31 days part one.
I AM INSANE. You know this already. I'll spare you. Well, not really.
So, I'm doing the 31_days challenge for September. They're (mostly) in order of events in my head. Not many actual canon events. Oh well. All second person or direct first person.
September 01: The words you’ve borrowed
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: First of many. Himawari gives the verdict.
“I’m not a goddess of anything,” she tells you one day, echoing the words of a woman much older and wiser. “Especially not good luck.” And she smiles her sad smile and walks away, leaving you wordless and unanchored.
You’re looking for something to hold onto when he walks by, impassive as ever and everything you’ve always hated. And because it’s normal, and he has no right to exist without difficulty when you always have so much going on, and even now his heart isn’t broken into a thousand different pieces, you yell about nothing. And maybe today you cut deeper than usual, or maybe he knows you need it, because he doesn’t guard against it but lets you yell.
For some reason this makes you feel worse. “Don’t you dare pity me, Doumeki!” you snap, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise. “I don’t need it, and it doesn’t fit your face.”
He shrugs at that, but you wonder if he’s saying more than just ‘is that so?’. Not for the first time, you wish you could tell what he is thinking.
“I’m not pitying you,” he says quietly, in a way that should be obnoxious but makes you feel even more lonely than the words of a girl with a yellow bird did earlier this morning.
September 02: You illustrate the sun’s true candour
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: Fluff! In a bad way. Eeg.
You were a sight this afternoon, face alive with wonder in half of my vision. The other half pointed up into the sky at the multicoloured bird that for once offered no threat. It’s times like this that remind me of how your curse isn’t quite that, and really a thing that makes you and sets you apart from the norm.
You’re always that translucent, not easy to see through but easy to see. There’s nothing to see through to - despite the denial you put yourself through each day, you constantly wear your heart on your sleeve. You always speak candidly, always act candidly, never are anything but completely and utterly yourself. You’re the only person I’ve ever met like that.
And moments like that, when the sun hits your face free of fear, you reflect it in all directions with a candour that will never be replicated so completely.
You’re beautiful.
September 03: I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: Disregard the last two. This one is weird. The idea's actually been bugging me for a while...
The world seemed a little different when you woke up, a heaviness in your heart that didn’t have anything to do with exhaustion or respiration. “Good morning,” you said, as if it actually mattered, but you’d rather talk to yourself than have a conversation without actually saying a word. There was no reply.
That day at school, Kunogi-san smiled sadly and didn’t stay for lunch. But neither did you. You passed each other in the hall and felt for a moment a third presence between you, and for that moment nearly turned to the usual spot. But it passed, and she went her way and you yours.
The rest of the archery team noted that your arrows tended to bear a little to the right of the target, as if your vision had suddenly gotten worse - or, as one speculated, improved. You simply fired arrow after arrow to a spot that you did not see, trying to clear your mind completely and not think of what this sport had once meant. Perhaps you would still be able to exorcise spirits as you had once done, but it wouldn’t quite be the same. Something would be missing.
The day stretched on, and you contemplated going to sleep early. It took great mental discipline to not do so - but you had been told the consequences of such an action and knew you couldn’t let yourself bear them. Not yet, at any rate. You had a life to live, after all. It was important that you remain lucid to live it.
So now you’re pacing the temple grounds and ignoring the steady temptation of your bedroom door. The cherry tree casts a long, spiky shadow in the afternoon light, by now devoid of leaves and blossoms alike. You once played mahjongg underneath, when the branches were in full bloom and there were three. Four, if you count Mokona. Five, if you count spirits.
You’re glad you don’t see spirits much. The spirit you wouldn’t have seen would have been the one to haunt you most.
The setting sun is icy gold on the ground where shadows don’t touch, and you wonder if it’s the same light that falls on a witch’s garden. You suspect not. But you’re disinclined to learn, disinclined to have a reason, however irrational, to return to that place. You don’t have a wish any more. You won’t have any wishes. Everything you need, you will find yourself, so you suspect you will no longer even see the shop. You’re not a customer any more.
The day he made his last choice, you made your last wish. You don’t regret anything, and you think that perhaps he doesn’t either. You’d like to think he doesn’t. Maybe someday you’ll ask, if you can. You’ve been warned that this might be difficult, and receiving a response nigh impossible. You’ll try anyway. You always do.
When the sun finally drops below the horizon and the grounds are dusky and filled with mundane shadows, you give in to the call and walk inside. Your shoes slip off easily and you don’t bother to pretend you’re doing anything else than what you are. You’re not actually tired. But there is only so much suspense you can take before you will become very uncharacteristically insane. You change quickly and without much thought, and lie down on the futon.
Sleep, however, is not swift in coming. You remain depressingly awake, tossing futilely and trying to continue to ignore the melancholy that’s been chasing you all day. The shadows slowly become thicker, more potent, and your eyes refrain from growing heavier for as long as they possibly can. Your mind also refuses to clear again, and thoughts of the previous day chase through your head like spirits once did to the one who wasn’t around today.
But amidst all this, you somehow manage to doze off at around twelve. Instead of the places your dreams tend to take you - wildly-fabricated episodes of life that often as not have no ties to the world you know - you find yourself in a flat, dark-borderline-black emptiness. Despite the fact you can’t see anything, you’re aware of something - someone - behind, leaning against you.
“Hey,” you say.
“We’ve been over this,” the person behind you snaps, although the snap lacks intensity. “My name is not ‘hey’.” There is a brief pause, enough to draw a relieved breath that probably isn’t necessary. This is a dream, after all. “And anyway, what possessed you to do this anyway? It’s beyond ridiculous. Then one time Yuuko did it before was because the person was in desperate need, not just being an irrational moron!”
“You’re saying I wasn’t in desperate need?” you ask.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Kimihiro Watanuki replies from behind you.
“You’re wrong,” you tell him. “I was.”
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but you didn’t need to do this at all. I’m fine with it, okay? I didn’t really want to go then, but I’m okay with it.” He fidgets, as if wanting you to turn around.
You don’t comply, but do rise a little from where you sit. “I didn’t do this for you,” you tell him sharply. “It was my choice. I did this because it’s what I wanted to do.”
He stares.
“You’re not going anywhere just yet,” you continue, sitting back down and reaching back for what you hope is his wrist. “Not until I can follow you.” That is a promise you made when you made that last wish.
“You wouldn’t…” There is horror in his voice.
“No, I wouldn’t, which is why you’re here.” You should have known he would jump to that conclusion. “I’m making you wait for me.”
There is silence, and you finally chance a look behind you. He’s there, solid, and looking rather the worse for wear. You wonder if he’s crying. He doesn’t sound as if he is, but it’s hard to tell sometimes, with him. “Hey…” you say softly.
“My name is - ”
“…Watanuki, do you hate me for this?”
He is silent, perhaps in bewilderment or simple contemplation. Finally he turns around as well. “No. I don’t hate you,” he says slowly, as if figuring it out as he speaks. “I don’t hate you,” he repeats with more conviction. “You’re a selfish jerk who always ruins everything, but I don’t hate you.” A pause. “And I guess that since I’m…not corporeal anymore, you can call me Kimihiro.”
That’s the most you expect to get from him; more, actually, than what you had expected. His face isn’t a picture of irritation as it normally was before in this type of situation, either. You wonder if you have a chance after all.
But the darkness starts to fade, and Watanuki - Kimihiro now - becomes more difficult to see. “It’s morning,” he informs you unnecessarily. “You’re waking up now.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” you tell him, knowing and relishing the truth in your words, and then you open your eyes.
September 04: The great bewildering city that you live in
Fandom: xxxHOLiC. (this is redundant. Exceedingly so.)
A/N: heh, angst. back to my timeline. Three was just weird.
Your’e walking home, the same route you always take. Today seems like one of those everyday days, when nothing is out of line, no sudden realisations are made, nothing changes. You’re convinced that any minute something large is going to jump out at you, not because it would follow with your luck, but because that’s what always happens. Yuuko will probably be hungry when you get to her shop, and she’ll probably ask for liquor. There is absolutely nothing that’s happened that you haven’t predicted today.
But then you look up, and realise that while you were thinking, you took a wrong turn and are now completely lost. You’ve never seen this part of town before.
Shit, you think. This is not the kind of disruption to the mundane you had envisioned, and while the prospect of being late to Yuuko’s is much more attractive (well, slightly more so - she is a rather frightening woman at times) than getting attacked by evil spirits, you were prepared for the latter eventuality. You have no way of finding your way back.
Grumbling to yourself, you turn back the way you came, keeping a close watch for the streets you know. It takes you a while to recognise that the next crossing you come to is one you’ve been through before - but those are frightening and also slightly bittersweet memories. You were here once with Himawari, the last time you took this route home. The first customer of Yuuko’s you had known of besides yourself had met her untimely demise via a truck and bad habit in this very crossing.
You had walked Himawari home afterwards.
This isn’t a place you had wanted to return to, and you’d changed your path home after that day. Nothing jumps out at you, but you avert your eyes, afraid of what spirits you might meet. At least you know your way to Yuuko’s from here.
September 05: You’re the miss that misses
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: I tried to write this earlier and struggled. And now, ten minutes before the point where I get offline, I just...wrote it. Easy as anything.
The thing you fear most is that someday you’ll miss your shot and it will be too late.
Ever since he had that one conversation with Kunogi (and you have a good idea of what was said) he has been subdued, less energetic, heavier. He doesn’t even yell as much. You’re not sure what to make of it, but are inclined to be concerned. And when you discover that this dullness has slipped into his already often-unused survival instincts, you are more than concerned. You’re downright scared.
There is only one thing you can do, and you do it. He doesn’t appreciate being followed everywhere, but these days you’re seeing half of the wrong piece of sidewalk more often than not and it’s not difficult to do. And it is necessary. He may have forgotten the important things, but he’s got you to remember them for him.
--
He walks home and is afraid, afraid you’ll turn up. Afraid you won’t. These days the former’s more likely than the latter, but one never can tell and he isn’t at all ready to deal with you. But he doesn’t want to be alone, either, and you are still company.
You’re there, of course. You always are.
He breathes out a secretly held breath and regains composure, ready to battle the sense of comfort with every drop of rebellion there is in him. He knows it’s safe. It hasn’t occurred to him that you could miss.
The thing he’s most afraid of is that someday he’ll miss seeing you shoot, and it’ll be too late.
So, I'm doing the 31_days challenge for September. They're (mostly) in order of events in my head. Not many actual canon events. Oh well. All second person or direct first person.
September 01: The words you’ve borrowed
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: First of many. Himawari gives the verdict.
“I’m not a goddess of anything,” she tells you one day, echoing the words of a woman much older and wiser. “Especially not good luck.” And she smiles her sad smile and walks away, leaving you wordless and unanchored.
You’re looking for something to hold onto when he walks by, impassive as ever and everything you’ve always hated. And because it’s normal, and he has no right to exist without difficulty when you always have so much going on, and even now his heart isn’t broken into a thousand different pieces, you yell about nothing. And maybe today you cut deeper than usual, or maybe he knows you need it, because he doesn’t guard against it but lets you yell.
For some reason this makes you feel worse. “Don’t you dare pity me, Doumeki!” you snap, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise. “I don’t need it, and it doesn’t fit your face.”
He shrugs at that, but you wonder if he’s saying more than just ‘is that so?’. Not for the first time, you wish you could tell what he is thinking.
“I’m not pitying you,” he says quietly, in a way that should be obnoxious but makes you feel even more lonely than the words of a girl with a yellow bird did earlier this morning.
September 02: You illustrate the sun’s true candour
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: Fluff! In a bad way. Eeg.
You were a sight this afternoon, face alive with wonder in half of my vision. The other half pointed up into the sky at the multicoloured bird that for once offered no threat. It’s times like this that remind me of how your curse isn’t quite that, and really a thing that makes you and sets you apart from the norm.
You’re always that translucent, not easy to see through but easy to see. There’s nothing to see through to - despite the denial you put yourself through each day, you constantly wear your heart on your sleeve. You always speak candidly, always act candidly, never are anything but completely and utterly yourself. You’re the only person I’ve ever met like that.
And moments like that, when the sun hits your face free of fear, you reflect it in all directions with a candour that will never be replicated so completely.
You’re beautiful.
September 03: I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: Disregard the last two. This one is weird. The idea's actually been bugging me for a while...
The world seemed a little different when you woke up, a heaviness in your heart that didn’t have anything to do with exhaustion or respiration. “Good morning,” you said, as if it actually mattered, but you’d rather talk to yourself than have a conversation without actually saying a word. There was no reply.
That day at school, Kunogi-san smiled sadly and didn’t stay for lunch. But neither did you. You passed each other in the hall and felt for a moment a third presence between you, and for that moment nearly turned to the usual spot. But it passed, and she went her way and you yours.
The rest of the archery team noted that your arrows tended to bear a little to the right of the target, as if your vision had suddenly gotten worse - or, as one speculated, improved. You simply fired arrow after arrow to a spot that you did not see, trying to clear your mind completely and not think of what this sport had once meant. Perhaps you would still be able to exorcise spirits as you had once done, but it wouldn’t quite be the same. Something would be missing.
The day stretched on, and you contemplated going to sleep early. It took great mental discipline to not do so - but you had been told the consequences of such an action and knew you couldn’t let yourself bear them. Not yet, at any rate. You had a life to live, after all. It was important that you remain lucid to live it.
So now you’re pacing the temple grounds and ignoring the steady temptation of your bedroom door. The cherry tree casts a long, spiky shadow in the afternoon light, by now devoid of leaves and blossoms alike. You once played mahjongg underneath, when the branches were in full bloom and there were three. Four, if you count Mokona. Five, if you count spirits.
You’re glad you don’t see spirits much. The spirit you wouldn’t have seen would have been the one to haunt you most.
The setting sun is icy gold on the ground where shadows don’t touch, and you wonder if it’s the same light that falls on a witch’s garden. You suspect not. But you’re disinclined to learn, disinclined to have a reason, however irrational, to return to that place. You don’t have a wish any more. You won’t have any wishes. Everything you need, you will find yourself, so you suspect you will no longer even see the shop. You’re not a customer any more.
The day he made his last choice, you made your last wish. You don’t regret anything, and you think that perhaps he doesn’t either. You’d like to think he doesn’t. Maybe someday you’ll ask, if you can. You’ve been warned that this might be difficult, and receiving a response nigh impossible. You’ll try anyway. You always do.
When the sun finally drops below the horizon and the grounds are dusky and filled with mundane shadows, you give in to the call and walk inside. Your shoes slip off easily and you don’t bother to pretend you’re doing anything else than what you are. You’re not actually tired. But there is only so much suspense you can take before you will become very uncharacteristically insane. You change quickly and without much thought, and lie down on the futon.
Sleep, however, is not swift in coming. You remain depressingly awake, tossing futilely and trying to continue to ignore the melancholy that’s been chasing you all day. The shadows slowly become thicker, more potent, and your eyes refrain from growing heavier for as long as they possibly can. Your mind also refuses to clear again, and thoughts of the previous day chase through your head like spirits once did to the one who wasn’t around today.
But amidst all this, you somehow manage to doze off at around twelve. Instead of the places your dreams tend to take you - wildly-fabricated episodes of life that often as not have no ties to the world you know - you find yourself in a flat, dark-borderline-black emptiness. Despite the fact you can’t see anything, you’re aware of something - someone - behind, leaning against you.
“Hey,” you say.
“We’ve been over this,” the person behind you snaps, although the snap lacks intensity. “My name is not ‘hey’.” There is a brief pause, enough to draw a relieved breath that probably isn’t necessary. This is a dream, after all. “And anyway, what possessed you to do this anyway? It’s beyond ridiculous. Then one time Yuuko did it before was because the person was in desperate need, not just being an irrational moron!”
“You’re saying I wasn’t in desperate need?” you ask.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Kimihiro Watanuki replies from behind you.
“You’re wrong,” you tell him. “I was.”
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but you didn’t need to do this at all. I’m fine with it, okay? I didn’t really want to go then, but I’m okay with it.” He fidgets, as if wanting you to turn around.
You don’t comply, but do rise a little from where you sit. “I didn’t do this for you,” you tell him sharply. “It was my choice. I did this because it’s what I wanted to do.”
He stares.
“You’re not going anywhere just yet,” you continue, sitting back down and reaching back for what you hope is his wrist. “Not until I can follow you.” That is a promise you made when you made that last wish.
“You wouldn’t…” There is horror in his voice.
“No, I wouldn’t, which is why you’re here.” You should have known he would jump to that conclusion. “I’m making you wait for me.”
There is silence, and you finally chance a look behind you. He’s there, solid, and looking rather the worse for wear. You wonder if he’s crying. He doesn’t sound as if he is, but it’s hard to tell sometimes, with him. “Hey…” you say softly.
“My name is - ”
“…Watanuki, do you hate me for this?”
He is silent, perhaps in bewilderment or simple contemplation. Finally he turns around as well. “No. I don’t hate you,” he says slowly, as if figuring it out as he speaks. “I don’t hate you,” he repeats with more conviction. “You’re a selfish jerk who always ruins everything, but I don’t hate you.” A pause. “And I guess that since I’m…not corporeal anymore, you can call me Kimihiro.”
That’s the most you expect to get from him; more, actually, than what you had expected. His face isn’t a picture of irritation as it normally was before in this type of situation, either. You wonder if you have a chance after all.
But the darkness starts to fade, and Watanuki - Kimihiro now - becomes more difficult to see. “It’s morning,” he informs you unnecessarily. “You’re waking up now.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” you tell him, knowing and relishing the truth in your words, and then you open your eyes.
September 04: The great bewildering city that you live in
Fandom: xxxHOLiC. (this is redundant. Exceedingly so.)
A/N: heh, angst. back to my timeline. Three was just weird.
Your’e walking home, the same route you always take. Today seems like one of those everyday days, when nothing is out of line, no sudden realisations are made, nothing changes. You’re convinced that any minute something large is going to jump out at you, not because it would follow with your luck, but because that’s what always happens. Yuuko will probably be hungry when you get to her shop, and she’ll probably ask for liquor. There is absolutely nothing that’s happened that you haven’t predicted today.
But then you look up, and realise that while you were thinking, you took a wrong turn and are now completely lost. You’ve never seen this part of town before.
Shit, you think. This is not the kind of disruption to the mundane you had envisioned, and while the prospect of being late to Yuuko’s is much more attractive (well, slightly more so - she is a rather frightening woman at times) than getting attacked by evil spirits, you were prepared for the latter eventuality. You have no way of finding your way back.
Grumbling to yourself, you turn back the way you came, keeping a close watch for the streets you know. It takes you a while to recognise that the next crossing you come to is one you’ve been through before - but those are frightening and also slightly bittersweet memories. You were here once with Himawari, the last time you took this route home. The first customer of Yuuko’s you had known of besides yourself had met her untimely demise via a truck and bad habit in this very crossing.
You had walked Himawari home afterwards.
This isn’t a place you had wanted to return to, and you’d changed your path home after that day. Nothing jumps out at you, but you avert your eyes, afraid of what spirits you might meet. At least you know your way to Yuuko’s from here.
September 05: You’re the miss that misses
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
A/N: I tried to write this earlier and struggled. And now, ten minutes before the point where I get offline, I just...wrote it. Easy as anything.
The thing you fear most is that someday you’ll miss your shot and it will be too late.
Ever since he had that one conversation with Kunogi (and you have a good idea of what was said) he has been subdued, less energetic, heavier. He doesn’t even yell as much. You’re not sure what to make of it, but are inclined to be concerned. And when you discover that this dullness has slipped into his already often-unused survival instincts, you are more than concerned. You’re downright scared.
There is only one thing you can do, and you do it. He doesn’t appreciate being followed everywhere, but these days you’re seeing half of the wrong piece of sidewalk more often than not and it’s not difficult to do. And it is necessary. He may have forgotten the important things, but he’s got you to remember them for him.
--
He walks home and is afraid, afraid you’ll turn up. Afraid you won’t. These days the former’s more likely than the latter, but one never can tell and he isn’t at all ready to deal with you. But he doesn’t want to be alone, either, and you are still company.
You’re there, of course. You always are.
He breathes out a secretly held breath and regains composure, ready to battle the sense of comfort with every drop of rebellion there is in him. He knows it’s safe. It hasn’t occurred to him that you could miss.
The thing he’s most afraid of is that someday he’ll miss seeing you shoot, and it’ll be too late.