"Just to Feel You" update - chapter five at last!
Title: Just to Feel You
Rating: T
Summary: A promise made under the light of the sun…can it be kept under the shadow of the moon?
Author’s note: Yes, this one took a little longer. Things are going to be happening slightly faster now. We’re getting into some exposition. XD
* * *
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage-just say that we agree and then never change.
The Fray, “Over My Head (Cable Car)”
* * *
Neither Doumeki nor Watanuki spoke a word to each other the entire ride back to their side of town. Only when they were out of the subway station and walking back to Yuuko’s shop did Watanuki turn to Doumeki.
“You are overreacting,” he said again.
Doumeki’s seething, cold anger had dissipated. Or, at the very least, the traces of it had; he was now his usual non-expressive self. He merely lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
Glaring at him, Watanuki let out a deep sigh of frustration. “You do know that tonight’s errand was pretty much on the normal side, right?” he pressed. He wasn’t too sure why he was deliberately baiting the archer this way, but the silence radiating from Doumeki just…felt wrong.
Doumeki looked at him. “There is nothing normal about what happened tonight,” he said flatly.
Watanuki snorted. “Right. Because weird things that try to kill me and then disappear into thin air don’t show up on a regular basis.”
“They disappear when I shoot them,” Doumeki pointed out. “I didn’t have the chance to do that. That means this one can come back.”
Shaking his head at Doumeki, Watanuki protested, “But that’s no reason to trek all the way across the city just to ask Yuuko when it’s coming back. You could do that tomorrow. Like I said in the first place!”
“That’s not all I’m going to ask,” said Doumeki, a grim set to his jaw.
Huffing slightly as they turned onto the street where Yuuko’s shop rested between the dimensions, Watanuki complained, “You’re going to be paranoid and psychotic from now until that thing is gone for good, aren’t you?”
The silence he received as answer did not improve his mood.
* * *
“Welcome, once again, to my shop, Doumeki-kun.”
Watanuki was nonplussed when Yuuko, looking wide-awake and quite obviously expecting them, if the tea service laid out on the engawa was any indication, only nodded her head and greeted them quietly. Why did that stupid Doumeki always have to be right about everything?
“You are here for answers.”
Doumeki nodded once and did not sit when she motioned for them to do so. “You knew what would happen,” he said, getting straight to the point. Watanuki, who was not rude like certain archers and had moved to sit beside Yuuko, froze, glancing from Yuuko to Doumeki.
“Yes.” Yuuko’s voice was monotone, low, and as emotionless as Doumeki’s.
Something cold entered into the pit of Watanuki’s stomach. “Then why…” He had to swallow to get the words out. “Why did you send us there tonight, Yuuko-san, if you knew I would…” He couldn’t bring himself to say die.
The claret eyes closed as Yuuko sipped from her cup-it was tea tonight, and not sake, Watanuki realized. Not a good sign.
“Because,” she said, “that is hitsuzen.”
Watanuki, from the corner of his eye, saw Doumeki’s fists curl, then relax, almost as if the other boy was forcing himself to stay calm.
“Watanuki’s hitsuzen is to die?” Doumeki repeated quietly, and Watanuki heard something in the tone that, if it had been aimed at him, would have made him back off even in the midst of a full-fledged rant.
Yuuko smiled faintly into her tea. “Everyone’s hitsuzen is to die, Doumeki-kun. There are no true immortals, after all.” She looked up at the blue-black sky. “Not even the gods can live forever.”
Watanuki frowned. “I thought gods were gods because they couldn’t die,” he said.
“Gods are gods,” said Yuuko simply, “because they are gods, Watanuki.”
“That makes no sense,” Watanuki began, but Doumeki interrupted, “So you sent us to Tokyo Tower knowing Watanuki could die-‘because that is hitsuzen.’” The words were spoken skeptically, and faintly, ever so faintly challenging, as if Doumeki was spoiling for a fight. But that was inconceivable; Doumeki did not pick fights with Yuuko. He was smarter than that. The only person Doumeki ever intentionally riled up was Watanuki. So why did it sound as if he was daring Yuuko to agree with him-or disagree?
Yuuko’s eyes were on Doumeki’s. There was almost a palpable tension surrounding them. It was unnerving to Watanuki, who’d never before witnessed Doumeki deliberately challenging Yuuko’s judgment to her face.
“Yes,” she said softly. “There is no alternative to hitsuzen, Doumeki-kun.”
Something in Doumeki’s eyes-normally so flat and expressionless-flared, then cooled, and finally settled for glittering like twin suns.
“That is an unacceptable answer,” he said immovably.
Yuuko smiled, and it was tired, and it was sad.
“That,” she replied, “is an acceptable attitude.”
Doumeki’s eyes narrowed now, and Watanuki blinked at the guarded look he was giving Yuuko.
The witch swirled her tea and sipped it, then, still staring into the cup, murmured “Doumeki-kun, you will never be satisfied, will you?”
Watanuki was on the verge of agreeing with her, along the lines of what a greedy bastard Doumeki was, but something told him that Yuuko was not talking about out-of-season bento demands. He shot a glance at Doumeki, his own gold-and-blue eyes wide with uncertainty.
“You will not allow hitsuzen to become an excuse,” Yuuko said quietly. “You will not settle for knowing that things happen because they must. You will search for a way to bring about change, with your own hands instead of outside interference. That is why you do not need my shop-” Her eyes slid to Watanuki. “On most occasions.”
Watanuki suppressed a shiver at the memory of falling through glass, through space, and then swimming up through blackness into pain. He sipped his tea quickly to avoid her eyes.
“Tonight,” said Doumeki. “What was it that tried to kill Watanuki?”
Yuuko did not appear to hear his question. She tilted her head back to look up at the stars. “I sent Watanuki tonight,” she said, almost as if she was speaking to herself, “because it was hitsuzen that he should face that one. However, it was not hitsuzen that he should die. Not there, not then. That is why I sent you with him, Doumeki-kun.” Her eyes found Doumeki’s again.
The archer relaxed ever so slightly.
“Yuuko-san?” said Watanuki timidly. “That-that thing tonight…when I saw it, it looked like-like the spirit woman from the park.”
Doumeki visibly stiffened again. His eyes were like lasers on Watanuki, who studiously ignored the look in favor of keeping his own eyes on Yuuko.
“Ah.” Yuuko smiled again, and it was more a Yuuko smile than the one before it had been. “That is because, Watanuki, it knew that you would trust the illusion of that woman.”
“Trust…the illusion?” Watanuki said blankly. “What-?”
“Watanuki-kun, the creature you dealt with tonight has a way of seeking out the darkness in the hearts of its victims, and manipulating that darkness to suit its own purposes.” Yuuko swirled her tea. “It must have found a darkness in your heart that is linked to the exorcism of the spirit woman, and took on her appearance because it knew your feelings toward her, and your lingering anger after her…departure.”
Watanuki was shaken. The creature…knew his feelings? It had seen the darkness in his heart? And…was he still angry over the exorcism? He’d thought he’d forgiven Doumeki for shooting the spirit woman, but… He chanced a look at Doumeki. Those gold eyes were locked on him, and they looked…
Absolutely devoid of emotion.
Watanuki looked away quickly. “So,” he said nervously, “so that thing knew I’d let my guard down-”
“Because you were attached to that woman, however briefly.” Yuuko smiled at her employee. “It used your feelings to lull you into a daze, and then attacked while you were defenseless.”
“But-” Watanuki shook his head. “But that doesn’t explain why Doumeki-” He stopped himself and looked at Doumeki curiously. The archer had told him it ‘didn’t matter’ what the creature had appeared to him as, but now Watanuki couldn’t help but wonder.
“Doumeki-kun.”
Yuuko was looking at Doumeki now, too. The archer’s gaze lingered on Watanuki’s another moment, then moved to the witch’s.
“You did not see the spirit woman tonight in the creature that attacked you both, am I right?”
“Yes,” Doumeki said quietly.
Her eyes moved over the unshifting lines of his face with something akin to pity. “No,” she murmured. “You wouldn’t have. The darkness in your heart has an entirely different origin, Doumeki-kun. It is not born of anger, but fear.”
Watanuki started. Doumeki, the superhero archer idol-afraid of something?
“The creature could not find a darkness in your heart that springs from negative emotion,” Yuuko went on, “so it appeared to you as what you fear the most.”
“Fear isn’t…a negative emotion?” Watanuki asked.
Yuuko looked at him. “Fear,” she said gently, “is neither positive nor negative, Watanuki-kun. Fear is an emotion that can harm and heal, can build and destroy, can gift and curse.”
“Fear,” said Doumeki, so low that Watanuki almost couldn’t hear him, “makes heroes of men and fools of gods.” He frowned faintly. “My grandfather told me that.”
Yuuko’s lips curved. “What else did he tell you?”
Doumeki looked at her. “He said,” he went on softly, “that the same could be said of love.”
“Ah,” said Yuuko, and that was all. She did not ask what Doumeki had seen at the top of Tokyo Tower. Watanuki had a feeling she already knew.
Silence fell. Doumeki still had not moved to sit, and Watanuki’s tea was going cold.
“So, Yuuko-san,” he said, desperate to break the stillness that had fallen over them. “Do you-do you know what attacked us tonight?”
“Yes.”
This did not surprise Watanuki. It seemed to him that Yuuko knew everyone and everything, which seemed especially easy to believe when it came to things that tried to kill him.
“Long ago,” said Yuuko, her eyes once more on the night sky, “there was a foolish young god who fell in love with a foolish young goddess.”
* * *
“Moera!”
She looked up. The dark cloud moving toward her at an accelerated pace did not alarm her as it would have alarmed anyone else. She had known he was coming.
The cloud stopped in front of her, pulsed heavily, then seemed to dissipate, leaving a tall, black-haired man standing before her.
“Erebus,” she said mildly. “You are right on time.”
The man scowled at her. “Moera,” he said again, his voice deep and annoyed. “What is this nonsense I’ve been hearing?”
Her fingers on the spinning wheel did not falter in the least as she replied, “I cannot possibly answer that, Erebus, as it is far too broad a topic. You listen to an astonishing amount of nonsense.”
Faint red tinged his cheeks, but not in fury as it would have with anyone else. It was sheepish admission. “Yes, well.” He snorted in derision. “I am forced into company with fools and swine. I cannot help the amount of nonsense that I am forced to listen to.”
“You may lie to your mortal adherents,” she told him tartly, her eyes on her spinning, “or to your immortal adversaries, but not to me, Erebus. You are not only willing to hear the nonsense, but seek it out whenever possible. It is your way.”
He looked at her for a long time in silence as she spun her thread.
“Moera,” he said again, and this time, his voice was quiet, pleading. “Tell me it’s not true. You’re not really planning such folly.”
Still her hands kept at the wheel. “Erebus,” she said in a tone equal to his, “once again, you wish to hear nonsense.” She glanced up at him. “Only I, unlike your usual company, will not satisfy your expectations in that regard.”
His eyes became cold and fathomless. “You will not persist in such a useless endeavor,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Her lips quirked. “You are ruler of darkness and shadow,” she said wryly. “You command the underworld. You are Hades, he whose realm is the realm of the dead. But Erebus-” Now her eyes flashed warningly. “You have no command over Fate.”
His lips curled in a silent snarl. “I can imprison you in my domain until you forget this foolish fancy of yours,” he hissed sibilantly. The cloud began to reappear around him, a nimbus of shadow.
Her brow lifted. “As you have imprisoned the one you call your bride?” she said disdainfully. “She whom you allow her freedom for eight months out of every twelve? You will forgive me, Erebus, if I am unimpressed with your blustering. You can no more imprison me than you can earn her love.”
A pale, cold hand shot out and smashed into the spinning wheel, splintering several spokes and knocking the entire device over a few feet away. The entire spool snapped and rolled away, the thin thread fading from sight until only the wooden spool remained.
She closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath. “Erebus,” she said quietly, “you have just added about five thousand lives to your domain with that childish gesture.”
In reply, he took hold of her shoulders, hauled her bodily off of the small, three-legged stool on which she sat, and jerked her to him, crushing his mouth to hers.
She stood motionless as he forced her lips apart, made no sound as his fingers tightened cruelly on her shoulders. When he pulled away and glared down into her eyes, she only looked back at him impassively.
“You will not change my mind with this act of tyranny,” she said simply. “Love will not be forced. And neither will Fate.”
“You will be mine,” he said harshly, his breathing erratic in his anger. The cloud of shadow around him swirled and thickened, but did not touch her even though they stood mere centimeters apart.
“I will belong to no one, mortal or immortal,” she countered quietly. “Fate has no master.”
“I will rule you,” he growled, releasing her and stepping back. “If it takes me a thousand years to find you after you indulge this idiotic whim of yours, I will find you and you will submit to my will.”
“It is not to be, Erebus.”
“I will make it so!” he snapped. The cloud around him grew darker and surrounded him like a veil. “If you will not love me, Moera, you will fear me.”
He left as quickly as he’d come. When he’d gone, she knelt by the shattered spinning wheel and let out a deep, sorrowful sigh.
“Erebus,” she whispered. “I said it is not to be. I did not say I did not want it to be.”
* * *
As they walked home, Watanuki was uncharacteristically quiet. Doumeki was…well, himself. The silence between them was not awkward, but rather companionable, a tacit agreement for each to leave the other to his own thoughts.
Until, as usual, Watanuki disregarded the rule and spoke into the silence. “Hey, Doumeki.”
Doumeki glanced at him. “What?”
Watanuki did not meet his eyes, but kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead of them. “Yuuko-san sounded…different tonight.”
Doumeki’s eyes fell away. “Yeah.”
“Like she knew more than she was telling.”
The archer was quiet for a minute. “How is that ‘different?’”
Watanuki huffed and spared him a single, scathing glance. “You know what I mean. For one thing, she didn’t even tell us what that story had to do with what happened tonight.”
“You’re an idiot,” said Doumeki shortly.
Watanuki rounded on him furiously. “What right do you have to call me that?” he demanded irritably. “Like you have any idea-”
“The god she talked about is the one who’s after you,” Doumeki interrupted.
Watanuki stared at him. “That-that Erebus guy?” he said incredulously. “Why-why would he be after me? He’s in love with the lady-that Moera person! I don’t know anyone named Moera!”
Doumeki lifted a shoulder. “What other explanation is there for the creature that can read the darkness in your heart?”
Watanuki opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then snapped his jaws closed with a glare. “Okay, let’s just pretend you’ve got a point,” he said grudgingly. “It still doesn’t explain why he’s after me.”
Doumeki shot him a look from the corner of his eye. “You’re you,” he said simply. “That’s reason enough for anyone to come after you.”
With a snort of derision-he really couldn’t deny that statement without sounding utterly ridiculous, after all-Watanuki rolled his eyes. “Right, well,” he said scathingly, “I’ve never had a god chase me before. I suppose I should be honored.”
“Don’t be,” advised Doumeki. “He tried to kill you, idiot.”
“I know that!” Watanuki protested. “I was just joking, you humorless ass!”
Doumeki replied flatly, “I don’t think any part of this is funny.”
That brought Watanuki up short. He settled for glaring at the archer and grumbling to himself the rest of the way to his apartment.
“Well, you can go now,” he announced once they reached the building, turning to face Doumeki.
The archer gave him an inscrutable look. “Be careful,” was all he said as he turned around to walk back the way he’d come.
It occurred to Watanuki then that the temple was in the opposite direction of the apartment, and so Doumeki had really just made his trip twice as long by walking Watanuki home. This, for some reason, niggled at him.
He attempted to squash the discomfort with a sharp sigh and a pointed, “You’re telling me to be careful? I am careful, you jerk. I don’t need you to tell me-”
“You weren’t careful at the Tower,” Doumeki interjected without turning around. One of his hands was in his pocket; the other was loosely fisted at his side. “You almost got yourself killed by not paying attention.”
Incensed, Watanuki took a step forward. “This coming from the guy who was so scared of what he saw that he almost-”
Mistake, he realized. Big mistake. Bad mistake, to bring up a subject that obviously didn’t sit well with the archer. Terrible mistake, he told himself, even as Doumeki swung around, eyes blazing with an anger so furious, so frightening that Watanuki retreated two steps before Doumeki caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm.
“You have no idea what I saw,” he growled. His fingers were a vise on Watanuki’s skin, digging into his bicep with merciless pressure.
Something in Watanuki’s mind said, Oh. He’s angry. Well, that was brilliant, he mocked himself. Obviously Doumeki was angry. But that same something said, He really was afraid. And Watanuki could not mock that, no matter how he tried to remind himself that Doumeki was his rival, was a jerk, was the bane of his existence. No-He really was afraid, he thought, and even staring into eyes of molten gold, brows that were a sharp crease, cheeks that were pale with anger, he could only think: He was afraid.
And a tiny part of him noticed the almost non-existent distance between his face and Doumeki’s. We’re so close, he thought dazedly, and the words that Himawari always spoke with such cheerfulness sounded almost hysterical in his own mind. So close. And that part of him that was noticing the fact of their proximity was also noticing things like the ghost of Doumeki’s breath over his skin, how incredibly bright the gold of his eyes were, and how easily, for once, the emotions showed in them: anger, hot and snapping, and-
Fear. Haunting and hidden. It was there in Doumeki’s eyes, so barely-there that if Watanuki had not been looking at Doumeki across a space of maybe ten centimeters, he’d never have noticed it. But it was there, just under the anger.
What, he wondered, could have scared Doumeki so badly in the Tower that it made him slow to act, almost too late to catch me…and stayed inside him until now?
“Doumeki,” he said, and his voice, quiet in the tension of silence between them, was not angry in defense, was not indignant at being manhandled, was instead just…quiet. “What-what did you see?”
And those liquid gold eyes widened slightly-surprise, and shame? Why would Doumeki be ashamed? And there, again-so faint that Watanuki could have, with more distance between them, missed it-fear.
“I-” Doumeki said, and to Watanuki’s surprise, the word was hoarse, almost desperate.
Watanuki held his breath.
And Doumeki released him.
Watanuki almost fell, but he quickly righted himself, automatically nursing his arm where Doumeki had grabbed him. There’d be a bruise there, he thought, but he couldn’t work up the energy to be annoyed about it-because now there was distance between them, and he could still see the fear in Doumeki’s eyes. It was like one of those optical illusions: once you saw what you were supposed to see, you couldn’t stop seeing it even if you tried looking at the picture the way you had before.
He had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to see Doumeki the way he had before.
“It doesn’t matter,” Doumeki said, and his voice was its normal monotone. But Watanuki could still see the fear even as Doumeki’s eyes shuttered in his usual attempt to hide away the emotion. He shook his head adamantly.
“Tell me,” he said.
At the quiet but implacable command, Doumeki hesitated, and then simply shrugged a shoulder.
“Myself,” he said, voice empty. “I saw myself.”
He turned and walked away, with another “Be careful” tossed over his shoulder.
Watanuki stared after him, wide-eyed and bewildered, and couldn’t think of anything to say. He could only think of furious gold eyes tinged with fear, and fingers bruising his skin, and So close. I was so close.
* * *
A/N: This chapter is rather tardy, yes. Hopefully there is no correlation between promptness and quality?
Uh. Backstory. Yeeeeeah. Possibly confusing if you don’t know your Greek mythology. Your obscure Greek mythology. Not the stuff they briefly go over in school. DO YOUR HOMEWORK, KIDDIES. :D No, I’m kidding, you shouldn’t have to research a fanfic to understand it. BUT BE PATIENT. ALL WILL BE REVEALED EVENTUALLY. Who is Erebus? Who is Moera? Why is Erebus after Watanuki and not Moera? HOLY PLOT TWIST, BATMAN!
Aaaaand you all will never know how close Doumeki and Watanuki came to kissing at the end of this chapter. NEVER. KNOW. AHAHAHAHAHA *shoots self*
Rating: T
Summary: A promise made under the light of the sun…can it be kept under the shadow of the moon?
Author’s note: Yes, this one took a little longer. Things are going to be happening slightly faster now. We’re getting into some exposition. XD
* * *
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage-just say that we agree and then never change.
The Fray, “Over My Head (Cable Car)”
* * *
Neither Doumeki nor Watanuki spoke a word to each other the entire ride back to their side of town. Only when they were out of the subway station and walking back to Yuuko’s shop did Watanuki turn to Doumeki.
“You are overreacting,” he said again.
Doumeki’s seething, cold anger had dissipated. Or, at the very least, the traces of it had; he was now his usual non-expressive self. He merely lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
Glaring at him, Watanuki let out a deep sigh of frustration. “You do know that tonight’s errand was pretty much on the normal side, right?” he pressed. He wasn’t too sure why he was deliberately baiting the archer this way, but the silence radiating from Doumeki just…felt wrong.
Doumeki looked at him. “There is nothing normal about what happened tonight,” he said flatly.
Watanuki snorted. “Right. Because weird things that try to kill me and then disappear into thin air don’t show up on a regular basis.”
“They disappear when I shoot them,” Doumeki pointed out. “I didn’t have the chance to do that. That means this one can come back.”
Shaking his head at Doumeki, Watanuki protested, “But that’s no reason to trek all the way across the city just to ask Yuuko when it’s coming back. You could do that tomorrow. Like I said in the first place!”
“That’s not all I’m going to ask,” said Doumeki, a grim set to his jaw.
Huffing slightly as they turned onto the street where Yuuko’s shop rested between the dimensions, Watanuki complained, “You’re going to be paranoid and psychotic from now until that thing is gone for good, aren’t you?”
The silence he received as answer did not improve his mood.
* * *
“Welcome, once again, to my shop, Doumeki-kun.”
Watanuki was nonplussed when Yuuko, looking wide-awake and quite obviously expecting them, if the tea service laid out on the engawa was any indication, only nodded her head and greeted them quietly. Why did that stupid Doumeki always have to be right about everything?
“You are here for answers.”
Doumeki nodded once and did not sit when she motioned for them to do so. “You knew what would happen,” he said, getting straight to the point. Watanuki, who was not rude like certain archers and had moved to sit beside Yuuko, froze, glancing from Yuuko to Doumeki.
“Yes.” Yuuko’s voice was monotone, low, and as emotionless as Doumeki’s.
Something cold entered into the pit of Watanuki’s stomach. “Then why…” He had to swallow to get the words out. “Why did you send us there tonight, Yuuko-san, if you knew I would…” He couldn’t bring himself to say die.
The claret eyes closed as Yuuko sipped from her cup-it was tea tonight, and not sake, Watanuki realized. Not a good sign.
“Because,” she said, “that is hitsuzen.”
Watanuki, from the corner of his eye, saw Doumeki’s fists curl, then relax, almost as if the other boy was forcing himself to stay calm.
“Watanuki’s hitsuzen is to die?” Doumeki repeated quietly, and Watanuki heard something in the tone that, if it had been aimed at him, would have made him back off even in the midst of a full-fledged rant.
Yuuko smiled faintly into her tea. “Everyone’s hitsuzen is to die, Doumeki-kun. There are no true immortals, after all.” She looked up at the blue-black sky. “Not even the gods can live forever.”
Watanuki frowned. “I thought gods were gods because they couldn’t die,” he said.
“Gods are gods,” said Yuuko simply, “because they are gods, Watanuki.”
“That makes no sense,” Watanuki began, but Doumeki interrupted, “So you sent us to Tokyo Tower knowing Watanuki could die-‘because that is hitsuzen.’” The words were spoken skeptically, and faintly, ever so faintly challenging, as if Doumeki was spoiling for a fight. But that was inconceivable; Doumeki did not pick fights with Yuuko. He was smarter than that. The only person Doumeki ever intentionally riled up was Watanuki. So why did it sound as if he was daring Yuuko to agree with him-or disagree?
Yuuko’s eyes were on Doumeki’s. There was almost a palpable tension surrounding them. It was unnerving to Watanuki, who’d never before witnessed Doumeki deliberately challenging Yuuko’s judgment to her face.
“Yes,” she said softly. “There is no alternative to hitsuzen, Doumeki-kun.”
Something in Doumeki’s eyes-normally so flat and expressionless-flared, then cooled, and finally settled for glittering like twin suns.
“That is an unacceptable answer,” he said immovably.
Yuuko smiled, and it was tired, and it was sad.
“That,” she replied, “is an acceptable attitude.”
Doumeki’s eyes narrowed now, and Watanuki blinked at the guarded look he was giving Yuuko.
The witch swirled her tea and sipped it, then, still staring into the cup, murmured “Doumeki-kun, you will never be satisfied, will you?”
Watanuki was on the verge of agreeing with her, along the lines of what a greedy bastard Doumeki was, but something told him that Yuuko was not talking about out-of-season bento demands. He shot a glance at Doumeki, his own gold-and-blue eyes wide with uncertainty.
“You will not allow hitsuzen to become an excuse,” Yuuko said quietly. “You will not settle for knowing that things happen because they must. You will search for a way to bring about change, with your own hands instead of outside interference. That is why you do not need my shop-” Her eyes slid to Watanuki. “On most occasions.”
Watanuki suppressed a shiver at the memory of falling through glass, through space, and then swimming up through blackness into pain. He sipped his tea quickly to avoid her eyes.
“Tonight,” said Doumeki. “What was it that tried to kill Watanuki?”
Yuuko did not appear to hear his question. She tilted her head back to look up at the stars. “I sent Watanuki tonight,” she said, almost as if she was speaking to herself, “because it was hitsuzen that he should face that one. However, it was not hitsuzen that he should die. Not there, not then. That is why I sent you with him, Doumeki-kun.” Her eyes found Doumeki’s again.
The archer relaxed ever so slightly.
“Yuuko-san?” said Watanuki timidly. “That-that thing tonight…when I saw it, it looked like-like the spirit woman from the park.”
Doumeki visibly stiffened again. His eyes were like lasers on Watanuki, who studiously ignored the look in favor of keeping his own eyes on Yuuko.
“Ah.” Yuuko smiled again, and it was more a Yuuko smile than the one before it had been. “That is because, Watanuki, it knew that you would trust the illusion of that woman.”
“Trust…the illusion?” Watanuki said blankly. “What-?”
“Watanuki-kun, the creature you dealt with tonight has a way of seeking out the darkness in the hearts of its victims, and manipulating that darkness to suit its own purposes.” Yuuko swirled her tea. “It must have found a darkness in your heart that is linked to the exorcism of the spirit woman, and took on her appearance because it knew your feelings toward her, and your lingering anger after her…departure.”
Watanuki was shaken. The creature…knew his feelings? It had seen the darkness in his heart? And…was he still angry over the exorcism? He’d thought he’d forgiven Doumeki for shooting the spirit woman, but… He chanced a look at Doumeki. Those gold eyes were locked on him, and they looked…
Absolutely devoid of emotion.
Watanuki looked away quickly. “So,” he said nervously, “so that thing knew I’d let my guard down-”
“Because you were attached to that woman, however briefly.” Yuuko smiled at her employee. “It used your feelings to lull you into a daze, and then attacked while you were defenseless.”
“But-” Watanuki shook his head. “But that doesn’t explain why Doumeki-” He stopped himself and looked at Doumeki curiously. The archer had told him it ‘didn’t matter’ what the creature had appeared to him as, but now Watanuki couldn’t help but wonder.
“Doumeki-kun.”
Yuuko was looking at Doumeki now, too. The archer’s gaze lingered on Watanuki’s another moment, then moved to the witch’s.
“You did not see the spirit woman tonight in the creature that attacked you both, am I right?”
“Yes,” Doumeki said quietly.
Her eyes moved over the unshifting lines of his face with something akin to pity. “No,” she murmured. “You wouldn’t have. The darkness in your heart has an entirely different origin, Doumeki-kun. It is not born of anger, but fear.”
Watanuki started. Doumeki, the superhero archer idol-afraid of something?
“The creature could not find a darkness in your heart that springs from negative emotion,” Yuuko went on, “so it appeared to you as what you fear the most.”
“Fear isn’t…a negative emotion?” Watanuki asked.
Yuuko looked at him. “Fear,” she said gently, “is neither positive nor negative, Watanuki-kun. Fear is an emotion that can harm and heal, can build and destroy, can gift and curse.”
“Fear,” said Doumeki, so low that Watanuki almost couldn’t hear him, “makes heroes of men and fools of gods.” He frowned faintly. “My grandfather told me that.”
Yuuko’s lips curved. “What else did he tell you?”
Doumeki looked at her. “He said,” he went on softly, “that the same could be said of love.”
“Ah,” said Yuuko, and that was all. She did not ask what Doumeki had seen at the top of Tokyo Tower. Watanuki had a feeling she already knew.
Silence fell. Doumeki still had not moved to sit, and Watanuki’s tea was going cold.
“So, Yuuko-san,” he said, desperate to break the stillness that had fallen over them. “Do you-do you know what attacked us tonight?”
“Yes.”
This did not surprise Watanuki. It seemed to him that Yuuko knew everyone and everything, which seemed especially easy to believe when it came to things that tried to kill him.
“Long ago,” said Yuuko, her eyes once more on the night sky, “there was a foolish young god who fell in love with a foolish young goddess.”
* * *
“Moera!”
She looked up. The dark cloud moving toward her at an accelerated pace did not alarm her as it would have alarmed anyone else. She had known he was coming.
The cloud stopped in front of her, pulsed heavily, then seemed to dissipate, leaving a tall, black-haired man standing before her.
“Erebus,” she said mildly. “You are right on time.”
The man scowled at her. “Moera,” he said again, his voice deep and annoyed. “What is this nonsense I’ve been hearing?”
Her fingers on the spinning wheel did not falter in the least as she replied, “I cannot possibly answer that, Erebus, as it is far too broad a topic. You listen to an astonishing amount of nonsense.”
Faint red tinged his cheeks, but not in fury as it would have with anyone else. It was sheepish admission. “Yes, well.” He snorted in derision. “I am forced into company with fools and swine. I cannot help the amount of nonsense that I am forced to listen to.”
“You may lie to your mortal adherents,” she told him tartly, her eyes on her spinning, “or to your immortal adversaries, but not to me, Erebus. You are not only willing to hear the nonsense, but seek it out whenever possible. It is your way.”
He looked at her for a long time in silence as she spun her thread.
“Moera,” he said again, and this time, his voice was quiet, pleading. “Tell me it’s not true. You’re not really planning such folly.”
Still her hands kept at the wheel. “Erebus,” she said in a tone equal to his, “once again, you wish to hear nonsense.” She glanced up at him. “Only I, unlike your usual company, will not satisfy your expectations in that regard.”
His eyes became cold and fathomless. “You will not persist in such a useless endeavor,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Her lips quirked. “You are ruler of darkness and shadow,” she said wryly. “You command the underworld. You are Hades, he whose realm is the realm of the dead. But Erebus-” Now her eyes flashed warningly. “You have no command over Fate.”
His lips curled in a silent snarl. “I can imprison you in my domain until you forget this foolish fancy of yours,” he hissed sibilantly. The cloud began to reappear around him, a nimbus of shadow.
Her brow lifted. “As you have imprisoned the one you call your bride?” she said disdainfully. “She whom you allow her freedom for eight months out of every twelve? You will forgive me, Erebus, if I am unimpressed with your blustering. You can no more imprison me than you can earn her love.”
A pale, cold hand shot out and smashed into the spinning wheel, splintering several spokes and knocking the entire device over a few feet away. The entire spool snapped and rolled away, the thin thread fading from sight until only the wooden spool remained.
She closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath. “Erebus,” she said quietly, “you have just added about five thousand lives to your domain with that childish gesture.”
In reply, he took hold of her shoulders, hauled her bodily off of the small, three-legged stool on which she sat, and jerked her to him, crushing his mouth to hers.
She stood motionless as he forced her lips apart, made no sound as his fingers tightened cruelly on her shoulders. When he pulled away and glared down into her eyes, she only looked back at him impassively.
“You will not change my mind with this act of tyranny,” she said simply. “Love will not be forced. And neither will Fate.”
“You will be mine,” he said harshly, his breathing erratic in his anger. The cloud of shadow around him swirled and thickened, but did not touch her even though they stood mere centimeters apart.
“I will belong to no one, mortal or immortal,” she countered quietly. “Fate has no master.”
“I will rule you,” he growled, releasing her and stepping back. “If it takes me a thousand years to find you after you indulge this idiotic whim of yours, I will find you and you will submit to my will.”
“It is not to be, Erebus.”
“I will make it so!” he snapped. The cloud around him grew darker and surrounded him like a veil. “If you will not love me, Moera, you will fear me.”
He left as quickly as he’d come. When he’d gone, she knelt by the shattered spinning wheel and let out a deep, sorrowful sigh.
“Erebus,” she whispered. “I said it is not to be. I did not say I did not want it to be.”
* * *
As they walked home, Watanuki was uncharacteristically quiet. Doumeki was…well, himself. The silence between them was not awkward, but rather companionable, a tacit agreement for each to leave the other to his own thoughts.
Until, as usual, Watanuki disregarded the rule and spoke into the silence. “Hey, Doumeki.”
Doumeki glanced at him. “What?”
Watanuki did not meet his eyes, but kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead of them. “Yuuko-san sounded…different tonight.”
Doumeki’s eyes fell away. “Yeah.”
“Like she knew more than she was telling.”
The archer was quiet for a minute. “How is that ‘different?’”
Watanuki huffed and spared him a single, scathing glance. “You know what I mean. For one thing, she didn’t even tell us what that story had to do with what happened tonight.”
“You’re an idiot,” said Doumeki shortly.
Watanuki rounded on him furiously. “What right do you have to call me that?” he demanded irritably. “Like you have any idea-”
“The god she talked about is the one who’s after you,” Doumeki interrupted.
Watanuki stared at him. “That-that Erebus guy?” he said incredulously. “Why-why would he be after me? He’s in love with the lady-that Moera person! I don’t know anyone named Moera!”
Doumeki lifted a shoulder. “What other explanation is there for the creature that can read the darkness in your heart?”
Watanuki opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then snapped his jaws closed with a glare. “Okay, let’s just pretend you’ve got a point,” he said grudgingly. “It still doesn’t explain why he’s after me.”
Doumeki shot him a look from the corner of his eye. “You’re you,” he said simply. “That’s reason enough for anyone to come after you.”
With a snort of derision-he really couldn’t deny that statement without sounding utterly ridiculous, after all-Watanuki rolled his eyes. “Right, well,” he said scathingly, “I’ve never had a god chase me before. I suppose I should be honored.”
“Don’t be,” advised Doumeki. “He tried to kill you, idiot.”
“I know that!” Watanuki protested. “I was just joking, you humorless ass!”
Doumeki replied flatly, “I don’t think any part of this is funny.”
That brought Watanuki up short. He settled for glaring at the archer and grumbling to himself the rest of the way to his apartment.
“Well, you can go now,” he announced once they reached the building, turning to face Doumeki.
The archer gave him an inscrutable look. “Be careful,” was all he said as he turned around to walk back the way he’d come.
It occurred to Watanuki then that the temple was in the opposite direction of the apartment, and so Doumeki had really just made his trip twice as long by walking Watanuki home. This, for some reason, niggled at him.
He attempted to squash the discomfort with a sharp sigh and a pointed, “You’re telling me to be careful? I am careful, you jerk. I don’t need you to tell me-”
“You weren’t careful at the Tower,” Doumeki interjected without turning around. One of his hands was in his pocket; the other was loosely fisted at his side. “You almost got yourself killed by not paying attention.”
Incensed, Watanuki took a step forward. “This coming from the guy who was so scared of what he saw that he almost-”
Mistake, he realized. Big mistake. Bad mistake, to bring up a subject that obviously didn’t sit well with the archer. Terrible mistake, he told himself, even as Doumeki swung around, eyes blazing with an anger so furious, so frightening that Watanuki retreated two steps before Doumeki caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm.
“You have no idea what I saw,” he growled. His fingers were a vise on Watanuki’s skin, digging into his bicep with merciless pressure.
Something in Watanuki’s mind said, Oh. He’s angry. Well, that was brilliant, he mocked himself. Obviously Doumeki was angry. But that same something said, He really was afraid. And Watanuki could not mock that, no matter how he tried to remind himself that Doumeki was his rival, was a jerk, was the bane of his existence. No-He really was afraid, he thought, and even staring into eyes of molten gold, brows that were a sharp crease, cheeks that were pale with anger, he could only think: He was afraid.
And a tiny part of him noticed the almost non-existent distance between his face and Doumeki’s. We’re so close, he thought dazedly, and the words that Himawari always spoke with such cheerfulness sounded almost hysterical in his own mind. So close. And that part of him that was noticing the fact of their proximity was also noticing things like the ghost of Doumeki’s breath over his skin, how incredibly bright the gold of his eyes were, and how easily, for once, the emotions showed in them: anger, hot and snapping, and-
Fear. Haunting and hidden. It was there in Doumeki’s eyes, so barely-there that if Watanuki had not been looking at Doumeki across a space of maybe ten centimeters, he’d never have noticed it. But it was there, just under the anger.
What, he wondered, could have scared Doumeki so badly in the Tower that it made him slow to act, almost too late to catch me…and stayed inside him until now?
“Doumeki,” he said, and his voice, quiet in the tension of silence between them, was not angry in defense, was not indignant at being manhandled, was instead just…quiet. “What-what did you see?”
And those liquid gold eyes widened slightly-surprise, and shame? Why would Doumeki be ashamed? And there, again-so faint that Watanuki could have, with more distance between them, missed it-fear.
“I-” Doumeki said, and to Watanuki’s surprise, the word was hoarse, almost desperate.
Watanuki held his breath.
And Doumeki released him.
Watanuki almost fell, but he quickly righted himself, automatically nursing his arm where Doumeki had grabbed him. There’d be a bruise there, he thought, but he couldn’t work up the energy to be annoyed about it-because now there was distance between them, and he could still see the fear in Doumeki’s eyes. It was like one of those optical illusions: once you saw what you were supposed to see, you couldn’t stop seeing it even if you tried looking at the picture the way you had before.
He had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to see Doumeki the way he had before.
“It doesn’t matter,” Doumeki said, and his voice was its normal monotone. But Watanuki could still see the fear even as Doumeki’s eyes shuttered in his usual attempt to hide away the emotion. He shook his head adamantly.
“Tell me,” he said.
At the quiet but implacable command, Doumeki hesitated, and then simply shrugged a shoulder.
“Myself,” he said, voice empty. “I saw myself.”
He turned and walked away, with another “Be careful” tossed over his shoulder.
Watanuki stared after him, wide-eyed and bewildered, and couldn’t think of anything to say. He could only think of furious gold eyes tinged with fear, and fingers bruising his skin, and So close. I was so close.
* * *
A/N: This chapter is rather tardy, yes. Hopefully there is no correlation between promptness and quality?
Uh. Backstory. Yeeeeeah. Possibly confusing if you don’t know your Greek mythology. Your obscure Greek mythology. Not the stuff they briefly go over in school. DO YOUR HOMEWORK, KIDDIES. :D No, I’m kidding, you shouldn’t have to research a fanfic to understand it. BUT BE PATIENT. ALL WILL BE REVEALED EVENTUALLY. Who is Erebus? Who is Moera? Why is Erebus after Watanuki and not Moera? HOLY PLOT TWIST, BATMAN!
Aaaaand you all will never know how close Doumeki and Watanuki came to kissing at the end of this chapter. NEVER. KNOW. AHAHAHAHAHA *shoots self*