[ For once, Joshua is broadcasting from outside. For anyone who wishes to track him down, he's not hard to find, simply sitting in the plaza. The sound of the fountain is just faintly picked up by the journal. ]

In a place like this with so much in flux, it isn't surprising, but still manages to somehow be unexpected. Like a next door neighbor who you didn't realize was moving away until there's a truck outside loaded up with boxes. It was just a part of the setting that you always expected to be there.

I suppose it's reasonable. When the last resident of a house leaves, everything that the entire group had goes with them. After all, the Malnosso don't seem fond of leaving loose ends around here. What's the difference between a room and an entire building?

Though I should probably make the announcement that it likely now falls on me to make. If you knew of a boy who called himself Beat, he appears to be no longer in Luceti.

[ And with him, the last piece of home Joshua had vanishes into thin air.

One thing that Joshua doesn't realize is that his death penalty is temporarily gone, so if anyone feels like showing up and making some music around him, it would probably freak him out quite a bit. ]

[ After some mistletoe-induced spilling of truths he'd rather have kept to himself, Joshua has paused his mischief making to ask his traditional new years slash birthday question to the village. ]

Do you think you look for different qualities in the friends you have here as compared to the friends you have back in your own world?

(( Backdated to yesterday ))

[ Normally Joshua would poll the audience on his anniversary, but this year, he gets a bit distracted. You see, a collection of spray paints has shown up in the store, so Joshua is taking the opportunity to make off with all of them.

Or, trying to. His bag sort of breaks, so at some point between the store and 39 you might find a spray paint can rolling towards you with a Joshua chasing after it. ]

Grab that for me...!

[ Alternatively later in the day you can find him adding another mural to the back of his house to accompany the ones to either side. As it slowly takes shape it reveals itself as a cityscape, viewed from a very high angle.

Four years. What he wouldn't give to be home right now... ]

[ Another year has passed. Funny enough, doing requests for the elf kick-started Oosouji for Joshua, so for once he had it done on time. It's another empty new year in the house he once shared with the man he'd been closer to than anyone else. Another convenient excuse for a birthday. Nothing more.

He's almost convinced himself it doesn't hurt. ]

How has your time here changed you?

[ The 16th. July 16th. Six months minus one day after January 17th, one year minus one day after July 17th of the previous year, and one year and six months minus one day after the day he was made to be no longer an Angel. Hanekoma and Neku are both gone. Shiki has been here even longer than he has. Rhyme and Beat are both Players, far too fragile to rely on, far too distant to trust.

Tomorrow, he will probably die.

It's strange, in a way. He's never been afraid to die before. But he's caught up now in so much more than he was any of the previous times he was faced with death. This time, if he dies, there's no telling what will happen to Shibuya back home. And that's what he's afraid of.

This entry is public. This entry isn't anonymous. Maybe it's his way of saying goodbye for now. ]

Why are you afraid of death? Or, why aren't you afraid of death? Home, here, or both.

[ A few moments later, after drawing up a filter, he adds this to the message. ]

[ Filtered to Shiki Misaki: 100% ]

I have a favor to ask.

[ While leaving out a mug of coffee, mostly-filled, might seem to be a weird thing to do in remembrance, regardless it's what Joshua does as he goes about cleaning the downstairs floor of his house, the space previously known as Kat's Kradle.

Without any real reason to keep more than the cooking area clean, he hadn't. Dust coats many of the tables and forms sometimes-impressive piles in the corners. Today, despite the rain, Joshua has the front door of House 38 wide open, and he can occasionally be seen sweeping piles of dirt outside.

It's rather cold, but Joshua doesn't seem to mind it. At least it's keeping him from working up a sweat. It's a bit late for a new year cleaning, but at least he's getting around to it at all, right?

Every so often he takes breaks to check on his journal, which he left the following question on earlier in the day: ]

How many of you learned things here that you're not looking forward to having to learn again when you go back to your own worlds? Your own death might be the obvious one, but I mean things like, say, some truth about your world, or friends, or family as well. Anything you'll need to find out again if you forget this place.

[ The camera is covered, but Joshua is making no real effort to disguise his handwriting. He's too upset for that. ]

What should you do if you're so homesick you honestly, truly cannot stand it?

[ A few minutes later, the following is added. ]

[ Locked to Haruhi - 100% ]

The friendship club might have to wait a bit longer.

[ Joshua was used to empty space. For more years than he'd cared to count, it had been all he'd ever spent most of his time in. He didn't need friends. He didn't need companions.

Without his city, maybe he'd grown too attached to his Producer. That had to be what it was. The one bit of it all that stuck with him, even here. Even through all of it, Sanae was his one connection to what he was. To Neku, he was a friend. To Shiki, he was a bother. But to Hanekoma, he was the Composer, even here with no Shibuya to watch over. He'd said that if he ever found a way home, he'd be sure to bring Joshua with him. So was this an accident, or was that a lie?

Early Tuesday morning, a written message goes out over the journals. Joshua doesn't trust his voice right now. ]

Kat's Kradle is closed until further notice.

[ After that, he heads down the stairs, doesn't bother locking the front door, makes himself a cup of coffee, pulls a stool up to the bar, and sits. He doesn't drink the beverage. He just holds the cup in his hands and stares off into space blankly over the counter top. Not moving. Not thinking.

But there were a few things left behind, and at least one of them should be dealt with. So if the intended recipient doesn't show up at the formerly-a-cafe before the early evening, he's finally going to move and make his way to house 44, a note in his hand. ]