(no subject)
Title: Signal to Noise - Boy with a Coin (22/?)
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
On Sunday, Neku wakes up just a little past one in the afternoon with a rabbit on his face.
“You got sick of them too, huh?”
He murmurs, smiling, glad that she’s safe, apparently not anything that new Angel cares about, and the Nao bun nudges him with her soft nose. It’s probably not ok for her to be sitting on his pillow while he’s in his pajama bottoms because she’s actually a girl and like, older than him and stuff, but the sheer weirdness factor seems to completely cancel out his ability to care. He’d fallen into bed with the start of a wicked headache, but thankfully it looks like he’s managed to outsleep it. Still groggy, Neku rolls onto his side and immediately regrets it, the results of Kariya’s righteous ass-kicking making him grimace and shift and then groan. If the Reaper managed to miss a spot, he sure as hell can’t feel it.
It seems like a good idea to just stay in bed for the rest of the day, until he hears a slight rustling sound, and ignores the ache in his shoulder enough to crane his head around. Most of his room is in the RG, well out of the realm of Noise interference, but the other bunny has discovered, quite happily, that his headphone cords exist in both realms at once.
Neku yelps, half-falls off the bed, and scrambles over to yank them out of its mouth. Best alarm clock ever.
The computer’s pretty much become his first stop in the morning. He’s set up an account with an art website Tsuyoshi suggested he sign up on, until he can come up with a good design for his own - and even for after, as it’s apparantly important to ‘cross-market’ as much as he can. Neku’s even bought a book on building webpages, but if there’s anything more confusing than the Conductor manual, it’s cascading style sheets.
He’s also gotten into the habit of checking and re-checking his mail - his Neku mail and his Conductor mail and his newly-created Artist mail, though he hasn’t yet settled on a name. On the fly, he’s gone with ‘Space Bunny,’ to match the few doodles he’s put up of Nao Nao floating through the cosmos.
Pointy claws just dig into his shirt, a slight weight settling down as he clicks his way through this new, complicated version of his life. The Sota-bun seems happy to hop around his room, while Nao prefers her usual perch on his shoulder.
“See? You’re the first thing I posted. You’re my lucky rabbit.”
He’s even got three comments on his favorite sketch, with the bunny in her helmet and a smiling star in her paws. Okay, so it’s not exactly high art - but hey, look at Hello Kitty, and ignore Joshua bitching that it’s not so much a mascot as a mental illness. Yeah, admittedly two of the comments are one word - ‘cool’ and ‘cute!!!1’ and so, ok, neither of those accounts are from people with any art in their own section, and the third one is spam in characters even his ultra-fancy computer doesn’t feel like translating - but still. It’s something.
It’s enough that he spends another half-hour mostly refreshing the page, just in case anyone else feels like adding a comment. As if his attention span isn’t short enough already - this must be where Joshua gets it from.
He hasn’t gotten much new mail from other Conductors beyond the occasional mass post, hardly anything from the Composers at all. Whether this is a measure of their attention span, the threat of his popularity drawing attention from their own Games - which he still believes is mostly bullshit - or that they’ve been Erased and a new person is in their place - well, no, there’s a newsletter of sorts for that kind of thing, a once a week rundown of any interesting occurrences in various Games all over the world. Neku is sure Shibuya must have had one hell of an entry the weeks he played, but all his questions have been met with polite deferral, or silence. Joshua makes people nervous, it seems, anywhere his name is mentioned. As if that’s any real surprise.
Or maybe the Angel’s responsible for the sudden radio silence. Maybe Neku’s been doing things really wrong all this time - the talking to Composers thing is probably not standard operating procedure - and now there are going to be consequences.
Joshua’s not answering his phone - of course not - and over the next hour or so Neku switches from trying to call him to just texting madly, with increasingly annoying messages and, finally, inane pictures of whatever he happens to be looking at - his shoes, the toilet, a half-drunk container of milk in the fridge. Obviously, it’s a horrible idea to leave Josh alone for too long, but Neku absolutely refuses to jump whenever his Composer happens to be in a sulk. If anything… bad happens, he’ll feel it, he’s sure of that, and if he could even find Josh, by the time he’d was finished letting the Composer pout or snap at him or feel superior - whatever he neeeded to do to get over having an unexpected Angel on his turf - it would certainly be the middle of the night and Neku’d be completely useless for the Game.
He doesn’t really have the concentration to sketch up anything impressive, but he’s also got a few commissions still hanging in space and this will probably be the last time he has to work on anything for a while, so Neku forces himself to sketch at least some concept art, while the Noise bunnies hop about. There’s a bit of a scuffle, when Sota starts nibbling on Nao’s hat, but things calm down before he’s forced to intervene.
Long after Neku’s given up on pestering Joshua, a truncated e-mail finally shows up in his inbox. Fairly uncomplicated directions for the week’s Game, a list of Players and their prices and their lives and their deaths, and Neku swallows, glancing away from that last one. The week’s vacation from the job is just about enough time to forget the way his stomach clenches, the way he can hear Shibuya gearing up if he wants to listen. A different rhythm to the Music in the district on Game weeks - everything changes, and then there’s the Angel to think about.
Sure, right, it’ll be an easy week, and Brede’s just going to observe. Easy and by-the book, even though he has yet to be in a Game week where everything goes according to any kind of plan. Neku lets his head drop back with a heavy sigh because he’s already too tired for this.
What did the Angel even mean - not about Hanekoma, but the rest of it? He lifts a hand up, over his head, staring blankly at the ceiling light between his fingers. Did he hurt Shibuya, when he’d been so angry? How? If he was more than a Conductor - well, obviously he’s a Composer, then, at least with the potential. That’s the implication, and somehow Brede thought he’d never considered it as a possibility. He smirks, imagining the look on the Angel’s face when he hears the truth, how Neku had the opportunity that apparently everyone else forever of all time would have used to shoot Joshua and then reload and then throw the gun at him and /then/ get a bigger gun, and he hadn’t pulled the trigger. That little revelation will get the Angel out of Shibuya without a backwards glance, giving Neku and all the rest of them up as a hopeless cause.
Which you are. Freaking masochist.
Neku drops his hand, rubbing his eyes, more worried for Mr. H now than angry, and even kind of sad that the man saw he was angry and - fuck, he is so bad at fighting with people. No wonder he cut and ran, the last time he was given the option. Ran himself right off the edge of the world, right into the Game - and there’s a helpful thought.
He’s been putting it off and putting it off, even skipped the Reaper meeting he probably should have organized yesterday, too easy to pretend he’s not what he doesn’t want to be. Neku frowns, closes out all his other programs, and scours the kitchen for anything edible before he goes back to his room and pulls up the list of new Players.
No one this time from outside of Shibuya, which is a relief. Neku makes a copy of the e-mail and cuts it down to the names and fees and… causes of death. He tries to go fast, aware he’s undermining the entire point of the cheat sheet if he can’t bear to /read/ it but - god, there’s a girl who got stabbed by her boyfriend, and a boy - who kills themselves at fourteen?
Were you so far off? How happy were you to be in the Game? No one to deal with, no one to bother you. You thought you might be dead, and did you care?
At least no one’s as young as Rhyme, though Neku still dreads having to face them, can’t quite bring himself to look at any pictures, and the thought that at least it will keep him from worrying about the Angel - yeah, real comforting.
Neku pushes the computer back, shuts his eyes and prays to anyone that might be listening, even as he feels stupid for doing it. Trying and failing to remember everything Vancouver told him about peace of mind. There’s no reason to think this Game isn’t going to gut him just as badly as the last, in some new way he can’t even imagine yet. But if what the Angel said is true, this time he’s just gonna have to learn to live with it.
----------------------------
Neku flips to the UG the moment he steps out the door Monday morning, two pairs of claws digging into each of his shoulders, like the world’s most ridiculous epaulets.
“You’re walking once we get there, ok? Hopping. Whatever.”
No sign of understanding in Sota’s beady eye, though Neku doesn’t remember the guy being all that aware when he was still human. He can feel the strain of them now, fully in the UG, just as Josh said he would, like trying to carry an overstuffed bookbag, the weight dragging him down. Neku pauses, focuses on his own Music, tries to… add more instruments to his Song is the only way he can think about it, while keeping the bunnies well out of the way, their Music fixed apart from his own. The weight shifts, lessens somewhat, not so noticeable. It’s worth it, worth any cost to know that he can fix this, and that they’re going to be human again.
Maybe the Angel’s pissed because of things like that, because he’s taking such a hands-on approach to the Game. Neku can’t help but glance up and around even with nothing to see. No doubt he’s being watched from some other level, studied or graded. Maybe Josh even… or Mr. H… maybe this is still some sort of test. How would he know -
“Yeah, right there! That’s him! Get him!”
Neku skids to a halt, just approaching Hachiko, and there’s a Reaper girl he doesn’t recognize with twitching wings, an irate expression, and pair of knee-high tan boots that Eri would either kill for or kill her for wearing. God only knows.
She’s pointing right at him, and the Players behind her are staring like some sort of bewildered, half-panicked Hydra. All eyes on him, and Neku very nearly glances over his shoulder, like he’s also looking for the idiot who’s going to be wading into this mess. Before he can say anything, a girl at the edge of the crowd screams, a ripple of panic shifting across the group as a frog Noise flickers into view, and leaps for the nearest Player.
Neku has his arm up without thinking, and Nao and Sota lunge forward in a fluid, tandem attack, a zig-zag pattern the reduces the Noise to nothing in a single strike. It’s pretty badass, so of course there’s no one to see it but a bunch of Players who are too scared to care, and the Reaper in the boots who’s striding toward him, looking anything but impressed.
“Man, they said you played a different kind of Game but I did not know I needed to show up stoned.”
“What are you… I mean…” Maybe better not to splutter like an idiot. If he can help it. Neku glances around, but can’t see a single Shibuya Reaper anywhere. “I’m not… who the hell…” He forces himself to stop, and swallow. Like it’s gonna help. “What’s going on?”
“I… uh… wow, wait. You’re the /Conductor/, aren’t you?” The Reaper stops short, twisting a long braid around one finger, glancing away as if when she looks back, he’ll somehow be whatever she was expecting, or at least slightly improved. Nervous - she must have thought he was the Games Master - and where the hell is Higashizawa anyway?
“Uh… that Game of yours a while back, you lost a bunch of guys? So some of us surplus Reapers from other Games, the ones they didn’t like - I mean, they shipped us over here?” Nearly all her sentences are pitched like a question, though Neku can’t tell if it’s the way she normally talks or she thinks he’s incredibly stupid and is trying really hard not to piss him off. “I was in the Shinjuku Game. We… uh… usually, over there, y’know… /show up/ when there are Players? Get instructions or whatever? I mean, this is cool too, I guess?”
Neku grits his teeth, tries to pretend this is one of the things Joshua would have mentioned, if the Angel hadn’t shown up to distract him.
“You said there were others? Like you?”
“Yeah. Couple of guys, and some Wall Reapers? They went to go get breakfast since… I mean, are we like, started?” The girl glances over her shoulder with a small, predatory smirk, and Neku remembers then exactly who - what - he’s dealing with.
“No one plays until everyone has Partners.”
“Really? No Reaper Smash and Dash?”
He’s not even going to ask what that is. It’s enough that she looks disappointed, and shrugs and steps to the side when he raises an eyebrow. He should probably make sure she doesn’t try to Erase him while his back is turned, but Neku has the feeling the bunnies might actually make her regret it - who knew they were badasses, and where in hell is Higashizawa?
The Players are all still watching him. Neku can’t quite remember who explains it all to them - the Games Master handles a fair share of the meet-and-greet, but a lot of it happens automatically, too, when a Player enters the Game. Unless, of course, the Composer really really likes a Player - then they get shot through the heart and thrown naked to the wolves. Wolf Noise. Whatever.
“Everybody has a cell phone, right?” He wishes he were taller, can see a few people near the back actually standing on tiptoe to try and see him. At least one girl in the front is trying not to smile at the bunny on his shoulder. At least Sota seems content to stay at his feet.
“You’re just a kid, like us.” A murmur from further in the crowd, “… I know that uniform.”
Actually, Neku’s a few years younger than at least a third of them, and the uniform is a great example of why he shouldn’t make last-minute decisions early in the morning. He makes a mental note to get Shiki and Eri to tell him which parts of his wardrobe are actually badass, and to figure out which shops are open early enough that he can duck into them and change before getting to class.
“Do you all have Partners? You need them.”
“We’re like… ghosts, aren’t we?”
How many conversations has Neku had with the Players in his head? How many comforting words, encouraging words, playing it serious or trying to be aloof or whatever might work best for them, for him - it’s all gone now, even before a girl pushes herself through to the front of the crowd. Around his age, and anything but wary. For a moment, he thinks she’s going to punch him, but instead she puts her phone right in his face, a text message that isn’t so much asking a question as telling him how far he can shove his head up his own ass and what he can do once he’s up there. Neku has to admit she’s impressively fast on the keys, unless she’s been inexplicably saving the text up for this sort of moment and where the fuck is Higashizawa?
He looks around again, sees what might be one of his Wall Reapers, though the hooded figure jumps back when he’s spotted, instantly out of sight. Man, you really have to love them for loyalty. Neku wishes his own reflexes were that good.
“Ok. Hi. Nice to meet you. Glad you have a phone.”
The rest of the Players have gone quiet, apparently content to let this girl be their spokesperson. She frowns, still glaring at him, and Neku braces himself for a much more vocal barrage of insults, only to have her start typing wildly into her phone again.
A taller boy is standing next to her, sort of behind her - she’d dragged them up together, and Neku can only assume he’s her Partner. He looks like he ought to be looming over them both, ought to be the threatening one, with wide shoulders and a fair amount of muscle, but when he notices Neku staring, he immediately drops his eyes, shuffling a half step backward. It reminds Neku a little of Shiki, of all people. Shy and awkward even though he’s loosely holding a baseball bat, one end dragging against the ground, and that has to be his weapon, and the girl’s probably the pin user - if, you know, Higashizawa ever shows up - and it’s a good thing she’s caught up typing instead of trying to use the bat on him. For the moment.
“What’s your name?”
“A-ami.” The boy murmurs, so low that Neku’s sure he didn’t hear it right, because he couldn’t have heard it right. “… and she’s Akane.”
The girl shoves another text at him, but Neku barely notices, flicking through his own phone at half a memory from looking through the names and the prices from the night before. Akane, she’s texting violence at him because she can’t speak, she’s a singer and her entry fee was her voice, and Ami’s got a girl’s name because she - because she was one, back before she’d given it up to join the Game. Neku looks up, and she must see that he knows because she cringes back a little further, as if this is somehow her fault and Akane seems about two steps away from wasting any more time and just bludgeoning him with the phone.
“You’re gonna have to fight. All of you. If you want to go back to the other world, the real world. If you want to get back what was taken from you. If you want to be alive again.”
“… and what if we think you’re full of it?” A boy shoulders his way through the crowd, older than Neku, and probably not a girl before this whole thing started. “What if we just-”
He reaches for Neku, and it isn’t even an effort to flicker out from under his hand, Neku reappearing a few steps to the left, causing a few of the Players to jump back in alarm. Afraid of him, when he hardly did anything at all. His heart is pounding - it should be fun, he should be pleased to be the one in control but Neku hates this so much. The fear he can’t take away, the way they’re all looking at him and how he deserves it because he’s the Conductor. He’s a part of this, this Game that eats people.
“You died. All of you died, and you know it, but you’re still here now, because you have a reason to stay. What you’ve got, what you are and whatever it is you gave up, it’s worth fighting for.”
Is the crappy inspirational speech having any effect? Neku fights the urge to look around again - his responsibility, if he hates the way the Game is played, to find a way to do it better. “If I could bring you all back, I would. I swear I would, but I can’t.”
Like he tried in the last Game, when no one was looking and there was a pair of Players in between battles, resting, and Neku had tried to pull one of them back into the RG but it was like trying to pick up a handful of dry sand, and he’d been afraid if he’d tried any harder it might just pull the boy apart, Erase him despite his good intentions.
“I wanna go home. Can’t we please just go home?”
The girl could be Shiki, or Eri, and Neku can’t, just cannot do another Game without sunglasses of his own, just so they don’t see how rattled he is. What’s he supposed to say? So many of them aren’t even going to make it until Wednesday, he knows it, and this is their only chance. It’s either this or no chance at all. It’s a living thing, this UG, and Shibuya’s so beautiful but even if he could explain it, Neku doubts they’d care. He sure as hell didn’t when he was a Player. Even if they could hear-
Neku stops. It’s a bad idea for so very many reasons, the Angel and the Game and the rules and not actually knowing which specific one he’ll be breaking this time - but what’s important is that he /can/, that’s what matters. He has the power now, that when things are shitty and ugly and wrong, he can try to do something to make it better. Anything. He can be better, damn it.
Neku drops his bag and steps forward, toward the girl wiping uselessly at her tears.
“Come here.”
It’s obvious the girl regrets saying anything, the crowd shrinking back from her, and even she takes a step back but there’s nowhere to go. Neku hears the Reaper girl chuckle a little, obviously used to a certain response to outspoken Players, and if he had a moment to spare from his dumbass idea he’d glare at her.
“It’s okay. Take my hand.”
He’s holding his hand out, palm up, like making a Pact, and it’s funny how he wouldn’t even be afraid if it happened now, how he’s not afraid - and Neku knows what that giddy, vibrant courage is because he’s reached out for Shibuya and the district has answered back, laughing, excited, curious and bright. He tries to remember that first week, those first few days with all questions and no answers and feeling as if it was so unfair, so cruel and capricious - but it wasn’t. It all had a purpose. Neku thinks about Mr. H - how his tips and suggestions had seemed to give him the best chance at survival, but it wasn’t just a matter of survival, was it? The really important stuff hadn’t been about that at all. If they went back, if the Players all kept living without figuring out why they got a second chance in the first place - it wouldn’t be better.
The Game isn’t about making it to the seventh day. It’s about everything that happens afterward.
He wants to show them, needs them to see, and there’s not a way to explain it - she has to feel it, and her fingers thread with his, just for a moment and Neku pulls. Turns up the volume - he’s drowning in it, expected that, knew it wouldn’t be easy to let them hear it but it matters, it matters so much. Neku hisses through clenched teeth, a conduit for the very heart of Shibuya, holding back what he knows he can handle, but this much power, this pure and strong a Song would Erase them all for sure.
It would Erase them, this beauty and this brightness. It would pull them in and they wouldn’t even fight it and… and that’s what it means, isn’t it? Joining Shibuya. Keeping the Game going. It’s being Erased, and yet, it’s not being Erased at all.
Revelation is a kick in the chest, as staggering as the flicker of losing his grip on the Music, and Neku stumbles back half a step, letting go of the girl’s hand, hands on his knees and trying to suck in a few deep breaths, shaky on his feet but that’s nothing compared to what he feels like he’s just figured out. An obvious epiphany, if there is such a thing, something he’s been a part of all this time.
The Players look dazed, shaking it off slowly, and Neku thinks that maybe he might have overdone it a little. But at least no one looks afraid anymore. No one’s crying, and the girl he’d reached out for smiles at him and it’s like they’re sharing some sort of inside joke, when Neku doesn’t even know her name. He feels a little more solid by the moment, the surging joy of the Music fading, the sense of true understanding - and that might be a good thing, with him shivering just slightly, still a little winded. Whatever that was, touching it for too long would be like staring into the sun, and Neku’s not sure if he’d come out the same as when he went in.
He turns to pick up his bag - and /there’s/ his team of Reapers, most of them staring at him in bewilderment, confused as to when their Game turned into a big hippie love-in and their Conductor became an agent provocateur. Except for Kariya, who seems to be trying to calculate just how much harder he has to hit Neku to beat some sense into him, and Higashizawa, who only just skids into view, breathing hard, already cringing as much as a man his size is capable of.
The Reaper from Shinjuku is standing next to 777, and Neku can just make out the end of her sentence, accompanied by a baffled shake of her head.
“… you guys are fucking weird.”
-----------------------
It’s a phone app. Not that it should be any real surprise, but Neku remembers the jagged tingle of the timer, remembers poking uneasily at the shifting, unreal numbers, and dreading it, and feeling so small and lost and helpless, those first few days. So it’s nearly a disappointment, watching Higashizawa just punch a few keys on his phone and press a button. Simple as that, the Players flinch, check their own phones and scatter.
Neku waits for the Reapers to follow - they’ll shadow Players sometimes, he’s seen them do it. Wait a few days, really take the time to study a partnership before annihilating it. Rhyme was one of those kills, and yet Neku can’t help noticing that Uzuki looks a little… off. Arms crossed and as haughty as ever, but she’s staring into the distance, barely looks at the Players at all.
The rest of the Reapers don’t seem to be in any hurry either, even for the first shot at the easiest Erasures, and Neku can kind of guess why. Higashizawa is doing a bad job of hiding his discomfort - Neku doubts it’s often that a Games Master is late, and the penalty is likely the same as anything else in this stupid place. Despite the fact that he probably just woke up, the big guy still looks really tired, probably pulling double shifts between teaching and his job at the ramen stand, and Neku’s sure he could ask for and get an apology, can probably get whatever he wants and make Higashizawa hate himself for it. Gain himself an enemy for life, but one who wouldn’t dare step out of place. It’s damn scary, this job.
“Late night?”
No answer. Higashizawa shifts where he stands. Neku shrugs.
“You want to take a break?”
The Reaper’s eyes widen, and Neku nearly gives up, because no way no how did that sound at all threatening.
“What the - nobody’s getting Erased, okay?” Neku says, swears he can hear a few disappointed sighs. “Well, except maybe Minamimoto.”
That particular Reaper’s been leaning against a far wall giving him The Death Glare since he showed up - though Neku can’t imagine why he even bothered coming around - he doesn’t really have to be here, or stick around now that the Players have been loosed. As far as Neku knows, the little sticky lights are still all over the statues and hanging on - those little batteries are surprisingly resilient - and for a second it looks like Pi-face is going to go for his throat, but he doesn’t, letting out a little disgusted sound instead.
“I… I don’t think…” Higashizawa stammers, but Neku has the feeling if he really didn’t want the time off, he wouldn’t be as startled as he is, maybe even a little relieved.
“You’re out, this Game. Uzuki, you take over from here.”
“W-what?” It’s really satisfying to see her so surprised, and even Neku’s not sure if he’s trying to give her an opportunity or if it’s payback for the shit she pulled in his first week. To her credit, Pinky recovers quickly, although she seems more nervous than happy. “Of course. I… I won’t let you down.”
Neku can’t help but laugh a little, not sure exactly what being disappointed would even mean, given the context. Maybe he needs to read a book, like some business book on how to be a good manager. Of troubled employees. Who are also insane. And then sometimes try to kill him.
Tenho actually has his hand up, trying and failing to pass it off as some sort of casual wave.
“Hey, uh… can we get demoted too?”
----------------------
Neku almost walks right by him. He’s feeling… well, exhausted, enough that when Nao Nao and Sota hop off he doesn’t bother trying to call them back, despite the slight flicker of alarm. No reason the Players would bother attacking any Noise that didn’t bother them, not this early, and the bunnies… well, it seems they’re pretty capable of taking care of themselves.
He leaves the Reapers mostly chatting amongst themselves, the lazy jerks using his somewhat unorthodox behavior the same way they use anything else, as an excuse for kicking back and relaxing. Neku can almost see the sentiment hanging in the air - if he’s going to get so pissy over his precious Players on the first day, they’ll all happily chill, and just wait for day two to dig in.
The Reaper girl from Shinjku is regaling a few of the Wall Reapers with the condensed story of her life, and Neku hears “homeless” and “whatever” and how “the entry fee’s supposed to be your most important thing, right? Well, obviously mine was cash - but I didn’t have any, so what the hell did they take?” and then she laughs. Neku hopes the Shibuya Reapers will clue the new ones in on how things work around here, or kick their asses - probably whatever’s easiest at the time.
You mean things work around here? Since when? He wonders if any of them might be spies, and feels pity for any Composer who tries to learn anything from this barely-controlled trainwreck of a Game.
The Angel didn’t show up, not that it matters if he does or not, his presence still hanging over everything, even though Neku doesn’t know exactly what he’ll do or what it means or what he should do. All he can do as he walks away from Hachiko is flip through the schedule in his phone, the one he just sent to Uzuki, and it looks simple enough, even a Def March concert late in the week, just like the first time he played. If Joshua’s making any plans or strategies based on their new, unwelcome visitor, it’s far too subtle for Neku to see.
“Are you really in charge of all this?”
The question startles him, still in the UG, and far enough from the action and where the other Players scattered that he ought to be alone. So Neku turns with the thought of ice hovering at his fingertips, either to freeze or to crush, depending on who he finds. It falters, falls apart completely as the boy smiles.
“I’m sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it? I just… you have to admit, it’s kinda weird seeing that uniform here.”
He has to be a Player, that quiet, barely audible Music beneath everything else, and Neku glances around, but they’re alone, and the boy is wearing the same uniform, though he’s an upperclassman, quite possibly a senior.
“It’s really a shame I don’t recognize you.” He’s eerily calm, leaning back to look at the sky as if it’s any other beautiful morning and he’s not, you know, facing a permanent case of dead.
“Where’s your Partner?”
The boy shakes his head. “I didn’t want to sink anyone’s chances. It’s kind of weird that I’m still even here, I guess. You’re probably used to it though, right?”
No. He never gets used to anything these days. Neku knows all the Players paired off, he watched them do it, because he’s been waiting for the day that there’s an odd number and he’ll have to step in - he will, obviously - but he’s positive this guy wasn’t on the list.
“If you don’t have a Partner, if you don’t play the Game, you’re going to get...”
“Erased. You said that before.” Neku is in no way prepared to see that smile again. It’s strange, how many people he’s passed in his life that never made him blink twice, how many of his classmates, the people who sit right next to him, that he can’t even name. Is it the Game or the UG that sharpens everything, that makes him feel the whole, solid weight of the potential in the boy in front of him? He won’t know it for long, but for one moment Neku can feel everything, past and present - but there’s not a future, nothing but the faint echo of might-have-been. The Song just stops, incomplete.
“Hey. Since we’re here, you wouldn’t mind doing me a favor, would you?”
He has no idea how to answer, and the boy interprets that as at least tentative agreement, and before he knows it Neku’s holding a notebook.
“… poetry?” He tries really hard, a few seconds too late, not to make a face. The boy laughs.
“God, no. It’s some notes for history. My study partner needs them - his name’s on the inside cover, so you don’t have to write it down or anything. Can you give them to him tomorrow? I wasn’t really thinking about it, and then I thought, you know, ‘oops, too late’.”
“… that’s it?” It’s too surreal, purely by being so completely unexciting. Neku shouldn’t have to be here having this conversation, a final conversation. and it just shouldn’t be like this.
“Yeah, well, he’s working really hard to get into a good college, and I didn’t want to screw up his chances if I could help it.”
“I bet they’d let him re-test-” //-since his study partner killed himself,// Neku thinks, and winces, pretty sure stopping midway didn’t make it any less tacky. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” The boy says, and this time there’s more meaning there, a terrible, final sort of kindness. He looks normal, and perfectly at ease, the sort of person it wouldn’t seem so bad to be. If he saw the boy in the hall, Neku wouldn’t think anything was wrong with him at all.
“You could try.”
“You’re nice.” A look of what can’t possibly be sympathy, as if Neku’s the one with time running out, and it’s taking everything he has not to grab for the older boy’s hand, to force a Pact. The same way it had taken everything not to run out of the girl’s hospital room, when she’d seen him as Death incarnate and had welcomed him in. The boy gestures out with a hand, lets it fall. “I was tired. All the bad stuff, it’s out there in that world. This is nice, and… I think I’m done playing by everyone else’s rules.”
“I’m sorry.”
The boy shakes his head, as if Neku’s making too much out of nothing. “You should get going. You’re going to be late for class.”
“Yeah.” Neku says, but he doesn’t move, and the Noise doesn’t come - it leaves the Conductor alone, and so it leaves the older boy alone. His Music is barely a whisper and then even less than that, Shibuya sweeping in like waves across a name written in the sand, and then he’s hazy, a transparent image, a reflection in a window on a sunny day. Neku strains, listening, forcing himself not to move or look away until there’s nothing left to see or hear, nothing for him to do but shift his bag on his shoulder and walk away.
===========================
Author’s Notes -
1. title song - Doves - “Kingdom of Rust”
2. Apologies for the chapter being a) grossly overdue and b) a big expository transition pile of fail. Given how absolutely nothing freaking happens, this chapter absolutely refused to let me write it. I swear I will do my best to kick things into order soon. I kind of got into a couple situations in the last few months that killed my free time ded but hopefully things will straighten out soon. X P
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
On Sunday, Neku wakes up just a little past one in the afternoon with a rabbit on his face.
“You got sick of them too, huh?”
He murmurs, smiling, glad that she’s safe, apparently not anything that new Angel cares about, and the Nao bun nudges him with her soft nose. It’s probably not ok for her to be sitting on his pillow while he’s in his pajama bottoms because she’s actually a girl and like, older than him and stuff, but the sheer weirdness factor seems to completely cancel out his ability to care. He’d fallen into bed with the start of a wicked headache, but thankfully it looks like he’s managed to outsleep it. Still groggy, Neku rolls onto his side and immediately regrets it, the results of Kariya’s righteous ass-kicking making him grimace and shift and then groan. If the Reaper managed to miss a spot, he sure as hell can’t feel it.
It seems like a good idea to just stay in bed for the rest of the day, until he hears a slight rustling sound, and ignores the ache in his shoulder enough to crane his head around. Most of his room is in the RG, well out of the realm of Noise interference, but the other bunny has discovered, quite happily, that his headphone cords exist in both realms at once.
Neku yelps, half-falls off the bed, and scrambles over to yank them out of its mouth. Best alarm clock ever.
The computer’s pretty much become his first stop in the morning. He’s set up an account with an art website Tsuyoshi suggested he sign up on, until he can come up with a good design for his own - and even for after, as it’s apparantly important to ‘cross-market’ as much as he can. Neku’s even bought a book on building webpages, but if there’s anything more confusing than the Conductor manual, it’s cascading style sheets.
He’s also gotten into the habit of checking and re-checking his mail - his Neku mail and his Conductor mail and his newly-created Artist mail, though he hasn’t yet settled on a name. On the fly, he’s gone with ‘Space Bunny,’ to match the few doodles he’s put up of Nao Nao floating through the cosmos.
Pointy claws just dig into his shirt, a slight weight settling down as he clicks his way through this new, complicated version of his life. The Sota-bun seems happy to hop around his room, while Nao prefers her usual perch on his shoulder.
“See? You’re the first thing I posted. You’re my lucky rabbit.”
He’s even got three comments on his favorite sketch, with the bunny in her helmet and a smiling star in her paws. Okay, so it’s not exactly high art - but hey, look at Hello Kitty, and ignore Joshua bitching that it’s not so much a mascot as a mental illness. Yeah, admittedly two of the comments are one word - ‘cool’ and ‘cute!!!1’ and so, ok, neither of those accounts are from people with any art in their own section, and the third one is spam in characters even his ultra-fancy computer doesn’t feel like translating - but still. It’s something.
It’s enough that he spends another half-hour mostly refreshing the page, just in case anyone else feels like adding a comment. As if his attention span isn’t short enough already - this must be where Joshua gets it from.
He hasn’t gotten much new mail from other Conductors beyond the occasional mass post, hardly anything from the Composers at all. Whether this is a measure of their attention span, the threat of his popularity drawing attention from their own Games - which he still believes is mostly bullshit - or that they’ve been Erased and a new person is in their place - well, no, there’s a newsletter of sorts for that kind of thing, a once a week rundown of any interesting occurrences in various Games all over the world. Neku is sure Shibuya must have had one hell of an entry the weeks he played, but all his questions have been met with polite deferral, or silence. Joshua makes people nervous, it seems, anywhere his name is mentioned. As if that’s any real surprise.
Or maybe the Angel’s responsible for the sudden radio silence. Maybe Neku’s been doing things really wrong all this time - the talking to Composers thing is probably not standard operating procedure - and now there are going to be consequences.
Joshua’s not answering his phone - of course not - and over the next hour or so Neku switches from trying to call him to just texting madly, with increasingly annoying messages and, finally, inane pictures of whatever he happens to be looking at - his shoes, the toilet, a half-drunk container of milk in the fridge. Obviously, it’s a horrible idea to leave Josh alone for too long, but Neku absolutely refuses to jump whenever his Composer happens to be in a sulk. If anything… bad happens, he’ll feel it, he’s sure of that, and if he could even find Josh, by the time he’d was finished letting the Composer pout or snap at him or feel superior - whatever he neeeded to do to get over having an unexpected Angel on his turf - it would certainly be the middle of the night and Neku’d be completely useless for the Game.
He doesn’t really have the concentration to sketch up anything impressive, but he’s also got a few commissions still hanging in space and this will probably be the last time he has to work on anything for a while, so Neku forces himself to sketch at least some concept art, while the Noise bunnies hop about. There’s a bit of a scuffle, when Sota starts nibbling on Nao’s hat, but things calm down before he’s forced to intervene.
Long after Neku’s given up on pestering Joshua, a truncated e-mail finally shows up in his inbox. Fairly uncomplicated directions for the week’s Game, a list of Players and their prices and their lives and their deaths, and Neku swallows, glancing away from that last one. The week’s vacation from the job is just about enough time to forget the way his stomach clenches, the way he can hear Shibuya gearing up if he wants to listen. A different rhythm to the Music in the district on Game weeks - everything changes, and then there’s the Angel to think about.
Sure, right, it’ll be an easy week, and Brede’s just going to observe. Easy and by-the book, even though he has yet to be in a Game week where everything goes according to any kind of plan. Neku lets his head drop back with a heavy sigh because he’s already too tired for this.
What did the Angel even mean - not about Hanekoma, but the rest of it? He lifts a hand up, over his head, staring blankly at the ceiling light between his fingers. Did he hurt Shibuya, when he’d been so angry? How? If he was more than a Conductor - well, obviously he’s a Composer, then, at least with the potential. That’s the implication, and somehow Brede thought he’d never considered it as a possibility. He smirks, imagining the look on the Angel’s face when he hears the truth, how Neku had the opportunity that apparently everyone else forever of all time would have used to shoot Joshua and then reload and then throw the gun at him and /then/ get a bigger gun, and he hadn’t pulled the trigger. That little revelation will get the Angel out of Shibuya without a backwards glance, giving Neku and all the rest of them up as a hopeless cause.
Which you are. Freaking masochist.
Neku drops his hand, rubbing his eyes, more worried for Mr. H now than angry, and even kind of sad that the man saw he was angry and - fuck, he is so bad at fighting with people. No wonder he cut and ran, the last time he was given the option. Ran himself right off the edge of the world, right into the Game - and there’s a helpful thought.
He’s been putting it off and putting it off, even skipped the Reaper meeting he probably should have organized yesterday, too easy to pretend he’s not what he doesn’t want to be. Neku frowns, closes out all his other programs, and scours the kitchen for anything edible before he goes back to his room and pulls up the list of new Players.
No one this time from outside of Shibuya, which is a relief. Neku makes a copy of the e-mail and cuts it down to the names and fees and… causes of death. He tries to go fast, aware he’s undermining the entire point of the cheat sheet if he can’t bear to /read/ it but - god, there’s a girl who got stabbed by her boyfriend, and a boy - who kills themselves at fourteen?
Were you so far off? How happy were you to be in the Game? No one to deal with, no one to bother you. You thought you might be dead, and did you care?
At least no one’s as young as Rhyme, though Neku still dreads having to face them, can’t quite bring himself to look at any pictures, and the thought that at least it will keep him from worrying about the Angel - yeah, real comforting.
Neku pushes the computer back, shuts his eyes and prays to anyone that might be listening, even as he feels stupid for doing it. Trying and failing to remember everything Vancouver told him about peace of mind. There’s no reason to think this Game isn’t going to gut him just as badly as the last, in some new way he can’t even imagine yet. But if what the Angel said is true, this time he’s just gonna have to learn to live with it.
----------------------------
Neku flips to the UG the moment he steps out the door Monday morning, two pairs of claws digging into each of his shoulders, like the world’s most ridiculous epaulets.
“You’re walking once we get there, ok? Hopping. Whatever.”
No sign of understanding in Sota’s beady eye, though Neku doesn’t remember the guy being all that aware when he was still human. He can feel the strain of them now, fully in the UG, just as Josh said he would, like trying to carry an overstuffed bookbag, the weight dragging him down. Neku pauses, focuses on his own Music, tries to… add more instruments to his Song is the only way he can think about it, while keeping the bunnies well out of the way, their Music fixed apart from his own. The weight shifts, lessens somewhat, not so noticeable. It’s worth it, worth any cost to know that he can fix this, and that they’re going to be human again.
Maybe the Angel’s pissed because of things like that, because he’s taking such a hands-on approach to the Game. Neku can’t help but glance up and around even with nothing to see. No doubt he’s being watched from some other level, studied or graded. Maybe Josh even… or Mr. H… maybe this is still some sort of test. How would he know -
“Yeah, right there! That’s him! Get him!”
Neku skids to a halt, just approaching Hachiko, and there’s a Reaper girl he doesn’t recognize with twitching wings, an irate expression, and pair of knee-high tan boots that Eri would either kill for or kill her for wearing. God only knows.
She’s pointing right at him, and the Players behind her are staring like some sort of bewildered, half-panicked Hydra. All eyes on him, and Neku very nearly glances over his shoulder, like he’s also looking for the idiot who’s going to be wading into this mess. Before he can say anything, a girl at the edge of the crowd screams, a ripple of panic shifting across the group as a frog Noise flickers into view, and leaps for the nearest Player.
Neku has his arm up without thinking, and Nao and Sota lunge forward in a fluid, tandem attack, a zig-zag pattern the reduces the Noise to nothing in a single strike. It’s pretty badass, so of course there’s no one to see it but a bunch of Players who are too scared to care, and the Reaper in the boots who’s striding toward him, looking anything but impressed.
“Man, they said you played a different kind of Game but I did not know I needed to show up stoned.”
“What are you… I mean…” Maybe better not to splutter like an idiot. If he can help it. Neku glances around, but can’t see a single Shibuya Reaper anywhere. “I’m not… who the hell…” He forces himself to stop, and swallow. Like it’s gonna help. “What’s going on?”
“I… uh… wow, wait. You’re the /Conductor/, aren’t you?” The Reaper stops short, twisting a long braid around one finger, glancing away as if when she looks back, he’ll somehow be whatever she was expecting, or at least slightly improved. Nervous - she must have thought he was the Games Master - and where the hell is Higashizawa anyway?
“Uh… that Game of yours a while back, you lost a bunch of guys? So some of us surplus Reapers from other Games, the ones they didn’t like - I mean, they shipped us over here?” Nearly all her sentences are pitched like a question, though Neku can’t tell if it’s the way she normally talks or she thinks he’s incredibly stupid and is trying really hard not to piss him off. “I was in the Shinjuku Game. We… uh… usually, over there, y’know… /show up/ when there are Players? Get instructions or whatever? I mean, this is cool too, I guess?”
Neku grits his teeth, tries to pretend this is one of the things Joshua would have mentioned, if the Angel hadn’t shown up to distract him.
“You said there were others? Like you?”
“Yeah. Couple of guys, and some Wall Reapers? They went to go get breakfast since… I mean, are we like, started?” The girl glances over her shoulder with a small, predatory smirk, and Neku remembers then exactly who - what - he’s dealing with.
“No one plays until everyone has Partners.”
“Really? No Reaper Smash and Dash?”
He’s not even going to ask what that is. It’s enough that she looks disappointed, and shrugs and steps to the side when he raises an eyebrow. He should probably make sure she doesn’t try to Erase him while his back is turned, but Neku has the feeling the bunnies might actually make her regret it - who knew they were badasses, and where in hell is Higashizawa?
The Players are all still watching him. Neku can’t quite remember who explains it all to them - the Games Master handles a fair share of the meet-and-greet, but a lot of it happens automatically, too, when a Player enters the Game. Unless, of course, the Composer really really likes a Player - then they get shot through the heart and thrown naked to the wolves. Wolf Noise. Whatever.
“Everybody has a cell phone, right?” He wishes he were taller, can see a few people near the back actually standing on tiptoe to try and see him. At least one girl in the front is trying not to smile at the bunny on his shoulder. At least Sota seems content to stay at his feet.
“You’re just a kid, like us.” A murmur from further in the crowd, “… I know that uniform.”
Actually, Neku’s a few years younger than at least a third of them, and the uniform is a great example of why he shouldn’t make last-minute decisions early in the morning. He makes a mental note to get Shiki and Eri to tell him which parts of his wardrobe are actually badass, and to figure out which shops are open early enough that he can duck into them and change before getting to class.
“Do you all have Partners? You need them.”
“We’re like… ghosts, aren’t we?”
How many conversations has Neku had with the Players in his head? How many comforting words, encouraging words, playing it serious or trying to be aloof or whatever might work best for them, for him - it’s all gone now, even before a girl pushes herself through to the front of the crowd. Around his age, and anything but wary. For a moment, he thinks she’s going to punch him, but instead she puts her phone right in his face, a text message that isn’t so much asking a question as telling him how far he can shove his head up his own ass and what he can do once he’s up there. Neku has to admit she’s impressively fast on the keys, unless she’s been inexplicably saving the text up for this sort of moment and where the fuck is Higashizawa?
He looks around again, sees what might be one of his Wall Reapers, though the hooded figure jumps back when he’s spotted, instantly out of sight. Man, you really have to love them for loyalty. Neku wishes his own reflexes were that good.
“Ok. Hi. Nice to meet you. Glad you have a phone.”
The rest of the Players have gone quiet, apparently content to let this girl be their spokesperson. She frowns, still glaring at him, and Neku braces himself for a much more vocal barrage of insults, only to have her start typing wildly into her phone again.
A taller boy is standing next to her, sort of behind her - she’d dragged them up together, and Neku can only assume he’s her Partner. He looks like he ought to be looming over them both, ought to be the threatening one, with wide shoulders and a fair amount of muscle, but when he notices Neku staring, he immediately drops his eyes, shuffling a half step backward. It reminds Neku a little of Shiki, of all people. Shy and awkward even though he’s loosely holding a baseball bat, one end dragging against the ground, and that has to be his weapon, and the girl’s probably the pin user - if, you know, Higashizawa ever shows up - and it’s a good thing she’s caught up typing instead of trying to use the bat on him. For the moment.
“What’s your name?”
“A-ami.” The boy murmurs, so low that Neku’s sure he didn’t hear it right, because he couldn’t have heard it right. “… and she’s Akane.”
The girl shoves another text at him, but Neku barely notices, flicking through his own phone at half a memory from looking through the names and the prices from the night before. Akane, she’s texting violence at him because she can’t speak, she’s a singer and her entry fee was her voice, and Ami’s got a girl’s name because she - because she was one, back before she’d given it up to join the Game. Neku looks up, and she must see that he knows because she cringes back a little further, as if this is somehow her fault and Akane seems about two steps away from wasting any more time and just bludgeoning him with the phone.
“You’re gonna have to fight. All of you. If you want to go back to the other world, the real world. If you want to get back what was taken from you. If you want to be alive again.”
“… and what if we think you’re full of it?” A boy shoulders his way through the crowd, older than Neku, and probably not a girl before this whole thing started. “What if we just-”
He reaches for Neku, and it isn’t even an effort to flicker out from under his hand, Neku reappearing a few steps to the left, causing a few of the Players to jump back in alarm. Afraid of him, when he hardly did anything at all. His heart is pounding - it should be fun, he should be pleased to be the one in control but Neku hates this so much. The fear he can’t take away, the way they’re all looking at him and how he deserves it because he’s the Conductor. He’s a part of this, this Game that eats people.
“You died. All of you died, and you know it, but you’re still here now, because you have a reason to stay. What you’ve got, what you are and whatever it is you gave up, it’s worth fighting for.”
Is the crappy inspirational speech having any effect? Neku fights the urge to look around again - his responsibility, if he hates the way the Game is played, to find a way to do it better. “If I could bring you all back, I would. I swear I would, but I can’t.”
Like he tried in the last Game, when no one was looking and there was a pair of Players in between battles, resting, and Neku had tried to pull one of them back into the RG but it was like trying to pick up a handful of dry sand, and he’d been afraid if he’d tried any harder it might just pull the boy apart, Erase him despite his good intentions.
“I wanna go home. Can’t we please just go home?”
The girl could be Shiki, or Eri, and Neku can’t, just cannot do another Game without sunglasses of his own, just so they don’t see how rattled he is. What’s he supposed to say? So many of them aren’t even going to make it until Wednesday, he knows it, and this is their only chance. It’s either this or no chance at all. It’s a living thing, this UG, and Shibuya’s so beautiful but even if he could explain it, Neku doubts they’d care. He sure as hell didn’t when he was a Player. Even if they could hear-
Neku stops. It’s a bad idea for so very many reasons, the Angel and the Game and the rules and not actually knowing which specific one he’ll be breaking this time - but what’s important is that he /can/, that’s what matters. He has the power now, that when things are shitty and ugly and wrong, he can try to do something to make it better. Anything. He can be better, damn it.
Neku drops his bag and steps forward, toward the girl wiping uselessly at her tears.
“Come here.”
It’s obvious the girl regrets saying anything, the crowd shrinking back from her, and even she takes a step back but there’s nowhere to go. Neku hears the Reaper girl chuckle a little, obviously used to a certain response to outspoken Players, and if he had a moment to spare from his dumbass idea he’d glare at her.
“It’s okay. Take my hand.”
He’s holding his hand out, palm up, like making a Pact, and it’s funny how he wouldn’t even be afraid if it happened now, how he’s not afraid - and Neku knows what that giddy, vibrant courage is because he’s reached out for Shibuya and the district has answered back, laughing, excited, curious and bright. He tries to remember that first week, those first few days with all questions and no answers and feeling as if it was so unfair, so cruel and capricious - but it wasn’t. It all had a purpose. Neku thinks about Mr. H - how his tips and suggestions had seemed to give him the best chance at survival, but it wasn’t just a matter of survival, was it? The really important stuff hadn’t been about that at all. If they went back, if the Players all kept living without figuring out why they got a second chance in the first place - it wouldn’t be better.
The Game isn’t about making it to the seventh day. It’s about everything that happens afterward.
He wants to show them, needs them to see, and there’s not a way to explain it - she has to feel it, and her fingers thread with his, just for a moment and Neku pulls. Turns up the volume - he’s drowning in it, expected that, knew it wouldn’t be easy to let them hear it but it matters, it matters so much. Neku hisses through clenched teeth, a conduit for the very heart of Shibuya, holding back what he knows he can handle, but this much power, this pure and strong a Song would Erase them all for sure.
It would Erase them, this beauty and this brightness. It would pull them in and they wouldn’t even fight it and… and that’s what it means, isn’t it? Joining Shibuya. Keeping the Game going. It’s being Erased, and yet, it’s not being Erased at all.
Revelation is a kick in the chest, as staggering as the flicker of losing his grip on the Music, and Neku stumbles back half a step, letting go of the girl’s hand, hands on his knees and trying to suck in a few deep breaths, shaky on his feet but that’s nothing compared to what he feels like he’s just figured out. An obvious epiphany, if there is such a thing, something he’s been a part of all this time.
The Players look dazed, shaking it off slowly, and Neku thinks that maybe he might have overdone it a little. But at least no one looks afraid anymore. No one’s crying, and the girl he’d reached out for smiles at him and it’s like they’re sharing some sort of inside joke, when Neku doesn’t even know her name. He feels a little more solid by the moment, the surging joy of the Music fading, the sense of true understanding - and that might be a good thing, with him shivering just slightly, still a little winded. Whatever that was, touching it for too long would be like staring into the sun, and Neku’s not sure if he’d come out the same as when he went in.
He turns to pick up his bag - and /there’s/ his team of Reapers, most of them staring at him in bewilderment, confused as to when their Game turned into a big hippie love-in and their Conductor became an agent provocateur. Except for Kariya, who seems to be trying to calculate just how much harder he has to hit Neku to beat some sense into him, and Higashizawa, who only just skids into view, breathing hard, already cringing as much as a man his size is capable of.
The Reaper from Shinjuku is standing next to 777, and Neku can just make out the end of her sentence, accompanied by a baffled shake of her head.
“… you guys are fucking weird.”
-----------------------
It’s a phone app. Not that it should be any real surprise, but Neku remembers the jagged tingle of the timer, remembers poking uneasily at the shifting, unreal numbers, and dreading it, and feeling so small and lost and helpless, those first few days. So it’s nearly a disappointment, watching Higashizawa just punch a few keys on his phone and press a button. Simple as that, the Players flinch, check their own phones and scatter.
Neku waits for the Reapers to follow - they’ll shadow Players sometimes, he’s seen them do it. Wait a few days, really take the time to study a partnership before annihilating it. Rhyme was one of those kills, and yet Neku can’t help noticing that Uzuki looks a little… off. Arms crossed and as haughty as ever, but she’s staring into the distance, barely looks at the Players at all.
The rest of the Reapers don’t seem to be in any hurry either, even for the first shot at the easiest Erasures, and Neku can kind of guess why. Higashizawa is doing a bad job of hiding his discomfort - Neku doubts it’s often that a Games Master is late, and the penalty is likely the same as anything else in this stupid place. Despite the fact that he probably just woke up, the big guy still looks really tired, probably pulling double shifts between teaching and his job at the ramen stand, and Neku’s sure he could ask for and get an apology, can probably get whatever he wants and make Higashizawa hate himself for it. Gain himself an enemy for life, but one who wouldn’t dare step out of place. It’s damn scary, this job.
“Late night?”
No answer. Higashizawa shifts where he stands. Neku shrugs.
“You want to take a break?”
The Reaper’s eyes widen, and Neku nearly gives up, because no way no how did that sound at all threatening.
“What the - nobody’s getting Erased, okay?” Neku says, swears he can hear a few disappointed sighs. “Well, except maybe Minamimoto.”
That particular Reaper’s been leaning against a far wall giving him The Death Glare since he showed up - though Neku can’t imagine why he even bothered coming around - he doesn’t really have to be here, or stick around now that the Players have been loosed. As far as Neku knows, the little sticky lights are still all over the statues and hanging on - those little batteries are surprisingly resilient - and for a second it looks like Pi-face is going to go for his throat, but he doesn’t, letting out a little disgusted sound instead.
“I… I don’t think…” Higashizawa stammers, but Neku has the feeling if he really didn’t want the time off, he wouldn’t be as startled as he is, maybe even a little relieved.
“You’re out, this Game. Uzuki, you take over from here.”
“W-what?” It’s really satisfying to see her so surprised, and even Neku’s not sure if he’s trying to give her an opportunity or if it’s payback for the shit she pulled in his first week. To her credit, Pinky recovers quickly, although she seems more nervous than happy. “Of course. I… I won’t let you down.”
Neku can’t help but laugh a little, not sure exactly what being disappointed would even mean, given the context. Maybe he needs to read a book, like some business book on how to be a good manager. Of troubled employees. Who are also insane. And then sometimes try to kill him.
Tenho actually has his hand up, trying and failing to pass it off as some sort of casual wave.
“Hey, uh… can we get demoted too?”
----------------------
Neku almost walks right by him. He’s feeling… well, exhausted, enough that when Nao Nao and Sota hop off he doesn’t bother trying to call them back, despite the slight flicker of alarm. No reason the Players would bother attacking any Noise that didn’t bother them, not this early, and the bunnies… well, it seems they’re pretty capable of taking care of themselves.
He leaves the Reapers mostly chatting amongst themselves, the lazy jerks using his somewhat unorthodox behavior the same way they use anything else, as an excuse for kicking back and relaxing. Neku can almost see the sentiment hanging in the air - if he’s going to get so pissy over his precious Players on the first day, they’ll all happily chill, and just wait for day two to dig in.
The Reaper girl from Shinjku is regaling a few of the Wall Reapers with the condensed story of her life, and Neku hears “homeless” and “whatever” and how “the entry fee’s supposed to be your most important thing, right? Well, obviously mine was cash - but I didn’t have any, so what the hell did they take?” and then she laughs. Neku hopes the Shibuya Reapers will clue the new ones in on how things work around here, or kick their asses - probably whatever’s easiest at the time.
You mean things work around here? Since when? He wonders if any of them might be spies, and feels pity for any Composer who tries to learn anything from this barely-controlled trainwreck of a Game.
The Angel didn’t show up, not that it matters if he does or not, his presence still hanging over everything, even though Neku doesn’t know exactly what he’ll do or what it means or what he should do. All he can do as he walks away from Hachiko is flip through the schedule in his phone, the one he just sent to Uzuki, and it looks simple enough, even a Def March concert late in the week, just like the first time he played. If Joshua’s making any plans or strategies based on their new, unwelcome visitor, it’s far too subtle for Neku to see.
“Are you really in charge of all this?”
The question startles him, still in the UG, and far enough from the action and where the other Players scattered that he ought to be alone. So Neku turns with the thought of ice hovering at his fingertips, either to freeze or to crush, depending on who he finds. It falters, falls apart completely as the boy smiles.
“I’m sorry. That was rude, wasn’t it? I just… you have to admit, it’s kinda weird seeing that uniform here.”
He has to be a Player, that quiet, barely audible Music beneath everything else, and Neku glances around, but they’re alone, and the boy is wearing the same uniform, though he’s an upperclassman, quite possibly a senior.
“It’s really a shame I don’t recognize you.” He’s eerily calm, leaning back to look at the sky as if it’s any other beautiful morning and he’s not, you know, facing a permanent case of dead.
“Where’s your Partner?”
The boy shakes his head. “I didn’t want to sink anyone’s chances. It’s kind of weird that I’m still even here, I guess. You’re probably used to it though, right?”
No. He never gets used to anything these days. Neku knows all the Players paired off, he watched them do it, because he’s been waiting for the day that there’s an odd number and he’ll have to step in - he will, obviously - but he’s positive this guy wasn’t on the list.
“If you don’t have a Partner, if you don’t play the Game, you’re going to get...”
“Erased. You said that before.” Neku is in no way prepared to see that smile again. It’s strange, how many people he’s passed in his life that never made him blink twice, how many of his classmates, the people who sit right next to him, that he can’t even name. Is it the Game or the UG that sharpens everything, that makes him feel the whole, solid weight of the potential in the boy in front of him? He won’t know it for long, but for one moment Neku can feel everything, past and present - but there’s not a future, nothing but the faint echo of might-have-been. The Song just stops, incomplete.
“Hey. Since we’re here, you wouldn’t mind doing me a favor, would you?”
He has no idea how to answer, and the boy interprets that as at least tentative agreement, and before he knows it Neku’s holding a notebook.
“… poetry?” He tries really hard, a few seconds too late, not to make a face. The boy laughs.
“God, no. It’s some notes for history. My study partner needs them - his name’s on the inside cover, so you don’t have to write it down or anything. Can you give them to him tomorrow? I wasn’t really thinking about it, and then I thought, you know, ‘oops, too late’.”
“… that’s it?” It’s too surreal, purely by being so completely unexciting. Neku shouldn’t have to be here having this conversation, a final conversation. and it just shouldn’t be like this.
“Yeah, well, he’s working really hard to get into a good college, and I didn’t want to screw up his chances if I could help it.”
“I bet they’d let him re-test-” //-since his study partner killed himself,// Neku thinks, and winces, pretty sure stopping midway didn’t make it any less tacky. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” The boy says, and this time there’s more meaning there, a terrible, final sort of kindness. He looks normal, and perfectly at ease, the sort of person it wouldn’t seem so bad to be. If he saw the boy in the hall, Neku wouldn’t think anything was wrong with him at all.
“You could try.”
“You’re nice.” A look of what can’t possibly be sympathy, as if Neku’s the one with time running out, and it’s taking everything he has not to grab for the older boy’s hand, to force a Pact. The same way it had taken everything not to run out of the girl’s hospital room, when she’d seen him as Death incarnate and had welcomed him in. The boy gestures out with a hand, lets it fall. “I was tired. All the bad stuff, it’s out there in that world. This is nice, and… I think I’m done playing by everyone else’s rules.”
“I’m sorry.”
The boy shakes his head, as if Neku’s making too much out of nothing. “You should get going. You’re going to be late for class.”
“Yeah.” Neku says, but he doesn’t move, and the Noise doesn’t come - it leaves the Conductor alone, and so it leaves the older boy alone. His Music is barely a whisper and then even less than that, Shibuya sweeping in like waves across a name written in the sand, and then he’s hazy, a transparent image, a reflection in a window on a sunny day. Neku strains, listening, forcing himself not to move or look away until there’s nothing left to see or hear, nothing for him to do but shift his bag on his shoulder and walk away.
===========================
Author’s Notes -
1. title song - Doves - “Kingdom of Rust”
2. Apologies for the chapter being a) grossly overdue and b) a big expository transition pile of fail. Given how absolutely nothing freaking happens, this chapter absolutely refused to let me write it. I swear I will do my best to kick things into order soon. I kind of got into a couple situations in the last few months that killed my free time ded but hopefully things will straighten out soon. X P