Hello and hajimemashite :)

This marks my twentieth story on -throws confetti-
I believe this is my first real story for either of these two series though.

I hope you enjoy it :)

p.s. translation notes are at the end of the story...

I'd give it up for just one more day with you; give it up, give it all away; I'd give it up for just one more day with you.

–- Yellowcard.

--tinkle-inkle-tink……--

The sound of a small bell resonated, sending a shrill note rippling through the dark air of the shop.

It threaded its way through the tendrils of smoke that were curling their way up towards the ceiling.

It dodged the luminescent purple butterflies that were making themselves at home in the sitting room.

It wove between dusty shelves.

And came to rest on a listening ear.

--Achoo!--

A boy sneezed and rubbed his eyes for the third time in as many minutes, stepping out of the cloud of dust that was billowing out from his fallen feather duster.

"Coming! I'm coming!" he called out through the shop, in the direction of the bell. He stomped his way through the shop, ignoring the butterflies that mobbed him, and made his way to the door; all the while muttering under his breath a slew of complaints about a certain woman, her laziness, smoking habits, and current obsession with purple butterflies. Of course, he made sure the woman in question was well out of earshot first.

--bang bang bang --

"Alright, alright!" The boy just remembered to whip the handkerchief off his head before opening the door to the person impatiently knocking on the other side.

A young man, older than the boy on whom purple butterflies still perched, but not too much older, stood on the doorstep. He slowly lowered his raised fist, as if surprised that the door had actually been answered. Or perhaps he was just surprised to have it answered by a schoolboy in housecleaning gear, covered in strange butterflies. The boy stared. The man shifted uneasily.
He wore a torn and faded long sleeved black top, and matching pants that were equally the worse for wear. These were contrasted with a long white coat that had also seen better days, and perhaps a battle.
But it was his eyes that drew attention.
One bright green eye, filled with an unspeakable pain that pierced the heart, and one milky white eye that held nothing at all. Both were brimming with unshed tears.
There was one more thing to notice about this stranger.
His left hand was completely covered in blood.
"I was told… does a great magician live here?" The man's voice was light and soft, but filled with a sorrow so deep you could feel it on the air.
"Y…yeah." The boy motioned with his hand for the visitor to come inside, displacing a few winged insects as he did so. "I'll… I'll just… uh, wait here." And with that the boy scurried off to find his master.

When the younger boy returned, the stranger was just as he had left him, staring into some invisible void, heedless of his surroundings, or the few butterflies that had decided to perch on him, until the young boy cleared his throat.
"Uh, right through here, sir."
The young man followed, stepping into a smoky room lit by candles and strange lamps that cast even stranger shadows on the walls and shoji screen doors. The room was richly decorated with unusual European rugs and Japanese wall hangings, eldritch Eastern knick-knacks and peculiar Western trinkets. And butterflies. One could not ignore the mass of iridescent violet Lepidoptera flitting about.
Nor could one ignore the woman reclining on the chaise lounge in the middle of the room.
She was, in every sense of the word, enigmatic.
She drew attention like the sun drew planets towards it.
The young man cleared his throat uncertainly.
"I… I was told you sell wishes."
"That's right," the lady replied in a calm drawl, "for a price."
The young man hadn't bothered to point out that wishes can't be sold, or that some wishes can never be granted, or that the very idea was absurd and impossible. For he knew that nothing was impossible.
Or at least, he hoped.
"I have no doubt that someone such as yourself has no small desire to be granted."
The man looked at her uncertainly for a moment, before giving her a small nod. So she knew who he was, then. Well, someone in her line of work was bound to know who he was.
"Watanuki!" she said, addressing the younger boy who had answered the door, "We need tea. Hmmm… what goes with tea?" she mused, dropping her intimidating airs for a moment.
"I'll get the wagashi I made yesterday." The boy named Watanuki grumbled as he left the room.

"So… What can I do for the thirteenth head of the Sumeragi clan?" The woman uttered into the silence, sitting upright and disturbing a few butterflies that scattered like confetti, flitting about the room.
"I don't know." The Sumeragi head replied honestly. "I'm sorry, but – I don't even know who you are." His voice was earnest, but dull. It seemed that he spoke cautiously, as if his heart were on the verge of shattering at any moment.
The woman nodded, suddenly adopting a regal tone, "I am known as the space-time witch, the dimension magician, the wish granter, the shop lady. To you, Sumeragi-san, I am Ichihara Yuuko." Her arms were spread wide, like a magician's after performing a trick.
The man nodded again.
"My name is Subaru." He replied quietly. He knew someone in her profession wouldn't have been foolish enough to give him her full real name, but what did it matter if he divulged his? Not a lot mattered any more. Not to him.
The woman named Yuuko tilted her head slightly "Well, Sumeragi Subaru-san… what is your wish?"