38. Abandoned

I first met him when he was twelve.
Upon seeing me, his eyes shone, the deep blue reflecting nothing but sheer joy. I reached out and pushed back his spiky orange hair – I had a feeling I would be doing that a lot. His small warm hands clasped mine tightly, a wide grin plastered on his face the whole time.
I watched as a smirk and a giggle confirmed the understanding that I was his.

For the whole week, my hands would either be caressing his hair, or resting on his shoulder. Not that he minded, of course; he would often absent-mindedly touch back in return.
By the end of the week, he stopped smiling. The smirks and giggles went away too.
I pushed back his hair in a gesture of comfort – instead of a mere touch, he grasped my hand tightly; the sheer force making his hand tremble. He slowly closed his eyes, the deep blue now choked with salty tears, and slid down his bedroom door.
I watched him cry.

Three years later, he had grown into a fine young teenager – a little on the anorexic side, but healthy nonetheless. His hair was as unruly as ever, a mark where I often push back his hair the only new addition. He was still, however, the same child I had met on that day.
Physically. He smiled a lot less, talked a lot less – and when he did, the results weren't pretty.  I had lost count of the number of times he got into a fight with his parents, the number of times friends and others were turned away. I was the only one privy to his thoughts; unhealthy, yes, but I was content to let it stay that way.
He thought a lot about his friend. The one who died in a car accident, just a week after I met him. He often blames himself for calling him over to the Udagawa tag mural, for asking him to hurry – if he hadn't, he would be still alive today. I could do nothing to convince him so otherwise, only numb away the pain with his music.
Fat lot of good that did when I watched him die.

Three weeks later, he was a new person.
He started allowing people, one by one, into his world – first it was Shiki, next was Joshua, then it was Beat and Rhyme. I was slightly jealous, but I took it all in stride. He was benefitting from it after all; who was I to prevent that?
I pushed back his hair – to my surprise, he gently took my hand.
I watched as he brought it down from his head.
I watched as he let my hand go.
I watched as he left me behind, without a backwards glance.

Joshua looked amusedly down on the ground of the Scramble Crossing, his Vibe tuned up to the UG's.
"Well... isn't this interesting."
Neku's Imagination had done far more than he was even aware of. Apparently, it was potent enough to influence his most prized possession. His CAT-designed dark blue headphones, in a span of many times less than the traditional hundred years, had become a tsukumogami.
It was a soul that was both in and out of Joshua's jurisdiction  - it was in Shibuya, yes, but if no action was taken the soul would never return to the Shibuya River to be recycled, let alone discovered. It was likely that he, she, or it had not even realised that it (Joshua settled for 'it') was a tsukumogami in the first place.
He could see, between flashes of static and white noise, a figure staring distantly after Neku. A flick of his Vibe up, and he could make out it was a girl... He could feel, somehow, the whirl of emotions inside the plastic contraption. And somewhere, inside, he supposed he could relate to them.
Joshua smirked and lowered his Vibe. He picked her up and plugged the wire into a newly materialised music player, hitting the small engraved triangle. She was originally his anyway; he just gave her to Neku.
He hoped that after three years of listening to Neku's assortment of techno and pop tracks, she would welcome his classical music.
...and Neku singing in the shower.