| Chapter 2 |

Shizuka turns the last corner on his way to the wishing shop and folds his umbrella, not wanting to hit the fence or the sides of the wishing shop. It might have unexpected effects on Watanuki's wards. Shizuka doesn't mind if he gets a little wet, so long as he keeps moving in this freezing weather… The rain droplets are small, and for the most part they fall softly, but when the wind kicks up, they really sting.

Shizuka hops up onto the porch and turns around, casting a quick glance at the road and the houses on the opposite side of the street, which might be watching him.

There's a girl standing there on the street. She catches his gaze and stares at him with wide brick-red eyes, apparently just as surprised to see a person there as he was; and then she turns and walks away. Her sleek ponytail, black as ebony and grown so long that it reaches the backs of her knees, sways in the morning wind.

There's something strange about her, but Shizuka can't put his finger on it. He can't think what could have been. Her bearing? Her clothes? The way she stared at him? He supposes he might seem strange to others, standing in the middle of a grassy lot that appears to the general public that doesn't have business with the shop. He shrugs and ducks into the shop.

After breakfast, they don't talk about anything very serious. Shizuka brought some DVDs he thinks Watanuki might be interested in watching; they end up playing a game and whiling the day away. And finally it's afternoon, and Shizuka suddenly feels like it's important not to delay anymore.

"Watanuki."

"Yes?"

"I have a feeling," says Shizuka.

"Like what?"

"Just a feeling. Come outside."

"To the garden? It's raining." Watanuki looks out. Yes, raining. It was overcast this morning, and sprinkling a little later on when Shizuka came in, but it has been pouring for over an hour now.

Shizuka hesitates. "No. To the street."

"I'd be leaving the shop, then," Watanuki says softly. He isn't exactly objecting, but…

"Yes."

Watanuki sighs. "Now?"

"If you want to find her, you'd have to take this step eventually, Watanuki. Anyway, I'm here right now. Let's get this over with. If nothing happens, then nothing will, and that's hitsuzen, but at least we should try, don't you think?" Watanuki nodded stiffly. He was really very easy to read, thought Shizuka. "It's scariest the first time. You haven't been out of this shop in a long time. I know; I understand. That's why we should do it now, while I'm here to help you." Shizuka stands, and holds out his hand.

Feeling broken and weary, Watanuki also pulls himself into a stand, and every so slowly he places his hand in the palm of Shizuka's hand, and they twine fingers.

Shizuka gives him a nod and pulls him through the house.

About halfway through the hall, Watanuki's throat threatens to close up. "We should get a—a jacket—" he coughs, and drags Shizuka the other way, to the closets, and there he roots through the clothes one-handed because Shizuka won't let go. He puts it on — Shizuka remembers his own jacket and snags it with his loose hand — and they make it to the genkan before Watanuki remembers that he needs socks, because if it's raining, then clogs or sandals aren't the best idea of the day…

"Just come out into the rain," Shizuka says. He has very little inflexion or expression, like Doumeki, but somehow Watanuki knows that he's trying to sound coaxing.

Watanuki shivers and fiddles with the fastenings of his jacket, and then almost wrenches his hand out of Shizuka's when he wheels around to find the socks and put them on. And the umbrella. And the mittens. And the scarf. Seeing that Watanuki's hands will be busy for a while, Shizuka releases him, but as soon as Watanuki is done with his tasks he catches Watanuki's hand again and securely twines their fingers together. His hands are so quick and firm that Watanuki catches his breath.

"Watanuki, I don't think we'll be out more than five minutes," Shizuka says patiently. "Do you really need anything else?"

Watanuki looks at the ground and shuffles his feet. "Probably not," he mumbles, shamefaced, and squeezes Shizuka's hand for reassurance. "You're probably right. The first time is the hardest."

"Are you ready?"

Watanuki takes a deep breath and nods.

Shizuka slides open the door, and they step through; Shizuka slides it shut again, opens the umbrella, and leads Watanuki to the street. Watanuki can't help slouching like a cat under the dripping rain. If he had ears, they would be flat to the sides. They reach the street and Shizuka stops; Watanuki bumps into him, then steps aside, so he is just barely under the umbrella.

The rain sleets down, and rolls across the street in sheets.

Watanuki is already completely miserable. "Are you sure about this, Shizuka?!" He has to speak more loudly than he is accustomed to be heard over the pounding water. "How long?"

Shizuka replies but Watanuki couldn't hear him clearly.

"What?"

Shizuka touches Watanuki's shoulder. "Soon enough—" he says, enunciating, and then he sees what he has been waiting for; the rest of the words stick to the roof of his mouth. He swallows thickly.

A girl turns the corner and dashes forward on their street, holding her school briefcase above her head for an umbrella, splashing water every which way. Her long hair is plastered to her back.

She's about to pass them when Shizuka steps forward suddenly and holds out the umbrella. His sleeve dampens steadily as he waits. "Here. Use this," he says firmly.

The girl skids, trying to the stop on the slippery ground. She quickly regains her balance, however, and runs back. She clasps the handle of the proffered umbrella but doesn't take it just yet. She slips the briefcase from her shoulders, and lets it hang to the ground in her hand.

Her eyes are wide with surprise, and a little anxiety. "Is it all right? I'm soaked already, you know," the girl says quietly, panting a little. "And you two are dry. It would be—a waste." And she raises her blood-red eyes, and takes the two of them in. "Wouldn't it?" She's right. There isn't very much of her that isn't somewhat wet.

Her eyes find Watanuki's, and Watanuki locks eyes with her and cannot look away, mesmerized. It is Shizuka who replies, insisting, "Take it," but the girl doesn't break her gaze on Watanuki's eyes. Unusually bold…

"I was not going to stay out here long. Come and bring it back another day," says Watanuki faintly. "Do you come by often?"

"I just transferred to this school," said the girl, looking at Watanuki carefully. "I've come this way since the new year."

"Congratulations on the New Year," Watanuki replies, stuttering a little, a bit dazed, and he bows, breaking eye contact at last. These are semi-automatic words he hasn't said in a very long time to anyone other than Shizuka or Doumeki, words that gradually over time had lost more and more of their meaning, until now.

"Let this year also be a good one," the girl replies reflexively, bowing. Her eyes narrow when the silence stretches and she senses that this means something beyond a single greeting. "You aren't an ordinary person, are you," she says finally.

The right idea finally occurs to Watanuki. A test. "Do you see this place behind us?" Watanuki asks, and stands aside so she can see beyond the umbrella.

She tilts her head and frowns, looking past him. "It's a house. With crescent moons, isn't it? It's an odd one. I had been wondering. It doesn't seem like the rest of the city here, so I was curious. It seems strangely familiar—a trace of dejá vù—but it's wrapped in so many different times and places—can you see that—?"

Watanuki says, "Yes, I see. Thank you…" and moves back to his spot beside Shizuka.

"Do you live here? You and…him?" The girl flicks her eyes at Shizuka.

"Yes, this is my home and workplace. He's a friend," Watanuki replies. "He lives at the family Buddhist temple. You must have heard of the Doumeki family."

An unusually strong gust of wind blows by. The girl staggers a little; her eyes widen when she looks back up. "I've passed by there, but I've never seen anyone."

"Someone is always there. Come visit sometime after eight at night. I'll make tea," Shizuka says quietly. "It's good to know one's neighbors."

"I don't even know your names," the girl says, confused. "But…" She clamps her lips down on her next words and shakes her head violently. This is not the place to reveal her feelings, feelings that are as alien to her as if they belonged to another person.

"Ah, I'm so sorry. Hajimemashite. My name is Watanuki Kimihiro, and this is Doumeki Shizuka."

"I am Kochoushu Tekona. Kochoushu is written with the characters for 'butterfly' and 'master.'"

Watanuki can't help himself; he physically flinches. Shizuka looks at him askance. Watanuki shrugs him off.

"I should get going," Kochoushu says awkwardly, lowering her breathtaking eyes. She hefts the school briefcase, takes the umbrella, backs up, and resumes sprinting down the street.

Watanuki rounds on Shizuka. "You knew that was going to happen!"

"I had an inkling. I think—I think remembered."

"Well, I don't remember doing anything of the kind!" Watanuki grouses.

"No, it must have been a recollection of my great-grandfather's. I know only you could really tell if it was her or not. But she seemed to sense something also— We should go inside; you already look like you're about to get a chill. And you almost fainted earlier today." Right on time, Watanuki sneezes. Shizuka frowns and steers Watanuki back into the wishing shop by the elbow.

"But we were right on time—"

"I often visited you after school when I was young, didn't I? Since I turned fifteen, I think, half the time I went home to the temple, and half the time I came here to keep you company. I still remember how long it took to get here from there, and when I usually arrived…"

"I see," says Watanuki softly, rubbing his eyes.

Shizuka opens the front door and ushers Watanuki back inside. "She barely took her eyes off you."

"I know," Watanuki says softly, then looks down as Shizuka helps him out of his coat. "On some level, she's aware. But I'm not sure how much."

The next day, there's a knock at the door. Awakened early from his nap, Watanuki gets up and opens the door groggily, and there's the girl, Kochoushu Tekona, holding Shizuka's umbrella out to him. He doesn't take it back just yet.

"Hello. I came to return this, Watanuki-san."

"Yes. It's actually Shizu— Doumeki-san's," Watanuki corrects himself.

"Right...But you'll give it to him, won't you? Should I come back another day?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, you may leave it here. I will give it to Doumeki-san myself when he comes back."

"Okay." The girl turns to leave.

"Wait a second. Don't go yet." Watanuki leans out the door. "I'm sorry, I'm still sleepy. I forgot— I have to ask you an important question."

"And what would that be?" asks Kochoushu warily, reluctantly turning back.

"I'm about to tell you something very strange. That question I asked you before—I wanted to know whether you sensed what this place is, and you did. This house is a wishing shop—a place that is here, and not here, in reality. Most people can't see it, but you can." Watanuki leans on the doorway. "Therefore, you must have a wish."

Kochoushu shuffles her feet. "I actually thought so from the first. This place is—transparent, if you don't look properly. Sometimes I can see both realities at once. It's a little dizzying. Are you a magic-worker?"

"Yes, I'm a dream-seer. And I have a few other techniques as well. My official title is keeper of this wishing shop."

"I see," says Kochoushu.

"Do you have a wish?"

"What kind of wish?"

"I can't even begin to classify the kinds of wishes people bring to me," Watanuki says, and chuckles. "So I can't answer. Only you can."

"Hmm." Kochoushu hesitates.

"Why don't you come in and talk about it with me?" Watanuki suggests gently.

"All right."

Watanuki leads Kochoushu to a table, and has Maru and Moro fetch them snacks and drinks from the kitchen that he had prepared just before he took his nap.

Kochoushu sips her tea and watches Watanuki with an interested, curious scrutiny that's started to make him kind of uncomfortable.

Watanuki leans forward, elbow on the table, resting his chin on his bent left wrist. "You must have some idea…of what you want, or need."

Kochoushu's mauve eyes move back to her cup of green tea. "It's hard to say."

"Take your time."

She takes a few big gulps of tea, sets the cup down. Watanuki refills it for her.

Her eyes flicker left; then back to Watanuki; then left again.

"What is it?" Watanuki asks, resignedly.

"You can see spirits, can't you," she says, glancing sideways.

Watanuki nods. "Yes. I couldn't do this job otherwise."

"Then—" Kochoushu's brow creases, and her hands clench on her lap. Instinctively Watanuki knows that what she says now is a true wish, but it is connected to her most pressing problem. She's taking a gamble. "I want the power to see spirits," she blurts out.

Watanuki cocks his head. "Can't you?"

"No. Just—times and places."

Watanuki blinks. "You mean dimensions?"

"Yes. I suppose."

"Surely that includes the Otherworld—"

"To a degree. But I can only see the Otherworld, the Underworld, or Heaven in itself, when it deigns to impinge on our reality, which is rarely, and only in places where the physical borders are thin. Then I can see beyond. But when creatures from those worlds walk in our world, I cannot tell," Kochoushu says tersely.

"What do you need it for?"

Kochoushu shakes her head. "I do not deny that there is an immediate purpose. However, I believe that as I am drawn into the study of magic, it will help in the long run, for it is better to know, not to guess."

"Such has not been my experience," says Watanuki.

"And what was your experience?"

"That of an ostrich burying its head into the sand..." Watanuki shakes his head and leans forward. "What you see can also see you. As a result of that wish, you become a target of the Otherworld. Spirits will latch onto you, take advantage of you, beg favors of you, hurt you. Think well. Once you are granted this ability, it never goes away." Watanuki places his palms on the table and sits straight. "The danger is not one to be taken lightly. You will probably have fewer problems than I, for I do not sense the kind of sweetness in your blood that attracts spirits—so the weak ones will not molest you—but the risk of attracting the notice of the more powerful spirits is great nonetheless."

"How long have you had this power, then?"

"Since birth," Watanuki replies bluntly.

"You were powerless as a child. Surely you grew to learn how to deal with them safely," Kochoushu objects, "Later on. As I would learn."

"Yes, under the tutelage of my predecessor, and other people. She taught me how to deal with it, but the annoyances never let me be." He falls silent. Until I became shopkeeper. Watanuki isn't quite sure that, if he quit the job at some point down the line, that Yuuko's protection would still apply. It ought, but Yuuko had never cast a spell or wrought a magic that he could see to that effect.

"Let them think what they think," Kochoushu says dismissively. "I will deal with it. If I am to be a magic-worker, I must be fully a part of the world I influence."

"You know you're a magic worker?"

"I know how to do some things." Kochoushu flexes her fingers. "Power will out… And seeing other worlds is conspicuous, I'm sure you will agree."

"So you want control," Watanuki guesses.

"Ultimately, yes. But the first step—"

"I see." Watanuki drums his fingers on the table. "You're right."

"I am?" Kochoushu says blankly.

"Yes. I may not like it, but you are. It's not a good thing to have a foot in two worlds, and be unaware of all the influences. Therefore, I shall make preparations to do as you request."

She bows from the waist. "Thank you very much."

"Don't thank me yet," Watanuki sighs. "This may be one of your wishes, but not your immediate wish as of right now. That I can tell. Sometimes that can lead one astray."

"I have not yet decided on a course of action." Kochoushu folders her hands together and considers them.

"In other words, you won't know until you can See," Watanuki says dryly.

She nods.

"A conundrum. Here is your price, then: service."

"How much?"

Watanuki shrugs. "In effort? In time? In kind of work? It is all variable. You will be done paying when the balance is struck, and at that time we will both know it. Probably within three years, if you have no more heavy wishes."

"The wish is that heavy?"

"It is. Very. Consider yourself apprenticed."

Kochoushu blinks. "Is that what this is?"

"My predecessor never said as much—she called it a part-time job—but I realized that was the actual deal only after the fact. What can I say? I was rather slow in high school. And I'd rather be honest with you. I could never be the type of person that woman was." The set of Watanuki's jaw tightens.

Kochoushu raises her eyes, and watches him. "When shall I come and work?"

"Come by after school, just like you did now."

Kochoushu stands. "Then I shall come another day."

"Yes."

Watanuki leads her to the door. Kochoushu slips on her shoes, and its about to go, but she turns and says, "I know I've never met you in my life, and yet you seem very familiar to me. I can't quite erase the feeling."

"I know," says Watanuki in a low voice, and leans over her to hold open the door so she can leave. "And it's true."

Their eyes meet one last time, so her eyes flash with concern, and then she slips out the door.

Less than five minutes later, Shizuka barges in, sliding the doors open and shut with a little more force than necessary, shakes his shoes off in the genkan, and pads into the living room.

"Don't you have classes?" Watanuki asks him, not looking up from some cards he's shuffling. Tarots, upon closer inspection.

Shizuka shakes his head. "National holiday."

Watanuki says, "I see," cuts the deck, and shuffles again.

"Did Kochoushu-san come by?"

"Yes, she just left."

"What did she want?"

"To be able to see spirits. Something happened to make that need urgent. She wouldn't tell me exactly why. However, control of her growing powers is a factor—which seeing spirits is only a part of. It's not everything."

"I see," said Shizuka.

"Care to find out?" Watanuki resumes shuffling.

Shizuka stares at him. "Are those…?"

"A little fortune-telling can be useful, sometimes. But you just don't do it in front of the kids. Eventually, they learn adult bad habits on their own."

"Mmhn." Shizuka draws up a chair and sits down. "This is a bad habit?"

"It's addictive, and informative in its way, but its answers are often vague. I think it was a trick of Yuuko's," Watanuki explains calmly. "She always knew too much. These cards are endowed with the magic to discover cause-and-effect ley lines in time through the hitsuzen principle. The truth of fortune-telling is, you are often scanning the past to view the possible futures the past might lead to. Of course, the results are rather general, but you can eliminate some outcomes much more quickly."

"So in this case…"

"I know Kochoushu-san's true wish, and some of the motivation for it, but not what the wish is for in the immediate future, although she clearly has intent of some kind… However, I can use fortunetelling to discover that wish's direct connection to the past, and to the future."

"Interesting."

Watanuki silently deals the cards. Shizuka sees nothing very special about the process. Other fortunetellers he's watched at festivals and so on will do chanting, or singing, or humming of some kind and move mysteriously, but Watanuki's manner is entirely plain. Watanuki glances at the cards, announces pieces of his interpretation after a moment's thought, and moves on. By the end of it, Watanuki has three entirely different theories about what is going on. Shizuka listens.

"Only one of those is true, though?" Shizuka asks at the end.

Watanuki nods. "We'll find out." He swipes at the assembled tarot cards, scattering them into disarray, mixes them up, gathers them in, and reshuffles. He replaces them neatly in the box he found them in, lays the box aside, and sighs. "All three predictions require very different preparations. Of the three, which do you find least likely, Shizuka?"

Shizuka shakes his head. "I really couldn't say. They all seemed—contrived."

Watanuki gazes at Shizuka thoughtfully. "They may at that. Doesn't mean it couldn't happen, though."

"Perhaps there's an agent at work obscuring the truth, then?"

"Possibly. —Are you ready for lunch?"

"Kitsune udon," Shizuka orders immediately.

Watanuki heads for the kitchen.

"Mokona, is there any chrysanthemum wine left over this year?" Watanuki calls.

Mokona bounces over and knocks itself against Watanuki's knees, quite on purpose. "Yes! Let's have a—"

"Not for drinking, this time, no," Watanuki tells her, scooping up Mokona. Mokona pretends to sulk. Watanuki strokes its felt-like ears, all too briefly. Mokona quickly leaps out of his arms again.

"What do you need the chrysanthemum wine for, Watanuki?" Shizuka asks.

"Ceremony, of course…" Watanuki walks to the pantry and starts rummaging. He finds the bottle. Amazingly, it has just enough liquid for what he needs. He stares at it. He was sure they had drunk every last drop this year. Hitsuzen. He shakes his head, and withdraws from the pantry with the bottle in hand.

"Any other pieces to the riddle?" Shizuka asks.

"Perhaps if I look among the prices my most recent customers gave me…" Watanuki muses, not quite attending to Shizuka's question, and starts browsing the shelves.

Shizuka glances at the girl. Kochoushu stands stock-still under the doorframe, her eyes wide. She looks at everything, trying to take it all in at once, and she can't. There's too much to see, too much history. "Do you see something?" Shizuka asks her.

Surprised, she looks at him. Finally sees something worth her full attention. "Yes…" she breathes.

"What is it?"

Her face scrunches with concentration. "An egg. I think. But it has no life… It exists in several dimensions at once, and it came from a different world, which is why I can see it."

Shizuka is shocked.

Watanuki overhears, but only in part. "Shizuka, what is that?" he asks, turning his head to look.

"She saw an egg that my great-grandfather passed down to me. Yuuko gave it to him," Shizuka replies quietly.

"To Doumeki?" Watanuki whips around and stares into his eyes.

Shizuka nods once.

For a moment Watanuki forgets who he's looking at. His surroundings momentarily fade into white. Watanuki touches the wall, reassuring himself that something is there. Reality reasserts itself sickeningly slowly.

Simmering anger seeps into Watanuki's bones.

There was only one way this could have happened, and that was if that idiot Doumeki, the more idiot he was, if Doumeki had deliberately kept knowledge of the egg from him. Doumeki kept it right under his nose, and had the gall to pass it on without his knowledge! If Doumeki didn't want Watanuki knowing, what could that mean? Nothing good. Of that Watanuki was sure, and it frightened him.

It takes him what seems to be an age to remember who is standing in front of him—it's Shizuka—Shizuka. Shizuka can't be blamed. It's not Shizuka's fault that he kept Doumeki's stupid secret. Doumeki at least would have understood what Watanuki was like, what this would mean to him, would have realized his act was one of complete betrayal…

Shuddering with rage, but now shamefaced, Watanuki quickly breaks eye contact with Shizuka. He turns to the girl and questions her instead. "Kochoushu-san, that's what you saw?" His voice is thick and strangled-sounding, but he has regained control of his face. She won't see him angry. He looks her straight in the eyes and forces himself to still.

"Yes," she replies.

Shizuka reaches deep into his kimono sleeve and takes out the gray, fragile-looking egg with shaking fingers. It looks soft as slate-gray talc, but it is actually as hard and heavy as stone, with a smooth, even surface. "Here."

"What was it for?" asked Watanuki slowly. Heavily.

"You."

"Yes, but—" Watanuki's face pinches into a fiery scowl.

"I don't know. But she saw it. It's important."

There's silence, heavy stone silence, standing between them now. Without a grievance to support it, Watanuki's anger slowly wears away.

When he replies, Watanuki's voice is strained, though he has got better control of himself. "Do you know—do you know what— What did Yuuko say? Exactly?"

Shizuka clears his throat. "I'll tell you…" He glances at the girl. "…later. My great-grandfather made me memorize her exact words."

"I see. Then you know what it was supposed to be used for."

"Only you could say for sure, now that you know. But great-grandfather's impression was that you weren't supposed to know. He never knew what to do with it."

Watanuki shakes himself. "As it happens, given my training and Yuuko's resources, I already know what properties that egg possesses. However, regardless of how it could have been used and what purpose it was intended for—of which I have a good idea—" Watanuki scowls "—it had the potential for several different purposes, including the problem we have at hand, which happens to be Kochoushu's wish."

Shizuka nods, watching him. Watanuki's anger, so quickly aroused, took him by surprise.

Watanuki bites his lip. "We need the right timing. A special day and a special time when the spirit world is active, and good luck is expected."

"Yes," Shizuka agrees.

The girl shifts from foot to foot. "When should I come back?"

"Tomorrow," says Watanuki. "And every day after that." He rushes to consult the lunar calendar tacked up on the wall with Yuuko's notes scribbled in the margins, and flicks his gaze between it and miniature Gregorian calendar on the desk, trying to compare the two. "Although it will probably be a week or two before I can do it. I need time to do a more scrutinizing analysis. Perhaps sooner, if there's a particularly auspicious weather event." He sounds tired.

"Kochoushu, today there is nothing you can do for me here. However, I would greatly appreciate it if you could go through the town and neighborhood and catalogue the places where you can see other worlds peeking through, or boundaries wearing thin. Just note where they are, what kinds of things you see around them, and make a guess as to the world on the other side. Could you do that?"

"Yes, Watanuki-san."

"Thank you for your hard work. You may go."

"Shizuka," Watanuki says, shortly.

Shizuka moves to hover somewhere behind Watanuki's left shoulder. "Yes?" he breathes.

"What did Yuuko say?"

Shizuka tells him. Watanuki presses his lips together and listens rigidly. Then he strides away, facing the wall, refusing to look at anyone.

"Why are you angry with me?" Shizuka asks, finally.

Watanuki shakes his head sharply in negation, closing his eyes. "No." He lays one hand over his eyes and takes a harsh, deep breath. "No, no, a thousand times no, not you; it's not your fault that I need to remind myself—it's Doumeki. It's always Doumeki." He scowls.

"My great-grandfather."

"Yes," says Watanuki, trying not to sound upset. And then, turning abruptly, he loses it. "Well—and Yuuko too, dammit! The minx! Vixen! Player! Jade! Siren! Temptress! Vamp! That—damn—damn—tease!" Watanuki is almost in tears; he looks like he wants to punch something.

Shizuka blinks. "I didn't know you knew those words."

Watanuki glowers at him, his face inflamed, pink with shame. "I've been alive one hundred years, of course I know them. Just because I don't say them…" One tear slips down, leaving a trail across his cheek. "You didn't know her."

"That girl…"

"Is her. But she's young, younger than when I met her." The color in Watanuki's cheeks is already fading. Watanuki, drained, leans against the wall.

"How old were you when you met Yuuko?"

"Seventeen. I think. She was … thirty-four? Thirty-six? Forty-two?" He pauses. "It doesn't matter. She was way out of my league," he adds, as if it was an afterthought.

"I see. But the girl isn't..."

"Yes. Yes, that's right. I wasn't expecting that."

"Is that why you are angry?" Shizuka's inquiring voice lilts.

Watanuki shakes his head again. "No, not that. I told you—this is all Yuuko and Doumeki's fault. A hundred years ago or so." Shizuka tilts his head. Watanuki swells with rage and throws himself into swift and restless movement. "You dolt, it's that wretched lifeless egg!" Watanuki shouts, pacing the room. "They never told me. If Doumeki had been a little faster on the draw with that thing, life as I know it might not have existed! I might have forgotten everything—everything that gives "me" meaning. And Yuuko just gave that power to him, and I never knew. She always favored Doumeki and helped him meddle in my life. And that stupid idiot kept it such a good secret that he had to leave it to his descendants to tell me the truth! And I'll never know what he has to say for himself!"

"I'm sorry," says Shizuka, a bit helplessly.

Watanuki rounds on him. "Idiot!" he snaps. And then Watanuki catches himself and resumes the silent chant in his head: not Shizuka's fault, not Shizuka's fault. He bites his lip and stares at the ground, trying not to scream with frustration.

"Mokona!" he barks, more sharply than he meant to. He can't help it when his voice grates.

Alarmed, Mokona shoots across the floor, a little black blur, faster than the eye could see. She meekly slides to a stop under the table and peeps around a chair leg to take a look at Watanuki's face before she ventures out.

"Come here," Watanuki says curtly, not caring to be gentle with his tone. "I won't hurt you." He held out his hand and Mokona hops on, switching her ears back in trepidation.

"Mokona, if Doumeki had used the egg, what would have happened?"

"Huh?" she squeaks.

"What would have happened?" Watanuki repeats.

"N-nothing…well…Mokona doesn't know. But the time he needed to use it hadn't come yet," Mokona says. "So nothing could happen and the chance would be lost."

"Is the time for which it is needed coming soon?"

The kuromanju shakes her head. "No. It's now happening. Happening since Watanuki stepped outside the shop."

Watanuki had expected as much. Watanuki sighs, puts down the kuromanju, and decides to escape into the kitchen, where he can calm down away from sight of a certain Doumeki.

When Watanuki has gone, and Shizuka hears the muffled clanging of pots and pans, Shizuka knows it is safe. Mokona's statement was interesting. Shizuka looks back at Mokona and asks, "Why didn't you stop us today, then?"

"It was his choice." Black Mokona purses her lips. "Watanuki was delaying. He might never have gone outside if he waited any longer. Yuuko did not want that for him. People should not be immortal for long."

"As I thought," Shizuka mutters. "So I have only to continue what I have been doing, and it becomes unnecessary." Mokona nods. Shizuka leans his forehead against the cool egg cupped in his hands. A flash of vision comes to him, and he gasps and almost drops the egg.

The kuromanju leaps into his lap. "Yuuko?"

Shizuka nods slightly. "She told me what to do."

"Good, then," Mokona says in a small voice. The kuromanju hops onto Shizuka's shoulder and cuddles his ear.

Shizuka sighs. "Are you ever lonely, Mokona?" Shizuka asks the kuromanju.

"No. Because Mokona is never alone." Mokona snuggles.

"But you have to hide things from Watanuki."

Mokona chirps and twitches its ears. "Yes. But it is sad-making, not lonely. Because I am not alone."

Shizuka thinks that the Mokonas have a different conception of loneliness than the one he possesses. "Why aren't you alone, Mokona?"

"Because I have Watanuki, silly!" Mokona pretends to pout. "And you." Mokona pretends to nibble Shizuka's ear. Shizuka gives a quick shake of his head, and Mokona topples off of Shizuka's shoulder.

"Why me?" asks Shizuka as Mokona crawls onto Shizuka's hands from where it fell in his lap.

"Shizuka Doumeki cares about Watanuki, and Watanuki doesn't understand him like Shizuka Doumeki understands Watanuki. Mokona cares about Watanuki, but Watanuki thinks that Mokona is always silly. Mokona is not always silly; Mokona is also serious, sometimes. Mokona also understands Watanuki. Mokona cannot talk to Watanuki about Watanuki because Watanuki does not understand himself. …And also," the kuromanju hesitates, "Because Mokona also talked to Yuuko like this. But Yuuko is gone."

"Thank you, Mokona," says Shizuka softly. "I see now."

Mokona makes no reply, but presses itself against his hands again, and just as suddenly bounces away.

Even such small creatures need the reassurance of touch sometimes, Shizuka thinks. Just like Watanuki. But Watanuki often forgets.

Shizuka doesn't know what Doumeki knew. In many ways, he is still a stranger to Watanuki still, but Watanuki is unable to treat him as one. Neither is Watanuki prepared to relate to Shizuka as the individual he is.

This is nothing new, but it is also true that until now they have never clashed over it. Right now, guilt is eating at Watanuki.

Although I had no inkling of when this day would come

Still you are there, making your presence known.

And ever since you were no more,

My body dried up, turning the color of a chrysalis.

I am reborn in a room as cold as winter

Just as if I really were a beautiful butterfly.

Though my wings are wet still,

And they might seem useless to some

As they open, little by little,

I dream of soaring into the sky.

If at last that day should come all of a sudden,

Where should I fly with these wings?

—"Sanagi" / "Chrysalis" (Shikao Suga) [translated]

Author's Note:

I have no idea whether Kochoushu's name could be real or not. If it is, it would be of these characters: 蝴蝶 (kochou, butterfly) and 主 (shu, master/lord). Even if it is real, it is probably not supposed to be used as a family name (though I can think of a couple of far-fetched explanations for it!). According to then end notes of one copy of the Kwaidan that I borrowed through inter-library loan (a long time ago, so I can't check the veracity now), her given name, Tekona, supposedly can mean both "butterfly" in one Japanese dialect and "beautiful woman."

Anyway, although possibly inaccurate, this name works for my purposes.