Today was a happy goddamn day. All of Neku's hard work had paid off. All the sweat, all the strain, all the exertion--he was finally hitting a milestone. He could finally do it. He could lift twenty pounds!
The sky was overcast and gloomy, but the two of them were beaming with optimism. Mr. H had slapped Neku's back with enough paternal affection to propel him against the bartop where he was seated. Hell yeah! This was amazing! He was getting better, and his lifelong idol was proud enough to knock his lungs out!
Well. All good things come in doses, of course. Like the bar stool returning noisily to the floor, what's up must come down. Like the chime of bells as the café door swung open, life's sweetest melodies were temporary. And like the wrath of their Composer, some storms were meant to break.
They knew this stand-off would happen eventually. They would have to answer for their crimes of secrecy one day. It was just--they had carefully picked the day themselves, and it was not meant to be today, and they were not about to have a mature, rehearsed discussion over coffee the way they had wanted.
That once levitating chair was still rattling on its legs when Joshua clapped his hands together, slow, decisive, thrice. But, unlike the grins melting from their faces, there was no proud mirth behind the gesture. Joshua was looking at them with the scarcely suppressed ire that befitted a slighted god. The silence that followed stretched in agony.
"No one invited me to the magic show."
There was no humor in the Composer's tone. His eyes burned into Neku's as he approached. Burned was the only appropriate comparison. Joshua was wielding fury like iron poised in a forge, red and hot. He crossed his arms, popped his hip, cocked his head.
Neku couldn't even relish the opportunity to tell him how stereotypically gay he looked.
"I see you've been practicing," Joshua continued with a cluck of his tongue. "For how long?"
Neku exchanged a wary glance with Mr. H. The gig was more than up. The gig was in shambles. They were fucked.
"Couple'a months," Sanae was first to answer. He was watching his Composer as intently as if a snake had coiled at his feet. "How 'bout ya pull up a chair 'n' we can--"
"Oh, we can," Joshua sharply interjected.
Neku might as well be breathing ice the way his insides had frozen over. Everything about Joshua right now was--foreign. Even at gunpoint, Joshua had worn a sardonic smile. Even asking for Erasure, Joshua had maintained a frivolous lilt in his voice. Now, watching them, drumming his fingers on his arm, Joshua was ...
He finally looked the part of the cold, impassive, lethal entity that regularly eviscerated Shibuya's unworthy.
Joshua slid into the chair beside Neku, and Neku's pulse broke into a sprint for its life. This close, the steely blankness about his face was even eerier. He had never felt so much like Joshua was picking him apart, down to the very particles of his soul.
Joshua propped his chin in a palm, unblinking.
"What else can our little Wonder Boy do?" he asked. Every word hit like it must taste bitter.
The Composer was met with silence just a beat too long.
The Producer cleared his throat. "Jay--"
Neku would swear on any other day he had grown into someone with confidence. For the moment, he felt like he hadn't grown at all. He felt like a child, looking to a father figure for cues. The old man gave him the slightest of nods in return.
Swallowing trepidation, Neku rose to his feet. This was--it could be worse, he told himself. It could be so much worse.
"I'm still working on it," Neku murmured, more out of nerves than genuine exposition. He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, held his hand out in front of himself. Focus.
He couldn't help a perhaps ill-placed smile as he felt that familiar tingle of heat at his fingertips. He didn't need to look to know a tendril of flame was weaving its way leisurely between his fingers. Didn't need to look, but he did anyway, and the awe of it had yet to dissipate, even after countless hours of practice.
Maybe it wasn't terribly impressive running laps next to two powerful celestial beings. But without a Psyche pin? With both feet planted firmly in the Realground? It was something. And he knew he could do better. He knew he would do better, if he could just--
Joshua waved his hand, and Neku felt a gentle gust against his skin. The light dancing between his fingers was snuffed in an instant. His face fell just as instantaneously. Looking at it, here, then gone--it felt like he had missed the last step on a staircase.
"Cute." Joshua's voice was dry, disengaged. "Next."
Again, Sanae spoke to intervene, this time with palpable exasperation. "Jay--"
Neku had never been in a position to get stage-fright before. But his face was running hot like he was standing in the halo of a spotlight. His mouth was going dry like a singer parched and doomed. Joshua was an entire amphitheater's worth of an audience, and the anxiety that came with it was no lesser. The Composer looked every bit like a bored casting director ready to scratch his name off the call-back list.
And that's what this was to Neku. It was an audition for the rest of his future. It was his one shot to convince Joshua that, yes, he did belong involved with the Underground. He was meant to guide and support wherever he could. Protect, even. He knew it, Mr. H knew it--
Joshua was the only one not on the same page. Joshua was the one who had burst Neku's bubble before it even took to the sky.
"I put you where you are for a reason, Neku," he had once said, and his tone had implied no room for argument. "Go home."
He was uncomfortably aware of Mr. H's index finger tap tap tapping the countertop. If he was nervous, then ...
He couldn't back down now.
A second time, he immersed himself in that special headspace. It was a place that felt infinite with possibility. It was at once inside him and out, the same way the air rose and fell in his chest. He could do this. Stay focused.
Neku opened his eyes to that unrelenting frown on Joshua's face as the Composer beheld his latest stunt. An electric spark was bouncing across the counter, crackling with threat and potential. Joshua lifted his hand and beckoned the little sparkle into his palm.
It was crushed unceremoniously in the Composer's fist.
"Next," he said again, and that cruel dismissal seemed to be Mr. H's last straw. He reached across the countertop, grabbed his Composer's shoulder, and squeezed entreatingly.
Joshua looked back at him with something almost resembling interest. It was a short-lived reprieve. Within seconds, he was studying Neku again, no less shrewdly than before.
"Why don't you try--" Joshua twirled a blond curl around his finger, and he couldn't look any less impressed, and it couldn't crush Neku's soul any harder. "--imprinting. Imprint me."
Neku stared. "Impri--imprint what?"
"You have a big Imagination." Joshua snapped his fingers impatiently. "Surprise me."
It wasn't that Neku lacked confidence in his abilities to Imprint. It was that he knew he was walking into a trap that made him hesitate. Joshua was so keen on humiliating him, he was ready to dig the pitfall himself. It was all to deter him. To pluck the wind right out of his sails. Neku couldn't let him.
Imprinting wasn't a challenging feat. What tested Neku at the moment was looking into Joshua's eyes. There was something vengeful and otherworldly there. This must be how it felt to look a lion in the face.
There was only one thing he wanted Joshua to do right now.
Joshua's lips quirked in what couldn't be a more derisive smirk. Neku persisted.
"Sanae," Joshua said suddenly; he didn't take his eyes off of Neku. Maybe Neku shouldn't have asked for more attention. "Last week's reports, please."
The Producer's eyebrows rose all the way above his sunglasses. "Fer what?"
"Educational purposes. Neku, sit over here with me."
Neku didn't like the sound of educational purposes, and he also didn't like where Joshua wanted to sit. It was bad enough sitting next to him. Across from him, where he couldn't escape the Composer's penetrating stare was ...
He wasn't going to ask where the pile of papers came from or how they had been procured so immediately. Joshua plopped the folder in front of Neku from a height, no doubt for the dramatic slap against the table.
"What is this?" Neku reluctantly asked.
"I want you," Joshua said, almost merrily, as he flipped open the binder, "to make a choice. Here you have the finalized stats for every Player that survived to his or her or their seventh day. What you're looking at is a summary of their growth, both qualitative and quantitative."
Weirdly, Joshua's launch into instruction started to put Neku at ease. He was familiar with prattling, know-it-all Josh. He could share a table with that Josh.
"These tables break down the various facets of Soul refinery. The honing of Imagination; the strengthening of Resonance; the depth of Synchronization, and so on. I want you to pick one Player most worthy of resurrection."
Neku could see, overtop Joshua's shoulder, Sanae rubbing at his neck and looking apologetic. Sorry, Boss.
"I'm giving you ten minutes."
"Starting now, superman."
There was no way in the universe that a Composer dedicated a paltry ten minutes to evaluating the worthiness of human lives. But Neku set to work the same way he dove into a pop quiz at university. How--how was he supposed to read all this? This was the mission time limit from Hell. Not only in terms of word count, but ... this handwriting was ...
Neku cut a second glance at Mr. H. He appeared now doubly as apologetic. Neku shifted his eyes to Joshua, who was sitting back with both arms and knees crossed, waiting with unsettling patience.
Joshua tapped his chin, thinking it over. "I'll allow it," he decided.
Thanks, your holy graciousness.
Four Players--each with their strengths, each with their faults. Each one, Neku himself believed, deserved the second chance at life simply for making it to the end. Neku's gut turned; was that the point Joshua was trying to make? That he wouldn't have what it takes to make the tough calls? That was the real difficulty at hand, not the number crunching or the dense UG jargon.
Neku could show him he was better than that.
Joshua sounded all too satisfied with himself. He must think this was the trump card of the century. Neku would show him.
"Who are we awarding the privilege of rebirth?"
Neku quietly slid the folder across the table with a pointer finger on his Player of choice. "Them."
The Composer, infuriatingly, gave no indication in his expression for better or worse. Rather than study the profile alongside Neku, he fixated steadfast on the man's face. Right. Joshua must remember last week's Game pretty vividly. He didn't need to review.
"They made the most improvement. They evolved the most. A person like that has unlimited potential in the real world."
He was right. Joshua had to know he was right.
With a hum, Joshua abruptly slammed the folder shut.
"Good work, Sakuraba. You picked the registered sex offender."
"How would I know that?" Neku protested with the words hardly out of Joshua's smug mouth. "You didn't tell me! It's not in the report!"
"You don't need to know," Joshua said, resolutely.
Joshua gave a sigh from the very depths of his soul and again flipped through the report's pages.
"Here." Joshua landed an indicating finger. "What you missed is here. Yes, this Player demonstrated growth. But did you look at what kind of growth? Their Synchronization rates fell. Significantly. You're looking at a person who became more detached from humanity.
"You don't believe that all manner of refinery is a net positive, do you? Human Souls are much more complex, Neku. We can have the world's strongest Imagination and still be a terrible human being. In fact, what you selected is dangerous. What do you get when you mix muscle and misanthropy? Destruction."
Neku sunk with every new admonishment out of the Composer's mouth.
"But you can teach me," he persisted. He hated what he felt in his own voice: desperation. "Someone taught you, right? Mr. H said--"
Joshua said his name like a curse word.
"What do you think Sanae is? Your softball coach? Your talent agent?"
Neku wasn't proud of the way he shot out of his chair with indignation.
"Shibuya chose me." There was no doubt in Neku's mind. "Why else would I still be able to use Psyches? Why else would I still feel like I don't belong--"
There was an edge to Joshua's voice that Neku hadn't heard before. It made him freeze.
"I chose what role you got to play in my Game," Joshua continued. "And I'm choosing what you're going to do next."
The same as Neku, he rose from his seat, with a tension set deep in his features.
"You're going to go home. You're going to do your silly little art and go to your silly little classes. You--"
"'You mean you don't want to stay and become the next Composer?'"
Neku was mimicking Joshua's voice. God, he got so immature when he was angry, and it did him no favors in the ongoing battle to be good enough. "You said that to me. Remember?"
Joshua laughed with no humor behind it.
"Have all the marker fumes scrambled your brain? That you don't recognize a joke anymore? You're not going to waste the chance I gave you. You have potential here, in the Realground. I'm not letting you throw it away for--"
The silence didn't fall on them. It crashed. It shattered. Joshua was making that face that usually made Neku rejoice inside. It was the bested stare of someone backhanded with their own medicine. The narrowed eyes, the biting inside his cheek--Neku got to see it so rarely, and normally it felt like sweet, sweet victory. But now--now his stomach was sinking through the floorboards.
Joshua's voice returned to him laced with quiet venom.
"Maybe the next Composer will be more amenable to your desires, Neku. You are welcome to tap dance on my grave when the time comes. Until then--"
"Talk like you're disposable."
"Oh, brother." Joshua huffed a sarcastic laugh at the ceiling. "Of course I'm not disposable. The things I can be broken into don't disappear. They feed the City. You'll be blowing smoke rings with my ethereal ashes one day. Wrap your brain around that one--"
Papers scattered across the table, into the air, onto the floor, against Neku's face. Joshua hadn't lifted a finger.
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