Chapter Four: Proboscis
Watanuki dozes fitfully until a butterfly lands on his nose, and his eyelids flutter open. He's repulsed, but fascinated; he can just barely focus on the butterfly. It has yellow and black swallowtail wings, with a soft, hairy brown body. It appears to breathe as its wings waft up and down. Its orange and faceted alien eyes are opaque, unpredictable. He watches as it coils and uncoils the long leathery proboscis. He's just about to blink, thinking that it is about to fly away, when the butterfly's proboscis lashes out like a whip and stabs him in the white of his eye. Watanuki shrieks and claps one hand over the sharp sting. The startled butterfly leaps up and flies away.
Watanuki slowly slides his fingers off his eye and feels it gingerly. It doesn't actually hurt that much; it was his horror that had magnified the pain. Which eye had the butterfly stabbed, again? Doumeki's or his? His, probably. Yes, it was the left one. His frantic, panicked breaths are finally slowing; his heart has already calmed down from the fright, though he can hear the thudding of his heartbeat, deep and even, pounding from the back of his skull. It will soon go away, but right now, his head aches.
It suddenly crosses his mind to wonder if this is some kind of bizarre message from Yuuko.
He turns his head, and there she is, cloaked and lounging in the corner, inscrutable as usual. She's wearing the butterfly dress, the one of the drooping yellow-black swallowtail; it seems extra vivid and real, somehow, as if it has taken on a life of its own. She takes the pipe out of her mouth and breathes smoke at him. He coughs. She raises an eyebrow, puffs on the pipe once more.
"Good, that gave you a start. I was told by your very good friend Doumeki that you will not disappear. That is good to hear," she says, sounding ironic. "That was my last wish, after all."
"I won't die, either," he mutters. "I'm waiting for you, after all. I wanted to see you...once more."
"Oh really? Three cheers for Watanuki-kun!" Yuuko claps her hands together, resting them under her chin and to the side, with a mockingly bright smile. "Watanuki, Watanuki, Watanuki!"
Watanuki looks away, embarrassed. So Yuuko gets up from her chair in the corner to cross the room and lie down parallel to Watanuki on the futon. She drapes herself over the side, and her long, long straight hair spills and slithers and pools over the blankets. The butterfly dress seems to glow mysteriously; Watanuki wonders whether the dress has a life of its own. She props her chin on one hand and grins at him.
"What are you doing?" he mutters.
Mischievous, she lifts a finger to Watanuki's lips, and brings her face comes very close to his, as if searching for something in it, evaluating him.
"..."
He's the shopkeeper. He's resisted the innuendo of the Jorougumo—this should be easy. He tries not to show it, but he's discomfited. She must be teasing him. He tries not to stare directly at her.
He knows he failed to hide his discomfort when Yuuko laughs, all capricious delight—no, nothing has changed. Then she relaxes. "Now what did you promise me?" she prods, lazily, like a sun-warmed cat.
Only Watanuki's lips move, as he watches her. "To wait for you..."
"Though it was kind and really very sweet of you, I did not ask you to," Yuuko reminds him. "So what else?"
"...Not to make you cry." That makes him anxious. But what could make you cry, Yuuko-san?
"Good boy." For a second, Yuuko's fingertips lightly touch his forehead, resting there; she smooths his sweaty, stringy hair, what little of it isn't plastered flat to his scalp. "It was not enough to tell you by messenger. You needed the reminder. Your life may be a mess, but you haven't lost sight of all the pieces yet, so long as you are determined to live. No regrets. For as long as you are resolved to wait, I will be also be waiting. It won't be forever."
"Yuuko-san, will you..."
"Be the same, when I return? No, I won't." She smiles briefly. "I am almost whole, now. Almost awake. But all things must change." She looks sad, for the first time. "You should know that. It was your wish." She presses one last kiss to his forehead, and Watanuki gets a lump in his throat.
"I missed you. I needed you..."
"Ah, but you had been doing so well for yourself without me until Doumeki left! Which brings me to wonder: why do you need me, hmm? Or for how much longer? Not that I mind coming back for you, of course—who could resist the chance to see your adorable antics, Watanuki-kun? But that is the question you really must answer for yourself."
"Will this change? Will it be better?"
Rather than answer, she sits up and looks into his eyes, her own mauve ones equally bright and enigmatic. She neither frowns nor smiles; her flat, depthless eyes hold neither hope nor doubt in the future—it will simply be. She seems to be floating away—slowly at first, but Watanuki soon becomes sure—and she lifts her hand, as if in goodbye, and then she fades. The butterfly dress is the last thing of hers to melt away.
It already is. It already has. That you may grant my true wish...
There is no room to cry.
He doesn't know if he really spoke to her. She hasn't told him much more than he already knew. He doesn't know if he actually spoke to Doumeki, either. But it doesn't really matter. He wanted to see her, just for an instant, and even if this is a fever dream and not real, he was granted a part of his wish. To help him go on.