There is a boy, born in a Shibuyan hospital room, to two loving parents and a supportive family.

A boy with bright blue eyes and flecks of gold scattered within.

A boy who will have messy orange hair, except for one stark white streak on his left side.

A boy with two birthmarks, two circles with cracks that spiderweb out. One on his forehead and the other over his heart.

A different boy watches from the windowsill, unseen. A smile graces his lips at the sight of the baby, and Music fills the room as he laughs to himself. Parting words hang in the air, almost-heard, as he disappears.

“Silly Neku, did you really think Shibuya would let go of you that easily?”

This is how it goes:

Five children are born in Shibuya. Not all at the same time, not all the same age, but five children are born, and a shimmering figure, cloaked in glowing white, visits each child as they enter this world.

Beat, the oldest. The first to die, the first to live.

Shiki is next. Born under the sun, died with her three remaining friends by her side.

Eri, second to last, broken heart hanging on no more. Born anew, middle child of the group.

Neku. The last to die. Slipping gentle into that good night, with the whisper of words against his ear, I’ll see you again soon, my dear.

Rhyme, who followed Beat soon after in death. They’re born with stars in their eyes, and a big brother waiting for them. Born ready to greet the people they once knew.

They waited. They all did, of course they did. Departed Souls hanging in the air, to be reunited with each other. Holding hands as they take the plunge, back into the river, back into the world they belong to.

Together.

Save one. Standing to guard them, guide them, a promise on his lips: You’ll be safe. You’ll be happy. You’ll know each other, and someday, you will know me once more too.

“Come on, Neku darling,” his mother calls, smiling down at him as she holds his hand.

Sandwiched between his parents, they walk on to something cool. Or so he’s told. He doesn’t know what they plan to show him. Something about a dog? Or a statue?

Either way, his parents said it’d be cool, so it must be!

A few steps later, and they’re standing in front of Hachiko! The dog statue! Yes, that’s what it was! How could he ever forget Hachiko, the meeting place, reunions, waiting–

“Se̢e̛ ͝yǫu̧ ̀ther҉e?“̛

The burst of TV static leaves Neku clutching his head, falling to his knees. He struggles against the booming pain, the electricity against his teeth.

Hands grip him, worried voices punch through the Noise, as his parents kneel beside him and help steady him. And he’s thankful they’re there, thankful for his parents, but they’re not who he wants, who he needs–

There’s holes, deep in his heart. Dark, empty chambers, desolate wind whipping through them. Echoes of missing pieces, broken, stolen away. Chunks taken from him, people taken from him. His Soul calling out and receiving no response. Anguish no seven year old should know.

And he doesn’t know, does he? Staring out at the statue with tears pooling in his eyes…

What do these feelings mean? Why am I missing something?

A flash. A memory not his own, buried deep, burned onto his eyes, there and forgotten at the same time. An illusion.

He’s there–He’s there, tall and gangly and older, smiling. Surrounded by friends. People he should know but doesn’t. One of them glows.

The second of clarity is met with another burst of agony. Neku pulls pulls at his hair, bites his lip to hide the sounds he wants to make.

Fingers settle on his head, stroke through his hair, and the vision fades, the pain dulls.

Whispered words meet his ears. A glimpse of purple eyes, of white hair. “Rest, my dear.”

Joshua?

A flash of light fills the air.

Neku looks at the dog statue, standing hand in hand with his parents, confused. There’s fuzz in his head, puzzle pieces gone missing. His parents look confused too.

“Hey! Rhyme! Where are you runnin’ to!?” A voice calls out from behind him, and Neku pivots, scrubbing at his eyes–why was he crying?–to look for the source of the noise.

Only to come face to face with another kid, maybe a couple years younger than him.

They stick their hand out and say, “Hi! I’m Rhyme! Our hair matches, cuz we’ve both got a white stripe! Wanna be friends with me and my big bro, Beat?”

“Sure!” He smiles, and takes their hand to shake it, before looking at the other person who stops nearby. He looks closer to his own age. “I’m Neku!”

“Sorry ‘bout Rhyme, yo,” Beat says. “They just love t’ run off. Ya don’t gotta be friends if ya don’t want.”

“Hmph.” Neku crosses his arms, eyeing Beat. He looks nervous, not annoyed so Neku rolls his eyes. “Too bad. We’re friends now! All three of us!”

“More like five of us,” says one of the two girls who show up, holding hands as they trail behind. “I’m Eri, and this is Shiki!”

Shiki nods and waves. “Rhyme did the same thing to us a couple weeks ago. I think they’re trying to collect big siblings. As if Beat isn’t the biggest doting brother there is.”

Everyone else starts to laugh as Beat huffs, so Neku deems it safe to join in and laugh too.

“I just thought you all looked like good friends! And we all match with our hair and cool goldy eyes! That’s all!” they say, still laughing.

It’s at this point that Neku remembers he’s still here with his parents, when he feels his dad settle a hand on his shoulder. Neku looks up at him, a question in his eyes.

His dad just laughs, and nods. “Why don’t we head to the park? You all can play there while us adults keep watch.”

Some of the empty space starts to fill.

“So tell me, Joshua,” Rhyme says, looking at him from their seat at a WildKat booth as he walks in. “Why don’t the others know yet?”

“First off,” he says, settling down across from them, “I don’t think five year olds should be drinking coffee, so that’s mine now.” He takes the cup and drinks, much to their annoyance. “Secondly, do your parents know you’re here?”

They shrug. “They trust Mr. Hanekoma to keep me from getting into trouble.”

That gets him to laugh. “A foolish notion, he just gave you a large.”

“I am a very persuasive child. And you are dodging the question.”

He takes another sip of their coffee while they stare and cross their arms. If they weren’t waiting for answers, they’d go make Mr. H give them more.

“It’d be cruel,” he says finally, “to force their memories to return. It’ll happen naturally, eventually… If it’s meant to happen at all. Yours didn’t come back peacefully, did they?”

Staring out into space–static in their brain. Static–. A car. A shark. A squirrel.

Static.

Needles dragging them to the grave.

Beat but not.

Others?

Static.

A scream escapes their throat, tears its way free, as they fall to the ground, memories pounding in their skull like footsteps on the pavement of the Scramble.

Beat is by their side–but no, he’s dead–but he’s there. Holding them tight, running fingers through their hair.

Tears streak down their cheeks, as seventy-five years of boiling memories pour across their Soul, scalding, burning them to the core.

Static.

They don’t speak for three weeks. Surrounded by animals the others can’t see. Noise flocking to their pain, except not feeding, not taking the negativity. Recognizing them as one of their own.

The first words that break the silence are “Can we go to Hachiko?”

The too-fresh wounds on their Soul, their heart, and the expression they must make, must speak for them, without ever needing words to pass their lips, because Josh just nods.

“If I tried to force memories before they were ready, it’d be worse. If done poorly, there’s a chance they could die. They’ll remember when they’re ready, but I refuse to do that to them.” He sighs, and hoists himself up onto the back of the booth, feet resting on the seat.

“You could still join us! I know you can fiddle with your form, Mr. Composer,” they say, deflecting the conversation away, burying the pain.

“I’m still here,” he says, tired eyes meeting their own. Old eyes, purple far deeper than their memory can recall. The Noise fear of being near the Composer has long worn off, but his presence still prickles at the back of their mind, when they take a step back. “I never left. And I will keep watch over all of you, but it’s not my time to return yet.”

Rhyme nods, listening to his explanation. “Fine. I’ll let that be, for now. But no isolation, Mister! Come hang out with me! See the others when they get their memories back!”

That gets Josh to laugh, a spark returning to his eyes, and he nods. “Alright, alright, I get it. No hiding away from everyone or Rhyme’ll come to the penthouse and drag me out of it by my hair.”

“You bet I will!” They grin, and reach over, swiping the coffee back and taking a huge gulp of it.

“I’m so glad I am not your actual parent right now, or I’d have to do more to stop you. Which is a task in futility, I am well aware.” With a wave of his hand, the coffee cools, and the burning in their mouth fades away.

The burning of their Soul fades too. A cool aloe salve settling over their wound. A soft tune to guide the discordant Music back to the familiar melody.

Sure, the ache of it had dulled before, no longer throbbing, demanding to be felt. But the pain was still there. The presence of the others made it fade, as it stubbornly refused to completely go away.

Rhyme slumps back in their seat, setting the coffee down and letting out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

Joshua smiles, so soft and fond. Nostalgic like the fresh bread they’d all make together. Flour ending up on shirts and in hair, dough stuck to hands and foreheads. Sunshine filtering through the windows and the smell filling the apartment.

“Of course,” he replies. “Pain is not allowed to touch you while I’m around.”

By the time the conversation ends, Rhyme has a new necklace. A white feather, dangling from a silver string.

Parents talk, of course.

It’s odd, they all agree, how fast their children became friends, but ah well, kids will do what they do. It’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened.

Rhyme’s three-week silence was weirder, but that happened before this.

(They were a case of their own.

Staring off into space is normal. Speaking and giving advice like an adult is not, no matter how many books they’ve read by five. Books far beyond their reading level.)

The fact that all five kids have a matching white lock of white hair mixed in with their natural color is strange. As is the fact that they all have flecks of gold in their eyes.

But the icing on this cake of weird is the luck.

Children get sick, that’s what they do. Children get into danger, and scrape their knees or break their bones. Or they get lost. Children do dumb and stupid things and learn the consequences. Even parents with the eyes of a hawk can’t protect them all the time.

But.

When their children go missing, and they all panic, it’s for nothing. The kids come trooping back to Neku’s house, with grins on their faces and stories to tell. Safe.

When they fall off bikes or out of trees, there’s never a broken bone, though the skin might be bruised. Miraculous safe landings occur more often than they should.

And sure, they got sick, germs spread when they all insisted on piling on top of whoever fell ill this time, but it didn’t stick. Flus shaken off in a day or two.

It’s like they all have a guardian angel.

Shiki is twelve when it happens. A weekend morning at the park, Beat and Rhyme not yet there.

Twelve year old girls, so full of fire and rage. Protectiveness and spite. Some of the most creative people in the world.

The bark of her words is not the only damage she can deal. The sting of claws, teeth meant to bite, feet and fists can bruise the skin. A rough-and-tumble girl, no fear in her heart when her friends of five years stand by her side.

So when people make fun of Beat for the way he speaks, or Neku when he bounces in place and talks about art and music for an hour, or Eri for being vain for liking fashion, they get an elbow to the face.

“And what’s up with that creep you all keep around! The know-it-all baby who acts like they’re better than everyone! Maybe you freaks wouldn’t have so much trouble being normal if you stopped bleaching part of your hair!”

“Shut! Up! What do you get from being mean? You’re just mad because you think you’re better than us! We’ll you’re not, and I think you know that already!”  She throws her hands to the side, glaring up at the older boys as the wind starts to swirl the fallen leaves around them. Picking them up, circling the group, and even if they’re all too old (or too young) to believe in magic, they know when to run.

It’s sharp. The wire buzzing under her skin, the rope she walks, careful not to fall into the unknown. Tension just beneath the surface, a shark’s fin cutting the water.

The wire snaps at the contrast. So different from the past. Surrounded by friends and family that have made her brave.

She f a l l s …

                        F̲͙̠̎̅͋̒̓̈́͌

                              Ȁ̭̳̝̗̺̠͓ͮͨ̓̉ͬ

                                     L̺̠͙͇ͤ͛ͦ̃ͧ̂̈

                                        L̤͚̫̽͛ͯ̈̌̔ͅ

                                           S͎̝̻̺͎̰̃͛͑́͒̾ͅ

Plunged deep into the arctic abyss, reaching, grasping up at the glimmer of light above the surface. Back stinging from contact, struggling to pull up. Frozen heat burning as the ice clings to her skin, sinks to her bones, strands of hair already turned to frost as they sway in front of her face. Darkness closing in as the water claims her soul.

The bubbles leaving her mouth float up, though, and she uses that to orient herself, pushing, dragging her body and world-weary soul up and up and up into the sunlight.

There’s hands. Hands pulling her back up, helping her sit, and she blinks away the vision in her eyes. She’s not plunging into the oceanic depths of Shibuya’s Soul, she’s flat on the concrete, body scraped up and in pain, but it’s no more than an echo of the ache in her Soul.

“Shiki, oh my god, Shiki? Are you okay? Did they hit you, cuz if they did I’ll mess em up. Can you hear me? Do I need to call an ambulance? Your parents?” Eri is fretting at her side, holding her steady, as Neku talks on his phone. No doubt already explaining to her parents what happened.

They’re both so young. So tiny and fragile. Age rests in her bones, as she looks at her friends with weary eyes.

Except–That’s not right. She’s just as old-young as the rest of them.

“I’m–I’ll be fine,” she says. And her voice feels wrong. So high pitched and scratchy. Different from before. “I just wanna go home and sleep.”

Neku hangs up and walks closer, putting an arm around her, as Eri takes the other side. With their help, she stands, and the world only spins a little bit.

“Your parents are on the way, too. We’re going to meet up with them,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay? That was a bad fall.”

Shiki shakes her head, and then freezes, a wave of nausea hitting as she does that. So she focuses on Neku, taking in his unruly spiky hair, no hair gel needed right now. His depressive emo phase hasn’t hit this time, and she hopes it never will. It won’t, if she has anything to say about it. Blue eyes so light and full of concern, but not of pain. Not of age weighing him down.

“I’m okay,” she says. “I’m gonna bruise, but I don’t think I’m concussed. Just… Tripped over my own feet and took a bad fall.”

And that’s that. They both take her at her word, and carry on until they meet up with her parents. She manages to convince them not to take her to the hospital, just to take her home.

Even more impressively, she manages to get Eri and Neku to leave her alone, gets them to go back to the park, to play without her as she crawls into bed and rests.

(She’s older than her parents, even if this body isn’t. She knows things they never will.

Shiki knows how it feels to die. Twice. The energy buzzing under your skin as you fight to regain life.

Dying the second time and knowing this is it. Because Death is sitting at your bedside, holding your hand as the sweet darkness closes in. As your Music unravels into the city that holds your Soul.

Knows the soft ache as your Music cries out for lost loved ones and receives no response. Knows it must’ve been worse for Eri and Neku.

Shiki also knows why their parents think they all have a guardian angel.

Oh, he must’ve hated it when they first called him that.)

In the darkness of her bedroom, in the heart of Shibuya, she is safe.

Safe enough to close her eyes. To rest, until she uses her voice and the silence breaks.

“Joshua, I know you’re here.”

“This is Shibuya, I’m everywhere,” Joshua says, voice old and soft, an ache buried beneath the familiar smirk.

Shiki laughs, and sits up. He looks the same as all those years ago, when she first met him. Small and 15 years old, bigger than she is now but so much less than the last time she saw him. Josh aged with them all, on the surface, maybe to keep them from being weirded out, or maybe to feel like he belonged, she doesn’t know. Neku probably would.

“I suppose I should be thanking my guardian angel, though, because I don’t have a concussion?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

That gets him to scowl. “Of all the things to call me! An Angel I am not! But…” He looks at her again, and softens, smiling. “Yeah. I did my best to keep you little miscreants out of trouble.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

Reaching out, Shiki tugs him closer, pulls him down and under the blankets too, so she can flop across his lap. In this life, with all her friends and family, she’s not touch-starved by any means, but the comfort of having him here is nice, as he runs his hand through her hair, and… It’s been years for him, watching from the sidelines.

“Tsk tsk, what would your parents say, Miss Shiki?” Josh grins. “If they catch me in here, a 15 year old boy snuggled up in your bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she says, “cuz you won’t be letting them catch you.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” She can hear the smile in his voice, even without looking. “Get some rest, Shiki. You’re still in pain, and the memories aren’t fully slotted in yet. But I’m here, I’ll help with this.”

She nods, weariness sinking into her as he speaks, and that must be some bullshit magic, but whatever. He’s allowed to do that, it’s been ages since she had an issue with casual use if it helped.

Shiki never could quite hear the Music the way some of the others could, and her UG sight was always blurry, but… She could feel the threads. A seamstress has to know the way things are sewn together, and those bonds? She could sense those.

Even without her memories, those bonds ached, reaching for memories and people that weren’t there. Or those that might’ve been there, but obscured. No understanding of what she felt when she tried to pluck them, or follow them. No knowledge of the hair-pulling pain she felt.

Not until now, curled up against Joshua’s chest, listening to the drumbeat of Shibuya. Senses unexplored blooming back, and she knows these ropes.

Shiki had lost her life, lost her home, and it’s still not all back, but she knows where all the pieces are. She knows they’ll all return.

It just might take some time.

When Shiki wakes, the roaring migraine has settled into a minor headache, and Joshua is gone. The only sign he was ever there is a necklace, one white feather dangling from its cord.

But there’s someone else in his place, sitting in a chair by her bed.

“Rhyme?”

Shiki’s voice cracks, dry throat begging for water, but Rhyme perks up and grins, looking away from their journal to hand a cup to her.

“Shiki!” they clap their hands together. “I’m glad you’re okay! I was worried, you know? I heard about what happened, with you suddenly passing out! So today we all came over–the others are outside–and we’ve all been taking turns keeping watch!”

Shiki drinks, and sets the cup down, raising an eyebrow. “Everyone else is over? You all… Didn’t need to be that concerned. I’m fine!”

“Yeah, I know!” They shut their journal, and lean forward. “It’s only been a day, so I gotta say, you’re handling this waaay better than I did, like five years ago. I wasn’t ready to leave my room for like, three weeks.”

Rhyme’s energetic, rapid-fire talk never ceases to amaze her, but it’s a struggle to keep up right now, dazed as she is. “Handling… what?”

Rhyme frowns, looking Shiki up and down. “What I thought this was. I’m gonna be sad if I’m wrong, actually. Tell me, does the name Joshua mean anything to you?”

And oh– The shock in her eyes must give her away, because Rhyme lets out a sigh of relief. “Cool, awesome, I’m not alone anymore. Not that… Not that I was ever totally alone. I mean, Mr. Hanekoma and Josh are both cool, but I was the only one of us with memories, and it was soooo frustrating!”

“When did you…”

“Five years ago, just before we met,” Rhyme says. “I hunted everyone down, it wasn’t just the similar hair. Though that made it easier.”

Shiki nods, glancing around at her room. She spots one of her sewing projects, and picks it up, working while they talk, so she has something to do with her hands.

“It must not’ve been fun, getting all those memories while so alone,” she says, looking at the small squirrel she’s sewing. Pink, Noise-y. A choice she made without knowing, before. It was going to be a gift for Rhyme.

“Yeah,” they sigh, deflating. “Like I said, three weeks. I didn’t talk, didn’t leave my room, didn’t do anything. The first words I spoke were can we go to Hachiko? They were all so happy I was doing better that they took me. And then I found you.”

She smiles. “You did. I’m glad you did, Rhyme. You found all of us.”

“I did, and… That helped, it really did,” they say. “It hurt though. It felt like someone had poured boiling water on my Soul, and the only thing that helped me deal with the pain was keeping you all close.”

The words make Shiki wince, though that might be the slip of the needle poking at her skin. “I wish I could’ve been there for you more.”

“It’s okay! I’m better now. Joshua eased the pain.”

Josh.

Shiki sits up straighter, and nods. “He–he visited me. He did that for me too, I think. Because I’m not in much pain.”

“He visited you?” they ask, reaching out a hand to help steady her.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “Let me tug him around, and I got to fall asleep on top of him. It was nice. Like those times we all just turned into one big pile of people together.”

Rhyme gasps, faking shock. “And you didn’t invite me?”

“Take that up with Josh! He’s the one who knew you remembered. And also the one who wasn’t dying of a migraine.” Shiki laughs, and offers a hand to Rhyme. “But you’re welcome to join me now.”

Rhyme takes it, and she pulls them up onto the bed. They smile, and curl up against Shiki’s side, while she slings an arm around them.

“You know, the others are gonna come back soon for the shift switch, to check in on you, and they’re gonna get super jealous.”

“Who says they’re not invited to join us?”

“Your bed’s weight limit.”

Shiki snorts. “As if the laws of physics apply to us.”

They both laugh, and the bonds holding them together strengthen. Threads of Music finding one less response to search for, one less empty echo of the past.

When the door next opens, and the others find Shiki awake, there’s a mad dash. Shouts fill the air as they catapult themselves onto the mattress.

Shiki is right, and the bed doesn’t break. She thinks a small thank you to Joshua for that.

In the end, Rhyme has settled on top of her, with Beat to her right, Eri to her left against the wall, and Neku sprawled out across their legs.

They all have their various projects with them. Shiki and her sewing, Eri and Neku with their sketchpads (one for designs and one for art, still following their passions even now), Rhyme with a notebook for writing, and Beat with a video game. Brought along in case she wanted quiet company.

They know each other so well.

Even without memories of times just like this, they follow their heart and fall into the same patterns as before.

And if it feels like there’s a wing wrapped around her, or fingers carding through her hair, well.

Josh knows these patterns too, and falls into them like they all do.

For Beat, it happens when he’s 15, just a few days after his birthday.

It happens not out of imagination, or anger, but fear.

Terror gripping his heart in a steel vice as he watches. A car swerving around a turn far too fast, as Rhyme crosses the street.

Feet pound the pavement as he sprints forward, futile even in all his efforts to try and beat a speeding car.

A scene plays out before his eyes. Jumping in front of Rhyme, trying to save them. Getting killed right along with them, nothing but paste on pavement.

A flash of white, and different scene happens instead.

Rhyme yells, and jumps back, slamming into Beat. Neither of them fall, neither get crushed by tires and metal. Instead, they make it back to the sidewalk, and terror shakes in his limbs.

“Rhyme! Be careful!” he says, voice on the edge of tipping into a forest-fire panic. ”I dunno what I would’a done if I lost ya like that again!”

Rhyme, always calm, even in the face of death, flinches. Eyebrows scrunch together, as they look up at him.

“Beat… What do you mean, again? When did I get hit by a car?” they ask, calm. Even, despite the near-miss.

“I– You– When our parents were mad– We– We died?”

He stumbles, falling to the concrete sidewalk as pain roars in his head. There’s something missing. An incomplete deck of cards, a lost puzzle piece.

Except the ace has been found. The puzzle is complete, as the picture slots together.

He vomits. It feels like he’s been hit by that car again. Or maybe by one of Minamimoto’s attacks, and fuck is that dude still around too? Kariya’s definitely ruffled his hair a couple times.

It’s information overload, as over seventy years of life rush back into his brain, pushing at his skull. A torrent of rain flooding the pavement. But Rhyme, always by his side, is there, a steady anchor in the storm.

They hold him up, and help him walk as he stumbles forward. His little sibling, they’d watched him die again. Sat at his deathbed as life faded from him. No doubt confused by the unknown memories tormenting their brother. Scared out of their mind from this turn of events.

“Beat? Beat breathe!” he hears them say, and that helps him focus, but it’s like someone’s shoved his own skateboard through his head.

“Oh, fuck this,” they mutter, and if he could operate his mouth, he’d scold them for their language. But what they shout next makes it hard to focus on anything at all besides the shock.

“Joshua!” they call out, loud and clear. “Get the hell over here and help!”

A flurry of feathers, and then there’s a hand on his back. Soft and steady, as the pain leaks away, flowing out of his body.

“Better?” asks a voice that’s oh so familiar, on the edge of his consciousness. Lilting its way back into his life–his new life. Second–no, third chance at this world.

He blinks, and they’re in a room. His room, except not.

A room he hasn’t seen once these past 15 years, but it’s one he knows in his heart. One he now knows in his brain, too, as he collapses onto the well-worn bed.

“I’ll get you home in a bit, when this subsides. Rhyme, you can tell your parents that you’re spending the night at Shiki’s, yeah?” They must nod, because that’s the end of that discussion. He closes his eyes, trusting these two members of his family to watch out for him.

The next thing Beat knows, he’s warm. A heavy weight on top of him, and more at either side. He must’ve fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes, the sun has shifted, morning light filtering in through the window.

There’s also three extra people crowded on this bed.

Shiki is using his shoulder as a pillow, one arm sprawled across his chest, and Rhyme is passed out on top of him.

The third has wings curled around them all, and is leaning against his other side.

Josh smiles, opening his eyes as he senses Beat wake up. No doubt he was tuned to Shibuya, Composing his–their–city until just now. He looks the same as the day they first met, young and 15 again.

This time Beat knows it’s a lie. But he also knows he doesn’t look his age either, anymore.

“As you can see, they were both very concerned for your wellbeing,” Joshua says. “I mean, I was too, but I knew you’d be fine.”

Beat snorts, but doesn’t move. “Thanks, for whatever ya did. My head’s a lot clearer now, thanks’ta you no doubt.”

“Of course.” There’s a light, fond tone there, and Beat knows he wouldn’t recognize it if it hadn’t been for the fifty years he spent living in the same space as him.

It’s nice to hear that tone again.

“So… Rhyme and Shiki…” His head still hurts, distant pain compared to the cracked-head-against-the-pavement feel he had earlier.

“They’ve both remembered already. That’s why they’re the ones here. The others haven’t yet, but they will.”

He nods, and uncurls his arms from around Rhyme (it’s where they always end up, when he falls asleep with them, in both lives now). “It was when… When they collapsed, ain’t it? Rhyme, back when they was five, an’ Shiki like three years ago, yea?”

“Mhm, spot on. Bravo.” He grins. “That’s how Rhyme knew what was going on, and why they called me. I’m glad they did, really. I’ve been trying to keep the pain you all go through to a minimum.”

Beat leans into the touch as Josh pets his hair, and if this were anyone outside his circle of friends, maybe he’d blush. “Guardian Angel, huh?”

Josh snorts, rolling his eyes. “I swear, all of you are going to be teasing me about that. But yeah, I guess.” He softens again. “None of you deserve to endure more hurt than you’ve felt already. I think you’ve had quite enough of that.”

“Yo, thanks man, really. Ya saved us from that car ‘gain, didn’t you?”

For a second, the only noise is the sound of breathing from three of them, two fast asleep. The echo of his own wings hangs heavy on Beat’s back in the silence. None of them escaped the UG, not really, not in that life. And in this one, with their memories and Josh around, it looks like they might get pulled back in again.

Beat finds he doesn’t care, as long as they’re all together.

In the end, Joshua nods, and takes out a necklace. Simple, one single feather. As he strings it around his neck, he says, “The Game would take you, but you don’t need it. You all already shine, there’s no need for you to face it again. I want you all to be happy. With one last life for you all, if that’s what it takes.”

Eri worries about her friends. There’s a pit of unease that sits in her stomach as she watches them, listens in.

At first, she wasn’t concerned. Sure Rhyme has always been a bit off, but that’s just Rhyme!

But then it spread.

Shiki (wonderful, beautiful Shiki), passed out. And came back different. She’d thought Shiki had just been freaked out by the event, Eri sure was, but no… Something else happened then, and Eri didn’t know what, but Rhyme did.

Still, she lets it rest (even when Beat falls into the same oddness). For a little while, at least.

Curiosity is a dangerous thing.

This is how it goes: Eri is 16, and Shiki is chilling with her in her room. Eri sprawled out on her stomach, across her bed and Shiki’s lap. She’s working on some designs, doodling across her homework instead of doing the dreaded math. Shiki, meanwhile, has given up entirely on said homework, and is stitching together a soft lavender dress, with white feathers embroidered along the edges.

But questions weigh on Eri’s mind.

“Hey Shiki, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

She can feel Shiki tense under her, even as she says, “Of course, why do you ask?”

“Because, I know something’s up. You and Rhyme and Beat all have a secret.” She sighs, and pulls herself in, to sit up and look at Shiki properly.

Shiki’s eyes meet hers, and Eri can see the war waged inside. Conflict in the crash of waves against the cliff, beating away at her resolve. But Eri knows, feels it in her bones that she can’t push too hard, or the whole thing will come falling down.

Dealing that sort of damage isn’t in Eri’s plans. It’s what she hopes to avoid. But these same burning questions are eating away at herself, too. And maybe if she knew, they’d be stronger as two.

“I’m sorry, Eri, but I can’t tell you,” Shiki says, breaking the silence hanging in the air.

“Why not?” It comes out much more petulant than she expected.

A fond smile crosses Shiki’s face. “You’ll find out in time, alright? Just, trust me when I say it’s nothing bad. It’s actually very good. Most of it, at least.”

“Well, alright. But me and Neku are both worried. We’ve talked, you know?” she says. “You’re all important to us, you’re important to me, Shiki.”

This is how it happens.

Eri blushes at her statement, and Shiki grins, leaning in.

Fireworks don’t go off in the background, sparks don’t fly. This isn’t a movie. True love’s first kiss doesn’t change the whole world.

But for Eri, it does change hers.

There’s no air in her lungs. Her brain is a rubber band, stretched thin, trying to hold all the information that’s been shoved in. At risk of snapping, falling apart and into the abyss, into the weightless world around her. Gravity pulls from all sides, tugging at the strings binding Eri to the mortal coil.

Shiki is solid, though. The focal point in this overload. Shiki is real, and solid, and here. As atomic collision rearranges her brain, she clings to Shiki, pulls her closer, an anchor to keep her from joining the clouds in the sky.

A flare of heat burns against her chest as the feather necklace Shiki has been wearing for four years glows. As the white light pulses through the room, through them both, a wave of exhaustion hits Eri, and lulls her into the land of dreams.

Emerging from sleep is another matter altogether. A soft haze has settled over her, cotton around her brain. She’s warm, she’s safe. Shiki is still here, she can tell.

Memories make jumbled, distorted dreams, as they try to all play out at once, but the cloud keeps her from processing this yet, letting her past life slot into place in her timeline.

There’s voices, just above the surface, muffled but understandable.

“Did you really have to knock her out like that?” Shiki says, disgruntled, and oh, her voice is still so nice to hear, even in this life.

The other voice, one that is soft, like remembering the stories you made with friends out of cloudspun pictures, speaks. “If I hadn’t, she would have been in much more pain. I doubt your makeout session would’ve lasted much longer, anyway,” he says with a laugh, bright wisps of air curling around his words in Eri’s mind.

“Wasn’t like tha’,” Eri mumbles, exerting the herculean effort of lifting her eyelids, clearing her vision of the fog dulling the world.

Eri finds herself wrapped in Shiki’s arms, using her as a pillow. They must’ve tilted over together when she passed out.

She also finds Joshua sitting, perched on the edge of the bed, with a grin on his face. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. I see true love’s kiss has cured you of the dreaded amnesia. The power of love prevails once agai–oof.”

He’s cut off when a laughing Eri kicks him off the bed. “If that’s all that’s needed, then go kiss Neku, nerd. Or else I will for ya! He’s the last, right?”

A pillow Joshua’s hands never touched hits her face, but that’s fair retribution, so she swats it away, before sitting up. Josh’s face is red, but he’s laughing too. “Hey, that’s my boy to woo! You’ve already got Shiki!”

Shiki takes the time to sit up, and pulls Eri close. She appreciates it, really, because without the fog, her head hurts. Nowhere near as bad as before she was forced to nap, but it’s still annoying. “It’s not like Joshy-boy here is gonna even attempt to woo our Neku. He’s waiting for the memories to return and do the work for him.”

Eri sighs, pulling the blanket over herself and Shiki. “That is a question I have, why wait? You could’ve found a way to hop right on into this group, I’m sure of it.”

The smile on Josh’s face slides down a few notches, more subdued, grey settling into the clouds. “I can’t… I’m Composer still, you know. My very presence is risky to those still without memories. Being forced to remember could do permanent damage, and that’s not something I’d wish on any of you.”

“Mm, this isn’t that bad right now, though? I feel fine, ‘sides a bit of a headache,” Eri replies, eyeing him. No doubt Shiki’s already done this, but Eri needs to hear his reasons too. She knows him, knows his tendency to run away rather than face the difficult things. Sure he got better about it, but it still took him half a year to see Neku, and another half before meeting any of the others.

“Shiki’s got one of my feathers right now, like how I gave you all one before. I’m sure you felt it, because it’s meant to protect. There’s not enough essence in it to trigger memories, but it is part of how I noticed so fast when you went out too.” He hops back onto the bed, sitting on Eri’s other side, sandwiching her in. “It kept the backlash to a minimum.”

As he says that, he takes another necklace out from thin air (Eri figures he’s had this prepped for ages back in the Room of Reckoning, or maybe the apartment, assuming he kept it–and who is she kidding, he totally kept it). With a swift motion, he hangs the feather around her neck, and the warmth settles on her skin.

“There,” Joshua says, so gentle, and yet there’s the threat of lightning that any cloud brings, thunder hiding just below the surface of soft, pretty things, “to keep you safe. If that isn’t enough to save you from whatever danger, then I’ll be there, and it’ll have to face me.”

There are very few things that scare Eri in this world. Maybe she should be more afraid, but having a city-god guardian tends to make one feel invincible.

But standing on the other end of Joshua’s protective wrath?

She’s glad she’ll never have to fill that spot. For her, his wings are a shield, not a symbol of impending doom.

On a beautiful day, the anniversary of Neku’s first death, a day like any other, 18 year old Neku wakes up with a headache.

(No, not that kind of headache. It’s not quite time for that.

But it will be. Soon.)

He dons his new pair of headphones. A pair he found sitting outside his apartment when his parents were on vacation, with a note addressed to him, just two weeks ago. CAT exclusives. Mint condition. They must be almost a century old, but Neku swears they work better than anything he could get these days.

Besides, there’s something familiar in the weight, resting on his head, or against his neck. A long-lost piece of life slotting back into place.

Or maybe he’s just a sleep deprived teen. He needs some mystery to spruce up this life. People’s reactions to his eyes and hair has gotten boring, especially since he doesn’t know the true answer himself.

Maybe he wants to know why Eri’s joined in on the secrets club, leaving him as the odd one out. No white feather hanging from his neck.

Maybe it’s getting to him. The apologies wearing thin.

So if he decides to take a walk down to the Udagawa backstreets alone, music blasting, really, who can blame him?

Well, the robber with a gun against Neku’s head in front of the old CAT mural would probably blame him. But he doesn’t count.

Terror climbs up his spine like a swarm of spiders, molten lead weighing down his limbs before the bullet’s even hit. It’s cold against his forehead, as he stares into the eyes of this man, knowing without a doubt that he could end up dead.

The robber removes his headphones, and Neku holds still. One wrong move and he’ll be g o n e.

The worst part of this isn’t the terror, or the loss. No.

It’s the familiarity.

He’s always been scared of guns. Fear clogging up his lungs at the sight of one. Hiding from fireworks that sound like gunshots ringing out.

Words are being said, orders, but Neku has turned to ice, unable to close his eyes to hide away from this reality, unable to move, unable to think as the gun stares back at him.

He has two thoughts. The first is: This is it, this is how it ends.

The second: What’s one more bullet meant to do, when I’ve already taken two?

A shot rings out.

A deafening crack echoes through the air, and Neku falls back onto the concrete street.

The robber crumples to the ground in front of him, as the smell of ozone sears his nose.

But not the smell of blood. There’s no pain blinding him, no hole in his head.

Neku’s not dead.

His vision splits, and so does his head, a tectonic rift jumping two halves of one whole out of alignment. Lightning strikes, spider-webbing through his vision, the after-images burned into his eyes.

There’s someone else standing nearby, a cloud of white hair and sharp, violet eyes, staring on in concern, one arm outstretched. And Neku knows, deep in his Soul, that he should not be seeing this person while still alive, but the mirage is a welcome sight.

He knows this person. Familiar like the words to an old song, one you used to know by heart, returning to you as you once again hear the tune.

“J–Joshua…?” he manages to get the name past the charred lump in his throat, as the world blurs, webs of darkness creeping over his eyes.

The last thing Neku knows is two gentle hands lifting him, and soft arms to rest in.

Neku Sakuraba opens his eyes, and finds a feather hanging from his neck, and five smiling friends crowded around his bed.

This is how the story goes:

Five people, five sixths of a family, die.

But they’re born anew.

Born into a kind and caring world. Looked after by the sixth. Led through life until the time for their memories to return came.

Once all the missing pieces were found, put back into the right place, and the picture became clear, the sixth joined the group of five.

Laughter rings out from the apartment, pillow fights and movie nights and crashing together on the couch as the sun comes up.

The family decides then:

Let this cycle repeat.

Let none of us be left alone.

Let’s move forward, but not forget the echoes of the past which have led us here.

Let us be together.