Chapter Twenty-Nine

To say that traffic was bad between five and six on Friday nights in Domino City would have been an understatement.

It was a nightmare.

The main highway was bumper to bumper as far as the eye could see, filled with families leaving the city for the holidays. A drive that should have taken twenty minutes on any other day, at any other time, took nearly twice as long.

Seto's fingers tense and relaxed on the steering wheel. He felt sick, antsy. If he could fly he would have been there by now, scooped her up, and had the whole deal done and over with before her stage call. The spotlights and glitter of the huge domed stadium loomed ever closer in the distance, at the top of a hill surrounded by cars. Seto didn't bother parking. He pulled right up to the front entrance and left his car idling. Let it be towed. He didn't care.

There was someone still in the box office at the very front before the doors, packing up rolls of colorful wristbands and cash. Mokuba made it there first and banged on the glass. The poor woman inside looked scared out of her skin.

"Has Kisa gone on stage yet?" Mokuba asked.

The woman blinked. "What?"

"Black Mesa," Seto said. "Have they gone up?"

"Not yet, but their curtain call is in five minutes and the ticket office is closed."

"Just let me in." Seto pulled out his wallet and flipped through the bills inside. "I'll pay whatever you want."

The woman stared at him, the realization seemed to dawn over her face. "Wait… you're-"

Seto threw a hundred-dollar bill through the slot in the glass. "Just let me the hell in."

There was no arguing, no haggling. The woman exited her little booth and unlocked one of the exterior doors. Seto didn't stop to thank her. He rushed through the empty lobby, past concession stands manned by gawking employees, and up a line of staircases that led into the stadium proper. Row after row of hard plastic seats rose high into the air, full of waving, pulsing bodies that seemed to move as one to the music. A different group was finishing up their set, packing up whatever personal instruments they'd brought with them. The grassy lawn in front of the stage was packed with people.

Mokuba tugged on his arm and pointed. "Seto, look."

At the far end of the bottom row where they were standing was a door, plain except for the large red letters stenciled across it. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. A man was standing in front of the door, large and imposing.

"We'll never get past him," Mokuba said.

Seto clenched his jaw.

A deep, resonating voice came over the intercom and echoed through the stadium. "Everyone welcome, Black Mesa!"

A roar of cheering followed.

An idea came to Seto, stupid and reckless. "Mokuba, cut a path for me."

"What?!"

Seto put his hands on the railing that kept the stands separate from the field. "You're a forward. Cut me a path through the crowd to the stage."

"I play soccer, not football!"

"It's either that or we risk getting detained trying to catch her after the show."

"We'll get caught either way."

Seto glared at him. "Are we doing this or not?"

Mokuba shrugged. "You're the boss. Honestly?" He hurdled the railing and Seto followed. "I've always wanted to do this."

"Don't get used to it."

Someone was yelling overhead. No doubt one or more security guards and dozens of spectators saw them.

Mokuba looked up and his face went pale. "We're gonna be in so much trouble."

Seto pushed his shoulder. "Stop thinking and go."

"Right." Mokuba hunched down, crossed his arms to protect his face. "You owe me a shit ton of pizza for this."

He was running forward before Seto could respond, leaving his older brother to follow in his wake. Seto could hear people landing on the grass behind them, but he didn't dare look back. Mokuba hit the wall of bodies closest to the wall, where it was thinnest. There was resistance at first, then people started spinning out of his way. Seto weaved through the resulting chaos, eyes darting between the stage and the path ahead.

Black Mesa was setting up. There was Takako, taking her place to the side of the huge drumset, hanging a guitar with an obscenely long neck across her body. He spotted Kisa standing center stage in front of her bandmates and he slowed for a moment.

She was beautiful. Perfect. Dark leather and shimmering satin. Hard and soft. Sin and heaven. She'd cut her hair so it fell messily around her shoulders. Wild, as if she had just rolled off another stage.

There was yelling behind him and he picked up speed. The entire stadium seemed aware that something was happening. The buzz of interested conversation dug into Seto's brain like a hive of angry hornets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kisa staring into the chaos he and Mokuba were causing. He couldn't tell if she noticed him, at least not right away. From the look of it, Takako had first. Kisa's friend walked up to stand next to her, staring into the crowd, then she covered her mouthpiece and turned to whisper something in Kisa's ear.

Mokuba yelled over the clamor. "Seto!"

Seto turned back to the path ahead. Metal barricades were placed around the stage. At every few feet or so a security guard would be placed to keep the crowd back. Only they weren't spaced out anymore. They huddled in their path, like catchers waiting for the pitch.

"This is gonna hurt," Mokuba said.

"Keep them occupied," said Seto.

"Can do, boss."

Mokuba broke through the last line of patrons and ran, headlong, into the wall of security guards. Three of the five grabbed him by the shoulders and arms. Mokuba fought them off as best a teenage boy with no combat training could, kicking shins and groins.

Seto was close behind, skidded to a halt, and jerked to the left before one unoccupied guard could grab him. One of them grabbed a handful of his flapping blazer and Seto let it slide off his arms. He vaulted the fence, into the thin space in front of the stage. Kisa put her guitar down and dropped off the stage ahead of him. Seto nearly ran into her, slowing just enough to wrap his arms around her without tumbling them both to the ground.

Kisa pushed him an arm's length away. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You can't leave," Seto said between gasps. His sides hurt. His chest hurt. Every breath of cold air was like a knife to his lungs. "You can't go back to Germany."

"What're you talking about? And what happened to your face?"

Seto glanced at Takako.

Kisa followed his line of sight. "Oh…" She blinked, surprise breaking over her face. "Takako punched you?!"

"Kisa, look, I don't have time to explain." As Seto said it, the raucous behind him was getting closer. People were yelling. He could hear Mokuba calling his name, yelling for him to 'look out'. He took her face in his hands. "You can't leave. I need you here. I-"

Someone grabbed his collar and jerked him backward. Arms hooked under his armpits, dragged him away. People were yelling, heckling. He couldn't understand what anyone was saying. He was being pulled away from her again. Panic ripped through him. He fought back, elbowed someone in the face, dug his heels into the frozen earth, and strained to get free.

"Kisa, Please." He could feel tears straining at his eyes again. "I love you."

He didn't know if she heard him, and wouldn't have been surprised if she hadn't. Everything was so loud. All he wanted to do was get through to her.

He screamed it. "I love you!"

She watched as he was dragged foot by agonizing foot away. She reached up, put a hand to her earpiece, and the stadium was filled with horrible deafening static. The stadium went quiet. All movement ceased. Even the men whose hands were trying to take Seto away froze on the spot.

Kisa's voice rang out over the stadium. "Let him go."

The guards looked at each other, then, very slowly, they released Seto and backed away a step. Still close enough to pounce if he made any movements they didn't like.

"Kisa…" Seto didn't like how clear his voice was in the silence of the stadium, how it seemed to go farther despite not being hooked up to the sound system.

"Say it again," Kisa said.

Seto clenched his fists and took a breath. "You were right. I'm an idiot. I'm ignorant and selfish. What I said was a lie. I didn't say all those things because I was trying to protect Mokuba. All I was doing was protecting my selfish pride and giving in to my fear. I was too proud to tell you I made a mistake. What happened was my fault, not yours. I was neglecting him long before I met you again. I was the one who should have taken the blame, not pawned it off on you. I was wrong and I'm sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I…" He had to stop to swallow past the lump in his throat. "I love you, Kisa. I've always loved you."

She bowed her head, the shortness of her hair hiding her eyes. He thought she was shaking, but he didn't dare take a step forward for fear of the security guards taking him away. She balled her hands into fists, tensed her shoulders.

A calm came over her. She relaxed and started to speak. "I remember…"

She stopped, cleared her throat, and started again. Her voice was high and rich through the stadium as she sang with all her heart.

"I remember that fight, everything you said,

Cause everything was slipping right out of your hands

I watched you leave, crying, but I refused to let you be

"You braced yourself for the goodbye,

Cause that's all you've ever known

Then, I took you by surprise

Swore I'd never leave you alone"

Tears flowed down her cheeks in a steady stream when she looked up into his eyes, but her voice carried on.

"I remember how we felt, sitting by the water

I saw you start to believe, for the first time

Took your pieces and put them back together

You are the best thing, that's ever been mine."

There was a heartbeat where everything was still. Then Kisa ran at him, launched herself into his arms, and kissed him. All Seto could do was wrap his arms around her and hang on, answering her desperation with his own.

The stadium broke out in a sea of cheering and whistling. There were flashes of cameras, a rush of bodies. Hands slapped his back and were quickly pushed away by security rushing forward to block the crowd. Seto barely noticed any of it. He was lost in her eyes, in her lips, in the feel of her skin and her hair against his fingers.

He pressed their foreheads together. "I love you."

Kisa wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you too, you idiot."

He smirked. "You'll come to find, Miss Miyoshi, that when there is something I want, there is no cost too high."

She laughed, high and sweet, and placed her smile on his lips.

If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. He didn't care about what legal matters were set to follow. He didn't care what pictures would be in the tabloids over the weekend.

He was whole again.