felt the pressure in his bones as everyone around him raised their voices, and he reached deep within his slender, girly form to match.

He couldn’t hear his own voice over the roar of the crowd, of his fellow fans. In a way, he became a part of that mass, giving himself over to something greater.

Spotlights cut into the darkness, casting in stark relief a pair of beautiful living dolls.

Hyun-ji, in all bridal white, a ruffled dress whose hem short, but which still billowed out in several layers. Complete with veil and other little trappings of wedding attire, grafted onto modern fashion. With the spread of her wings, and the glare of the spotlights, she was a glowing beacon of purity.

Posing beside her, looking more girly than her usual, Ya Liao took the gothic-lolita style and ran with it. She had just as many frills as her wife, if not more, a rare treat. Everything was in place, from a blood-red bonnet, to lacy gloves and long leggings.

Combined with her shade-short-of-charcoal skin tone, the only thing glowing about her were those sharp eyes.

Both idols sported designer heels that never hindered their spectacular dexterity and range of motion.

They held each other in a theatrical embrace to the rising cheers of the audience, though making sure not to touch too much, nor kiss, nor do any of the other things that would only be left up to the imagination of the crowd.

In times of instant, continuous gratification, the simple act of leaving anything to imagination made one a terrible, clever, profitable tease.

The idols of Salvatrice were surrounded by seas of brightly-colored tubes.

“Hey there, guys. Thanks for waiting.”

Ya Liao’s deep contralto boomed through the enormous stadium, bouncing off the high cathedral-style arches and projected from a million small speakers, to provide great coverage without consequent hearing risks.

“So who’s ready to take flight with us?!”

The noise never stopped, though it had tapered slightly, respectfully, at her first word. Now came a tidal wave of cheers fit to deafen Sora’s pink wiggling ears.

The only real way he knew he was making noise along with everyone else was feeling his own voice vibrating deep inside; it was just a wall of sound out there. A wall built from hundreds of thousands of people coming together for one purpose; admiring, loving, and cheering for their favorite idols.

Sora may have been projecting a tad, but it really felt that way!

As Salvatrice took flight, soaring high above the stage, every head craned to follow them, and Sora’s heart leapt out of his chest, as well. Even when they performed locally in Atlantis, it was rare for him to get a chance to attend in person… and rarer still for him to get seating this damn good.

Dead center, front row, staring up… at a tantalizing angle indeed.

One perfectly calculated to avoid any incidents, while still leaving it in the back of your mind that surely, maybe, this time… Yet the smart-fabric of their dresses shifted in whatever manner would maintain the thinnest veneer of modesty.

Considering the plunging neckline of Hyun-ji's bridal-style outfit, their modesty was already on thin ice. Watching her chest react to the physics experiment of a flying person was, admittedly, also the pleasure of a true Salvatrice fan.

As Sora watched, he was also, in fact, streaming to a group of online hardcores. With such a great view, he was being tipped handsomely in bytecents for the live feed, and even found the rapidly-scrolling chat in his left eye amusing.

Lots of trash and foreigner memes, something about grass? But also lots of cheering for their girls.

Hyun-ji and Ya took a swooping tour of the stadium, which was so enormous that they passed out of sight at multiple points, behind enormous, reinforced support pillars, or just into the distance, becoming tiny little dots. Colored spotlights throughout the arena targeted them, meaning once Sora could no longer properly see, he just needed to track the neon and pastel colors.

Amidst the rippling waves of glowsticks, that was not always an easy task.

Their voices were with him, though. Singing the first song of their latest smash-hit album, a little duet to get them started and whip the crowd into a frenzy for the event to come. Not that they needed too much provocation, there. Some of the lyrics were still provocative enough for a lifetime’s worth of innuendo.

Always couched in plausible deniability, even though the age of moral guardians and outrage was mostly past. Not that society was more advanced; the real danger now was anyone ever taking anything seriously, which in Sora’s humble opinion was the worst. In fact, the love that Salvatrice inspired was so real and pure, many people compared it to religion, cults, political rallies… things that should not be.

Sora had been there for those ‘earlier primitive times’, at least some of them. He couldn’t deny, there was a twinge of nostalgia in watching so many people come together for something that made them feel better, made their lives better, lifted them up rather than tore them apart.

Of course, there was also the fact that both of these idols were breathtakingly gorgeous, excellent singers whose voices rang with soulful sincerity and cheeky flirtation at various points, skillful fliers who made their art look like sky-dancing…

Star athletes and gymnasts didn’t work half as hard on their routines as Salvatrice did.

Obviously, Sora had a little more skin in the game than the average fan, a secret that others could never know.

Even just being friends with them invited the possibility of being mobbed to **** by jealous fan-clubs, should it ever get out, but this was in a whole new realm. That same fanatical devotion, well, maybe some of the critics had a point.

You don't betray a cult without risking their daggers-

Oh, here they are! Coming back around to the stage after their ‘grand tour’.

Sora, already on his feet, hopped and waved his glowsticks with all of his might, heedless of his skirt and the view he himself gave to those behind. He cheered louder than he ever had before.

Watching Ya Liao effortlessly land, looking up to watch her wife.

Who made a pretty good go of the landing, until the last few meters.

Luckily, she’d already been slowed enormously by powerful beats of her huge white wings against the humid air. Even as she was falling, lifelong training caused her arms, legs, and wings to all tuck in and roll her into an impact-resistant feather-covered ball.

Protecting, most importantly of all, her head, which got nowhere near the ground.

Even so, time stood still, in an arena that was suddenly filled with a very different kind of screaming.

Sora, without thinking, became one of the concerned fans rushing the stage.

Got a billy-club upside the head for his troubles!