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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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Ties We Bind (& Break), Chapter 5

Author: composeregg Rating: T Word Count: 15435, Chapter total: 4170 Pairings/Characters: Joshua/Neku, Shiki/Eri, Joshua & Neku & Shiki & Beat & Rhyme & Eri in a queerplatonic poly-pile relationship. Hanekoma, Kariya. Warnings: Includes depression heavily, and mentions of suicide. Summary: One year after the Long Game, a tall boy named Yuuto Kimura, who has messy black hair, glasses, and bright green eyes, stumbles into Neku’s life, and he can’t help but let him get close, letting him join the circle of friends.

One year after the Long Game, Joshua aches to hang out with Neku again, but the restrictions he’s gained for his transgressions are very clear: Yoshiya Kiryu, Composer of Shibuya, is not to interact with Neku Sakuraba.

(But every rule has a loophole.)

Author’s Note: Each chapter is also being added to ao3! Here! (Small delay per chapter).

Featuring autistic/neurodivergent characters, the “Joshua is Neku’s Dead Best Friend” theory, and lots of headcanons abound.

“Where is he?”

Yuuto looks over at Neku from his place sprawled on Neku’s bedroom floor. The declaration makes him raise an eyebrow, and Beat, Shiki, and Rhyme sigh.

Neku is sitting on his bed, flopped over Beat’s lap with a sketchbook in front of him. Rhyme is leaning against its base, and Shiki has staked a claim on the desk chair. Yuuto himself has his back against the wall, laying on his side so he can look at the others. With Neku talking, he sets down his phone.

“Where is who?” he asks.

A sigh escapes him as Neku looks back. “My second week Partner.” Oh. “His name is Joshua, and I haven’t seen him since the last day of my Game.”

“You don’t talk about him much, Neku,” says Shiki, eyebrows scrunched as she looks up from her current sewing project.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “It’s complicated, guys.”

More than you know.

“He did somthin’ to ya, we know that, but you’ve never said what,” Beat chimes in, and oh, they’re prompting Neku. Trying to get the full story out of him.

Neku wavers, fingers tapping at the paper in front of him as indecision flickers across his face. He needs to tell them. Neku can’t keep this bottled up forever, nor can he wait for Josh to emerge.

All it takes is one Imprint. He doesn’t even notice the subtle sway wriggling its way into his head, urging him on, strengthening his impulse to spill the secret.

Tell them. What’s the worst that could happen? They deserve to know, and if Joshua protests, well, you were never told not to tell them.

“Joshua is the Composer, and he shot me. Twice.” The words spill past his lips, tumbling off his tongue, before he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening.

Rhyme gives Yuuto a Look, making sure no one else notices. He shrugs back, sending a thought over to them: He needs to get it out, he’s bottled all this up. There’s nothing against the rules… Explicitly.

“What the fuck?” Shiki is staring at Neku, and Beat is too.

“It’s complicated–”

“Okay but what the actual fuck? He shot you!?” She stands, huffing and pacing the room, running fingers through her hair. “You still want him to show up after he did that to you?”

“Shiki please–”

“I’m wit’ her man, why would you want that?” Beat says, fist clenched.

It should concern Yuuto more, honestly. Rhyme is still glaring at him. Yet, all he can do is frown, and tap a finger to his chin. “I’m sure Neku has his reasons, why don’t we let him speak them?”

Neku shoots him a grateful look as the others quiet down, and Shiki flops back into the chair, keeping her mouth shut but her eyes on Neku, ready to judge if the explanation is satisfactory.

“Joshua is… Complicated.” Neku sighs, sitting up and leaning against the wall, instead of lying on Beat’s lap. It’s no doubt easy to pull away, pull into himself.

“I think he’s a lot like me. Or, before and during the Game he was similar to how I was when you all first met me. Only worse. Depression and loneliness gave him a misanthropic view of the world, and I could feel it.” He runs a hand through his hair. Gelled spikes don’t agree with the treatment, so he switches to twisting the end of one between his fingers.

“I related to him, we had the same sort of humor and outlook, except seeing his helped me re-evaluate my own. It hurt, when I thought he shot me, even though he was an annoying git. It hurt even more, when I thought he got himself Erased to save me, and I thought he hadn’t killed me for that last week.”

Yuuto keeps his expression neutral, a blank sheet of paper. The sacrifice might’ve been over-the-top, it might’ve been what kept Neku from shooting him. Neku knew what it was like to lose him, and he didn’t want to cause himself that pain. Again.

“I dunno…” Neku continues, “I don’t forgive him, but he was my Partner, and you all know what that’s like. He chose me as a Proxy, playing some fucked-up game with the Conductor. At the end…”

“You don’t talk about what happened in that final room,” Rhyme says, moving away from the bed so they can look up at Neku.

“The Conductor got Erased, and he challenged me to a duel. Whoever won got to choose what to do with Shibuya, he wanted to Erase the UG. Even with that motive, even knowing everything he did, I couldn’t pull the trigger. And he shot me. Again.”

A slight tremor runs through Neku’s body. His Music is a cacophony of noise, but Joshua keeps the Noise at bay, even when he looks like Yuuto. There are no tears, but grief wells within Neku.

“If he won, why is Shibuya still standing? Why did any of us get brought back?” Shiki asks.

“Erasing the UG wouldn’t destroy Shibuya,” says Yuuto. “Just the UnderGround, and a shiny new one would grow back. Erasing the UG, however, would Erase the Composer. If the Composer is Erased with no one there to take his spot, no Conductor or person who beat them, then the UG collapses.”

Neku freezes, the guitar strings of his Music snapping as he whips his head toward Yuuto. For a second, he thinks Neku’s caught on, he’s been caught, but… “Oh my god. Did he want to die?”

“I can’t answer that. You did say he seemed depressed, though.” Yuuto doesn’t look up, grabbing a safety pin off his clothes to pick at his nails with.

Of course Neku hadn’t caught him. He shouldn’t even want that. And yet, the idea of Neku piecing together the puzzle fills him with a soft fuzz, warm because it’d mean Neku knew him well enough to see through his disguise.

Maybe if he had all his memories…

But that’s an impossibility.

“Still… I trust him, he and I were Partners. We had a bond.” Neku waves a hand in the air. “The least he could do is meet up with me, because I want an explanation, he owes me one. But no! It’s been two years, and he’s nowhere to be found!”

Silence falls, until: “Maybe he can’t?” Rhyme asks.

Neku’s head snaps to look at them, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Maybe… What if there’s rules you don’t know about, and he’s not allowed to see you?” they explain.

Joshua would hug them, if he could, but alas, it would be weird if he did that now, as Yuuto. He’ll send them a thank-you text tonight.

“If there’s a rule against visiting me but not one against shooting me then the rules are messed up. And if there is one, then he’s a hypocrite.”

Yuuto snorts, rolling his eyes. “Fair enough.”

“He still deserves to get punched in the fucking face,” Shiki says. “If I see him, I’ll chuck something at him for you.”

Neku laughs, and oh, no matter how much he gets to hear that nowadays, it still sends a buzz of energy through his stomach. Like being zapped by a lightning bolt psych.

“Well, if you get the chance, go right ahead, but make sure to tell him to stop being a coward, too.”

White light cascades from the rooftop of 104, obscured by the sun. He sits, legs dangling over the edge.

Rhyme climbs the stairs, and pops the door open.

Joshua doesn’t move. His edges are blurred, ink smeared and blended, and they can’t tell where he ends and Shibuya begins. Not RG, maybe not even UG, a frequency buzzing in the back of their head that sends static stabs through their skull.

They shove it to the side, and plop down by him. “So, sitting on the roof, huh? Wistfully staring out at the city?”

He snorts. “You know how it is: doubting life, and death, choices, being the emo seventeen-year-old you never got to be in life. Having a vague existential and moral crisis.”

“Is this… About what Neku said yesterday?”

“He’s right,” Joshua says, light surrounding him starting to dim. The harsh glow fades, and Rhyme can feel him slide down the vibes, into the RG. “I am a hypocrite. He deserves better.”

They headbutt him, leaning against his side. For all that Josh proclaims to be cold and dead, the warmth emanating from him is full of life. Maybe it’s fake, meant to comfort, or habit so he doesn’t alarm any of the group with clammy skin claimed by the grave, but they think it helps his mental state, too.

“He doesn’t want better though, he wants you. Tell me your side of the story.”

He sighs and flops onto his back, staring up at the sky. “He was meant to be my replacement. I wanted to be gone. I’d messed up bad, and he was so much like me, in so much pain, that I thought the Game could make him better, and he could free me from my misery.”

Looking down, the distance to the ground is far, the people below flowing like rivers, intermingling and dispersing. Individuals are lost to the crowd. “There’s more, isn’t there? You fixated on Neku for this, instead of anyone else.”

“Neku deserves to be the first to learn about that reason. Sorry, but it wouldn’t be fair.”

They nod, and swing their feet.

“You shouldn’t be so close to the edge, you know,” he says, and they laugh.

Pulling their legs up, they flop around so their head dangles instead, hair blowing in the wind. “If I fall, you will most certainly catch me.”

A rustle is the only sign they get that he moves, until he sits right on their feet. “And now you won’t fall at all. Beat would skin me if he knew I let you do this.”

“Nah, Neku and I wouldn’t let him.”

“So,” says Shiki, “you like him, don’t you?”

It would be useless to flail his limbs, sputter and deny her words, so instead, Yuuto sighs and nods. “What gave me away?”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’re pining, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. You sprawl yourself over him whenever he gives you permission, like a cat seeking affection. You’re always staring at him when he isn’t looking!”

A cat seeking affection, he snorts. “I’m just a big, cuddly snow leopard. I’m touchy-feely with all of you, how is it different with him?”

“Even on your bad days, you lean against him. You don’t let anyone else touch you, but he’s always allowed,” she says.

“I guess,” he shrugs, tapping his pencil against the paper in front of him.

Since becoming friends with everyone, his apartment had become lived in. Trinkets and gifts from the past year fill the space. Shiki has given him some plushies, and pillows with pretty designs rest on the couch where she sits. Eri’s gifts are clothes picked from the rack, if it’s not a joint-gift from her and Shiki in the form of clothes they’ve made.

Beat has taken to cooking, and Yuuto keeps his kitchen stocked. In return, he gets good food and a skateboard resting in the entryway closet. Rhyme gives stim toys, from the reversible-sequin snap bracelet to the rainbow tangle.

As for Neku… Art hangs on the once-barren walls. A landscape of Shibuya in watercolor hangs behind the couch, and a portrait of the entire gang is framed and placed near the entrance.

Papers and pencils are scattered everywhere. Neku keeps a case of art supplies here. Everyone has small projects that have taken up residency, and Shiki is working on one of them now. Stitching a snow leopard into existence.

“The thing you’re working on, it’s for Neku, isn’t it?” Shiki asks, breaking the silence.

He nods. “I’m composing. I’ve got most of it down, in fact it’s pretty much finished, but I’m worried… Will he like it?”

She looks over at him, a quick glance before her eyes dart away again. “What? Are you gonna serenade him or something?”

“Yes, actually, I am,” he says, tossing the paper to the side and himself to the floor. It’s pointless to sit on the chair when it impedes his creative flow. “But it’s so impossible to know if he’ll appreciate it. If he’ll understand my reasoning. I don’t even know if I want him to know yet!” he moans, rolling onto his side.

“Then play for me,” she says, like it’s the most simple conclusion in the world. “I can tell you if he’ll like it, at least.”

Yuuto perks up. “You’d be cool with that?” When she nods, he jumps, dashing to his room to retrieve the violin.

She doesn’t see it appear from thin air in his hands, doesn’t see his form flicker ever so slightly. He comes back looking like Yuuto as always.

“Serenade me, music boy.” She stabs the animal in her hand with the needle again, something to fiddle with so she can enjoy the music more, no doubt.

A laugh. He sets up the stand for his music, and positions the violin. “Now, ideally, this is somewhere like, WildKat, and I’m wearing one of your super fancy suits, but we can discuss that later.”

Yuuto raises the bow, and lets the magic happen.

Fast-paced, running through Shibuya streets with the beat, weaving through crowds and ducking into back alleys. It starts soft, then crescendos. He closes his eyes, letting the high notes weave together with the low.

The pulse matches time with the heartbeat of the city, spray paint graffiti hits the wall. The echo of a drum plays through his tune, noticed by its absence. A solo player is not a quartet, is not a band, and he does not have techno parts to add for a violin solo, but he lets the music do the talking.

Imagination weaves through the notes, calling forth the memory of other instruments, adding the illusion of more than there is.

Yuuto steps in time, sways, pacing a fluid circle to match his song. Not his song. Neku’s song, Neku’s Music. Music warped and persuaded into playing on a single violin, playing over the strings to describe him.

Magic is kept to a minimum, he doesn’t call forth the actual sounds, or implant them as more than elusive notes, but it’s impossible to give off the feel he wants without it. Impossible to transcribe the flashes of orange and piercing blue, the splash of color he brings everywhere, the conflicting notes and discord of life.

Joshua does his best, but there’s only so much he can do without dropping his disguise.

The final note draws out as the song comes to a close. The real one plays on elsewhere in the city, but he cannot play his violin all day.

Opening his eyes, he looks to Shiki, finding her staring on with awestruck wide eyes, and a jaw dropped far enough to catch flies. The snow leopard in her lap left abandoned.

He bows with a flourish, before setting his instrument down.

“So, think he’ll like it?” Yuuto asks with a grin that wavers like the final note.

“If he doesn’t fall head-over-heels for you after hearing that, you’re shit outta luck my dude.”

She stays unnoticed, trailing behind Yuuto after the weekly meetup. Shiki doesn’t want to suspect a friend, but he’s suspicious, plain and simple.

Yuuto doesn’t make it to every meeting, which she can understand, but it’s a regular occurrence every few weeks. He’s had lunch with a Reaper, chatting like old friends. He knows too much about the Game, more than any of the Players should know, more than Neku ever learned.

WildKat is the destination, and she hangs back to watch through the windows as Yuuto enters. Standing in the shadow of a nearby building, staying out of sight, she expects to find some shady business going down.

Shiki doesn’t expect him to have a fucking magical girl transformation.

Bathed in a glow of light, his features blur, glaring against the window. As it fades, black hair grows and turns white, his body shrinks, and the glasses he wears are removed. His skin goes pale, and–

She’s seen him before.

She doesn’t need to see the violet eyes or the smirk to know that frame. He’s talking to Mr. Hanekoma, facing away, but the picture rings clear in her brain.

Neku has filled pages upon pages of his sketchbook with that person. She’s seen him in the ink staining paper while he vents far too often.

The bell chimes above her head, and she’s faced with Yuuto again. The last vestiges of creamy light fading from view, dismissed as aftereffects of being in the sun if she didn’t know any better.

“Hey, Shiki, what are you doing here–”

The steel in her eyes leaves no room for him to finish that sentence as she marches over to him, her voice a snake’s hiss. “You have ten seconds to explain to me what the fuck I just saw, starting now.”

He slides off the stool, taking a step back from her pointed finger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He laughs, rubbing his neck.

“Try again. You changed. I saw that. I saw who. Six seconds.”

Yuuto scrambles, holding his hands in the air as he retreats, back to the window. “Okay, okay. It’s. Shit, it’s complicated. Give me a moment.”

She holds up five fingers. In the silence, she ticks it down to four.

“I can’t, okay? I can’t. There’s… A lot. Where do I start?”

“Start with why the fuck you’re hiding your identity from all of us!” He’s down to three fingers now, and as Mr. Hanekoma slips out of the room, she takes note of the steaming cup of coffee on the counter.

“Well,” two fingers. “I wasn’t hiding it from all of you. Rhyme figured it out in a month.” He takes another step back. “I just… I can’t tell Neku who I am, okay?”

“So you’re a liar, then?” One.

“No! Well, yes. It’s complicated, give me some time to–”

Gravel escapes her throat as she huffs, grabbing the cup and throwing it.

The scalding coffee never reaches its target, suspended in midair, lid popped off as some splashes over the edge.

Yuuto’s eyes glow violet.

The glow washes over the rest of his body, and vanishes when he blinks.

Joshua stands in front of her. Coffee hangs between them. His hand is still outstretched.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk over there and punch you. Or take a picture and tell Neku.” Her voice is flat, buried deep in the anger boiling in her stomach.

“You can’t tell Neku. If he knows, Yuuto will have to leave without a goodbye,” Joshua says, waving his hand so the coffee settles on the table. “I’d hate to do that to him, but you’d give me no choice.”

“You coward,” she spits, acid burning her tongue. “You’d do that to him? What, can’t face the truth? Can’t face his judgement of you?”

It burns. Fire burns in her, eating away at her stomach as the fumes leave her mouth. She’s biting back the flame, for now.

“It’s beyond my control! Give me a chance to explain, please!” His voice cracks, wavers like a pane of glass balanced on its edge.

“Explain what? How you’re lying to us? How you’re trying to manipulate me, so I don’t tattle? How do you explain shooting someone in the face? How do you fucking explain what you’ve done to Neku? What you’re doing,” she flings her arms wide, “to him!”

Reality splinters.

Time tips on its axis. Cracks run through her body, she vibrates a pitch just out of reach, on a different frequency. Static leaks into the air, humid and heavy. She’s frozen, an ancient crumbling statue ready to collapse, unable to hold back the torrent of power coursing through her.

It wants to escape. She gives it a channel.

Mr. Mew launches himself from her purse at Joshua, who scrambles back, collapsing on a chair as he tries to get away from the stuffed cat. Curses fly from his mouth as the echo of light flies from his fingertips, trying to bat the cat away.

All it takes is one hit and Mr. Mew stills, dropping to the floor like his strings were cut. Shiki stares.

She’d done that. She had made Mr. Mew move in the RG. She’d used a Psych.

Joshua is staring at her, she’s staring at the plushie. Her anger stewing in her stomach is stirred by confusion, cooling for a second to digest this.

Joshua stands, inching closer, but not too close. “You’ve still got your power, but don’t worry. You’re firmly RG right now, WildKat is on a thinner part of the boundary between the planes, and nobody in this group of friends has been left untouched by the UG.” Hesitance is scrawled on his face, and his hands bounce, fingers tapping at his leg.

While it helps her to know she hasn’t flipped to the UG, this draws her attention back to him, and she pierces him with an icy glare. “Don’t test your luck by trying to change the subject. Tell me what you’re trying to accomplish. Or I’ll try doing that again.”

“I want to be friends, is that too much to imagine?” he asks.

“After everything you’ve done? Yes! You’re playing at some kind of game here, and I don’t trust it. I don’t trust you.” She steps forward and picks up Mr. Mew, so he doesn’t go flying off again. She’s ready for some retort, some proof, or a laugh.

She doesn’t expect him to go blank. To shut down. He closes his eyes, and they stay closed for a few seconds. Arms go slack, mouth drops into neutrality.

When he opens his eyes, she takes a step back, because they’re dead.

Yuuto is known for his energy, his laugh, the glint of mischief in his eyes. He doesn’t sit still, he can’t. It only happens when he hits a slump.

Joshua very much resembles that rare Yuuto, cold and tired. Dull violet eyes meet hers for one second, before he glances away. HIs voice has slipped into a monotone as he says, “If that is what you believe, then there is no point in me saying anything right now. If you choose to listen to one thing I have said, let it be the fact that if you tell him, he will lose a friend.”

She must blink, because one second he’s there, and the next he’s gone.

Shiki: ^Rhyme listen trust me.^

^I need you to kick Yuuto from the group.^

^He’s trash we don’t need him around but you’re the one with admin powers in the game chat.^

Rhyme: ^Oh did you find out too?^

Shiki: ^Wait what?^

^You actually know?^

Rhyme: ^Of course. If he told you I do, then yeah, I do.^

Shiki: ^And you’re just???? Letting him stick around? You haven’t said anything!?^

Rhyme: ^I’ve always been able to tell.^

^I still have residual instincts from when I was a Noise.^

^I sensed something off about Neku’s second week Partner when I was Noise, and I remembered that. It felt the same around the Composer. And Yuuto. I put it together and he told me what was up.^

^He can’t mention the whys directly, so he dances around the subject until you figure it out. Hints and clues because I don’t think he’s allowed to say it or anything.^

Shiki: ^He’s been lying to us for a year now! And you heard from Neku what he did!^

Rhyme: ^I’ve gotten to watch him as both Yuuto and Joshua for a year now, though.^

^He’s the same person, always. A different face, a different name, but he’s got the same personality. Just, as Josh, he’s more open and honest.^

^I trust him. He’s helped me work through some of the residual Noise stuff, and he wishes he could tell Neku, tell everyone.^

Shiki: ^Then why DOESN’T he? Why not tell us all? He could’ve told me and Beat way earlier!^

Rhyme: ^The more people who know, the more likely someone will slip up and reveal it to Neku.^

^And besides, he plans on telling everyone after he tells Neku. Once he’s allowed, he will. I’ve seen how it’s eating at him, he wants to, but he can’t right now.^

^So no, I won’t remove him from the group. I don’t think he has many people he can befriend, and we’re some of the few he does. I’m not going to take that away from him. Besides, we’d have to explain it to the others, somehow, and I don’t want to reveal the truth and force him away.^

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #TWEWY Bang 2018 #submission

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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Gymnopédie- Part 1

Author: Alex Rating: Teen Word Count: Total - 10219 (including title names); this chapter- 2397 Pairings/Characters: Yoshiya "Joshua" Kiryu, Neku Sakuraba, Sanae Hanekoma, Sho Minamimoto, Daisukenojo Bito (Beat), Raimu Bito (Rhyme), Shiki Misaki, Eri, Megumi Kitanji, Ken Doi, implied Shiki/Eri, implied Joshua/Neku (mostly one-sided), agender!Composer, Neku's Mom Warnings: Suicide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of Voyeurism, Mild Language, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Major Character Death (?) Summary: Joshua said he just wanted one normal day. Hanekoma wouldn't deny him that, for soon the boy would have to take his duties as Composer seriously.He didn't think Joshua could die a second time.

Slowly and painfully.

Joshua sprawled across the couch. He watched the fish flit about beneath the glass tiles, then breathed out a sigh that made Megumi glance in his direction.

“Is something wrong, Sir?”

“No, Megumi.” He sighed again and rolled over onto his stomach.

Sometimes Megumi had to remind himself that this was a god and not some sullen teenger. “With all due respect, Sir, I do not understand why you insist on taking that form.”

“With all due respect, Megumi, I don’t understand why you insist on asking so many questions,” he said mockingly.

“My apologies.”

The malice melted out of his voice as he replied, “Forgiven.”

One orange fish bumped up against the glass below his dangling fingers. Of course it would be orange, he thought. There was no escaping it, was there? What a shame; he didn’t know what to do with the feeling other than run and hide. But even here in the one place he thought he was safe, the guilt gnawed at his insides, embodied in this moment by the dumb creature headbutting the glass. He closed his eyes, but that only made the incessant thump thump thump louder in his ears.

Noise. Noun. A sound, particularly one that is loud or unpleasant or that causes disturbance. This fish was definitely causing him some disturbance. He sat up. “Megumi, I’m heading out.”

The Conductor hid his surprise behind his mirrored shades. It had been many weeks since Joshua had been outside. Or even moved from the couch.

Joshua excavated himself from the cushions and swung his feet to the floor. He swayed a little as he stood, the room spinning around him, but that was just another inconvenience of keeping this human form. Having to worry about legs and balance and such. He checked his reflection in the glassy floor and shook the hair out of his eyes.

“Don’t let anyone in while I’m gone,” he said pointlessly. People weren’t exactly lining up at his door for a visit.

He chalked it up to paranoia. That was much easier than admitting to himself that it was hope that made him say those words. A vague, pathetic little hope that maybe someone out there cared enough to check on him.

Joshua tuned himself to a frequency that hid him from humans and Reapers alike as he weaved through the streets. After the events of the Game in which he staked Shibuya, his appearance was no longer a mystery. To be seen was to be recognized; no longer could he wander through the RG as if he were an ordinary kid.

Still, as he slipped through the doors of WildKat, its modulator jolted him down to the RG. He could combat it if he really wanted to, but what was the point? It wasn’t like Hanekoma got many customers. Joshua plunked himself down into at one of the many empty tables and waited to be noticed.

It didn’t take long. Joshua was nothing if not noticeable.

“Josh? What are you doing here?”

He definitely didn’t look happy about his presence, but he hadn’t kicked him out either. Joshua decided to be the optimist for once and take it as a good sign. He folded his hands on the table in front of him with a smile. “I wanted to pay my dear, sweet Producer a visit. How are the higher-ups treating you?”

“Your mess has given me quite a few headaches. You know, Josh—”

“Oh, hush,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence. “I came here for coffee, not a lecture. We can talk business later, Sanae.”

“We have to talk it eventually.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you get on with it?”

“Cash first.”

Joshua pouted. “Really? I have to pay? Do I at least get a discount?”

“You get to pay extra.”

He stood and shoved past him on his way behind the counter. “I’ll do it myself, then.”

Hanekoma looked down at him. “Joshua.”

“I’m the Composer; I do what I want,” he said over the grind of the coffee machine.

“And what happened the last time I let you do whatever you wanted?”

Joshua smiled sweetly and turned, hands clasped behind his back. “No permanent damage was done and everyone involved became a better person? I don’t see the problem.”

Hanekoma pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to ignore the headache that Joshua was giving him. He sincerely hoped he was joking, but it was impossible to tell with Joshua. He worked off of his own logic, utterly divorced from the way the rest of the world worked—“my secret garden,” Hanekoma could hear him saying—and maintained that everyone else functioned in the same way. In Joshua’s version of the world, communication was difficult, and understanding near-impossible. Even after all these years, Hanekoma couldn’t trace the arcane paths of his thoughts. For all he knew, Joshua may have truly believed that he had done nothing wrong.

“Do you need me to explain what the problem is to you?”

“Maybe, but I don’t care, and I won’t listen.” He busied himself with drawing a cat in his coffee with the creamer and cooed, “How about latte art, Mr. CAT?”

It was hard to tell if Joshua was talking to him or the coffee. He leaned over to inspect his work. “... Don’t quit your day job.”

“What, you don’t like it? I think it’s quite cute.”

“I think your ego is getting in the way of your judgement.”

“Ouch. You’re crushing my dreams, Sanae.”

“Some dreams need to be crushed.”

Joshua swirled his coffee around in his cup, the cat-ish thing he drew dissolving into a pale brown. “I don’t need a reminder. I know very well that dreams don’t come true.”

“Not with that attitude, they don’t,” Hanekoma replied automatically.

Joshua made an over-exaggerated display of abashment, his hand fluttering up to his mouth like an old-time actress about to swoon. “Even dreams have a problem with my attitude? How cruel!”

“To be perfectly honest, Joshua, I can’t think of a single thing that doesn’t have a problem with you attitude.” He nudged Joshua aside to make his own coffee.

Joshua hoisted himself up onto the counter.

“Please sit in a chair.”

“No. You don’t control me.”

Hanekoma sighed. “Actually, I do. Or at least I’m supposed to. Instead, here I am, getting sassed by a kid who never left his rebellious phase.”

“It is not a phase,” he said, putting his coffee down to cross his arms.

“Case in point,” the Producer grunted. “Spoken like a true emo teen.”

“Fair enough. I have been known to flirt with both ends of a gun.” He reached for his coffee again and took a sip.

Hanekoma winced in sympathy. He could practically hear Joshua’s fingertips and tongue sizzling from the scalding hot drink. Joshua didn’t seem to care, but Hanekoma picked up his own cup gingerly, hot even through its sleeve. “I don’t know who allowed you to get your hands on one.”

“Since when have I waited for permission?”

“Never, unfortunately for the rest of us who have to deal with the consequences. Sometimes I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth…”

As soon as that last sentence slipped out of his mouth, he saw something shift in Joshua’s face and knew he had struck a nerve.

He chugged what was left of his coffee and dropped the cup back down on the counter, chipping the edge, and jumped to the floor. “When I was alive, I was better off dead. Now that I’m dead, I’m better off, what? Not existing at all? Oh, believe me, if I had the choice!” He laughed sharply.

Hanekoma suppressed another sigh. He hadn’t really meant what he had said, but neither was he in the state of mind to deal with Joshua’s moods. It was easier to just let him go and deal with it after he cooled down.

Joshua stormed out the door and promptly phased out of the RG as soon as he was out of modulator range. Hanekoma could still see him, but he knew what was happening by the way his body blurred around the edges. Also by the way several people walked directly through him. He glared at them, which of course they did not notice. Their lack of response seemed to only make him more angry. Hanekoma pulled out his phone and dialed Megumi’s number.

“Keep an eye on the Composer. And please make sure he doesn’t get his hands on another gun.”

“Understood.”

Megumi’s mass call to the Reapers wasn’t really necessary. Even without being given orders, none of them would dare to tear their eyes away from their composer. He stomped through the streets like a force of nature, his corporeal form drifting off of him in ribbons to dissolve into the air like wisps of smoke. With each step, his glow grew stronger, until it was lightning stalking through the streets, sparking down the alleyways, sending beacons of light up into the sky. Noise vaporized on contact with his shimmering power, crying out one last time before being silenced for good. Reapers took to the air to avoid meeting the same fate. It was a good thing that the Game wasn’t running that week; every single Player would have been Erased.

Even a few people in the RG noticed the flashes out light out of the corner of their eyes. They looked around in confusion as the world around them lit up and shone and dimmed once more. Had they turned to the sky, they would have seen lights streaking up like reverse shooting stars, but instead they dropped their gazes to the ground and kept on walking, as ignorant of the world around them as they had always been.

Beyond their perception, the Composer phased through the bustling crowds. Feathers fluttered down behind him, and when they touched the ground, they burst into a shower of sparks and music. People suddenly found themselves wanting to stop by Hip Snake or Sheep Heavenly to buy some new swag. The trends were in chaos as Joshua’s influence ebbed and flowed and shifted the charts at an incredible rate.

As for the boy himself, well, he was still simmering with anger. Still lingering on Hanekoma’s words and his own and on the stubborn memories of his life that even now refused to leave him. His nails dug into his palm as his hands clenched into fists; he desperately ignored the burning behind his eyes. He turned abruptly down a dingy alleyway, one last feather spiralling from him. When this one hit the streets, it was more than just a pretty display of sparks. It became the epicenter for a final shimmering wave of power, spreading outward from where it landed and sending any Reaper bold enough to follow him scrambling for safety.

Joshua pressed one hand against the cold, rough brickwork. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly.

In and out. In and out. In and out and on and off and better off better off better off better off…

He pushed his hands up against his ears, but the words came from within rather than without, and he could not muffle them. Had any Reapers still been watching, they would have seen their Composer flicker, flash, and, finally, vanish.

Hanekoma’s phone rang. He was going to put it on Do Not Disturb until he saw the name on the screen. He picked it up.

“We lost Him,” Megumi’s voice said.

“What? Lost who?”

“The Composer.”

“You’re kidding, right? He was a walking light show two seconds ago!”

“I do not kid, Producer. It was too dangerous for us to get too close. He was there, and then He was not.”

“He… Alright. Okay. Fine. I’ll deal with this. You keep doing your thing, and let me know if anything else happens.” He disconnected the call and scrolled through the apps on his phone. Finally, Joshua’s tracker would be good for something. “I swear, this kid is going to be the second death of me,” he muttered as he headed out the door.

He followed the tracker through the streets, phasing through people just as Joshua had moments before. He retraced the boy’s steps, twisting through unused paths and sometimes directly through walls and barriers no normal human could pass, until he reached a dead-end alleyway.

The tracker said Joshua was here, but Hanekoma could see nothing but brick walls and rusted dumpsters. He nudged aside bags of trash with his semi-corporeal foot. “Joshua?”

His own voice echoed back at him. He narrowed his eyes and looked harder. Looked past the UG and the RG and all the parts in between, and the ones that existed below, and the ones that existed above. The outline of a boy flickered into view. He reached out to grab it. His hand closed around the vague suggestion of a limb, which solidified into a bony teenaged arm at his touch.

“Let go,” Joshua hissed at him, making a half-hearted attempt to pull away. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against Hanekoma. There was a reason he was the Producer.

“Kid, what the hell have you been doing?” Now that Joshua was grounded, there was no need for him to hold on. He released Joshua’s arm and…

Hanekoma stared at his hand. His palm was red with blood. He looked down at Joshua, who was hurriedly trying to bind his arm with part of his shirt. He wasn’t very successful.

“Joshua.” He held him by the jaw and forced his head to turn. He stared into those violet eyes, as lost and bitter as they had been when they first met. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

Joshua smiled crookedly, unwilling to show how much the Producer’s disappointment hurt him. “Believe me, I would if I could.”

Hanekoma released him. “You can, but you won’t,” he said. “Come talk to me once you’ve calmed down and are ready to discuss this like adults.” He turned, leaving Joshua to stare at his back as he walked away.

Blood dripped on the ground. Joshua laughed joylessly, breathlessly, uncontrollaby.

At least, that was what he thought. It took a whole minute for him to realize that he wasn’t.

Yoshiya Kiryu, god of Shibuya, was crying.

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #TWEWY Bang 2018

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

Text

Death of the Author

Author: Leasspell Dael Rating: T Word Count: ~11,500 Pairings/Characters: Pre-Neku/Minamimoto; Neku, Minamimoto, Rhyme, Beat, Shiki, Joshua, Hanekoma Warnings: Canon-Typical Discussion of Death, Depression, Swearing/Profanity

Summary: The Game is over, Neku and his new friends are alive, and Shibuya is still kicking. Trauma doesn't fade that quickly though and Neku struggles to process everything he went through--everything he learned. No matter how much he hangs out with his friends and tries to enjoy his new life, there's a darkness inside him he's desperate to hide.

Found-object art starts cropping up all over Shibuya, and Neku's pretty sure he's seen Minamimoto out of the corner of his eyes in the crowds. With Joshua and Mr. Hanekoma MIA, this might be Neku's one chance to get closure.

The question: is Neku willing to risk a meeting with the Reaper to settle old ghosts?

Neku keeps going back.

To Hachiko. The Scramble Crossing. Ten-Four. CAT's mural.

He keeps going back, and Neku doesn't know why. It's not just the incidental travels when he's going about Shibuya with his friends; he wanders at night when he can't sleep--

no timer no blankness no missing-time

--when he's alone and has no goals besides the passing of time.

He keeps going back.

He keeps seeing ghosts.

Not real ghosts; not Reapers or Players or Noise. Just--

777's collar spinning to a stop on the ground flowers under an overpass a small café littered with broken glass

--memories and nightmares; the souvenirs of a game he never asked to play.

Sometimes Neku visits the landmarks with purpose. Hachiko to meet up with Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme. CAT's mural in Udagawa to talk at Joshua. Shops where he's built relationships with the employees. Each visit part of his efforts to reconcile the Shibuya of his past with the Shibuya of the Game with the Shibuya he now lives in.

Some days he backslides; puts on his headphones and shuts out the world. He's not a saint, and change is hard. Some days Neku lives so thoroughly in the present, he can forget when he was alone; can forget when every day was a shot of adrenaline that never stopped.

Some days he checks his phone incessantly for a mission that will never appear and scratches at his hand to soothe an itch from a timer that will never count down to zero.

Given all of this bullshit scrambling his brains as he tries to survive one day after the other, Neku thinks he can be forgiven for thinking Sho Minamimoto was a figment of his imagination.

The truth started with a bullet.

Fucking Joshua.

CRACK his backside meets the asphalt it feels like there's cotton in his ears somehow he still hears...

"Blew it..."

"Ew; that's tacky."

"I think it's kinda creative. A commentary on our consumerist society; both judging and part-of..."

Neku looked up from where Beat was showing him a skateboard trick. In theory Rhyme was showing Shiki the same thing, but it sounded like they'd gotten distracted.

Across the plaza, sat a heap of junk. Not the towering monstrosities that Pi-Face had left littered around the UG in Neku's second week, but a person-shaped sculpture of found objects, wagging a scolding finger at the viewer.

It was similar enough to make the blood drain from Neku's face though. Beat just scowled.

"Maybe," Shiki conceded, face still twisted in a grimace. Looking over to the boys, mouth opened to say something--ask them for backup maybe--she came to a complete stop. Her eyes widened a fraction, before she glanced over her shoulder at the abomination.

Face hardening, Shiki scooped up her board in one arm and looped arms with Rhyme using her other, dragging them both over to Neku and Beat.

"Let's bounce; Towa Records has a sale on today I didn't want to miss."

Neku wasn't sure why he always went to CAT's mural in Udagawa whenever he wanted to talk to Joshua. He'd tried visiting the sewer access to the Composer's lair, but in the RG it was nothing but a storm drain. It didn't feel like anything special, except that his memories told him otherwise.

The Cat Café remained closed, though its insides were pristine when viewed through the window.

Minamimoto's rampage had occurred in the UG after all.

With the café closed, Neku had no way to contact Mr. Hanekoma; no way to reach out to Josh. Their numbers were no longer in his phone.

So he'd wandered over to Udagawa, crossing through alleys until he found CAT's last mural.

The paint was already beginning to peel--CAT had always made his murals transitory, but usually something new would crop up before the old one disappeared--but Neku still found comfort in it. He ran his hand along the wall, chips of paint flicking off with his progress, taking in the details that had yet to fade. Living in the moment.

Until his hand hit a pit in the concrete.

Jarred back into reality, Neku looked at the imperfection in the wall and felt his blood run cold.

It was a bullet-hole.

Suddenly, Neku was back in the moment of his death as Joshua loomed above him, gun pointed straight at Neku's heart--

--except, that didn't make sense.

Whipping around, Neku saw the spot where he had lain all those weeks ago. It was meters away. Wandering over, there was a matching bullet hole in the asphalt.

Returning to the wall, he ran his hand lightly over the imperfection.

"So where did you come from, then?" Joshua had only needed one bullet to take Neku out.

Then again, they hadn't been alone in the alley that day.

I blew it...

And Neku wasn't the only one who was shot.

Beat was fretting.

In any other circumstance, Neku would probably take the opportunity to tease his friend mercilessly. Beat took such pride in his 'tough man' attitude, that the mother-henning was a little adorable.

But it was about Rhyme, and for their group that would probably always make such teasing too soon.

Specifically, it was about Rhyme's ambitions. Or lack-thereof.

"But she has all of her memories back, right?" Shiki asked quietly.

Snorting, Beat crossed his arms defensively across his chest, kicking at a pebble as they wandered by A-East. "She knows things I forgot 'bout. She's still as smart--as skilled--as she's always been.

"Just... she's not doin' anything with it anymore. Tags along with me more often than not."

Unlike Shiki and Neku whose friends-groups pre-Game had been, respectively, small and non-existent, Beat had a large group of connections he spent time with, and Rhyme had had her own. While Beat had made the effort to reconnect with his other friends, Rhyme hadn't.

Apparently, she hadn't been doing much of anything.

Today was a rare day where she was separated from Beat's side by a group project she was doing for school, and Beat had wasted no time bringing his concerns to them.

"It just don't make no sense! Rhyme always had a million million things she was lookin' to do. Didn't have time for it all. We'd havta plan times to skateboard together just to make sure we had time to do it! Did... Did something go wrong?"

When they were brought back, Beat meant. When Rhyme was restored.

"She's been through an ordeal, Beat. We all have. And she's the youngest of all of us," Shiki was explaining gently, her hand lightly placed on Beat's forearm where the boy was clutching his hat in frustration. "If she's a bit clingy for a while, that's to be expected."

Neku followed along behind them, silently thinking that Shiki was wrong.

Well, not that Shiki was wrong. Shiki was absolutely right.

But Beat was too.

Neku feared that Rhyme wasn't going to get better, like Shiki was claiming would happen with time.

"I really admire how he has a goal and is giving his all to reach it! I wish I had something like that..."

"Rhyme was always the one with dreams and ambitions. I just said that thing about being the best skater so she'd stop looking so lost..."

"You fool! Her memories weren't her entry fee-- They were yours!"

Rhyme didn't get her entry fee back. Neku got his memories and Shiki back, Shiki her appearance, and Beat got Rhyme's memories. They were all brought back to life, but only Rhyme's fee had been kept.

Why? Because even though she was brought back, she had lost?

"Your entry fee has already been collected."

And what did that mean for Neku, who won every Game except for the last?

Still, Neku didn't know anything for sure. No point is upsetting Beat more than he was.

10-4 had one of Pi-face's statues sitting in front of it.

Shiki made a face as she dragged a snarling Beat into the shopping centre. Beat needed 'something nice' to wear to an interview for a part-time job and had made the mistake of mentioning this in Shiki's hearing. Neku kept strategically silent to prevent her focus from shifting onto him. Rhyme was giggling over their antics, which was always a win.

The statue caught Rhyme's attention, so Neku paused with her, grimacing slightly at it.

The core of it had once been a shopping cart--maybe two of them--but the wires had been beaten and reworked into a vaguely human shape. The framework was then papered-over with shopping bags from all the different stores in the centre.

It was trash and an eyesore, but at least it wasn't a literal heap of garbage like they had been in the UG.

"We are what we consume..." Rhyme murmured, her outstretched hand gliding over the contours of the shape, never quite touching. Hovering over an oddly placed wheel sticking out from a shoulder, she finally made contact, sending the wheel spinning before stepping back to observe it as a whole. "Do we move society, or does society move us?"

Neku looked at the statue, and just saw trash. "You really get all of that from this?"

Despite Beat's concerns about her ambition, Rhyme didn't seem unhappy. In fact, she turned to Neku with a beaming smile. "Oh yes! The artist has put so much passion into their work. They must have a lot of drive to be making so many in such a short amount of time!"

Plenty of time when you're dead, Neku supposed. "Sounds like you're a fan."

A blush dusted her cheeks, but Rhyme didn't look down or ashamed of her enthusiasm. Instead, she elbowed Neku in the ribs, a teasing grin twitching her lips. "Kinda like how you feel about CAT, right?"

CAT...

Mr. Hanekoma...

CAT's artwork was a major inspiration for Neku. Even back when he was too self-absorbed to actualize the message, he'd felt it:

Seize The Day.

During the Games, Mr. Hanekoma had been Neku's rock, the one person he trusted to lay out the rules and show him how to navigate the challenges.

Until the last week.

Why had Mr. Hanekoma been helping Pi-face? If he was helping Minamimoto, why was he there when Josh shot him the second time?

Why had he looked so gleeful?

To say Neku's feelings about CAT were complicated was an understatement.

Much like his feelings for Joshua.

"Yeah," he confirmed to Rhyme, not wanting to voice his thoughts out loud. "CAT's a big inspiration for me. Do you think you'd want to do something like these... things?"

The world went quiet.

Rhyme's eyes widened before she hunched in slightly, darting her eyes over to the Consumerist Nightmare that had so caught her attention. The blush on her cheeks deepened.

"Do... do you think I could?" she asked, a tremor in her voice Neku didn't think he'd ever heard from her before.

Oh god, do something better

Choose something more meaningful

Why would you want to

Neku squashed all of the negative thoughts. It didn't matter what he thought.

"Of course," he told her, slinging an arm around her shoulders in a half-hug. "Draft your brother into helping with any heavy-lifting, though, y'hear?"

Beat would complain vociferously over the next few weeks about Rhyme collecting trash and junk, but underneath it all Neku and Shiki could hear his relief. She was no longer aimlessly following him around, often co-opting his assistance even if he'd had other plans.

Rhyme had a dream again. And that was worth everything to Beat.

It gave Neku hope that whatever had been stolen from him was something he could gain back.

Now he just needed to figure out whatever that was.

It was fragile.

Sitting in the middle of the back-alley with CAT's last mural was another one of Minamimoto's things.

A ceramic bowl, attached to a collection of glass bottles wired together in a mass that was leaned against a squashed bean-bag chair, more bottles chained together on each side to create four sprawled limbs.

And to add insult to injury, it was all topped with a mop-head that had been dyed orange, with a set of earphones over the top of that.

Walking into the alley to see this perverse caricature of himself in the worst moment of his life...

The world stopped.

No chirping birds or humming cicadas. No traffic or conversation from the street.

Everything became that... that... Abomination!

Neku's blood rushed in his ears, and he clenched his fists at his sides, knuckles white. His palm itched. He couldn't catch his breath.

On the ground was a chunk of concrete. Neku didn't remember picking it up. Neku did remember throwing it.

Shattering glass sounds nothing like the crack of a gunshot, but somehow the two became linked in Neku's mind. The rock went straight through the "torso" and somehow Neku had just become complicit in his own death.

Blood spread out from his corpse and all Neku could see was Joshua's smirk and Hanekoma's mirth, and why were they taking joy in this? Wasn't it enough that he couldn't do what had to be done?

"For fuck's sake."

The Composer's throne room faded away, and Neku was back in the gritty reality of the back-alleys of Udagawa. Shattered glass was at his feet, and red liquid spilled from the broken bottles.

From the smell of it, it was paint.

And standing at it's head, a bundle of cloth under one arm, was the Grim Heaper himself, scowling at Neku as if he were the scum beneath his feet.

"You've completely screwed up the order of operations here, yoctogram. Breaking the glass was supposed to happen after it was clothed." He tossed the bundle to the side in frustration. "Do you have any idea how much your petty vandalism has upset my precisely calculated schedule? Just... just scram. I've got numbers to crunch."

And then Minamimoto crouched down, poking at the thing's torso, checking to see what was salvageable from his little arts-and-crafts project.

Never mind that the real thing was standing right in front of him. Neku was dismissed as if he were nothing.

Sometimes Neku felt like he was nothing.

(Sometimes that was a relief, not having the weight of Shibuya's fate on his shoulders, and sometimes it made him mad, because he was a person and he mattered.)

Neku stalked past Minamimoto, kicked the head off the 'statue' (which also shattered and leaked red paint against the back wall of one of the businesses backing on the alley), reached the mural and laid his palms against it trying to ground himself.

He was alive. He wasn't on a timer. He wasn't in the Game. Shiki was safe. Rhyme and Beat were safe. Shibuya was safe.

Kitaniji was an asshole. Joshua was an asshole. Hanekoma was an asshole. Fucking Minamimoto was an asshole.

"Woah woah woah there, kid!"

A hand around his wrist, and a jerk as Neku's arm's momentum halted. Neku stared blankly at the wall, at the flecks of paint slowly detaching and falling to the ground or blown away by the wind.

He fist pulsed with his heartbeat, and now there really was blood. When had he started punching the wall?

"Got some anger issues there, I see. You done dividing by zero?"

Neku jerked his wrist out of Minamimoto's grasp with a snarl before twisting to put his back to the wall and sliding down, bloody hand cradled to his chest, head buried in his knees.

"Fuck off."

The last thing Neku expected was for Pi-face to sit down next to him, looking uncertain.

"Not exactly a safe neighborhood, kid. Why don'tcha go home already?"

"Fuck you."

"Yes," Neku could hear the eye-roll. "We've established your masterful proficiency with our language. Chop, chop. Time's a wasting. Go home. Fix up your hand. Stop your delinquent ways. Yada yada yada."

But Neku didn't budge. Just closed his eyes and let tears he didn't even realize he'd been suppressing finally flow. They were silent, and pulsed with the same beat he could feel in his injured hand.

Proof he was alive.

"You really don't recognize me, do you? Did Joshua mind-wipe you or something?" Neku's voice was thick with his tears and muffled by his knees, but somehow still understandable.

And Neku knew it was understandable because Minamimoto, who hadn't been moving much anyway, suddenly went completely still.

The was a heavy silence. Then...

"Are you telling me," and Minamimoto's voice was dripping with dark menace, "That the Composer actually brought you and your little friends back and didn't erase your memories?"

So Minamimoto did recognize him.

"Why did you think your little re-enactment pissed me off so much?" Neku finally raised his head from his knees to make sure Minamimoto got the full brunt of his sardonic expression.

What he got in return was a shifty, uncomfortable look and arms crossed defensively across the reaper's chest.

"Always a chance there was a hidden remainder. I figured the Composer would've included a compulsion to stay away from here along with the memory suppression so it's not like I ever expected you to see it. Barely anyone ever comes back here. I wasn't really expecting anyone to see it."

Then what was the point?

Muttering something under his breath, Minamimoto got up and retrieved the bundle of cloth--clothes--that he'd tossed aside earlier before returning back to Neku's side, sitting down with a little 'oof'. Neku watched him lazily, cheek pressed against his knees. Anger still simmered within him, but he wasn't sure he still had the energy to do anything about it.

"Why did you get to live when people like 777, Nao-Nao, and Sota didn't?"

Minamimoto didn't so much as twitch, just grabbed the shirt from the center of the bundle and started tearing a strip off of it.

"Gimme your hand."

Neku didn't budge.

Rolling his eyes, Minamimoto reached into the cavern of Neku's hunched body and gently grabbed his wrist again, drawing it out from where it had been sheltered against Neku's chest.

The pain was beginning to hit, spots all over his hand stinging as they were exposed to the air. Without a word, Minamimoto began wrapping Neku's hand in the makeshift bandage. For someone whose very existence filled Neku with a rush of adrenaline, flood of anger, and inappropriate grief, his hands were surprisingly gentle as he tied the cloth off in a small knot.

"Seriously, clean and disinfect when you get home. Don't want to kick it over an easily preventable infection now, do we?"

"You could have destroyed Shibuya with those Taboo Noise... Of all the people Josh could have brought back, why did it have to be you?" Neku's voice was thready with exhaustion and grief and pain. Nothing made sense since Joshua shot him.

A sneer was the last thing Neku expected in response, though, not after his non-response earlier. Minamimoto stood up, brushing off his pants from sitting on the ground.

Half-turned to walk away, Pi-face stopped and looked back at Neku.

"If you think possibly destroying Shibuya was a point against me in that fight, you forgot which side you were playing for."

Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Neku did wind up with a slight infection in his hand from where he'd smashed his knuckles against the wall over and over again. Luckily, it cleared up without needing to go to the doctor, but it drew attention from his parents.

"Maybe you'd like to get into some kind of martial arts? Learn how to throw a punch properly?" Mom asked him.

"We might want to consider making an appointment with a therapist for him..." Mama murmured quietly to Mom when she thought he couldn't hear.

Nothing came of either suggestion, but it reminded him that his parents cared. Even if they didn't know what had happened to him during those three weeks he was missing.

Then again, these days Neku wasn't even sure if he knew what happened during those three weeks.

He hadn't been fighting for anything except for his life and then Shiki's life. He wasn't part of Joshua and Minamimoto's pissing contest.

He wasn't.

Of course, that didn't mean he hadn't been affected by it.

And Joshua had gotten his final chuckle at Neku's expense.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

Neku just wanted to be done already. He'd played this Game. He'd played it three fucking times. He'd chosen his soul over a guaranteed victory. He'd trusted that little fucker, no matter how often it turned out he'd completely screwed Neku over. Neku wasn't even allowed to play this game any more. Was this his punishment? To play the Game over and over until the Noise finally finally erased him?

Except people didn't walk by unseeing, ignorant of Neku's pain in their midst. Of his confusion.

People jumped away from him in shock at his yell. People looked at him--in concern, in irritation, in fear.

People touched him.

An arm around his shoulders guiding him out of traffic before the lights changed when he just stood there, gaping. Hands on his face, tilting his head back as paramedics checked his pupil dilation after an ambulance was called because he'd curled up into a little ball and wouldn't stop shaking.

Hands strapping him onto a gurney for the ride to the hospital.

He was checked over by concerned medical professionals.

No sign of head trauma. No concussion. Did you take something, kid? No sign of drugs. No signs of abuse or injuries of any kind.

Police officers with questions. What's your name son? Do you have any ID? No. He'd left it at home when he'd sulked out of the house... three weeks ago? Longer? Do you know your parents' numbers?

And finally, finally, Mom and Mama had swept in and grabbed onto him and cried and cried and cried. They were so relieved. Do you know how worried we've been? Where have you been? Are you okay? Don't scare us like this!

For the first time in three weeks he'd felt safe. They could scare away the monsters from under his bed and lurking in the closet. They would guard his sleep.

And that's what Neku did at that point. Just dropped off into an exhausted slumber, with no reaction but a few tired tears escaping his eyes.

When he'd woken up, he'd gotten the gist of what had happened in his absence.

The police had dismissed his parents' concerns, classifying him as a runaway. He'd turn up eventually, they said. (And he had.) Mom and Mama had been plastering the neighbourhood with missing posters, and with each day that passed they feared that they'd be finding a body instead of their son healthy and whole.

(Neku never told them how often he slipped away to Shibuya, so much that it felt like his real home, not the quiet suburb they lived in. Neku had to scour newspapers to discover that his body had been labeled a John Doe and his... death... was still an open investigation. Neku might have a pauper's grave out there somewhere. He's afraid to go looking.)

Neku apologizes over and over for running off that morning, for forgetting his wallet and phone, for taking so long to come home.

He claims he got overwhelmed and then got lost in his own head. Tells them about haunting the streets of Shibuya (figuratively). About making friends who helped him get to the point where he could reach out for help; helped him be ready to come home.

They went as family to therapy for a few sessions, but Neku refused to get into any details about his three weeks away. He just wanted to put it behind him, he claimed.

Neku knew telling the truth would just make things worse. So he kept his silence. Even among Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme they didn't talk about the Game much. So all of Neku's feelings about it were kept buried deep inside, a festering wound he didn't even realize he had.

Until he met Minamimoto in that alley.

It turned out found-object sculpting wasn't Rhyme's niche.

"She says she just doesn't feel it," Beat groused to Neku where they were watching Shiki teach Rhyme about different types of fabrics. "Decided she wants to give quilting a try."

"At least you'll get some warm blankets out of it," Neku said dutifully. In truth, he thought it was great that Shiki was getting a chance to share her passion with someone new. Shiki and Eri were working on restoring trust between each other after the miscommunication that had sent Shiki careening into Shibuya's streets, but it was complicated by Shiki's guilt over stealing her friend's persona during the Game. Which Eri didn't--and couldn't--know about. Things were still awkward between them.

"Don't see why she couldn't have figured it out before I hadta drag garbage all around town..." Arms crossed over his chest in indignation, Beat slumped against the wall emphasize his disgruntlement. Neku suppressed his amusement, simply nodding as-if in agreement. It was Neku's job to be appropriately supportive. Not an asshole. Besides, Beat didn't really mind.

"At least we know for sure now she doesn't want to be the next Grim Heaper."

Right. Minamimoto.

There were still a scattering of scabs on his hand, healing slowed by the infection he'd gotten from not disinfecting his cuts right away. Neku rubbed them absently, remembering the strangely gentle way Minamimoto had held his hand while wrapping it.

"Beat... What were we fighting for?" Beat's grumbling went silent. Across the store, Neku could still hear Rhyme and Shiki chatting excitedly, unaffected by the bombshell that Neku had just dropped. The line he had just crossed.

They didn't talk about the Game. Not really. Not directly.

They didn't talk about the Game, but they might recommend a store or store-clerk. Might talk about a shortcut, or a piece of Shibuya trivia. They'd never ask one another where they had learned about these things. Shibuya was precious to them, but the Game was to be left behind and forgotten.

They were supposed to be moving on.

"To live--for Rhyme; for Shiki."

That's right. That's what Neku had always thought. Beat knew it, had sounded sure about it. Why was Neku suddenly full of doubts?

"If you think possibly destroying Shibuya was a point against me in that fight, you forgot which side you were playing for."

Neku hesitated before speaking. It was probably just Pi-face playing mind games. Like leaving them to hang all week. Or that fucking statue of his.

But.

"...Was that all? Are we sure there wasn't something else?"

Darting his eyes over to check on the girls and seeing they were undisturbed, Beat grabbed Neku by the elbow and dragged him outside.

"The hell's going on with you? What else would we have been fighting for? Isn't the right to live enough?"

Jerking his arm out of Beat's grip, Neku scrubbed his hands through his hair. "Shut up. I know. It's just... How did we fit into that fucking bet?"

Now Beat looked at him as if he were crazy. "What bet? What's goin' on, Neku?"

Neku began to pace back and forth on the street in front of the shop. "What do you remember about the last day, Beat? After you snapped Shiki out of the brain-washing and caught up to me."

Because beyond his perplexing question about Neku's own role in the Game, Minamimoto had said something else interesting that Neku had merely dismissed at the time: that the Composer should have erased their memories. Neku had thought that was just Joshua being his usual contrary and dismissive self; but what if he had tampered with their memories? What if the reason they didn't talk about the Game was because they were compelled not to?

Brow furrowing, Beat scratched at the peach fuzz on his chin absently as he thought back. "Well, there weren't much time to see anything before Shades snatched us all up as part of his 'final boss' routine. We stomped him, then me an' Rhyme were waking up in the hospital, at the end of our 'recovery' from the accident. Was downright eerie how there wuz paperwork and everything from a long-ass stay we didn't even really do... Had cards from classmates and bunches of flowers..." Beat shuddered.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

They'd arrived after Josh's grand entrance and had Josh's gloating and final showdown erased.

At least they don't have to remember me getting shot...

"But you remember how messed up the Game was when we were playing, right? All the rules the Reapers were breaking?"

Lips thinning, Beat nodded and said nothing else.

"And didn't you think it was weird how you never got to see the Composer while you were a Reaper yourself?"

A gusty sigh. "Neku, I was small fry. 'Sides, Shades seemed to be running the show, if you ask me. Not sure how much work the Composer actually does."

"Kitaniji was running the Game. The Composer wanted to erase the Game and start over, or something, so Kitaniji made a bet with him--with Shibuya as the stakes. Without the Composer around, the rules started breaking down," a realization came to Neku, "Just as the fucker wanted to begin with. Argh." Another anxious scrub of Neku's hands through his hair. "If Kitaniji erased us, he won and got to keep Shibuya as it is. If the Composer won, he'd erase everything."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Beat slumped back against the wall. Through the store window, Neku could see the girls paying for their purchases at the register.

"So we'd've lost no matter what? Live and Shibuya dies. Die and Shibuya lives." Now Beat was scratching his head through his hat. "Wait a second, though. We're here, and Shibuya's here. How'd that happen?"

Through a mad man's twisted whims. Except Neku had just realized a flaw in his explanation to Beat; a memory brought back to the surface merely by talking about the event. Kitaniji didn't have to kill all of them--that was just the most efficient way to make sure he eliminated the Composer's

Proxy.

Neku. Neku was the only one who'd needed to die.

Or...

"I blew it...

...Not die in the first place.

Beat was trying to get his attention, trying to get the rest of the explanation, but Neku was lost in his own head.

More and more memories were pouring back. Minamimoto came to the alley that day trying to shoot the Composer in his weakened form--or so Josh claimed. Joshua also claimed that he would destroy Shibuya if Neku didn't shoot him and take his place. But Neku was supposed to trust his partner and he had and Shibuya had lived; they all had lived--even Rhyme who had legitimately lost but had been Neku's saving grace in the end...

Back it up. Minamimoto had shot at the Composer and had done so in the UG. Was it because Joshua truly was weaker there? Or Minamimoto just thought he was weaker there then proved wrong when Josh stopped the bullets. Or...

Or had he only decided to take the shot as Joshua lined up his own?

Rush of footsteps Neku turns Joshua running straight for him Gun rising Bullet flies past Neku's cheek Neku collapses "I blew it..." Looks behind Minamimoto with an arm graze Second gun raised Six shots A raised hand Tinkle as they hit the ground Minamimoto runs away Joshua takes aim at Neku supine on the ground and...

Josh had waited until the last minute to choose his proxy; Neku had checked the dates. He'd been 'missing' for three weeks and two days. One day to die; one day to be found; 21 days to play. Or perhaps there had been another proxy for the first week who had failed and Neku was the replacement.

If Josh had failed to provide a proxy, that was one less week where he had an opportunity to win. One less chance for Shibuya being destroyed.

Minamimoto had taken a huge risk when he'd summoned the Taboo Noise, but he might have thought it was worth it if it stopped the Composer from playing with all of their lives.

But why was Hanekoma playing both sides? None of this made any--

"NEKU!!"

"Gwaaah~"

"How the hell is Shibuya still here if we are too?"

Maybe it was selfish, but Neku didn't want to correct Beat that it was actually just Neku who had been the problem. Neku didn't want to be in this alone. Didn't want to reveal the final game where Neku had taken a leap of faith, uncertain if there was anything below to catch him if he was wrong.

So he shrugged. "Whims of a madman is my guess. Maybe the Composer changed his mind."

The girls came out then, and the subject was dropped.

If I'd killed Shiki and then been erased myself, Shibuya wouldn't have been in danger...

It was a dark thought, but Neku was in a dark mood. Mama had wanted them to go on a family trip to Hokkaido during summer break, but Neku had protested the idea of leaving all of his friends behind. He'd only just made them, after all.

"It's only for a couple of weeks, Neku," she'd informed him crossly after he'd objected yet again to the idea. "They'll still be here when you get back."

But would they? He was pretty sure they wouldn't purposefully abandon him, but Neku was painfully aware of how fickle life itself could be. None of them had planned on dying, but it had happened without their consent all the same.

He'd stormed out of the house without a word--though not before grabbing his wallet with his ID in it on the way out--and begun stalking the streets of Shibuya. His headphones were jammed over his ears and he was barely taking in his surroundings at all.

Neku was unprepared for a sudden presence grabbing his arm and the disorientation as sound from the world around him crashed back in.

"--KU!! Are you okay?"

Oh. It was Rhyme; Rhyme who had grabbed his arm with one hand and then used her other to dislodge his 'phones.

Working his mouth, Neku tried to force out some kind of appeasement to clear the worry on her face, but no sound emerged except a strangled whimper which only caused her brow to crease further.

Rhyme released his arm in favour of grabbing Neku's hand instead and Neku held on with a death-grip. They were near the underpass where she and Beat had had their original accident. He didn't want her to get hurt. She'd been hurt enough.

small creature light and fragile stronger than him and beat combined last ally when konishi attacked comforting weight on neku's left shoulder

But whenever they needed to cross an intersection, Rhyme would bring them both to a stop and hold his hand a little tighter while they waited for the light to change.

I wonder if she has nightmares about Beat running into traffic, like Beat has nightmares about her following him there...

Despite any issues she might have, Rhyme moved with purpose, getting him out of the streets where his inattention could do him harm.

"Welcome to Sunshine!"

So they ordered burgers and sat down to eat in silence. As they ate, Neku moved from appreciative of the silence to antsy about it. The world was beginning to encroach in on him again and he wasn't sure if he was ready for it yet.

"My parents want to go away for break."

Rhyme's eyes lit up. "That's great! Where are you going?" She looked at the dark cloud over his face. "Or... is it not great?"

He'd been planning to just mutter a vague complaint to minimize her worry, but somehow all of the poison he'd been hiding inside came pouring out. His irrational fears that something would happen to them--or Shibuya--if he left; the fact that he felt like his parents had always pushed him to make friends and were now tearing him away from them; that he feared if he left now he'd never get the answers he needed about what had really happened during the Game--that some invisible tether between himself and the district would be severed forever.

Rhyme let him spew it all out without a word or interruption, and when he was done she was smiling sadly.

"I get why you're so concerned, Neku," and Neku nodded while taking a vicious bite out of the burger he'd been neglecting during his rant. "But everything you're feeling right now about being separated from us? Your parents are feeling about the time you were missing for them." Neku choked and nearly swallowed his tongue. "All they want is a chance to reconnect with you, without all of the distractions of a place they probably see as having stolen you from them."

Guilt. Guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt.

Why hadn't he seen that? There was a part of him that was bitter that Mom and Mama hadn't realized he was dead--even before Josh's resurrection voodoo--and he hadn't even considered that thinking he was missing might have been just as bad from their perspective. Fuck, he was a self-absorbed ass...

"So I should shut up and go on the trip to appease them," he muttered, trying to ignore the flush crawling up his cheeks.

Surprisingly, Rhyme giggled at this and took a noisy slurp from her cola before explaining.

"No, Neku. You should shut up and go on the trip so you can enjoy yourself with them," she explained.

Oh. Yeah. Uncomfortable shift. That could be a possibility. He guessed.

"Want to hear about my day so you can put off processing?"

"Please." Surely she could understand him while his forehead was pressed to the table. She was young. She didn't listen to loud music. Surely her hearing was excellent.

And it was. Rhyme regaled him with her mundane errands picking up more fabric for the quilt she was working on, dropping off lunch for Beat at his part-time job, browsing the new music selections at Towa Records, and it was great until she started in on Minamimoto.

"Some of my classmates think the artist is going to be the next CAT, since CAT sightings have disappeared, but I'm not so sure. I mean, I love the sculptures, but CAT's works always came with a certain joie de vivre, y'know?" And of course Neku nodded along at that, CAT fan that he was. "I just get a sense of contained anger from most of these pieces--an obsession with the worst of us all instead of the best. Don't get me wrong they're powerful, and I love them, but I'm not sure they have what it takes to match CAT."

Neku could get behind all of that. Minamimoto was an angry bastard and he wasn't afraid to let everyone know they were beneath him, while Hanekoma was about lifting people up. He could hardly believe that anyone would even consider them on the same level. He didn't even get what Rhyme saw in the junk heaps.

"Although..."

That sounded ominous.

"I found a new sculpture today while I was wandering, and it's different from the rest. Did you want to see it?"

shattered glass splattered blood paint

No way. Minamimoto wouldn't have re-made it, would he?

With a sense of trepidation, Neku agreed.

The closer they got to the back alley in Udagawa, the more nervous Neku became. If he was right there, there was no way she wasn't going to notice the resemblance between the sculpture and himself. Then he'd have to admit that he'd died there, and since there was no vehicular access he'd have to admit he'd been murdered there, and the fact that someone else was recreating the scene means he'd have to admit that Minamimoto was there when Neku'd died, but wasn't the one who killed Neku (since he didn't want to crush the source of her new dreams)...

It was a mess.

"Beat told me you showed him a CAT mural back here when you were partners, so I wanted to take a look since people were comparing the sculptor to CAT, but the mural's pretty faded now, I guess you've probably seen that yourself, but there was actually a sculpture hidden back there too! I was so surprised, I wonder why they both chose the same isolated location?" She gasped and started slapping Neku's arm. "Oh! Oh! Do you think the sculptor might actually be CAT? Maybe something happened to disillusion them and they changed media to express that new outlook? But, the statues don't really have any of CAT's stylings, and you'd think it would be hard to disguise all of them..."

She babbled on and on excitedly as they walked, somehow not noticing how tense Neku was getting as they approached.

If Neku didn't already know that Pi-face was the artist she admired--not CAT--and hadn't been dreading what he'd see when they reached the mural, he would have enjoyed trading theories with her. It was the kind of nerdery that had gotten him ostracized from his peers before the Game.

Right now it was all he could do to just let her babble away as a white-noise background-track to his panic.

Sure enough, when they entered the alley Neku immediately spotted one of Minamimoto's monstrosities.

But it wasn't the one he'd smashed those weeks ago. This one was new.

This one wasn't Neku.

The wobbliness in his knees was hidden from Rhyme by her disengaging from his arm to run over to the sculpture.

The Neku-statue had been made from fragile glass; this one was all barbed-wire and pigeon feathers. This one was Minamimoto.

Not the arrogant Game Master or dismissive Taboo Noise-hybrid--no, this was Minamimoto at his most vulnerable.

I blew it...

Kneeling, one arm clutching the other--a single feather smeared with red paint to symbolize the trail of blood down Minamimoto's injured arm. An L-shaped block of wood held in the hand of the injured arm, ready to be transferred to the whole arm at any moment. A black cap over a red bandanna on the top of the 'head'; torso and legs wrapped in black fabric. The head angled not to look ahead, but at the ground in an attempt to hide the pain...

"It looks like the sculptor spilled their paint back that way--" where Neku had smashed his own likeness and relived the worst moment in his life, two sets of foot prints walking to the mural from the spill, and there is still paint in the grooves of Neku's sneakers, "--but there's something about this work that feels different from all of the others. It's not angry or mocking. It seems, I don't know... Private."

"Vulnerable," Neku contributes, remembering how it felt to see himself laid bare. "Lonely." Because when had Minamimoto ever had someone with him? Even his 'collaboration' with Mr. Hanekoma seemed half-based on threats of violence, and who knows which side the barista was really on? In a world where partnerships were the ultimate rule of law, Minamimoto had been fighting alone.

Approaching the statue and standing next to Rhyme, Neku let his fingers trail lightly against the bloody feather. "But still angry. Just... a simmering anger, not quite ready to boil over yet."

For the first time since her excitement over the statue had taken over her in Sunshine, Rhyme really seemed to see him again. "Neku... are you--"

Okay he was sure she would say, but she never did. Someone else spoke over her.

Spoke. Yelled.

"Hey! Get away from that you brats! Last thing I need is yoctograms like you ruining--" Then Minamimoto got a closer look. "Oh. It's you again. Well, scram. Go trash someone else's hard work."

Rhyme squeaked. It was a very familiar squeak. It was Shiki's squeak upon meeting Eiji Ouji.

(It was Neku's squeak upon discovering Mr. Hanekoma was CAT.)

Neku sighed, extremely put-upon. But Rhyme was his friend and, even if Minamimoto didn't know it, he'd done her a great service.

"Rhyme, this is Sho Minamimoto, the Grim Heaper. He was Game Master during the Second Week. Minamimoto, this is Raimu Daisukenojo--"

"Call me Rhyme!" (Much squeakier than her usual introduction.)

"--she was a Player during my first week."

Minamimoto squinted at her. "Weren't you smaller and pink and Noise-food?"

Well then. Minamimoto wasn't going to need red paint for his statue any more because Neku was going to smear him over the pavement!

Rhyme winced a bit but nodded shyly--shyly! Rhyme!--with a quiet "Yeah."

Before Neku could enact his violence, Minamimoto surprised them both by holding out a hand to fist-bump. "Good job keeping your sense of identity intact. Most Noise lose that within hours. You must've held out over two weeks."

Perking up a little, Rhyme grinned at the compliment while completing the fist-bump. "Well, I can't take all the credit. Mr. Hanekoma found me and Beat kept me by his side. I couldn't have done it without them."

Minamimoto scoffed before moving to fiddle with the back of the sculpture, attaching the metal appendages he'd brought with him. With the rattling the crushed soda cans made from where they were wired together, it was surprising they hadn't heard him coming.

"Look, Hanekoma coalescing you so quickly, and your brother carrying you around, should have bought you an extra day, maybe two. You did the real heavy lifting. Nevermind the fact that the Iron Maiden had you in her claws for a week before you came back. Don't sell yourself short, kid."

And Rhyme was just glowing under the praise, cheeks bright red as she looked down at the ground, a shy smile curving her lips. Was it really that her dreams hadn't been restored? Or was it her self-confidence that she could do them had been crushed after being knocked out of the Game so quickly? Was there a difference?

Neku stepped back as the two talked, Minamimoto explaining the technical details of what he was doing--the materials, how he attached the different parts to each other, the safety precautions when handling things with sharp edges like the crushed cans and barbed wire. And eventually he even managed to coax Rhyme into talking about her quilting project. Naturally he was most interested in the shapes and angles she was choosing to relay her message.

They talked and Neku wandered. He kicked the bullet hole in the pavement, scuffed his feet against the dried red paint and shiny glass-dust on the ground, ran his hands over the flaking paint of CAT's mural, and let his fingers explore the hole from a bullet that hadn't been aimed at him.

Just like with the Neku-statue, Minamimoto had placed his own statue in the same area of the alley where he'd been shot by Joshua. By wandering to the second bullet hole, Neku was now standing behind the statue.

Minamimoto had been busy while Neku had been wandering. The metal appendages were mostly attached by now, with only some extra supports currently being added by Minamimoto around the 'torso'. That meant Neku had a clear view of the additions.

They were wings--six of them--flared out and menacing. Without them, the statue had looked vulnerable, but now Neku could tell that from the front it would be much more menacing--a leashed threat. Injured, but not yet defeated.

Giving a quiet snort, Neku admitted that was pretty accurate.

Upon closer inspection, there were little notes attached to the wings on vertical hanging slips of paper. Each held a complicated looking math equation. Quietly, while Minamimoto was distracted talking to Rhyme, Neku took pictures of each one to look at later.

"What does it mean?"

A question asked innocently enough, but Neku froze from where he was coming around the statue to join them, looking to Minamimoto with panicked eyes.

The statue was more about the Reaper than Neku himself, but surely any explanation would require an explanation of the setting, and this wasn't something he particularly wanted to share.

There was a brief glance Neku's way, before Minamimoto started shaking his head. "You ever hear of 'death of the author'?" Rhyme shook her head, confusion written across her face. "It's the idea that when you create something, you have a set definition of what it means and as long as it's in your head that's all it means. But once you unleash it into the world, everyone who interacts with it will interpret it their own way, and that will probably be different from your own interpretation. It's not wrong, just because it's not what you envisioned, 'cause the minute you put it out there--changed it from private to public--your own interpretation as the sole interpretation dies; it's just one of many now."

Understanding dawned on Rhyme's face while Neku tried to keep his sigh of relief inaudible. "So you don't share your interpretation because you don't want it to influence mine?"

Minamimoto grinned and ruffled Rhyme's hair affectionately. "That's right. Not all creators do that; some want their meaning to be known. Hell, some want their meaning to be the only meaning. But I don't care what others think. I do this to exorcise my own demons. If people find their own meaning in that, good for them. Not my problem."

Rhyme was staring at Minamimoto with pure adoration on her face, and Neku sighed with defeat.

"Gimme your phone."

Well. Gob-smacked was a good look for Pi-face.

"What for?"

Neku rolled his eyes. "So I can program in my number. The group of us tend to meet up at least once a week. You should join us. Talk to people who know the Game but aren't in the Game."

Slowly, Minamimoto reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, then tossed it to Neku who caught it without blinking. Minamimoto squinted at him suspiciously as Neku opened the man's contacts to input his information.

"This is great! I'll have the inside track to where all of your new sculptures are!"

Minamimoto's attention switched back to Rhyme. "I mean, I guess? Why would you want to though?"

Neku snickered to himself as Rhyme treated Minamimoto to a tirade about the social value of his own sculptures--basically indoctrinating him in the meaning she derived from his works.

While the Reaper was distracted, Neku paged up through the contacts and sent out a quick text to "BOSS".

TEXT ME, YOU ASSHOLE!! You have my number. -NS

Then he tossed the phone back to Minamimoto, deriving great satisfaction when the other fumbled the catch a little.

It was the little things in life.

Josh didn't text him.

Shiki had volunteered to keep Neku company while he packed for his family's trip, but Neku had the feeling he was going to regret accepting when he saw the shark-like grin on her face as she lounged on his bed.

"Sooooooo..."

Neku rolled his eyes and ignored her, sorting through the shirts he wanted to bring.

"Rhyme tells me you have a boyfriend."

For a moment everything froze. Then Neku relaxed and kept sorting.

"Rhyme told you no such thing because she's not a dirty rotten liar who enjoys torturing me."

A page turned in the magazine Shiki was reading--or at least pretending to be reading--but Neku knew she was focused entirely on him, determined to squeeze every last detail out.

"Oh reeeeeally...? So you don't know a super cool street artist with whom you willingly exchanged phone numbers?"

At that, Neku had to snort. He turned around to face Shiki, who dropped all pretense of perusing the magazine and rolled onto her front to stare at him better.

"First of all? Minamimoto is kinda the opposite of 'super-cool'; he's a super-nerd. He likes math and trash."

"So you already know his likes!"

"Secondly," he continued, ignoring her interruption, "There was no number 'exchange'. I gave him my number in case he wanted a group of people in the know about the Reaper's Game to hang out with."

"So forwaaaard, Ne--wait. Reaper's Game? I thought we were the only players to make it out?" She scrunched her face up in thought, wiggling her glasses in the process.

"He's a Reaper."

All of the enthusiasm left her in a moment, alarm replacing it. "A Reaper?"

Dryly, "Did Rhyme leave that part out?"

Archly, "Did Rhyme know?"

Giving up the packing as a lost cause until this conversation was over, Neku gave Shiki his full attention. "Well, I introduced him as the Game Master from my second week, but she was pretty busy mooning over his most recent creation so it's possible she glossed over that part." He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Incredulity was the overriding statement on Shiki's face when he asked her that. "Does it... does it matter?! Of course it matters! The Reaper's tortured us for fun! You most of all! How can you ask that?!"

For fun? Maybe if you put Josh and Kitaniji's bet on the table, and sure the Reapers tended to take delight in their jobs but...

"He actually... wasn't that bad..." It was strange voicing it out loud. Neku's second week had been the hardest, partnered with someone he didn't trust, a Game Master aiming barbed comments his way (that in retrospect were probably meant for Joshua), Beat attacking him at random, the missing memories of his death, and the increasingly vivid flashbacks to his last moments whenever the three of them were in the same room. But Minamimoto had spent most of that week preparing for Day 7 and taking Joshua out. Most of that week had been spent doing Josh's little errands and being on edge waiting for a mission to come in.

The main trauma Minamimoto had caused Neku was 'killing' Josh, but Josh hadn't been dead at all, and hadn't been who Neku thought Josh was--it was all a confusing mess that Neku tried not to think about these days, especially as Joshua seemed to have no inclination to set the record straight.

"Neku, I don't want to discourage you from making friends, but... He's a Reaper; they're not even human any more.

"But they were, once," Neku whispered, picturing skeletal wings extended from Beat's back. "Players like us who reached the end of the Game, but weren't granted a second life. So they make due with what they have, and erase Players to keep what existence they've managed to retain from fading away. They're just like us--they just want to live."

Shiki bowed her head, dark hair obscuring her face. "And when that lady Reaper told you you could win by erasing me, even though it was against the rules, that was just her trying to survive, right? When our Game Master kept singling me out as an ingredient in his recipe, that was just him being like us?"

Shit.

Sometimes Neku forgets how easy it was not to care about what was happening to him--what he was doing--in that first Game, with no memories to weigh him down. Forgot how horribly he treated Shiki, because she forgave him so easily.

Forgot that he wasn't the only one traumatized by what they experienced.

Neku got up off the floor and joined Shiki on the bed, grabbing her in a hug.

"What we experienced... what you went through in that first Game... It wasn't supposed to be like that. There were other things going on, games within the Game that screwed up all the rules. That's why Mr. Hanekoma was able to save you from me that day--what Pinky did was against the rules. And... and I'm so sorry that I tried to k... kill you. I'm so sorry."

"You didn't know."

"It shouldn't have mattered!"

But Shiki pushed back from where she'd buried her face in his chest and shook her head harder. "Neku, you didn't know. Not just that it was against the rules, but you didn't know what the Game was, or why we were playing. You didn't know who you were or any kind of learned morality. They took all that from you. Mr. Hanekoma didn't just save me, he saved you too. That's why I can't forgive them. They stacked the deck; over and over. I don't know how you can forgive them."

Neku sighed, running his hand through his hair nervously. "I don't know how you can forgive me," he muttered, then waved off her protests--they'd had that argument before. "It's... Look, there's a lot more history between me and the other Reapers just because we were playing against each other so long. Pinky, Lollipop, Def Märch--all of them helped us out when push came to shove and Shibuya was in danger; when things went completely off the rails. And with Minamimoto... he never made it personal like some of the others did--especially to you. He... It wasn't his fault I was dead," not that Neku realized that at the time, "and it wasn't his fault I was playing the Game," that was Joshua--from what Neku knew, most Players had a choice--"and even though the rules said he should have been hunting me down aggressively, he pretty much ignored us 'til the last day when he couldn't any more."

And when the Game was over and done with, something about Neku's involvement had haunted Minamimoto after the fact. There was part of Neku who wanted to know more about the Reaper who valued the lives of the living; who valued Shibuya, just as it was.

"He's... not all bad," much to Neku's own surprise.

Pursing her lips, Shiki crossed her arms defensively across her chest. "I can't promise I'll like him... But I'll give him a chance."

A weight that Neku didn't realize he'd been carrying came off his shoulders. Since when was Minamimoto joining them that important to him? Inviting him had been a spur of the moment decision. And it's not like Minamimoto had texted him yet, anyway. He might never show up.

All the same, he pulled Shiki into another hug--another great benefit of having friends: human contact.

"Thanks Shiki," he breathed into her hair. She relaxed into the hug and squeezed him back.

"Now what's up with all the text books? You're seriously going to work on your math homework while on holiday? Do it on the last day of break like the rest of us plebes!"

Neku laughed at the joke and hoped that it hid his blush. He pointedly didn't think of the photos of the formulas from Minamimoto's statue sitting on his phone.

He didn't unpack the math texts.

(He did wait until the last day of break to do his homework.)

To Neku's surprise, Minamimoto did eventually text him shortly after break was over.

Where u yoctograms meeting? -Sho

It was a start.

It was a disaster.

Minamimoto... didn't play well with others.

Well. Okay. Rhyme thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread and could usually distract him by chatting about art things. But Beat was always about two seconds from starting a physical fight whenever the Reaper started insulting him... which was also about every two seconds.

Shiki kept shooting Neku these looks, and Neku had to keep avoiding her gaze because nope. Nope nope nope. He did not have a crush on Minamimoto. Just... a weird and complicated history.

(Neku may have worked on those math equations while in Hokkaido, but it's not like he got very far with them. Mom had been concerned about the school assigning work that was too hard until Neku explained that it was for a personal project. Then she'd just been bewildered.)

Most days, Neku served as a mediating force with Rhyme, smoothing out the rough edges in the group.

On the days when he hated Minamimoto for killing Josh and killing Neku himself...

Well, on those days he tended to shove on his 'phones bounce pretty early. On those days even Beat gave Neku concerned looks.

But... despite all the ways that it shouldn't work, Minamimoto began to integrate into the group.

Every now and again, though, there was a reminder that the Reaper wasn't exactly 'one of them'.

"Can't make it," Minamimoto grumbled around a mouthful of ramen as they planned an excursion to the skateboard park for the following week.

"You're dead," Beat rolled his eyes, fist planted in his cheek as he looked mournfully at his own empty bowl. "What could possibly be so important you'd bail?"

Shrugging, Minamimoto slurped up another mouthful of noodles, speaking around them.

"Work."

Shiki startled, her knuckled going white as she gripped her chopsticks. "Work as in...?"

Another shrug.

The rest of the meal passed in uncomfortable silence.

"Seriously? We're waiting for the light like a bunch of grade schoolers? There's nothing coming!"

Neku was making 'abort!' motions behind Rhyme's back, but it was too late, he could already see her tensing.

"We all died in traffic accidents. We've learned the hard way the importance of looking both ways before crossing the road."

Usually when Rhyme talked, it was bubbly and cheerful, especially to Minamimoto. Now it was flat and challenging.

Yet, surprisingly, Minamimoto didn't comment on the change in her demeanour, didn't push this new button he'd found.

Instead, he looked over Rhyme's head and locked eyes with Neku. "All of you, huh?"

Neku turned his head to the side, and refused to catch the Reaper's eyes for the rest of the day.

Today Neku's wandering had brought him back to Udagawa and the alley in which he'd died.

Most days Neku's wandering brought him back here.

This time it had been on purpose, though. Minamimoto had been... persistent about trying to talk to him since the Crosswalk Incident two days ago, and this wasn't the kind of conversation Neku wanted to have in front of the others. So Neku had returned to the alley, and texted Minamimoto to let the Reaper know where he'd be.

The Wounded Angel statue was still sitting there, metal parts showing a lot of rust as time had passed. Meanwhile, CAT's last mural was nearly unrecognizable.

Even Neku's paint 'blood-stain' was almost completely worn away.

Two small holes in the concrete and asphalt could still be seen, if you knew where to look for them.

Neku wasn't looking.

Neku was sitting on the ground again, his back to the wall, head buried in his knees.

He knew Minamimoto had arrived when the Reaper threw himself down to sit beside Neku in a sprawl of limbs.

"Why don't any of them know?"

"Know what?" It was a useless deflection, but just the thought of having this conversation was exhausting.

Irritation crept into Minamimoto's voice. "Not one of them looked shifty or guilty or anything when Noise-girl claimed you all died via vehicular impact. They just looked like it was an accepted fact. Now, I know you didn't get hit by a car. And you know," here there was the muted sound of knuckles rapping against the ground, "You didn't get hit by a car. So what gives? Thought you were into all that sharing and caring crap."

Neku snorted. "We talk about our lives, yeah. But we got all of that talking about our deaths stuff out during the Game. We're trying to move on."

"Uh-huh. I seem to recall you accusing me of killing you at one point. Seems like you might have been a fraction confused about things during the Game."

The elbow to Neku's ribs was completely unnecessary. Neku finally twisted his head to look Minamimoto in the face.

"Josh had more fun stealing my memories before the Game than after. I didn't know what really happened until the end. And even when I thought it was you, we didn't have a lot of time for heart-to-hearts during the last week. Too much to do, not enough time."

"And your friends just assumed you were just like them? Didn't even bother to ask?"

A shrug. "Like I said, we don't really talk about it."

Except Neku was thinking about it now, that moment when he saw Joshua running toward him, gun in hand. The crack of the gun firing. The lack of identity and confusion during the first week. The confusion and desperation of the second. The confusion and desperation and grief of the third.

Only for it all to be just... a game. A stupid bet.

And an entry fee Neku will never get back, because he lost, even if Joshua proved himself trustworthy in the end.

An entry fee Neku doesn't even know.

Neku shudders, burying his face back in his knees.

A tentative arm wraps itself around Neku's shoulders. The surprise of it pulls his head out of his arms again, to see Minamimoto looking up at the sky, idly scratching his cheek with his free hand.

There a slight tinge of red to his cheeks.

Neku's own face heats up, but...

He's so tired. And the human contact is... nice. Especially without the need to explain... everything.

So instead of pulling away, Neku slumps into Minamimoto's body heat, soaking it in, letting it chase away the chills of Neku's own anxiety.

They don't say anything else. Just sit there, side-by-side, with Minamimoto's arm around his shoulders.

(Neku is never going to tell Shiki that she was right; he might have a tiny crush on Minamimoto.)

"I'm surprised Minamimoto didn't harass him into telling the others. It's not like him to take on this touchy-feely stuff himself."

"Now, Sanae, you forget that our dear Sho doesn't play well with others, no matter the progress he's making on his social skills--he's never going to be the type to encourage 'sharing-and-caring' as he put it."

"Sure, Boss, but doing the comforting himself? Didn't really seem his style."

"Tee hee. He really is making progress! But I think it has more to do with the subject in need of comforting than anything else."

An arched eyebrow. "Really? Minamimoto? And our Neku?"

"I nudged their paths into meeting for a reason, after all. During the Game, Neku showed a remarkable ability to draw people together and bring out the best in them--even when he was showing his own worst. The other districts aren't going to keep loaning me their Conductors forever, and Shibuya has few candidates. But one that doesn't play well with others? Well. That needed to be fixed first."

"And it doesn't bother you? I know you had your eye on Neku yourself..."

A pause; a tinge of regret. "I never should have inserted myself into the Game. You yourself reported how our Frequencies interacted to Neku's detriment. If I had waited until he was more stable... Now, there's too high a risk of destabilizing him again. No; our paths have diverged now, and walking back down that path can only lead to ruin."

"So. When are you going to tell the new Conductor about his promotion?"

"...Not quite yet.

The sun was setting and it was getting colder. Even with Minamimoto's body-heat, sitting on the concrete was leeching the warmth from both of them.

With great effort, Neku climbed back to his feet, stretching out the kinks in his muscles from being still for so long.

Looking back, Minamimoto's arm had fallen back to his side, but beyond that he hadn't moved. Just sat there, staring at his own legs.

Neku thought about it for a second, taking into consideration their complicated history, their recent interactions, the understanding they were developing, and the small warm feeling in his chest.

Then he held out his hand to help the Reaper up.

"C'mon, Sho. I'll treat you to a burger."

Head snapping up, eyes wide, Sho tentatively accepted the hand up, before burying any hesitation with his usual smarmy grin.

"Least you could do after making me sit on the ground for hours..."

"Yeah, right," Neku snorted, his own grin beginning to form as he shook off the ghosts that were haunting him, at least for now. "I totally twisted your arm there..."

They walked out of the alley, bickering warmly with each other, and that small warm feeling in Neku's chest burned just that slight bit hotter.

It was a possibility; a Someday. Proof that whatever Josh had taken from him, Neku still had a future.

And hopefully--in some form--Shiki, Beat, Rhyme, and Sho would all be part of that future.

end

Feedback always welcome!

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #TWEWY Bang 2018

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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TWEWY Bang 2018 END

Another Bang year has come and gone! Thank you to everyone who participated this year (even if you didn’t finish) and thank you to all the fans who like and reblog the content our participants make each year!

Hope everyone has been enjoying Final Mix! If you’re new to the fandom or coming back because of it and missed the opportunity to be with us, don’t fret! We’ll be back next year too! So long as there are players, our Game will continue to exist.

See you all in 2019!

~ Kirvee and Li

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #TWEWY Bang 2018

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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Ties We Bind (& Break), Chapter 3

Author: @composeregg Rating: T Word Count: 15435, Chapter total: 3415 Pairings/Characters: Joshua/Neku, Shiki/Eri, Joshua & Neku & Shiki & Beat & Rhyme & Eri in a queerplatonic poly-pile relationship. Hanekoma, Kariya. Warnings: Includes depression heavily, and mentions of suicide. Summary: One year after the Long Game, a tall boy named Yuuto Kimura, who has messy black hair, glasses, and bright green eyes, stumbles into Neku’s life, and he can’t help but let him get close, letting him join the circle of friends.

(But every rule has a loophole.)

Author’s Note: Each chapter is also being added to ao3! Here! (Small delay per chapter).

Featuring autistic/neurodivergent characters, the “Joshua is Neku’s Dead Best Friend” theory, and lots of headcanons abound.

“So not that you ain’t cool, man, but what’cha doin’ at this meet?” Beat asks, looking at Yuuto.

They’re gathered at Hachiko on a Saturday, like they’ve done twice a month since the Game. Without Eri, so they could hang out as former Game Players.

At least, Beat thought that’s what this was, but Yuuto is standing near. He’d tagged along with Neku to the meetup. None of the others are questioning it, and it makes Beat feel left out of the loop.

“Mm, and here I thought this was for people who’ve played the Game,” he says with a smile, and Beat freezes.

“Sorry, I told him I was meeting up with you guys and he invited himself along,” Neku says. “I told Shiki already, she was the first to show up last Sunday besides me, so we got to chat, but yeah. He apparently played a few years back.”

“It’s been a while since my Game week. I got to play under the previous Composer, in fact; there’s been a regime change since.” Neku frowns at that statement, a flicker across his face before it’s gone, but Beat catches it.

He also notices Rhyme’s reaction, or… lack of it. So he nudges them. “And how come you ain’t surprised by this?”

They shrug, hesitating. “I… I could feel it. My instincts said he’d been touched by the Game, and trusting your instincts is important.”

Ah.

Beat wraps an arm around them, giving a big squeeze. He knows they haven’t told the others yet, and he hasn’t either, but they don’t keep secrets from each other, and… Being a Noise for a bit did something to Rhyme. They get glimpses of the UG, see and feel the presence of Noise, and sometimes they talk about it. Noise running on basic emotions, how it’s heightened their instincts, and how they have to restrain those more now.

Being a Reaper means he didn’t get out unscathed either. The UG is greyscale, hazy, but there in his sights. Power pulses under his skin, buried deep in his core. It’s locked away, he can’t reach it, but if he could…

It’s not a risk he’s willing to take. Beat doesn’t want to be a Reaper, and he doesn’t need that power.

“So, where should we hang out today?” Shiki asks, steering the conversation back onto the tracks. “I’d offer the studio, but Eri said she wanted to get some work done, so she’s there right now.”

“Me and Rhyme’s parents is home, so our place is a no-can-do, sorry yo,” he says.

“And my place is too small to hold us all. Or at least, my mom thinks so, and she’s home.” Neku sighs.

Yuuto grins, and chimes in, “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, asking if you’d like to come to my place, but… Like I said before, rich parents and I live alone.”

“Cool wit’ me,” says Beat, and the others agree.

One quick walk later and, “You live here!?” Shiki gasps, holding a hand to her chest. “If you can afford a Pork City apartment, you must not’ve been joking about rich family!”

“Not just any apartment, the penthouse. The lap of luxury, all to myself!” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “It’s so boring and lonely being isolated there all the time.”

It’s an expensive place to rent, Beat knew that, but as they walk through the halls illuminated by chandeliers and past lounges and rooms of all sorts to the elevator, it starts to sink in just how extravagant this place is.

“It’s a bit much, I think,” Yuuto says, “but I’m not gonna argue where my parents put me. Just a heads up though, a lot of Reapers live here too. I think it’s part of being in the Game, they still need a place to stay, after all.”

With a flourish, he opens the door, and plops down on a recliner chair. Beat follows him in, as do the rest, and Yuuto instructs them to make themselves at home so they all get situated. Neku stakes a claim on the other empty chair, while Beat ends up on the couch, Rhyme in the middle, with Shiki on the other end.

“Sooo,” says Yuuto, “what do y’all do when you gather like this, Players only?”

“Talk, vent, throw stuff at each other, make bad jokes and memes,” Neku says, slipping his headphones down so they rest around his neck. “We should probably share Game stories first, since you’re new here.”

Yuuto nods. “Mm… Well, I played about two years ago. My partner was Uzuki Yashiro,” he says, continuing without noticing the way the rest of them tense, the way the background music jumps as the CD hits a scratch. “She’s a Reaper now, as far as I know. We did not get along well, but we survived.”

“She’s awful,” Shiki groans. “We all had to deal with her, and she’s a manipulative slimy asshole.”

“Sounds about right,” he says with a snort. The next words out of Yuuto’s mouth were softer: “My Fee was my friend’s memories of me. They managed to nitpick something I’d done, and I didn’t get it back. He remembers nothing.”

Neku winces, Shiki gasps, Rhyme closes their eyes and sighs, and Beat… He can only think of Rhyme, and how they never recognized him as their brother. Every little thing they should’ve been able to think of, from calling him bro to their jokes and the quiet nights they’d whisper to each other, not wanting to be alone. Losing that, forever?

It’d destroy him.

“I can’t imagine what it’d be like to forget someone so close to you forever,” Neku says. He’s sitting sideways on the chair, legs draped over one of the armrests and his head against the other. “I mean, the memories are just gone? How do you not realize you’re missing something? How do other people not notice, if they were so close to you?”

“I remember,” Rhyme sighs. “I remember what it was like to forget. It’s like, you know that person exists, know who they were to you, but all the little details were gone. Name, face, specific memories… dust in the wind.”

Beat wraps an arm around them, and they lean on him. Soft touches, a solid presence, reminders that they’re there for each other. That they haven’t left or forgotten.

Yuuto nods at the words, and dangles himself upside-down off the chair, hair skimming the wooden floor. “He doesn’t remember me. He knows he had a friend, but I haven’t tried to rekindle that bond… I miss him, but I lost it all when I lost my Fee.”

“Well hey, maybe you’ll get another chance someday!” Shiki says, cheer infused in her voice. “Not every end is final, and even if he doesn’t remember the details, I’m sure he’d love to have an old friend back.” She’s hops up on the back of the couch, feet hanging in front of the back cushion.

“The world begins with you and all that jazz, huh?” Yuuto snorts. “Your world gets bigger if you reach out to others. Maybe I’ll tell him, sometime. For now, I’ll wait and see what the future holds.”

Chat: [It’s not gay if we’re dead]

[Emo gay has added Yuuto Kimura to the chat]

Emo gay: Welcome to the dead kid’s club.

A lot of this chat is Shiki yelling about how cute Eri is.

An entire 50% of this chat is all of us being queer.

Fashion lesbian: Listen,

She’s beautiful and I’m gay as hell.

And she’s not in this chat so I’m allowed to scream.

Yuuto Kimura: Noted.

[Yuuto Kimura has changed their name to Music queer]

Music queer: I figured I should fit the theme.

Space battery: Nice name!

Music queer: Thanks I picked it out myself!

I must ask, though, why battery?

Space battery: I’m triple-A.

Skateboard ace: And they always got enough energy to charge up everyone else

Space battery: Beat,

You should take a look at yourself sometime, you’ve got enough energy to power the sun!

Emo gay: Another 20% of this chat is these two being adorable siblings so jot that down.

Music queer: What’s the last 30%?

Emo gay: 20% memes and dead jokes, 10% depression.

Music queer: You know what? Valid.

I think I’ll fit right in.

Rhyme likes Yuuto, they really do! It’s been a month since he’s joined the group, and he’s been nothing but fun. Maybe not the nicest, he likes to tease Neku, but he’s got good intentions, so they like him!

It’s just…

There’s something wrong about him.

Indescribably, horrifically wrong.

Noise do not draw near him. If one gets too close, they freeze and dart away. His mere presence wards them all, and Rhyme can sense it, the Noise are afraid.

Rhyme knows this, because they feel the same.

An instinctual terror, prickling at the hair on their arms, raising the alarm. They squash it down, tuck it away until it doesn’t bother them, but it’s there. Clawing at the back of their throat.

They’ve felt it before, in the presence of Neku’s 2nd week Game Partner. Joshua.

It’s fuzzy, grey-scaled and water-damaged, but they remember being a Noise, operating on instinct alone. They remember when they were returned to a human form, to life.

They remember the Composer.

So they message him.

Rhyme: Hey can we talk today? At WildKat, preferably.

Yuuto: Sure. May I ask why?

Rhyme: You can, but I’m not answering that here, only in person.

Which is how they find themself seated in a booth across from Yuuto after school that evening. Untouched coffee sits before both of them, steam curling up and away.

“So,” he draws, picking up his cup, “Are you going to answer my question now?”

They nod. “Your name is actually Joshua, and you’re the Composer.”

Coffee splashes over the table and over his lap as Yuuto flinches back and drops it. With a yelp, he jumps up, hissing, “Ow! Fuuuuck that’s hot!”

They watch as he hops around, grabbing at napkins to clean up. With a roll of their eyes, they say, “I’m right, aren’t I? You can use your powers if I am, no sense hiding them.”

He spares a glance at Rhyme, and then waves a hand to make the mess disappear.

“Well, I’m sure that answers your question,” he says, sliding back into his seat. “Do I get to know how you figured it out?”

“I remember,” they say. “Not… Not well, most of my time as Noise is static, but I remember what it’s like. During the second week of it all, I know Neku’s Partner set me on edge, and when the Composer brought me back, I remember that flighty feeling from then, too. You’ve got the same vibe.”

Yuuto rubs his forehead, taking a long, deep breath. “This was unexpected,” he mutters. “You want to know why I’m lying about my identity, I assume.”

Rhyme nods. “I also want to know if you plan on messing with Neku again,” they say. When Yuuto’s eyes widen, they cut in before he can speak. “He didn’t tell us what you did, but we can all see how he acts. You did something. You don’t have to tell me what you did, Neku isn’t ready for us to know, but I want to make sure you won’t do it again.”

“Fair enough,” he says, and then his color starts to bleed away.

The black seeps out of his hair, and it bounces into wavy curls. Green flashes to purple in his eyes, and his skin goes a few shades paler. Nothing about the structure of his face changes, but he takes off his glasses, and there’s Joshua, sitting in front of them.

“I’ll start simple. I promise I mean no harm to Neku.” At their snort, he frowns. “I mean that! I hold my past actions in great contempt. I wasn’t in a good space, mentally. Like, you met Neku early on during the Game, I was like that, but a hundred times worse.”

“Oh.”

He laughs. “Yeah, oh. I won’t say what I did, but it was bad, and he has every right to be mad. I didn’t expect him to want to see me, after everything.”

“He does though, so hiding behind a false face is a cowardly move.”

“My superiors would rather I not interact with him at all. This is my loophole,” he says, which, what?

It’s a puzzle, and they don’t have all the pieces, but with some work and head-tilting, they can still make out the picture. “You were told not to meet up with him, weren’t you?”

“Bingo, but they specified Yoshiya Kiryu, Composer of Shibuya, not Yuuto Kimura, ex-Game Player who lived in America these past two years.”

Rhyme crosses their arms over their chest, leaning back. “Clever. Going to fake this forever, then?”

“Nah, working on getting that rule repealed.”

“And what will you do when it is? Your reveal will be another betrayal, another way you stab him in the back, because he’ll think it’s been an elaborate joke.” It’s dramatic, but Neku would. At first.

Joshua snorts. “I know him better than you do. I know he’ll call me an asshole and think I’m messing with him, pulling his strings, but I have some stuff I can say, which might help.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“The truth.”

“Okay, so first things first, we need to get your measurements!” Shiki says, measuring tape in hand as Eri grabs the notepad and pen.

Yuuto laughs. “No time to waste?”

The studio is a mess, mannequins with half-finished projects hanging off them, fabric strewn across the floor, needles shoved into the armrest of the couch, spools of thread in corners and on shelves, and design papers scattered around the room.

It’s perfect. Creativity spawned from this disaster, beauty found in the calamity of a localized tornado. Shibuya’s life shines bright in spaces like this, her Soul strengthened, bursting with energy.

Were he not Yuuto right now, he’d love to soak up the Imagination and refine it, give them good luck for ages.

“Of course, of course! Why dilly-dally when we can get this ball rolling?” Eri laughs, pulling him out of the doorway and into the room proper. “Now let Shiki work her magic!”

He does, standing still as Shiki measures and calls out numbers. Eri dutifully writes them down, and he lets Shiki adjust his positioning as needed to get the most accurate results.

Once Shiki has the measurements, he plops down onto the couch, a grin on his face. There’s more than enough seating for the three of them. The entire gang had crashed here the day before. “So, this thing you’re gonna have me model, what is it?”

Eri flits around, grabbing her sketchpad and pencils, before sitting at her desk. “We’re going to start with something simple first. Maybe a basic suit, or a dress? You could rock either. How do you feel about pink? I feel like it’d suit you well. Or maybe a bright green, or something more forest-y. It’d go well with your eyes.”

“Ooh, pink is always fun, but you’re right, green would match my eyes. I absolutely love blues and purples too, by the way!” He leans back, pulling out a sheet of paper for himself, and a pencil. “Musical motifs are fun, since I’m a composer of music.”

Shiki’s head snaps up to look at him, but he gives no reaction back. Eri, meanwhile is going “Oooh,” and scrawling that down as a note.

“Music notes would be cool to work into some of the things we make you in the future! Little embroidered notes and designs! It’d be super cute!” she says, a grin lighting up her face.

Danger lurks in the room, Shiki refusing to take her eyes off him, but Eri remains oblivious. He gives Shiki a wink, after a moment, playing it off with a shrug. She huffs, and turns her attention back to the doodles Eri is scrawling.

“Mm, we could add some lacework, couldn’t we?” she asks.

Yuuto sighs, tapping his fingers against the fabric of the couch. “If you do add lace, could you keep it minimal or in places that won’t rub against my skin? The texture can be irritating as all hell.”

“Noted!” Eri scribbles that down in the margins as well. At this rate, they’re no doubt going to have a folder on his preferences and design ideas.

The thought of them keeping a record on him sends a spark of warmth through his heart. Watching them squabble over design ideas in the afternoon sunlight, filtering in through the window, makes the sight look like home.

The kid sitting in front of Koki is not one he knows. It’s not one he’s ever met or talked to before. He’d been enjoying his meal when this kid walked into Ramen Don and sat across from him.

Except that’s a lie.

Koki might not know this kid with short black hair and green eyes, but he knows those glasses, he knows that grin, and he knows the Music.

“What’s up, J?”

“Shhh, I’m Yuuto like this, remember?” He holds a finger to his lips, hiding his smile. “Can’t have you talking about my secret when the others could waltz right in and see me.”

Koki snorts. “And what will they say if they walk in on their good friend Yuuto having lunch with a Reaper?”

“They know I’ve always seen the UG, I’ll just tell them the truth. I’ve known you since before I ever played, and you’re just a weird uncle type dude.” Yuuto grins, and orders some Shio while they talk.

“Alright, you got me there. I pull off weird uncle well, don’t I?” he asks with a laugh.

“You do, you really do.”

Koki takes a bite of his own ramen, slurping it up. It’s been a while since he’s gotten food with the little brat, but it’s well worth it to make sure he’s eating. The kid always forgets to take care of himself, so if Koki has to step up the family-figure role in his life to ensure he does, so be it.

“So, how’s the whole friends thing goin’, anyway? It’s been a few months so far, right?”

Josh shrugs. “Yeah, it has. It’s going good. They’re all… really nice to me,” he says, fiddling with his hair. “Like, Rhyme, the one that got Erased, they figured out who I am, and they still accept me, though… They don’t know the whole story, but still!”

Ramen arrives, and so Josh has to speak between bites now, as Koki sits and listens to him ramble. “Neku checks up on me and makes sure I’m not left out. He keeps me from retreating into my shell. Shiki and Eri have already been working on making me clothes because they need more models,” he laughs. “Beat is trying to teach me how to skateboard, and I have to remember not to heal up my scrapes and bruises because that’d be suspicious.”

“You’re happy with them all, huh?” he asks. It’s obvious to him, the way Josh lights up, even in this false form. This is the most friends he’s ever had, and it shows in the hands he waves in the air, the glint of life in his eyes, how much this means to him.

“Yeah! I mean, I wish I could tell Neku,” the blinding smile dims at the statement, “but I can’t. This is the best alternative to that.”

“Hey, in a year or two? You’ll be able to tell him, so don’t sweat about that. I’m sure he’ll understand.” With the way his mom raised him, he’d better, Koki doesn’t say, but he thinks it. It had taken a bit of digging, and it’s such a trivial fact, one thread of being related, but it’s there.

He died before he could see his little sister have children, over a hundred years ago. Now, he’s found a distant descendant. He’s an uncle, with a few greats in front of the grand, but he’s an uncle to somebody alive.

The conversation continues, both of them unaware of the figure watching from outside the window. With a snap, Shiki takes a picture of Yuuto hanging out with a Reaper, eyes narrowing.

She’s got her suspicions. They’ve grown a bit stronger now.

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #TWEWY Bang 2018 #submission

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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The World Ended With You, Chapter 1

Author: Mizuki

Rating: T

Word Count: 1396 of 8736

Pairings/Characters: Neku Sakuraba, Shiki Misaki, Eri, Yoshiya Kiryu, Daisukenojo Bito, Raimu Bito, Sanae Hanekoma

Warnings: Light Gore

Summary: Shibuya, a once lively city, now stained with the blood of the unfit. A young orphan, Neku Sakuraba, is left alone to fend for himself. Due to the circumstances, he is forced to join a survivor group. If he has any will or hopes to survive, he needs to learn to trust and cooperate with others. Otherwise, he will be at the mercy of hell's demons.

Chapter 1

All but mariners

Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,

Then all afire with me. The king’s son, Ferdinand,

With hair up-staring—then, like reeds, not hair—

Was the first man that leaped, cried, “Hell is empty

And all the devils are here.”

The Tempest: Act 1 Scene 2

I walked down the desolate, broken streets of Shibuya. My footsteps echoed down the pavement, bouncing against broken windows and withering buildings. Other than that, It’s dead silent. I put on my headphones and started to play some old music on my MP3 player, It was the only relic of my childhood I had left. Nothing but me, music, and the ghosts of a city. It’s all the same, not a damn thing has changed since that day. That...That godforsaken day. It’s permanently burned into my memory, no matter how much I try to repress it. The day that this once thriving and lively city turned into to a ghost town forever stained with the blood of the unfit. The day hell was empty and all its devils arrived. I relive it in my dreams and it feels so real every goddamn time. I see the mangled, bloodstained faces, screaming in agony, screaming for some divine intervention from God. They creep and rage through my mind when it’s left unoccupied. The screams...they rarely stop.

I better occupy my mind, there should be a drug store around here. Well, better than blasting out my eardrums to blast the screams out. I walked a block or two till I stood in front of it in it’s trashed remains.

“Should be some medicine in there, maybe some food too.” I thought as I walked up to it, stepping over rubble and debris.

A few stale overhead lights flickered, the rest dangled lifelessly. I looked over the mostly empty shelves as I moved towards the back, stepping over trashed, unimportant, and damaged items along with knocked over shelving. Once I reached the back of the store, I looked at the mostly empty shelves. There I saw some gauze tape, one pack left.

“Wow, lucky find.”I thought as I picked it up and shoved it into my bag. Then I heard something shuffle against the tile floor. I felt my adrenaline rise as I quickly hid behind a nearby pillar. I looked to the source and saw something move,lurking in the dark. I reached for my gun before realizing that it wasn’t one of them, too small. It looked...Human. God, The last time I saw another person was… Whatever, that’s not important. Is it a scavenger or a survivor? Or more importantly, are they after me? I shuffled away from the source, turning the corner to leave the way I came in. The footsteps followed me, clicking urgently behind me. I started run-walking, hoping I wasn't too valuable of a target. Then the quick clicking behind me stopped. I looked behind me, nothing. Where are they? Did they leave? I looked behind me frantically before making a sprint for the exit. But I was soon stopped in my tracks by the barrel of a handgun. Instinctively, I put my hands up and took a small step back. From their form, I could distinguish that it was a girl, but the hood over her head stopped me from seeing her face.

“Please, give me the gauze.” Her voice trembled. I looked down to the barrel of the gun. Her hand was shaking, inexperienced I bet. I might have a chance to run. Better yet, I might have a chance to snag the gun. I nodded before reaching for my bag. Out of the corner my eye, I could watch her lowering her gun. I saw my opportunity and quickly lunged at the gun. I hooked my hands around the back of it and pulled. She gasped before tugging it back. I jerked it back harder, I could feel her grip slipping. She took me by surprise when she kneed me in the groin. I fell to my side, incapacitated, gritting my teeth in pain as I pressed my hands to the area of agony. I narrowed my eyes at her as she got down on one knee and pulled the gauze tape out of my bag, not only that but she took the gun from my holster. I watched her run out the exit with gauze tape and gun in hand. I got up from my pathetic stance, blood boiling in my veins.

I quickly ran after her, fueled by rage. My feet pounded against the pavement as I rushed after her. I followed her as she turned sharp corners down alleyways.

“Get back here you bitch!” I thought to myself as I watched her disappear behind a corner. I slammed against the brick wall before pushing myself off it. I dashed after her before meeting with a dead end. Where the hell did she go? I frantically looked around for some kind of secret route she took. There I saw it, a hole in the brick wall with an identical one behind it. Once I stepped through it, I could hear quiet indistinct chatter, she’s here. I slithered across the wall till I reached its edge. I could hear a conversation on the other side.

“I can’t believe you got this. I thought all the gauze was snatched during the outbreak!” “Shhh...Keep your voice down!”

“Sorry, but seriously, how did you get this?”

“It wasn’t easy. I had to fight a guy for it.”

“Really!?”

“Shhhh! And yeah, kneed him in the crotch.”

“Is that how you got the other gun?”

“Yeah, but be careful, he could still be around here.”

I’ve had enough of this bull. I’m getting that gun back. But how? Well, for starters, I need to lure one away from the other, and I know just how to do it. I picked up a small piece of rubble and threw it at the ground. It clattered against a few other pieces of broken bricks. Their conversation halted at the sudden noise.

“He's here…” I heard the girl say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh god...what are we gonna do-”

“I’ll take care of it.” She cut the other girl off before I could hear the shifting of dirt from the other side in slow, careful steps.

She’s falling right into my hands. I retracted myself inwards to prevent any part of me from showing. I watched as the tip of her gun came into view, then the barrel. A few moments later, her hands were visible. I waited till her hands pointed in my direction before quickly grabbing the gun, firmly clutching the barrel. She let out a startled gasp before she had time to physically react, I forced the gun down and to the side. A shot rang out before I forced it up and slammed myself into her, knocking her down and her grip on the gun to slip. She fell to the ground with a thud, the hood she was wearing was knocked off, revealing her face. Shock and fear flashed in her emerald eyes as she stared down the barrel of her own gun in my hands, Her glasses falling off her face.

“Wait! Please don’t hurt her!” A voice cried out. I looked up to see another girl with an outstretched hand, tears welling up in her hazel eyes as she sat under a makeshift tent.

“Please, We’ll give you your gun back. We’ll give you whatever you want. Just...Please, don’t hurt her.” Her words hit me like bricks, weakening me.

The other girl took advantage of this and tried to pull the gun away from me. I tightened my grip, tugging back. We wrestle for control, I admit she was pretty strong. But suddenly she stopped, her eyes widening as she covered her mouth. Her hands trembled as she took small steps backwards. The other girl shifted to the back of the tent. Pure horror in both of their eyes. Before I could ask what’s gotten them so afraid I heard the sound of a husky breath behind me, I felt the musky hot air on the back of my neck. My blood ran cold as my heart sank as I could hear a deep growl inches away from me. It’s here.

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #TWEWY Bang 2018

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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Joshua’s 6-Step Plan to Becoming a Vampire, Chapter 5

Author: Matt

Rating: T

Word Count: 7600; this chapter- 2131

Pairings/Characters: Josh/Neku, side Shiki/Eri; Joshua, Neku, Rhyme, Beat, Shiki, Eri

Warnings: Vampires, Blood

Summary: Joshua Decides to take over a coven cause he's bored. As you do.

Author’s Note: Chapter 6 will be posted on my Ao3 (ForCollective) after the Bang is over.

Chapter 5

Backstab Part of the Coven

Joshua walked into the house carrying the package and few cleaning supplies he had been asked to pick up. A few months ago, if you had told him he would have friends and actually be running errands for them, he wouldn't have believed you; yet here he was doing exactly that. Kicking the door shut behind himself, he flicked on the hall light. The house was eerily quiet. There were no voices, no footsteps, no music. It was still early evening, but at this point, normally someone would be awake. Setting the package and bag aside, he crept into the living room. Empty, devoid of any life or intelligence. Even the plant that normally sat near the window was gone. Though, there were some very odd decorations up.

A few paper bats hung from the ceiling at various points, held up by string and tape. A couple of balloons were stuck here and there to the walls, attempting to escape the tape holding them. Besides that, the room was normal, though devoid of life. Backing away he noticed a couple streamers hanging beside the door frame. Were they throwing a party?

Joshua headed towards the dining room. Was that giggling? Suspicious, he reached out and flicked the switch, only for the light to almost blind him as everyone popped out of their various hiding places, shouting “surprise!” except Neku, who was sat at the table, not hiding at all. Instead he blew one of those unrolling noise makers with a very bored expression on his face.

“Oh Neku, you couldn't even pretend to be excited for my party?” Joshua was not sure why he was being surprised. There was a 'Happy Birthday' banner hung up on the wall opposite him with little bats stuck beside it. Balloons and streamers were again stuck up with seemingly no thought put into placement. The house plant that had originally been in the living room was in the corner. Its only purpose being there was apparently for Beat to hide behind. Said boy nearly knocking it over in his attempt to get out from corner.

“No. It’s too early for excitement,” he responded, letting the noise maker fall to his lap. He didn't seem to bothered by the device as it rolled off his legs and onto the floor, becoming the tripping hazard it had always wished to be.

“What do you think? Were you surprised? I bet you didn't expect this.” Eri seemed to be excited enough for both Neku and her, so maybe it made up for it.

“Seeing as my birthday isn't for another three months, I can say I was quite surprised.” It was a perfect plan. The best way to make sure the person in question didn't expect a surprise birthday party was obviously to hold it nowhere near their birthday.

“It’s your vampire birthday. We all talked and agreed you could finally join us,” Rhyme piped up, walking from behind the table. She was fairly short, and only her head and neck were visible above it. She took a seat at the table beside Neku, smiling at him.

“After all, he has been very good, hasn't he Neku?” She added after a moment, nudging the other boy lightly.

“Depends on your definition of 'good'.” Close enough as far as Joshua was concerned. He had been very well behaved for him. Which was definitely a low bar, though he wouldn't admit that out loud. He didn’t want to be seen publicly agreeing with Neku.

Joshua was subjected to many tortures for the next couple of hours. Forced to pin a tail on a donkey, wear a silly pointed hat, beat a poor, innocent papier-mâché bat with a stick ‘till it burst, sending little trinkets spilling out instead of candy. It was quite an ordeal, he barely survived it all.

Finally, his last trial came about; a small cake was set in front of him, decorated with little icing bats around the sides. Two number shaped candles were stuck in the top, making the number fifteen. Joshua was only fifteen, the thought then occurring to him he would never get to find out what sixteen would be like. Probably for the best though. He had yet to get his teenage acne and he was running out of teenage years for it to appear.

He stared at the tiny flickering flames as everyone around him chanted the birthday song, staring him down. It was almost like some demonic ritual, and they hadn't even gotten to the killing him part yet. This was just the human getting older part. He took a moment to reflect on his life ‘till that point. It hadn't been great. Then he moved to what he should wish for, and if would count, since it wasn't even his birthday. Technically, he was about to get what he had been hoping for after the party, so wishing for vampirism would be a waste of a perfectly good wish. The chanting ceased and everyone stared at him expectantly. Taking a deep breath, he blew out the candles without making a wish. He didn't want to disappoint everyone.

“What did you wish for?” Shiki asked.

“Can't tell. It won't come true. You don't want to ruin my birthday wish do you?” He grinned and brushed that annoying lock of hair from his face, to behind his ear. It quickly fell back down into place. It never listened, much like the rest of Joshua. Shiki puffed her cheeks at being denied, knowing the non-existent wish but quickly dropped it, hurrying to grab him a knife to cut his cake.

He ate the cake as everyone argued over music and joked with each other. This was his last meal, he realised. He had been hoping for something better than a cheap store-bought cake. Where had they even gotten this stuff without asking him for it? Maybe those mysterious other helpers that never seemed to be around when he was. Maybe when he became a full member of their coven he would finally get to figure that out. Or maybe they were only messing with him about the whole sunlight hurts thing and they were fine to go out on their own, instead just preferring to send Joshua. That was something he would do if he were a vampire that could go in sunlight. But then again, the others were probably to nice for such deception.

After he ate people began to disperse, Rhyme and Shiki chatting to other as they tidied up from the party. Joshua didn't bother helping,instead sitting at the table beside Neku staring intently at a painting on the wall, a single bat dangling in front of it. How long had it taken them to cut out all these bats?

“Hey Neku, show Josh to his room?”

Neku stood up and motioned for Joshua to follow him.

“I thought we were moving?” He said as Neku led him down the hall.

“Yeah, next week. Thats seven days from now.”

“I am well aware of how many days are in a week, Neku. As well has how many weeks are in a year.”

Neku ignored him as they walked up the stairway to the second floor.

“It’s fifty-two.”

Neku again ignored him. It didn't bother him though. At this point he kinda expected it. The storage room had been cleared out and inside was a bed, fresh blankets were neatly folded on the end of the mattress.

“Me and Beat cleaned this up for you, yesterday. You're welcome.”

“I don't recall thanking you. After all, with your arms, Beat obviously did most of the work.”

“Are you calling me weak?”

“Very good Neku! I am glad you can understand plain English.” Joshua grinned at him and Neku rolled his eyes. He stayed in the door as Joshua entered the room looking around at the plain walls. There was no point in doing anything fancy with the room for now, what with the move so close. He would need to get his things moved here though, so he supposed he would have to live with a bunch of boxes piled in his room for a couple days.

“I'm glad you’re staying, Josh.”

Joshua turned to stare at Neku, who avoided his gaze. Joshua didn't say anything and Neku quickly turned and hurried back into the hall and out of sight.

Shiki, being the only one of the group who currently had her license, drove with Joshua over to his home in a car they apparently had access to, but never used? It hadn’t ever been there when he got things from the garage though, one of the mysterious other helpers that may or may not exist must own it. His parents, as usual, were not around. He wondered how long it would take them to notice he was gone.

He pointed to the couple boxes he had packed, and one bag. Shiki grabbed the bag and one of the boxes, and he took the smaller one. She struggled slightly with the bag, it being a bit large for her, but managed to manoeuvre her way outside anyway. Joshua following close behind. He moved much slower then her, not used to such physical labour.

“What about the rest of your stuff?” she asked when she realised he had locked the door to his home instead of going back in, shoving the key into the mailbox minus keychain.

“This is all I want. They can keep the rest.” He had mostly only had it to fill space. Therefore, he did not want to put much effort into actually dragging it around with him. He could get new things if the empty space bothered him that much but he doubted it would.

“Alright, if you're sure.” She seemed unsure but didn't push the matter further.

Back at home he readied himself. It wasn't the grand affair he had expected. Neku had bit him, a fairly normal occurrence now. It was annoying at best; after the initial bite he barely felt it. After a few seconds he pulled away and handed Joshua a small glass with a dark red liquid inside that he had brought into the room with him.

“That’ s vampire blood. Drink up,” he said, pushing the glass toward Joshua, who carefully sniffed it and scrunched his face up. It didn't smell good. In fact it smelled like something he wanted nowhere near his taste buds.

“Its blood Josh, just drink it already.”

“It smells low quality,” he said jokingly, staring down into the liquid again, suddenly far less sure of his choice. Not for any reason other than he wasn't sure about tasting blood. He had been assured blood tasted better after he turned, but the first time it would taste normal. The same as it would if he had just decided to drink some random person's blood. He wasn't sure why he would do that, or who had decided to try that to know that for a fact, but that was the issue he was facing at that moment; having a mouthful of the horrible drink.

“It’s my blood,” Neku stated, sounding annoyed. It was the most common tone Joshua ever heard from him. He still wasn't sure if he sounded like that all the time or only when Joshua was around. He really had no way to find out though, so he preferred to think that it was just him. So that he was special to Neku in a way, a very annoying way, but still.

“That just confirms it.”

Neku went to retaliate to that, but Joshua didn't catch what he said, instead putting the glass to his mouth and tossing his head back to drink the whole thing in one go. Making a noise of disgust at the taste lingering in his mouth, he shuddered.

“Ugh, take it away,” he said shoving the glass into Neku’s hand.

“You're on my last nerve, you know that?”

“Always, dear.” he giggled and Neku stood to leave.

“You're not gonna stay and keep me company while I die?” Joshua said. While he wouldn't mind it, he didn't expect the other to actually stay, and was therefore joking.

“Did you want me to?”

Joshua froze. He hadn't expected that response. He had expected to be told he was able to look after himself. It was different here though, wasn't it? He wasn't on his own anymore.

“I think so,” he said, and settled back onto the bed, Neku coming to sit beside him.

It was certainly weird having friends.

#TWEWY #TWEWY Bang 2018 #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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Joshua’s 6-Step Plan to Becoming a Vampire, Chapter 1

Author: Matt

Rating: T

Word Count: 7600; this chapter- 1409

Pairings/Characters: Josh/Neku, side Shiki/Eri; Joshua, Neku, Rhyme, Beat, Shiki, Eri

Warnings: Vampires, Blood

Summary: Joshua Decides to take over a coven cause he's bored. As you do.

Chapter 1

Find Vampires

Joshua was tired of life. Not Life In General, but his life in particular. He wanted something new, more freedom perhaps; freedom from the long planned-out life ahead of him. 80 years of boredom just wasn’t appealing. He wasn't sure when or where the idea had come to him, but soon enough he found himself surfing the internet, searching for vampires, of all things.

Maybe it was how often they were portrayed in media, embedding the idea in his brain. Or maybe, it was left over from a odd childhood fascination he had, though he wasn't that old as it was. When he had been younger he had taken a liking to the strange creatures, wondering what their lives might be like. Now he wanted to find out again, though this time he had no interest in pursuing boring media that left him unsatisfied in the end. This time he intended to find out first hand.

Finally he came to what he was looking for, after many hours and weeks of sifting through forum after forum of people who were either faking it or were simply not vampires in the way he wanted. A post stated that a group had moved to an area nearby. He had to check them out.

He had a plan. It was not the most thought out but it was workable.

Step 1: Find Vampires (Self explanatory)

Step 2: Infiltrate the coven. Should be simple enough. He just had to manage to get them to let him hang around them. He was sure he could do something for them. Hopefully not anything that required him to be doing physical labour like gardening or really anything that required sweating.

Step 3:Gain their trust. Presumably they wouldn't just turn anyone.

Step 4: Immortality. Again, self explanatory. They would turn him into a vampire

Step 5: Backstab. He wasn't about to live his immortal life under someone else’s rule afterall.

Step 6: This step was less a step and more an end goal. Profit. Live a cushy life with other vampires doing what he wants.

First though, he needed to find them. It required a longer-than-he-would-have-liked bus ride, with more-annoying than-he-would-have-liked people, and one screaming child he felt quite envious of. He too, wished he could scream at how unpleasant their trip was, but unlike the small child, society dictated that he must stay silent.

The neighbourhood was pleasant, the evening light blanketing the area as streetlights began to switch on. People still walked around, but that he knew would soon taper off as people made their way home for the night. He hadn't actually considered how he would find the vampires. Instead, he had simply hopped on a bus hoping he would figure it out on the way there, then spent the whole trip trying not to scream in frustration while not coming up with a plan. After a brief moment of deliberation he decided on fangs. They did have fangs, from what he had found out. So he just needed to talk to people and look in their mouths.

The easiest way of doing this was to of course just walk up and jam your face close to someone else’s face. Not only did this seem unpleasant, as he would be up close and personal to their breath and bad hygiene, it would most likely cause him problems as well. He was quite short, as much as he didn't want to admit it, so reaching many people’s faces may be an issue.

“Hi, can you direct me to the library?” he asked the closest women to where he stood. Halting, she glanced up and down the street, trying to remember where the building was before she answered.

“That way?” She pointed the way she had come, obviously unsure of herself. “I think it’s closed though.”

“Oh, thanks anyway.” He smiled at her and continued the way she had pointed. She walked quickly away as though he might get upset at her for giving the wrong directions. No fangs as far as he could tell. Alright, next.

“Hi. Can you please direct me to the library?”

No one in this area knew where the library was, apparently. He had yet to be given the same directions twice. Honestly that was kind of sad. He had asked at least seven people now, and none had fangs. So here he was: no library and no vampires. The vampire thing was more upsetting, but now he was honestly curious as to where this library was, despite having no want to actually go there.

“Hi, can you direct me to the library?” He asked a boy about his age. He glanced up from his phone and glared at Joshua, who only continued smiling in the frustrating way he had perfected in the mirror years before.

“I don't know.” Joshua frowned at the response. He was happy that someone finally admitted that, but the boy’s ugly shirt covered his mouth as he spoke, so it was impossible to see his teeth. Maybe that was the plan?

“Oh? Why not?”

“Why not what?

“Why don’t you know where it is? Honestly, you should get to know the local area better.” The boy adjusted his shirt and frowned at Joshua, who expected he had about one minute left to see this guy’s teeth before he got angry enough to storm off.

“You don't know where it is.”

“I don't live here.” The guy scowled just as his shirt collar slipped below his mouth.

Fangs. Jackpot.

“I knew it. You are a vampire. So where’s your coven? I want to join.” By join he meant rule over, but that was beside the point. Stating that outright would most likely not grant him a positive reaction. For some reason, people didn’t like being controlled.

“Why would I let you join?” That was fair, he hadn't made the best first impression had he?

“‘Cause I would be a great addition.”

“More like an annoying one.”

“I'll let you drink from me?” The guy raised an eyebrow at that.

“What, are you into that or something?”

“Maybe.” The words slipped out of his mouth. What a terrible habit he had formed. Frowning even harder, the boy turned to walk away, Joshua was almost surprised that his face hadn’t broken from how much frowning the boy was doing.

“That was joke. Don't you know how to take a joke?” Joshua said following after him.

“You would never be accepted. So give up.”

“How do you know?”

“‘Cause there is no way you will get everyone else to agree.”

“Is that a bet?” the boy stopped and glanced at him.

“Alright how about this. You convince everyone else to agree and I will agree as well. You don't, you leave me alone forever.”

“Deal. My name is Joshua.” Joshua stuck out his hand for the vampire to shake.

“Mine’s Neku.” Neku said, ignoring the outstretched hand and instead looking around the street.

“Ok, lets go.” Neku led him off down a side street, Joshua following closely behind. This was probably not the safest thing to be doing, following a vampire back to his house, but it was certainly what he was going to do anyway.

So follow he did, down a street and into an ally and out the other side. They walked for a good fifteen minutes before he was done with walking. He hated walking; people had invented vehicles for a reason. Still though, he continued on, down street after street through the terrible layout of the houses ‘till they reached a pale green one.

It was ugly, the grass wasn't mowed, and the driveway cracked. Sitting on a hill, its first floor was a basement floor with a second floor above that. Instead of going through the nearest door he was led up a set of stairs to the second floor.

“I'm home!” Neku yelled as he opened the door motioning for Joshua to follow. This was his final chance to turn around and head home. Instead of doing what any person with self-preservation would do and running home as fast as he could, he walked forward. Anyone with even basic self preservation instincts would not have gone on this whole trip at all, why turn back now?

#TWEWY #TWEWY Bang 2018 #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #The World Ends With You #World Ends With You

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subasekabang · 6 years ago

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Gymnopédie- Part 3

Author: Alex Rating: Teen Word Count: Total - 10219 (including title names); this part- 2692 Pairings/Characters: Yoshiya “Joshua” Kiryu, Neku Sakuraba, Sanae Hanekoma, Sho Minamimoto, Daisukenojo Bito (Beat), Raimu Bito (Rhyme), Shiki Misaki, Eri, Megumi Kitanji, Ken Doi, implied Shiki/Eri, implied Joshua/Neku (mostly one-sided), agender!Composer, Neku’s Mom Warnings: Suicide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of Voyeurism, Mild Language, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Major Character Death (?) Summary: Joshua said he just wanted one normal day. Hanekoma wouldn’t deny him that, for soon the boy would have to take his duties as Composer seriously.He didn’t think Joshua could die a second time.

Not unlike a maiden with a clouded expression

“Goddammit, Joshua!” Neku slammed his fist against the wall, but the jolt of pain that went up his arm wasn’t enough to distract him from his thoughts. He didn’t want to worry. He didn’t want to care. But he still couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid boy and his stupid smile, his shattered-glass grin that he showed to Neku and Neku alone. He didn’t want to, but he was the only one who could. He gritted his teeth and turned to face the River. He clutched his pin tight in one hand, his phone in the other. Texts lit up the screen from his friends, except for from the one friend he really needed to hear from. On his side of the screen there was a string of questions: where are you?, what happened?, are you okay? forming walls of text bubbles with no reply.

Neku slipped through the jagged hole ripped in the fence (courtesy of Sho) and entered Shibuya’s dark, damp, graffiti-covered sewers.

He never understood why Joshua decided to make his home here of all places. He never understood most things about Joshua.

His shoes squelched through the mud. At least they weren’t new. He could hardly see through the darkness, but the streaks of bright white paint on the wall were enough to guide him. Even though he had only walked this path once before, he hadn’t forgotten the way. He turned the last corner and closed his eyes; space shifted and changed around him with a feeling like plunging into the deep end of a pool.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the Dead God’s Pad, nearly nose-to-nose with Joshua. He suppressed the urge to shriek and leap back.

“Neku,” he said in a voice as cold and hard as ice.

He glared right back, refusing to back down. “Yeah, Josh, it’s me. Wanna explain some things to me?”

His lips curled into a sneer. “No. I don’t owe you anything.” He flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture. His arm was covered in angry red lines.

“You owe me everything. Look at you.” He reached for Joshua’s arm. “You keep dodging questions and dropping hints like you don’t want to tell me, but I know you really do. So talk to me like a normal human being.”

Joshua stuck out his tongue at him. “I’m neither normal nor human, Neku.”

“Yeah, you’re a child. A stuck-up, selfish, entitled little bastard, running around in circles and never getting anywhere.”

“Stop.”

“No. The world doesn’t run on your agenda, and I want answers.”

“I said stop.” Something changed in his face, and he suddenly looked a whole lot less like Joshua. Wings unfurled from his shoulders with a sound like ripping paper, quite literally tearing themselves from his back. They spilled across the tiles like liquid starlight, casting dizzying patterns of light and shadow. The stretched until the room was full of their delicate filigree, bloodstained lace suspended mid-air. His wings dwarfed him, a tiny figure at the center of a glimmering and wildly branching graffiti.

“I am a god,” he whispered, his voice trembling. Those shaking words should’ve sounded weak, but instead it was as if each syllable was quavering with barely contained power.

“Josh—”

A wing twitched and sent him sprawling. A flurry of feathers like a hurricane went through the room, throwing bottles from the shelf, sending papers up into miniature whirlwinds, making the foosball figures spin wildly around their poles.

“I am a god,” he repeated, “I am Shibuya. You cannot tell me what to do. Without me, you wouldn’t exist.”

“And you wouldn’t exist without me,” Neku countered, rising to his feet. “If not for me, you would’ve gone through with your dumb suicidal plan.”

“Dare you talk back to your god?”

Neku opened his mouth to argue, but found that he had nothing to say. Oh, he had plenty of words for Joshua, but this was not Joshua. It was Joshua-shaped, but its face was twisted in an emotion that Neku did not and could not understand. Teeth bared, fingers crooked into claws, eyes blazing like funeral pyres, this was nothing like the Joshua he knew. This was hatred and rage and despair, pain and passion, a discordant god.

“You should have shot me,” Joshua-but-not said, his lips pulling back over wicked-sharp canines. “I should have ended this.” The entire room shifted as he twisted his body around, full of feathers and impossibly angled joints. “Why didn’t you kill me? Why didn’t I? I’m not your friend, Neku, I was barely even your partner. And you say you want to see me?” He made a harsh noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a snarl. “Liar.”

“Will you just listen to me?”

“No. No more.”

The floor rolled beneath him. Neku dodged the sharp-angled edges of some impossible limb. “I thought you learned. I thought you saw Shibuya was worth saving!”

For a moment, the rage drained from his face, and he looked much older. Much sadder. “You were worth saving, Neku. Not me. Not this city.” His wings scraped the walls with a spine-chilling screech. “Neku. I’m done. And if you insist on staying, then…”

The door slammed open. “Composer!”

Hanekoma stood in the open doorway, his own wings spread wide. They may not have been as large or impressive as Joshua’s, but they shone many times more brightly. His phone emitted a faint beeping alarm. “Back away from the boy.”

Joshua smiled. “Ah, finally, the guardian angel arrives! Are you going to tell me to ‘be not afraid’?”

“No. You should be.”

“Really, Sanae, threats?” He giggled, and the room rocked with his shaking shoulders. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering your little assassination attempt.” He swung one wing inward, tangling Neku in it like a net and holding him close.

Neku could feel his breath on his skin. He smelled like lavender and the sharp metallic tang of blood. Like smog and flowers. Like his city.

One finger traced the curve of his cheek, sending sparks of cold electricity through his body. “Are you in on this too, my dearest Proxy?” he said, and laughed again.

He could feel Joshua’s ribs as his chest expanded with his breaths. Every peak of his spin dug into his fingers as he clung to him for dear life as he ascended.

It should have been impossible for him, but Joshua wasn’t about to let reality boss him around. The dimensions of the room rippled and changed to contain his wings as they swung down. More than just wingbeats, each sweeping motion added to a throbbing baseline. Feathers scattered, and burst into ringing notes when they landed, filling the room with chaotic song.

And then, somehow, they were out the door, and Joshua was careening through the sewers. His wings scraped lines into the wall as he went, and Neku held on tighter and tighter as the motion threatened to loosen his grip. Close behind them came the Producer, a streak of pure light, ping-ponging off the walls as the Composer’s rhythms shook the air itself.

Joshua laughed, and it came out as bells, as chords, as a thousand voices that weren’t his. The sound rang in Neku’s ears until he felt his eardrums would burst.

He felt like he was being carried by pure music.

That sounded poetic. It wasn’t. It was his bones thrumming and insides churning, surrounded by so much sound he felt deaf, barely able to believe that his fingers were digging into anything solid as the city rocketed by beneath him.

Then Joshua came to a screeching halt, the whiplash nearly throwing Neku from him.

“Why’d we st-stop?” Neku asked through uncontrollably chattering teeth.

Joshua hovered there, his preposterous wings pumping lazily at the air. “You know, Neku, I always wondered. Why bother showing me what I can’t reach?” he said, gesturing at the world beyond the city. Neku clung tighter to him. His voice was caught in his throat; he could barely breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think of how high in the air he was.

Beneath them, still following, angrier and faster with every passing second, was Hanekoma.

“Composer!” he bellowed. “Halt!” His voice pierced through Joshua’s cocoon of sound.

“Or what?” Joshua cooed at him. “You’ll erase me? And what about your poor little Player?” He held Neku out. He squirmed like an upset cat.

“J-Joshua!!”

“Catch.”

Neku screamed as Joshua let go and he found himself plummeting toward the ground far, far below. Hanekoma hesitated, then dove down to where he thought he could catch the boy.

Joshua was still laughing, sounding more and more unhinged. His wingtip caught Neku as he fell, gave the slightest flick, and suddenly he was tossed back up.

He landed heavily in Joshua’s arms, flinging his arms around his neck and resolving to never let go again. His heart hammered like a rabbit’s.

It was only a slight setback for Hanekoma, but it bought Joshua a few more precious seconds. He held onto Neku just as tight as Neku held onto him, the air around them pulsing with light and music.

“Why show me what I can’t reach?” he whispered his question again into Neku’s ear. He pulled his wings close to his body and dropped into a dive. The blood rushed to Neku’s head. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything but those throbbing wingbeats and the wind in his ears. He wasn’t sure where they were going. He wasn’t sure when they stopped. He only knew that when he opened his eyes again, his feet were back on the ground, and neither Producer nor Composer were anywhere to be seen.

“Joshua, what the hell was that!?” Hanekoma yelled, his voice amplified by the full force of his angelic power. “I’ve let you bend the rules for a long time, but this!? This goes against everything!”

Joshua huddled on the couch, his wings wrapped around his body in a mess of intricate feathers. “Spare me the lecture, Sanae. Seems like you’re finally taking up your duties as Producer again.”

“It’s about damn time!”

“Please stop yelling.”

Hanekoma bit back his rage and took a deep breath. “... Fine.”

“Thanks. Now, Producer, what’s the first order of business?” he asked as he peered through the gaps in his wings.

Something felt… wrong about Joshua being obedient. He shifted uncomfortably. “There’s no reason for you to be in the RG. Or the UG, for that matter. Your duties are here,” he said, pointing at the floor.

“Okay.”

“Are you being serious?”

“As serious as I can be,” he said. “Is there a problem with that?”

“You’re a problem,” Hanekoma said with a long-suffering sigh. “None of the other Producers have to deal with such a troublesome Composer…”

Joshua reshuffled his wings to peek through a different window. “I don’t need you to scold me, Sanae. Just let me know what I need to do.”

“We need to clean up your mess first. Then begin preparations for the next Game. Megumi will instruct you,” he said. “Listen to him.”

And with that, he turned and left.

Now alone in his room, Joshua crumpled into a pile on the cushions. He might’ve cried. He wasn’t sure.

Either way, it didn’t much matter. Megumi didn’t return for several more hours.

Being Composer and actually doing his job was far more boring than being Composer and doing whatever the hell he wanted. He rolled onto the floor, his cheek pressed up against the cold glass.

Thump thump thump, went that stupid orange fish. Maybe he should make some sashimi…

“Sir, we need to assign a new Game Master,” Megumi said, cutting through his thoughts.

“I dunno, get Kariya on it.”

“He refuses.” “His partner, then. I don’t care.” “We need a real answer, sir.” He looked down at the Composer. “Did you look over the credentials of the possible candidates?”

“Yes Megumi, I read your essays.” He pushed himself up on his elbows and tried to switch into a more professional tone. “They’re all highly qualified. More qualified than I am.” “We need a reply by tomorrow.” “I know, I know.” He was tempted to let Sho run the Game again, if only to end this mind-numbing monotony. Too bad he had already promised both Hanekoma and Megumi that he’d take his duties seriously. “Can Uzuki do next week? She’s always wanted the promotion, and I’m sure she’ll pick up some promising new recruits.” “Good choice, Sir. I will inform the others of your decision.” His shoes clicked as he left to send the message to the rest of the Reapers. Joshua grunted. Uzuki would certainly keep him busy; she’d racked up a record number of erasures over the past few months. Winners or losers, Joshua would have to sort the Players. The majority would be recycled into Noise, a rare few would be returned to life. Some would become Reapers, as he had, and the only marker of whether they won or lost would be if their entry fees were returned. Perhaps one out of a thousand would be beyond his decision; Hanekoma would recruit them into angels. He always felt jealous of them, but then again, Hanekoma done him a few favors to promote him to Composer so quickly. Besides, he had never heard of a loser becoming an angel.

It was better to not get involved with Players at all. If Neku taught him anything, it was that. Feelings got in the way. Sadness, friendship, guilt, regret.

And… Love. He hated saying it aloud; it made him feel small and stupid. To hear the word in his teenaged voice was to hear the adult insistence of, “No, it’s not. You don’t know what that is. You can’t. You’re too young.” Maybe they were right. He was a child when he died. Hanekoma said he was a child still. No matter how many years passed, he would always be. He was stuck, forever, while the rest of the world moved on into the future.

Shiki, Rhyme, Beat, Neku, Eri… They would move on without him too. He wasn’t sure why that thought upset him; it wasn’t like they were friends. Joshua didn’t have friends. That was another fact that he had to accept. He was forever 15, and forever alone.

There was no one to fake a laugh for, but he choked the noise out anyway. This was not what he had wanted when he had kissed the barrel of a gun on that fateful day. Not what he wanted when his finger curled around the trigger and splattered his brains all over the wall.

Selfish, everyone had said to him, but how could they know that he never did any of it for himself? It wasn’t what he wanted. It was what everyone else did. They wanted a reason to hate him, didn’t they? They wanted to get rid of him, didn’t they?

“Didn’t you?” he said. He twisted the words around his fingers into jagged streamers of black and yellow and green and blue, shaping each color into petals, layering them on top of each other. Just pointless Noise, he thought, as he released it into the air where it twirled in the wind. He let his human form fall from him like a shed skin. It was only a reminder of how he could never change. Only a reminder of that day that was something like happiness, that he spent at the side of those kids he had changed so completely in a few weeks. Those kids would not be kids much longer. They would grow into adults, and move out to the world beyond Shibuya.

It was doubtful that he would ever see them again. They’d be far from his realm when they died.

He watched the Noise spin away from him. A blur of colors, one for each of them. When they faded, so would their hue.

Game after Game, he asked the Players the same question.

What color is that flower now?

#TWEWY #the world ends with you #world ends with you #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #TWEWY Bang 2018

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