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Every morning I tell myself,
Today’ll be the day…
But I’m always wrong…
Neon lights glimmered all around them, the sounds of laser fire and clattering skeeballs pervading the air. Her glasses quivered with every breath she took, shoulders shaking from laughter.
Neku had just lost a game of air hockey and was forced to give Shiki an embarrassing story, per a bet they made. Something about how he had lost his pants in front of the entire class before, thanks to an angry, runaway dog ripping them right off of him. And how Shiki fixing the button on his shorts reminded him of that humiliating event.
Shiki tried her best to not crack, but began bursting into fits of giggles. Not exactly the nicest thing to do, but Neku’s reaction was just way too cute. The way he haughtily yelled “shut up, it’s not funny,” eyebrows drawn together with frustration. The way his brash demeanor soon melted into one of helplessness. The way he nipped at his orange locks in shame, downcast puppy dog eyes receding into the shadows. Momentarily avoiding eye contact, until his azure eyes met her hazel ones by chance — and his twisted frown reforms into a soft smile again, unable to help himself when he saw her unbridled amusement.
“Mark my words, Shiki, you’ll be the one to give a story after this next round.”
“That’s okay! Because I trust you with my embarrassing stories.”
“Huh?”
“You accepted me, despite actually looking like this. I’m sure you’ll be fine with whatever story I have to tell.”
He seemed to falter for a moment, rocking from side to side. Shoulders hunched, gaze pinned at her shoes.
“... Don’t say it like that. You— … you look goo— fine. You’re fine the way you are. Now shut up and put another coin in.”
His features were flushed once more, promptly ducking behind the air hockey table to do exactly what he just told Shiki to do anyway — just to avoid her astounded gaze, or rather, hide his bloodshot cheeks.
How adorable of him...
You’re so funny, Neku…
Fingers suddenly clasped around her neck, pushing her up against the wall.
Neku…?
Darkness.
Her throat constricted, crushed under unrelenting force.
… don’t kill me…
Neku!
Shiki shot up in her bed, once again drenched in a cold sweat; her throat finally unclenched, letting the oxygen flow and the tears fall. The bittersweet pang in her heart was almost too much to bear this morning, but by then, she should have been used to it.
Another restless night, another cruel morning. Ever since Neku’s sudden disappearance three years ago, the dreams about him had been relentless — both pleasant dreams and nightmares, memories of things that had happened, and fantasies that have yet to take place. Their brief time together in the RG was bliss, and her heart yearned to just have one more taste of what it was like…
… to tease him again, just one more time. To make him scowl, but then admit that she was right about whatever petty argument they were having. To slowly, but surely, chip at his outer shell, see his true colors, learn his deepest secrets. To hear his encouraging words, telling her that she doesn’t have to change herself. That he likes her for who she was. Someone who accepted her…
Shiki forced herself into the shower, then crammed down a meager breakfast consisting of a single rice ball. With a Mr. Mew purse now secured around her shoulder, she headed for the nearest train station.
And she sat on the furthest corner of the train, leaning up against the window… longing eyes gazing out ahead, scanning the 104 building in the distance. Her mind wandered away from her. She was often noted by others as “absent-minded” over the last few years, but Shiki rolled the comments off her back.
The bespectacled seamstress continued to ruminate. What was the worst part? That their time together had been so short? That a friendship so full of potential was yanked away from her? That all their time in the UG was for naught? Or maybe it was… that she has no idea what’s become of him. Was he safe? Did he get erased?
A glimmer of hope would remain that he was still somewhere out there, somewhere in the UG, fighting for his life again. It was the only thing that kept her from fully mourning his disappearance, though some days it was harder to keep a happy face.
“You okay, Shiki?”
Eri shook her ebony-haired friend out of her thoughts, who noticed that her sewing machine’s needle was now stabbing at… nothing. The fabric she was hemming had long passed by. Oh…
“O-oh, yeah! Sorry, I’m just a bit tired.” Shiki chuckled sheepishly, adjusting her glasses to get a better view of the fabric within her grasp. Just how badly did she mess it up?
“You sure? You seem tired a lot lately.” Eri took a seat next to her, feeling compelled to hand Shiki her Mr. Mew plush. But he went missing quite some time ago; his disappearance probably didn’t lend any favors to Shiki’s seemingly exhausted psyche.
“Positive! Just dreaming up new designs for our next lineup,” the seamstress responded without artificial pep, dark circles beneath her eyes visible in the light.
That was yet another part to this situation that Shiki lamented; there was no way she could explain to Eri what emotional strife she was experiencing. In fact, Eri had no memory of Shiki’s death. When Shiki returned to the RG, Eri’s memories had been rewritten — as if nothing ever happened.
And what can Shiki say? That she had actually died, and was gone for three weeks? That she had been running around in a different version of Shibuya, invisible to the naked eye, competing in some game for her life? That she met an amazing boy who changed her life because of it? That her new friends, Beat and Rhyme, had also met her in the afterlife?
All of it sounded absolutely asinine. They’d lock her up in a mental institution if she dared to explain it. If it weren’t for Beat constantly reminding her that it all happened, she might’ve just dismissed the entire thing as a fever dream.
Thus, explaining to Eri the loss she was feeling was impossible. The closest she had gotten to it was mentioning that an online friend of hers had stopped responding; Eri reassured Shiki that they’ll come back again someday, and likely just got busy with life. That was it. There was no way she could be completely honest.
A break from sewing was in order. Shiki rose from her chair, exiting the backroom and into the main room of the shop she worked at — a small boutique labeled “Gatto Nero” on the window. Located just outside of Shibuya, the unsuspecting shop was home to the two designers, with the majority of their merchandise either sold online, or shipped out to other stores across the city.
Shiki wandered through rows and rows of designs she and Eri had worked on together, Mr. Mew incorporated into all sorts of dresses, hats, bags, hair accessories. And with every customer that passed her by, none of them had recognized her as the co-designer of Gatto Nero, or that she had created the mascot that all the clothing proudly featured.
And that was okay. Shiki had accepted that the overly bubbly, outgoing persona just wasn’t her. It was Eri. She was content on keeping it lowkey; it was more than enough that she had finally achieved her dreams of becoming a fashion designer, alongside being a seamstress — that she was able to put her love and soul into something, and put it out there for others to enjoy.
She glanced up at the shoppers who browsed through the merchandise with enthusiasm. And that lifted her spirits up somewhat; the sparks of joy within every customer’s eyes was what kept her going everyday, despite her ongoing heartache. Making clothes that made other people happy… that made her happy. That’s what she told Neku, three years ago…
… If he could see her now, would he be proud of her?
As the sun began to set, she got on the train once more …
… But instead of going home, she’d get off at the Shibuya Station, go past the Station Underpass and West Exit Bus Terminal… and then walk up to a familiar face: Hachiko.
Just like Hachiko, forever loyal and waiting for his master, Shiki would stand next to him everyday around 6 pm, waiting for someone, too. And so she’d turn to the statue, and say…
“I understand how you feel.”
The sun receded behind the buildings and rain began to fall; the crowd began to clear out, leaving seats available around the statue. And instead of leaving, Shiki remained, taking one of the seats for herself. An umbrella she perched against an adjacent seat kept her dry, and she took the time to start sketching some new designs.
Flipping through her notebook, she’d scour through her new creations. Were they something Neku would like?
In truth, she had a tendency to make designs that Neku would be most likely to wear, in hopes he’d visit the stores in the UG and maybe buy it. Maybe her clothes would speak to him. And in a weird way, it’d be like making indirect contact with him — that’s what she reasoned as she began to sketch something new: a plaid jacket that was reminiscent of a peacoat, but still operated as a hoodie. The Gatto Nero embedded into the sleeve… yes, maybe Neku would wear something like this…
Perhaps all of these efforts were in vain; perhaps it was all wishful thinking. But it didn’t matter.
She sighed, her breath visibly escaping into the chilly air.
“Maybe it’s silly that I come out here everyday, Neku. Every morning I tell myself, today’ll be the day… but I’m always wrong.”
She tucked her notebook away into her purse, slouching further in her chair.
“I’ve asked you before to meet me at the Don’s… or meet me at 104 at a certain hour… because if what you’re doing is anything like the Game we experienced three years ago, then I know I’d be able to see you at those places.
But you never show up. Is it because you’re never around when I tell you these things? Do you never pass by Hachiko?
Do you just not want to see me anymore?”
Her fists curled, feeling a creeping sense of betrayal, but she pushed it away.
“I don’t know what you’re doing out there that would take this long… but I know you’re still out there. I know it. Just give me a sign…”
He always stood her up, but this last week... something’s changed. A presence that wasn’t there before…
She stood up haughtily, knocking the umbrella out of the way. The light rainfall dripped on her, gentle eyes now seething with frustration.
“Give me a sign…!”
. . .
A soft breeze blew. A familiar warmth. A familiar scent. Was she going crazy?
Tears streamed down her face.
“You’re here, aren’t you? Maybe you weren’t before, but you’re here now…”
Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
Shiki couldn’t swerve her head around fast enough. Neku—!
“Yo, Shiki—” Beat called out, mildly alarmed by her agitated demeanor.
Ah. There was a sense of disappointment that she couldn’t help herself from feeling. She rapidly wiped her cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice what was once running down them.
“Er, whatchu doing out here at this hour? You gon' catch a cold,” Beat continued, pushing his headphones down to his neck. Indeed, it was late, but he wanted to stop by the Don’s to get some takeout curry for himself and Rhyme. Big bro’s gotta do some feeding.
Shiki’s expression melted back into a muted smile. Did he overhear her talking to herself? How embarrassing...
“Nothing. Just— just sketching new designs…” Shiki’s heartbroken gaze reeled back on the statue. Did she really feel something? Or was that just Beat approaching her from behind?
The burly blonde was perhaps a bit slow on the uptake, but when it came to his friends’ personal interests, he was no fool.
“You out here looking for Phones, ain’t you?”
He saw it all. From the day he disappeared, explaining to Shiki that some “Pixie Chick” had shot him once again. How distraught she was. How she was always waiting at Hachiko, just like this. Life had kept her away from Shibuya at times, and Beat assumed she had probably moved on. But…
… Shiki sighed, knowing it was pointless to keep up the facade around Beat. Unlike Eri, he knew everything. He was one of the few people she could confide in.
“Yeah. I know he’s out there somewhere, somewhere in the UG. But it’s been so long… so sometimes I wonder… if he’s…”
“He’s out there, Shi’.” Beat cut her off as fast as he could, not letting the poor girl entertain such dark thoughts. Hell, he refused to even think about that possibility himself.
“If there’s anythin’ I learned about that guy after we played that Game, is that he stubborn as hell. No way, no how he’s not doin’ his best to come back. I just know it. No Noise or Reaper gon’ take him out like that.” Beat spouted his words with such conviction, it almost seemed like he was shouting. His fist clenched, occasionally pounding the air for emphasis.
“An’ I know he wants to see you again, too. He’ll do anythin’ to see you again. Hell, I know if it was me, I’d do anythin’ to see Rhyme again. And me and Phones, we on the same wavy length, yo.
He’ll go to the ends of Japan fer you. Maybe even the whole world. He’ll get up in that prissy kid Composer's grill, yo! The shitty God of Shibuya himself! Or grow wings an’ become a Reaper, then curbstomp everyone else. Whatever it takes, man. Phones is a good guy, but fightin’ for you is the only reason why we won the Game, and you know dat. You’re his motifnation, Shi’.”
Shiki chuckled, clasping her fingers together as she felt additional tears sting the corners of her eyes…
“Motivation?”
“Yeah, that.”
It was as if a weight lifted from her shoulders. That goofy grin on Beat’s face seemed to blow away all her strife for the day.
“Thanks, Beat.”
“Fo' sho', fo' sho',” he laughed, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Now come on. Le’s get some boba, some curry, and then bounce before you get sick.”
Shiki beamed with approval at her friend, pushing her glasses up to wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her green cardigan.
Some days, it was hard.
But some days, it was okay.
Beat understood, even when nobody else could.