Merry Christmas Eve! I know all of you must be ULTRA excited for the day ahead, but just in case you would like some down time from all the excitement, I hope reading this chapter will help. Thank you again for all the reviews and support! It means the world.

Disclaimer: I do not own Skip Beat or any of its characters.

"One! Two! Three!"

Click!

A flash of bright light, the quiet whir of the camera, and the friendly exchange between the two men was caught forever. The plump manager of Rockin' Strings released the musician's hand and gripped him by the upper arms with a great big smile. "Thank you so much, Fuwa-san! This picture is going to go up right next to all the others. When do you think you can get it to me by, Jiro?" he asked as he turned to the photographer.

"Give me at least a week. It'll take a while to get the frame," the older man replied as he removed the lens on his camera.

"Splendid! Would you like a copy, Fuwa-san?"

"It's alright. Thanks though."

The manager grinned. "Not at all! It's the least I can do. Your presence is already doing wonders for my guitar store."

He turned to the front door and saw a group of people screaming his name. Pride swelled in his chest. After so many years of sitting in a studio and cranking out song after song until he could barely sing another word, Fuwa Sho was now one of the top musicians in the industry. He battled against top bands, challenged novices, and cemented his place as one of the greats. At a young age of 22, he had already sold over a million albums and achieved two platinum records. Some would say he should take a break for while, recuperate before going back to song writing.

But Sho had no plans to slow down. He refused to think that he had reached the peak of his career. This was just the climb. Only when he was the top of the top would Sho even consider taking a break. He still had plenty of songs in mind. In fact, he was already on the track of writing a brand new album, one that he knew his adoring fans will appreciate.

Sho was no longer the one dimensional musician he used to be. He wrote rock songs, pop songs, and even the occasional ballad that had all of his female fans swooning. These last few years had changed him as both an artist and a man. He was still the same playboy women loved and could make them squeal like there was no tomorrow, but everyone noticed a serious side to him as well. His blue eyes held maturity, growth, and a spark of determination that kept his head high.

"Sho."

Turning around, he flashed a playful smile at his manager who had just walked out of the backroom, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor. "Shoko."

She rolled her eyes at his expression, but returned his smile with a quirk of her lips. Unfortunately, the amusement was short lived as she bear bad news. "Saito called. He says he's going to be late for practice today."

"What? Why?"

"There's some commotion downtown. He says he's stuck in traffic."

"Damn…" This was the thing about working with a band. Even if only one person was missing, nothing could get done. "Where is he? I'll go get him myself."

"I don't think you can, Sho," Shoko said as she scrolled through her phone. "I'm checking the traffic status and it looks pretty bad."

"Is it an accident?"

"Looks like it."

"Let's check the news," the manager offered as he reached for the black remote near his register.

The television set above their heads flicked on. He clicked through a couple of channels before reaching the news station. A woman in a black-striped suit sat behind a white table, her lips turned down in a grim line as she continued, "—driver whose identity remains to be unknown is completely unharmed. Aki takes us live to the scene. Aki?"

The screen pans to a man in a long overcoat, standing in front of a scene that looked like it was taken out of a movie. Red and blue sirens flashed from behind, a number of ambulances stood by, and a crowd of onlookers bustled about as they tried to get closer. "Hello Rika. I'm here downtown at the scene of the crash. As you can see the car—" He pointed to a black sports vehicle whose head was smashed into a street lamp "—was barreling down the road right before it crashed. Just looking at the smoke and the state of the car tells us the driver was going much faster than the speed limit allowed."

"How is the boy, Aki?"

"The boy is unharmed. Visibly shaken of course, but aside from a few minor scratches, his mother says he is physically fine. His savior, however, isn't as lucky."

"Any word on her condition?"

"Not much, but it doesn't look good. At the speed the car was going, it will be a miracle if she makes it out of this unscathed. Paramedics are already on scene."

"Do we know the identity of this hero?"

"It's not certain, but we do have a name."

"Who is it, Aki?"

He shook his head forlornly. "Mogami Kyoko."

Blood. There was so much blood.

Rivulets of red streamed down the side of her face. Her orange silky hair was matted with dirt and crusted blood, her eyes closed against the blaring noise of commotion and sirens.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't feel.

He barely registered their hands, pulling at his stiff fingers as they tried to pry her unmoving body from his arms. He knew he had to let her go. They were only trying to save her. But he was afraid—afraid that as soon as he let go, she was going to vanish forever.

Blood. There was so much blood.

Kuon hazily recalled the moment when they had strapped her to a stretcher, when they pushed through the double doors of the hospital and straight into the ER, when a strong hand gripped him by the shoulder and pulled him away. He fought with everything he had. He thrashed like a wild animal, refusing to leave her. But a strong deep voice broke through his cold reverie.

"Kuon! Enough! You need to stop!"

NO! I WON'T LEAVE HER! SHE NEEDS ME! IT'S MY FAULT! THIS IS ALL MY FAULT!

"Kuon! Listen to me! She will wake up! You need to let her go!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?" he cried as he spun around to meet President Lory's gaze. "How do you know she'll wake up from this? What if she—?" He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head into his hands. "I can't lose her. I can't. I can't."

"You won't," he said firmly, wrapping an arm around his pupil's shaking shoulders. "Mogami-kun is strong. She'll make it out of this. I know she will."

He wanted to believe his words. He wanted to pour every ounce of faith he had into those words. But memories of the car crashing into her, the way her body skidded across the cold pavement, the chill of her skin against his flashed behind his eyes. Raising his gaze to the red light above the door, Kuon prayed. He will give up everything. He will gladly die in her place. No matter what He wanted, no matter the price, Kuon will pay it. He will pay it as long as she lives, as long as Kyoko breathes.

Please…please…

The quiet beeping of the machine filled the cold and silent room. He moved the thick green curtain aside, seeing the light orange glow of the sun rising over the horizon. The watch around his wrist read 5:47. Daylight will break soon and still she did not stir.

He turned around and felt his heart crack in two. Lying on the white linen bed, Kyoko had never looked so small. Fresh scars marred her pale cheeks, a large white bandage was wrapped around her head, covering a third of her forehead, and her normally red lips were now as pale as snow. The doctors said they had done all they could. It was all up to her now. She had suffered a serious concussion and severe blood loss, but they had hopes that she will recover…if she wakes up.

But that was six hours ago, six hours of her family and friends crying at her bedside. The landlord and lady had just left, wanting to go home to get her a change of clothes and to bring anything that will give her comfort. Kotonami Kanae who hadn't said a word since she stepped foot inside the room had finally succumbed to sleep. She sat with her knees tucked into her chest, curled in a chair on Kyoko's left.

Yashiro's eyes trailed down the IV line that linked a bag of saline to her arm and finally to her hand that was held between two larger ones. Ren sat hunched over, his brown locks covering his eyes that Yashiro knew were still open. He stayed immobile by Kyoko's side, refusing to eat or sleep. As soon as Jelly Woods arrived to change him out of his clothes and put on his disguise, it was as if a light went out. His eyes were dead. Every now and then a shaky breath escaped his lips, but he said nothing. No response, no movement, it was almost like his friend wasn't even there.

Taking his place by the foot of her bed, Yashiro sat down onto the chair and leaned over on his knees. His phone beeped once. With a gloved hand, he removed the thin device from his jacket and read a text from President Lory:

Jelly and I are pulling into the parking lot now. How is she?

Stable, but no change.

Ren?

Yashiro glanced up, hoping for a miracle. He sighed.

Nothing.

I see. We'll be there in a few minutes.

Yashiro moved the phone back into his pocket, his eyes automatically returning to Kyoko. She was the sweetest girl he had ever met, full of compassion and sincerity. It didn't surprise him that she risked her life to save that boy's. She was an angel and tonight only reinforced her altruism. Her light, her laugh, and her warmth influenced so many people's lives, but none so deeply as Ren's. She was his everything and without her…

He closed his eyes. Yashiro dare not even think of it. As Ren's manager, he always knew what to do, but today he had never felt so helpless—so weak. No words of comfort came to mind. No gesture to alleviate his pain. Yashiro could only sit with his friend in silence, hoping, wishing, and praying that everything will be okay.

A knock sounded upon the door. Only Yashiro raised his head as President Lory and Jelly stepped through. He stood and bowed, but the president gave him a small smile as if to say there was no need for such formality.

President Lory walked towards Ren and stood beside him, looking down at Kyoko. With his hands clasped behind his back, he really did look a protector of sorts, as if he was watching over the both of them. His deep voice filled the room: "She's a fighter."

He didn't reply.

"It's only a matter of time, Ren."

"You don't know that," he whispered.

President Lory gazed down at his protégé's head, hearing the pain so clearly in his subdued voice. Slowly, he placed a warm hand upon his trembling shoulder and gave a fatherly squeeze. "Have I ever been wrong before?"

Ren's head lowered.

"Then don't doubt me now," the president murmured gently.

But every second that ticked by dimmed the flicker of hope within his heart. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to feel her strength as she held his hand. He wanted her back. The misery Ren tried to suppress clawed its way back up until he closed his eyes, a futile attempt to keep it under control. But no matter what he did, his heart ached.

Ren held onto her slender hand that felt so much smaller than he remembered. It never occurred to him how fragile she was. He never considered the harm that could befall her. And because of his ignorance, she was now lying in this hospital bed, broken and hurt. He took in a deep breath, hating the smell of the room, the clean linen sheets, and the plastic materials. It masked her smell. It masked the woman he loved.

He needed the physical touch to remind himself that no matter how helpless he felt, there was still hope. The sound of her heart monitor was proof. She was still fighting. Pressing his lips against her knuckles, Ren hoped that she could feel him, that he could lend her whatever strength she needed to come back.

Don't leave me.

His grip tightened.

I love you.

Ren opened his eyes and saw his vision blur.

I love you. I love you so much.

Leaning forward, he put both of his elbows upon the bed, almost like in prayer. Then in a whisper that pierced the chilly room, he whispered her name. It came out like a breath, barely audible but the emotion it held was enough—pleading, desperate, and completely devoted.

If he wasn't holding on to her, he never would have noticed. The strength it held was comparable to the grip of an infant. But he felt it. Ren felt her response. His head whipped up to stare at her face.

"Kyoko?"

Her head shifted.

"Kyoko!"

Everyone crowded around her, Kanae jumping to her feet immediately. She grabbed her other hand and brushed delicate fingers over the curve of her brow. "Kyoko?"

Her eyelids fluttered with the effort to open. Soft sounds came from her throat, dry and coarse. Ren gently placed a hand behind her head as he pressed his forehead against hers. "We're here, sweetheart. We're all here."

She moaned softly and squeezed his hand. Ren could barely keep it together. What could he do? How could he help her? Then like a burst of light, her eyes slipped open. Her gaze was hazy and he could only see a sliver of the deep amber color, but she was awake. She was awake. Kyoko was awake!

Ren pressed a kiss to her forehead, the relief so powerful that his body trembled with it. But he wasn't going to break down. Not now. She needed him. When he leaned back, her eyes locked with his. They were wide with confusion, bleary from exhaustion. His heart throbbed.

I could have prevented this.

She opened her lips, but no sound came out. Ren was about to tell her that she didn't need to say anything, when suddenly:

"Ts…Tsuruga…Ren."

He smiled and nodded.

Kyoko blinked a few times and looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why…why are you here?"

Ren froze.

"What are you…?" She swallowed and shook her head.

She was looking right at him. She was staring straight into his eyes, but no flicker of recognition crossed her face. Ren squeezed her hand. "Kyoko, what are you talking about? I'm—"

"SIR! Sir! Stop! You can't just barge in here and—!"

The hospital door slammed open, rattling the plaster walls. He stepped through the archway with blazing eyes, his chest rising up and down with such speed it looked like he had run all the way here. He met the eyes of every single person in the room who all stared back in disbelief.

Shoko ran in after him, her normally neat hair all disheveled as she placed a hand upon his arm. "Sho! You can't do this! I'm so sorry," she said to the group with her head lowered. "I'll take him outside."

"No!" He flung his arm away from her. "I need to see her! I—!"

Sho sucked in a sharp breath. He hadn't been this close to her in years, but he never thought that this was how they would meet again. Taking a step forward, Sho could see every scratch, every cut, and every bruise. Despair clutched at his chest. Anger began to build and the one person he blamed was the one man he hated above all. He raised his gaze and felt the bile rise in his throat.

He was ready to let him have it. He was ready to unleash every ounce of frustration until—

"Sho-chan."

He locked eyes with Kyoko.

She gave him a weak smile. "You're here…Sho-chan."