This one was written over the weekend to the song "Books Into Boxes" by Maximo Pork. I recommend it greatly. Also, chaptered fic alert. There will be more. I repeat, there will be more.

Anyway, if you feel at all kind or even (dare I say it) enjoyed the story, please review. It really does make my day. Which is sad. But true.

I dedicate it to Kiin, the (gen!)Watanuki to my Doumeki, and Zwip, who recently has been providing me way too much material for obsession and thus has endeared...her/himself to me.

I didn't expect you to be so…blunt about it. Going. Disappearing. Wasn't this exactly what I'd been fighting all the time I had known you? Was this hitsuzen, damning me to failure before I'd begun, making all I've striven for insignificant? So for a moment I merely stared at you, not only rendered speechless but having lost the capacity for language.

"Will you be back?" I finally asked, in what was probably the same voice I always used in your ears. But your troubled face spoke volumes more about the truth than I needed to know. The end was in sight, and it didn't matter that we would both survive. Mine was a selfish desire. For you to be safe would not suffice – you had to be safe and here, for me to be able to protect you next time. Not under Yuuko-san's surveillance alone, especially not in some unknown world. I didn't care to know what the reason was.

You cast about for an answer but seemed unable to find one. "I'll see you again," you finally settled for with a hint of resignation. "Although I bet you'll be fine as soon as you find another source of lunch. It probably won't be nearly as good as I make it, but I suppose any port in storm for a greedy jerk like you." The irritation seemed strained, but it was familiar and probably the closest I would get to an apology or goodbye. It was what I had expected.

It wasn't enough.

"Have you finished packing?" I inquired, hoping to confuse you if only momentarily. I wanted to see you in each extreme of mood once more before you left. And I succeeded – you could only blink for five seconds, after which you launched yourself into a rant about how demanding the world (namely Yuuko-san and I) was on your time, and of course you hadn't finished.

"I'll help," I told you, prepared to fight for the privelege every step of the way.

"I – what?" you replied, cut off midway through a sentence.

But I was at the door already, pulling on shoes and lifting the umbrella from its stand. "Let's go," I said. You blinked again and agreed, albeit with more ranting about orders and how I was probably just hoping for a last free meal. I wasn't – hope generally implies that there would be a possibility of the event not occurring. And it was more important that I spend the evening with you, as much time as I could. Obviously you didn't mind; why else would you have come here, out of the way from your walk home from work, if not because it mattered?

As I had suspected, it was raining as we left. You glared, but mostly at the weather, and made no move to leave the safety of my umbrella. It was a small consolation, a last time spent together. It would be worth every ounce of difficulty it caused me, every bit of hearing damage incurred. But it was only an evening, and to think it could ever equal your value was an exercise in denial and therefore pointlessness. Still, I would take what I could get. For now.

I knew that the moment I allowed myself to think about that, I would have to give up the 'for now'. And that was something I couldn't do yet.

We walked in silence. You probably didn't know what to say. I couldn't verbalise what I felt. I still couldn't really get my mind around the fact that it was ending like this, a trip out of my grasp that somehow could break every connection. My every belief in free will and my every promise to stay within reach of you was being called into question, because this was one place I suspected even I could not follow. The price would be too high – something I would not pay because it would probably end up being the very thing I wanted to save. What could I possibly say to that?

I didn't say anything, When we arrived at your flat I lost my desire to do so. It was filled with boxes in a highly advanced form of organised chaos, an effect I was sure only you could achieve. Yet unpacked was all kitchenware and a few piles of books, neatly stacked on a table that represented all furniture left in the room. Despite the accumulation of all your worldly possessions – not very many, but that was inconsequential – on the floor, the room looked too empty. You weren't a part of this place any more. You didn't belong here any more than I did.

I felt no need to see any more.

But I stepped inside anyway, slipping off my shoes and propping the umbrella in a corner. You disappeared into the kitchen with a few objects from the table, leaving me for a while to my own devices. Unsure of what to start with, I picked up a book from the top of one stack and opened the cover. A shower of photographs fell down onto the table as you returned with a plate of food and a rant that ended midway as you noticed the photos.

Instead of beginning the rant anew as I had expected, you blushed and merely snapped, "now look what you've done!" Unfazed, I picked one image up for closer inspection. The scene was familiar, one I recognised almost immediately – the sixteenth birthday, first that I had been present for. This was obviously taken by Yuuko-san herself, perfectly timed to catch your look of rage as I bit into what had probably been your roll. Behind us, Kunogi-san was laughing merrily and Mokona was downing a beer.

Curiosity now piqued, I examined the others. There was Yuuko-san herself, clutching you her side with a look reeking of evil as you protested. You, passed out drunk in the park (a picture I had taken at Yuuko-san's prompting). There we were again, one of many lunches that passed without significant event. Kunogi-sane, many times over, and in some with Tampopo. Mugetsu in full glory, sitting on your back in the shop. Kohane-chan, smiling over a bentou.

"Mementos," you muttered. "Yuuko-san gave me some, and others I already had."

"Mementos?" I repeated, not deigning to ask which were which. But I all-too-easily could see you gathering such photos, as easily as I could see you perusing them nightly. Again I felt a clench of something that might have been anger but more likely was regret. I would only ever see that in my mind's eye.

"Go on, laugh," you said angrily, or perhaps merely irritably. "I'm sure you're barely able to hold it in, although why you would even bother to do such a thing escapes me."

I didn't feel any need at all to laugh. I was caught between wanting to hold onto you, not letting go for as long as I could, and the knowledge that this would have been the worst possible thing for me to do. Rooting around for a distraction, I selected a picture at random and held it up to you, asking, "when was this taken?"

To my amusement, you blushed again. "Ah – that, I…" You trailed off for a moment for a calming breath and I took the opportunity to glance at the photo in question. This one was of only me, to my surprise, and at an archery meet. For lack of a better response, I raised an eyebrow.

"H-Himawari-chan wanted me to take it, all right?" you finally stammered. "It was that big meet, and she was sick."

That didn't explain why you had kept it, or at least a copy, but I didn't really care enough to ask. You had begun to stack books, concealing a face that probably was still red, and so I joined the effort. I took great pains to break your careful arrangement, and when you finally realised what I was doing the damage was irreparable.

"You bastard, you did that on purpose!" you yelled indignantly. "I knew this would happen!"

I shrugged, and resumed stacking books out of order. With a long-suffering sigh, you acknowledged your defeat by resuming your own work. All too soon the books were contained in five cardboard boxes, carefully labeled and stacked. We turned to the pots and other various kitchen items next, which took next to no time to stow away. Suddenly there was nothing but the photographs and us in a roomful of boxes.

"If you want a few…" you mumbled, looking down at the former objects. I raised both eyebrows. "If you want a few, I have some extras."

I hadn't expected that. After a pause that could have been construed as awkward, I replied "yes" in the steadiest voice I could manage and once more had to fight an urge that would have done no good for either of us.

"Not even a thank-you?" you demanded, although your voice was too high and strained. I began to wonder if I wasn't the only one unhappy with this arrangement. "The great Watanuki-sama is offering you precious objects from his collection, and that's all you have to say?!"

"If they're that valuable," I told you, "then I'll look after them."

"What?" you asked, probably either surprised by or suspicious of the sincerity.

"Thank you," I said.

We stared for a moment at each other, as your face turned another interesting shade of red. If only we could have had more time, that possibility might have been able to be explored; as it was, all that I could feel was regret. There was not reason for me to stay here as things stood. It was too late to open that particular door.

"Maru and Moro can receive letters for me," you said abruptly. "If there are any to receive." I recognised the offer for what it was and thought bitterly that even now you couldn't bring yourself to admit to friendship.

"I'll bring them there, then," I replied, refusing at all costs to repeat your phrase of denial. Then, lacking a better parting line, I pulled on my shoes and left. It was still raining. By the time I remembered my umbrella, I was already more than halfway home and soaked. You hadn't had one usable, and I could always find another.

I walked home.

The pounding rain continued its bleak fall

We decided just to write after all.