The World Ends With You, "Inquisition" (Hanekoma+Joshua)
Hanekoma's innocent act doesn't fool Joshua. He has contemplated his options and done his research and now he's ready. The only thing left to do is the hardest thing: communicate.
Contains Joshua+Hanekoma interaction, post-game complete with spoilers and headcanons and all that good stuff. Angst, woobie sociopaths, and people being unrepentant about bad behavior. In response to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oneill's lovely prompt on ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly, "Joshua and Hanekoma, what we've got here is failure to communicate." He might not have been expecting quite this take on it.
.inquisition.
"I worry that perhaps I was unapproachable, as a Composer," Joshua said, tapping fingers to his lips as he paced. "Obviously, you felt that you couldn't come to me with your concerns. Have I ever made you feel as if your opinion isn't important?" He paused, just barely long enough for an answer, before adding himself, "Oh-- I forgot. My opinion is the only one that's important."
Hanekoma said nothing. His lips were drawn and unhappy, and he was not looking at Joshua. The silence was uncharacteristic, from him. Usually he was quick to give back as good as he got when Joshua poked and prodded at him; he deflected and demurred and brushed away personal concerns with all the ease and grace of an intricate ballet.
Joshua turned around, tucking his arms around himself, and controlled his irritation. "We actually appear to have taken a few steps backward," he observed. "We've gone from merely hiding our true thoughts to not speaking at all. Do you see how this isn't progress, dear?"
After a long beat, the other man shifted, his dark eyes tired when they met Joshua's. "What do you want me to say?" he asked. His voice was hoarse.
"An apology would be nice," Joshua said thinly.
He counted the seconds; six, seven, eight, before Hanekoma said, heavily, "There are no words to express how sorry I am, Josh."
"Sweet. Very sweet. And convenient." He spun on his heel and stalked to the far wall.
"It's the truth."
"I'm sure it is. You deal in truths, don't you, Sanae?" Joshua's lips thinned at the wall. "When it's convenient for you."
Hanekoma was silent again, accepting the truth of that, or too guilty to argue it. Every word he said and every word he didn't say only contributed to Joshua's agitation, but he reined it in. He didn't want Hanekoma to see it.
He was proud of the way his voice was cold and unyielding as ice when he spoke again, a vicious, "Isn't it funny how a 'sorry' you barely even voice doesn't outweigh weeks of cold-blooded, purposeful betrayal? Sorry didn't keep you from plotting to kill me."
"Minamimoto never had that power," Hanekoma said, immediately, his head shaking.
"Ah, I see. Unleashing a powerless killer on me was just part of your master plan to kill Neku. I wonder how he would feel about that," Joshua mused exaggeratedly.
Though if he were being honest with himself, he knew -- they both knew, probably -- that it would not change Neku's feelings. Neku had already gone through a [hilarious] period of assuming that Hanekoma was the Composer, that Hanekoma had done all of that to him, and as betrayed as he had felt, he had not regressed and slipped back into his old, self-destructive ways. That Neku still had mercy in his heart for Joshua, whose actions against him had been largely selfish and destructive, meant that he would probably have even more forgiveness for Hanekoma, whose actions had been to prevent millions of deaths.
The problem, of course, was how he had prevented it.
"You were both saved, and the city continues," Hanekoma said, hushed. "That's all that matters."
"Is it?"
If anything, that made him angrier. Joshua made himself laugh, loosening the tension in his shoulders, and drifted back around the room lazily.
"Because... It seems to me like all of us might have been saved if someone had only told me his opinion about the matter when I mentioned to him the little bet that I had with my Conductor."
"Would you have listened?" Hanekoma murmured.
"Maybe." He let the ice creep back into his tone again. "In all our years of working together, I've never heard you express so much as a color preference or a favorite food. I might have fainted dead away if you'd stated an opinion about anything at all!"
Joshua was watching closely, and something flickered behind Hanekoma's eyes. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, but never, ever when he had the edge: never when he knew, for certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Hanekoma had opinions, and opinions that he cared about deeply enough to sacrifice everything for them.
It was impossible to say now whether he would have listened to Hanekoma's words or not. Obviously he would like to think he would have; the better to spite him with. But he couldn't say for certain. Even now, Hanekoma was being recalcitrant, avoiding giving away the reasons why in his opinion it would have been wrong to reset Shibuya. He was the only one who had the big-picture perspective to recognize the damage it had been causing in the first place, and even now he just fell quiet instead of voicing his thoughts... giving Joshua the same empty silence as at the beginning of the bet, as every time he had to make a choice. The silence that forced Joshua to come to his own decisions, without contribution, without feedback.
Perfect free will, his own inner world undisturbed; and yet, he felt oppressed by it.
But he did feel that he would have understood it if Hanekoma had broken the rules to argue against something important to him, and that he would have understood it if Joshua had chosen to stay his course and Hanekoma had felt the need to betray him after his words had not been heeded.
Hanekoma only said, "I couldn't."
"Why? Because it was against the rules?" Joshua tossed his hair back. "Isn't plotting to undermine the Composer also against the rules, dear?"
Hanekoma said nothing, but it didn't matter, not this time, not when Joshua had finally spoken aloud the heart of his frustration. Momentum kept him going, and the words kept coming.
"You had a choice between breaking the rules by telling me what you really thought, and breaking the rules by acting against me, and you chose to turn against me." A tremor ran through him, and Joshua demanded, "Why? Did you have so little faith in me? Think that I was so irrational that I wouldn't consider your opinion? Did you think I was stupid, that I wouldn't find out?"
He thought he saw Hanekoma's breathing quicken, but maybe it was a trick of his imagination, maybe it was his own quickened breathing that he was projecting onto the other man. Maybe he wanted to see Hanekoma in a distress equal to his own, to imagine that he was hurting as Joshua was hurting.
"A guy can hope," Hanekoma whispered.
And now he was offended, too. Joshua repeated, "You hoped that I wouldn't put it together. You really do think I'm an idiot."
Hanekoma closed his eyes, leaning back so that his head rested against the wall. "I knew that you would. But I thought -- if you didn't... that maybe by the time I was replaced, it wouldn't hurt you so much."
"You think I'm hurt?" Joshua said, with all the withering intonation he could manage. "Try angry, Sanae. Angry."
He had to at least try to deflect the damage, although Hanekoma failed to react, and he had no way of knowing if the words had any impact on him.
Fine, he thought, drawing himself up to his full height.
"Angry that the only person in this city whose opinion could possibly have informed mine felt that talking to me was such a fruitless endeavor that he'd have better luck stabbing me in the back." Joshua brushed his hair back again, and headed for the door. "Think about that, for a while. Maybe you'll find the words for a better apology while you're in here."
That caught Hankeoma's attention, and he straightened, lifting his hands instinctively and making a chaotic clatter as his chains rattled against the stone. "You can't keep me here," he said.
"Can't I?" Joshua asked, a thin curl of amusement in his voice. The runed chains and the spell circle appeared to be doing quite a good job of evening out Hanekoma's an Angelic vibe. He had done his research -- research that had started almost from the moment his last Game ended.
"They'll come for me. You can't stand in their way."
Joshua lifted his eyebrows. "I don't see why I should let them have you. I'm the wronged party, here."
Hanekoma urged him, growing almost visibly upset, "The whole system has been wronged. They will insist on justice. You don't know what they'll do to you if you hide me away!"
A pretty plea. His desperation was almost enough to make Joshua forget the way Hanekoma had betrayed him, hurt him, in the name of saving him.
"Let them come," he said, calmly. "Some of us don't give up so easily, dear."
He let the door swing shut behind him, and prepared for his new Game.
Contains Joshua+Hanekoma interaction, post-game complete with spoilers and headcanons and all that good stuff. Angst, woobie sociopaths, and people being unrepentant about bad behavior. In response to
oneill's lovely prompt on fic_promptly, "Joshua and Hanekoma, what we've got here is failure to communicate." He might not have been expecting quite this take on it..inquisition.
"I worry that perhaps I was unapproachable, as a Composer," Joshua said, tapping fingers to his lips as he paced. "Obviously, you felt that you couldn't come to me with your concerns. Have I ever made you feel as if your opinion isn't important?" He paused, just barely long enough for an answer, before adding himself, "Oh-- I forgot. My opinion is the only one that's important."
Hanekoma said nothing. His lips were drawn and unhappy, and he was not looking at Joshua. The silence was uncharacteristic, from him. Usually he was quick to give back as good as he got when Joshua poked and prodded at him; he deflected and demurred and brushed away personal concerns with all the ease and grace of an intricate ballet.
Joshua turned around, tucking his arms around himself, and controlled his irritation. "We actually appear to have taken a few steps backward," he observed. "We've gone from merely hiding our true thoughts to not speaking at all. Do you see how this isn't progress, dear?"
After a long beat, the other man shifted, his dark eyes tired when they met Joshua's. "What do you want me to say?" he asked. His voice was hoarse.
"An apology would be nice," Joshua said thinly.
He counted the seconds; six, seven, eight, before Hanekoma said, heavily, "There are no words to express how sorry I am, Josh."
"Sweet. Very sweet. And convenient." He spun on his heel and stalked to the far wall.
"It's the truth."
"I'm sure it is. You deal in truths, don't you, Sanae?" Joshua's lips thinned at the wall. "When it's convenient for you."
Hanekoma was silent again, accepting the truth of that, or too guilty to argue it. Every word he said and every word he didn't say only contributed to Joshua's agitation, but he reined it in. He didn't want Hanekoma to see it.
He was proud of the way his voice was cold and unyielding as ice when he spoke again, a vicious, "Isn't it funny how a 'sorry' you barely even voice doesn't outweigh weeks of cold-blooded, purposeful betrayal? Sorry didn't keep you from plotting to kill me."
"Minamimoto never had that power," Hanekoma said, immediately, his head shaking.
"Ah, I see. Unleashing a powerless killer on me was just part of your master plan to kill Neku. I wonder how he would feel about that," Joshua mused exaggeratedly.
Though if he were being honest with himself, he knew -- they both knew, probably -- that it would not change Neku's feelings. Neku had already gone through a [hilarious] period of assuming that Hanekoma was the Composer, that Hanekoma had done all of that to him, and as betrayed as he had felt, he had not regressed and slipped back into his old, self-destructive ways. That Neku still had mercy in his heart for Joshua, whose actions against him had been largely selfish and destructive, meant that he would probably have even more forgiveness for Hanekoma, whose actions had been to prevent millions of deaths.
The problem, of course, was how he had prevented it.
"You were both saved, and the city continues," Hanekoma said, hushed. "That's all that matters."
"Is it?"
If anything, that made him angrier. Joshua made himself laugh, loosening the tension in his shoulders, and drifted back around the room lazily.
"Because... It seems to me like all of us might have been saved if someone had only told me his opinion about the matter when I mentioned to him the little bet that I had with my Conductor."
"Would you have listened?" Hanekoma murmured.
"Maybe." He let the ice creep back into his tone again. "In all our years of working together, I've never heard you express so much as a color preference or a favorite food. I might have fainted dead away if you'd stated an opinion about anything at all!"
Joshua was watching closely, and something flickered behind Hanekoma's eyes. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, but never, ever when he had the edge: never when he knew, for certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Hanekoma had opinions, and opinions that he cared about deeply enough to sacrifice everything for them.
It was impossible to say now whether he would have listened to Hanekoma's words or not. Obviously he would like to think he would have; the better to spite him with. But he couldn't say for certain. Even now, Hanekoma was being recalcitrant, avoiding giving away the reasons why in his opinion it would have been wrong to reset Shibuya. He was the only one who had the big-picture perspective to recognize the damage it had been causing in the first place, and even now he just fell quiet instead of voicing his thoughts... giving Joshua the same empty silence as at the beginning of the bet, as every time he had to make a choice. The silence that forced Joshua to come to his own decisions, without contribution, without feedback.
Perfect free will, his own inner world undisturbed; and yet, he felt oppressed by it.
But he did feel that he would have understood it if Hanekoma had broken the rules to argue against something important to him, and that he would have understood it if Joshua had chosen to stay his course and Hanekoma had felt the need to betray him after his words had not been heeded.
Hanekoma only said, "I couldn't."
"Why? Because it was against the rules?" Joshua tossed his hair back. "Isn't plotting to undermine the Composer also against the rules, dear?"
Hanekoma said nothing, but it didn't matter, not this time, not when Joshua had finally spoken aloud the heart of his frustration. Momentum kept him going, and the words kept coming.
"You had a choice between breaking the rules by telling me what you really thought, and breaking the rules by acting against me, and you chose to turn against me." A tremor ran through him, and Joshua demanded, "Why? Did you have so little faith in me? Think that I was so irrational that I wouldn't consider your opinion? Did you think I was stupid, that I wouldn't find out?"
He thought he saw Hanekoma's breathing quicken, but maybe it was a trick of his imagination, maybe it was his own quickened breathing that he was projecting onto the other man. Maybe he wanted to see Hanekoma in a distress equal to his own, to imagine that he was hurting as Joshua was hurting.
"A guy can hope," Hanekoma whispered.
And now he was offended, too. Joshua repeated, "You hoped that I wouldn't put it together. You really do think I'm an idiot."
Hanekoma closed his eyes, leaning back so that his head rested against the wall. "I knew that you would. But I thought -- if you didn't... that maybe by the time I was replaced, it wouldn't hurt you so much."
"You think I'm hurt?" Joshua said, with all the withering intonation he could manage. "Try angry, Sanae. Angry."
He had to at least try to deflect the damage, although Hanekoma failed to react, and he had no way of knowing if the words had any impact on him.
Fine, he thought, drawing himself up to his full height.
"Angry that the only person in this city whose opinion could possibly have informed mine felt that talking to me was such a fruitless endeavor that he'd have better luck stabbing me in the back." Joshua brushed his hair back again, and headed for the door. "Think about that, for a while. Maybe you'll find the words for a better apology while you're in here."
That caught Hankeoma's attention, and he straightened, lifting his hands instinctively and making a chaotic clatter as his chains rattled against the stone. "You can't keep me here," he said.
"Can't I?" Joshua asked, a thin curl of amusement in his voice. The runed chains and the spell circle appeared to be doing quite a good job of evening out Hanekoma's an Angelic vibe. He had done his research -- research that had started almost from the moment his last Game ended.
"They'll come for me. You can't stand in their way."
Joshua lifted his eyebrows. "I don't see why I should let them have you. I'm the wronged party, here."
Hanekoma urged him, growing almost visibly upset, "The whole system has been wronged. They will insist on justice. You don't know what they'll do to you if you hide me away!"
A pretty plea. His desperation was almost enough to make Joshua forget the way Hanekoma had betrayed him, hurt him, in the name of saving him.
"Let them come," he said, calmly. "Some of us don't give up so easily, dear."
He let the door swing shut behind him, and prepared for his new Game.