HELLO CHRISTMAS-Y WORLD.
This is kinda not edited/not proof-read very well, because I was so damn tired trying to not make this crappy even though - in the end - it's still MAJORLY crappy, so I expect many errors and OOC mistakes to have slipped me while I went through it by myself. If so, I wouldn't mind a correction in the reviews.
This is, to be honest, part of a bigger story I was writing, but only as an alternative, what-if ending. Which is kinda the reason why there are a ton of holes here and there concerning plot and what, but I'll answer any questions you ask about them.
Anyway, enjoy!
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One night, after much of his time spent in a blind but searching state, he has a certain dream. It's a vivid dream in silent monochrome, like the elegant antiques of films in their early days of black and white.
Except in this dream, all that happens is a bullet being shot through his heart and endless static.
.
Joshua can tell something's off the moment he wakes up in his luxurious bedroom, blinking to the pale sunlight streaming through curtained windows. His curiosity tickles him, making him impatiently hurry to dress and clean up, and as always, absently picks up the white coat by the door-side coat rack while a ring of keys jump around from his pinky finger.
Down the elevator, he wonders just what changed overnight. His answer comes when he steps out the building complex, stares, rubs his eyes for a second, and blinks rapidly. Shibuya is still the same, still noisy and lively and full of rainbow colors - except, notably, queer animals crowd the streets as if like unseen companions. A frog, a fox, a pig, a falcon, and even some ridiculous pink elephant in the downstreet corner. Graffiti is all a major part of their anatomy, he notes idly.
But that's not it, of course. Other extras including people - they're scared, breathless and annoyed, but mainly anxious and in a constant bubble of panic - often in pairs, running through the city while avoiding floating symbols and fighting the strange animals with flashy pins that can sprout fire and lightning bolts.
And they're all - all of them - like ghosts. Walking into one another and never colliding. Never seen or heard. As if they were never there in the first place.
The sixteen year old can't help but grin victoriously. Finally - he's found something worthwhile.
.
He takes his time in adjust to the small, but drastic change to the city. His daily walks have turned into a gold dig for information - though the ghostly pairs do not make much noise, their voices muffled and sounding like a broken call line even when he's standing right next to them and listening in intently - and details are, regardless of the odds, plentiful.
He learns about the afterlife game - of the weekly obstacles to overcome if these people desire a second chance, and of their most valuable taken away. He learns that the graffiti animals are actually monsters called Noise, and that sometimes, there are people in red hoods stationed by unseen walls, demanding a task to be done if they wish to proceed through the city freely. And if no one completes their missions once the glowing timer on their hands ticks to zero, then they are all to be 'erased'. Doesn't take anyone much time to realise that means absolute death, no afterlives after the afterlife.
Maybe it's a little morbid of him to think so, but Joshua can't help but like this elaborate death game. Where only the worthy live past the seventh day and the unworthy punished by utter erasure. Not only does it intrigue him - this complex system is so full of potential, he believes - but it is, of course, not the end of his search.
"Just a find that will help me tremendously," he concludes happily enough, taking a short sip of Hanekoma's coffee. It's gone a little cold, mostly because he has spent a good deal of today's Saturday visit just blabbering on about that eventful day. The barista takes all of it in stride, nonetheless, though his surprise still lingers through his words and in the hidden corners of his face.
"Though it's still a bit of a curiosity to me," Joshua continues on, frowning a little. "That I can see all of this when nothing had actually happened."
"Well, that depends on what 'nothing' means here, J," the man remarks, taking a long sip from his own mug in order to let the boy ponder on the words a little. The ashen-blonde simply raises an eyebrow quizzically while his mind silently muses on the possibilities. "You may remember nothing," Hanekoma says. "But you can forgot something that did happen."
He doesn't reply in turn, but frowns a little more. Something about the words do ring a familiar bell to him, but he decides to drown whatever words he can voice about the thought into his coffee.
.
He watches from atop a windy skyscraper, debating between desire and necessity.
.
"I think I saw a Game Master today," Joshua remarks off-handedly, watching for the barista's response. So far, nothing really. "He was talking quite a lot about promotions from erasing the remaining Players - it sounds like a business corporation, the way these Reapers wish to ascend through the ranks."
Hanekoma chuckles at the last bit, finally turning away from the coffee machine to hand the boy his daily cup of coffee - which are expensive too; the ashen-blonde had actually cringed when he realised that his pocket money was gradually dwindling down to nothing - before taking a seat behind the counter. "Some people just keep wanting to gain - climbing the ladder is the best, and probably the only way to satisfy them."
"Hmm." Joshua cautiously sips his coffee, carefully ensuring not to drink too much and end up with a burning tongue. He watches his rippling reflection in the cocoa drink for a blank second before looking up with a thoughtless question in mind. "Then, what about those at the top of the ladder? It will be the end once they reach their ultimate goal."
The man reaches to scratch the back of his head, puzzlement pulled over clearly. "That's a good question there. I guess they try to stir up some commotion or the other for the sake of amusement."
A moment passes right after in a strange silence.
"Do you…" he trails off, but his tight frown conveys the message easily enough. The ashen-blonde just shrugs.
"I don't know," he states honestly. "Though, I would be lying if I say I'm not interested - whoever they are, they would be like a god. The king of a kingdom."
"But being a king isn't all fun and games, J," the barista replies warningly. Whether the sixteen year old notes and listens, or ignores that slight edge of knowing desperation added in, it's not evident as he finishes his coffee a little more quickly than usual before leaving the cafe.
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Joshua has taken to an idle sort of people-watching by the statue of Hachiko, pretending to play with his cell phone when observing both Players and Reapers from the corner of his eyes. By now, this is familiar and common. Even boring, to an extent. There are times when he fancifully dreams of being able to interact with the Players, or even the Reapers tuned into the UG frequency. Of course, it never happens, and he's left quietly sulking - not that he'd admit it - on his what ifs.
Today is just the same. Same crowds, same noise. Everything is as it should be.
Except something catches his attention for longer than three seconds.
There's a boy of fifteen standing in the middle of the moving crowd, half of his face buried in his ridiculously wide collar while a hand adjusts the purple headphones over the orange spikes that, to Joshua, can't possibly be hair - but still is, despite his own opinion. Distasteful fashion sense aside, the teenager might as well have been invisible really.
But he's not, only because people pass through him like a ghost. A dead person. Joshua's curiosity is only more prickled from the fact that he's alone - if he were a Player, he would have been mauled to death by the Noise by now, but none of the floating symbols are drawn to him. This can be easily explained that he's a Reaper, but even that name tag doesn't seem to fit him.
Joshua's tempted to try reaching out to this queer subject, but he holds himself back at the last minute - hope flickers for a moment when the orange-head looks away, seemingly towards the ashen-blonde, but then he turns and disappears along with the people, and all that's left is sore disappointment.
.
All it takes is a heartbeat fraction.
.
He sees him again - this time, it's at the backstreets of Udagawa. He doesn't necessarily come this far into the city once he had first discovered the area, preferring only to come when in need to be alone, but not in his own house. Which in itself is a rare event, but today, something compelled him to come even though there is no honest need to.
Joshua quietly turns from around the corner, hardly expecting himself to stop on the spot and find the headphones boy before the long graffiti mural, head raised slightly as if to admire the artwork though the ashen-blonde can't actually tell from where he is. He doesn't seemed to have notice him either, though, perhaps preoccupied or purposely ignorant.
It's a chance opportunity, to say the least. And Joshua does not like leaving behind chances to be regretted in the future. Taking a slow, quiet breath, the ashen-blonde walks up to him, half-expecting to not be noticed like with all the others while the other half expects the opposite. It's the latter that comes true - the orange-head immediately senses his presence, blinking a bit confusingly with hints of surprise, before it's all hidden by a curtain of critical inspection and a deepening frown.
"…You can see me," he eventually states in conclusion, though honestly, it's less of a confirmation and more a plain fact that has always been.
"Of course I can - why, can no one see you?" Joshua asks in return, as if the other had asked a question instead. Best to pretend he can't pick apart the high and lows of a speaker's musical tone - they loosen their mouths a little more easily like that.
"Normally, no." There's something else to be spoken, but it's left hanging invisibly in the air, and only this boy with the fashion faux pas headphones will know what else he meant to say. He glances up again to the mural, his face blank but eyes in museful wandering before turning back and asking, with some genuine interest, "So, how'd you find this place? Not many people like coming this far out."
.
Compared to everything before, Neku far succeeds his previous finds in terms of interest.
The boy knows too much about the Game. Knows what a Reaper may be tasked with, knows a pin's usage with a two-second glance, can accurately tell what a day's mission is even if it's just a 'guess' - and that's only scratching the surface of obvious hints, though. There are many more moments where the truth is just blatantly put out under a thread-thin cover of guesses and 'maybe's that can hardly convince even an idiot. And that itself is a suspicious move to make, because Neku isn't that stupid, from what Joshua can tell after spending several days and weeks with him.
He would try to call him out on them, ask him who he truly is, but boy always remains in the UG - excusing himself with the fun of making people wonder if Joshua's crazy for talking to plain air, which actually does sound like a fun bit of entertainment alright, but that means he can't stop the boy from literally running away when he even hints at bringing up the subject. Though, the ashen-blonde does have his suspicions that Neku can switch to other frequencies, but is just too stubborn for confrontation.
So he has to wonder, somewhere in the back of his head, why the fifteen year old isn't running away now.
"Because I think it's time we settled this," the orange-head promptly answers that question, likely having scanned his thoughts without thinking. It has become a rather normal thing between them.
"Settle what, exactly?" After all, it can mean anything.
Neku is silent, regarding with him a mixture of internal confusion and what might be something akin to anxiousness but not at the same time, before he responds hesitantly, "You've probably guessed it by now, but there are ranks higher than a GM."
"I have." The sixteen year old nods, and asks without pause, "Are you one of them?"
"…Yeah." The words are melodiously slow - persuaded and yet forced to be spoken. "I'm… what they call a Composer."
For one instance and then vanishing, his smile, small and paper-thin, is more or less just a jester's mockery - a dark sort of humor. "The king of this kingdom - as you had put it."
Joshua simply folds his arms, hardly feeling surprised to hear it - he has been expecting something great from the boy, and he just got it. Though, he can't help but feel a little annoyed as well that his friend had been eavesdropping on him long before they had even met. "So, you had been listening in to my conversations with Sanae."
"Can't help it." Neku shrugs. "When you're tuned in permanently to Shibuya's music, you can hear everything in it with just a thought."
The boy glances down, idly shuffling a foot against the dusty flooring of the complex's rooftop. It's a place both are reluctant to choose for a meeting, for their own reasons, but at the same time, it's strangely perfect - isolated and peaceful. Joshua would prefer to keep that trailing silence as it is, but human curiosity overcomes such fragile opinions easily. "But, Neku, if that is indeed the truth - there is no reason that we should even meet."
The orange-head looks up, giving the other a long, plain look before sighing heavily. "…Lots of things have happened to me when they shouldn't have, Josh. My death, for one thing - there was this complete idiot who had forced me into the Game by purposely murdering me, and was even my partner at some point."
Neku laughs quietly at the unseen memories, though as he keeps remembering his own past, the lyrical sound becomes strained. Eventually, his laughter settles into an expression of bitter emptiness. "That asshole - he had done a bunch of crap-tastic things, and not just to me only. Despite it all, though, I did forgive him. Even if his bullshit was hard to put up with, I still considered him a friend. Someone who I could always trust."
"…You're speaking in past tense, Neku," Joshua comments and realises in a breath of time.
"Mmhm. I know." The boy straightens his posture, staring at Joshua straight into the eye - dull blue-grey into vibrant lavender-violet - and continues, speaking a little more firmly than before, "He lost my trust when he took advantage of it and killed himself - and I can't forgive him any more for it."
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There is a certain dream that he can never remember, always buried by the nightly tuning of his Music - and if he were to remember, he would realise it is a nightmare.
"Joshua…? What are you-"
"Sorry, my dear." He takes hold of those stiff, trembling hands that are still holding onto the gun, raising them so that the barrel points to his heart. The Composer can tell - this child is scared at the very sight of murder being pointed in such a vulnerable place, irises choked with tears as they stare right into his own. He's half-convinced to stop and consider alternative futures, but then the root of all his problems come to mind, and he discards the day-dream away.
He takes a deep breath and tightens his hold over the other's fingers, in a strange way to be reassuring and to be reassured in turn. "I know- I know, that you will never forgive me for being this selfish… but it has to be done - I'm sorry. I really am."
And he pulls the trigger for Neku.
.
There is nothing magical about remembering or forgetting. There is no rush of memories painfully rearranging themselves in his memory banks, nor are there dreams clouding in his mind along with desires and thoughts. Nothing at all - as such, it is nothing close to an enlightening moment for him, if it can be considered one at all. All that he has gained are, ultimately, just guesses, and the past is still a mystery to him.
And yet, there is also a sense of understanding. And maybe, instead of remembering, that is what Neku wants.
The orange-head stares up at the sky as a breeze begins to pick up, "But… even if I don't forgive him, I can understand how he felt. What he felt for Shibuya, as someone who really loved it, and as a Composer. I understand."
When he looks back down, there are hints of another, different smile. A genuine, relieved one that is more reminiscent of someone truly alive than dead.
"It's why… things have to go back to how they should be. It's the only way we can both have what we want." His lips curve up slightly at the corner, hinting at his own irony, and he raises a hand towards the ashen-blonde, fingers posed to tune the strings within a moment. "I'm sorry. I really am."
With a gesture, Joshua is drowned in static and nostalgia.
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