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izaswritings · 4 years

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all that’s left in the world | chapter eight

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: cursing, referenced current character death via Reaper’s Game, references to past character death, friend drama, and self-worth/self-esteem issues. If there’s anything in the chapter you feel I missed, let me know and I’ll add it on here!

AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

part eight: eri

Eri and Beat’s first day of casing Shinjuku—what’s left of Shinjuku—goes poorly.

They arrive late, and search until the sun starts going down and turns all the buildings into gothic, spooky silhouettes, and if Beat had his way, would probably have continued searching after dark if Eri had not loudly and firmly put her foot down. (No matter what Beat says later, it was not because the moment the lights went out, Eri had gone stiff and pale and jumpy at the slightest noises. It was not. Eri doesn’t believe in ghosts, not even in the apocalypse, and she is, most certainly, not afraid of the dark. So there.)

Night falls fast and quick, and in the end, they find an empty shell of a café stand and settle down for the night. When the talking finally dies down, and Beat gone to sleep, Eri lays there in the dark for a long time, feeling young and stupid and missing her bed, because it’s the petty things that keep her mind from the frightening things—how hollow Shinjuku has become, how cold, how Shiki hasn’t answered any of her texts at all… how none of Eri’s texts have reached her.

Here are the cold hard facts: Eri has no idea what’s going on.

Beat had tried to explain—Reapers and Games and UGs and whatever—but she suspects he doesn’t really understand it fully himself, and no wonder. There’s so much Eri feels like her head is going to explode, this rising scream in her ears like an instrument out of tune, and if she focuses on it too long she thinks she might cry. That first night, she curls up with her Mom’s old brass knuckles clenched tight in one fist, and doesn’t sleep well at all. In the dark nightmare city, her dreams have turned faint and blurry, almost feverish, a distorted echo of her room and her father opening the door, his face fallen in grief, saying, “Eri, honey, I’m so sorry... Shiki is...”

When the sun finally rises—or at least, when the ash gray sky gets a little lighter— Eri wakes up with her eyes dry and aching, and Beat leaning down over her with a frown. “You okay?” he says, when he sees she’s awake. “You were making noise.”

Outside the café stand, the sky is pale gray and dim; the light barely reaches inside at all. Her mouth feels cottony and her throat tight; dust drifts in the air like snow. Even Beat, brash and bold and bright like a really annoying flare, seems faded here—his pale hair near colorless, his clothes greyed and the colors turned weak and subdued.

Eri sits up, and scoots away. She doesn’t dislike Beat, mostly; doesn’t really know him, besides the fact he’s part of that weird group of friends Shiki picked up from nowhere and then couldn’t be separated from. “Fine,” she says.

She’s not. There’s dust in her hair and smearing all across her pretty green skirt—the one Shiki stitched her—and the night has left a crick in her neck, her side, the back of her leg. Eri stretches out her leg and takes a breath. “Fine,” she says again, stronger now. “Day two?”

Beat doesn’t look like he believes her, but he leans back, and that’s good enough for Eri. “Yeah,” he says. Hesitant, maybe, and looking like he wants to ask, but in the end, he just shakes his head. “Day two, yo. Ready to go?”

“In a minute.”

“Alright.”

She watches him wander off to repack their stuff and check the surroundings, or some other survival shit she should probably be thinking of, and exhales shakily. Day two. Ugh. She’ll say this for the nightmare-land Shinjuku: if nothing else, it’s convinced her that whatever’s going on, it’s very, very real. Bizarre monsters aside.

Eri works on getting up, stretching out her arm, and tries not to shiver at the memory. Noise, Beat had called them, and Eri still isn’t sure if that’s meant to be ironic or something, because frankly those things hadn’t made a sound. She hasn’t quite mustered the nerve to ask. Those monsters were just…

They would have been beautiful, Eri thinks, in any other circumstance. Those swirling designs and colors, the bold strokes. Even their resemblance to animals… but maybe it’s the resemblance that makes them so unnerving. Their limbs too long, proportions all off, eyes blank and fuzzy like the white static on broken TVs. God. It still makes her shake to think about.

The fact Beat has fought them before—that Shiki has probably fought them before—doesn’t help matters at all. What happened that month, when Shiki was ignoring her? How could Eri have missed this? Her best friend was fighting for her life while Eri… what, sat and moped at home?

It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t fit. She knows they had that fight, but… surely Shiki must have known Eri would have come to her side in a heartbeat, right? Even if their phones didn’t work or whatever, couldn’t she just have told Eri straight? Shiki must have known Eri would help, right? …Right?

(Her fingers curl tight over the brass knuckles. In her head, her dad’s voice echoes. Eri, honey… Shiki is—)

Eri hates this city. Shinjuku: officially on her shit list! Forget the creepy apocalypse aesthetic, ignore the blood-red clouded sky and the cloying taste of ash. Damn the broken rubble and everything. Eri could handle all of it, but these stupid Games and stupid monsters, and all the questions they bring with them… yeah, no. That, Eri can’t forgive.

And the silence—god! The silence. It hadn’t bothered her too much at first, but the longer this ordeal goes on the more it itches at her. The Noise, too… their bright colors all dull and ashy like everything else in this ghost town, and as Eri had watched them stalk the streets, the lack of—anything—click of claws or snarling or even static—had made something knot in her throat. This place. Just, this place.

Café-man should have sent Mom here instead of me. Her mom would laugh and laugh if she knew Eri was getting freaked out by the quiet; deafness, an automatic defense mechanism against the apocalypse. This place and its creepy silence would barely phase her, though the sheer destruction would probably still make Mom look twice.

Ugh, and now Eri’s thinking about her parents, and missing them, and missing home all over again. Stupid brain. Mom isn’t here, and even if that absence of her—of anyone— aches more than even the silence, Eri just has to deal.

She finishes stretching out her arm and moves on to rolling her shoulder. Ow. Café stand floors are so not comfortable resting places. Which, speaking of…

“I can’t believe I slept on the floor,” Eri mutters to herself, rubbing at her neck. Shiki owes her for this. Shiki owes her… a reply and a call back, maybe. It’s not her phone, Eri’s pretty sure—she’d called her parents last night, said she was staying at a friend’s place, and learned in the ensuing conversation that according to the rest of the world, Shinjuku had never existed in the first place. What are you talking about, Eri? Ha, ha, ha.

This is so not how Eri wanted to spend her summer.

She takes a moment to cover her eyes and breathe, and then she rises to her feet and smacks the dust off her skirt. That’s probably as good as she’s going to get. It’s time to face the day.

Beat is waiting by the entrance, rubbing absently at his wrist. Eri comes up beside him. He eyes her. “You ready?”

She shrugs, and fusses a little with the bangle on her arm. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He frowns at her, a little. Eri stares coolly back.

“If you say so,” Beat says finally, and hands her a protein bar before heading out the door.

Eri takes the bar with a grimace, and follows after him. As they walk, she peels the bar open, chewing it glumly. Second worst thing about this endeavor. She’d been so shaken by, like, everything... she’d forgotten to prepare. No supplies, no food… no water.

Or so she’d thought, anyway. She’s still not sure what to make of the backpack of supplies they found when they stopped to rest, or of the way Beat lit up and went “Thanks, Coffee Man!” but like. After yesterday? It’s fine. It’s whatever.

She checks her phone—no messages getting through to Shiki, okay, okay—and then crumples the wrapper in her hand. Go time. Maybe she isn’t the fondest of Beat (or Rhyme, or Neku, but—) but, Eri can do this. She can. For Shiki, if nothing else. Eri’s feelings on the matter don’t mean shit in the face of yesterday: the way Shiki had gone dead white, the way her eyes had gone lifeless and blank and far-seeing at that phone call. The way she’d stared right through Eri— right through her, like she wasn’t there. Like nothing was there. Like for a moment, for Shiki, the whole world stopped turning.

And yeah, thank god, it hadn’t lasted long. Shiki had hung up the phone and gone scary intense instead, before running off to do—whatever it was she was planning. But Eri... Eri doesn’t think she’ll forget that look anytime soon.

And that matters too. Eri isn’t the fondest of Neku, but she’s never wanted him dead, and—and if that’s what Shiki looks like when Neku is gone, if that’s what taking Neku away does to Shiki... then yeah. Eri’s here. She’ll play this weird fucking murder game for dead kids and she’ll help skater-boy track down the cutesy girl with the gun and Eri is going to do whatever she can. Whatever it takes. Whatever’s needed to make sure Shiki never has to make that face again.

It just. Galls, a little. A tiny bit. Neku. Beat, Rhyme, etcetera. Why them? Eri knew Shiki longest. Eri has known Shiki for like, ever. Where did these people even come from? And why—why are they so—?

It’s not jealousy! Eri tells herself, now out on the streets proper and squinting up into the glaring white foggy day. Eri isn’t jealous. She’s not. It’s just weird, is all. It’s just— it’s always been just her and Shiki, before. She’s not sure where these strangers fit into that. She’s not sure why they have to.

She kicks a rock, somewhat vindictive. It bounces away very pitifully. Eri tilts back her head and sighs. Ow, daylight. Burning her cornea. Another thing she forgot: sunglasses.

She can’t see the sun, but this dead Shinjuku is bright anyway; it’s like it is reflecting the light tenfold. Makes sense, in a way. Empty buildings and blank screens—what else is it supposed to do if not reflect? It’s not like it’s got any image of its own to show.

Eri kicks another rock. It doesn’t even make a sound. God, this place is so creepy.

“Hey, uh...”

She resists the urge to sigh at him; her fingers clench. “What?”

Beat is walking with her, now, fallen back to match her pace. He rubs at his shoulder like he’s trying to press out an ache, and squints at her like she’s the sun. “You, uh... you sure you okay? ‘Cause like—”

“I already said I was fine.”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“Look,” she says, losing her patience. “I’m in a nightmare city in a nightmare place looking for fucking Neku Sakuraba and we’ve been here for hours and nothing’s happened and so far I think I’ve been holding together pretty damn well, so could we just—” She throws up her hands. “Can we not!”

She pauses, breathing hard. Beat looks away first. “Whatever, yo,” he says, a little stiff, and takes off down the street. “I won’t ask again, alright, I got it.”

There’s a brief flare of shame—he hasn’t even done anything, and here she is, yelling at him like he’s the cause for everything—but Eri is tired, and she’s just woken up, and she’s thinking of Shiki now, Shiki with Beat and Neku and Rhyme, the way Shiki smiled. And suddenly she doesn’t feel sorry at all. “Good.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say a word, just checks in another building. Turns away, and heads to the next one. Conversation apparently over. Well, that’s just fine with Eri.

Beat heads over to another ruin, though, and Eri lingers back, hand on her hip, starting to frown. He’d done this last night, too, before it got dark; Eri makes an incredulous noise. “Are we really checking every single building for this Reaper girl?” He’s not even checking them properly—one glance through the windows and gone.

Beat’s expression sours a little. “Yeah? So? Man, why aren’t you lookin’?”

“I don’t think we’re going to find her like that,” Eri informs him. “I mean—isn’t she—that’s too easy.”

“You got a better idea?” he says, but it seems rhetorical, because barely a second later he shakes his head hard, fists clenched and says, “Bah, figures,” which makes no sense at all, and then he makes a sharp, angry noise in the back of his throat, puts down his skateboard, and starts rolling away.

“I—you—what?” Eri stares after him. He gets further away. What the fuck? “Seriously!? Where are you going!”

He ignores her. “This is taking too long, yo!” He puts down his foot and stops with a jolt, and shakes his fist at the bleeding morning sky. “OI! Reaper girl! Coco! Get the fuck out here, man!”

Holy shit. He’s—he really just did that, Eri realizes. He left in the middle of her talking. He’s speeding away on his damn skateboard and yelling for the murderous Reaper with a gun while she—

Ugh.

What does Shiki see in these people?

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Eri cries, ineffectually, and jogs after him. He’s stopped, thank goodness—staring up at the sky with a scowl, hands curled to frustrated fists. His lip is getting worried through his teeth. His foot is tapping. “Oh my god. What were you thinking? What if she—and you—do you ever slow down?”

He blinks at the clouds and then turns and blinks down at her. “Nope,” he says, though he sounds a bit sheepish about it. His shoulders slump a bit. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave in the middle of the convo, just… ah, it’s just getting to me. Phones used to— anyway, sorry about that. I just thought...” He trails off. He stares with a furrowed brow over the city, and makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Man. You really don’t like Phones, do you?”

Eri has to mentally rewind their conversation for a few minutes until she gets it, and then she flushes a dull red. In a nightmare city in a nightmare place looking for fucking Neku Sakuraba… possibly, maybe, a bit obvious. Whoops. “I— look, I’m just frustrated. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Beat only shrugs. “Alright. If you say so. Rhyme always says I jump to conclusions…” He trails off again, and then shakes his head. “Well, anyway.” He takes a deep breath. “OI, COCO—”

Eri muffles a scream behind her teeth and lunges at him, dragging him back. Beat yelps. “Come on! You’re just drawing the attention of all those monsters to us! There’s obviously no way that’s actually going to w—”

Their phones ding at the same time. Eri chokes.

There’s a long moment of stiff silence. Beat reaches for his phone first.

“Don’t—”

He’s already opened it. Eri covers her face.

“…Damn,” Beat says, finally. The anger has fled from him; he sounds tired now, worn and a little frustrated. He presses a hand over his eyes. “She’s just messing with us.”

Eri warily reaches for her own phone—first café guy, and now this murderous Reaper, how do these people keep getting Eri’s number—and flips it open.

Her hand tightens at once. This is… what even is this? Eri has a set font for her phone, meticulously installed settings and everything, and somehow this text message has defied all of them. Coco has mangled the look of the kanji something awful; Eri wants to strangle her partly for the poor aesthetics and partly in revenge for her eyes.

Next to her, Beat shakes his head. “Argh, this doesn’t make any sense to me, yo. Hey, can you read this shit?”

Eri doesn’t grit her teeth, but it’s a near thing. Damn, she knew he’d ask. She flits her gaze back to the text message—big and ballooned and pink-lettering like the writer was trying to be cute, with so many hearts it makes the designer in Eri wrinkle her nose and sniff, tacky. Plus, she thinks—is that short-hand? Oh, fuck.

If she’d had better sleep, if she wasn’t exhausted, if there wasn’t a headache pounding behind her eyes, then maybe Eri would have some success parsing through it. As it is, she flips her phone shut. “No,” she says stiffly, but when Beat just nods and sighs and turns away, she relaxes a little. “Can you?”

He mutters. “Game… welcome… I think she’s asking us to play? Definitely from that damn Reaper girl, though.” He scowls, and flashes the signature at her; COCO, written out in English with a big and scrawling font.

Eri looks back to her phone with a clench to her gut.

Beat groans and snaps the phone shut. “Whatever, yo. Who cares what shit she has to say. Probably just a stupid game. Reapers love that stuff.”

Eri bites her lip and opens her phone again. No. Language still not computing. Still... “If it’s from the girl we’re tracking down, there might be a clue. Shouldn’t we—”

“Nah, it’s cool.” She frowns at him, but Beat grins back, wide and a little brash, and punches his fist into his palm. “Look, trust me on this one. I’ve got this, yo! They want a game, I’m not gonna play. Works every time.”

That doesn’t seem quite right to Eri. “Um.”

His smile falters a little. He rubs the back of his neck. “...Look, I—I, um, I’m not the smartest, I don’t get things sometimes, I get that, but— I dunno, it’s worked before, alright? People like Miss Chiff, you know, they want... they need people to play. And when I was in the Game...”

He makes a noise, waves his hand, as if trying to find the words. “I mean, they erase you if you don’t do the missions, sure, but shit like this is different, yo! When you don’t play, turns out they end up coming right to you. Get them mad, and then hit ‘em when they’re distracted, and bam! Reaper down!”

There’s a pause. Beat trails off at Eri’s stare, turning red, and looks away. “It, uh, worked for me and Phones, so I... never mind, you’re probably right, it’s stupid. Let’s—”

“Erase you?” Eri echoes, hollow, and Beat stops mid-word and blinks at her. “What do you mean, they erase you?”

Beat blanches. “Uh.”

Eri’s mind is whirling. “Do you mean—if you fail a mission, they kill you?” But then… “No. No, that doesn’t make sense, then why would it be erasure? That’s just murder.”

“Well, yeah, it is,” Beat says, looking uncertain. “But we were kind of already—”

He stops. Eri stops. Beat’s eyes go wide. “Oh,” he says, and then he starts waving his hands, laughing loudly and nervously. “Never mind, yo, t-that’s not—anyway, what about this weird-ass text, right—”

Eri isn’t listening anymore. “Already,” she says. Neku, shot dead by the murderous Reaper—he’s in the Reapers’ Game, a contest to come back to life, isn’t that what that weird café guy had said? And on second thought, with what she knows now: isn’t that odd? Isn’t that strange? Doesn’t that mean…

“Already,” she says again, and her breathing picks up. Oh no. Oh no. “But then—if that means—you have to be dead to get into the Game? But you were in the Game. I don’t understand. If Neku is—and you—but then, that means—”

The dream comes back to her. Eri claps a hand over her mouth. She falls to her knees.

“Woah, woah, woah, I— Eri— yo, you okay!?”

She should have realized this sooner, Eri thinks. She should have connected the dots as soon as Beat explained the Game to her, as soon as he’d said he was a Player too. That awful echo of a dream. All those questions about where and how and when Shiki met Neku, met Beat, met Rhyme.

“Shiki died?” she asks, and her voice is very small.

“Oh, shit,” Beat says, and kneels next to her, hands fluttering over her shoulders like he doesn’t know what to do. Eri has the same goddamn tick. Somehow that hits her hardest of all; she starts hiccupping. The alarm on Beat’s face deepens to panic. “Oh man, no, I— she’s not! Anymore! We got out, yo, we all came back. Good as new!”

And now, at last, she has a better idea of why they all called it the Game. She thinks she might be sick. She wipes at her eyes. “Y-you won?”

“Well, that’s... y-yeah.” Beat looks away. Then he looks back at her. “Shiki’s alright. And she’s strong. Whatever she’s doing now, she’s probably kicking ass. Maybe even beating us to Phones, or the Reaper girl.” His smile is weak and false, but it stretches wide on his face. “I don’t— I don’t know much. Sorry. But she’s okay, yo, I can feel it. And when this is done you can go and yell at her all you like.” He awkwardly claps her shoulder. Eri presses her hands against her eyes, the sudden crying fit fading as quickly as it started. “You... uh...”

She exhales, slowly. Her head pounds. “F-fine. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” She brushes his hand away—kinder, this time—and rises unsteadily to her feet. Games and Reapers and Shiki dying. She supposes she understands why Shiki went so blank in the eyes, before. It feels a little like getting hollowed. “Let’s... let’s talk about something else.”

“Uh... well, okay, but—”

“Plan,” Eri tells herself, and rubs at her cheeks. Ugh, makeup smeared everywhere. She rubs at it harder. It’s already faded from the night—and who cares how put together she looks right now? It’s the damn apocalypse, or something. “You said you had a plan?”

“Well... nah, never mind it, it was kind of stupid—”

But Eri remembers it now, and she rubs at her face one last time and takes a deep breath, thinking. “Don’t play their games. Anger her into coming to us.” She exhales carefully, and swallows down the last stray sob in her throat. “That... that could work.”

Beat brightens at once. “Yo, you think so?”

“…Yeah.” Her breathing is settling. She blinks and shakes her head and straightens. “Y-yeah. If we—I mean, this message... she responded to you. She’s paying attention. She’s trying to make us do something. and if we don’t do it...” If they just ignore it entirely, or do something so out of bounds ridiculous... this is a girl who was willing to kill someone for this, whatever her goals are, right? So she’s taking this seriously. She’s got plans.

The more she thinks about it, the more it clicks. Because really, Eri thinks. What better way to draw the mastermind to you, than to treat the mastermind in question as irrelevant? She’s pretty sure she saw it work in a movie once, or something.

And hey, even if it doesn’t work... at least they tried. One option down.

She feels a little more settled now. She tugs at her skirt hem and gives Beat a weak smile. “Hey, works for me.”

“Really? Aw, hell yeah!” He punches the air. His face tightens, a brief flash of pain, but Eri blinks and a second later its gone. Beat shakes his head and laughs it off. “Man, I was worried for a second there. I know you don’t like me, so I thought that you’d—”

“—What?”

“—shut me... what?”

“It’s not... I don’t... I don’t dislike you,” Eri says, and feels it burn in her cheeks like heat.

He frowns at her. “I don’t mind it,” he says, slowly. “But you think we don’t see the looks you give us? Me and Phones?” He rubs at his hat. “Now if it was at Rhyme, that’s nuts, but it’s whatever, I guess. Can’t like everybody. We’re cool, man.”

Some part of Eri is horrified. “You—” They noticed? Oh god. Had Shiki noticed? Oh no. “I don’t hate you,” she says, and she means it, but she’s bright red anyway. Ughhh. “And I—I wouldn’t shut you down even if I did. I wouldn’t. You have some pretty good ideas sometimes.”

Beat looks back at her with raised eyebrows like she’s said something silly and it actually hurts, a little, to see that. “You do. I mean it. Maybe you don’t think things through, and maybe you rush ahead a lot, but that’s—that’s not—” She doesn’t have the words for this, the language, and she bites her tongue hard and shakes her head. “I actually kind of— can I tell you something?”

He blinks at her. “Uh… ‘course.”

“Thanks.” Eri takes a deep breath. “I want, more than anything—I’ve always wanted to be a designer.”

He nods. “Like Shiki!”

“Yeah.” The reminder of Shiki warms her. She imagines Shiki’s smile, her quiet encouragement, the way she took scribbles and half-hearted dreams and turned them into something real, something Eri could hold in her hands and look at and really, really see. I can do this. With you, I can do anything.

She wonders if Shiki will ever know just how much that moment meant to Eri. Maybe not.

“Yeah,” Eri says, more decided now. The things Shiki gave to Eri… maybe she can pay it forward. Give it to Beat, too. “But some people—I mean—trends are fickle. So is design. And, and I’ve had people tell me… that I’m an airhead, I’m vapid and s-self-centered and fake because I like clothes and I like how they make me look and wanting to make clothes isn’t—isn’t—well. You know.” She makes her voice high and mocking. “It’s a bad idea.”

Beat is staring at her. “What, seriously? Why? Look, trends don’t make much sense to me, but staying on top of them—making shit that a whole lotta people wanna wear—” He shakes his head. “That’s amazing, yo!”

“I know,” Eri says, and smiles a little. “I… um, confession time, I guess? But I’m not too good at math. And… I— I have a lot of trouble reading. Um, anything. It’s just brain stuff.” He’s watching her, intently, and her eyes drop and skitter across the ground. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I get it. Not… getting things. If that makes sense. But that doesn’t make me—doesn’t make you—we’re not—” She struggles for the words. “I’m never going to just… Argh!”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, I—”

“I hear you,” Beat says, a little quieter, and Eri shuts up and looks at him fully now, scanning his face, trying to make sure he means it. He grins at her. “Rhyme says it too, and they’re plenty smart; if both of you are telling me, I guess there’s gotta be some truth to it, huh?”

“Guess so,” Eri echoes. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t just shut you down. I’ve been listening. I promise.” She hopes so.

Beat shakes his head. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, yo. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you wouldn’t… just, I don’t really have something I’m good at. Not like you and Shiki, or even Phones. And Rhyme, man, you should see them go, they’re good at everything. But me…”

He pauses. “I haven’t found… what clicks for me, yo.” Beat stares at the ground. “Never did, even before this whole mess. Guess I’m just a little nervous I won’t ever find it.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Listening,” Eri says, awkward, and shuffles on her feet, thinking back to last night. “Really… really hearing people. I think you understand what’s important, Beat.” She offers him a weak smile. “I’m sorry for earlier. I’m not mad at you, I didn’t mean— it’s not you. You’re fine. I just, I don’t know. Shiki cares a lot about you guys. And you always make her... she always smiles so much.” The way she trusts Neku. The way Beat will say one thing and Shiki’s eyes will light up, bright with fondness. The way the very sight of Rhyme is enough to make Shiki smile. “I wish I could do that too.”

“Understandin’ what’s important, huh?” He rubs the back of his head, looking almost bashful. “Y-you think so?”

There is a memory in the back of Eri’s mind—faint, distant, watery as a dream. You aren’t meant to be a designer and the way Shiki’s face had fallen flat, like Eri had stabbed her instead. If Eri could have listened better, maybe she would have seen it earlier. Maybe she could have understood why it hurt Shiki to hear that. And maybe, just maybe, she could have known what Shiki needed to hear instead.

“Yes,” Eri says. “I absolutely do.”

Beat smiles at her, bright and beaming. Eri looks back at him, quieter now, and for a moment she tries to see him fully. Tries to see what Shiki must see in him. He’s a kind listener. He’s brash and bold and loud. He’s got a good heart, even if he fumbles with it.

Maybe she’s got this all wrong. Maybe she really hasn’t been listening, or seeing him, the way she should. Maybe Eri can do better, be better, and take a chance to know this person who has found his way into Shiki’s life so perfectly, and see how maybe he can start fitting into hers too.

Maybe, she thinks. Maybe.

But for now, she loops her arm with Beat’s like she does with her friends, and offers him a more genuine smile. “Let’s give that Reaper girl hell,” she says, and when Beat throws back his head and whoops in agreement, fist raised, Eri taps his fist back with a grin stretching ear to ear.

And just maybe, she thinks—maybe she can do this after all.

#twewy #the world ends with you #twewy beat #beat bito #daisukenojo bito #eri twewy #fic: all that's left in the world #twewy fic #iza fanfic

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decompking-blog · 5 years

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You have progressed.

In this world of white, the snow remembers your footsteps. Is this what you want? Is this where your wish will take you, further and further? You must remember yourself as you continue forward.

The Fields of Theama call for you. In their crystal city of ice, the reflections of things familiar and unfamiliar will rise to greet you like an old friend. Venture inwards and listen to your soul. You must brave the maze and return with something from your own world. Reach into the looking glass, abandoning riches and temptations. What you pull out will be your own, and only your own.

Travel well, search well, believe well.

May Diaidem bless you.

It’s strange to ever think of himself as lost.

Shibuya is etched into his veins and filters through his blood, images branded on the backs of his eyelids. He sees the city constantly in his sleep, feels the music thrum in his bones no matter the distance and hums the notes that he’s oh-so-used to despite how no one cares to listen in the Great White.

Joshua lets out a low whistle through pursed lips, watching his breath drift skywards before he wanders further into the Fields of Theama. Earmuffs are firmly against his ears, blocking out the world’s sounds for the most part. Hands move between the pockets of his coat, to his jeans, to simply folding into fists as he wanders deeper into the maze.

… Maybe he could stay here. The cold could easily kill him (another stark reminder that he isn’t who he was anymore, the overall lack of power lighting his nerves on fire and calming them at once), but what did that matter, really? The bullets in his back are gone, certainly, but Joshua knows he died; there was no almost to it. If coming back is as easy as that and no one was informed, it would be fine should he refuse to return to the Bunkhouse.

…

… … …

No.

He knows he can’t just do that. While not certain, deities don’t tend to take kindly to the people under their watch pulling stunts like that. Perhaps he’d be whisked away when he was drifting off and wake up in his bed, covered in blankets and surrounded in warmth. A slap on the wrist, really.

Joshua rubs at his temples, finally banishing the thoughts continually pressing like pins into his brain. He has a job here; allowing his focus to drift so much is only going to cause problems. Not that he wants much to look forward, not when a familiar figure that sets his blood on boil appears within a section of ice.

The stage is set in Wildkat, pristine walls and the familiar scent of coffee and baked goods filling his nose. While it’d normally calm his nerves, what with the familiar bell at the door ringing as he pushes it open and him taking his spot at the bar, he only feels his stomach drop now at the imagery that is provided.

Familiar stubble, glasses, somewhat messy collar and straightened vest. The image of Hanekoma burns his skin and makes him itch, nails digging into the sweater he wears as he averts his eyes. Facing the man that assisted him for so long only to betray him in the final hours of their city’s life… he isn’t sure he can do it currently. Joshua doesn’t hate the elder for the reasons he took action, but the lasting effects of a lack of honesty leave particularly deep wounds in his core.

Not that he has much of a right to judge anyone on the merits of being truthful with those you care for. With all of the dishonesty clawing at his heels, how a city near-decimated lingers as a cacophony to ring his ears despite how it remains stable and thriving despite his previous ambitions--

Joshua inhales deeply, shuts his eyes, and maneuvers past the visions of the barista until he feels it is safe enough to reopen them. The images fall behind him and a weight slides from his shoulders and down his back, attaching at the ankles like a ball and chain as he drags his feet forward.

( For a moment, in a sparing glance, Joshua spies blinding white reflecting from his mirror image’s back as he passes one spire. )

Arms wrap loosely around him, shivering once and hunching over. The cold is one of the top offenders for why is mood is so foul even now. Latching onto a month-long issue and letting it eat away at his thoughts? Ridiculous, he’s better than that, he has to be.

( Except he isn’t, he never has been, and the visceral reaction from the next view only proves it. )

Red headphones, long black hair, sunglasses to shade eyes that shine with love for Shibuya and the inhabitants within. It’s strange to remember he was driven to the point of brainwashing the individuality of the city and bleeding it out on the streets, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

One week of preparation couldn’t possibly be enough for an elaborate plan that would sway his decision. Still, for his attempt… Joshua was touched by the effort and passion. The final exchange with his ex-Conductor holds a weight in his heart a long stare leveled towards the ice.

An excellent game. He hadn’t had that much enjoyment out of his job in some time, so to witness the reason for it vanish for a bet that he ultimately won…

Hindsight is 20/20, after all. Joshua clicks his tongue softly when his attention returns to the reflection of Megumi, his surroundings taking the appearance of Dead God’s Pad. He leans into the spike of ice that shows the couch, shuddering when the cold seeps into his body yet refusing to move. There’s comfort in the idea of home, watching the fish under his feet swim about and go through their daily business.

It was like Shibuya, yet calmer. More mundane. The world he journeyed to in the countdown towards the end of his own strikes as a reminder and, for a moment, Joshua considers the idea of how erratic and frenzied the fish in the alternate version of the bar would be if the comparison worked in such close favor.

( Not that it would, honestly; there are far too many parallel dimensions for a flawless match-up in terms of aquatic personalities like that. )

Rising from his spot against the couch, Joshua brushes his hand against the mirror where Megumi’s afterimage lingers and moves past it. His steps are no more energized from the vague rest he’s gotten from the warmth of the scenery he leaves behind. Exhaustion can only bring him so far and, as the end feels like it’s in sight after a grueling journey, it only rips past his grasp with the same lack of mercy as the bullets formerly embedded in his back.

It feels as if a wall has risen up before him, surrounding all sides and flashing bright orange across his vision. The area around him is blinding in more ways than one, chest tightening as Joshua opens his mouth only to slowly close it seconds later. He sinks a bit, dropping into a crouch and crossing his arms on his knees before resting his cheek against them.

Eyes drift up to the memories playing out within the ice, mouth a thin line no matter what words he can remember coming out of Neku’s mouth on each pillar.

( Joshua witnesses the forming of the pact with Shiki, the beginning, middle, and ends of his week with Neku, and those final moments where they face-off for the fate of a city.

He rewatches where he fires the bullet first on two occasions and feels nothing for it. )

Neku Sakuraba was the worst Shibuya had to offer all those weeks ago. The one he sought out in particular for his negative energy, his champion against someone who wanted to show the brighter side of a city that he felt deteriorating at an alarming rate. Joshua hates the idea of admitting he’s lost or that he was wrong; people change and he knows it, he’s witnessed it several times over, after all.

Joshua didn’t expect Neku to follow that mold and simultaneously break out of it.

It’s strange to watch him from below for once. The time spent above and unable to reach out lest he be burnt and punished further certainly gives him a reality check for the moment. Joshua shuts his eyes, nearly hearing a conversation replay in his mind.

The answer to why Neku was fighting so hard should have tipped him off to the shift. Fighting for another person’s life after knowing of his attitude towards others? Joshua’s fingers tap against his leg and he breathes.

An apology. Maybe he feels nothing for what he’s done during the Game, but for the progress Neku made during this time and daring to say he doesn’t hate him while actively seeking him out in spite of his own attitude and actions…

He owes it to the other for his own outburst.

A breath out and he climbs to his feet, making eye contact with the Neku at the end their partnership. The fall back, the explosion that could have easily taken him out had he not disappeared in the last possible moment--

Joshua shuts his eyes briefly and lets out a sigh, rising to his feet and approaching one of the images.

One hand reaches out, fingers splayed before shifting to cup Neku’s cheek before his arm slips right through the ice. Joshua pulls back with a jolt, the sudden weight of something in his grip and the chill through him enough to drop the item and step back.

Peering down at the snow, a half-choked breath cuts past his teeth as he bends and scoops up the item. A light grey coffee mug with bars of music wrapped around the entirety of the base. The familiarity jumps out instantly and squeezes his heart, Joshua’s expression contorting to a mix of frustration and weariness.

Hanekoma bought this for him. A cup from years ago, before he ever set foot in the Underground and was only that lonely child that found warmth in the empty coffee shop with a man that helped him move forward.

Fingers curl around it and he holds it close to his chest, inhaling deeply and letting the cold sting his cheeks before he begins to walk. One gloved hands brushes against all the ice spires to his right while he runs, taking a long breath out when the Great White expands out from his position.

Freedom.

Joshua kicks at the snow at his feet before nodding, gathering his thoughts together and beginning his trek back towards the village.

( First: put the mug on his bed back at the Bunkhouse. He can’t smash it yet. He doesn’t think he wants to.

Second: find Neku. Should the other want to speak with him… he’ll be amazed. If the chance is provided, Joshua only hopes he doesn’t feel that urge to get out of the talk before it happens that has sprung up every time he’s considered it this past month.

Third: kick Minamimoto’s ass. He couldn’t even enjoy the man’s punishment, so he might as well make an attempt at entertaining himself since the former Game Master likely has nothing to waste him with anymore.

Fourth: … who knows, really. Joshua will play all of this by ear, as he generally has.

It’s what does, and will continue to, make life interesting, after all. )

#;; the world changed in the blink of an eye. ( eido trial 1 )#long post //#death mention //#suicide ideation ??#jesus FUCKIN christ this is almost 2k words long #im committing tax fraud over this oh my god #@ lu in particular: if this doesn't end u then im sorry

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subasekabang · 6 years

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Joshua’s 6-Step Plan to Becoming a Vampire, Chapter 4

Author: Matt

Rating: T

Word Count: 7600; this chapter- 1666

Pairings/Characters: Josh/Neku, side Shiki/Eri; Joshua, Neku, Rhyme, Beat, Shiki, Eri

Warnings: Vampires, Blood

Summary: Joshua Decides to take over a coven cause he's bored. As you do.

Chapter 4

Immortal time God damn it

“Beat didn’t come home last night,” was the message Joshua awoke to the next morning. He squinted at the time displayed in the corner of the screen, then plopped it back on the bed beside his pillow, burying his face with the full intention of going back to sleep. Why would she send him that? He had an idea but was hoping it wasn’t correct.

Unfortunately his phone buzzed again a second later. He considered ignoring it, but that would not win him any points.

“Go look for him please.” Could he claim he had school? No, Rhyme knew he frequently skipped without any repercussions. One of the perks of having absent parents. They would just write you a sick note without a second thought.

“Alright….” Slamming his face into the pillow he groaned and enjoyed his last few seconds of warmth and comfort before he threw off the cocoon of blankets he slept under, and was greeted by a shock of cold air.

Where would Beat go? Was the first question he asked himself. He didn’t know the boy well, so it put him at a disadvantage. He liked bad music, skateboarding and ummmmm….. Maybe he should start at the skatepark.

He looked around the area. There were a few other people there. Kids, probably skipping like he was at that moment. It was surprisingly well kept as well. The kind of skatepark you got if the place it was in had the money for an actual skatepark and then continued to have that money to upkeep it, instead of letting it go to shit, then paving over it to make a shitty park only the local old people would want to use, and then complain about the amount of youth continuing to visit their old spot.

If Beat were alive he would hide. He would need to. Even though they could deal with a small amount of indirect sunlight, it wouldn’t be for long. The sun had already been beating down on this pavement for at least a few hours, meaning he would have needed to get out of it. There weren’t many trees around and they didn’t provide a very great amount of shade. So he moved on to playground equipment that was a few steps away.

He wasn’t there either. Not that this stuff provided enough shade anyway. There was no way he would have gotten stuck here. Joshua assumed he would have at least have tried to head home.

Maybe he was dead, er... More dead, or hiding in a bush somewhere.

Turning to head back and trace a possible route back to the house, he spied a small building. Some toilets; tucked away near the edge of the area. It was a simple brick structure with a tree beside it, which was doing an absolute shit job of hiding the building more than three times its size.

Approaching the building he stepped into the dimly lit bathroom. Stalls lined one wall of the poorly kept space, a long mirror stretched across the opposite side with counters and sinks below it. A single hand dryer sat near the entrance. The window was blocked up with what looked like a shirt, and just below it near the handicap stall he could see the edges of a sweater poking out.

“Hello?”

Someone moved, but didn’t say anything.

“Beat, is that you?”

“Yeah, what you want?” Well, this went faster than he expected. He may even be able to make it back in time for his afternoon classes. Or have a look for that fucking library. One of these things felt like a far better use of his time as far as he was concerned.

“Rhyme messaged me very early this morning, telling me to come look for you.” Which was all she had asked. He didn’t really need to do this part.

“What does she want?”

“I don’t know. She’s worried about you. Probably.” He did vanish and not come home. He supposed being worried about her brother being dead was most likely normal. In all honesty he was surprised that Beat had lasted as long as he did. Beat finally opened the door revealing what seemed to be a makeshift bedroom. Joshua frowned at that. He barely wanted to be walking on these floors let alone sleeping on them.

“Well she doesn’t have to worry, ‘cause I’m starting my own coven.” He seemed proud of himself for that. He was confident in his terrible choices, he had to at least give that to him.

“Why?” Joshua all but sighed.

“Cause I’m sick of it. No one takes me seriously.”

“Maybe ‘cause you run away to start covens in gross public bathrooms?”

“Whatever man. My coven is gonna be great one day.” Beat turned and sat back onto his very worn sleeping bag.

“So you’re gonna upgrade to… what? A shed? A slightly cleaner bathroom?”

“Fuck off.”

“Just go home. You’re sister is upset and, presumably, so is everyone else.”

“They aren’t.”

“Well, hopefully they wouldn’t have dragged me out of bed otherwise.”

Beat ignored him so he shrugged and left the bathroom, happy to be away from the stench.

“He started a coven in the skatepark bathroom,” He messaged Rhyme as he walked towards downtown. The library had to be somewhere around there right?

Once evening hit, he considered his options. He had given up his search fairly quickly, instead sitting at a small coffee shop and sipping not-coffee as he texted Neku. Neku was probably not awake yet but that wasn’t about to stop him. Besides, he would wake up if his phone went off enough times.

“What.” Nice. Joshua grinned.

“Hows my dear sweet Neku today?”

“Fine, ‘till you decided to wake me up.” To be fair, he had only sent like three messages. What, did he actually have his ringer turned on or something? Joshua had long forgotten what his ringtone, or any tone really, was on his phone as it had not been off vibrate since the day he got it.

“I just wanted to make sure you were sleeping well.<3” Grinning, Joshua took a bite of his cookie.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.” He was honestly surprised that Neku had given him his number. But in the past few weeks, they had been getting along slightly better than they had at the start. Not by much, but that wasn’t hard, as at the beginning it had been not at all.

“Thanks Joshua.” That was from Rhyme. He checked the time of the message, thinking he must have missed it, but no. It had been sent only a moment before, when his previous message to her had been over an hour ago. Huh.

That evening, after a day of window shopping instead of going to school, Joshua made his way to the now-familiar house, following the same path Neku had taken the first night they had met. The yard was getting overgrown, and the last thing he wanted to do was mow it again. Even if it was his job. He didn’t chores at home, why should he here? The flowers were getting weeds too. Sighing, he ignored the mess and continued inside.

“Josh, hey.” The entire group was seated in the living room, movies spilled out on the floor. Shiki waved at him from her spot beside the pile. Joshua hadn’t owned a physical copy of a movie in years. He had quickly switched to digital when the option became available.

“Oh everyone’s here tonight,” he stated, seeing Beat back in the corner playing a game of some sort. Rhyme must have been able to talk him into returning home after all. Either that or he was very good with people, which, from previous experience, wasn’t likely. Rhyme really did know how to deal with her brother. He was surprised she hadn’t been able to get him home herself.

“We were just talking about you.”

“Only good things I hope.”

“Of course,” Neku said sarcastically, and Joshua took the seat beside him on the couch. He didn’t say anything though, letting Joshua sit close to him. Not getting a reaction, Joshua slid closer. This time he did get a reaction. Neku gave him a slight smile, then looked back at the pile of movies Eri and Shiki were digging through. Confused and feeling his cheeks betray him, he stared down the TV stand, now embarrassed but also refusing to move because he had pride. Neku was not going to win this.

“Alright. Movie choices are these.” Eri held up two movies he could not see the titles of so he just pointed at one.

“The left one.”

“Your movie choices are as bad as your personality,” Neku said, getting a laugh from Eri.

“Neku don’t be mean, I like this movie.”

“Again, bad movie choices.”

Sadly for Neku, that argument ended with that movie getting every vote but his, meaning they watched it, and it was bad. Luckily it was bad in a funny way. Possibly on purpose, even though Joshua wasn’t quite sure about that. Still, it was a nice evening. Maybe this friend thing wasn’t so bad after all.

It was difficult though. As he sat here watching a movie amongst the group, feeling Neku’s arm behind snake its way around his shoulders, he realised he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t betray them after all. At some point he had managed to make friends despite his best efforts otherwise.

Scrapping the whole plan he ignored the arm, doing his best to not acknowledge it, and instead enjoy his night despite his plans going down the drain. Maybe just hanging out with them for the rest of a mortal life wouldn’t be so bad afterall.

#TWEWY #TWEWY Bang 2018 #The World Ends With You #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #World Ends With You

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