Chapter 3

The man gave his name as he made the moves to cast, and the spell Watanuki worked took only minutes. Suddenly half of Doumeki's realm of vision was fogged, cloudy, and slightly unfocused. The mysterious young man stared down at the small globe of incandescence cupped tenderly between his palms, radiating happiness. His fox rose up from its corner to sniff at it and thump its tails approvingly. The warlock made no move to stop him as Doumeki bent to retrieve his belongings, moving slowly, unsteadily, as his balance was precarious at best.

In fact, it was only after the door pulled shut after him that that caster began to move, standing up from his kneeling posture and stopping beneath the lintel to wave after the Archer, calling, blissfully, "Five!

"Five favors, you remember! I will!"

Watanuki's laughter followed him down the road until he was out of sight.

After that, Doumeki's feverish obsession with the Rose Cottage dulled to the point that the entire encounter--the bargain, the strange young man—was all but gone from his mind. Or so it would have been he was sure, if not for the fact that now six out of ten of his arrows missed their target. Plotting to regain his ability and save his reputation in one move, Doumeki retreated to the Guild to retrain himself. It was almost two months before he'd regained as much as he thought he was going to- three of twenty arrows, as opposed to his former, one out of thirty.

Two nights later, he took a quest to exorcize a man's home. It was foolish of him to accept it- spirits were not something he was confident in. Tales alone of the Grey House had haunted him as a child.

It came as no surprise to him when quest became difficult. He tried four different times- at dawn, noon, twilight, and midnight, the four times of power- to get inside the house and surprise the spirit. But the entity, an old crow of a woman, did not seem to adhere to any of the rules of haunting. She did not keep a sleeping hour, a period of inactivity, and the Archer knew that his purely unremarkable magic skills would not be enough in a fair fight. After a week of fruitless attempts, the owner of the house expressed desires to return soon.

Doumeki was sheepish. He felt the burn of humiliation like a brand on his face every time he spoke with his employer, and he didn't have the confidence to ask the Guild Master or another Hero for advice. So it was that, nine days after accepting the mission, he returned to the Rose Cottage to call on one of his favors.

Watanuki seemed amused by the request.

He had taken a seat in the grass near the dormant Demon Door, his hand unconsciously running down Mugetsu's back. His left eye glowed golden.

Doumeki fidgeted uncomfortably under the caster's absolutely focused, two-toned stare until he redirected it to an orange leaf in his hand.

"A waste, don't you think?"

The Archer shrugged. "I'll be sure to ask for something better next time. Besides, I am unfamiliar with your capabilities. How do I know what you can do?"

"If I can't do it then it doesn't count as one of your favors." Watanuki shrugged, flicking away the leaf, apparently done with his study of it.

Surprised, Doumeki hitched a brow. "Really?"

"Wouldn't it be dishonest to do anything else?" The young man's face twisted into a gently scowling, somewhat puzzled look, and he tilted his head. He didn't seem to like the question.

Doumeki wondered at this. But outwardly, he only shrugged again, and held out a hand.

"What do you have for me?"

And Watanuki smiled.

He gave him a roughly made glass sphere, filled with a smoky clear fog the same color as the stubborn ghost woman's belly. Mugetsu was bidden to lick it, and a soft pinch of light came alive in the center of the fog, pulsing with vitality. Watanuki told him to break the sphere on the door of house, and the ghost would move on peacefully. Doumeki thanked him and left.

It worked. Whatever it did, for he hadn't an idea. There was no flash of light; no screams of ghostly fury filled the air when he carried out the warlock's instructions. But the aura of sobriety that had weighed down on the home dissipated within moments, and owner thanked him profusely as his family returned to their home.

The next day he resolved to drop by and inform the spellworker that his crude glass ball had done its job, whatever it may have been, and a family had been readmitted to their home thanks to him. But the door was locked, and in the time he waited there were no signs of either the warlock or his strange pet, and he left a note between the door and the frame.

Doumeki did not visit the Rose Cottage again until, two full moons later, a message appeared on his pillow between the time he got into bed and lowered his head to his cushion. Scratched on an orange leaf very much like the one the warlock had played with between his fingers so long ago, was: "Come give me a hand."

Doumeki wasn't sure what to make of this. Did the man literally want his hand, now that he'd gotten his eye? Did he want assistance?

He was wary. He remembered all too readily how the smooth-tongued caster had talked him out of an eye. A silken, sinful voice, and that damn accent…Soon enough though, he'd convinced himself that this was not in fact the case, and the next morning he left the Guild for the Rose Cottage.

As soon as he turned down the bending road, he saw that something was wrong. Whereas it had been a dry, sunny autumn day in Greatwood, it was raining heavily on the short road. The dirt had been churned into a soupy, muddy mess that sucked at the Archer's boots. He pulled his hood low over his head and pushed through, finding a drenched Watanuki, his arms folded, glaring at the top of the forest canopy.

Somehow, the warlock heard the Hero's steps through the roar of the rain- Gods, it really was more of a flood than anything else, wasn't it? Doumeki had to yell over it.

"What is it you need?"

Watamuki shook his head irritably, stabbing a finger towards his ear to signal that he hadn't heard. Doumeki tried again with the same result. The caster rolled his mismatched eyes and yanked the Archer to him by a fistful of shirt. Leaning close, he shouted in the taller man's ear, "I can't hear you, you dunce!"

Doumeki frowned at the slur, but dismissed it with a roll of his shoulders. He leaned to reply, loudly, "I said, what do you need?"

The furious scowl on the young man's face relaxed, but did not entirely disappear. He gestured towards the spot overhead he had been eyeing before. Doumeki was forced to bend again to hear.

"The damn spell's worn off, and I wasn't the one who placed it. I'm not entirely sure how to restore it."

"But why is it raining?"

Watanuki growled. "A backlash. Such magicks come with little treacheries like this."

"What do you need my help for?"

"Spot me."

"What?!" Was the rain coming harder? Was that possible?

"Spot me. Stand beneath me and hold out your arms. Catch me when I fall!"

"When?" Doumeki's forehead furrowed.

"Yes. I'm bound to- I can't support my weight for long in this damned cloudburst."

Watanuki then produced a strange purple spark from the cubby beneath the booth. When he smeared it over his fingertips with his thumb, his feet began to lift from the ground. Doumeki watched, aghast, as the warlock rose up through the rain.

It happened very slowly, and the force of the oncoming surge sometimes pushed him down a few inches before the spell seemed able to persevere. Throwing his arms up to halt his accent when he reached the top, the warlock began to work. Squinting, Doumeki strained to see; all he managed to catch were flashes of white forearm.

Minutes passed, and the rain began to let up. A few more, and it had become little more than mist. Doumeki pushed his waterlogged hood back as Mugetsu shook moisture from his heavy coat and, high overhead, Watanuki's posture failed him. The Hero saw, and tensed his shoulders.

Watanuki fell.

A Demon Door is a thing in the game; you have to solve a riddle or eat so many pies or whatever to get inside, where you find weapons and treasure and stuff. It's not very important. And the Grey House is a house filled with ghosts and undead skeletons and things. I don't remember why you have to go to the Grey House...or if you even have to go at all :)

Freshly edited. Tell me what you think please.

Oh, and, sorry for the cliffhanger.

-Oceans