A/N: (Claps) Yay! Chapter two! Thanks for the reviews, it's so much fun reading them. Finally, the band is introduced in this chapter. It was torturous getting to it, up until that part it seemed really boring to me. Interesting, but slow, and boring.

Disclaimer: Lesee...I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh...nor Fender. Though that would be a cool company to own, so many sexy guitars. I don't think I use any other brand names in there.

Chapter Two:

Seto sat back in his office and contemplated the conversation that had just taken place. Earlier that day, he had received an e-mail from "Unspoken Torment" telling him that he should expect a conference call later that day, and that it had already been scheduled with his secretary. It was very forward, but that made less work that Seto had to do.

When the time specified in the e-mail came around, Seto walked to conference room. A small part of him wondered what this band would look like for a business meeting, if they would look just like everyone else with business suits on, or if they would be dressed in leather and have infinite piercings. On the other hand, he didn't care.

Seto reached the room and pushed the doors open. He was expecting to see his executives sitting at the long, modern trapezoidal table, but when his eyes caught an unfamiliar curvy, blonde woman sitting with her legs crossed and a too-short skirt suit on, he almost stopped in his tracks. But nothing caught Seto off-guard, so he walked right by as if nothing was out of the ordinary and sat down at the head of the table.

The blonde woman leaned forward and extended her hand. "Hello," she said. "My name is Mai Kujaku, I'm the manager for this little group."

Seto looked at Mai's hand, but did nothing. She was a strange choice for a rock band, which must've meant she was either a friend of the band, or she was a really good negotiator. Then something of more importance struck Seto than Mai's look. The band was missing.

"And where is this 'little group'?" Seto asked. Mai sat back in the chair.

"They're...a little eccentric, so they wont be here," Mai said. "We'll have them over the phone."

This is starting out as a pain in the ass,Seto thought. He could foresee this band taking up a lot of his time and energy.

Seto barely had time to sigh before the secretary buzzed in and transferred a call to the room. At first, the voice was weak and sounded far away, but it grew, until finally it was coherent. Seto could make out the sound of waves crashing through the static.

"Hello?" It asked.

Mai spoke up. "Hi Yami."

"Hi Mai. Is everyone there?" This 'Yami' asked. There were voices in the background, but at that moment it was just mumbling.

"Yep," she replied. "So, let's get down to business."

The negotiations went well, for a time, but then the lead singer, Yami, asked for something Seto found unreasonable.

They were discussing the albums that the band would be signed on to make, and that Twister Records would make one 'provisional' record and release it, just to see what response it got. The band agreed, but with a few requests.

The mumbling in the background stopped. Then, Yami's voice tuned in. "We don't want to be known, just yet. Which means, we won't record in your studio, we won't take pictures for the CD cover or anything inside the booklet, nothing. We want the first time we're seen to be our first concert."

"What?" Seto asked in disbelief. Not only were they thinking about their first concert, which wasn't even certain as of yet, but they didn't want to be seen...by anyone? How would anything get done? "How do you expect to record a album if you won't even come in to the studio?"

"We have a comparable studio at my place, and a brilliant mixer," some of the voices snickered in the background, "we'll make our own CD and cover, and send it to your company to be polished up. It will all work perfectly."

Seto seriously doubted that. "No," he said finally. "It won't. Besides, I need to see the band, know what you look like, how you perform, what your style is."

"Well, this is our request, our one request, we'll comply with whatever else you give us, if you let us do this one thing. And think of the publicity, the mystery band, come see them, see what they really look like. It's a marvelous plan."

Seto leaned back in his chair and listened to the background voices return. At one point they got so loud that Yami had to yell "shut up guys!" which only brought the conversation down to an indoors level.

Seto furrowed his brow in concentration. "Alright," he said tentatively. "We'll throw you this bone."

"Good," Yami said.

Within minutes after that, the final negotiations had ended, leaving Seto shell-shocked while walking back to his office. Never before had he encountered a band that...there wasn't even a word to describe them. Different? It wasn't strong enough. Seto shook his head to rid it of these thoughts. They would do no good. It was going to be a rough time until their first concert.

The first preliminary CD Twister received was not quite studio standards, but was better than a low budget production. The technicians took it in, fiddled around with it and then sent recommendations back to Seto to give to the band. It was all very complicated, and could've been so much easier if they had just agreed to come in and record. The cover was very plain; a picture of someone from the bare chest up, cut off at mid-nose. The mouth was crooked with a lopsided smirk and was sewn together in a zig-zag pattern. The self-titled album was finished off with the band's name 'tattooed' along the collar bone.

A week or so after the first CD was produced, their first single was out on the radio waves. Seto could still detect some signs of it being made in an inferior recording studio, but no one who didn't know what to listen for would. It almost added on to the mood of the song, which was about rape, or suicide, or drugs, which one it really was Seto could never remember. The song got tons of feedback, all of it good. It was playing on every station that did contemporary music, and it was requested at least five times a day. The album was awaited anxiously by every teenager in the country.

Mokuba was gleaming in his pride. He had picked out a band that he loved, and it turned out that everyone else loved them too. Seto couldn't get away from the I-told-you-so's that were being thrown at him almost every minute of his time at home, and most of his time at work.

The release date for their first album came quicker than Seto had time to notice. It was, for lack of a better word, difficult to produce an album when the band refused to come in to do the recordings, but it happened on schedule. People were lining up outside of music stores the night before the release. Hundreds of people curled around the block, the ones near the entrance of the store actually had tents and fold away chairs set up. The sheer amount of recognition the CD got was mind-blowing. And no one had actually seen the band. One thing was for sure, Seto couldn't go through another CD production the way the first went without losing his mind, so the band was going to get their concert.

The concert was set for a Friday in late July, and by April it was sold out. Radio shows were having contests for tickets and would be swamped with calls when the selected song played. People on the streets were selling counterfeit tickets, suckering fools into a cheap ticket and running away with the profits. It was chaos until the date of the concert arrived.

But when it did, all the gossip in LA was about the concert. No matter that it was being held in one of the venues that Seto owned in Malibu, LA was buzzing with anticipation.

To Seto, the day of the concert was like any other. He wasn't so invested in the band to actually oversee the preparations of the concert, so he sat in the office all day going over paperwork. He had no intentions of going to see their first concert, although he was a little intrigued as to what they looked like. That was the point of remaining anonymous, to lure people into the concert, and out of some bizarre pride, Seto would not stoop to the level of the masses.

Mokuba had other plans for his brother, though. He could see that work was draining Seto, and thought that a concert would be a good thing for him. He could go there and...well, he'd probably just sulk around in the back. But it was better to sulk surrounded by people, than to sulk alone in a huge house. Mokuba had a theory that Seto just had too much pent up energy, and needed to meet someone and get laid. Though, he didn't really think Seto would find someone to have a relationship with at a rock concert, but it was worth a try.

Mokuba walked into Seto's office with a mission. His brother didn't even look up when he entered.

"Don't you ever knock?" Seto asked.

"Do I really need to? All I ever find you doing is paperwork." Mokuba reached the desk and flipped through a couple of the neat piles. "You might have a more interesting life if I found you doing something else..."

Seto shook his head and ignored the comment. "What do you want?"

"Are you going to the concert tonight?" Mokuba asked.

"Wasn't planning on it," Seto said.

Just the answer Mokuba predicted. "Guess I'm going alone then."

"You can't go."

"What? Why not? I bought the ticket." Mokuba hadn't really bought a ticket, but it was good leverage.

"Because it's not safe. Alone in a huge crowd."

"I wouldn't be alone if you came. Come on, it'll be fun. And you would finally get to see the elusive band." Mokuba crossed his arms across his chest.

For a split second, Seto's mind considered this. But he couldn't yield now. "I don't want to go, it's a waste of time."

"Oh, right, the time that you're going to spend sitting in front of your computer at home. That's so boring, you need to get out once in a while. And you could consider this a business trip."

"That's a little bit of a stretch."

"Well, I'm still going if you don't. Maybe I'll even make it a point to get kidnaped." Mokuba shifted his weight on his left leg and smirked at Seto. He was getting really good at imitating his brother.

Seto sighed and decided to relent. "Fine, I'll go with you."

The sleek, black Mercedes sped down Highway One with it's two passengers inside. Seto and Mokuba sat in silence, listening to Mokuba's iPod through the stereo system. Upon Mokuba's insistence, they were listening to "Unspoken Torment." Seto neither liked the band nor disliked the band, so he sat patiently in the driver's seat focusing on the road. The concert was set in one of Seto's more private venues, nestled in the hills around Malibu. The acoustics were amazing in that area, it was built specifically there because of that reason. And it was far enough away from residential areas so that no one would be bothered by the noise. The land was previously used as agricultural land, and Seto had to jump through hoops to get a permit to build a concert theater on it.

It wasn't hard to get to either. Malibu and LA are fairly close together, and, without traffic, can take around an hour to travel to.

Seto turned off the highway onto the road for the concert. It was newly paved and switch-backed through the dry, yellow-gold hills. Already, music could be heard coming from the amphitheater, and Mokuba's anticipation was building beyond what he could handle.

Seto drove into the parking lot and picked one of the spaces far away from the entrance of the theater. That way, once the concert was done, he would be closest to the exit. Mokuba jumped out of the car and barely had enough self control to wait for Seto to get out of the car. Seto walked toward where Mokuba was waiting impatiently, locking the car with his keychain.

"Could you hurry up, we're almost there," Mokuba whined.

"The concert isn't going anywhere, and it doesn't start until eight thirty," Seto reasoned. "It's only eight right now."

Mokuba walked torturously along at his brother's slow pace, but when they reached the entrance to the theater, he was blown away by the amount of people that were crowded around the doors. He figured there would be a lot of people, the band was just that popular, but it was insane. Luckily, his brother owned the place, so he walked up to the front with Seto, who flashed his ID and was nodded in. Once Seto was behind the threshold, he turned around and stared at Mokuba, who stopped in his tracks.

"Thought you had a ticket," Seto said. "Why don't you go wait in line then?"

Mokuba sighed. "I lied. It got you here, didn't it?"

Seto smirked and turned around, continuing on his way. Mokuba tried to follow him, but the two burly guards held him back.

"Seto!" He screamed. Mokuba couldn't believe that Seto was just going to leave him there when he was the only one of the two that actually wanted to see the concert. His heart beat in his throat when Seto didn't react to his plea; he didn't have any money to buy a ticket, even if it hadn't been sold out for two and a half months.

Seto stopped when he felt Mokuba had been punished enough and lifted his hand, causing the guards to release Mokuba. Mokuba let out a sigh of relief and glared at the guards when he ran to catch up with Seto, who he promptly punched when he caught up.

"Don't do that to me!" Mokuba hissed.

"Serves you right," Seto replied.

The Greek-style amphitheater was filled with recorded music that originated at the stage. It wasn't from the featured band, but people seemed to be enjoying it. The flat dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies covered in leather and spikes, and most of the seats closest to the stage had someone in them. Mokuba ran off into the crowd before Seto could pull him back. Seto tried to keep track of him, but the small teen quickly disappeared in the sea of bodies.

So much for keeping an eye out for him, Seto thought. The air was getting thicker as more and more people crowded on the floor, and Seto glanced up to the highest row of seats. No one was likely to bother him there. He was walking down the small walkway on the side closest to the crowd, when he felt a hand on his ass. He quickly turned around, prepared to rip the head off of the person that grabbed him, but he saw no one. The woman that was coming up behind him stopped and looked at him.

"Keep moving, you're holding up traffic," she said, annoyed.

Seto glared at her and turned around, making his way to the stairs. He instantly felt better in the open air. He could actually breathe. Quickly, he climbed the stairs and got to the highest level. The stone seats were cold and hard, but Seto didn't notice as he wrapped his jacket around his body.

The stage looked minuscule from that height, like a scaled down replica. Seto sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the cold rock wall. It was going to be a very long night. The music changed and people started to sing along. Seto opened his eyes slowly and stared down at the black mass of people. Then Seto felt someone next to him. He turned his head and saw a small, thin figure leaning over the side of the amphitheater, staring out into the twilight horizon. He was dressed in a long black leather trench coat, much like something Seto would wear in a material other than leather. His spiked black hair moved a little in the wind.

Without taking his gaze off of the horizon, the person in black spoke. "You don't look like you belong here." The voice sounded slightly familiar to Seto, but he couldn't place it.

"Hn... Looks can be deceiving," Seto replied.

"Really?" The other one pushed himself off of the ledge and started walking toward Seto. "Hmm...you look like a businessman. Here for...a kid? You definitely don't look like you're here for the entertainment."

As the other man got closer, Seto could see that he had blond and red streaks through his spiked hair, and thick black eyeliner around his red eyes. "I don't see how this is any of your business. Why are you even talking to me?" Seto said. He had no desire to talk to anyone.

The other man stopped walking closer. "Fine," he said icily. The song that was playing faded into another and the mystery man turned his head toward the crowd at the bottom of the theater. "That's my cue," he whispered, and he left down the stairs.

Seto didn't even feel it necessary to figure out what that last comment meant; he just wrapped his arms around himself and leaned once again on the stone wall.

Mokuba was threading through the crowd, marveling at the fact that he could easily slip through a little crack between bodies. He wasn't fazed at all by the lack of oxygen there seemed to be on the dance floor and found it almost comforting that he had to peel back to his t-shirt when outside it had been unnaturally cold for a summer night in Southern California.

Mokuba reached as close to the stage as the mass of people would let him, about five meters from it. He was content with that distance, he could easily see anyone who was on the stage. The people around him were a little tall, but he could manage. He looked around and noticed he wasn't the only one. A teen, maybe around Mokuba's age, was standing on his toes looking over the shoulders of the people in front of him. Not that there was anything to look at.

Mokuba walked over to the teen. "Seems like I'm not the only one having trouble," he said.

"Oh," the other one said. "Yeah, when did people get so tall? Must be something in the water, maybe hormones in the meat." They both laughed.

"My name's Mokuba Kaiba," Mokuba said, extending his hand.

"Yugi Mutou," Yugi replied, shaking Mokuba's hand. It took Mokuba a split second to connect the names.

"Mutou?" He asked, awe spreading over his features.

"Yeah," Yugi said, smiling at Mokuba's odd behavior.

"But...that means..." he stopped and bent closer to Yugi, "you're related to Yami," he whispered.

"Yeah, Yami's my brother," Yugi confirmed. "I recognize your name too, the record label, right?"

Mokuba nodded. "My older brother owns it," he said, still in shock.

"Wow, small world," Yugi said.

Mokuba was going to continue speaking, but the lights went down and the music stopped, the people around them started screaming and rushed the stage. Yugi and Mokuba were caught in the stampede, but managed to stay upright and close to each other. Their faces turned with the rest of the crowd towards the stage.

The screams started dying down, and still the band didn't appear. People were starting to wonder, questioning their neighbors that knew no more than they did. Mokuba wondered too, and looked over at Yugi, who was smiling.

"You know something we don't, don't you?" Mokuba asked with a smile.

Yugi nodded, not removing his eyes from the stage.

People were starting to get angry, thinking there was something wrong. They threw stuff at the stage, screamed, tried to get past the security guards who held them tightly in place. But five people got through and climbed up the steps to the stage. The crowd urged them on, thinking they were angry concert goers that got past the guards to destroy the set. Three of them reached the guitars and picked them up, the one with the black spiky hair walked over to the mike.

The crowd caught on and started screaming again, drowning out the song. They were seeing their band; lead singer, Yami, had spiky tri-colored hair and was the shortest in the band, the next over was the back-up singer and lead guitarist, Bakura, who was strumming his metallic silver guitar following Yami's voice. In the back, Marik played the chords on his black, four-string Fender bass, and just next to him, the pianist, Otogi, and drummer, Jou, were keeping the rhythm going.

Most of the focus was on Yami, though. His lips were centimeters from the mike, singing into it and making the crowd below riotous. Mokuba grinned madly, he was actually seeing them perform. They were better than on their album, the energy they put out was electric. Yami's voice had more of a depth in live performance, it seemed that he put more feeling into it. His eyes were enticing, the small smirk that played about his lips made the crowd go wild. Mokuba clapped and sang along with the songs next to Yugi, who was singing too.

When the lights had gone out, Seto had walked down to the rows of seats above one of the entrances. Now, watching the band, and who was leading it, Seto thought, this is going to be interesting. He had offended the lead singer, and was now going to have to work with him.

A/N: I just had to have a pianist in there, 'cause I play the piano. Weird thing to have in a band, but not unheard of, that could also be the thing that made them have a creepy sound. Unlike with my other fic, I tried to put as many people as I could in this one. I think I'm going to have fun with the interpersonal relationships of the band members...(worried). I kinda have planned for their personalities to be the light's as well as dark's, kinda a middle ground between them, 'cause the band members have to at least be friendly with each other. I mean, come on, they formed a band... I used the dark's names 'cause I wanted what they looked like, seemed more punk-rock-ish. Well, chapter two is done, on to chapter three...please review.