xxxHolic, backdated for flist's convience
Himawari packed all the things she thought she would need. Yuuko had said that time was very short; if she wanted to set off on her journey, she had to do it now, before Watanuki had a chance to know. She would write and call, and Doumeki would give him her letters, but Yuuko had said it was part of her price, that she didn't get to say good-bye.
She walked all the way to the shop, drinking in the sight of the neighborhood, residential homes moving gradually into larger apartment complexes--and in the middle of them a ratty, dead field, which to her housed a magnificent shop. The sun gleamed off the curved moons at the gate, and Himawari caught her breath.
This was the end of this life, and the beginning of the rest of it.
Doumeki stood just outside the gates, with little Mokona on his shoulder. The little girls, Maru and Moro, stood just inside the gates, with a long, multi-colored ribbon stretched between them.
"Doumeki-kun, Mokona," she said. "Good morning."
Doumeki's face was pinched. "You're really going," he said. She looked down. He hadn't really wanted her to go, but there really wasn't any other choice.
"I'll come back," she said, "as soon as it's safe." Himawari raised her eyes and looked at him directly. Doumeki still looked mulish, but he nodded.
"I'll give him your letter," he said. She smiled, but it felt faint even to her.
"Make me one promise," she said, and he looked at her with a weight in his eyes.
"Promise you won't let him disappear," she said, and he nodded again. He did not smile, but she could feel the agreement between them.
"Take care, Himawari," Mokona said, breaking the silence that had fallen. Tanpopo cheeped from her shoulder, and she stroked his head.
"Thank you, Mokona," she said. "I'll be very careful."
Doumeki turned a little and gestured to the little girls. They stood back and pulled the ribbon tight between them.
"Just jump," Doumeki said, and Himawari took a deep breath.
"Hold on, Tanpopo," she said, and her little bird fluttered off her shoulder. She felt it nestle into her hair. She adjusted the straps of her backpack and backed up.
Then she took off at a run, and jumped--
--And instead of landing on cool green grass, or the stony paved path of the shop, she landed on ferns and dead leaves and twigs. They poked her knees and stuck to her shins, and when she rolled she felt Tanpopo pressed agains her neck and dead leaves stick to her hair.
She sat up quickly, fast enough to make her a little dizzy, and Tanpopo cheeped from her hair.
Himawari absently reached around to help it untangle itself, and looked around. Tall trees soared toward a sky that was a shade of blue that edged farther towards green, and their leaves blanketed their branches. The air had a sharp tang to it, and it tickled her nose.
She stood up and brushed the leaves and crushed fern leaves from her shorts and legs. "Well, Tanpopo," she said, as her bird fluttered down into her hands, "it looks like we made it."
It cheeped it's agreement, and Himawari cast her eyes about. Now that she was here, it was time to decide where to go. She pulled a small compass out of her pocket.
"West, I think," she said, and began to walk.
***
Himawari brushed the curls from her face, feeling lighter than she ever had. Above her the sky stretched, stretched, blue and peppered with white clouds. The sunlight was young and strong, muscular. It made her shiver a little as she turned her face to it.
That last world she had been had been so cold.
Tanpopo worked his way out of her jacket, a leather creation lined with wool. Her hair was damp and the ice that clung to her was already melting under the summer sun. She unzipped her jacket and worked her fingers, which were stiff and cold and almost painful, like an old woman's.
She had lost her pack in the last trial. She had Tanpopo, the clothes she wore, and her compass, a heavy, frigid weight in her pocket.
"Pi," Tanpopo chirruped. Himawari stroked his feathers, and began to walk. Her legs were sore, but she had gone through worse trials than the last, and she wanted to see if this world, replete as it was with muggy summer air and fading cherry blossoms, was her world, or if it was just a beautiful, terrible mirror.
The houses looked familiar, and Himawari walked slowly, savoring the shape of antennas against the sky, the slate-gray roof tiles, the way stone walls rose up to enclose tiny spaces of precious privacy. It felt like the neighborhood she had lived in. If she turned down that street, she might walk by the school she used to attend, before she left. If she turned down another street, she might pass a temple, peaceful and unmolested in the midst of urban development. If she turned down this street here, and looked at that space there, between the buildings--
A shop bloomed there, jade and gold and brown, yellow sunlight spilling off the upper windows. Himawari stepped forward and watched a man--easily nearing thirty, his face set in serene contemplation as he idly swept leaves off the walk--
She stepped onto the walk before she could stop herself. He hadn't changed so much she couldn't recognize him. He looked up at her footsteps, and she was gratified to see his eyes grow wide.
"Hello, Doumeki-kun," she said.
***