-/ Chapter 11 \-

Doumeki doesn't think. His tired feet lead him to Kohane's home. It is late, but he lets himself inside the garden gate and makes it to the door, hand raised, before he hesitates, appalled at himself—for coming; for hesitating. Swallowing his doubt, he reaches for the wood of door again—

Kohane opens the door and blinks languorous sea-green eyes at him. "Grandmother said you'd come by," she says matter-of-factly, tugs him inside, and helps him strip off his sodden coat quickly. He follows her through the kitchen to the dining room, where Grandmother leans back in a small quilted rocking chair in the corner, eyes closed and to all appearances asleep. Doumeki is quite sure she will wake the moment there is need for her, however. "We made stew. Grandmother says you're welcome anytime, you know. Would you like some?"

"How did she know that?" Doumeki mumbles, but he follows Kohane's lead and lets her serve him some.

"She told me right before she dozed off." Kohane shakes her head. "It just comes. She's not worried. What happened tonight?"

Doumeki sits at the table, cups his hands around the warm bowl, and tells her everything. "What should I do?"

Kohane says, "I don't know."

"He promised me he would stay in this world," says Doumeki.

"Yes."

"It's not my world," Doumeki murmurs, eyes are hot with shame, rage, and regret. How could he have ever hoped otherwise? Stupid, stupid, stupid...

"I know." Kohane lays a towel over his damp hair. When Doumeki doesn't move to take it, she presses at the dampness gently. Doumeki lets his head droop a little. "Mother used to do this for me. Before," Kohane says.

Kohane standing in the ice bath, fully clothed, shivering— His insides seize, turning to ice. "Kohane," Doumeki says, soft and low. He wants to stop her; he wants to tell her she doesn't have to go on if she doesn't want to. His stomach churns.

"She didn't used to be so bad. It's not your fault. Doumeki." Kohane's hands are gentle as she rubs the towel over his hair. Then her hands pause. "People change."

"Do you think Watanuki has changed?"

Kohane shakes her head. "Yes. No." She shakes her head more fiercely.

Doumeki looks at her. "Which is it?"

"He's still kind." Kohane stops and gazes back at him softly. "He saved me. He hasn't lost that."

"How do you know...that side of him's not gone?" Doumeki says softly in a low monotone, letting the towel slide off his head.

"I don't." Kohane picks up the towel and folds it again. "But I know grief. It's not pretty."

Doumeki sees her mother's face, twisted with bitterness and the need to control. He is silent.

Kohane continues folding. "You're the only one he'll show it to, despite himself. But until he faces his sorrow he'll be twice as cruel."

Doumeki thinks of the boy holding the dead cat so long ago. He seems to have no resemblance to the Watanuki he saw today. "He was so...cold. His words... cut..." Doumeki makes a half-hearted slicing motion with his hand. "He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"No." Kohane shakes her head again. "He does. But he doesn't know how to be with you. When he comes to his senses, he'll miss you."

"He's become the Shopkeeper."

"No. Not yet." Kohane bites her lip. "That's half the problem."

Doumeki stares at the grain lining the table. "But if he were, then..."

"He would be in control of himself. He would know what he is doing, and why. He would have his mastery. The shop requires...distance, separation. He won't have it until he conquers his heart. You're not fair to yourself, either, you know," Kohane says softly. "You have your own life to live. Watanuki knows that. In his own way, he's trying to be..." she trails off for a moment, searching for words. "...considerate."

Doumeki gives a short laugh of half-disbelief, but he does know what she means. It is cold comfort. He buries his head in his hands.

"How are you?" Kohane asks after a moment.

"I miss..." He tries, but he finds he can't continue. It's not even the "old" Watanuki that Doumeki misses. It's the boy beneath the lies, the pretense, the excuses, and every single artless insult and dodge that Watanuki has ever employed. The boy who was kind, and curious, and courteous, who met every being as he found them, but who saw so little value in himself that he would let himself go in an instant, negating all the kindness he had to give. It wasn't his defenses, it wasn't his comedic routine, and it wasn't the empty mantle of the shopkeeper. It is Watanuki's own soul.

As if she too saw the same vision, Kohane hums in agreement. "I hope he finds himself."

"What if he never does?"

"Then he never does. But he's still our Watanuki. Not wrong, just lost." Doumeki thinks about that. In a sense Watanuki has been lost ever since Doumeki had first known him; it is just worse now. Darker, harsher, colder, and more desperate than ever. When Doumeki meets Kohane's eyes, they are filled with compassion. Kohane nudges him. "You should eat."

Doumeki glances at his the stew again; it has grown a little cold. He picks up his spoon and begins to eat, slowly, pausing between bites.

Kohane glances at the clock after a while. "It's late," she says, matter-of-factly. "The trains will stop running at midnight. You won't make it home. You can stay in the guest room," she says, getting up. "I'll get it ready now." With simple grace, she walks to the closet, fetches the bedding, and trots to the side room to prepare the futon.

Doumeki polishes off his plate, pushes it to the side, and rises to help her.

Doumeki wakes up disoriented by bright morning light, and rolls over. Soft greyish-green eyes resolve into...Kohane, propped up on elbow, gazing at him seriously, lying across the groove of the sliding door and picking idly at worn weaves in the tatami mat. Her hair falls over her shoulder in one thick braid. The air smells clean.

Doumeki blinks.

"Do you always watch people sleep?" he says, pushing himself up from the pillows slowly. "Does Grandmother know this bad habit of yours?"

"You overslept." Kohane flashes a smile suddenly, and giggles. "Breakfast is ready," she says, leaping to her feet, and runs.

She's not like other children. She'll always be a little strange. What could possibly be interesting in watching him like that? Doumeki doesn't have the slightest clue what is going through her head sometimes. But he's glad to see her bounce with energy. Perhaps even she can have something of a childhood again. It's a relief.

By the time he's presentable, Kohane is making omelets while Grandmother sits at the table, smiling and fanning herself with an uchiwa as she chats with Kohane. Grandmother turns as Doumeki approaches the table. "Ah, you've come to join us."

"I'm sorry for intruding last night," Doumeki says.

Grandmother shakes her head. "Not at all. You're a nice young man, and Kohane is fond of you. We have the space, and I knew you were coming. Grandmother can sense these things."

"Grandmother, you promised!" Kohane hisses, surprising Doumeki with the brief spite of impetuousness. He's not sure what she's objecting to, but she must be getting along very well with Grandmother indeed to be so free.

Grandmother smiles benignly, showing no sign of whatever it is that Kohane expects from her.

"Thank you for having me," Doumeki says, somewhat at a loss.

Grandmother nods. "Sit, sit. Have something to eat." Kohane comes over and tips an omelet onto Doumeki's plate and sets the frying pan down in the middle of the table and sitting down herself.

"You know, Watanuki come here to get a reading once," Grandmother says nonchalantly.

"He came here?" Doumeki peers at her, expressionless, over the top of his rice bowl. He had known about the fortunetelling - Watanuki had blabbed to Himawari - but he had not known who Watanuki had consulted.

Grandmother nods.

"Would you like your fortune told?" Kohane asks.

Doumeki slowly lowers the rice bowl, thinking.

"It's no trouble at all," says Grandmother. "It's about time I offered. I sensed you might be stuck at a crossroads."

"Will it help?" Doumeki asks.

"Help what, dear?"

"Me," Doumeki says at last. "To know what to do."

Grandmother says solemnly, "No. But it will brighten to your darkest moments. It will bring...perspective to your life. It will remind you of your purpose."

Doumeki thinks about that, chewing slowly.

"It's for hope," Kohane says quietly but firmly.

If it was any other day, the idea would have been out of the question. The words drawn out of him almost unwittingly, syllable by syllable with excruciating slowness, Doumeki says, "I'll consider it." He doesn't even know why, exactly. He's never wanted to know the future; and that isn't what he wants now. Not really.

Grandmother smiles and Kohane beams while Doumeki ponders his own curiosity, because he's warming to the idea, strangely. It confuses him.

"It's time," says Grandmother. "And you're carrying a burden in your pocket. That wasn't there before. It changes things, doesn't it?"

Doumeki's blood chills. His hand moves involuntarily to hover over the lump in his pocket, not quite touching it.

"I take it Yuuko-san left you instructions?"

Doumeki nods, once, twice, three times.

"Clever woman." Grandmother clucks softly. "She did what she could, and with so little time. And yet. Keeping that secret, all alone... Without guidance, it will eat you alive. It was never meant to be, but here it is...as much an anomaly in Watanuki's life as it is in yours. Though the boy is an anomaly himself."

Dread settles like a rock in Doumeki's stomach. He understands this—too well. "I don't understand."

"Will you show me your secret?"

Heart in his throat, Doumeki brings out the grey stone egg wrapped in a cotton handkerchief. Grandmother stares at it for a long time, then looks up.

"If you accept this burden, your life path will change forever. Your life paths will narrow. You will be waiting always for another's decision, for no matter what you do, the wait will depend on his will entirely. You might never be happy. Your task might be thankless. I cannot tell if the reward is worth the price; that, you must interpret. Your natural fate never included an event like this. You could choose your own path unfettered...free to live a normal life. But from time to time, your doubled fates may cross."

Doumeki puts away the egg. "I am decided."

"Very well, then," says Grandmother, rising to her feet. She begins setting up the delicate instruments in the next room over.

Kohane tugs Doumeki by the sleeve to sit at the machine and herds him into place. Doumeki takes his seat and crosses his legs. Kohane kneels nearby, hands curled over her thighs, watching the process with intent but quiet interest. "Can I stay?"

"Of course," Doumeki tells her.

"Touch the handle in the center like so, take even breaths, and stay still. That's it," Grandmother murmurs. "You've seen this before."

He had, though it didn't give him good feelings. Doumeki rises to his knees to touch the handle, and doesn't look up from watching the needle move on the sand, though it makes him feel a bit nauseous. "You knew my grandfather, then?" he asks, trying to distract himself.

"Hm. Perhaps you do not remember me. The last time you would have seen this instrument would have been the last time before he died...not that he asked for readings often—only three times in his whole life—ah!" The needle hit a snag. Grandmother stares at it intently, and in three seconds, it has worked itself loose. She presses her lips together, but winds up the instrument again. "That may happen again," she murmurs.

"It wasn't the end of the reading?" Doumeki asks.

"No. Not until the whole of it is written in the sand."

This time, closing his eyes, Doumeki chooses to remember.

Sitting at his grandfather Haruka's side on a small pillow while his grandfather smoked a cigarette, idly watching it waft in the air, and chuckled softly when he glanced at the symbol drawn in the sand. "This is why I don't do these often," he had said.

"I know what you say: only when necessary. Does the reading surprise you?"

"...No." Grandfather Haruka reached over and ruffled Doumeki's hair. "No, it's just what I expected. There's no cheating fate. Though I wished to see this young'un grow up. There's so much to prepare for."

"Would you like to see his fortune, as well?"

Doumeki opens his eyes. "You told my fortune. When I was little. Perhaps two or three?"

"Yes." Grandmother seems pleased. "So I did. Would you like to know what I told Haruka then?"

He says "Yes," though he isn't at all sure. He doesn't like having any part of his history hidden from him, even parts he might rather not know.

Grandmother doesn't reply immediately. "I told him how to keep you safe from harm—that is, how to enhance the charm he had already placed. You were likely to become unattached and adrift in life. That, I think he already sensed. I confirmed to Haruka when he would die, and I told him that you and Haruka had a very strong connection, and eventually that connection would go on to benefit someone else. And that you would become friends with a boy who attracts spirits, and possibly another highly unusual girl."

Doumeki's mouth goes dry.

"Was it accurate?"

Doumeki nods.

They wait. The instrument snags occasionally. Grandmother quietly makes adjustments, and they continue watching, and wait.

"Here it is," says Grandmother, and closes her eyes in contemplation. "Hmm. As I thought, there are many layers." She sighs. "Your future is indeed unusually difficult to interpret. May I touch your hand?"

Doumeki extends his hand to her. She gently clasps his palm.

"Your natural fate is remarkably fluid and dependent on the people and the opportunities around you, as you have many inclinations and skills. At the university you are currently attending, you will have best results in the history profession." Grandmother breathes deeply. "History and folklore, yes. The professor there is earnest and keen, and he will support you in research without jealousy. Life will be modest but there will be enough money to satisfy you. Your parents will not object; in fact, should the management of the temple pass to you, you will have special qualifications to handle the property. The man has touched the supernatural before; though he does not understand it, he respects its power, and it is safe to confide in him. Beyond minor studies in chemistry, office politics will prove biting. If you wish to pursue the study further, it would be best to transfer to a different university. Is there anything further in that area that you wish to know?"

Doumeki shakes his head no. She's told him everything he needs to know. There isn't much chance of his changing universities. He is already attending the only one that allows him to be at Watanuki's side.

"Hmm. Do you wish to hear your romantic prospects?"

Doumeki shakes his head again. "No, except the...unpleasant ones..." Doumeki says, with some distaste. "How can I avoid them?"

Grandmother chuckles and opens her eyes. "Your grandfather used to ask for the same. He did used to be a bit of an unintentional rake, now that I think about it. It must run in the family. Let me see." She lets her eyes close again. "I see a happy family. Whom is uncertain. There are multiple eligible young men and women. There is one young woman in particular with a psychic predisposition. Unfortunately, her senses are already clouded by the occult." She grimaces. "Ah, here we have the first crossover. Doumeki-kun, if you would be so good as to let me touch the egg?"

Doumeki slips it under her palm.

"Ah. I see now. She is a controlling young woman who perceives you are her best mate, as it could have been on a different timeline, one that would have been possible at your birth — a dubious claim — and consults the shopkeeper at some future point in time. Watanuki will deal with it. She will be dissuaded without ever coming in contact with you. She will only be successful in getting what she desires out of you with the aid of magic, if she became that desperate. It's exceedingly unlikely that she would be able to void all your protections to place a spell of her design on you."

That's worrisome. Good news, he supposes, but...it will probably fuck with Watanuki's head. And Watanuki already never tells him anything.

"How far in the future?"

"Perhaps ten years or so. She will be fearing old age, afraid she's losing her opportunity to have a family. A desperate housewife."

Doumeki relaxes slightly. "Are there any others?"

"No. The rest are mere crushes and passing fancies which will come to nothing, not obsessions and false claims."

"Okay. Another question. Will I inherit the temple?"

"That is uncertain. One way or another, you will certainly inherit Haruka's legacy, however, so it is best not to worry."

"The legacy is separate from the temple?" Doumeki hadn't known that.

Grandmother nods.

"And the egg?"

"Keep it safe, your secret. And do not be late; it would be better to use it prematurely than not at all, that one."

"I see. Do you have instructions?"

"Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate..." For a moment, Doumeki can almost hear Yuuko's voice, whispering as if in prayer.

"But what time? What place?"

"The moment Watanuki loses himself."

Watanuki is already losing himself, Doumeki thinks in despair. This tells him nothing. "The point of no return?"

"Yes, precisely. As long as you have hope that something will work out, you have no need of the egg."

It doesn't help at all.

"What does it do?"

"It's a...shall we say, neutral, but a complex, and very powerful evolving magic. You carry it for a reason. The outcome will be the one you need most at a time when you need brute force and power to fulfill your wish."

"I never had a wish," Doumeki says dumbly.

"That's Yuuko for you," Grandmother says, sighing. "Consider it granted." Grandmother opens the eyes again; her face wrinkles, kind and sad.

"But the price—"

"You're already paying it. You agreed to take it."

"This is backwards. Yuuko-san can't just—" as always, reaching from beyond the grave to— Doumeki sharply shakes his head to clear it. He can't let Watanuki's thoughts synchronize with his right now. Watanuki can never be allowed to know about the egg. Doumeki squeezes his eyes shut and shoves, blocks him out with heavy darkness and iron doors, willing their minds to stay far, far apart. He's gone.

"She did. For your sake, and your happiness, and for Watanuki's sake, and his happiness. In the time that she had. This is the last artifact of her arts. I would know it anywhere. It's unmistakable." Grandmother removes her hand from Doumeki's, and Doumeki slowly sinks back onto his cushion.

Doumeki looks at the stone egg. It looks as ordinary and circumspect as ever, betraying no clue as to its secrets. It seems as austere and ascetic and as un-Yuuko-like as he can possibly imagine; her work was always intricate and aesthetic. There must be more than meets the eye.

Yuuko, you kept so many secrets.

It's a trump, a spade, an ace in the hole, the get-out-of-jail-free card. It's as if, according to Yuuko, there is no way he could fail this test. That can't be. It's untrue.

Doumeki slips the egg back into his pocket.

Grandmother nods and smiles at him again. "Do you have any last questions? What else is on your mind?"

Doumeki stares into the distance for a while. When he returns to the present, he says slowly, "I don't want to know any more of my future, but... May I ever dream of my grandfather again?"

"Oh, my dear. Doumeki-kun, it's simple." Grandmother clasps her hands together and cocks her head at him. "He's your ancestor, not Watanuki's. He never really left. Why don't you just ask for him?"