November 8. the hardcore and the gentle

A/N: The term hardcore immediately made me think of gaming, instead of smut. Sad. Sequel to Negative Phoenix.

Open till Late

"Yuuko-san! Sorry I'm late… oh." Watanuki popped his head into the room, blushed when he saw he had interrupted Yuuko speaking with a client, and ducked out again. "Sorry!"

The client – a thin, middle-aged man with watery, constantly-amused brown eyes and black hair teased carefully but ineffectively over a balding spot on his head – laughed. "No, no, it's all right. Yuuko-san, I take that is the employee you spoke of?"

"One of them, yes, Hashimo-san," Yuuko said, and added, "Come in, Watanuki-kun. Maru and Moro can get the tea."

Watanuki stepped warily into the room, just as Maru and Moro bounced away down the corridor, their squeals of "Tea! Tea!" fading away.

Yuuko sat demurely across the client at a low table, dressed in what was for her terribly casual clothing – an elaborate, ruffled crimson blouse with iridescent green cuffs, over tastefully faded jeans, the hems inset with flakes of mother-of-pearl. Her long hair was coiffed with white ribbons that fluttered down her back. Elegant fingers indicated that he take a seat next to her, which he did so, after an awkward bow at the man. Something about him seemed familiar…

Which clicked, when he saw a plastic-wrapped game on the table, autographed on the cover with a flamboyant Ushiya Hashimo, over what looked like a limited edition art book. Both book and game sat on a closed, silvery metal suitcase. "THE DIRECTOR OF 'ENDLESS DREAMING'!" he yelped, overbalancing and nearly sprawling into Yuuko's lap.

Hashimo laughed (with the slightly startled expression of a newcomer to Watanuki's… liveliness…), and inclined his head. "Guilty as charged. Now, Yuuko-san, I am sorry for having to rush. Is the payment sufficient?"

Yuuko reverently moved the game and book onto the table, and opened the suitcase. Within it was a sleek black box and a pair of game controllers. She nodded, and closed the case. "Sufficient payment, thank you. Are you sure you cannot stay for tea?"

Hashimo checked his watch, and shook his head, regretfully. "I have a meeting in an hour – which I am already going to be late for – and then I have to pack for a presentation in America. What about I make it up to you in March, Yuuko-san? Things should be less hectic by then."

Yuuko inclined her head gracefully. "Very well. I will send notice to you when your wish is granted."

"Thank you very much, Yuuko-san," Hashimo bowed low over the table. "This takes a huge load off my mind."

"Avoid Chinese food in America," Yuuko advised, almost absently, her eyes fixed on the case. "Watanuki-kun, please escort Hashimo-san to the door."

--

Yuuko was nowhere to be seen in the room he had left her, and it took a moment for Watanuki to connect the payment with Yuuko's preoccupation – he wandered towards Yuuko's 'study', which was really a couch, a table (for beer) and a large television (all payments). When he entered, Yuuko had already successfully set up the wiring, and turned on the television with a crow of triumph.

Watanuki was sure his eyes were wide to the point of likely permanently straining his eyelids. "PLAYSTATION THREE? ENDLESS DREAMING FOUR?"

"OHOHO!" Yuuko cheered. Mokona raised the game case above its head with its stubby limbs.

"BUT BUT THAT SHOULD ONLY BE OUT NEXT YEAR… BUT BUT HE…" Watanuki pointed a shaky finger at the screen, then at Yuuko. "What about the wish?"

"Thank you for volunteering, Watanuki-kun."

"Ganbatte!" Mokona bounced up and down on the spot.

"WHAT? BUT BUT I… BUT BUT YOU…" Watanuki gave up again, with an exhalation. "Fine. What must I do?"

"Go to three-twenty Shisenka road around eight at night. Oh, and bring Doumeki, ask him to take his bow. And tonight make something which can be eaten in front of the television."

As Watanuki stalked out of the study, growling under his breath, there was a faint, "And buy beer!" behind him.

--

"I'm only asking you along because Yuuko told me to bring you along and it has nothing to do with anything else so don't get any ideas that I'm asking you to go because I want to or something or need you to come along," Watanuki took a deep breath at that point, oxygen-starved. Since the phoenix heart, things between himself and Doumeki had become somewhat… strained. Brittle politeness only, whenever they had to interact or go on Yuuko's errands. Himawari had asked Watanuki privately what was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about it, instead putting it off to stress over the upcoming exams.

Doumeki stared at him, expressionless, for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll get changed."

When Doumeki reappeared, this time in jeans, a plain brown greatcoat and sneakers, his bow slung across his back, Watanuki stuck freezing fingers into his own jacket pockets, and avoided the other boy's eyes. The walk to Shisenka took place in uncomfortable silence.

--

320 Shisenka road was a corner building that smelled of cigarettes and socks – unlike the rest of the buildings on the street, it was lit, if dimly. Even from the street, Watanuki could hear the dull booming of gunshots and computer-generated voices. At the door was a faded sign that read 'Dream World Net Café – Drinks and Games, Open till Late'.

"Um…" Watanuki blinked, looking around. Nothing seemed untoward. "I don't see…"

Doumeki checked his watch. "We're early. There's still ten minutes to eight."

"Ah," Watanuki said, awkwardly, wishing that they had walked a little more slowly. They stood under a streetlight – he looked at the spreading shadows, under his feet, and felt himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. Keeping silent was not particularly part of his nature.

A sigh, from Doumeki, made him grimace. "Doumeki…"

"Still haven't thought it out?" Doumeki asked, with an unusual, hesitant note in his voice.

Watanuki observed his breathing, for a while – white puffs in the air, his cheeks prickly with cold. "Sort of. Doumeki, what did the phoenix's heart tell you?"

Doumeki glanced away. "Nothing I didn't already know."

"Jerk. That's not an answer," Watanuki muttered. Another breath. "But did you hear what it said to me?"

"No. But I could guess."

"Oh." Watanuki was sure the heat at his cheeks now had little to do with the cold. "Doumeki, I…"

"It's time," Doumeki cut in, and began walking towards the shop.

"Hey. Hey, wait!" Watanuki started off after him, then covered his nose hastily with a hand, coughing. A too-familiar stench suddenly surrounded the building – along with roiling blue smoke, choking him. Hands on his shoulder steadied him as he stumbled – he looked up through watering eyes to see Doumeki, frowning and squinting through the shared eye. "This…"

"Stay here, I'll take a look," Doumeki said, dragging him out of the smoke and setting him gently against a wall.

"No, you can't…" But the other boy had already run back into the smoke. Watanuki waited uneasily, shivering and trying to will strength and sense into his legs. Stay here. He couldn't do that – whatever it was, it was strong, and… and there was something about letting Doumeki go into that, by himself, which felt so wrong that he was compelled to take a step forward. That jerk! If his stupidity got him hurt, Watanuki was going to kill him. Logic settled, he took another step forward, then yelped (in a masculine way, of course) when someone tapped his shoulder.

He looked around to see a worried looking, hunched man in a garish pink, too-large windbreaker, worn over gray shorts that in this weather really should have frozen his skinny legs off. "Who… who are…"

"You're here about the problems with the shop? Hashimo said he'll send someone today," the man asked, glancing over at the building. "Scares me, it does, what happens at eight."

"What happens at eight? Who are you?"

"Oh. Forgive my rudeness. I am Fumo Yeshiyo, owner of Dream World," Yeshiyo bowed slightly. "What happens at eight… er… it's hard to explain. But you know how usually in a lan Café there's shouts and talk? Normal to gaming. But at eight… it seems to just turn off. Silence. And everybody playing gets this blank look in their eyes. Seriously eerie. So I turned to an old friend and classmate of mine for help, after the usual methods of priests didn't work out too well."

"Didn't… work out too well?"

"The last few priests either didn't come out again, or came out totally blank. Like zombies. Permanently," Yeshiyo said, with a sigh. "I've tried turning off the power, throwing people out early – doesn't work. They break in, sit down, and the computers turn on anyway. It's really… oi, where are you going? It'll be dangerous!"

Permanently. Watanuki ran into the smoke, covering his nose with his jacket sleeve and trying to squint so that the tears from inhaling the dizzy stench wouldn't blind him, groping blindly for the doorframe. It was icy to the touch – and disgustingly slimy – he jerked his hand away, and staggered on.

Dimly, he could make out neat rows of computers, as he leaned heavily against what was likely the counter. Light from the screens illuminated the otherwise pitch-black room, showing rows upon rows of silent, still people, their eyes blank and focused on the computers. Thin yellow lines ran from between their eyes into the screens – their hands were flat on the keyboard, but unmoving.

And in a corner, the smoke rolling off a space around him but inching inexorably closer, was Doumeki, bow in hand, his head turning as he searched for something. Their eyes met, as he glanced towards the counter, and Watanuki saw Doumeki's ever present serene calm in the face of any danger crack, just a little. "Watanuki!"

The smoke stopped trying to attack Doumeki's aura – instead, Watanuki could see it coalescing around himself, forming faces in myriad expressions of savagery and disappointment that formed at one moment and melted away into the smoke the next, hands gripping rifles that liquefied into knives, grenades, then swords, and the bloodlust was so keen that he stumbled back against the counter, hands thrown up before his face, instinctively expecting a oh-shit-I'm-still-too-young-to-die blow.

Then, to his relief, the sensation of a release of pure spirit energy, impact, an inhuman scream, and a wind that carried a stench that made that of the smoke pale in comparison, and there were familiar arms that scooped him up, footsteps, and he was on his knees on freezing cold concrete, gasping for air and sneezing, dizzy with shell-shocked relief. A tense voice against his ear, arms tight around his waist. "Watanuki? Watanuki? Can you hear me?"

"I'm fine. Fine." Watanuki shook his head, to clear out the last painful echoes of the shriek, taking deep breaths, then looking back hurriedly over his shoulder. The smoke was dissipating, and a few confused-looking people were staggering out onto the street.

"You… you guys did it," Yeshiyo was blinking, sounding awed, disbelieving. "Whatever it was. Everyone looks fine now. Thank… thank you so much. Here… your friend doesn't look so well… come to the backroom, I'll make some hot cocoa."

--

The hot cocoa helped – when they bid Yeshiyo goodbye and started into the dark night, Watanuki could walk by himself. Doumeki was expressionless again, the bow at his back.

Somehow, it felt more awkward than ever. Watanuki decided to start first, this time. "Thanks."

Doumeki blinked at him, slowly, as if it wasn't necessary, then looked away. "It had to… it had to solidify first. Before that, when it was just smoke, the arrows did nothing."

Watanuki nodded, numbly. The voice that called his name had been edged with desperation and fear that had been painful to hear. "Doumeki…"

"You should stop working for Yuuko. Like this, that is." Doumeki muttered. "I'll take up your debt instead."

"What? NO!" Watanuki whirled on his companion. "I can pay it back myself!"

"That thing… it nearly… it could have hurt you. I thought it hurt you," Doumeki said, flatly. "How many times has something like this happened, on one of Yuuko's errands? How many times have we been attacked by monsters that go straight for you, because of whatever it is that you are? How many times must I…" lips thinned, and Doumeki stared firmly forward.

Taken aback by far more words that Watanuki had ever heard Doumeki say in one breath, he was silent, for a while. That was true. Yuuko's errands were occasionally life threatening, especially when it was specified that Doumeki was to go with him, almost always odd, and always, always fascinating. Before them, Watanuki felt he had been encased in the ordinary shell of what-everybody-saw – would likely have gone the rest of his life never trying the most incredible oden in the world, seen the manna-tree, walked with ghosts, spoke with cats, seen the world-in-a-jar. "It's worth it," he found himself saying. "Sometimes I don't feel like I'm working at all."

Doumeki exhaled, angrily.

"I can't go back to…" being blind like everybody else. "Not anymore. But I'm… sorry, that well, that you have to come along each time…"

"Idiot," Doumeki snorted. I'll come even if you didn't ask me.

Watanuki smiled, wryly. "Doumeki. What the phoenix's heart said. I like you. And that is true."

An inhalation, this time sharp, of shock. "What… really?"

"But that doesn't mean I'm gay, or that we're going to start going out or living together or exchanging valentine's gifts or that I'm going to be doing anything girly like writing you letters or whatever!" Watanuki added, hastily, with a glare and a pointed finger. Doumeki's stunned expression changed into a fleeting smile, that made him look so much more handsome – then a snort of laughter. "ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?"

"No," Doumeki said, and began to chuckle (breathless, astonished relief).

"FORGET WHAT I SAID, I HATE YOU."

--

"Beer." Watanuki said, dumping the bottles down on the table. "And shidashi bento."

Yuuko nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen and the gorgeously rendered characters. "Not too much trouble at the café?"

"None," Watanuki sat down beside her, helping Mokona open the first bento box. "That guy probably overpaid you for it."

Yuuko smirked. "The shop was only part of it. I also made him some charms for other places which may concern him."

"Charms? You mean… wait, we DIDN'T have to go in the first place?" Watanuki glared at Yuuko. "YUUKO!"

"Ah, but no doubt you learned something important didn't you?" Yuuko grinned, unrepentant, as she paused the game and picked up her box of bento.

Watanuki blushed – which made Yuuko and Mokona laugh. Since the only recourse in response to being laughed at by a fat bunny like animal was either dignified retreat or distraction, he said, "Whatever it was, it had so much…"

"Bloodlust?" Yuuko arched an eyebrow, as she dipped tempura into sauce. "Yes. Spirits are attracted to people with murderous intent. And in a lan shop, there is much of that. Something old was feeding on the killing energy of this shop's players whenever it woke up at night, and getting stronger."

"It um… hurt some priests."

Yuuko nodded. "Possibly at this point only very few people – Doumeki included – could have done anything about it."

"But there are lots of other such cafes around…"

"Oh, this one was a coincidence. Built just near enough to a certain graveyard," Yuuko shrugged gracefully. "SO. Did you talk to Doumeki?"

"Uh." A thought struck him. "DON'T TELL ME YOU MADE ME FACE THAT THING JUST SO I WOULD TALK TO HIM."

Yuuko smirked. "Of course not!"

"GOOD."

"I did it so that you would both have to talk to each other!"

"WHAT." Watanuki leaped to his feet. "THIS IS CHILD ABUSE!"

"Help me open that bottle of beer."

"OPEN IT YOURSELF."

-fin-