Unproper Grammar: This steams from my own walks, where lately, I've taken to stepping on every single crack on the sidewalk.

I don't know why either.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Even So

It is on a very cloudy, smoggy, rainy day that Himawari walks home with Watanuki, alone. It's the first time they've really been together one on one since the death of the lying woman. Doumeki was constantly the third component of their group; but he had an extra long archery practice after classes, and Watanuki insisted that she would not have to walk home alone.

After much reassurance and much arguing, Doumeki permitted it, though a very wary look remained on his face anyways. But Watanuki was relentless; just because Himawari was...different, did not mean that she did not deserve the same relationship she would have had with him otherwise.

4.

They are in the coat room when he first notices it. She slips on her coat. a wool, navy blue number that hugs her curves and makes her hair pop. She pulls on her boots and picks up her bag, and then the clear, red polka-dotted umbrella.

She smiles, and pops it open over her head.

"Ready to go, Watanuki-kun?" she asks cheerfully, ducking under the cursed object. She tilts her head to the side, awaiting his answer.

He swallows a dry lump in his throat.

"Yes! Yes, of course, Himawari-chan!" he trills, picking up his own bag and racing out the room.

9.

As they walk along the sidewalks, Himawari chats happily, and for once, Watanuki can't concentrate on a word she says. All he notices the small, quick steps that she takes, and how each time her foot lands on a crack.

It's a crack in the sidewalk, a crack on the road. She steps on each and everyone, and inwardly, he flinches each time. He knows she doesn't mean to; she's not even aware of it.

But he is, and his stomach twists and knots at the irony of it all.

13.

Himawari is still chatting away, and Watanuki is still painfully aware of everything around them. So when a small, black kitten begins to walk in front of them, and Himawari squeals delightedly, bending down to pet it; the hair of the back of his neck stands on end.

"Isn't she just the sweetest thing, Watanuki-kun?" Himawari purrs. And she seems so happy, that he can't help but smile back and agree.

12a.

When they finally arrive at her house, Himawari looks happier than she's been in a long time. She leans against the street lamp outside her house and smiles up at him, thanking him for trusting her, for walking her home.

His heart is so full at that moment, overflowing with emotions and affections for the dark-haired girl before him, that he almost wants to risk it. He wants to lean down and risk it all.

But she swept out of the way and up the path to her house. He walks a few steps forward, trying to chase after her until he hears an awful squeal of a car's tires and a devestating crash.

When he whirls around, he sees the street lamp; fallen and laying across the windshield of a stranger's car. The driver has been knocked unconcious, and a pedestrian across the streets screams, while another beens frantically dialing an ambulance.

Tunring around slowly, he catches a glimpse of Himawari, and her eyes are so dark, so heavy and sad that his heart cracks in two.

The black smoke, the smog that surrounds her and captures her has grown so thick throughout the duration of their walk, that it's hard for him to breathe. She was every cliche; broke every supersitition that he finds it hard to believe that he didn't piece it all together sooner.

But he'll ignore it. He'll hold his breath around her, he'll continue smiling and making her food, just because he loves her.

And the back luck is part of her, and he loves every single bit of it.

So he watches as her eyes turn glassy with tears, and she walks up the nine stone steps to her house, with the number four embossed in gold on the mailbox.

As a note; the numbers four, nine and thirteen are considered unlucky in Japan, and it is not uncommon to see elevators in hospitals and the like without these numbers. Further more, 12a can sometimes be used as a replacement for thirteen all together in Western cultures.