A/N. Yay. More stuff. I'm hoping this is going to be one of those 'oh woah' chapters where so much falls into place. Yeah. Maybe.

That or I fail again.

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Four Years Ago

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Hanekoma was scrubbing coffee mugs thoughtfully when the door to the cafe opened. "Forget something, Joshua? " He asked automatically- the teenager had just left a few minutes ago.

"Your perception is failing, Fallen One."

Sanae froze. "Masaki. "

"Indeed. " The red-winged angel smirked, gold eyes glowing with sadistic pleasure. "I gather, then, you know why I'm here? "

"Enlighten me, " he growled, prepared at any moment to slip into his Noise form and kill her right then and there. She was often called the Angel of Death, being notorious for using painful and fatal methods to achieve her goals and that of the Highground's

She tossed her thick dark red braid over her shoulder carelessly. "Nothing personal, of course. Orders from the higher-ups. "

"Spit it out. "

Masaki smiled coldly. "It has been decided that the Game shall be... rebooted, so to say. The currant Composer's reign shall come to an end within the week, whether by resignation or... " She left the last few words unsaid- even so, Hanekoma knew her violent nature well enough to know what she meant.

"...You're going to kill him? Joshua? But.... Why? Our role is not to interfere. It never has been. "

"Yes, and so is His. However, we have received word that He has not distanced himself from a certain batch of surviving Players, perhaps even going so far as to forge a romantic relationship with one of them. That is strictly forbidden. Those in the UG cannot -love- those in planes below them. " She said 'love' distastefully, as if she had bitten into a bitter spot in an apple. "If he chooses to step down, we shall perhaps spare her life. Perhaps. "

Sanae knew what Masaki's 'perhaps' was. "You're a monster. "

"Oh, I won't be the one responsible for killing Him. You will be. "

Masaki's body dissolved, blood-stained wings last to vanish. The air seemed to be tainted from her ominous words. Hanekoma shot out of his cafe like a bullet from a gun, not even bothering to lock the door behind him.

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The sewers echoed with a horrible sound, of metal on concrete mingling with snarls of fury and pain. Behind a shimmering semitransparent wall, a bleeding and exhausted man continued to beat at the ground with a car bumper dug out of the trash pile behind him.

"That... zetta... coward... " He panted, tattooed arms trembling with the effort and at last giving out. The bumper dropped, clanging on the floor of the Shibuya River. The Reaper collapsed on the ground beside it, panting for breath. His life was running slowly out- his own heartbeat seeming to tick like a time bomb, reminding him his life was almost spent.

There was a sudden whooshing noise, and a few red feathers swirled around the prison. A lone, red-winged angel holding a glowing red sword was standing in front of him, smiling thinly.

"Hello, Minamimoto."

"What do you want, " He said cautiously, still weak from his months without clean air or even sunlight.

Masaki gave a tight, ironic smile. "I've rather enough blood on my hands, thank you, and I need a certain Composer… taken care of. You want revenge. Am I making it clear enough for you? "

Sho's slowed mind only allowed him to blink for a moment. The angel rolled her eyes, suddenly slashing in walls of the prison with her wings. "There. Go kill Joshua. "

But Minamimoto was already gone.