"Yuuko-san, you grant everyone else's wishes, but who grants yours, I wonder?"
"Any wish that you have, Yuuko-san... I swear that I will do my best to grant it."
Yuuko remembered the boy's words again as she lay in the grass, her usually calculating crimson eyes clouded with deliberation. It was hard to label what she'd felt when Watanuki had made his promise-- Consolation? Anxiety? Remorse? She had, after all, been indirectly responsible for nearly all of the pain that that very same boy was experiencing-- even if the motivation for his wish hadn't stemmed from her, she had been the one to receive the price. It was she who had removed and sealed his memories, right up to his knowledge of the payment... the very same child that had held such concern for her-- whom even she had come to regard with a maternal sort of tenderness-- was the one whom she'd led to question his own humanity. But that was how it was. No matter what affection or hesitation Yuuko felt, she could never bestow so much as a birthday gift upon her loved ones without taking an equal payment from them. The woman sighed bitterly and turned over onto her side.
Finally giving up on her frustration, the Dimensional Witch resigned herself to admiring her surroundings. The sun was just beginning to set, casting its golden aura in a haze over the sprawling hillside, and the occasional warm zephyr brushed lightly against her in its passage. Long, dark ribbons of hair were brought to a tepid flutter in the wind, and she reached to brush a few of the wayward strands out of her visage. Something creamy white and swaying caught her eye as she did so, and she turned to identify the gently moving orb.
"A dandelion?" She mused, "even this late in the summer?"
Yuuko smiled at the delicate bloom for a moment, a wistful look coming into her eyes as she did so. She had heard that dandelions were the purest form of wishing, and she supposed that in many ways, that was true-- it was a simple way to wish, something usually disregarded entirely by anyone but children, but it worked on the rare occasion that one was able to grant the flower's wish by freeing each of the seeds with one blow. She found herself idly wishing that she could take the same price as the tiny weed; a wish for a wish fulfilled, rather than as a bittersweet exchange for someone else's shattered hope or stolen memory. She reached and gently plucked the dandelion, the straw giving a soft popping sound and releasing a few drops of milky sap onto her fingers as she made her wish. She hesitated for a moment, and blew firmly on the cluster of seeds as she closed her eyes, waiting until her breath was entirely spent before finally opening them again.
A single, obstinate seed clung near the base of the flower, wavering every so slightly in the wind as if to emphasize Yuuko's failure. She laughed and tossed the stem casually over her shoulder, seemingly unfazed.
She should never have expected anything to be that easy.
Author's Notes; I've had this idea for a while now, and it really did sound so much better in my head. ; I guess that's what goes on with writer's block... oh well. It was a big challenge for me to write a serious, pensive Yuuko rather than a drunken, snarky one... but I enjoyed trying it. Con.Crit and reviews are always appreciated!