Sing: The Talented Furry

Amidst the rising murmurs and excited chatter of the contestants, the sharp clap of Anos Fang's hands cut through the noise like a thunderclap. Instantly, the room fell silent. All eyes snapped to him, the weight of his presence demanding attention.

When Anos spoke, his voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge of authority. "The Team Mission will have some rules. Let me explain them." He let the silence linger for a beat before continuing. "First, each team will consist of four members. There will be 18 teams in total. That means…" He paused, letting the math settle in. " Only 40 or more of you will move forward after this round."

The room tensed. Whispers broke out immediately.

"Only 40?" someone muttered.

"Wait — does that mean two from each group?"

Prince Jefferson didn't share their confusion. He'd seen how this show worked before. The numbers didn't guarantee anything.

If an entire team underperforms, they'll cut all of them, he thought grimly.

Last season, the judges hadn't hesitated to send entire pairs home during face-off rounds if neither delivered. And sometimes — rarely, but it happened — they'd passed both through if their performances were exceptional.

Fair? Maybe not. But this wasn't about fairness. It was about excellence.

In the end, it was simple: Sing well or go home.

Kielben then stepped in with his signature smile. "Now, here's where things get interesting. You'll choose your own teammates — but!" He held up a finger. "You can only pick contestants coached by the same judge as you. However… since the number of contestants under each judge isn't even, some teams will be made up of members from different coaches' groups. So in the end, it's your decision."

The room erupted again.

"Wait, so we can cross teams?"

"Only if there aren't enough left from our coach's group? That's risky!"

Prince stayed quiet, his mind already working through the implications.

"You'll have one week to prepare," Kielben continued, his voice rising over the noise. "We'll assign your team a song, and it's up to you to figure out harmonies, dynamics, and your group's style. One week to bond, practice, and perfect your performance."

"And you have thirty minutes," Dexter Boots added, his smirk practically audible. "Thirty minutes to form your teams. After that, the staff will register your group and hand you your assigned song."

"Good luck," Anos said simply, and with that, the judges left the room.

The contestants stood frozen for a heartbeat — then chaos erupted.

People surged toward familiar faces, voices rising in a frantic blend of greetings, negotiations, and pleas.

"Yo! We should team up!"

"Are you with Team Anos? No? Dang it!"

"Hey, I saw your audition — you're amazing. Wanna team up?"

Prince turned just in time to see Rocky barrel toward him. "We're teaming up. Non-negotiable."

Prince grinned. "You sure are fast. I was literally about to ask you."

"Great minds think alike," Rocky said with a wink. Then his expression turned serious. "But we've got a problem. CJ's with Anos, so we can't add him."

Prince scanned the room, already seeing clusters forming. It was already getting harder to find free contestants from Team Kitty.

"We need two more. Fast."

Rocky nodded. "Let's split up and scout."

Before they could move, a familiar arm slung over Prince's shoulder.

"Yo, Prince!" CJ's voice rang out. "Guess what? Team Anos is pretty much full. Everyone's snatched up. So…" He grinned. "Looks like I'm crashing your party."

Prince blinked. "So Fast!?"

"Yeah almost all of them know each other," CJ said, looking very pleased with himself. "Which means you're stuck with me."

Rocky snorted. "Stuck? Man, you're an upgrade."

The three exchanged quick high-fives — but the celebration didn't last.

"Okay," Prince said, scanning the room. "One more. Let's move."

---

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

It was getting harder. The number of free contestants dwindled rapidly, and the ones still available were often people no one was rushing to recruit. Prince didn't want to judge based on assumptions, but in a competition this cutthroat, he couldn't afford a weak link.

He activated his system, his eyes flickering through the stats only he could see.

Basic Grade 5… Basic Grade 6… Basic Grade 4…

The higher-level contestants were already spoken for. And those left… well, the pickings were slim.

"Man," Rocky muttered, jogging back over. "No one's left on Team Kitty. This is getting bad."

CJ groaned. "We're gonna end up with a soloist who's never harmonized in their life, aren't we?"

Prince kept scanning until his eyes landed on someone standing alone near the back of the room — a zebra, quiet and composed, arms crossed as he watched the chaos unfold without making a move.

Prince's system flickered.

Brandon Bryce — Intermediate Grade 1

Prince's heart skipped a beat.

"Bryce," he whispered. "Why doesn't he have a team?"

Rocky followed his gaze. "Dude's a legacy. His granddad was a Zoollywood star. You'd think people would be fighting to recruit him."

"Then why's he standing alone?"

"Maybe he's a shy type ," CJ said, nudging him forward.

Prince took a breath and approached. "Hey — Bryce, right?"

Brandon looked up, his gaze sharp but not unfriendly. "That's me."

"We're looking for a fourth," Prince said, trying to sound casual. "You interested?"

Bryce's eyes flicked to the crowded registration area where most teams were already signing up. He sighed. "Doesn't look like I have much of a choice."

"But," Prince said carefully, "I don't want you to join just because we're the last option. I want a team that's serious about going far. You in?"

For a moment, Bryce studied him — really studied him. Then, slowly, he extended his hand. "I'm in."

Prince shook it firmly, relief flooding through him. "Welcome to the team."

---

By the time they reached registration, they were one of the last teams in line.

"That was way too close," Rocky muttered.

"Tell me about it," CJ added. "But hey, we've got a solid team. Let's make it count."

As the final teams registered, the staff directed them toward waiting buses.

"Where are we going?" someone asked.

"Zootopia," a staff member answered. "That's where the third round will be held."

The bus doors opened, and with their team finally assembled.