It's the fourth day of the Game. They're over halfway through, which would almost be worth celebrating except that things just get harder the closer they get to the end and Ami's not sure what 'the end' is supposed to mean anyway. Maybe they get to go home, or maybe there will just be some giant Noise lurking behind the last door, ready to eat them in one bite.
Akane probably thinks so, but Ami wants to trust the Conductor, even if they only met him for a minute. He'd looked just like any other student, and he'd been kind when he talked to them. Even that had made her less afraid, and then he'd done - well, if it were anywhere but here and now Ami'd feel silly, calling it magic. Given that she's currently swinging a bat at what seems an infinite number of electrified attack tadpoles - magic is sort of an understatement.
It's kind of their own fault that they're in this particular mess. Maybe just a little more Akane's fault, she's the one who keeps torturing the particular Wall Reaper who's sent them on this 'special' quest to pick off strange little clusters of metal from the even stranger piles of junk - "'statues,' you underflows, they're statues" - scattered all over Shibuya.
It's only when she finds one of the gadgets still lit, like a twinkling handful of Christmas, that Ami even understands what they were originally supposed to be. The colors are pretty, really, and Akane slips it carefully into her pocket as a kind of a good-luck charm.
Scraping garbage off garbage. Akane types fiercely in between battles, just as angry whether she's fighting or not. It's true, but if they don't clean them all off the Wall Reaper won't let them past into Cadoi City, and what's hopefully that much closer to the end of the mission.
Akane can't talk, but she can sure scream, a piercing note that dissolves a cluster of frog noise in front of her. Ami sees her eyes widen and doesn't even think, just turns and throws her whole shoulder into the blow, sending a Wolf Noise flying back, scattering the smaller Noise as it hits the ground.
It isn't as mortifying as it used to be, being big and tough and, well, a boy. At the start, it had been humiliating to stomp around and fight and know everyone was staring, but Ami's secretly thinking she might actually be sort of good at this, and even if giving up being a girl was her entry fee, it might not be the penalty she thought it was.
You don't like being a girl. Akane had typed furiously at her, somewhere near the start of the second day. You just like being able to use it as an excuse, so you can pretend you don't take up space.
Akane is small, but she takes up a lot of space - all of it, really, stronger and tougher than any other girl Ami's ever met. Loud too, even with her voice as the entry fee, and those first few days had been tough to get through, with Akane glaring at her to hurry up, or to stop trying to make herself seem smaller or to just hurry up and hit the Wall Reaper with her bat already.
Ami hadn't hit him, though the Reaper still twitched every time he saw them coming, and his demands often seemed to have them running as far away from him as possible.
One last shout from Akane, and the street goes quiet and still. The Noise are vanquished, which means its their chance to finish cleaning the tower. It's taken less and less time to scour each pillar of trash clean, Ami relying on a combination of pins to shake, blow and knock them down while Akane just yells them to pieces. So far she hasn't succeeded in toppling a whole tower, but Ami doubts that means she's stopped trying.
Ami knows why she's in the Game - a car blowing through a red light, a rainy day with the pavement just a little too slick. Akane doesn't talk - type - about how she entered the Game, or much about her life at all. Only that she's a singer, and how going voiceless through the Game has only taught her how hard she's going to pound the crap out of whoever did this when she finally gets to them.
Ami thinks maybe Akane might be here to learn how to be a little less angry all the time. Not that she's ever going to say it out loud.
It started out bad, with Akane charging ahead, smart enough to do it all on her own and Ami struggling to keep up. The other girl hated having to wait and hated having to explain things and probably just hated her by the end of the very first day. Ami's kind of used to people being annoyed with her, and that's when her shyness can't get anyone killed, and so she'd thought it was just the way things would be. At least until the end of the second day, when they'd been chasing down their objective through the Udagawa Back Streets, a Pig Noise that refused to slow down and die.
Ami didn't know how she saw the Reaper's trap coming before Akane did - dumb luck, really, and she hadn't bothered to think, just pushed her out of the way with her stupid huge boy body, with no time to even be afraid as the Noise rushed her, and all she could hear was Akane's battle cry tearing through the air.
The next thing she knew she was on the ground, Akane's hands on her shoulders and shaking her frantically, her hands trembling so badly she couldn't even type out the words to scold her properly. Ami thought it didn't need to mean anything special, Akane could have just been worried about losing her Partner and being Erased, nothing more than that. Except things have been better since then, Akane keeping pace with her as they race down the streets, and there's a rhythm between them as they fight the Noise, working together like they're a real team. Or maybe even something like friends.
Ami said, in one of those quiet moments after a fight, that she hoped they got out, not just to be alive again but so she could come hear Akane sing. The girl had smiled, and bought a bottle of nail polish from the Lapin Angelique store, making a face when Ami said she didn't think boys could wear it.
The color's a dark metallic blue, and even though her hands still look strange, with thick knuckles and broad nails, it doesn't look so bad. It had been nice, anyway, to watch Akane put it on, brow furrowed in concentration. Taking it seriously, the same way she takes everything, from tearing into the Noise to watching out for Noise while they take a moment's rest to now, returning to the Wall Reaper with the job complete.
Higashizawa must admit - if only to himself - that the Conductor might be on to something with his concept of the sabbatical. He has enough back-time docked that a week off carries no threat of Erasure, and even before the Long Game Higashizawa knew he had been in something of a slump. He had been grateful to Kitaniji for the promotion, of course, and absolutely determined to succeed, but had it really been what was best for him? He'd had no time left to pursue culinary excellence, and had barely managed culinary competence at his day job, coming unforgivably close more than once to throwing soy sauce in the shio ramen, or sending out a kitsune udon without any fried tofu at all. The added stress had also not been accompanied by an equal portion of respect, with the Iron Maiden subtly hinting that a few more croquettes might go a long way to keeping him in as Games Master. As if she'd had any control over that whatsoever, acting like the Conductor herself whenever Kitaniji's back was turned.
All of that has changed with Sakuraba's takeover, and as much as he hates to accept it, the new state of affairs is not entirely bad.
He would always respect Kitaniji to the utmost, but the new Conductor had never asked him not to, or demanded even the respect he was due. As the Games progressed, Higashizawa found it more and more difficult to put the blame fully on Sakuraba for what happened. The former Conductor was too powerful to fall to any stupid tricks - it must have been an honorable battle - and the new Conductor has proven remarkably resilient.
Strong enough to win in a fair challenge. Enough to Erase Higashizawa for his insolence and his tardiness - but also to allow an enemy to learn from his mistakes instead.
Higashizawa still keeps his defenses up, and he's pretty sure Uzuki will cave his head in with one of her oversized handbags before she'll let him be Games Master again, but it has even proved rather satisfying to watch the Game from a distance. It may have helped that he's picked up half a dozen new cookbooks to keep him company for the week and every failed batch of macarons is one closer to perfection, with the Reapers an eager garbage disposal for his rejects.
"I'm going to randomize your - ow zetta shit you OW!"
Watching Minamimoto have a total nervous breakdown is rather like icing on the three-tiered cake, then. Of all the Reapers, he is still having the hardest time with the new kinder, gentler Shibuya, even though being a Wall Reaper has nothing to do with Erasing Players.
Despite the Conductor's laid-back nature, Sakuraba still possesses a bit of Reaper in him somewhere. Maybe he didn't sic his personal Rabbit Noise on the Wall Reaper, but there is a good chance he's responsible for the pin on the bunny's hat that's sending out little snaps of lightning every minute or so, just enough to send Minamimoto's hair on end.
"If I were Games Master, I would inquire about the location of your hat." Higashizawa says. "You are practically out of uniform."
"Shut up."
Higashizawa wonders just how long this little war has been going on, as the Wall Reaper reaches into a bucket beside him, pulling out a water balloon full of paint and launching it at his foes, the rabbits more than fast enough to get out of the way, the street shining with a volley of failed attempts.
The return-fire of lightning hits its mark yet again.
"I was not aware the Noise could even use pins." Higishizawa says, flipping through a few more pages to try and discover why the centers on his cookies keep going soggy. Maybe he's adding too much almond meal?
"Shut up?" Minamimoto hisses, muttering pi back to the tenths place and beyond as he narrows his eyes, waiting to dodge the next attack. The rabbit in the hat leaps up in a circle, kicking its back legs in what's probably delight. It is rather remarkably cute. Higashizawa wonders if such a creature is smart enough to keep score.
"The city has grown familiar with your statues. You ought to consider another hobby. Perhaps as a pâtissier." Higashizawa muses as the Wall Reaper continues to twitch. He's certainly focused and obsessive enough for the detail work. "I had my doubts about the Bito child, but he's quite adept with his basic knife skills. He may even be ready to try his hand at noodles soon."
He did still retain a few regrettable habits, like writing down certain cooking steps on his cast, or attempting to use it as a chopping block.
"You have any good recipes for rabbit ste - ARGH!"
Minamimoto upends the rest of his bucket in one scattershot blast. It is painfully ineffective, and Higashizawa stares for a moment at a drop of purple shrapnel on the toe of his boot.
"Are you aware of the correlation between great mathematicians and insane asylums?"
"The square root of a negative number is blow me."
Higashizawa shrugs, and keeps reading. Might he attempt to mix a macaron with a mochi or in that way does madness lie?
Two Players skid around the corner, their eyes going wide at the sight of him, the way most Players do. He's broad-shouldered enough that usually even his wings are hidden, though no one ever seems to mistake him for human. The rabbits are seated calmly at the curb, and he can hear Minamimoto panting for breath as he tries to put himself together. It's the smaller of the two players, the girl who walks right up to them and tips her hand over, a waterfall of broken metal, magnets and little lights tinkling against the pavement. Higashiizawa recognizes the small devices - so it's true, the Conductor was the one to spruce up Minamimoto's artistic vision.
"I don't recall the Games Master making that part of the challenge." He says, and watches the Player's eyes shine fiercely, glaring at the Wall Reaper. A strange batch of Players, this game. The Conductor did something to them, they're not as frightened as they usually are, not as afraid to stand strong. It's probably less impressive for the Reapers who actually have to try and take them down. Minamimoto sneers back at her, as if he hasn't been tossing paint bombs at rabbits for the better part of the day.
"Hey, remainders! This is a zero-sum game!" He points dramatically at where the rabbit noise are now occupied chasing each other in a circle. "Erase them!"
"Oh, they're cute!" The boy chirps in one of those 'what-was-your-Entry-Fee-again?' ways as the girl looks from the Noise to Minamimoto and back again. It's clear she suspects what Higashizawa knows for sure - a Noise that's using pins is not a Noise worth messing with. The Conductor's personal pets? It would likely be easier to move the district around them than try to get them to leave.
The boy looks nervous, bat in hand but definitely unwilling to attack a lop-eared rabbit under any circumstances, especially when his Partner is so angry it's nearly changing her Music. Higashizawa wonders why she remains so quiet when she starts typing on her phone and then he realizes she can't speak at all. It's not all that uncommon an Entry Fee, and this girl seems to be quite close to solving the problem by simply feeding Minamimoto her phone.
The Wall Reaper stares at her texted threat, undeterred, holding out with sheer stubbornness when all else has failed him.
"I'm rewriting the equation," Minamimoto snarls. The girl glares at the wall behind him, sizing it up. "Huff and puff all you want, this house ain't coming down."
"Well, that's not very nice."
Reapers and Players turn together to stare at the new arrival.
The girl has no wings, which means she ought to be a Player - except that there's no sign of her Partner, either. Higashizawa glances at Minamimoto, but the Wall Reaper seems as baffled as he is, if a little more annoyed about it.
The girl smiles at all of them, bright and welcoming, but mainly at the Player who's dropped his eyes, shoulders hunched nervously in on himself.
"You remind me of someone special. She couldn't believe how amazing she was, either." The boy smiles shyly. The girl's grin is almost too brilliant to look at directly. "Don't worry, you're exactly who you ought to be."
Higashizawa thinks maybe he can hear something, just beneath the usual sounds of the city, a gentle hum, the pure, low tone of a gently-struck bell. The rabbits are nowhere to be seen.
"Man," the girl says abruptly, as if she hasn't just crashed into an argument. As if she belongs here. "Now I know what it was like for Shiki that time she drank all those double espressos and pulled that all-nighter. I am never going to need to do drugs in my life. Like, ever."
She giggles suddenly, and leans back on her heels as if she might lose her balance, like maybe she won't need to do the drugs because there aren't any more left to do.
"How's the food, Ram Crotch?" The girl gives him a cheerful fingergun, but doesn't pull the trigger. "Beat'll barely remember he's supposed to be famous, but he's going to flip out when he gets that second Michelin star."
Next to him, Minamimoto blinks, eyes dropping to his belt buckle and up again. "Did she just call you Ram Crotch? Why don't I call you Ram Crotch?"
"Silence," Higashizawa mutters absently, his eyes still on the girl. He's used to the UG and its tricks, aware that things are rarely what they seem and there's invisible hands on all the strings, but he has the unnerving sensation that this girl - whatever she is - is juggling live, invisible grenades and expecting them to be impressed by her nonchalance.
"Who are you? How are you seeing us?"
"Okay, so I kind of get what Joshua was talking about now, you know? The danger and the whole exploding from sheer awesome and the - I mean, he still needs to learn his lesson, but… you know…" The girl stares down at her hands, fingers spread and palms toward the street, obviously looking at a lot more and maybe even believing that she's answering his question. "It's all like… I can't quite… oh man, I'm going to need another milkshake."
She giggles again. "I'm not saying this isn't fun, because it is, but there's not much judgment going on. At any moment, I think I might be convinced to bring the formal rompersuit into style, and I'm not sure I can stop me."
"The Conductor did this." Minamimoto mutters. "Whatever it is. It's too stupid not to be his bullshit."
"Neku?!" The girl's head snaps up, her whole expression like a lit firecracker, and she winces just as fast, as if her surprise even took her by surprise. "Okay. Yes. Neku. We like Neku, yes we do. Wow."
All this time, the Players have been watching silently, and though Higashizawa hadn't thought they'd be any less baffled, it's clear there's a benefit to just being a Player, to have a weak enough vibe that they can ignore the girl as just one more part of a Game that doesn't make sense and is trying to kill them. Still, he's impressed with the nerve of the mute girl, who takes two steps forward and lifts her phone up for the new girl to read.
"Huh… huh? Oh yeah, I think…"
The girl stretches out a hand, and the Wall disappears.
"Hey, look at that. I did a thing. Ha."
Minamimoto makes a startled noise of dismay, like someone told him they'd outlawed triangles, but Higashizawa is glad for the rush of anger that cuts through his confusion. Whatever this girl is, there are rules to the Game and even if it's not his week as Games Master this is still his UG and there is a system to uphold. He moves forward with all the solemn intent of a freight train, reaching for her.
"Not a step further. I will not allow this-"
He's certain he never touches her. He comes close, maybe just brushing the edge of her shoulder before the whole world explodes, vanishing in a wall of flashbulb-white.
Minamimoto listens to the two Players run off through what used to be his Wall, not so much caring about that as he stands over the bodies of Ram Crotch and Crazy Girl. Maybe they're dead or something, sprawled in a sort of post-battle anime shambles, just missing a little bit of smoke rising from the twitching corpses. He considers nudging one of them with his shoe, but quickly reconsiders
He shuffles a little to the left, and then to the right. He raises a hand to adjust his hat, forgetting its not there, and adjusts the empty air anyway, before staring up into the indifferent sky.
"Do I have to have feelings about this?"
The girl groans, and Minamimoto jumps, glad there's no one around to see him pressing against the wall behind him in case she feels like playing nuclear Tesla coil with anything else today. Thankfully, whatever she did to Higashizawa has hit her just as hard, and it's a long moment of blinking and shaking her head before she even seems to realize where she is. Minamimoto takes freezing like a stunned squirrel as the better part of valor. Higashizawa is still flat on his back and enviably free of having to be conscious for this bullshit.
"Wow," the girl chuckles, a little breathless. "I think… I think maybe I popped a seam. I'm gonna… I'm just gonna go, ok?"
"Yeah." Minamimoto says, because it's not like he actually cares about doing his job. "Yeah, why don't you do that?"
The girl clambers drunkenly to her feet, tottering off in the direction that the Players vanished and Minamimoto can only sort of hope she somehow accidentally napalms their asses into Harajuku because really that'd just equal things out.
Higashizawa sits bolt upright. Minamimoto jumps, yelps and immediately swears to deny all knowledge. Although as the moments pass, it seems less and less likely the other Reaper even noticed his reaction, just as staggered and dazed as the girl was. Slowly, he gets to his feet and slowly it dawns on Minamimoto that something's changed, something essential. He doesn't figure it out until one massive hand reaches back, to where Higashizawa's wings used to be, clutching at nothing but empty air, and the man's eyes scan the street, passing over Minamimoto without any sign of seeing him.
"I'm alive," Higashizawa breathes, a hand pressed against his chest, over his now-beating heart. "I'm alive?" Obviously it's the perfect time for him to say something pompous, or make some grandiose vow, but he just stands there, staring into space.
"Well, shit."
Higashizawa takes a step toward him and Minamimoto lunges to the side, just in case it's contagious, though they're on two different planes now, which means the man's hand ought to go right through him. He'd ask what they should do, but at the moment his mind is an absolute perfect blank, shocked even out of remembering how to switch back to the Realground.
"Are you still there?" Higashizawa says, though it's clear he's not that interested in the answer. He has his phone in his hand, and exhales one long, drawn-out breath ending with what is almost a laugh.
"If you are there, you're going to have to call the Conductor. I can't reach the UG anymore."
It's a beautiful day in Shibuya and the sky is clear and the flowers are blooming and Neku has yet to learn how to dodge an overhand strike.
"I think I'd be better at this without the audi-OW!"
"No." Kariya says, coming around for a second strike that Neku manages to block. "You're pretty much this bad all the time."
"Are those Hip Snake pants? Are you paying any attention to my reports?" Uzuki calls from her spot along the wall. "The Game Master demands you feed him your ninja fist!"
It's hard to tell Kariya was in a fight by the way he's moving now, though Neku thinks he can see a hesitation here and there, bruised muscles being forced through their paces.
It'd be real nice to hear what that epic battle was all about, and against whom and what it all meant but the moment he'd seen Kariya after school it had been all crossed arms and long-distance glances and Neku knew he wasn't getting anything out of the Reaper that he didn't want to give. For whatever reason, Neku has the feeling that Uzuki doesn't know about any of it - maybe he doesn't want to ruin her first Game week - and it'd be a dick move to push the point.
Maybe it should bother him more, but he just somehow aced a surprise history quiz in record time and it really is a spectacular day and he's not just saying that because he's still riding high on half a conversation with his actual sort-of boyfriend.
It might even have been good to get it out of the way, letting the 'love' thing slip because he is sort of In Love and Josh would have noticed it, sooner or later. Better to just do it all at once, and now it seems like the disaster has been averted, even if it means dodging peril by crashing into calamity. Still, Joshua's on speaking terms with him again, and Neku feels damn near invincible.
"Ow, shit!"
Okay, figure of speech, and Neku winces as he hauls himself up off the pavement for what feels like the thousandth time. Kariya hovers like a lazy vulture, obviously trying to choose from the full buffet of ass-kicking possibilities.
"All right, let's try something different. Go into your Conductor form for me. I want to see what we have to work with there."
"… no."
Kariya doesn't even blink. "Neku, I can keep hitting you until you show me."
It's hard not to whine, trying to think of a way out. It's not the first time Kariya's asked for this, but after whatever it was that happened yesterday Neku thinks he's not going to be able to dodge the issue, at least not any better than he's been dodging anything else.
"Can't we just-?"
"Nope." Kariya says, tapping the bokken lightly against his calf in an unnecessary warning. Uzuki is checking her makeup, and he figures he's got until the moment the compact snaps shut to make a decision.
"All right. Fine. Fine."
Neku's been practicing switching in and out of his Noise form. Okay, mostly he's been trying to stretch out his wings or imagine much bigger claws or anything that might make him larger than an underfed green snake.
So it doesn't take long for him to shift - and shrink. And shrink.
The sound of Reaper laughter cascades off the buildings until it sounds like the whole district is mocking him, and Neku mantles his wings and puffs out what passes for his chest and reminds himself that all life is sacred and if he starts pasting Reapers for mockery he's easily going to run out of Reapers and what he lacks in size he makes up in speed… and tinyness.
Damn it.
"Wow," Kariya says, and it looks like he's enjoying the first laugh he's had in a while. "No, it's good. You're… okay. I was just expecting a bit more…"
"What were you expecting?" Uzuki says. "I can't even see anything."
"Oh just shut up." Neku says, but for some reason being annoyed makes his tongue dart out which just provokes another round of laughter. All life is sacred. All life is sacred. Even if Reapers are already sort of dead and god his life is so dumb.
"There's not even enough of you for a handbag," Uzuki says. "Maybe a clutch purse. I mean, if you were a more stylish shade of blue."
Neku weighs his options, leaps into the air and just aims his claws for Kariya's crotch. Maybe not the most honorable of targets, but it gets his point across and he finally has the satisfaction of watching Kariya dodge out of his way.
"So, Beat," Neku says, lifting up the top tray of the massive bento box, revealing one just as stuffed beneath it, "which starving nation were you planning to feed with all this?"
"Uh, me? An' you an' Rhyme, of course." Beat throws a glare in Kariya's direction, not that the Reaper takes any notice of him, too busy double-fisting the rice balls. Uzuki's being a little more delicate about it, though neither one of them had actually bothered to ask before making their move on lunch.
Looking at it from the outside, the group of them could be a commercial or an ad campaign for Typical Teens Having Typical Fun, so far from the truth that light will never reach it. But he's lucky for all of this, and Neku knows he's lucky, remembering not so long ago, those late-night internet searches for jobs on oil rigs or deep-sea fishing, any place where he'd have to deal with as few people as little as possible.
"You gonna eat that or just keep staring?" Kariya asks
"I will cut you." Neku says, without looking up.
Not only has Beat stacked the layered bento with at least four solid layers of food, but he's still going out of his way to make it extra cute. Rice, vegetables and fruit have been molded and cut into little frogs and smiling fish and even a kappa, but when Neku hits the box full of rolls in the shape of pins - each one different - from Burning Berry to Lucky Star, he can only stare. Beat at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed.
"Rhyme likes Tin Pin, and I thought… okay, so I overdid it. A little. I had to work on my knife skills anyway."
Everyone gathers around the box to try and find familiar favorites amidst the spread. Neku grabs for a Peace Full - egg-and-rice with a smiley face - and a pretty impressive Unjo with what might be kanpyo making up at least part of the pattern. Uzuki and Kariya go for a pair of vaguely purple pieces that seem to be a matched set, bickering as they fight over who gets what - which is also part of a theme. The Dragon Couture pins are so pretty it seems a shame to eat them, but enjoying the view means Neku barely gets one out of the set.
One Red Pin gets nudged back and forth, until it's finally forgotten in the corner of the box.
Yoyogi Park's a good place for a break, some distance from the criss-crossing of the Game's official pathways, but still within the district, close enough to feel the Game but far enough that he can focus on just being Neku for a while. He can still see the boundary with Harajuku, like a nearly-invisible pane of glass rising up into the sky, higher than he can see. It catches glints of pale gold now and then as the barrier wavers with the beat of Shibuya's irrepressible rhythm. Neku wonders just how much stronger the district is than the rest, and how long it might last.
It's a little strange to relax with the Game going on, even though he knows being a hands-on Conductor in the day-to-day Game is more an oddity than anything. Maybe even an insult, though Uzuki's made it clear there's little more he can do to her that he hasn't done just by existing.
He has to admit, the new Games Master is on top of things. Given Uzuki's fashion obsession it's no surprise there's been an emphasis on pushing all the top brands, requiring Players to be fashion-forward enough even to enter certain streets, let alone get anything done there. He's trying to ignore that the J to the M store is having some sort of clearance sale in a desperate bid for any business this week, half-certain that arson might end up on the menu if he weren't there to discourage it.
Here and now in the middle of the game, things are starting to get serious, but Neku knows more than one set of Players are handling themselves well, with the goal well in sight. Uzuki's got them bartering hard, trading various pieces of different brands for slightly better swag at the next, with the game-winning finale of an absurdly priced pair of solid crystal Pavo Real shoes.
Yes, his Games Master is using the Players to go shoe shopping, and yes, the shoes in question are really majestically ugly. No, he's not going to point that out. At least not this week.
He's not sure if the vague Cinderella theme is intentional or not, but Neku's seen a few players in full-length ball gowns so the stats must be up.
Uzuki's giving it her all, enough that he can see it's taking a toll. Maybe Higashizawa had his tells in different ways, but Uzuki is just pale and quiet and tired-looking, her phone never leaving her hand, even as she eats with the other, too distracted to bother with teasing anyone.
Even with all the mortal peril and constant threat of death and plaids, this is another part of the job Neku's got to figure out. How to make sure Uzuki knows she's doing a good job without her thinking he's being condescending. How to let Higashizawa take the job back over so she can get some rest, without thinking that she's failed.
Maybe middle management feels less strange when no one has wings or a kill count.
"Neku, are you feeling okay?" Rhyme says, and he realizes he's had a roll poised in his chopsticks and hovering for some time. It's easy to smile and nod, popping it in his mouth - good, as good as any he's had anywhere, and when he says so Kariya nods too. It's funny how annoyed Beat still is around the Harriers - does any part of him remember being a Reaper, even a little? Still, he's happy they're all happy, that much is clear.
"I'm fine." Neku says. "So, Beat, are we celebrating something here?"
"Nothin." Beat says, and cringes from his little sister's glare. "What? 'S not like Shiki 'n Eri could make it. 'S not a party."
"Where are they, anyway?" Neku says, idly considering sending Shiki a text. He's been distracted around her, no doubt about that, and she deserves better. Once this Game week is up and he has a chance to breathe, he'll make sure to block out some real time for her. Maybe go see a movie, not that he has any idea what's even playing.
"Eri isn't feeling well, and Shiki's tailoring a dress at the last minute for her aunt." Rhyme says. "Except it's still a party, 'cause Beat's got something he wants to share."
She waits, expectantly, while Beat stares down at the ground and digs his toe into the gap between two bricks, until Rhyme finally gives up and shoves him.
"Uh, I guess… I mean, Mom and Dad said, um, y'know… it's cool if I want to go to culinary school."
Neku grins. "Oh, yeah?"
Beat snorts. "You're not surprised. I know Rhyme already told ya."
"I didn't!" His sister protests, shooting Beat a fierce glare.
"She didn't," Neku says, grabbing for another roll, what could be Kinetic Warning or maybe King's Knight - almost definitely certainly some kind of horse. "But I can't say I'm surprised. Congratulations, Chef Daisukenojō."
"Aw man, don't you even start that shit with me." Beat says, but he's grinning, one hand against the back of his head, pleased and embarrassed all at once.
Neku's starting to have some sort of a theory there, how it's always the loudest people demanding the most respect who have the hardest time really believing they deserve it. He'd always figured, with Rhyme the way she was, that things in the Bito household weren't beyond fixing, that Beat was likely just as frustrated as they were with how he couldn't seem to find his place. The kitchen seemed to be good for him, a mix of tough talk and simple rules, of knowing what he had to do and working his ass off to do it.
"Well, it's not like I'm going to complain about eating your homework." Neku says, popping two potato croquettes in quick succession and following it up with a pile of tart, pickled vegetables in the shape of little stars.
"I was half expecting you to cancel on me. You're kinda hard to get a hold of lately."
"I've had…" Neku would have to be a couple of Akutagawa prize-winners to even try to sum up any of what's happened, let alone what he feels about it, "… a lot going on."
Beat nods, but he's got a weird sort of thoughtful frown on his face that Neku doesn't entirely find reassuring.
"So is that all, the cooking? You're not flying away now to go be a chef in Paris or something, are you?"
"What? No, nah man I'm just gettin' started. It's gonna be years before they let me do anythin' more than dicing stuff up in the shop." Beat shifts a little nervously and his voice lowers, the sort of secretive voice Neku hadn't actually been sure he was capable of. "So… uh, is that him? Shiki said like, that you had… you know, and Eri said I wasn't supposed to ask or whatever, but…"
He's looking at Kariya, and then Neku's looking at Kariya, and after a moment Kariya's looking back at the both of them. The Reaper very deliberately swallows the last bite of whatever he'd been chewing on, and just as deliberately leans over to grab seconds, gesturing for Rhyme to keep adding more food to the lid he's using for a makeshift plate.
"You and him, like…" Beat frowns. If he still had his wings, they'd be tucking in with embarrassment. "Nevermind, man."
"… dating?" Neku hazards a guess, and though it seems entirely out of left field Beat's only ever met Joshua the once, and the Composer's not supposed to be a memory anyone gets to hold on to but even then - they've never really talked about it, have they?
"Kariya?" Wow, how would that even- "No. Really, really… no."
"Oh."
"I do, uh… I have one, though. A boyfriend." Neku's always been able to count on Beat on taking weird shit in stride, on rolling with it, and this shouldn't be any weirder than a life-or-death fight against a flying tiger woman, but Neku's been drop-kicked by this particular set of circumstances before. So he's got his chopsticks in a bit of a death grip, biting back on a dozen nervous half-apologies because if Beat can't deal, nothing he can say is going to-
"Cool. That's cool, man." Beat says. "We're cool?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we are."
Beat grins, as if he's just pounded a dozen Noise into submission all on his own, and he almost certainly prefers that to having to talk about feelings.
"So Eri says he's some kind of rich guy? Don't go and get all rock star an' leave all us little people behind."
Neku remembers waking up in his shower, half-amazed he hadn't accidentally drowned in his sleep "Beat, whatever it is you think I've been doing, I can promise you-"
"Hey. Neku."
777 is walking toward them, raising one lazy hand in greeting, flanked by the rest of Def March. Beat has a pretty good deadpan look for someone impervious to irony.
"I'm jus' sayin? I'm jus' sayin."
The Def March crew is here to hand over free tickets to their concert, and 777 wants to talk to Uzuki about how the Game's going to interfere with his show. The both of them quickly wave him away when Neku tries to listen in, so he figures it's got less to do with actual danger and more with dueling egos, 777 not wanting to lose his audience if any Noise should happen to wander inside.
Uzuki counters with apathy, obviously amazed that such masters of music could be so aggressively lame in person. 777 blithely tosses BJ into the line of fire, and they all watch him mumble a bit while shifting and giving her awkward puppy eyes. Tenho and Beat are over by the slowly dwindling remains of his picnic, discussing whether curry or ramen is the superior food of choice, mostly based on cost, the use of leftovers and how long they can stay in the fridge before going bad. Rhyme is picking through the dessert box for her favorite flavors of mochi.
777 looks good, stronger and more solid every time Neku sees him, although as far as he knows Def March haven't bothered playing this week's Game, too busy getting ready for tomorrow's concert. Time off for bad behavior. It's not like there's been many Erasures anyway, and Neku's sort of starting to wonder if that might be a problem, if he can't convince more than a few of this week's Players to become Reapers. Is it really a problem, if too many Players cross back over, or can the system hold? In moments like this, it feels like Shibuya is invincible, but the district's no more likely to show weakness than the people - and Reapers - who call it home.
Which is sort of annoying when he's trying to hunt down clues, to pin down a problem that might not even exist. Neku's tried to make some general queries, to see how the system works in other games, but except for friendly pings from Ibiza and Vegas mentioning that the Hollywood Game's rolled over three full times since the Composer party it's been a lot of people either not wanting to get involved or - more likely - too busy with their own Games to think about sharing secrets.
He's in a real dangerous spot with the data Akibahara's handed over. It doesn't look good, and the more Neku studies it the worse it gets - there's a problem, and Shibuya's the source. What are the odds the Long Game doesn't have something to do with it? The moment Neku had the data in hand he'd wanted to run to Wildkat - but the moment after that he'd stumbled over Kariya possibly getting his ass handed to him by a couple of Angels, and now he's not so sure this isn't just the excuse Brede needs. Solid proof that the Long Game had measurable consequences in Shibuya, the Producer and the Composer undone by the Conductor's own hand.
The hell with that.
"I think you need to make feeding us a mission." Kariya says, slouching next to him, as casual as ever. "Once, maybe twice a week. It's good for morale."
"I have to work too hard when you get happy." Neku wonders if this is a deliberate opening, the two of them just far enough away from the crowd not to be overheard, or if Kariya will let it all slide if he doesn't come out and ask.
"So… those guys you were - those were Angels, huh?"
The Reaper doesn't even blink. "They're watching you."
"Figures." Neku doesn't glance around, but he wants to. "Now?"
"Probably." Kariya says, unwrapping one of his red bean pastes for dessert. "The American's a jackass. Not sure about the other one"
"So there's two of them?" And Brede. Three Angels in Shibuya. Yeah, that's probably just going to be awesome. "I already told them, I'm not going anywhere." Once again, Neku's aware he's not telling Kariya anything the Harrier doesn't already know. "So how long did you know I was… you know."
"An Angel? I had my suspicions for a while now. That time you Ascended, without meaning to…" Kariya smirks, still amazed, before switching the paste to the other side of his mouth. "What were you doing there, with Akibahara's Loli?"
He probably shouldn't be confiding this much in one of his Reapers - but Kariya isn't just any Reaper, and it's nice to think that Kitaniji didn't know that, that even Joshua doesn't know it.
"I think something's wrong with the Game. Or the district, or… I don't know…" Tokyo? He can't actually say that out loud and still take himself seriously. "There's people who are dying, people who ought to be Players and they're not popping back up anywhere. No one seems to notice, I think all the Composers just assume that the worthy Souls will show up in one district or another, so nobody even keeps track of the ones that don't. Maybe it's nothing, but… but if they're not going to the Games and they should be, then where are they?"
Kariya is frowning, maybe thoughtfully, maybe not so interested. At least he's not laughing outright, so maybe Neku isn't completely out of his mind.
"When I saw you facing off against those Angels… now I'm thinking just telling them all this up front might not do anyone any good."
"Did you work things out with the Composer?"
All right, so Kariya also knows he's dating Joshua. Neku sighs, and wonders why he hasn't made a pin for a hole to crawl into. The Harrier uses the distraction to swipe a tempura shrimp off his plate.
"Don't be so dramatic, kid. It happens a lot more than the upper ranks like to let on. So… what's the next move?"
Neku does sort of have a plan coming together, now that he has a handful of tickets to Def March's surprise 'reunion' show. It seems like the sort of thing Joshua might like to hate, neutral ground for all kinds of awkwardness and plenty of excuses for not talking, or talking and then pretending not to hear.
The perfect date.
"Not sure. We're talking again. I don't know what'll happen if I bring up this whole… district thing. Either he'll think I'm an idiot or he'll take it as a personal insult. How does it usually happen, in the districts you've been in?"
"Usually there's a new Conductor and nobody asks what happened to the old one."
"Oh. Yeah." Neku shrugs. "Well, if he leaves me hanging too much longer it might start looking like he's worried, so… either he really loves me or he really loves himself. Guess which one I'm sticking with."
Kariya lets out half a laugh around the rest of the hand roll he's also stolen from Neku's plate, and they sit in a surprisingly friendly silence as the world rolls by around them. No one else is in this corner of the park - he wonders if maybe 777 has some sort of power for not being seen when he doesn't want to be.
Rhyme is asking the leader of Def March a few questions with that laser-guided precociousness of hers, leaving Beat to do his usual awful job of pretending he's not protectively hovering. In the even-more-painful-to-watch competition, BJ is putting some extremely awkward moves on Uzuki while Tenho cringes helpfully in the background.
The thought is very quiet, as easy to ignore as to accept - that this is his life, and he kind of might actually like being the Conductor of Shibuya.
"Here, boss. I been meaning to give you this."
Kariya hands the small figurine over with no more ceremony than a stick of gum, though it looks like an antique. It's slightly damaged, cracked and scratched, but still beautiful. A tiny crane sculpture, and Neku turns it slowly in his hand, feeling the odd, UG weight of it, heavy and light at the same time. Old, but familiar too.
"It's like… it's a pin, isn't it?"
Kariya nods, granting permission before Neku can even ask, and he glances behind him to see where Rhyme and Beat are, even if they wouldn't notice this, as he focuses and the pin wavers to a blade in his hand that's almost weightless, even lighter than in its other form. If it is like a pin, it ought work on his will and intent alone - which means he has some hope of not chopping all his fingers off by looking at it wrong.
"It's beautiful, but a sword? Won't that just limit my Imagination?"
Kariya snorts. "Like you haven't watched enough ninja movies to be creative?"
"Point."
Neku lets it shift back into its other form, and that's when he notices the slight discolorations on the surface, dark and faded stains that might be ink or lacquer but just as likely could be blood. The longer he studies it, the older it seems, the kind of thing he usually has to look at through a museum's thickest pane of glass.
"Oh man, this - this means something doesn't it?" Neku blurts, and Kariya laughs. A real laugh, though the look in his eyes is dark and deep and raw, probably the sort of thing Neku isn't supposed to notice.
"Yeah… it means something."
"You could warn a guy before you start having feelings all over the place." Neku says, trying to lighten the mood, but Kariya still looks troubled, miles away and who knows how many years ago.
"You're fast, boss, in that Noise form of yours."
"Kinda." He says a little suspiciously, though Kariya's not aiming for a cheap shot.
"You actually wink in and out of combat Frequency, you know that? It makes you almost impossible to hit." The Harrier says. "Remember it - and remember, as long as you stay in the RG, none of this shit can get to you."
"You know, a straight answer now and then can really make a conversation shine." Neku's trying to pretend he isn't nervous, but screw it - if Kariya's this serious, then there's definitely something to worry about. "Is there a fight I need to worry about? Is this about those Angels?"
"Do you ever think about taking them up on their offer?"
Okay, so that's maybe the last thing he ever expected to hear, but there's nothing in Kariya's pose that's casual and nothing in the way he won't meet Neku's eyes to suggest it's any kind of joke.
"What are you-"
A heavy weight drops across both their shoulders, 777 leering down cheerfully into the space between them. Kariya grunts slightly under the singer's full weight, and 777 looks at each of them, and the tiny crane in Neku's hand, finally raising an eyebrow in menacing amusement.
"So, how's it going there, Kariya-'niisan?"
"Shut up." Kariya sighs. Neku's about to ask, when he remembers what he'd said to Tsuyoshi, the spur-of-the-moment explanation for the Reaper's semi-constant presence around school, and he'd never come up with a better answer for why Kariya hung around. So Tsuyoshi must have met up with 777 to grab his tickets and talk about plans for shooting the show and… yeah.
Yeah.
"Hey man, nothing wrong with a little brother complex. Find the right audience and it'll sell like crazy." 777 chuckles a little as Kariya shoves him off, though each of them is doing their best to work as little at it as possible. God forbid the antagonism gets the better of the laziness. "Learn a few chords and I could hire you as my warm-up act."
"You think BJ and Tenho would have as much fun putting you together a second time?" Kariya says, but at least he isn't going for his sword. Yet.
"Maybe we should take a vote." 777 turns his head, raising his voice. "Hey guys, I got this great idea, raise your hand if-"
Everyone raises their hands. Half of them don't even look up.
777's expression is punchably smug as he whacks Neku on the back hard enough to displace a rib. It's still not clear if the singer's got a special kissed-you-in-the-kitchen smirk or if Neku just gets the regular groupie discount grin. Either way he has to look away and pretend he has no idea why 777 is still smiling.
He's praying that Kariya doesn't notice. Once again, whatever god is listening finds it much more entertaining not to answer his prayers. To his credit, the Harrier only blinks twice at the thought, although this is probably nothing new in his world.
"So, I'm the overprotective pervert who won't let Neku walk home alone, and you're the super fancy pervert in the liquid leather pants?"
"No," 777 says, "you're the thirty-year-old pervert with no job who lives at home, and I'm the sex god who exists beyond all petty mortal conventions."
Neku's really looking forward to the end of the week. A break from the Game and a quiet weekend and maybe a single twenty-four hour period somewhere in the rest of his life where he isn't surrounded by lunatic assholes.
"You know," he says, "I know a guy who'd shoot you both for a bowl of ramen, and for all I know we're still actually dating."
Eventually they run out of food and Def March has to get back to practice and Kariya and Uzuki have to get back to the Game - three hours left to go, more or less. Neku ought to go home and at least stare at his pile of unfinished homework but Beat and Rhyme still want to hang out for a while, which means a long, quiet stroll through the city to home. 777 went so far as to sign Rhyme's bag, and she's still happily talking to her brother as Neku scrolls through his phone.
He will never actually see the bottom of his e-mail pile again. The best he can do at this point is try to scrape down through the most recent layers, making sure not to lose sight of anything immediately important. No e-mails from Joshua, and he refuses to be disappointed by that - the Composer's been around for a long time, it's okay if they go slow and it's okay if 'slow' by his demands is more on a geologic scale.
Of the dozen people who've checked out his sketches on pixiv, three of them are recurring bots and the newest one is a dick who's reprinting them on stickers and lighters and hot mitts - of all things - and selling them on ebay. From somewhere in… Calgary. Bless the global marketplace. Neku had bitched to Vancouver because she'd been on and he had the notion that the two places were vaguely in the same area so maybe he might bum a favor, but she'd been rather annoyingly Zen about the whole business - 'the really timeless things, Neku, they stop belonging to you.'
The really timeless things, in his opinion, deserved a little better than a pilfered three- dollar hot mitt. He could have used that three dollars. Maybe it's time he thinks about merchandising.
There's a spate of Conductor mail, announcing this concert or that performance, pretending to be open invitations when it's mostly a chance to brag. Neku's not sure if he ought to mention Def March or not - maybe he should get one of Tsuyoshi's pictures or a poster or something first, to be properly impressive. If he had the knowledge and the inclination, Neku imagines he could watch the effects of the ebbs and flows of power sweeping back and forth between Games, affecting everything from politics to finances to - well, just look at Beat. He'll take Shibuya with him, wherever he goes, and when he lands there that Composer will know exactly where he came from.
Of course, not everything in Neku's inbox is quite so edifying. Apparently a Player's entry fee has gone missing somewhere in Belgium, not so much a problem save that his most treasured possession was a rather extensive porn collection, and one Composer is currently blaming another for the theft, while Conductors from Lisbon to outer Mongolia point and laugh and Neku learns that this sort of thing isn't nearly as uncommon as he needs it to be.
"Neku? Can I ask you something?"
Rhyme's cheerful chirp catches him in the middle of scrolling through an incredibly unfortunate and hairy image of said theft, and he throws his phone into his pocket with slightly more force than necessary. Rhyme looks like she's worried she might have interrupted something important, and Neku remembers what Beat said, about being too busy and important for his friends.
"Sorry, Rhyme. What was that?"
It seems she had been interviewing 777 for some sort of class project, words of advice from older sempai and important businesspeople on how to live a successful life. Well… Neku is older, at least. He has the twin notions that it would be absolutely hilarious to get Joshua's idea of advice, as well as the worst idea he's ever had, so it's sort of amazing Josh isn't here now.
"What do you think is the most important part of being an artist?"
"I dunno, I suppose it's different for everyone, depending on where they are." Neku shrugs. "Always challenge yourself? Don't be afraid to push further than you think you can go."
Beat nods approvingly. Neku wonders if the interview with the owner of Ramen Don has happened yet. Def March is pretty much the high point of his chain of acquaintances - well, maybe…
"Hey, have you thought about interviewing Mr. H, from the coffee shop?" A super-secret interview with CAT might not impress any grade schoolers, but Neku certainly wouldn't mind taking a look at the answers. Rhyme frowns, and shakes her head, looking oddly serious for a moment.
"She's already got a barista, an' I know the guy who works Wild Boar." Beat says, and Rhyme nods, moving to the next question on her list.
"How would you define a… work/life balance?"
Neku can't help but laugh. "Can I get back to you on that one?"
"'Kay." Rhyme taps the pen against the paper. "So what do you think is the most important element of a partnership?"
"Superior firepower."
"What?"
"Respect." Neku says, and at least these lessons come from honest experience. "Trust. It's not easy, but in the end it's the only thing that matters."
Beat nods again. Maybe he remembers it somewhere, deep down, that they were a halfway decent team even running for their lives with the world going a thousand kinds of batshit around them.
It seems like his phone rings the minute they step back into the borders of the UG, his ringtone somehow turned into a song he's never heard before. 777's voice calls out, small and tinny, so he can only assume it's Def March's newest hit, probably the opener for the concert. He shouldn't answer it, this is Realground time and he needs to separate at least a little space for himself, but if someone's calling him… and there's that shit with the Angels, and Kariya was nervous…
Beat rolls his eyes but grins just the same, stepping back with Rhyme to give Neku some privacy.
His fingers knock against the tiny figurine Kariya gave him as he reaches for his phone. It's almost a shock, the difference between the ancient wood and the brand-new plastic, and he really should have asked what Kariya was doing giving it to him, and why, but if the Harrier wanted to tell him, he would have.
"Hello? Hel- what? What? Who is this? Minami- I didn't give you this number. I didn't even give you a phone."
Neku stops moving, turning further away from Beat and Rhyme and toward the open street. They're actually quite near Scramble Crossing, what he's thought of as the epicenter of the Game since the third day he'd played. It's no big surprise that there's a fight happening, a good one, and it'd be distracting even if Minamimoto was making any sense at all.
He's grateful that he's gotten used to tuning out the RG without having to shift Frequencies completely. The Game is nearly impossible to see through the crush of cars and people, but if he concentrates a little, the RG will fade into the background and allow him to see the Players in action.
His Shinjuku Reaper is the one in charge, making wide, fast circles around two Players, corralling a pile of Noise toward them like a herd of cattle. No, they're antelope, or antelope's slightly faster homicidal cousin, and nothing Neku remembers fighting before. Was Shinjuku dumping its secondhand Noise on him along with its secondhand Reapers?
It's impossible to consider it for long, with Minamimoto still yowling frantic nonsense in his ear.
"I can't understand you when you talk in quadratics. Can you maybe calm down a - nope." It's like asking a neurotic parrot to stop molting, the Wall Reaper's screeching rising so loud Neku can hear him with the phone at arm's length, swearing he's going to ditch them all for Kyoto or Hokkaido or Des Moines, wherever that is.
The Reaper's got the Noise moving nearly as fast as the passing traffic Neku can still see in the UG, but he knows these Players, consistently ranking at the top of Uzuki's reports, fighting now together in near-perfect harmony. He'd love to watch them win, but there's the matter of this tinny voice intent on impaling his eardrum, and the only thing he can do is double down and… god help him, have a conversation with Minamimoto.
"What are you… ok, wait - some 'crazy girl'?" Neku lowers his voice, though Beat is on his own phone, and Rhyme seems engrossed with her interview notes. "One of the Reap - okay, what? Not a Reaper? So then she's - what do you mean she wasn't a Player, either? What? What do you mean we have to hit Higashizawa with a car?"
The Music stops.
Neku's barely clinging to the physical world, more UG than RG at the moment despite all his best intentions and so at first it feels like he's gone deaf, like those first few moments that very first time in the UG, before Shiki and the Frog Noise and everything that followed.
No, it's really not like that at all. It's the silence of the moon, of being so far away that the world and everything on it might as well not exist. It's being hunted by long claws and longer teeth in the dark, and hearing it come closer. It's the long, slow slide of time with no one left to mark it, the sound of wind sneaking through the gaps in bones, the click of skeletal hands left to bleach in the sun.
He's dragged under in the space between one breath and the next, swallowed and frozen like a bug in glacial amber. The world's become a soundproofed room with one-way glass between him and his Reaper and his Players - if he shouted they wouldn't hear him, but Neku can't even breathe. It takes all his focus just to try and untangle what it is he's feeling and hearing, straining to listen to Shibuya's Music. Where is it? Where?
The Reaper throws her hand out, the Noise leaping forth like a team of charging horses, and for a moment it all seems as if everything else is still normal, the Players working together, watching each others backs even as the Noise seek to pull them apart.
The taller of the Players, the girl who's a boy with a pretty good arm - Aiko? Ayaka? - darts away from a snapping set of jaws only to suddenly stumble, letting out a cry of pain, and Neku sees the pin flare up like a fireball as the Player throws it away, staggering another step back only to cry out again. When he tosses the next pin away it isn't without effort, attached to a spear of ice that he has to wrench out of his side, and the wound leaves him limping. Neku's seen Players accidentally knocking themselves and their Partners silly with a poorly-judged attack, and he's certainly made more than his share of misfires, but this…
A jolt of lightning leaves Neku blinking away the afterimage, and the boy slumps heavily to his knees, pins scattering around him, where they sputter and crackle like fireworks. His partner screams - the singer, the one who can't talk, pushing the Noise back to reach the boy who's bracing himself against the bat, struggling back to his feet.
The Noise aren't being Erased.
Neku watches them break beneath the girl's sonic assault as she fights to reach her Partner, sees them stumble and crumple only to rise and reform and attack again. It doesn't feel like Taboo Noise, that was only mindless fury, heat and rage - this Noise is empty and hollow, as silent as the Scramble that rises up all around them. Neku's lived here his entire life, and he doesn't know where he is.
He looks to where the Reaper is still circling, but she's slowed, no longer attacking and with no triumph on her face. Instead, she looks confused - whatever her plan was, this isn't it.
The Player's back on his feet, if a bit shaky, and dodges the Noise that lunges forward - it shifts and bulges violently beneath the skin, as if something inside is trying to tear it apart. The Player brings his bat up for a massive line drive, a home run - and it splinters into a thousand pieces against the back of the Noise that barely pauses, lunging forward to Erase him - her - Ami, her name is Ami - with a single blow.
Her Partner is still howling, futile rage and sorrow tearing through the Noise, though this only serves to make them grow larger and more twisted. The girl stumbles suddenly, nearly falls, striking at what Neku sees is are pair of pale gray arms rising from the street, clutching at her legs. The hands claw for purchase, dragging her down, and another pair joins them, and another as the Noise close in. With one last defiant cry, the Player disappears in the twisted chaos, the Noise seeming to devour each other along with everything else, until only bare street remains.
It's been a matter of moments, of a few staggering steps, Neku nowhere near close enough or fast enough even if he were in the UG and even if he had known what was about to happen and he still doesn't know, he doesn't know…
The Reaper doesn't know either, poised on her skates in the very center of the Scramble and there's nothing left of the Players, not a single pin - the pins, what was wrong with the pins - or weapon or whisper of song to mark their passing and Neku can't hear anything but the wet bone and sinew sound of his own dry swallow and the scrabble of his breath caught in his throat as the whole world trembles.
The district rumbles with it, the slow stir of a wakening heart - like a massive beast, uncoiling itself in the dark. Neku thinks about the shiver of the needle on a Richter scale, how logarithmic means that when the needle jumps off the page the earth itself might as well crack in two. His ears pop, and he swallows hard but it doesn't help, and Neku can feel the soft, static crackle as if it's crawled right down his throat.
A slow, building hiss rises up where the Music ought to be, louder and louder, and the Reaper - his Reaper - looks up, her wide eyes locking on his with an almost audible click. He sees a bit of relief in her fear, as she turns, ready to skate toward him. Just one more day in the weirdo Shibuya Game, but now he's here so it will all be okay - but she can't hear what he does.
The whole world comes apart, and the static emptiness sweeps down and over her and through her. Neku watches her shatter, sees her vanish and nothing is left behind.
Neku can't feel his wings rise up but they must be there, as he calls up fire in one hand and lightning in the other and even with it dancing between his fingertips he feels unarmed, and terribly small. Neku feels pathetic, the way it was at the very beginning of the Game when he knew nothing and everything wanted him dead.
A flicker of movement at his feet has him jerking back in terror, but there's no sign of anything else trying to claw itself up. Just a tiny mark on the street, weak and wobbling, but more of them follow, and then more - and Neku figures out what's being written just as he realizes it's being done backwards, as if the street is a window and they're scrawling at him from the other side.
HELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPME
The pleas stretch out in front of him in countless frantic strokes, until they cover each other in their urgency.
Oh, this is going to be very bad.
A fission of static snaps his head back up, and he's ready to move, to fight, but the girl watching him from the opposite side of the Scramble doesn't have a weapon at all. Neku doesn't recognize her, she's not a Player. Stunningly tall, even if she's wearing a high-school uniform, with hair so long and dark it looks like a fall of ink, dropping below the hem of her skirt. Minamimoto's hat is badly out of place on her head, even perched at a fashionable angle, and he can't see her face, not with her phone out and taking a picture of him. She lets it drop, and winks at him, and he can see behind her smile, an expression painted on the thinnest of eggshells, and what's beyond is just nothing, endless and void -
She points up. Neku's face stares back at him from the screen of the 104, his own horror and confusion broadcast larger than life, and when he looks back she's gone.
"-so I mean, maybe you'd think about redoing the menu?"
The RG snaps into place so violently around him that Neku stumbles and nearly falls. Beat's still talking, and the sound of his nonchalance is as comforting as it is foreign. Neku's phone clatters against the pavement, the only other sound the beep of the dial tone.
"I bet I could convince the boss to give it a chance, and I know you could do somthin' they'd like."
Neku has his hands against his knees and all his strength working on just staying upright, panting hard and unable to catch his breath. Shivering, with the sweat sticking to him where it's not still dripping around his ears and down the back of his neck. Cars are rushing by from what seems like far too close, but Neku can't find the strength to move his legs or even lean away from the road. He can't do anything except stand where he is - crouch where he is, and tremble.
He glances up, already knowing he'll only see a soft drink ad scrolling across the screen of the 104. Somehow it makes him feel worse.
The rest of living Shibuya spills around them like water around stones, but Neku cannot keep the image out of his head, the moment the Reaper vanished - vaporized, annihilated - playing over and over again even with his eyes open. The Players torn to pieces by Noise that didn't die. He can hear Shibuya again, distantly, through a heavy ringing in his ears. Neku feels battered, exhausted, as if he's just broke the surface of a dark ocean, but there's no star to guide him and even less to get him back to the shore.
"Rhyme?" Beat says, his voice soft at first but quickly rising in panic. "Hey, you a'ight? Rhyme? Rhyme?!"
At least his friends are safe. Neku's been more grateful for that than anything, that no matter what happens or what he has to do, at least the rest of them have been through the Game and won, and they're free from all his consequences.
Except that Rhyme is staring at the Scramble, at what she couldn't have seen, she couldn't have - but she has, and she's pale and crying and even Beat's frantic shouts are no match for her screams.
Author's Notes -
1) "I am so pissed at Vancouver. You have no idea. I had to get up and pace this morning about that. Fuck her and her successful artist bullshit."
"If it's any consolation I don't agree with her either."
"The thing is I can see Neku reacting as he did, because he's a high-school kid who lives in Shibuya and has a cleaning lady and goes to a private school and his cashflow problems are mostly about not being able to buy Shiki a ridiculously expensive necklace. He's 15. He doesn't know. But can you put it in end of chapter notes or something? The fact that Vancouver needs a face punching? Or your beta rebels and eats a baby?"