| Chapter 8 |

Shizuka looks at his watch. Time: ten till train. He checks on Watanuki.

Watanuki is struggling to put on his new suit.

Shizuka blinks at him slowly. Watanuki blushes and bursts out, "It's clingy!" and looks away, face burning.

Indeed, he does seem to be having trouble with the static. His shirt is just as new as the suit—fresh out of the packaging. Shizuka steps behind Watanuki and he freezes, twisting his neck to track where Shizuka is—

Shizuka pinches the cuff of Watanuki's sleeve and pulls the jacket sleeve. That done, he holds the other side out of Watanuki to slide his arm through—once Watanuki figures out what Shizuka wants, he does—and repeats the exercise. There. Now the jacket lies smoothly… Except actually. He frowns. There's a crease. Just one tug, and—

Watanuki gasps for breath and practically jumps out of his skin. "Wh-wh-what are you doing?" he stammers, sliding out of reach.

Shizuka immediately steps back to give him space and makes the "calm down" gesture. "I just made it lie flat. It's fixed now."

"It felt...weird," Watanuki grumbles, and pulls at the bottom edge of the suit. "Don't do that again."

"Sorry. We have to go. It was faster…" Shizuka says apologetically.

"Fine, okay. It's fine," Watanuki says, waving his hand to dismiss the matter. "I was just surprised. Let's go?" Watanuki moves back to his side and lifts his hand, and Shizuka grasps it.

"Un. Let's go."

Bedroom. Kitchen. Bath room. Laundry. Closets. Living room. Genkan. Shoes. Door. Garden.

They stop in front of the wrought iron gate. Watanuki glances quickly at Shizuka's questioning face, his own curiously blank, and then he pushes the gate open himself—the hinges creak and moan a little—and they step through.

"Do you know where the train station is?" Shizuka asks.

Watanuki presses his lips together, then replies, "Unless they've moved it, or the streets changed. But I never went there often."

"Why don't you try and find it?" Shizuka suggests.

Watanuki shrugs. "If you wish."

As it turns out, Watanuki's memory is all right, although he got confused at one intersection until Shizuka told him to overlay the scene with what it used to look like, and pick the direction based on that.

They get to the station. There are people there—only a few—but they look at them uneasily. Watanuki gazes at their linked hands instead until they unfocus and blur together, but he can't help but ponder—what do, what is—they are—

Concerned, Shizuka peers into Watanuki's still face, and says slowly, "Do you think we should—"

And Watanuki wonders, what if... He releases Shizuka's hand and the moment stretches, wider and wider. Watanuki gasps for breath and tears prick the corners of his eyes. The train station seems to be moving, closing in around him or getting larger, shadows are leaping with life that wasn't there before... He blinks but that only makes it worse, the world is just faster than before and he can't keep up. He can't keep up— His lungs are heaving and he hasn't even gone anywhere— He's just here, there's too much here, too much now—

"Oi!" Shizuka sees his face pale and his eyes turn glassy, and he grasps his shoulder and roughly drags him around to face him. Watanuki's hands rise, shaking, to his face, to border his glasses like makeshift blinders. "Are you okay?" Shizuka says clearly, ducking slightly so that they are eye level. "Do you know where you are?"

"I—yes—I think—now—" Watanuki says, and touches Shizuka's hand on his shoulder, at a loss for words. "Don't let—"

Don't let go. Shizuka says, "I know," even though it seems redundant. It was Watanuki who had dropped his hand in fact.

"Train station," Watanuki mumbles, as a sort of explanation. "Loud. Too much." He stops, and swallows.

Shizuka draws himself back up to full height. "All right. Do you want to go back to the house?"

Watanuki shakes his head, extra-hard. "No. I'm fine now. I want to go. I don't know what that…was."

"If you're sure," says Shizuka, and they silently join hands again. This time Watanuki is preoccupied by more than the prying eyes. They get on the train and sit together. Shizuka tells him when to get up, and they get off the train together.

This station is nowhere Watanuki has ever been before, but then that's to be expected.

Shizuka digs in his pocket and comes out with a piece of paper with an address and a map which he squints at, then hands to Watanuki. Watanuki looks at it while Shizuka scouts for the correct exit. "C'mon." He pulls them through the throng, across the station, up the stairs, and back into the light outside. Watanuki takes a moment to take in the change in city landscape.

"Not what you're used to, eh?" Shizuka comments.

Hands clenching at his sides, Watanuki shakes his head.

They keep going. The destination isn't all that far: just a few blocks down, a couple of turns, and they wind up at a park. Shizuka pulls out his cell phone and calls. Watanuki looks around at the trees and the birds he can't identify and sort of sighs inside… There are probably all kinds of things lurking. They always did, in public places like this. Watanuki didn't particularly like parks as a kid. He doesn't think he'll be bothered, anymore, but it puts him a little on edge. If he sees any wandering sakura dead-hands he's not sure what he'll do, whether they can harm him or not.

"They're this way." Shizuka jerks his head in the right direction, and they set off again. They slow when Shizuka spots the group sitting on the blue tarps.

"Do you think you will be all right on your own now?" Shizuka asks him. "I don't want them to get the wrong idea if it will trouble you, but if it's necessary..."

Watanuki shakes his head. "Since we're not in transit, I think I will be okay. If I stay in that general area, I think so. It's well-marked."

"What happened to you when you let go of me?"

Watanuki smiles weakly. "I don't really know. But I think it's safer now that we are where we meant to go. This was our destination, so we won't be moving anymore." Watanuki slips his hand out of Shizuka's. Nothing happens. Watanuki smiles again, for reassurance. "You see? Let's go to where they are. We'll join hands again when it's time to leave."

Shizuka relaxes slightly, and admits, "I didn't think this was more than you could handle, but I was worried."

"It scared me too. But I'm glad to be here," Watanuki tells him.

They look towards at the group mingling around the blue tarps, and sigh at exactly the same time.

A few of the middle-aged coworkers and the managers are huddled around the barbecue and arguing over how to cook this and that. There are several rice cookers and tubs of warm food. Their wives are talking together in a ring, jabbering about their odd neighbors and bragging about their kids and children. A few of the women have brought their babies, and their husbands are with them. The young men and women stand off the side, laughing and joking.

As Shizuka and Watanuki approach, setting down their donation to the picnic, the people at the barbecue look up.

"Ah," says the manager, looking surprised, but he smiles kindly. He seems to be a cheerful, easy-going man. "You came, Doumeki-kun. That's rare, isn't it? And with a friend— Who did you bring?"

Shizuka quietly introduces Watanuki, and sets the dishes Watanuki insisted on making and bringing for everyone on the edge of the blue tarp.

"Well, this is unusual." The manager winks. "But we're glad you're here. Some of us were under the impression you didn't have any friends, eh?" He almost claps Shizuka's shoulder. Shizuka shifts his weight and ducks slightly, avoiding the manager's hand, his expression wooden. "See, like that!" the manager laughs.

Shizuka's face doesn't show any particular emotion other than a particular stiffness, a holding back that Watanuki interprets as discomfort. But what really hurt was seeing Shizuka's posture wince without words.

"I've never seen Shizuka as unsociable," Watanuki said, and deliberately let his words chill. Then he smiled, flashing sharp white teeth. "He's a quiet, kind soul really, if you let him be." Watanuki raised his eyebrows slightly, widening his deep blue and green eyes in a piercing, unsettling way. Shizuka has seen him flaunt his beauty in order to unsettle like this before, but this is the first time he's seen him struck by a dangerously predatory mood instead exuding the usual distant untouchability.

Shizuka's manager laughs shortly once, uncomfortably. He had been expecting agreement. "I see. Perhaps you shall show us another side to him… Let's see, have you met…?"

After briefly introducing Watanuki to the older people lingering about the grill, the awkward conversation ends almost as quickly as it began. In a few minutes, after perfunctorily greeting everyone there, Shizuka and Watanuki drift towards the center of the picnic.

"What was that?" Shizuka asks. "I've never seen you like that before…"

"Hm? Oh, with your manager?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't appreciate you," Watanuki says softly. "That angered me."

"He's just…"

Watanuki shook his head. "No." Shizuka stares at him blankly. "He demeaned you in front of me. Did you not notice?" Shizuka doesn't say anything. Watanuki sighs, and tells him softly, "You may be forced to endure it, but I can't allow that. I know who you are. Even if they don't. And I am allowed to point out their error."

Shizuka glances at him.

"Isn't that why you asked me here?"

Shizuka nods.

"Well then." Watanuki raises his chin and straightens his shoulders. "We'll see what happens."

Sure enough, a young man notices them, glances guiltily at the manager whose back is towards them, and peels off from the main group to meet them. Shizuka's kohai.

"Hello," he says, subdued. "I didn't expect you to bring a friend."

Shizuka nods, again, and says, "This is Watanuki Kimihiro."

"Is he…?" Shizuka's kohai peeks at his impassive face tentatively.

"The one I spoke of earlier."

Shizuka's kohai flushes as Shizuka introduces him to Watanuki. His kohai's name is (Shizuka racks his brains) Mitsuki Mizuhara.

"I—I heard you were sick," says Mizuhara, and gulps.

Watanuki has to resist tucking his hands into his sleeves to hide them as he would if he were still wearing a kimono. Waiting for Mizuhara to go on, his turns on a generous smile—a much more friendly, albeit still distanced, attitude than he had worn with his manager, Shizuka notices. "Reports of my invalid state are greatly exaggerated," says Watanuki, still smiling, "but I believe we both know who to blame for that."

Shizuka shifts uncomfortably behind him, sensing that Watanuki is intent on playing this exchange out.

"Uh, right." Mizuhara bows nervously, for no discernible reason at all.

Watanuki waves his hand, dismissing Mizuhara's anxiousness. "Doumeki-san worries too much," he says airily. "What did he say about me this time?"

"Nothing," Mizuhara says, too quickly, and overcorrects. "He said you were going to die—" Somewhere in the background, someone knocks a cheap ceramic plate off the table on accident and it shatters, with expert timing. Mizuhara flinches.

Watanuki doesn't blink. "Hm. I see." Shizuka wonders when his eyes will start watering. They look over-bright. "Perhaps you misunderstood. I can see why he would say that," Watanuki muses, "but my frail condition is chronic, not fatal. There are still many things I am able to do, and recently I have improved. Hence why I am able to be here today, when he asked."

"Oh." Mizuhara glances at Shizuka, who resolutely stares forward, avoiding Mizuhara's direct gaze. "W-when did you meet?" Mizuhara blushes again.

"A few years ago. He was in high school," Watanuki says easily, and Shizuka nods in confirmation.

"I—I see," says Mizuhara. "That's a long time."

"Yes," Watanuki replies, smiling.

"And you meet often?"

"Yes."

"That's why he never—?" Mizuhara finds himself confused and conflicted. "Goes out with—?"

"Mizuhara-san." Watanuki commands his attention. "It is because he does not wish to."

"Oh. Okay. Lots of people don't like it," Mizuhara mumbles to himself; it doesn't sound as if he's really talking about Shizuka's behavior. Watanuki and Shizuka elect to let him save face and ignore this. He'll understand better someday.

Finally he looks up and clears his throat. "Since he said you were sick, I wasn't expecting you to be so pretty," he says bluntly.

Watanuki chuckles, letting the conversation flows on.

Mizuhara points to the picnic tables. "Did Doumeki-sempai make those?" Mizuhara points to the dishes Shizuka had set down on the tables. "He hardly ever eats anything at work."

Watanuki shakes his head and corrects him gently. "No, those are mine."

"He eats?!"

What kind of impression had Shizuka been making at work? "Yes, he does," Watanuki answers, amused. "And in good quantity."

Mizuhara stares at Watanuki.

"Watanuki is a very good cook," Shizuka says suddenly, and Mizuhara is startled even more. Watanuki begins to wonder, with some irritation, if Shizuka has ever thought about other ways of introducing him. Mizuhara stares at Shizuka even harder.

Shizuka quickly becomes uncomfortable. "What?" he says.

"Is he superhuman?" asks Mizuhara.

"Of course not. Why?" says Watanuki.

"Because!" Mizuhara bursts out. "You never pay any attention to us! He never eats anything we make!"

"Why be upset, Mizuhara?" someone taunts from the next group over, having overheard. "That way there's more left for us!"

Mizuhara huffs and looks away.

"You say he's a good cook, Doumeki-kun?" asks another voice, one of the expressive young women with longish winged hair and busy hands, grinning. "Does he teach? That would be worth paying for. I can't cook worth a damn!"

As she approaches, Mizuhara uses her interruption to slip away.

Watanuki turns to the woman. "I have been known to do so in the past," says Watanuki, smiling, "if it is your wish." He bows, hand over his heart.

"O-ho!" She laughs. "Why, so polite! It's archaic! How did you find him, Doumeki-kun?"

Shizuka shrugs, and says lamely, "He's always been a family friend. I don't remember, really; I just found him one day. Watanuki, this is Taraga Kanako-san."

Kanako beams. "Hi, nice to meet you! So you've always been together? That's amazing! Did you hit it off right away?"

They nod and smile, somewhat tightly. "It was almost…nine years ago now?" Watanuki asks, and Shizuka nods.

Kanako lightly punches Shizuka's shoulder. Shizuka looks down and shuffles his feet, but doesn't shy away. "You always surprise me, Doumeki-kun," she says, and then, turning to Watanuki, "I keep trying to get through to this guy, but he never talks back to me!"

Watanuki laughs. "He doesn't like talking much, it's true. It runs in the family. You just have to keep talking at him. But you know, when it really matters, he talks back."

"Oh, I've noticed that too!" Kanako says, delighted. "You think he's not listening and then, bam, he comes up with this great idea and it's already complete. He hardly consults anyone else or anything. And I would never know he was working on it!"

"Really?!" Watanuki groans, turning to Shizuka. "How can you get away with that at work? You should tell people what you're doing so they can prepare!"

Shizuka looks up, and says slowly, "But I just think about the problem… I don't know if I'm going to get anywhere when I start, so…" he trails off. "It's hard to explain..."

Kanako smiles behind her hand. "A little warning goes a long way. I'd hate it for your sake if I commissioned something and you came up with something better, Doumeki-kun!"

"It's fine," Shizuka says stiffly. "It's not like I didn't want to..."

"That's so no good! I have my pride, you know. Credit should go to the one who deserves it." Kanako tosses back her hair and says confidently, "You'd be doing me a favor!"

Shizuka bows slightly. "I will endeavor to do better in the future."

She playfully smacks his shoulder. "Man, you're so uptight! Live a little! Go on, have fun!"

"I'm sorry," Shizuka says helplessly. He doesn't know what else to say.

She chuckles to see him discomfited. "Then see you later, Doumeki-kun! Perhaps we should talk sometime, Watanuki-san."

"Taraga Kanako-san seems close," Watanuki comments, once she's out of earshot.

"I don't know what she wants from me."

"You silly, she wants to be friends with you," Watanuki chides. "She admires you."

"You can tell?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"I don't know?" Shizuka says it like a question. "I remember what she says but I didn't understand her."

Watanuki sighs in exasperation. "You surprise her in a good way and she wants to make sure to give you proper recognition for it, but you won't let her. And she likes teasing you. She wants to get to know you better."

"But I never know what to say."

"Shizuka, it doesn't matter. She's just happy when you respond. You just don't have to be serious all the time."

"But I don't—" Shizuka says in distress.

"Well, that's part of what she likes about you, isn't it? As a friend anyway," Watanuki says reasonably. "She likes making you flustered. You just be yourself. If you could respond even once with a random pun or a joke or say something silly, she'd probably die laughing, even if it was terrible. And then she'd know you like her back. You don't have to be anxious; she's easy to get along with."

Shizuka makes a hnnn noise and frowns.

"You like her better than your manager, or Mizuhara-san, at any rate. He was irritating you." Watanuki chuckles. "C'mon, introduce me to some more people. It'll be fun."

"Sure," Shizuka agrees, drifting uncertainly toward the group of young people, and they move to let him them both in.

Watanuki ends up doing the talking for most of the evening. Shizuka doesn't seem to mind.

It's more fun for Shizuka when the activities start, which have a clearly defined goal and purpose. First there is the eating and the drinking (Shizuka partakes of Watanuki's wholeheartedly and sparingly of his coworkers', just enough not to offend, with the sole exception of Kanako's offering), then the games, and finally karaoke.

Somehow, at some point in the last year it was revealed that Shizuka can sing, and of all the employees, the girls most enjoy requesting songs of him. This is all very well: he performs every requested song that he knows in a low, perfectly controlled voice with few mistakes and the faintest of flairs, showing only a little emotion. Attractive, but not sexy. It is hard to tell what Shizuka thinks of his role, and he seems puzzled, though not bothered, by the attention.

Watanuki remembers what this was like back in high school with Doumeki. Not centered around karaoke per se, but it was exactly the same. In his recollections he finds memories filled with stabs of jealousy and masses of confusion which turned into long incoherent rants on walks home, during which Doumeki stuck a finger in his ear.

He understands a little better now, but still not completely: for instance—he knows that Doumeki was, and Shizuka is, disinterested—but why? Why did he perform, and why did he never get closer to any of the girls who liked him? It was all so...passionless.

He's been off to the side, brooding and drinking quietly, watching and waiting for Shizuka to finish. He hadn't expected to sing himself but then Shizuka catches his eye and offers him the mike, exchanging it for Watanuki's drink. Watanuki takes the mike blankly.

"It's classical enka," Shizuka explains, almost apologetically, motioning to the girls. "So not in my repertoire. I couldn't, for them, but I thought you might know it."

Mystified, Watanuki looks at the microphone in his hands. "You expect rather a lot of me..."

Shizuka simply smiles. "You can do it," he says calmly. "If you don't, then no one can."

Swallowing, Watanuki faces the music. By luck or calculation, this is a song that Watanuki happens to know, to his relief. He opens his mouth to sing...

The breath that carries his voice is thin and fragile, gossamer as a moonbeam. Every attempt to strengthen it quavers, making it sound reedy, but it slides easily enough up and down the scale. It is true, that this is singing, yet it feels ungrounded, floating apart from him—so unlike Shizuka's low-gliding humming, or the men's mournful howling, or the women's birdlike chirping. It is a cat's polished caterwauling, this song, foreign to the throat and alien to the ears. As he sings the music evolves slowly. He doesn't know at what part, he's just forming the syllables and guiding them up and down the scale, not even fully aware of what they mean; but at some point, tears spring to the eyes and blur the words displayed by the portable jukebox.

He's about to choke and lose the thread of the song when Shizuka leans in, wrapping his large hand around Watanuki's finger's grip on the mike, and they sing the ending chorus together. Shizuka's voice is changed, no longer rigid and flat, no longer merely pleasant; near the end he rasps, and would have lost his grip on the song if Watanuki was not there to guide him. When the music stops, for a long few seconds, Watanuki blinks back the water in his eyes and gets his breath back, completely exhausted.

When he finally looks at his audience, they are all quiet and staring, wide-eyed, astounded.

Shizuka slowly peels his palm from Watanuki's hand, and Watanuki carefully loosens his grip and relinquishes it to another girl.

He turns away then. "I think," he says, unsteadily, "That that's enough for tonight, Shizuka." He means to pitch his voice softly so only Shizuka can hear it, but he doesn't quite manage it; his voice breaks on his name. "Take me back, please." Suppressed panic tinges his last words.

Shizuka offers his arm and Watanuki takes it gratefully, leans on it, because he is tired. They must all think he is weak and ill anyway; it's enough of an excuse, and Watanuki needs the support. They turn, and vanish into the night. Halfway across the park, Watanuki slips his hand into Shizuka's hands and grips it tightly.

It had been a long day, but they had left early, only an hour before midnight.

"Should we have left earlier?" Shizuka asks.

Watanuki twitches. "No..."

"Spirits are stronger at night, aren't they?"

"They are." But it doesn't seem that is the cause of the distress…

They enter the well-lit train station.

"Was it like before, when you dropped my hand?"

About to protest, Watanuki opens his mouth, then closes it. "In a way," he says finally.

The train comes rattling and roaring into the station, and they are buffeted by the wind; Watanuki staggers. When the doors open, they step forward and enter. Shizuka pulls Watanuki into the seat beside him; Watanuki dazedly gazes past the window and reads the writing on the sign: please make room for children, pregnant women, and the elderly...

But it's late enough that they happen to be the only ones in this train compartment. It creates a moment of vertigo when he realizes he has all the experience to be considered elderly, and yet not… It's not a thing he ever thought about wanting, but here it is, a pang of loss for something he doesn't even know if he understands.

Shizuka sighs and pulls Watanuki closer, under his chin, and because he is tired, Watanuki permits him, though it is not a thing he has ever allowed before. "Was that all?"

"I'm afraid of being lost in this new world." Watanuki closes his eyes briefly. "When I dropped your hand, I lost my sense of you, and was frightened… Once we arrived, my anxiety was not as high, and I was fairly sure I would not experience the same thing again."

"Ah." Shizuka's breath ruffles the hairs of Watanuki's head.

Watanuki rolls his head against Shizuka's shoulder to get comfortable. "It was the singing that did it this time."

"I didn't think you were shy."

"No," Watanuki agrees. "But you..."

Shizuka shifts in puzzlement. "What about me?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "We exposed our feelings, and I..." He goes quiet, finding himself in a pensive mood. Searching for things to look at, his eyes fall on the cuff of Shizuka's left sleeve.

"What?"

For a moment he's so distracted that he can't remember what he was saying. How strange to fixate on these simple things, without knowing why. Except that for right now, it strikes him as beautiful. "…I don't trust," Watanuki murmurs after a moment, and — hesitating — touches Shizuka's left wrist with his right hand. He's being childish, he knows...

"I don't understand," says Shizuka, casually shifting his left arm across his lap so that Watanuki can reach his wrist more easily; he's curious to know what Watanuki wants with it.

"Those feelings aren't theirs to see. They're just…" Watanuki shakes his head, and plays idly with a button on Shizuka's sleeve with his left hand. Shizuka watches him do so.

"Just ours."

"Yes, well…I didn't expect to let them loose like that." Watanuki succeeds in single-handedly unbottoning the cuff of Shizuka's sleeve. "Revealing myself. It's not for other eyes."

"Neither did I," Shizuka murmurs.

Watanuki smooths the cuff's cotton fabric with an air of finality. "That's why I had to leave."

Shizuka nods. "You were right."

Watanuki buttons Shizuka's sleeve again, retracts his hand, and straightens up a little. Their stop is imminent.

"See," says Shizuka, smiling, "You know what do do."

Watanuki frowns and shakes his head. Only because you are here. "I'm just exhausted."

"It was well done," says Shizuka quietly. "So thank you. Otsukaresama deshita."

The next morning Watanuki wakes up with a slight hangover, and the sense of being alone is extremely acute. It hangs there, like the still sterility of the air and the impersonal, flickering white light he installed in the bathroom. (That had been a mistake. When it requires replacement, he will ask Shizuka—or maybe Kochoushu, these days—to fetch a softer one from the department store...)

If there was anyone else around, however, the experience would be viscerally much worse, he is sure. Watching Mokona's bouncing nauseates him slightly, gods forbid she speaks, and even her padded rabbit feet make muffled sounds that cause him to wince. Worst of all, perhaps, is unwillingly paying attention to his own body: the sticky paste coating his mouth, drying sweat on his skin, soreness pulling at his joints, the sound that his clothing makes as it rustles...

It takes him much longer than it should to go through his morning routine: brush teeth, shower, dry, and pull on clothes without paying much attention to which. As he exits his room, he heads for the kitchen, and passes through the living room…

Doumeki—

Wait.

Shizuka is sleeping sprawled over Yuuko's couch. It doesn't make much sense, because he is a little too long for it, and Watanuki thinks he remembers seeing Shizuka out...

He frowns. But he hadn't watched Shizuka leave. So maybe he had just said good night and went back—

What was Shizuka thinking?

He was still wearing his tie, only slightly loosened, and is still fully dressed in his dress clothes. It must be most uncomfortable.

Watanuki listens. Shizuka is still breathing, very softly.

The house wasn't quite as alone as he thought.

After slapping together Yuuko's hangover remedy and adding a weak healing spell on top of it (another one of Yuuko's little secrets), Watanuki makes breakfast. Shizuka doesn't rouse, although Watanuki thought the smell might wake him.

Watanuki racks his brains for something to do. He briefly considers the journals, and dismisses the idea. Shizuka is here; it wouldn't be comfortable. There are preparations of various kinds, lessons he could teach Kochoushu, but at the moment thinking about Kochoushu only makes his head hurt more. If only there was something he could teach her that she wouldn't absorb like a preternaturally precocious sponge. But as it is, he can't think of a single idea. Nor does he particularly feel like getting into it at the moment.

Watanuki turns and looks. Shizuka is sleeping deeply.

Although still uneasy, Watanuki makes up his mind. Yes. Fine. The journals.

He gets up to fetch them and finishes eating his breakfast while paging over the contents. He decided to begin at the beginning this time, and not flip through the middle to avoid…whatever he had experienced when he tried the last time. Now that he has decided that, however, the temptation to skip ahead makes him anxious. The beginning of it is entirely ordinary, full of things he already knows...

He's been sitting at the table for quite a while. Eventually it starts to bother him. The wooden chair and table are too hard.

Watanuki clears his dishes and moves to the stuffed chair by the window across the room. After a few minutes he can't help but notice the cold air that moves through an ancient crack in the glass. For another half an hour he suffers it, but then he moves again.

There's another chair next to Shizuka, positioned just so that Shizuka can't see him. He can use that. The hair rises on the back of his scalp. He's pretty sure Shizuka's asleep but if he wakes, he wants to know.

Sighing, he sits down cross-legged near the middle of the couch and begins to read in earnest.

April

Kohane said we were mixed together. She wasn't talking about the eye, but I am unsure how. If I changed, I do not remember changing. I was simply presented with a choice…but I feel myself to be the same now, as before. She doesn't think so. If I cannot explain how I am different from before, how can the difference be significant?

Yuuko claims she changed as a result of knowing Watanuki. I am unable to judge; but, she remains unspecific.

Somehow, even after all that has happened, I feel the change has been insufficient… I cannot shake the premonition that the changes have not gone deep enough, far enough, that the time is short and we might lose him. I do not yet know what I mean by that, 'to lose,' because there are too many ways to lose a person. They simply slip away. And what is soon? The witch is even more troubled than I, yet she keeps herself still, without any sense of urgency. As if Watanuki has all the time in the world, to realize on his own…

Watanuki turns the page and nearly jumps out of his skin when Shizuka stretches in his sleep and his arm falls down so his fingers fall limply on Watanuki shoulder. Gulping, Watanuki looks up carefully, but Shizuka is still asleep. After a moment, he bends back to the book.

May

I knew I shouldn't, but holding on to the secret got so bad that I wanted to tell him about the egg today, but I couldn't find a place to bring it up. Every time I brought it out of my pocket, Watanuki came out and said something and I slipped it back in. I didn't have the courage. I left that day guilty and depressed.

Yuuko didn't tell me not to tell him. I figured it out on my own. If Watanuki finds out, the tool she gave me won't be effective at all. I'll carry the egg for a while longer just as I keep holding on to this question—how much longer can I go on without making a choice?...

August

Kohane finally put her finger on how I changed, so I asked her why. She paused and gathered her thoughts. "You found the person you wanted most to protect."

"You could say the same for Yuuko," I replied. "When she can."

She nodded. "It changes your self very little, but it changes things about you. What you're willing to do, who you love, the wishes you have."

"Then it is limiting," I clarified. "If we are constrained to do less."

Kohane shook her head. "Never. For that person, you can do so much more. Because of who he is, you need that ability."

Why, then, if I have such potential in me, do I not know what is 'more'? Where am I failing him?… I already know I can't stop him. What argument is there that can persuade him? I am not good with words.

Watanuki stops and sets the down journal on the low coffee table, and rattles it by accident. On the couch, Shizuka jumps and sits up before he really knows where he is, and his stray hand almost knocks Watanuki glasses off his face, though Watanuki tried to duck. Shizuka yawns.

"What was that?" Shizuka rubbed his eyes. "Watanuki? Why are you sitting there? That's a bad spot, I almost knocked you down..."

"It was a book," said Watanuki, irritated. "And shouldn't I be asking you what you're doing sleeping in my house?"

Shizuka yawned again. "Oh. That. I just got tired. You left without seeing me out, so I…" he shrugged, looking around. "You said 'book' but you were talking about Doumeki's first journal." Shizuka frowns and fixes his stare on Watanuki.

Watanuki wraps his arms around his knees. "Yeah."

"You didn't want to read it in front of me, did you?"

"Well, I couldn't read it anywhere else, could I?!" Watanuki snaps, without thinking, as he would if he was speaking to Doumeki. He turns red. "But not with you looking!"

"I see," says Shizuka, and leans over him to picks up the journal and glances at the last page Watanuki read. His face is inscrutable. "Oh, you're still on that part."

Watanuki glowers at him, turning even redder.

Shizuka stretches. "My great-grandfather made some mistakes with you. It's my job not to repeat them, but dwelling on the past doesn't help very much."

"So what was his mistake?" Watanuki grumbles.

"That he didn't confront you until almost the day he died. By which point, you couldn't change."

"I wasn't going to," Watanuki says vehemently.

Shizuka shakes his head. "Whether you would or not isn't the point. You might have. You could have worked out another solution to waiting for Yuuko. The rules of the wishing shop are flexible enough to have handle that. But my great-grandfather never thought that changing your mind would involve anything less than demanding that you absolutely had to stop waiting for her. He didn't believe he was important enough to you to do that, and he didn't want to make you choose between him or her. So he bore with it, and never ended up telling you his frustrations or feelings. He thought he had to keep your choice pure, and never 'cheat.' That was his mistake."

"What would have been cheating?"

Shizuka picks up his hand. Watanuki looks at it uncomprehendingly. "This," says Shizuka, and presses his lips to the backs of Watanuki's knuckles.

Watanuki still looks confused.

Shizuka sighs in exasperation. "Fine then. I wasn't planning to do this, but Doumeki's memory has been showing me pretty clearly that we've already gone farther today than he ever did with you. Do you mind if I show you?"

"What?" Watanuki squawks faintly.

Shizuka pulls Watanuki forward and kisses him. "That." Shizuka releases Watanuki's shoulders and sits back again. "Do you understand?"

Watanuki nods mutely, looking stunned and ashamed.

"Those feelings haven't faded from us, Watanuki," Shizuka says softly. "We are still waiting for your answer."

Watanuki swallows.

"In truth, I don't want you to read any more of the journals. They'll hurt you," says Shizuka. "But since you have decided you must, I'd like to be there for you when you read them."

"All right," Watanuki whispers. "All right."

Shizuka pulled him into his arms and held him tight. Watanuki sagged, then cried.

It's a mess, it's a start. It's a flawed work of art.

Your city, your call, every crack, every wall: pick a side, pick a fight, get your epitaph right...

God knows you put your life in two at times, and it's both cradled you and crushed.

But now it's time to make your own demands—oh-wah-woh-ah-oh!

All these years later and it's killing me, your broken records and words.

Ten thousand craters where it all should be—oh-wah-woh-ah-oh!

No need to put your words into my mouth; don't need convincing at all.

I love this place enough to have no doubt—oh-wah-woh-ah-oh!

I love this city tonight, I love this city always...

Take back the city for yourself tonight, or I'll take back the city for me.

For every time it's been hit, take back the city tonight.

—"Take Back The City" by Snow Patrol (remixed lyrics)

Author's Note:

Well. Um. It had to happen someday. Everything's out in the open.

As for the touchy-feely stuff—Watanuki craves it, a lot. He has a huuuuge deficit for human contact and since he's become fairly comfortable with Shizuka when Shizuka initiates it, Watanuki can start reaching out himself.

Whether this is the same thing as love is another question entirely, but it will help Watanuki towards realizing what he feels.

I really have no business writing about Japanese companies or their retreats. Please take everything with a grain of salt.