Chapter two marks the end of crazy first person until the last chapter. I think I've solidified this to five chapters, although I make no promises. Again, written to Maximo Pork's "Books Into Boxes". Review? You know you want to.

It was morning, the morning, by the time Watanuki noticed the umbrella left discreetly in the corner. Trust the jerk to forget something just when it would cause the most bother, he thought irritably. Now it would have to be returned. He supposed he could just leave there for the next inhabitant to deal with, but although this idea appealed to his sense of righteous and constant irritation with Doumeki, he found that leaving it behind in an abandoned room made him feel oddly lonely.

So therefore when the cab arrived, after loading his boxes in the back Watanuki went back with a scowl and fetched the mbrella, giving the waiting one final instruction upon his return. This really was more trouble than it was worth, especially for some guy he didm't even like. It would add more time to his already-lengthy journey. The jerk had better damn well appreciate this, Watanuki fumed. In his opinion, it was more than was deserved.

That wasn't necessarily true, though, if looked at objectively. Doumeki had saved his life far more than was comfortable to admit, even in private thoughts. And for what thanks? Well, lunch every day, but what value did that have in comparison to life? And how many lives had Watanuki been given? Yet Doumeki never asked for anything more than lunch, even if he did ask for the most extreme recipes in the most irritating tone possible. And he endured both physical pain and animosity from the one he'd always gone out of his way to save.

He wouldn't any more, though. Yuuko had even gone so far as to specifically say so, in a tone that suggested that the boy in question wouldn't take kindly to or believe this fact. But there it was – he, Watanuki, was leaving on some insane mission that he probably wouldn't return from.

When Yuuko had first suggested it (less suggested, more ordered) Watanuki had been at first skeptical, and had moved on to outrage soon after. The theory was that in another dimension there would be no spirits, and if he settled in well he could simply stay there. The price was apparently something he could afford with what he'd already earned in service, which was an immediate plus over all other options. Another benefit was that it was a fully-developed plan, whereas any other solutions were merely hypothetical. But leaving this dimension still seemed at little…extreme.

Even so, thinly-veiled hints at what alternatives might end up being did nothing to Watanuki any more at ease. This was a concrete option, after all, and didn't involve any rearranging of his psyche or loss of body parts. And wasn't this what he'd been waiting for, nearly all his life? It may have been slightly extreme, but at least it was plausible.

In the end, he'd agreed to try it. Maybe he would fit in there, in some unknown world. Maybe there he would be more at home than his current world. There was always hope, and also the knowledge that Yuuko would not leave him to flounder. Equal service meant he could at least stay in contact.

He'd told Himawari on the way home from school, and it had been easier than he'd feared. In the same action he had introduced her (with the ever-faithful Tampopo) to Kohane, who while having taken the news rather well should not have been left with only stupid Doumeki to look out for her. That had been the hardest part, and Watanuki had almost called off the whole business – except that Kohane had absolutely forbidden such an act. "It's your wish," she had pointed out. "We'll write to you."

And then, Doumeki. Who could have taken it any way but wouldn't have said anything more than he had. But he had helped to pack, and he'd taken one of the group photographs. And he'd left his umbrella in the corner, the only tangible sign that he'd ever been inside the flat – well, that and the disorganisation of Watanuki's books. Watanuki himself sighed inwardly at that, but in reality the fate of reordering them wasn't too dismal. The reason he'd yelled was that if he hadn't he wouldn't have known what to do.

They'd been at odds to long to amend their actions now.

But Watanuki would return the umbrella.

The temple came into view and the taxi slowed to a stop. With a strange sense of urgency that had little to do with the desire to reach his final destination, he exited the cab and ran without opening the umbrella through the rain. He paused at the residence door itself, unsure for a moment, but it opened of its own volition to a slightly-less-than-expressionless Doumeki.

"You left your umbrella," Watanuki explained in a rush, suddenly feeling ridiculous and reckless for his mad dash – he was still breathing hard and his face was turning an unrepentent shade of shade. But Doumeki didn't comment upon it.

"Keep it," he said instead. "They might not have them where you're going."

There was absolutely nothing to take offense to in that statement, leaving Watanuki momentarily speechless. Doumeki stepped out toward the gate, outside of which the cab was waiting, and again there was that flash or could-have-been. Watanuki opened the umbrella and stepped back into the rain, to where his friend – he was a friend, after all – was waiting. There was another pause. Watanuki opened his mouth to say something, a final goodbye perhaps, but there were lips on his for a moment and then Doumeki pulled away and gave him a push toward the cab.

In a daze, Watanuki stumbled over and opened the door, almost forgetting to close the umbrella as he sat down. That had been…had been…a kiss? But since did Doumeki…kiss anyone? Kiss him? What did it mean?

The could-have-beens expanded, and as the rain began in earnest again Watanuki stared back in surprise and regret. The cab, unconcerned, sped away toward a future that suddenly seemed extremely limited.

Rain explodes the moment that the cab door closed

I feel the weight upon your kiss: ambiguous.