Chapter Text
“...IS NOT THE LIFE MORE THAN MEAT, AND THE BODY THAN RAIMENT?”
00: Dragon Couture
"Tee hee. Am I so beautiful that you've no words left?"
His cheery voice immediately turned the head of the café's interim owner and one-man barista. He cut a striking figure in the café doorway: gray hair windswept, a sky-blue aloha shirt patterned with tiny paulownia flowers, a pair of dark shades covering his eyes, a sporty navy luggage case on which he was leaning, a wide off-white sunhat worn at a cheeky angle, and a familiar smug smirk quirking up his lips.
The barista in question, one Neku Sakuraba, stared with wide-open eyes. The patron whom he had been serving blinked in confusion.
While one could trace the latter's confusion to the barista's sudden silence, one could trace the barista's confusion to the abrupt introjection of a certain individual into the quiet life he had led since his second reincarnation from the UG.
The cheery voice, striking figure, and even more striking penchant for impeccably jaw-dropping timing belonged to one Yoshiya Kiryu, although his "mother" and "father," amongst others, called him "Joshua."
The suitcase rolled over the smooth repainted café floor as Joshua strolled towards the counter. Neku's eyes merely widened further. "Joshua!?"
"How rude," Joshua commented, tilting up the sunhat. He had chosen a human guise around Neku's age and height, but just older and taller enough for any observer to note the difference. "Is this any way to treat a guest, dear?"
"You—"
"As flattering as it is to have your eyes on me, I wasn't referring to myself. Really now? Mr. H leaves you with his precious café, and you can't even fill one order? My, my. Perhaps I should take over instead." Joshua leaned over the patron whom Neku had been ignoring. The patron's cheeks flushed as the patron shrank back. "You'll have to excuse dear Neku, here. It's my fault. He's always left speechless by my appearances."
The patron's gaze darted back and forth. Emitting a squeak, the patron scurried off under Joshua's leering gaze. Then Joshua turned back towards Neku and waved his hand.
"Now, look at what you've done, Neku. That poor caffeine addict was just looking for a fix. Tut, tut. You simply must learn to serve your customers in a timely fashion."
Neku had by this point recovered enough for his lips and mouth to listen to the movements suggested by his brain. "Joshua." At least, in theory.
"Tee hee. Please, keep saying my name. It's a welcome mark of your domestication, dear." Joshua clicked the suitcase's handle to brake the wheels.
The barista's eyes narrowed slightly at the implications of that click.
"I must say that you've certainly made yourself at home here." Lifting one arm, Joshua gestured around the café's interior. "If I hadn't been a regular here years ago, I wouldn't have even recognized the place."
Neku had, over the past few months, entirely renovated the location that others had once called WildKat. He had not touched the attic with its locked trapdoor. But the entire ground floor, save for the inside of a certain safe, had received an imaginative transformation.
The carefully-chosen neutral hues along the floor and walls had given way to stark black spangled in vibrance.
Various painted forms of Gatto Nero's mascot and one Shiki Misakí's prized plush, known as Mr. Mew, gamboled and gyred in varieties of positions. Some on the attack. Others, on the prowl. Still more, batting at balls of yarn or pawing at cat toys.
Amid the dancing feline puppets, Neku had sprayed in emblems of those who had touched his life and his Shibuya in some way. Reverence paid in reverbs.
From knitting needles to trick cards, from flaming skateboards to skull-and-crossbones, from ringing bells to stately crowns, the decorations varied. Some tithed to the newer cohorts: winding snakes around violet blades, golden birds set against crescent moons, sable cats leaping over cherry blossoms but drawn in more realistic stylings than the whimsical Mr. Mews, serpentine dragons clad in clashing animal patterns that nonetheless came together.
Tucked away in the corners, one could see smaller nods strewn throughout, from cranes nestled in evergreen pine trees to deer leaping past fire-red maple. A heart comprised of two tanned hands, one with painted nails, the other with longer fingers, curved around a golden disc reminiscent of a Tin Pin. A microphone flared with bat-wings occupied the center of a triangle, the topmost vertex ringed with spikes.
A surprisingly garish explosion of thorned roses broke up the otherwise tasteful décor. Thankfully one could quickly look away from such run-of-the-mill symbolic designs.
The most impressive artwork in this style took over the entire ceiling, as if watching over the space. A pair of angelic wings crested the café like a hero's laurel, their feathers curling around a warm cup of joe. Neku wisely hadn't attempted to emulate his favorite idol's artistry but had instead opted for his own solo remix of that idol's key characteristics. Naturally, this Neku could not have known of the red-and-blue Angelic feathers tucked away, and so he hadn't drawn in the feline aspects.
To recount all of the individuals who had occupied Neku's mind over the past year as he honored them for Shibuya's sake would have taken quite the lengthy report.
The most prominent of such decorations loomed over the backboard. Neku had arranged the pricing for the café's goods artfully around that final decoration: a pair of bright red headphones.
Neku's maturity and capacity for growth, as always, may have astounded even Joshua.
For even if Joshua did not look much in Neku's direction, his keen gaze would have surely picked up on the continued development of his former proxy. The proxy with whom he had spent time himself, as opposed to the proxy with whom he had allowed another erstwhile Composer to spend time.
The yellowish tables and orange-red chairs had vanished in favor of lighter colors with minimal extra festooning, presumably to help them stand out from the vividly cartoonish backdrop. The display case, which had once held a healthy smorgasbord of goods from breakfast items to stews, now primarily housed sweets of every assortment: pastries, cookies, cakes. Of course. Shiki's sweet tooth must have prompted Neku's hand.
The display case even noted a section for vegan desserts. The influence of the other Gatto Nero designer, no doubt, who had never participated in a Game.
The café's owner—not the interim owner—had kept many sweets on hand as well, primarily in storage. Canisters of whipped dreams, tins of sprinkles, and bottles of coffee flavoring for a certain frequenter who had never cared for coffee but certainly cared for saccharine fixes injected directly into the mouth.
Joshua completed his examination of Mewsic's offerings with an eye towards the menu.
Perhaps surprisingly to those who had never carefully read it, the menu did have several non-sweet options on offer in a small corner of the board. This included options that WildKat had had in the past, such as pumpkin soup. This also included options that would have never passed by WildKat's glass doors, such as chicken nuggets.
One who had only known Neku for the past few years might have hypothesized that he had added the chicken nuggets for the sake of another partner: one Daisukenojo Bito, also known as Beat.
Indeed, Beat typically ordered the nuggets whenever he dropped by for a meal between his daily delivery missions.
However, one who had recorded Neku's progress since his very first entry into the Game, now nearly five years in the past, would have noted Neku's love for the food usually relegated to the kids' menu as well.
With the maturity of his adulthood, Neku no longer pumped his fists, as Beat did, when he caught a whiff of freshly prepared chicken nuggets.
Nowadays he serenely smiled, accepted the offering, and dug in with an adult's politeness.
Yet he must have pumped that fist internally all the same.
Even if he carried himself with a greater poise and grace than before, Neku remained Neku at heart: the boy who had stood at one of life's little crossroads and chosen not to pull the trigger. The boy who had wisely trusted his partner. The boy who had saved Shibuya with a compassion and care so deep that it had even touched the heart of the Composer who had overseen his Game, even if that Composer had refused to admit it to this very day.
But some people just wouldn't take "no" for an answer.
Each item on the menu included both the basic description for the unimaginative and a fanciful name which demonstrated the interim owner's exquisite taste: each name riffed off of one of CAT's hit songs.
Of all of the changes that the interim owner had made to the menu, one stood head-and-shoulders above the others.
Years ago, WildKat's meticulously selected menu had offered its patrons both an espresso and an expresso. Either choice would have resulted in an identical cup, although a customer purchasing the latter would have had to fork over many more yen. Alas, Neku had scrubbed the menu clean of the joke, and now patrons could only order an espresso. Any customer with the audacity to request an "expresso" would simply end up given an espresso.
The joylessness of that decision aside, the menu sported a healthy kaleidoscope of coffee blends and options.
Neku had done his research: Mewsic continued to stock as many of WildKat's old coffee bean varieties as he could have found. Naturally, he hadn't had the same contacts that the well-traveled and well-liked previous barista had had, nor had he had a method of recovering that barista's beloved house blends. While he had stepped in for the caffeine aficionado's absence, Neku would not have counted himself a bean connoisseur. Still, any former patron of WildKat would have found themself in excellent hands for continuing to order their long-time favorites, other than those who had relied on the recipes of yesteryears gone by.
The interim owner had hardly slacked on preparing his own menu items. He had a regular rotation of various blends that he had subjected his friends to as guinea pigs and lab rats prior to placing them on the menu, and he continued to refine his offerings.
Perhaps Neku himself had not realized this, but the overwhelming creativity of his output generated an effect not unlike that of his idol's mural. A much less powerful effect, of course. But similar in its color and timbre.
Mewsic, like the WildKat waiting beneath the shiny new coat of paint, had become a hotbed of creative types.
Mewsic, unlike the WildKat waiting beneath the shiny new coat of paint, opened seven days a week.
Even on Saturdays, Mewsic lit up from within. Saturdays! Neku had opted not even to take the days of holiest sabbath off.
But for all that Neku idolized CAT, he simply hadn't grasped the true form of appreciation for Caturdays.
It had first sparked interest amongst those with sufficiently high Imagination themselves, who had flocked to the dazzling art and razzling coffee. Their presence had inspired others who viewed themselves as artistic, without the Imagination backing their words. Neku had insisted on keeping the café humble: no celebrity endorsements, no awards of any kind accepted, no sensationalist journalism.
Indeed, it had even caught the many eyes of the many-eyed. Unfortunately for them, their frequenting of Mewsic would soon enough come to an end.
But that was another story and would be told another time.
For the Mewsic of today, the creativity imbued in the decorations and the dining alike honed the Imagination of even the least artistic.
Not everyone responded to such command codes, however finely embedded. But even the most well-trod otherworldly visitor would have found themself hard-pressed to discover even a handful of Shibuyans whose Imaginations wouldn't have blossomed. Even accounting for a certain individual who had proven entirely resilient.
Although that individual frequented Mewsic—Neku had permitted him to enter the café at his leisure and feast on whatever sweets he desired, primarily from his inability to stop that individual from entering the café at his leisure—those otherworldly visitors wouldn't have had the capacity to find him unless he had opted to be found.
That individual had even gotten permanently prohibited from entering Mewsic whenever it had patrons and customers.
After all, they had stared at him whenever he had intruded, owing to his unique style and chaotic leanings, which made him unpredictable and non-deterministic enough to draw the ogling curiosities of all those around.
Now those very same customers and patrons, from those genuinely deserving of gathering to those wannabes who sought to bask in the greatness of others and so shore up their own egos despite the lack of talent, stared at a very different individual, whom the prohibited individual would have loved to choke out in the past.
Joshua finished his survey of Mewsic's interior. "Mr. H would have loved what you've done with his place."
Neku set down the cup intended for the now-absconded patron.
"Oh, am I wrong? Has he told you otherwise, dear?" Joshua raised the sunhat from his head and fanned himself theatrically with it.
"If you're here, in the RG," Neku said quietly, "is Shibuya in danger?"
"Oh, please. What's this? You're so floored by my existence?" Joshua clucked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, dear. You really must work on that self-esteem of yours."
The barista tilted his head to one side and gripped his shoulder. He had taken on that stance many times over the past few years: grounding himself with a smile on his face. "Oh brother. Joshua, we both know that you wouldn't be here if you didn't want something. If it's for Shibuya's sake, I'll do it."
"Would you?" Joshua batted his lashes. "Would you do anything?"
"I didn't say 'anything,'" Neku responded calmly. Unseen to Joshua, he had gripped a shelf below the counter with his other hand. His knuckles had begun to whiten, although his expression remained placid as the surface of a lake. "Look, we can banter and play around all you want afterwards. I'll entertain you if you're bored. Just tell me the city's safe."
"You truly are no fun. Where's your sense of mystery, Neku? For all you know, this precious Shibuya of yours could already be lost." Joshua eyed him over the top of the sunhat's hem. "What's wrong? No 'rrgh?' No showing me your fist? No outburst of anger that you have to barely contain because you know that you gain nothing without my help? Hmmm?"
Neku breathed in, then breathed out. "Okay. Something happened, and you want my help. It's okay to need help, Joshua. If you need me to turn the other way and pretend that you're doing me a favor, I will."
"All this time away from the UG truly has domesticated you." Joshua's voice remained as breezy and uncaring as ever, but his eye had ever so subtly twitched.
If Neku had noticed the vulnerability, he didn't press. Instead he continued to smile. "Thanks for coming by to Mewsic today. You know, you're welcome to join us at Hachiko, or wherever else. I still don't forgive you, but I do trust you. That's why you're here, and why Shibuya hasn't gone up in flames."
His conversational partner smirked. Yet the lack of an immediate response indicated the point to Neku, immortalized in a neon scoreboard far from either volleyer's eyes.
"If something was really going on, you'll tell me. Or set me on the right path in your own way. That's what you did during the Game," Neku went on, matter-of-fact. "When you kept showing me my own dead body to see how far I'd go to trust you, or when you dragged me around town for a week just to show me the entrance to the Shibuya River, then made me think you'd sacrificed yourself for me just so that I would've felt like I had to carry on what you'd wanted me to do."
One gazing at Joshua might not have noticed the alteration in his lips: the ever so slight thinning there. Even Neku, who had spent more collective time with Joshua than the vast majority of people in Shibuya and yet had not seen him in nearly two years, may not have observed the shift.
"If something's wrong in Shibuya, I'd rather you just tell me so I can help fix it. But if you're going to play games and traumatize me into doing what the city needs, that's fine too. I trust you."
The placidity of Neku's words could have prompted yet another shift in Joshua.
On one hand, Neku's deft response may have defanged potential danger through calling its bluff. On the other hand, the same bluff-calling could have incurred a greater wrath.
Yet Neku, who trusted in his partner regardless of whether or not he trusted in that cheery voice or striking figure, would put his faith so thoroughly in Joshua that not even Joshua responded immediately.
"By the way," Neku added, "let me know if I can get you anything to drink. I can get you a cup of joe for the road."
He released his shoulder.
"Only 520 yen."
"You're charging." Setting his hat back onto his head, Joshua shrugged with both of his arms up. "An effective deity graces you with his presence, and you're charging."
"I learned from the best," Neku responded correctly. "What was it you said? Right. Welcome to capitalism, Joshua. Now, do you want anything? If you aren't going to order, I'll take the next in line, please."
Indeed, another customer had entered the café. No one important enough for a name or description: another spectator who, if they had entered the Game, would have served primarily to heighten the tension for the true movers and shakers. Perhaps they would have even ended up ravaged by Noise during the opening salvo, forcing the stage's main players to recognize their own danger and forge pacts with the partners that they would learn to trust.
The patron of no particular significance stood behind Joshua. In that moment they transformed entirely into an obstacle that might have kept the conversation from continuing.
Joshua tutted. "Very well, dear. I'll answer. You see, there is a grave danger afoot, one so potentially malicious that every second could lead to Shibuya's untimely demise."
"Mm." Neku sounded as though he would have been more thoroughly impressed upon spotting a snail on the side of the road. "And what can I do for Shibuya, Joshua?"
His conversational partner's lips curled into a knowing sneer. "For me?"
"For Shibuya," he repeated, gently and firmly, in a tone that one might have used for speaking to a petulant child. His voice grew serious. "Joshua, if you want to ask me something as a friend, I'll listen. Just...drop the games, if you're going to do that."
"I'm disappointed, Neku. It's as if you don't know me at all." Joshua twirled a strand of hair. "But as for what you can do for Shibuya..."
Neku watched him without speaking.
"Do you recall all the wonderful gifts you purchased for me during our time together? All those lavish shoes and shirts that you bought, just for me?" Joshua leaned back. He had left the top few buttons of his aloha shirt open, as per his usual fashion choices. "The vestments that you clad me in? I wore whatever you asked of me, dear. Why, I dressed and undressed at your command."
Patrons and customers whispered to one another. Neku did not so much as glance at them.
"Not even a frown? I'll have to fix that by the day's end." Joshua paused, as though waiting for the "response" of his "call-and-response," but the tsukkomi to his boke failed to say anything at all. He sighed. "Well then, for the sake of our old partnership, I'll tell what I want from you."
Neku arched an eyebrow. Silently.
If the quiet inspired any infuriation in Joshua, he showed none on his countenance. "Did you keep those threads, dear? Because I'd love to have them back. I came all this way just to finally take my belongings from your place. Aren't I considerate?"
Joshua leaned further back, away from Neku.
"Don't tell me that you threw them out. All those precious memories of me being your dress-up doll, discarded to the trash?"
The playful expression concealed the carefulness with which he scrutinized Neku from all but the most observant.
For a moment Neku remained as silent as the brick wall made holy by his idol's most famous mural.
Then he dipped his head. "Yeah. I've still got those at home."
Both of them must have sensed the neon scoreboard ding in a point to Joshua.
Neku moved on while Joshua leaned forward. "Do you need them right now, or can it wait until after the café closes for the day?"
Joshua gave the inside of Mewsic a slow, steady rove of the gaze. Internally, he may have weighed between the joy of misbehaving for the next several hours, or the joy of showing off his force of hand by closing Mewsic in the middle of its busiest hours.
The Legendary Player himself, who had saved Shibuya twice over, waited with the quiet presence of one preparing for Judgment's blade to come down.
"Oh, it can wait until then. I'll just order something for myself and take a seat. I do love to work you at my beck and call, Mr. Barista." He lifted a coquettish shoulder.
Neku closed his eyes. "What can I get you?"
"Oh, I'll try..." Joshua didn't so much as glance at the menu. His gaze appeared occupied elsewhere, at something over Neku's shoulder. "...the worlds-famous expresso."
The café owner would have to have a talk with him about deliberately pushing buttons.
But that was another story and would be told another time.