A/N: Here's chapter 2. Trust me, this story is going somewhere. No, really! Read and review, if you please -- I take all comments and suggestions (and even complaints!) seriously, and hey, maybe I'll incorporate your suggestions somehow. I live for criticism!

Thanks and enjoy.

~*~

"No way!"

"Yes, way."

"No way," Uzuki repeated, voice lowering from the near-shriek it was a second ago. "I thought he got blown to bits?"

"That's the funny thing – he was." Kariya shrugged helplessly, wordlessly admitting that he had just as much of an idea as she did as to how Minamimoto was still in existence. His pink-haired companion had a deep frown that told of both confusion and worry, coupled with the usual frustrated glare that accompanied any situation over which she didn't have complete control. Her thumbnail became the target of her distress, teeth nibbling at it as she searched for the words to describe the...impossibility of it all.

"Somehow," her counterpart continued, "he willed himself back into a physical form. You should see him now – his body's completely meshed with Taboo. It's nuts. He's nuts. I didn't even think anyone was capable of wielding that kind of power..."

"He must have the strength of a god," Uzuki exclaimed, sounding even more unsettled as she started piecing facts together. "He obliterated his own body, and managed not only to keep his Soul together enough to keep his sense of self – but he pieced himself together with Taboo magic... that's just...are you sure it was him?"

"It was him alright. Cockiness and all. Spotted him on one of his 'art' installations." Kariya's tongue darted out against his sugary treat, which was about whittled down to near-nothing now. "We had a pleasant conversation."

"Conversation?! You could have been KILLED," his junior shrieked, fist coming down on the table between them with a slam and the clattering of plates. Though a little startled, the older Reaper slouched back against the worn fabric of the booth, almost amused at Uzuki's outburst.

"Not in the condition he was in," Kariya smiled. The pink-haired woman's expression changed completely, lips forming a confused 'O.' Her eyebrows raised in interest, and she sat up a little straighter, hand motioning for him to go on.

"To put it plainly, it looked like someone almost beat him to death."

Uzuki paled.

"All bruised and bloody. Couldn't move a finger without cringing...sure hope we don't run into whatever he picked a fight with."

"Didn't– didn't you ask him what it was, Kariya?! Something that could rough him up could wipe out our ranks overnight! We can't just leave something like that on the loose–"

"I did ask," Kariya interrupted, looking somewhat annoyed. "All he said was that he didn't do his homework. Kind of surprising, actually – he didn't know about Konishi's fate, or anything that happened these past five days...wonder where he's been. I can't imagine that he wouldn't have found out sooner, unless he got killed and had to come back again..."

"Again? Wait," Uzuki pointed at her companion, "He's been around?"

Kariya looked at her like she was an idiot. "Well, duh. He's been like that since the start of the third week. Where have you been?"

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Why do you think the Taboo Noise are still around?"

"I didn't know! So – okay, okay, what else don't I know?"

"Well, it's no surprise. We were out for most of the third week, so...I'm not sure what happened, myself." Kariya rolled his eyes and turned to glance out the window at the street, wondering what was taking so long for his bowl of ramen. "But he materialized at some point during the start of the third week, screwed things up some more, and around the last day had the stuffing beat out of him. Where he's been the last five days, and what he did that week, I have no idea."

Both Reapers quieted as the waitress came with her tray, setting down two large bowls of piping-hot noodles before them. Kariya dug in right away, noisily slurping the noodles while his partner watched him through the steam of her own bowl. Sighing grumpily, she balled her hand into a fist and leaned on it, eyes travelling down to her meal with an intense gaze. All of a sudden, she didn't really feel the desire to eat anymore...

"Hey, don't let it get cold," Kariya mumbled through a mouthful of half-chewed ramen. Uzuki gave an annoyed growl in response, but cut him off before he could ask whether he could have her bowl.

"This isn't good, Kariya. His presence in the Underground is troubling enough, but whatever roughed him up that bad...it might not just be us in trouble. Sounds like the Conductor – heck, even the Composer could be–"

"Nothing to worry about."

"What?"

"Nothing to worry about," he repeated, licking a piece of seaweed from the corner of his mouth. "They already know."

Uzuki's eyebrows rose.

"According to Genius, anyway, the Composer already knows what he's been up to. So there's no point in reporting it."

"I'm finding this all hard to believe," Uzuki admitted after a moment. "Why would the Composer allow all this? His performance during the second week was abominable, he broke one of the biggest rules in the Underground – and then broke some umpteen million after that – came back half-Taboo for the love of–"

"Don't forget the Conductor ordered for him to be erased," Kariya pointed out.

"Yes, and that – and why hasn't he been taken care of yet, if he's been around for almost two weeks?"

"Maybe the Conductor tried," he theorized, picking up the bowl to better scoop the broth into his mouth. "Maybe that's why he was so roughed up."

"But then why didn't he finish him? None of this makes any sense." Flipping her cellphone open, she paused, gaze hardening into a glare once she saw the number of bars she had for a signal. Or rather, a lack of one. "We need to get back to the UG. Regardless of what that lunatic said, we need to report it to headquarters." Standing, Uzuki closed her cellphone but kept it in hand, beginning to walk towards the exit.

"You're just going to leave it?"

"What?"

"Your ramen."

"Screw the ramen, we need to go now!"

Feeling his partner's glare directed towards him, he gave the untouched bowl of ramen a sigh of pity. "What a waste..."

~*~

Golden eyes fluttered open, pupils dilating as they adjusted to the darkness. Well, about as dark as Shibuya got -- all around him were glittering lights of various colours. Neon signs, stoplights, department store lights, streetlights, and every now and then there were the lights accompanying the bullet train as it made its last few runs for the night. In the distance he could hear the faint bustling of the sleepless city's nightlife, traces of club music drifting out amongst the noise of busy traffic. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, just taking in his surroundings. It was peaceful, for what it was.

But everything still freaking hurt.

It wasn't quite as bad as before, more of a bad ache than blinding pain, but it still deterred him from moving too quickly. Leaning forward with a dull groan, he tried to stretch to remedy the effects of sleeping sitting up in a broken bathtub, and finding a great deal of difficulty in doing so, he just chalked it up to a few more aches and pains he'd have to put up with.

That's it. I'm getting a couch.

From what he could see, nothing much had changed, and there weren't any Reapers around to bug him this time. Good, he was alone. Eyes and ears alert for any intruders, the better of his hands started searching his pockets, starting with his jeans and working their way up to the inner pockets of his jacket. Finally his fingers brushed against a smooth cylindrical stub; pulling it out, he was relieved to find at least one little piece of his chalk survived the battle.

Briefly he wondered whether any of his bones had been so pulverized as the rest of his chalk.

Ew, no.

Throwing such thoughts aside, he turned about as much as he could and began drawing on the sides of the tub, managing to create a crude but complex sketch of a wicked-looking skull. Every now and then he paused in thought, rattling his brain for the right stroke order, and proceeded with a little hesitation.

It looked...weird.

Placing his hand on it, he closed his eyes and focused, and feeling nothing, gave an algebraic swear. He wiped the symbol away with his sleeve and started again, repeating the process several times over to no avail.

"Zetta lame," he mumbled. He was sure he was doing something wrong, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it...

...

Well. Looks like I ought to pay CAT a visit...

He shuddered. If he was going to heal any faster he was going to need a refresher on how to draw the damn symbol right, but the visit wasn't going to be a pleasant one. Not after trashing his shop and almost blowing his cover. Not biting off way more than he could chew in taking on the Composer directly.

Wiping the last botched symbol away, he braced himself against the top of the tub and stood, testing his limbs for the trek towards Cat Street. It wasn't looking too good -- he had a prominent limp due to the pain in one hip and the ankle on the opposite side had a definite sprain. He really didn't feel like crawling all the way -- he still had a reputation to live up to, after all.

Out came the wings.

"Holy hexadecimals." Having hidden them for most of the fight, they didn't hurt as bad as the rest of him, but they were still pretty torn up -- two on his left were devoid of their metallic feathers completely, and one on his right was about half-destroyed, jutting out at a twisted angle that made it of no use whatsoever. That left a terribly asymmetric set of three left to work with.

Flying was going to be interesting.

Stretching them about as far as they could go, he took one step forwards--

--and promptly tumbled, having forgotten to check for a stable surface before putting his foot down. Somehow his wings caught enough lift to let him glide down and away from the sculpture, and with a few flaps he was off, awkwardly trying to balance his flight and avoid crashing into buildings.

A few dented streetlamps and three broken windows later, and he was making a botched landing on Cat Street, gracelessly tackling the asphalt and depositing himself in a heap outside Wildkat.

Ow.

At least the coffee smelled good.

"Minamimoto."

Hi!

As he lifted his head, his dizzy gaze fixated on a tall and lanky figure in the doorway of the now-closed cafe, who looked none too pleased with the gift dropped on his doorstep. Sho raised himself onto his knees and offered a weak wave of greeting and a sheepish grin that belied his innocence.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you anytime soon," Hanekoma grumbled. "What brings you back here?"

"What do you think?"

~*~

"I am not amused," a rather nasal voice grumbled on the other end of the phone. "Nor am I surprised."

"He's not surprised," Uzuki whispered, clasping a hand over the mouthpiece. Her partner simply shrugged, expression clearly saying I told you so without the effort of having to move his lips.

"It's not a huge threat. Just...irritating." The voice punctuated that word with a sigh, as if this whole situation was just a small, vexing kink in the overall scheme of things. He hardly took into account the distress in Uzuki's voice or her urgent request for intervention, but he fully understood the consequences of just letting it go. Something had to be done.

"But sir, this puts everyone in danger–"

"I know the situation far better than you do, Yashiro." By now the irritation in his voice was clear, and he was beginning to direct it at her. She kept her mouth shut. Her silence was reciprocated, and for a moment she wondered if the signal had died on her, until a much deeper voice came on the line.

"Yashiro."

"Yes sir?" Uzuki's eyes floated towards her partner, who was now leaning in closer to hear the conversation.

"The Composer has spoken. Your orders, for now, are to continue as if Minamimoto did not exist."

"But...we...Yes sir," she exhaled with frustration. Arguing with the Conductor was never a smart thing to do, but in this sort of situation, she almost wanted to. The pause afterwards indicated that her hesitation had been noticed, and her face flushed as she waited for a response.

"Don't worry Yashiro," Kitaniji finally spoke, almost sympathetically. "He knows what He is doing. Trust in Him."

"Yes sir."

"We will keep you posted."

Click. Uzuki listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before lowering and snapping the phone shut, unsure of what to say. Her eyes met Koki's again, and in them she could see the same uncertainty that she was sure was in her own. He was thinking the same as her.

"They know something we don't."

"He knows something we don't. You heard the Conductor's voice – he was just as panicked as we are."

"Whatever it is, I don't like it."

"But you heard him. We can't just go around sticking our nose in the Composer's business--"

"Maybe," Koki admitted, pulling the lolly from his mouth. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "But we shouldn't have to be kept in the dark, either."

A pause.

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

Kariya hesitated for a moment, intense gaze directed off towards the towering junkpile that no longer had its maker perched on top. His eyes closed slowly, and when they reopened, he was facing Uzuki again, lips curled upward in a lazy smirk.

"Let's play a game, Uzuki."