| Chapter 4 |

Kochoushu stays mostly quiet the whole evening, but she drinks up every word Fai and Kurogane say. Watanuki can see it from the way her eyes track the world travelers. She must have lots of questions, but she holds them in, watching and learning. It is quite clear that she prefers to keep her own counsel.

After dinner is over, Kochoushu expresses her appreciation for the meal and the conversation and returns home. Kurogane tries to help clean up, but Watanuki insists the regulars should do it, since Kurogane and Fai are still guests. It takes a while to convince Kurogane to stand down with the excuse that he had already helped with the cooking. As a result, Watanuki and Shizuka wash dishes while the guests take baths (Yuuko regularly used two of the three baths in the shop).

"It was good feudal udon," Shizuka tells Watanuki. "Thank you for making it."

"I'll make it for you again, another time, whenever you wish. Kurogane's recipe was surprisingly simple—there was only one ingredient I hadn't guessed when Doumeki challenged me to make it last time. The lucky thing is that it's actually very common. I'm surprised I actually got so close when I was researching it…" His brief trip to the past brings him up short suddenly, and he snaps back to the present, and what he had been going to say. "Hey. Before dinner— I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

Shizuka shrugs and wipes down another plate. "I understand that there are some things you'd rather not tell me."

"Here, listen...about that. It's not quite like... I think it would be easier for both of us if I told you about it." Watanuki draws him aside so Shizuka is looking at him and not at the sink in front of him, and explains about himself and Doumeki.

At the end of it, Shizuka blinks and says, "That…makes sense. Now I see. I think I understand why you were so upset now."

Watanuki nods and turns back to the sink, plunging his hands back into the rinse water and accidentally splashing Shizuka with soap. Shizuka flinches slightly. He hates getting wet, especially when he's not expecting it. "But what?" Watanuki pushes, briefly turning on the tap.

"Sometimes…I had thought it made you happy," Shizuka says cautiously. "Of course I wouldn't make it a habit to call you 'Watanuki-sama,' because you asked me not to. But sometimes it made you smile, or laugh, or seem pleased… I thought it made you happy. Even if it was a small distraction." A tiny perplexed frown puckers his eyebrows. Shizuka, anxious for having done the wrong thing for so long, wants to make doubly sure that he read the situation wrongly.

Watanuki looks in his eyes and cannot bring himself to reply. There are times when Watanuki is grateful for what Shizuka calls a 'distraction' from the sadness, although on the whole he is still uncomfortable with the past.

"Then do what you will." Watanuki drops his head. "I'm sorry to have worried you. You don't have to listen to me." He rinses a plate and hands it to Shizuka.

Shizuka takes it. "On the contrary," says Shizuka. His face is grave. "I must always listen to you. What I cannot always do is obey." He places the plate in the rack.

Watanuki stands still, lost in his thoughts. For Doumeki was always this way as well. It explains so much. "Stubborn as your great-grandfather," says Watanuki, laughing weakly, as he comes out of his daze. He tries to put lightness into his manner.

Shizuka finishes washing up and dries his hands.

But it isn't long before Watanuki remembers he has something else left to say. "Shizuka, about the egg…" he says softly.

Pausing in the middle of drying a plate, Shizuka stands very still. "Yes? What about it?"

"Earlier, I wasn't in a state to tell you what about it upset me. The reason is, I think I know what it was intended t-to be u-used for." Watanuki's voice shook a little. His hot anger from earlier in the day had mixed with worry until had all cooled into extreme unease.

"What for, then?" Shizuka takes the next plate Watanuki hands him.

"It was for me. It was to take away my Sight, and my memories." Watanuki flicks his fingers in the soapy water. "If I ever lost control. If I ever 'made Yuuko cry,' in her words."

Everything makes sense now. "Oh." Shizuka feels immensely relieved. He thought the egg might have meant something much worse than that.

Watanuki stares into the soapy dishwater in front of him. "You only had to break it, and my original wish would have been granted. I would be made unable to see spirits in addition to the spell nullifying the attraction my blood exerts on them. I would have left the shop for good. I couldn't even return there. Yuuko may have placed a spell on it to seal my memories again, but I can't be sure." He swallows hard. "That's probably why… No, I don't understand what she was thinking. That should have been my choice…"

"But you're not going to use it that way now."

Watanuki shakes his head. "No. I don't know when it happened exactly, but shortly after I became shopkeeper, my wish changed. I don't wish not to see spirits anymore. They are too much a part of me...and I...would miss them." He taps the counter with his fingers and shakes his head. "It's too late for that now. The balance has changed, and the shop knows it."

To Watanuki, it's over, but somehow his argument leaves Shizuka unconvinced. There might be traces of that wish left in the shop, biding their time... Still, Shizuka motions for Watanuki to go on.

"Anyway, once I knew what it was supposed to be for, I could reverse-engineer its purpose." Watanuki bows his head over the sink. "Since it was supposed to be used to seal my Sight, I am going to use it to open Kochoushu's Sight. That means I am going to have to destroy it…in a different way than simply breaking it."

Shizuka swallows, hard. This sounds close to what Yuuko told him would happen. "If that's what you think must be done, then do it, shopkeeper."

"Shizuka, surely you have something to say about that," Watanuki says, glancing at him nervously.

"Watanuki, I trust you. Watanuki, I—I had the strangest ideas as to what to do with that thing, and—trust me, I am sure your idea is much better." Shizuka falls silent. "Doumeki wrote something of the kind in his journals."

Watanuki gasps, "Are you sure?"

Never more so. "Very sure," says Shizuka.

Watanuki turns in a circle to stare at him. "That—! Doumeki wrote journals?" Watanuki asks, just to confirm, eyes wide.

What was so confusing about his statement? Shizuka doesn't understand. "Yes. Didn't I say? I thought I told you before that I had found them and read them."

"No… no, you never did." Watanuki takes his hands out from under the sink faucet and wipes them on a towel, scrunching it between his hands. "May I…may I read them?" His face has gone distant again, locked away in another place and time.

"Are you sure they won't … distress you?" Shizuka asks cautiously. He shuts off the water faucet which Watanuki forgot.

Watanuki's face undergoes several expressions, as if trying them on and finding each one lacking. The sight is somehow heartbreaking.

"I—" Watanuki twists his hands together again. How can he say anything to that? He doesn't know. "How could his words not distress me?" he asks instead. "But I—I need to read them." He leans his forehead against the cool, humming refrigerator. "I must know what he thought of me. So I can let go."

Shizuka waits.

Slowly, the story comes out. "One day, you know, he told me he would die and then he was…gone. I was stuck, here. I couldn't even go to his funeral…" He takes a breath, full of pain.

"A week after he disappeared from my life, his children came and told me exactly what they thought of me. I had met them when they were young, of course, but I never thought they would grow and change so much that they would actually resent me. But that day—they told me I had killed him. Because the will required it, I would be fed, but they would do nothing more than that. And what could I have done? I know I took too much of him—his time, especially, but Doumeki always insisted that he was happy being with me like he belonged here. He was stubborn as a rock, and he was right about me needing him. But for a long time I just treated him horribly. And I don't think I ever treated him as he really deserved.

"After he died, for a long time I was so alone I thought I might actually go around the bend. I waited until you were grown, though I had no way of knowing that you existed, until the day you appeared on my doorstep. For all that time, I had no one."

"How long?" Shizuka asks softly.

"Fifteen years. Remember? You were born on the day that Doumeki died. You told me that once. I hardly dared hope. That had to mean something. You came to my shop when you were fifteen, and stopped by every weekend since." Watanuki shudders. "You were so like him. I tell you, it was if Doumeki had returned from the dead, except younger. It felt just like that." He shudders. "Still does, sometimes. I have to know. What was he thinking? To put up with me that long. To put me through that. I just can't understand." He drags his fingers through his hair, ripping at the roots. "Neither of you, I never know what you are thinking—"

Shizuka grips Watanuki's shoulders with force, startling him, stopping the tirade. "If anyone deserved to to read them, you did," he tells him. "But listen. Doumeki never regretted a sacrifice, and would never make one that wasn't worth it. He lived for you." Shizuka rests the back of his hand on Watanuki's cheek and sets his eyes on Watanuki's mismatched blue and green ones. "I would live for you," he says, making his voice as bold and soft as he dares.

"Shizuka, don't." Watanuki struggles to slip out of Shizuka's grasp and brushes Shizuka's hands away. Suddenly, Watanuki looks smaller than he should. "Don't," he repeats.

"It's not just him speaking through me. It's me. I want to."

"But you shouldn't—"

"No, Watanuki. Believe us when we say that you are worth the effort we put into you."

Doumeki's eyes bore into Watanuki; Watanuki shies and breaks eye contact. "So stubborn," Watanuki murmurs, despite himself, as if they were directed to the the floor.

The corners of Shizuka's lips twitch upwards. "It's a durable trait, Watanuki-sama," he says dryly.

For a second Watanuki blinks at him, and then he lets out a short sharp bark of laughter. He smiles faintly. "I can't seem to get rid of you. Or that title."

"Mn," says Shizuka. He releases Watanuki and turns back to the dishes, but not before he promises, "I'll find the journals for you."

The next day, Watanuki directs Kochoushu on various chores to do, chores that he would normally do himself, and soon finds himself wandering the house without a thought in his head. Everyone notices. Realizing that their presence might be distracting Watanuki from his real work, Fai and Kurogane announce that they are going to go looking for an apartment, work, or otherwise find something else to occupy their time. Mokona goes with them.

Which leaves Shizuka to watch the very anxious Watanuki pace the shop as if he has unwittingly lost something—which Shizuka supposes he has.

His price. Time. The barrier.

"Watanuki." Startled out of some kind of reverie, Watanuki whips around to face Shizuka and freezes at the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he reflexively blurts out.

"Watanuki," says Shizuka again. "Let's get out of here."

"Out?" Watanuki squeaks.

"Yes. Out," Shizuka asserts firmly, and gently pushes Watanuki's back to face the front door. He's right. Of course Shizuka's right, but even after the first time, Watanuki still feels like panicking. "Come on," Shizuka murmurs, and leads him to the front door. "We never went anywhere last time. You need to see how the world has changed."

"Not very, I hope," Watanuki mutters as he slowly bends to put on his shoes.

Shizuka slips on his own shoes. "You must face it someday."

Watanuki forces himself to nod. He looks at Shizuka again, and hesitantly opens the door.

"Go on," Shizuka encourages him.

Watanuki takes a deep breath, glancing at Shizuka apologetically, and shouts,"Mind the shop, please, Kochoushu-san!"

"Okay!" He hears her reply from another room. "Go well!"

Closing his eyes, Watanuki forces himself to yell his reply, "Be back soon!" Watanuki opens the door wide and bounds through quickly, as if afraid that the door might slam shut or bite his ankle. Shizuka hops onto the step beside Watanuki and shuts the door.

"Key?" Shizuka asks belatedly.

Watanuki blinks. "I've never needed one. The shop only lets in those who..."

"Oh yes. I remember," Shizuka says quickly. "Then—so where would you like to go?"

Watanuki squeezes Shizuka's arm, and says nothing. Just take me.

Responding to the silent request, Shizuka pulls him on, and they walk. Watanuki says nothing, but he observes, a little at a time. His face appears to grow ever more pale. When Watanuki resists Shizuka's pull, they stop. They're outside a tiny deserted park. Watanuki seems to recognize it. There are structures in the gentle, sloping shapes of animals, and water-fountains, and sand for the children to play in. On the oldest structures, the paint is peeling. Most of them have been replaced by new modern structures. Only the stone animal benches remain from the days Watanuki knew.

"What do you see?"

Watanuki shook his head. "I can't take it in."

"But it's different?"

"Very different." Watanuki shivers.

"Tell me."

Slowly the story comes out as they walk back. All the little differences. All the darknesses in the town. All the changes, and the improvements, and most of all the fact that the quiet neighborhood Watanuki knew is gone. It's become part of the city. As he works through his memories, Watanuki slowly begins to relax, muscle by muscle.

He clenches again when he sees the shop, so tiny and rustic, among the tall buildings on either side.

"I really don't exist," he says softly.

Shizuka squeezes his hand so hard that it hurts and Watanuki makes a little gasp of pain. With a sharp intake of breath, Shizuka lets go, as if he had been burned—the action was unthinking and reflexive, almost as if someone else had taken over his hand...

"How—how long has it—?" Unable to go on, Watanuki slips his hand back into Shizuka's. Shizuka slowly closes his fingers over Watanuki's. A sign of trust...

Somewhat rattled, Shizuka replies, "It has been this way for the last ten years. Though it's hard to tell from over the shop walls."

Watanuki shakes his head suddenly. "It's as if I've been living in that storybook—The Little House…Did you ever read that as a kid? It's about how the city creeps..." He chuckles, but the sound is not merry at all, almost one of despair and disbelief. "Shizuka, I—I can't—"

"I know."

Eyes burning, Watanuki drops his head and buries it in Shizuka's shoulder. What have I done? What have I done?

"A wish is a terrible thing," Shizuka tells him quietly. "You've seen it all through the years, haven't you? You know how a single wish can make or ruin a person. It is hard to cope with a new world. That's what this is."

"Even so," Watanuki falters, "Even so, I think my wish would remain the same… I know you're trying to make me—happy, but I—" Watanuki presses the heel of his hand into his eye and swipes angrily at the grit there. "I just...I can't."

"When you made your wish, you had no idea how to account for your loss," Shizuka replies. "You told me once that you weren't sure if the price was right. That it worked, but it took too much from you. This was one of those things."

When they finally walk past the gates of the shop, Watanuki opens the door, they carefully slip off their shoes, and they are home.

"I'm home," Watanuki says hoarsely, squeezing Shizuka's hand extra hard and firmly. Shizuka squeezes back.

As if she had known just exactly when they would be back, Kochoushu turns around and hefts the pot of tea in her hands as she smiles at them. "Welcome back." Her straight long black hair falls in long strands, just like Yuuko's. Her smile is shy, but full with undiluted kindness, a kindness that Yuuko's experience had taught her to keep locked in reserve. But Kochoushu has none of that history.

There are four simple words that can bear grief and the weight of the world. Hello, goodbye, welcome back, I'm home. Right now, in this moment, they anchor Watanuki to reality and they comfort and protect his soul.

A Week Later

Kochoushu shivers as Watanuki, his expression carefully impassive and focused, paints various calligraphic runes, ideograms, and kanji on her arms and legs, her neck, cheeks, and forehead, and her hands and feet with charcoal black ink. The bristles of the brush tickle her skin. The thick, wet ink begins to dry.

They are wards of protection. Just in case.

Watanuki lowers the brush and steps back. "Are you ready?" he asks.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Kochoushu replies shortly.

Watanuki hands her the lifeless egg. With seeming ease, she breaks its shell, slurps the contents, and swallows the yellow-orange yolk. Immediately, power begins eating away at her from within. Her head swims and her eyes blur. A powerful hum pulses in her veins, sometimes at odds with her heart. She falls to her knees.

"You should lie down," he tells her. "The power needs time to settle."

Kochoushu nods, closing her eyes. She slowly lowers herself within the custom circle diagram he drew for her (much simpler, and possibly more elegant than Yuuko's decadent patterns), lacing her hands tightly over her lap, and settles back.

Unable to watch her in such a vulnerable state, Watanuki re-enters the house to clean the brush. Shizuka meets him at the door with a question perched on his brow; Watanuki murmurs a few short words in his ear, and Shizuka nods and takes a seat on the porch to keep watch over Kochoushu, who appears to have fallen asleep. There is only so much that Watanuki can do. As a latent exorcist, Shizuka has a better chance of keeping the girl safe than Watanuki does, as a former spirit magnet.

Fai and Kurogane meet Watanuki inside, and halt to speak to him.

"What is it?" asks Watanuki.

Fai shifts awkwardly. "We were wondering if you knew where we could go to inquire about housing."

Watanuki looks up in surprise. "Well, I suppose you could have my old apartment. If it's still there... Actually, Shizuka told me it was..."

Shizuka slides open the screen door with one hand, and says, without looking round, "My great-grandfather rented it for you. It was part of his will." He slides the door shut again. He must have been listening.

Watanuki sighs. "There you have it. I can give you the address."

"You don't live there anymore?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "No. This is my home now."

"But we would still be your guests," says Fai.

"If you don't like the idea, then you can take over the rent. I'm not paying for it. The Doumekis won't mind getting their money back," Watanuki says lightly.

Kurogane and Fai look at each other and nod. Fai says, "Then we'll take it."

Watanuki yawns. "Follow me. You'll need special documentation. This world has become paranoid as of late."

"I don't understand."

"Immigrants are discouraged. There are laws taking action against people who come into the country from other countries illegally."

Kurogane furrows his brow. "But there will always be migrants. They usually mean no harm."

Watanuki sighs. "Of course there will, and they only hope for better futures, but still the government wishes to control them. They do so on the behalf of people who are afraid of competition in the job market. But world travelers have a problem, because do not belong to any country at all. So Yuuko's solution..." Watanuki unlocks the storeroom, and ushers them inside. "...was to magically forge the documentation and enter the information into the government databases via an agent to the magician population at large."

"What kind of agent?"

"Magicians, psychics, or elementals," Watanuki explains. "These agents understand parts of the world that require covering up in special situations to keep from alarming ordinary people. There are various organizations that select members to infiltrate the government for them, specifically for reasons such as these. Currently, the agent's name for this generation in this country is an elemental whose name is Yuuto Kigai."

"I see. But this is illegal?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "You haven't done anything wrong, and intend no harm. People do not cross worlds in such numbers as immigrants here do. To be born here and cross the borders without due political process would not be fair. However, the government does not know world-crossing travelers, and there are no laws against that, specifically. Therefore, it is worth it to make your entrance into society as painless as possible with all the changes you will be facing. There is no way to earn your documentation here; you must be born with it."

"What is the price?" Kurogane asks.

"What do you think it's worth?" Watanuki returns.

Fai and Kurogane stare at him. They have nothing that seems right—what they have is too much, or too little... They have the clothes on their backs, and Fai's magic, and Kurogane's sword, and other intangibles that they have yet to comprehend, let alone think about trading.

"I understand." Watanuki smiles slightly. "I'll take a blank check for now. You need the service. However, you should understand that the price is probably on the scale of a livelihood, as the forgery will allow you to have one. However you may define that."

The clue is cryptic, but they both agree. It could be worse.

"I need to look for Yuuko's equipment in that department. It's buried somewhere, I haven't needed it since this one case fifty-odd years ago. Can you two look for an empty golden cage for me? It should be on that side. Thanks." Watanuki waves his hand vaguely in the right direction.

Fai and Kurogane immediately break away to search for it. When they find it, Watanuki has found the correct equipment and is carrying it, and together Fai and Kurogane haul the golden cage onto the porch into the sunlight as Watanuki directs them. It's heavier than they think it should be.

Watanuki borrows Shizuka's ID and uses it to make forgeries for Fai and Kurogane. He tells them this is just the start, and that at some point they may find themselves in need of other forms, but this is essential for everyday use. Once the copying has been done, Fai and Kurogane collect Mokona so she can do their translating for them, and they search for the address to the apartment Watanuki described.

The moon has slipped into the sky by the time Kochoushu wakes. It is late afternoon; the sun is not yet set. In Watanuki's sight, the slender shadow of the invisible birds in the cage thickens as the sun sinks and the light of the moon grows stronger.

At last Kochoushu wakes from her doze with a slight jolt and a gasp. When she sits up, she presses a hand to her temple.

"How do you feel?" asks Watanuki.

"Fine. Just strange." She covers one eye.

"I see." Watanuki points to the golden cage. "What do you see there?"

She squints, spreading her fingers so that both eyes can see. "There's nothing in there, but on the ground...the shapes of birds..."

"Shadows of starlings. Do you see? How many are there?"

Kochoushu counts, and Watanuki is satisfied.

"That's a much easier test than my great-grandfather got," Shizuka says suddenly, appearing to look over Watanuki's shoulder. He must be remembering things during one of those rare, strange moments when the Doumeki part appears to synchronize with Shizuka.

"Doumeki never could see spirits, but he could defend himself," said Watanuki, brisk. "I was the spirit magnet, and he would put himself in harm's way to protect me. So I gave him a tool he could use to do so more effectively, and the price of the gift, fittingly, was a harrowing experience that would key the tool to Doumeki specifically. Or his descendants...you still have his ring, do you not? Kochoushu, however, is not in a position of danger. I wanted her first glimpse of the spirit world to be pleasant and beautiful, not frightening. Unlike his, or mine."

"But they are dangerous, aren't they," Kochoushu murmurs. "Even I know that."

"Without a doubt," Watanuki says softly. "You will learn soon enough that the majority of cases are indeed horrifying. But if you approach worlds and creatures from the other side with fear, you will never be able to deal with them fairly. You mustn't forget what goodness there is, or you will be overwhelmed, and that is what I wanted you to remember."

Fai and Kurogane actually look at quite a few apartments, but in the end, they came back to the small, bare room that used to belong to Watanuki. It is quite simple, not much more than a living room/bedroom, a small kitchenette, and a bathroom with a toilet and a shower installed. The tatami floor is worn, but well-cared for, and the walls are a musty-looking, an almost concrete grey. All in all the room is a bit gloomy, but it looks to be the cheapest of all the places they've checked out, and to be honest, neither of them is looking for excessive luxury. They just want a place to stay. Simplicity is the name of the game, so as long as there is room for two futons, this is probably their best deal.

A subdued Mokona has said little to them other than to observe, though it is thanks to her that they can communicate. She's moves restlessly in the satchel Fai has been carrying, and Fai knows she's tired, and that it's time to make a decision.

"Kuro-tan..." Fai forgets what he had been about to say; he hasn't been able to keep his mind on anything.

Kurogane grunts. "Mmn."

"You think this is the place?" Fai asks tentatively, drifting around the room.

He shrugs. "Do you? It's small, but serviceable. Good kitchen."

"The landlady said it comes with the appliances already installed, and there's an odd consortment of kitchenware thrown in." Fai is always talking to people. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes Kurogane finds it inutterably annoying. So Fai asks him, "Is it a good price, Kurogane? Can we afford it?"

He shrugs. "I'll take the numbers back to Watanuki—no, wait, Doumeki Shizuka, he seems more knowledgable of this world—and have him crunch them for us. But this looks to be our best bet."

Fai nods. "Does that conclude our search for the day, then?"

"I'd rather not waste time. We can find work instead." Kurogane hums thoughtfully.

As they stand there, Fai grows more and more restless. "Kuro-tan." In the satchel, Mokona pricks her ears and leans out of the top of the bag. Fai doesn't remember to push her back down where she won't be seen.

"What is it?"

Taken aback, Fai doesn't answer for a moment as he gathers himself together. Mokona puts her ears back, sensing his mood. "I'm…I'm hungry," he mumbles, finally.

"Already?" Kurogane is somewhat surprised. It's a little early in the week for feeding.

Fai nods.

"Food, or blood?"

At the word "blood," Mokona tumbles back into the depths of the satchel of her own accord. Fai bites his lip, then shakes his head nervously. "F-f-food." Normally enthusiastic at the mere mention of food, Mokona has the sense not to interrupt them with exclamations. Instead, she burrows deeper into the bag, and becomes still. Their emotions seem to pain her.

Kurogane didn't think so, but he had to check. He nods briskly and ushers Fai out the door. "Then let's get something to eat. We can check out the restaurants. They always need help."

"So it seems," says Fai, letting out a sigh. He leads the way as they climb down the steel-rail stairs from Watanuki's old apartment.

The sigh surprises Kurogane. "Don't you like restaurant jobs?"

"Oh, yes, they're good fun." Fai hunches and puts his hands in his coat-pockets. "The customer interaction is always interesting. I love making people feel relaxed, happy, at ease, and so on. But at this point, I can't deny that the work is also exhausting. And in the long run, it isn't fulfilling."

"Fai-san…" Kurogane feels like he is at a bit of a loss, walking behind him. He can't see Fai's face, so he's not entirely sure what to make of what Fai says.

Fai twists so he can meet Kurogane's eyes, almost as if he heard that thought. "Let's face it, Kuro-goro. You are a ninja. I am a magician. In this world, as on almost every other we have been on, our respective talents aren't valued for getting jobs."

"I wouldn't be so sure," says Kurogane. They round the last corner, and walk out into the street. Kurogane steers them to the right, back to the direction of Watanuki's shop. Fai lets him take the head. Fai doesn't get lost, but he tends to wend his way back by retracing the way he came. Kurogane's method of telling directions is different—he has a rough idea of the direction and the distance of Watanuki's shop relative to where they are—so he figures he can steer them closer to home while they forage for food.

Fai shrugs. "I guess you could teach kids how to defend themselves. But me? I'm useless. On most worlds, I'm just an entertainer."

"I didn't know you were so unhappy, Fai," Kurogane replies somberly.

Fai starts to say something, probably something rash and in denial, and then checks himself. "I guess." Two pink spots appear on his cheeks, and he sounds young, flustered, and embarrassed. "You shouldn't think too much of what I say, Kuro-chii. I can do whatever it takes."

Kurogane shakes his head. "Fai, that's what I thought I was doing: wandering and doing whatever it took. But if you also feel that way, maybe it's time for a change."

Fai makes a noise like he doesn't believe it.

"It's true," Kurogane protests. "I didn't say anything because I thought you enjoyed all the traveling. For me, it's always just been necessity. First it was Tomoyo-hime's curse; then it was saving Clow, and accompanying Syaoran. You always seemed so upbeat. If I suspected that you hid feelings behind everything that you pretended to be excited about, I don't think we could ever trust each other."

Fai passes a hand over his eyes. "I know. I didn't want you to feel guilty because I was tired of what I used to love. And then I didn't look too closely at why I felt like that."

Fai will do what he can, but Fai can't change what he doesn't even notice himself doing. Pretending is too much a part of who he is and how he copes with the world.

Kurogane decides it is time to clear the air. "Fai. Don't take this the wrong way; answer me straight. Do you want to be a magician?"

Fai shakes his head. "No."

"It's what you're trained in. I'm sure Watanuki would know where you would fit in."

"I don't want to make a living off of it, Kurogane," says Fai. "When I do serious work for others, many of those requests will be ill-thought out—and my powers are too immense to take my gift lightly. I cannot summon the wisdom required to do that. And I need time to heal."

"What do you mean?"

"After...after Ashura-Ou, my gift became a heavy burden. Using it reminded me only of pain and suffering, because of that man. If I use it for serious work, and cause ruin, its weight will only grow heavier. Until I have grown comfortable with my power, I have decided to use it only at my whim, and no more. To see if there is any joy left in the art after all. If there is, then..." he shrugged. "But not until."

"I see."

"Kurogane, do you want to be a ninja anymore?"

Kurogane paused. "Tomoyo-hime took the edge off my curse, but she never banished it. I can't go into a profession where I would have to kill people as a soldier. Moreover, because of what I learned on the journey, I find war and strife to be more and more distasteful. I could teach, as you suggested, but I believe my style is inappropriately aggressive for teaching children good discipline."

"Even on your world?" Fai blinks, and almost trips over a crack in the sidewalk.

Kurogane laughed mirthlessly. "Especially on my world. Why do you think I got to be the best? People were always expecting me to hold back, or something. Like that was gonna happen... I was the most competitive of them all, and I was always angry. I barely listened to my teachers. I took what they taught me and reworked it to fit what suited me at the time. Not always to their approval."

"You were a good student, then," Fai surmises.

Kurogane shrugs. "Not according to them. I took a lot of hard knocks."

Fai chuckles. "Of course. Kuro-pan, it's much easier to listen and copy what teachers say, but you don't learn as much."

Kurogane snorts. "I suppose. But I still didn't learn the most important lessons, the ones of the heart, soul, and mind, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Kurogane pauses and tugs the mage's sleeve to get his attention. "In here?" It's a ramen shop.

"Looks good." Fai stops and steps through the door Kurogane has held open for him. "And which lessons were those, Kuro?"

"Forgiveness, mercy, and the meaning of true strength," Kurogane replies. "Having learned the hard way, I would rather any student of mine should learn those first than learn to fight skilfully. And I wouldn't know how to teach them that. I'm hardly the greatest example. There are better people to learn that kind of thing from."

They both go to the counter. After perusing the menu, Fai points, and Kurogane steps forward to order for both of them. An exchange is made. Kurogane chooses a table and they both sit down.

"Kurogane...where should we settle?" asks Fai softly.

Kurogane doesn't answer for a while. He stares out the window, and Fai waits.

A young girl comes with their food and quietly slides it to them over the table. She smiles at them shyly and flits away. Kurogane thinks, for a second, that she looked like Tomoyo-hime when she was young. Though it probably wasn't.

Finally, turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand, Kurogane shrugs. "You weren't really excited about any of the worlds we visited, were you? —Itadakimasu," he murmurs, and takes the first bite. Fai echoes his behavior. Mokona peeps out of the bag to sniff the air for food. Fai slips her a noodle, and Mokona disappears with it.

Fai shakes his head and continues the concentration. "No. They weren't my type. I think I could have stayed in your world and learned to like it, but as you said, it seemed like you weren't at home there anymore. The rest were fine, as long as they had people…but I wasn't attached, you know? The only people I really care about are you, Syaoran and Sakura, and White Mokona. It's kind of sad, huh?" Fai smiled sadly. "Maybe I'll find myself attached to Watanuki, Doumeki Shizuka, Kochoushu, and Black Mokona after we get to know them." From within the bag, Black Mokona croons with sympathy; Fai strokes her ears.

"I've been thinking much the same. It's either here, or Clow," Kurogane mutters, lowering his face into the hot wet steam rising from his bowl. He slurps his noodles.

"I know Syaoran and Sakura would be glad to have us on their world, but I'm afraid they might worry too much," Fai says softly, lowering his chopsticks back into the bowl. "They're secure and well-adjusted, after all, with a baby coming. It's only natural to want us batchelors to find happiness in comparison to what they have, but—oh, gods, Kurogane. We practically raised the kids. They'd mean well, but—" Fai shrugs helplessly. "That's not...what I want."

"Yeah." Kurogane nods. "I know. I didn't want to think it, but I do see that happening. I couldn't stand that." Kurogane munches absently.

"I don't want to constantly remind them of the past, either. They should get on with their lives."

"Yeah."

"Also, Clow is very hot." Kurogane just looks at him and Fai blushes and slurps his noodles, which really doesn't help since Fai's pale face turns even more pink. "I know, I know, it's the least of my problems. We'll just have to visit."

"Sounds good to me. So what you're saying is, you're fine with settling here for the long haul." Kurogane prods him with a chopstick. "You like this world that much, do you?" Kurogane says wryly. He starts munching on the vegetables.

Fai looks at the table. "It grows on you," he mutters. "It's a nice, all-around medium—best of all worlds. And it's just the right temperature." Fai finishes off his noodles pretty quickly.

It's probably childish, but Kurogane finds it somewhat endearing that Fai is so sensitive to the climate.

Kurogane turns serious. "That's fine. I like this world too. The technology is convenient, but it's not impossible to understand, you know? There's still a reason behind everything. Watanuki explained the TV to me when I asked yesterday, for instance. People are still able to survive without their technology. I think on Piffle, and Outo, and a couple of other places, they didn't have a clue what to do without their gadgets."

Fai grins suddenly. "You were bothered by the high-tech places? Really? I never knew, er, noticed that." Fai uses his chopsticks to pick out the vegetables that he likes and takes his time nibbling them. "It just seemed like magic to me."

"I wouldn't say bothered. I adapted, didn't I? I just don't trust tech. It fails too easily, and it's easy to get dependent or reliant, it seems. I can trust simple things."

"I'd still say you're bothered." Fai's smile begins to fade. "But I never thought about it like that." Peering at Kurogane's face over his bowl, Fai drinks the remaining soup.

"That's because you think you can fix whatever you like with magic," Kurogane says tartly. "Whether you understand it or not."

Fai shrugs. That's not exactly true—going into a spelling blind is a dangerous waste of time—but he does have a lot more leeway to fix things because of his powers. But Kurogane doesn't need to know badly enough for Fai to need to correct him on this. Kurogane has never wanted to know before, either.

Kurogane drinks the last of his soup, and lowers his bowl. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." Fai rubs his hands together. Mokona peeps out of the bag now that the way is clear, swiveling her ears.

Kurogane pays the clerk and they exit the ramen house and walk back to Watanuki's shop at a slow amble—Kurogane makes a wrong turn somewhere, but Fai hardly notices as Kurogane checks their course. He'll know the way a little better next time.

It was my intention, from the beginning

As if you could have been there;

And if that had been so, all would have been fine

But from now on, we can be sure of nothing.

_._

Who is it okay to hate? What is okay to push away?

Having left without a wave of your hand to say goodbye,

This may be hurting you even more than me.

_._

See now, for my heart has frozen over;

Only tears keep rolling, and falling down.

Now look, for today we are each searching for our own light,

And as if it were a matter of course, we shall walk into tomorrow.

—remix of "Kazanagi," by Shikao Suga [translated]