Title: Dust

Author: DarkRulerDominca (); Ninja-Chi (DA).

I'm back with another tale; this tim e I'm presenting something new to my repertoire: a thriller/horror one-shot. This is based on the Square Enix DS game Subarashiki Kono Sekai/The World Ends with You.

SPOILER WARNING!: I devised this tale one summer afternoon when I was reflecting on a glaring question the game doesn't clearly explain: what happens to the physical bodies of the deceased people who entered the Reapers' Game? To play, one must be freshly dead. Surely if Sakuraba Neku was shot by Joshua in Udagawa, his body would have been found at some point by a passerby or the authorities. Thus, this story touches on that unanswered aspect. I realize that in the Secret Reports it says that the players aren't truly dead, yet during game play the characters say, indeed, that the players are dead. In my book, they are deceased; Neku was shot, the Daisukenojo siblings were hit by a car, and I'm assuming Shiki hung herself; those don't quite constitute as "not really dead" in my opinion.

This tale takes place after Neku has endured the Reapers' Game for the three week duration highlighted in the DS game. In said game, he and the others are returned to life by Joshua after defeating Kitaniji Megumi; in this tale, Neku is the last player remaining to be resurrected by Joshua following the battle. Naturally, I had to deviate from the final Hachiko reunion scene that takes place a week later in order for this tale to be successful – you'll see what I mean. I also made the characters OOC slightly.

The earthquake Joshua speaks of on page ten is the Great Kanto earthquake of September 1, 1923; it had a magnitude of between 7.9 and 8.4. It nearly destroyed Shibuya.

Joshua and Neku's official couple song, in my opinion, is Jyongri's Possession. XD Or A Lullaby for You English male version. And both work for this tale. However, by the end, you'll know the parts appropriate for each song.

I read some very sad facts about the 12 km long Shibuya River while writing this. Yes, the river is real. It turns out that the river – once known as the "shibu-iro no kawa" - used to be free-flowing and had grassy banks; the water had a naturally red cast to it due to the high levels of iron-ore (the name translates into "iron-ore-colored river"). In the 1960s the river and its tributaries were converted into a concrete culvert and drainage conduit; the reason for this was to provide space for shops. The Tokyu Department Store in Shibuya was built directly over the river, and the river disappears under the Shibuya Station (that's the entrance in the game). Rivers are considered public space in Tokyo, thus making it illegal to build over them; it isn't clear why the Shibuya River was an exception to this rule. Over the years the water has had a tendency to stagnate, and maintenance crews must flush out the old water with fresh water. By 2012 some groups in Japan are hoping to make the river "green" again.

Oh yes, I included an excerpt from the poem The Pied Piper of Hamelin by Robert Browning at the end of the story. It basically sums up this entire tale, from beginning to end. The lame boy and mayor both represent Neku, and the piper represents Joshua. You'll see the similarities when you read it.

Yes, the conversation between Neku and Joshua near the end is intentionally in single quotation marks. I wanted to convey a telepathic discussion, and using double quotation marks just looked like the words were forceful.

Okay, here is my one-shot thriller, Dust. Please read and review! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own The World Ends with You.

Summary: After surviving three weeks of the Reapers' Game, Neku demands that Joshua return him to the world of the living; Joshua agrees, but there's a catch to the deal….

Rated R for language, dramatic elements, and shounen-ai/suggestive themes.

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18,144,000 seconds.

30,240 minutes.

504 hours.

21 days.

3 weeks.

One nightmare.

It had been that long since it all happened… since his life was turned upside-down.

Or rather, since his death began.

Three weeks before, Sakuraba Neku hadn't known what was going to happen to him that afternoon; after all, it had started off like any summer day for the Shibuya teenager: a humid, smoggy promise of blasé retentiveness, replete with that decadence only the materialistic Tokyo fashion district could provide. Another middling twenty-four hours of unremarkable subsistence, abounding with its share of idiots. He wouldn't let them into his life, Neku; he'd been burned too many times by them… experienced firsthand – and from afar – their iniquitous behavior that quickly turned him misanthropic. The broken promises… the outright lies to further their own goals… the violence. He was numb to the myriad of news headlines flashed daily upon newspaper pages that reminded him of the maddening times in which he resided: murders, robberies, hostility. Yet for as much as he recognized the stains of society, he wasn't ashamed to call himself human.

Rather, he believed he was superior to the others.

He had seen other humans as nothing but an annoyance – a necessary evil he had to contend with until his dying breath. He would drown himself in the healing beats his MP3 player and headphones supplied, both acting as barricades against the cretins with which he would rather not have to contend. He willingly allowed the music to transfer him to the comforting womb of oblivion… far away from the hustle of humankind and its inanity.

"I don't get people. Never have, never will," he would say.

There was one exception to his outwardly resolute creed:

CAT.

CAT was a street artist of unknown identity. His designs and graffiti murals decorated Shibuya like a gleaming calling card. His art shouted liberation; "Be yourself!" it conveyed. He was the only other person Neku respected. He was his only idol.

Ensconced deep in his music and pathological self-actualization loop, the teenager would lose himself in the world of CAT's artwork, sucking it all in like a thirsty sponge. Time stood still; life had meaning amongst the chaos.

That was Neku's existence: hating people and revering an anonymous artist.

But he hadn't realized the pattern would alter from course that day. One minute he was admiring CAT's works of urban art in Udagawa's back streets; the next minute he lay dead on the grimy pavement, a bullet lodged in his brain. He hadn't known who'd taken his life – didn't even grasp he was dead until a few days following the event. All he knew after inexplicably awakening in the streets of Shibuya was that he had to partake in a frantic task known as the Reapers' Game. Each session lasted a week, and each week had presented different playing partners for Neku. The twenty-one days of madness culminated in a battle Neku had thought would provide answers to the burning conundrums that haunted him concerning the Game, as well as to who murdered him. His speculations had shifted with each hour like sand in a wind-swept desert, and his list of suspects kept changing.

The battle had ended, and his questions were answered.

And the one responsible for the murder currently stood before him. Kiryu Yoshiya, the second partner. The Composer of Shibuya.

Neku's balled fists trembled as he glared at the monster before him. "Why? Why'd you do it, Joshua?" For that was the other's nickname.

Joshua smirked while twirling a lock of his ashen blonde hair. "I told you, Neku dear. I needed you as my proxy so I could take that imbecile Megumi out of the running. Are you deaf or something?"

He didn't know how to react. Kitaniji Megumi had been Joshua's right-hand man as Shibuya's Conductor; for him to speak so poorly of him was disconcerting, and only fortified Neku's assumptions that Joshua was an egoist. "But I…" his head felt terribly heavy; the three weeks had run him into the ground. "… I didn't want to be your proxy. I didn't even know you!" He looked daggers at him. "Why'd you do it?"

He gaudily sighed. "Don't flatter yourself. There's nothing clandestine behind my reasoning. You had the Imagination one needs to excel as a proficient Psych user; thereby, you were the idyllic candidate."

Neku felt sick and collapsed to the ground. He wanted to vomit… to cry. All of his suffering had been part of a petty bet between Conductor and Composer to decide whether the city of Shibuya should remain unscathed or be erased from existence. "I… want out," he blubbered.

"Oh, you've earned that by assisting me, really you have." He stepped closer to the fallen teenager. "I apologize you had to see this ugly skirmish between Megumi and me. We usually don't like involving mortals in our business, but since Shibuya was on the line we thought it best to test the chutzpa of one of its inhabitants. Or a few of them, rather," he chuckled. "Ah, you kids… so full of life."

The other rose to his full height, his eyes never leaving Joshua. "I want out," he repeated, the growl swelling in his throat.

Joshua stopped laughing at once, the capriciousness leaving his demeanor. "Neku," he started, "why do you want out? Weren't you sick of people… didn't you see them as nothing but inconveniences?"

He thought hard on the question, for he didn't want to lie to himself with an impulsive reply. "I did," he muttered to his feet. "But… after spending three weeks with the others… all that time with them… I see people do have potential."

"But dear, those three – what were their names, Shiki, Beat and Rhyme – don't constitute all mankind. The human race is an ugly one; why do you think I considered eradicating Shibuya? It's not because of the architecture or the location; it's the people."

"I know!" he shouted, and his voice echoed around the vast chamber of the Room of Reckoning in which they stood. "I know all people aren't like them," he reiterated quietly. "I thought they were worthless, but then I saw them for who they are! Maybe… maybe I can discover other people's worth!"

The Composer clapped in an unimpressed manner. "Bra-vo, Neku. That's the best platitude I've heard in a long while. I know! Why don't we paint each other's nails and talk about the beauty of the world and puppies!"

The other glowered at him.

"You can't dilute yourself thinking every person has inner worth," he chastised. "Sometimes what you see is what you get. Believe me, there is plenty of that in Shibuya; consequently my wanting to annihilate the city." He circled Neku slowly. "These people are the scum of existence, and I won't carry around an albatross like that." He stopped behind him and rested his chin on the teenager's shoulder. "Cut your losses… that's my motto," he breathed in his ear.

Neku wrenched away from the other and his influencing words for fear of reverting to his abysmal past self. "Fuck off, Joshua! I want out – I'm not gonna say it again!"

The blonde gave a single, soft guffaw before falling entirely silent. "You've proved to be a sharp fighter, not to mention a capable right-hand man. I haven't been nearly as pleased with my previous Conductors as I have with you these short weeks."

"What? You want me to be your Conductor? Dream on!"

"Why turn down the behest?" he purred. "You possess thriving levels of Imagination that make one a prodigal Psych user. Do you realize how much power you'll be granted if you accept the job? You can assist me in cleaning up the city's riffraff." He sauntered to the other, lasciviously keeping his lavender eyes fixed on Neku's blue gaze. "And I'm not ashamed to admit this, but," he threaded his long fingers in between Neku's, "I like you. Very, very much." He brought the teen's hand to his face and kissed it.

"Cut it out!" Neku objected. He tried pulling his hand away; Joshua kept a steadfast grip on it.

"Stay with me as my Conductor and lover, Sakuraba Neku. You won't regret it."

With a mighty tug, he freed his hand from the Composer. "What the crap, Joshua? I'm not into that!"

"Oh really?" His smile dripped with lewdness.

"And I'm… I'm not being your Conductor. Sorry, find some other schlep to do it."

A grin plastered his snide face. "You're flustered. Did you like me kissing your hand?"

"Fuck off!"

"Ah, a categorical 'yes' if I've ever seen one."

"Look," Neku fumed, "even if I did like guys I sure as hell don't like you. You murdered me for one, and you're a cocky snot for two!"

He rolled his eyes with a flourish. "Details, details."

Neku wanted to punch him in the face, but he regrettably knew Joshua was the only one capable of returning him to life. "Joshua," he stated with newly-found temperance, "I want to leave the UG. Please."

He looked at him for some time; Neku thought he detected something reminiscent of pity in his demeanor. "Neku… you don't want to return to your real life."

His patience was thinning like ice in spring. "Don't tell me what I want and what I don't –"

"No, no, I mean you don't want to go back to the RG."

"Stop speaking in goddamned riddles! Of course I want –"

"You DON'T!"

Neku involuntarily backed away from the outburst, his eyes wide.

"Listen carefully," Joshua whispered; something dark crossed his features, leaving only a shadow of his cool façade. "You've been dead for three weeks – you can't go back to your body. You belong here, in the UG."

"Why? So I can be your arm candy?"

Joshua did not laugh.

"Why can't I return? Will people freak if I rise from the dead? Is that it, an ethical thing?" Reckoning dawned in his eyes. "Wait, is it my body's condition? Have I been buried?"

"No, you haven't been buried."

"Embalmed?"

Joshua's gaze dropped to the floor; within the depths of the pupils burned something menacing. "So… you don't want to stay here with me, even though I've extended hospitality to you?" he asked almost as substantiation.

The random question elicited a response as natural as blinking. "That's right."

He looked as though struggling with something deep within himself; he at last met Neku's view with dour conduct. "Fair enough, Sakuraba Neku. I'll return you to the RG; your soul shall once again inhabit your shell." He raised a willowy finger. "However…"

Here it comes, Neku braced himself.

"…I'm a gambling man, so let's make this interesting for me. A little game."

Neku's stomach fluttered, for he was well aware of Joshua's idea of games. "Like what?" he asked measuredly, afraid to provoke the blonde.

"It's quite simple, really. I won't tell you the state of your body, but I'll give you three occasions to visit it." He strolled to his shadowed throne and lounged sumptuously on it. "If after the first two visits you discover your body's condition, I'll give you the option of remaining in either it or the UG permanently." A platinum goblet encrusted with rubies materialized in his hand, and he sipped the contents. "I won't influence your pick. You have to make your own choice." He smiled widely, and the infamous expression sent a chill racing down Neku's spinal cord. "Whatever your pick, it must be something you're willing to live with for a long time."

A warning bell blared in the teen's head. "Why are you giving me three chances? I'll know the first time if I want to stay or not."

He waved his free hand glibly. "Provisions for a game; three is such a nice number. Also, it makes it interesting for both parties. You and me, that is."

Something wasn't right. "You're hedging," Neku responded flatly.

Joshua scowled at him. "It's befitting though, is it not? You declined my offer, which I deem no less than a slap in the face; I don't take too kindly to ingratitude." He tipped his head back and drained the cup. "Just see it as my personal payback, bitch."

The other's aggression dredged his agitation. "What's wrong with my body?" he pressed.

He clicked his tongue. "Uh-uh! I said I wouldn't tell. Are you trying to get me to cheat so you win by default?"

Neku mulled over the Composer's conditions. "What if I can't figure out my body's state? Will I have the option of staying in the UG?"

"Certainly! I just figured it'd be easier for you to decide if you knew your corpse's condition."

He was aware of grinding his jaw as he stared at the other. Joshua knew something, yet he expected Neku to decipher it in a twisted game of chance. "So if I realize – whatever choice I make – that I made a mistake, I have to stay in that specific world?"

Joshua's goblet refilled itself, the liquid spilling over the brim. "My, you're a quick learner! Armed with that nugget of knowledge, I don't have to tell you that you mustn't make any rash decisions." He waved his hand and a matching drinking vessel materialized before Neku, suspended in the air. "Not to be biased, but a millennia with me wouldn't be too bad. Drink?"

Neku knocked it across the chamber; the metallic crash rang sharply.

Joshua behaved as serenely as though he hadn't witnessed the outburst. "Do you accept my offer of this game? Three visits to your body. You can return to the UG the first two times, but that's it; after your second visit you're stuck in the RG, and I will no longer aid you. Conversely, if you renounce the RG, you have to fulfill your role as my Conductor and lover straight away." Still reclined on the throne, he proffered his hand to the other, his lips stretching into a cat-like smile. "Make this pact and it begins."

Neku looked at the other's hand with hesitation. Too easy, he thought. Joshua wasn't one to let someone go so readily who rejected his advances, or so Neku suspected. The blonde savored toying with people, especially those who stood in the way of his aspirations. Twice Minamimoto Sho sampled Joshua's vengeance: Udagawa was the first occurrence, when the Composer deflected Pi Face's bullets like a spoiled child playing a droll game; the Trail of the Bygone was the next and final. Neku would never forget the sight of the rogue reaper, his body smashed under the tonnage of scrap metal and twisted cars….

"Hel-lo? Are you there?" Joshua simpered.

Resolve boiled inside Neku, and he looked at the other defiantly. "All right, I accept your terms." He crossed the chamber and gripped Joshua's hand firmly. "Now return me to the RG!"

A callous smile twisted his lips. "It's done."

In a blink, Neku experienced the sensation of falling backwards rapidly, and before he could tell what was occurring he was in a pitch-black space. He waited for light to appear in the stale atmosphere, waited for some type of sense to emerge from the paradox that would clarify him of his current location. No illumination graced his eyes; no sounds met his ears. "What the fuck?" he cursed. "Joshua! Bring me back to the UG!" he screamed in the cloaking darkness.

A second later he stood in the entrance of WildKat Café, Hanekoma Sanae's coffee shop that was situated on Shibuya's Cat Street. The aroma of roasted coffee beans and pastries filled his nose as he breathed heavily in exasperation. "Where are you?"

"Over here!" Joshua was sitting at a table in the corner, beckoning him over.

He threaded his way around the occupied tables in a driven dash to the Composer. "What the shit was that all about? You said I wasn't buried!"

He sipped his beverage nonchalantly. "Dear me, you used your first pass back rather quickly. Are you sure that's wise?" He drank the contents in the paper cup with gusto. "Mmmm, Sanae makes the best lattes this side of Tokyo. You should try some –"

"Answer me, dick!"

He eyed the other with reprimand. "Such a mouth you have. I'm surprised your parents didn't scold you more often." He dabbed his lips with his napkin before neatly refolding it and smoothing it across his lap. "You aren't buried, dear."

"Liar!"

The closest patrons shot Neku disapproving looks owing to the outcry.

Joshua's eyebrows arched upward in scandal. "You're insinuating I'm lying? Why?"

He slammed his fist on the table's smooth surface. "You know damn well why! I'm buried!"

He nibbled a buttery cookie. "And you say this because…?"

Neku channeled his fury by popping his own neck, for he was a breath away from strangling Joshua's. "It was dark! I didn't hear anything! I'm no genius, but that sounds like I'm in a coffin!" At once the people closest to him scooted their chairs further away, doing nothing to screen their apprehension.

"Indeed, you are not a genius. You're a spoiled adolescent residing in a spoiled metropolis who thinks he's master of the world." He put the latte to his lips and slurped. "In reality you're a trite carbon copy of everyone else, save for your high levels of Imagination."

Neku was inclined to hit him, yet he feared the ramifications of striking Shibuya's ruler. "I'm not a carbon copy," he paced his words to keep his rage from escalating.

"So then, you preach your individualism from the masses... that you follow your own path, yes?"

"I do!" he snarled defensively, foreseeing an imminent dispute.

"Ah, do you now? How many other people in this city – no, in this world – proclaim they aren't sheep? The said masses express themselves with styles that have been labeled into genres; such can be said for the garbs you're wearing." He ticked off a finger. "That's one way they're like everyone else. They listen to music that already has a fan base, so nothing original about that; that's two." A sarcastic grin split his lips. "Many of them idolize the artist CAT. Tell me: how can one person claim uniqueness when someone right next to them follows the same creed and enjoys the same thing?" He glanced to his left and smiled. "Ah, Sanae, we were just talking about you!"

The shop's owner and only employee, Hanekoma, walked over, his appearance as unkempt as ever. "Hey Phones, how you doing?" he greeted Neku. His eyes shifted to Joshua as he scratched his stubbly chin. "Does he know…?"

"Yes, I told him about me being Composer." He addressed Neku once more. "Hanekoma's also my Producer, my original right-hand-man. Or angel, whichever you prefer."

"Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you, but I was bound by rules. You understand, right? No hard feelings?"

Neku, who'd discovered Hanekoma was CAT, had believed for a short time that he was the Composer. Knowledge of the true Composer's identity redeemed CAT's credibility in the redhead's eyes, but now that Joshua revealed the rumpled man was, indeed, his accomplice, Neku was skeptical about him. His head fogged with a splitting headache. "Get me something. Anything, Mr. H."

"Sure Phones. One house specialty coming up," and he lumbered away back to the bar.

Joshua beamed at his back. "Oh, I love him to death. He's like the yin to my yang, helping me with so much… like keeping me in line," he chuckled as he twisted a curl of his hair in embarrassment. "But getting back to Hanekoma's followers… there's no shortage of them, so neither you nor they are unique." He slurped more coffee. "Besides, his street art's popularity isn't a mistake."

"Damn right – they're masterpieces because he's a wizard!"

"How romantic a notion. No, it's more technical than that."

Neku's ears twitched. "Yeah?"

"CAT's works aren't so much free forms of artistic expression; they're embedded with command codes."

"Command codes?" The sound of a grinder whirred to life at the bar.

"Subliminal messages. The most effective ones too, devised by angels. They're totally undetectable to humans on a conscious level."

He shook his head in denial. "No way. Subliminal messages are only used by corrupt media and corporations; CAT would never use them!"

"But he does. The two codes are simple: 'Enjoy the Moment More' and 'Gather'. The first phrase strengthens the Imagination – Imagination is needed to guarantee the creation of a future. The 'Gather' command draws people with the strong Imagination to Shibuya. To that end, Shibuya's future may be bright if hordes of imaginative citizens are milling about, unlike rotting in its cesspool at present." He spread his hands wide. "Think of it as mass imprinting. Remember how you planted phrases and ideas in people's brains during the Reaper's Game? Well, this is on a wider scale."

It made terrible sense to Neku. "But you wanted to destroy Shibuya. Why would you let Mr. H write the messages to try saving the city?"

He rolled his eyes. "He wanted to see if he could do something first before I annihilated the place, so I permitted it. I didn't think it would work, to tell the truth, but it seems there's an influx of shining rays of hope amongst the filth." He ate another cookie. "Even so, Shibuya's not off the hook yet. If I see so much as it slipping back into slum I'll make sure it not only disappears, but no one ever remembers it."

Hanekoma came over with a tall, steaming cup. "Hey Boss, that's not a nice thing to say. I work hard extracting people's goodness, but you go and make it all for naught."

"Aw, you know I hate this city, though! It's been a thorn in my side forever. Why do you think I tried wiping it out with that earthquake eighty-four years ago?"

"Just give it another chance." He placed the beverage before Neku. "On the house. Drink it while it's hot."

Joshua frowned in a pout. "You're not making matters better, you know? Rub my neck – it hurts!"

"I'm working," Hanekoma stated flatly. "Do it yourself." He walked away and retrieved empty glasses from a table.

Joshua sighed deeply and turned his attention to Neku once again. "See? He keeps me out of trouble."

"He's not doing a very good job," Neku grumbled. He at last sat in a chair opposite Joshua and took a cursory sip of the coffee; it was sweet and topped with fresh whipped cream.

"You were especially obedient concerning the 'Gather' message," Joshua said, reviving the earlier topic. "Not only did you spend most of your time in Shibuya, you actually hung around the tag murals. That day I shot you… it was no coincidence you were admiring his work."

The coffee suddenly seemed less sweet. "You knew I'd be there?"

"Not at that mural specifically, but I was aware you'd be at one of them. Throughout Shibuya there are approximately three hundred-twenty one CAT artworks. I lead the garbage man Minamimoto on a chase around the city, making sure to pass each painting until I found you."

His neck prickled with abhorrence. "Bastard."

"Hey, at least you died looking at your favorite artist's works. Or your programmed favorite artist. Human minds are very malleable."

His grand suppositions of CAT were quickly becoming delusions. "Why don't you make Hanekoma your Conductor? He's a good crony."

"I strongly suggest you not insult Sanae in front of me," he softly warned before touching the cup to his lips.

Neku regretted his brazenness right away, understanding he'd toed the invisible line reserved exclusively for Composer and Producer. "Sorry."

He waved his hand dismissively in acknowledgement. "He's too lazy. I've proposed him being Conductor over and over, but he says, 'I'm not into that sort of work, Josh. I just want to run my coffee shop and stay sane'." He stirred his drink with a spoon. "C'est la vie, his hands are tied being Producer, and I respect his wishes." He pushed his cookie plate to the side. "Nevertheless, even if he did become Conductor, it wouldn't change the fact that I want you as my conquest."

He eyed him poisonously. "Blow me."

"Oh, I intend to," he tittered before licking his stirring spoon.

Neku downed his coffee in antipathy.

Joshua replaced the spoon on the table. "Silly me, I've gotten cream on my lips. Want to help lick it off?"

"Fuck you, priss."

He giggled and wiped the cream off his lips with his long finger before lightly licking it, his eyes boring into Neku's as his tongue flicked his fingertip; Neku averted his gaze quickly, cursing the flush developing on his face.

"Your bashfulness is adorable," the Composer smiled before finishing his beverage. "Is it any wonder I pursue you?"

"I wanna go back," Neku muttered without looking at him.

A look of disgust abruptly befell his fair features. "To the RG? You can't be serious."

"I am! I don't want to stay here in the UG, especially with your flirting."

He rolled the empty cup in his hand. "Do you hate me so much that you're willing to risk everything? Solely to avoid me?"

The answer was automatic. "Damn right. Not only did you kill me, you didn't tell me you were Composer and you toyed with my soul! Plus," he peered at the other with reprehension, "you're an annoying prick."

Joshua narrowed his violet eyes on him, his smile perfectly gracing his mouth. "Let me share a little something I've learned over the millennia, sweetheart: nostalgia is a dangerous thing. It roots people in the past and has a tendency to warp the mind of the one experiencing it –"

"What's that mea–"

He raised a hand calmly to halt the other's interruption. "Someone could've partaken in a mediocre incident, but nostalgia – in its inexhaustible desire to thrive – will make the memories nicer, cleaner. It lets the person forget the flaws and replaces them with a sanitized version. Nonetheless, like a person crazed with thirst in a desert who only finds mirages, this leads nostalgia to cloud additional memories in turn." He ate the last cookie and wiped the tiny crumbs from his lips. "That's why I say it's dangerous. It leaves people with a sense of helplessness because they believe nothing can ever compare to that trumped up, bygone event. I impart this because you, who used to belittle life, now proclaim it great, and you pardon particulars that you unequivocally hated. Hypocrisy if I've ever seen it."

"I'm not being a hypocrite," he countered ardently. "I'm appreciating what I used to take advantage of."

He austerely shook his head. "It's hindsight, a nasty cousin of nostalgia. Alas, hindsight is not always 20/20, as they claim. Trust me; I've seen this countless times when people are feeling vulnerable. The lazy worker who temporarily doubles their output when facing the threat of being fired, the abusive spouse who promises reformed behavior because the other is going to leave… the rebellious teenager who thinks life is the greatest only once he's dead. And the irony is, humans always revert to their fundamental routines because the schema has been established. Do you know what schema is, Neku?"

He hazily recalled seeing the term in a book, but could not formulate a definition on cue. "No."

"Schema is the psychological term for set notions about oneself and others, either gained through experience or assumption. You hating people is a schema." He pointed to a group of businesspeople purchasing coffee from Sanae at the counter. "Quick, where do you think they're going after they leave here?"

Neku shrugged. "I dunno. Work maybe?"

"Why do you assume that?"

He rolled his eyes. "Look at their clothes and briefcases. I don't see where this is going."

He pursed his lips. "Evidently you don't, which is why I'm educating you now. You presumed they'll return to work based on appearance; how can you prove it, though? Perhaps they just dress like that. Maybe they're leaving for home. Regardless, your schema led you to think that."

He looked at him as though he were crazy. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Schemata can be re-learned over time, but it takes a while, which is why I find it nigh-near impossible that you're suddenly rehabilitated and love people oh-so-much."

Neku scoffed. "Think what you will. I know I'll still be grateful when I inhabit the RG again."

He looked unconvinced.

"I will! Well, once I figure out where I am," he added quietly before shooting a poisonous look at Joshua.

He sighed. "Are you requesting passage back to the RG then?"

He nodded.

"Allow me to indulge you in that case," and in that instant he, and everything, disappeared from Neku's view.

Again, he was in the black space, now armed with a lucid head and forewarning. "Joshua said I'm not buried," he muttered, trying to construe the situation. Prudently, he stretched his hands above him; there was no impeding coffin lid.

He waited in the ubiquitous silence for his eyes to adjust, but the place was devoid of light as though impenetrably sealed from the outside. He opened his eyes as wide as possible; nothing helped.

With arms outstretched like a blind man, he took a perfunctory step forward. "It's not a morgue, either," he concluded while trudging to an unidentified destination. His feet sunk into the yielding surface with each step; it felt like crumbling earth or sand. Suspicious, he retrieved his cell phone to illuminate the ground, but the device failed to power on. "Dead," he muttered. Returning the phone to his pocket, he opted to gather information about his surroundings on senses other than sight. He bent down and scooped up a handful of the silty ground. As soon as his hand wrapped around the contents they began spilling through his fingers. "Is it sand?" Cautiously, he brought it close to his nose and sniffed; the smell was most peculiar: a trace of carbon and faint incense. The fine particulates invaded his nostrils and he sneezed.

Wiping his nose, he mulled over this discovery. "It's too fine to be sand." He stopped. "Dust?" He gazed out at nothingness before taking another step into more powder. "It's dust. What the fuck, Joshua?" he breathed.

Fingers sweeping the air before him, he broke into a clumsy lurching due to the shifting soil beneath him and being blind in the pitch. This was his last free pass to the RG – he had to interpret the conundrum regarding his whereabouts. He ground his jaw, feeling like an idiot for returning to the UG so hastily the first time before he'd made a real breakthrough. Now at least he could be logical.

His hand made contact with something solid: a concave, metal wall. His fingers slid over it, feeling for a door or light switch.

Nothing.

He knocked on the cool surface; it sounded thick – half a meter, maybe. He felt no breeze in the chamber, signifying a lack of an entrance or exit.

He became aware of his breath quickening; he was scared. Nothing had meaning in the inexplicable surroundings that held him, but if he intended to remain in the RG he had to comprehend it. "Why is that little cocksucker doing this to me?" he hissed, and he was shocked to find tears on his cheeks. "I need to stay in the RG. This is where I belong!" Although he'd died, Neku knew he could return, for Joshua had twice reunited his soul and body; he'd done the same for Shiki, Beat and Rhyme after they'd defeated the ex-Conductor Megumi, too. Neku's lifeless form hadn't suffered putrefaction at all during that time, so the Composer's hesitation to return him made the teenager uneasy. "He's not telling me something. What, damn it?" he roared to the sky; his voice echoed all around him. He listened carefully until the echo died. "The wall surrounds me," he established from the reverberation.

Every possibility that entered his mind was tossed out for the next – and hopefully more logical – finding, but nothing spawned a fruitful answer. He sat down and the next moment laughed resentfully. "He wants me to stay in the UG and be his sex toy... that's why he's not telling me anything."

His hand brushed against the dust; his fingertips kept running across larger particulates, but without light he had no means to examine them. "Why is my phone dead?" He knew why, but his question was rhetorical: it'd been switched on since his murder in the alley three weeks prior, ensuring a drained battery. He'd been so used to its continuous charge in the UG that he'd forgotten about the hassle of a dead cell. He wanted to examine the dust with his eyes… see what the place that contained him looked like.

He shoved his hand down into the ground; it gave way with little resistance and sunk far beyond his limb's reach. "There's no solid earth… just dust." Extracting his arm, he absentmindedly rubbed the granules between his index finger and thumb, and he hated himself for what he did next. "Joshua, bring me back."

Dazzling sun blinded him the next moment. He shielded his eyes from the sensory assault, but not before recognizing his surroundings as that of Shibuya. Blinking, he saw the entrance to Shibu Department Store directly in front of him. Crowds of people swarmed through his vaporous body, their voices blending into a grating drone. He darted through the shopping center's glass doors to not only escape the disarray, but to locate the Composer.

Right away the humid madness gave way to air-conditioned respite. Aware that the Shibu Department Store was one of the places in which the players could interact with the living, Neku refrained from yelling so as not to disturb anyone.

He jogged past various shop fronts in search of Joshua, and he hadn't looked long when he caught sight of him in the ultra-swank establishment of Pegaso Atelier, trying on a sharp black suit and white shirt. "Yes, I like this very much," Neku heard him say to a man with blonde hair combed severely back from his forehead. "Just put it on my tab, Yoshii-kun."

"Very good, Kiryu-san," the man complied.

Neku barged into the shop, sweaty and out of breath; the strains of soft piano tickled his ears. "Tell me what's going on, Joshua. Right now!"

Yoshii glared icily at Neku. "May I help you?" In the next second he recognized Neku from the times he'd made costly purchases during the Reaper's Game, and he went sheet white. "Oh, how rude of me! A thousand pardons, sir."

Joshua took off the suit coat and tossed it to him. "He forgives you. Now please wrap this for me." He extracted a crisp 10,000¥ bill from his wallet and put it in the attendant's hand. "Here, buy yourself a nice dinner tonight. Or two." He placed another bill on top of the other.

Yoshii strove to maintain him composure. "Yes, yes, I'll wrap this right away, Kiryu-san," and he left the two to themselves.

"I bet those weren't even real," Neku muttered as he watched Yoshii assemble a wrapping box at the front counter.

"Oh no, they were real. I can create anything I desire." He straightened his tie in the mirror reflection. "Is your detective game proving fruitful?"

"Piss off. Yeah, it's fruitful. It's showing me you're a raging psycho."

He frowned with pouty lips. "That's mean to say. Here." He gruffly shoved a shirt on a hanger against his chest. "Hold this." He unbuttoned his current shirt and slipped it off his lean torso.

Neku stood for a moment, at a loss for words due to the Composer's gall. "Yeah right, I'm not your slave!" He tossed the garment to the ground in rebellion.

Joshua casually hung up the shirt he'd stripped from his body. "I advise you pick that up." His head snapped in Neku's direction. "Now."

Neku staggered; something dangerous glistened in Joshua's eyes he'd never seen prior. The Composer stared angrily at him, his pupils fixed and constricted inside darkening irises. "Yoshii-kun works hard to keep the shirts smooth." His voice warped to something fierce and unearthly, and the atmosphere itself became heavy with suffocating oppressiveness. "Pick it up, Sakuraba Neku."

He nodded, and without a word retrieved the shirt.

A smile crinkled his nose. "Thanks, hun," he simpered in his regular voice; the air and his eyes regressed to normal. "Customers can't appreciate how hard the sales people strive to keep the merchandise presentable. It's bad enough when everyone's trying them on." He glanced over at Neku, who was atypically quiet. He stroked a finger up his bare top and grinned lecherously at the other. "Does this turn you on?"

Neku, still shaken by what he'd just witnessed, said nothing. What the hell was Joshua anyway?

"You're transfixed by my perfect body, I see." He chuckled and put on a new shirt, buttoning up the row of small glass buttons. "So why am I a raging psycho, to quote your words?"

Neku understood the invitation to talk. "Because… you're not telling me where I am in the RG. You know… you know where I am." His arms quavered, and he felt the telltale signs of impending tears. 'Oh God, no, don't let me cry in front of him.'

"Well of course I know where you are, silly!"

"Then why don't you tell me?" His eyes stung underneath the rims.

Joshua perused a pair of neckties against the shirt. "In case you haven't noticed, I love games. Reaper's Game, Tin Pin, manipulation of lives, it's all sport to me. Why passively divulge your current state when I can give it a twist? It entertains me and lets you sort out your priorities. Lilac or scarlet?"

Neku looked over and saw he was indicating the two ties. "Uh… lilac, I guess. But what do you mean, 'sort out my priorities'? Of course I want to live in the RG again!"

"Hmmm, do you, now?" He returned the scarlet tie to the cherry wood shelf behind him. "You want to go back to monotony? The place you felt dead inside when you weren't looking at Hanekoma's artwork?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, unsure why he said it.

Joshua shook his head. "That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard, pardon my language. You hate people and you know it. Even after you knew you were dead you still hated your partners. So why do you want to revert to boring life with boring people?" He frowned in the mirror upon closer inspection of the shirt. "On second thought, I don't like this as much as the first…." His sylphlike fingers went to work unfastening the buttons.

Dutifully, Neku accepted the discarded shirt, still warm from Joshua's skin, before giving him the one he'd thrown on the ground moments earlier. "Playing the Game opened my eyes to what I had and what I could lose, so yes, I wanna go back. And," he licked his lips, "I've sorted out my priorities. Life isn't so bad… like Hanekoma said."

Joshua chortled lightly while buttoning the shirt. "My boy, I wasn't speaking of your former life when I mentioned priorities; I meant you should really look at the UG and see how good you have it here."

"How good I have…". He faltered before erupting into rage. "Listen to me!" he snarled, the shirt clutched tightly in his hand. "This place is crap! I belong in –"

"You belong in the UG," Joshua idly stated. "You died, Neku – I shot you pointblank in the forehead for the sole purpose of making you my proxy. The prize on the line was Shibuya and the bordering outskirts of the Minato, Meguro, Shinjuku, Setagawa and Suginami wards. You enacted your part satisfactorily, and I spared the city owing to feeling generous. Your sacrifice saved millions." He turned away from the full-length mirror towards Neku. "You are the scapegoat… the wanton calf… the sacrificial lamb. Your initiation into the Game preserved natural balance, and you're a savior to unseen forces of the universe." He slid the knot of the lilac tie up to his throat. "You have the aptitude for the Conductor job, believe it or not. Megumi couldn't even use Psychs."

The name prompted a spontaneous question from Neku. "You say I'm so ideal for the role, but what if you get tired of me? How do I know you won't do me in like you did to Shades?"

"Rest assured, I won't tire of you. Megumi contradicted nearly every rule I imposed, which quickly became intolerable."

"And what's to stop me from opposing your rules?"

"I won't see it as insubordination; just feistiness," he purled.

Neku glared at him.

"Anyway, he wasn't my romantic partner. I tend to be more… lenient with those."

He worked his jaw. "You've had other lovers before?"

"Oh yes! I've been around for millennia – of course I've had lovers. Never a human, though."

Neku looked away, baffled why he experienced a wave of relief washing over him after Joshua divulged he'd never had a relationship with a human.

"We can live in the Higher Plane together; it's the realm I'm from, much better than this grimy city or the UG. We'll visit here regularly to make sure everything's in working order. And don't worry, I can modify your vibe frequency so you can cross the thresholds separating dimensions."

"No… I belong in the RG. Shiki, Beat and Rhyme died but they got their lives back!"

Neku saw him pause fractionally as he admired his reflection, and a faraway look dulled the usually sharp eyes. "Did they now? You saw this with your own eyes?"

A harrowing realization, at first as subtle as a ripple in a lake's surface, struck him as sharply as when the GM Higashizawa Yōdai revealed that he and Shiki were dead. Neku merely saw the other players vanish after the battle with Shades; he'd no real comprehension of their present whereabouts. "Where… are they?"

"Silly, they're in the RG!"

He couldn't handle it; Joshua was an enigma in a sliding puzzle box, and Neku felt his defenses crumbling from mental fatigue. "Stop talking in riddles." He lowered his head, his eyes barely visible behind his bangs. "If you tell me where my body is, I can decide sensibly if I want to stay here. And if I stay, I'll… I'll be your lover. I won't resist."

Joshua bit his fingertip. "Ooo, the offer is so tempting! Alas, I cannot acquiesce to such rash proposals; I only want you staying here if you really desire it."

Neku's fear came to light even before Joshua completed the sentence: he collapsed to the ground and started crying.

The Composer's haughty expression galvanized into shock before softening. "Oh, please don't cry." He went over and cradled him in his arms with the loving touch of a parent. "There, there."

It was the first time the redhead had actually felt Joshua's skin other than the hand contact of making a pact. It had comforting warmness to it, and the sensation soothed him. "Tell me where I am, please! It's so dark in there."

Yoshii came over. "Is everything all right? May I be of assistance?"

"Yes, would you bring a box of tissues over? Thanks so much." Joshua rocked Neku back and forth delicately, stroking his hair with tender fingers. "I'm sorry, Neku… but I can't." Pain grated his voice, and it was one of the few times Neku felt sincerity from the Composer as opposed to conceited and chiding conduct. "I'm sorry."

He trembled from the sobs. "You're Composer, right? How hard is it for you to tell me what I want to know?"

Joshua respired a forlorn sigh. "It's extremely hard. It's not that I can't… I won't. I'm not here to influence people's – you or Shibuya's inhabitants' – choices. Whatever the answer, it mustn't be arbitrary. I will not tolerate anyone settling because that precise decision appears easiest." He peered deeply into Neku's tired eyes. "It must be your volition… not mine."

He succumbed to his exhaustion and rested his forehead on the other's clavicle. "But you're forcing me in essence. You're intimidating me by withholding my body's location."

The rocking faltered when he heard Neku's remark. "I like to see it as gentle coercing. You believe something's wrong with your cadaver. I'm not saying there is, and I'm not denying there isn't; regardless, you've formulated that something is awry, and I hope it's armed you with insight for when you make your final pronouncement to me. Remember this, though: even if you claw and tear to regain it, the past is gone."

Yoshii returned with the tissues; Joshua took the box and wiped Neku's cheek. "You have to look inside yourself and make a judgment. No external influences either… this has to come from within."

Neku sniffled. "I'm so tired… I might make the wrong choice."

"No choice is wrong, Neku. Each one leads to a different branch in life's path."

He gripped the other's shirt tightly, feeling as though he was drowning in rage. "I hate you."

Joshua stiffened. "Don't say that."

"But you put me through all of this. I never did anything to you!" he whispered in a strained voice.

"I know you didn't, dear. Trust me, this is for your own good. C'mon, no sad faces now." He stood and guided the other up with him. "Feel a bit better?"

He wiped his eyes with a tissue. "I can't believe you drove me to tears, bastard."

"Still feisty, aren't we?" Joshua laughed. He touched Neku's face. "I may seem insensitive, but I don't like seeing you cry. Remember that."

He twisted away. "Damn queer."

Joshua mildly simpered. "Go out and enjoy yourself. You can tell me your final decision in a week. I won't rush you."

He sniffled. "No hand timer then?"

"No hand timer."

The announcement of this liberation ignited a rehabilitated boldness in Neku. Tossing the tissue to the ground, he strode from the shop as quickly as his legs would allow.

"Neku!"

Just as he slipped out the door he heard the other say his name. He poked his head back in the shop. "What is it?" he snapped.

"Don't give me a reason to keep it."

His eyes narrowed at the indistinguishable request.

"Don't give me a reason to keep it," he repeated. "I'm only getting it if you show up."

He responded to the ambiguity by flipping him off with both middle fingers. He stormed away, certain he'd suffer a massive stroke right there in Shibu Department Store; that was all he needed… to have a crowd gawking at his prone form with Joshua laughing all the while on the throng's edge. He wiped his stinging eyes; never before had someone educed tears from him. Joshua was as horrible as ever, and Neku came to terms with the somber conclusion that he would never extract an answer pertaining to his body. "Maybe if I sleep with him he'll tell me," he laughed quietly, the image of the blonde's shirtless torso fresh in his mind's eye.

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