"Howdy. The name's Yoshiya Kiryu. But Mother and Father call me Joshua. I guess you can call me Joshua too- seeing as how you're my dear, dear partner."
"What if I am the one who killed you? You're going to do something about it?"
"But Neku, I thought you couldn't afford to lose. Give up on yourself, and you give up on the world."
"All of this was a game- One set up by me."
"Hee hee, it was me, Neku. I'm Shibuya's Composer."
"Neku? You'd better pick up that gun, I mean, this IS going to be a duel."
Joshua sat upright in bed, eyes wide as snapshots of another life were crammed into his head.
Cold weighted metal in his hands, bullets loaded into the barrel.
Darkness, nothingness, as one bullet slammed its way through his head.
Power, excitement, looming over Neku as he shot the other in Udagawa.
Dread as he shot the boy once more, in the Room of Reckoning.
He whimpers, grabbing his head, shutting his eyes tight, rocking back and forth, trying to figure out what's going on, why he's swimming in a sea of memories that were not his own.
A young child, being forced into extracurriculars, violin and piano, becoming a prodigy. His parents never showing up to any recitals.
Cold eyes that bore into him more than any bullet ever would, because the fake warmth in the faces of tutors and "special helpers" couldn't hide the fact that they all saw him like an object, not a human. Wooden rulers slapping his hands when they dared to move, water from spray bottles irritating his skin when he did something "wrong" as if he were a cat, having routine messed up because of the whims of an adult, because he was a seven year old who needed to be taught how to be normal.
Running off whenever he could, because when he turned ten, restrictions lightened. Stopping into WildKat one afternoon, coming back a few times because the barista was nice. The barista noticing this kid staring out the windows, watching things he should not be able to see. A ten year old, learning of the Game he saw.
Getting a gun for his 15th birthday (December 24th), because his dad is Texan and he's alone except for checkups from nearby relatives every few days. The gun came in the mail, not with his father. On the 25th, playing the violin at his largest recital yet, the front center two seats empty again. The 26th, a loud bang resounds in his room, his body is found two days later.
Joshua bites his tongue, resisting the urge to scream. Standing up, he wraps his weighted blanket around himself, using one hand to hold it in place and the other for balance, running it along the wall as he walks.
Agony as he becomes Composer, losing himself to the city, forgetting who he is as every sound in Shibuya pounds its way into his head, as every light blinds him. Body blurred at the edges, waking up with no injuries despite having slammed his head on concrete and having torn the skin on his arms apart. It's a long adjustment period before he no longer has meltdowns every other day.
Four years after his death, almost five, wishing to self-destruct, misery built up inside him and ready to explode. He absorbs all negativity from his city, and in turn she is influenced by his mood, a feedback loop. The negative charge he's built up cracks, and lightning in the form of another bullet strikes a boy named Neku.
The Long Game. Being the worst possible person ever to his chosen Proxy, who refuses to put him out of his misery. Censures shoved down his throat, yet no assassination comes. Befriending Neku (it takes six months for him to talk to the boy). Apologizing. Wrongdoings being put in the past, not wholly forgiven or forgotten.
He wanders downstairs, heading for the fridge, not bothering to turn the kitchen light on.
Falling in love with Neku, getting away with making heart-eyes at him only due to how dense his skull was. It takes a year from the Long Game's start to confess, he breaks first, and Neku returns the confession with a kiss.
Dying six months later. A Fallen attacking him, eyes widened as Neku walks in. He sacrifices himself to save Neku, using the last of his power to ensure Reincarnation, sure that Neku is soon to follow him into death once more.
He stares at the array of food in front of him, body shaking from the influx of memories. After a few minutes of focusing on his breathes, judging by the beeping of the fridge telling him to close it, he lets out a final sigh and grabs some leftover ramen from the night before. He doesn't bother heating it up, instead just plopping down on the couch with a bowl of it in hand, focusing on eating, thoughts wandering.
He'd killed Neku. He'd killed himself to become Composer, and when that hadn't worked out, he'd decided to kill someone else and provoke them into shooting him. When Neku hadn't, Josh shot him again.
One thought struck him then: Neku has been his age this whole time. They'd grown up together, ever since Josh had moved in with Hanekoma. The Fallen had killed Neku too, because Josh hadn't been good enough, quick enough, to save him. Neku had died again because of him.
It took a second, but soon his brain backtracked enough to think of another person: Hanekoma. An Angel? Producer? Those terms were brand new in reference to the Game, and yet, he knew what they meant; those terms meant Hanekoma had access to Taboo, that his father figure (of two lives now! chimed a voice in the back of his head) had set him up to be Erased by Minamimoto.
Hearing the stairs behind him creak snaps him out out of his thoughts, and of course it's Hanekoma, he'd probably woken up hearing the refrigerator beeps a bit ago.
"Same nightmare again?" he asks, coming over to sit on the armrest of the couch, not too close, thankfully.
"Mm, somethin' like that," is Josh's reply, not bothering to look at Hanekoma, instead spinning the ramen noodles around on his fork.
"Did you remember anything this time at least?"
"Quite a lot, actually, Sanae." He can see Hanekoma flinch back in surprise in his peripheral vision.
"...Ah, how are ya holding up?" He frowns, eyebrows scrunched in concern for Josh.
"My head is a mess and it's not fun. Believe it or not, but having 21 years of memory jam itself into your head can hurt, a lot." He swirls the noodles around a bit more, sighing before scooping up a mouthful and swallowing it.
"Well, if you need to talk about it, I'm here for ya," Hanekoma says, offering a reassuring grin.
"Just like you were here for me during the Long Game?" It's a cold thing to say, he knows, but seeing Hanekoma wince from the words doesn't make him regret saying them. "That feels like a fresh wound again, the sting of betrayal. Not as bad as it was the first time I realized, of course, and hey, lucky you, since I remember putting it in the past last lifetime I'll probably get over it again sooner."
"Josh, I-"
"Stop," he cuts Hanekoma off before the other can even start. "Just, stop. You've said it all before, I remember all that, so there's no need to rehash what we both already know."
It takes a bit for Hanekoma to respond, and when he does so, it starts with a sigh as he leans back against the couch. "Alright, kiddo, leaving that speech in the past. Still, if you need to talk, I am here for you. What sort of parent guardian guy would I be if I wasn't?"
Josh doesn't respond, not at first. He ponders what to say, if there is anything he wants to say, as he eats a bit more. When he finds words again, they're whispered.
"I can't face him, not again." He pauses, waiting to see if Hanekoma says anything, but continues after the silence. "Neku walked in during that fight, he's my age again, I've grown up with him. He died again, he died and reincarnated like me. He died and it's my fault once more, because I couldn't save him."
"Josh, that's not your fault." Hanekoma moves to reach out and comfort him, but Josh scoots away, fixing him with a look of annoyance, because really, after all this time, he should know that almost all touching is not allowed.
"He's never shown signs of remembering, and I don't know if that's better or worse, honestly. If he doesn't remember, then there's no way he can pass judgement, but if he does by some chance remember, I'd have to face the verdict he gives."
"He's your friend, J, and if he could forgive you for shooting him, twice, I doubt he'd be uppity about this. Hell, he snuck over two nights ago and cuddled with you, to make sure you got some sleep." Hanekoma sighs, before speaking again. "Come on, you still have school tomorrow. Get some more rest and deal with this in the daytime."
"Mm, guess that'll work. I'm gonna head back to bed then, maybe now that I remember I won't get anymore nightmares." With that, Josh stands, holding his blanket close to his body with one hand, using the other to hold his bowl of ramen until he deposits it in the sink, heading back up the stairs.
He doubts he'll be able to face Neku still, but voicing that aloud would get him comments about how he shouldn't run away. Josh couldn't do that, he'd dodge Neku for as long as possible, because Neku not remembering would worsen the sting of his death.
Watching Josh ascend the stairs, Hanekoma sighs. He grabs his phone and fires off a text, two words, to Shibuya's Composer.
^He remembers.^