Muse

By: Aviantei

[Shibuya Operation – Story Storm]

Three Days Prior:

"Reunion & Proposal"


Shibuya welcomed her just the same as it had before: with no hassle and the incessant buzz in the back of her mind to start creating. The only difference from her last vacation was that the temperature had risen, thanks to the onset of summer. Despite that, people still took to the streets in droves, filling up the gaps between buildings with a bustle of activity. It took some time to navigate through the crowds outside Towa Records, but the Miyashita Underpass brought some relief—both from the people and the heat.

Tsukiko Hotaru kept up the pace as she crossed through Miyashita Park, trying to outrace the nervousness that had been bubbling in her stomach since the morning. Just so she wouldn't have the excuse to start writing, she'd left her messenger bag at home for the day, and instead had only the pin pouch around her neck to clutch onto for support. Laughter from a group of children playing near the park's fountain reached her as she pressed onto the path ahead.

This won't be so bad, this won't be so bad…

The words didn't do much for her frazzled state of mind, but Hotaru had to try anyways. The last time she'd come home to Shibuya had been over Golden Week, and she'd been too much of a coward to even attempt what she was doing now. But in the few months since then, she'd thought about it and decided that two years was long enough to go pretending like it hadn't happened.

Nee-chan wouldn't have hesitated. You can do this.

Hotaru's gait still stalled out as she turned onto Cat Street. Unlike the busier central areas of Shibuya, the foot traffic was much thinner here. There was hardly anything standing between her and the goal point. Forcing herself to take one step at a time—even if she stalled out every meter or so—Hotaru at last stood before the familiar café.

WildKat was a quaint looking place, and Hotaru could see the casual yet stylish décor through the store windows. Despite the welcoming atmosphere, there wasn't a single customer in sight, either inside or on the tables arranged on the sidewalk. Though unlikely, Hotaru had been hoping for some sort of buffer to make the whole process easier.

"Just do it," she told herself, then closed her eyes and pulled the door open.

The faint sound of a welcome bell signaled her presence, and a breath of air conditioning met her on the doorstep. No one was at the counter, but she could hear some chatter in the back. It would be so, so easy to just bolt for it, but she'd already wasted a week of her vacation hesitating over coming. If she kept chickening out, there wouldn't be any time left.

"Well, if it isn't a young lady I haven't seen in a while," the barista said as he stepped out to take up position behind the counter. Hanekoma Sanae smiled in greeting, looking the same as ever with his dark hair, sunglasses, and shirt and vest combo that could've been the pinnacle of professionalism if he bothered to tidy up a bit. Hotaru raised her hand to wave in greeting, and the door fell shut a while. Hanekoma waved her in. "No need to be such a stranger, Firefly. It's been a few years, but you're as welcome as ever."

"R-right, sorry." Hotaru crossed the linoleum floor, faint music playing in the background. Upon further inspection, the shine of the counter and some of the tables indicated that they'd replaced some of the previous décor. "You upgraded, Hanekoma-san?"

Hanekoma-san chuckled, a hand on his chin right underneath his wry smile. "We had a rather rowdy customer about a year ago. Made quite the mess of the place. It seemed like as good a time as ever to spruce things up." Catching sight of Hotaru's worried expression, he pressed forward. "Just some Game stuff that went a little wild. No one was hurt."

"Thank goodness." The previous summer, Hotaru hadn't even bothered to come home and instead stayed in her school's dorms the whole vacation—that's how desperate she'd been to get away from everything. In that time, it seemed that Shibuya had moved on without her. It's not like I have a right to it or anything, though. She was the one that had decided to run away.

"But hey, I bet you didn't come all this way to just hear me complain about my shop getting wrecked. The new place looks nice, anyway." Hotaru nodded, and Hanekoma-san grinned. "Whadya say? Cuppa joe?"

"Ah, yes please." It was the least she could do for dropping by. Glancing past Hanekoma-san, she skimmed over the menu to try and jog her memory. "And I'll also have…pumpkin pie?" It seemed that the décor wasn't the only part of WildKat that had received an upgrade.

"You got it. Let's see, that makes your total…" Hotaru opened the drawstring on her pin pouch, where she'd tucked away some yen. Once more, her parents had been overly generous in her allowance, so she had more than enough to indulge a little. "We're looking at 1030 yen there, Fireflu."

"Shall I cover that for you?"

The voice may have been familiar, but that didn't do much to stop the scream from leaping out of Hotaru's throat. The café had been empty when she'd came in, and the bell hadn't rung at the door since she'd arrived. And yet, standing right there when she'd whirled around was the person she'd been both hoping and terrified to see again. Unlike Hanekoma-san, who hadn't changed in the slightest, it seemed that Yoshiya had. He'd grown a bit taller, and even his ashen blonde hair was long enough to brush past his shoulders. For the most part, his fashion sense had stayed the same with a button up and jeans, but a pair of oval glasses framed his eyes in their subtle shade of purple.

It should've been no surprise that he'd changed; Hotaru had changed, too. The difference was that she was still alive; Yoshiya, by way of being part of the UG, technically was not.

"Well, I'm not hearing a no," Yoshiya said, remaining as calm as ever. Hotaru could feel her pulse pounding through every end of her body. Smiling, Yoshiya raised a hand to Hanekoma-san. "Go ahead and put that on my tab, Sanae. And double that order if you don't mind?"

"Sure thing, Josh." Hanekoma-san didn't sound the least bit perturbed by the boy that had appeared from thin air into his café. Then again, Hanekoma-san had been dealing with such things for way longer than Hotaru. "Do try to go easy on the young lady here, yeah? You'll scare her off like that. And after all the effort she took to come here, too."

A faint frown crossed Yoshiya's face as he crossed his arms. "Yes, yes, your advice is noted." That seemed to be enough to appease Hanekoma-san, judging by the retreating sounds of his sandaled footsteps. Hotaru sucked in a breath and tried to remember how to get words to come out of her mouth. "Well, I do suppose it wouldn't do to be a poor host. Welcome back to Shibuya, Hotaru-chan. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you, too," she said, almost echoing the pleasantries out of habit. It was better than nothing. "Sorry for screaming. I-I didn't expect you. Did you tune down from the UG?"

"Yes, exactly." Yoshiya giggled, sounding just the same as ever even if his appearance had changed. "I figured you'd be too nervous to come in if you could see me, so I waited from a few frequencies up. Glad that my prediction was right, and this is where you decided to come." Hotaru tried not to think too hard about the fact that he had been waiting for her. "But there's no point in standing around and chatting like this. Sanae will bring everything out when it's ready. Shall we take a seat?"

Not sure of what else to do, Hotaru nodded and followed Yoshiya to a table pressed against the wall. Even after standing in the air conditioning for a few minutes, the cool back of the chair was a welcome relief. Too bad Hotaru's nerves were too frayed to enjoy it. She was busy watching Yoshiya, afraid he might vanish if she blinked.

You're the one that wanted to come here. You're the one that wanted answers. She would have to talk at some point, and Yoshiya seemed more than content to let her make the first move. "I didn't realize you could change your appearance like that, Yoshiya-san." Even though she should have felt some sense of urgency, Hotaru couldn't bring herself to ask what she'd come here for.

"Ah, yes, I decided to change up my form from the last time you saw me." Brushing some of his hair away, Yoshiya couldn't quite keep the amused glint out of his eyes. "I thought you might be a bit more comfortable if I didn't look the exact same with so much time between. Is it too much?"

Though the question was rhetorical, Hotaru shook her head anyways. Now that she'd seen him like this, it might be more disconcerting to watch him shift back to the fifteen-year-old boy she'd first met him as. If she had to guess, he'd tweaked his age to be closer to hers. "Just unexpected. I…I didn't think I'd be able to get back in touch with so easily." It'd be nice if it wasn't this easy, part of her couldn't help but think.

Yoshiya smirked like he knew exactly what was running through her mind. All things considered, he probably did. "Well, I would say this is a bit of a special occasion. After all, I didn't get the chance to see you last time you came on holiday. Things were rather busy back then."

Hotaru couldn't quite come out and say that was because she'd decided to avoid him and anything that reminded her of the UG that time (not that she'd fully succeeded). "Game business?"

"Right on the money." Hotaru couldn't quite feel satisfied by the compliment. "We had a lot of changes on our end since your time in the Game. As the Composer, I've had my hands full, as you can expect. But now everything's in order, so this makes the perfect time to have a chat with you, Hotaru-chan."

"O-oh?"

Yoshiya nodded, still grinning like he was the only one in on a private joke. "While the premise is still the same, we've adjusted a bit of how we run things in the Under Ground. I've mostly been focusing on ways to keep Shibuya in prime shape, and that's involved shifting around some personnel and finding people suitable to fill in certain holes."

Well, that all sounded nice and all— "But what does that have to do with me?" Hotaru had known coming into things that getting a straight answer would be difficult, but she was just a passenger on Yoshiya's conversational train. He gave her a curious look, and Hotaru backpedaled a bit. "I mean, I'm glad that Shibuya's going well, but I guess I don't really get why it matters. Don't most people who go back to the RG move on with their lives without worrying about that stuff?"

"Ah, I'm so glad you asked, Hotaru-chan. You see, I believe that Shibuya has something very much to do with you."

Hotaru got the impression that Yoshiya wasn't just talking about Shibuya being her home turf. She wanted to see if Hanekoma-san was coming yet, but she'd managed to get the seat facing the street, and looking over her shoulder for an out would be rude.

"As I said," Yoshiya continued, looking as pleased as ever, "we've been working on shuffling around some personnel. There's no sense in going into the details at this point, but I even decided to reinstate some optional positions Shibuya hasn't seen in a while. The role of the Artist has its holder, which has been more than helpful a few times. Since that's taken care of, I thought I'd take the opportunity to fill another missing hole."

It'd be stupid to ask why he's telling me this. Hotaru didn't quite think she was suitable for the role—even if she didn't know what it was yet—but she could pick up on the context just fine. Trying not to show off too much of her nerves, Hotaru bunched her hands into her skirt instead of clinging to her pouch. "What kind of role is it?"

"The Muse." Despite Yoshiya's airy tone, Hotaru felt her chest tighten at the word. "Again, no sense in digging too far into things, but, as the Composer, I hold a Pact with Shibuya. The city itself is what ultimately contributes to my powers, and in turn I gain direct influence over the city." With an easy smile, Yoshiya added, "In short, at least. However, while the city needs a Composer, there's a sort of optional slot that can connect to both Shibuya and the Composer."

Hotaru swallowed a lump forming in her throat. This wasn't what she'd come here for at all. It would be best to nip this one in the bud before it got any worse. "Yoshiya-san, I don't think I—" She had almost expected an immediate counter, but Yoshiya was letting her take the field, if only for a short time. "I don't claim to understand much about the UG, but I'm not really suited for anything like that, let alone something that has to do with Shibuya itself."

"Nonsense, Hotaru-chan. You managed to not only survive the Reaper's Game, but you crossed the threshold of points to come back to life. Not everyone can do that." At last, Yoshiya's gaze relented as his eyes flicked upwards. "Yes, thank you, Sanae."

The scuffle of sandals across the floor soon followed by Hanekoma-san's voice confirmed the man's presence. "Sorry about that, needed to brew some fresh beans for ya." Hotaru accepted her coffee with a thank you and tried not to grip onto the cup too hard. It didn't matter how impressive Yoshiya played it; she was the only one who'd come back from that Game, and she hated it. The memories brought a nasty taste to her mouth, and Hotaru took a drink even though the coffee was still steaming.

The drink burnt her tongue, and she still didn't feel any better.

"Hope you enjoy there," Hanekoma-san said, placing two plates of pie onto the table. Hotaru had almost forgotten she'd ordered one. Yoshiya took a much more measured sip of his own coffee, the steam briefly clouding the lenses of his glasses. Even with his load distributed and the tray tucked under his elbow, Hanekoma-san didn't retreat, instead giving Hotaru an almost sympathetic look. "I take it Josh here's already decided to bring up the whole Muse deal?"

Great, so Hanekoma-san had been in on it, too. Trying not to balk at the idea of being outnumbered, Hotaru let the warmth of the coffee mug spill into the tips of her fingers. "The basics, if nothing else," she said.

"Hmm." Hanekoma-san held his free hand to the back of his neck. "Don't go holding out on the young lady there, Josh. If you're going to ask a favor, the least you can do is give her the whole picture."

Yoshiya sighed with a bit more dramatic flair than would ever be necessary. "Way to steal my thunder, Sanae, very much appreciated." Hanekoma-san opened his mouth, but Yoshiya waved him off. "Yes, yes, I remember our prior conversation just fine. Hotaru-chan," he said, and she snapped back to attention despite herself, "based on what I saw in your Game, I think you have the potential to fill this position. There hasn't been a Muse in any of Tokyo's wards for a while, and I think it would do us some good."

There we went again, trying to distract her with another topic. "And I'm telling you that I'm not qualified for something like that," she said, managing to keep her voice steady.

"And I'm telling you that refining your Soul through a successful week in the Under Ground is an excellent start."

Hotaru glanced to Hanekoma-san, hoping for some sort of readily available counter. Too bad he just gave her an apologetic smile. "He's not wrong there, Firefly."

"See? I'm not the only one." Trying to give herself any sort of excuse to stay out of it, Hotaru picked up her fork and scooted her pie closer. While it was a picturesque slice with an artful dab of whipped cream on top, Hotaru cut off a bite, almost smearing the orange filling across her plate. "Of course, it takes a little bit more than a winning Reaper's Game to be suitable. Tell me, Hotaru-chan, what's it been like coming back to Shibuya? In comparison to where you were, I mean."

While it wasn't too shocking that he knew she had left, there was at least some relief knowing that he didn't have an idea where she'd been the past two years. Even so, Hotaru took her time swallowing, but there wasn't too much she could do to procrastinate on answering with Yoshiya staring at her like that.

"I…" she tried, faltering out on the first word. Just what kind of answer did he even want? Closing her eyes, Hotaru tried to do nothing but remember what being in Shibuya felt like, how the world around would sing poetry to her in a song she never heard anywhere else. "Shibuya is really vibrant. There's a pulse to it. And I mean, I can write poetry anywhere, but it's different when it's here. I never want to stop."

There was nothing but the faint background music playing, and then Hotaru managed to remember where she was. She looked down to the table immediately upon opening her eyes, an unrelenting heat burning in her cheeks. She'd only ever been able to talk so openly about things like that with Chou.

Nee-chan.

"As I thought," Yoshiya said, taking full advantage of Hotaru's pause. "Based on the way your Soul happens to resonate here, a little bit more refinement would be enough for you to help amplify the frequency of Shibuya in the right position." Refinement? "I mean, that's just my assessment as the Composer, but feel free to correct me if you think I'm wrong, Sanae."

"No, you're right," Hanekoma-san said, with a faint trace of reluctant allowance. "I thought you might have just been making a wild guess, since it's been some time, but I can tell like this. Ah, not to talk about you like you're not here, Firefly." The way they're saying that, though…

"Excellent." In a move that seemed both elegant and like a blatant disregard for manners, Yoshiya gestured with his fork. "The way you happen to feel more inspired in Shibuya than anywhere else is because you feel connected to the city itself, Hotaru-chan. It's not quite like a Soul Revel, but that sort of connection to the UG is rather rare, which is why I think you're suited to become our Muse. I propose—"

"A game, right?" Hotaru said, already knowing how that sentence would end. She'd heard it before, after all. For a fraction of a second, she could see Yoshiya's smug expression waver at the bitterness echoing in her tone. Hotaru scowled a bit. "No, I'm sorry, we're talking about the Game here. Even if I did agree to this, it would take a Game, wouldn't it?"

Yoshiya toyed a bit with a lock of his hair. "As much as I would prefer otherwise, yes—"

"And just what's so important that I have to go through that again?" The Game was meant to refine Soul and give its Players a chance to expand on their worlds—and it had. But it had also been some of the worst days of Hotaru's life, barring the day that she'd entered the UG in the first place. Against the edge of the table, it was easy to see that her hands were shaking. "I get it, not anyone can be the Muse. Fine. I just so happen to be that person. Fine. But you've made it for who knows how long without me, Yoshiya-san. Unless—unless Shibuya's falling apart at the seams, I don't see why this is necessary."

Hotaru tried to muster the best glare she could, tried to emulate the way Chou would never back down against something she didn't agree with. Hotaru couldn't make out the look in Yoshiya's eyes through the lenses of his glasses, but his arms had gone to rest at his sides. Considering that he hadn't automatically jumped onto her words, it seemed that Shibuya was safe.

So then I shouldn't feel guilty for wanting to stay alive.

"You're right, this is a lot to ask," Hanekoma-san said, and Yoshiya gave him a look that was asking just whose side the barista was on. "We could keep Shibuya running the same way we always have, and it wouldn't be too much of an issue. But the point is that Josh there doesn't want to do things the same way as always."

"I almost gave up on Shibuya once," Yoshiya said, a thoughtful frown on his face. "But I realized that it's worth more than I gave it credit for. I don't plan to make the same mistake again, but I would like to give the city the best chance possible. If we have a Muse in addition to the Artist, then we can bring out a lot more of Shibuya's potential than I could manage on my own."

Hotaru had been sipping from her coffee (which was at a much more palatable temperature), and she almost choked on her drink. What in the world happened these past two years? Yoshiya sounded almost humble—and even more, it sounded genuine. Maybe it was the lens of time clouding her memories, but she didn't recall him ever acting so unconfident in his own powers.

Hanekoma-san shifted his weight, holding the edge of the tray against his side. "You're right that you'd have to play the Reaper's Game again. Well, technically, it'd be a Muse Game, so slightly different rules, but you're familiar enough with the rough concept."

"And you wouldn't be alone," Yoshiya said before Hotaru could protest. "The Muse and the Composer are supposed to work together. I'd be your Partner. And…" His words had almost been hurried before, but they slowed as his voice quieted. "If you agreed, Hotaru-chan, I'd make your entry peaceful. Not like last time."

Hotaru stopped short of picking back up her fork, deciding to leave it be. Biting into anything, even if it was to eat, didn't seem like the best idea at the moment.

Actually, none of it seemed like the best idea. Playing the Reaper's Game again, even if it was for a different purpose? She hadn't wanted to do anything like that again. As much as she was grateful for her second chance at life, part of Hotaru still wished she'd slipped away into the dark, rather than get the opportunity to mess everything up. She'd only come out of that Game victorious because Chou had been there for her, and even then she'd—

"Nee-chan," she said, at last voicing the question she'd been wanting to ask, "is she still there? In the UG?" Chou hadn't come back to life, or Hotaru would have known about it. Whether or not Chou had just failed to win her next Game or she had chosen a different path, Hotaru hadn't had the courage to check.

"Oh, Butterfly Girl?" Hanekoma-san asked, cupping his stubble dotted chin in his free hand. "I haven't seen her in a while, but as far as I know, she's still in the UG." He tossed his hand in the air in a half sort of shrug. "Of course, I tend to focus on the Players more, so I don't know all the details. Josh?"

Yoshiya nodded, some of the smugness easing back into his expression. "Ah, yes, she managed to find her niche in the Reapers." Hotaru couldn't help the sigh of relief from spilling out of her lips. It didn't the entire two years' worth of weight from her shoulders, but it did dash away her greatest fear. "Then again, I only know the basics. She hasn't quite been jumping at the chance to have a friendly chat with me."

Hotaru breathed out a laugh. That wasn't surprising to her in the least. If nothing else, Chou had found a way to live since then—as much as one could call it that. Hotaru wiped away the tears forming in her eyes. If you can be strong enough for that, Nee-chan, then I…

"This Muse," she said, voice miraculously not wavering, "is has to be me? You're certain about that?"

Hanekoma-san and Yoshiya exchanged a glance, the latter looking pleased by the conclusion. "If we're being technical, you don't have to do it," Yoshiya said, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. "But, yes, you're the prime candidate. It's rare for someone to have such a connection to a city, let alone be in a position where their Soul has enough room for growth to come into a complete Pact with its Composer." He smiled. "I'd hate to waste the opportunity."

Hotaru hated the way she was considering it. The Composer as her partner or no, did she want to go through that again? Did she want to fight for her life through a whole week? Did she want to risk everything one more time?

But she couldn't deny the way Shibuya felt so different from anywhere else.

Even without a pencil and paper at hand, the words still came to her, stirred in the back of her mind. They city was art to her, and she had a place in the song. And somewhere inside Hotaru, a naïve little part of her that hadn't faded since her first Game was glad that Yoshiya had asked her.

"When would it be?" she asked, and she held up a hand at Yoshiya's near triumphant expression. "I'll think about it, that's all. When do you need an answer by?"

From the way the look on his face didn't waver, Yoshiya seemed to think that response was as good enough as a confirmation. "The next cycle of the Game is happening three days from now," he said, folding his hands on the table. "Processing for a Muse Game is a bit different, but the sooner the better is a general rule. To make sure we don't have any delays, it would be best if you decided by tomorrow night."

That didn't seem like nearly enough time. "You're free to think it over, kay?" Hanekoma-san said, patting her shoulder. "If you do decide to play, just come back to WildKat. We'll take care of things for you, no problem."

"I… Thank you." What else was she supposed to say? Even though she trusted Hanekoma-san, it didn't change the fact that they were basically saying they'd take care of killing her without a hassle. The aroma of the house blend drifted towards her nose, but her appetite had long been squelched by the turn in conversation. "Sorry, Hanekoma-san, would I be able to get these to go? I'd like to go home for now."

"You got it, Firefly. Let's get you sorted out." Hanekoma-san wasted no time in brandishing his tray anew, swiftly moving the half-consumed pie and coffee from the table without spilling a single drop. "I'll be back in a minute."

Hotaru gave another thank you as he left—and then she realized that it was just her and Yoshiya at the table again. He finished the rest of his coffee and let out a contented sigh. "Well, I suppose that takes care of my business here," he said. "Hopefully we'll be seeing each other again soon. And…" Yoshiya stood from his seat, the chair scraping against the floor. "Thank you, Hotaru-chan. For hearing me out."

If Hotaru had blinked, she would have missed the moment where he vanished; as things were, she managed to watch Yoshiya slip out of existence as he tuned himself back into the UG—one second there, the next gone. He'd left his coffee cup behind, but Yoshiya's own half-eaten pie had vanished with him, seemingly important enough to make the trip into the UG.

Hotaru's hands switched, and she grasped onto her pin pouch again, trying to ignore the burst of inspiration that talking with Yoshiya had given her.


Tendo Suzumebachi wasn't a stranger to the Room of Reckoning, but it had been several years since she'd stepped foot in it. Back then, the vast space had been shining in a brilliant white light, presenting a welcoming atmosphere for the Players who had made it so far. In the present, their dearest Composer hadn't seemed to think the gesture was necessary, as a blackness hung overhead, only revealing the towers of the room that flanked the throne of Shibuya.

And on that damn throne sat none other than the Composer himself.

From the entrance, Suzume narrowed her eyes at the entity. Considering he was easily the brightest thing around, it was hard to make out his body language from a distance. All she got was the faint outline of a person, but it was easy enough to guess that he was lounging, more than likely with that condescending smirk on his face. Suzume could remember well enough because she hadn't allowed herself to forget.

Coincidentally, she hadn't allowed herself to forgive, either.

"Don't be such a stranger," the Composer called, his voice easily reaching across the room. Though it was a few pitches deeper than she remembered, there wasn't any mistake. "I invited you here personally. You don't have to act out of any sense of respect now." Something that sounded like a giggle vibrated through the air. "It doesn't suit you, dear."

Suzume scoffed, tossing some of her messy swamp colored hair over her shoulder as she stepped proper into the Room of Reckoning. Against the vast space, her footsteps turned into faint echoes. "Don't call me that."

The Composer cocked his head at her. "Darling, then?"

"Bite me."

"What do you expect when you won't let me call you—"

As she came to a halt, Suzume stopped her boot on the floor with a satisfying slam. "Just call me Tendo or Suzume like everyone else. Is that so damn hard?"

The Composer shrugged. Even though the brightness of his form made it difficult to read his expressions, Suzume could still pick out the traces of mock agitation as he bristled. "Suit yourself. We're not here to talk about that, anyways."

"Oh, so you do know how to get to the point." Suzume crossed her arms, the thick material of her black and red double-breasted jacket providing a comforting yet rough texture underneath her fingertips. She didn't bother concealing the growl from her voice. "Just what was so important that you couldn't send the Conductor to tell me?" Koizumi wasn't exactly Suzume's favorite type of person, but she was much more bearable than the one in front of her.

"Yutsui's effective, but I don't think she could convey this in the most effective way." The Composer waved a hand, and a plush chair popped into existence behind Suzume. She almost kept standing out of principle, but the implication that the conversation would be a long one wasn't lost on her, so she sat down in the thing anyways. Sounding pleased, the Composer said, "I have a proposal for you."

Her elbow on the armrest, Suzume propped her cheek on her fist and crossed her legs. "Any day now, your Royal Pretentiousness." With a new cycle of the Game about to start, she didn't want to spend too much time out of the Processor's Den, lest they fall behind. While she wasn't too loyal to her position, it was never a good time if Ganabara worked himself into a tizzy.

"Very well, if you insist." Suzume rolled her eyes, even if her messy bangs concealed most of the gesture. "What do you say about acting as the Game Master for this week?"

As her eyes grew wide, Suzume considered that it maybe wasn't so bad her hair fell into her face. "Are you out of your mind?" she near shouted, sitting up from her noncommittal slouch. The Composer didn't so much as balk. "Last I checked, GM was an Officer gig—and I have no intentions in helping you out by taking that role. What, Tanaka-san do something to upset you?"

"No, not in the slightest." There was that damn laugh again. He probably decided to sound as obnoxious as possible to get under her skin. Too bad it worked. The faint traces of a smile formed on the Composer's face. "We're likely going to be running a slightly different Game this week. I thought I'd give you a shot."

A shot at what exactly? she thought but didn't voice the question. She knew better than to play word games with the Composer of all people. "Well, you thought wrong. Get someone else in your merry little upper ranks to fill in."

"Ah, Suzume, I wasn't even done yet. Would you really want to pass up the chance to be the GM when I'll be one of the Players?"

That was enough to halt the next sarcastic remark that was about to come out of Suzume's mouth. She looked over the Composer, trying to figure out if he was just messing with her. She hadn't exactly kept her antipathy towards him quiet, and he had to know that Suzume wouldn't hesitate to screw him over if she had the capacity to. If what he was saying was true, then she'd pretty much be in the position where she could Erase him.

"Hold up," she said, trying to reign in her own thoughts. There had to be a catch. With this bastard, there was always a catch. "When you say you'll be one of the Players, you don't mean like that stunt you pulled last year, do you?" Suzume didn't know all the details, but she had become intimately familiar with the piles of Processing work that had come from that three week game. It wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat, even if she could potentially be in a more active field position instead of locked up in the Den.

Of course, two of those GMs got erased and one of them isn't even an Officer anymore. That's even more of a pain in the ass.

"No, it's not like last year," the Composer said. While that was one less thing Suzume had to worry about, it still had plenty of exploitable openings. "Considering that you're relatively new to the UG, I doubt you'd have heard of what I'm planning to do. It's called a Muse Game."

As much as Suzume would have liked to say that she did know what he was talking about, the words didn't ring any bells. Only one thing mattered, anyways. "And this requires you to become a Player."

"Yes, and a legitimate one at that."

Suzume harrumphed. "Excuse me if it doesn't seem fair to have the Composer of Shibuya running around in his own Game." There was a reason Suzume hadn't decided to outright throttle the Composer upon seeing him; she knew how ridiculously overpowered he could be.

But the Composer simply brushed the concern off with a wave of his hand. "Well, I won't be operating at full capacity. Because of the parameters of the Muse Game, I'll have a restricted portion of my powers…at least from the start," he added at Suzume's growing interest. She schooled her face back into a glower before she left herself anymore open. "If things go as they should, I'll start to build up to my full capacity as the Composer by the end of the week."

"Assuming that you make it to the end of the week," Suzume said before she could think the words through. A full-powered Composer was one thing, but a dampened one while she had access to the capacity of a GM? That was much more likely, and a lot could happen in seven days—she knew that. The smugness radiating off the Composer was almost enough to choke on. "How much of a handicap will you be going in with?"

"Well, I'll be at a much closer state to someone who's survived the Game a few times. That's not the most accurate representation, but something to that end—let's say, the power I was at before I became the Composer." Yeah, she didn't have any context for that, seeing as that was way before Suzume's mother had been born, let alone her. At least, if the rumors were any indication. Still, he'd be powerful enough to put up a decent fight—but not impossible to take down. "I'll also be sure to grant you a lovely promotion package before I go. We couldn't have a GM without a Noise form to put up a fight, now could we?"

If Ganabara had been there, he'd be spouting warnings about how the offer was a shoddy one—not enough supply and demand to balance the market, or some nonsense. As things were, Suzume had to agree; the Composer had set things up to be far too convenient for her. She wouldn't have put it past him to be planning on Erasing her once they got into the field, just for being stupid enough to fall for his lies.

Suzume steadied her mind and leaned back in her seat, the plush back pressing against her spine in welcoming comfort. "Alright, you royal pain in the ass, I'll bite," she said, looking the Composer dead in the eyes (or as close as she could manage, with his bright and blurred features). "This all sounds peachy for me. So what the fuck's in it for you?"

"An excellent question, dear." The only reason Suzume didn't object to the stupid pet name was because she had zero patience for another tangent. The Composer waved his hand, and the Room of Reckoning around them melded into a Shibuya street, complete with pedestrians in all colors and brands of fashion. If it weren't for the lack of sound, Suzume would have thought he'd transported them up from the Shibuya River. "The Muse Game has the potential to help Shibuya grow, to better itself. Since we happen to have all the pieces in place, I want to give it that chance."

Though the Composer had glanced up to the azure pseudo-sky above them, Suzume still raised her eyebrow. "Just because you spout off like you've got some noble cause doesn't mean I'm going to sympathize with you or anything."

"You misunderstand," the Composer said, with all the placating tone of a parent correcting their child. "A Muse Game hasn't happened for a while, and not everyone's going to be happy that I'm trying to resurrect it. In fact, I expect some opposition, some complaints that I might be rigging things in my favor, you see?"

"And you don't trust Tanaka-san to be an impartial judge?" Suzume may have still been young in UG terms, but she knew their current GM well enough to understand that Tanaka Renkuko was easily one of the most honor-bound of the Officer Reaper ranks.

"That's the problem: Ren is too perfect of an impartial judge." The Composer flicked his hand through the air, and the projection of Shibuya melded back into the darkness. "If we're going to have any luck at getting acceptance for a Muse Game, it needs to be under the most unfavorable conditions possible, with a GM who doesn't want me to succeed at anything." The grin on his face was visible beneath the layers of light. "Now, goodness, who might that sound like?"

"Fair enough," Suzume said, trying to meter out her words. Still, she couldn't help but place one fist in the opposite palm out of excitement. "So let me make this clear: you're not gonna start whining if I manage to whup your ass as a Player, are you?"

When the Composer giggled, Suzume was too thrilled to even consider feeling annoyed. "If you manage to do that, you won't hear any complaints from me. Just do try to give me a fighting chance, will you?"

Suzume barked out a laugh at his sarcasm. "Oh, trust me, I'll give you about as much of a chance as you gave me." As he'd given them. Suzume pulled herself up from her seat. "I take it we're done here? I have a Game to plan."

"Ah, yes, you do have a rather tight deadline, don't you?" Suzume performed an about face, the armchair already gone from her path as she strode toward the exit. "The next time we meet, it'll be on the streets of Shibuya. I expect you to use these three days to come up with a good show for me, alright?"

She didn't pay attention to his voice or even stop for thought once she stepped back into the graffiti splattered walls of the Trail of the Judged. There wasn't any time for hesitation.

Just you wait, Kiryu. For once in your obnoxious life, you're going to get what you deserve.


[Nine Days Left]


[Author's Notes]

Welcome to the chapter that got the fuck away from me in regards to length. I didn't expect it to push to almost 7K, and then we have the bonus episode... Not all the chapters are gonna be this big, but I guess we did have a lot to cover going on here. Hopefully the amount of words seem justified...

Thanks go out to the fantastic patamon642, ElementLegend, and Chronic Guardian for giving their favorites, follows, and reviews. I'm always stunned by the support you lovely folks give, and I hope to give back some of that support during this [SOSS] season!

When it comes to this chapter, we finally get to main timeline Hotaru, plus you get to see me struggling with writing a Yoshiya whose had some time to contemplate that maybe he made some poor life decisions in TWEWY. I tried to pull a bit from some discussions that happen in both Hybrid and Faded Lines and Future Signs and maybe take that a bit further. It's up to you whether or not it's plausible.

We also get some canon Suzumebachi, our GM for the Muse Game! She and Hotaru will be our central OCs for this fic, so we'll be seeing plenty of them in the future.

This week, I'm gonna give a quick promo to Chronic Guardian's Hybrid::Mixed Feelings one more time, since he's decided to work on the Outsider's Arc for his [SOSS] project this year. We may just see the end of Hybrid on the horizon, so tune in (if you're not already) to see me and him scramble to not make contradictions in our timelines as we write in tandem!

There's still some events to cover before we hit up the start of the game, so we'll be exploring some threads beforehand next week. Please look forward to it!

-Avi

[01.02.2019]


Three Days Prior Bonus Episode

"Lecture & Payment"


Hanekoma Sanae finished swapping Hotaru's house blend into a to-go cup, packed up her pie into a container, checked that Amber was doing alright in the kitchen, then headed back out to the main storefront of WildKat. He gave Hotaru a few reassurances that she could come back anytime—even if she decided against trying to become the Muse—then sent her off on her way home. As the door shut, the bell jangled once again, almost telling the store's guest goodbye.

And Sanae looked back to the figure of Joshua, still sitting in his space at the table and finishing off the last few bites of his own pie. If Sanae couldn't innately sense it on its own, the fact that Hotaru hadn't talked to Josh on the way out indicated that he'd tuned himself back up a few frequencies. Once finished with the dessert, Josh sat down the dishes, the fork tinkling against the now empty plate.

"Do tell our precious Artist that she's gotten quite good at baking for me, will you Sanae?" Josh said with that grin of his that only meant trouble—or at least some mischief—was in the future. And while Sanae knew at least this time was much better than the year before, he still wasn't quite in the mood or casual banter. Josh pouted, the expression looking strange on a face that the Composer himself had never lived long enough to properly age into. "My, you're looking unusually serious today. I wasn't lying when I told you that I remembered our previous conversation." It was nice to know that, despite all his flippant behavior, Josh did at least listen sometimes.

Still, Sanae kept his stern his expression, not letting the sigh stirring inside him blow out of his lips. It was never a good idea to let Josh know you were frustrated with him. "Oh yeah? Then what about the conversation you had with the young lady there?"

Josh held his hand right under his chin, looking mildly curious. "I'm not sure I like your implication, Sanae. I didn't lie to Hotaru-chan once in that whole conversation."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell her the whole truth, either."

Josh's carefully crafted expression faltered a bit, but it was more than enough for Sanae, who had known Shibuya's Composer for decades, to pick up on. "Hotaru-chan doesn't need to worry about those things. If I mentioned it, I can only imagine her refusing because it would get me in trouble. You can't tell me that wouldn't be a waste."

Sanae let himself slip into the empty chair across from Josh. Considering that they had talked about this before, it wouldn't do much good to reiterate the same old paths again. Josh may have pushed the conventions around him to extremes at times, but he did understand what could happen. "So what will you do if she refuses anyway?" Sanae asked instead. "She wasn't exactly jumping at the chance."

Josh tucked a bit of his hair aside with a giggle. "What makes you think she's going to refuse?"

"Well, you didn't exactly give her the best timeframe to work with." Not that that was entirely Josh's fault, but it was still a factor. "And, well, if I had to say, it's because you gave her the choice." Not in the way that he'd recruited Neku to be the Proxy or created Amber to serve as a form of a certain Fallen Angel's punishment, but an actual conscious choice.

"Oh?" Something flickered across Josh's eyes for a moment, but it seemed that he wasn't quite thinking along the same lines as Sanae. "Well, I suppose it is a bit different than before, but I'd like to call it a hunch if nothing else. It would be rather silly if I couldn't tell that much about my potential Muse, now wouldn't it? Yes, she's hesitant, but her Soul is much more resilient than she seems to recognize she is."

Sanae raised an eyebrow. "And because of that you think she's going to say yes?"

"She back this far, didn't she?" Josh crossed his arms, slipping into that contemplating frown of his. "I'll admit, I'm not entirely certain. But if nothing else, you can call that feeling hope. After all, the Muse Game won't work out well in my favor so long as she isn't willing, let alone the resulting Pact with the city. I supposed if I really wanted to push things in my favor, I could've left an Imprint on her, but that's part of why you're watching out for me, now isn't it?" Not that I intended to do such a thing, Josh added, almost like an afterthought.

The two looked at each other for several moments, one of their usual lulls in conversation where they tried to decipher what the other's intentions were before making the next move. But Sanae didn't have too much of an end goal he was going for; he and Josh were on the same side in this matter, after all. They wanted to better Shibuya.

Sanae held a hand to the back of his neck. "So long as you remember what's really important here, Josh. That's all I'm asking for this time."

"Glad to hear it, Sanae," Josh said, going back to looking like that mischief maker all over again. "With that in mind, though, I did have a favor to ask you to take care of…"

"Sure thing, but before you go ahead and make yourself owe me more than you already do." Sanae grinned and stretched out an open palm across the table to Josh. "You were being kind enough to cover you and the young lady, right? 2060 yen."

For the first time since Josh had appeared WildKat that day, his expression dropped into a grimace. Grumbling something under his breath that Sanae decided it was best to pretend like he hadn't heard, Josh handed over his yen.