Chapter 20: Ticket
The massacre in Hell's Kitchen, a case brutal enough to go down in New York's criminal history, was quietly buried under George Stacy's firm intervention.
In the official statement, it was nothing more than an accident caused by chemical leakage in an old abandoned factory.
Aside from a few minor tabloids trying to milk attention with headlines like "Gang Shootout, Heavy Casualties!", the incident barely caused a ripple among New Yorkers.
For a city used to noise and crime, anything that didn't happen on their own doorstep naturally faded into background chatter.
The sun shone softly into a classroom at Midtown High School.
Harry Osborn burst in just as the bell rang, practically vibrating with excitement. He clutched several beautifully printed cards in his hand.
"Guys, guess what I scored!" He dropped into the empty seat beside Peter and slapped the cards on the desk.
Peter, buried in his thick Introduction to Quantum Physics, jerked at the sudden noise. Gwen Stacy also turned around from the front row, looking curiously at the things in Harry's hand.
"Oh my god!" Gwen's eyes lit up instantly.
"Harry! These are Uta concert tickets?!"
"Bingo." Harry snapped his fingers, eyebrows lifting with smug pride.
"Next Friday, seven p.m., Madison Square Garden. I got four seats. The four of us, how does that sound?"
"That's amazing!" Gwen almost bounced out of her chair. She clasped her hands, unable to hide her excitement.
"I thought they sold out in seconds! My dad tried to buy one for me, but he couldn't. How did you manage it?"
"Osborn Industries is one of the tour sponsors. There are always… internal channels," Harry replied with a casual shrug, thoroughly enjoying the awe directed his way.
Peter blinked, glancing at Gwen's excitement, then at Harry's smirk, completely lost.
"Uta?" He finally tore himself from his book, confusion written all over his face.
"Who's that? A new AI assistant made by Tony Stark?"
The air went silent for two whole seconds.
Harry and Gwen exchanged a look. In both pairs of eyes appeared the same emotion—pity for the primitive creature in front of them.
"Peter Parker…" Gwen pressed her fingers to her forehead, caught between laughing and crying.
"Do you live in a cave? She's the most popular singer in the entire world right now. It took her less than three months to go from debut to global phenomenon."
"Really?" Peter searched his mental database and came up empty.
"Did she ever appear on the cover of Scientific American?"
"Pff—" Harry finally burst into laughter.
"Peter, can your brain hold anything besides equations and formulas? The only chart you care about is the periodic table."
"Hey!"
Gwen didn't bother arguing. She simply pulled out her phone, opened her music app, and shoved the screen toward Peter.
"See for yourself."
On the screen was the latest U.S. Billboard chart.
#1 — "New Genesis" — Uta
#2 — "I'm Invincible" — Uta
#3 — "Backlight" — Uta
…
Seven out of the top ten songs carried the same name.
"New Genesis" had held the number-one spot for an entire month.
"You see this?" Gwen shook the phone lightly.
"That's Uta. America's hottest new singer. Actually, let me correct that—she's the world's songstress right now. Her music is everywhere. You seriously haven't heard even one track?"
Peter leaned closer. The screen displayed a girl around his age with striking red-and-white hair and oversized headphones.
He still didn't feel anything. These melodies were nowhere near as captivating to him as a well-structured physics equation.
"Oh." He gave a stiff nod.
"Oh?" Harry clutched his chest dramatically.
"You're hopeless. A boring science gremlin, that's what you are. Going to a concert, feeling the crowd, that's what youth is! Do you understand? Youth!"
"I'm not really into that stuff." Peter scratched his head.
"You guys go. Don't waste a ticket on me."
"Hey, I never said the fourth ticket was for you." Harry arched a brow and shot Peter a teasing look.
"You might not like it, but Misaka just might."
Peter paused, surprised.
Harry continued, "You're not being a very good older brother. Mikoto's been in New York for almost a month, right? Have you seen her do anything for fun?"
He ticked off with his fingers. "School, home, homework. Every single day. She's sixteen. At that age, kids should be hanging out and enjoying life. Don't you think you should take her out to relax?"
Gwen nodded quickly. "Harry's right, Peter. Mikoto looks pretty composed, but I'm sure she wants more friends and chances to join group activities. A concert is perfect. Most girls her age love this kind of thing."
Peter didn't respond.
He thought about the past few weeks. Mikoto had adapted to the household at a surprising pace. She helped Aunt May prep dinner, listened to Uncle Ben comment on the news, and even sat through his school stories without complaint.
She looked like she fit in, but there was a faint sense of distance around her, something he could never quite brush away.
She never talked about her past. She never asked for anything. She was like a kitten that had strayed into a human family, accepting the warmth and food, but always remaining vigilant, ready to unsheathe its claws.
She had no friends here. No hobbies. The only thing she ever stared at for more than a few seconds was that small wooden frog charm she had carved herself.
Her world seemed limited to the walls of the Parker household.
Harry's words dropped into Peter's chest like a pebble into a still pond. He was right. Maybe he really had been a lousy big brother.
He had only been thinking about preventing her from being bullied at school, but he had forgotten that she also needed happiness, the carefree time that she deserved at her age.
"You're right," Peter finally said, lifting his gaze. His eyes held a new firmness. "I should ask her."
"That's the spirit!" Harry grinned and slipped one of the tickets into Peter's hand. "Mission's yours, Parker. Make sure your sister goes."
Peter held the glossy ticket between his fingers, staring at Uta's bright and flamboyant smile printed on it. Maybe showing Mikoto a different side of the world wasn't such a bad idea.
Maybe it could bring out more expressions on that calm, distant face of hers.
Dinner at the Parkers' always carried the warmth of old songs humming from the radio and the aroma of freshly cooked food. Tonight, Aunt May had made spaghetti with meat sauce. The rich scent of tomatoes and basil filled the kitchen.
"Mikoto, try this. I added extra Parmigiano today." Aunt May used a serving spoon to add another large spoonful of sauce to Misaka's plate, piling the noodles into a small mountain.
"Thank you, Aunt May. This is already a lot." Mikoto looked down at her plate in resignation, though warmth spread quietly through her chest.
Uncle Ben was watching the replay of the evening news. The anchor was reporting on a chemical spill in an abandoned factory. He shook his head. "This city never stops keeping people on their toes."
Peter absentmindedly twirled the spaghetti on his plate, the fork scraping against the plate, making a slight scratching sound.
Every so often he snuck a glance at Mikoto, looking like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. The ticket in his pocket felt unreasonably hot.
Mikoto had noticed his odd behavior long before dinner. Ever since he got home, he'd been fidgety and unfocused, like a squirrel hiding something but too nervous to sit still.
She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and decided to just ask before his weird staring made her even more uncomfortable.
"What's wrong with you?"
Peter flinched, and his fork slipped from his grip, clattering into the plate.
"Huh? N-nothing! Nothing's wrong." He snatched the fork back, cheeks turning pink as he avoided meeting her eyes.
"Your face is scrunched up like a walnut." Mikoto gave him a skeptical look. "Tell me. Did you get into trouble again?"
"I did not!"
His voice cracked from how quickly he responded. When Aunt May and Uncle Ben turned to look, he shrank a little in his seat.
He took a breath, bracing himself, then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a well-designed, glossy ticket and nudged it toward the center of the table.
"So, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. His ears were red.
"Next Friday night there's, you know, a concert. Harry got tickets. He asked if we, well, if you'd want to go."
Mikoto's gaze dropped to the ticket. A red-and-white-haired cartoon girl wearing oversized headphones smiled playfully from the design. The name "UTA" and "New Genesis World Tour" formed stylized shapes around her.
A concert?
Images burst into Mikoto's mind. Crowded venues. Deafening screams. Overwhelming bass shaking the ground.
She had always avoided places like that. In Academy City, she would rather spend an afternoon playing games in an arcade or reading free comics in a bookstore than attend an idol handshake event or live concert.