"A lowering sky at dawn", Part 15
Um, I dunno you guys. It feels like something's gone hinky between me and this story. But I can't put my finger on it. If anyone can see what it is that might be bugging me here, please feel free to chime in.
15.
"Watanuki?" Ryou manages. At the moment, Watanuki can only nod.
"This....it's really you?"
He still has his hand on Ryou's cheek, he sees, and quickly pulls it back. Withdrawing to allow some space between them, he swallows hard. Learning that here, his mouth actually works. "It's me. Yes."
"And I'm. I'm really me? I'm....Ryou?"
Blue-checked hospital gown, bandages and bruises all over, all that's missing are the tubes and wires. "Yes," Watanuki nods, and knot of breath he'd been holding back abruptly lets go. "I see you, Ryou."
Ryou blinks slowly, every bit as flabbergasted as Watanuki, and then his gaze wanders to the side. "Okay. Then. How come I'm here?"
Here, as Watanuki discovers looking around, is the front porch of the shop, just outside the open door of his bedroom. It's currently a soft spring evening, the generic sort he'd become accustomed to with these dreams, a long time ago.
Though it's been a long while indeed since he's been here, he thinks, watching a lone sakura petal flutter past on a nonexistent breeze.
"This is a dream," he notes absently. "A very old one."
"Yeah. I've had this one before. But. I was never me. Hey." He's frowning hard, when Watanuki glances back to him. "Did you kiss me, just now?"
"You shouldn't be in this dream," Watanuki says, just as it occurs to him. "And neither should I."
"I was kinda getting scared here, by myself," admits Ryou. "But. Um."
"I gave you my first kiss." Seeing his other hand still grasping Ryou's bare wrist, he carefully draws it back to his lap. "I did it as part of the price, to save you," he adds, feeling some clarification is important here.
"Save me...." Ryou squints in curiosity, and then looks down at himself, and sucks in a sharp breath. "Oh my god. Oh god, what did you pay for it? What did you have to wish?"
"That was all, so far," Watanuki reassures him. But of course Ryou would know, the way he's always seemed to know, what sort of cost 'saving' him would entail. "Your family--."
"No," Ryou interrupts vehemently. "No, whatever it is, take it back. I won't let them do this, I can't take--." He shakes his head, frantic, and grabs at Watanuki's arm. "They can't pay for me, it's too much, I know it's too much."
"Ryou-san. It's their choice." Knowing too personally how painful this truth is, doing his best to soften it. "I know it seems too much to you. But this was their wish, and I have to grant it."
"You don't!" Ryou all but shouts back at him. "You don't have to grant wishes all the time, you can turn down the ones that are too high, and I know you don't love me, but I'm begging you, don't do this to my family, please...." He breaks off, arm over his mouth to stifle a sob, while Watanuki gapes at him, feeling like he's just been punched by a bus, right in the solar plexus.
"How could you. Think I don't love you?"
This is probably not what he'd meant to say. But out of the wreckage of his brain, this is what comes forth. And then from nowhere--or maybe everywhere; all these years alone, all this time without Shizuka or his grandfather, or Yuuko, losing all of them, and waiting, and still waiting with no one to hear his heart, hear the truth of his life, decades passing in confinement with no one who sees, no one who knows the stifling silence of his halted time, waiting, forever and ever waiting--it picks up momentum.
"You're my....closest living friend. I'd do anything I could, for you. Do you even know, how terrified I was today? I didn't know if you were hurt, or killed, or in a ditch somewhere. You could have been eaten by spirits, hit by a train, and all I could think was that I let you go, when I should have stopped you, I should have kept you in the shop, and none of this would have happened. How dare you say I don't love you, when I'm the one who had to tell your mother, and tell the price to your brother and sister, do you think that doesn't hurt me? Do you think I enjoy bringing that suffering to people, Ryou?"
He knows he's gone too far, when the young man's expression crumples, and the tears flood over, and already Watanuki is scooting over again to prop him up, making soothing noises as Ryou curls in and weeps his heart out against Watanuki's chest.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry that was harsh. But you have to understand something. When people sacrifice for you like this--. They made a choice, because they don't want to lose you. The price was not too much, in their eyes. And....Ryou, are you hearing this?"
He waits for the young man's nod against his chest, listens and aches while the sobs taper off to sniffles, and then tentative hitched breaths.
"Yeah," answers a small choked voice.
"You have an obligation, now. Because of what they've given you. You have to wake up, and recover, and do your utmost to live your life fully. That was their wish, and now it will be up to you, to fulfill it. I've done all I can. Your family has done all they can. I'm here now, to tell you it's your turn."
"But I'm. I think I'm scared."
"You won't be alone. Your family is waiting, and when we wake up from here, I'll be waiting."
Slowly Ryou tilts away from him, still hunched over, elbows on his knees. He swipes an arm across his eyes, and then his nose, and Watanuki has to quell the fussy urge to to toss him a handkerchief.
"Did you. Mean that? What you said. You....love me?"
Watanuki had never told anything but the truth, in this place. And Haruka, who had kept him company for so many nights here, would be profoundly disappointed if he were to start lying now. But the answer to Ryou's question is so intricate, so complicated. And Watanuki has been working rather hard to pretend not to see what he should have seen, what probably anyone with eyes would have spotted months ago. Only now--("There's only one thing I've ever wanted...")--it's come to face them both, and there's no avoiding it, not here.
"I do mean it," he answers soberly, and tries not to quail at the desperate hopeful look Ryou now sends his way. "I made a mistake a long time ago, in not telling certain people that I loved them. And I've had longer than you can imagine, to regret that. So while I'm able, you absolutely should know."
Now that that's out, he has to make himself hold Ryou's gaze, and steel himself for the rest.
"But I think you already understand. That I'm not someone you can confess to, Ryou. I am not at liberty, I'm not free to be that person for you. I'm still paying a price, and I can't go back on it."
"I know that," Ryou answers, subdued and unreadable now. "I mean, I was there, in all those dreams. I know how much my Grandfather Shizuka and Grandfather Haruka loved you, and they still couldn't change what you chose. I saw when you lost Yuuko-san. I saw what it did to you, from them."
"Then....you understand," Watanuki hazards.
"I understand about your choice." Ryou shrugs, and draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. "Maybe you'll have to wait for longer than I'm alive, and maybe not. But you should still have a person who loves you. And however it worked out, I wanted to be that person. I'm not talking about dates, or being a couple or any of that stuff. I just wanted to be the person who's by your side. For whatever you needed, as long as I could. That's all."
It does not escape Watanuki's notice, that Ryou is speaking in the past tense. And for the first time in this entire catastrophe, he lets himself take conscious measure of the anger that's been simmering away under his breastbone all this time. Quiet, cold, and so deadly that he doesn't dare let it out of the tightly sealed compartment where he's keeping it tucked away.
Hot noisy outrage is one thing, he's never had any trouble venting that. But this chill calculation is mortally dangerous; given the power at his disposal now it would be the work of moments, and so little effort for him to exact horrific lasting vengeance on Ryou's attacker, their family, their neighbors, all descendants of their line.
It would be too easy. And in a circumstance like this, anything that easy could only be a trap.
But that doesn't mean he's not tempted. That doesn't mean he doesn't blister under his responsibilities, his better nature, and his promises. It isn't enough to know Hitsuzen has a guaranteed recompense in store for the people who put Doumeki Ryou in this condition. Sometimes waiting on Hitsuzen isn't enough. Sometimes doing the job with one's own hands seems like all that will suffice.
The only thing keeping this killing rage sealed to stillness inside him, is looking at the face of the person who would pay the most, were Watanuki to act on it. Since before they ever met, Ryou has only ever desired one thing. And with all else that's been taken from him, Watanuki cannot allow himself to be consumed by repaying Ryou's hurts and losses a hundredfold.
Because between the action and the cost, it would surely consume him. Once it was done, there would be nothing left of the person Ryou has sought a connection with all his life. There would be nothing left of their friendship, all those years invested.
And what, Watanuki forces himself to consider, would become of Ryou then?
"I know I can't--," Ryou starts, but Watanuki raises a hand to quiet him. Still staring into his other hand, curled loose on his knee. Studying the cup of his palm, wondering for the ten-thousandth time, how he can have so much power at his disposal, and yet so few real choices.
"I'm not going to tell you that you can't know what you want, because you're only sixteen," he says, his throat feeling tight and dry. "It's insulting, and I respect you more than that."
"Oh good," answers Ryou. " 'Cause if you did, I'd have to call you a hypocrite. And a high school dropout."
Watanuki permits himself a rueful tight-lipped smirk, tipping his head to grant the point. God he feels so tired right now. So tired and so old. "I will say you shouldn't dismiss the worth of being part of a couple with someone, going on dates, any of that. Life changes us. The things we want, the things we regret, they will change. I've had a long time to see it. But regardless, the decision you're thinking of, this isn't the place to make it. When you wake up, you still have a long recovery ahead. That's the priority."
Glancing over, he sees Ryou has gone somber. "I'm not....gonna be the same person. When I wake up."
"Truthfully, I don't know. It's hard to tell, with injuries like yours."
"No." Ryou closes his eyes, shakes his head slowly. "I know. I can feel it. I'm the same here, because this is a dream. But when I wake up. It will be a lot harder. To talk, and understand things. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do those things I wanted. That's why I'm scared."
The stinging urge to tears comes on so sudden, that it near to doubles Watanuki over where he sits. Yes, oh yes this was why he'd made such rash choices in the past, why he used to sacrifice himself just to stop the suffering of others. Because this isn't right, it's too cruel, of all the people in the world, this should never have happened to this blameless young man.
But just as he cannot rage and fight, he is not permitted to shed tears now. Not when he's the only person in this place to whom Ryou can look for reassurance, or the strength he will soon need. Here and now, Watanuki must be strong enough for the both of them.
Clasping Ryou's hand, he remembers how he'd done this before. For a young girl's spirit, trapped in death beneath a hydrangea tree, unable to move on. "You know I will help you. No matter what happens. No matter how you seem, I will always know who you are. And you won't be alone."
"But. What if I'm--."
"No. Matter. What," Watanuki repeats, squeezing Ryou's hand. Just as he does, the breeze kicks up again, swirling dozens of sakura petals toward the engawa. One goes tumbling between them, and he reaches for Ryou's cheek, to get his attention.
"You're going to wake up soon. And everyone waiting will be very, very glad to see you."
At once, Ryou's eyes go wide, desperate and uncertain. "Wait, couldn't I just stay here awhile?"
"Certainly not. You only borrowed this dream, it's not yours to keep. Our time here is up, and the real world is waiting on us." The sakura breeze is a small whirlwind now, battering the petals thick between them, and he feels that tugging again, dragging him away.
"Watanuki!" Ryou calls, his hand slipping away, voice fading in the rushing wind.
"Remember your promise," Watanuki shouts back. Then an old vivid memory compels him to add, "Don't disappear!"
The wind and the petals are blinding, and then he's tumbling through dark space, sucked across nothingness at a dizzying speed, with a high piercing whistle, growing louder, going right through his head, and then the world, his body, the chaise in the parlor all slam him sideways at once, and he's hauling breath into his lungs in one huge painful gasp.
In that instant someone shrieks, and he blinks his eyes open, and oh this is worse than the worst hangover in the history of creation.
"Watanuki-sama! Can you speak? Are you all right?"
"Guunf," he answers, squinting against the painfully blinding sunlight. A head bends in and blocks the light, and he makes out a face, peering down on him in alarm. "Haa--Haruka...chan?"
"Oh thank goodness." Haruka sits back, pressing a palm to her forehead, before smoothing it back over her hair. "I didn't think you were breathing just now, oh, you put a scare into me."
This is possibly the most feeling he's heard from her all in one rush before, and even though he himself feels absolutely hideous, he can't help the reflexive urge to reassure. "M'alright. Just, need a bit," flapping one weak hand.
"You did something dangerous, I knew it. I was worried, you didn't answer the phone, I thought I should come and check on you--." Her words are rushed and scolding, and then they choke, her pale eyes going wide and overbright, one hand at her throat and the other over her mouth. Forcing back a cry, swallowing it down, while Watanuki's throat knots in sympathy.
"Sorry," he gets out. From her tone, from the strained lines about her eyes, staring at him, it's clear she's taxed past her limits, this was one more thing she didn't need to see, not right now. "I am fine." Or he would be, anyway.
"You saved him." A broken murmur over the tops of her knuckles. "My son woke up. Yesterday evening. He recognized his father, and me."
Watanuki knows no proper name for the feeling cracking open in his chest right now. It isn't just relief, it's more than fierce pride at Ryou, for fighting his way back to the world. There's a measure of trembling fear as well, the sort that follows the shock after a lighting bolt strikes, directly at one's side. And the immensity of his gratitude, swelling to proportions that make him feel miniscule by comparison.
Haruka is only a blur of bright wet in his vision; tears are tickling down his temples, and she shouldn't see him like this, no customer should see him like this, but if he weren't already lying down he would have collapsed with all of the everything breaking loose in him.
"Ryou. You made it." The words shivering out of him, like dry leaves borne on a wind gust. Up to the last moment in that dream, he hadn't been sure Ryou would find his way out. "I'm so glad."
"Can I bring you anything, Watanuki-sama? Tea, something to eat?"
It had worked. His gamble had paid off, the wish and the prices had balanced, and Ryou had come back. Watanuki doesn't need anything, save for a very long time before he has to grant another request in which he is so deeply invested.
"No, thank you." He wipes at his eyes and is about to suggest she go back to her family, or more hopefully go rest, it's so obvious she needs it. But then in the back of his mind, the conversation is rewinding, and something jumps out.
"I'm sorry. You said yesterday evening, Ryou-san woke up?"
Haruka nods. "Night before last, his vital signs improved. And then late yesterday, I thought I saw him move a bit. It was around half past six, when he opened his eyes."
"And. What time is it now?"
"Ah..." Haruka glances down to her wrist, only to find it bare. "I'm not sure. Sometime after three?"
Over a day and a half he'd been out, no wonder he feels so flattened. He must have cut it very close in that dream. Not to mention that he'd effectively poisoned himself, in order to deliver the spider venom. Given his current physical condition, he thinks it's safe to assume such a stunt would have killed him, fifty years ago.
No doubt this is part of his price as well. Though he knows it's worth it, absolutely.
"The doctors say if Ryou continues to improve, they could discharge him in a few days," offers Haruka.
Which means Watanuki should get up, catch up on the dusting, work out a space for Ryou to stay while he convalesces. And food. Ryou's appetite has come to rival Shizuka's the last few years, Watanuki needs to prepare for that too.
Only belatedly does he realize that his automatic attempts at untangling his legs from his long tunic and rolling upright are getting him nowhere, and that's only when Haruka puts a hand to his shoulder, pressing him gently back to the chaise.
"Watanuki-sama, you really don't look well. I'd feel better if you rested awhile longer."
"Sorry. I can't," he answers, despite that he's lying prone already, and doesn't appear to have the energy to get himself up. "Spare bed. Dinner. Things to do."
"I hope you'll forgive me, but I checked your refrigerator earlier, to see if you needed anything. I don't think you'll have to worry about meals for awhile. And I'm certainly capable of laying out a bed."
"Your family," Watanuki manages to answer, struggling to keep his eyes open. "I shouldn't keep you from them."
Haruka frowns at him. "Please pardon me for pointing out that you are in this condition, because you took an enormous risk to help my family. Even if I can't pay anything more to this shop, I feel strongly that I owe some help to you. At the very least, I am sure this is what my grandfather would have wanted."
Things are quickly going very hazy for him; his body is demanding rest, whether he wants it or not. Still he's aware she's played a rather unfair card, and manages to frown back and mumble, "Shizuka. Always hovering, such a nuisance."
As the dim heaviness of dreamless sleep closes over him, he thinks he hears a fond, exasperated sigh.
*****
Next Part
15.
"Watanuki?" Ryou manages. At the moment, Watanuki can only nod.
"This....it's really you?"
He still has his hand on Ryou's cheek, he sees, and quickly pulls it back. Withdrawing to allow some space between them, he swallows hard. Learning that here, his mouth actually works. "It's me. Yes."
"And I'm. I'm really me? I'm....Ryou?"
Blue-checked hospital gown, bandages and bruises all over, all that's missing are the tubes and wires. "Yes," Watanuki nods, and knot of breath he'd been holding back abruptly lets go. "I see you, Ryou."
Ryou blinks slowly, every bit as flabbergasted as Watanuki, and then his gaze wanders to the side. "Okay. Then. How come I'm here?"
Here, as Watanuki discovers looking around, is the front porch of the shop, just outside the open door of his bedroom. It's currently a soft spring evening, the generic sort he'd become accustomed to with these dreams, a long time ago.
Though it's been a long while indeed since he's been here, he thinks, watching a lone sakura petal flutter past on a nonexistent breeze.
"This is a dream," he notes absently. "A very old one."
"Yeah. I've had this one before. But. I was never me. Hey." He's frowning hard, when Watanuki glances back to him. "Did you kiss me, just now?"
"You shouldn't be in this dream," Watanuki says, just as it occurs to him. "And neither should I."
"I was kinda getting scared here, by myself," admits Ryou. "But. Um."
"I gave you my first kiss." Seeing his other hand still grasping Ryou's bare wrist, he carefully draws it back to his lap. "I did it as part of the price, to save you," he adds, feeling some clarification is important here.
"Save me...." Ryou squints in curiosity, and then looks down at himself, and sucks in a sharp breath. "Oh my god. Oh god, what did you pay for it? What did you have to wish?"
"That was all, so far," Watanuki reassures him. But of course Ryou would know, the way he's always seemed to know, what sort of cost 'saving' him would entail. "Your family--."
"No," Ryou interrupts vehemently. "No, whatever it is, take it back. I won't let them do this, I can't take--." He shakes his head, frantic, and grabs at Watanuki's arm. "They can't pay for me, it's too much, I know it's too much."
"Ryou-san. It's their choice." Knowing too personally how painful this truth is, doing his best to soften it. "I know it seems too much to you. But this was their wish, and I have to grant it."
"You don't!" Ryou all but shouts back at him. "You don't have to grant wishes all the time, you can turn down the ones that are too high, and I know you don't love me, but I'm begging you, don't do this to my family, please...." He breaks off, arm over his mouth to stifle a sob, while Watanuki gapes at him, feeling like he's just been punched by a bus, right in the solar plexus.
"How could you. Think I don't love you?"
This is probably not what he'd meant to say. But out of the wreckage of his brain, this is what comes forth. And then from nowhere--or maybe everywhere; all these years alone, all this time without Shizuka or his grandfather, or Yuuko, losing all of them, and waiting, and still waiting with no one to hear his heart, hear the truth of his life, decades passing in confinement with no one who sees, no one who knows the stifling silence of his halted time, waiting, forever and ever waiting--it picks up momentum.
"You're my....closest living friend. I'd do anything I could, for you. Do you even know, how terrified I was today? I didn't know if you were hurt, or killed, or in a ditch somewhere. You could have been eaten by spirits, hit by a train, and all I could think was that I let you go, when I should have stopped you, I should have kept you in the shop, and none of this would have happened. How dare you say I don't love you, when I'm the one who had to tell your mother, and tell the price to your brother and sister, do you think that doesn't hurt me? Do you think I enjoy bringing that suffering to people, Ryou?"
He knows he's gone too far, when the young man's expression crumples, and the tears flood over, and already Watanuki is scooting over again to prop him up, making soothing noises as Ryou curls in and weeps his heart out against Watanuki's chest.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry that was harsh. But you have to understand something. When people sacrifice for you like this--. They made a choice, because they don't want to lose you. The price was not too much, in their eyes. And....Ryou, are you hearing this?"
He waits for the young man's nod against his chest, listens and aches while the sobs taper off to sniffles, and then tentative hitched breaths.
"Yeah," answers a small choked voice.
"You have an obligation, now. Because of what they've given you. You have to wake up, and recover, and do your utmost to live your life fully. That was their wish, and now it will be up to you, to fulfill it. I've done all I can. Your family has done all they can. I'm here now, to tell you it's your turn."
"But I'm. I think I'm scared."
"You won't be alone. Your family is waiting, and when we wake up from here, I'll be waiting."
Slowly Ryou tilts away from him, still hunched over, elbows on his knees. He swipes an arm across his eyes, and then his nose, and Watanuki has to quell the fussy urge to to toss him a handkerchief.
"Did you. Mean that? What you said. You....love me?"
Watanuki had never told anything but the truth, in this place. And Haruka, who had kept him company for so many nights here, would be profoundly disappointed if he were to start lying now. But the answer to Ryou's question is so intricate, so complicated. And Watanuki has been working rather hard to pretend not to see what he should have seen, what probably anyone with eyes would have spotted months ago. Only now--("There's only one thing I've ever wanted...")--it's come to face them both, and there's no avoiding it, not here.
"I do mean it," he answers soberly, and tries not to quail at the desperate hopeful look Ryou now sends his way. "I made a mistake a long time ago, in not telling certain people that I loved them. And I've had longer than you can imagine, to regret that. So while I'm able, you absolutely should know."
Now that that's out, he has to make himself hold Ryou's gaze, and steel himself for the rest.
"But I think you already understand. That I'm not someone you can confess to, Ryou. I am not at liberty, I'm not free to be that person for you. I'm still paying a price, and I can't go back on it."
"I know that," Ryou answers, subdued and unreadable now. "I mean, I was there, in all those dreams. I know how much my Grandfather Shizuka and Grandfather Haruka loved you, and they still couldn't change what you chose. I saw when you lost Yuuko-san. I saw what it did to you, from them."
"Then....you understand," Watanuki hazards.
"I understand about your choice." Ryou shrugs, and draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. "Maybe you'll have to wait for longer than I'm alive, and maybe not. But you should still have a person who loves you. And however it worked out, I wanted to be that person. I'm not talking about dates, or being a couple or any of that stuff. I just wanted to be the person who's by your side. For whatever you needed, as long as I could. That's all."
It does not escape Watanuki's notice, that Ryou is speaking in the past tense. And for the first time in this entire catastrophe, he lets himself take conscious measure of the anger that's been simmering away under his breastbone all this time. Quiet, cold, and so deadly that he doesn't dare let it out of the tightly sealed compartment where he's keeping it tucked away.
Hot noisy outrage is one thing, he's never had any trouble venting that. But this chill calculation is mortally dangerous; given the power at his disposal now it would be the work of moments, and so little effort for him to exact horrific lasting vengeance on Ryou's attacker, their family, their neighbors, all descendants of their line.
It would be too easy. And in a circumstance like this, anything that easy could only be a trap.
But that doesn't mean he's not tempted. That doesn't mean he doesn't blister under his responsibilities, his better nature, and his promises. It isn't enough to know Hitsuzen has a guaranteed recompense in store for the people who put Doumeki Ryou in this condition. Sometimes waiting on Hitsuzen isn't enough. Sometimes doing the job with one's own hands seems like all that will suffice.
The only thing keeping this killing rage sealed to stillness inside him, is looking at the face of the person who would pay the most, were Watanuki to act on it. Since before they ever met, Ryou has only ever desired one thing. And with all else that's been taken from him, Watanuki cannot allow himself to be consumed by repaying Ryou's hurts and losses a hundredfold.
Because between the action and the cost, it would surely consume him. Once it was done, there would be nothing left of the person Ryou has sought a connection with all his life. There would be nothing left of their friendship, all those years invested.
And what, Watanuki forces himself to consider, would become of Ryou then?
"I know I can't--," Ryou starts, but Watanuki raises a hand to quiet him. Still staring into his other hand, curled loose on his knee. Studying the cup of his palm, wondering for the ten-thousandth time, how he can have so much power at his disposal, and yet so few real choices.
"I'm not going to tell you that you can't know what you want, because you're only sixteen," he says, his throat feeling tight and dry. "It's insulting, and I respect you more than that."
"Oh good," answers Ryou. " 'Cause if you did, I'd have to call you a hypocrite. And a high school dropout."
Watanuki permits himself a rueful tight-lipped smirk, tipping his head to grant the point. God he feels so tired right now. So tired and so old. "I will say you shouldn't dismiss the worth of being part of a couple with someone, going on dates, any of that. Life changes us. The things we want, the things we regret, they will change. I've had a long time to see it. But regardless, the decision you're thinking of, this isn't the place to make it. When you wake up, you still have a long recovery ahead. That's the priority."
Glancing over, he sees Ryou has gone somber. "I'm not....gonna be the same person. When I wake up."
"Truthfully, I don't know. It's hard to tell, with injuries like yours."
"No." Ryou closes his eyes, shakes his head slowly. "I know. I can feel it. I'm the same here, because this is a dream. But when I wake up. It will be a lot harder. To talk, and understand things. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do those things I wanted. That's why I'm scared."
The stinging urge to tears comes on so sudden, that it near to doubles Watanuki over where he sits. Yes, oh yes this was why he'd made such rash choices in the past, why he used to sacrifice himself just to stop the suffering of others. Because this isn't right, it's too cruel, of all the people in the world, this should never have happened to this blameless young man.
But just as he cannot rage and fight, he is not permitted to shed tears now. Not when he's the only person in this place to whom Ryou can look for reassurance, or the strength he will soon need. Here and now, Watanuki must be strong enough for the both of them.
Clasping Ryou's hand, he remembers how he'd done this before. For a young girl's spirit, trapped in death beneath a hydrangea tree, unable to move on. "You know I will help you. No matter what happens. No matter how you seem, I will always know who you are. And you won't be alone."
"But. What if I'm--."
"No. Matter. What," Watanuki repeats, squeezing Ryou's hand. Just as he does, the breeze kicks up again, swirling dozens of sakura petals toward the engawa. One goes tumbling between them, and he reaches for Ryou's cheek, to get his attention.
"You're going to wake up soon. And everyone waiting will be very, very glad to see you."
At once, Ryou's eyes go wide, desperate and uncertain. "Wait, couldn't I just stay here awhile?"
"Certainly not. You only borrowed this dream, it's not yours to keep. Our time here is up, and the real world is waiting on us." The sakura breeze is a small whirlwind now, battering the petals thick between them, and he feels that tugging again, dragging him away.
"Watanuki!" Ryou calls, his hand slipping away, voice fading in the rushing wind.
"Remember your promise," Watanuki shouts back. Then an old vivid memory compels him to add, "Don't disappear!"
The wind and the petals are blinding, and then he's tumbling through dark space, sucked across nothingness at a dizzying speed, with a high piercing whistle, growing louder, going right through his head, and then the world, his body, the chaise in the parlor all slam him sideways at once, and he's hauling breath into his lungs in one huge painful gasp.
In that instant someone shrieks, and he blinks his eyes open, and oh this is worse than the worst hangover in the history of creation.
"Watanuki-sama! Can you speak? Are you all right?"
"Guunf," he answers, squinting against the painfully blinding sunlight. A head bends in and blocks the light, and he makes out a face, peering down on him in alarm. "Haa--Haruka...chan?"
"Oh thank goodness." Haruka sits back, pressing a palm to her forehead, before smoothing it back over her hair. "I didn't think you were breathing just now, oh, you put a scare into me."
This is possibly the most feeling he's heard from her all in one rush before, and even though he himself feels absolutely hideous, he can't help the reflexive urge to reassure. "M'alright. Just, need a bit," flapping one weak hand.
"You did something dangerous, I knew it. I was worried, you didn't answer the phone, I thought I should come and check on you--." Her words are rushed and scolding, and then they choke, her pale eyes going wide and overbright, one hand at her throat and the other over her mouth. Forcing back a cry, swallowing it down, while Watanuki's throat knots in sympathy.
"Sorry," he gets out. From her tone, from the strained lines about her eyes, staring at him, it's clear she's taxed past her limits, this was one more thing she didn't need to see, not right now. "I am fine." Or he would be, anyway.
"You saved him." A broken murmur over the tops of her knuckles. "My son woke up. Yesterday evening. He recognized his father, and me."
Watanuki knows no proper name for the feeling cracking open in his chest right now. It isn't just relief, it's more than fierce pride at Ryou, for fighting his way back to the world. There's a measure of trembling fear as well, the sort that follows the shock after a lighting bolt strikes, directly at one's side. And the immensity of his gratitude, swelling to proportions that make him feel miniscule by comparison.
Haruka is only a blur of bright wet in his vision; tears are tickling down his temples, and she shouldn't see him like this, no customer should see him like this, but if he weren't already lying down he would have collapsed with all of the everything breaking loose in him.
"Ryou. You made it." The words shivering out of him, like dry leaves borne on a wind gust. Up to the last moment in that dream, he hadn't been sure Ryou would find his way out. "I'm so glad."
"Can I bring you anything, Watanuki-sama? Tea, something to eat?"
It had worked. His gamble had paid off, the wish and the prices had balanced, and Ryou had come back. Watanuki doesn't need anything, save for a very long time before he has to grant another request in which he is so deeply invested.
"No, thank you." He wipes at his eyes and is about to suggest she go back to her family, or more hopefully go rest, it's so obvious she needs it. But then in the back of his mind, the conversation is rewinding, and something jumps out.
"I'm sorry. You said yesterday evening, Ryou-san woke up?"
Haruka nods. "Night before last, his vital signs improved. And then late yesterday, I thought I saw him move a bit. It was around half past six, when he opened his eyes."
"And. What time is it now?"
"Ah..." Haruka glances down to her wrist, only to find it bare. "I'm not sure. Sometime after three?"
Over a day and a half he'd been out, no wonder he feels so flattened. He must have cut it very close in that dream. Not to mention that he'd effectively poisoned himself, in order to deliver the spider venom. Given his current physical condition, he thinks it's safe to assume such a stunt would have killed him, fifty years ago.
No doubt this is part of his price as well. Though he knows it's worth it, absolutely.
"The doctors say if Ryou continues to improve, they could discharge him in a few days," offers Haruka.
Which means Watanuki should get up, catch up on the dusting, work out a space for Ryou to stay while he convalesces. And food. Ryou's appetite has come to rival Shizuka's the last few years, Watanuki needs to prepare for that too.
Only belatedly does he realize that his automatic attempts at untangling his legs from his long tunic and rolling upright are getting him nowhere, and that's only when Haruka puts a hand to his shoulder, pressing him gently back to the chaise.
"Watanuki-sama, you really don't look well. I'd feel better if you rested awhile longer."
"Sorry. I can't," he answers, despite that he's lying prone already, and doesn't appear to have the energy to get himself up. "Spare bed. Dinner. Things to do."
"I hope you'll forgive me, but I checked your refrigerator earlier, to see if you needed anything. I don't think you'll have to worry about meals for awhile. And I'm certainly capable of laying out a bed."
"Your family," Watanuki manages to answer, struggling to keep his eyes open. "I shouldn't keep you from them."
Haruka frowns at him. "Please pardon me for pointing out that you are in this condition, because you took an enormous risk to help my family. Even if I can't pay anything more to this shop, I feel strongly that I owe some help to you. At the very least, I am sure this is what my grandfather would have wanted."
Things are quickly going very hazy for him; his body is demanding rest, whether he wants it or not. Still he's aware she's played a rather unfair card, and manages to frown back and mumble, "Shizuka. Always hovering, such a nuisance."
As the dim heaviness of dreamless sleep closes over him, he thinks he hears a fond, exasperated sigh.
*****
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