Magnet

The neon lights of the city street flickered in sync with the heavy bass thumping from a pair of towering speakers. In the center of the makeshift stage stood Boyfriend, his signature red hat turned backward and his hand gripping a wireless microphone with practiced ease. He looked small compared to the towering, shadowy figure he was currently facing—a jagged, glitch-like entity that had challenged him to a lyrical duel for the rights to the sidewalk.

Boyfriend didn't mind. To him, every challenge was just another chance to find a new flow. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his oversized sneakers squeaking against the pavement.

"Beep bop skdoo bep?" he asked, tilting his head with a confident smirk.

Across the street, tucked away in the shadows of an alleyway and perched on the fire escapes of nearby buildings, a sea of eyes watched his every move. This wasn't just a random crowd of onlookers. This was the "BF Appreciation Society," though most of the world—and Boyfriend himself—simply knew them as the girls he had crossed paths with during his musical journey.

"Look at that posture," Sky whispered, her eyes glowing with a manic intensity as she gripped the railing of the fire escape. "He’s so focused. He’s doing this for us. I know it."

"Actually, he's doing it because that shadow thing stole his microphone stand, but let's not split hairs," Cassette Girl remarked, leaning back against the brick wall while lighting a cigarette. Despite her cool exterior, her eyes never left the blue-haired rapper.

Further down the line, Sunday adjusted her glasses, her heart fluttering every time Boyfriend hit a high note. "His vocal range is expanding. Do you hear that resonance? It’s soul-shaking."

Boyfriend began his first turn. His voice came out in a series of rhythmic electronic chirps and melodic beeps that perfectly countered the opponent's harsh, distorted tones. He was in the zone, eyes closed, feeling the vibration of the music in his chest.

Suddenly, a roar of cheers erupted from the darkness.

"GET IT, BF!" a voice screamed.

"YOU’RE DOING AMAZING, SWEETIE!"

Boyfriend blinked, nearly tripping over his own beat. He glanced toward the alleyway, but all he saw were a few silhouettes and the faint glimmer of a camera flash. He shrugged it off, assuming it was just some very enthusiastic fans of the local music scene.

"Beep!" he chirped, throwing a peace sign toward the darkness before diving back into the song.

As the weeks turned into months, the phenomenon only grew. It started with the girls he had fought—Sky, Sunday, Cassette Girl, and even the likes of Sarvente, who claimed she was only there to "oversee his spiritual well-being" despite her blatant blushing. But then, the rift between worlds seemed to thin.

The club began to welcome newcomers. Girls from dimensions Boyfriend hadn't even visited yet started appearing in the front rows of his battles. A girl with a robotic arm and a penchant for high-stakes gambling sat next to a shrine maiden from a distant land, both of them holding "TEAM BF" banners.

One evening, Boyfriend was scheduled to battle a particularly aggressive rock star in a deserted stadium. He expected the usual empty seats and Echo, but when he stepped onto the stage, the first ten rows were packed.

"Bop...?" Boyfriend muttered, his eyes widening.

In the center of the front row sat a familiar face. She had long, flowing hair and a sharp, protective gaze.

"Miku?" Boyfriend blinked, his voice slipping into English in his surprise.

Hatsune Miku waved a glowstick enthusiastically. "Kick his butt, little brother! Show them how we do it!"

Boyfriend grinned, his chest swelling with pride. If his big sister was here to watch, he couldn't slack off. He didn't think it was strange that she was surrounded by dozens of other girls who all seemed to be looking at him with the same terrifyingly affectionate intensity. He just thought he was finally getting the recognition his talent deserved.

The opponent, a hulking demon with a guitar made of bone, let out a guttural roar and began a frantic, complex solo. The notes were like physical projectiles, shaking the ground.

Boyfriend didn't flinch. He raised his mic, ready to drop a counter-verse that would blow the roof off the place. But before he could utter a single "ske-bop," a shadow fell over him.

Or rather, several shadows.

"Need a backup track, honey?"

Boyfriend looked to his left. Sunday was there, plugged into her own portable amp. To his right, Sky had manifested a microphone out of thin air, her hair shimmering with blue energy. Behind him, Miku had hopped onto the stage, her pigtails swaying as she adjusted her headset.

"Beep bo?" Boyfriend asked, genuinely confused but not entirely opposed to the company.

"Don't worry about it, BF," Sky said, her voice dropping into a protective growl as she glared at the demon opponent. "Nobody tries to drown you out while we're around. We’re doing a remix."

The music shifted. The heavy, oppressive rock beat was suddenly overlaid with a melodic, high-tempo pop synth.

Boyfriend took the lead, his beeps and bops weaving through the air like a needle through silk. But then, the girls joined in. It wasn't a chaotic mess; it was a perfectly harmonized choir of voices that amplified Boyfriend’s own sound. Sunday provided the low-end vocal grunts, Sky took the high-pitched harmonies that sounded almost like sirens, and Miku added the digital precision that tied the whole melody together.

The demon opponent stumbled. He tried to increase his volume, but the collective power of the group was overwhelming. Every time Boyfriend took a breath, one of the girls stepped forward to keep the pressure on, their eyes glowing with a mixture of musical passion and something much more obsessive.

"He’s so good," Sarvente whispered from the sidelines, her hands clasped in prayer. "Look at him lead them. Like a shepherd leading his flock to the rhythm."

"He's not leading them, Sarv," GF said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, sitting atop her usual speakers. She watched the scene with a smirk, her red dress billowing in the wind. She didn't seem jealous; if anything, she looked amused. "He's just the center of the storm. And he doesn't even realize he's the one who started it."

The battle ended with a final, echoing note that shattered the demon’s bone guitar into splinters. The stadium fell silent for a heartbeat before exploding into thunderous applause—mostly from the stage itself.

Boyfriend wiped sweat from his forehead, panting. "Beep... bop... skdoo."

"You were incredible!" Sky shrieked, lunging forward to wrap him in a suffocating hug.

"The pitch stayed perfect even during the transition," Miku added, patting his head. "I've taught you well."

"We should do a world tour," Sunday suggested, already pulling out a notebook. "We can call it 'Boyfriend and the Harmonics.' Or 'Boyfriend and his Devoted Protectors.'"

Boyfriend laughed, his small frame nearly disappearing under the huddle of girls. He looked up at Miku, then at the others. He didn't quite understand why they were all following him from city to city, or why they looked like they were ready to fight anyone who looked at him the wrong way, but he wasn't complaining.

"Thanks, guys," he said, his voice small and genuine in English.

The reaction was instantaneous. Several girls gasped, clutching their hearts. Sky looked like she was about to faint, and even the stoic Cassette Girl turned her head to hide a blush.

"He spoke!" someone screamed from the back.

"He thanked us! Did you hear that? He thanked *me*!"

Boyfriend tilted his head, watching as a minor scuffle broke out over who he had been looking at when he spoke. He turned to Miku, who was just shaking her head with a knowing smile.

"You really have no idea, do you, lil' bro?" she asked.

"Beep?" Boyfriend replied, tilting his cap.

As they walked off the stage, Boyfriend was already thinking about the next battle. He didn't notice the way the "fanclub" moved in a tight formation around him, a literal wall of girls shielding him from the press, from other monsters, and from anyone who wasn't part of their growing circle.

He didn't notice that the club had just gained three more members from a nearby fighting game fandom who had been watching from the rafters, moved to tears by his performance.

To Boyfriend, it was just another successful gig. To the rest of the world, it was the beginning of a musical empire—one fueled by the most dangerous force in the multiverse: a harem of girls with microphones and a very, very protective streak.

"Hey, BF!" Sky called out as they reached the van. "Where are we going next? I've already cleared the schedule of any opponents who aren't worthy of your time."

"Bop beep skdoo!" Boyfriend pointed toward the glowing lights of the next city over the horizon.

"Then that's where we're going," Sunday declared, stepping into the driver's seat of a bus that had "PROPERTY OF THE BF FANCLUB" painted on the side in bright pink letters.

Boyfriend hopped into the back, surrounded by his "backup singers," blissfully unaware that he was the most guarded person on the planet. He just adjusted his hat, closed his eyes, and started humming a new tune, ready for the next beat to drop.