Day 4: B-Side

18: His Last Bow

Fret awoke in a daze. His head was pounding and his eyes felt almost sealed shut as he scrambled to grab his phone, pawing at the touchscreen to turn off the alarm. He stared up at the ceiling and laid his forearm across his forehead and eyes, plunging him into darkness once more. The last few days had been a lot, evidenced by the fact his whole body felt like it was being crushed by the weight of the sky. He yawned and pushed his arm upwards, flexing his fingers to judge his fine motor movements after the somatic state he had risen from. He could almost feel things begin to dance between the spaces of his fingers as they twirled – a charm of remembrance, a hand gloved except in the fingertips, shards of glass, vomit. He quickly withdrew his arm down to side and willed his body upwards.

Examining himself in the mirror, Fret realised this change was more than just physiological, but physical too, as the small grey areas under his eyes suggested. They were faint, sure, but he was definitely going to have to catch up on his beauty sleep when he had a free day – though thinking ahead to EFest, he doubted he'd be getting much rest until at least Monday. "Hang in there," he told himself, "it's not like you're not gonna make it to then." He quickly splashed some water in his face, ensured the sleep was out of his eyes, fixed up his hair and freshened himself up in general. Had to look his Sunday best in front of Rindude, after all. He cleaned the room, Tomonami shrine and all, back to how it was before he'd arrived. He was no Hurricane Tosai, of course, but it was his way of showing thanks. He once again displayed gratitude by bowing his head before he left the room, promising he'd thank Nagi later – at this hour she was currently in a lecture and he didn't want to earn her ire by interrupting that. He decided he'd text his best buddy instead.

_10:21_

Fret: Yoyo my dude

we still good for today?

Rindude: how many times

u gotta ask? yea we r

lol

Fret: Satisfactory.

Rindude: u gotta stop

spending so much time

with nagi, man

ur picking up her

uh

nagi-isms

or whatever

Fret: um, Boss' 'nagi-isms'

are awesome, man

Rindude: haha

they r, yeah

but are they u?

[Fret froze at this

comment for a second.

Maybe a small part of

him did want those

funny, endearing

quirks Nagi had to be

his quirks too.]

Fret: Just about to

hand in my visitor

card thingy

brb

Fret switched off his phone and looked downwards. Were they him? Of course they weren't. What kind of a response was that to a dumb joke? It wasn't like his whole life was a series of cheap imitations. He snorted in quiet frustration and realised he had begun to unclench his fists and relax his shoulders.

Fret marched on into Hachioji proper, now realising just how scratchy that visitors' card lanyard had been and how much freer his neck felt without it. He pulled his choker away from his Adam's apple and let out a purposefully over-exaggerated exhale. Walking away from Hachioji, Fret couldn't help but feel hopeful. For the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to returning home and sleeping in his own bed and showering in his own bathroom. Not that Nagi's room wasn't up to snuff. But something about these last two days had lit a fire in him he had lost before. A thick cocktail of emotional highs and lows, sensations he hadn't be drunk on in ages. Maybe that intoxicating aspect drew him to Nagi, made his heart beat fast. Maybe he was just in denial, looking for other ways to explain his feelings towards her. Approaching the station, he wondered just how long it would take for this spark to fade. It felt different from all the others times he had faced it, but he pondered if, as with those other times, it would be fleeting and fade soon enough. His crush on Neku had lasted hardly two days. He found himself wondering what that said about him.

The trek to SHIBUYA STREAM brought Fret through some of his favourite areas in the city. Even the underpass, with the legions of cars passing by beneath them, contained memories both sweet and bitter for him. He could still feel the harsh concrete beneath his legs and stabbing his back as he watched Fuya be erased from existence all those weeks ago. He swore his stomach still tied itself into knots as he passed the area where he had to watch Mr. Minami leave the gang, thinking hopelessly about what would come next. But still families wandered up and down here. People pulled their hoods or their collars up to block out the cold and travelled from point A to point B using this underpass. Ryoji still peddled his wares, the cars beneath still blared their horns and life just… went on. He did not hate this place. But sometimes, as with Kanon, he just wished the world could pay attention to it.

"somedrinks, huh?" Fret said, taking a seat next to Rindo.

"You make that observation like you didn't literally just walk through the door labelled 'somedrinks'." Rindo scoffed.

"That's no way to greet your bestest, greatest, most awesome pal ever, Rindude!"

"Oh, and 'somedrinks, huh?' is?" The two stared at each other for a brief moment before chuckling. Fret used to never be able to tease Rindo like this and it was nice to see he played off it rather than bat it away like Nagi did.

"So how's it going, man? We haven't really text much about anything other than meeting up these past few days." Rindo asked him, motioning for the girl behind the counter – Yamamoto, the manager if memory served – that they were ready to order.

"Oh it is… going, alright." Fret responded. "Berry blend for me, by the way."

"Sounds rough. Actually, Nagi mentioned you weren't doing too great to me a few times over the past few days." Rindo said, rummaging around in his wallet for some change.

"O-Oh, she did? Funny, I just told Shiki…" Fret trailed off, questioning whether to tell Rindo about Nagi's struggles. She would probably be alright with it, but he didn't want to leave that kind of sensitive stuff to chance

"Told Shiki what?" Rindo asked, producing a fistful of 100-yen coins triumphantly.

"Boss 's got some problems of her own and she didn't even realise it. It runs… deep. I think you get the idea, man." Fret tried his best to put it in a succinct and sensitive manner. Rindo seemed to get the picture.

"You really drew that out of her? I'm impressed, man." He said, handing over the payment.

"It's… really not much." Fret replied.

"Nah, it is. You just put yourself down. Wish I could talk about stuff like that openly with Shoka, but…" Fret looked over at Rindo. The sunlight streaming in through the glass front of the shop was caught in his friend's watery eyes. Rindo was grimacing, hard, like he was biting down on something, trying to plug a dam with many, many cracks in its wall and somehow succeeded. The upbeat music the shop faded into the background for a moment as Fret hyperfocused on how Rindo blinked back tears and composed himself. The moment was so surreal – Fret almost saw himself reflected in those tears but Rindo was fighting to keep them back. The music returned to normal volume as Fret opened his senses to the world around him returned to vivid immediacy.

"Is something the matter, Rindude?" Fret just decided to go for it. He couldn't sit here and avoid the question while his best friend was hiding everything away.

"That obvious?" Rindo sniffed and gulped down a large sip of Orange Fizz tea.

"I mean, yeah, it is. Not that that's a problem or anything, just that–" He was cut off.

"I know it's not a problem, okay?" Rindo said.

"Well yeah, but it's just that you need to talk about these things. I meanwhen you keep it in for so long it's just, you just–" He was cut off once more.

"I know, Tosai." Rindo smiled weakly. Fret felt his heart stop. Rindo had used his first name only a handful of times, and that was only when they were getting to know one another. "But I just wanna talk about it some other time. Today was supposed to two brothers just hanging out, like the… well, they weren't good old days, but…"

"No I get that, Rindo, man, I do, but don't you think it's a bit… I dunno, unhealthy keeping it all in? If Neku or Bo– Nagi," he corrected, "were here they'd probably be pushing the issue, dont'cha think? I mean, even when Nagi and I–" Before he could finish Rindo put a hand on his shoulder and gripped harshly. Fret could feel each finger digging into him with malicious intent, hungrily gnawing at the flesh beneath his clothes.

"Tosai." There was an almost manic look in his eyes. "Shut up about you and Nagi. It's making me sick." Fret felt that large stone of guilt that had so often crystallised during the past few days form again in the pit of his stomach. But there was something in his throat now, too. Anger. It constricted his windpipe and made his head begin to pulse, filled with feelings of crimson and red. Insults like this? From Rindo? It wasn't long before his head began to cool and give way to confusion. From that confusion flowed words.

"Rindo. Please." He begged, his voice awash with myriad emotions. "What the hell was that about?" His words seemed to snap Rindo out of his mania. Honest eyes gazed back at him now.

"…I'm sorry, man." Rindo said, his voice a lot calmer now. "Stuff is happening with Shoka and, a-and in my life and… even though it's not my fault, I– I, I–" Rindo looked into the polished wood of the counter before him, but that didn't seem to be providing the end to his train of thought he was looking for.

"You feel responsible anyway, don't you?" Fret asked, drawing on past experiences.

"God, yes. I just can't shake the feeling that everything that's going wrong is because of me." Rindo sighed.

"Well, what is going wrong, dude?" Fret asked him. Fret knew this feeling before and even though he wasn't sure how to navigate it completely, he thought he could at least try and help someone else who was completely lost at sea. Especially Rindo.

"It's way too long a story to tell now. I… don't even think I can tell it." Rindo said, seemingly content to leave things there, as if what he said didn't just open a new line of questioning entirely.

"Maybe just give me the gist of it?" Fret asked. Rindo frowned slightly, then his eyes began flitting to and fro, as if weighing up his options and thinking about his next move. Fret flippantly thought that this wasn't a game of chess and he really didn't have to think this hard about the whole situation but he wasn't Rindo and clearly wasn't going through whatever he was.

"Uh, I think the only thing I can tell you is that it's… really not good and I think it's driving a huge wedge between me and Shoka." Rindo told him. Not exactly much but, hey, that was fine when he was telling him to shut up a few minutes ago.

"How is Shoka, anyway?" Fret asked, wanting to get a fuller picture of the situation.

"…not so great." Rindo said, almost wincing. "For as distant as I've been the past couple of days, she seems to be equally as distant. Maybe even a little bit more. In all the time we've been together I just… never thought things would be this way. And it hurts. Really bad. Even now it won't stop eating at me." Fret glanced downwards to the floor, the chill beats from the store speakers filling in the uncomfortable silence. Rindo was holding something back, keeping a lid on his feelings and yet Fret could tell this was the first time he'd opened up about this. He thought back to the text Beat had sent them – they were all wrestling with problems of some magnitude, that much was clear. This week seemed to be messing with everyone's heads.

"I'm glad you're telling me about this, at least. Never would've happened a few months ago, huh?" Fret smiled and Rindo smiled back, the first one of the day that didn't seem utterly exhausted.

"Yeah. I'm really sorry I'm still being avoidant with the details, but when I can open up can I… can I come to you first, man?" His eyes pleaded with him.

"Not Shokie? If you told her wouldn't that reduce this distance between you?" Fret was puzzled.

"I wanna go to her so bad, but I never seem to be able to. Recently I just… can't. And when I try I just seize up, even when it comes to texting her. But I have talked to her about my issues before, so I know I can go to her, just… when the time comes, is all." Rindo stared down at his phone, as if anticipating a text from Shoka.

"And when's that time gonna come, Rindude?"

"I really don't know. But I've just gotta hope it's soon. And when it does, I'm gonna grab that opportunity hard and start closing that gap. It's part of a promise I made to her. And I'm through breaking those." Rindo spoke with zeal and determination that seemed to lighten the bags under his eyes slightly near the end of his sentence. Fret was reminded of how cool his teammate was by the end of the Game, how much he appreciated the burden he'd taken for everyone's sake. When Rindo was definitive in his will, Fret could feel it. Like Boss, being around Rindo when Rindo was in peak form invigorated him, sparked a fire in him that was cooler and more temperate than the one he felt around Nagi but burned brightly all the same.

"Hey, speaking of seizing up when you're texting people," Fret said through a mouthful of tea, "been happening with me recently. Not in as bad a way you're describing but it sure happens."

"Huh, no shit. Nothing too bad, I hope." Rindo responded after gulping down some of his second serving of Orange Fizz.

"Pfft, nah. Had to text Shiki at, like, four in the morning over something I was worried about." Fret was about to continue, but was briefly interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, speaking of Shiki she asked me if you're gonna settle on her nickname yet. Sorry, go on." Fret knitted his eyebrows.

"But Shikitty and Shicutie are both so good! How could I possibly ever choose?" He whinged, his tone impish.

"Haha, guess I'll pass on the information the Fretster already settled on it a long time ago." Rindo returned to sipping his tea and listening to Fret.

"So, anyway, I was originally just gonna text Boss when I woke up but then I started getting cold feet. Thought 'some things art better said-eth face-thine-face' or whatever sagely wisdom she'd offer up – but I was still super worried so I thought of the first person I could trust in a situation like this and even I was surprised my answer was Shiki."

"Well she is a good listener. And intermediary. And can diffuse a tense situation well. And… huh, wow, I'm beginning to really see what Neku sees in her." Rindo observed. "How come you can only speak to Nagi face-to-face, anyway?"

"Because, Rindude!" Fret began, before stopping abruptly. "Actually, I dunno."

"Is she still kinda cold to you over text? I mean, she isn't with me, so I'm sorry if–" Fret cut him off.

"Nah, that isn't it." He squinted and pouted slightly, thinking about what to say next. He just thought he'd say what came to mind, be extra-extra genuine. "I just… whenever I think about Boss, I think about how I just wanna be near her. I feel like texting her isn't good enough, that I kinda have to prove what I'm saying and words on a screen just ain't gonna cut it. I think that, that– that she deserves that and I want to show her she deserves that and that part of what I'm saying now is also just kinda an excuse to be near her, I think? Because she's awesome and being around her makes me feel… really, really happy at least until my mouth goes dry and I can't figure out what to say next. I think I texted Shiki because I was also worried about screwing up and saying the wrong thing to her because I want her to, I want her to… um… l-like me?" Fret was now aware he was blushing and that Rindo's eyes had widened slowly throughout that whole situation. Slowly, Rindo's lips curled into a twisted, quickly-changing smile and his cheeks puffed up.

"Pfft–" Rindo proceeded to let out quite a long laugh, but Fret didn't feel any malice behind it. "Oh, man, this is one twist I didn't see coming! But I'm happy for you, man. Hope Lord Tomonami isn't too stiff competition!"

Fret couldn't help but start sniggering too, until they both were laughing. He was really that transparent, huh?

"I really hope I'm not that obvious around her, dude." Fret told him.

"Me too. Well, if you ever need a wingman…" Rindo chuckled.

"Now you're just embarrassing me." Fret giggled. Rindo beamed at him, and Fret felt his confidence surge.

"In all seriousness, I think you'd be cute together." He said.

"N-Now you're just laying it on too thick." Fret giggled, slightly more bashedly.

"Can't help it, man. That's my bias talking – mobile games really do the trick, if you ask me."

"Ooh, is that EleStra-FanGO solidarity forming? Huh? Huh?" Fret nudged Rindo with his shoulder.

"Not on your life." Rindo replied with a coy smile.

"Damn, you're really gonna leave your bestest game buddy out to dry like that?" Fret laughed.

"Maybe if you left the dark side I'd give you my full support."

"I'll be dead in the cold, cold ground before I ever download FanGO."

"So be it," Rindo said in a mock-villain voice before being unable to hold back faint laughter any longer. "Well, regardless of how things go with Nagi, you're already pretty important to her. So, I dunno, take pride in that. You're pretty important to a lot of people, actually."

"I try my best," Fret said, with an embarrassed grin on his face. "I guess all I have to do now is see how things go and hope Mr. Minami doesn't swoop in to become my sworn rival like it's some bad romance manga or something." Rindo nodded until Mr. Minami was mentioned, at which point he seized up for a second. Bizarre, Fret noted. He thought Rindo was over how he'd left them seemingly out to dry a while back but clearly not. He felt bad he'd ever brought it up.

"So, you about ready to head out? I wanna get something filling – tea was nice though," Fret stood up and stretched. Rindo checked his phone and quickly pocketed it.

"Wait, just a few more minutes here." He said.

"What, you want another Orange Fizz? I'm starving, man."

"No, just… I wanna talk a bit more." Rindo said that last part more like a question than the end to a sentence.

"Can't we just talk while we head out to find some good eats?" Fret asked. Rindo paused for a brief instance.

"You know damn well I'll have my head buried in FanGO if we walk anywhere." Rindo told him, sounding a tiny bit desperate.

"…Um, sure, yeah. I guess I'm not gonna die of hunger if we stay here," Fret said, slowly sitting back down on the stool. Rindo looked almost relieved.

For the next few minutes Rindo and Fret just shot the shit about anything and everything. Slowly, Rindo's slightly odd behaviour melted into the back of Fret's mind. Sitting like this, with his friend, talking about small innocuous things like what school will be like once they return, about the future, about life in general… he'd missed it. The weeks following the game and especially recently had given rise to big, lofty group conversations or emotionally corrosive situations he felt he'd just wept his way through. The warm leather of the stool, the cool A/C of the store, the way the sun shone in through the glass and hit the tiles of the floor… it was the truly small things he'd missed, that he'd had no time to indulge in, that brought Fret life. Just as Rindo was talking about some video he'd watched the other day, a man walked through the front door. Yamamoto greeted them warmly, as she did every other customer, but there was no reply.

Fret swivelled on his stool to look at the figure, as they gave off an imposing presence. An almost unearthly purple glow covered their body, though on closer examination it seemed to just be an odd property of the hoodie and bandana they were wearing, which was a stark red. They were pretty tall and insanely well built, with a black cap covering their eyes – which just seemed to be an extra precaution because the hoodie already basically completely obscured their face with how large the hood was. They radiated an aura of violence and purpose, the small amount of people in the establishment turning to look their way. Whoever they were, they reminded Fret of a jumped-up Reaper grunt, a look he had become familiar with. But this person was alien. And their stride, imbued with confidence and an almost mute fury, moved them towards Fret. He could feel unseen eyes bare into him, sizing him up and down and calculating every feasible move he could take next. Fret felt the fear of God enter his heart and adrenaline course through his veins. But even though his mind was in overdrive, even though every nerve in his body scrambled to figure out the best course of action he could take, he was frozen to his seat. He could not fight, not against whoever this was. And running would be equally ineffective. The hormone rush subsided, his body's way of accepting whatever hand fate would deal him next. The lingering remnants of adrenaline that still powered through his body could not prepare him for what came next.

Faster than Fret could process, a gloved hand shot out at his neck, seizing it with a wretched grip and winding him completely, then stripping him of the ability to breathe. His eyes widened in fear as an unnatural sounding choke escaped into the dead air. He heard screams from behind the counter and a rush of frenzied footsteps as most of the patrons fled the scene, except Yamamoto who froze for a small instant before crashing into the door for the back room, slamming it and assumedly going to call for help, or the police, or anyone. Fret heard the dull thud of metal against floor tiles and from the corner of his slowly darkening vision saw Rindo had fallen off his chair and was looking on, mouth agape, eyes poring in muted horror over the scene before him. Fret was weightless for a brief instant, his neck taking on his body's dead weight as the figure before him held him above the floor, exerting little strain in keeping his body aloft with just one hand. Fret could feel the fabric of the glove digging into the flesh below his neck though his brain could not register just what that fabric was, its texture seeming to change as it dug its way deeper into his skin. Then, a jolt backwards.

Fret could feel his head collide with a wall, then jerk forward sharply, coaxing whatever breath still remained trapped in throat out with another jarring gasp. The blunt pain from the slam left his head completely wrecked, both dizzy and pulsating, as the pain from the force being pushed into his neck only continued to grow exponentially, getting hotter and hotter until it burnt so fiercely he felt that if this figure ever let him go then the mark would be branded permanently into him. Through ringing ears he could hear brief, spasmodic screams from Rindo, as if he were too scared to allow himself to express fully the depths of the fear he was feeling. Sweat streaked down Fret's forehead as terrified eyes pleaded with whatever force of nature was currently grappling him to let go. His head and eyes buzzed, both equally unable to make out just what was going on and why. Numb legs tried to fight back, pathetically kicking at the figure in front of Fret, crashing into their sturdy frame to no effect at all, feeling more and more exhausted though making no effort to stop their sorry attempt to fight back. The hand that wasn't gripping his neck groped around roughly in his pockets, painfully scraping against his flailing legs and leaving the skin underneath the fabric feeling sore, exposed, raw, like the gloved hand was rock salt being scraped and stabbed haphazardly into an open wound. Suddenly, the figure grasped something and produced it in quiet triumph, holding it almost gently as they removed it from Fret's person.

When Fret's oxygen-starved slowly registered saw what they had stolen from him, his soul plumbed its own depths to find even greater fear. His stomach roared with dread as cold began to creep into his fingertips. They'd taken the ofuda. His kicks became frantic, his mouth dry as his entire body screamed at him, begged him to fight back, to struggle as he had never done before, to reclaim that ofuda this instant before the entire world fell apart before him. Despite the pummelling his legs were attempting to deliver it all seemed for nought, but all that despair brought was a desire to push back harder, to kick more frantically despite the pain and exhaustion that wracked his being. Fret suddenly felt weightless once more as his body crashed downwards. Pain shot through his back and legs as he hit the floor, shooting upwards before becoming something more constant and blunt, hot like the ring around his neck. Through ragged breaths, he could hear footsteps both running away and into the building. Voices he could not make out yelling in his direction and a resounding crack pierced his clouded hearing with resounding clarity. The voices died out as the adrenaline returned to his body, fuelled by the horror of the biting, icy sensation climbing up his legs and arms like a swarm of leeches. Panic stoked a fire in his stomach and despite his blurred and waning vision he felt compelled to jolt upright, shaking arms pushing him to his feet. He began to run after his assailant.

The cool outside air hit Fret as his beaten body threw him forward towards the figure. They were fast, but what little energy he had left seemed to be fuelling a frenetic sprint that allowed him to gain ground. Every step in his stride seemed to stab into bone, causing sharp and accented pain in his legs. But that pain didn't matter, not now. He had to keep running, or he was dead. He clenched his chattering teeth and quickened his already frantic pace. His mouth not able to form words, all he could do was yell with a blind rage at the thief now at arm's length in front of him. This caused them to look backwards and whatever primal part of Fret's mind that could still find the will to control his body went into overdrive. He clenched his fist and threw his entire body behind a punch aimed squarely at the figure's jaw, every fibre of his being putting a supernova's worth of energy behind this one, singular blow. It connected, Fret's fist spiralling with hatred, desperation and exhaustion squarely into this demon's face. It did not faze them. Instead, they turned slowly towards Fret in a way that suggested boredom, only having had their head moved slightly by the blow. Fret went to throw another punch, realising another action was needed before it was too late but before this one could connect the hooded figure turned the momentum back on him, delivering a counter-punch to the area just above Fret's stomach so great and so forceful that he crumpled onto the pavement below instantly, defeated.

By now, Fret's body was being subsumed by the cold. He could already tell his lips were blue, could feel his teeth chatter through hoarse breath. The figure seemed to observe all of this and, seeing there was no chance Fret would rise, ran away. And yet, the small strand of willpower Fret could still summon moved him forward anyway. Even though the footsteps he heard dashing away grew faint, Fret still clawed his way along the ground, acutely aware pedestrians were staring at him. That didn't matter. He needed that charm. This was life or death. That thought kept him going, kept his fingers clawing at gaps between the pavement stones, even though his deadweight legs were scraping up behind him. Through glacial breaths he tugged at the ground, scratching coarse stone with fingernails until his shaking arms could find the strength to claw wildly at anything that would support him upwards. He felt acutely nauseous, on the brink of blacking out every other second. Hot tears flowed down his face and wet the ground beneath him. He remembered something Nagi said to him, a long while ago. "Even if it's small, it's not grief to yourself you wish to avoid. It's the grief of others you wish not to cause, no matter how minor." What grief would death bring? That thought caused his arm to shoot out at a pole on the railing beside him and grip it tightly. Beat's voice rang through his head, "you guys ever been in a thing where you feel like you can't escape?" He pulled his grazed cheek off the ground and craned his neck to the sky.

"Please, get up. I… need you to get up." Nagi spoke again. Fret willed himself upwards and onto his knees.

"You're pretty important to a lot of people, actually." Rindo joined the choir of voices in his head and Fret finally stood up, his legs exerting a crescendo of force, back on his feet. By now, the only thing he could feel was pain and bitter cold eating away at his whole body. He stood looking down at the river, bathing in the sun that both shone on him and danced on the surface of the shallow, filthy water.

"We've got our whole lives ahead of us, my dude," a younger version of himself assured him, in his mind. Fret watched as the tears rolled down his cheeks into the river.

"…can I rely on you to be there when that time comes?" Nagi's voice was faint in his head, now. All he could hear was the chatter of pedestrians passing by that seemed to have forgotten all about what had happened before – Shibuya moved fast, after all – and birdsong. Birdsong that accompanied a once cold breeze turned warm from how fast his body temperature was falling.

"What kinda friend would I be if you couldn't?" Fret stood there, in silence, as everything finally went dark.