-/ Chapter 10 \-

Her first date with Muun, and it's time to call Watanuki, and Himawari feels bland at best. She is left with the very vague impression of a shadowy nightmare hovering behind her dreams, and now it is intruding upon her waking. She overslept her alarm clock and it's a little past noon. She heaves herself out of bed much too late in the day and wanders down the hall to take a shower, wrings out her hair, returns to her room, and roots through her clothes. She is ambivalent about all of them, but finally she chooses a little silver dress and a blue-green skirt and scarf. Himawari does the bare minimum to pull her hair back. She puts on a little makeup, staring at herself in the mirror and at the dark circles under her eyes until she has to look away, feeling slightly sick. She picks up her curling iron and goes through her hair methodically, a process that takes almost an hour while the room fills with steam. She's lucky the fire detector in her place isn't too sensitive.

She finishes and fetches her purse, checks her watch and trudges from the room after locking it. She's just in time. Muun meets her downstairs, in the lobby.

They walk around the city and go through the parks, just talking. The walk and the conversation cheer her up a little. But instead of invigorating her, the energy makes her restless, and it becomes difficult to stay attentive. Muun notices, and doesn't push her, so he ends up doing most of the talking. Today his subject of interest seems to be college, or latest scientific advancements, and a bit of history. Himawari finds herself tuning in and out, listening with only half an ear, asking a question every so often, and on her off moments she wishes they could hold hands just so Muun wouldn't need to talk.

She is exasperated with herself. A date at last, and she isn't really in the mood for it. As far as she's concerned, it's a disaster as a date. That doesn't mean she wanted to be alone: this is just what she needs. Spending these waiting hours alone would be excruciating. Muun's there, and they keep moving, and that's enough for her.

They go to an amusement park to pass the time for the last hour, and exit just as the sun is going down. Muun takes a look at his phone, and they head for a casual family bar, a local izakaya from their old neighborhood.

Himawari takes a deep, long breath. It perks her up.

Muun looks at her. "Did a weight come off your shoulders?"

Himawari nods, wiggling her shoulders in response. "Yeah..."

"You more worried than you thought?" Muun asks her.

"Mm." Himawari nods.

The corners of his mouth tip upwards in a smile. "It's okay. I know you've been humoring me all day."

"Huh? No...not at all!" Himawari spread her hands and shook them, laughing, a little embarrassed. "You're the one that's been humoring me..."

Muun shakes his head and sticks his hands in his pockets, bashful, looking off to the side. "Nah..."

Himawari shrugs. "Maybe it was both of us, then."

Muun turns a little pink. "Still. I'm sorry."

"No, it was really my fault..."

"Don't worry, it'll be over soon." Muun smiles at her.

Her hands curl over her collarbone. "Yeah," Himawari breathes.

She hopes it won't be too painful. It suddenly hits her, how much she's asked of him. It sounds like the worst thing in the world, spending your first date talking about another guy, worse, a guy you used to like. She hadn't thought of that at first. Himawari looks up at him, he's so much taller than her, narrows her eyes. She suddenly sees him a little differently. He's really quite absurd, to go these lengths for her. Doesn't he feel jealousy? Why is he letting her do this? Why didn't he dismiss her idea immediately as utterly terrible? His love is so...so strange. But it isn't as if she isn't drawn to it. His gentleness.

"Hm?"

She shakes her head and walks on, one arm hooked through his, one hand curled over her chest, and a sharp pain in her heart. She senses that something has already started to shift. She can't bring herself to hope.

I don't know if I'm in love with you. But I want to be...

They sit at a booth in sight of the bar, but out of the way of the other customers. The beer comes in jugs, though they can order something fancier if they wish, but everything else, including sake, will comes in bottles. In the end they order something to eat—a couple sticks of yakitori, and a side of rice—and two glasses of white wine to start with. As bars go, it's a nice one, well maintained, with nice wooden panels and polished, lacquered tables. The walls are not too cluttered with knick-knacks. It's unusually classy for an izakaya of its caliber, with a quieter atmosphere than most. The only thing keeping it from being confused for a much nicer bar is its layout. On a weekday night, it shouldn't be overly busy. The popular izakaya on the other side of the neighborhood was much more popular and much more rowdy, but Himawari preferred this one. Here, at least, she could hear herself think, and since she had to make herself clear on the telephone, it wouldn't be good to have to compete with shouting.

Himawari remembered it from when she was small; she had been there for some sort of family celebration, but the visit had ended in tears for some reason or another. It had been quick, but someone had gotten burned... Probably hot oil had been spilt on someone. Things like that happened distressingly frequently when she was that little, though she hadn't realized at the time. Not long after that her family stopped going out to eat at all. In fact, that was what had started her interest in cakes and pastry shops as soon as she had some freedom in middle and high school: she had wanted to know what she hadn't been allowed to experience for all those years. She had become desperate to taste something besides her mother's rather perfunctory, bland cooking. From restaurant to restaurant, food had a different tastes, different flavors, different styles. It pleased her to find the hole-in-the-wall specialized places.

And then she had met Watanuki, who had utterly blown her away. She had never known a person with so much internalized knowledge of food and its cooking, who could effortlessly balance ingredients and maximize flavor, and he was so practical and modest about it: he didn't need much equipment, he knew his substitutions, he wasn't fazed by cooking for a smaller or a bigger audience, he just did it. She could hardly believe that he had grown up an orphan: who could have taught him? He was an immature boy after all, and she easily brushed him off countless times, but — there was something about his food that made her want to know more about him. Like her, she was sure there was much more to him than what could be seen from the surface, and that something was worth knowing. And after much time, she did finally begin to glimpse it.

She looked around the shop and thought of all this, and then looked at Muun and raised her glass. Muun mirrors the movement, they clink glasses for the toast, and drink.

"To Watanuki," Himawari says.

"To speaking truth," Muun says.

Himawari takes another careful sip. She glances at Muun.

"Don't hold back on my account," Muun quickly reassures her. "I want to stay more sober than not, I think, in case you need me to take care of you."

Himawari nods. "Fair enough." She sniffs her wine. It smells and tastes the same as she remembers. If she isn't mistaken, Yuuko once had a bottle of this stuff. The label on the bottle looks familiar. Doumeki had drunk most of it and Himawari had poured a glass or two for herself and stopped there, nursing the same glass for a couple of hours, while Watanuki had sniped at Doumeki for drinking more than his share. Not that she had ever seen Doumeki properly drunk like Watanuki was clearly afraid of him getting. Doumeki and Yuuko seemed to have an uncanny sense for their limits, and unusually high tolerances for alcohol on top of that. Himawari sighs.

"What is it?"

"I haven't been in this neighborhood for a while. You know, because of university. It's stirring up memories..."

"That's right, you grew up in this area, didn't you? I was only here for the last two years of high school."

"Must have been rough."

"I found my way pretty quick, though I struggled to make friends that first year. And then I met you in my last year, so." Muun grinned so his teeth flashed. "I didn't do too badly."

Himawari tilts her head; the wine must be working, a little. A blush is settling over her nose. Realizing she was blushing only made her flush harder. "I wasn't exactly the most open person to approach back then..." she murmurs, fingering the warmth inflaming her cheeks.

"You weren't. If that accident hadn't happened, I don't know that I would ever have gotten to talk to you."

Himawari looks up sharply. "Don't talk about my curse like that..."

Muun sits up straight. "I'm not going to pretend that we didn't accidentally benefit from someone else's misfortune. But you didn't will it to happen, and sometimes bad things happen and good things come out of it."

Himawari drops her eyes to her small plate and drags a stick of chicken onto it. "There isn't anything good about causing something like that."

Muun shrugs. "All I'm saying is that the good outcome was coincidental. The chaos that your curse brings into your life can bring difficulty, but it can also bring about opportunities."

Himawari frowned at him. "I don't think so." She takes a bite of chicken.

Muun is quiet for a moment. "I suppose I could see how exploiting those opportunities might be unethical."

"It's fantastical, is what it is," Himawari muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Muun looks startled.

"I said...it's too fantastic. Unrealistic." Himawari waves her hands, frustrated. "I can't create a crisis and solve it like a some arrogant hero. I don't know what kind of crisis is going to happen. I am not prepared to deal with it. Besides—for me, trying to fix something my bad luck has already touched has a tendency to worsen the situation."

"Oh." Somewhat to Himawari's surprise, Muun says, "All right."

"All right what?"

"You're right, I got carried away. It was a stupid idea. Of course you've thought of it before." Muun shook his head. "I wasn't saying that you should start new crises on purpose. But even on accident— I guess I didn't see how evil the thought sounded until I spoke it."

"It's not stupid, it just doesn't work," Himawari sighs. "I've thought about it often enough myself. But thanks for trying." Himawari takes another sip of wine. "I suppose it wouldn't be bad if more accidents made opportunities like that one did." She raises her eyebrows. "I don't think anticipating them happening would do me much good. The only way I'll get a chance like that again is if it simply falls into my lap, like you fell into my path."

"That's a little like fate, isn't it?"

Himawari shrugs. "It's hitsuzen. Our past, our genetics, and the person who we grew to be because of our experience and past choices each inform our present and influence what we will choose next, while the choices other people make and the natural processes that take place are inevitable. But hitsuzen is all of those things together leading to one inevitable future. A future necessitated by the past."

"I remember Watanuki used that word..."

"So think about it!"

Muun traces the rim of his glass with a finger. "Mm, I didn't know the word but I've thought about the concept. I don't really buy that all of people's decisions come straight out of their past."

"I suppose it's kind of an ideal concept, although without the theory I'm not sure what you must make of some of the weirder findings of twin studies." Himawari takes another drink of wine. "Incidentally, I believe Watanuki has a story about a case like that. Although it's true that Watanuki's mentor used the term rather loosely, and so does he. But that might have something to do with the fact that they are able to perceive some futures. They are adept at identifying triggers."

Muun doesn't look like he believes that last fact. He refills Himawari's wineglass and places it with a solid thunk onto the wooden table.

"You don't have to believe me."

Muun looks even more unhappy. "Whenever you say that..."

Himawari laughs. "Sooner or later, you find out for yourself."

"Exactly. Science is doomed." Muun gulps his drink and and exhales loudly.

Himawari toys with skewer left on her plate. "It's not doomed! Just incomplete..." She smiles shyly.

"I wish I knew how to look at the world as you do. It must be...different. Sometimes it seems like the world must be so much more...alive." Muun is staring abstractedly at his glass.

"Do you mean that?" Himawari looks at him sideways. Muun nods. Himawari takes a deep breath, looking at the table. "It doesn't make me happy."

"I know that," Muun says swiftly. "I know it's not a bed of roses. But I think...your world is—it's dynamic."

Himawari feels torn. "If I could show you..." she says reluctantly.

"It's not urgent. It doesn't have to be right now. It's just someday...I wish I could see as you do." Muun swirls the wine around his glass.

Himawari can practically feel his wish ripple out into the universe, flinging away from him, waiting to affect...something. Someday, somehow, it will reach the wishing shop, where she knows it will be granted. Himawari shivers. Change. And for every wish, a price— She takes another sip of wine, mulling it over.

He doesn't know what he's asking for. She can't possibly tell him, or stop him. That's for him to discover for himself. Worry makes her heartsick.

And what does Watanuki know, what is he wishing for, without ever knowing—?

"I think," she says, setting her drink down, "That I need to talk to Watanuki now." She swallows, and stands up shakily, pressing lightly down on the table to support herself. "I'll go towards the back—"

"I'll go with you," Muun says immediately.

She smiles at him weakly. "All right." She edges out of the booth and walks to the small hall at the back of the restaurant. Muun follows. Himawari starts dialing, her hands shaking, and by the time the cell phone connects her grip is weak and slippery. She leans on the side of the restroom and presses the phone into her ear, uneasily rubbing its plastic sides with her thumb, fumbling her grip. Muun lays his arm around her shoulders, bracing her. Himawari sniffs. At last the phone clicks.

"Moshi-moshi—"

"Watanuki-kun, are you all right?"

"Yes, I—" There's a short, uneasy silence, like he wasn't prepared for that question, and then, "I— Himawari, I'm fine...! Things are great... I wasn't expecting you to—" His tone is completely wrong. She knows immediately that he felt like he needed to cover up something. Doumeki was right. Goodness, he's not even good at lying. It just hurts.

"Watanuki, you liar." Himawari wipes her eyes. "Stop. Please, just stop. I know you're trying to be kind, and you're trying not to hurt me, but I am not an idiot, you know I'm not. I talked to Doumeki not very long ago, and I know you're not all right. You're not the only person I can go to for the truth. How could you lie to me?"

"Himawari, I..."

"Watanuki, how could you lie to Doumeki?"

Watanuki starts to protest, "I haven't lied since—"

Himawari's voice lowers little by little. "Except for what you were about to say to me? I know what you promised him, and I don't care. You shouldn't have had to make a promise like that in the first place. Since when do you need to make a solemn oath to speak honestly? How could you lie to us both? Really? You put us in that position? Watanuki, I am disappointed in you."

Watanuki makes a choking sound.

"Yes. You and Doumeki, you are each other's best friends, Watanuki," Himawari whispers, "And he's always at your side; he's always with you. He deserves so much better. I'm far away, so I'm not as important, but Doumeki? I can't believe you let that happen."

"Himawari-san! I didn't mean—"

Her voice strengthens. "I know you're trying to hole up in the shop. I know you're trying to push us away. But you have to understand that we can't let you do that, and that when you do that, you hurt us all. You are hurting yourself, you are hurting Doumeki, and by the time the news reaches my ears, you end up hurting me. Because I can't do anything for you at all. I am utterly powerless to help you. If the only thing I can do is shed my cheerful persona to give you the biggest scolding of your life, I will say this: the only one who is there for you is Doumeki, and you keep hurting him."

Watanuki takes a gigantic, involuntary gulp of air like Himawari just socked him in the ribs and punched the air out of his lungs.

She continues. "Furthermore, I hope I only have to tell you this once, but if you can't treat Doumeki with respect right now, and you care about him at all, then get someone to help you that you can work with, because it's not fair to him and he's exhausted caring for you when you won't let him in. He's tired, and he needs release. But he will never ask you for that. He'll deny it to himself until he collapses at your feet, as long as it means that you don't collapse too." Because he loves you, Himawari wants to scream at him; you idiot, he loves you just as much as I do, even more than I do, even, and you—you—you—it's just not FAIR— It's not fair that neither of them will accept the love that they need and deserve, and it's messed them both up so much inside. Well, all three of them, really, she thinks when she glances at Muun, her heart aching.

"I'm sorry!" Watanuki sounds stricken. "I didn't—I never thought—"

Himawari's voice softens. "I know. You were only looking out for yourself. Doumeki has been looking out for you, but he's also got himself to carry on. You've been distracted. I'm telling you that it's time to think about how much you have been asking of him."

"I've never asked for anything..." Watanuki says mulishly.

Himawari sighs. "I'm sure you haven't. But when you need so much and you ask for nothing, those needs still need to be met. And Doumeki has taken it upon himself to do it all to the best of his ability. Even if he has to guess."

"But I don't need everything!" Watanuki interjects crossly in frustration.

"How is he to know if you never ask?" Himawari says to him pointedly.

Watanuki groans.

"I'm serious, Watanuki. It sounds crazy, but you need to ask him for something. Entrust him with something, and you can take away from his burden so he doesn't have to do it all. Either do that, or send him away and find someone else."

Watanuki takes a deep breath. "I understand, I'll—I'll do— Okay. I don't know what I'll choose, but I swear to you, Himawari, I am going to do something to make up for what have done."

Himawari relaxes, just slightly. "Now I'm going to ask you again. How are you doing?"

He doesn't answer right away. Then he sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. I got hurt."

"I'm sorry too. And you don't have to apologize. What happened?"

"To tell the truth, I don't remember exactly. I might have hit my head pretty hard. I either slipped dispelling a spirit or granting a wish. Got slashed pretty badly."

"I see."

"My stitches are healing, though. Should be gone soon. I heal quick."

"Good."

"Well, it's not like I do any heavy lifting in my line of work..."

"Still!" she exclaims.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to..." Watanuki regathers his thoughts and says regretfully, "To make some false picture of my life that would please you to hear, I guess. I'm sorry."

Himawari leans forward over her phone and enunciates extra carefully, "Thank you for telling me, Watanuki."

"It's all right."

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

"No, not really. It's the same as usual." He laughs nervously. "Struggling to grant wishes without hurting myself. Though I've learned some things. So I shouldn't be making the same mistakes again..."

"Thank goodness!" Himawari tries to inject some lightness into her voice without sounding hysterical. "You must tell me about what you've learned another time."

"Yeah. I'm glad too..." he sounds rueful. "I guess it's not that bad to just tell you. Felt like ripping off a band-aid. It was excruciating and horrible...but over so fast that now I feel stupid... You must think I'm petty and small." He laughs self-deprecatingly.

"No, I don't. And you're not."

"Yes, I am. I've been an idiot..."

"Look, Watanuki. I want to hear your struggles. I want to help you overcome them. I want to hear how you get through them." Himawari bites her lip. "Can you do that for me? Can you stop pretending everything's okay? 'Cuz I know it's not and I just—I just—" Her voice cracks as tears suddenly spill over her cheeks. "I can't mince words for you. You could drop dead at any time and no one would know. I worry about you living alone in that shop, and it makes it so much harder not to know the truth when I do know that your life there is dangerous to you. It pains me to hear you lie. I need to know that you're telling me the truth when I call. I've spent my life smiling through my teeth and I know that sound. If you lie about the painful things, you won't be able to tell the good things. That's why this is important. Do you understand?" She asks him through a sob.

"I understand. You've been straightforward and clear."

"It feels especially urgent for us because we don't interact as often and we can't meet in person, but just remember Doumeki feels exactly as I do. The reality is, it's even more important for him to know what is happening. He is closer, so it is easier for him to know when you are hiding something. He can observe for himself. But it hurts him just as much. Remember that, okay? Don't mistreat him."

"I'll remember, Himawari-san."

"Thank you. Let's talk about happier things next time, okay?"

"Let's do that."

"I have to hang up now. Goodbye, Watanuki-kun. Take care, won't you?"

"Yes. Goodbye, Himawari-chan. I miss you."

Himawari hangs up and presses the phone to her breast, turns and presses into Muun's chest, sighing with relief. She's still shaking a little.

"Feel better?" Muun asks her.

She nods mutely. "I love you."

"You love your friends, too. You're passionate about them." Muun flicks her ear. "I like that."

"Sometimes I don't know. Right now I think I hate him," Himawari mutters.

Muun laughs. "Well then. I'm sure it's temporary."

Himawari sighs and leans her head on Muun's shoulder. "Shall we keep getting drunk, or...?" But the idea doesn't seem very appealing.

Muun's lips hover over her forehead. "We could make out."

"Then take me home, please." Himawari flushes.

"Yes. Though I think it is raining."

Sure enough, Himawari hears little raindrops tapping the roof. "Let's pay and go. I don't know how long Watanuki's charm will last."

"We should make the most of it," Muun agrees.

Muun bought an umbrella at the nearest drugstore and he accompanied Himawari to the train station and brought her back to the dorm. They kiss on the front porch a few times, soft lips meeting and pressing gently. Finally Himawari puts a hand on his chest and separates them, telling him that it is time. Muun says goodbye, and Himawari keys open the door, and watches as Muun walks away.

Great dark clouds are gathering and the night is dark when Doumeki opens the door to the shop, and quietly lets himself inside, holding a bag of groceries. He puts them away and loiters in the kitchen while Watanuki talks in a hushed voice on the phone.

Finally it is over.

"That was Himawari just now," Watanuki says shakily, replacing the phone on its cradle, shaking a little. "She never raised her voice."

Doumeki sinks slowly to his knees, gripping the countertop.

"Somehow it still felt like she was shouting..." Watanuki turns and walks toward Doumeki. "Her scorn, I haven't heard it since she told me what she was, that night I was recovering after I fell out that window. But you know, I deserved it. Both times. She...she knocked some sense into me."

Doumeki's throat constricts.

"I haven't been fair to you, Doumeki, these past months. Maybe even for the past year." Watanuki looks out the window, into the distance. Closed-off, he stands with arms are loosely crossed in front of him, one hand clinging to his shoulder. "I see that now. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. You've been trying to avert a danger from falling about me...a danger I should have feared, but you did. I wasn't cooperating. I want to change that, but... I am not leaving this shop, and I will not stop waiting for Yuuko. I am doing it, but I am going to try to live still."

There's a rumbling outside. Thunder. Soon there will be rain.

His throat too tight to speak, Doumeki nods.

"Himawari has given me to understand that you have taken on too much of what is not yours to bear," Watanuki continues. "I am going to make a list of things I need. I am going to write one up every week, and I will give it to you, and don't you dare do a single thing more that is not on the list. I forbid it. Not until we figure out what to do so you don't overwork yourself."

Lightning strikes, and the flash illuminates Watanuki's pale face and is reflected by his oval glasses for an instant. Thunder rolls a few seconds later.

Doumeki's feet are stuck to the floor. "Watanuki," Doumeki croaks, heaving himself heavily to his feet. The rain begins to pour, all at once as if the world has suddenly swept a curtain over the shop. The rain thuds rhythmically against the tile roof of the wishing shop and knocks against the tinny drains. He feels beaten down. Defeated.

Doumeki swallows, fighting tears and the pervasive feeling that he has failed somehow. It feels like a bitter bad dream. The cold thought that Watanuki is going to release him. Not now, but soon, Doumeki thinks; but this was not the change, nor the relief that he wanted...

Watanuki brushes past him and his hand knocks into Doumeki's own, hanging loosely at his side. Doumeki stares at his hand and almost drives it into the wall, but he gives up his anger and leans on it instead. He's too tired for this. He lingers in the foyer and leaves as soon as he hears a break in the rain. He doesn't ask to borrow an umbrella. The rain rolls and splashes off his coat, though he still gets wet.

Author's note: This chapter, nor the previous chapter, could have been written without the generous and sagely advice of my devoted friend samtastrophe! I gift this chapter to her. *heart*