This makes total canon sense.
Wait no it doesn't. Not a bit of it. But I like the idea. :D
Warnings : Spoilers abound~
Disclaimer : Squeenix owns it all, and a good part of my sanity with it.
In the Room of Reckoning, the Composer of Shibuya awaits His new challenger.
He has not heard of His challenger's coming ; He has felt it. There has been a disturbance in the flow of His city's Music recently. An excitement, a surge of energy, a new force rising, trying to make its imprint on the city - and the city cannot wait to see what it will do.
It is intense, full of power and of the will to change things, bend the city to its own desires. It might even have the strength to do so.
This challenger is worthy, but not particularly more so than any of the others the Composer has had before. He has fought many challengers for His title - fought them and crushed them. He still has no plan of retiring.
Seated on His throne, eyes closed, relaxed, confident, the Composer waits for yet one more insignificant bug to crush under His thumb.
The great gate opens and the Composer opens His eyes.
And splutters.
The Composer hasn't paid much attention to humanity and the way it ages for a long time, but the little thing that walks through the door cannot possibly be adult yet. Small and thin, frail, with an angelic face and limbs like twigs. A young teenaged boy, barely out of childhood - fourteen, maybe fifteen, no older.
And he's a Player, not a Reaper, meaning he has only been 'dead' for a week - or two, if he is the Player who required a second Game - meaning he is actually as young as his appearance suggests.
The boy grins at Him, polite and sickly sweet, teeth bared.
Current Composer ? he ventures, voice lilting, almost a sing-song tone. Or should I say former ? Charmed, anyway.
The Composer rises to stand, grave and all His attention focused on the glass figurine of a boy in front of Him.
Who are you ? He asks, although it is not His custom.
Violet eyes meet His, half-lidded and glazed with devilish mischief and sheer bloodlust.
I'm the next one, the boy whispers.
The boy's grin twists into a smirk, clear-cut, knife-sharp raw danger, and he snaps his fingers.
xxx
You're a special one, aren't you, Sanae Hanekoma says a little while later, just a hint of awe in his lazy, carefree voice.
The new Composer of Shibuya giggles in His oversized seat.
I'm your boss now. That means from now on, you're calling me sir and I get to call you Sanae.
Hanekoma snorts but smiles.
Right, boss.