Disclaimer: The following story is a fan work derived from the manga/anime series XxxHolic, which was originally written by CLAMP. I do not profit from this work of fanfiction. I do not own the characters who I am borrowing from XxxHolic. I do not write canon, I twist, change, and play with what is canon. Questions? No? Didn't think so...

I should probably mention that this story (also "In the Eyes of Doumeki Shizuka," to be honest) in regards to XxxHolic was heavily influenced by several fanfics: "I'll Die Like This Too," by FarenMaddox, and "The Professor's Wife," by Foolish Mortal. In regards to Fai/Kurogane dynamics from Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, "Lost in Translation," by Sunlight through Leaves, Faren Maddox's "Never Gonna Learn My Lesson," "Fortuna," by chi-of-ink, and "Crack of Dawn" by Klitch were most influential. They're all very good, I highly recommend reading them (warning: rating levels vary). Though this story is not exactly quite like any one of them, they influenced and modified my understanding of the series after I had finished reading it, and I owe their authors a debt of gratitude.

This story, "Shall Your Wish Be Granted," is the sequel to "Unending Winter," which is in turn the sequel to "In the Eyes of Doumeki Shizuka."

Shall Your Wish Be Granted

| Chapter 1 |

It is night, blackest night where life sleeps, cold and untouched by heat or light. A star fizzles, snuffed out; slowly the dust reassembles, a beautiful cloud of red, pink and purple, swirling together, compressing, and then—a spark reignites.

"Even the immortal stars are reborn in due time," explains the voice of a woman he once knew well, from behind his left ear, as if she waits just behind his shoulder. He turns, searching for her face even as she pulls away. He turns, but he finds nothing but a breeze and a swallowtail butterfly flicking its wings in the wind parallel to the bleeding sakura. Here, the place where he once said what he hadn't quite realized was goodbye. This place of wishes and dreams and nightmares from which he never left, where he has waited.

"Enough. It is past time," the woman's voice instructs the darkness.

The darkness closes in, coiling closer and closer, shutting off the vision as it once shut him away from Yuuko...

"Anata no negai, kanaemashou."

The dark pulls away so dizzyingly suddenly that Watanuki gasps and wakes up.

Watanuki shifts on the couch and searches for the light and, by the quality of the light, for the time of day. He blinks until the answer comes. It is a winter morning. The light is misty and grey. Watanuki sits up, puts on his glasses, rubs his eyes. It isn't fair, he thinks. Regret is already sinking deeper into his chest. It really isn't. She's come back, and it's like nothing has happened; he's still left behind, way behind her. That part of him hasn't changed at all...

But he can never let Doumeki know he thinks that — no, not Doumeki anymore; the problem now is Doumeki's great-grandson, Shizuka. But the two are enough alike that Watanuki expects that they would react the same way to such a thought, if they heard it. They would both nod silently, and turn their faces away, and hide their frustration, and do everything they could to make him feel like he was doing something wrong without needing to say a single word. And yet, their disapproval is a heavy thing.

How can I believe the time is now? And yet Doumeki was reborn, in his great-grandson no less. Perhaps it is like that.

Yuuko-san…

The loneliness catches him off-guard again. Watanuki gazes sightlessly at the small videotape he keeps stowed away in one corner of the living room, thinking. He's had it ever since Shizuka brought it back from the job with the Inari practitioner. He doesn't even need to look at it anymore. He has Yuuko's simple message completely memorized. He remembers now. He sees her lips move, he hears the girl's breath shape two simple words: "Tadaima, Watanuki." I'm home.

The wishing shop business was not about making life fair, was it? No. No. The opposite, if anything… That much he had learned while he was still young and working for Yuuko…

Watanuki takes a step, and he strides through the house towards the kitchen. Carelessly, his left foot knocks into Mokona, rousing the kuromanju from sleep. He keeps walking and slides open the shoji slider that leads to the hallway. Mokona, not upset in the slightest, gets up to her usual tricks. Mokona patters after Watanuki on tip-toe rabbit feet and slips into the hall behind Watanuki before he can close the shoji. He doesn't notice her until she bounces up on the counter and announces what she wants for breakfast, loudly enough that she surprises him into almost dropping one of the pans.

For a moment Mokona pads back and forth on the counter, guiltily pressing down her ears, but her moods change quickly. Half a minute later she brightly bounces up to his ear and taunts him, "Betcha never let Shizuka see you so clumsy!"

"Oh, shut up… You pork buns are always too noisy in the morning. What'd you say you wanted for breakfast again?" Watanuki asks absentmindedly.

Mokona shouts, "Saké!"

Watanuki sighs. Mokona never skips an opportunity to drink, even if she never gets drunk. She's too like her master in that way. The bottle fairy tendency was one thing about Yuuko that Watanuki certainly does not miss. "In the morning? Request denied," Watanuki replies. He takes out his white apron from one of the drawers, lifts it over his neck and ties the waist securely in place.

"Hn-nn!" Mokona cries happily. "Fish sticks!"

Watanuki simply shakes his head. "Breakfast, Mokona. Or nutritious food."

Mokona chirps, hops like a bird, and finally does a backflip. "Omelet!"

"As you wish," Watanuki replies, pretending to sound bored. He quickly fetches all the ingredients and starts cooking. Mokona creeps closer to the stove in order to watch. Disinterestedly, Watanuki warns, "Keep out of there, Mokona. You'll get burned."

Mokona pouts. "Mokona never gets burned," Mokona says, but retreats slightly nevertheless, and lowers her ears so they won't get in Watanuki's way.

"You mean, Mokona has never been burned before," Watanuki tells the kuromanju pointedly.

Mokona ignores this. "Nee, nee, Watanuki, Watanuki. Shizuka-kun is coming today." Mokona nudges Watanuki.

"And how do you know that?" Watanuki wonders aloud. The omelet has finished cooking. He turns off the stove, cuts the omelet into fourths, and puts it on plates.

"I heard him over the phone! Hee-hee!" Mokona bounces from rabbit foot to rabbit foot. Watanuki allows Mokona to nibble on the nearest plate's omelet.

"Mokona, please don't answer the phone for me." It's a futile request.

"Aww…. But you were sleeping! And then you wouldn't know…"

"You could have told me yesterday," says Watanuki in exasperation."But speaking of keeping in contact, you don't suppose you could connect me to Syaoran?"

"Hai!" says Mokona cheerfully, and the blue gem on Mokona's forehead begins to glow.

Kurogane stares into Fai's mismatched eyes—one blue like ice, like cloud, and the other one an otherworldly, hungry gold, bright as the heavens. "It's time," he says hoarsely. "Isn't it."

Fai sits lightly in his lap. "Yes," says Fai, but he makes no move.

Kurogane grunts. "If you say so. Vampire. Kyuuketsuki. Do your thing."

"You know I can't do that," Fai whispers, closing his eyes. It takes time to get into the right mindset, the right mental switch. But then he finds it. Quite suddenly, he sags bonelessly against Kurogane's body, like a human doll.

Kurogane catches Fai and guides his fall downwards, neatly catching Fai's sweaty forehead against the crook of his elbow. "Drink," he orders, cupping one large hand across the back of Fai's skinny neck. He is ready to press Fai's fangs into his skin, if necessary. It shouldn't be, but sometimes Fai's mind interferes too much with his instincts. Fai often waits too long before he admits that he needs to feed, exhausting himself. If Kurogane had his way, he would insist on regular feeding times, but this was the compromise they reached. Fai has the final say on when it's time to feed—and Kurogane respects it. As a principle it makes sense. But when the principle applies to Fai, Kurogane worries about the mage's absurd lack of self-preservation. As it is, Fai needs to feed maybe once a week.

For today Fai's body is cooperative. When his brain registers the beating of blood beneath Kurogane's skin, his lips part. Reflexively, his fangs bare and extend, sinking slowly and numbingly into Kurogane's pale flesh. Fai's hands dart out and squeeze Kurogane's arm to get a better grip, fingernails biting into Kurogane's skin.

That done, Kurogane lets out a deep breath. He allows the arm to which Fai is currently attached to fall heavily to the table. His other hand, trembling with strain, strokes the mage's blond locks soothingly.

As always, Kurogane feels the inexorable, magnetic pull that Fai's sucking fangs exert on his blood that causes his heart to quicken into overtime, and Kurogane has to struggle not to resist the backwards flow. Right now, while Fai is feeding, Kurogane feels he is at his absolute weakest. It's demoralizing. Years ago, the loss of his strength (however temporary) might have been the worst price he could think of. Yet when it came down to it, he paid that price to save Fai's life. Kurogane has some compensation in that he knows the blood he loses will replenish itself faster than in a normal human. In a fight, Kurogane probably has a higher chance of surviving blood loss that might kill a normal human. Fai isn't likely to think of that trade as fair, however. Kurogane takes care that the strain doesn't show.

Kurogane knows it is almost over when, as Fai finishes sucking, his lips relax around Kurogane's skin, and his tongue darts out to lick leftover smears of blood. The feeding done, Fai releases the crook of Kurogane's elbow and slowly straightens to drape himself over Kurogane's neck, where he rests, panting slightly, for a little while. And for his part, Kurogane also needs time to recover from the ordeal.

Finally Fai pushes himself away so he can have a look at Kurogane's face. "Kuro-pii, there's sweat on your forehead," he chuckles.

Kurogane sighs, about to push Fai away, but Fai stretches himself a little. With quick, catlike strokes of his tongue, licks the salt from his skin. Kurogane grunts. "You'd better get off now."

"Yeah," Fai says vaguely, and starts to slide off of Kurogane's lap when he sees the shiromanju Mokona watching them. Panicking, he hastily pulls himself back up, using the back Kurogane's neck as a lever. Kurogane growls, about to protest Fai's maltreatment of his body, but then he also sees the white Mokona. Mokona hops onto the table, projecting a familiar image.

"Tch. It's the Witch's assistant. Watanuki," says Kurogane, finally, none too pleased. It's not Watanuki's fault that he happened to catch them in the middle of something intimate, but he's irritated.

Although it probably couldn't have been avoided. It's been a while since they last saw each other; Watanuki doesn't check on them as often as the witch used to, and he's mostly concerned with Syaoran and Sakura. On top of that, time doesn't flow regularly between their worlds.

A bit overcome with what he has just seen, Watanuki looks a trifle ill, although his years as the shopkeeper have taught him to hide it well. "Not the assistant anymore," he mutters, then clears his throat in a business-like manner. "I'm the shopkeeper."

Kurogane blinks. It's hard to believe that the witch is dead—he didn't see it happen. Syaoran told them, of course, and mentioned that Watanuki had taken up her post. But the witch was the one who supported their world travels, not Watanuki. He knows her, a little, but not this kid. In fact, it's downright strange to converse with Watanuki when he had so little to do with their actual quest but knew so much of it. Watanuki probably feels the same, which is why he doesn't check on them as often or memorably as Yuuko did… And, to be honest, unlike when they still traveled under the shadow of Fei-Wong Reed, they haven't needed his help or interference since they left Clow the first time.

Fai is the first to recover. "So…" he drawls, grinning mischievously. "How much did you see?"

"Wha—what?!" Kurogane tries to shove Fai off of his chest. Fai won't budge. Sensing the effort is useless, Kurogane slackens on the pressure and Fai, giggling, snaps back to his chest like a rubber band. Fai looks— well, as genuinely carefree and happy as anyone has ever seen him, actually. It's hard to tell whether this is because of genuine affection for Kurogane or because he wants to tease Watanuki some more.

Watanuki's skin tinges a faint pink. He doesn't want to elaborate any more than he has to. He coughs into his hand. "Enough," he says. "I saw enough."

"Enough, he says. Stop embarrassing us." Kurogane stares Fai in the face. "Get off my lap."

Only Kurogane can say that line with such a straight face, Fai thinks, and makes a face. "Hmmphf," he grumbles, because his body feels heavy and he doesn't want to move. Fai carefully slides to the floor and once again rises again to his feet, only reeling a little. Kurogane grabs his arm by the elbow, just in case. The rush of power from drinking blood, as Fai describes it, is so forceful that he has trouble adjusting to the flux in energy and power. But just because Fai derives energy from this power does not mean that the feeling is much better than being sick. He's never mentioned this to Kurogane. Kurogane can see for himself.

"Gentlemen, I have business with Syaoran," Watanuki announces.

Surprised, the two men look at him. Fai blinks. "That so? Didn't you know? He's with Princess Sakura right now," he says.

"Why is the White Mokona with you, then?" Watanuki questions.

Fai and Kurogane exchange covert, guarded glances. It's Fai who speaks, again. "Actually…Syaoran's curse ended months ago, now. We thought he'd told you. Mokona is with us because we like to visit Syaoran once a month or so, but we're settled on…well. Where is 'here' again, Kurogane?" Fai peeks at the former ninja.

"Tagui," Kurogane supplies.

Fai makes a face. "Weird name, nice place. Strikes a happy balance between the worlds we both come from…"

Kurogane makes a negative noise, looks at Watanuki, and says, "He says that, but the synthetic meat the islanders eat here really gets on his nerves. I myself don't have a problem with it. What I have a problem with—" Quick as a flash, Fai slips behind Kurogane and claps one hand over Kurogane's mouth. Irritated, Kurogane twists his neck, forcing Fai's hand to slip just enough so he could speak "—mph, it's always so damn sunny—" Fai's hand drops away suddenly, and Kurogane stops talking to gape at him.

Fai leans closer to Kurogane. "The food is a really a very small problem with this perfect country, Kurogane. You don't say you missed the snow, or something?"

Kurogane just frowns at him. "I don't expect you to agree with me about the necessity of snow, after living on Seresu. Bad memories, right?" He shrugs. "I guess it's time to jump worlds again. Shall we? I was getting tired of this place."

"Let's go," Fai agrees, peeking at Watanuki.

"Mokona!" Kurogane calls. "Take us to Syaoran! Take us to the Kingdom of Clow!"

The white pork-bun Mokona chirps, "Here we go!" White Mokona hops into the air, hovering several feet off the ground, opens its mouth and swallows up the two world-weary travelers before disappearing itself.

They arrive on Clow three feet away from the person they wanted to see, a couple of steps in front of the castle. A youthful but grave face, brown hair, distinctively tattered cloak, same sensible shoes and boots...

"Syaoran!" Watanuki calls, through Mokona, jerking forward a little with anticipation.

Syaoran turns to face them. He is smiling and his eyes are full with happiness. "Watanuki. Fai. Kurogane. I was just going in to see the princess." He bows slightly. At your service.

Fai grins back at him, and gestures airily to Syaoran. He puts one hand on Kurogane's shoulder and tows him into the palace. There is only one person that Watanuki really wants to see, after all.

"Is it true? Is it true that your price is over?" Watanuki presses him.

"Aye. Aye. Yes, it's true," Syaoran replies.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure if you had also gotten out. You ought to have, but you never contacted me, and I know time moves funny for you. I didn't want to get your hopes up."

Well, that at least makes sense, though he doesn't like it. Watanuki changes the subject. "You don't look a hair over twenty-five," Watanuki marvels.

"I was lucky. Sakura is pleased that I won't be traveling well into old age. She was getting antsy and dropping hints everywhere that she wanted to start a family." Syaoran's smile is wan. "Mostly, it's that she thinks she's ready, but there are political reasons as well. On Clow, the crown princess does not become a Queen until she marries, and she's not considered secure in her role until she has children. This would give her the power to start making some badly needed changes in the country. Those problems weren't urgent enough, though, so we put marriage on hold while I was traveling for as long as we could. We got the married part down six months ago, when the terms of our wish expired. She's been happy and busy ever since. Speaking of age—you don't look a year past nineteen, although you must have been seventeen when your time stopped."

Watanuki's throat constricts suddenly. Syaoran sees the strain immediately.

"It hasn't been the same for you, has it?"

Watanuki slowly shakes his head.

"For how long?" Syaoran demands.

Watanuki bows his head rather than look him in the eye. Here in front of Syaoran, he is unable to explain himself. All his reasons become illogical, easy to explain away as irrational adherence to his compulsively rationalized wish to do something for a mysterious woman who did so much for him but did not actually exist. From the outside—he knows—none of this makes any sense. From the very start, it was in every way unreasonable.

"How long?" Syaoran says again, insistent, his voice rising.

He can't lie. Not to him. "A—a hundred years. And a couple of months."

"Six months, I would bet." Syaoran clicks his tongue, folds his arms, grits his teeth. He's angry. "Sakura said the ripples from Clow's sorcery have finally dissippated throughout the universe. That was how long ago it was."

Watanuki hangs his head.

"Your friends are dead, aren't they?" Now Syaoran's voice is cold. It had been hot before.

Watanuki nods. "All but—except for Doumeki's great-grandson. He's just like his great-grandfather." Watanuki laughs nervously.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You would interfere."

"I would never!" Syaoran denies it. "Dammit! I can't...!" Watanuki flinches and looks up. Syaoran looks close to tears. "I would never," Syaoran says, more quietly. "That's complete crap. Absolute…" he shakes his head. "I'll tell you what I would have done. I would have come for you."

"Yes. And you would have tried to persuade me to take another path."

"Yes! So that you would change your mind!" Syaoran shouts. "We could have found a better way! We both knew that price wasn't right!"

Watanuki looks away.

"You shouldn't close your mind off to influences you don't like, Watanuki! What were you thinking? Your very life is bound up in your friends. Your nakama. Without them you are nothing. I know what that is like. How could you…"

"I did. I won't regret it, Syaoran. If you want me to be happy, don't try to make me regret my decisions." Watanuki lifts his chin and his voice rises slightly. "The moment I begin to pity the path that my own life has taken, that is the moment when I have lost hope, and I can no longer live with myself."

Syaoran shudders and touches his forehead. "Okay. Okay. I get it." He sighs. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. We've all made hard decisions we don't want to think about…"

"Yes." Watanuki's voice is clipped.

Syaoran laughs quietly. "I guess I can't blame you for not wanting to open yourself up to attack from people that you trust."

Watanuki's reply is mild, almost deliberately so. "As long as you understand."

The words intended to placate Syaoran inflame him instead. Syaoran's head whips up and he locks blazing brown eyes with Watanuki, nostrils flared. "Oh, Iunderstand." His tone is bitter and searing. Don't misunderstand me: that doesn't make it any less unacceptable.

Watanuki raises his chin but says nothing.

Syaoran forces himself to stop and rein in his temper before he says another word. He's always had that peculiar ability to inflame or dampen his own feelings of honor and determination. It's one of the few ways he differs from Watanuki, who has never learned to bend his spirit to his will.

Syaoran squares his shoulders, calm. "This is why," he explains, voice low. "I didn't know if my traveling would ever let me go home to make a family with Sakura. I was happy to pay the price, but I wasn't sure how long I could hold out. I think I would have paid it even if I spent my whole life in expectation, thought it meant my own dearest wish never came true. So in that way I can understand you. But me, I—I never had to go through with that path. Maybe I was wrong about the future. Maybe I would have given up in fifty years; maybe I wouldn't. You did, and you faced that choice alone.

"That's why I'm angry with you, twin mirror of my soul. Your life is important to me, so I love you. What you chose that day was too damn sad. No one should have to go through that. But I didn't know exactly what would happen, so I couldn't do anything for you. And you made that choice for me. I would like to think that if I visited you, even for a little, then I could have made a difference and prevented some of your suffering." Syaoran's glinting warm brown eyes are no less flinty. "But you never gave me the chance. You took part of my half, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry," says Watanuki, after a moment. "I didn't want you to sorrow."

"I love you, my brother." Syaoran wipes his eyes. "You are my responsibility, mine and Yuuko's. I just — I can't help but feel that I've failed you in some way up to now. That there was more I could have done."

"You haven't. You've done your best. I could never resent you, Syaoran." It's true they haven't spent that much time together—though over the years they've spoken more and more often through the Mokonas—but ever since Syaoran first impinged on his world, Watanuki knew a special person, a person he knew on an instinctive level he had never felt for any other, had entered his life and loved him. It was the same with Syaoran's wife, Sakura, but different; as if he had always known and been close to her, but there was no confusion that they were not the same person, only that Syaoran and Sakura belonged together as one puzzle piece fits into another.

Sometimes Watanuki found himself wondering what would happen if a Sakura walked into his life. But it would never happen. His world's Sakura was his own mother, whom he doesn't remember.

Syaoran clears his throat, though his eyes are red. Watanuki knows he feels very strongly, but he also knows Syaoran can recover from the most astonishing losses with frightening aplomb. "What will you do next, Watanuki?" Syaoran asks. Already, Syaoran's shoulders are rising and falling as he breathes, guiding himself back to his center of calm.

"I'm still waiting for Yuuko."

"Why?"

Hesitantly, he says, "I promised. And—six months ago—she sent me a message. 'Tadaima—I'm back,' she said. Today—today she said she would grant my wish, in a dream."

"Well, what are you doing here? Go look for her!" Syaoran gestures for emphasis.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. That's what she wants you to do." Syaoran is definite.

"Oh." Watanuki blinks. That was all?

"Bring her home, she's saying," Syaoran says, a little too confidently. Now Watanuki isn't as certain, again.

"I thought maybe my price hadn't been fulfilled, and she wanted me to stay. To keep waiting for her."

Syaoran shook his head. "No. She's there. It's past time for me to say this: get on with your life, Watanuki."

For a moment Watanuki's face turns perfectly still, as if he had been struck. Then he blinks rapidly to cover his pricking tears. "Yes, all right. It's decided; I will. Thank you, Syaoran." Watanuki makes a movement as if he's about to end the connection.

Syaoran leans forward urgently, before he can do so. "Wait, Watanuki! I forgot to tell you in all the confusion—Sakura's having a baby."

"She is?" Watanuki is surprised. "You didn't mention…"

He nods. "Yes. First try, see," he boasts. "We'll check on you when the baby has been born, probably in three months or so. Maybe another six, it depends on politics here."

Watanuki smiles easily. "Come, then. You're always welcome. And thanks for telling me ahead of time… I must make something special for your child, so it will be ready for you." The connection is beginning to warp. "Don't worry about me. Everything will all be over soon."

Syaoran shakes his head, but lets him go. "Goodbye, Watanuki."

"Goodbye, Syaoran."

The light glowing within the red and blue jewels on the Mokonas' foreheads slowly fades, and the connection is gone.

Shizuka Doumeki walks in. Watanuki knows without even having to turn around. He hears the shoji slide at the genkan, and the aura of the shop changes around him. Watanuki sometimes mistakes it for staleness and sterility before he finally figures it out — purity. Shizuka makes the very air seem sharper, fresher. Unerring as usual, Shizuka heads straight to the kitchen, and there he puts down his briefcase.

"Watanuki-sama."

Speech he had been expecting, but not the honorific. Watanuki starts, reflexively releasing the counter in front of him. "I told you not to call me that." Watanuki turns around.

Shizuka shrugs and his smile takes on a hint of smugness. "Yes. Yes, I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

Shizuka's slight smile fades as he turns pensive, listening sensitively to something in the air around him. "I felt like it," he says.

"That so," Watanuki replies, and pinches his lips together.

Shizuka looks up. He looks at Watanuki very hard. "I thought you'd be pleased with it today."

Granted, usually Watanuki would have felt a frisson of absurd pleasure to hear Doumeki's great-grandson call him that. Watanuki folds his arms and looks at the kitchen wall, to the side. "Not today," he sighs.

"Something happened, then."

"I suppose you could say that."

"Then why do you sound bitter?"

Ah, Doumeki Shizuka. So direct. Watanuki chuckles hollowly. "The former shopkeeper returned. Six months ago, now."

Shizuka blinks. "In May?"

"The Inari practitioner left a message for me on your video camcorder. You remember?"

"So that's what that was about."

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, not at all. That was just … the price."

Shizuka looks at him sharply. "Then you don't think that girl—"

"No, I don't. That's not her. She was just the messenger."

"Then what?"

"Syaoran says I should look for her."

"Syaoran?"

"Of course, you've never met him before." Watanuki falls silent, and then murmurs, almost to himself, "Granted, Doumeki never exactly met him, either." Watanuki raises his head.

Shizuka asks again, "Who is Syaoran?"

"He is—me; me, in a way, but from another world. We share the same birth name."

"Kimihiro, you mean?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, no, our true name. They say magicians must grant themselves a pseudonym, but I never had to do that. For a long time, my parents gave me my fake name to live by, to protect me, I didn't even know my true name until … never mind."

"I see…."

The two of them lapse into silence. Shizuka is the first to break it. "Are you going to get me something to eat?"

Watanuki blinks. "I forgot about your discerning-but-bottomless Doumeki stomach. Ah, but these are mine, and Mokona's…" He looks at where the omelet plates had been. One is gone—Mokona must have sneaked in behind his back while he was talking to Syaoran. Only one is left. His. "Oh, never mind, then. What would you like, Shizuka?"

"Whatever you're having."

"What kind of omelet, then?"

Shizuka shrugs. "The best."

"The best," Watanuki repeats, a little incredulously. How can he live up to the best? That's a tall order. Mentally he starts remembering Doumeki's likes and dislikes, and he starts creating a mental list of foods to use. He crosses to the refrigerator and begins rummaging.

"Your own food's probably cold," Shizuka notes.

Watanuki shrugs. He can hardly taste it anyway.

"What will you do, then?"

"What?" Watanuki pops his head out of the fridge.

"About the former shopkeeper. What will you do?"

"I don't know." Watanuki frowns and keeps pulling out ingredients. He crosses to the counter and assembles them in a long line. He prepares the cooking pan. He cracks the eggs, and expertly applies the cooking flame.

"You aren't going to follow Syaoran's advice?"

"I don't know." Watanuki throws in a couple of ingredients, another couple of eggs, and lets the batch sizzle. "The problem is hitsuzen."

"If it's meant to happen, then you'll find her if you go looking. Or perhaps you'll find her if you stay here."

"Exactly," says Watanuki. "So what should I do?"

"Whichever feels most natural," Shizuka replies.

Watanuki laughs under his breath. Ha. No, that doesn't narrow it all down at all, does it. He wants to pursue Yuuko. But he's afraid that his own wish will terminate if he leaves the shop to go outside—

"It's been six months already, you say," Shizuka comments, tapping his fingers on one of the cabinets. "Perhaps she hasn't got a wish."

Watanuki whips around. "But what if she—if she hasn't got a—" He freezes, looking horrified. The store. She can't see it. "Now why didn't I—" His vision flickers, and he trips and begins to fall...

Shizuka reaches out and grabs both of Watanuki's shoulders, and props him up while Watanuki simply closes his eyes and breathes until he isn't dizzy anymore. When he opens his eyes, Shizuka waits for his signal, and then lets him go. Still somewhat unsteady, Watanuki stands on his own two feet.

"Eggs," says Shizuka, flicking his fingers at the mess. He knows when they're in the delicate stage. He doesn't like any burnt parts.

Watanuki checks them, turns off the stove and prods the omelet tentatively with a spatula. It looks okay. He carefully scrapes it off the pan and onto yet another plate, rummages in another drawer for some clean chopsticks, and hands it to Shizuka.

Shizuka takes his plate, picks up Watanuki's, pushes Watanuki into the living room and makes him sit down. Shizuka digs in right away while Watanuki sits, staring into space. Finally, Shizuka prods him, "Aren't you going to eat?" and at his quiet behest, Watanuki picks up his quarter-omelet and twists it in half with his chopsticks. He still doesn't take a bite. He's still thinking.

"I'll go looking for Yuuko, then," Watanuki murmurs.

"Aye."

"Thanks. I wouldn't have thought of that myself…"

Shizuka has a funny smile on his face. He is more expressive than Doumeki. Must be his grandmother Kohane-chan's influence—yes, it does remind Watanuki of her smile. "That's what friends are for," Shizuka says.

Watanuki nods, accepting that, and takes a bite. They eat in silence for a while, so the only sound is that of utensils scraping on the plate.

Finished, Shizuka lowers his plate and looks Watanuki in the eyes. "It is such a simple thing, but it was indeed the best. My great-grandfather didn't lie. Watanuki-sama, you really know how to cook."

For a moment, Watanuki just stares at him. Already, he has forgotten, and it takes him a minute to remember who Shizuka really is. His protest is a little late. "I told you not to call me that," he protests, but at the last he forgets his dismay and smiles suddenly, because he can't help smiling at the earnest folly of his younger years.

How should we dream of dreams?

I can't stand this, always hesitating, anymore.

What I can do for you, that no one else can do?

Every day I am so irresponsible, I cannot undertake this task.

How should we search for tomorrow?

I can no longer bear always hanging my head as it is.

Which of the lights in your room will be lit?

All I have is my own footsteps, though they falter.

—"Adayume" / "Selfish Dream" (Shikao Suga) [translation]