Whew, these just keep coming.

I've planned out the remainder of the story: it's going to be approximately 33 chapters, give or take, plus an epilogue. It really won't seem like it's that long, though: once we get into part four (starting chapter 22), it's pretty much nonstop action.

I particularly enjoyed writing Cube's scene in this chapter.

Chapter Twenty

Cube smiles at the sight of places she recognizes outside her bus window: a coffee shop, that greasy burger place, Combo's once-favorite electronics store. Her arms are draped loosely around her bag, her headphones gladly playing a steady beat into her ears, the hood of Combo's sweatshirt up comfortingly over her head. She feels warm and at home, here, in this place that she remembers. This place that used to be Home. Until a few years ago…

They drive under the train tracks, and she leans against the window, shocked when she suddenly sees a kid fly out of a half-pipe close by. She scoots up in her seat to get a better look, and she sees him skid to a stop and high-five another kid in baggy clothes in the bottom of the concrete valley, laughing. She blinks and grins, pressing one hand up against the glass. Those kids can't be any older than twelve…and yet…it's such a happy sight. Those kids will be Rudies, someday, she thinks. It reminds her so much of her and Coin and Combo that she feels her heart swell. God…so many good memories in this place. I can't believe I waited so long to come back.

The bus groans and slows to a stop on a street corner by a bench, and the doors hiss open as Cube pulls her headphones down around her neck and slings her bag over her shoulder. She pushes her way down the line, nodding when the bus driver tells her to have a nice day, holding onto the stop sign when she finally gets out onto the sidewalk. It's probably around five o'clock, and a little colder here than it was in Tokyo, so she's glad she's wearing a hoodie. She beams to herself as she glances around, taking in the sight of even more old haunts of hers: the theater, the post office, the street leading into Grind Square. But she has to focus. She pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear and nods purposefully to herself, turning and walking in the opposite direction to find what she came here to get. She's not wearing her skates, even though she knows it'd be faster: part of that reason is so that she can look around and take the city in while she's here. She doesn't know how long it'll be before she gets a chance to come here again, so she wants to reinforce as many of her memories of it as possible.

She turns the corner. It smells like smoke and rain, out here. Not like Tokyo-to, which always stinks of car exhaust and tar and aerosol…or cigarettes and cheeseburgers, on good days. She scratches her head with one hand and feels with the other along the waistband of her pants, where she's hidden a small, folded piece of paper with specific directions to where she needs to go. Tenth Street South…I'm here. Two blocks, up the hill…catch a cab. Okay. Easy. She folds the paper again and sticks it back where it was, readjusting the strap over her shoulder and walking easily down the sidewalk. Grind City is also much less crowded than Tokyo-to, she notices, smirking to herself. A lot of the other GG's would love it here. Plenty of room to run wild. And it looks like there hasn't been much Rudie activity in this area as of late: all of the graffiti is faded or painted over to the point of near-nonexistence.

Cube touches a metal bench at a bus stop, and she hesitates, remembering that she used to grind that very bench every day, closely followed by Coin…was it really this bench? Or just one like it…? She stops, turns, looks at it. Looks closer. Her eyes widen, then narrow, saddened, confused. It's still scuffed from their skates. After a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, trying all of a sudden to clear her thoughts of Triple C and the approaching memories of the bad times in all that's too-far-gone.Stupid that they wouldn't fix up the benches, though, she thinks, hitting her knuckles nonchalantly against the metal before turning around to continue onward.

She jolts backward when she finds herself staring through a pair of red sunglasses into a pair of equally crimson eyes. The pale boy grins up at her through stringy green bangs.

"…Y-Yoyo?!" she asks, shocked. She squints. Something's not right…

"I don't have time to kill that fool and his harem," he says quickly, quietly. "You will have to come with me to fulfill my promise to those idiots in the sewers, Lady."

Her eyes widen in sudden realization. "…You…! Oh my god…you're…!!!" Her skates are in her bag…

She moves to run. He swings his arm forward, something heavy collides with the side of her head, and she blacks out.

"So what was with what I heard from Boogie earlier about some outburst you had at One-Pound Burger last night?" Corn asks, his voice calm, falsely unconcerned. He and Gum are sitting beneath the elevated platform in the outside portion of the Garage: clouds have finally gathered, and it's misting, a little. He has his hands folded against the back of his neck.

Gum looks at him. "…Soda was being…Soda. That's all. So I was a little on-edge."

"He made a deal with me. And apparently, all he did was hold up his end of the deal. That doesn't sound too much to me like he was provoking you. He was only supposed to tell you that you looked nice."

Gum bites her lip, but stays firm. "…So I thought he was being a dick on purpose and said some shit about him. Big deal. He wasn't even there to hear it, so it's not like it matters."

Corn frowns. "You like it when people talk shit about you behind your back?"

"…No, but that's not what I—"

"That's exactly what you meant," he says quietly. "You think he's an exception, for some reason? That he doesn't feel that kind of thing, just like you do? Gum…for Christ's sake, Gum, I thought we'd already talked about this."

She grits her teeth and takes her time to blink, so he won't see her rolling her eyes at him. "…You told me some sob story about him when he was a kid, and I believed it…but…I had a pretty shitty childhood, too, Corn, and you know I did—"

"Yeah, your mom left, your dad killed himself, your sister OD'd. From there, the orphanage. And my parents died in a car accident, but there ain't shit I can do about it but accept a little sympathy from my friends," Corn says tensely. "I know you feel like people don't care enough about what happened to you, but that's really all I'm asking for, Gum. Just put aside your own needs for once and have a little sympathy for the guy. He feels bad for you."

She looks at him suspiciously. "You asked him?"

"He told me."

"Oh, that's bullshit if I ever heard it," she growls, picking uncomfortably at a spot on the ground. "He gives a shit about me that's the same size as the one I give about him. Miniscule. He wouldn't tell you that kind of crap unless he knew you wanted to hear it from him…which he probably did. He was lying. Straight-up lying. Just to get you to like him, or whatever the fuck he wants."

Corn raises his head up so that he can look Gum in the eyes, and there's coldness behind the blue of his irises: anger. "…He has never once lied to me," he says bitterly, and Gum feels something hurt inside, like he's accusing her of something awful. She knows what it is. She knows exactly what it is. She frowns distractedly at him, to put him off, but he keeps going, getting control of himself again. "Gum…whatever the hell is bothering you…please just tell me what it is now. I'm so fuckin' sick of you and him at each other's throats all the time…both of you acting like I belong to you. It's so fuckin' childish. Just tell me what's wrong, so I can help you grow the hell up."

She looks at him. Stares into his eyes. He used to be so handsome, she thinks…in this weird way, a way that couldn't be pinpointed. He was younger, back then. He never used to look so cold and tough. His eyes used to be bluer…his hair, wilder. He could grin and it would set her on fire. Now, though…it's barely been a year, and he looks like he's aged ten. He's less vibrant, more subtle: thinner, faster, mellower. He rarely shouts anymore. But growing up…she can see all those flaws, now, and she can barely see how handsome he still is. It balances things out, the present with the past, and she thinks she might understand, now. He was so attractive to her because he loved her so much. Because even though he knew all of her flaws, he still treated her like she was somebody special.

Now, he doesn't. Now she's just Gum. And Soda's more important to him than she is. His shoulder to cry on. His Best Friend Forever. While she's just…there.

She swallows, scowls, holds it in. "I…hate…him. I hate him, Corn. He's in my way, he's rude, he's pathetic, he treats me like shit, he thinks he's better than me, he tells me my relationship with you was a sham, that I didn't really love you…well, what the fuck does he know, Corn?! He wasn't even there until three weeks before we broke up…he doesn't know shit, does he?! Does he know about how you felt about me, Corn? Does he realize how close we were?!"

Corn falters. Silence falls between them for a few seconds while he looks her over, confused. "…Of course he doesn't…Gum…I wouldn't tell him every fuckin' thing…some things should be kept private…"

"Like what? What did you never tell him?! You tell him everything!" she argues, feeling a lump starting to gather in her throat. She swallows it painfully. She won't cry over him anymore…she promised herself…

He looks upset. Like it hurts to talk about this. Even to think about it. "…I….I didn't…tell him that I used to take you up into the Skyscraper District to watch the sunrise in the satellite dishes, back when they were still…still building everything," he mutters. She feels her temper softening. "Before I turned it into…just a hangout, for us…he…h-he doesn't know that…that we…" he trails off, and the expression on his face hurts her. Does he still love me…or does it just hurt that much…? She knows what she wants to hear from him. What he won't ever say, because he knows she'd just break his heart again. Maybe she knows it, too.

"…We made love up there," she finishes quietly, monotonously. She hears the sadness in her own voice, too. Made love. "…Do you remember…you used to tell me that everything was mine…all the stars…and that you would protect me…"

"…I…y-yeah…" Corn nods, looks down. His mouth is pursed into a very thin, precise line, and she doesn't see it, but when he reaches up to scratch his face, he wipes the corner of his eye, too. He fakes a laugh. "Kind of stupid, huh? I was such a stupid kid back then. So many poetic promises, no real way to carry any of them out."

There's a strange, stale quiet between them for several long moments, the words—their memories—hanging between them like a dense fog, and she watches him, thinking, wondering.

"...I didn't think it was stupid," she murmurs. He looks at her. His eyes are wet.

"…Gum…for God's sake, Gum…what the fuck really happened between us…?" he asks, his voice strained, so weak. She hasn't heard it like this in such a long time…she can't even really remember when. She swallows hard again. "…I still don't understand…I d-don't get why you said what you did…"

"That's because you're a damn fool, Corn," she says quietly, looking away. "You're a goddamn fool who couldn't see what was right the fuck under his nose…couldn't see that it just would never have worked out…"

She's doing it again, though: pushing him back, resisting. Lying to him. He wants to know what happened. What's wrong. Why are you crying? Fuck off. It was so important to him back then. Still is, now. But she still can't handle it. Still can't face facts and own up to what she did. But it was so horrible…such a fucking heartless thing to do…to him…when he loved me…he trusted me…he just wanted…he just wanted to get married…She shakes her head. She had called him pathetic. A lousy choice to replace Beat as leader of the GG's. Simple-minded. Soft. Spineless. Immature. All of these things to deflect from the truth…to keep him from calling her things.Bitch. Cunt. Liar. Coward. Cheat. Slut. Evil. Cruel. I hate you, Gum. I fuckin' hate you. How could you do that?! How could you do that to us…?! When we had so much…

And he would have given her the world, she knows…he would've sacrificed everything to make it work out…

But he never did any of that. He never had the chance. Because he never found out what had happened.

She's crying, silently. His face is in his hand, but he's regained control of himself. "…I'm over you, Gum, but…that doesn't mean that the past doesn't hurt, still. It always will. You know that? So long as you don't tell me what happened…I'll never be numb to it. And neither will you. Neither will anyone else."

"Shut up," she mutters. "Just shut up, Corn…"

He looks up at her slowly, controlling his breathing, watching the tears roll down her cheeks. He blinks and reaches out to her, touches her arm, holds her hand. She flinches and just lets it sit limply in his fingers. Too many memories of being so close to him…she can't. She can't show any more weakness, any more vulnerability. His words are gentle, wanting to understand, trying to see what she wants from him.

But he can't give her that. Not anymore.

"…Are…are you still in love with me, Gum…?" he asks softly.

She closes her eyes and doesn't answer. Just like before, she's too scared of what he'd say if he knew the truth.

It's raining steadily outside the music store on Dogenzaka Hill where Garam and Rhyth have found shelter, droplets trailing lazily down the windowpanes as the two of them browse through the CDs for the third time in the past hour. Garam is cold, his clothes still soaked through, and the air conditioning in this place isn't helping him out, much. He glances up from where he's mindlessly moving CDs around and finds Rhyth a little further down the line, her damp hair clinging to her face, her dress soggy and sticking to her legs. She has her jacket on, but he can still see her shivering a little: she's a small girl, and wearing a wet jacket isn't going to help her get warm. He feels a little bad. It had been his suggestion to go out again, on a more purposeful date than just a doughnut in the afternoon, but he hadn't known that it was going to rain today. He puts a disc back and skates over to her, the man behind the counter watching him carefully until he disappears behind the shelves. She smiles at him when he's beside her, her teeth chattering, and he frowns.

"You alright?" he asks.

"Oh, yes," she says, "just cold. I'll be okay. I feel silly for not thinking to bring an umbrella, too."

"Hold on. I'll see if that guy back there has a heater in the back room or something," Garam says, and she grins.

"You're so sweet," she murmurs, and he smiles at her before skating back over to the checkout counter and leaning casually against it. The man eyes him suspiciously.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"Yeah…you got a heater or something my…friend can sit by? She's a tiny thing, y'know, she's really cold…just something to help her warm up before we have to go out into the rain again?" Garam asks. The man looks at him warily, uncertain of these oddly-dressed kids. But after a moment or two he nods, muttering something to himself about how he can't say no to that kind of compassion before he responds.

"…Yeah, sure, kid," he sighs, messing with a set of keys that he pulls out of his pocket as he gestures to the door over his shoulder. The door has a plaque on it reading STAFF ONLY, and the man blinks up at Garam. "It should be in the back corner. Just plug it in. There should be some chairs back there for you to sit in, too. Just don't stay back there all day. I'll sell you some ponchos if you want 'em before you head out again."

"Sure," Garam replies, nodding. "Thanks, man." He heads back down the aisle to find Rhyth while the man unlocks the back room, and he gently leads her behind the counter and through the door, thankful when the man closes the door behind them and gives them privacy. Garam glances around. It's more of an office than a store room, with dark gray carpeting and a u-shaped desk set up on the far wall. He spots the heater tucked into the corner behind a rack of cleaning supplies, and he pulls it over to the desk, setting it up on the surface and nodding toward the rolling chair that's sitting in the middle of the floor. "Here," he says, "sit down."

"…Arigato," Rhyth says quietly, and she watches him turn the meter up to seven before he leans against the desk, casually glancing at it every once in a while to make sure that it's warming up. He stops looking at it once it starts glowing red, and Rhyth takes her jacket off, rubbing her damp arms to help them absorb the heat more quickly. Garam gently spreads her jacket out on the surface of the desk, and she looks down at her knees, silent.

After a while, he clears his throat. "You feeling any better?" he asks, and she nods.

"Hai," she replies. "…Thank you for doing this. You really didn't have to…"

"Sure I did," he argues. "And it's better than being cold, yeah?"

"Hmm," she nods again. Garam looks at her, confused. She looks worried about something: her eyebrows slanted uncomfortably, her lips pursed and contemplative. He touches her shoulder, and she looks at him.

"You sure you're okay, girl?" he urges gently, and she looks troubled.

"…Do you really like me, Garam?" she asks. "I mean…you want to…be my boyfriend…?"

He feels nervous, all of a sudden, but he smiles at her. "Yeah. I'd like to." He's only mostly sure, at this point, but she doesn't need to know that. He can only like her more. He squeezes her shoulder affectionately, and she reaches up and puts her hand on his. She's warm from the heater: he can feel it even through his glove.

"I've never had a boyfriend before," she says softly. "I…I mean, I've had crushes on guys, but…I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Are there rules, to being a girlfriend? Are we supposed to have sex?"

Garam's eyes widen, and he feels his face get hot. "I…n-no, I mean…if you don't want to, we don't have to…Rhyth…what…what gave you that idea?"

She frowns. "…I don't know. My mother always told me that people only have sex when they're in love. It's…kind of confusing, though, because Beat and Gum are together, and they have sex, but…I really don't think…that Gum is in love with him."

Garam furrows his eyebrows. So she sees it too, huh? I wonder who else does. "…Well I think your mother was right," he says. "I wouldn't have sex with somebody unless I loved them."

"Clutch wasn't like that," Rhyth says, her voice quiet, still…but less upset, more thoughtful. "But then…Cube and Combo are in love, and I hardly ever hear them having sex."

"You…you listen for that?!"

Rhyth looks at him like he's insane. "Well, the walls are pretty thin, and we all stay up pretty late," she says matter-of-factly. He supposes that she's right: he's heard it before, too…never on purpose, though. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop. She sighs. "…I think there are exceptions to my mother's idea. People can't all be classified like that…but…it would be so much simpler if they could…"

"Rhyth…are you worried?" Garam asks, puzzled. "You think I'm like Clutch, or something?"

"No…I…not now…" she says. "I guess I was a little scared…I just…don't want to do something that I'm not ready to do…"

"I would never make you do anything," Garam assures her, taking her hand in his. She looks at him closely, her eyes big, shining, amazed. "You're my friend…I don't wanna hurt you, girl. You're too sweet…you care too much about shit, okay? You don't deserve to get hurt."

The heater clicks—it must be old—and Rhyth's mouth twitches, pulling into a small, relaxed smile. He reaches up with his other hand and brushes wet hair out of her face. She's so much prettier when she's happy, it's almost frightening. Garam leans down and kisses her gently, only pecking her lips, not sure if she'd want anything else. Her hand finds the back of his neck, moves slowly down his jaw, sends a chill up his spine. She presses her forehead against his, but keeps her eyes closed, pulling him closer to her. Rhyth stands up and hugs him, rests her face against the damp curve of his neck, sighs contentedly. Garam touches her back, feels her shoulder blades. She smiles.

"…Domo arigato, Garamu-kun," she whispers, and he nods, smiling as well. For once in his life, he feels like everything just might be okay.

There's something wrong with the sight of such a small boy carrying a much taller girl in his arms down the rainy aisles of Shibuya Terminal, but the pedestrians shake it off without much thought, huddled under their umbrellas and running to find shelter from the pouring rain. The boy skates with a limp, though it seems to have nothing to do with the woman in his arms, a fierce, cold grin plastered to his face even in the torrential rain. He's dripping with rain, his pale skin seemingly unaffected by the cold water.

A man—or perhaps not—in a silvery, space-age suit skates up beside him, frightening because of the rectangular panel of blinking lights that makes up much of his face…or lack thereof. The other skater inclines his head toward the boy, asking in a dull, electronic voice:

"Shall I alert our superiors of your success?"

The boy nods. "Yes, 387. Tell Zero that I'm delivering the girl now. He should be most pleased."

"Right away, 3000, Sir," the Noise Tank whirs. It skates off in the opposite direction to fulfill its mission, while NT-3000 continues on toward Rokkaku-Dai Heights and the sewers, Cube still unconscious in his arms. Lightning spikes overhead.

He smiles at the thought of how Zero will reward him.