Mr Reaper

by EeveeGen9988

A young Reaper set in his ways has enough of seeing Shibuya being left unprotected from criminals, and finds himself leading those of common interest to take action. If only he knew how one step to betterment would lead to another he would take alone... Written for [Shibuya Operation - Story Storm 2019-present] and [Twelve Shots of Summer 2019].

3. Mr Support

Mr Reaper

I do not own The World Ends With You, Square Enix does!

Mr Reaper Part 2 was written for Shibuya Operation - Story Storm (SOSS); previous chapters (Parts 0 and 1) were posted during Twelve Shots of Summer (TSoS).

If you need a refresher on the events that have occurred so far, feel free to refresh yourself unless you don't want to go back to the two-to-three hour read of Part 1 (as mentioned in one of the reviews). This is simply a suggestion that you may take if you are feeling fuzzy about the details and wish to progress with context to enjoy this next instalment with everything up to date in mind.

...

2 - Mr. Support

---

Months Earlier...

---

"Why can't I be happy for her?"

A sigh sounded.

"She's so happy- a-and yet I… I-I don't understand."

"..."

"I've never seen her like this since- but I'm lost."

"..."

"Wh-What if this is a mistake? Wh-What if this is a joke and I'm just starting to comprehend what it is? Oh no… what am I thinking!?"

"..."

"Oh gods… why haven't I said anything!? I-I can't let this… who am I right now!? I'm lying to myself- I need to stop this-"

"..."

"If I don't do anything, say anything- nothhgggf!"

Another sigh sounded, "Twenty-seven percent… going on twenty."

"I cannot let him down… If I do, all that does is neblarb. Nen hurb gar car Cheiz danm heed bur-bur-bur-burnieeeee!"

"That's not right- what the fuck is… dammit. That's not… fuck! Okay, okay… Twenty, twenty percent going on seven… Twenty percent going on three…"

"..."

"You're doing great so far! You look much better than earlier, trust me. All you looked like was shit, and I don't want to go into the specifics since you won't even know the difference, gahaha…"

"..."

"Anyway, I just need you to sit still, and we can get this over with. You're squirming too much and I'd hate to see you undo your stitches. Well, methodical stitches, that is."

"..."

"When you're out and about, you're going to be stronger than you were before. Things might be baffling at first, but you'll get the swing of it eventually. Hey, you might even get a chance to go back! How does that sound?"

"..."

"...Well, I need to get this done first then you will play for that chance. I'll give you a short rundown: You need to find someone you trust first. I'm off-limits, so you better not be shy because there are those who will literally try to end your existence."

"..."

"Second, stick with them and do the stuff we tell you to do each day. Not your typical day... a day in the game I'm taking you to. Any renegade bullshit and you're point blank terminated within reason of said bullshit pulled."

"..."

"Third, be careful of who you trust. People like me will try to 'eat' you, so think of us as vultures who wait for the carcasses to fall under us. You're going to be very appetizing, and we need our grub to 'live on', so to speak. I'm not worried about you, though. I've seen enough of what happened before you got me."

"..."

"Fourth, you're going to get some things to help you fend for yourself. Isn't that great? I feel something tremendous already leaking out from your Soul... It's not so familiar, so you're going to have quite the artillery on you! Aren't you a lucky dog, hahaha!"

"..."

"Okay, back to business… I'm going to have to repeat it when you're almost ready, but thought I'd share something to get you motivated to not shift around too much. Can't get too ahead of ourselves now, right? You're not ready to show off yet, so it'll just be you and me for a bit longer. Cutting it close, but I've got things done at a tighter deadline. Although, hate to say I might have to rush unless I get an extension from the guy who paged me. He trusts me to get the job done, and I'll get this done… You'll see."

"..."

"Now then, how…"

"..."

"Three percent… going on fifty? Twenty percent? Okay, okay… y-you're back at twenty-five!? I hardly did anything, but- Wh-What!? NO- no, no, no-"

"..."

"...Shit. Y-You got to be kidding me!"

"..."

"Okay- hold that thought! I'll be back soon! Trust me on this! J-Just trust me! Trust me…"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Trush… m-e-m-me-me-mee…"

---

- 1975 -
Present time

---

"Sixty supporters..." the Harrier crisply said, breathing out slowly before he mumbled, "I don't expect we'll garner much of a head turn with these numbers."

Andy snorted and rolled her amber-brown eyes. "AI saay thaatt's plenttee."

"Ugh, no." The Harrier shook his head at that. "It isn't enough."

"Then whaatt eis yaawrr 'enaouff'?" she asked tartly in return, cocking her head with a pinched frown. "Becaause ta meh... wee gaott peaopull. Aahnd eif wee gaott peaopull, why aain'tt yaa grlad wee dao?"

Suppressing a growl and trading it for a simple, sharp intake of breath, the Harrier replied coolly, "Numbers matter." He raised a finger and twiddled with it as he straightened his back. "I can't exactly say I can crunch the population of Reapers on the fly, Andy..." He stilled his hand, lowering it as he put in, "However, what I do know is that we've hardly scratched the iceberg, leaving us with a slab of slush to fiddle around with."

When Andy gave him an odd look, he reluctantly let out a sigh, "From what I said earlier... we can't input these numbers to get our solution."

The female Reaper crossed her arms and grimaced. "Why caan'tt yaa rlett this sheitt gao?"

"Because, my friend," he started dryly with a huff, tilting his head slightly as he mumbled, "That posh bastard will only think we're the morons." He paused briefly and closed his eyes. "Not only that... dimwits who are trying to fool around with him. That is, unless we can get more Reapers to back up ourselves when we present our results." When he opened his eyes, the Harrier crossed his arms and sighed again, "We may say we have support, but if we don't have the living, walking damn proof behind us..." The Harrier pursed his lips. "He won't believe a single word we spill out to him."

Andy's eyebrows knitted promptly, loosely opening her mouth and leaving it hanging before she breathed out, "Eif yaa aask meh... yaaw'ree maaking eitt maorre caomplricaatted thaan gaoing aoutt ta gett the maorrning newspaaperr thaatt's sitting aon the frlaontt paorrch."

Internally letting out a groan, the Harrier was about to rephrase his point again when he wrinkled his nose; his ability of going through with it ceasing at the whiff of smoke. Almost at once, his stomach started to churn and his vision started to become hazy as he realized a trail of smoke was being carried over to them.

Inching closer to his friend, he quickly spoke, "C-Could we go somewhere else right now?"

"Jaust smaoke," Andy said with a tilt of her head. "Naott leike we'rre gaong ta-"

"The smell disagrees with me- alright!?" he snapped in annoyance, turning to stalk off from his friend's side as he tried to wave the nauseating cloud away from him. He didn't want to freak out about this right now- not in front of his friend!

Andy simply stayed where she was, momentarily watching him before hustling after him. Once she was beside him again, she then narrowed her eyes as she side-glanced him. "Whaatt's wlaong with the smerl?"

"Reminds me too much of..." He grimaced, clenching his eyes closed as he raggedly took a breath in. The Harrier soon shook his head, feeling as if he was nursing a mouthful of tar in his mouth from knowing he had just inhaled the unaware Realground smoker's breath. 'Not now... not now-'

He tried to adjust his direction when the smell refused to leave him alone, veering off to a building and slowed down when he reached it. As soon as his friend had arrived, he gritted his teeth and clenched his hands. He didn't really want to talk about it... but maybe he could do with a distraction. Something that wasn't it, but would make sense regardless. White lies worked if they weren't the thing you were talking about but were true, right? Perhaps? Aw, fuck it. Why not give this a shot...

"...Reminds me of when he smoked," he replied quietly, trying to focus and hold on to the memory he yanked into his mind. Luckily for him, the oil and burnt-rubber stench slowly ebbed from his nostrils and his racing thoughts.

The dark dirty blonde's eyebrows knitted. "Whao?"

"Someone I used to know, okay?" he chose to say curtly, pursing as he added briskly, "But if I am to be frank, I'll just say it was the scumbag the woman who gave me life fancied."

Andy's expression didn't change, yet the Harrier couldn't help but sigh and shake his head, "He smoked... but I put a stop to it." He frowned initially as he tried to pull in more of the facts of the subject, soon allowing himself to curl his lips up bitterly. "I only did it because she couldn't stop him from doing it inside the house." The Harrier then raised a finger. "Then one Day... I had enough-" He lashed his hand across his front and clenched his hand near his shoulder. "- and swiped them when he wasn't looking!"

His friend whistled at that. "Waow... Yaa werre thaatt sneaakee?"

Lowering and relaxing his hand, he grimaced. "Not quite." He looked off to the side and frowned, feeling bashful for some reason as he mumbled, "I went out with the excuse I was meeting up with friends... which would have worked if I had friends. But that's not the point-"

The Harrier paused to inhale, a little pleased when he got clean air instead of a musky second-hand consumption of carbon dioxide before he went on, "I found a spot where I thought I was safe and burned them on the ground."

Andy blinked. "Thaose aarre expensive yaa know."

"Expensive, but not wholesome to breathe in," he mused pointedly, turning his head back as he sighed, "I didn't leave until they were gone, then wandered around the districts before deeming it safe to return home."

"Thaatt eisn'tt smaoking then," she curtly noted, earning a dry laugh from him. "Thaatt's smaoking them aup."

"Oh no, I got used to the smell after doing the mundane ritual for so long," he explained with a shrug, dipping his head after a few seconds. "Too used to it... as you may guess."

"Aahnd yaa dedn'tt gett caaughtt?" Andy asked incrediously, her eyes starting to go round with awe. "Haow caan yaa naott saay yaaw'rre naott sneaakee?"

"Because that scumbag started accusing me," he breathed flatly, lowering his head. "Rightfully so…" As he blinked, looking back at his friend again, he frowned deeply. "I always played the innocent card, but that woman wouldn't stop glaring at me when the scumbag wasn't looking. She would pretend to believe me over that scumbag because-" He wiggled fingers in the air and tried to alter his tone to be higher pitched. "'My son would never steal'! 'My son never do such wrong after being raised right'!"

After shaking his head, he lowered one arm and kept his right finger in the air. "It was only a farce because she was putting on a stupid front to appear loving and kind, not hideously awful and unappealing to him, mind you."

The female Reaper immediately glowered. "Thaatt bittch." She shook her head, frowning hard as she growled, "Yaa ded aah faavaourr folr herr, aahnd she trleatted yaa leike sheitt!"

Even though he felt that might have been a good term to use to sum up that woman with... he couldn't help but internally wince at that. Almost by instinct, he opened his mouth, feeling words start to roll off his tongue to defend her when he snapped his jaw shut. Shaking his head, he grimaced and wrinkled his nose.

As much as he would want to agree with Andy... he just wanted to resist the urge to make excuses for that woman who raised him.

Rubbing his temple, he all but shook his head another time. "New topic-" he started in a mumble, aware of how Andy's face transformed into confusion- maybe even concern, if he read her right- all too quickly the moment he spoke. He tugged at his hood absently, trying to cast away the bitter thoughts threatening to unhinge him as he mused quietly, "We need a plan of attack, per say, on what we're going to do next."

"Aahttaack?" Andy echoed bemusedly, earning a nod from him before she spoke again, "AI thaoughtt wee werle gaoing ta dao the pettittion?"

"The petition," he mumbled before giving a nod. "What we're going to do for the petition..."

Andy's face brightened and she clapped her hands. "Aoh yeaah!" She gave a giddy grin to him as she drew closer, tilting her head as she chirped, "Naow whaatt wirl eit be, mah sawheet bumpkein?"

"We got names, but we'll need more than this," he explained simply, nodding to himself as he went on mindfully, "Like I said, I am certain sixty isn't a reassuring number to be fine with."

Andy's face fell, her eyebrows furrowing as she pursed her lips. "But wee taarlked aahbaoutt this arleaady..." she grumbled in a whine.

"Yeah, but we weren't done talking about it, Andy..." he intoned back in annoyance and scowled. His friend's eyes emitted nothing but darkened amber-brown pools as she pivoted slightly on her heels, her expression growing taut and disgruntled as he drank in the fact that she still didn't get it. He made himself shift his stance to try to stand up to her stiff body language, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at her as he growled, "This is a problem we need to fix before we do anything crazy."

"Yaa think ta much," she huffed.

The Harrier inhaled before he stubbornly pressed, "This isn't up to discussion, Andy. We honestly have to stick to this path of misery or we'll never reach the splendiferous glory on the other side."

Andy's frustrated face drew closer to him. "Whaatt's this aahbaoutt graoly?" she asked sharply and wrinkled her nose. "Yaa gaott aah dleaam."

As he was about to answer that, he stopped when he considered her latter response. Andy stood up taller as he disappointedly realized his friend may be right, frowning to himself as he pondered about why he jumped on the misworded notion he was going for something else. It wasn't about the glory... it was what he hoped to be a nicely done-up statement to dissuade her arguments about settling the fact they had to think about getting more Reapers on board with Recruiting. But it would seem he took the wrong step and fumbled with his dance...

Sighing, he stared at her for a while as he dropped his scowl, wearily rubbing at his eyes. "What I meant to say," he started again quietly, furrowing his eyebrows as he spoke carefully this time, "Was that we still have work to do."

Andy didn't reply to that. Her face relaxed slightly, which the Harrier took as a nice invitation to continue. "We're far from celebrating, Andy." He half-closed his eyes after blinking, mumbling on, "If we want to get this accomplished, we need to literally 'knock the posh bastard's socks off' with a nice performance to acquire our thrown roses."

"Then why aarre yaa sao sett aon gettting maorre peaopull ein?" Andy breathed out with a shake of her head, her lips quirking into an unstable smirk as she chuckled, "Yaaw'rre aonree maaking eit seem leike yaa aonree waantt baodies ta daog pirle him daown auntirl hee gives aup with giving aus sheitt."

...Was that why Andy kept giving him trouble about this? As the Harrier pondered about that, he watched as his friend's rigidness in her figure started to go away and decided that perhaps Andy had a point. Oh boy... he may as well investigate into the matter, he supposed. If he couldn't get Andy on board with discussing how to get more Reaper support, then it would make sense to get back her support about his qualms.

Taking the moment to recollect himself, as to not ruin the fineness of the topic with his narrow-mindedness, he inhaled before he spoke, "Okay, so if it's not about the numbers..." He bit his lower lip slightly before he went on with his question, "Then why isn't it about the numbers?"

"Aaw, eitt's aahbaoutt geeting the messaage aahcrlaoss thaatt peaopull caarre aahbaoutt this," Andy chipped in with a snicker, causing him to blink at her when it struck him how familiar that answer was. He wondered why that would be such a case as he watched his friend with bewilderment, straightaway trying to pinpoint where that idea may have come from when Andy started to wave the notebook at him. "Thaatt's whaatt aI gaott when yaa exprlaained eitt ta meh the firrstt time."

"First time?" he echoed back and felt himself frown.

Andy cocked her head at him, momentarily appearing as if she was confused as she spoke, "Yaa knaow..." She grimaced with her eyes half-closing from it. "Ein the barr...?"

The Harrier's frown deepened as he thought back to the Day before, the mess of everything somewhat interfering with his ability to properly recall where her logic could have stemmed from. He placed his hand over his chin, closing his eyes as he tried reaching further into the recesses of his memories as he found he had a sudden murkiness of his recollection. The Harrier usually didn't have trouble with bringing facts back into the open... but what could Andy be going on about with the izakaya...?

...What was wrong with him? The black hoodie wearer grimaced as he kept drawing up dry trails, flickering his gaze when he opened it to his friend who was waiting on him most likely. "I..." he breathed out with little comfort from knowing that he wouldn't have much to contribute to Andy's subject matter. "I don't particularly have any idea what that's about."

For some reason, Andy gave out a short laugh. As the Harrier focused on his friend, he felt immediately as if he was a person who forgot to put socks and shoes on before they left their home for the Day. She soon leaned over her stomach and placed her hands on it while laughing more, which led him to believe Andy wouldn't offer an explanation as to why she was reacting oddly.

"Okay," he said in annoyance and scowled as he grumbled, "What's so amusing about this?"

The dirty blonde snickered, shaking her head lightly as she replied almost smugly, "Yaa daon'tt rlememburr whaatt aI taorld yaa."

His face hardened while he huffed, "Remember what?"

"AI gueess the aahlcaohaoll ded gett ya," she mused cheekily as she gave a grin. Her teeth partly showed behind her lips as she put in while chuckling, "Aoh waow, this eis jaust..."

"Andy," he tersely said, pursing his lips as he stared her down. "Just get to the point."

His friend slowly went silent, blinking for a bit before she sighed, "Aaw, fine." As she crossed her arms loosely, she tilted her head before she murmured, "AI thaoughtt aI taorld yaa eit waourld shaow yaa aahnd meh aahin'tt the aonlee aones waantting Rlecluitting..."

The Harrier started at that. "R-Really?" He frowned as he incredulously kept his gaze trained on her face. "But that's the reason why we need more Reaper support," he went on in disbelief, watching his friend shrug. "If we get more names down, that will surely show that."

She smiled tenderly at him. "Bautt waourld they aundaarrsttaand eit?"

The Harrier raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Andy blew a raspberry, shaking her head almost knowingly before she placed a hand on her nearby hip and began poking at her temple with her other. "Whaatt eif they daon'tt gett eit?" Her amber-brown eyes glinted as she breathed out warily, "Why eitt's eimpaorrttaantt... Why eitt maattterrs..." She then pointed at him and frowned sadly. "Whaatt eit meaans ta yaa."

Immediately, the Harrier's eyes widened and his throat went dry. "...Are you saying we could be choosing the wrong volunteers from the crowd to agree with us if we only care about the support?"

The female Reaper nodded with a grimace. "Yeaah..."

"I see..." he mused in disappointment, dipping his chin as he put his hand over it and sighed, "Yes, well... I suppose that's a fair point." He drew his gaze back to his friend as he mumbled, "However, that only makes me feel nervous about our current supporters..."

"Naaw," Andy said with a shrug, making him narrow his eyes at her as she waved her hand up and down while she shook her head. "Eif yaa think wee shaourldn'tt crlaose aup shaopp, then aI'rl bee fine with gaoing folr more peaopull." She then crossed her arms and scowled. "Bautt yaa caourld leaave meh ein chaarrge of weeeding aoutt the rliaarrs."

"I doubt they would be lying," he said with a huff, shaking his head. "Understanding something and pretending to like something are two different things, Andy."

Andy's eyes became slits. "Saame thing." Her frown deepened as she went on to grumble, "Eit waourldn'tt bee rlightt ta sign aup eif ya daon'tt haave yaa heaarrtt aahnd saourl ein eit..."

"Either way, we can only assume they want to help out until evidence suggests otherwise." He hoped that wouldn't be the case. "I don't think it would be a good idea to heckle them about why they signed our petition," he went on in an uneasy note, watching as his friend's expression failed to change at any point even after he told her that. "It would only cause unwanted disturbances and annoy them. And if we annoy them..." He knitted his eyebrows and frowned. "We can potentially lose our support."

His friend grimaced at that, her amber-brown gaze darkening with worry. "Waourldn'tt hurltt ta ask."

The Harrier couldn't help but feel inclined to agree with her. "...Minimal encounters?"

"Surre," she said with a shrug, soon waving a hand back and forth towards herself and him. "AI'll jaustt be daoing the dirrtee waorlk aahnd yaa caourld be rlaounding aup maorre folr meh ta waorlk with."

"So I go high, you go low?" he inquired with slight amusement, faintly feeling less on edge as Andy nodded. "Then it'll just be how our hunts go." With their roles somewhat reshuffled, of course.

As Andy's face broke into a grin and gave a session of certainly more excited nods, he dipped his head. "Okay, good," he breathed in relief, smiling small as he blinked back at his friend. "I suppose that will do." The Harrier then frowned, looking away as he mumbled on, "Although... I feel as if we may have a snag to keep in mind."

Andy's face screwed up. "Snaag?" She bent down to the ground, causing him to wince when he realized the notebook had been dropped at some point again. Did Andy purposefully drop it earlier or did she put it down for some reason? They couldn't afford to keep losing track of it and walk away when a non-suspecting Reaper could pick it up and find reason to use it to report him and Andy of 'ill-advised pursuits'.

The Harrier felt a slight headache come on when he thought about this, watching as Andy stood up while she made a move of slipping the black notebook into her mustard hoodie's front pocket. The bulky rectangle somewhat hindered her movements- or merely made her feel uncomfortable to move until she readjusted it to not poke into her, he noted, as she took a few steps to stand in front of him again.

She soon placed a hand on her hip with a raised eyebrow. "Eis thaatt why yaa sao augly with eit?"

'Oh, you wouldn't dream of all the reasons that make me unhappy about it...' He sighed dismally, "To be frank... today's just been stressful." He closed his eyes. "Surely my apparent inspirational speech will spread through the streets, and catch the ears of the Conductor as soon as we enter the River again. If we want actual results, we should try again tomorrow." The Harrier paused to shake his head. "But I doubt we'd see daybreak before our petition is sabotaged by that posh bastard."

"Then why daon'tt wee staay aoutt, caattch the laatte nightt crlaowd aahnd trry befaorre he daoes?" Andy suggested with a frown.

"We may be dead, but we're not batteries that run forever," he simply said and crossed his arms, feeling his eyebrows knit. "And if I want my wings back…"

Andy's large, somewhat webbed wings fanned out abruptly, fluttering almost as if they had somehow gained their own sentience until his friend exclaimed giddily, "Nao, daon't botherr-" He shot a disgruntled look to her, puzzled by her fantasy of not wanting him to fly again when she clasped her hands. She tipped them in his direction and wolfishly grinned. "Yaa knaow whaatt wiinglress Rleaperrs aarre...?"

She let out a few snickers, which caused him to sigh flatly, "Andy, I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Nao- nao- shuush!" She scowled at him, instantly putting her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "Powafurl."

The Harrier sighed again, "I'm not powerful, I'm more in the moderate range." He furrowed his eyebrows, soon rolling his eyes as he gestured slightly. "And I don't see how that has any merit."

"Yaa knaow whaatt eit waas leike, waattching yaa aarrgaue with the Saahiyaamaarraamaa?" she asked eagerly in a gradually rising tone, grinning through her smirk as she crossed her arms. Andy soon nodded in an omniscient manner. "They thaoughtt yaa werle aah strlaong Rleaperr… sao, why naott caash ein aon eit?"

He immediately froze. "Lie to them?"

"Naaw, thaatt aain't eit." The dirty blonde shook her head with narrowed eyes, waving her hand as she explained, "Naott yaawrr faaurltt yaa lraost them... baaut thaatt aain'tt the paointt." She tapped her temples, grinning toothily as she chirped, "Yaa gaottaa theink becaause yaaw'rre the brraains bettweeen the twao aof aus! Waourldn'tt eit bee saweet eif they thoughtt yaa werle aah biig, baad Rleaperr ta sttaand beehind…?" She started to laugh, slapping a knee as she continued chortling about it.

"Andy!" he firmly barked out, stiffly facing her as he glowered coldly. "This isn't a joke!" Her eyes blew wide, backing away as he clenched his hands and gritted his teeth. "If we project that sort of falsehood… I don't want us to get caught up with it or we may lose sight of what we want in the end!" He narrowed his eyes to slits, coolly turning as he sighed before grousing, "I want Reapers who feel the same as us to sign up, not grab any body we see off the streets as con artists!"

The Harrier padded away from his companion, stuffing his hands into his pockets upon kicking a pebble away. "We need to portray the right signs and messages to be taken seriously…"

"AI thaoughtt yaa ded aah faanttaastic jaob eaarlilrer," commented Andy as she started to step over to him slowly. "Thaatt's the sttuff aI think yaa gaotttaa dao!"

He scoffed, "What? I lost my temper…" He pursed his lips, pressing a hand half on his forehead and half over the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "As much as that 'helped' us, it wasn't what I was expecting to gain attention from. I already made…" He grimaced upon pausing, contemplating whether or not he should clear his closet out of that skeleton before forgoing it. "Felt awful about this morning, so you may understand I'd rather have had a better handle of the noon situation."

Andy was silent for a while before she breathed in confusion, "AI leckon yaa sttluck gaold."

He groaned out in annoyance, "Even though I got the word out… that wasn't what I was going for."

"Bautt eit gaott signaatturres…" she cried out in dismay; he could feel her throwing her head back as she was going on with a huff, "Yaa gaotta gao with eit aorr yaaw'rre naott gaoing ta geitt aahneething!"

The wingless Reaper inhaled deeply before he exhaled harshly. "I'm not convincing you otherwise… am I?"

As he turned back to her, she cheekily grinned brightly. "Yaa haad paasschun baack thelre, mah saweet bumpkein!" She pulled out and held the notebook high above her head gleefully. "Yaa gaottta use maore aof thaatt enelgy ta spleaad the waold!"

He tucked his head slightly in. "If I used that much energy each time, I believe you will be carrying a battery around for now on to zap life back into to me."

She blinked bemusedly before scowling with a huff, "AI aain'tt yaa baackpaack."

"Hey, you chose to carry the pens and notebook instead of me. Not my fault I'm making the connection," he mumbled with an arm shrug, holding it for a few seconds before dropping his appentages when he sighed, "Speaking of that… do you have any ideas where it may be?"

The dirty blonde shrugged then grimaced. "AI thaoughtt eit waas aon yaa baack?"

He released dry laughter, "As if I would carry around pounds of Yen Pins on my back without rest... or in my sleep..." He humoured the thought as he shook his head, smirking as he went on in mild amusement, "Sure, I have muscles… but I know that sort of strain will lead to back issues…"

The Harrier paced on the spot after that, mulling it over as he placed a hand on his chin and started to muse, "It used to be nearly impossible for me to take it off before that posh bastard took my wings."

"Slripped aoff?" she offered simply with a head tilt.

"It was a heavy bag," he countered briskly, giving a hard shake of his head before he sighed bitterly, "I would like to think either of us would hear it land, even for me to miss the pressure on my poor back."

"Then why dedn'tt yaa...?" she slowly said as she squinted. "Yaa werlen'tt even smaashed laastt nightt."

He scoffed in his throat, swiftly spinning back as he bristled. He slammed a palm to his chest as he cried out indignantly, "For your information, I was carrying you back to the Barracks- so I'd know if-" He halted, gaping in horror before he gasped slowly. 'Fuck…'

"Whaatt's the maattterr?" Andy pressed as she gazed at him sharply, amber-brown half-closing promptly as she frowned bemusedly. "Srlipped eit unndarr the wrlaong maatttrless?"

His throat felt dry as he swallowed thickly, wetting his lips before he dropped his hands to clench them at his sides. He had to get it back- who knows if anything was taken from him. It wasn't about the Yen for him, the thought that there was a chance a certain someone had it after the shit him and Andy pulled the night before left him feeling bitter and woozy with horror. Was it a score for revenge? The Harrier wouldn't know for sure unless he got over there and got his bag back! Without it… it would leave him with nothing but the notion he was being stripped bare for another round of torture from the universe.

First his wings, now his bag… was Andy next!? Would she get Erased because the rules of the universe decreed anything to relieve the burdens of his own existence was inconsequential for him to have because the road he chose to walk on was fundamentally rejected so those things had to be ripped away from him every time he tried to go against the 'laws' beseeched upon him!? And if he were to be frank in layman's terms: He couldn't have nice things because everything would never go right for him!?

He tried to calm his breathing as he uncurled his hands, giving a brief miserable look to Andy. It felt like everything was caving on him…

Hands were suddenly on his shoulders. "Hey- daon'tt terl meh yaa faaintting aahgaain!" Andy was in front of him until he shoved against her wrists back in a panic, exhaling a shuddery gasp as he tried to gain back control over himself. Andy shot him a worried look yet the Harrier could only focus on how his face felt slick with sweat, his hands clammy as he patted his cheeks to hopefully hone his senses again to better react to the current situation.

"...S-Stay here," he began slowly whilst raising his hands up towards her. He was growing lightheaded and barely keeping himself from stumbling as he edged backwards. "I-I fear it's still there."

The yellow hoodie Reaper stared at him as he paused momentarily to massage a temple with his right hand, letting it rest there as the Harrier shook his head slowly. Promptly turning, he broke into a swift stride which elicited Andy's alarmed shout, "Haolrd aon naow- wherre dao yaa theink yaa gaoing!?"

Abruptly, he spun back to point in her direction as he spoke in a low tone of barely-stifled panic, "Stay… here…" He meant for it to be calming and reassuring, so the Harrier knew it wasn't helping his case as Andy started to approach him with much intentful confusion. "I'm going to take a quick detour on our agenda, so wait for me," he explained, hopefully not blurting it out as he gestured with fraught towards her and himself as he quickly went on, "Remember, I'm calling the shots with the information we put out there! So don't worry- I won't be long!"

"Sao yaa reaaving meh!?" she cried out in her tetchy retort, scowling immediately. "Whaatt eis wrlaong with yaa!?"

"I know where it is, so if you would just let me do that-" he pressed as he skittishly pivoted to run again, not looking back this time. "Everything will be peachy!"

"Whaatt aabaoutt maaking surre yaa naott gaoing ta faaintt!?" she cried out in distress, feeling her follow after him still and stir up his already rising anxiety (he just wanted to smother). He didn't need to be stressed right now- why was Andy so insistent on following him when he could just snag it and get back to her without any issues!?

...Oh wait. He skidded to a stop when he realized what the problem was and grimaced. It wouldn't bode well for a 'syncoper' to be alone right now in case they dropped out cold on a Yen again... and that was the last thing he wanted to carry around with him.

Aw well... he may as well fuck things over to fix how he was fucking himself over... even though he really didn't want to this at all...

The Harrier clenched his teeth, turned back one last time, and bit out cheekily and uneasily as he waved both of his hands, "I faked it- surprise!"

Within the few seconds he allowed himself to gaze at his friend before turning back to go, Andy's face was white then darkening then turning full-on tomato-red as she squawked out in outrage, "WHAATT DAO YAA MEAAN YAA FAAKED EIT!?"

"So sorry- bye!" he shouted back as he pounded hard into the cement and bolted.

He could have sworn she was throwing curse after curse after him, her words bleeding rapidly into English he knew he couldn't decipher right now. That was a guarantee, even if he wasn't panicking about how the initial plan in getting his bag back was now going to end up leaving him with a shiner to show for the event from Andy once he got back. But that didn't matter right now, because the sooner he got back, the sooner he could smooth this over with his friend.

...Y-Yes, that should be good! It had to be good or Andy might smack him with the blunt end of her firearm Psych to beat him into next Week! Ooh… there was no escaping the fact he just pissed her off!

With that, his stomach churned, thoughts whirled and heart sank at the knowledge he just dug a hole for himself. The Harrier wasted no time in trying his best to figure out what would be the fastest route for the round trip as he pushed on, ...to account for Andy's sake this time, of course.

---

Bursting through the door, huffing as he stalked and passed by customers, he soon halted at the counter to glare at the culprit.

"Where's my bag...?" he growled out lowly.

The stupid waiter from yesterday jolted, paling drastically when his dark brown eyes flickered to the Harrier before the young auburn haired man seemingly made an 'eep'. "Uh…" He tugged at his dark-mauve collar after a few seconds, sweating as he sheepishly giggled, "N-Nice to s-see you again?"

Straightaway, the Harrier narrowed his eyes more. "If you would like to play that game…" he started as he quieted his voice to a growly whisper, soon speaking coolly with a smile, "Mr. Maeda, was it?" Upon getting a rapid nod, the Harrier continued very sweetly, sickened with himself that he had to stoop to using this tone again, "If you must recall, I had been here with a friend and may have left a knapsack here…" He rolled his eyes inwardly. "So I would like to know if it still is here…"

Mr. Maeda slowly, like a jittery creature, turned away to lean under the counter.

The Harrier acted on the need to anxiously drum his fingers on the counter- thankfully clean, unlike yesterday- and surreptitiously glanced at the current patrons in the izakaya. He was hoping none of them had their interests piqued by his entrance… nevermind, the Harrier was certain he had an audience right off the bat. He tried to inhale deeply and release it slowly, hoping this time to calm himself to some degree as he waited. It wouldn't do for the actor to lose himself mid-performance, even if this wasn't a show to give them.

Sometimes, the Reaper forgot how he should mind his manners more when in the presence of RG denizens… but a lot of times, it was easy to let himself slip and give in to the freeform. Which freedom? Well, the freedom to not fit himself into jaded conventions that woman had forced him to. Perhaps, he supposed, it was one of the reasons why he let himself splice together his anger and pitch for Recruiting Players because of Sadist Saiyama. That old man must have been purposefully egging him on- no, it had to be why that old man was being so difficult to have deflected the proposition the Harrier gave an hour or two ago.

He felt tears threaten to form. The Harrier instantly began resisting them as he clasped ahold of himself, by humming as quietly as he could…

---

"Dun dun-dun dunn!" the eight-year-old hummed out as he was placing his school books away, not missing a beat as he fashioned his ruddy-red knapsack clasp before beaming small. "Dun duh-dun-dun duh!"

"My son, your mother is sleeping," said the boy's father from the other side of the room, the words freezing the boy in place as he flushed. "Do keep it down for her sake."

"Yes, father," said the boy as he quieted himself to a whisper, bowing his head. He was unsure if his father heard him or if it was enough for his mother to remain asleep, but he scolded himself for being so loud to have received his father's notice.

As his father padded over as the boy busied himself with treading softly to the shoji, struggling to open it and panicking when it clicked and creaked out, his father soon fell in behind him and slid it open slowly and perfectly... Despite frowning at that, the boy sent a quick nod to his father before venturing to the front sliding door, lowering himself to place his bag down.

He was making sure it was out of the way of where it could be tripped over when the boy heard his father close the shoji, jerking before trying to make sure his knapsack stayed upright. "Hmm… may I ask how you came up with such a song?" asked his father as he was slowly maneuvering himself onto his cushion, sitting tall and facing his son as the boy stood up.

Once the boy came over to the cubudai, he smiled and replied quietly while taking a seat beside the man, "We went to a performance the other day."

"Why so soft when your mother is in the other room?" asked his father this time, clasping his hands on the cubudai.

The boy's face went blank. "What if she can hear us?" he breathed, not daring to raise his voice despite how surprised he was from that question. "Mother hears everything."

"Everything, you say?" hummed his father in amusement, earning a placative nod from the boy. The boy's father laughed before he murmured, placing a hand atop the boy's head and rubbed it, "If she could, we would have to be silent."

The boy gaped small, nodding as he glanced at the shoji door she was sleeping behind incredulously. "Oh…"

"Tell me about this performance, my son," the boy's father said, causing the boy to gaze back to politely give his father his attention. "It has certainly caught your fancy if you're humming it by heart."

His father's gre-

---

The Harrier jolted when a thud sounded and ochre blurred in his vision. "I-Is this it?

Blinking quickly, the Reaper took a moment to pacify the urge to bolt out with the bag in case it wasn't his before he studied it. Remaining startled from being ripped out of the memory would only make him act recklessly if he didn't recompose himself, after all.

"Hmm…" He turned it around on the counter, noting nothing was out of the ordinary. The fabric was just as he remembered it and there appeared to be no tampering as of the moment. Deciding to be a smidge more thorough, he warily slid open a pocket and peered in.

Glinting Pins shone dimly back.

But how many?

He looked at the owner of the izakaya. "When did you notice it was here?"

The man jumped, stiffening as he began rubbing his hands sheepishly. "Last night."

Turning his expression neutral, save for the anger he felt inside, the Harrier placed a hand on the top of his knapsack. "When was that...?" he hissed out slowly, starting to glower as he went on coolly, "When did you notice it was here, Mr. Maeda?"

The man's face blanched. "Uh…" He seemed to start sweating profusely; not that the Reaper cared, it only served to add fuel to one of the conclusions he formulated on his way here. Scratching his chin, the dark auburn haired waiter grimaced before he squeaked out, "Three or four am? After you left?" The man instantly clasped his hands as he started to blubber, "I-I swear- no one else came after you two left! Absolutely n-no one saw it but me!"

"Okay then," said the Reaper with a small exhale, narrowing his eyes to slits. "I'll assume you had it with you in hopes I would return to see if you had it, which-" He gestured to himself stiffly. "I had." He then placed a hand back on his bag, pointedly locking eyes with the man. "But did you happen to leave it here, or take it home?"

"Wh-Why would you think th-that?" asked the man nervously; his dark brown eyes wide and flashing with fear. ...Wow, Andy was right. this man couldn't take a chill pill… In fact, give this waiter a chill pill and this man may very well choke on it.

The Harrier wasn't trying to spook the man, but the Harrier wasn't opposed to cranking this up a notch. It may very well work in his favour and payback was beauty in the eyes of the beholder- hence, that being, one of the victims of last night's eavesdropping. It was in his interest to make it clear who should be cooperative to who…

"Oh, just wanted to know because I would hate to have any of my belongings stolen…" he said, slurring his words near the end and paused for a moment or two. When he glanced down at his bag, he tartly put in, "You know, if you sifted through my bag and took anything-" He leaned slightly forward and added simply, "I would only question if what you told me last night proved to be genuine." He patted his knapsack twice, his gaze sharpening. "And wonder how I trusted a lowly thief."

The man's eyes bulged, wildly shaking his head seconds later. "I-I swear- e-everything is in there!" He nodded twice, giving the equivalent of puppy dog eyes to the Reaper, who quirked an unamused eyebrow immediately.

"...How would you know that then?" His voice was shallow and condescending as he frowned deeply. "If you hadn't looked in it."

"Oh, well… it-" The words died on the man's breath when it hitched; the waiter starting back slightly as he shook his head. "Oh- I didn't even touch its clasps!"

The Reaper flatly stared back, pointing at the 'clasps'. "It has zippers."

"Z-Zippers!" half-shouted the man as he smiled in a grimace. "I m-meant zippers!"

"What's in my bag?" asked the Reaper as he curled his fingers, bunching up the rough fabric in his grasp. "If everything is inside it?"

"U-Um…" The waiter squeaked for a while, panicking in front of the Reaper before he grinned nervously. "Paper?"

'Ah.' The Reaper's face hardened. 'The generic response I hadn't wanted to hear…'

In the Underground, Reapers collected currency from Noise if they were desperate for spending, or from the Players they Erased. The Harrier had been doing the latter, which led to him buying this knapsack a Day after growing tired of running out of pocket space to store his Yen Pins in during his first Reaper Week. ...Not that he did yet, he used the Yen Pins he had collected during his time as a Player to buy said bag, but that's not the point he was drawing here- Whenever they went into shops, the Reaper Sigils would alter the Realground denizens' perception of the Pins they reaped to see them as normal Yen. Players, returning from the Underground, would take about a Week or so to see them as normal Yen again… as the Harrier Reaper recalled.

In Mr. Maeda's case, he saw the Reaper's contents as paper… which meant he did see the contents of the Harrier's bag. Therefore, the Harrier knew he was correct to check just to be sure of this man's claims... as much as he hated taking valuable time out of his Day just to keep hearing the man sprout lie after lie after lie.

"What type of paper?" the Reaper ventured curtly, slowly cupping the bottom sections of his knapsack and shook it a few times. As he did so, he watched the waiter cringe. "Just a bit curious, if you must know." After a pause he placed it back down, content that had been enough to rest his case.

"A-Ahg…" Mr. Maeda went rigid as a plank. "W-Were they important papers!?"

Ah-ah, not so fast! Important papers? Well, well, well- there goes the alarms. His gaze sharpened, feeling himself smirk even as his annoyance flared up. If Mr. Maeda was honest, he wouldn't have asked such an obvious question. As innocent as the question made itself out to be, it rang true with the fact that Mr. Maeda had only fallen into his own pitfall- meant for the Harrier to trip into- instead.

A Realground person who didn't know better would have just not told him there was paper… following up to that- since this man failed in that regard- why would they care if the papers were important? Little loose strings such as this were easy to blow over, but people like the Harrier knew better. The question wasn't a matter of asking if or confirming they were important. To put it simply, it didn't even establish what the importance was for. No, no… it wasn't that. Where was the context? In order to understand this, you needed context.

To walk through this, it wasn't about why they were important: It was about the 'who' in all this. Who cared about the papers more between him and this waiter. It was a veiled statement meant to catch one off-guard. Well played, Mr. Maeda, but maybe you're not as dumb as you made yourself out to be. Even the Harrier felt this was the perfect distraction, if he was so caught up to actually buy it.

The question was silently asking one of two things: Why are they important to you? Why are the papers important to me?

Right now, the Harrier couldn't place which question was asked, but he could offer a few motives. If someone with ill-intents would ask why it was important to them, it meant they wanted whatever was inside. If it was for the Harrier, he would ask why was it important for himself to get it back to hold possession of said items. But it only leads to one final question… As much as he would have liked to believe there was another, there was only one true question.

Why do I think they're important?

As confusing as it would be to arrive to this question, it was the one thing to affirm what the question was going for. The Harrier knew why they were important to him, so why would this waiter ask this? Well, you might think it was the same as one of the previous questions, but that wasn't the case. If Mr. Maeda was concerned for what importance the papers had, he wouldn't be scared about the Harrier finding out he took a gander through the bag.

It would go like this…

What happens when that guy from yesterday comes back for his bag? If I took items from inside said bag, would he notice? Wouldn't notice?

The papers were not what mattered as the subject matter, it was what would happen if the Harrier found out he was missing items because of Mr. Maeda. If some items had been taken, then this man would be in trouble and have more beef with the Harrier. Although, it wasn't just that. If Mr. Maeda was interested in the contents of said bag then he may have taken them out to see said contents, which meant Mr. Maeda was really asking him: Would you care if they were gone because of me?

Disgusting.

But despite all this… the Harrier knew he just had to figure out which of the two outcomes had happened: If Mr. Maeda stole from him or just took things out to look at them. This would be pointless to think about had Mr. Maeda not used 'were' in his question.

Were was past tense; are was present tense.

It could be that the papers he had 'before' wasn't present now. Mr. Maeda was a fool to think the Harrier flunked his Composition classes!

Were denoted the papers were gone. Like... were you doing something before?

Are denoted the papers are here. Are you doing something now?

Either way, the papers were taken out at one point. The Harrier knew his Yen Pins were inside... but how many? He wasn't sure.

All that was left was to find out.

The Reaper's eyes glinted darkly. "Why should you care? Did you or did you not steal from me?" he retorted through a growl.

He had to make this believable, so making himself seem none the wiser by asking if Mr. Maeda stole them instead of asking why Mr. Maeda stole from him would make it all the more authentic. By playing the victim card, Mr. Maeda would cave from the guilt alone… Knowing that he caused undue duress in a teenager would make Mr. Maeda's character type the empathic fool…

And fall right into the Harrier's trap.

The only solution Mr. Maeda had to close this with was to admit defeat and confess for his wrongful actions.

Hook, line… and sinker! Ready when you are, Mr. Maeda! Why don't you be a dear and have the honour of ending the scene... the audience is waiting for you...

Pitifully shaking in response, the waiter gaped haplessly at the Reaper, who kept waiting for the answer. The Harrier didn't care how much the waiter was squirming before him… he wanted to know what the waiter did to his belongings. It would have been easy to just walk out and check the bag's contents outside to save time… but the Reaper couldn't help himself with messing with the man who was nosy not just with others' conversations, but with their possessions as well.

The man should have kept his business to himself... but he hadn't. Now all he had to do was pay the price!

"Maeda!" the deep, gritty, hearty shout made the Harrier stiffen. "How have you-"

Sadist Saiyama... These two know each other.

Time felt as if it was slowing down to nothing; the prescience alone made him quickly hone in on the fact that if he were to explain himself now he wouldn't gain positive results. Up to now, he held the fluidity of the situation- it would only snowball if he stuck around to see what would happen next. He was so caught up with knowing the actual truth it would only derail him now if he had to deal with the old man on top of things!

It wasn't hard to know what Mr. Maeda would do now. Mr. Maeda had backup- backup meant it was over! As much as it frustrated the Harrier he had lost items to this fool, the Harrier had to abandon ship.

Without a second thought, the Harrier grabbed his knapsack and bolted to the door. He barely scraped past the Reaper he shot a glare at in passing before slamming the door open.

Once in the streets, the Harrier gasped and exhaled raggedly as he seethed. 'Why does Sadist Saiyama keep popping out of thin air to spite me, dammit!?' He clutched his knapsack close, feeling himself tremble as he began to walk, only to stumble forward. 'Wh-Why won't he leave me alone!? I had that fool cornered and he had to show up!'

The wingless Reaper pushed forward, ignoring how the ground felt… wavy to him. That thought stopped him, making him glance around in confusion as the lights gave off an aura and a pit in his stomach formed at how dark it was outside… No, he hadn't been in there for hours- why was it dark? Putting a hand on his head, he grimaced and half-closed his eyes.

He noticed it was light again…

Setting down his bag absently, hearing it thud faintly, he inhaled deeply before he withdrew his hand. He silently regarded the fact that he couldn't see any of the vultures, so did the Round end? Maybe that's why Sadist Saiyama was-

He lurched forward, felt something close around his left wrist and a hand had pressed itself against his shoulder. Suddenly, he realized how dizzy he felt, his vision swimming before he felt himself sitting down and blinked dazedly beside his knapsack. 'What the…'

"A-Are you alright?" asked a gentle voice.

He whipped his head to an ebony haired girl with the same shade of worried orbs gazing at him, pink lips shifting as if being nibbled on... He noted that it was just another Reaper. To be exact, it was a Support Reaper, seeing that a red hoodie was clinging baggily to her slim form.

"Uh… I guess so?" he replied slowly, uncertain to how he got to sit on the ground so fast but chalked it up to the dizziness. He nodded his head to her, frowning slightly. "...Thank you."

"Hmm… still fainting?" she murmured worriedly, but all that did was splash a bucket of glacier water over him. Why was that the first thing she said to him!? Was this morning's failed performance that memorable that it Imprinted the Reapers into remembering it as the most significant thing to be reminded of him by!? He had no clue whether he would have wished for her to have said something about the meltdown he threw at Sadist Saiyama later on, or embrace how he really was a fool from the morning debriefing…

The Harrier tilted his head down, a wave of humiliation returning as he mumbled lamely, "W-Was… Did I just faint?"

There was no way he fainted just now! Not when he was fuming about Sadist Saiyama seconds before- not when he literally faked it because now this was just bullshit! He was literally throwing out a bowl for the vultures to pluck their impressions of him from for the fuck of it!

When he slowly raised his head, she was nodding as she breathed out, "You almost hit your head again."

'Okay-' thought the Harrier in irritation, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep his eyes on the other Reaper. 'She must have had a front row seat to see how much of a fool I was to think I could easily make an exit with a feigned syncopation! This is just beautiful…'

"Y-You saw that, huh?" he said instead of voicing his internal commentary, feeling small and awkward from the thought that he couldn't just shrug off the morning scene now. He was right- Reapers wouldn't remember his pitch-slash-tantrum, they would only remember the wingless syncopater! "Got to be one of my most humiliating moments here," he went on sheepishly, feeling odd about it as he so wished to not look more of a fool than he made himself appear to be to this Reaper. "I-I must be the highlight to all of the vultures' Day, hahaha…"

"N-No, why would you?" she breathed as she frowned back. "I-I thought they may have brought you to the Officers that healed, or you were resting in the Barracks."

"...No reason," he breathed quickly, coughing into his right arm, "Couldn't bear the thought of staying in today…" He gestured towards her as calmly as he could. "We all got to eat to survive here, especially if it's the last Day to scrape on by."

"Mmm… I see." She nodded; her ebony eyes glowing as she leaned closer to him, only to stop when he instinctively jerked away. She frowned, tilting her head. "What is wrong?"

He cleared his throat, coolly gazing back. "People like personal space."

"Oh!" She inched herself away, casting her gaze downward. "Forgot about that…" He squinted at her, wondering why it sounded wrong when she said it… Was he reading too deeply into this? "Sorry…" she trailed off, giving him an expectant look.

All he did was cross his legs, his knapsack sitting snug in his lap as he rested his weight on it. "I'm not touchy-feely, so don't do it again," he said curtly, closing his eyes as he huffed crossly, "It's not cool- or cute- to shove your face into my face-" He raised a finger up in the air. "Guys don't like that."

She blinked and he placed his hand back down, watching as she nodded. The female Reaper soon knelt down before resting on her knees…

...When did he stop sitting like that? This Reaper must have been from a traditional family as he had been, however, he felt as if he's lost so much of himself lately he could hardly keep up with the culture his family enforced into him years before his father died. He had to learn and pick up the rest of the slack himself…

Where did that recollection come from? He couldn't help but frown to himself that at this moment in time he would suddenly think about his family when-

"I see," she murmured with one last nod, offering a demure smile. "Sorry again."

"Just don't do it, okay?" he sighed, shaking his head. "Though, I find it odd you happened to catch me…" He raised his head, opening his eyes as he caught himself. "Not to be rude or ungrateful that you had." Manners were still important when someone did you a solid, after all.

The female Reaper slowly blinked, appearing baffled when she gave a short string of giggles, "I guess that makes sense from your standpoint."

Immediately, he opened his mouth to muse on that when a spike of pain entered his skull. He half-gasped and half-cried out as he smacked a hand to the pulsing region, hissing as anything else seemed impossible to focus on.

Mumbles filled the air, yet he couldn't figure out what was being said. Then he felt so cold, numb as he gasped as air seemed impossible to breathe in… panicking when he couldn't yet couldn't do anything-

That thought remained.

---

The Harrier gasped, inhaling raggedly as he scrambled to pull himself off the cement when something weighed him down… No wait, that was a hand….

A hand?

...Something was trying to pin him down and strangle him!

He immediately grasped onto the familiar energy, pushing it quickly through his veins as he waited for a Pin to boot up when he realized he couldn't feel any of his Pins. Why didn't have his Pins!? This was just fantastic! Now he had to fight basically naked with his raw strength alone… There was no room for errors when you were facing against one with the intent to kill. Thus, he had to get himself out of there as soon as possible, locate his Pins, then figure out where he could lay low until the threat was absent.

He struggled against his assailant, rearing a hand back only to be cuffed on the side of his head. "Ow!" Were they trying to bash their fist through his head and into his skull!? Why did that hurt so much!? It made him woozy immediately and he could hardly figure out the best weak points to aim at, shaking his head as he tried to concentrate better-

"Seriously… I would never have thought I'd hear a lame excuse for a cry of pain from a little smack like that."

The pain of getting struck on the head wasn't important to focus on when Sadist Saiyama was the one pinning the Harrier down in the streets- Of course- it all made sense now! That man was sent to personally Erase him! He must have gotten ambushed by that old man after his dizzy spell, the girl unable to react before the Harrier was dragged off!

...What didn't make sense was why he was being pinned down in a bed.

He screamed only to have Sadist Saiyama slap a hand over his mouth. He immediately grabbed onto the man's rough hands, clawing at them and growling in frustration when he failed to remove them from his jaw-

A sigh sounded.

"Do you really believe this is making the situation any better, Mr. Saiyama?" asked the Conductor, who had just walked in.

The Harrier froze, kept his hands clamped around some of the old man's sausage fingers and gawked at the posh bastard. It wasn't long before the Sadist from above scoffed, "No." Flickering his gaze to the ex-army man, the Harrier threw a dirty look when the man boomed on with lacklustre, "He looked ready to fall out of bed- then I find myself having to stop him from panicking when I tried to help him back into it."

...Bullshit. There was no way the Harrier was going let the old man get away with mishandling the truth of the situation! He didn't delay himself from acting upon that to angrily yell against the hand, only to fume more at how his words came out muffled, "Nough wa wall- eye won two no wha' theb fuk is guuing awn deer!"

In response to the Harrier's poorly conceived input, all the posh bastard did was rub his temples with his right hand. "Remove your hand. It is... agitating him."

The Harrier rolled his eyes. 'What gave you that idea?' He mentally imitated the posh bastard to himself as Sadist Saiyama stepped away, finally giving back the Harrier his rightful ownership of freedom of speech. ...Might as well use it as it should be used for.

"Why the fuck did you kidnap me!?" he spat furiously.

Straightaway, the cream and white suited man closed his midnight blue eyes. "I have to wonder if stripping you of your wings taught you enough…" He frowned as he sighed, "Should I demote you to a Support Reaper, or will you act accordingly?"

The Harrier Reaper narrowed his eyes. "I feel so violated right now. Do you know that?" When the Conductor didn't respond, Sadist Saiyama raising an unimpressed eyebrow and snorted, the Harrier crossed his arms and huffed out, "Clearly you don't, because I'm really enjoying the royalty treatment here…" He rolled his eyes when he raised his shoulders in a half shrug. "...Not that being manhandled is new to me."

Sadist Saiyama was about to bark out something when the posh bastard spoke up, "We gave you a bed to rest in, what other comforts from home can we give you?"

"Ah, well... since you asked..." he started tartly, pausing for a bit to hum before he finished, "Nothing." The Harrier went on to leer at the posh bastard, sneering as he chuckled bitterly, "The only comfort I have is my imagination." He narrowed his eyes and shallowly put in, "Not that you care… or at least, recall why you can't."

"I would like for us to have a single civil conversation without you lashing out," said the Conductor carefully as he sauntered to a nearby chair- that was already pointing towards the bed- to slowly sit down. He soon went on dismissively, after he shifted his wooden cane so it could rest on his lap, "But it would appear you would rather bite the hand that feeds you..."

Rolling his eyes as he moved his head gradually to gaze away, the Harrier scoffed, "Get to the point already… You're wasting my time."

"Today you fainted this morning," said the Conductor coldly, pulling out a File from the table beside him… The Harrier could only guess whose it was. "Then this late afternoon has found you unconscious in the streets, by Mr. Saiyama, after your fellow Harrier Reaper vouched for you to go outside instead of resting in bed."

"Unconscious?" Should he mention the fact he fainted a second-third time? Nah, the Harrier had an idea where the posh bastard was going with this. The Harrier wasn't about to slip that information; it was a terrible idea and especially dangerous to let loose to the posh bastard of all people! Not only would that confirm the stuck up Conductor... it would only relent the control of the Harrier's situation he found himself in.

Being found unconscious in the streets… huh. He could have sworn he was still standing in the streets as the girl… the girl… the girl!

The Harrier zeroed in on the fact that the posh bastard framed the scene as if the Harrier was alone when 'found' by Sadist Saiyama, which begged the question of where the girl went? Whoever she was, she was still chatting with him before he woke up to the posh bastard and the army man watching him… Okay, as creepy as the fact that the last two people he wanted to see right now- and would rather off himself to finally get himself away from now- were intent on looming over him during his prone state, the girl was missing from that scene apparently.

Fantastic. Wasn't he such a lucky guy to own the shoes of?

This didn't sit well with the Harrier, so he decided to focus on something more immediate and pressing. "For your information, the beds are shit."

...He was proud of himself.

"That does not excuse yourself from sleeping in them," responded the Conductor sternly, narrowing his eyes as he continued on, "I had my misgivings of your earlier fainting spell… but I am now certain you must have some kind of health issue we had failed to find from you before you arrived on the Plane."

The Harrier shook his head. "I'm in the clear. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Funny, because you had two fainting spells today, and you are fine with it…" The Conductor frowned warily. "Officer Reapers deemed you to have had a burnout-" He carded through the folder, making the Harrier glower as the man soon pulled out a single page. "But it could be from your lack of motivation to Erase Players you have not killed yourself."

"So," breathed the Harrier coolly, scrunching his face up as he growled, "It wasn't a quick Conductor-Reaper bonding time, was it?" He turned away, laughing out humourlessly, "You knocked me out, without my awareness, just to trap me in a room to finally finish off your lecture from yesterday… Oh what fun I'm looking forward to!"

"You were passed out on the streets!" barked Sadist Saiyama with a growl, giving a rough shake of his head as he continued, "Just shut your pie-hole and pay attention already!"

"Oh joy," sneered the Harrier with an eye-roll, turning his head sharply to the posh bastard. "You're not feeling confident to face me, so you roped in Sadist Saiyama to babysit us!" He smirked, enjoying the way the Conductor's eye twitched slightly. "Needing someone else to back your sorry ass up-"

"Enough." The Conductor's eyes coldly watched him, shifting to sit up taller as he spoke, "Cease your abysmal attitude and lend us your ear." He paused, leering at the Harrier who scoffed as the Conductor decided to continue his lacklustre lecture, "As of the moment, you have had no hindrances in the Underground other than your choice to ignore the majority of Players to pursue your useless game of chase. These fainting spells may be detrimental to yourself, and it is significant to identify their origins to save yourself the shame of the perchance to sporadically fade away. It gives reason for you to not test fate, lest you yearn for it..."

"And it has happened to other Reapers?" asked the Harrier snippily, tsking as he crossed his arms. "Or you're trying to intimidate me to gain compliance to speak your heart out?"

The posh bastard shook his head. "That latter point is an aimless claim, but you should at least understand Reapers lying unresponsive on the streets is an uncommon sight to see."

"So you say…" hissed the Harrier lowly, earning a look from Sadist Saiyama. He sat up as the blankets shifted from being disturbed again, clasping his hands as he growled out, "I don't see how you view dragging off a Reaper, such as myself, to interrogate me wherever we are as an act of generosity." He scowled as he pressed his intertwined hands down on his lap. "Correct me if I am wrong…" The Harrier sighed slowly, "Are you serious that I'll bend to your will from being led to believe you care about me by your words alone?"

"It is not about that-"

"Okay, then give back my Pins and I'll see myself out," he said as he turned to the edge of the bed, dragging his legs along with the motion, aware of how Sadist Saiyama immediately inched towards him. He scowled from under his hood, darkly regarding the goliath and kept his gaze on the posh bastard as he growled, "I am definitely not going to listen to your nonsense about what I do for a living…"

The Conductor spoke with crisp strictness, "We are not finished."

Before the Harrier went past the seated fool, he felt a spike rush through him. He instantly found himself reaching forward to catch the posh bastard's stupid cane, that was in the middle of whipping before his front. His palm ached at the force of the wood, stricken by a sudden anxiousness as he felt his eyes bulge. 'The posh bastard almost got me-' He pressed his lips to be flat. 'And that hurt more than I was expecting.'

The Conductor's lightning fast swing could only mean he was skilled in physical strikes- aka, Positive Psyches- so it wasn't hard to imagine the posh bastard wielded a sword at one point before trading it in for the literal crutch that nearly clubbed the Harrier. The nineteen-year-old couldn't help but file that knowledge away in his mental fact list about the posh bastard, ignoring the ringing sting of his hand as he thought about this.

Warily, he craned his head to catch how the Conductor's midnight eyes widened, then the Harrier decided it was worth breaking the ice before the other man could butt his way in. The Harrier narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip as he smoothed his voice out. "You're lucky that I hate your guts already… imagine if the other Reapers had been witnesses?"

The Conductor's face softened as he smiled politely. "I understand this is tiring for you... if you are that eager to leave..."

"Oh great!" chirped the Harrier fauxly, slowly guiding himself sideways and making his fingers wiggle and crawl along the smooth cane. There was no way he was going to let the posh bastard try to smack him with that cane again, so he tried to monitor the level of the stick as he went on, "Then how about... you stay the fuck away from me and give me peace then?"

As the Harrier was nearing the other end, releasing his hand to skip on over to the other side of his previously barred path, the posh bastard added, "However, I insist you desist your departure lest you want me to return your Pins."

"Whoa-" The Harrier whipped back to glare at the posh bastard. "You wouldn't dare…" he growled as he suddenly realized familiar energy was present with the man threatening him, bristling as he shouted out, "I need those for my protection!"

"Not when I hereby order for you to return to the Barracks until I trust that remaining there will nurse you well again," said the Conductor slowly and sickeningly sweet, withdrawing his cane as he closed his eyes. "I am afraid it will not bode well to let one of my Reapers run freely, knowing they will trip seconds after they go forth. I expect that you will not find it easy if you fail to heed these instructions."

The Harrier gawked at the posh bastard, shaking his head as he balled his hands before pushing himself forward to snarl, "Sending me to 'my room' is a damn perfect solution to put me in line- that's what you think will teach me a lesson-" He trembled before he added harshly when he stomped down hard, "What a loaded phantasy!"

"I only have hopes it will advert another of your slips into unconsciousness…" said the man lightly, the taunt thickly weaved into his spiteful tone. "I am not a heartless man to see when one of my Reapers are not taking care of themselves, nor do I wish for your state to worsen without taking the necessary precautions to bade them."

The Harrier growled in his throat, unsteadily breathing as he shook his head stiffly. "No." He backed away, feeling his body go rigid as he watched the Conductor move to stand and snarled out coldly, "As if I'd roll over to present my underbelly to you!"

He shook as he met resistance behind him, suddenly aware of how small this room was to his dismay. It didn't matter, he told himself, as he glowered at the two fools staring back at him, jabbing his shoulder blades forward as he harshly exhaled before clenching his eyes shut. All that mattered was retrieving his Pins now that he had them pinpointed by the man keeping them hostage…

The Harrier felt his chest tighten as he threw his eyes open to darkly gaze at the two fools. He couldn't be more nauseous that he was going to be caged inside and put on standby like he was inept and useless- couldn't bear the thought of not being able to leave as he so desperately wanted to right now-

Especially when it was so dark in there…

Immediately, he felt his hand drift, clasping over his mouth barely as he shuddered and his vision doubled. He could see his fingers vibrate in the edges of his lower vision and smelt the harsh odour of oil and rubber rising- stuffing up his nose and continued breathing it in.

The Harrier choked on a pitiful sob, gagging on it as he could almost picture his own bile rising from his throat. 'N-Not… n-now…' He blearily made out how the smoke was burning his eyes, making them ache, making them half-close as if it would protect them from the rotten damage they already sustained from all these torturous fumes-

A lump filled his chest cavity, twisting and creating heaviness that made it impossible to keep himself from concentrating on maintaining his footing. He hated how easy it seemed his body gave up when he was involuntarily allowing for it- drifting and drifting as agony cascaded his upper regions to tip and waver on a small perch pressing on his ribcage as ringing toiled and screwed around with his hearing and deafened it as it all continued to-

Suddenly fade away…

His breath hitched, his watery vision slowly clearing as tears welled off of them. A lightness filled his chest and he choked out a laugh as his head grew fuzzy and danced with flashes that flickered- no, were gushing around in his gaze.

A younger him beaming as his father patted him on the shoulder as his mother hugged him firm with glee; having scored higher than all of his classmates during the last period of exams this year.

Sitting at the cubudai with his father; debating lightly of how certain problems could be solved in outlandish but surprisingly functional ways.

Helping his mother with dinner despite being chided to let her do it; being told how stubborn and thoughtful it was for him to lessen the burden for her when she knew how tired she was.

Meeting his grandparents during their Kyoto trip for the first time; awestruck as he was coaxed into learning how to copy a textile they often made in their shops and thoroughly enjoyed the process of the designs he weaved and quickly got used to.

Huddled half in his futon; eagerly reading a factual book before his father swapped it with a manual explaining the structure and processes of creating, setting up and managing theatre performances to the boy's delight.

Enjoying the attention of one of his classes as he took them through a logical thought process of how they should best delegate themselves to their after-school cleaning duties; thriving on how they heeded him and finished twenty-three minutes earlier without sacrificing their work quality.

Watching his father work at the bodega while Mrs. Gotarutsu talked his ear off with one of the stories about his father; distinctly remembering a common theme of his father struggling to ward off girls infatuated with him the times before meeting the boy's mother.

Soon the images faded out, leaving him to inhale deeply before the high wore off and left him feeling numb and empty. He blinked, feeling crustiness along his cheeks. He slowly thumbed the skin, confused as to when he had been crying before it occurred to him he was sitting on his knees on the ground.

Blinking quickly this time, he drew his gaze to silently regard the fact a black haired woman in a navy kimono was standing up on his left side. Her black boots clicked against the floor as she turned, bowing halfway from reaching the door before she briskly exited the room. The Harrier was soon aware she had left him with Sadist Saiyama and the posh bastard, who was grimly observing the Harrier from the chair he had been in earlier, as well as the surreality of this unfolding to create a squirming uneasiness in his chest.

The pale-suited man slowly rose to sit up straight from leaning in the Harrier's direction, exhaling softly before murmuring, "I can only imagine no such good will culminate from restricting you to your quarters… if that elicited a panic attack from the mere mention." He rubbed the underside of his chin when moving his right hand over it. "Or is my presumption wrong?"

Right away, the Harrier's throat felt dry and it was painful to swallow as he gazed back in distraught, letting out a shudder of his breath before he shook his head. "Wh-What did you…?" he managed to breathe out before lowering his hand to press it down on the floor, pushing against it to slowly rise to his feet as he went on with an unintentional mumble, "D-Don't tell me you Imprinted me…?"

He steadied his footing, keeping close to the wall to slowly scowl at the posh bastard. "What did you do to me!?" he spat out as his face grew taut, clenching his hands as he went on coldly, "Whatever damn thing you forced into my skull-" He abruptly stepped forward to snarl, "Tell me- I want to know!"

The Conductor sighed, placing a hand to his left temple, "Is it hard to believe we were only trying to help you?"

"Cut the crap!" he snapped as he lashed a hand across his front, jabbing a finger towards the fool afterward. "All you did was screw with my mind! Hopping me up to hopefully neutralize me because you see me as a threat to your fucking perfect world of narrow-minded structure and order!" He instantly stepped back, lowering his gaze as he glared hard at the floor. "You were trying to make me conform, blissfully aware I was dancing to your tune-"

The posh bastard inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly, dipping his head when he murmured, "However you created this sort of delusion of me… I would hate to learn where its origins lie."

Laughing dryly at that, the Harrier shook his head before he tilted it, glancing back warily. "Now that-" He raised a finger in the air. "- is my secret." He turned away, smirking to himself as he humoured the thought of nitpicking and going down the list of every reason he thought the posh bastard did more ill to the Underground and Reapers than he did good... The Harrier soon stopped when he realized he shouldn't have let his guard down this easily.

Deciding to fix that mistake, he collected himself before eyeing the suited man skeptically as he spoke low and irritable, "...What did you do to me?"

Sadist Saiyama lumbered forward, scowling his way as the army man grunted, "He only sent in an Imprinter to draw you out of the episode you were having." As he crossed his arms, he growled gruffly, "I didn't want to even have an Imprinter to come in because who knows what was used to make you laugh as you had! Hate how they know which buttons to push and to manipul-"

The posh bastard coughed dryly, which was enough to divert the larger man's attention. The army man grumpily met the cold gaze of the fawn-coloured haired man before he huffed hotly, "What? You thought it was a better option or something, Oshiro?"

"I will ask for you to keep your opinion of that to yourself when it does not pertain to what had to be done," sternly returned the posh bastard as a frown fell over his hardened face. He turned back to the Harrier, regarding him boldly as he spoke on, "There was no need to tamper with your mind, only free yourself from your apparent… 'episode'."

"Do you really expect I'm going to take that!?" spat the Harrier harshly, shaking his head before he tipped it up and frowned deeply. "You may say all that you want, but I know you screwed with me! In fact-" He whipped towards the door, forcing himself forward instead of yelling his head off like he wanted to. "I don't have to stand here and listen to your bullshit!"

Within a second, he froze in alarm as an uncomfortable sensation shot through him. 'Oh no you don't-'

He pivoted rapidly to meet Sadist Saiyama head on, thrusting himself backwards and crouching to duck from the army man's swipe before realizing he misjudged his direction. When his back hit the wall, in his disorientation, he tried to throw himself sideways only for his stomach to whirl as Sadist Saiyama's hand successfully grasped the back of his hoodie and hauled the Harrier up.

"Let go of me!" he yelled furiously, trying to writhe to dislodge the man's grip. He soon gasped breathlessly when the murky-eyed man thrust his other hand against the Harrier's chest to slam the Reaper's spine into the wall, momentarily seeing stars as he felt weightless in the man's hold. Pressure from the force of the army man's palm was the only thing his sluggish mind could focus on, trying his best to refocus his vision and gather his bearings to release himself as soon as he possibly could. He wheezed as white and black flashed and blotted his vision, yet he couldn't imagine why his hearing of all things wasn't impacted as his other senses were right now.

"Listen here, boy-" snarled Sadist Saiyama as he harshly breathed out; the Harrier's vision cleared briefly to see a gruesomely horrifying death glare was attached to the ex-army man's face. "Have you ever thought about how you're nothing but a spoiled brat!? Do you think throwing tantrums will make yourself appealing for anyone to pay attention to your bullshit!?" His eyes blazed harsher. "Do you!?"

"Fuck you-" the Harrier managed to growl out when the pressure became stronger; it made him falter the rest of his piece, to feebly cough and sputter out shallow air instead. Was this really necessary? For the old man to hold the Harrier against his will, going the extreme when all the man could have done was yell at the Harrier as he went out the door? He didn't deserve this foul treatment- not when the Harrier saw no reason to remain here when there was nothing to be gained from being lectured again.

He glowered as hard as he could as the man thrust his face closer to boom out, "You're not important- you're just an insect everyone wants to just squish! Your words are hollow promises that contribute nothing of importance or meaning like this!" The Harrier tried to violently jerk his body to loosen the man's grip, gritting his teeth as the furious man snarled louder, "What a waste of space you are… having to listen to you and our higher-up bicker like toddlers when you two can't see eye-to-eye despite how both of you want the same, damn, thing!"

The Harrier coughed as he sneered weakly, "Wh-What would we-" He wheezed before twitching forward as he spat through the pain, "I'm nothing like the-that posh bas-bastard!"

Trying to wildly shake himself for another attempt, it took half a second to realize his hood was shifting before he tried to still his body as soon as he could to stop it from moving further. He would have hissed out a string of curses when, in the edge of his vision, one corner of his hood pulled back when his head rubbed the wall from behind him. ...Why did friction have to crow at him when he already had enough shit on his plate!?

He tried to reach for the black fabric only to have his wrist get caught seamlessly by a rough, callused hand. The moment it clamped on to him, it caused him to release a gagged scream that went mute in a thrice, clenching his eyes shut instantaneously at the white, hot agony rippling from the grip. 'Sh-Shit- shit- shit- D-Don't snap off my arm!'

The Harrier felt his lower jaw open and close loosely as he tried tugging his arm back, cursing the sadist as he could only barely squirm on the wall. He wanted nothing more than to get out of this as he opted to kick his legs that only reacted by swaying where they dangled. His frustration flared through his veins and he switched tactics to bend his legs back as much as he could, hopefully for him to push off from the wall to unbalance the hand pinning him there... The Harrier couldn't feel the wall, he realized, as his lower appendages were simply limp and he couldn't even feel them anymore. How could he not be able to get his damn legs to work!?

...All because of how Sadist Saiyama's nickname held true to its legitimacy... That's what, he told himself bitterly as he resigned to leave his lower limbs be.

He then thrust his other arm to the old man's restraining hand as another attempt to free himself, catching how a self-made breeze danced past his fingertips... The Harrier was aware of how his limb swung back to go slightly to and fro from the dying momentum, instantly switching tactics again to fight for a chance to gasp if he wanted to get a last ditch effort in to scream...

And yet, his lungs refused to cooperate with him... leaving the painful lump to stretch across his chest...

The Harrier took more time than necessary to force his suddenly leaden eyelids up and found colours were swimming in front of him... He was unable to discern which kind they were as he tried harder to cry out for this to stop... It didn't matter who he wanted the cry to be reached out to... he knew he couldn't get out of this on his own... Even the Conductor would suffice if it meant... if he could...

He could hardly grasp on to what he wanted to finish that thought off with as it felt like his mind was becoming a soupy fog... It was too heavy for him to see the bottom of the bowl that held its contents in... too thick to traverse through to get where he had to... However, what was left for him to draw out to reflect upon... as it felt like his senses were drifting from him... was the reason why he was going to be Erased if this went on for much longer...

Sadist Saiyama was nothing more than a batshit oldster... just like the vultures were telling him... And here he was, experiencing it first-hand... or should he just call it a last-hand...? He was pretty sure this would be the only time... seeing as his body was too slack to listen to his distressful brain's quietening instructions…

His eyes ached; they were welling up... which he had come to discover as something warm trickled down his cheeks... They didn't feel wet as they should have been... they-

New pain coursed through his left side, causing him to gasp mutely as he soon found himself sprawled on the floor that was fading in and out of his speckling vision. It was then that his body acted instinctually to try and draw breath in miraculously. The Harrier realized he was exhausted for some reason; still unable to work his limbs as he laid half-face down and his chest throbbed dully.

...The sadist...? What happened...? Why...?

He grimaced slightly, starting to feel sensations roll back into him and the colours were becoming less smudged and dappled. He began grasping on to the little snippets of thoughts beginning to form in his head, gasping in again while releasing a faint noise only to fail when his lungs protested for no damn reason. He started to move his gaze around, however surprisingly hard it was for him to do so, in hopes he could figure out the meaning of this.

Dizziness all but lolled his head, leaving him with no choice but to peek out from under his scrunched hood.

Sadist Saiyama was shouting in silence before stomping away angrily to slam the door open; there was no hesitance or pause as the man disappeared into the darkness of the doorway… wherever they were in the Shibuya River. Probably the Shibuya River... yeah, that had to be it... The Harrier tried to inhale again, only pulling in little air to softly meet his burning lungs as the Conductor silently observed the now broken door hanging helplessly on its upper and half-broken middle hinges. It was almost as if it chose to slowly close itself when the posh bastard sighed long and held it for a moment more, soon tilting his head around to regard the Harrier dismissively.

If only the Harrier could meet the man's gaze right now... it would save him the trouble of appearing as the downed, lousy survivor of Sadist Saiyama...

Already the man was heading over- to spite him of course!- while speaking coolly, "You certainly make the world exciting to suffocate in…" The Harrier tried to leer up at the man who didn't even bother to tower over him; it was as if he was disgusted by how Sadist Saiyama hadn't finished the deed of terminating the Harrier from the posh bastard's existence as the old man should have. All the Conductor did was stand there, posture rigid yet held properly, shifting his cane as the man narrowed his midnight-blue eyes and frowned grimly. "Doing good deeds for you only has the inverted effects, so I have to ask." He placed his right hand on his cane, likely putting his weight on it as he sniffed, "Is keeping you around worth it?"

Instantly, the Harrier opened his mouth, only to inwardly seethe at how he could barely pull his lips to weakly growl, "Th-The Composer must have something in mind for me to do to entertain Him with." He tried to flick open his eyes more as he coughed in a dry chuckle, "I don't know about you… b-but I hardly see the value of letting you stick around."

"Enough." The Conductor tilted his head slightly as he continued to gaze down with disdain. "If it were up to me, I would have Erased you within a heartbeat on the Day I found you where you did not belong." The Harrier narrowed his eyes to slits at that, pretending the memory wasn't trying to dip into his thoughts as the posh bastard saw reason to continue lowly, "For twelve Weeks now-"

"E-Eight…" mumbled the Harrier.

"- you had such promise to flourish and use your gifts in the Underground…" The Conductor closed his eyes, slowly starting to shake his head. "Yet now, all I see is a waste of potential. All you ever do is stir up discord and run wild with sick, twisted notions you are doing right by doing wrong- stealing away the lives of those who should not have been here because of your lack of ability to hold on to reality.

"I have waited to see if you would come to your senses by now. However... it would appear I have been misguided to believe such a dream would come true," sniffed the fawn-coloured haired man coldly, blinking as he pursed his lips and removed his right hand to reach into his breast pocket.

The suited man clipped a Pin onto one of his lapels- better not be one of the hostages he was keeping from the Harrier- and paused briefly before tapping his cane twice. Within a blink of an eye, grains of violet and tangerine drifted around in a powdery, spiralling circle. They were partly bunched together from inside the manifested bubble hovering above the Conductor's right palm... particles suspended from within its thin, iridescent spherical veil...

The Reaper was aware of a heartbeat pulsing. There was such... vibrancy, within the depths of its core... No, within their cores... The Harrier felt his face soften involuntarily as he listened to them, drinking in the melodic notes that somehow reached his ears- maybe even his soul, if he were to be poetic... He blinked slowly, feeling the need to find the distinction between them, what made them so-

With a jolt, he realized he had started to drool.

He immediately tried to pull his gaze away from being mesmerized by the carrot on a stick; the posh bastard was screwing with him again! Of course the man was, it was a ploy devised to purposefully screw with the Harrier! By letting Sadist Saiyama soften the Harrier up, causing the Harrier to be weak from near suffocation, the posh bastard may have thought the Harrier wouldn't be able to resist the pull he felt for these lost Souls.

How disgusting...

Successfully managing to lower his eyes, he busied himself with leering at the man's spotless dress shoes instead. "...And you keep making me out to be the bad guy," grumbled the Harrier into the floor.

A sigh came from the Conductor, "The Round ended with a less than ideal outcome. Even the Gamemaster perished."

"So the goodies go to the riches? Makes sense," snarked the Harrier with a small scoff afterward, "Makes sense…"

"The Players were exceptional this time around," added the posh bastard for no reason; slightly shifting his right hand and the bubble outward. Was this going to be some object of affection that was going to be used as a prop to lecture him further? Eh… probably. "Unless we want Noise of surmountable power loose in the Plane, I had to borrow a Stash Psych to delay the disintegration of their Cyphers."

"Bien por ti," offered the Harrier with a weak smack of his jaw afterwards, sighing slowly while rolling his eyes, "Lo siento... olvidé traer las rosas." He weakly started to chuckle at that last part. He couldn't always tell if he nailed Spanish perfectly all the time… but he was sure things wouldn't get too lost in translation this time.

The posh bastard shook his head from what the Harrier could feel. "I feel as if I am being soft in your regard…" Same old news… Would the man bring on the point already, or was he enjoying the sound of his voice too much? "You will stand up and accept these Reaper Points, as you should, as I did you a favour that you have not deserved."

Immediately, the Harrier narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me, when was the last time I said I needed your help?"

"You did not need to ask," came the posh bastard's curt reply. "You may remain where you are and I will see myself out, or you will get off the floor and accept them."

"Well then," the Harrier said, his voice raising despite the cough threatening to disrupt its flow. "I don't see what's so bad about me refusing your offer."

"This is not an offer." The posh bastard shifted, his cane clicking the floor. "I will personally ensure this room will be secured and leave you here, if you refuse to cooperate now, until you relearn your common sense. As I said before, I am finished letting you dance around me when your attitude is abysmal… so I must act accordingly to rectify my inability to enact proper actions sooner."

The Harrier, in spite of how his body was refusing to work for him, decided he might as well dip his feet further into the quicksand he was being pulled into. It wouldn't be right to give this man his satisfaction of winning, per say.

"You already took my wings, why aren't you sated with the damage you have wrought to me?" he started lowly, narrowing his eyes to slits as he went on irritably, "If it were your intentions to cripple me then kick me harder when I'm beneath you, I will not fall for it." He shook his head stiffly. "I'm not a toy who will dance for you! I decide when I should eat and when I will wait in starvation!"

"Then you are trite and foolish," responded the posh bastard coldly. "Delusioned as you cling to your stubbornness when you are not far off from suffering. I say I am a reasonable man, but when am I pushed I will make it clear that I can and will shove back. In such a case, I am not going to let these Souls go to waste because of the likes of you."

"Just go already…" grumbled the Harrier as he closed his eyes with a sigh. "Lock me in, let me lick my wounds... perhaps I will even get used to solitude." Immediately, the posh bastard's body twitched, earning a smirk from the Harrier who hummed contently, "Who knows? You may have the opportunity to forget about me while the world wonders what the Conductor did to that wingless Harrier who just wanted to do a right!"

"You will stand up without me aiding you, accept the Points then head straight to the Barracks and remain there," sternly ordered the Conductor who was positively bristling. "Unlike the privilege we gave you earlier, you will remain in the Shibuya River- in your room if need be- for you to learn your lesson. You will not be allowed to go outside nor will you be allowed to pass over to the Realground at any instance for the unseeable future. If you do cross over, you will know you will have a seat in the next Reapers' Game… as a Player." After a brief pause, he sniffed, "Hopefully you will be reminded of your place if that has come to it."

"As if I'm going to heed your bullshit, asshole!" hissed the Harrier, scoffing before he growled on, "Do you seriously think you're doing yourself a favour by wrongly punishing one of your own Reapers?"

"By now, I believe you are bluffing to yourself when you say you're one of my Reapers." Midnight-blue eyes darkened. "What nonsense are you speaking of?"

The Harrier smirked again, his gaze sharpening as he chuckled coolly, "I have done nothing to deserve this… At least, in the eyes of your Reapers." Upon catching the subtle flinch from the posh bastard, the Harrier decided to press on with his enlightenment, "When you think about it, what evidence do you have at your disposal that I did something against Reaper conduct?"

As he shifted, finally finding enough strength within himself to prop himself up on his forearms, he chucked more, "Freedom of speech is accepted in the Underground. Encouragement of thinking for prosper is advised…" He opened his eyes, feeling his lips curl more as he grinned. "All I have done is faint twice. All I have done was speak from my heart. All that I have done is reach out to my peers. Of all those things I have mentioned… how do any of them prompt disciplinary actions?"

Gathering his strength, he slowly raised his head, closing his eyes as he tilted it. "If you lock me in this room, you are only making yourself out to be the bad guy." He nodded, laughing a little before he went on boldly, "There's nothing you can say to explain yourself when I turn up missing- nothing you could do to convince your Reapers you were right to take care of me- because I am innocent. They would only wonder why you had chosen to direct your energy onto me, why you had tormented one who was just recovering from a burnout..."

Momentarily stopping, the Harrier drew in that pause for dramatic effect before he went for it. "Wouldn't you say it would sound fishy in their standpoint?"

"Enough-"

Shaking his head hard, the Harrier raised his spirited voice. "Why would you do such a thing? Had you lost your mind? Have you finally snapped and dished out your aggravation on me and left me to fade away? Get me out of the picture for good?" He unsteadily inhaled and exhaled, feeling thrill ooze through his system as he piped out harshly, "You're going to be ruined by your careless venture! Your reputation- your respect- your loyal mutts and nobles- everything! All because you're throwing a hissy-fit over me not wanting to take a taste of those Souls that you should be dealing with!" He felt his eyes sharpen. "It may sound fine and dandy in your mind- but others wouldn't be so accepting to hear that you imprisoned a Reaper who you've been targeting over the last four Weeks only to hear you let that same Reaper fade!"

"I am more merciful than you give me credit for," barked out the posh bastard, who didn't even falter in his falsely calm tone. "Even if I would command for an Erasure, I would not enact such maltreatment for one who still can heed my words. Like you aforementioned, you have no penalties even though I do have qualms about you. However… you appear to have brought up a remarkable dilemma."

As the man shifted, he soon inhaled before he spoke, "You have fainted more than one should." The Harrier instantly felt energy return to him enough to bristle and jerked his head up to scowl at the man when the posh bastard smiled small. "I will not stand idle to let one of my Reapers run through the streets when his health is not up to par."

"This again?" huffed the Reaper as he turned his gaze down, not wanting to catch sight of the Souls he still felt spinning within the man's grasp again. "Look, I am perfectly fine since you saw me last. So if you would-"

Suddenly, the Harrier was aware of how the man was lowering himself to the ground. He coldly regarded the posh bastard as he settled himself to sit in front of the Harrier's gaze, soon placing his cane off to the side. The first thing the Harrier wanted to do was push his body to roll away as far as he could, yet within moments he found his eyes had become glued to the Souls being... cradled by the posh bastard.

"You see," started the posh bastard as his midnight-blue eyes focused on the Harrier, not straying from the black hoodie wearer as he went on in a fake pleasant tone, "When Reapers have not maintained a consistent schedule of collecting their Reaper Points, even before the eradication process starts they will start to lose their minds at a certain point of starvation. Whether or not you confirm this is your case, Reaper instinct chips in to ensure you are 'eating right'. Especially, in the presence of strong Souls..."

The Harrier wanted to deny the man's claims... yet his chest strained and burned the longer he found himself admiring the Souls in front of him... So beautiful... so bright... pulsing with-

"Throughout our conversation, I could not help but observe you have been refusing to regard myself since I brought out these Souls," added the posh bastard mildly, blinking as he gazed down at the said Souls. "It usually does not set in until a new Reaper has had their first experience with absorbing their first downed Player, but knowing how long you have been in the Underground, your sparse hunts have done you no favour but set you on a crawl. It may not seem humane or advisable for us to even have Reapers made this way, but in the beginning, we had to create some kind of incentive to keep the Reapers' Game Weeks running correctly." He paused to sip in a breath. "I do not usually discuss this with Reapers such as yourself... but I believe it has come to a point where one who has been over his head needs to have the rules retaught to him."

Shaking his head, the Harrier tried to snap himself out of whatever it was that was screwing with his mind. He found it more difficult than he had thought to tear his gaze away from the bubbled Souls, feeling the need to keep staring at the delicacies... He shook his head again, drawing himself back when he found himself too close to the other man and was woozy from a daze. He had to not focus on the Souls, dammit! If he purposefully distracted himself from them, it may do the trick.

He tilted his head up as high as he could without accidentally pushing his hood off, bringing the bottom of his gaze back towards the posh bastard's face and glared darkly. "I know what I'm doing."

The Harrier couldn't look down now... he couldn't afford to look down past the man's chin! He knew the top of the bubble would be located at the man's ribs, and it was hard enough as it is to not feel the Souls squirming and emit some kind of stirring he's never had the chance of sensing for himself. Oh so much stirring... wait until he settled them in his- ...Focus on the posh bastard's face, dammit!

"Then why have you allowed yourself to crumple to be how you are in front of me?" asked the posh bastard as his midnight-blue eyes darkened. He shook his head, frowning as he went on sternly, "Why must you follow a delusion that prevents you from taking care of yourself properly? You see the signs, it is hard to not realize that even when you are on the floor, unable to move yourself. I can see that you have a higher tolerance level of maintaining the minimum Points you have collected thus far, but that does not excuse you from choosing to Erase yourself when you have the chance to help yourself."

"Heh." The Harrier couldn't help but smirk, coldly humouring the fantasy that the posh bastard was painting for him. He mumbled out bitterly, "Almost makes it seem like you actually care about me... when we both know you are only doing this to win me over." His gaze lazily trailed down until he caught himself, stiffening as his eyes flickered back to the man's forehead.

Midnight-blue eyes narrowed. "I am not." There was a pause before the man went on, "I am merely allowing myself the deed to warn you of the dangers you clearly are disregarding. Restricting yourself to one source of nourishment, when it is unpresidented to chase after and enact, is methodically the same as squeezing your own neck and not relenting your grip for days. You may think the oxygen you are curtailing is enough to live by... that is, until you find that you are soon choking yourself and dying from relying on it for far too long.

"You have a choice on the matter to Erase Players, yet you only snub them for the Players you have killed," the posh bastard soon came to say with a note of disdain, soon moving his hands closer to the Harrier, who started. He awkwardly began to push himself away, forced to duck his head momentarily to avoid looking at them, yet fumed when he couldn't even make any distance from the man. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, shaking his head and trying to not look up when the man asked, "So what is your opinion on the matter of Erasing those you have not killed?"

The Harrier merely glowered at the ground, wanting to snippily make a comeback to ward off the posh bastard, even moreso as the lost Souls were drawn closer to the Harrier. It wasn't about making a statement by only Erasing wrongdoers- the posh bastard had it all wrong! When the Harrier first started to continue after ending the existence of that scumbag, he didn't just move on to newer targets because it was the right course of action to take next... The Harrier just couldn't block it out… becoming almost hyperaware of how things were in the Realground.

It was like… the moment you knew something, everything else relating to said knowledge fell into place around you. The Harrier thought he would go back to how things had been after he finished his punishment for doing what he had, but no- it was nothing like that. As he fell back to trying to pursue Players, he started to see what he used to not notice- was witness to scenes that made him remember the Harrier wasn't the only victim to be born from the world. What should have been criminal activity that was hush-hush to everyone became little performances he walked into daily- hourly- all times.

Then one Day, the Harrier had enough of it.

It wasn't a memorable occasion like you would remember every single detail and vividly know every texture and every shade from your surroundings… The Harrier saw a murder, did a sloppy Processing on the victim's Soul (as he wasn't used to doing it himself), then went after that man and Processed his Soul as well once the deed was done. Then he found himself observing more and more of similar strings of crimes, actively watching out for any of the signs and trying to wedge himself into the scenes to prematurely stop them before the 'true' ending came to be.

All he felt was anger… anger that he was oblivious to these scenes and anger that no one else was stopping them. He did what he had the first time and received another visit from the posh bastard, which soon kicked everything into motion. How he's been running his existence as of now, even when he tweaked his play to let Andy take on her role in this as well…

Doing what he's been doing… wasn't addictive or exciting… There were too many wrongdoers being left alone, not atoning for their sins, getting away with crimes that leave suffering in their wake and they were expected to ignore this!? They shouldn't do anything because the tortured- the victims- would only become the vultures' next stringy meals!? That the posh bastard didn't see they could be doing something this worthwhile by taking care of Shibuya instead of taking care of the Underground!?

The posh bastard would never understand… never understand what the Harrier was trying to do... Even if the Harrier never understood it himself right away, it was as if a primal instinct woke up inside him the moment he finished with the scumbag.

The need to protect those who were to-be victims…

Victims like… victims like...

Warmth filled him, making him relax and lean towards it... It felt so good... so much-

Without warning, he lunged forward, pulling back and hugging the warmth as energy unlike anything he felt before gushed through his system. He felt his lips curl up as he grinned joyfully as he took it all in, feeling his eyes well up as he laughed and closed his eyes, feeling a fuzziness almost turn him lax as he huddled on the floor over-

Almost at once, his eyes shot open to see the posh bastard watching him with a pleased expression. The energy- warmth from seconds ago- made him feel as if he just swallowed a mouthful of ash... suddenly collapsing forward with a grunt at the sound of a pop. He abruptly pulled himself up frenziedly, aware of how much more awake he was than he believed he's been in the last- since he became a Reaper, actually. Then- th-then that would only mean-

He whipped his head around in terror before his eyes settled on the hands of the posh bastard in horror.

The pale-suited man's hands were empty.

"NO!" The Harrier screwed his face up as his heart tightened and grew frigid, glaring as hard as he could as he snarled, "I didn't want them!" Before he knew what was happening, his hand had somehow lunged for the posh bastard's cane and was now holding it in front of himself as he roared lividly, "I didn't want them- Get the fuck away from me, you sick, fucking BASTARD!"

Consciously, he was aware of how he was about to swing the cane at the man- whose gaze went wide- before he was aware he was forced to the ground and held down by another Reaper. He tousled with the other Reaper as he spitted the man's way, cursing and cursing as he watched the posh bastard staring back unamused-

The Harrier was aware of how he was screaming gutturally in rage even when everything was silent- even when the posh bastard emotionlessly zapped away the Harrier's Pins before-

Waking up in his bunk at the Barracks, with a Harrier Reaper explaining to him that he wasn't to leave the room until further notice…

---

The Harrier sighed, feeling every fiber of his body seize as he sat rigidly on his bed. He kept his bored gaze on the Reaper occupying the bed across from him, warily regarding the fact the Reaper hadn't done anything but yawn while observing the Harrier without a single break. Were his guards trained so well that they could hardly do anything but exhibit how boring they were?

Silent and obedient… exactly what the Harrier could imagine the Conductor would want him to conform to…

At least, the Harrier reminded himself, he had the comfort of having the bunk that was closest to the exit of the room. He could easily peek over and take a glimpse of the hallway anytime he wished, light glinting back at him softly and giving him the reassurance of the time of Day and the fact that it wouldn't be going anywhere for now.

Usually, him and Andy got back to the Barracks before the masses returned for sleep. Those who were late would arrive sometime before two AM… then the lights would be snuffed out. Originally, the Harrier had opted for a bunk in the farthest corner and away from most of the vultures, vying for privacy and not trusting these strangers in a world he was still learning to adapt and get used to. His reasoning was that until he was ready, he would try to maintain some distance to scout out those he could rely on and those he should avoid at any costs… which he regretted immensely when he found himself panicking all night long during the first three nights.

Luckily, he had no resistance when he slipped into the bunk that happened to be free and close to the entrance, finding that most Reapers wouldn't bother to station themselves in the location that was the noisiest and brightest. While he could attest to disliking the former aspect of this position, he thrived on the latter when it came to the later times of night. With no Reapers flocking him, a comfort to ease himself into having a couple Number Threes during the Week and the fact that he was generally reminded he wasn't under the hood of that damn Cherry… it calmed his nerves to some degree. He could live with the constant rustle and shuffle of Reapers rousing for their shitty Days; it was enough to ground himself until he could sprint outside at daybreak.

However, with the fact that he had no choice but to remain in his bunk to watch Reapers come and go throughout the Day, secretly watching as a new Reaper replaced the old one who had been keeping him company... the Harrier found himself fighting the urge to tear his hair out from knowing the fact he was stuck here under the command of that sick, posh bastard.

He gritted his teeth, unsteadily breathing in and out as he tried to slow his intake of air. He heard most people needed plenty of carbon dioxide to send calming chemicals through their body, so deep breathing was their go-to strategy to relax themselves. The Harrier wished it was working for him, as he found himself feeling the urge to scratch his forearms to at least remind himself he was still in control... No; as much as he yearned the thought of that, he knew with his… let's call them his handlers… he would only warrant himself another visit with the Conductor to discuss why he was hurting himself. He didn't think the Conductor would care if the Harrier freaked out about being pinned to a location like a stupid butterfly on display, but he knew, deep inside, vultures may care for some reason.

The Harrier exhaled sharply, cooly taking to staring at the current Reaper who was content on copying what the last Reaper was doing. This is exactly how he pictured entering the radar of the Conductor would be like… losing the freedom he gained when he refused to go back to that woman. He was too careless to realize pulling a stunt like that in front of thousands of vultures holding some who cared- and definitely some who he managed to tick off- may tug out the ones who dragged him out into the open. ...That was the last thing he wanted to have happened.

Staging a scene required apt precision and attention to details for any mistakes that may pop up during the enactment… yet he all but failed to heed the fact that causing a commotion as he had would net in the wrong perception and wrong members of the crowd. If he were to redo that moment, he knew he should have at least tried harder to direct himself away from the Lounge. Maybe begging to rest would have been extreme and untasteful for his standards, but it would have been enough to save himself from the humiliation of having the Conductor heed the Harrier's presence… to have now trapped the Harrier successfully as the man had upon provoking the Harrier enough into attacking the Conductor rashly when he should have smothered the urge down.

...Fuck that posh bastard.

Humming under his breath, the Harrier humoured the thought of walking out with a chance to recover his missteps and plan for the next act of his little performance. Maybe he could have given everyone an intermission that could have better prepared himself for the noon's misfortunate chance meeting of Sadist Saiyama… The Harrier coldly regarded the fact that he should have been more careful than to spill the beans to Saiyama about what he wanted to prove to the Conductor and perhaps even the Composer. Now? Well, now he had gotten a few Reapers down for 'yea' to his cause… despite having it come out differently and ridiculously than he had sought for.

In the corner of his eye, Reapers flocked into the room, grumbling and growling to each other yet he paid them little mind after they left his peripheral. It didn't matter to him if their Day was shitty, he reminded himself as he took to staring back at the vulture guarding him, he couldn't give a rat's ass even if the Conductor paid him to. Even after what happened a few hours ago with losing his temper, the Harrier couldn't escape the fact he fucked everything up in that one moment he should have held himself back.

It wasn't his fault the posh bastard was pushing his buttons- pushing and pushing against the Harrier who just wanted to be left alone and waste away instead of being forced to take the Points. It was staged in a way that the Harrier knew he wouldn't be seen in a positive light, knowing those who adored the posh bastard for no damn reason would only glare daggers at the Reaper attempting to end their 'wonderful' Conductor's existence because he was 'going insane from not having enough Reaper Points to keep him sound-minded'! It had to have been a trap laid out beforehand- the Harrier could picture what must have occurred for things to turn out as rottenly as it did for the Harrier's end.

Sadist Saiyama left the room for some reason… probably to go alert a new Reaper to occupy the room with the Conductor… And when said lucky Reaper arrived... they acted fast to 'save the Conductor's existence' from the wingless syncopator from earlier that Day! This wasn't going to be a hush-hush situation, oh no… no, no, no- this was going to be public knowledge to poke and prod and revel in and tarnish the wingless Harrier's good standing among them! Not that the Harrier cared about what the vultures thought of him, but how would the ones who signed the petition react to such knowledge!?

The Harrier felt almost numb at the thought, immediately frowning as he released a shuddery breath. He pretended it hadn't even happened as the other yellow-hooded Harrier gave him an once-over before saying nothing in response.

This was bad… this was very bad! Forget what he said about not caring about what the vultures thought- this was serious! The Harrier hadn't thought about this before, but if he wanted his cause to be heard and supported, he had to maintain his credibility... or it would be over.

The black-hooded Reaper soon found himself quivering on his rickety bed, feeling warmth well at the sides of his eyes as he faintly felt like everything was disappearing around him… The Harrier could almost forget he had company as thoughts rushed in and swamped him as anxiety pulled over and took control- fighting against it as he tried to center himself yet it wouldn't stop- trying to breathe and trying to cast them off in hopes to free himself from the torment wracking through his brain and even his body- numbing him with blood roaring through his ears- wanting to throw up as if that would make everything happening to him right now vanish and leave him calmer than he once was a minute ago-

He could almost smell smoke again- taste it as it kept enveloping his torso and shrouding his face with pungent fumes that were killing his lungs faster than the lack of oxygen and the burning- white pain that captured whatever didn't reach his lungs- leaving him sinking and floating at the same time as laughter was the only thing he could hear over his ringing ears as he the darkness closed in on him…

...Why… why did he have to end up like this? End up in a place that served to torture him further and condemn him for trying to make a mark on others' lives for the good?

He didn't ask for this... not for the lectures, or the hassle, or the oppositions of what he believed in… Especially to still be around… to exist as he did now.

What did it matter anyway… if he were to exist to sit through this... when he didn't even have a choice to begin with…?

To have stayed dead…

Something felt like it was lifting his chin; he wordlessly let it happen even as touches met his back and the burning of a gaze was meeting his own… Nothing was there; something was squeezing him; the tight energy threatening to crush him ebbed away…

Blinking, he started as he realized even more Reapers than before were settling themselves into their beds. He soon felt sensations and footfalls from outside, reminding him he was still sitting on his bed.

He recollected himself, ignoring the fact that it may be close to lights out in lieu for the dread starting to trickle in, looming ready to clutch his heart the moment he would be cast into darkness. The Harrier could almost forget he was unaware of everything moments ago when the anxiety overtook him, simply retracing his thoughts on what he was thinking about before the panic set in.

Back to the matter at hand… the Harrier was stuck here until the Conductor deemed him worthy of having his freedom back. It left the taste of bile in his mouth at the idea that the Conductor could be placing all his bids on using this as his plan to make the Harrier succumb to giving up and seeing the 'errors of his ways'. Chuckling to himself, shaking his head, he imagined shitting on that man's parade that making the Harrier sit still wasn't going to cut it.

Even if the posh bastard got the momentary vantage, the Harrier knew he wouldn't let this get him down. Sitting here to stew about it was the only thing he could do, but that didn't mean he couldn't plan for when he was set free. After all, in order to get ahead, one must plan ahead… even if his hands were essentially tied right now.

The posh bastard can believe he won all he wanted; the Harrier would use that as a smokescreen. It was all about the subset of steps in scenes that made the final picture wholesome and masterful, whether it be what colour the backdrop sky should be, or if you wanted the lead actress' dress to be flowy or plump, or for her to be played by a young woman or a middle-aged lady… Details always mattered, sure… but the true importance was of the execution in the face of missteps such as his own.

What could you do if the lead actor got sick or injured… you get the understudy to step into the shoes left behind. What could you do if technical difficulties ceased all of the staff's work… you fix it and proceed, even if you're no longer on schedule. You don't get to give up and ask for someone to magically smear away the misfortunes that came your way… you work up from it and bear through the stumbles and trips you know are bound to happen. And for the Harrier's case… he'll bend this to his favour. After all, Andy has told him this enough times he could use it to joke on himself: He thinks too much. Thus, as is her words, he will think as much as he could with the time he now had. ...Even if the conditions were unsuitable for his standards. But hey, you don't always get to pick the straw that's not always the shortest, right? It only matters what you do in the meantime.

But… just for now, maybe he should give it a rest.

As more and more Reapers trickled in, he decided he should try to get some shuteye for that seldom, but much desired, potential Number Four. The Harrier wasn't finding the session he was having to watch his handler to be fun, knowing if he could get some sleep in, he could get more better-quality musing time in for later. Even though he knew it was more than likely he wouldn't sleep, the tiny candle light of hope sitting in the bottom of his stomach told him it was worth a shot.

He hoisted his body to flop onto his bunk, stifling the retort on his tongue about the plank-hard mattress trying to break his bones by pointing his back to his handler instead.

Another Day, another time to bide his time...

---

"Can't say I blame you, having to babysit me…" the Harrier quietly said to his silent handler, toying with the fact he knew he wasn't going to get a response despite giving conversation a shot. He slowly stretched, groaning out contently and felt the sting of the phantom limbs- he could have sworn fanned out behind him- as he held his position. "Just know that I didn't mean for you to be stuck here, my friend."

As he expected, the Reaper kept their mustard-yellow hood forward; directly facing him despite not responding back.

It was funny, that the Conductor wanted a Harrier to do a Support's work… The Harrier lackadaisically fixed his black hood as he pondered this. Perhaps he was taking the capabilities of the Conductor for granted, as having a Harrier to keep him company could only mean the Harrier himself was expected to waltz out of the River by the Conductor. Maybe the Conductor did give the Harrier credit? The Harrier knew if he had a Support watching him, he would have done the deed... if he hadn't seriously considered the Conductor's threat.

However, that wasn't what his concurrent plan entailed. He had to suck it up and wait like a 'good boy' for now...

He crossed his arms, smacking his lips as he sighed, "Whatever he did to convince you to waste your time today, don't know for certain it's worth it." Hearing the sound of his own voice calmed the Harrier slightly, from how it didn't give away the fact he was tense about being here for this long. From how long? The Days kind of blurred to him... but could you blame him when it was so easy to sit still but so hard to count the seconds wasting away?

Even if he tried to talk his way out of his predicament, where would he go to escape the Conductor now? He was trapped in the radar until the Conductor was satisfied the Harrier wasn't going to 'act out' again and would heed his words. This was the last thing he wanted, dammit! What else could he do? Talking at least gave him freedom of speech, which made him content he wasn't going to be muzzled until he was free to walk out… Planning on the side would net in his agency for what to do once that-

Suddenly, a Support walked into the Harrier's view, disrupting the tranquility of getting used to his current handler. The red-hooded Reaper leaned close to the other Harrier, confirming his suspicions as the Reaper on the bunk moved to stand. He couldn't help but give a nod to his previous handler, yet he was a bit annoyed he had to work from scratch again with his new one (despite the lack of progress he had with the former).

Sure, no one wanted to talk back to him, but trying to squeeze out information on the off-chance he could acquire more information for his future plans would be such a generous slab to help hold him out until the time came to put what he had come up with so far into effect. With the number of Reapers coming and going, it didn't look like he would get anywhere with this… However, the Harrier strongly felt he had to try. Thus, that meant working from the ground up again with new guy here.

When his previous handler disappeared around the corner of the entryway, he finally twisted his head back to the new vulture and quietly took to studying them.

The Harrier guessed the Conductor must have run out of available Harriers to guard him with. He regarded how this Reaper wasn't stock still or at attention, probably just as thrilled as the Harrier was to spend some precious quality time together. Or... maybe they were addlepated or chill about the dilemma they were chosen to take on? ...It didn't matter. This Support, through their lack of consideration of their body language, told the Harrier enough there was nothing to be worried about. Even so, the Harrier couldn't help the wariness curling around his stomach, vigilantly considering that this Reaper could very well be faking his stance to coax the Harrier into false security.

At that, the Harrier felt his body lock up, mentally sneering at this conspicuous Reaper's flawed venture as said Reaper shifted where he sat. Suddenly, the Harrier watched as the Support slid a hand under the bottom of his hoodie, casting a glance away while something shifted under the fabric. Huh, the Harrier was sort of impressed that he hadn't noticed an object was hidden against the Support's chest and clothing because of how careful this Reaper had been. That may have explained the slack body posture as it would give the now revealed whiteboard enough room to remain flat and not poke against the fabric to be noticed when the Support was sitting down. The Harrier could guess the Support knew what they were getting into so they brought along something to pass the time, which was fair enough considering how the Harrier was certain his handlers were taking on long intervals to make sure he stayed put.

However… if the Support wanted to do something to ward off boredom, why was he smuggling in the whiteboard? Hmm... that definitely, immediately contradicted the Harrier's earlier assumption. There was no need to hide the fact the Support wanted to draw for the shit and giggles…

...What were they up to?

The Support popped off a marker and put the lid on the end before they started to scribble on their weapon of choice against boredom. From time to time, they slightly looked at him in a way that the Support thought the Harrier wasn't noticing… which wasn't the case, sorry pal. The Harrier's trained eye could spot the subtlety from a mile away. Of course, this meant the Support was still paying attention to him, which was fair enough considering the Harrier hypothetically could sneak away if he wanted to with the new inattentiveness the Support would adopt while juggling his entertainment. But the aforementioned method of bringing in said entertainment screamed out the Harrier's suspicion, prompting him to narrow his eyes at this Reaper upon musing this.

Soon, the Support looked up without another glance at their whiteboard. Their red hood was facing the Harrier, in a way that would suggest they were staring at him, while they placed the marker aside and used the same hand to slowly hover a finger in front of their shadowed face. The Harrier narrowed his eyes, silently surveying their vicinity before deeming it safe to nod slightly. He appreciated the fact that this Support wasn't stupid enough to think no person was watching their exchange even when there was 'no need to'. ...They still were sloppy about the way they decided to bring in the whiteboard, though. A tactless attempt, mind you, but they appeared to be different than his earlier handlers.

Okay, he'll bite and see what's this Support's deal was.

He sat up taller, trying to mimic the Support's slight ease in their posture. Mirroring was an excellent tactic to deliver to give off the subconscious message that, yes, you were interested in what the other person has to say. It was an underestimated social cue many people didn't realize was a key component in maintaining a good conversation with another person or getting them to be amenable.

The Support turned their whiteboard around, slightly hunching over it to guard it from their unseen spectators. As the Support waited on him, the Harrier simply took one glance to read the neatly-inked English.

Conductor trapped you here?

Ah… clearly this wasn't one of the posh bastard's own. Good to know, good to know…

He smiled coolly, yet twitched slightly after the whiteboard was wiped off and the marker and smudged-slate was offered upside down to him. With a quick scan around them, he soon accepted the items before staring down at the blank surface and contemplated what he should say.

The now partly-grey surface would disguise the previous presence of marker, and with even more over time, should make it impossible to interpret anything that had been written down. Once again, he found himself impressed with this Support. He squared his upper-torso over the greyboard when he slowly but neatly wrote back.

Must have pissed him off again.

As soon as the Support reached for it back, a snort was expelled out before they managed to contain it. Their shoulders bounced as they silently and awkwardly wiped the greyboard off before scribbling something else, soon returning it to the Harrier.

Not afraid of our boss, eh? Makes sense if you could piss that one off, heh.

Involuntarily, the Harrier felt the sides of his lips curl upwards more, starting to brush off the marker. After that was done, he drew the marker across the greyboard again with ease but a bit more sharper and harsher than earlier.

That man is a POSH BASTARD. He's not dignified, elegant or eloquent as he thinks he is. Why should we respect a HOITY ASS like him?

When he passed back the greyboard this time, he leaned back with a grinning smirk while waiting for the Support's response. The Support looked up and gazed at him for a while, soon pushing themselves off to stand and quickly sat down beside the Harrier. Without a word, they balanced the greyboard to rest on the Harrier's and Support's nearby legs and began writing another response.

You got a point there, mate. I'm straight-up relieved you believe that because that man pretty much acts like someone pulled that cane FROM his ass. A sad guy, really. Stink fulla and a fancy guy, really.

As the marker was returned to the Harrier, he blinked as the Support cleared the greyboard. The words the Support used were unfamiliar to him, most likely foreign jargon for something that the Harrier knew he wouldn't be able to decipher. Although, he decided to pretend they were some form of insults and started stroking the dry-erase brush across the greyboard again.

And yet he acts like we need his godsent guidance to 'live' in this Plane… Wouldn't hurt for him to go away for a Day and give us back our damn peace from him.

The Support nodded.

Here, here… (Hard out)... I don't know what you did to piss him off twice, right?, but you are all good in my book if you can get off the Recruiting without a hitch.

At once, the Harrier snapped backwards, warily eyeing the Support before they wiped off the board before writing again.

Sorry about that. It's Jimmy.

The Harrier blinked and nodded slowly, sighing in relief before he wrote on the greyboard.

Good to know who you are now… I thought you were one of my handlers for my standby. I have to say, using this was a sound plan, Calristein-san.

Just call me Jimmy. Like I said, you're all good in my book, you hear?

Loud and clearly.

Choice. When I found out your mate had one, I thought it may be a churr idea to borrow it so we wouldn't get overheard.

Which is why I said was a sound plan. It's so simple to erase what you have so you can put something else on it, when you have the right eraser, mind you. But since we don't have that type of eraser, I'm sure we've smudged this slate enough that no person could tell what we're saying from afar. I'm glad Andy kept it.

Eh? Did she try to toss it?

Why throw it away when you don't need to? I don't get why people feel the need to throw perfectly good items away when they could either use it, store it away, give it to someone they know, or even donate it to someone less fortunate. I mean, would you actually throw away a book when you're tired of reading it?

Not even. Books last until they decay or are munted.

EXACTLY. I used the same argument with Andy so she wouldn't do it.

Why did she want to toss it?

Well, it's because she thought lugging it along wasn't worth it when she doesn't have to walk around to ask if someone speaks English anymore.

Ah… got it. Originally she thought giving me your notebook would work, but when I mentioned we needed something discrete, she brought this over for me to use.

The Harrier looked up after he was finished reading Jimmy's latest message, frowning before he wrote carefully back.

I haven't had a chance to speak with her since I left her alone yesterday and got dragged off to the Conductor by Sadist Saiyama. How is she? Is she mad? Is she doing okay? I didn't exactly run off and give her a good send off message…

The Harrier's stomach churned as she waited for the Support to read his entry, and soon, Jimmy looked at him and sighed. The Support took a while to clear off the marker before starting to write over the muck they created during the last few minutes; tapping the marker against it once he was finished.

Okay, I'll be straight-up here. Your mate wasn't doing so well. Do you two usually hang out or something?

The Harrier swallowed nervously before he wrote back.

Ever since I started giving her Japanese lessons five Weeks ago, we've been doing stuff every Day, I guess?

Jimmy nodded at that before replying.

Okay then. I reckon I can describe it as looking lost and confused, 'cause she hovered outside the door today until I brought her over to the debriefing. Not saying I did it because I had met her, but I can't help but remember you two often are chasing Players together, so I thought of it as suss she wasn't with you. Jimmy erased the message before he wrote on, I mean, my mates passed by you yesterday and didn't think much of it, then I thought it was you this morning when I heard them say a Reaper apparently was to crash here and you fit the bill.

The Harrier felt a wave of remorse go through him, knowing that he pretty much ditched Andy. It made it even worse that he didn't try to get someone to tell her he was alright sooner to prove a point against the Conductor. He immediately put a hand on his face, groaning to himself before he wiped off the marker slowly before lightly touched his finger to the greyboard.

As Jimmy silently started his next message, the Harrier removed his hand to wait patiently for the Support to be done before reading it.

I didn't know why you weren't allowed out, but I promised your mate I would check up on you. I figured that Reaper was watching you or something so I thought it may be sweet as to see if I could do a choice switcheroo to geez what's up with you.

The Harrier finally decided to reply back, feeling nervous as he did so.

Please tell her I didn't mean to run off on her. I wasn't planning on getting forced to be on standby and I can't even leave the room without being reported upon by one of my handlers. I honestly HATE this shit.

Jimmy didn't immediately write back after that, pausing for a long time before he began to write.

I guess I have only so much borrowed time with you, nah, yeah? Do you want me to pass along anything else?

Oh shit- Jimmy had a point! From the amount of time each Reaper guarded him, many had come and gone quickly today. The Harrier tried to crunch the numbers as best as he could before determining they probably didn't have much time left before the next swap occurred. They couldn't have a leisure time for messages with pointless information or jokes anymore, so the Harrier knew if he were to pass along a message, it had to be something noteworthy and written promptly.

But what did he want to say? The Harrier struggled with his decisions before he blinked in realization. He couldn't do anything right now, but that didn't mean nothing could get done for what him and Andy wanted. If they stopped now, the vultures would probably pass the Harrier's yelling and near attack of the Conductor off as an one-note event and soon forget about what happened. Or, if he were to be frank, lose interest in learning why the Harrier had done that.

It wasn't about the falsely perceived events, it was about how the Harrier couldn't believe the posh bastard made him eat innocent Souls when he advertised previously he was all about the ones that committed crimes. The Harrier didn't care about the notion they were Erased because they couldn't defeat the Gamemaster, or whatever the fuck got the Pact and Gamemaster Erased... they didn't deserve to be consumed by him! The posh bastard degraded him the moment the Souls were brandished! It wasn't right to absorb them- it was nothing but violating!

Imagine what would happen if the Reapers who signed the petition caught wind of miscommunicated information that the Harrier accepted innocent Souls to save his own skin... It would ruin everything! It would make him appear as... an unreliable asshole. An unreliable asshole who got them hopeful for nothing because he may be viewed as nothing more than another mutt the Conductor had the collar of under his thumb. That everything was a ruse and the Harrier was lying to them... just for the sick entertainment of zapping away their faith that they could be saving Shibuya from wrongdoers with his sleazy stunt! The moment everything phased out without any updates and nothing happening to payoff their support, they would assume he failed in his promise to them.

And he couldn't let that happen.

That said, he had to get shit down right away and not leave Jimmy to staring at him until the next handler arrived. He dragged his attention back to thinking about what to tell the Support, feeling the pressure from the knowledge he got distracted by that awful event as he fumbled with his ideas. Before he got sidetracked, he was thinking about what to instruct Jimmy to say to Andy, so he knew he would have to walk the lanky Reaper through it before sending him off with the message. Even if it wasn't what the Harrier was planning to do to convey his cause as carefully as he may have liked, he had to act now to make sure they could echo the news around Shibuya.

With enough time of spreading it the best they could to any vulture that wasn't the posh bastard or his nobles, the Harrier could only hope it could get Reapers talking and for them to maybe even advocate it to their peers. So as long as the message wasn't flipped around or misrepresented, there was still a chance to keep the ball rolling as long as they could until he was released from the Barracks to pick up where he left off. It was the only way to savage the cause.

He hastily wiped the marker away and scribbled as swiftly as he could.

We cannot afford to waste time. I will try to make this quick, so please bear with me.

Jimmy nodded twice before the Harrier fluently erased the message and wrote more.

I will write down a single message on the whiteboard, you will copy that message onto your arm and try to memorize it as soon as you can. Tell Andy this message when you see her then only erase the message when Andy has memorized it or if you can remember it well enough to not need a reminder.

The Harrier doubted the Support would forget, but this would only drive home the significance that Jimmy had to make sure he didn't. He felt that sometimes when you stress the importance of something with an air of urgency, it pretty much would lend itself to ensuring it would resonate rather than ebb away. Why did he think that? Well, how else did he do better than his classmates on their exams? He didn't want to disappoint that woman's expectations or his father's efforts of dressing him up for success... and that was vital in his own right.

Jimmy whipped his head up and stared for a while, probably nervous, the Harrier assumed, as he wiped the board clean before pausing. The Harrier knew he couldn't be as thorough as he liked, so he had to be as concise as he could. Well, you could only have so much room on your arm to write, but with what the Harrier was planning... the less known would be easier to stomach until he was present to explain the rest.

He rolled around a few ideas in his head before settling on something, yet before he began to write, he momentarily rolled the words around again. The Harrier tried to figure out if he had them right before he started to write quickly.

El reclutamiento de jugadores es solo para los infractores en el Realground.

The Harrier wasn't surprised when Jimmy hesitated after raising his head to stare the Harrier again. Without hesitation, the Harrier proceeded to lean over to the Support Reaper to whisper, "Player Recruitment is only for wrongdoers from the Realground. That's what it says. Just write the message down... but remember the meaning as best you can." He narrowed his eyes, continuing with more intensity, "We need to keep informing Reapers about our cause."

Jimmy didn't do anything, frozen as he stared at the Harrier which caused the Harrier's heart to seize. Jimmy wouldn't get the message copied over in time if he gawked for much longer.

"Trust me!" the Harrier hissed as he scowled at the other Reaper. He suddenly realized a Reaper was walking through the hallway, turning in their direction. "Hurry!" he added in irritation, feeling himself start to hyperventilate. "Someone's coming!"

After a few seconds, Jimmy took the marker and slid his sleeve down, staring down at his pale-skinned arm briefly before writing on the inner portion of its length as footsteps sounded close by. The Harrier started to glance at the entryway, feeling his heart thud hard at the thought a vulture was going to discover him and the Reaper he'd spoken to two Days ago was conversing for some reason when Jimmy yanked his sleeve up his arm and started to rub his other sleeve across the surface shakily. ...Hopefully no one bothered to be interested in why a Support Reaper had black smears on their zipperless uniform.

The Harrier watched the other man slip the greyboard under his scarlet hoodie when a Harrier joined them, Jimmy nodding to them shakily before pulling himself up to his feet. As the Harrier's new handler took a seat on the bunk across from his, Jimmy was walking away slowly without looking back.

He wasn't sure if Jimmy was confident about what the Harrier told him to do, but the Harrier desperately hoped this could work. Jimmy had a good memory, the Harrier reminded himself, so that wasn't the issue… If it had been, he would have written it in English. Even so, English wasn't a seldom used language… so with the time he had, the Harrier could only focus on the fact that one Reaper he knew understood the fuck he made Jimmy write on himself.

Well, whatever the fuck the Harrier could remember to make Jimmy write down, that is.

---

With nothing noteworthy to do than talk to himself mentally, catching snippets of conversations once and awhile from vultures relaxing in the Barracks, the Harrier was surprised when he found himself overhearing a tail-end of a complainer as their voice loudly echoed through the shared room.

"What the fuck is wrong with Sadist Saiyama!?"

Having been minding his own business up to now, the Harrier felt as if he inhaled a breath of fresh air upon hearing that old man's nickname. As much as he hated that was the first thing to lighten his mood in three Days since he'd spoken with Jimmy, he couldn't help but continue to strain his ears for more.

"I don't know... isn't he already a nutjob?"

The first Reaper scoffed, "Stay away from him then! He's been such a maniac lately that I nearly got bulldozed by him passing by me this morning, only for him to get on my case for some shit he's got on his plate!"

Interesting… The Harrier couldn't help but lend his full attention to this odd yet somewhat relatable topic.

"How can we when he bunks with us?" asked the second Reaper anxiously in return.

"Oh fuck no- he sleeps here!? I can't imagine that fucker actually sleeps here-"

The Harrier then realized the conversation must have ended prematurely as he heard stomps close by; a familiar growl followed after they ceased, "I'm taking over."

Immediately, the Harrier blinked in shock before scrambling more onto his bunk to bristle and watched as Sadist Saiyama brushed aside his current handler. Anger curled up inside his heart as he glowered at the behemoth, who sank down the bunk when seating himself on it... And, with a quick survey of the area, he could tell the grousing Reapers from before were petrified, probably forgetting about the fact to breathe as they remained frozen in place.

Reminding himself of who was glaring him down, the Harrier soon flickered his narrowed eyes back to the burly old man. "What is it now?" asked the Harrier tartly while crossing his arms, catching how the much larger Reaper was now leering back at him coldly. Well then, it seemed Sadist Saiyama finally got the message of how the Harrier felt about their lovely friendship. "The posh bastard's going to make you gut me because I've been too quiet?" he sneered coolly, laughing dryly as he went on, "I haven't been social enough, so I now have to subjugate myself to nursing your damn presence?"

Sadist Saiyama didn't respond, only throwing his head around to glower at the only other Reapers in the room instead. "Get out!" the brute bellowed with sheer animosity, causing the Harrier to flinch at the tone before trying to compose himself as the grousers tripped and tried to escape the room in panic at the simple demand. If the Harrier hadn't met this old man earlier, he would have walked out and wondered if senile Reapers should be active. But as that wasn't the case, the Harrier darkly regarded the fact that Sadist Saiyama had beef with him and he absolutely hated that this old man didn't know when to quit.

As the army man finally paid attention to the Harrier again, his expression changed somehow. The Harrier couldn't properly read what it was, but he knew for damn sure it didn't mean good for him. The older Reaper huffed out a sigh that lasted for a while, shaking his head before he finally spoke in his normal deep, gritty voice, "Have you fainted since the last time I saw you?"

The Harrier blinked, warily watching the man as he frowned hard and his eyes sharply tried to find anything to denote what the sadist was playing at. He simply looked away when he couldn't figure out what was going on, deciding to wait and see if any of the man's intentions would bleed out at some point. "None."

For whatever reason, the grimness in the man's expression lessened. "Dizziness?"

The Harrier exhaled at that, narrowing his eyes to slits. "Nothing."

"Nausea?"

"Last I heard, you had been an army man," sneered the Harrier with an eyeroll. "Not a medic."

The man's voice sounded like he ate more gravel in the time he listened to the Harrier's response. "Nausea?"

So they still thought the Harrier was sick… great. Might as well get this sadist off his back so he could sulk some more.

Sighing, the Harrier peered back at the man and flatly regarded him. "Nada."

"Insomnia?"

The Harrier blinked, closing his eyes as he huffed, "I get plenty of sleep- thank you very much."

Instantly, Sadist Saiyama's face warped from the additional grimness secreting from it. "Then why haven't you slept for the last three Days?"

Huffing at that, the Harrier pretended the man hadn't spoken. He simply pulled his legs up, crossing them as he sat on the brick-hard mattress and fixed his shoelaces. As he did so, he could tell it wasn't an ideal choice as the sadist was growling and grumbling about something without the man's murky gaze leaving the Harrier.

What was the big deal of not getting sleep? He could hardly think straight, yeah… but that wasn't going to be a problem until he was released from this room. No, scratch that- if he was released from this room. By now, having spent so long in the Barracks made the Harrier almost believe the posh bastard was pretending he was going to let the Harrier go. Even so, the posh bastard would probably get a real good kick out of it if he could make the Harrier stay in one place forever, feeding him Points every so often like a koi in its aquatic, domey prison... Eight chances out of ten deemed that to be true, but the Harrier wouldn't let himself become degraded by such a hapless cruelty placed onto him.

Especially after the shit the posh bastard pulled to land him here! Just thinking about how he enjoyed those innocent Souls made the Harrier sick to his stomach at the reminder that could be his future if he didn't get Recruiting accepted soon.

"Is that why you have been passing out?" prompted the man again but quieter, making the Harrier groan internally. It seemed that Sadist Saiyama was going to be a stubborn shit about this... "Because you're sleep deprived? Or is it-"

The Harrier had enough. He didn't want the man poking into his business when everything was just fine without the Sadist's further analysis on the Harrier. He simply turned away again, refusing to look at the piece of shit.

A sigh came from the army man, "...Oshiro didn't put me up to this."

"Hah, like I'd believe that..." returned the Harrier in a scornful scoff of laughter, shaking his head while closing his eyes and smiling. "All you've done is make my existence hell right now- and I could care less about answering your stupid survey."

"Why can't you take a moment to listen to us for once?" asked Saiyama in frustration, snorting audibly before he growled, "You're only here because you didn't listen to Oshiro. You had a chance to talk to him- now look at what happened to you!"

The Harrier smiled coldly. "For your information, Sadist Saiyama, why should I heed the words of any fool if they believe their words hold more power and sway than mine?" He chuckled, shaking his head before continuing, "Neither you nor the posh bastard can stay on the staddle I'm working with... because you are narrow-minded simpletons who only want to crush the Reapers who think differently than you two." He placed a hand over his heart, frowning now. "I, for one, don't see how locking away potential avenues can make Shibuya a better place. We only need to open the floodgates to see if they actually hold a threat..."

Straightaway, the army man snapped, "You still don't get it!"

"Get what?" scoffed the Reaper loudly, feeling his face harden and hackles rise. "The fact that you're trying to smother me by keeping me on watch like a captive- an animal- a child!?" He felt his face contort from uttering the last part of his sentence before he growled bitterly, "How in your damn minds do you think holding me here will make me change my damn mind!?"

"Only you would see yourself as a prisoner when you actually have the chance to smarten up unlike how it is in the Realground!" boomed the large Reaper in an enraged snarl, swinging down his arm to thwack it into the bunk below him.

"Smarten up!?" screeched the Harrier in fury and disdain. He abruptly stood to whip his body towards the terrible Reaper, glowering hard. "Smarten up!?" He threw up his hands and yelled harshly, "What is wrong with you!? Trying to jam mind games down my throat to feed me hell for breakfast!?" He shook his head wildly. "There's nothing wrong with what I do and you two don't see it!"

Sadist Saiyama rose to face the Harrier, his face taut and twisted with disgust as he growled back, "Then who are the wrongdoers!? You surely must have figured it out while Oshiro has given you time to recuperate!"

The Harrier held a strangled scream in his throat before he let it escape his lips, "I don't need time to recuperate! I don't need to answer your stupid question!" He leered at the man as he yelled louder and rawer, smacking his palms against the sides of his hooded head as he felt his eyes burn, "I can't take this anymore- Just let me out!"

His chest rose and fell shallowly as he kept his sharp gaze on the man, bristling as he shouted out wetly, "I don't want to exist like this! Not when fools like you don't get it!"

As he shakily breathed, feeling his eyes well up, he suddenly felt smaller and smaller the longer the man before him didn't change his expression. He could hardly breathe as the larger man lumbered over, making the Harrier back away in response as he felt lightheaded suddenly, before the sadist frowned differently.

He wasn't sure what the old man was trying to display… Sadness, weariness, pity, frustration, uncertainty, acceptance? Whatever it was, the Harrier still backed away only to yelp when he lost his balance. He felt arms start to wrap around him, instantly causing him to scream out, "Don't you dare touch me, sicko!" He squirmed out of the half-baked hold to land roughly sideways on his bed, glaring darkly at the man who gazed back while retreating with a couple of steps.

The Harrier soon pushed himself to the metal headboard to put more distance between himself and the ex-army man. "Just leave me the fuck alone for good!" he continued as his voice rose to shrillness, feeling his words slur briefly and his face ache from the sheer intensity of his expression contorting harder. "I hate you so damn much I wish no one Processed me to have met you! Actually dying would have been better than existing to deal with this shit!"

He wetly gasped as he glared harder, challenging the man silently to make the Harrier's Day miserable when the man hmphed. The old man silently reached into one of his dirty trouser pockets, to draw out and place clinking metals down beside the Harrier- The Harrier immediately widened his eyes as the man stepped back again and watched him.

The sadist heaved out a weary breath as he flopped to sit back down on the opposing bunk; his murky-green eyes guarded as he soon grunted, "Whoever the damn Processed your Soul should have taken your advice…" He hunched forward and sneered, "Ever wonder if you're repaying them as you are now? Acting as if the world revolves around you when people could care less if you keel over and fade one Day from not taking care of yourself right?"

Keeping an eye on the Pins somewhat neatly piled together and the army man, the Harrier was taking notes on the man as a cold realization stretched out inside him: The same army man had just returned the Harrier's Pins to him... The Harrier couldn't help but grit his teeth.

Trembling as he pressed his back to the headboard harder, he fought the urge to scoop up his Pins in the company of this fool. He wasn't going to show his underbelly to this man now- not when the Harrier nearly lost himself in screaming about how he felt about his existence. Part of it, he sometimes thought about when he was cloaked in the darkness that got to him most nights... Sometimes, when his Day or Week was shitty… Sometimes, when he couldn't stop thinking about how he died...

At least, that's how it had been originally.

The first Week was the worst. He was barely hanging on to himself after struggling to acclimatize to the Underground as a Reaper, feeling nothing but vulnerable even when he had no reason to. He knew he should have felt relieved he was free from that woman… yet his thoughts were plagued by her and he couldn't help but keep returning to her home. It kept him awake at night, wondering why he couldn't forget about her and exist happily in a place she couldn't lecture him in. At least, as a 'ghost', she had no reason to lecture him as she had when he lived under her roof.

Week number two made itself known to tell him that his existence wasn't going to get better. He finally managed to take down a Pact on his own without his attempts going south halfway through the Week. What should have been triumph was guilt and nausea keeping him from trying to see that woman again… afraid she would lecture him about it. He visited her maybe once or twice before he Erased those Players. Perhaps it would have been for the best if he stopped seeing her... that had been one of his thoughts while lying awake a night before the last Day of that Week.

During the third Week, the sick comfort was ripped from him. He could hardly bring himself to think about it...

He shakily pressed his palms to his temples, tucking his head down as he tried to suck in air. He couldn't think straight with the ringing and buzzing in his ears that came on to him suddenly. The Harrier gagged, gasping anxiously as he gripped the sides of his hair while shuddering.

The thoughts that were slowly sinking into his mind only dispersed when footsteps alerted him. He was barely aware of how he could already relax from that stimuli, yet the boom of Sadist Saiyama's voice broke his brief reprieve, "What? Think we poisoned them?"

Quickly, the Harrier tried to recollect himself, inhaling slowly to give himself the time to soothe himself and hide his stress from being more evident. When he felt he was okay, he folded his arms before he snorted, "Not my first assumption, but thank you for the donation." He very much wanted to scream at Sadist Saiyama, however, he knew he couldn't keep his energy up if he argued with the man too much in one sitting. Unhappy, unhappy bad, bad chemicals seemed to have a rap of sapping it, after all.

"I have to say, you're pretty cute to think I'd fall for this," he supplied smoothly instead.

Sadist Saiyama's face was hysterical from how it transformed rapidly into disbelief. "What!?"

Sighing, the Harrier pretended to seem uncaring as he studied the Pin pile, nudging one over only to cringe when a spark of familiar energy greeted him from his Cripplecheck Pin. It had dappling small rings of dark green, teal and off-white all along its jet black surface. When you adjusted it a certain way, the light would glint on it to reflect a metallic grey, as if the peculiar coating could disappear if it wanted to.

With another poke, said glint flickered across the Pin. '...Dammit.'

He could have sworn Sadist Saiyama was trying to pull wool over his eyes! If he couldn't do anything with feeling them, he could have very well kept his current charade strong to accuse the army man of trying to fool him. No matter, no matter… he worked with worse odds stacked against him.

Biting his lower lip's inside to save face, he feigned ignorance as he tipped over another Pin experimentally, inwardly cringing at another false positive. Goddammit- what the fuck was this man playing at!? If this old man wanted to do that, the Harrier might as well do the same with the sadist!

He threw a dirty look to the man, trying to control his breathing to not give away the frustration he held for the sadist. He inhaled slowly before he spoke evenly, "Let's say... yes, these are my Pins." So far so good… maintaining the guise was the key. He tried to push his body into pliable ease as he hoped he appeared nonchalant to the man. It would be harder, though, considering he was just yelling at the man previously.

The Harrier pressed his hands together, tipping it towards the man as he went on, "You done me a solid, great work…" With a quick check on the old man, the Harrier had to crank it up a bit it seemed. He sighed, shaking his head while offering a small, insincere smile, "But how do I know if these are my Pins?"

"Are you kidding me? I spent all Day yesterday trying to convince Oshiro to hand them over to me," grunted the sadist with an eye-roll, gesturing to him as the man went on to ask disgruntled, "What more could you want from me?"

The Harrier narrowed his eyes before he sneered slickly, "You could have very well vouched for me, but I hate your guts as much as you hate mine. So I'd think it would be pretty easy to make another house key if you have the original, or even a psudoriginal on hand to pop out another to toy around with." He settled himself down, trying to relax as he turned his head away. "For all I know, you may have tinkered with them to sabotage my efforts in some fashion the moment I turn my back and use them…" He hardened and narrowed his gaze. "The posh bastard may have done that and gotten you to be his little delivery boy today, buster."

"I don't know why you're yammering and bellyaching about this, but trust me, these are the real deal!" replied the sadist contently with a reassuring, wolfish grin… if it wasn't so disturbing to look at. This man seemed so confident in his claim, yet the Harrier could only try to nitpick it for a venture to override the statement.

"Carbon copies can still function as well as the originals," pressed the Harrier as undeterred as he could, starting to feel control slip out from his hands as he tried to grapple for anything else to counter the man's assertion with. It was as if this man was deflecting the Harrier's ruse without even realizing the Harrier was trying to mess with him. "I don't think you understand that if I waltz out of here and see someone else using another of my own, I would very much like to give you a heads up on where you'll know I'll be the moment I witness it!" he growled lowly to the other Harrier Reaper, clenching his hands into fists as his face tightened. "And trust me- I'm not a happy cinnamon bun, contrary to belief!"

"Look, those Pins are your Pins," growled the army man as his grin flipped upside-down to become disgruntled. He crossed his arms, sighing as he pointed at the Harrier with one of his crisscrossed hands, "I don't get what shit you're trying to pull… so know that you wouldn't be getting them from me if Oshiro had paid you a visit." He whisked his hand, snorting as he growled on, "Also, know that there's been many others before you that may have had Psyches like yours. It's not like fire is being discovered every hour, or lightning bolts have only struck one man…"

The Harrier frowned harder, pushing his mind to come up with anything to help him with a counter-argument as part of it kept trying to make sense of that statement. As much as the Harrier hated to admit it… something felt genuine about the way the old man spoke. The Harrier was expecting another explosive response, yet this time, Sadist Saiyama held his composure as well as a man with endless possibilities could.

Shifting slightly, his heartbeat had tapered a bit and his face relaxed enough for him to be aware of how it reflected his confusion… no. Rather than confusion, the Harrier didn't think he could come up with how he felt about the response. He could identify how the sound logic immediately established itself, wondering if it was worth fighting a downhill battle despite the urge to keep his front up. Returning his attention to the army man, the Harrier narrowed his eyes again and mulled over what he could say now. He spent too long hesitating and the silence may have already softened the tension in the air… yet, the Harrier couldn't help but seethe that the old man could bulldoze the Harrier's next response at any moment because there was wiggle room between them now.

Deciding to buy himself time, despite how he didn't want to cave in to the anxiety making itself present, he lightly poked more of his Pins. Upon receiving more familiar sensations tingling through his fingers at each touch he made, he blinked as he accepted the fact these very well may belong to him.

As much as he would say otherwise, his Pins' Psyches were simple regurgitations of previously known Psyches. He couldn't claim he was the only one to wield such Psychomancy when it frowned at him for clinging to that line of defence. He read from reports he had the clearance for reviewing that Pins were newer vessels for Psyches to reside in, as everyone had to resort to using Medallions until the change went through. The author of said reports seemed to denote that the Composer was still working on transferring the remaining Medallions' Psyches into Pins to be repurposed for newer Players, unless something noteworthy in the Player's Soul had the potential to manifest alternatives, which were found during the Processing process. The Harrier himself had the opportunity to check the people he Processed for any of those signs, and yet he hadn't had the honour of discovering them… pity.

From what the person who chose to Process his Soul said, from what he could barely piece back together, his Soul seemed to exhibit newer selections of Psyches into the DNA pool. Some had been different forms of older Psyches, but the fact that he knew he had some one-of-a-kind Pins in his arsenal had been confusing initially until he finally put them to good use during his Game Week. It was then he realized how special it was that he was the owner of these manifestations... that his Soul was innovative enough to create anew when all he had thought in his bland life he couldn't do anything noteworthy... Up to that point, he felt like a loser who was being forced to relive the same Day... but with his new abilities, he felt he could carve opportunities with his fingertips... break out of the mould... maybe even reestablish who he was...

Being told for the first time in his life- at death, that he could escape being himself for a Week... even if it was actually intended for him to fight for another chance at going back to his awful life... was uplifting. He never wanted to live again, but the idea that he was untouchable by the ones who led him to this state of existence... was the first time he felt relief and real comfort since his father died. He was certain he could have a way to live for himself, which was what he realized when the posh bastard was relaying the fact the Harrier was the only one chosen amongst all of the Players to be granted the chance to go back to the Realground.

On that Day 7, the last Day of his Game Week, he was beyond tired of being crammed into expectations and commitments that only chipped away at his sanity. The burning, fierce want... drove him to say in full-confidence he had not had for himself at all in his life...

"I would accept this... only if it was worth my while. Make me one of your own, that's all I will ask. It's the only honour I would think would suit me, Sir, if I am to be frank, if I am to best put myself in the right place for me to be. I don't care about my life, only what I want to make of it... even if I will not be alive..."

...If things had only stayed that way, that is.

The warmth gathering in his chest at the memories soon soured when he finished his recollection of his Game Week decision. He then reminded himself he had to focus on the sadist; not his Pins, not what he had done for himself... as the sadist would only think the discussion was won by him if the Harrier kept his mouth shut.

Sighing with a blustery exhale, the Harrier kept his gaze on the Pins, "...I don't know what you're trying to do. Getting on my good side with favours, or pretending to be nice to me…" He hardened his expression when he spat under his breath, "But don't think this changes anything!" He finally whipped his head up, glaring fiercely at the old man as he put in coldly, "You're still a fool, and I'm not going to stop because of you!"

Straightaway, the army man frowned yet his eyes appeared thoughtful. "Of all the things I've seen from you, I just can't figure out how you came out like this."

The Harrier immediately gaped incredulously in a frown. 'Wh-What?"

"I just can't imagine how someone so young could be so misguided and chary when they're on the cusp of adulthood..." breathed the army man simply with a shrug. "Look, I took time to think over it-"

The Harrier folded his arms and coolly thought, '...You actually think about stuff?'

"- and it suddenly hit me that you're spiralling down like this because you have issues," Sadist Saiyama finished before blinking his murky eyes. "A lot of issues."

The Harrier shook his head before he scoffed, "Oh great… I have issues." He rolled his eyes as he mumbled, raising a finger in the air, "Tell me something more about what your mind happens to dwell on during the Day… We can even paint each other's nails and talk about the boys we like." He laced fake cheerfulness into his next delivery. "As a bonus, we'll be the bestest of friends come morning!"

At that, the army man harrumphed before he growled, "I'm going to level with you here, and I'm only going to say this once-" The man slowly rose up, his gaze hardening slightly as he stared down at the Harrier, who warily gazed back, then sighed, "Acting like you're bigger than everyone else is the worst mistake you're making when you've lost your wings. The longer you're going to ignore that fact, the more likely your Erasure will be."

The Harrier momentarily mulled over the words. Knowing that as much as he hated listening to hapless advice, the fact that Sadist Saiyama was directing the younger's attention to the sore thumb that's been on his mind occasionally mustn't be taken lightly.

Reaper wings were practically a Reaper's honour and were known to be the source of their powers. It surprised him when he found out that the appearance of Reapers should be heeded. That Reapers with larger wings happened to be twigs when it came to fights, and those with smaller ones had hidden, condensed strength lying within them. Reaper wings weren't the deciding factor if vultures could or could not use Arts, but the Harrier remembered their wings bolstered and augmented their strength and powers the longer they remained Reapers. Why the army man was bringing this up now, oh the Harrier could only ponder why it seemed important all of a sudden...

He crossed his arms, tucking his chin to his chest as he stared at his lap while he breathed, "Why should I care about losing my wings?" His face hardened before he went on in irritation, "I know I'm grounded, and that I won't get that special oomph I had before… so I'll bite." He felt his eyes sharpen as he leaned forward, sneering low and quietly, "Is losing my wings going to ensure I suffer steadily until I one Day keel over and fade away as you said? That the Conductor basically is killing me unless I submit to his whims and conformity?"

"No." The man's eyes hardened. "Without your wings, you're no different than a high-ranking Player."

"Meaning…?" hissed the Harrier coolly with a deeper frown.

"Do you really think you could do your duties as you had when you're basically a Player yourself?" asked Sadist Saiyama gruffly, making the the Harrier huff in annoyance at the 'big reveal'. "The number of Players you Erase on a regular basis won't keep you in the Underground for even a month. Unless you can wrack in your Points in a blink of an eye, you will not be able to keep up with the other Reapers and you will lose your existence one way or another." As the army man closed his eyes, frowning wearily, he breathed gravelly, "Oshiro gave you the Players' Souls from last Week, right?"

"If you mean forcing them down my throat when I didn't want that 'care package'…" said the Harrier tartly. His face twisted at the memory- hating how enjoyable it was to absorb them when they had done nothing wrong and weren't the ones he was hunting for- hating how he couldn't decline the offer as the Conductor belittled him as he had to force the Harrier's hand… "Then yes, I suppose he had traumatized me."

"Well, I heard back from the DATA Sector, and apparently you consumed the worth of two months to exist for," explained the old man gruffly, causing the Harrier to flinch before the man went on, "Don't be happy about it… you're only borrowing time. Before you waste your existence now that you know about that-" The man's face altered into a hideous grimness as he coldly growled, "Think about what you should be using that time for, instead of raising Reapers into headless chickens for your harebrained vision and actually smarten up! You got that?"

The Harrier bristled again. "Do I look happy about this arrangement?" he chose to retort back coolly, shifting on his bunk before he carefully picked up his Pins one at a time and tugged his lower section of his hood away from his body. With enough room to wiggle a hand in, he started to clip them onto his grey undershirt while mumbling, "I'm not going to do as you please because the posh bastard delayed my expiration date."

When he felt that the army man had something to say about that, the Harrier spoke again to ruin the chance for the man, "I know what I want to do with myself… so why can't you not fucking butt into my shitty existence?" He paused after equipping his last Pin, inhaling slowly before he huffed indignantly, "It doesn't matter if I'm undercut because I'm pretty sure I'll never get my wings back if I do what I want. All that I care about is trying to get my foot in the door to get Recruiting into place." He frowned, lifting his hood slightly as he held his head high while locking his gaze with Saiyama. "Not because I want to get an umbrella over my head to get fools like you off my back, but to actually make a difference for the lives of those who are still suffering inside Shibuya."

He then held his tongue, refusing to add more to his explanation. If he went on, he would only make himself pitiful towards the sadist and clearly mark himself down as vulnerable. After all the troubles he's been having with the sadist, the Harrier wanted to at least to stand taller than admit he knew it wouldn't be long until he would lose the opportunity to control his existence. However, he couldn't smother the irksome pang that he was explaining this to a man he knew wouldn't understand or accept what the Harrier was trying to achieve.

The Harrier had to clam up before he gave more away. ...Giving out too much information could shortchange him later.

Pretending to yawn, he lowered himself onto his mattress and tried to control his breathing. He hoped that if he waited long enough, he could fool the army man into assuming the Harrier had finally exhausted himself from their dumb conversation… Well, getting his Pins back was an unexpected plus, but that wasn't relevant to shooing off his current handler.

When a hand laid down on his shoulder, momentarily startling him enough to struggle to maintain his mien, he couldn't help but frown in confusion when the man murmured, "I still don't get it… how it had to be you."

Keeping himself perfectly in place, the sound of the army man's receding footfalls did little to ease the stress he thought would go away. He couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until his next handler would arrive, closing his eyelids from the exhaustion finally weighing them down...

---

Four Weeks after dying

---

This was a mistake...

The young man stood frozen as the pungent smell invaded his nose, leaving him reeling as he tried telling himself he must have gone into the wrong house. Even so, he couldn't tear his eyes away no matter how hard his rational side of his brain screamed, choking on his own breath the longer he remained glued to the ivory floor and his eyes barely picked out the furniture in the gloom.

Soon, he was aware of how his shoulders bobbed, feeling vibrations in his throat as laughter expelled from his lips. It only baffled and horrified him as to why he was so pathetic to react like this. He couldn't help but press a hand to his forehead and bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he smiled shakily and slowly found it within himself to step closer… closer and closer… He felt his lips downturn as the tears fell without resistance… halting when his Liger loop-stripe shoes nearly nudged it.

What a terrible joke… what a damningly terrible joke…

His mind somehow was blank… throughout the whole time his ears were ringing and blaring noise was assaulting his hearing... Throughout the whole time his vision buzzed, as if static was trying to cover it up, and swam as the tears gushed down faster… Throughout the whole time he stayed in the room… with the still, scarlet-stained body of that woman.

How awful it was, that he hadn't thought to visit sooner… to see who did this to her… That he hadn't been careful… to avoid this place after his foolish return a Week after he died… That now of all times… he had to breakdown when he thought he didn't have to deal with this shit anymore…

Bubbles… no, foam was around her mouth and crimson throat… She didn't take medication… she was against the idea of taking them...

His eyes sharpened, even when bile was nearly spilling from his throat, the moment he saw the pill bottle... Moving towards the container… having already lifted it to his face somehow… he saw the ripped off label yet still was able to hone in on the Kanji that hadn't been disfigured by the sloppy handiwork…

Even if he couldn't make sense of who this belonged to… the doctor's name was still available…

His heart grew colder and harder… yet it didn't extinguish the thoughts that started swirling around in his head…

The earliest thing he could remember dragged itself out from the recesses of his memories… echoing in his brain… causing him to squeeze tightly on to the frail plastic…

Despite all odds… criminals always left evidence at the scene… As trivial as a pill bottle… as trivial as they thought they were smart enough to pull this off… as trivial as they fucked up the scene they were going for… because footprints only belonged to one person… No matter how much you try to dissuade the crowd… someone was bound to step into them to be followed back to their owner…

His previous guilt melted away… of the screaming Pact that he was petrified to watch as they had reappeared too soon from the fight... They were dissolving into static and particles when they stumbled onto the pavement… clumping together in a macabre fashion… for him to pick up and crush to finally push back the clock looming over his body that was breaking down and turning bleak... He couldn't allow himself right away to step forward to claim them as his first meal… just watching the scene unfold flipped his stomach...

All the while... in the silence he had a hand in creating... he wondered what the fuck he was thinking that he could stay here to repeat the same thing because of the thought of fading away was the last thing he wanted... to avoid suffering through the experience of dying again... if he had to replay it as it had in that moment...

The Reaper drew in a shuddery breath, frowning back to the pill bottle.

It wasn't going to be an issue, he told himself, while closing his achy, watery eyes.

The Game could survive without him for a bit.

---

To be continued… hope you enjoyed the chapter! =3

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EeveeGen9988: "Hello, people, you survived Part 2! (I wouldn't be surprised if you took breaks while reading this chapter, heh.) =D

It took me many, many hours again to get the content written down for this instalment of Mr Reaper and many, many more hours to get the revision done, so I hope it came out okay. (After this, Eevee will dig out food and actually eat her dinner when she's done setting up the posting on SOSS.)

While the first two Parts, as I mentioned at the beginning, were for 2019 Twelve Shots of Summer, this story will have Parts being posted for Shibuya Operation - Story Storm. For those who don't know, it's a writing challenge run by the same guy I know who runs TSoS but in the Winter for stories. It's for helping to push authors to be able to hopefully complete a story or more depending on the menu items- or posting templates, as they are- you plan or may choose to finish by the end of the ten official weeks season or the eleventh week (that's a grace week). At the forum, known by the same name as the writing challenge, you may interact with fellow writers and can support and encourage each other as you work on your stories. The community is a real treat to be a part of during the season, even when you just come along to chat even if you're not taking part during a season. You should check it out. =3

I feel like I don't have much to say this time around for my author's notes, so I hope you're not too disappointed by them. D=

But how about some fun facts? *sweatdrops*

Fun Fact - The opening sequence for present time originally had our protagonist smoking, so during the third edit, I realized he actually wasn't the type of guy who I think would smoke. Thus, as you may come to realize, I had to recreate the first scene and revise it for about ten hours or more hours. (I stopped editing that day after I was done because it fried my brain from having to deal with it.)

Fun Fact - In order to try and make the whiteboard, or greyboard as our protagonist chose to call it, scene as authentic as possible, I actually happened to be at a dollar store that was selling a good quality whiteboard and bought one to do my homework for making the scene go right. Did you know if you don't erase whatever you write on there for a while it becomes harder to wipe off and might smudge the whiteboard? Well, to put it simply: Your whiteboard can become a greyboard. =D ...As well, it's hard to get dry-erase smudge off your clothing if you choose to wipe it off with your clothing. *RIP Eevee's shirt she was stupid enough to use for that one time* D=

Fun Fact - Remember that message that our protagonist had Jimmy write on his arm? Guess what, it's actually possible to write it on your arm! ...You know why? *turns away to continue scrubbing the words off of her arm*

...

As well, because you have survived Part 2... congratulations! You found something! =D

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NEW LETTER THREAD HAS BEEN [SUCCESSFULLY] CREATED

THREAD_TYPE = [PRIVATE]=[HM to KF]

DATE_OF_CREATION = 06/07/22/PM/SUN/18/MAY/1975

ENTRY_NO = 48159077

LOG_NAME = MsCFHL

DOCUMENT_ALIAS = Maeda's Cry For Help Logs - Entry 48159077

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Maeda's Cry For Help Logs - Entry 48159077
DOCUMENT CONTENT IS AS FOLLOWS

Dear, Ms. Fukuhashi,

I have been trying to contact you during this week and you haven't responded once, so I decided to create another Letter Thread to hopefully reach you! I don't know if something intercepted my other Letters or if you lost them, so I have no clue how much you've heard from me this past week! I haven't done my reports but I hope you don't miss this one, I've been so worried about you, Fukuhashi! Please be okay!

To start, guess what? The scary-eyed Reaper forgot his backpack the day I met him! I know it's wrong to be snooping through people's things, but since I didn't get a name (but let the guy drink despite not knowing how old he was because I forgot to ID those two Reapers), I thought I'd check if he had an ID in there. Unfortunately, there wasn't an ID in there (bummer). However, this guy's loaded with Yen Pins! I did just an estimation, and he must be rich with the amount he has on him! I promise I didn't take any out, I swear! Although, it's weird how he only has Yen Pins in his backpack. Shouldn't he have personal items that mean something to him in there? Or do you think he has them where he spends his time sleeping? I swear, I will not go and sneak into where he sleeps to find out! But knowing the guy has all this Yen on his back makes me worried someone might rob him if he's not careful! Oh my gosh! Fukuhashi, do you think he keeps it on him because someone did try to rob him!? Oh my gosh, I feel so awful that I didn't see that sooner! I'm such an idiot!

Just so you know, I mentioned the seeing the guy in the last few Letters I sent, but I wanted to make sure you got it because I have no clue and wanted to make sure I don't miss anything! Please be safe, Fukuhashi, if you're seeing this now!

Anyway, I have no idea how but the guy gave me a hard time and knew about me looking through his bag somehow! I don't know why or how but I was so scared of the scary-eyed Reaper I think I was going to puke and faint and short-circuit at the same time! It was so terrible! Then he stormed off and let it go without warning… which was good? Oh boy, I'm just glad the other customers didn't think I needed to see a doctor again...

I know you told me to not worry about the guy, but Iwao that day, afternoon, uh, time, had some thoughts about him that made me think maybe you may have been right about not worrying about the guy, even though I still do? Although, Iwao didn't seem happy after I brought the guy up, so maybe those two aren't pals? Whatever it was, Iwao didn't stay long even though he ordered a big, big meal, so do you think I upset him? Oh no, I hope I haven't because Iwao hasn't been back, no wait, I mean he came back but wouldn't talk to me because he seemed more angry later that day. I thought for sure he wouldn't swing back here but he did and I don't like how he's so bothered or something! I couldn't make him feel better, so it must have been terrible. I feel bad for him, I wish I could do something to make him feel better.

As well, something doesn't feel right. Not me, of course, but something else, I guess? I'm not trying to bait you into responding to me, I swear! You said check on the Game and anything out of danger sorts, but something that isn't that has just been bothering me. Unlike the end of the last Round… and you know how I get when I feel like something doesn't seem right… I think something happened. I can't explain it, but there's been less, oh no, I can't seem to explain it, I'm so sorry, Fukuhashi! Is that what you were talking about? That something from all the normal doesn't feel right? Or am I just confusing you? It's just that… it's like I know something doesn't belong here and I can't see it no matter what… or figure it out? Maybe I'm just imagining it? Or does it belong here? Whatever it is, I feel something's wrong, and I hope you can get this message, okay!? Okay?

Don't worry, I'm going to try and do my reports as fast as I can before you think about visiting me because I know you'll get me to do them and watch me until I get each of them done. But please, I don't know what to do about the thing I can't seem to explain! And I'll try to not think about the scary-eyed Reaper, but I swear his eyes will haunt me until I'm done in the Realground! I haven't even left the place because I'm worried he might spot me and get angry at me again for something else!

I'll send another Letter if you don't respond after a day at most. I'll just hold up the fort and write another Letter to send tomorrow this time for now.

I want you to be safe and sound please be safe and sound,
- Hiraku Maeda

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Response #1KF to Maeda's Cry For Help Logs - Entry #48159077
RESPONSE CONTENT IS AS FOLLOWS

Dear, Mr. Maeda,

I am safe, do not fret. I will not explain myself.

I am still waiting on your reports, which you have failed to provide, and creating a new Letter Thread to bypass the ones I have yet to go through after you supply the reports because you have blatantly disregarded my warnings is unacceptable. However, I will temporarily lift my previous statement of not responding to you and consider your request for assistance in establishing this concern you have asserted. Know that once I do, you will do your reports, or I will cancel my services and communication until the next rotation. I have full trust you will be able to handle your term on your own if such arises; be thankful for the support I have lent to you up to now.

As I had explained in our last conversation, you have now mentioned you have perceived an abnormality, correct? Are you unable to locate it purely from restricting yourself to a singular location from unnecessary distress, or are you unable to project your ability to find it through some limitation? Being unable to properly organize whatever you are sensing is nothing short of concern. Your abilities as an Angel should allow you to monitor the Realground and Underground and understand the status of what Shibuya herself is feeling, and through her, her inhabitants of each Plane. Anything contained within herself should be able to be inspected and analyzed; footprints covered should still be able to be uncovered.

Maeda, using the Leylines are not recommended under normal circumstances, however, if you feel you must use them to settle your unease, do so sparingly. If the Composer detects you, it will only prove difficult in your ability to continue your search. Do not engage if the Composer makes an appearance.

This will be all that I will speak of this until you send in a report.

Do not test my generosity,
- Kotone Fukuhashi