Chapter Text
It's been thirty-six days since Shoka began living in the RG, and she has as many questions as the first day the Composer made her disappear.
She's gotta give it to him: at least he didn't leave her off to die in the RG.
There are instructions inside her head, something she can recognize as being imprinted into her—only this time, these are more specific and more powerful than Reapers or Players could ever manage to do. This is the Composer's power, hm? Yeah… talk about being the Game Master's master's master's master. Shoka has clear instructions—or, better put, thoughts imprinted into her head:
An address, a ShibuPay account, and what seems to be a library account for—school textbooks? She hasn't been to school in, like, forever. Okay, it hasn't been that long, but certainly has been a while.
But she's been putting off working on these forever. Just hopping around from place to place, hanging out with her friends, and staying over at Nagi's dorm—who's like, way too kind to always be sneaking her in at night and letting her stay on the unused bed—because… well, it's damn terrifying.
Where does this address even lead her? She recognizes it leads to somewhere in Udagawa, just… for the life of her, she can't figure out where. It's not like it's a huge place. She's been there many times, so surely—she should've noticed whatever address she has in her head.
Whatever. Too late for questioning. It's not like the Composer would lead her to actual danger, would he? Like… Why would he? He went through all that trouble to let Shoka live. It'd be stupid to send her to her death.
She arrives at the location imprinted in her head, standing in front of what seems to be a regular apartment. Not too big. And a little abandoned, it seems. Did the Composer actually leave an abandoned place for her to live in?
She knocks on the door nervously, although there's probably no point to it since it seems deserted from the outside—
The door opens ten seconds later.
The unmistakable silhouette of Sho Minamimoto stares down at her, and Shoka's world crumbles apart.
“You,” Minamimoto says as a greeting. “What do you want? How did you get here?”
“I—uh,” Shoka stammers. “Listen—”
“I don't have time for this,” he says, then he slams the door.
What the hell!
Shoka knocks on the door again. “Hey! C'mon! I'm not here to hurt you or anything—I was sent here!” Something about Minamimoto tells her that he will only listen to the truth. “By the Composer.”
After a minute, the door opens again. “The Composer sent a zeptogram like you?”
“What is that supposed to mean!” Shoka exclaims. Easy. She should relax. If this is her only chance at having a place to live that isn't Nagi's dorm, she needs to cooperate with him. “Yes, he did.”
Minamimoto leans against the doorframe. “Describe him.”
What kind of question is that? How could he even know what the Composer looks like? He hasn't been a Reaper in forever. Then again, maybe before Shinjuku Reapers came along, they worked differently. Maybe Reapers know what the Composer looks like.
“Well, um, he's taller than me,” she starts, forcing her brain to remember the way he looked. “Like… he has ash-blond hair and it's a bit curly. And he has like, a grayish shirt and pants. I don't know what else to say. Purple eyes?”
Minamimoto bursts out laughing, and for a second, Shoka's stomach sinks. He's never going to believe her. But right as dread settles in her gut, Minamimoto steps aside and signals her to get in.
“What games are you playing, I wonder,” Minamimoto says, but it's clearly meant to be to himself and not Shoka. “Alright. I'll hear you out.”
“Soo…” she got this far. It's a bit jarring to see Minamimoto on his sofa, waiting for an explanation as to why she's at his doorstep. It's weird to think of him as a regular, normal person who might pay the bills and not—well—as some sort of insane Mathematician. “I need a place to live. After the Game ended, the Composer brought me back to life, and… I have nowhere else to go. He imprinted this address on me. I think he wants me to live here.”
Minamimoto mulls this over. He cracks a smile after what seems to be an eternity to Shoka. “This wasn't part of my calculations. You're a surprising variable.”
“Uh...huh.”
“Your inclusion is one step closer for me to finally find the value of x,” Minamimoto explains, and yet, Shoka could not be understanding the bigger picture any less. “I don't think there's anything of value to you specifically.”
“Hey, rude?”
“But you're not a zero—not quite. You can stay.”
Shoka breaks into a huge smile, clasping her hands together. “Oh my god—thank you! I'll, uh, I left some stuff at Nagi's dorm—is it okay if I go get it?”
“Don't look at me. Do what you want,” he waves her off. “There's a spare room at the end of the corridor.”
He gets up from the sofa and walks out, ignoring Shoka's questions about where he's going, and she sighs once he closes the door again. Well. It's not like she expected him to be the most sociable, best roommate in the world.
She'll give it to him, though, he's very organized. Now that he's not around, she snoops through the house, and—it's all very… clean, but devoid of anything. There's a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, a bathroom, and three different bedrooms—Shoka assumes one is hers, one is Minamimoto's, and one is a guest room.
But nothing… special. The house is doing its job of giving a roof to someone, but no decorations or anything. Hell, it's a miracle he has a TV!
How could he afford all this—never mind. Money pins. He had been a Reaper for god-knows-how-long. That explains it.
She should probably start bringing her stuff in. She shoots Nagi a quick text and then she's on her way to the dorm.
“Lady Shoka, I am absolutely ecstatic about this new development in your life,” Nagi says as she carries a box with her. She volunteered to help unload her stuff, and Shoka likes being with her, so of course, she brought her along. They enter the house and briefly, Shoka wonders if Minamimoto is back. “You did not mention if you were going to live alone, but if you perhaps need a roommate let it be known that I—”
Nagi drops the box she was carrying. Shoka yelps, “Hey!”
Minamimoto, who's standing in the living room doing something, turns around at the sound of something falling. He doesn't seem too shocked to see Nagi, he just waves at her and walks back to his room.
“Y—YOU—YOU'RE LIVING WITH LORD TOMMMMOMMMTOM—”
“Damn, sis, I didn't know you knew him like this,” Shoka laughs a little at her sobbing. “Can you always cry on command?”
Nagi takes a huge breath, which sounds disgusting since she was dripping snot everywhere five seconds ago, and puts herself together. Damn. Nagi has more control of her emotions than Shoka will ever. “I can only do this for Lord Tomonami, I'm afraid.”
“Lord Tomonami… oh, from your merch,” Shoka says as she walks towards her room. She opens the door to only find one bed and one desk in the corner of the room. “This is… well… could be worse!”
“It could certainly turn into a beautiful room as time goes on,” Nagi says, putting down the box on her bed. “I must ask once more, are you sure about this? I recognize how much importance it is placed on the Composer, however, I am still willing to lend a hand and share my dorm with you if you feel up for it. Certainly, I do not know how well you get along with Lord Tomonami, but if you happen to feel more comfortable with me—I shall continue to sneak you in every night.”
Shoka walks over to Nagi and gives her a hug. “Thank you. I love you, but I think this is what I need to do. I gotta be a big girl, y'know!” she breaks off from the hug, rubbing her arm. “Thank you again. You really stuck out your neck for me this whole time.”
“Nay, 'twas my pleasure to have you around,” she smiles. She squeezes Shoka's hand and continues to unpack her things. Granted, she didn't have much while living with Nagi—just clothing and a lamp, some accessories, etc. Still way more than what the room has right now. “If I may ask, how did Lord Tomonami come around to let you move in? So suddenly as well?”
“I think he knows the Composer,” Shoka muses, thinking back of Minamimoto questioning her and not putting up much of a fight. “It sounds like he might trust him.”
“Trust him…?” Nagi purses her lips. “How odd of him. Alas, I fear if I dig into this deeper, I might upset His Radiance… and I would not want you to lose a place to live.”
“Eh, he's fine so far,” Shoka says. It's been barely a few hours, but she's met worse people. “Surprisingly tidy. I was under the impression all men were pigs.”
“'Tis not a wrong impression, I believe,” Nagi chuckles. “But of course—Lord Tomonami is above men. He is simply so perfect…!”
“Easy, sis, don’t want you ruining the floor with snot,” she says in a light-hearted manner. Nagi laughs a bit. “This isn’t the only thing the Composer left for me, though.”
“Oh? What else?”
“I think I may be enrolled in a school,” Shoka sighs. “Not sure. God, I wish he had left me a written note with all the things he did for me. I’m here like, figuring out stuff on my own. So lame.”
“Do you happen to know what school he enrolled you in? Perhaps you are going to be classmates with Lord Rindo.”
“Uhh, I only know the library… The Composer’s kind of a loser. Why couldn’t he just tell me what he was doing? Here, Shoka, for you to adjust to your life. Hee hee! Now I’m here, confused, and with Minamimoto as my roommate.”
Nagi’s eyes glint with amusement as she adjusts her glasses. “If living here proves to be such a hardship to you, my lady, I wholeheartedly offer to take your spot and live with Lord Tomonami.”
Shoka laughs. She’s glad she’s got someone like Nagi, making her feel at ease and comfortable when she’s on the edge of growing too frustrated. “Hey, do you wanna go with me later to this library? Maybe I’ll figure out stuff like that.”
“It would be my pleasure. Shall we schedule this for tomorrow? I have a paper due at midnight, one which I have not even begun looking at just yet. I have been… preoccupied with more important matters in my life.”
“Do those matters involve a Minamimoto doppelgänger?”
Nagi laughs. “Certainly. I will be on my way. Lady Shoka, if the time comes where you need anything at all, may it be tonight or tomorrow, know that I am always one phone call away—or a simple text message. I do not mean to impose, simply to remind you I am here for you.”
“Nagi, you need to stop. I can only love you so much,” Shoka grins. “Thank you again. If—I dunno, if I could help you at all, I’m also here for you.”
She laughs, stepping out of the room. Shoka hears a choked sob a minute later, which means she totally ran into Minamimoto again, and she stifles a laugh. Seems like Nagi will be visiting her often. Not that she minds, and by the looks of it—Minamimoto doesn’t mind, either.
When she hears the door closing, Shoka plops down on the bed and stares at the roof. This is the beginning of something big. She can hear Minamimoto pacing around the house, coming in and out of a room, and it hits her just who her roommate is. Can she even trust him? How can she be so sure that she won’t wake up tomorrow and he won’t be all berserk on her, ready to kill her? She remembers fighting him. He’s a hurricane in a battle. She’ll hold her ground, for sure, but it’s going to hurt a lot.
It’s overwhelming. She’s done a big fucking mistake, actually, and she needs to take it back—
There’s a knock on her door.
“C-come in?” Shoka says, but it comes out as a question. Minamimoto peeks his head in.
“Did the other zeptogram leave?”
“Nagi? Yeah, she did. Did you not see her on her way out?” Shoka asks. Minamimoto doesn’t reply. “Well, she did. Why are you asking?”
“Just checking how many digits we have living here,” he answers and leaves closing the door behind him.
Okay. He’s not murderous or anything yet, but Shoka never knows. She ventures out of her room again, just to have some solid ground on this situation. She goes back to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and finding—
...Nothing.
There’s a whole Red Velvet cake there, but there’s absolutely nothing else. Unfinished pots of ice cream. An empty carton of strawberry milk. Does this guy eat anything else?
Most importantly, the heck is Shoka going to eat for dinner?
“If you eat a slice of that cake your days are numbered,” Minamimoto says.
Shoka gets a fucking heart attack. “What is wrong with you!”
Minamimoto chuckles. “My food is not an Associative Property. Got it?”
“You need some vegetables, dude,” Shoka says. “I’m going shopping.”
“Vegetables are garbage. Keep those to yourself,” he says, shaking his head and walking away.
Shoka will get him a green smoothie. Just because—well—his diet is in shambles!
Well. No. Shoka won’t. Why would she? Not like he’ll ever get her dinner. She’s just using his place to live!
On her first night there, Shoka has a nightmare.
It’s fuzzy on the details, but she gets the gist of it: Ayano. Ayano slipping away from her. Ayano’s fight. Leaving Ayano behind.
She’s not crying, even if she feels like she wants to, even if her eyes are burning and the knot on her throat is so big it’s overwhelming.
She steadies her breathing. Inhale, one, two, three. Exhale, one, two, three. It’s the only thing left to do. Not like she’s gonna go crying to Minamimoto about it. But God—she wishes to have some support. Her first instinct, as always, is to call Rindo, but she stops. She’s not going to wake him up at four in the morning, thank you. He needs to rest.
As she does.
She sends a text to the Wicked Twisters group chat—does anyone want to hang out later? my treat—and then tries to fall back asleep, hoping and praying her dreams are not haunted once more.
Three people answered her hang-out text: Beat, Fret, and Nagi. It’s honestly a good group. Shoka’s always been a little worried that perhaps she wouldn’t be a good fit for the rest of them—maybe they can only stand her when she’s around Rindo, or because she’s Rindo’s oldest friend and disliking her would be weird, but all those worries are swept away as soon as Beat shows up.
Like, who wouldn’t have their worries swept off with Beat around? He gives her a bear hug like she hasn’t seen him in ages even though Shoka hung out with them last Friday, and she can relax a little. Nagi’s happy to see her, Fret throws a casual so good to see you, Shokie! and it’s finally falling into place. She does belong here.
They settle on a place to eat and it’s Justice Burger because no one can really resist burgers, not even Shoka. They talk about mostly anything—how much school sucks, even though Fret is really happy to have Shokie in the same school as him, how college is so draining when Nagi could be using up her time playing video games, followed by Beat begging Nagi to say one nice thing about college since he’s supposed to go there eventually, and it’s so easy. Shoka almost forgets about her nightmare.
Almost.
“You did text at like, four in the morning,” Fret starts. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“...Something like that,” Shoka sighs. The regret of her not texting this whole thing creeps up because talking about feelings out loud is such a horrid experience. Shoka always gets embarrassed halfway through. “Just—had a bad dream.”
“Related to the Game, I presume?” Nagi deduces, “I have had plenty of those, as well.”
“Yeah, this ain’t my first rodeo,” Beat sighs. It’s almost like his burger gets sad with him. “Somethin’ about that Game just fucks you up, yanno?”
“Tell me about it,” Fret says. He turns his attention to Shoka again. “Wanna share about your nightmare? No pressure, ‘course, just if you wanted to share.”
“It’s nothing big,” Shoka begins, and wow, isn’t that the underselling of the year? “Had a dream about Ayano, again. Whenever I start something new, I just feel—I—it’s unfair to her. I’m moving on too fast.”
Or not moving on at all, she doesn’t add. Because the pain is fresh, clutching at Shoka with cold, precise claws. Every new step she takes is a step Ayano will never be able to have again. Every new experience Shoka has is something Ayano will never experience. And—she’s living with another person when she could’ve been living with Ayano like they used to. It’s impossible. She will never be able to go back to this.
“I regret how everything ended,” she says instead. “I spent the last few days of her life upset with her.”
Nagi nods, “‘Tis indeed hard to live with grief and regret. I know it might not be what you seek to hear right now, but, Lady Shoka… it truly was not your fault that your relationship with her might have been strained towards the very end. You never held any ill sentiments towards Lady Ayano, and until the last second, you showed that you cared.”
“But it was my fault,” she stresses. “I ran away. I fought with her. I made her—I made her use herself to get to me—”
“Aight, ‘mma stop you right here, Kitty Girl,” Beat says. “Yo, ‘s like they say, cause an’ correlation. You never made her do anythin’, she chose to do everythin’ herself. Not even Topless Man’s influence did a damn thing to stop her.” Shoka chuckles at Shiba being referred to like that, but she lets the words come to her. “Y’know, when I played the Game—I lost my sister, too. Right in front of me. Couldn’ do a damn thing.”
“Holy shit, really?” Fret asks. “Rhyme?”
“Ya. ‘Course she’s back and all, thanks to Priss-kid, but I spent the worst three weeks of my damn life—during the Game, she didn’ even remember who I was, and before that I felt I got ‘er killed ‘cause of my dumbassery. It was hard, y’know?” Beat sighs again. “But I had to learn I didn’ kill her. I didn’ do this to her. Hard to process that when you’re fightin’ for your damn life, though. So I guess I’m just—y’know, Kitty Girl, take it from me when I say it ain’t your fault.”
“Yeah, he’s right. I usually—” Fret begins, then stops, like groping for words. “Kanon—well, it’s hard to get rid of that helpless feeling that you couldn’t save someone you cared about. It’s—honestly, it’s pretty damn irritating. I don’t have much advice to give you, other than it’s not your fault and I’m sorry. But if I’m telling you this, it’d mean I should tell this to myself too, and honestly—guess I’m not ready to hear it just yet.”
“Well,” Nagi cuts in. “If I may speak.”
Everyone at the table nods.
“Survivor’s guilt is especially hard to cover, but I would like to give in my two cents, as a person who did not lose anyone close to her whilst the Game was running,” she inhales, closing her eyes like she’s thinking back to those three weeks. “I can assure everyone one thing: I believe we all acted the only way it could have happened. I believe, even if we did not receive the results we wanted, no matter how hard we wish we could change it, we are but products of our environment at that moment. ‘Tis hard and quite an arduous and tall task, but I request you to believe me when I say: we are not responsible for these losses. Of course, ‘tis not easy to believe this immediately. It may take weeks, years. But this much is true.”
Shoka inhales very deeply. She reaches out to Nagi, holding her hand and giving it a squeeze, and Beat pulls her in for a hug. Something about Nagi has always been so comforting, even when moments aren’t easy at all. Fret joins in the hug too, so Shoka is given no other choice than to finally squeeze Nagi as well. She wants to cry, God. She really wants to cry. But there’s something comforting, knowing she’s not alone in this.
Knowing nobody else has it easy, too, but that they are all trying to make it easier. If Shoka lingers on the hug, well, nobody brings it up.
They end up walking Shoka home, who decides to bring some juice and fries to Minamimoto—which. Why is she bringing him food? It’s not like he cares. He’s probably not even home. But she still got him, thinking back of the stupid cake on the fridge and overly sweet stuff. And if he didn’t want it, well, his loss—Shoka would be getting it for dinner, then!
“Hey,” Shoka begins, “T-thank you for hanging out with me today. I needed that, I guess.”
“Ey, no worries,” Beat grins. “Guess we all needed some deep feels talk, huh?”
“They’re so horrible,” Fret runs his hand across his face, “yet I feel like I need them. It’s good to have ‘em. So! Shokie. Will you give us a tour of your new place? Who’s your mysterious roommate, hmmmm?”
“Well…” Shoka says. How does she even begin to say Minamimoto is her roommate?
Turns out she doesn’t need to say anything, as the door opens and Minamimoto stands there.
“Jeez! You gave me a heart attack!” Shoka says.
“Yo, what the fuck! The hell’s Pi-Face doin’ at your home?!” Beat raises up a fist, ready to take down Minamimoto, and Shoka has to hold his hand.
“No, no, he’s—”
“This is my home, you stupid hectopascal,” Minamimoto says, seemingly pleased to remind everyone he owns the place. With the faint sob of LORD TOMONAMI… in the background, he continues, “Why are you all common denominators in front of my house?”
“Mr. Minami!” Fret exclaims, a complete opposite to Beat, who still looks ready to land a punch on Minamimoto’s face. “You’re living with Shokie?! Oh, man! I’m so jealous! If I lived with Mr. Minami, I’d never be scared again.”
Minamimoto cackles at that. “Don’t misunderstand. She’s a needed variable in my equation. She’s bringing me closer to solving it.”
“She ain’t a variable, she’s a person!” Beat protests.
“I brought you food,” Shoka holds up the bag. Minamimoto turns to frown at her, but he takes it anyway. “You need some damn carbs.”
He inspects the bag, and then grins, pleased. “A+ for this order. Not bad for a zeptogram. What’s with you remainders?”
Over Nagi’s muffled he is simply so radiantly perfect without his hood on, Fret answers, “We just walked her home, y’know! Had to make sure she got home in one piece. What’re you up to?”
“Got some numbers to crunch out,” he answers, now putting his hood up, much to Nagi’s dismay. “Got trash heaps to visit.”
“Right, I love your metaphors, big guy,” Fret claps. It’s a wonder how Minamimoto actually holds a conversation with him. “Well, don’t let us stop you!”
“Yoyoyo, we’re just letting Tabooty walk away like that? An’ letting Kitty Girl live with this maniac?!”
“He’s okay, I guess,” Shoka says as Minamimoto leaves. “He never bothers me. It’s like we live in different worlds.”
Beat still looks pissed, and Shoka wonders just what exactly did Minamimoto do to him and Neku to warrant a reaction like that. Granted, he did try to kill the Wicked Twisters, but somehow nobody brings it up anymore. Maybe they should be mad about that, but Shibuya Syndrome was rampant and those Noises were terrifying. Can’t exactly hold him accountable to that, can they?
“...Fine,” Beat lets it go. “But I jus’ don’ trust him yet.”
“Me and Boss love him,” Fret confirms. Nagi’s busy wiping her tears to answer. “So trust that for the moment, ‘kay?”
“...’Kay, but only ‘cause it’s you guys,” he grins. “Be safe, Kitty Girl. I’ll kick Tabooty’s booty if he ever forgets to feed you.”
“I’ll tell him,” Shoka grins.
Minamimoto comes back with a huge broken tire and what seems to be old parts from a car. Shoka stops stirring her instant noodles to look at him like he has an extra head.
“W… what are you doing?” She asks carefully. “What do you have there?”
“Just some trash to be added to the heap,” he grins. Oh my god, to the heap? That wasn’t a metaphor? “That food smells zetta nice.”
“It’s just instant noodles,” Shoka says. “Want a plate? When’s the last time you ate?”
“Hours ago. You bought food.”
“And before that?”
Minamimoto doesn’t answer.
“...Seriously, there’s like, something deeply wrong with you,” Shoka says to him, who laughs again. He drops his trash on the sofa and washes his hands as Shoka grabs another pack of instant noodles for him. “Can you handle spicy food? I eat my ramen without being too spicy.”
Minamimoto’s face darkens in a comical way, like he’s picturing eating spicy food and regretting it. Shoka chuckles. “Okay, can’t handle spicy food, got it.”
She serves him a bowl too, and surprisingly, they sit and… eat in complete silence.
It’s not like there’s much to say, anyway, instant noodles taste like instant noodles. Can’t exactly fail the recipe, can you? Still, it’s weird. Shoka scrolls through her phone while she eats, desperate to not make eye contact with Minamimoto. This is the most normal they’ve both acted since she moved in with him, like they’re two siblings rather than two complete strangers.
Shoka tries to make things normal with Minamimoto, because she has no idea how long this living arrangement will last. Minamimoto’s a force to be reckoned with, as unpredictable as they come, and she doesn’t want to leave this place. After all, she’s got her own room, privacy, and—it just feels different when you have a place for yourself. So getting in Minamimoto's good graces is the ideal plan, despite not knowing what his good graces even are.
“So,” she begins, because God forbid she keeps sitting in silence. “That garbage you brought. What’s it for?”
“Told you, for the heap.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not following,” Shoka says, exasperation dripping on her tone. “What’s the heap?”
“Finish your food and I’ll expose it.”
That’s an odd answer, but okay. Shoka finishes her food a while later, so she follows Minamimoto down the corridor. The third unused room—the one Shoka assumed to be a guest room—opens and her jaw almost hits the floor.
There are literal junk piles inside. Not huge, but they reach the roof, and there’s around three of them—all of them following some sort of pattern Shoka can’t recognize. They’re weird, yes, but at the same time, it’s…
“Kinda beautiful,” Shoka says.
Minamimoto smirks. “Zetta sexy, you mean. These two things will be the perfect addition to my newest piece!”
She watches as he walks over the pile in the middle, adding the car parts, and she’s oddly fascinated by this. Minamimoto having a hobby related to actual garbage somehow isn’t the most shocking thing about him.
“So why garbage?” Shoka asks. “Is it artistic or something? A statement?”
“The world is garbage, zeptogram,” he explains, his back turned to her. “Under the right hands, the garbage can make way to true beauty—and I’m the only one who can reverse-engineer these pieces of trash into something flawless.”
“Man. I wish I had that ego,” Shoka says, surprisingly making him laugh. “So you bring beauty out of trash? Kinda?”
Minamimoto’s too busy making sure the things in the pile don’t fall off to answer her. It’s fine, whatever. It’s the longest conversation they’ve had so far, and it’s… not unpleasant. He’s not really unpleasant, it’s just… it’s like he exists on a different plane than hers. A world apart, almost.
Shoka wishes that didn’t feel as lonely as it does.
Surprisingly, after that day, things get smoother with Minamimoto.
She can’t figure out why. It might have been due to her response to his art? She complimented him and showed interest in it, and someone with an ego as big as his might have been pleased by that. But as the days pass, he’s talking a bit more, and even the fridge starts being filled with actual food rather than cakes and half-filled cartons. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to bring this change up, and hell—she’s not sure she even wants to. Shoka sucks at feelings-talk, and Minamimoto might be worse than her, so maybe they shouldn’t bring it up.
They do start a little thing between them, though.
Shoka will bring stuff she finds from her walks from school—sometimes Rindo will ask her what she is doing when she picks up broken fairy lights, water pipes, and she would have no answer.
“Living with Minamimoto sure is… interesting,” Rindo says as she picks up a broken plate from a trash can. “You sure he needs that?”
“Not really, but hey, I never know what he needs,” Shoka shrugs. “He may appreciate it.”
Rindo takes another look at the trash can behind her. “As much as I want to please Minamimoto, I am not putting my hand anywhere near that.”
“Wuss.”
“Hey!”
But Minamimoto does break into a grin when he sees the pipes, and sometimes, she swears he’s one hair away from ruffling her hair. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if that ever happens, but like, it’s been a good while since they’ve started living together. She wouldn’t freak out that much.
Only a little.
In exchange for bringing him trash, Minamimoto does fill the fridge more, but lately he does this thing—
He’ll come and open Shoka’s door after knocking, throw a bag to her bed, and leave like he was never there. Usually, the bag contains “femenine” and “girly” stuff that he must’ve noticed Shoka uses—make-up, but not her usual brand. Some hand-cream and beauty products that he must’ve heard Shoka complaining about running out, but then a few more things Shoka doesn’t recognize that absolutely tells her he simply went to the store and grabbed anything that seemed okay.
“You got me an anti-aging cream,” Shoka says, laughing as she holds up the box. “You know not everything on the women’s aisle is for teenage girls, right?”
Minamimoto’s face grows darker, and seconds later she hears the door to his room slamming shut. She can’t help it.
Still, it’s a thing by now. She brings trash, he buys her stuff he thinks she’ll need, it’s like a perfect living arrangement.
(Sometimes he dumps his trash on her room, so she retaliates by bringing all the dirty laundry to his bedroom, and sometimes they both threaten the other with fire. Nothing out of the ordinary.)
It’s a little familiar, to be honest, and comfortable. She’s happy to be here.
Somehow, that triggers the worst nightmare she’s had in a while.
It feels so disgustingly vivid—her running away from Ayano, getting into a fight with her, choosing the Twisters over the family that always chose her. But the worst part is the disgusting, negative feelings choking her—the anger she had felt when Ayano simply didn’t get it, the tiredness of being sheltered by her, the need to break away. It weighs so heavily on her. How could she think so negatively of family?
What was going on inside her head to even think something so vile about someone who’s always loved her and wanted the best for her? God, what if she had just asked herself that before storming off? What if she had just used her brain and not gotten selfishly carried away by emotions? Ayano wouldn’t have ended up like that, then. Ayano would still be here, then.
She’s moving on from Ayano onto a completely different stranger when Ayano would never get to see her doing something with her life.
She wants to puke, but instead, she runs off her room—only to find Minamimoto sitting on the living room’s sofa, watching TV. He turns when he sees her up.
Shoka can’t see him. Shoka can’t see him. Ayano would be so disappointed. Shoka is so disappointed. This is where her life leads? To a house in a city that isn’t Shinjuku? To live with someone who doesn’t know how much blood there is on her hands?
“Hey,” Minamimoto calls, in his usual grumpy-yet-not tone. “Zeptogram. You look like you’ve failed your Math test.”
Shoka doesn’t answer, she just grabs a bit of strawberry milk from the fridge and sits down next to Minamimoto. He’s watching a kid’s TV show—a little old, by the looks of it. Slammurai or something. Shoka hiccups, but tries to drink her milk anyway. Minamimoto doesn’t ask anything, thank God, just keeps playing his episode. The volume is never loud at night. He must rely on closed captions to get it.
Briefly, Shoka wonders if he does it to not wake her up, and more than being touched she feels guilty.
“Do you ever…” Shoka starts. Minamimoto’s eyes turning to her is the only sign she gets that he’s listening to her. “Do you ever wish you could’ve done something differently in your life?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and Shoka really should’ve known better than to ask him. “Depends,” he says, surprising her. “Can I make any alterations to the result I previously obtained?”
“No.”
“Then why spend time thinking of unsolvable past equations?” Minamimoto shrugs. “I’d rather focus on the algebraic sequences I can solve now than chase after imaginary numbers.”
Shoka quietly takes this in, sighing. It’s true. She can’t spend her whole life entertaining what ifs, can she? It’s not dishonoring Ayano to do so, and she really needs healthier ways to let out her grief—maybe a counselor would be a good step. She just—she can’t keep this up.
She can’t keep forbidding bits of happiness from carrying the ghost of Ayano, but she doesn’t want to give it up yet.
It’s complicated.
But nobody ever said grief was easy, anyway.
“Thanks, Sho,” she says, leaning into her side of the sofa.
She’ll just close her eyes for one second…
(Later, she wakes up on her bed, covered with a blanket.
Doesn’t take a genius to figure out how she got there.)
Her eyes must be playing tricks on her.
“Hello, Shoka,” Shiba greets, polite and warm.
It’s been so long since she last saw him. She can’t help it—the excitement of seeing an old, friendly face is too much, she simply leaps at him and hugs him. “God, Shiba, you need to start wearing shirts. You make hugs uncomfortable,” she laughs as she lets him go. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah, I simply came to check up on you,” Shiba says, falling into an easy walk with her. “It is… hard to communicate without the RNS between us, so I have scheduled this ephemeral visit to see what you are up to. We miss you, back in Shinjuku.”
“I miss you guys, too,” Shoka says, honestly. The Shinjuku Reapers are always going to be her family, no matter what. “How’s the city?”
“Slowly, I think it might be returning to its old great grace,” he tells her with a big smile. “I daresay we are building one even better than before. Tsugumi is hard at work, as is Kaie and Hishima.”
“Even Hishima?”
“You’d be surprised, the number of times I hear that response,” Shiba chuckles. Shoka does so, too. “Shoka. I came to check up on you, but I’m afraid I have unfinished business with you.”
She frowns. “How so?”
“I owe you an apology,” Shiba puts a hand on his chest, looking deeply regretful. “What happened to Ayano—I have no words that could ever begin to make up what I did. On top of that, I treated you horribly, and I never had a chance to say how much I truly regret this. Again, no words could truly make up for this, but I can only say it to show how much I mean it.” He pauses, inhaling, “If—if you ever wanted to come back to Shinjuku, the doors for you are always opened. As a Reaper, as a human, Shinjuku will always have its arms ready to welcome you back.”
It’s funny how timing works. Shoka’s heart breaks a little, hearing the acknowledgment of Ayano’s death from someone who used to know her—from someone who’s always been so close to Shoka. Tears must spill out, because the next thing she knows, Shiba’s saying Oh, Shoka… and pulling her into a hug.
She doesn’t know what to say, other than to cry more on him.
“I appreciate your apology,” she finally says when she breaks away. “I know that wasn’t you back then. You love us, Shiba.”
“I still did it. They were still my actions, Shoka.”
Shoka nods. “I understand. As for your offer…”
Rindo. Fret. Nagi. Beat. Neku. Shiki. Sho.
It’s hard to not smile at the thought of them. Shibuya has them.
“The Shinjuku Reapers are my family, always,” Shoka says. “But I’d like to go back there as a visitor, not to stay. I like it here, you know?”
Shiba smiles, warm like he expected her to say that. “Very well,” he nods. “Ayano would be proud of the young girl you’re becoming.”
Her breath catches. “You think?”
“I have no reason to doubt it,” he confirms. “I’m sorry to cut our meeting short. I simply needed to come to you today. I hope to see you soon when Shinjuku is ready to be visited once more.”
“I’ll be the first one to be there,” she promises, smiling. “Say hi to everyone for me!”
With a nod, Shiba disappears like he was never there, but his words still warm Shoka immensely.
Ayano would be proud of her. It’s the step in the right direction she needed.
She hugs herself and prepares to go home.