Fandom: xxxHolic
Characters: Doumeki Shizuka, Watanuki Kimihiro
Warnings/Ratings: None.
In A Nutshell: There is sadness.
Disclaimer: I don't own xxHolic.

Doumeki Shizuka, age eleven, did not consider himself a very religious person. He wouldn't mind being one; he found a certain calm at religious institutions the world over, no the matter the denomination, but his destiny was to inherit the family business, not become a monk, and eternal servitude to get to heaven or enlightenment or nirvana or Valhalla didn't appeal to him any more than that did.

Despite all of this, the shrine had become his new home of sort, the green his moat to keep out the thoughts of his other life, his real life.

"What do you do all day?" Watanuki asked as they lounged, nestled within the loving arms of the tree that had grown with them.

"I work. Sometimes I pray." Studying for the ability to take over the company competently was extremely time-consuming, but Doumeki still managed to expend some time on his prayers, because they reminded him of Watanuki, the only real family or friend or person he'd ever felt for, his parents too distant and no siblings or cousins he knew well, and if he couldn't think of him every so often, he was just a boat, cut adrift, floating with no destination, no why.

"That sounds so boring!"

"I visit you," Doumeki offered. Every day he could for the past three years, he'd gone to this refuge of his, the only place he could feel alive.

"Which is not boring!" Watanuki declared, swinging from the tree to make a wobbly landing on his left foot. "I bet I can beat you to the gate!"

The gate, under the wing of the Doumeki family's pocketbook, was the only thing that seemed not to have changed at all, painted and repaired regularly, just as much a friend to Doumeki as Watanuki was.

The wealthy boy jumped to the ground and landed lightly, determined to close the distance from the shrine-dweller's head start and defeats him. He loved the hotheaded boy's face when it was glowering at him.

Touching the gate gently and a full second before Watanuki could, Doumeki smirked.

"It was a miracle!" The loser panted, out of breath. "You cheated!"

"Well, which is it?" The winner leaned against the gate nonchalantly.

Watanuki stuck out his tongue and collapsed onto the ground, laying down and spreading out. Doumeki collapsed beside him.

"I'm sorry," Watanuki said, his eyes red and watery and voice warbling.

"Hn," was all Doumeki could say. What he wanted to tell Watanuki was that he didn't need to cry for Doumeki's parents if their own son wouldn't.

"It seems like no one should be buried on such a beautiful day. I always thought funerals should be on ugly, messy days." He looked over at Doumeki, who was staring at the ground. "Because they're ugly, messy things." Still eliciting no response, he hesitantly worked his arms around his friend, wrapping him in a cool embrace.

Surprisingly, the now-orphan dropped his guard, resting his head on Watanuki's shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You know," Watanuki said lowly," they say the dead are reincarnated as butterflies, sometimes. But I think you should be able to choose." Doumeki didn't move. "I'd want to be a big, strong tree. What about you?"

"I'll be fine becoming dirt." He always had to ground the peculiar, blue-eyed boy and decided that this would be the best way.

"That's not very positive," Watanuki chided weakly, a little hitch in his voice. He rested his head against Doumeki's. "Feel better, please. If not for you, then for me." Their cheeks brushed as he released him.

The command to feel better echoed in his head, so, for Watanuki, he did.


In light of recent computer obstacles, I have decided to post up all that I have typed of this story.