"Hey, Neku!"
He's been holding out this tiny, naive hope that at least the weeks of his life that he's not in the Game will maybe not be quite so weird. So far it's been a whole lot of watching that hope get crushed into a twitching, whimpering paste.
"Hey, uh. Man." Neku says. Wild Boar hasn't ever been one of his favorite brands but Beat was a big fan and that last week, they'd been scrambling for any help they could get. So he must have spent some time here, for the clerk to be grinning at him like that.
Right?
Shiki and Eri had taken off shortly after arriving, still giggling and giving him weird looks, with a promise to meet up later in the week and the demand that he'd keep his phone on this time. Neku had no idea how discreet Eri usually was - but really, nobody was going to believe her, if she started spreading it around that he - ok, so Shiki and Eri had obviously thought, but that was just… and 777 had-
No. Everyone is just teasing him, and he doesn't have the experience to know better. There is no way that anyone is hitting on him, except of course Joshua, who is crazy-
"So how's it going?" The Wild Boar clerk says brightly. The kind of brightly that just shouldn't come from a guy wearing chains. "Man, I ain't seen you around in a while."
"Uhhhh… yeah. I've been… uh, super busy." Neku's scrambling through his memories, trying to think of just when this guy figured out his name, or if there was anything he'd done during that last Game week - god, all of it had just been a panicked blur. "Listen, I was supposed to ask you - BJ, from Def March? He says you've got some kind of practice room key." Running wild-goose-chase errands for Def March, that just never stops being fun.
He'd finished the Reports after Shiki and Eri left, and had been grinding down on his pile of homework - most of it just tedious rather than difficult - when he'd heard the stomp of boots outside and a chaos he'd probably grow accustomed to, the sound of an entire band of Reapers taking over his front room. At least BJ and Tenho had the decency to look chagrined, actively avoiding his eyes as Neku had stared, the equipment they'd brought with them - an amplifier, a guitar and two cymbals, so far - already taking up a good portion of the wall.
"The hell?"
777's long-legged slouch left him nearly touching both walls, pressing a bottle of water against his forehead, tiny drops of condensation leaking onto his fingers. What was it with this guy and being wet?
"Don't worry. We're not gonna set up a studio here. Crap acoustics, for one." He grinned. Neku didn't. "We just needed somewhere to drop the stuff - I thought our usual practice room was still open," and here a pause, and a glare at the rest of the band. BJ cringes. "-but it seems someone gave up the key so he could get some cash for a date."
So he needed someone to go get it, while he and the band kept moving their stuff around. Neku didn't even consider asking 777 why he couldn't do it himself - he looked pale, even now, a stiffness and caution in his movements that belonged to a man three times his age, and a strange transparency that Neku didn't like at all, his Music thready, still missing the occasional note.
So here he is, standing at the register as the guy from Wild Boar ignores another customer entirely to disappear in the back room, and he hears the sound of rattling boxes and a curse as a few heavy things hit the floor all at once.
"Sorry, man" He steps back out, actually looking as if he really means it. "You know Iwata, one of the clerks over at Towa? I think he borrowed it for a friend, but he should have it back now." He grins. "Hey man, are they getting the band back together?"
Neku plays stupid, not quite sure how these things work in the world of rock and roll, what secrets to keep and what to reveal. "No idea. Thanks for looking."
"Anytime, Neku. Hey, come back in a coupla weeks, we got some limited edition decks coming in. I'll hold one for ya!"
"Yeah, uh. Sure. Thanks."
Neku sort of half-runs down the street, pretending he's not. Because nothing happened. The guy is just being a store clerk. Trying to make a sale. Neku's just nervous, and reading too much into it. He's being oversensitive, because of… well, because of Josh, and because, yes it seems like the Composer was lying when he said everyone would be able to tell, but sometimes Neku still feels like anyone can look at him and see everything they've already done together, right there on his skin. He knows he's still getting out of the responsibility, or what it should be, because Shiki doesn't remember and Beat doesn't remember and if they did they would never forgive him for what he's become, for the fact that Joshua whistles and he just comes running.
"Hey, Neku!"
Neku very nearly does a header into the street, freezing in the way that anime characters do just before the impossibly large hammer drops.
"Oh wow, it's great to see you! How've you been? Wow, I am loving that outfit. How crazy are you?"
Now Neku knows this guy - well no, doesn't know him, not really, but even waist-deep in the shit in the Game weeks, he remembers this particular clerk was always a little… friendly.
"It's HT. Masuoka? You don't remember me, huh?" One hand slides through his shaggy dark hair. Neku remembers a science show he saw once - why people mess with their hair, it's a body language thing, when they're trying to impress a potential mate. And is there a reason he needs to remember that right now?
"No." Neku says, politeness overruling the urge to scream and run. "You're HT, from Cadoi City. You… uh… you play soccer right?"
"You do remember!" Annnnd he's hugged. Great.
"Hey, uh… listen." Neku says, finally disentangling himself. "I'd like to hang out and chat, but I've got this errand I've got to go run."
"You wanna get lunch first? On me."
Neku gets ready to say no exactly as his stomach reminds him that his all-new, extra-fast metabolism hasn't eaten anything in at least three hours, which is two hours and forty minutes overdue.
"Awwww." HT says. "You shouldn't starve yourself like that. Come on, I'll buy you some fries."
"Neku, hey!"
The girl with the pigtails beams at him from behind the fast-food counter, and at this point Neku's checking to make sure it isn't a pin. One of those altered Player pins that makes everyone think only about smiling and being really nice to him. Really, really nice. Neku smiles back at her and lets her load them down with an extra order of onion rings and two doubles instead of the singles they ordered. HT gives him a look that has Neku halfway to running to the top of some mountain temple where he will spend the next fifty years ringing a bell in strict celibacy.
It's not happening. It's all in his imagination, and not the Imagination type either, or else he would have put the brakes on it already.
"Wow, somebody's hungry." The boy laughs, and passes over the rest of his fries, as Neku's devoured his own plus the burger in record time. "You been busy?"
Neku laughs. What else could he possibly do? "Yeah. You could say that."
So HT talks about soccer, and Neku pulls out his sketchbook, and no matter what the situation it's always gratifying to watch someone flip the pages slow enough that he knows they're looking, lingering on the illustrations in more than just politeness, and HT stops, flips the page over.
"I bet this is someone special."
It's a sketch of Joshua, reading, caught in a sunbeam in a moment of quiet contemplation, one hand up near his face, fingers delicately curled. It doesn't really do him justice, but Neku couldn't believe he got even the short amount of time to catch the Composer so unguarded, and he almost manages to capture that inner illumination in a few graphite lines, the quicksilver essence that Neku has never seen in any other person, ever.
"He's a friend of mine."
"I ought to have you draw me sometime. In my cleats. I'll get you a picture."
"Um." Neku's not blushing. He's not. He's not. Even when HT laughs.
The other boy walks him nearly to Towa, in for a closing shift at his store, and it's almost normal or enough to pretend but then Neku goes and reads his thoughts, just to prove to himself that he's overreacting and also insane, and just because people are nice to him - well, now. Isn't that sweaty.
"You ok, Neku? You look a little pale."
Ok, so it's just completely the biggest mistake he's ever made, besides that particular trip to CAT's mural. Is it at least partially a win, that he wants Neku to top?
He escapes at the door, silently thanking the co-worker who distracts HT for those few seconds it takes to sneak away. At this point, he's scanning every face that passes, dreading the next friendly greeting, and kind of thinking that a shark Noise might just be a mercy unless it decides to hit on him too - but nothing happens, and he gets through the door without further injury or a single marriage proposal.
"Hey, Neku! Great to see you!" The clerk waves from the other side of the store. "I made you a mixtape!"
Of course he has.
It's a bit more difficult adjusting his vibe in a censured state - Joshua's certain the powers that be like it that way - so there's no stopping or rewinding of time and they're dumped out unceremoniously with the sun going down, in front of Hanekoma's cafe. He's feeling mildly triumphant, but Hanekoma is a bit less so, and Joshua snags a cucumber soda from the small display he keeps for cold drinks, rather than pushing him for anything special.
"Oh come on, can't I interest you in the world's worst caramel iced mocha?"
"Still no luck?"
Hanekoma snorts, and sighs, sliding his hands into his back pockets and stretching. Joshua hasn't seen his wings since that initial meeting, since the censure. It feels a little strange for him, a twisting sort of vertigo to move between levels, but Sanae moves even more oddly afterward, as if the wings that aren't there are aching.
"You should have never let them have that kind of power over you." Enough between them, that Hanekoma smiles, knows it's intended as kindness.
"It's a bit too late to regret it now." Only one way to Ascend, only one path. Anything else, no matter how well-intentioned, how innocuous… you don't have to brew up a batch of Taboo Noise, to be on the Ascended shit-list. It can take a lot less than that. The reason Joshua prefers his power to come from the district. Even now, if he really wanted, really wanted to take it back… well, maybe.
"You going to let your Conductor know you're painting a target on him?"
Joshua makes a face. "Please. It's me they hate. They're lining up to join his fan club."
"You got that phone to him? The one he's going to stomp flat when he realizes he can't stop you from calling?"
"It's one of your limiteds. He'd have it surgically attached to his hand before he'd think of scratching it. And speaking of-"
Joshua knows his phone is going to ring twenty seconds before it does, and he already knows how the first minute of this conversation is going to go, and smiles.
"Hello, dear. Keeping busy?"
The voice is irate, out of breath. His Conductor's been having a good day.
"So I go to the OTHER Stationside, and she gives me two burgers! Two! And a large fry!"
"Neku, if you keep eating like that, you'll break out. All the oil." Joshua says patiently, and listens to his Conductor try to figure out how to throw cars at him through the phone. "Where are you?"
"ME? I'm hiding behind a shrub because I think the guy from the other OTHER record store wants to have my babies! What did you do, Josh? Hand out pervert pins? Imprint the entire goddamn city?"
"It's not me they're noticing, Neku. You did spend three weeks becoming a familiar face - and you're practically Shibuya's spokesperson now. As you grow stronger, people will notice. It's moths to a flame - except you don't even have to burn them, if you don't want to."
Neku's afraid of his power, which is another one of those things Joshua's not used to. Not with all the Reapers who can't wait to run wild, as if smashing everything in their paths is the only reason to be strong - even Kitaniji, usually so focused, so meticulous, but willing to save the district by razing it to the ground, the moment he was pushed into action.
Neku sighs. "Yeah, well, when I start getting candy from Reapers on Valentine's Day-"
"Reapers? Anyone in particular?" Joshua hears Neku's breath catch, just slightly, because his Conductor is too kind and thinks Joshua is really that possessive, that he'd actually consider a Reaper as any sort of competition, let alone bother with the indignity of Erasing them.
"It looks like someone never read the chapter on Conductor harems."
Hanekoma is shaking his head in amused disbelief, or possibly amused horror, and Joshua pivots in his chair.
"There is no chapter on 'harems.'" Neku doesn't quite believe that, more like desperately hoping.
"Well, I told them to put it in. You don't think everyone wants to be in the upper ranks just for the fun of it? And are you still behind that shrub?"
"No." Neku says, snorting. "No to both of your stupid questions. And I'm not… I mean, you don't actually…? Not that, not ever…" The phone really ought to be blushing. Joshua wonders if Hanekoma can add something. A mortally embarrassed emoticon, at least.
"In the French, ménage à trois."
"I hate you."
"Goodbye, dear." Joshua says to the sound of a dial tone. Tempting to call back, he's flipped the ringtone on Neku's phone to a French song, inspired by the Shibuya of a little while ago, all about a very stylish girl. But this was already a satisfying conversation that washed the taste of the meeting with the Angels out of his mouth. Unfortunately, he can't do the same for Hanekoma's mood, the man busy adjusting one of the machines as if he's actually paying any real attention to it.
"I don't remember that being blue. Is that new?"
It startles Hanekoma out of his thoughts, and Joshua is a little surprised he's still this dour. The meeting hadn't been that bad, nothing either of them weren't expecting. Hanekoma shrugs, wearing the facade of his usual calm charm, stretched far too thin.
"The old one busted. Wasn't even that old. So how's Neku holding up?"
Ah, so that's it.
"He's avoiding you right now because of me. Because of us. It's really rather adorable. So you can stop making that kicked puppy face." Hanekoma scowls at him, though they both know he was. After a moment, he sighs, scratching at a little bit of baked-on residue at the very edge of a pot.
Joshua loves it here, so late at night, the cafe lights so bright that even the city street outside seems black and empty, and Shibuya spirals out in a thousand million stars, and this is as distant as he needs to get, as if the whole universe is visible from here and all of it in the palm of his hand.
"If you want, I can-"
"No." Hanekoma says, shaking his head slightly. "I'll tell him."
"If you wait much longer, it won't matter anymore."
It's not a suggestion to hurry so much as a full pardon, if Hanekoma chooses. As if Joshua would have ever done anything less, for the only person in how many years and how many planes who's ever actually called him on his shit? Willing to put his entire existence on the line, out of all of them the one with the most to lose. Joshua will say nothing, and Hanekoma can say nothing, and CAT will remain forever and always be utterly blameless in Neku's eyes, completely unconnected with the Taboo Noise.
"I'll tell him. I will."
Joshua shrugs and lets it go, doesn't care if it's a lie or not.
It's not a Game week in most of the surrounding districts, so there's way less of a problem. Technically, it's open season once Uzuki leaves Shibuya but it would get insanely tedious to barter back and forth across the damn borders of every single UG, and everyone has something that everyone else wants, so Tokyo's rules are pretty lax, nearly all the way out. As long as she doesn't cause any trouble, she's free to do whatever she likes.
The bag she's carrying is a season out of fashion, but it's the only one big enough to hold everything she's going to need, and maybe she can trade it too, if anything goes wrong. Uzuki packs up most of the trinkets she's gotten from her job that she never wears: some cute D.I.B. sandals that didn't quite fit, one tacky 'unisex' Wild Boar bracelet that only a guy would wear, and a pair of gloves that are actually Pegaso knockoffs, but pretty nice ones.
She could leave. She could run for it, it might be worth trying. Kariya might not like it much, but then that's only because she wouldn't have time to explain. If he understood… well, not that it matters, because running is stupid. Saika might very well be able to follow her anywhere, even if she was brave enough to leave… hell, she'd have to leave Japan, and if - when - something happens in Shibuya, they'll know it was her because she's the one who ran. She'll be hunted by every Reaper in every Game, no matter where she tries to hide. Look at her, it took all her wits and cunning just to find a place out of the rain. It really isn't going to be much of a fight at all, when it comes down to it.
Uzuki fights down the frustrated, bitter little laugh and forces herself to move. It's just motion, she doesn't even know why she's doing it, but if there's anyone who doesn't deserve to get hurt by this, it's Mayu, and Uzuki has to see for herself that she's all right, just from a distance, just to know. Seeing her will blunt the edges of the gnawing terror that is always there now, just waiting to eat her alive, from the moment Saika did the impossible, and came back. Uzuki remembers the feeling, the week that she played the Game, those hours where a part of her wanted to throw herself to the Noise just to get it over with. At times like this, she would usually console herself with thoughts of the Iron Maiden, how she would do things, scoff at the danger and refuse to yield - but now?
Uzuki had thought it was progress, her determination to be stronger, but is it anything other than how much Konishi reminded her of Saika? The story of her whole life, isn't it? Idolizing the people who can do her the most amount of harm with the least amount of interest.
The line she intends to take is on delay, something about a suicide, some idiot who might just end up back right where he started, like she did. So she grabs the Hanzōmon Line, ignores being jostled and poked. It takes a while, a few stops before the first Reaper shows up. It's a quiet, subtle transaction, Uzuki pulling what she's got out of the bag, smirking when the rather soberly dressed girl's eyes light up at the sight of the gloves. Enough of a bribe to get her to the end of her ride, and in the short transfer to the Mita Line, no one shows up at all. She still feels open, and vulnerable, this is further than she usually bothered to travel back when she'd been alive.
Before the Game. Before she got Mayu killed. And Saika, who promised them all paradise, and then disappeared, with everyone but the two of them. Uzuki chews on her thumbnail, a habit when she's stressed that never disappeared, even when she went trendy. Saika always knew about the Game - Uzuki's sure of that now - even if she never played, even if she did… something else, went somewhere else. Saika hadn't been lying that night, when Uzuki would have been happy then, just to die. Just to let it all end. Sick of it.
And a week later, at the end of the Game, they'd won, and Mayu was smiling, and Uzuki realized she was still sick of it. The world waiting for her wasn't anything she regretted losing, and Mayu had tried to hold on, pleading - she remembers the sound of her voice, so desperate for no good reason - but Uzuki had let her go. Always letting go.
So Mayu went back to living, and Uzuki became a Reaper, and the only regret she had for a good, long time was the loss of her Entry Fee. A leather jacket, one slight shade darker than butter yellow, the most amazing high-fashion bargain find she'd ever made in her life, and two years later she still hasn't found its equal. The fact that it would have looked like crap with pink hair doesn't make her feel any better.
"Hey."
Uzuki looks up, dangerous to let herself get distracted, though at this moment getting Erased by some nameless Reaper might actually be a kindness. A little annoying that it's a boy, she's still got the bracelet but girls are much easier to buy off. The guys can get territorial, at times, though Uzuki thinks it's all just stupid. As if the UG actually belongs to anyone besides the Composers.
"Yeah?"
The Reaper smirks at her challenging tone. If he thinks he's going to intimidate her in those grimy sneakers, he's got a ways to go. Not even a Harrier, not that it always stops them. "You're a long way from home."
"Yeah." People, even Reapers, usually get the point, if she uses enough monosyllables.
Uzuki followed Mayu, up through graduation, up through the year after, the relocation, the marriage announcement. A lot of the Reapers kept tabs on bits and pieces of their old lives, even the ones who didn't pick up right where they left off. It was an option, go back the same as before, just with an extra after-school job. Uzuki didn't have to make things as hard as she had. Why had it been so damn important at the time, to make a clean break? To leave Mayu as the sole survivor of a tragic suicide pact, all their pictures in the paper, Saika's just a little bigger than the others. A headline on Monday. Forgotten by that Thursday. Uzuki's parents had left Tokyo, but they hadn't been close, and there had never been a reason to seek them out. But she hadn't lost track of Mayu, that one little piece of who she had been.
"What brings you all the way out here?" Is he coming on to her? Or does he want to fight? Maybe get himself a promotion? Uzuki fights the urge to roll her eyes.
"Visiting a friend."
He doesn't believe her. The train slows, and stops. Uzuki braces herself, hand flexing for a gun she already knows she doesn't have - if his friends show up, this could get interesting. She wonders if it's a Game week here. Not that she thinks anyone out here plays half as hard as they do in Shibuya. The doors shut. She tries not to show any relief.
"A little dangerous, don't you think?"
"It's a good friend." Uzuki says, with a little more ice in her tone. Either go for her throat or stop jerking her around, seriously. He smirks again, and gets off at the next stop. Uzuki ignores the pins-and-needles urgency on the back of her neck, that this is really happening, that she is so screwed no matter what she does or doesn't do.
It's not much like Shibuya, the place Mayu lives now. It seems greener in Itabashi, a little more space to breathe, with the buildings in less-pronounced verticals. If she had to judge for herself, Uzuki would call it 'boring,' and 'quiet,' but then again, Mayu was always so soft-spoken, blending into the background. Always at the edge of whatever they were doing, always happy to follow along. No matter where. Even when she never should have been there.
She could ask, why Mayu followed her so closely, so devotedly - but then why had Uzuki always been there, at Saika's heels? It would be better to say it was a childhood thing, cruel half-friendships and strange days, all of it in the past - and maybe Uzuki had believed that once, but not now. Not anymore. It's still strange and cold and cruel, but it's as much a part of her now as it ever was.
The address she has is for a little salon, on a quiet side street. Mayu was the one who always did everyone's hair, for fancy parties, for dates, for fun - and always got so upset, when Uzuki would ruthlessly cut hers up into a bob, or something even more dramatic. So it's not really a surprise that she owns her own place now. Nothing too fancy, but there are no few customers inside even at this odd hour of the day. Uzuki sneaks up, across the street, far enough away that she won't be noticed, but close enough to see the people inside without a glare on the glass.
Mayu is there, small and gentle, so little changed as she carefully trims a woman's wispy bangs, chatting amicably, that it's like no time has passed at all. Until she steps to the side to continue her work, and the Mayu Uzuki knew transforms into an entirely new person, though she doesn't seem to have any real problems doing her work around the extra roundness of her belly. Uzuki can't for the life of her remember if Mayu wanted a boy or a girl. Probably a girl, more opportunities for trying hairstyles that way.
Was it that much of a surprise? What did she expect? Time passes, people grow up and get on with it. Love, marriage, baby - one of those processions Uzuki hates for its blithering conformity, but there's a difference between loathing the abstract and seeing it in person, in someone she knows. Seeing the shy, nervous girl who'd followed her through the halls now happy, and successful, and no longer following. Uzuki feels suddenly very stupid, and really did have some ridiculous, nostalgic desire to actually go up, walk into the shop, introduce herself as someone else, lie about any resemblance she had to some girl long ago. Try to reconnect, as if that was in any way possible, as if Mayu deserves that sort of crap now, in this new life of hers. As if it wasn't Uzuki's choice to leave, to end things irrevocably. To do it alone.
It wasn't really about coming all this way out here, to make sure she was all right, was it? Of course Mayu's all right, she chose to get out of the Game, and it's not her world anymore. Usually Uzuki feels so much better than the stupid shadows she passes through in the UG, the herd of idiots with their cares and woes and completely unaware of everything they're missing. Usually, there's nothing the RG can give her, besides a cool trend or a new band to follow. Nothing else that she's lacking, that she could even think of to want. It's not that she wants Mayu's life, or anything like it. It's not that she wishes time would stop. It's not any feeling Uzuki can name, but it presses down on her, harder than she can ignore.
Uzuki sighs, and turns back, grimacing as the wind picks up a little, colder than she thought it would get today. Oh well, she's still got a bag full of enough bribes to get her safely back to Shibuya, and this got her out for a while, didn't it? And Mayu… well, she's fine. Better than fine. Uzuki pays for her return ticket, makes a face at the price - maybe it would have been better to stay in the UG for all of this, even with the ridiculous risk. Disheartened, aware she's solved nothing, she slumps into a corner seat and hopes no one will sit next to her.
"Didn't go well, huh?"
Really, is she all that surprised? Maybe this is what she's been hoping for, maybe this is the whole reason's she's here. Maybe she wants this, even as the shock hits, thrown her down into a lake of ice, the fear that stops everything, absolute zero. Saika is sitting across from her, one long leg stretched out, leaning lazily on her hand, smiling at Uzuki between pale fingers.
"You know what? I would just kill right now for an ice cream."