(no subject)
Title: Signal to Noise - Boy with a Coin (20/?)
Author: twigcollins
Rating: PG-13. I love swearing.
Warnings: Spoilers through end of game plus secret reports.
Summary: Hey, what’s the worst that can happen?
Author’s Notes: Cross-posted to subarashiki_ds
Archive of StN links available here: http://delicious.com/Flidget/Signal2Noise
He’s making useless plans, with tactics out of date by hundreds of years. Kariya can feel the old, old wariness settling into his muscles, thinks of nights spent kneeling outside his master’s door, waiting for the slightest creak in the floor, the near-silent hiss of a blade being drawn. It’s not going to be that easy, not this time. No codes of honor, no shared vulnerabilities - Neku doesn’t even know he’s in danger, and Kariya can’t tell him, or anyone.
Uzuki was sleeping again by the time he’d left. Kariya had made her swear she wasn’t going to feed herself to Saika, or go searching for the Composer or anyone else that might get her Erased, or even shift into the UG again if he wasn’t around. He’s never seen her this openly scared, not even during the Long Game, but it’s the resignation that worries him more. It’s like she’s humoring him, like she’s already given up and is just waiting for him to get smart and do the same, to give up on her.
Kariya can feel his wings ache with tension even here in the RG, faking his usual lazy slouch against the wall. He’s got no castle, no loyal guards, and there is no doubt Uzuki is right. This thing, this Saika that used to be a girl, she’s going to go after Neku. He’s the Conductor, all but first in the line of fire, whether it’s an ambitious Reaper or a Player entirely out of their depth or an Angel or a Fallen or anything at all.
Kariya takes the faintest cold comfort in the fact that the Angels won’t listen, not really, even if he tries to tell them what they’re up against. Insulated by their power, not even realizing how they consider themselves untouchable, while they bitch at the Composers for being arrogant. Kariya shuts his eyes, letting his breath out in a long, hissing sigh. He can see it happening, see everything going straight to hell in a thousand different ways, and that’s if they’re lucky. This thing? This girl? She’ll take everything she can get, there’s no reason for her not to try. The only saving grace is that he doesn’t think Saika can change her vibe, can’t get into the RG easily at all. Maybe not even through anyone but Uzuki, and that’s only if his partner’s in the UG first.
Who knows what else she can do, though? Whisper in the ear of some lunatic bastard, maybe. Coax him into Neku’s way, here in the RG where he’s just a kid with no idea what’s at stake. Calm and contented, thinking he can leave all that danger behind him when he eats breakfast, hangs out with his friends, goes to school.
So Kariya’s been here for an hour, watching the sky grow brighter, staring at nothing in particular until the light goes on in a window of Neku’s apartment, maybe a dim silhouette in front of the window, just for a moment, passing by.
Less than useless, to tell Sanae Hanekoma. If anything, it would only hurt Kariya’s credibility with the Angels - no way they wouldn’t see a warning from that half-Fallen mess as anything but a pathetic attempt to regain his position. No reason Hanekoma would be any different than the rest of them, Erasing Uzuki just to be sure, because a single Reaper has less than no value to any of them. Not compared to someone like Neku, and Kariya gets it, he really does, a simple cost-benefit of ability and power and what the Angels would consider useful potential. He can feel it, has been feeling it, as Neku steps out his front door, swinging his bookbag over a shoulder as he turns to lock up.
He’s just so bright, so pure. And Saika knows what he is, Kariya’s sure of it, the nightmare bitch knows or she will the second she sees him. Not just his own power either, this morning, there’s another melody there playing backbeat, and Kariya bites down hard on the side of his tongue because it is in /no way/ surprising the Composer’s decided to make his Conductor a regular snack, but there it is, right? Even if the relationship’s all one-way, even the most bastard Composer… shit, this is how it happens, isn’t it. This is how Shibuya dies.
“Hey.”
Neku’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs, has noticed him. Wary, his first impulse around any Reaper is always caution, though Kariya thinks it passes more quickly than it should. It looks like Neku’s trying to decide whether a smile might be be right or not.
“Hey.” Kariya finally replies, knowing he doesn’t have anything even remotely resembling a plan, and just starts walking instead. Neku steps in beside him, after a moment. The kid must think this is weird, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s another thing to like about him - Reapers, in general, never shut up. Either talking about kills they made or ones they’re going to mske, and every single one of them has a super-secret plan about how to take the Conductor, or the Composer, or both, and most of them will explain it in detail after a ridiculously small amount of beer and even less encouragement.
Neku, on the other hand, stays quiet, even though Kariya can see him giving darting, curious little looks whenever he thinks the Harrier isn’t looking back.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just… you look a little tense. Preoccupied.”
One day. One day before the Game starts up, and Uzuki will have to be there. He can’t watch them both, not all the time, not when all it will take is a single moment of inattention.
“I thought I might be able to teach you a couple things. Before the next Game.” The words surprise him as much as they do Neku.
“Like… sparring?”
Kariya smirks. “What, you think ‘cause you took me down once and you’ve been Conductor for all of a week-”
“No. No. I didn’t mean - it’s cool.” Neku puts his hands up in a placating gesture, an odd look on his face, not quite sure he’s awake enough to get what Kariya’s saying. “Just… this isn’t some kind of plot to try and kill me or something, is it?”
“The last thing I want in this world is your job, kid.” How true is that, and on how many levels. “It’d be a pain in my ass, too, if you get Erased and I have to deal with some new guy. I like you. You’re a pushover.”
“Yeah, thanks for that. So this ‘kid’ business? I thought I was the boss.”
“Only during Game weeks, kid.”
“Right.” Neku mutters, though the slight smile seems genuine. So open, so utterly unprepared. Kariya really doesn’t feel as old as he is, for the amount of responsibility he’s dodged. But he is old, and after a while everything sort of turns to pattern recognition, women who look and act like ones he used to know, two hundred years ago, and men getting into all the same fights. It’s just the clothes that change, and he doesn't understand any more than he did back then. His Composer is gone, has been gone forever, and even living as long as Kariya has brings nothing he can use.
“He hasn’t told you much, has he? The Composer. About how to keep yourself safe.”
“What, during the Game? It… they have to go after the Games Master first, right? I mean, I try to be careful…”
“Do you spend time in the UG, when you’re not busy getting in our way during a Game?” Neku cuts his eyes away for a second, and Kariya has his answer.
“What? Not a lot of it. Sometimes. It’s quiet there. I can get some sketching done, and it’s a little easier.” Neku frowns. “Why? I’ve never felt anything… wrong. It’s not like there’s any Players in there, and the Noise leaves me alone.”
“Other things can come into the UG, you know. Just because your Composer’s not thinking about them doesn’t mean they’re not there.”
“You mean… like Angels.” Neku’s watching him very closely, and Kariya doesn’t even ask. Of course Neku knows about Angels, why the hell not, though he's obviously surprised that Kariya does too. “How do you know?”
For so long, they’d all known, back when there hadn’t been as many Reapers, as many Players as there are today. No divide between the Producers and the rest. Kariya can’t remember exactly when it changed, a gradual thing, or why. The same reason as anything else, probably, the Angels mostly cowards behind a thin illusion of grace. Protected, because hardly anyone knows they exist.
“I told you, I been at this for a while now. You last out here long enough, you realize it’s the things you’re not supposed to know that keep you alive." Kariya frowns. "Yeah, Angels, that’s some of it. More specifically, what happens to Angels who decide they don’t really want to be Angels anymore.”
As if on cue, a cloud passes in front of the just-risen sun, and Kariya nearly rolls his eyes. Hates the way Neku is watching him, more than a little anxious, and there’s a stupid moment where he wishes he’d just kept his yap shut.
“They’re called Fallen. Even if they were in your little Conductor book, they wouldn’t be. Angels don’t like to talk about them much.”
“Fallen.” Neku says quietly. “Bet I can guess how that happens.”
And he knows they’re both thinking about the last Game, and what Neku did to himself - and how bad it could have been - and what are the odds Saika didn’t feel all of that? Whatever the reason she came, it seems like everyone’s hell bent on giving her a reason to stay.
“All kinds of reasons, really. Sometimes the Angel does it to themselves - maybe even on purpose, or sometimes the other Angels get together, make a decision to boot one of them out. It’s mostly if they’re evil or they’re power-hungry or just stupid: destabilizing the UG, using Taboo noise, that sort of thing.”
He’s talking without really thinking, thoughts shuffling a little as he speaks, still trying to find solutions where none exist, and at the way Neku jerks, Kariya curses himself instantly. He has to search back through what he’s just said, to even find out what he - shit. Idiot.
Neku’s eyes are dark, his gaze turned far inward. So that answers the question of whether Hanekoma ever had the balls to come clean about that particular point.
“Minamimoto’s not… not an Angel.”
“No. Not hardly.” The point of this little conversation was not to end up here, at all. It’s not that he gives a shit for the shreds of Hanekoma’s reputation, but the last thing Neku needs to be is more off-balance. He’s glad the kid’s as fast, as perceptive as he is, but this would have been a real good moment for him to flake out.
“So if… I mean, the Taboo Noise, that’s not something… He would have needed… help.” The way the kid’s voice catches, practically quavers on the word nearly makes Kariya flinch. Stupid, stupid stupid fool, and Kariya can’t let it hang there, whatever his own feelings. It isn’t for the Angel’s sake anyway.
“He really didn’t do it to hurt you, kid.”
Neku laughs, a short, sharp little thing, and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah, that’s kind of a theme around here.”
“Listen, you don’t need to worry about that anyway. Past is past. You just gotta know, the UG isn’t any safer for you, just ‘cause you’re not a Player anymore. The threats get bigger, is all. The nice thing is, you’ll feel them coming, anything as strong as a Fallen. No way they’ll get into Shibuya without you noticing. Cold and dark, and if you feel that you shift to the RG right away, before they can do you any damage. Let the Angels handle that shit.” He’s rambling, but at least Neku doesn’t look quite as much like a kicked puppy. “The Fallen, they can’t shift their Frequency so high, and wouldn’t dare try something out in the open anyway. I know a few tricks, maybe I can get you to shift a little higher, in case… anything happens, and you need a better place to hide.”
It’s the only thing Kariya knows for sure will work against Saika, if it comes to the worst. She didn’t like it at all when he went up, and even if she isn’t a Fallen, doesn’t quite feel like one, Neku doesn’t really need to worry about the specifics. So yeah, maybe Kariya’s teaching him mostly how to run like hell, but if he gets away, maybe the Angels will swoop down, shoot first and not ask questions, ever. Maybe Kariya can catch her off guard, get another chance, find a way to finish this fast.
“If I do it during a Game week, isn’t that kind of like cheating?
Kariya looks him straight in the eye. Remembers a long, long time ago, helping shift the grip on a sword for a brother barely old enough to hold the blade. The irony of what happens to honor, in the face of losing what’s most precious.
“You played the Game, kid. You know the rules. No such thing as cheating when you’re trying not to die.”
------------
All right, so it was a fantastically stupid assumption on Neku’s part, to think that the ugly revelation portion of his new life might actually be over. It’s stupid to think it’s over now. Who knows just how long it takes for the average Conductor to learn all the things they’d rather not know?
Surprise! Hankeoma tried to kill you too. Now get to class.
Past is past. Why is it so easy for everyone else to say? How can Kariya shrug it off, how can the Wall Reapers not even blink at an Erasure, and even Joshua-
He’s rocked back on his heels for what feels like the hundredth time in so many minutes, and Neku’s glad he’s at least at school and Kariya is long gone. Kind of strange for the Reaper to follow him practically to the door, but hell, Neku is probably missing another convoluted attempt at his job or his life or both, no matter what the Reaper said and - Joshua knew. Joshua knows that Hankeoma tried to destroy them both, that he’d given Minamimoto the Taboo Noise. How long has he known? Why doesn’t anyone think it’s in Neku’s best interest to ever tell him a damn thing?
He pauses in the stairwell, empty except for him and the morning sunlight. Takes a deep breath, listens to the city. Tries to calm down, so he won’t accidentally destroy himself with self-pity, another thing either one of them could have, like, mentioned.
Neku's trying to roll with it, trying to make those allowances. Joshua’s not so much a person as a fancy orchid, and Neku knows he's never going to get a proportional response to any of his careful attempts at special handling. Joshua’s just high maintenance, like particle-accelerator-mated-with-F-1-racecar high, and it’s not like Neku doesn’t get that. The benefits far outweigh the cost, even now.
He’d thought Mr. H was the sane one, is all.
Of course he’s the sane one. He tried to stop Joshua from destroying Shibuya. It’s what all of it was about, right? Even if it meant making a monster to do it.
A monster who didn’t even realize his purpose. If Taboo Noise was that bad, certainly the Angels would have stepped in right away, afterward, even if Minamimoto had succeeded. Poor bastard never even knew he was being played by everyone.
Neku realizes he never gave much thought to just who was behind those Red Pins, but that’s not really something a Conductor can do, either, is it? Neku can manage a few, if he takes his time, but they’re all simple, physical type stuff. Nothing on that scope or scale. He’s never seen Joshua - the Composer doesn’t even need pins. So maybe Kitaniji was just way better than Neku is now. Maybe he’d been Conductor for an impossibly long time, and he could make all the pins he wanted, and it’s not like he’d even be able to talk to Hanekoma, right?
Unless Joshua, unless he somehow… and Neku puts his head in his hands and hopes very much that nothing the first-period teacher is discussing is going to be on the test, because he hasn’t heard a word of it.
He’s afraid, which is something he doesn’t ever want Joshua or Mr. H to know. His second Game coming up and Neku can’t help but be a little afraid of the both of them, not so much for himself but for what they’re obviously capable of doing to each other. It’s not like this changes things between him and Mr. H - his respect for CAT pretty much transcends petty things like sanity - but it’s yet another reminder of how small he is, how little he knows in this game between gods. They’ve fought, they’ve obviously forgiven, and he was never aware of any of it.
At the end of the day, Neku’s a liability. He doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know, and it really seems like they’re both happier with him that way.
It would be kind of nice to know why.
---------------------
“Eri!!! I’m just… I just want to go in my dress pants. Ok? Please?”
Neku comes in to the room just as Shiki’s finished shouting, her voice muffled behind the door, and this is because Eri’s got her hand on the knob, holding it firmly shut. She turns, gives Neku a grin as she shouts back.
“I didn’t work that hard on that dress and lie to you about who it was for so you could /not/ wear it to the show. It’s perfect. You said so yourself.”
“Perfect for some really pretty girl with /boobs/, Eri!” Neku nearly laughs at her openly irate tone. It’s rare to see this side of Shiki, or at least rare for him. Definitely not the shy girl who spends all her time trying to please everyone else.
“A girl with boobs couldn’t fit into the top.” Eri’s trying not to laugh, too. “Besides, I like your boobs, pretty girl. You like her boobs too, right Neku?”
The silence stretches. He can pretty much see Shiki’s expression through the door.
“Ha ha. Very funny, Eri.” Shiki says, maybe just a little shaky.
“Hi, Shiki.” Neku says, as gently as he can while speaking loud enough to be heard, barely able to hear the muted ‘eep’ in reply. “Uh… so, it looks like you two are having… fun?”
“It’s an intervention.” Eri says, matter of fact, and would probably cross her arms if she wasn’t still keeping the door firmly closed. “Shiki seems to think I’d go through all the trouble of making a beautiful dress for someone who didn’t deserve it on the night we’ve both worked so hard for.”
“So you… locked her in the bathroom.”
“With the dress. Yep.” Eri herself is wearing a dress that’s mostly covered with spiraling patterns of little clear sequins, her hair up and pinned in place with matching beaded sticks. It’s beautiful. Neku wonders how long it took Shiki to sew them on, if she actually did them all by hand.
“Eri, please. We’re going to be late.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure we would have done great. It’s gonna be a shame to miss it.” It isn’t just a smile on Eri’s face, but a tenderness too, a hope, and she glances back at Neku again, and then to the door, a silent plea.
“I’d really like to see this dress of yours, Shiki.” Neku says, and means it. “Also, it’s gonna be hard to draw for you if you’re stuck in a bathroom forever. I suppose I’ll have to slide the pics under the door.”
After a moment, they hear a sound, maybe a small laugh or just a sigh, and Eri gives him a combination eye roll-victory sign-grateful look, and finally lets go of the door, flexing her hand.
“Thanks.” Neku says quietly, knows that Eri understands what he means, that she’s not jealous that he’s there in Shiki’s life, even when he’s the deciding vote in moments like these.
“She thinks I’m not objective enough, because of how much I love her,” Eri says back, just as quietly, her smile so bright and her Music sparkling to match her ensemble. “It’s true, of course, but it’s still a kickass dress.”
A knock on the wood, a few moments later. The door opens just a crack, and Neku catches a glimpse of Shiki’s shoulder blade, the pale skin just above the curve of her waist as Eri slides the zipper up. Then the door is open and Shiki’s there with her hair pulled up and feathery in the back, decorated with a little spangly ornament and for the first time Neku really gets the whole little black dress thing.
“Stop looking.” Shiki mutters, blushing, not quite meeting his eyes. She has her arms down, holding onto a small purse, the delicate effect betrayed by the way she’s throttling the life out of it.
Neku hasn’t had the best day, school was kind of a total wash and he probably didn’t spend more than five minutes combined not thinking about what Mr. H had done. Everything’s so much better now, it feels, as always, like he’s thawing out - it’s Mr. H who told him that, isn’t it, that he can’t do it alone. Neku only feels better because he’s here, with his friends - what would be left of him, if he tried to do it all by himself?
“I’m glad you decided to join us. I would have felt kind of stupid, trying to figure out what to wear this with.” Neku says, and lets the necklace drop out of his hand, dangling in the light. He realizes, in the split-second before her reaction, that he’d just assumed all this time she’d be happy. He hasn’t done this sort of thing before with a friend - Joshua doesn’t count, he’s insane - at least not for a really long time, and it’s honestly a bit of a relief to see her smile.
“Oh my God, Neku. Oh my God. I can’t just… I mean, this is a Pegaso? God, it is. How much did you spend?!”
“Please breathe.” Neku says, smiling, and gently moves her flustered, protesting hands out of the way, Shiki finally letting him. Blushing again, and standing stock still as he gets the clasp in place. He should have asked about the neckline on the dress before this, but he’s lucky. The chain is just the right length, and the way it sparkles, he thinks, compliments Eri’s dress rather nicely. The two of them already look professional, already successful, as if they’ve been doing this for years.
“Ok, so I’m feeling underdressed.” Neku mutters after a moment, when no one says anything.
“Of course you are, you’re wearing Hip Snake pants with a Sheep top because obviously no one loved you as a child.” Eri says, taking a theatrical step back. “Don’t get too close, Shiki, it might be contagious.”
Shiki ignores her, practically tackling Neku with a delighted giggle, as he does his best to hug her back without wrinkling anything. Before anyone can say more, a car horn blares, and then he’s helping to load what they’ve got in the back, Shiki moving carefully to avoid creasing her dress and Eri blowing him a dramatic kiss from behind the window and then they’re gone, Neku watching the tail lights flash red for a moment, before they zip around a corner. He wishes he was a better Conductor, that he could give them maybe something a little bit more than just his own hopes for the best, but Neku’s pretty sure they’ve already got everything they need.
------------------------
“So, you without a bowl in your hand? This is new.”
It’s not that Kariya’s not paying attention to his surroundings, but the things he’s waiting for, that threat level is just a little higher than anything Def March is going to bring to the table. So he doesn’t notice 777 until the other Reaper is practically standing on his feet, and even then he doesn’t care, keeping his gaze on the other side of the street. Whatever his original errand, Neku’s been waylaid by some shop clerk he seems to know, so Kariya’s taken up a good position in view of the shop door, and so it might even look as if he’s actually out here just to enjoy the night, do a little people watching.
“I didn’t think you had, you know, a life.”
Of all the Reapers, 777’s usually pretty low on the list of people Kariya wants to actively throw into traffic. After what he did in the Long Game, well, that’s worth at least some respect. If Def March really has something else going on besides blindly dicking around in the Game, more power to them. It would be better, at the moment, if they’d do it somewhere else, though as a Reaper 777’s pretty much obligated to be unhelpful. Kariya hasn’t taken his eyes off the door, and he sees Mr. Rock Star follow his gaze, his little entourage not quite as perceptive.
“Congratulations on getting your ass back in the Game.” He says, when it’s obvious they aren’t leaving. “I don’t think anyone saw it coming.”
“I sure as hell didn’t.” 777 takes a drag of his cigarette, taps the pack to offer Kariya one, shrugging when he declines. One of the real perks for some of the Reapers, all the enjoyment with none of the consequences. “I can’t wait to see this Game of his. Did he really send three Players back home?”
“Italy, I think.” He still hasn’t looked away, and to hell with what 777 or the others are wondering. Neku finally reappears, though he’s not alone, chatting with a group of kids who are only kids, and Kariya shifts his attention back to the surrounding block of space, just keeping an eye on everyone coming and going. It’s a little tiring, and probably all useless, but he needs to do something, anything, or he’ll just go nuts. 777 glances between them again, and the slightest grin flits across his face.
“Huh.” So much summed up in a grunt. Maybe because he’s a musician.
Kariya finally glances at him, just long enough to make it a glare. “You’re stupider than you used to be. Might want to look into that.”
The grin becomes a smile. “So you’re not calling dibs on him, then?”
“I’d take that up with the Composer, first, if I were you.” He says it all for the pleasure of watching 777 freeze up, and no shit, really? 777 actually made a pass at the kid? Kariya can’t help but wonder how far he got. It makes sense, with the sort of Music the kid’s throwing out, even a mid-level Reaper in close proximity would be doomed before long. Even as a Player, Neku was rocking that wide-eyed, out-of-his-depth, “hello my name is bait” thing pretty hard.
“He’s too young for you.” Kariya says, laughing a little despite himself, kind of glad it comes out sounding normal because he’s really not in control of it. He’d regroup, but how and why bother when he still doesn’t have anything remotely resembling a plan of attack. Neku’s a prodigy but what can Kariya show him in a day or two? What can he possibly teach before she strikes? He knows, Kariya knowsSaika will strike during the game when he’s not looking and he has to be looking, he has to be.
He’s managed, apart from the morning, to stay unnoticed, following Neku through his daily grind. It’s a little bit harder to do with a rock band in tow, 777 not exactly the kind of guy that blends, and so it’s not really a surprise when Neku looks up while crossing the street, and sees them. At least he doesn’t look angry, or even annoyed, just that wary hesitance that never seems to leave and Kariya wonders if it’s because they’re Reapers or because it’s four of them and Neku doesn’t want to intrude if he’s not wanted. Stupid kid, so skittish when he ought to be a tyrant.
“Hey.” 777 says, and Kariya’s looking so he sees the way Neku reacts, the split-second drop of the eyes and it’s too dark to see if he goes red at all, but he recovers pretty fast.
“Hey.”
The two other members of Def March make little noises that work for greetings, obviously nervous. Kariya doesn’t bother saying anything, the glance Neku throws him already curious, wondering why he’s here /again/, but the kid doesn’t say anything, glancing back at 777 instead.
“You guys got a show tonight?”
“Next week. Ought to be fun. Game week shows are always interesting.” Maybe Kariya can get Def March in on this, somehow. Come up with some bullshit version of the truth. 777 isn’t a real talkative person, there’s little to worry about him keeping a secret. He also has some selfish interest in having Neku around, if only for how the kid improves the scenery. It might be worth the risk, if only to get the Reaper to call him, if he’s there when it all finally goes down.
“You guys, uh… want to help me with something?” Neku says, and fuck but the kid’s stupid, hopeful smile actually makes him feel better. Steadier, like it’s all going to be okay if he just does his best - and yeah, that was why everything worked out so well with the Red Pins, wasn’t it? Kariya the amazing Angel assassin, doing his best on the sinking ship Shibuya.
If he doesn’t figure out how to do a lot better than that, and shore up the goddamn defenses, the Long Game’s going to look like a paid holiday.
“What’s the deal?” 777 says - apparently neither of his band mates have the balls to talk to the Conductor anymore, BJ and Tenho shifting from foot to foot, not quite hiding behind their leader. “You need me to ruin your homework or something?
“It’s more… artistic expression.” Neku shrugs his bag off his shoulder, reaches inside. Kariya can’t figure out what the little bundle of wire and plastic is supposed to be, even after Neku tweaks something and it explodes into color, a miniature ball of twinkling lights. One of Minamimoto’s ridiculous sculptures is nearby, but he hasn’t thought anything of it, until Neku leans back and throws the little gadget nearly to the top of the sculpture, where it sticks, flickering brightly.
“Magnets - and the batteries should last for a long time.” Neku says, examining his efforts with a hand on his hip, looking satisfied. One of the Def Marchers lets out a little snicker.
“Well, that’s immature.” Kariya says, impressed.
“Yep.”
“S’gonna piss off Minamimoto.” BJ says, his one sentence worth of courage. 777 only shakes his head.
“Yep.” Neku pulls a few more bags of flickering lights out of his pack. “So, you wanna help?”
Of course they all take a bag. Kariya’s kind of surprised the kid had time to make so many, but Minamimoto does tend to inspire that sort of industrious enmity. It’s not nearly enough to go after every one of his junk piles, of course, but they focus on the larger ones in the more popular places, making sure to throw high enough that the ‘decorations’ won’t be easily removed.
Kariya could leave, he knows that. Just walk away and let whatever happens just play itself out. What’s stopping him? What combination it is of Uzuki and this rookie Conductor that doesn’t even have him looking for the door? Hell, he’d do it just for Uzuki, even if he knows she’d never believe him.
Kariya hates running, hated it from the very beginning, and maybe he’s kept himself to himself all this time because it was always going to be like this, once he had to stop and get involved. Stupid samurai bullshit, codes of conduct and sworn duties that nobody in the world believes in anymore. Kariya glances over, watches Neku as he throws another bundle of lights, just happy, and so perfect when he's fully in the moment, so much what a true lord of the Underground ought to be. The nostalgia is sweet and sharp, like he's full of bits of colored, broken glass. He might end up dying for this kid. After all this time, it could be his end. Is it nobility or misguided honor or just that self-destructive impulse finally kicking in?
Or is it that nothing was supposed to feel the same for him, not ever again. Nothing in this world should exist, to remind him of what was lost, of that perfect clarity, of home.
They’re pelting the last statue with what remains of their stash, even 777 getting into it, with a little bit of a height advantage and a long arm. Kariya’s already out, and Neku tosses his last a few seconds later, cocking his head slightly in appreciation at the riot of color making merry with what is probably supposed to be a serious artistic statement.
It’s just quiet enough that they all hear the scream of outrage, somewhere up the block, and it’s like the signal to scatter, 777 and his posse cutting at a slacker’s pace in one direction while Neku takes off in the other, practically giggling. Kariya waits a moment, and falls into place, a shadow again, invisible. He hopes the Composer will be wherever Neku’s going, he needs to check on Uzuki and maybe catch some sleep himself.
One more day, and it’s Game on. Kariya knows he ought to be happy, at least this time he can see it all coming, but what’s settling in his gut is anything but confidence.
========================
Author’s Notes
1. Chapter title: Yeasayer - Ambling Alp
2. Getting there. Thanks as always for your reviews and patience.
Author: twigcollins
Rating: PG-13. I love swearing.
Warnings: Spoilers through end of game plus secret reports.
Summary: Hey, what’s the worst that can happen?
Author’s Notes: Cross-posted to subarashiki_ds
Archive of StN links available here: http://delicious.com/Flidget/Signal2Noise
He’s making useless plans, with tactics out of date by hundreds of years. Kariya can feel the old, old wariness settling into his muscles, thinks of nights spent kneeling outside his master’s door, waiting for the slightest creak in the floor, the near-silent hiss of a blade being drawn. It’s not going to be that easy, not this time. No codes of honor, no shared vulnerabilities - Neku doesn’t even know he’s in danger, and Kariya can’t tell him, or anyone.
Uzuki was sleeping again by the time he’d left. Kariya had made her swear she wasn’t going to feed herself to Saika, or go searching for the Composer or anyone else that might get her Erased, or even shift into the UG again if he wasn’t around. He’s never seen her this openly scared, not even during the Long Game, but it’s the resignation that worries him more. It’s like she’s humoring him, like she’s already given up and is just waiting for him to get smart and do the same, to give up on her.
Kariya can feel his wings ache with tension even here in the RG, faking his usual lazy slouch against the wall. He’s got no castle, no loyal guards, and there is no doubt Uzuki is right. This thing, this Saika that used to be a girl, she’s going to go after Neku. He’s the Conductor, all but first in the line of fire, whether it’s an ambitious Reaper or a Player entirely out of their depth or an Angel or a Fallen or anything at all.
Kariya takes the faintest cold comfort in the fact that the Angels won’t listen, not really, even if he tries to tell them what they’re up against. Insulated by their power, not even realizing how they consider themselves untouchable, while they bitch at the Composers for being arrogant. Kariya shuts his eyes, letting his breath out in a long, hissing sigh. He can see it happening, see everything going straight to hell in a thousand different ways, and that’s if they’re lucky. This thing? This girl? She’ll take everything she can get, there’s no reason for her not to try. The only saving grace is that he doesn’t think Saika can change her vibe, can’t get into the RG easily at all. Maybe not even through anyone but Uzuki, and that’s only if his partner’s in the UG first.
Who knows what else she can do, though? Whisper in the ear of some lunatic bastard, maybe. Coax him into Neku’s way, here in the RG where he’s just a kid with no idea what’s at stake. Calm and contented, thinking he can leave all that danger behind him when he eats breakfast, hangs out with his friends, goes to school.
So Kariya’s been here for an hour, watching the sky grow brighter, staring at nothing in particular until the light goes on in a window of Neku’s apartment, maybe a dim silhouette in front of the window, just for a moment, passing by.
Less than useless, to tell Sanae Hanekoma. If anything, it would only hurt Kariya’s credibility with the Angels - no way they wouldn’t see a warning from that half-Fallen mess as anything but a pathetic attempt to regain his position. No reason Hanekoma would be any different than the rest of them, Erasing Uzuki just to be sure, because a single Reaper has less than no value to any of them. Not compared to someone like Neku, and Kariya gets it, he really does, a simple cost-benefit of ability and power and what the Angels would consider useful potential. He can feel it, has been feeling it, as Neku steps out his front door, swinging his bookbag over a shoulder as he turns to lock up.
He’s just so bright, so pure. And Saika knows what he is, Kariya’s sure of it, the nightmare bitch knows or she will the second she sees him. Not just his own power either, this morning, there’s another melody there playing backbeat, and Kariya bites down hard on the side of his tongue because it is in /no way/ surprising the Composer’s decided to make his Conductor a regular snack, but there it is, right? Even if the relationship’s all one-way, even the most bastard Composer… shit, this is how it happens, isn’t it. This is how Shibuya dies.
“Hey.”
Neku’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs, has noticed him. Wary, his first impulse around any Reaper is always caution, though Kariya thinks it passes more quickly than it should. It looks like Neku’s trying to decide whether a smile might be be right or not.
“Hey.” Kariya finally replies, knowing he doesn’t have anything even remotely resembling a plan, and just starts walking instead. Neku steps in beside him, after a moment. The kid must think this is weird, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s another thing to like about him - Reapers, in general, never shut up. Either talking about kills they made or ones they’re going to mske, and every single one of them has a super-secret plan about how to take the Conductor, or the Composer, or both, and most of them will explain it in detail after a ridiculously small amount of beer and even less encouragement.
Neku, on the other hand, stays quiet, even though Kariya can see him giving darting, curious little looks whenever he thinks the Harrier isn’t looking back.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just… you look a little tense. Preoccupied.”
One day. One day before the Game starts up, and Uzuki will have to be there. He can’t watch them both, not all the time, not when all it will take is a single moment of inattention.
“I thought I might be able to teach you a couple things. Before the next Game.” The words surprise him as much as they do Neku.
“Like… sparring?”
Kariya smirks. “What, you think ‘cause you took me down once and you’ve been Conductor for all of a week-”
“No. No. I didn’t mean - it’s cool.” Neku puts his hands up in a placating gesture, an odd look on his face, not quite sure he’s awake enough to get what Kariya’s saying. “Just… this isn’t some kind of plot to try and kill me or something, is it?”
“The last thing I want in this world is your job, kid.” How true is that, and on how many levels. “It’d be a pain in my ass, too, if you get Erased and I have to deal with some new guy. I like you. You’re a pushover.”
“Yeah, thanks for that. So this ‘kid’ business? I thought I was the boss.”
“Only during Game weeks, kid.”
“Right.” Neku mutters, though the slight smile seems genuine. So open, so utterly unprepared. Kariya really doesn’t feel as old as he is, for the amount of responsibility he’s dodged. But he is old, and after a while everything sort of turns to pattern recognition, women who look and act like ones he used to know, two hundred years ago, and men getting into all the same fights. It’s just the clothes that change, and he doesn't understand any more than he did back then. His Composer is gone, has been gone forever, and even living as long as Kariya has brings nothing he can use.
“He hasn’t told you much, has he? The Composer. About how to keep yourself safe.”
“What, during the Game? It… they have to go after the Games Master first, right? I mean, I try to be careful…”
“Do you spend time in the UG, when you’re not busy getting in our way during a Game?” Neku cuts his eyes away for a second, and Kariya has his answer.
“What? Not a lot of it. Sometimes. It’s quiet there. I can get some sketching done, and it’s a little easier.” Neku frowns. “Why? I’ve never felt anything… wrong. It’s not like there’s any Players in there, and the Noise leaves me alone.”
“Other things can come into the UG, you know. Just because your Composer’s not thinking about them doesn’t mean they’re not there.”
“You mean… like Angels.” Neku’s watching him very closely, and Kariya doesn’t even ask. Of course Neku knows about Angels, why the hell not, though he's obviously surprised that Kariya does too. “How do you know?”
For so long, they’d all known, back when there hadn’t been as many Reapers, as many Players as there are today. No divide between the Producers and the rest. Kariya can’t remember exactly when it changed, a gradual thing, or why. The same reason as anything else, probably, the Angels mostly cowards behind a thin illusion of grace. Protected, because hardly anyone knows they exist.
“I told you, I been at this for a while now. You last out here long enough, you realize it’s the things you’re not supposed to know that keep you alive." Kariya frowns. "Yeah, Angels, that’s some of it. More specifically, what happens to Angels who decide they don’t really want to be Angels anymore.”
As if on cue, a cloud passes in front of the just-risen sun, and Kariya nearly rolls his eyes. Hates the way Neku is watching him, more than a little anxious, and there’s a stupid moment where he wishes he’d just kept his yap shut.
“They’re called Fallen. Even if they were in your little Conductor book, they wouldn’t be. Angels don’t like to talk about them much.”
“Fallen.” Neku says quietly. “Bet I can guess how that happens.”
And he knows they’re both thinking about the last Game, and what Neku did to himself - and how bad it could have been - and what are the odds Saika didn’t feel all of that? Whatever the reason she came, it seems like everyone’s hell bent on giving her a reason to stay.
“All kinds of reasons, really. Sometimes the Angel does it to themselves - maybe even on purpose, or sometimes the other Angels get together, make a decision to boot one of them out. It’s mostly if they’re evil or they’re power-hungry or just stupid: destabilizing the UG, using Taboo noise, that sort of thing.”
He’s talking without really thinking, thoughts shuffling a little as he speaks, still trying to find solutions where none exist, and at the way Neku jerks, Kariya curses himself instantly. He has to search back through what he’s just said, to even find out what he - shit. Idiot.
Neku’s eyes are dark, his gaze turned far inward. So that answers the question of whether Hanekoma ever had the balls to come clean about that particular point.
“Minamimoto’s not… not an Angel.”
“No. Not hardly.” The point of this little conversation was not to end up here, at all. It’s not that he gives a shit for the shreds of Hanekoma’s reputation, but the last thing Neku needs to be is more off-balance. He’s glad the kid’s as fast, as perceptive as he is, but this would have been a real good moment for him to flake out.
“So if… I mean, the Taboo Noise, that’s not something… He would have needed… help.” The way the kid’s voice catches, practically quavers on the word nearly makes Kariya flinch. Stupid, stupid stupid fool, and Kariya can’t let it hang there, whatever his own feelings. It isn’t for the Angel’s sake anyway.
“He really didn’t do it to hurt you, kid.”
Neku laughs, a short, sharp little thing, and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah, that’s kind of a theme around here.”
“Listen, you don’t need to worry about that anyway. Past is past. You just gotta know, the UG isn’t any safer for you, just ‘cause you’re not a Player anymore. The threats get bigger, is all. The nice thing is, you’ll feel them coming, anything as strong as a Fallen. No way they’ll get into Shibuya without you noticing. Cold and dark, and if you feel that you shift to the RG right away, before they can do you any damage. Let the Angels handle that shit.” He’s rambling, but at least Neku doesn’t look quite as much like a kicked puppy. “The Fallen, they can’t shift their Frequency so high, and wouldn’t dare try something out in the open anyway. I know a few tricks, maybe I can get you to shift a little higher, in case… anything happens, and you need a better place to hide.”
It’s the only thing Kariya knows for sure will work against Saika, if it comes to the worst. She didn’t like it at all when he went up, and even if she isn’t a Fallen, doesn’t quite feel like one, Neku doesn’t really need to worry about the specifics. So yeah, maybe Kariya’s teaching him mostly how to run like hell, but if he gets away, maybe the Angels will swoop down, shoot first and not ask questions, ever. Maybe Kariya can catch her off guard, get another chance, find a way to finish this fast.
“If I do it during a Game week, isn’t that kind of like cheating?
Kariya looks him straight in the eye. Remembers a long, long time ago, helping shift the grip on a sword for a brother barely old enough to hold the blade. The irony of what happens to honor, in the face of losing what’s most precious.
“You played the Game, kid. You know the rules. No such thing as cheating when you’re trying not to die.”
------------
All right, so it was a fantastically stupid assumption on Neku’s part, to think that the ugly revelation portion of his new life might actually be over. It’s stupid to think it’s over now. Who knows just how long it takes for the average Conductor to learn all the things they’d rather not know?
Surprise! Hankeoma tried to kill you too. Now get to class.
Past is past. Why is it so easy for everyone else to say? How can Kariya shrug it off, how can the Wall Reapers not even blink at an Erasure, and even Joshua-
He’s rocked back on his heels for what feels like the hundredth time in so many minutes, and Neku’s glad he’s at least at school and Kariya is long gone. Kind of strange for the Reaper to follow him practically to the door, but hell, Neku is probably missing another convoluted attempt at his job or his life or both, no matter what the Reaper said and - Joshua knew. Joshua knows that Hankeoma tried to destroy them both, that he’d given Minamimoto the Taboo Noise. How long has he known? Why doesn’t anyone think it’s in Neku’s best interest to ever tell him a damn thing?
He pauses in the stairwell, empty except for him and the morning sunlight. Takes a deep breath, listens to the city. Tries to calm down, so he won’t accidentally destroy himself with self-pity, another thing either one of them could have, like, mentioned.
Neku's trying to roll with it, trying to make those allowances. Joshua’s not so much a person as a fancy orchid, and Neku knows he's never going to get a proportional response to any of his careful attempts at special handling. Joshua’s just high maintenance, like particle-accelerator-mated-with-F-1-racecar high, and it’s not like Neku doesn’t get that. The benefits far outweigh the cost, even now.
He’d thought Mr. H was the sane one, is all.
Of course he’s the sane one. He tried to stop Joshua from destroying Shibuya. It’s what all of it was about, right? Even if it meant making a monster to do it.
A monster who didn’t even realize his purpose. If Taboo Noise was that bad, certainly the Angels would have stepped in right away, afterward, even if Minamimoto had succeeded. Poor bastard never even knew he was being played by everyone.
Neku realizes he never gave much thought to just who was behind those Red Pins, but that’s not really something a Conductor can do, either, is it? Neku can manage a few, if he takes his time, but they’re all simple, physical type stuff. Nothing on that scope or scale. He’s never seen Joshua - the Composer doesn’t even need pins. So maybe Kitaniji was just way better than Neku is now. Maybe he’d been Conductor for an impossibly long time, and he could make all the pins he wanted, and it’s not like he’d even be able to talk to Hanekoma, right?
Unless Joshua, unless he somehow… and Neku puts his head in his hands and hopes very much that nothing the first-period teacher is discussing is going to be on the test, because he hasn’t heard a word of it.
He’s afraid, which is something he doesn’t ever want Joshua or Mr. H to know. His second Game coming up and Neku can’t help but be a little afraid of the both of them, not so much for himself but for what they’re obviously capable of doing to each other. It’s not like this changes things between him and Mr. H - his respect for CAT pretty much transcends petty things like sanity - but it’s yet another reminder of how small he is, how little he knows in this game between gods. They’ve fought, they’ve obviously forgiven, and he was never aware of any of it.
At the end of the day, Neku’s a liability. He doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know, and it really seems like they’re both happier with him that way.
It would be kind of nice to know why.
---------------------
“Eri!!! I’m just… I just want to go in my dress pants. Ok? Please?”
Neku comes in to the room just as Shiki’s finished shouting, her voice muffled behind the door, and this is because Eri’s got her hand on the knob, holding it firmly shut. She turns, gives Neku a grin as she shouts back.
“I didn’t work that hard on that dress and lie to you about who it was for so you could /not/ wear it to the show. It’s perfect. You said so yourself.”
“Perfect for some really pretty girl with /boobs/, Eri!” Neku nearly laughs at her openly irate tone. It’s rare to see this side of Shiki, or at least rare for him. Definitely not the shy girl who spends all her time trying to please everyone else.
“A girl with boobs couldn’t fit into the top.” Eri’s trying not to laugh, too. “Besides, I like your boobs, pretty girl. You like her boobs too, right Neku?”
The silence stretches. He can pretty much see Shiki’s expression through the door.
“Ha ha. Very funny, Eri.” Shiki says, maybe just a little shaky.
“Hi, Shiki.” Neku says, as gently as he can while speaking loud enough to be heard, barely able to hear the muted ‘eep’ in reply. “Uh… so, it looks like you two are having… fun?”
“It’s an intervention.” Eri says, matter of fact, and would probably cross her arms if she wasn’t still keeping the door firmly closed. “Shiki seems to think I’d go through all the trouble of making a beautiful dress for someone who didn’t deserve it on the night we’ve both worked so hard for.”
“So you… locked her in the bathroom.”
“With the dress. Yep.” Eri herself is wearing a dress that’s mostly covered with spiraling patterns of little clear sequins, her hair up and pinned in place with matching beaded sticks. It’s beautiful. Neku wonders how long it took Shiki to sew them on, if she actually did them all by hand.
“Eri, please. We’re going to be late.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure we would have done great. It’s gonna be a shame to miss it.” It isn’t just a smile on Eri’s face, but a tenderness too, a hope, and she glances back at Neku again, and then to the door, a silent plea.
“I’d really like to see this dress of yours, Shiki.” Neku says, and means it. “Also, it’s gonna be hard to draw for you if you’re stuck in a bathroom forever. I suppose I’ll have to slide the pics under the door.”
After a moment, they hear a sound, maybe a small laugh or just a sigh, and Eri gives him a combination eye roll-victory sign-grateful look, and finally lets go of the door, flexing her hand.
“Thanks.” Neku says quietly, knows that Eri understands what he means, that she’s not jealous that he’s there in Shiki’s life, even when he’s the deciding vote in moments like these.
“She thinks I’m not objective enough, because of how much I love her,” Eri says back, just as quietly, her smile so bright and her Music sparkling to match her ensemble. “It’s true, of course, but it’s still a kickass dress.”
A knock on the wood, a few moments later. The door opens just a crack, and Neku catches a glimpse of Shiki’s shoulder blade, the pale skin just above the curve of her waist as Eri slides the zipper up. Then the door is open and Shiki’s there with her hair pulled up and feathery in the back, decorated with a little spangly ornament and for the first time Neku really gets the whole little black dress thing.
“Stop looking.” Shiki mutters, blushing, not quite meeting his eyes. She has her arms down, holding onto a small purse, the delicate effect betrayed by the way she’s throttling the life out of it.
Neku hasn’t had the best day, school was kind of a total wash and he probably didn’t spend more than five minutes combined not thinking about what Mr. H had done. Everything’s so much better now, it feels, as always, like he’s thawing out - it’s Mr. H who told him that, isn’t it, that he can’t do it alone. Neku only feels better because he’s here, with his friends - what would be left of him, if he tried to do it all by himself?
“I’m glad you decided to join us. I would have felt kind of stupid, trying to figure out what to wear this with.” Neku says, and lets the necklace drop out of his hand, dangling in the light. He realizes, in the split-second before her reaction, that he’d just assumed all this time she’d be happy. He hasn’t done this sort of thing before with a friend - Joshua doesn’t count, he’s insane - at least not for a really long time, and it’s honestly a bit of a relief to see her smile.
“Oh my God, Neku. Oh my God. I can’t just… I mean, this is a Pegaso? God, it is. How much did you spend?!”
“Please breathe.” Neku says, smiling, and gently moves her flustered, protesting hands out of the way, Shiki finally letting him. Blushing again, and standing stock still as he gets the clasp in place. He should have asked about the neckline on the dress before this, but he’s lucky. The chain is just the right length, and the way it sparkles, he thinks, compliments Eri’s dress rather nicely. The two of them already look professional, already successful, as if they’ve been doing this for years.
“Ok, so I’m feeling underdressed.” Neku mutters after a moment, when no one says anything.
“Of course you are, you’re wearing Hip Snake pants with a Sheep top because obviously no one loved you as a child.” Eri says, taking a theatrical step back. “Don’t get too close, Shiki, it might be contagious.”
Shiki ignores her, practically tackling Neku with a delighted giggle, as he does his best to hug her back without wrinkling anything. Before anyone can say more, a car horn blares, and then he’s helping to load what they’ve got in the back, Shiki moving carefully to avoid creasing her dress and Eri blowing him a dramatic kiss from behind the window and then they’re gone, Neku watching the tail lights flash red for a moment, before they zip around a corner. He wishes he was a better Conductor, that he could give them maybe something a little bit more than just his own hopes for the best, but Neku’s pretty sure they’ve already got everything they need.
------------------------
“So, you without a bowl in your hand? This is new.”
It’s not that Kariya’s not paying attention to his surroundings, but the things he’s waiting for, that threat level is just a little higher than anything Def March is going to bring to the table. So he doesn’t notice 777 until the other Reaper is practically standing on his feet, and even then he doesn’t care, keeping his gaze on the other side of the street. Whatever his original errand, Neku’s been waylaid by some shop clerk he seems to know, so Kariya’s taken up a good position in view of the shop door, and so it might even look as if he’s actually out here just to enjoy the night, do a little people watching.
“I didn’t think you had, you know, a life.”
Of all the Reapers, 777’s usually pretty low on the list of people Kariya wants to actively throw into traffic. After what he did in the Long Game, well, that’s worth at least some respect. If Def March really has something else going on besides blindly dicking around in the Game, more power to them. It would be better, at the moment, if they’d do it somewhere else, though as a Reaper 777’s pretty much obligated to be unhelpful. Kariya hasn’t taken his eyes off the door, and he sees Mr. Rock Star follow his gaze, his little entourage not quite as perceptive.
“Congratulations on getting your ass back in the Game.” He says, when it’s obvious they aren’t leaving. “I don’t think anyone saw it coming.”
“I sure as hell didn’t.” 777 takes a drag of his cigarette, taps the pack to offer Kariya one, shrugging when he declines. One of the real perks for some of the Reapers, all the enjoyment with none of the consequences. “I can’t wait to see this Game of his. Did he really send three Players back home?”
“Italy, I think.” He still hasn’t looked away, and to hell with what 777 or the others are wondering. Neku finally reappears, though he’s not alone, chatting with a group of kids who are only kids, and Kariya shifts his attention back to the surrounding block of space, just keeping an eye on everyone coming and going. It’s a little tiring, and probably all useless, but he needs to do something, anything, or he’ll just go nuts. 777 glances between them again, and the slightest grin flits across his face.
“Huh.” So much summed up in a grunt. Maybe because he’s a musician.
Kariya finally glances at him, just long enough to make it a glare. “You’re stupider than you used to be. Might want to look into that.”
The grin becomes a smile. “So you’re not calling dibs on him, then?”
“I’d take that up with the Composer, first, if I were you.” He says it all for the pleasure of watching 777 freeze up, and no shit, really? 777 actually made a pass at the kid? Kariya can’t help but wonder how far he got. It makes sense, with the sort of Music the kid’s throwing out, even a mid-level Reaper in close proximity would be doomed before long. Even as a Player, Neku was rocking that wide-eyed, out-of-his-depth, “hello my name is bait” thing pretty hard.
“He’s too young for you.” Kariya says, laughing a little despite himself, kind of glad it comes out sounding normal because he’s really not in control of it. He’d regroup, but how and why bother when he still doesn’t have anything remotely resembling a plan of attack. Neku’s a prodigy but what can Kariya show him in a day or two? What can he possibly teach before she strikes? He knows, Kariya knowsSaika will strike during the game when he’s not looking and he has to be looking, he has to be.
He’s managed, apart from the morning, to stay unnoticed, following Neku through his daily grind. It’s a little bit harder to do with a rock band in tow, 777 not exactly the kind of guy that blends, and so it’s not really a surprise when Neku looks up while crossing the street, and sees them. At least he doesn’t look angry, or even annoyed, just that wary hesitance that never seems to leave and Kariya wonders if it’s because they’re Reapers or because it’s four of them and Neku doesn’t want to intrude if he’s not wanted. Stupid kid, so skittish when he ought to be a tyrant.
“Hey.” 777 says, and Kariya’s looking so he sees the way Neku reacts, the split-second drop of the eyes and it’s too dark to see if he goes red at all, but he recovers pretty fast.
“Hey.”
The two other members of Def March make little noises that work for greetings, obviously nervous. Kariya doesn’t bother saying anything, the glance Neku throws him already curious, wondering why he’s here /again/, but the kid doesn’t say anything, glancing back at 777 instead.
“You guys got a show tonight?”
“Next week. Ought to be fun. Game week shows are always interesting.” Maybe Kariya can get Def March in on this, somehow. Come up with some bullshit version of the truth. 777 isn’t a real talkative person, there’s little to worry about him keeping a secret. He also has some selfish interest in having Neku around, if only for how the kid improves the scenery. It might be worth the risk, if only to get the Reaper to call him, if he’s there when it all finally goes down.
“You guys, uh… want to help me with something?” Neku says, and fuck but the kid’s stupid, hopeful smile actually makes him feel better. Steadier, like it’s all going to be okay if he just does his best - and yeah, that was why everything worked out so well with the Red Pins, wasn’t it? Kariya the amazing Angel assassin, doing his best on the sinking ship Shibuya.
If he doesn’t figure out how to do a lot better than that, and shore up the goddamn defenses, the Long Game’s going to look like a paid holiday.
“What’s the deal?” 777 says - apparently neither of his band mates have the balls to talk to the Conductor anymore, BJ and Tenho shifting from foot to foot, not quite hiding behind their leader. “You need me to ruin your homework or something?
“It’s more… artistic expression.” Neku shrugs his bag off his shoulder, reaches inside. Kariya can’t figure out what the little bundle of wire and plastic is supposed to be, even after Neku tweaks something and it explodes into color, a miniature ball of twinkling lights. One of Minamimoto’s ridiculous sculptures is nearby, but he hasn’t thought anything of it, until Neku leans back and throws the little gadget nearly to the top of the sculpture, where it sticks, flickering brightly.
“Magnets - and the batteries should last for a long time.” Neku says, examining his efforts with a hand on his hip, looking satisfied. One of the Def Marchers lets out a little snicker.
“Well, that’s immature.” Kariya says, impressed.
“Yep.”
“S’gonna piss off Minamimoto.” BJ says, his one sentence worth of courage. 777 only shakes his head.
“Yep.” Neku pulls a few more bags of flickering lights out of his pack. “So, you wanna help?”
Of course they all take a bag. Kariya’s kind of surprised the kid had time to make so many, but Minamimoto does tend to inspire that sort of industrious enmity. It’s not nearly enough to go after every one of his junk piles, of course, but they focus on the larger ones in the more popular places, making sure to throw high enough that the ‘decorations’ won’t be easily removed.
Kariya could leave, he knows that. Just walk away and let whatever happens just play itself out. What’s stopping him? What combination it is of Uzuki and this rookie Conductor that doesn’t even have him looking for the door? Hell, he’d do it just for Uzuki, even if he knows she’d never believe him.
Kariya hates running, hated it from the very beginning, and maybe he’s kept himself to himself all this time because it was always going to be like this, once he had to stop and get involved. Stupid samurai bullshit, codes of conduct and sworn duties that nobody in the world believes in anymore. Kariya glances over, watches Neku as he throws another bundle of lights, just happy, and so perfect when he's fully in the moment, so much what a true lord of the Underground ought to be. The nostalgia is sweet and sharp, like he's full of bits of colored, broken glass. He might end up dying for this kid. After all this time, it could be his end. Is it nobility or misguided honor or just that self-destructive impulse finally kicking in?
Or is it that nothing was supposed to feel the same for him, not ever again. Nothing in this world should exist, to remind him of what was lost, of that perfect clarity, of home.
They’re pelting the last statue with what remains of their stash, even 777 getting into it, with a little bit of a height advantage and a long arm. Kariya’s already out, and Neku tosses his last a few seconds later, cocking his head slightly in appreciation at the riot of color making merry with what is probably supposed to be a serious artistic statement.
It’s just quiet enough that they all hear the scream of outrage, somewhere up the block, and it’s like the signal to scatter, 777 and his posse cutting at a slacker’s pace in one direction while Neku takes off in the other, practically giggling. Kariya waits a moment, and falls into place, a shadow again, invisible. He hopes the Composer will be wherever Neku’s going, he needs to check on Uzuki and maybe catch some sleep himself.
One more day, and it’s Game on. Kariya knows he ought to be happy, at least this time he can see it all coming, but what’s settling in his gut is anything but confidence.
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Author’s Notes
1. Chapter title: Yeasayer - Ambling Alp
2. Getting there. Thanks as always for your reviews and patience.