-/ Chapter 2 \-

"Hey! Kunogi-san! Kunogi-san!" Muun is running in the halls.

It's the middle of break, their short recess. Himawari, in the middle of a short errand carrying some books and papers for a teacher, raises her head and turns towards the voice. "What is it, Muun-kun?" she calls back.

Muun skids to a halt front of her, panting a little, leaning on his knees. "They're okay. The bicyclist and the girl from the other day... They're both okay. Mostly."

"What? How...?" Himawari says faintly. "I thought they were dead."

Muun shook his head. "It was in the daily papers today." Muun opens his school bag and rummages in it, takes out the paper he spoke of.

Himawari takes it, skims it, finds the article. She doesn't want to see the results, but the words spring out at her from the page anyway. Broken legs. Fractured skull. Partial paralysis. No permanent brain damage. "They're alive, then." She folds the paper, and looks away, avoiding Muun's eyes.

"Yes," says Muun, simply, and Himawari hands the daily paper back to him. He tucks it in his school bag and looks at her. "This isn't the first time that something like this has happened to you, though..."

"What?"

"You expected it too much for it be an unusual occurrence."

Himawari turns away.

"So that's a yes?"

Himawari cringes. He walks up, right beside her. She avoids looking at him.

"That's a yes," Muun says, voice soft. Himawari swallows. He waits.

"I-I've b-been this way all my l-life..." she stutters, panicking.

"I'm sorry. You must feel horrible," he says.

Shocked, she stares at him. "What?" A spark of fear enters her chest. Sure, his words were sympathetic, but she has no idea what he's going to say next.

"I didn't realize it was this bad," Muun says in a low voice. "That you think that you are such bad luck that you cause these things to happen."

Her hands begin to shake. Himawari flexes them, partly from her anxiety, partly to mask their trembling at her sides. She looks up. "But I do. Cause these things to happen," she says in a small voice. She doesn't know where she got the courage to say that. That honesty she couldn't even dredge up for Watanuki. But now the damage is done, the words can't be unspoken, unsaid. Her eyes flash to his, searching his face, expecting to see—what? Nothing, she can't read him, she can't read him. Certainty dissolves—

The world crumbles about her, a curious ringing in her ears as she watches Muun's expression freeze, shut down, and fall into shadow. It is not quite pity, but close. He doesn't believe her at all—worse than that. "I see," he says, and the words are toneless. In an instant Himawari knows that his estimation of her has changed completely. He thinks she is crazy, that she's imagining, hallucinating things. She couldn't possibly have power—luck doesn't exist for him. She shouldn't have told him. Of course he wouldn't believe! It was wrong. It was a mistake. She is such a fool.

She can't defend herself. If she tries to argue, to convince him—if he doesn't understand that this is the truth about her, the broken base her other beliefs all stand on—she will scare him worse than she has already. This can't be fixed. She's going to lose him.

It's all too much, the pain. Couldn't stay. Himawari backs away, turns, blinking tears from her eyes. "It's not safe," she mumbles, knowing he won't understand but desperate to save him anyway— "You can't be near me," but he won't believe her— and she pivots and lurches blindly in a direction, any direction. She stumbles, barely managing to hold onto the books and papers in her arms, and begins to run.

She slams into someone hard—someone tall, a teacher, the principal maybe, but she doesn't care, it doesn't matter—the books slam into her chest, air rattles out of her lungs and the books shudder in her grip. She staggers and leans to sprint forward but their arms reach for her and it's too much, too heavy, she drops the books on the floor, papers fly everywhere, and in the confusion she weaves just out of reach and she's running again, wrapping her arms around her chest.

Himawari sprints through the hall, dodging students and teachers and doors, searching for something, a way to escape, a way out, a way to collect herself. Everyone is trying to stop her, but she finds it—a door, a small door, a small place in the dark, alone, no one to watch her, to see her, to judge her—the door was open, she leaps inside—it is surprisingly empty—and she slams it shut. Her breath is harsh and ragged, even a little whistley, within the metal confines. She sags against the door, now locked shut, and cries.

By the time Muun catches up to Himawari, people are frozen still. Muun shouts and them, yells at them to go and leave the girl alone—snapping out of their shock, they all trip over themselves to get away from the sound. Then Muun stands there alone. After a few moments, the teacher Himawari ran into shuffles into the room, wincing a little, and stops just behind Muun. He waits.

Himawari's weeping becomes more and more quiet.

The teacher touches Muun's shoulder, and Muun uncurls enough to see his tiny nod.

Muun takes a deep breath, and says, "Himawari-chan?"

Hearing the name, the teacher's eyes widen, and his eyebrows lift. He hadn't had enough time to recognize her, and was surprised.

Himawari makes a small, incoherent sound in reply. Probably a sniffle.

"I'm sorry, Himawari-chan. I didn't mean to make you upset." Muun's voice is thin, like a pin dropping in the middle of the empty foyer. The teacher's hand, all experience and sincere concern, squeezes his shoulder, as if in affirmation. So he must be doing okay. He takes a deep breath.

She hears him. This time Himawari makes a sound that definitely sounds like a low, dry sob.

"I don't understand what happened," said Muun. "I—I sent everyone out of here. It's just me, and...and Sensei. You can take all the time you want. Class already started. I'm just...going to talk."

The teacher nods. Good response.

Rustling from within the locker goes quiet. Maybe she's ready to listen.

"I—" Muun twists to glance at the teacher; he can't say what he really wants to say. He hopes he won't judge him too badly. "I guess— I just want you to know that I really…I love you." What the hell. He didn't think he would be saying it now, but it's true.

A dull thud. A—a clang?

Muun tries not to think about it. "I don't care what you believe. It doesn't matter. L-l-luck doesn't matter." Jeez, having the teacher on his shoulder is making him nervous. Whatever could he be getting out of this? "I-I've been watching you for a long time, so I've known for a while. I guess you didn't know that. Maybe that's what scared you, figuring that out today."

"Muun-kun..." her voice is faint. "What are you..."

He waits, hopefully, but she doesn't say anything more. "I'm sorry because you shouldn't have to believe that stuff," he continues. "Nobody should have to monitor themselves that carefully, it's just not humanly possible. You must be in such fear, all the time, and nobody ever suspected. I don't know. If I lived with that every second of my day, maybe I would decide I didn't deserve life."

The teacher's hand clenches on Muun's shoulder, and he winces. Maybe he's masking Himawari's real problem, but he isn't getting them both out of therapy. This is going to be a mess.

"But you wouldn't…you didn't think that. You're strong, Himawari," Muun says. "In spite of all of that, you were always smiling. But I love you more than you think if you think that the truth that actually you would rather not be smiling right now would make me go away. You don't have to smile for me, if that's not how you feel. I couldn't hate you. I wouldn't fear you. I think you must have been afraid of that."

A soft clinking.

"Maybe it's true, what you said," Muun spells out slowly. "I knew…that all the signs pointed in that direction. But I'm a scientific kind of person. My gut feelings told me that you were right. Because I saw what kinds of things happen around you. But I simply refuse— I can't accept it as true. You have good reasons, good evidence for your beliefs which you've probably been building up from childhood, and I am going to work hard to make you believe otherwise. Remember my name? I'm Mr. 'No Luck.' I will decide what is for my own good."

"Muun-kun." The door nudges forward, a little. Himawari must have rested her forehead there.

"Are you ready to come out?" he says tentatively.

Himawari sighs through the grill vent. "Yes."

"Can you get out?"

"I'm not sure..."

"I'll get the key, so both of you stay here," Sensei orders. He walks away purposefully, limping only a little.

They're both quiet. Muun begins to wonder idly whose locker Himawari crashed into and searches the door to read the nameplate. The worn, faded label reads, in scratchy spidery handwriting, Kimihiro Watanuki.

"Himawari…do you, uh, know whose locker you're in?" asks Muun.

"No..." She sounds disinterested.

"It's Watanuki's locker," he says carefully. "Isn't that interesting? Watanuki Kimihiro. I can't remember him at all. Still, the name sounds really familiar. Did you know him?"

He can hear the hitch in her breathing after hearing that name.

Oh no.

"Muun-kun. You need to stand back."

"What?"

"Things…are going to happen," said Himawari, sounding strained.

"Tell me why."

"I can't!"

"Then I'm not moving."

"I can't!" The tiny rip in her voice betrays the onset of new tears. "You need to get back. You'll get hurt."

"I'm not going."

"I don't know what will happen but I know it will be bad! Hurry! If Sensei doesn't come back soon—"

"He's going slow. He was limping, before. So it's going to take a while."

"Please, go back."

"No. I won't."