The air was crisp that spring morning, frost crawling over the withered tufts of yellow grass that were the only remains of a harsh winter. They sat side by side on a bench in the cold, breaths misting in the air and catching in the fine web of their knitted scarves as small liquid pearls. Both stared straight ahead. Doumeki was the first to break through the impassive silence.

"So what chased you this morning?"

Watanuki sputtered and his arms crossed defensively over his chest. "Absolutely nothing!" He glared with an impressive amount of rancour at Doumeki from the corner of his eye. "And how do you know about that anyway?"

Doumeki chose his words carefully. "You're no longer my business, you've made that amply clear. It's all up to you. But this--" he pointed at his right eye, "remains." And so do I. So do I.