The air echoes, trembles - someone was laughing, just a moment ago, but they've stopped now. It's difficult to move. Uzuki is laying on a bed that is too hard to be hers, in a room where the curtains are mostly drawn. Everything spins, and she shuts her eyes, the inside of her mouth hot and sour. Her heart is a chilled, smooth stone, adrift in a still sea. If Uzuki had the energy to care, it might actually worry her, that it seems someone tried to kill her and didn't quite succeed. She's not all that grateful, but she always had a bit of a problem with gratitude.
A slight sound, from the other side of the room - she's not alone. A subtle panic bubbles up, still not quite touching the sadness. What could possibly matter, weighed against this bleak eternity? Uzuki turns her head, tries to move, but it's awkward and at odds with gravity and mostly just fires off protests all across her skin, down her back and along her wings - she can feel them, even here in the Realground. She blinks, looking at Kariya, and he stares back. He's sitting against the wall, with a sword leaning on his shoulder, posed like an extra in some low-budget historical movie.
It hits her then, all that's happened. The cause of that clinging despair, the flash-frozen simple nature of her fate, and Uzuki draws her hands up close against her face, and shuts her eyes.
"You stopped her." It hurts to speak. Kariya doesn't move.
"I don't even think I touched her." He shakes his head, as if amazed. "It was luck that I got you out."
"Luck." A laugh that isn't a laugh. Uzuki rolls over on her back. "Is this a love hotel?"
"It's someplace safe." Uzuki was really counting on Kariya to not be this guy, as much as she'd ever imagined this impossibility. Not to give a shit. Not to be involved at all, if she could have been luckier, and she wasn't even sure what she felt now - trapped, ashamed, angry? The two worlds of who she is and who she wanted to be, who she'd tricked herself into believing she'd become. If he doesn't already know the truth, it won't take long.
As if waiting for her to regret surviving, the murky memories spill backward through her. The darkness. What it was, to be naked and alone, at the very edge of eternity. Screams and whispers that had scratched her all up inside like she'd inhaled shards of glass, and she knew those voices, even though they smeared together in her memories. Really, the last damn thing Uzuki wants is memory.
"You wanna skip the part where I have to ask?"
"Hand me my bag." Uzuki says, before she notices it on the table beside her. Did he go through it? The sudden moment of irritated paranoia almost makes her laugh. What the hell is he going to see that's worse than what he already knows? Uzuki sits up, curled over, palms pressed against her face. Saika was there, inside of her - and the power, there. The infinite horizon of it, just the thought terrifies her. The things Saika had done with her hands, purely on a whim, and she looks down but even when she shifts her fingers, they seem pale strangers. Uzuki always thought she wanted power.
The bag hits her hip, Kariya taking a step away but still watching her, and it's strange to see him like this. The laziness that is, in fact, nothing less than perfect calm in the face of a threat. Uzuki really just wants to hide in a corner and rock back and forth for a couple of years, but it's him who hasn't flinched, and keeps her from freaking out completely. It was like that then, even when she'd been a Player. He'd been the one to show up and drop clues, to be carelessly helpful - hell, he'd been the one to mention that she could choose, if she wanted, to join the Reapers. Uzuki'd promptly forgotten it all afterward, preferred the story where he was the one who kept slowing her down.
She didn't go to Kariya, when there was nowhere else to go. Didn't want to get him involved. Has she ever really had a friend other than him?
"You're an idiot." She mutters, and shuffles through the bag. No gun. Big surprise.
This isn't going to stop. God, she has to keep going, and pretend like it will make any difference. Uzuki shudders, hates herself for it. It feels like she's made out of nothing but thick knots, with plenty of empty space in between.
"Talk to me."
Uzuki snaps upright, glaring at him even though it's stupid, and she knows its stupid. Always pretending her helplessness is ruthlessness. Always proving how little control she has over anything. "What do you care? You're not my fucking father or my boyfriend. I can take care of myself."
At least she's not stupid enough to try to storm out of the room, knows she wouldn't make it more than two steps. She can still feel the bed wobbling underneath her, the entire world a soap bubble threatening to pop. Kariya sighs, patiently, like he's had a while to plan out what he's going to say, and will wait until she wants to hear it. The hilt of his blade has marks on it, little scratches and chips all across its length. It looks very old.
"How long have I been out?"
"It's Wednesday." He's kind enough to ignore her gasp. "And I'm not your father, but I am your friend, and if you're going to make me sound like a shitty afterschool special, you can at least tell me what the hell is going on."
A few breaths that steady absolutely nothing. She'd try to lie to him, if she could remember how.
"I don't - I don't know. I don't know, and you don't want to get involved, even if-" Uzuki scowls, gestures toward his strange new weapon. It's not like she remembers much, but he was there. Kariya fought Saika and - pulled her out, got her free. "It's not like I'm the only one bullshitting here, am I?"
Kariya shrugs, and drops the secret like a bag of lukewarm fast food, like he didn't even mean to be carrying it. "I'm older than anyone else in the Shibuya Game. Even the Composer."
Uzuki looks at him for a moment. Really looks. "God, and I thought you were lazy before."
It makes him laugh a little, and Uzuki kicks her feet out over the side of the bed - fully clothed, only missing her shoes. If Saika were here, she'd say… and the thought has her head back in her hands. She can't do this, she just can't.
"It's a girl from my class, back when I was in school and alive. We all died together. A suicide… thing." Her hands fist a little in the blankets. Kariya doesn't say anything. "Her name is Saika. She was… it was her idea. Everything was always her idea."
Uzuki can't help but mutter the back half of the sentence, knowing it's probably disgust in his eyes, but Kariya isn't looking at her, staring out the window instead. Older than he looks, way older now, although nothing's really changed, maybe just some angle of the light. "This is your place, isn't it? God, I knew you had to get your money somewhere, but I figured you were drug-dealing, or cheating at mahjong."
"The mahjong is more of a hobby." Kariya says, sounding preoccupied, and if she had any sense, Uzuki figures she would be too.
"I don't know why she's here now." Better not to mention all the time that's passed, that she knew Saika was here and hadn't acted and… damn it. "I didn't know she was like that. I didn't… I didn't think, when she didn't play the game, when it was only me and Mayu, I figured maybe something went… wrong. Maybe we got lucky or unlucky or-"
"It was the Long Game that brought her back here. If I had to guess." Kariya cuts her off, and Uzuki remembers something Saika said, before - something that hurt just a little bit more than the rest.
"The Composer doesn't control everything, does he? He's not even the one at the top." She can tell, just by the look on Kariya's face, that Saika was right. Of course she was. She never lies, she doesn't have to. Uzuki bows her head again, exhausted.
"It was bad, wasn't it?"
It's confusing for a moment, the words and the grim look on Kariya's face, and then she realizes just why he's sorry for her, and laughs.
"Are you kidding? She was the best thing that ever happened to me." Helpless awe, at the fact that it's true, that she can remember just how lucky she felt then. "I was so bored. I would have killed myself a dozen times but I was too bored to bother. With her… everything was actually worth doing."
Uzuki can remember the lightness, the world in fast-forward. Feeling like she was actually living, the first time they'd gotten into a club, when she never would have made it in by herself, even if she'd wanted to try. Dancing with Saika, and seeing more than one gaze fixed on her, on them, and being half-afraid she'd be ditched for something better at any moment. But Saika was there the whole night, making her feel safe at the same time she felt breathlessly daring - kissed her, in front of everyone, like it was nothing at all. Now it seems utterly ridiculous, how little it took to make her feel so special.
Laying next to Saika, with the girl's pale arm across her waist, Saika's long hair spread out around her like something from a fairy-tale, a life too much like a movie, too good to be real. Saika would whisper to her, quietly, warm breath curling at her ear. She couldn't remember what was said, only that when she smiled, Uzuki felt like a princess. Worthy, and needed. The sort of feeling that people laughed about, pretended to scorn, because deep down everyone knew how good it would feel if it ever happened to them.
Most of the rules they broke, at least at the start, it wasn't even enough to get into any trouble. It was play-acting. So now that Uzuki is a Reaper, Saika… well, Saika is still there to remind her how small she still is, and how little she knows. Even Erasing Players is just some silly child's version of what it's really like, she knows that now, what it is to be in that darkness. None of this is surprising, really. It's love, it's the kind from one of those epic tragedies where everyone dies at the end.
"Don't." It isn't until Kariya's hand is around her wrist, that Uzuki notices how pale she is. No, not pale. Transparent. Kariya never touches her, has never done it before, and she can feel the power pouring from him, into her. He doesn't let go, until she can't see the edge of the blanket through her arm anymore. He's no Reaper. Older than the Composer?
… and he didn't hurt Saika. He didn't really do anything, he just said so. The rocking-in-a-fetal-ball plan still seems like a really great idea.
"It's Shibuya she wants." Kariya says, like he's actually making a strategy, and Uzuki hides a smile behind her hand. Silly boy. She was half-ready to give up the moment Saika appeared, and now, feeling what she's felt, knowing it, until it takes focus to keep breathing and she has to put a hand against her heart, as if to press it into place.
"The Conductor." Saika's breath in the dark, sighing over her thoughts, affectionate and pitying. Oh Uzuki, to lock up and bite back and kiss ass for a child. The teasing mock-sympathy stings against tattered nerves. "He has to know."
"Which is why you told him. Or me. Or anyone. Oh wait, no you didn't." Kariya says harshly, glaring at her. "You didn't even know anything existed above the Composer until five minutes ago, and you still didn't want to - they'll kill you. You know if they find out about her, they'll Erase you on principle, just to give themselves something to do."
"You could just let me be the goddamn hero, you know." Uzuki says, but her voice is trembling, and she tucks her knees up against her chest, as if she might fold up and disappear. She doesn't want it, doesn't want to disappear in the dark, but there's really no choice. "It's not like it matters."
"Fuck that. Fuck that. That's her talking, not you." He says sharply, and the part of her that isn't going completely insane realizes this might actually be a real fight. Her first fight with Kariya, and if only she'd known, she could have put a little more planning into it. Really, Uzuki had always thought it would be about his choice in clothes, as if putting his hood down and unzipping his jacket totally turned the Reaper uniform into casual wear.
"Saika never does anything she doesn't want to do. Never. If she's here… and you felt her. Her power. It doesn't matter why…" Why does she even have to say this? If Kariya's as smart as he says he is, it's pretty damn obvious. "What if I'm not who you think I am, huh?" It hurts to meet his eyes and she's pretty sure her voice just cracked like an idiot, but Uzuki glares at him, daring the truth. "I'm not… who the hell do you think you're going to fight? For what? For me? What if I disappoint you? What happens when I disappoint you?"
"I guess I'll get twice as much ramen out of you every week."
The instant response, the dry tone breaks apart inside of her, it would have hurt less if he'd just slapped her. Kariya's not afraid, or at least not afraid enough, even after what he's seen. Still wants to protect her, even though she's weak and useless and he's seen all the proof. Uzuki shuts her eyes, biting back on the sound that wants to escape. Bad enough, bad enough that she has to face this and go mad and lose everything, but now she gets to watch him die, before Saika takes her away.
"You asshole. Don't do this. Don't." Crazy fuck. Why does she have to care, when it's obvious he's out of his goddamn mind? "Why the hell can't you just walk away?"
Kariya doesn't answer, just the steady warmth of his hand on her head as she hugs her knees tightly, and refuses to cry for him or for herself or for the stupid, stupid flicker of hope she needs to be smart enough not to feel.
Neku would be a little more annoyed with how tired he is - the whole Conductor insomnia powers working really great until the moment they just stop - but he's got this song half-stuck in his head, half a chorus that just repeats itself, something beautiful in minor keys. It could be anything, some song he's heard and forgotten about, or one of the things Shiki had on that she'd made him listen to - or maybe it's something from Shibuya itself. It doesn't feel urgent, or even particularly sad - just beautiful, like catching a glimpse of someone else's daydream. He'll have to ask Mr. H more about Shibuya's Music, since he's forcing himself to finally make that trip after school, and being embarrassed is at least going to be easier when he's half-dead.
His eyes itch. Pretending he won't suffer the consequences of staying up all night by just turning his alarm clock toward the wall - nope, not really a viable solution. Neku's distracted from those thoughts, the melody fading as he opens the door to the smell of something warm and maybe mildly burning coming from his kitchen, and a surprising lack of Reapers or their rapidly-multiplying associates on his floor.
"Yo." From the kitchen. Neku blinks, rubs his hand over bleary eyes, but it really is 777 standing there over a pile of… food, maybe, steaming in a pan as he flips it lightly over the heat, and there's even coffee brewing. "You said we all needed to be out of here today, right?"
Yes, because of his father. Neku can't imagine what that will do to the bizarre equation of his life that is already not equaling anything on either side. Oh dear god, not math metaphors. No. Absolutely not.
"Are you all right?" He says, and gets a snort that says 'stupid kid', but 777 is smiling a little, and splits the cooked thing across two plates as Neku goes for the coffee. It's his father's beverage of choice, really, but at this point Neku would happily take a bath in it if it might help wake him up. He hasn't had any more trouble from school, but he's not Joshua, and Neku very much doubts it's going to be as easy as one conversation where he only - hey - threatened the head of the entire school. He keeps battling with himself over some sort of apology, though there's no way to do it now and not make things worse, and no, it's not like he likes the guy or thinks he didn't have it coming but - damn, Neku doesn't want to be that guy. He doesn't know what he wants to be or what his options are, but just not that guy.
"Lighten up, kid. Nobody likes a downer."
Neku glares but 777's not looking and he is absolutely starving and the - well, it sort of looks like an okonomiyaki with a somewhat negotiable ingredients list, but it doesn't really taste that bad. His thoughts must show on his face, because 777 sighs and rolls his eyes.
"I do actually do other things besides look really good in leather pants."
"Can't always get the groupies to cook for you in the morning?" Neku says, and pretty much immediately regrets it and hopes to god the tips of his ears aren't the color it feels like they are because the way it came out almost sounded alarmingly like some kind of flirting. Yes, really, a stupid inexplicably flirty tone with the much older rock star guy and hey - a Reaper - and he even tried to kill Neku once although really at this point who hasn't? 777 doesn't seem to notice, which means he's forgotten all about the whole Shiki and Eri business, even if Neku's certain neither of them will, not for decades.
"I have a friend." Neku says around mouthfuls, glad that he doesn't have to give a crap about manners. "He's interested in doing some… uh, publicity stills, I guess? He's a photographer. I told him you might be looking for one."
"Any good?"
"I think so." It's not like he knows the kinds of things to look for, just that he thinks the pictures capture the spirit of the moment, and Tsuyoshi's sure serious about it, seems to always be talking, always scouting and picking up new leads. If Neku can give him this chance…
Opportunities. It's Vancouver's voice, reminding him how much he hates it, that she might be right. That keeping distance between his UG and RG lives isn't possible because that distance was an illusion to begin with.
"Sure. Why not? Send him over." 777 says, with this weird expression on his face, like maybe Neku's said something wrong but he can't imagine what it could be. Or maybe he's just thinking about something. "You don't…"
"Huh?"
"Well…" 777 leans back in his chair, poking at what's left of his food. "It's such a pain in the ass, on top of everything else, but I'm kind of supposed to ask, when there's a new Conductor… they usually pick and choose who can stay and go. Or the Composer says something to you, I guess, but given the way it all turned out, I think you're going to have to tell me."
He's nervous. Whatever it was he's asking - and at this point Neku has absolutely no idea - 777's nervous, which still takes him forever to figure out. Neku keeps forgetting that he's not just him, he's a position, he's the Conductor, and the people who used to be where he is now were not the kind of people who ate slapdash okonomiyaki with squatting Reapers.
"Can you be a little… more specific? Just what it is I'm supposed to be doing?"
777 looks at him for another moment, and there goes any remaining trace of nervousness, replaced with something like incredulity, a sort of 'My Conductor is Broken' look. Maybe he should be more worried about appearances, but Neku can barely keep track of everything that is exactly what it looks like. Any processing power left over, well that's all taken up by Joshua.
"It's a little… different, being a band with UG ties."
Neku tips his head, thinking. "You have to keep playing the Game, so you have to stay here, you mean."
"Well, not really." 777 shrugs. "I mean, with the music - that'll keep us going a bit longer than your standard Reaper."
"You can survive off that?"
777 shakes his head, grinning, and Neku feels stupid that there was any sort of hopeful note in his voice. "It isn't enough to live on, not by a long shot, but it can be useful." He seems to be sizing Neku up, staring at him again, and it's better to pretend not to notice, and keep chewing. "You really don't know, do you? I thought the Composer is supposed to… I dunno, tell you shit."
Neku snorts. "Maybe. It's more of a sink-or-swim. Or kind of point and laugh, and bounce things off my head."
777's quiet for another moment, and Neku wonders if he's really, really not supposed to be talking about this - but how the hell else is he supposed to learn anything?
"It's a bit of a power play. Every district likes to keep the attention flowing toward their own - or if they can't do that, then at least for their home city. It's a little more complicated, being a Reaper and all - I can go places. Some places, but if I get too popular, it tips the balance in Shibuya's favor, and since they can make things difficult for me in the UG…"
"So you're stuck here?" Neku hadn't even considered it, that other bands, other trends, even art styles - it was kind of like an invasion force, wasn't it? If some big new thing from some other country came over and set up shop, anything it inspired, all that - whatever it was, Imagination or creative energy - a good portion of it would probably go back to the UG that started everything, and give them even more power to push the advantage further. The Internet must have seemed like the end of days for at least a few of the bigger Composers out there, putting the smaller venues on semi-level ground. No doubt Joshua would act as though he'd welcomed it wholeheartedly, but Neku would have loved to have seen him on that first day, faced with a big-ass door to the world that he couldn't close.
"I can travel around Tokyo. A little further than that, maybe - anything more, we'd have to build up a hell of a fanbase. Really klck things over, before they'd be forced to let us in. If we even could - there aren't exactly a lot of UG bands out there testing the waters. But for us to even stay here… well, you sort of have the final say, on whether we're a good fit with your plan for the Composer's plans… for Shibuya."
Neku resists the initial impulse to ask if he's heard anything about U2, but what comes out instead, "Maybe I…"
He shakes his head, cuts himself off from whatever dumbass thing he was about to blindly offer. Because he's not just a Conductor, Neku knows more than he should, but that doesn't mean he can just start breaking rules. And maybe 777 wouldn't want him to, anyway. It's his band, his life, his dream, and maybe trying to get involved with that is no better than one UG trying to take over another.
"Nevermind. Just rambling…" He's too exhausted to pretend to be competent, and it's starting to get kind of light, and Neku glances back at the clock and it's really time to go. "Yeah. The band? Go kick ass. That sounds like a great idea. If I had a plan I'm sure you'd be a part of it."
777 doesn't say anything, and the sound of his plate and glass clinking against each other as he clears the table is surprisingly loud. Neku fights the urge to roll his eyes - how did Kitaniji manage to seem so damn cool all the time? Calm and collected, in control. Of course, there was the possibility he caught Joshua at the other end of his bipolar management strategy, and got his explanation before the summary execution, instead of the other way around. Except Neku's already had his Special Bonus Bullet, and there still hasn't been much in the way of background info.
"You know, kid, you're kind of a crap Conductor."
Neku sighs, drops his dishes in the sink with more force than is absolutely necessary. "You were kind of Noise last week, but believe me, everyone's pretty much got the memo. I'm not exactly picking up where the last guy left off."
"Hn, probably a good thing. Not that I'd ever wanted to-" 777 says from just off his left, and Neku turns, takes a half-step to the side in case he's putting his dishes away, trying to figure out what he meant, if he's just stupid or if that sentence didn't make any actual sense. The answer hits him a minute later, with the Reaper moving right into his personal space and Neku thinks that he could have been paying a little more attention to the conversation even if he is tired because all this is obviously the prelude for 777 trying to Erase him and wow this is going to end up on some list of Stupidest Conductor Erasures ever and wherever he disappears to it will not be oblivion enough to avoid Joshua bitching him out -
777's mouth is hot against his, just about as hot as the hand he's got wrapped around Neku's wrist. A light touch, Neku had raised his hand in some effort to defend, to avoid the attack that this most certainly is not. The Reaper's a pretty good kisser. Probably had a lot of practice. With groupies. Neku knows he has morning breath, on top of the coffee. Morning coffee breath. No one can possibly find that attractive. A hand slides against the side of his face, a thumb under his chin tipping his head gently back - very good kisser, and when they come up for air it only lasts for a moment. 777's got some height on him, but he doesn't seem to mind crouching down and is it the age difference or the Reaper thing that is really the weirdest - he's not that much older, really…
It's 777 who draws back first. Which is good, as all of Neku's motor functions have pretty much thrown up their hands and abandoned ship.
"So, yeah. See you around."
Neku's still frozen in place, blinking and watching 777 leave and blinking and staring at the closed door of this alternate apartment on some alternate world where bisexual undead rock stars french-kiss him in his kitchen before school.
"Bye."
"You don't get to decide!" Neku had shouted, and then Joshua had killed him in what was really a very childish display. All because he'd chosen the Misaki girl instead. Or there was the universe where Joshua had - believe it or not - gotten Neku burned at the stake, although the only sentiment there seemed to be an overwhelming boredom. That universe had certainly been a change from the general trend toward technological advancement. It's funny, the fairly even split, either killing Neku for leaving or because he won't go away fast enough. Not counting all the universes where Neku is smart enough not to do anything like confront him, or attract his attention, and just gets the hell out, either by choice or circumstance.
Joshua's been seeing dead Nekus all through the morning, mostly out of the corner of his eye, little flashes of orange hair and occasionally that limp fall he recognizes well enough, a more vivid picture than his clairvoyance can do on its own. It's Joshua's own fault, trying to reach a Frequency just a little bit higher than he knew he was allowed, but at times being censured is like trying to compose with his hands bound behind him. He's not going to let a little Angelic snit knock Shibuya down a peg, and this sort of thing was bound to happen sooner or later, still constantly doing too much of things he shouldn't be doing in the first place.
Really, he thinks, stepping over the body of another Neku that vanishes before his foot returns to the pavement, his Conductor is a bit more durable than this, was even before Joshua chose him for a partner and proxy. It's rather cute, this expansive view of what has admittedly been intruding on his thoughts, but the battlefield of Shibuya strewn with Nekus is absurd, gratuitous, and like all gauche attempts at a meaningful statement, the further it goes the more easy it is to ignore.
He's stabilizing, anyway, by the time he reaches CAT street. Neku's gone to finally talk to Hanekoma and even if he had anything to do, Joshua's not giving up the opportunity to watch Neku fidget and glare under his triumphant smirking, while Hanekoma no doubt rolls his eyes. It's adorable, really, his Conductor's little hero worship, and he has no interest or desire in taking that away from either of them. He steps into the coffee shop, waiting for the customary greeting - and waiting, nothing at all from Hanekoma, leaning over one side of the counter, Neku leaning from the other, and blocking the view of whatever it is they're engrossed in. Joshua takes a moment to enjoy the view, half-hoping Neku will catch him leering, but his Conductor never even looks up.
"So, I see I've been replaced."
Nothing. Well, Hanekoma does lift his hand in what Joshua graciously allows as a wave, but both of them are fixed on the table, and so there's nothing left to do but pull up a chair on his own, elbow his way in, and find out what's so fascinating.
"Yeah, it does all that," Neku is explaining excitedly, "sweet Wi-fi too, hooks up to the phone and everything. He even sent me some cash, said he wasn't sure about all the different programs so I should just buy myself something nice." Neku and Hanekoma are passing a plastic pen back and forth over a computer screen. It's a tablet PC, top-of-the-line by the looks of it. Neku grins at him.
"My dad decided since my grades were slipping, I needed a reward." He shrugs. "The last time he thought I was retreating into my own little world, he bought me the best headphones in the store. Benefits of being an only child."
"Your father's home then?" It was going to come up, sooner or later. Joshua can probably have half the arguments on his own, the problems Neku will run into, being a Conductor and also a son. It's mostly just annoying, although Neku's father is already making things easy, if he thinks the best way to be a father is to not be around.
"He sent this to me at school, because they called him on something else, and it was easier to fly out from where he was. He'll be gone another week or so. I didn't even think he noticed I was doodling, but hey," he gestures toward the machine, "check it out. Proof you can buy love."
Neither one of them are all that skilled with the pen yet, even Hanekoma just goofing off as they pass it back and forth. Neku saves the file, incapable of tossing away one of CAT's scribbles, no matter how random. Hell, just having him hold the pen must be like breaking champagne across the bow of a ship. He's surprised then, when Neku taps a few different buttons, and then flips the pen around toward him.
"There. Go ahead."
Joshua frowns, not seeing much potential in a flimsy plastic stick, but he takes it from Neku's hand anyway, laying down one smooth, elegant line in the center of the screen, surprised when it comes out nearly as what he intended, almost familiar.
"It's got settings for sumi-e brushes. You can do all the thicknesses, nibs, pressure-"
"-and yet, still just a pale imitation of the real thing." Joshua says, but there's no venom in it, just the old master bitching about the student's new tricks. He flips the pen over, erasing the mark he's made before handing it back to his Conductor. "Cute."
Neku rolls his eyes. "I don't get why you don't do… more. Art stuff. You said you used to, once. Mr. H, he…" Neku's kept from saying much about Hanekoma's other life, his business as CAT, obviously to keep from making a total fanboy mess of himself. "I mean, you're the Composer and all. You'd be pretty good, right?"
"Well, 'Mr. H' has the benefit of not having to do two jobs at once." Joshua says, smirking, and Hanekoma raises an eyebrow.
"I try to do all my jobs. But I've got this one employee who never listens to me."
Joshua matches the Angel's withering look. "Who's fault is it I'm here?"
Finally, something interesting enough to get Neku to stop fiddling with his new toy. His Conductor glances between them, and looks at Hanekoma, voice dropping conspiratorially. "So, just how did he… you know?"
Hanekoma crosses his arms, looking at him. Until recently, Joshua would have said he knew everything that was worth knowing about the Angel. Yet another thing it's actually satisfying to be wrong about.
"Tripped over his own parasol and fell down some stairs."
"The lacy one?" Neku says, looking at Joshua now, pretending to hide a smile. He's so beautiful. So young. Even if Joshua destroys him, surely it will take years, a long time from this moment to that. However it is he might disappear, dead or running, there's still time, there's still the now.
"Rheumatoid apathy." He replies. "A fatal case."
"Complications from inflammation of the ego." Hanekoma adds.
Joshua rolls his eyes. "Unfortunately the virulent sarcasm was infectious."
So his presence alone is not enough to distract his Conductor, but Neku's trading off now between fiddling with buttons and watching the the two of them exchange meaningful glares. Hanekoma backs off first - he always does, and Joshua has always had the suspicion that it's a coffee shop - it's always been some version of the same, never serious enough for real food, just a space for drinks and conversation - because he can always clean a glass or wipe down a counter to fill up any unwanted time. It's impossible to impose a silence on him, Hanekoma a master of dodging the awkward moment.
"So really… you don't draw anything at all, not ever?" Neku's watching him closely, and Joshua sighs, wonders why he thinks it's so important.
"It takes a substantial amount of focus, to be the Composer. Usually by the time I burn through all that has to be done, there's not much left for art." Hanekoma glances up at him, but says nothing. Neku shrugs, goes back to scrolling and clicking and smudging wild colors across his digital canvas. Except that Neku can be casually relentless, Joshua has seen it in action, and if he's decided that Joshua should get back in the game, it might be time to dust off the brushes and just do it.
"Oh. I almost forgot. I don't know if either of you-" Neku rummages around in his bag for a moment, finally pulling out a somewhat wrinkled package with some fancy writing on one side. He doesn't look happy. "I did this thing for a guy…"
"… and you didn't get half-payment in advance." Hanekoma finishes the sentence. It's funny, that when the Angel says exactly what Joshua would have, and even in the same tone of voice, all he gets is a generous nod, as if it's sage wisdom. Joshua's tempted to keep count, just to annoy Neku later. His Conductor shoves the small container across the counter, gingerly, with the end of his stylus.
"Well, it wasn't a big project, and I figured, I dunno. I finished it, so I might as well take what he was offering." He glances over at Joshua. "You like weird food anyway. There's no expiration date, but I don't think this stuff can go bad. That's like the point, right?"
Narezushi. Traditional packed sushi, with a consistency kind of like… well, it's like fish cheese, and this looks like it came from some speciality shop, probably a re-regifted present still searching for a home. Joshua's interested, but it's Hanekoma he can hear salivating from here, and he's about to make a pointed comment about sharing when, from the corner of his eye, he sees something leap onto Neku's shoulder. He's actually mildly surprised, surely Hanekoma's hold on his shop is a little more solid than this.
"You seem to have an infestation."
"Oh, hey! There you are!" Neku says excitedly, and pushes his computer out of the way, scooping up the tiny rabbit Noise and setting it on the counter for a better look. "I was worried about you. Where have you been?"
Of course Neku has a mascot. Why not? The tiny creature only sits on the counter for a moment, blatantly frightened by Joshua's interest, leaping back onto Neku's arm and then his shoulder, burrowing its head against his neck.
"Awwww." Neku says, smirking over the top of her ears at Joshua, reaching up a hand that pretty much hides her from view. "Is the mean old Composer being himself? It's ok. I won't let him hurt you."
"Funny."
The Conductor's eyes are sparkling. Joshua's never going to allow him to start wearing sunglasses, not ever.
"Maybe it's that nasal twang in your voice, Josh. Maybe she doesn't like that. Wait." Neku looks up, and Joshua's not half as surprised to see that the narezushi and the owner of this particular establishment have both vanished. "Did Mr. H just-?"
Yes, yes he did. "You found his weakness. I have to keep it out of the Game shops, otherwise there'd be Players bribing their way out on Day Two." Joshua blinks, wondering for a moment if he's gone a bit unstable again - but no, there's actually another rabbit noise sitting on the counter, a slightly darker brown than the other, and not nearly as high in Frequency, content to just sit and stare blankly back at him.
"Hey, you have a friend." Neku holds out his hand to the twitching nose for a moment, before stroking it gently between the ears. The golden-colored bunny uses the opportunity to jump back down his arm, and the two small Noise sit together like salt and pepper shakers, a matched set. Joshua rolls his eyes.
"You know, other Games have collapsed far more severely than this one, and no one felt obligated to go back and gather up every single Player that was affected. What I did was above and beyond what was required." He realizes he's explaining this to two pair of unblinking beady eyes who don't understand any of what he's saying, and that Hanekoma may have stepped out for more than one reason at this particular moment. The bastard.
Neku doesn't know what he's talking about, looking at him in honest confusion and that little expression that means he's trying to pretend he's not completely baffled.
"Oh, stop. You know perfectly well who she is. You've practically dragged her back up the Frequencies on your own." Still the confused look on his Conductor's face, although now Neku's got some sarcasm preloaded, ready to fire. "Listen to her, Neku. Carefully, and she'll tell you who she is."
It doesn't take all that long, although Joshua nudges his Conductor's attention once or twice - even when Neku thinks he's floundering, he's still got a natural talent for it, eyes closed in more concentration than the situation really requires - and after a few moments, Neku's eyes snap open as he gasps and stares.
"Nao? Nao Nao? Ganguro bunny girl?"
"Awesome job, Nekky." Joshua smirks, but his Conductor doesn't seem to hear him - there's an alarming amount of what looks like relief on his face as he gives the tiny bunny a sort of hug-squeeze, bafflingly close to happiness over a girl he barely knew, whose entry fee was - no joke - a cup size. Maybe Hanekoma overdid it with the inspiring messages during the Game.
"… and here I thought you loved me for my wit."
"Huh?" Still not paying attention to him. "I mean... I didn't think - I thought they were just gone, forever. Erased. What did you mean about Frequencies? Are they going to be ok?" Neku's tripping over his own questions, trying to get them all out at once. "I didn't hurt her, did I? Why are they here, what's Mr. H going to do with them?"
Joshua reaches out, and even a minor Noise knows better than to refuse him long, the small creature fitting neatly in the palm of his hand, and he can feel her tremble. Only capable of a few emotions at this level, hunger and fear, although the fact that there are two of them and they haven't tried to devour each other suggests another emotion, slightly less expected.
Neku is watching him warily and pretending not to, and he wonders what would happen if he issued an ultimatum here and now, if he closed his hand and squeezed. It's obviously some sort of repentance on Hanekoma's part, keeping them around, and while it's true they were victims of the same Taboo Noise clusterfuck that allowed Joshua to bring back all of Neku's little friends, it's also true he doesn't really care, and is no longer in the position to help them, regardless. Neku's still watching him anxiously, and Joshua smiles, because it's not actually his problem.
"I'm sure Mr. H was keeping track of them for you. Since you're doing your best to turn her back into a person. Except it looks like she doesn't want to go anywhere without her little friend."
"I didn't… she doesn't look any different. I can't hear anything." Joshua puts her back down next to her partner, and the two small Noise hop off into Hanekoma's back room. "I really didn't mean to do anything for them."
He tries to hide the triumphant smile, and Joshua sighs.
"You'll notice the strain of two more than one, Neku, if you decide to help them both. Plus you'll have to deal with your Reapers never respecting you ever again. But if you insist..."
"So you won't… stop me." The other words - you won't try to stop me - aren't there, but implicit, and this is the way it's going to happen, isn't it? Joshua hardly needs to see the future, to know that it will come to this eventually, some situation just like this one, and he wants to say as much, just throw down the gauntlet. No, no he's not going to and never will trade his Conductor for fuzzy bunnies or cute friends or any combination of stupid, helpless creatures. He is not a god - demigod or semi-god - of generous habits, and has no intention of changing. Joshua could just as easily have brought Neku back without letting any of his friends follow, but doing so had simply been the best way of pissing off the Angels as much as he could.
"Just don't come over covered in Noise fur."
He is rewarded with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek, and with watching Neku scramble back into his RG life as his phone rings, and he carefully puts his new computer in his bag. Within moments, he's deep in conversation with his first-week partner, who along with her designer friend holds the potential for bringing Shibuya no small amount of attention. The inarticulate skateboarder is no less a possibility, Michelin stars as good a measurement of Shibuya power as anything. With Neku's friendship taken into account, he might even be able to keep them from running off to Milan or New York the second they achieve success. His Conductor is halfway to the door, shouting something over his shoulder about Hanekoma and the bunnies - and he's gone.
Joshua's never had a Conductor who dared to turn their back to him - it simply wasn't done, and poor Megumi had stood in the Throne Room for hours when Joshua had refused to dismiss him, out of some petty, spiteful impulse long since forgotten. This feels like a good change, even purely for tactical reasons. Neku is forcing him, bit by bit, to live by a different design, the sort of fast life, deeply invested in the moment, that most artists lived in, the ones who made Shibuya sing.
"Enjoy your snack?" He says, as Hanekoma reappears, and he catches a glimpse of a now-empty container before it disappears in the garbage can behind the counter.
"I skipped lunch." Hankeoma says, and grins when Joshua snorts. "Hey, this whole censure business isn't any easier on me, thanks. Did Neku leave?"
"He said he'd come back later, to talk to you about the Noise bunnies you conveniently forgot to mention to me."
"Ah, those." Hanekoma scratched the back of his head. "I-"
"He might as well keep them. It'll be a good lesson in patience, and learning his limits. I suppose I can even turn them back, if he actually manages to get them to the proper Frequency on his own." Joshua is staring down at his phone, fiddling, and misses the look of surprise that flits across the Angel's face. "I'd appreciate it, though, if you'd let me know before you start up any more acts of penance."
"Gotcha, boss. Just trying to fix some of what I broke."
"I don't think your 'fix' worked on the Bito girl."
"What?"
Joshua shrugs slightly. "I was with Neku, and she was there, and she could see me. The other me."
Hanekoma exhales slowly, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. What he did wasn't strictly within the rules - he doesn't play by the rules any more than Joshua does - but his lesser violations tend to disappear beneath the Composer's more flagrant offenses, and the Long Game was such a failure on so many levels that the Angels had simply chosen to punish Hanekoma for the Taboo Noise and Joshua for being himself, and ignore the specifics.
"If you say anything now, who knows what they'll do." Joshua says, and Hanekoma lets out a soft, unamused bark of laughter, nodding. The little girl means something to him, a part of his varied theories and opinions on how Shibuya was saved. Joshua's not sure if he believes a word of it, but that's hardly important at the moment.
"Does Neku know?"
"No. I doubt she's said a word to anyone, and if she's been seeing me, she's been seeing everything else as well. Who knows, perhaps I'll have a contender for the throne in another decade or so."
"We might clean up this mess by then." Hankeoma is biting at his thumbnail, thoughts turned inward, and none of them look good. Joshua had expected some reaction, but nothing quite so personal, as if failing a Player has some new ability to wound.
"I don't know what you're worried about. I turned out fine."
A small, wry grin breaks through the Angel's gloomy expression. "For certain values of fine."
"Who's fault is it I'm here?"
"Yeah." Hanekoma sighs. "Yeah, I know."