Fic: Dancing with Air Part 3/4
Title: Dancing with Air
Author: yaoimunchkin
Artist: toujourspret
Type: Crossover, slash
Word Count: 19,000~ words
Rating: Teen
Characters/Paring: Neku/Joshua, Arthur/Eames, Team Death and the Dream Team
Warnings: slash and some kidnapping/drugging
Summary:The Angels are secretive, and Eames is used as a tool. Joshua is in love and Neku has become pretty good at games. And Arthur? Arthur wants the hell out of Shibuya.
A/N: A big thank you to my artist and Domi, who without her, this would never have come about. And also, to neoncitylights because that's where I got the idea.
Part I
Part II
Part II
Part IV
PART III
The castle courtyard stretches out to the horizon, a collage of stony purples and dusty grays. The walls of flowing water make twisting arches about them, never once getting them wet. The pathway that dips in and out of the foliage is made from an uneven spotted stone, possibly granite. The trees look as though they’re straight from Alice in Wonderland and sport pale pink flowers and small red fruits. There aren’t many projections wandering around Neku’s mind, but the ones that are have been cleverly locked in a shifting maze.
Neku’s projections treat Joshua like snake poison. He’s there and needs to go away, but there’s nothing they can do about it.
Shiki is off shopping with Eri at a new Shibuya store. Rhyme is probably off with Beat for once, at the skatepark breaking wrists and ankles. So it’s just the two of them, Neku and Joshua, fifteen minutes out of the city in their own private kingdom.
Making mountains out of molehills into towns into cities into fantasies.
“You’re been getting better.” Joshua says. Practice for their architect is rare. Unlike Shiki and Eri’s form changing, Beat’s chemicals, or Rhyme’s information, Neku can’t change the form of Shibuya. Not in the way he would like to, at least. (Neku doesn’t know about that, anyways.)
“Thanks, I guess.” Neku is the typical awkward boyfriend type, while Joshua seems like the flower-power poster boy. The water arches shudder to a halt, making the entire dream tremble. The water drops towards them, and as if it hits a net, explodes into small droplets. They freeze around them in perfect teardrop shapes, and Joshua reaches out to take one in his hand.
It turns into a gray smoke as soon as he touches it.
“Beautiful.” Joshua mutters, and Neku pretends not to notice. He’s embarrassed by how embarrassed he is. He’s never been treated so well by anybody in his entire life. Not by his mother, his foster parents, or any person his own age.
Then along came Joshua. Joshua, who should be as bad for him as toxic waste, but is somehow working wonders.
There’s silver hair on his pillow, Joshua’s smell on his clothes. His thought are in his head, his warmth lingering. Neku is in love. Stupid, happy love. Like a goddamn double-rainbow.
Neku’s modern techno of choice wracks through the scenery, alerting them of the impending kick. Joshua frowns in his distaste. When the kick music is decided by Joshua, it’s always something dull with far too much Oboe.
Three, two, one, kick.
***
Arthur opens his eyes, the blurry surroundings slowly coming into focus. He’s tied to a cold metal chair placed in an empty room. From his angle, there are no doors or windows, or anything else for that matter. The walls are dark gray and made from solid cement blocks, matching the chains attaching him to the chair from both his chest and ankles.
His memories of the last few hours, or maybe even days, are foggy, leaving him to believe he’s been drugged. Oh, how lovely. He can only hope Ariadne is safe, but that would be a long-shot. If whoever is doing this managed to get him, then Ariadne doesn’t stand much of a chance.
Arthur estimates he’s been stuck in this room for at least three hours, at least, according to the kinks in his neck. From experience, he knows that this is a fucked up business deal. In his line of work, it really is more common than one would think.
There’s the sound of metal sliding against metal- a heavy, sliding door, then- and rubber-soled shoes against the floor. A wrinkled hand appears on Arthur’s shoulder, and he tries to get a look at however is keeping him here. His neck is sharply snapped back into place with a worrying crack. At least he knows that his captors are serious.
Arthur forces the building fear back down to his usual composed level. He isn’t going to let this scare him. Not when he’s jumped from buildings, been shot in the knee-cap several times, and been in all things: love.
Sure, most of those things were in dreams, but still. Fear, love, and pain is all in the mind anyways.
“You are here to be assisting in a dream extraction. In one day, you will be working with your team. You have two months to complete the job. If the job is not completed, there will be consequences.”
“I suppose I won’t be getting paid, then.” Arthur says in a moment of blind stupidity. It’s not something he normally does, but there has been a lack of snarky comments in his life.
“Don’t be stupid.” A silk cloth is placed over his mouth and nose, turning is world black again.
When Arthur does come to, he’s lying on a generic couch in a room not much unlike the one he was previously in, except there’s morning light streaming in from the small windows high on the wall. Not big enough to get through.
Oh, and he’s not alone, either.
Eames looks like shit.
***
Shiki is curled up into Neku’s side while their watching some late-night talk show on her couch. Which, by the way, is insanely comfortable. Even with the boy-bands and male models plastered all across the walls.
Shiki’s roommate is off at a science competition (the fashion-expert has been living in a small apartment in the city for a few months now. Something to do with ketchup and an Algebra test. Shiki’s rather vague when asked about it.) so the first thing the brunette does is invite Neku over to spend the night. Or week. Yeah, week.
They watch stupid movies and eat pizza poppers and ramen, while Shiki rambles on about Eri? cosplay. Neku hasn’t laughed more.
Neku hears the muffled sound of a text message, causing him to disturb Shiki and dig his phone out from under Mr. Mew. It’s from Joshua, but just after he enters his password, two small hands are wrapped around it, whisking it away.
“Shiki!” Neku yells, making a dive for the phone. Said girl bounds over the assorted furniture and random belongings to stand near the kitchen and away from Neku.
“Joshua!?” Shiki yelps and nearly drops the phone. “Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod!” Shiki’s voice reaches an octave probably only dogs could hear. Neku wants to cover his ears, but maybe that would only make the screaming louder.
Shiki is crouched on the couch in seconds, looking eagerly into Neku’s startled eyes. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting.
“Tell. Me. Everything.” She whispers as if it’s some government secret. “With details.”
“There’s not much to say.” Neku mumbles. His hand finds it’s way to the base of his orange hair, and twiddles with the ends. God, he hopes he’s not blushing. “It just kind of... happened.”
“That.” she announces. “Is so lame.”
“Sorry if you were looking for something better.” Neku scoffs. He’s not really offended, but it’s fun to mess with the brunette.
“Have you kissed yet?” Shiki asks, puckering her lips mockingly. Neku throws a pillow at her and blushes. She lets out another squeal. “By the way, Joshy says we have a meeting tomorrow at one, hun.”
“Shiki, one day I am going to kill you.” Neku swears. The threat is met with giggles. “And... that’s none of your business.” He snaps and does a great imitation of a spoiled child. Before long, though, they’re both on the floor, laughing their asses off.
***
The coffee is burning his hands, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not at the moment. Mr. H. lets out a shaky breath and shakes his head. The entire future of Shibuya is resting on the next couple of weeks. Resting on him, and an few emotionally unstable, amateur kids.
It’s not a matter of lives being at stake, because lives are always in danger. A car could hit you at any moment. Something could fall out of the high-rise you’re standing under. You could get mugged or raped or murdered at any time.
No one is safe, and that’s just reality.
In fact, it’s not even a matter of doing what is right.
Nothing is right.
What does matter, though, is keeping this fucked up circle of life going. Balancing is a recurring theme in the Fallen Angel’s life. It’s from what they taught him in his old life: Balance is the key to everything. Without it, we are all doomed, they say.
Does he trust Joshua with this balance?
Yes, he does.
Mr. H. runs a hand through his spiked hair and straightens up. Foolish grin back on his face, he looks forward, to the next day. Everything is going to be fine.
Probably.
***
Eames blames himself. Cobb should be with his family, Ariadne should be finishing school, Arthur... Arthur should be far away from him. The only one not present is Yusuf, who’s probably off in a pit in Mombasa where no one dares to go without a HAZMAT suit.
Instead, they’re going through the piles and piles of his useless information. Everything in there leads to a dead end. He’s checked, several times.
“What’s this?” Ariadne pushes her wheelie-chair over to where Eames is bent over yet more dead-ends. The file the architect holds is filled with photos of the graffiti.
“This CAT is a graffiti artist, those are some of his works.”
“Well, let’s go check it out!” Ariadne grins. Eames pats her head and tells her it’s not that simple.
“We’re prisoners, remember?” Even as he says it, he doesn’t quite believe himself. Ever since they brought in Ariadne, he hasn’t seen any of his captors; not even Sola. Every day they find a good amount of food on a cart just inside the doorway. He wonders if the door is even locked, but he hasn’t bothered to check.
Cobb, apparently, is thinking the same thing.
(Arthur? He doesn’t know what Arthur is thinking. The point-man is on the complete other side of the room, and hasn’t even acknowledged his presence, so far.)
The extractor has the door handle in a tight grip. He looks back at them for the OK, then pulls.
To their surprise, it comes open with ease. Dom cautiously looks out into the area outside the large room. Ariadne is grinning, like a little kid who’s won a prize, but the rest of them know better.
“Come see this.” Outside their room is a long hallway, with a door on one end. Tapped to this door is a single piece of lined paper. Arthur brushes past Eames (without looking at him) to read it.
“You must think you’re free to go, but you are not. We are watching your every move.” Arthur’s head quickly looks to the corners to locate the small cameras blending in nicely. “You may leave and go to Shibuya freely, but that is all. See you around.”
“What a lovely sense of humor.” Eames hisses. He’s really starting to get sick of this, if he isn’t already.
“What are we waiting for?” Ariadne says unperturbed. She leads the way back to the work room and pushes the chairs into a loose circle.
“We need a plan, don’t we?”
It’s a rather pathetic plan, by their standards. Eames knows where all of the graffiti is and points them out their loose locations on a map. They split the city in half; Arthur and Cobb east, Eames and Ariadne west. Meet back at some Hachiko statue in three hours.
Eames has got a bad feeling about the whole mess, but then again, he’s had one for almost a year.
At least someone had the courtesy not to put him with Arthur.
Ariadne falls in love with the city almost as soon as they step foot outside. Eames has to resort to steering the girl away from the oncoming masses. He has to admit, it is rather good, as far as cities go. Modern isn’t quite to his taste, however.
They travel through an underpass stained with blood from a long-ago accident, through tunnels and turns where hundreds of people have passed through and where rules were made by violence. Rules people live by.
“It’s lovely.” Ariadne whispers. Her small hands press against the dirty wall where bright, rain splattered patterns coat the wall. “Imagine how many lives this changed. I did a report on it in high school.”
“Maybe we need to find one of those people.” Eames says, grinning. The little rabbit lit the metaphorical lightbulb, alright. They found the keyhole, now they need the key.
The next place they go to is in a far back alley near trashy skater stores and a sketchy music one. There’s scratched out patterns all over the stairs and stickers on the railings. Ariadne clings to his arm the entire time.
The mural, however, is a masterpiece. It speaks in poems and screaming lyrics, surely dances through thoughts and stays in the back of people’s minds. It’s going to be like finding a needle in a haystack, though. I really fucking big haystack, though.
Ariadne presses her fingertips against the wall, even if it’s covered in grime and filth. She knows it’s a cherished little piece of crazed calm.
Eames figures he’s looking for someone with the same reaction as their little architect, and starts cautiously looking around.
That’s when he sees them.
Their only kids, really. One boy, one girl. The boy has large headphones and bright orange hair, is dressed in all blue. The girl is modestly dressed, brown hair, glasses, a cat-like doll. Eames takes this all in, the information filtering through in the form of a list.
It’s habit. He is a forger, after all.
They’re leaning against the graffiti wall -it must have taken forever. It goes on and on and on- blissfully unaware of their surroundings. The girl has an over-sized sketch-pad in her lap, which she is completely absorbed in. The boy clutching something in his hand, the other pressed against his right headphone.
He nudges Ariadne.
She flashes him a mischievous smile, then proceeds to dishevel her hair and clothing before walking over to the pair.
“Excuse me?” she asks. “But I’m a bit lost, could you tell me where I am?” Surprisingly, her Japanese is flawless. His is too, of course, from his time with the this and that.
“This is the wonderful mural by CAT, of course. Located in the Undagawa Back Streets.” The girl answers while gently poking her companion. He opens his eyes to reveal calculating blue eyes and a suspicious stare.
He’s ignoring Ariadne completely, choosing to study Eames instead.
“Oh, who is he again?”
“A genius.” the boy says slowly, and without taking his eyes from the forger. His eyes move to something that’s happening behind Eames, and quirks his mouth. A fleeting trace of a smile, perhaps.
“I never pegged you for a good samaritan type, Shiki.” A new boy arrives on the scene, a friend of the other two by the looks of it. His cloths look like they came from the most expensive department stores in the entire city. “I know how much you love this spot, Neky, but you do have to leave eventually.” ‘Neky’ is sending death glares in the boy’s direction, though he seems content to ignore them.
“Do you need any directions?” Shiki asks as ‘Neky’ goes to stand by their friend. Probably friend, anyways. They certainly look like the three-musketeers type.
“No. Thank you for all your help, though.” Ariadne waves them goodbye, before they fall out of earshot. “I think that boy is the one we’re looking for. He said genius with such...reverence.”
“Should we follow them?” Eames asks, holding out his arm like a English gentlemen.
“I don? see why not!” Ariadne grins and takes his arm.
“Now, before I forget, how did you learn to speak Japanese so well in France?”
***
“Listen,Joshua starts. In Neku’s experience, conversations that begin with listen do not have a pleasant message. “Those two are part of an extraction team.”
“Oh, lovely.” Shiki throws her arms into the air.
“Not much to worry about.” Joshua continues. “What I have gathered is that they’re after information on-”
“Mr. H.?” Neku guesses. Joshua’s trademark grin falls into place.
“Well, they know him as CAT.”
“You have a plan, right?” Shiki asks. Her words have a nervous edge to them, and it’s starting to wear off on Neku. Joshua seems suspiciously calm, implying that he did indeed have a plan. He’s their resident James Bond. (Well, Neku isn’t a girl, so maybe not. MacGyver, instead?)
It takes three full hours to corral their team. Rhyme is the last to arrive with Eri. Their youngest friend is still dressed in her uniform, and Eri is clad in a nurse outfit, for some strange reason.
Joshua is straight to the point, as he usually is when he explains the situation. He’s like a good guest speaker at some middle school, patient with their assorted questions and very, very clear.
These actions loosely translate into: Joshua is serious, and they should be too.
No one’s sure if they’ll hurt them. Maybe they will, hopefully they won’t. It becomes clear the longer they talk: something has to happen, before they fuck something up. There’s no amount of research they could have done to learn about the UG.
Neku feels dizzy. Fear is welling up inside of him, and it’s so completely, disgustingly unwelcome. He hopes to something that he’s not the only one.
“Just go home. I will inform you later.” Joshua tells them. It’s a dismissal for all of them, but Neku doesn’t want to feel cooped up in his house. “Take a nap or something.” Joshua leans in close and kisses him gently. Homemade teddy-bear comfort.
He sticks around after, instead, helping Mr. H clean tables and cutlery. He listens as the older man (by how much? He doesn’t even know.) hums random tunes. He doesn’t dare ask why the threat would want information from him.
There’s something about the man that calms him.
“How you feelin’ Phones?Neku answers with a glare. He’s never gotten used to the nickname, and he doesn’t really want to, either.
“Nervous, I guess.” Mr. H. throws his head back into his signature laugh before uncovering a painting on the wall and removing something from the space behind it. He places three sketches and a map of Shibuya in front on Neku before leaning against the countertop.
“Some of my new ideas for CAT.” He says. Neku studies the sketches carefully. They have a freer, more rhythmic vibe than his other works. If he was to make a guess, it would be that they reflected the new “sound” of Shibuya.
“They’re awesome.” Neku says.
“I was thinking the stadium could use some excitement, y’know?”
“Groovy.” Neku says, and suddenly they’re both laughing like little children.
“Don’t be nervous, phones.” Mr. H. says. A firm hand is placed on his shoulder comfortingly. “Josh won’t let anything happen in his town.”
He’s right. Above anything else, Joshua loves Shibuya, even if he doesn’t love the people that call it home.
***
Joshua is doing what he does best, and that is composing. Shibuya’s tune flows and bends to his will. He’s searching, scouring every nook and cranny for the intruders. Their melodies stick out like a sore thumb. They’re off beat and loud, drowning out everyone else’s.
He can hear the city moving around him, thanking him for finally doing something about these people.
“They’ll be around for a while more.” Joshua says it as an apology.
Great boss you are.
“Everything will be fine.”
***
It goes like this:
Eames and Ariadne reunite with Arthur and Cobb, confident they’ve found their key. (Which is fantastic, because they didn’t find anything except for good food and inspiring walls.)
Eames lets Ariadne explain their findings, which she does so with absolute glee and pride. He remembers (not all that well, mind you) how he felt doing something correctly for his boss.
The next three days are filled with finding out exactly who the kids are, where they hang out, and really anything that is remotely relevant. They find out their names are Neku Sakuraba and Shiki Misaki, normal children with normal hobbies. Normal grades, and no outstanding qualities. They seem like the typical social outcast types.
“There’s a gap in the information.” Arthur says one day. He’s still cold and distant towards Eames; he’ll probable never forgive him even though he knows he only did it for Arthur’s safety, by now. “Three weeks of his life is gone. Same for Shiki.”
“It’s the same thing hundreds of others.
Raimu and Daisukenojo Bito are the only ones who don’t have a three week history, but hundreds are missing one week of their lives.
“It’s a big place and all... but look.” Ariadne whispers, her hands shaking ever so slightly. There’s hundreds -thousands- of missing people. All presumed dead, but no evidence of the crime.
“Do you think this... CAT has anything to do with it? Or these people holding us?” Ariadne’s voice is really trembling now. Hopefully, after this, she’ll go back to college and never think about dreaming again.
“Of course they do. Of course they do.” Eames says numbly. It’s all his fault. All his fault.
***
It takes a full week to find Neku again. When they do, he’s walking down the street in front of where Arthur and Cobb are hiding in a dark concert arena.
Arthur isn’t proud of it- it’s really not to his liking at all- but what they do, is they drag him into the shadows and drug him.
See? Not to his methods at all.
What bothers Arthur, however, is the completely unsurprised look on the boy’s face. He looks into Arthur’s eyes, calm and collected, as if to say: “You really have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Chances are, they really don’t.
With a quick call to Ariadne and Eames, they bring Neku back to their ‘base’ with help from a great deal of trickery and fashionable outfits. Ariadne is mumbling about how he’s just a damn kid and how they really shouldn’t be doing this.
Until she’s reminded that they have no choice.
Without Yusuf, setting up the chemicals takes longer than usual, but Cobb manages just fine. Neku doesn’t stir, not once, the entire time.
The dream they’ve devised is one level, two if necessary. The main part is a vandalized train-station, featuring some of CAT’s works. It’s a good thing Ariadne took the time to design a level just in case they needed one before they actually met CAT.
“Ready?” Cobb says. He squints at each one of them in turn. They have no idea if the boy’s missing three weeks effected his subconscious. For all they know, they could be boiled alive as soon as they enter the dream. They’re not taking any chances of being sent to limbo.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Eames says. Before he can stop it, he’s saying, “Sweet dreams, Arthur.”
***
For lack of a better word, Cobb freaks out when they enter the dream. Arthur wakes up lying on his back in the middle of Scramble Crossing of Shibuya, not even close to their train-station dreamscape. Eames and Ariadne are relatively close to him, while Cobb is already up, looking around wildly. Neku is no where in sight.
Then again, it’s hard to find anyone in the crowd.
“What is this? Ariadne!” Cobb screeches at the girl.
“I...I don? know!” she stammers. “It wasn’t my fault! I can’t even move the dreamscape!” Ariadne is on the brink of a mental breakdown, Arthur can see.
“Bull, Ari. You have to have something to do with it!” Cobb is furious. In Arthur’s time, he’s never heard of something like this happening. His first thought goes to Neku; maybe this is the result of his missing weeks.
He takes it upon himself to remind the extractor of this.
“These are not normal projections.Eames says our of the blue. He’s standing a ways away from them observing the people. “What their talking about has nothing to do with Neku. It’s just... normal conversation. The kid’s got to be a schizophrenic to have this many projections.”
“We have bigger problems.” Cobb hisses, using the remnants of his previous anger. “Like where the target is!”
“I think this problems a bit more drastic.” Eames says under his breath. “Like these being real fucking people.”
Arthur is yelling at Cobb to stop yelling, and Ariadne is yelling at both of them to stop yelling, and Eames is yelling for people to listen to him, so they don’t notice it when red and blue sigils come out of nowhere and produce frog-like monsters.
Until, of course, they attack.
“What the hell?” with practiced ease, Arthur fires, sending three bullets into one of the frog’s head. It does not stop it. Rather, it seems to only make it want to attack them more.
“Watch out!” It’s a male voice, followed shortly by a small male form. Otherwise known as their target, Neku.
He places himself in front of where they’re grouped (not cowering and panicking), ignoring the distressed calls from Ariadne.
He reaches his hand up, palm outstretched toward the frog-things (which actually seem very apprehensive about coming any closer) and suddenly, there’s lightning coming from his hand.
By the time their view is cleared again, the only thing left of the monsters is evaporating TV static. Neku throws a pin up into their air and catches it with a smug grin on his face.
“Man, he must hate you.” He says, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. “I told you. You really don’t know what you’re getting into. The Noise are really agitated, and that’s not going to help the players, so it’s best if you just leave.”
Cobb looks as though he’s about to argue (does that man ever get tired of yelling?), when there’s the unmistakable sound of clapping coming towards them.
“Well said, Neku. Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Coming out from the midst of the crowd is a boy slightly taller and better dressed than Neku, with silvery-gray hair and a snarky, confident attitude.
“Nicer.” Neku corrects. His expression brightens up, though. “You couldn’t have said it nicer.”
“A technicality.” the boy says, but isn’t bothered by it. “Now, I’m sure you have questions, but we’re a bit busy at the moment. Neku was too, before you kidnapped him. If you want to talk again, please meet us at the Hachiko statue tomorrow. I trust you know where that is?”
“Uh...” Cobb stammers, much like Ariadne had once been with him. In his life, not many people have talked like they were better than him. In fact, most people talked to him with respect and awe.
“Fantastic.” the boy continues on with glee. With the same expression, he pulls out a gun. It’s a simple revolver, but it’s sleek and shiny. Neku’s flinch does not pass by Arthur. Especially when the boy shoots him with a smile on his face. “Trust me, he’s used to that.” he is, though, staring at the corpse with distaste. Soon enough, that’s also gone is a wave of static.
Arthur stares at it with surprise, and doesn’t notice the boy disappear.
***
Neku rolls is head around in circles in a sorry attempt to remove all the kinks. Shiki sits next to him with her sketchpad in her lap and pencil flying over the page. The sun is bright to his newly awakened eyes and sunglasses really aren't his thing.
"How long have I been asleep?" He asks Shiki as he leans against Hachiko and stretches his arms and legs.
"Fifteen, twenty minutes?" Shiki answers. Suddenly, she becomes quiet and nervous, more than she usually is. (Even though her confidence has risen around them, she still has her quiet and introverted moments.) She fiddles with one of Mr. Mew's ears and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“What is it?” Neku coaxes.
“Do you... do you really think getting into this was a good idea?” she blurts out. Her hand races to cover her mouth as if her deepest, darkest secrets will come spilling out. “Oh! I didn’t mean to say it like that... I know you and Josh-”
“It’s fine, Shiki.”
“Sorry!” Shiki squeaks, becoming rather frazzled. “I’m just an idiot!
“No, you aren’t.” Neku tells the girl. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. A year ago, he wouldn’t have even thought about doing that to someone else. Hell, a year ago, he wouldn’t have even been around another person. “Besides, we’re doing this to help Mr. H, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right.” she says firmly.
“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” Shiki nods in agreement, and they laps back into a comfortable silence. Neku has almost fallen back to sleep when Rhyme and Beat’s presence is announced by the jingling of her bell.
“Are we late?” she asks, going through her baggy pockets for her phone. Yes, because watches are so last season. Beat throws himself onto the statue next to Neku, glaring at any person who comes too close.
“We’re not meeting until three.” Shiki says. “And Eri just called. She’s meeting us later. Has a date with Wild Boar Boy.” the two girls burst into a fit of giggles; probably over some inside joke.
“I wonder what kind of people these guys are.” Shiki asks, one finger under her chin and the other on her elbow.
“Well, the kidnapped me.” Neku says. He hasn’t gotten over how easily they caught him.
“Ya gotta book it when shit goin’ down, phones!” Beat slaps the back of Neku’s head, sparking a small fight between them.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Rhyme tells them.
“They kidnapped me.” he repeats. Neku’s next words stop in his throat. He sees the four of them coming, via Scramble Crossing. They’re looking around the area, obviously for Hachiko. The one that drugged him -Arthur? Artie?- catches him looking, and his eyes bore into his own.
“There’s still time to run.” Shiki whispers.
They’re close enough to see all of them now, and Neku can tell what they?e thinking: But they?e just children.
“Er... sorry about yesterday.” The blond one says. “I have children of my own, and-”
“That’s gotta do with nothin’” Beat exclaims loudly. In his own demented way, he manages to lighten the atmosphere, at least a little. The blond man is taken aback.
“We can do introductions later.” Rhyme says kindly. Though all of these people are several feet taller than she is, the girl is not nervous, on the outside. “We’ll be meeting three others in a small cafe, called WildKat.”
In the end, their only girl, Rhyme, and Shiki chatter on about the architecture and fashions, the blond man tries arguing that the map says to go that way, and Beat tells him to shut up more than once.
Neku is pretty damn sure he knows where he’s going. Plus, he’s trying his best not to go through where any walls are.
They’re not professionals and don’t claim to be, so they really don’t mind meeting in a cafe. What Neku doesn’t expect, though, is Eri and Joshua already being there. (The two are almost always late, but for different reasons.)
“Welcome to Shibuya.” The composer says. A storm is coming.
The coffee is fantastic.
Author: yaoimunchkin
Artist: toujourspret
Type: Crossover, slash
Word Count: 19,000~ words
Rating: Teen
Characters/Paring: Neku/Joshua, Arthur/Eames, Team Death and the Dream Team
Warnings: slash and some kidnapping/drugging
Summary:The Angels are secretive, and Eames is used as a tool. Joshua is in love and Neku has become pretty good at games. And Arthur? Arthur wants the hell out of Shibuya.
A/N: A big thank you to my artist and Domi, who without her, this would never have come about. And also, to neoncitylights because that's where I got the idea.
Part I
Part II
Part II
Part IV
PART III
The castle courtyard stretches out to the horizon, a collage of stony purples and dusty grays. The walls of flowing water make twisting arches about them, never once getting them wet. The pathway that dips in and out of the foliage is made from an uneven spotted stone, possibly granite. The trees look as though they’re straight from Alice in Wonderland and sport pale pink flowers and small red fruits. There aren’t many projections wandering around Neku’s mind, but the ones that are have been cleverly locked in a shifting maze.
Neku’s projections treat Joshua like snake poison. He’s there and needs to go away, but there’s nothing they can do about it.
Shiki is off shopping with Eri at a new Shibuya store. Rhyme is probably off with Beat for once, at the skatepark breaking wrists and ankles. So it’s just the two of them, Neku and Joshua, fifteen minutes out of the city in their own private kingdom.
Making mountains out of molehills into towns into cities into fantasies.
“You’re been getting better.” Joshua says. Practice for their architect is rare. Unlike Shiki and Eri’s form changing, Beat’s chemicals, or Rhyme’s information, Neku can’t change the form of Shibuya. Not in the way he would like to, at least. (Neku doesn’t know about that, anyways.)
“Thanks, I guess.” Neku is the typical awkward boyfriend type, while Joshua seems like the flower-power poster boy. The water arches shudder to a halt, making the entire dream tremble. The water drops towards them, and as if it hits a net, explodes into small droplets. They freeze around them in perfect teardrop shapes, and Joshua reaches out to take one in his hand.
It turns into a gray smoke as soon as he touches it.
“Beautiful.” Joshua mutters, and Neku pretends not to notice. He’s embarrassed by how embarrassed he is. He’s never been treated so well by anybody in his entire life. Not by his mother, his foster parents, or any person his own age.
Then along came Joshua. Joshua, who should be as bad for him as toxic waste, but is somehow working wonders.
There’s silver hair on his pillow, Joshua’s smell on his clothes. His thought are in his head, his warmth lingering. Neku is in love. Stupid, happy love. Like a goddamn double-rainbow.
Neku’s modern techno of choice wracks through the scenery, alerting them of the impending kick. Joshua frowns in his distaste. When the kick music is decided by Joshua, it’s always something dull with far too much Oboe.
Three, two, one, kick.
***
Arthur opens his eyes, the blurry surroundings slowly coming into focus. He’s tied to a cold metal chair placed in an empty room. From his angle, there are no doors or windows, or anything else for that matter. The walls are dark gray and made from solid cement blocks, matching the chains attaching him to the chair from both his chest and ankles.
His memories of the last few hours, or maybe even days, are foggy, leaving him to believe he’s been drugged. Oh, how lovely. He can only hope Ariadne is safe, but that would be a long-shot. If whoever is doing this managed to get him, then Ariadne doesn’t stand much of a chance.
Arthur estimates he’s been stuck in this room for at least three hours, at least, according to the kinks in his neck. From experience, he knows that this is a fucked up business deal. In his line of work, it really is more common than one would think.
There’s the sound of metal sliding against metal- a heavy, sliding door, then- and rubber-soled shoes against the floor. A wrinkled hand appears on Arthur’s shoulder, and he tries to get a look at however is keeping him here. His neck is sharply snapped back into place with a worrying crack. At least he knows that his captors are serious.
Arthur forces the building fear back down to his usual composed level. He isn’t going to let this scare him. Not when he’s jumped from buildings, been shot in the knee-cap several times, and been in all things: love.
Sure, most of those things were in dreams, but still. Fear, love, and pain is all in the mind anyways.
“You are here to be assisting in a dream extraction. In one day, you will be working with your team. You have two months to complete the job. If the job is not completed, there will be consequences.”
“I suppose I won’t be getting paid, then.” Arthur says in a moment of blind stupidity. It’s not something he normally does, but there has been a lack of snarky comments in his life.
“Don’t be stupid.” A silk cloth is placed over his mouth and nose, turning is world black again.
When Arthur does come to, he’s lying on a generic couch in a room not much unlike the one he was previously in, except there’s morning light streaming in from the small windows high on the wall. Not big enough to get through.
Oh, and he’s not alone, either.
Eames looks like shit.
***
Shiki is curled up into Neku’s side while their watching some late-night talk show on her couch. Which, by the way, is insanely comfortable. Even with the boy-bands and male models plastered all across the walls.
Shiki’s roommate is off at a science competition (the fashion-expert has been living in a small apartment in the city for a few months now. Something to do with ketchup and an Algebra test. Shiki’s rather vague when asked about it.) so the first thing the brunette does is invite Neku over to spend the night. Or week. Yeah, week.
They watch stupid movies and eat pizza poppers and ramen, while Shiki rambles on about Eri? cosplay. Neku hasn’t laughed more.
Neku hears the muffled sound of a text message, causing him to disturb Shiki and dig his phone out from under Mr. Mew. It’s from Joshua, but just after he enters his password, two small hands are wrapped around it, whisking it away.
“Shiki!” Neku yells, making a dive for the phone. Said girl bounds over the assorted furniture and random belongings to stand near the kitchen and away from Neku.
“Joshua!?” Shiki yelps and nearly drops the phone. “Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod!” Shiki’s voice reaches an octave probably only dogs could hear. Neku wants to cover his ears, but maybe that would only make the screaming louder.
Shiki is crouched on the couch in seconds, looking eagerly into Neku’s startled eyes. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting.
“Tell. Me. Everything.” She whispers as if it’s some government secret. “With details.”
“There’s not much to say.” Neku mumbles. His hand finds it’s way to the base of his orange hair, and twiddles with the ends. God, he hopes he’s not blushing. “It just kind of... happened.”
“That.” she announces. “Is so lame.”
“Sorry if you were looking for something better.” Neku scoffs. He’s not really offended, but it’s fun to mess with the brunette.
“Have you kissed yet?” Shiki asks, puckering her lips mockingly. Neku throws a pillow at her and blushes. She lets out another squeal. “By the way, Joshy says we have a meeting tomorrow at one, hun.”
“Shiki, one day I am going to kill you.” Neku swears. The threat is met with giggles. “And... that’s none of your business.” He snaps and does a great imitation of a spoiled child. Before long, though, they’re both on the floor, laughing their asses off.
***
The coffee is burning his hands, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not at the moment. Mr. H. lets out a shaky breath and shakes his head. The entire future of Shibuya is resting on the next couple of weeks. Resting on him, and an few emotionally unstable, amateur kids.
It’s not a matter of lives being at stake, because lives are always in danger. A car could hit you at any moment. Something could fall out of the high-rise you’re standing under. You could get mugged or raped or murdered at any time.
No one is safe, and that’s just reality.
In fact, it’s not even a matter of doing what is right.
Nothing is right.
What does matter, though, is keeping this fucked up circle of life going. Balancing is a recurring theme in the Fallen Angel’s life. It’s from what they taught him in his old life: Balance is the key to everything. Without it, we are all doomed, they say.
Does he trust Joshua with this balance?
Yes, he does.
Mr. H. runs a hand through his spiked hair and straightens up. Foolish grin back on his face, he looks forward, to the next day. Everything is going to be fine.
Probably.
***
Eames blames himself. Cobb should be with his family, Ariadne should be finishing school, Arthur... Arthur should be far away from him. The only one not present is Yusuf, who’s probably off in a pit in Mombasa where no one dares to go without a HAZMAT suit.
Instead, they’re going through the piles and piles of his useless information. Everything in there leads to a dead end. He’s checked, several times.
“What’s this?” Ariadne pushes her wheelie-chair over to where Eames is bent over yet more dead-ends. The file the architect holds is filled with photos of the graffiti.
“This CAT is a graffiti artist, those are some of his works.”
“Well, let’s go check it out!” Ariadne grins. Eames pats her head and tells her it’s not that simple.
“We’re prisoners, remember?” Even as he says it, he doesn’t quite believe himself. Ever since they brought in Ariadne, he hasn’t seen any of his captors; not even Sola. Every day they find a good amount of food on a cart just inside the doorway. He wonders if the door is even locked, but he hasn’t bothered to check.
Cobb, apparently, is thinking the same thing.
(Arthur? He doesn’t know what Arthur is thinking. The point-man is on the complete other side of the room, and hasn’t even acknowledged his presence, so far.)
The extractor has the door handle in a tight grip. He looks back at them for the OK, then pulls.
To their surprise, it comes open with ease. Dom cautiously looks out into the area outside the large room. Ariadne is grinning, like a little kid who’s won a prize, but the rest of them know better.
“Come see this.” Outside their room is a long hallway, with a door on one end. Tapped to this door is a single piece of lined paper. Arthur brushes past Eames (without looking at him) to read it.
“You must think you’re free to go, but you are not. We are watching your every move.” Arthur’s head quickly looks to the corners to locate the small cameras blending in nicely. “You may leave and go to Shibuya freely, but that is all. See you around.”
“What a lovely sense of humor.” Eames hisses. He’s really starting to get sick of this, if he isn’t already.
“What are we waiting for?” Ariadne says unperturbed. She leads the way back to the work room and pushes the chairs into a loose circle.
“We need a plan, don’t we?”
It’s a rather pathetic plan, by their standards. Eames knows where all of the graffiti is and points them out their loose locations on a map. They split the city in half; Arthur and Cobb east, Eames and Ariadne west. Meet back at some Hachiko statue in three hours.
Eames has got a bad feeling about the whole mess, but then again, he’s had one for almost a year.
At least someone had the courtesy not to put him with Arthur.
Ariadne falls in love with the city almost as soon as they step foot outside. Eames has to resort to steering the girl away from the oncoming masses. He has to admit, it is rather good, as far as cities go. Modern isn’t quite to his taste, however.
They travel through an underpass stained with blood from a long-ago accident, through tunnels and turns where hundreds of people have passed through and where rules were made by violence. Rules people live by.
“It’s lovely.” Ariadne whispers. Her small hands press against the dirty wall where bright, rain splattered patterns coat the wall. “Imagine how many lives this changed. I did a report on it in high school.”
“Maybe we need to find one of those people.” Eames says, grinning. The little rabbit lit the metaphorical lightbulb, alright. They found the keyhole, now they need the key.
The next place they go to is in a far back alley near trashy skater stores and a sketchy music one. There’s scratched out patterns all over the stairs and stickers on the railings. Ariadne clings to his arm the entire time.
The mural, however, is a masterpiece. It speaks in poems and screaming lyrics, surely dances through thoughts and stays in the back of people’s minds. It’s going to be like finding a needle in a haystack, though. I really fucking big haystack, though.
Ariadne presses her fingertips against the wall, even if it’s covered in grime and filth. She knows it’s a cherished little piece of crazed calm.
Eames figures he’s looking for someone with the same reaction as their little architect, and starts cautiously looking around.
That’s when he sees them.
Their only kids, really. One boy, one girl. The boy has large headphones and bright orange hair, is dressed in all blue. The girl is modestly dressed, brown hair, glasses, a cat-like doll. Eames takes this all in, the information filtering through in the form of a list.
It’s habit. He is a forger, after all.
They’re leaning against the graffiti wall -it must have taken forever. It goes on and on and on- blissfully unaware of their surroundings. The girl has an over-sized sketch-pad in her lap, which she is completely absorbed in. The boy clutching something in his hand, the other pressed against his right headphone.
He nudges Ariadne.
She flashes him a mischievous smile, then proceeds to dishevel her hair and clothing before walking over to the pair.
“Excuse me?” she asks. “But I’m a bit lost, could you tell me where I am?” Surprisingly, her Japanese is flawless. His is too, of course, from his time with the this and that.
“This is the wonderful mural by CAT, of course. Located in the Undagawa Back Streets.” The girl answers while gently poking her companion. He opens his eyes to reveal calculating blue eyes and a suspicious stare.
He’s ignoring Ariadne completely, choosing to study Eames instead.
“Oh, who is he again?”
“A genius.” the boy says slowly, and without taking his eyes from the forger. His eyes move to something that’s happening behind Eames, and quirks his mouth. A fleeting trace of a smile, perhaps.
“I never pegged you for a good samaritan type, Shiki.” A new boy arrives on the scene, a friend of the other two by the looks of it. His cloths look like they came from the most expensive department stores in the entire city. “I know how much you love this spot, Neky, but you do have to leave eventually.” ‘Neky’ is sending death glares in the boy’s direction, though he seems content to ignore them.
“Do you need any directions?” Shiki asks as ‘Neky’ goes to stand by their friend. Probably friend, anyways. They certainly look like the three-musketeers type.
“No. Thank you for all your help, though.” Ariadne waves them goodbye, before they fall out of earshot. “I think that boy is the one we’re looking for. He said genius with such...reverence.”
“Should we follow them?” Eames asks, holding out his arm like a English gentlemen.
“I don? see why not!” Ariadne grins and takes his arm.
“Now, before I forget, how did you learn to speak Japanese so well in France?”
***
“Listen,Joshua starts. In Neku’s experience, conversations that begin with listen do not have a pleasant message. “Those two are part of an extraction team.”
“Oh, lovely.” Shiki throws her arms into the air.
“Not much to worry about.” Joshua continues. “What I have gathered is that they’re after information on-”
“Mr. H.?” Neku guesses. Joshua’s trademark grin falls into place.
“Well, they know him as CAT.”
“You have a plan, right?” Shiki asks. Her words have a nervous edge to them, and it’s starting to wear off on Neku. Joshua seems suspiciously calm, implying that he did indeed have a plan. He’s their resident James Bond. (Well, Neku isn’t a girl, so maybe not. MacGyver, instead?)
It takes three full hours to corral their team. Rhyme is the last to arrive with Eri. Their youngest friend is still dressed in her uniform, and Eri is clad in a nurse outfit, for some strange reason.
Joshua is straight to the point, as he usually is when he explains the situation. He’s like a good guest speaker at some middle school, patient with their assorted questions and very, very clear.
These actions loosely translate into: Joshua is serious, and they should be too.
No one’s sure if they’ll hurt them. Maybe they will, hopefully they won’t. It becomes clear the longer they talk: something has to happen, before they fuck something up. There’s no amount of research they could have done to learn about the UG.
Neku feels dizzy. Fear is welling up inside of him, and it’s so completely, disgustingly unwelcome. He hopes to something that he’s not the only one.
“Just go home. I will inform you later.” Joshua tells them. It’s a dismissal for all of them, but Neku doesn’t want to feel cooped up in his house. “Take a nap or something.” Joshua leans in close and kisses him gently. Homemade teddy-bear comfort.
He sticks around after, instead, helping Mr. H clean tables and cutlery. He listens as the older man (by how much? He doesn’t even know.) hums random tunes. He doesn’t dare ask why the threat would want information from him.
There’s something about the man that calms him.
“How you feelin’ Phones?Neku answers with a glare. He’s never gotten used to the nickname, and he doesn’t really want to, either.
“Nervous, I guess.” Mr. H. throws his head back into his signature laugh before uncovering a painting on the wall and removing something from the space behind it. He places three sketches and a map of Shibuya in front on Neku before leaning against the countertop.
“Some of my new ideas for CAT.” He says. Neku studies the sketches carefully. They have a freer, more rhythmic vibe than his other works. If he was to make a guess, it would be that they reflected the new “sound” of Shibuya.
“They’re awesome.” Neku says.
“I was thinking the stadium could use some excitement, y’know?”
“Groovy.” Neku says, and suddenly they’re both laughing like little children.
“Don’t be nervous, phones.” Mr. H. says. A firm hand is placed on his shoulder comfortingly. “Josh won’t let anything happen in his town.”
He’s right. Above anything else, Joshua loves Shibuya, even if he doesn’t love the people that call it home.
***
Joshua is doing what he does best, and that is composing. Shibuya’s tune flows and bends to his will. He’s searching, scouring every nook and cranny for the intruders. Their melodies stick out like a sore thumb. They’re off beat and loud, drowning out everyone else’s.
He can hear the city moving around him, thanking him for finally doing something about these people.
“They’ll be around for a while more.” Joshua says it as an apology.
Great boss you are.
“Everything will be fine.”
***
It goes like this:
Eames and Ariadne reunite with Arthur and Cobb, confident they’ve found their key. (Which is fantastic, because they didn’t find anything except for good food and inspiring walls.)
Eames lets Ariadne explain their findings, which she does so with absolute glee and pride. He remembers (not all that well, mind you) how he felt doing something correctly for his boss.
The next three days are filled with finding out exactly who the kids are, where they hang out, and really anything that is remotely relevant. They find out their names are Neku Sakuraba and Shiki Misaki, normal children with normal hobbies. Normal grades, and no outstanding qualities. They seem like the typical social outcast types.
“There’s a gap in the information.” Arthur says one day. He’s still cold and distant towards Eames; he’ll probable never forgive him even though he knows he only did it for Arthur’s safety, by now. “Three weeks of his life is gone. Same for Shiki.”
“It’s the same thing hundreds of others.
Raimu and Daisukenojo Bito are the only ones who don’t have a three week history, but hundreds are missing one week of their lives.
“It’s a big place and all... but look.” Ariadne whispers, her hands shaking ever so slightly. There’s hundreds -thousands- of missing people. All presumed dead, but no evidence of the crime.
“Do you think this... CAT has anything to do with it? Or these people holding us?” Ariadne’s voice is really trembling now. Hopefully, after this, she’ll go back to college and never think about dreaming again.
“Of course they do. Of course they do.” Eames says numbly. It’s all his fault. All his fault.
***
It takes a full week to find Neku again. When they do, he’s walking down the street in front of where Arthur and Cobb are hiding in a dark concert arena.
Arthur isn’t proud of it- it’s really not to his liking at all- but what they do, is they drag him into the shadows and drug him.
See? Not to his methods at all.
What bothers Arthur, however, is the completely unsurprised look on the boy’s face. He looks into Arthur’s eyes, calm and collected, as if to say: “You really have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Chances are, they really don’t.
With a quick call to Ariadne and Eames, they bring Neku back to their ‘base’ with help from a great deal of trickery and fashionable outfits. Ariadne is mumbling about how he’s just a damn kid and how they really shouldn’t be doing this.
Until she’s reminded that they have no choice.
Without Yusuf, setting up the chemicals takes longer than usual, but Cobb manages just fine. Neku doesn’t stir, not once, the entire time.
The dream they’ve devised is one level, two if necessary. The main part is a vandalized train-station, featuring some of CAT’s works. It’s a good thing Ariadne took the time to design a level just in case they needed one before they actually met CAT.
“Ready?” Cobb says. He squints at each one of them in turn. They have no idea if the boy’s missing three weeks effected his subconscious. For all they know, they could be boiled alive as soon as they enter the dream. They’re not taking any chances of being sent to limbo.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Eames says. Before he can stop it, he’s saying, “Sweet dreams, Arthur.”
***
For lack of a better word, Cobb freaks out when they enter the dream. Arthur wakes up lying on his back in the middle of Scramble Crossing of Shibuya, not even close to their train-station dreamscape. Eames and Ariadne are relatively close to him, while Cobb is already up, looking around wildly. Neku is no where in sight.
Then again, it’s hard to find anyone in the crowd.
“What is this? Ariadne!” Cobb screeches at the girl.
“I...I don? know!” she stammers. “It wasn’t my fault! I can’t even move the dreamscape!” Ariadne is on the brink of a mental breakdown, Arthur can see.
“Bull, Ari. You have to have something to do with it!” Cobb is furious. In Arthur’s time, he’s never heard of something like this happening. His first thought goes to Neku; maybe this is the result of his missing weeks.
He takes it upon himself to remind the extractor of this.
“These are not normal projections.Eames says our of the blue. He’s standing a ways away from them observing the people. “What their talking about has nothing to do with Neku. It’s just... normal conversation. The kid’s got to be a schizophrenic to have this many projections.”
“We have bigger problems.” Cobb hisses, using the remnants of his previous anger. “Like where the target is!”
“I think this problems a bit more drastic.” Eames says under his breath. “Like these being real fucking people.”
Arthur is yelling at Cobb to stop yelling, and Ariadne is yelling at both of them to stop yelling, and Eames is yelling for people to listen to him, so they don’t notice it when red and blue sigils come out of nowhere and produce frog-like monsters.
Until, of course, they attack.
“What the hell?” with practiced ease, Arthur fires, sending three bullets into one of the frog’s head. It does not stop it. Rather, it seems to only make it want to attack them more.
“Watch out!” It’s a male voice, followed shortly by a small male form. Otherwise known as their target, Neku.
He places himself in front of where they’re grouped (not cowering and panicking), ignoring the distressed calls from Ariadne.
He reaches his hand up, palm outstretched toward the frog-things (which actually seem very apprehensive about coming any closer) and suddenly, there’s lightning coming from his hand.
By the time their view is cleared again, the only thing left of the monsters is evaporating TV static. Neku throws a pin up into their air and catches it with a smug grin on his face.
“Man, he must hate you.” He says, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. “I told you. You really don’t know what you’re getting into. The Noise are really agitated, and that’s not going to help the players, so it’s best if you just leave.”
Cobb looks as though he’s about to argue (does that man ever get tired of yelling?), when there’s the unmistakable sound of clapping coming towards them.
“Well said, Neku. Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Coming out from the midst of the crowd is a boy slightly taller and better dressed than Neku, with silvery-gray hair and a snarky, confident attitude.
“Nicer.” Neku corrects. His expression brightens up, though. “You couldn’t have said it nicer.”
“A technicality.” the boy says, but isn’t bothered by it. “Now, I’m sure you have questions, but we’re a bit busy at the moment. Neku was too, before you kidnapped him. If you want to talk again, please meet us at the Hachiko statue tomorrow. I trust you know where that is?”
“Uh...” Cobb stammers, much like Ariadne had once been with him. In his life, not many people have talked like they were better than him. In fact, most people talked to him with respect and awe.
“Fantastic.” the boy continues on with glee. With the same expression, he pulls out a gun. It’s a simple revolver, but it’s sleek and shiny. Neku’s flinch does not pass by Arthur. Especially when the boy shoots him with a smile on his face. “Trust me, he’s used to that.” he is, though, staring at the corpse with distaste. Soon enough, that’s also gone is a wave of static.
Arthur stares at it with surprise, and doesn’t notice the boy disappear.
***
Neku rolls is head around in circles in a sorry attempt to remove all the kinks. Shiki sits next to him with her sketchpad in her lap and pencil flying over the page. The sun is bright to his newly awakened eyes and sunglasses really aren't his thing.
"How long have I been asleep?" He asks Shiki as he leans against Hachiko and stretches his arms and legs.
"Fifteen, twenty minutes?" Shiki answers. Suddenly, she becomes quiet and nervous, more than she usually is. (Even though her confidence has risen around them, she still has her quiet and introverted moments.) She fiddles with one of Mr. Mew's ears and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“What is it?” Neku coaxes.
“Do you... do you really think getting into this was a good idea?” she blurts out. Her hand races to cover her mouth as if her deepest, darkest secrets will come spilling out. “Oh! I didn’t mean to say it like that... I know you and Josh-”
“It’s fine, Shiki.”
“Sorry!” Shiki squeaks, becoming rather frazzled. “I’m just an idiot!
“No, you aren’t.” Neku tells the girl. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. A year ago, he wouldn’t have even thought about doing that to someone else. Hell, a year ago, he wouldn’t have even been around another person. “Besides, we’re doing this to help Mr. H, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right.” she says firmly.
“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.” Shiki nods in agreement, and they laps back into a comfortable silence. Neku has almost fallen back to sleep when Rhyme and Beat’s presence is announced by the jingling of her bell.
“Are we late?” she asks, going through her baggy pockets for her phone. Yes, because watches are so last season. Beat throws himself onto the statue next to Neku, glaring at any person who comes too close.
“We’re not meeting until three.” Shiki says. “And Eri just called. She’s meeting us later. Has a date with Wild Boar Boy.” the two girls burst into a fit of giggles; probably over some inside joke.
“I wonder what kind of people these guys are.” Shiki asks, one finger under her chin and the other on her elbow.
“Well, the kidnapped me.” Neku says. He hasn’t gotten over how easily they caught him.
“Ya gotta book it when shit goin’ down, phones!” Beat slaps the back of Neku’s head, sparking a small fight between them.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Rhyme tells them.
“They kidnapped me.” he repeats. Neku’s next words stop in his throat. He sees the four of them coming, via Scramble Crossing. They’re looking around the area, obviously for Hachiko. The one that drugged him -Arthur? Artie?- catches him looking, and his eyes bore into his own.
“There’s still time to run.” Shiki whispers.
They’re close enough to see all of them now, and Neku can tell what they?e thinking: But they?e just children.
“Er... sorry about yesterday.” The blond one says. “I have children of my own, and-”
“That’s gotta do with nothin’” Beat exclaims loudly. In his own demented way, he manages to lighten the atmosphere, at least a little. The blond man is taken aback.
“We can do introductions later.” Rhyme says kindly. Though all of these people are several feet taller than she is, the girl is not nervous, on the outside. “We’ll be meeting three others in a small cafe, called WildKat.”
In the end, their only girl, Rhyme, and Shiki chatter on about the architecture and fashions, the blond man tries arguing that the map says to go that way, and Beat tells him to shut up more than once.
Neku is pretty damn sure he knows where he’s going. Plus, he’s trying his best not to go through where any walls are.
They’re not professionals and don’t claim to be, so they really don’t mind meeting in a cafe. What Neku doesn’t expect, though, is Eri and Joshua already being there. (The two are almost always late, but for different reasons.)
“Welcome to Shibuya.” The composer says. A storm is coming.
The coffee is fantastic.