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They met every week or so -- not as often as Neku saw the others, but often enough that he wondered if being the Composer was really as grand a job as he had been led to believe. When asked, Joshua only said dismissively that it wasn't a Game week, or else that the Players had already been 'put to bed' for the day, and that was the only times either of them mentioned the Reaper's Game. But it still seemed odd to Neku, who was quite sure that Joshua had never come down to the Realground to mingle with normal humans before.
The bond I thought we had is real, part of him knew it meant. We had the same opinions. Because of that, he can see where I'm coming from. And because of that, he has started to change...
But there was still that unhappy tension whenever he thought of Joshua, the lingering feelings of hurt and betrayal and anger, every day until eventually, out of seemingly nowhere, he could think of Joshua and it didn't sting. He had completely stopped feeling like he had to maintain his distance -- be reserved -- didn't feel like such an idiot for thinking Joshua was a good person. He had been murdered, played for a fool, and never once offered an apology or even a hint that Joshua felt any remorse... but enough time had passed that those old wounds had healed over.
That day, he told Joshua, "I forgive you."
And Joshua twirled the spoon over his fingers and looked up from his espresso enough to say blithely, "If I'd been holding my breath, this is the part where I would be relieved."
Prick.
"You should treat next time, Neku," Joshua said, casual, as if Neku hadn't said anything. "In honor of your induction into one of the most secretive brand-name phenomena in Shibuya."
"You already know about that?" Neku scowled. Mr. H was terrible at keeping secrets from Joshua -- only Joshua, for some inexplicable reason. He'd been looking forward to telling him.
Joshua leaned forward on his elbows. "Is it everything you wanted it to be?" he asked, his eyes half-lidded, lazy. His predator's look. He was hunting for something. "You're CAT now. Without needing a Player Pin, you reached out and touched the heart of Shibuya, becoming the same thing you admired long before Mr. H made you that offer."
Neku stared down at his coffee, thoughtful and avoiding that penetrating half-stare. Three years since he'd won the Reaper's Game (over and over and over) and discovered that the idea that Joshua had touched on so briefly in their time as partners -- you could be like CAT -- had become his dream. He did want to be like CAT. He wanted to create. And so, little by little, he had started: sketches in notebooks, then sidewalk art with chalk, then graffiti murals. His parents had been in awe of the discovery of his talent, and even more in awe of the discovery that he had motivation, passion that burned deep in his heart and found outlet in art.
And last week, after three years, Mr. H had come to look up at the mural he was painting and he'd said, So they're calling you the new CAT, kid. Should we make it official?
"It's not what I expected at all," he said finally. "I thought CAT was all about spreading a message of individuality. But it's not really like that at all. What I do -- what we do, I guess -- is more about setting your beliefs down. Maybe those beliefs do say, be who you are, but that's not what it's really about. I'm not telling people anything. I'm just... putting my heart out there. I give Shibuya--"
"A chance to view your world," Joshua offered. "To share your values."
Neku tapped his fingers against the table, blunt rhythm. He didn't wear his headphones in public anymore, but it still felt like he could hear the soundtrack of his life playing in his ears sometimes. Conversations with Joshua always felt like they needed a steady tempo and a twisted harmony. "Yes."
"Well." Joshua leaned back. He was considering the words, considering them very carefully, and then he smiled. "I'm a little jealous. Everyone in Shibuya gets to feel connected to you. I had to work hard for that connection."
Neku fixed him with a flat stare. His coffee was probably getting cold. "You worked hard to get me to strangle you and gave me absolutely no information about yourself."
"I gave you enough information to get by with."
"And half of that was misleading."
"Details."
Neku shook his head and drank more of his coffee. I don't know why I even bother arguing with him. He only relents any point, no matter how petty, when he damn well feels like it.
But Joshua sat across from him and finished his espresso and seemed comfortable, and Neku felt comfortable. Even after all this time, that was the giveaway, the real sign that they were friends; Neku rarely felt at ease around other people until he'd gotten to know them enough -- had an idea of what they might be like, how they might react to things. He didn't like surprises.
"Are you working on something now?" Joshua asked politely, and Neku nodded. "Can I see it?"
He frowned at the slight young man. It still wasn't finished, but he didn't mind showing off his works in progress; the big factor here was that as his first solo project as part of CAT -- his first mural officially done in CAT's style -- it was a secret. "I'm not really supposed to let anyone see it before the official unveiling. It'd spoil it."
Joshua rolled his eyes. "I'm not anyone."
No, you're a jackass. Neku took another long sip of his drink and then pointedly folded his arms over his chest to indicate his total refusal to indulge Joshua's whims.
"I'm clairvoyant, Neku," the slim youth said patiently. "You can't spoil it for me because I already know what it looks like. It's a skeletal girl in monotone colors sitting on a ledge, with--"
"Shut up!" Neku hissed, getting quickly to his feet. He'd ruin everything. "Fine! I'll take you to look at it."
A triumphant smile creased Joshua's lips, and he said, "There. Have you ever heard of the Red Queen's race, Neku?"
They got up, and Joshua took care of the bill. "Sure," Neku said, gathering his coat up on his shoulders. "It perfectly describes every conversation I have with you."
Joshua smirked at him. "You're so clever," he said, his voice not nearly as effusive as his words. "It's like you know what I'm thinking before I do. I may as well be bumping shoulders with a genius. ...and, according to the magazines, I am."
Neku rubbed the back of his neck, a little self-conscious, as they walked, and his gaze swept nervously back and forth along the crowded streets of Shibuya. If someone overheard... If some Reaper or Player were waltzing by and he couldn't see them... It would be just like Joshua to give away his secrets.
But Joshua suddenly decided to talk about music, asking what he listened to while he worked -- the only time Neku really got lost in his music the way he used to -- and Neku told him about the trends in the musical business, and what fueled his imagination. Joshua smiled in that private way of his, but he shared his opinions cheerfully.
They made it to the West Exit Bus Terminal as the sun was setting; not the best time to view the mural, Neku thought. There was a tall barrier erected around the walls he had painted, old off-white curtains hiding their unfinishedness from the rest of the city. Neku nodded at the plainclothes guard loitering around nearby and lifted the edge of the curtain, ducking underneath and waiting for Joshua to follow suit.
Joshua straightened only slowly, seemingly savoring the experience of looking at it for the first time, although he claimed to already know what it looked like. He sought out the little details that Neku had painted with great care and skimmed right over the unfinished parts as if he couldn't see them.
"It's beautiful, Neku."
"Thanks." Privately, Neku doubted that he cared all that much, and busied himself turning on the spotlights he used to work in the dark. He had no idea what the appeal of Mr. H's art was. My style is similar, so I don't see why this would be any different.
Perhaps Joshua could tell he doubted. He said, "This will be epic, you know. You'll make this little bus station a piece of art. Everyone who comes and goes from Shibuya will see your work." Then, almost to himself, "The great work."
"What great work?"
"Why, the work of the Angels," Joshua said mildly, and moved up to put his hand on the wall, which was -- painful, for a moment, as Neku realized where he had seen that look before, that open expression, guard down and receptive to wonder, realized that he had seen it in Joshua's memories on his own face. "I feel it move me. My heart."
Neku tucked a hand behind his neck and tried not to feel -- flustered, somehow. Joshua had a knack for making things sound questionable. "Well, good. It's supposed to."
"Oh, Neku." Joshua slanted him an amused look, seeming more like himself for a moment. "You have no idea, do you?"
He frowned, shoulders hunching slightly. He doesn't have to make it sound like I'm an idiot for not being able to read his mind. Maybe he could try explaining something for a change?
Joshua stepped back, surveying the whole piece again as best he could from within the curtained enclosure. "It's been decades, at least," he said softly, "since any human's imagination has been able to touch my heart. Or anyone's imagination, really. ...Anything."
Decades? Neku thought, startled. Just how long has he been the Composer? Much longer than he'd even been alive, from the sound of it.
"Mr. Hanekoma's art is beautiful, but he lacks the Imagination that you have," Joshua said, and kept talking even as Neku attempted to protest, "the Soul. Of course, that was the reason I chose you to be my proxy -- that tremendous Soul of yours. I never thought, though, that you would even be able to affect me."
It was rather like he was suddenly speaking in tongues. Neku tilted his head back and looked at the mural, the shapes and colors that made up his design. It was good, he knew that, and Mr. H had spoken very highly of the concept, the execution-- But he wondered, sometimes, what it was like to be an outsider, looking at his work. He couldn't see what Joshua saw.
"What does it make you feel?" he asked.
Joshua continued to look up at it for a long, silent moment, and then he turned to Neku and said mildly, "You never say my name."
Obviously he doesn't intend to answer that question. I guess it was too personal. Neku told him dryly, "Just because you say my name every twenty seconds doesn't mean I have to do the same."
"Call me Josh," Joshua demanded, lips curving up.
"It's just a name. Shut up about it already."
Joshua sighed. "It's good to know you have your priorities straight, Neku: don't call me by name, but do let me blackmail you into revealing your masterpiece before the street date."
Neku folded his arms and attempted to ignore that. At least I have priorities.
The smaller man curled his fingers over the painted wall, casting it one last, lingering look before turning to Neku. "I have a question for you," he said leisurely.
"Ask it," Neku said, shrugging. He'd left his headphones here when he went to meet Joshua, and he ducked to pick them up. "I don't promise I'll answer, but you can ask."
"That won't do at all," Joshua argued. "Let's make it a game. We'll ask each other questions until one of us refuses to answer or runs out of questions. How does that sound?"
Neku scowled at him. Games, it's always a game. He said, "You're the only one who has questions here."
"Not true," said Joshua, smiling at him and running a hand through his hair confidently. "Surely you have questions for me. You're not curious about how I became the Composer -- the things I know and have seen? No questions at all?"
That gave him a few moments of pause. Well, he supposed there were questions he'd always wanted to ask and never gotten real answers to. Mr. Hanekoma's real identity, Joshua's origins, and...
"Fine," Neku said grudgingly. "One game. And it doesn't count as a question if you already know the answer. Do we have to--"
"I'll go first." Joshua curled a hand beneath his chin, a studious pose as if this question were worthy of deep investigation, and even though he must have already had a question ready, he paused a dramatic beat before asking, "Why did you forgive me?"
It was a startled moment before Neku could react to that, think, So he does care! Hah! and You'd think I'd expect him to say the least expected thing by now. He shifted, scratching his head, and tried to compose an answer to that question -- it was one that he himself couldn't really explain.
Finally, he said, "I guess... I couldn't forgive you because I couldn't let go of what happened to me, but. It's a little pointless to hold onto that grudge when -- well, when I believe that you did it because it was in the name of what you thought was best. And I believe that the Joshua who killed me so I could be a pawn in his Game was a different person than the Joshua who saved Shibuya."
The young man in question only tilted his head. "Isn't that a naive reason?" he suggested. "Have I ever shown signs of being a different person? Certainly I don't think of myself as--"
"Why are you arguing with me?" Neku snapped irritably. "Just -- accept it. I'm over it! You'll have to kill me again if you want me to be pissed off at you about it more."
Joshua fell silent for a moment, and then he spread his hands helplessly, assuming an exasperated expression. "Yes sir," he said with that patently insincere submission that he used whenever Neku refused to budge an inch for him. "That makes it your turn, then." Joshua's eyes lidded again, as if Neku's question would also be an answer to a question that he hadn't even had to ask.
Damnit. Neku turned around, trying to collect his thoughts again. What was he most curious about? The unfathomable mysteries that Mr. H and Joshua still posed? Or...
Slowly, he said, "Tell me. What does the mural make you feel?"
Joshua's eyes widened slightly, and Neku felt a brief surge of triumph. You weren't expecting that, were you? But he wasn't like Mr. H -- he really wanted to know, deep down inside, what other people felt, looking at his work. Or -- well, most of the time it was good just to know that they felt something, but he genuinely wanted to know what Joshua thought, because Joshua made no sense to him. It seemed like everything he did was contrary to all reason, and that lack of understanding made him feel so much further away than he really was.
Neku waited patiently, hands tucked into his pockets, as Joshua considered -- hand over his mouth, eyes averted, and then lifting his gaze to look again at the sprawling mural, skeletal girl and her view over the rich city, absorbing its colors into her monochrome world.
Finally he shrugged again. "I forfeit."
"You-- What?" Neku demanded, indignant. "What about your -- entry fee?" This wasn't the first time Joshua had done this to him, but this time it had been a real game, and, damnit, that wasn't how the game was supposed to work! You couldn't just withdraw. He remembered that very clearly.
"I've already lost it," Joshua said, and brushed past the curtain. Neku's jaw clenched and he followed quickly, just in time to see Joshua look back over his shoulder and say neutrally, "It really is beautiful, Neku."
Then he was gone in a burst of static, vanished into the ether, tuned into some other plane where Neku couldn't find him, couldn't even see him. The anger drained away, as suddenly as it had come. He murmured to himself, "Damnit, Josh."
He had to turn off the lights and prepare for the trip back to his family's apartment before he could leave, but he chose to linger for just a minute in the cooling air.
Does anybody really win, when you have to work this hard just to end up in the same place? he wondered, tilting his face up to the sunset-painted sky. Surely even you must want to go somewhere... right?