At some point, Neku figures, they really have to start respecting rules. Or at least obeying rules. Or at least recognizing that rules do exist and sometimes are worth taking a look over. So maybe Joshua at one-third power is still more than capable of taking all the competition – but hell, he's also quite capable of acting like he can, and then letting Neku step in the way when it's time to actually fight.

Maybe Kitaniji didn't die to save what he believed in. Maybe he took the best chance he'd had in years to get the hell out.

It's not safe for them to meet in the RG, not really, and he's not about to get the Composer killed before he's actually started the job. So he stays in the RG, and Joshua spends all his time in his throne room, or in Pork City, or maybe on Mars, for all Neku knows for sure. Doing what the Composer does on his off hours, keep the moon from falling, whatever. Neku's got to ease into this whole Conductor business even if it is really a freefall and that means asking Joshua as few questions as he can manage for as long as he can avoid it.

It's kind of ironic, really, when one of his teachers pulls him aside after class, asking if everything is all right, if he needs to talk. Apparently spending all his time alone and looking miserable for the past few months bothered no one, but now that he's got a way to spend his time – whether it's 'healthy,' exactly, is still up for debate – it seems they've noticed, and his preoccupation is a problem. School is of course, a long-distant third to both his art and his new position but Neku knows his grades haven't dipped that much and even if they wanted to get in touch with his father – ha.

Neku isn't expecting to see him until his first week of the Game is well over, thankfully – assuming he survives with body and sanity intact – and at least that will give him some time for his hair to grow out, for the highlights to fade. Ai did an absurdly good job on his nails, and it's just easier to leave them. If he gets any odd looks, it's not like he's got the time to pay attention, absolutely nothing less important to be thinking about.

The universe at large – through F Everything, which is a motto Neku increasingly agrees with - has decided to reward Minamimoto's pile of crazy, rule-breaking homicidal failure by making him unexpectedly trendy. His 'sculptures' are one of the only remaining memories of the month, and seem to have soaked up all the residual excitement, enough to get him more than one job, at least.

Neku tries not to grit his teeth as he walks past people taking their pictures in front of the heaps – not just tourists, not all the time – and he really, really wants it to assume the worst but even as crappy a Conductor as he is – he'd be able to tell. The darkness, the cold brutality of the Taboo Noise had been shocking enough when he'd been a Player – Minamimoto didn't have that kind of power now, hardly had any at all, simply a Wall Reaper enjoying a bout of good luck.

"You could always Imprint some basic art appreciation." Joshua says, not at all helpfully, as if Neku had taken advantage of that ability even when his life was on the line. He's not sure how they even got on this topic, though Joshua doesn't always bother paying attention to conversation cues – hell, he has a laserlike focus for whatever Neku wishes he wouldn't bring up.

"It's not my business what people like. It isn't a popularity contest."

And okay, so it's been dry for a bit, the cost of supplies leaving him eating cup ramen more often than not – but he likes cup ramen, dammit – and he's still just starting out. This is a matter of principles, and integrity.

"Despite the way it sounds, Neku dear, being a starving artist isn't very romantic. Or interesting."

He makes a face. Yes, Joshua is just as pedantic and annoying over the phone.

"Maybe I should start a blog."

Neku hangs up on him.


"Mmm? What's that? New project?"

He's got a semi-permanent space, stretched out and sketching on Eri's floor, a spare room that's big enough for the three of them and two dress forms, one of them currently buried under half-finished whatevers and scrap fabric and the other with the newest project, a black dress with rather simple, classic lines and Eri winks at him when Shiki leaves to get a drink from the kitchen – the dress is for her, for a special trunk show they're going to, a little over a week from now. A big deal, a surprise, and Neku's already thinking about things he's seen at Stationside, or maybe the department store that might go well with it. They both take special care with Shiki, she's like an orchid, needs a little extra attention to bloom.

He's doodling pin ideas right now – doesn't have a button maker, but the guy at Towa fairly fell over himself to let him borrow one. Neku's not sure if he even knows how to make a pin, but he's got a few interesting ideas – putting a little shading on the edge of a fishbone and, if he can get it to work right, it will draw the Noise to the Reapers instead of the Players when activated. Which would piss off Pinky, if nothing else.

"Hey Neku, let me see."

The girls hover over him, and Neku's not sure if he should be more careful, still a little wary of being the Conductor around Shiki, but she gives no sign that anything is wrong, that she knows what he's doing and Eri nods in approval.

"Cool. Buttons are in. You should make up some patterns for us to use, too."

He's been doing more than just reading the rulebook, of course. Texting with Joshua back and forth, constant sniping over the way the Game's going to go now that he's involved. It's difficult, not to try and get out of it, to refuse, but he's made a promise. If he doesn't go through with this, Joshua will just pick someone else, someone cruel, someone who likes to see Players get erased. Maybe that doesn't make any difference, maybe he might as well enjoy it. Maybe agreeing to any of this is already unforgivable.

-No person is allowed to be anyone else's entry fee.

At least he doesn't have to pay for the ridiculous number of messages, not now that he's part of the unlimited minute Conductor plan.

For the low, low price of your soul... and your dignity.

Neku hasn't had the phone at more than arm's reach since the party, though he's learned to ignore it when he's in the shower, nearly broke his damn neck the first time trying to scramble out to reach it, only to hear Joshua snickering at him from the other end of the line.

He's not exactly shocked to discover while he's reading through the manual, that the entire idea of entry fees seems to be Joshua's in the first place – and it makes sense, really. Only Joshua, only he could look at the Game and think "how can we make this harder?"

-She wasn't hurt. It wouldn't have hurt, if you'd lost.

The thought alone is enough to make him shudder, looking down at the tiny screen. Joshua doesn't get it – obviously – and it's not the sort of thing that Neku even knows how to explain, why the idea of Shiki's future in his hands still makes his stomach ache, if he thinks about it for long.

-I'm not asking permission.

A bit of a pause, though not long, and Neku kind of hates this - all his supposed power, in the end, resting on what Joshua deigns to give him. He's got to change that, somehow, because eventually he's going to piss the Composer off, and not in the funny, won't-we-laugh-later way but more in the deep-sixed Shibuya way – Kitaniji couldn't even stop that from happening, and Kitaniji actually knew what the hell he was doing.

It's too many lives, too much at stake to fall at a whim, and the Angels didn't stop it the last time, and Neku might not know them, but he knows Joshua, probably better than the Composer thinks he does.

-If you make my Game boring, I'm taking it out on you.

Neku blushes, even though it's just a text and he's only hearing Joshua in his head. A shadow passes over him, Neku immediately shoving his phone in his pocket – at least one of them ought to display some sort of survival instinct, but it's just Eri grinning down at him.

"So how's the mystery boyfriend?"

"It's not... we're not... anything."

Which is entirely true, because Joshua doesn't make life simple enough for things like descriptions or even nouns most of the time. Eri makes a little amused, suspicious noise – definitely doesn't believe him – and Shiki looks up from her work, smiling at him around a few pins. Happy for him. It's hard to remember the last time anyone smiled at him like that.


So many rules, subsets of rules, and he stops counting which ones Joshua almost certainly broke when he runs out of fingers. Neku cleans up his room, finds the rest of his pins, the ones he hasn't given away. As the Conductor, though, he should be able to do anything the pins can do already, without having to search for them or giving them time to warm up.

Shiki said he was good with them, so he ought to be just as good without, right?

Neku sets himself mildly on fire twice, before seeking out a quiet corner of a nearby park for further practice. Flipping Frequencies is the easiest part, Neku realizes he must have been doing it even before now, that Hanekoma had probably noticed but decided to let him ease into it – as if anything with Joshua was ever easy.

Shibuya is so loud, so insistent, and Neku thinks he's starting to adjust to it but there's not much he can do about the excitement, the way his heart is racing – it's like being on the starting blocks, ready to take that first leap forward, every second. He'd guess that being manic is something like this, but those people can't exactly call up spheres of lightning just by thinking they can.

At least he doesn't have to go into Noise mode to fight all the time. Neku had been a little worried about that, and how many of his enemies he'd kill simply by having them laugh up their internal organs.

He doesn't look at his wings, not ever. Usually can't even feel their slight weight against his back, and really that's for the best. He doesn't like to think about them. It's not like any of the higher-ups had ever pulled theirs out anyway, until they were ready to do battle.

He's going to scare them, the Players. Neku's going to scare them, now, and whatever his intentions might be, he's still going to have to stand there and watch as they die for good.

You won't be Konishi. You won't be looking for ways to screw them. It won't be fun.

A lot of variability between cities and even sections of cities, from what he can tell, according to the official rules. All Games are not the same Game, not only due to size and location, and so it's up to him, to at least try to make it fair. As fair as he can.

Fire's easy, the psych called up with a thought, and after he stops singing his fingertips he's flinging it out in perfectly aimed lines. Lightning takes a little bit more effort, and isn't as fierce or direct as he'd like, more difficult to hold together than it was with the pins. It probably wouldn't hurt to do more work with telekinesis, though it had never seemed as satisfying bludgeoning the Noise when he could just fry it instead.

Barriers. He should be able to make barriers, and that might come in handy, and no, Neku's not thinking about boxing up Minamimoto because that would be wrong and immature but rather satisfying, yep – and Neku spreads his fingers wide, imagining the barrier rising up, solidifying – wonders how he's supposed to know if he's done it right. He waves his hand, can't feel anything, and turns around to pace back a few steps and try again only to smacks hard, nose first, into the invisible wall that's sprung up behind him.

It's really a very good idea to keep practicing where no one will notice.


The Game exists to refine Soul energy, to make the world a better place through increasing human potential. Players can Ascend or Reincarnate – or they just turn back into Soul, even if they win.

Neku stops, reads it over twice, along with the bit about only the Composer being able to Reincarnate and yeah, he's no longer feeling even the slightest bit impressed by Kitaniji's noble attempt to save the city - they're all assholes. Every single last one of them and god help him he is working for their king.

... and no, he definitely doesn't want to know what happened to Joshua's first partner, the poor bastard the Composer would have had to play with the first time, when he'd actually jacked Shibuya.

Actually, it's an interesting story.

Joshua never, ever uses shorthand when he texts, and Neku doesn't even bother to try, not needing the grief. He just keeps his replies short and to the point.

- No.

- You always complain that I never tell you anything.

When Joshua hasn't been irritating for a few hours or Neku hasn't called him – and these two things are a fairly 1:1 ratio – he feels a little guilty, that he's exchanging e-mails with Vancouver. Sure, he's talking to some of the others, too, a few of them even trading art tips and internet links – he needs a site like, yesterday – but it's different with Vancouver.

It's not like she doesn't tease him, will sometimes answer with some esoteric quote or a zen koan or song lyrics – and 'Common People' becomes his official Joshua ring tone the first time he reads through the words – but she knows about the Game. She knows a lot, and the one that she plays doesn't seem quite so terrible. The same stakes, the same costs, but it's not about being hunted, or trapped. It's not about fighting just to get back to normal.

It's a question, it's asking a question - is the life you're living even worth fighting for, or is it better to throw your cards in and try for another hand?

Always Games, always, but her words are not quite as dismissive as Joshua – he wouldn't be having this conversation with his Composer, Neku's pretty sure of that.

I just wish I could give everyone a second chance. Which sounds ridiculous – he knows it's ridiculous - but it's true.

What else do you think you're doing? He can feel her gentle humor there in the e-mail, just as easily as the ominous tone of the mission mails when he'd been in the Game. Will he be so terrifying to the Players now? Will he seem that inhuman, and cold?

At our strongest, a direct Imprint is only a suggestion. We're just moving pieces on the board, because that's all we can do. You can give someone the opportunity, you can hope and cheer, but after all that, you can't change someone's mind for them.

The Red Pins had been Kitaniji's attempt, and that had just turned everyone into zombies, stopping the risk by eliminating the chance for growth altogether.

Neku sure hadn't listened to Shiki, when she'd only been trying to help him, to keep him alive. So locked into his own certainty about the way things were, the way other people were. Would he have even fought so hard not to be erased, if he'd still had his memories? ... and man, that's a question Neku wishes he could un-ask himself.

The Game is cruel, and hard – but there is a truth to it, a logical mechanism. He's read through that section of the rules a half-dozen times, not sure he still has it quite right but getting the general idea. It takes a lot of power, to change a Soul's frequency from the UG back to the RG, to bring the dead permanently back to life, even for the Composer. If a Player doesn't want to go back, doesn't want it with everything they've got – it won't happen. If they're not strong enough, they'll just disappear anyway.

The Game generates its own energy, to keep the UG together, to keep the Reapers alive and give the Players any kind of chance at coming back to life. If it didn't exist, there would be no chance, not for anyone, and Shibuya might not even be like it is, alive and thriving, and Neku knows he has no choice. Maybe knew it from the start, even if he can't quite stop trying to convince himself.


- Vending machines.

Neku doesn't bother texting hellos any more than he bothers being polite in any other way, not that Joshua doesn't know exactly what he's talking about, doesn't respond in an instant. The Composer probably knows when his phone's about to ring. Neku wonders what his ringtone sounds like.

-Add a verb, Conductor dear.

-We need vending machines, pin-operated, at least between Cat and the Scramble.

Because CAT may be a fantastic artist, but his food is the kind of thing Neku tries to swallow without tasting, and the coffee... well, he's a really fantastic artist.

- I'll make you a trade.

Well, that didn't take long. Neku's more than a little nervous about negotiating – Kitaniji proved how well that works - but he has to give a little bit, if there's any hope of future taking, and Neku flicks his phone out of text mode and calls, because they might as well get this over with at a proper speed.

"Also, no one gets attacked until everyone is paired up."

The laugh he expected, Joshua's indulgent tone making it difficult not to toss the phone into the street. "We might as well just open an amusement park. With a petting zoo for the Noise. Like Disneyland. For dead people."

"It's not coddling them, to give them a half-decent chance of surviving to day two."

"Hnnn." Joshua says, not really agreeing – Neku will need to push on the point later, or just ignore the Composer and do it anyway. Always better to ask forgiveness than permission – and with Joshua he's hardly about to do the former, either.

"It's going to cost you, Neku. A few night games might be a good start, provide a bit of well-needed variety."

It probably kicks up more Noise, or something bad, or else Joshua wouldn't sound so smug.

"Just remember, I actually have a life."

"Of course I remember, Neku."

And the menace in those simple, cheerful words is enough to take his breath away, and he's glad he's on the phone. Every once in a while, he almost forgets who he's dealing with. It's easy to stare in awe at the falling star, the tidal wave. It's something entirely different to befriend it.

... and is there ever, ever a story where loving it turns out to be a good idea?

The Conductor's guide has a considerable section of notes on the Composer, though nearly all of that has to do with his obligation to the Composer, his duties and responsibilities which are pretty much as "Neku Sakuraba: Meat Shield" as he expected they would be. Of course, no matter how low his expectations of Joshua can get, there's always another gem to unearth.

"The Composer's connections to other souls are by design tenuous. The Conductor has certain protections within his own power, but inevitably a Composer's Soul will overwrite the Music of lesser beings, effectively erasing them from the inside out."

Neku stops, reads it again, just to make sure it says what he thinks it does.

"Lesser beings." Well damn, Josh. Glad you decided that was a risk worth taking. You ass.

It's the truth, what he said to Hanekoma, what it meant. Joshua is the most irritating, unpredictable and dangerous person Neku has ever met, and he makes Neku feel alive, even more than Shibuya, more than his art – more than anything. No one else keeps up with him as well, listens to him if only for the chance to show him up – and it has nothing to do with what happened at the end of the second week, not really, not anymore. Joshua thinks it's so funny, seems to believe that Neku feels the way he does out of some sort of stubborn obligation, like it's all payback.

But this is exactly what it was like, the last time he had a friend, someone who understood it when the world was dull and boring and someone who laughed with him when everything was stupid and just knew him – and losing that, losing Joshua had been the worst of it all over again, a reminder Neku didn't need, of how alone he truly was. If there's anything that keeps him doubting the Composer's omniscience, that's it - that Joshua ever thought Neku would be able to pull the trigger. He still doesn't seem to realize he couldn't have set the stakes high enough.

... and kissing him is still... wow, top on the list of his big, stupid mistakes, because being around Joshua tends to involve a lot of big, stupid mistakes – but would he really undo it if he could? When Joshua had kissed him back?


Beat breaks his arm attempting to ollie the un-ollieable, and so they all gather at the hospital to wait with Rhyme, who kicks her feet just a little, hiding her nervousness well for being so young, although Shiki is quick to reassure her - everything will be fine.

It's a little strange, stepping outside of Shibuya, but other than the way the music wavers slightly, there's no real change. He doesn't see anyone, no challenges – their Game must be on an off week too, or else the story had already spread, what he'd done to Manhattan. Neku's in no way comfortable trading on that fight, but there's nothing to do, so he might as well take advantage of it.

A week to go, trying hard not to think about it. He's got plenty of homework and two minor projects and yeah, it's still barely a distraction. Neku's jumpy, doesn't even realize how much until he realizes what he's listening to.

The RG and the UG are less separate than ever, now that he's officially the Conductor, and for the most part he can ignore it, pushing his Frequency down until it gives him a low-grade headache but sometimes that's easier to deal with.

Beat's music is off slightly, the injury making itself known even there, but he's fine, his melody strong as always, simple but unwavering. Neku can hear the similarities between it and Rhyme's now, the connection they have as siblings. Still a few notes in hers that shouldn't be there, wouldn't be except that she had been Noise once, but it doesn't mean anything now. Whatever else might happen, his friends are safe in the RG. Shiki is a bright and steady presence at his side, as always, her Music as familiar as his own – and she'd be amazed, probably embarrassed, to know how loud she sings.

... but there's something else here, too. It keeps slipping in and out, beneath the ever-constant shuffle of what Neku's grown accustomed to, but this is different, a whisper, like a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye.

"Yo, Neku! You gonna tag this for me, right?" Beat says, grinning, proudly holding up his plaster-laden arm, wrapped nearly to the elbow, as Rhyme sighs in dismay, but relieved to have her brother still in one piece.

"Neku? Is everything all right?" Shiki's noticed his preoccupation, and Neku fumbles for an excuse. He's going to need to come up with a stockpile of them soon, doubts there's much in the book that will help him out there. Everything written in the rules seems to assume the Conductor is treating the Game as his primary duty – that no one has ever really tried to live a double life, or kept their RG life as paramount.

"I... uh, I just remembered there's something I gotta do. I'll, um, I'll catch up with you later. Ok?"

"Oh... okay." Shiki says, and Rhyme waves goodbye, Beat yelling something Neku doesn't hear – too focused on that near-silent melody, a distant sound at the end of some long hall. The hospital is huge, full of all kinds of unfamiliar Music – walking past the room full of newborns is particularly strange, their melodies barely more than a few plinking notes, but so loud, a xylophone shoved down a staircase.

Neku's got his eyes closed, after a while, a little surprised that no one is stopping him as he moves along, head tilted, trying to hear... what is that? Why does it sound so strange?

"Oh damn, finally. I thought I'd have to come out there and get you myself."

Neku stops, opens his eyes. The girl is watching him from a hospital bed, slightly inclined. She's maybe about his age, though it's difficult to tell, with how skeletal she is. Nearly bald, her skin an odd, gray color, but her gaze is sharp enough.

"So, what's your name then?"

"Neku." He says, too surprised not to answer.

"Oh, that's adorable. I would totally have stolen you from your girlfriend." She smiles. It looks like it almost hurts. "Sorry. I kind of stopped caring what I said when it stopped mattering."

He shouldn't be here, really shouldn't be, but the song is definitely coming from – and Neku knows then, what he's been listening to. What it sounds like, what a Conductor can hear when someone is dying.

The girl glances down at the I.V. in her arm, the room surprisingly empty otherwise. No monitors, no machines.

"Yeah, it's kind of a downer when they don't even bother hooking anything up anymore. I'm kind of in and out these days, though – in more ways than one."

She sighs, still hasn't moved much more than her head, giving him a surprisingly thorough once-over anyway.

"You're a little underdressed for a shinigami. I kind of thought you'd be taller. Beautiful wings, though."

Neku turns, startled, but the rise of black is definitely there, stretching out behind him – so he's in the UG, maybe, which is why no one has said anything – and yet, she can still see him.

"I'm not... I..."

"I've seen you before, all of you. My mom used to take me for walks, before it got bad, and I saw you then. What are you all doing out there?"

Neku did not sign up for this. He did not sign up for any of this. The girl hasn't looked away from him, her gaze intent and curious.

"I can keep a secret. I'll be finding out on my own soon, anyway, right?"

"It-they call it a Game. Some people who die, they have to fight, and if they win, sometimes they get to come back to life."

Also, it's full of absolute bastards, but if Neku gets into the specifics of that, they'll be here until sometime next week.

"Any sick people in your Game?"

Neku's read the rules. It's a game for the young, for unexpected, unforeseen deaths. Accidents, the kind of people 'taken before their time,' and he doesn't understand why illness doesn't count, but he slowly shakes his head.

"Shame."

"You don't want to play. It's... it's terrible."

Her gaze is withering, flexing her hand, the IV shifting in her arm.

"Worse than this? I don't mean to spoil your reputation, but you don't really seem that bad."

"You get hunted, like it's a sport." Neku says, wonders who he's talking to and what point he's trying to make. "In order to even play, you have to give up the thing you love most in the world."

"It was soccer. It would have been." She says, and her lower lip trembles for a moment. Neku finally notices the picture on the table next to her, the girl in uniform, a ball at her feet. Not so young, and yet it's hard to imagine they're at all the same person. "I was so fast."

Neku can see it, if he wants to look, it's all in her Music, so quiet and thin but he doesn't want to look, doesn't want to be here. Takes a quick step back.

"I think I should go."

"No!"

She reaches out, lets out a little whimper – it hurts her to do it, and Neku steps forward as she falls back against the bed, but her hand is around his wrist, her fingers like bone, holding on to him with her eyes because there's no strength in her, anywhere else.

"You have to. Please. It's why you're here, it has to be. Please, don't leave me alone."

Neku doesn't know what she wants, why she's looking at him so desperately, and then it all, sickeningly, snaps together, hits him hard in the gut as his world goes gray at the edges.

"No. Oh, no. No."

He's so stunned, horrified, he can't even pull away, and her eyes are glistening, tears and desperation as she tries to smile.

"Come on, I'll owe you one."

If his legs were working right, hadn't locked up, Neku would be running now, fast. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't have to be here, this isn't the deal, this isn't any part of the deal.

"Please." Her voice cracks, her other hand reaching up as the first falls back, using up all her strength to keep him near. "Please, you're supposed to take me. You have to. Everything hurts, everything hurts all the time, and all I do is sit and think about who I used to be. How it's all over, and I don't – I don't want to be scared anymore. It'll be dark, and I don't want to go. I don't want to go alone, in the dark."

She's crying, and before he can think Neku's sitting at the edge of the bed, an arm around her, her head against his chest, his free hand stroking the thin edge of fuzz where her hair should be as she clutches at him, still begging him brokenly, the words crumbling to pieces.

"Sssh, don't. It's all right. Don't, you don't have to..." Neku takes a breath around the sudden clench in his chest, fear and sadness and something very close to panic. "I don't even know how. I don't think I can - I'm kind of... new at this, and I don't..."

She laughs a little, in between sobs, still leaning against him.

"Well, aren't we just a pair of winners."

She's so tired, he can see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she's slumped against him. So thin and so exhausted and in this moment, if he could Neku would trade his life for hers, but that's even further beyond him. He hates feeling so powerless, helpless, and reaches out for that thin whispery melody, maybe some comfort there, something he can – and Neku sucks in a slow, shuddering breath as he feels it change, feels the fragile tension there - and the girl gasps, going still, watching him with wide eyes.

"You can. You can, can't you?"

Slowly, carefully Neku eases her back against the pillows. It's damn near impossible to stand up, his whole body cast from lead. He wants to tell her not to ask, that she doesn't have any right to ask him and he can't possibly, there's a rule, there has to be a rule – but she hasn't stopped watching him, red-rimmed eyes so afraid and so desperate and she's dying. He can't stop that, he can't save her.

"Please?" She tries to smile, obviously searching for a way to convince him. "Please, Neku."

He has both hands down, leaning against the bed, just trying to breathe. It's a beautiful day outside, the sun shining, the entire world a total fucking bastard and Neku screws his eyes shut, his wings stretching out – and her hand on his hand. Her fingers are cold.

"You're a good person. Thank you. I'm glad. I'm glad it was you."

He can't do this. He has no right to do this and he can't do this, and Neku takes a breath in, and reaches. Finds the thin, thready line of music, imagines his hand around it, pulling – and snaps it, feels it waver, crumbling under his touch.

The girl shudders, but there's not much left in her body to fight, and Neku hears her exhale, that last breath, feels her go. A shining ribbon of light and sound that unfurls like one pure note, rising up, twisting just for a moment around his wrist like a kite string, as if to pull him along. Laughter, and wanting, so much potential and so much joy and he knows her. Neku breathes in sharp and painful, and knows her whole life as well as he knows himself, and even as he reaches out it slips free, lets go and gone.

She's gone.

He doesn't even know her name.

Neku's staggering back, away, but whatever happens next is a blind blur, all his strength left just to stay in control, scrabbling madly just to stay upright and keep moving down the hall and his hand hits a door, swings open and he's in a bathroom, shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. He makes it to the stall, fingers shaking, it takes two tries just to lock the door.

One hand against his mouth, tears falling over his knuckles and Neku really shouldn't be crying, curled up on a toilet and shaking and oh god, he killed her. He killed her because she asked him to, because she was hurting and he felt her go and she's dead and the loss of it crashes over him, like losing a sister, like dying all over again.

He can't do this. It's going to destroy him. He can't do this.

A vibration in his pocket – he switched his phone to mute when they arrived, and it's Shiki, looking for him, Neku scrubbing at his eyes just to see the message clearly. He tries to think of a reply, wants to text something. If she was here he'd just put his arms around her and never let go, not ever, but everything is blank – gone, so beautiful and gone forever – and he can't even think how his world's supposed to go back together and Shiki will just have to wait.