-/ Chapter 12 \-

Doumeki can either cross his fingers, wish for all his might, and hope to meet his grandfather in a dream someday, or he can seek his ghost. He will not wait any longer. It's time to get some answers.

Returning home, Doumeki does not enter the main house, but heads straight for Haruka's shrine. He lights a stick of incense and kneels on a simple mat set before the simple butsudan with Haruka's tattered photograph facing out the frame inside. It's one of him in his priestly garments, bow and arrow slung over his shoulder; clearly in the peak of youth, this is not like Doumeki remembers him, and the faded photo does not clearly show his face. Broken arrows, the fletched halves, lie on the offering plate.

He's your ancestor...

Fighting the pain threatening to overwhelm his heart, Doumeki claps his hands and bows deeply. Immediately the overhead lights go out, all light except a single, flickering flame.

Doumeki represses a sigh - Mother will surely wonder about that - and closes his eyes, slipping smoothly into the meditative state, leaving his body behind. He focuses on his memory of his grandfather's face.

Haruka is provoking him.

Doumeki is not so forgetful. Haruka preferred common menthol cigarettes. There is only one reason why Haruka lifts Yuuko's kiseru, locks eyes with him, and blows smoke into Doumeki's face, and Doumeki freezes, caught by two powerful urges—to strike, or embrace.

Haruka knows, too, because his slow, sly smile widens. And Doumeki is completely, incandescently furious.

"Doumeki." Haruka inclines his head.

"Grandfather." Doumeki does not lift his head to meet his eyes, he is far too angry. "I thought you were haunting the shopkeeper, as his Guardian."

"You made a dream trade, and then an eye trade, so he shares your inheritance, and my guardianship. You did not give it away; you couldn't have. He merely shares in what is already yours. You are both my heirs." Haruka inhales slowly, lifting the slender pipe to his lips again.

"Heirs?" Doumeki's head jerks up.

"To exorcism, of course." Haruka exhales the smoke, sending it curling into the air.

"And the temple? The books? To a minor cousin who does not know their worth?" Doumeki shoots back.

Haruka waves a hand, wafting the smoke. "The temple is only land. It goes to whomever may steward it; stewardship ties one down. One day it may return to you. Be that as it may... Do not beset yourself. Unlike the land, the gift follows wherever you may go... such as to your shopkeeper."

"You tease me." Steel hardens the irked edge in Doumeki's voice. "You've been avoiding me all this time, and this is how you treat me?"

"Grandson, you have always been earnest, but it does not behoove you to also be jealous. The stones of this property do not hold what you seek. Until you realized this, you could not find me. So go then, and wander the earth. Or do not be his servant. It is your choice." Haruka's voice smolders, as witheringly dry as the tobacco he smokes. "But do not recriminate yourself for choices only you can make."

Is this a rebuke? It feels like a rebuke. For a moment, Doumeki can only stare at him. "Grandfather!"

"I can only reflect what thoughts are already in your heart," Haruka, and taps his chest.

Goaded, Doumeki snaps, "Then who is Watanuki Kimihiro to me?"

Haruka lifts the kiseru. "This is a symbol of Watanuki to you. But remember, it was Yuuko Ichihara's tool first." Haruka inhales quietly. "I knew it would be difficult to pair you since you were young. You take notice of so very few people. If he was ready to receive you, it would be hard to find a better match. He is wakizashi, and you are his scabbard. You are his shield, but he is not your weapon. He will pierce the world and the worlds between worlds in his quest to be overcome by death, but you protect his keen edge. He bites, you swallow him." Haruka's eyes flicker. "You bear him well. But he is rapidly becoming too sharp and brittle to hold, even by you."

Doumeki glares. Innuendo? "So what should I do?"

Haruka rolls the kiseru in his fingers, taps it once, and deposits its still-smoking ashes on a tray. "You seek to honor your friend's choices. But if either of you are to be happy, the next move must be yours." When Doumeki continues to stare at him, Haruka continues. "He is growing too little, too fast. His senses must be dulled. Indeed, he is doing it already." Haruka's expression turns grim.

"How do I know when all hope is lost?"

"The conditions are not so vague or arcane or mysterious as you suppose, my analytical grandson." Haruka lets out a soft chuckle. "You will know when you, or he, are out of options." Haruka places the kiseru on the ash tray, having made his point.

A ripple ran painfully through Doumeki's body, as if excess electricity ricocheted between his bones. He holds himself a little straighter and grits his teeth. "When he backs himself into a corner, you mean. Not when his choices actually run out, but when he doesn't see any."

Haruka smiles. "That is one way of looking at it."

That might take... Doumeki presses his knuckles to his eyes. "I don't know how long that might take."

"Such things depend a great deal on your point of view," says Haruka, leaning forward, so that the shadows shaded one side of his face. "So look through your eyes, the eyes of an exorcist. Does Watanuki currently possess the power to choose his fate?"

Thinking, Doumeki blinks rapidly. "I don't have proof."

"You forget. Which eye was it, now?" Haruka murmurs to himself, and raises his hand and points, unerringly, so that his finger connects to the skin beneath Doumeki's half-eye.

The world curls, twists, and defolds before Doumeki.

.

..

...

..

.

Doumeki comes back to himself braced for defense, with one hand cupped over the other eye. "Was that the present, or...or a memory?" His head aches dully. "I saw nothing."

Ever-patient, Haruka says, "Tell me what you saw."

"Bandaged hands. Him in the mirror. The sink. Panic attack— think. It was hard to tell without sound. Just the shaking. I did not see any spirits," Doumeki replies in a low voice.

"You wouldn't see any. Not all problems manifest so." Haruka's small, sly smile appears again.

"I— Even with Watanuki's sight, I wouldn't see?"

"Not necessarily. Tell me, Shizuka: does a man who suffers from unchecked ill health and depression and anxiety think to himself clearly? Does he perceive himself clearly?"

"I would not suppose..." Doumeki demurs.

Haruka nods. "His thoughts are compromised. Does such a man have the ability to choose rightly for himself?"

Doumeki hesitates. "Yes. Maybe. Sometimes."

"But not completely," Haruka impresses on him. "The greater the error grows, the more oppression, the more bias towards a way of life that is alien to him in his right mind, if he has ever known such. Still, he continues to choose, even as his choices threaten his very self. If he could see the greater web of his choices, in all likelihood, he would not wish it so. But each step seems as natural as the last."

Blinking, Doumeki stares at him.

"This condition is but a precursor, Shizuka. A propensity that is an opening to a greater spirit to fill a void. And a great void exists within Watanuki. Imagine if he stepped outside the shop in that state."

Doumeki winces. Who knows what would pounce. He has seen it before. "So... promise or no promise, he can't leave. Even if he wanted to. Because he couldn't dislodge it, unless I was touching him." He shudders. Watanuki made everything so difficult.

"He has no natural defenses." Haruka nods. "But this is a trick of hitsuzen. The natural consequence of a choice, which enforces one's existing debts, or the resolution of them, choice upon choice, fold upon fold, continuation upon continuation, or unto destruction."

Doumeki narrows his eyes.

"This is the true but largely imperceptible work of the exorcist as understood by the Doumeki clan: to remove the rotten threads of fate or connection that bind one to a conclusion of destruction. If you can intercept a person's suffering before they are crushed by additional oppression, so much the better. We are a complement, or even a contradiction, of the Witch's discipline. As a Doumeki, you can be taught to access the power of a hundred eyes." Haruka tilts his head. "Like many others, Watanuki is suffering from a delusion born of a great lie, or a great error, that must have entered him when very young. You must discover that which compels him to continue his course..."

Doumeki picks himself up in the darkness and rises creakily to his feet, awkward as blood rushes back into his legs and he rubs out the numbness and stiffness in his feet. He nearly slips on the mat.

"Shizuka?" His mother enters the room with a dull flashlight. "Are you in here?"

"Yes." Doumeki looks up. "What time is it?"

"I saw the lights go out but a moment ago..." she says, a little timidly.

Doumeki rubs his eyes. "I'll come for dinner soon. I was just paying my respects."

His mother casts a dubious look at the ceiling and flicks the light switch off, then back on. The lights revive, and she sighs. "These ones never quite work right, do they? I don't understand them. There must be short somewhere... Are you sure it's safe to spend time here, Shizuka?"

"I don't think Grandfather is very far away," Doumeki says quietly.

His mother winces a little. "Come up for dinner, Shizuka. You must have had a long day..."

Shizuka allows himself to be shooed back to the main house and served a proper dinner.

He calls Himawari for advice that night, using the house phone, letting the cord wind and unwind around his fingers as he paces the hall. She takes in the news with grace.

"What do you think?" he asks her, uncomfortably.

Himawari sighs, blurring her sound over the phone. "Don't take this the wrong way, but is this the right time to get into all this with him? I think... I think maybe you and he need some space first. I mean, he pushed you away, right? And he really hurt you. Maybe you should just let him be for a while. At least you don't seem angry with him any more."

"Oh?" He hadn't been aware that he had stopped being angry. But she was right; for now, the emotion had evaporated.

"We've been trying to get Watanuki to open up and, from what you've told me, it's all backfired, frankly. So if you push him any further... I'm just not sure this is the right way to go. At least not right away."

"Why not?" Doumeki swings the telephone cradle by his knees.

"Well. Aren't you getting a little obsessed?"

Doumeki sighs and flops down on the bed with the sheets, dropping the cradle on the ground by the bed. He rolls over. "If so, I can't remember a time when I wasn't... obsessed... If that's what it is, with Watanuki."

Himawari giggles.

"What?"

"Sorry. A year ago I wouldn't have understood. But now I think I get it. I mean, if I thought I'd be separated from Muun now, I'd just... " Himawari turns pensive. "Still... That's a long time to be so caught up in thinking about someone else."

"Mm," Doumeki agrees.

"I'm going to take that as a yes, since I know you."

"Mmhm."

"Are you really concentrating at school?"

"Yes. No."

Himawari giggles again. "Ugh, talking to you is like pulling teeth!"

"Madam dentist, I cry your mercy," Doumeki said in soft monotone.

"Say 'ahhhhhhh.'"

"aaaaa..."

Himawari clicks her tongue. "A perfect monotone! I award you 10 points. For another 10 points, use a straightforward answer!"

"Ouch. Chotto ittai." Doumeki yawns.

"Which tooth did I pull?"

"I think that one belongs to the tooth fairy. You'll have to fight her for it."

"Awww, you make me swoon. You're a regular comedy act," Himawari sighs dramatically, and all of a sudden Doumeki realizes that the strange tension that existed between them is gone. Now that she was neither attracted to nor trying to avoid the topic of Watanuki, it was almost how they used to be before they met him, growing up in the same neighborhood together, teasing each other from a safe distance. He had never been attracted to her, but bizarrely, that must have been how she recognized the chemistry between him and Watanuki in the first place— from their own early friendship. She chuckles again. "You must be feeling better. OK, but seriously. Are you concentrating at school?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Classes are interesting."

"Eh? Truly?"

"Mm. I'm taking geology for science, and early Japanese history and architecture, and English again."

"Pfft. Do you even like English?" Himawari asks skeptically.

"I don't mind it." Unlike a lot of his classmates, Doumeki doesn't fear it, and he does reasonably well; although it isn't as if the school's purposes align exactly with his purposes. "With enough thought, it's not too much trouble." He fiddles with the cord between his fingers.

"That barely counts as actually interesting, though."

"Yes, but with English, it's possible to read other researchers of the discipline."

"What discipline?"

"...Folklore," he admits reluctantly. "Myth. Legend. Sometimes... it's not always just Buddhist or Shinto or Japanese stuff. Especially the more foreigners come here, they bring their myths with them. And sometimes people pick up on stuff through the internet or TV. Take New Zealand or the Phillippines. I might go there."

"I see." She did. "So you're saying that everything you do is boring, but useful."

"Yeah, I think eventually."

"What about your life?"

"This is my life."

"Don't be obtuse."

Doumeki shrugs. "The only thing I've ever wanted was my grandfather's legacy. And it turns out that's not the temple. It's everything I've already been pursuing." There's a bleak note in his voice. "Although I'm glad my grandfather's back..."

"Ahhhhh, bit of a letdown, huh?"

"No, it's just, now I don't have to worry about family drama, I can focus on my studies and I should be relieved, I just..."

"You're just not."

"Yeah," he says, defeated. "And besides that, he can be kind of... unsettling." Haruka brought out more and more questions and contradictions in Doumeki where Doumeki would have preferred to coast by in peace; but Haruka seemed intent on shaking up and interrogating the foundations of his resigned point of view with small but precise strikes of provocation and insight. Doumeki didn't know where they might lead, but he was perturbed. Worried in new ways he had never considered before. Even after their short talk, Doumeki felt the new mindset Haruka had left him with was leagues away from the one with which he met him. Disoriented, Doumeki shook his head to clear it.

Himawari assented. "Agreed. I think this questioning is good for you, though, as long as you don't get overwhelmed. You don't seem so stuck. But what would bring you joy? Happiness? Satisfaction?"

"I don't know."

"Even if Watanuki said he liked you?"

"Right now? I don't know how I'd feel. Right now." Doumeki squeezes the telephone cord between his fingers. Horrified. Confused. Disbelieving. "But... I'd be shocked." To say the least.

"Okay," Himawari sighs. "I didn't think I'd have to do this, but before you do anything else for Watanuki, and I do mean anything that he doesn't specifically ask you to do, I want you to do some homework: find something that brings you joy."

"Huh?"

"Joy," Himawari confirms. "Not something that occupies that big head of yours. Not something you feel mild pleasure from doing. Something that makes you happy and relaxed. Something that makes you smile, or want to talk, or proud of yourself."

"Kunogi." Doumeki pauses. "I don't have a clue about that."

"I figured."

"But how do I..."

"Gosh, Doumeki, I don't know, all right? Just try stuff! Try looking around yourself. Do what other people do. And forget about blending in."

"I don't blend in," Doumeki says, affronted.

Himawari cackles. "I know you weren't successful, so I'm not saying you were able to. Doumeki, you were the temple priest's only grandson. And you're... you're kind of strong and tall, and you didn't speak much. You had, like, this stand-offish mystique. The boys thought you were kind of intimidating, but the girls used to fall all over you."

"Huh. They did?"

"Well, a little. They noticed you. You were probably trying really hard not to notice it yourself, or attract notice. So... all I'm saying is let yourself be a little unique for once, okay? Show some personality, if it's too scary to let on about your heritage right away."

Doumeki grunts. "Sounds American."

Himawari rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right, it's soooo American, because it's the advice of every happy grandfatherly ojiichan running a weird little niche business and practically begging for apprentices. Find what you like. Give yourself to it. Even if it makes you smell weird, or walk bow-legged, or stains your fingers so people can see... Until it shapes your world, and the space you fill in it. If it makes you happy or proud of yourself at the end of the day."

"Oh."

"You get it?"

Doumeki considers. "I think so."

"Listen, I've got connections, if it helps, all right? The girls are always giving me recs and discounts and stuff. Like a weekend class. You're probably more interested in traditional arts, I guess? Or something tactile? What do you think about taking pottery, or... or bread-making?"

"Bread-making?" Doumeki wrinkles his nose. "What's traditional about bread-making, Kunogi?"

"Oh, nothing! I probably meant basket-weaving. What about rock-climbing?"

"Uh, I think I can tackle maybe only one thing at a time..."

"Pottery then?"

Doumeki can't think of anything objectionable about pottery. "Okay."

"Great, so I'll send you a link. I can take a train up to meet you and we can take it together if you like. I promise to 'accidentally' destroy everything I make—or you can practice exorcising it, I guess. How about three on a Saturday? Will that work?"

"It could."

Himawari practically squealed in delight, a sound he had not heard her make in— far too long, he realized. And this was all the better because it was genuine. "Oh good. Yay! It's a date!"

Just in case Fanfiction dot net is going down, I just want to give you the head's up that this story is also uploaded to A03 in an updated version under the same story title and username. If it is updated, it will be updated there much faster in any case.