Author's Note: This chapter took 5 million years to edit but it still feels like there's something off about it. Ah well. I'll post it now and edit it again later.
It was a nice world. A world where problems could be solved by the Power of Friendship and games involving children's collectible pins. It was a stroke of luck that he'd ended up in such a nice place. Practically a luxury retreat, compared to his own Shibuya.
Something about it made him giddy. Something about it put him in the kind of mood that made him want to rip legs off insects. Both moods were appropriate for his current goal of mercilessly crushing a preteen at Tin Pin Slammer.
He hadn't expected to get so absorbed in the game. But his own Shibuya was out of his hands now. The outcome of his Game was up to Neku. Joshua had steered him in the right direction, and now?
There was nothing to do.
Joshua had never known such freedom in all his life or death. Even the feel of things was different. It was not like being in the RG, nor like being alive. He could still feel some form of connection to the Shibuya of this world, but it was muffled and easy to ignore. Nothing was depending on him.
It was like escaping from a whirlpool, getting a few breaths of air, realizing how sweet it tastes for the first time. He knew it was only for a short time. Just a minute to lie on his back and float before the current would drag him back to the rapids.
And still, he intended to enjoy every breath.
"Better late than never," Joshua remarked cheerfully when Hanekoma finally showed up to find him at the Shibuya River.
"I had some business to take care of," Mr. Hanekoma said.
"Business more important than the fate of Shibuya?" Joshua questioned, eyebrow raised in mock intrigue.
Sanae shrugged in lieu of answering.
An awkwardness hung in the air. Joshua pretended it wasn't there. He didn't want it to be there. Whatever was going on, he didn't want it to come to light. But as Hanekoma approached him, the familiarity and ease Joshua was used to with him didn't return. Hanekoma remained stiff and his smile false.
"You're not on my side, are you?" Joshua said, as Hanekoma took him by the arm.
"I don't take sides, boss. Ain't my place."
"Liar."
Joshua had hoped that his Producer would argue. Prove him wrong. But he didn't even attempt to do so before pulling him back into his own dimension.
There were a lot of people who had wished or currently wished Joshua dead. There were thousands more ignorant or indifferent to his existence. But, if there was anyone in the world who Joshua thought might care a little bit once he was gone, who might trust Joshua a little to make his own decisions and do with his city what he saw fit - Joshua had always thought it would be Hanekoma.
But no. Not even him, Joshua thought, and he laughed bitterly and alone.
Regardless of what it implied about Hanekoma, Joshua couldn't help but be thrilled when the reconstructed Minamimoto showed up in the Shibuya River at exactly the wrong time.
Joshua was winning. Everything was going exactly according to plan. Megumi's actions had been just drastic enough to spur Neku into action against him. Neku had grown strong and would soon be reunited with Shiki, the partner he really cared about. Joshua couldn't be in a better position.
And Minamimoto, now bestial and stronger than ever in his Taboo form, was the punching bag he hadn't realized he needed.
Joshua didn't even bother to use his higher-level powers to deal with him. He enjoyed the frustration his apparent apathy inspired in Minamimoto.
"Looks like it's you who's been added to the heap," Joshua said, giggling at his own joke as he left the battered Minamimoto behind.
He could've erased him, but why bother? If he had his way, they were all going to be erased soon enough. Might as well let him stick around and enjoy the show.
Joshua tried to be a gracious winner. He really did. Megumi deserved that much. He managed to keep it professional with him as his Conductor faded away. "...I liked your idea. Shame it didn't work out," he said. A bit charitable, but Megumi had done well for the small amount of time and power he'd been allotted.
Megumi vanished, leaving behind Neku, Neku's other partners, and somewhere, Sanae. Joshua couldn't see him, but he was sure he was watching somehow.
And in front of this audience, Joshua couldn't help but gloat a little. Why not? It was over. He was never going to have his amphitheater full of admirers - after all he'd worked for in his life, this victory was all he had to show for it. So why not show it off? Why not explain?
Especially when Neku didn't get it. He was looking at him - so trustingly, like he fully expected Joshua would have a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this and he'd just have to listen to it and then he'd get the happy ending he'd thought he was fighting for.
How simple. How ignorant. How very much like he had once been.
Maybe that was why it brought him such satisfaction to see that look of trust disappear into shock. Anguish. Joshua couldn't go back in time and punish himself for his foolishness. Neku was the next best thing.
"I thought I finally found a friend I could relate to…" Neku sobbed.
Joshua laughed, and tried not to think of those few short moments of genuine connection that had popped up in between the lies. He tried not to think about how it felt to have a partner - to feel another person's pain, an experience he'd nearly forgotten from the first time around. He tried not to think of Manako - the Noise she had become probably long erased by now. He tried not to think of Mr. Santos - who still sometimes squinted as though he might have recognized him when Joshua went to visit him in his shop.
He pushed those thoughts away. Instead, he thought of Sanae. Sanae, who was watching somewhere.
"Why don't we play one last Game?"
Either Joshua would win, or he would be erased. Either way, Shibuya wouldn't be his problem anymore. And he could think of no better way to get his proxy to understand, than to let him deal with all of this.
Joshua raised his gun.
Neku raised his gun.
And lowered it.
Joshua pulled the trigger.
And that was how Joshua found out he was wrong. There was someone in the world who cared if he existed or not. But it wasn't Mr. Hanekoma. It was Neku.
Neku, who had hated him.
Neku, who had hated everyone.
Neku, who he'd lied to and used.
Neku, who should by all logic have fewer fond feelings for Joshua than anyone.
Neku, of all people, cared if Joshua lived or died. Neku, of all people, trusted Joshua to make the right decision for his city.
That alone would have been no reason to spare Shibuya, of course. That decision wasn't about sentimentality. He'd simply been shown the flaws in his reasoning. Joshua had decided to give up on Shibuya because he'd thought its people couldn't change. But Neku had changed.
Resurrecting Neku and all his friends - that decision had been about sentimentality.
It took more than he had to give, to bring Neku back. To mend the gap in reality from the past three weeks. By the time he was done, he was too weak to even dip down into the RG and take a walk to Ramen Don - and he was desperately craving it. He was certainly too weak to clean up the Taboo Noise or deal with Minamimoto.
"He did me a favor. I'm repaying my debts," Joshua would have said, if anyone had asked. But no one did.
He didn't remember what he'd come to talk to Mr. Hanekoma about. He was too distracted by the clean, fresh, and very much intact nature of the cafe. That can't be right, Joshua thought. Hanekoma couldn't have cleaned it - he was too busy with "other things." He'd decided to leave it in shambles for the time being.
Why had Joshua even come here again? Why come when the cafe wasn't open?
He went inside despite or because of his confusion, though he walked cautiously, slowly enough that Marshmallow the street cat felt comfortable brushing against his leg as he passed her. "Mr. Hanekoma?" he called softly as the door chimes rang.
But it wasn't Mr. Hanekoma he encountered inside. It was a girl at the bar in a high school uniform, bangs teased in a style that hadn't been popular in decades. She turned to face him, dropping the pencil she'd been holding on top of a composition book in front of her. "Joshua!"
It was Manako. But the smile she was wearing wasn't hers.
Several possibilities occurred to Joshua: it was some sort of trick, he was hallucinating, or he'd traveled to a parallel world without knowing. Either way, he figured if he played along he'd get answers eventually. He took the seat beside her. "Manako. Long time no see."
"I was waiting forever," she complained, shoving her composition book aside and retrieving another from her backpack: Fundamentals of Calculus, read the cover.
Her voice echoed strangely, and he felt for a second like the world was spinning around him. He blinked and it was fixed back in place, with Manako staring at him intently.
He touched the book gingerly, letting his fingers thrum against the glossy paperback cover. "What's this?"
"Uh, a book? Weirdo," she said, but there was no malice or disgust in his voice. Only amusement. She was teasing. Because they were friends. And that smile on her face was Neku's. It was Neku's smile when he found him again at the end, before he knew the truth.
"Ah. I know what this is," said Joshua. He didn't know why he was experiencing it, but he knew what he was experiencing.
This was the happy ending he never got. The life Neku had earned, the life Joshua had given up. He hadn't seen it as giving up at the time. He'd thought he had no choice.
Now he was less sure. If he'd changed his mind about challenging the Author, could he have found a way to make everything work out? Could he have come out alive and with a friend nearly his age - an actual friend? He and Manako had not been friends, but could they have grown closer in adversity, come to some kind of understanding?
What might have been, if he'd only allowed himself to undergo the same sort of growth he demanded in every other Player?
"You're not real, you know," Joshua told Manako, as though she was silly for behaving as though she was.
A mug clinked the counter behind him. "Ah, come on, Joshua. Reality's all a matter of perception. You know that!"
Joshua turned around to face Mr. Hanekoma, who somehow looked younger despite having never visibly aged. For a second, he allowed himself to be the ignorant little boy he had been, to believe Sanae was just an ordinary person, who let Joshua hang around him because he enjoyed his company and for no other reason than that. "Mr. Hanekoma," he said, "you're talking like someone who invents a New Age religion for money."
Mr. Hanekoma laughed, and Manako retorted, "He's not wrong. You can alter reality, can't you? You can unmake time. Don't you see how arbitrary it is?"
He put a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Something is off about you. Manako didn't speak this way."
"Of course not," she said, tossing her head to flip hair out of her face. "Not as you knew her."
"Who are you?"
"Yasunaga Manako," she said. Reality flickered, and she was wearing the white kimono instead of the school uniform, bowing as she introduced herself to the rest of the Players for the first time. But in a blink, she was back in the cafe. "I'm part of Shibuya now. And you are Shibuya. The line between you and me is thin. That knowledge is a source of worry for you. Once it becomes a source of comfort, you'll know you have evolved."
Now highly suspicious, Joshua looked back behind the bar towards Mr. Hanekoma. "Are you doing this? You could at least be upfront about it if you are."
But Mr. Hanekoma wasn't there. That didn't mean he wasn't imprinting on him, of course.
"You're only dreaming," Manako said softly. "Did you think you'd forgotten how?"
"Dreaming," he echoed.
"You exhausted yourself. You gave everything you had," said Manako. "That's why…"
He woke suddenly, finding himself slumped over on the arm of his throne. It was literally just a dream, just like a living person would have. How long had it been since he'd had one of those? How long had it been since he'd slept at all?
His entire being ached in a way that could not be conceptualized by human language but was very similar to the way he'd felt when he first ascended to the Composer's throne. The closest RG equivalent, he was sure, would be muscle sores after being abducted from a sedentary lifestyle and suddenly forced to vigorously dance for twenty-four hours. It was the feeling of being unmade and remade.
He closed his eyes and wondered if he'd dream again.
For a long time, Joshua slept. And as he slept, Shibuya's Imagination bloomed around him and spread throughout the city. It was beautiful in a way humans had no words for. Shibuya was more Joshua and also, somehow, more itself than it had ever been. A symbiosis. A partnership.