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[keepingshop]

MAKE  A WISH.
( IF YOU CAN PAY THE PRICE ... )

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[that AU thread]

[piercesshadows]

[Classes were over, and as the last of his students exited the classroom, Doumeki finished wiping off the chalk from his fingers with a handkerchief. The board was clear, lecture notes and pen were already back in his file on the desk, and a cursory look around revealed that none of the students left anything behind this time.

There was one thing left for this post-class ritual, and Doumeki returned his stack of notes in the leather bag he'd tucked in his seat.

Kimihiro should be back soon, and they could begin their commute home.]

[keepingshop]

[ It was still odd -- still something he was getting used to, this not being, and while he'd agreed to the cost of things willingly, there was always a difference between knowing what the words of a contract were and experiencing their meaning firsthand. Maybe he'd reach an age, he thought, making his way to Shizuka's classroom, where he'd laugh about being seen through or forgotten entirely; then again, maybe he wouldn't.

Maybe he shouldn't.

One day he would get the hang of wish granting. Or this was his hope at least; he hated being so tired all the time.

Peering into the classroom -- the door ajar anyway, he stared just for a second. Shizuka didn't look all that different from high school, in his personal opinion. Or was it that he couldn't imagine him another way?

Hard to say. ]

Finished for the day?

[piercesshadows]

Mm.

[He glanced at Kimihiro, tension uncurling in his chest. Uninjured, and still very present.

No matter how many years passed, the fear that his partner would disappear like smoke under the moon never went away.

The clasp of the bag shut with a click. Crossing the gap between desk and door took only a few, steady strides, his free hand automatically reaching out to clasp Kimihiro's as he shut off the lights.]

You?

[They'd still have to pass by his office to pick up his jacket and their bento. At the department, he'd exchange customary goodbyes, his colleagues having already accepted he usually kept to himself after work, and didn't drink out often.

That suited Doumeki just fine.]

[keepingshop]

[ Useless pointless petty things still snuck into his thinking sometimes, which made him feel ordinary in a way he knew he wasn't quite anymore -- how unfair it was that Shizuka could close the distance so smoothly (what had he said to Mokona once, "unnecessarily" about his size), how the collar of his shirt could use pressing again --

-- how he took his hand as easily as saying 'You'. And, well, alright, that one was neither useless, pointless, nor petty.

It was nice.

An anchoring point in a world made of water.

Perhaps his thoughts took him away for a little longer than he meant. He seemed to hear Shizuka speak as if from a distance, and then catch up to the sound of his voice. Rather than answer him -- a bad habit that would die with him probably, if ever -- he turned his head away slightly to hide the small yawn -- the wishes today had been Something -- as he mumbled, squeezing his hand slightly, ]

Doesn't it look weird?

[ What did people even think Shizuka was doing when his hand was outstretched and curled where fingers should be? It makes him feel weirdly guilty even after all this time; and sometimes when Shizuka's colleagues invited him out, he would want to encourage him to go. Was that not normal? But Shizuka almost never went. ]

[piercesshadows]

No.

[The answer was the same, whether Kimihiro was referring to their hand holding or his supposed reclusiveness, and he gently squeezed his partner's hand for good measure. As far as Doumeki was concerned, the latter was but an extension of turning down invitations in favor of archery practice, or being involved with Kimihiro's errands for the Shop.

He would go when he wanted to, and not a day before.

As for the former -

Privately, he thought that being able to hold Kimihiro's hand in public without anyone batting an eyelash had its benefits. No doubt he'd be called shameless if Kimihiro caught wind of it, but Doumeki was beyond caring, using it to his advantage even for ordinary things like shielding Kimihiro from other people on the train.]

[keepingshop]

[ Pressing his lips thin on a comment on that answer, he sighs. The whys and whats of Shizuka staying by his side are things he willfully ignored before they were together, and then later accepted because the most selfish part of Watanuki Kimihiro doesn't bear his own name; it bears Shizuka's. As they go through the corridor, it's not lost on him how liked Shizuka is, and he notices too how disappointed his colleagues are when he turns down their invitations. These days it's a combination of Kimihiro actually knowing Shizuka doesn't much want to go out, and Kimihiro wanting him to be with him when he walks to the station and when he crams his invisible self into the train and people unwittingly almost press him into nothing.

Dangerous to want as much as he does no matter how many years go by, and yet it's ties such as the one they share that allowed him to exist in the first place -- to not disappear.

He doesn't suppose he'll ever stop owing him; doesn't suppose Shizuka would see it that way if he said it out loud regardless.

One of the customers today made a wish for someone who had already passed away and the price was so high it hurt him to grant it both in misjudging of the cost and also, simply, the nature of the boy's sadness: people are forgetting him; I don't want them to; I want them to remember him forever -- the way I do. If it had been a matter of changing their hearts, he would have just said no, but it wasn't that. Not exactly.

Thinking about this and the warmth of Shizuka's hand, he says in the voice no one else can hear no matter how close they might be, ]

What do you want for dinner?

[piercesshadows]

[Disappointment, he could deal with. He didn't talk much anyway even when he had to attend the obligatory department celebrations: inviting Kimihiro along meant he was similarly occupied.

The time for tallying debts was long past, and Doumeki was content to leave it at that. Accounting for his relationship Kimihiro like a transaction ledger was distasteful. Indeed, he sometimes worried if Kimihiro's role as the shopkeeper would begin to erode the other's sense of how relationships worked.

Then Kimihiro would be downcast after granting particularly painful wishes, and Doumeki would regret ever wondering.

Kindness had its price, beyond the Shop's barter.]

Tentamadon. And miso.

[This he murmured on Kimihiro's temple, barely moving even with the rocking of the train. Someone's bag dug into his side, and he ignored it. Once they got to their stop, it'd be over, and they'd be able to stretch their legs properly between the station and the apartment.]

[keepingshop]

[ "Isn't it more trouble?" He'd asked when they were still new -- well, old but new, and he'd reverted or realized he never truly grew out of his tendency to try to give people ways to not be with him or near him; the deepseated unconscious roots of someone who became a person who had every right to exist even if he ought not have. Shizuka just took his hand.

Thinking on that, it makes Kimihiro smile just a little, probably not even visible with how they're crammed in so close. Sometimes he imagines what it would be like if Shizuka couldn't see him either and it stops his breath like something taken outside of time itself. Selfishly he's thought before, nights after wishes that should leave him deep asleep but trap him wide awake, I would miss him. and It would hurt.

He hums acknowledgement of Shizuka's answer and nearly falls out of the train as they get to their stop and the doors open. It's not clumsiness; his sense of reality is a little vague outside of the Shop because that's what happens when no one knows you're there -- well, almost no one. If Shizuka wasn't there, perhaps Kimihiro would start to forget too; perhaps that's one reason that he's allowed to see him.

Who knows. ]

[piercesshadows]

[Automatically, he wound an arm around Kimihiro's waist to keep him steady, and steered him away from the influx of people.]

Hn.

[They might have adjusted to dealing with others trying to fill what they saw as empty space, but that didn't mean Doumeki approved of the pushing.

He held Kimihiro close like that for the rest of the walk home because he was a shameless man who preferred having his partner in his arms, though he'd reserve kissing the top of Kimihiro's head for the moment they stepped inside their house.

In many ways, serving as one of Kimihiro's anchors in this world was something that crept up on him with every errand. Every wish. Every sacrifice exchanged, running deep beyond words and silence. Doumeki would do it all over again for reasons that went beyond duty and diligence, and he could only hope it was enough for them to carry on like this.

(It wasn't ideal. Kimihiro was a social creature, he knew, and there ought to be a way for him to interact with others who didn't come seeking wishes... though part of him dreaded the cost.)]

[keepingshop]

[ The curl of Shizuka's arm around is waist is like a reminder: yes you exist, yes you are here. The kiss he receives to the crown of his head is more humanizing still: you are wanted. Not just as a price paid to avert disasters elsewhere (everywhere), not just as a promise created to be kept even if the meaning isn't entirely what he thought, not just as a placeholder for a woman who lived outside of time and made sure in all of it to give Watanuki Kimihiro a tangible place in this world. Human like this: the curl of Kimihiro's tapered fingers in Shizuka's collar as he lightly pulls and presses on it to neaten it -- unnecessary, since it's the end of the day, but he wants to, so he does. Human like this: the way he peers up at him thoughtfully and re-memorizes all the things he knows about Doumeki Shizuka.

It's a disservice, Kimihiro is old enough -- worked through enough -- to recognize: to call him 'enough'. Shizuka is more than enough. But that's neither here nor there when one has made oneself a living ghost. ]

Messy.

[ He tsks and lets his hands flatten and smooth out from the shirt collar to Shizuka's shoulders. If people could have seen them they would make quite a pair -- Kimihiro in his traditional clothes beside Shizuka in his work attire every day on the walk from or to the station.]

[vacation thread]

[piercesshadows]

[Keeping the important details of this vacation a secret from Kimihiro was a challenge and a half.

To begin with, there was the necessity of letting Kimihiro know that neither of them would be in the vicinity of home and Shop. Even on weeks unmarked by significant occasions, customers who had a need gravitated towards Kimihiro, who then would be obliged to at least hear them out. The Shop was better for such transactions thanks to the barrier surrounding it, and Kimihiro would have to prepare for his short absence in case any regulars dropped by, or the space within it warped as it had before Kimihiro reclaimed it and resumed his duties.

Secondly, there was the matter of food. A functional kitchen was a necessary requirement for whatever lodging they ended up with. Doumeki's preference for Kimihiro's food went against his desire to have Kimihiro rest and not stress over such things, and he had an inkling that cooking was far too ingrained into Kimihiro's routine that suggesting a break was in order was the equivalent to being denied alcohol.

So. While the option was certainly there, Doumeki also looked up the locations of the local markets and grocery stores.

Third was transportation. This he solved by hiding away their train tickets in the desk drawer at his office until it was his last working day before their trip.]

Almost there.

[Perhaps it paid off, several train stops and one boat ride later. Doumeki kept his eyes on the road as he drove, checking his GPS once in a while as he navigated to the rental house - old and refurbished, but not as old as the forests of the isle itself.]

[keepingshop]

Mmm. 'Almost'???

[ He half sighs and half intones.

Shizuka has been suspiciously closemouthed about this getaway, and that's saying something because it's Shizuka, who while much more verbal than he once was -- perhaps somewhat come of being one of the only people Kimihiro can talk to and therefore, necessary -- is still not exactly chatty. For there to be a downturn in his considerable brevity already, well, that's cause for all of the less than secretive looks Kimihiro aims at him over all the time leading up to it. This is also all, of course, after he was persuaded in the first place! He sort of knows when he's been worked on but sometimes maybe he likes it; the idea that he's not immune to things nor therefore disregarded; Shizuka is good at that -- making Kimihiro feel real.

So he pesters him about there where of things but not directly, makes foods with roots in various regions to see if he can nudge it out of him. To no avail. By the time they are in the car, Kimihiro is spending part of his time lamenting the weird sea-sickness the boat gave him (he actually thinks it was something spirit oriented but it dissipated so quickly he knew to go back would be impossible unless he wanted to learn to breathe underwater.) The other part of his time he is spending in resignation of not knowing where the heck they are and also being grateful for the warmth of the sun through the glass. He has his face pressed to his arms, which are pressed to the window's cushion, glasses askew.

Some of how tired he is, he thinks, is just worry. He dislikes leaving the Shop for a number of valid reasons.

But Shizuka never asks him for anything, and honestly Kimihiro wants to go, so go they did.

The bulk of how tired he is, however, is from work; two weeks prior there'd been an issue and a client that had brought such trouble it kept Kimihiro in the Shop for almost a week in and of itself with barely any time to send word to Shizuka to stay away -- a rarity these days but it did happen.

To be honest, Kimihiro doesn't even remember coming home at the end of all that even if he did wake up in Shizuka's arms.

So, yes, mostly work and some worry.

Which is also why Shizuka insisted on said trip.

Eyes shut, Kimihiro is aware the closer they get, of all the different things he can sense -- old magic, spirits, and senses of auras that he can't parse at too much of a distance but knows are there. This place feels...something. But then, most places out of the way do; they're less touched by humans and often older.

The nature of things. ]

[piercesshadows]

[Those varied culinary delights were accepted and partaken of. Every time, Doumeki would smirk once he finished dinner and leaned over to kiss Kimihiro's jaw, equally communicating 'thanks for the meal' and 'nice try,' pleased that his partner hadn't used his considerably large repertoire of spells to peek.

Uncertainty was a sign that one was still human. Doumeki never asked Kimihiro if he tired of knowing things that might be, though he did try to surprise his partner every now and then. This vacation just happened to be one of his larger gestures when they were both long overdue for one - especially Kimihiro, when his dealings with clients literally took his energy, and with how his memories of this side of reality might only be limited to Tokyo, and the one time they went to that gathering of collectors.]

Almost.

[He said this meaningfully when he saw Kimihiro close his eyes through the rearview mirror. That bout of sea sickness certainly didn't help with the exhaustion, though Doumeki was similarly concerned that the antiemetics hadn't worked.

Or, perhaps, the rocking of the boat wasn't the problem.

He'd ask when Kimihiro was in a calmer mood before their return trip.

As promised, however, they were nearby their rented lodging, and Doumeki soon turned right from the main road and reached a traditionally-constructed house with recent renovations for electricity and plumbing, not unlike his childhood home. After a quick discussion with the caretaker, they were let in, given the keys, and left to their own devices for the next few days, with the option to call on the caretaker if they needed anything or had questions about the area.

Incidentally, the back of the house would have a spectacular view past the boundary's edges and the scattering of trees spread out on the downward slope. It was to this porch that Doumeki led Kimihiro to if his partner hadn't seen it already, once he was done transferring things from the car to the inside of the house.]

There's somewhere I want to take you tomorrow.

[For now they could rest until dinner. That had been one very long trip.]

[keepingshop]

Oh?

[ It's soft the way he says it and this Kimihiro who is also the Shopkeeper is considerably different from an alternate version of himself who hides more of himself with every passing moment, who won't even let slip this kind of vulnerable utterance and replaces most of them with the shroud of smoke and a smile that's hotly debated in the spirit world as being more fox or cat like -- the large consensus being that it depends on the subject, and well it would. This Kimihiro lets 'oh' come out honest for Shizuka, for the forest that cascades the land the same as water might verdant and deep and old. Maybe it's the depth that reminds him of water; maybe it's Shizuka who's led him out here, the nearness of him. Kimihiro cannot quite say; but then again maybe it's like water despite being woods because it fills his whole heart to look at it.

He sways just a little, not enough to be truly off balance, though slightly heady with the many layers of magic both present and gone pulsing like a life force in the forest in and of itself. Old. Very old. And almost Kimihiro can taste it, how it wants to speak with him this sense of longing that has him take a step forward to the edge of the porch and pause. Yes. Old magic. And wild too, given its free reign over so very very long a time. It makes Kimihiro smile if a little uncertainly.

It doesn't feel dangerous; just independent.

Unconsciously, his hand blindly looks for Shizuka's and once finding it, insinuates his fingers between his to lace, pointedly not looking at him when he does so, downcast gaze enough that his lashes lay low and perhaps he even appears to have them shut as he says, ]

Well. I look forward to tomorrow then.

[ There is something that happened to Kimihiro when he made his contract with the Shop beyond ceasing to exist to others., beyond being erased or blown away like so much fine dust. Shizuka is the only one who can notice, if he does, and Kimihiro is fairly certain he does even if they don't talk about it -- the sometimes weightlessness of Kimihiro's hand in his, there but not there. And it's not a state of change or concern; Kimihiro never changes. If anything, that's the problem for them some time down this path -- much further, Kimihiro hopes, much. But the sense, as if the universe is trying to remind even the two of them what Kimihiro isn't anymore, varies from ignorable to unsettling.

Perhaps right now, in the face of all the beauty and proof of time and Earth and Sky and Things even Kimihiro doesn't have his whole vision wrapped around, it can be discarded.

He prefers to think about 'tomorrow'; and wonders what the chances are of getting Shizuka to tell him more before then.

Not high, if the past few weeks are anything to judge by but that doesn't mean he won't ask. ]

[piercesshadows]

Aa.

[His touch met Kimihiro's, drawn as he ever was to his partner, and indeed didn't comment on the flux of physicality, choosing instead to tuck Kimihiro's hand on the crook of his arm.

Now was not a time to discuss such shifts of corporeality, nor to consider how many dead ends he's come across in his search to give Kimihiro a way out of that deal.

(The forest around them was old. Doumeki was perhaps grasping straws at this point, but if anything here, in a place where the trees and stones bore witness to old rites long forgotten, could be of use...

It was a shot in the dark, a secondary thing to getting Kimihiro to relax. If he found something, he'd set aside time to study it once they got back to the city, and not before.)

Now - would Kimihiro want to explore the house and the yard, or lay down? Doumeki himself needed to stretch his limbs after the boat ride and the drive, either option would satisfy that.]

[keepingshop]

[ if asked in the car, Kimihiro would have opted for rest. Now faced with the yard and subsequent woods, he pauses a moment before yielding to his residual nausea and turning back towards the house. ]

Shall we have a look?

[ The cant of his head is playful as he heads back in without waiting, Shizuka in tow. He starts with the kitchen though which might be a mistake as then he ends up spending so much time in there that it's possible Shizuka would have been better off looking at the rest without him. He's assessing what he might make for dinner and also breakfast the next day as he does so, opening and closing drawers, cabinets, the refrigerator, so on and so forth. He's pretty much thoroughly acquainted himself with it when he stands up too fast, lightheaded. It's easy enough to lean on the counter though, letting himself re-orient before dazedly making his way to a chair or sofa or clean expanse of floor -- whichever comes first honestly -- to sit down. He does this all with an unconscious grace that he doesn't always invoke outside of his work, but sometimes it slips in, the near austerity of his motions really just the result of being careful.

Not sea-sickness, he thinks to himself dully. Is it something he should look into? He hadn't a sense of it before coming here and even now it remains as vague to him as ever, which isn't so common given how powerful he's grown to be.

Worrying.

Guilt gnaws at him to stop thinking about work but it's not like he leaves the Shop and the spirit world stops too.

And if it makes him feel this way it's usually...not the best sign.

His hands rest listlessly in his lap, and he closes his eyes to let himself breathe back some calm; some focus.

He'll do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done.

That is part of his job.

It's fine.

For now, he re-focuses on the smell of the woods, Shizuka's presence, and the gentleness of the quiet out here.

It feels, he thinks, very kind inside of its wild heart. ]

[piercesshadows]

[On the contrary: he was content watching Kimihiro orient himself with the kitchen, checking the available dishes, cutlery, pots, pans, and appliances, the corners of his owm mouth tipped in a fond smile as he listened to 'oohs' and 'ahhs' and catches of phrase, the usual commentary. What they'd have for dinner and breakfast would be based on what they brought with them, to be replenished once they got to the local market and saw what was available.

Given how they were so near the sea, it was reasonable to expect there'd be a lot of seafood, cheaper than what they'd get back at Tokyo.

Before he could remark on this, however, he saw it - a break in Kimihiro's movement. Doumeki was immediately at his side, guiding him to sit on a chair he'd pulled back with a hooked ankle, and knelt before him.]

Oi.

[Gently, he cupped Kimihiro's cheek and checked for any changes in temperature, fingers dipping below that smooth jaw to feel his pulse. This wasn't normal - if this was motion sickness from the car ride, Kimihiro would've looked ill at some point during the drive.

Doumeki frowned.]

What happened?

[keepingshop]

Nothing, [ His knee-jerk response even now and he amends it almost immediately, ] -- nothing I'm sure of. Yet. [ It both amuses and frustrates him to remember how he would angst over Yuuko's way of wording things -- back when he didn't know any better, when he didn't understand. Now, unable to avoid it much of the time himself, painstakingly having learned and still yet learning the different dangers of how one says things and how one stays quiet, he has taken on much of her way of expressing himself. At the beginning it was too much; like he thought he could call her back by vesting enough of her inside of himself; Shizuka had been one person to point out he could not and while Kimihiro had said 'I know', he hadn't; not really. Not until enough considerable mistakes were made.

Shizuka's hand at his jaw then his fingers against his neck are all points of comfort; points of anchoring. Kimihiro's eyes flutter shut, only then realizing he'd opened them before at all. ]

I'm alright, [ he pauses, his own hand gliding up to cover his in an unintentionally delicate reassurance. ] If it's anything for me to take care of, I will.

[ And of course what he means is: I can. ]

But it's not here. It was...when we were on the boat.

[ Here perhaps he realizes a slight mistake; he hadn't told Shizuka he'd felt anything then, and indeed nothing else thereafter until now when his own body begged lenience for just a second, just to readjust with Shizuka close and the forest quiet not far and the gentle absence of most people if not spirits. It really is helpful, he can feel how much worse the miasma would have clung to him in a less pure place. Shizuka chose well; but then again, Shizuka usually does.

Not that he'll say so, but, the truth is the truth. ]

[piercesshadows]

[Yet.

Doumeki listened without judgment, turning over his hand to bring their palms together, massaging the dips between sharp knuckles while the back of his own hand warmed Kimihiro's neck.

He had to concede that, most of the time, trouble found the Shopkeeper. Human niceties mattered little when the consequences of circumstances happened and the right time to deal with them came about. For this reason, he merely quirked an eyebrow at Kimihiro's lateness in communicating the specifics of what happened in the boat, and was at least glad he'd been brought into the loop now rather than during the return trip.]

Malevolent, or old?

[Apart from the place he planned to take Kimihiro to tomorrow, this island had other features that, in theory, would lessen their connection from their usual routine: it wasn't heavily populated, the forest was old, and it was an island surrounded by water: in other words, whatever things that tried to follow them should have been discouraged after they crossed the sea, and any ill intent other tourists might bring with them may very well have been dwarfed by the sheer age and austerity of the rocks and trees.

Deities of the seas were often seen as benevolent, though Doumeki hadn't met any of them, and Kimihiro never said if the Ame Warashi spoke of them. However, perhaps sea gods and dragons weren't the only entities that resided in the depths, and he wondered if that was what affected Kimihiro.]

— shopkeeper

[ingestion]

( it was finally over; the god that festered inside of heather had been killed and those who still ran the cult that heather had grown up in were dead. despite having saved the world from what the cult called 'paradise' and having survived her ordeal, heather was not satisfied. she had been out on a mission for revenge, to kill the cult leader who killed her father. unfortunately she had failed in this.

when she was born as alessa, daughter of dahlia, she had been a very submissive and quiet girl. it was when she made the choice to ruin her mother's plans to birth the god the first time around, that she began to unravel a rebellion in her. a rebellion that carried on in her new incarnation as heather.

she would not be happy until she could get revenge for the death of her father, an act of rebellion she knew wasn't right. yet she couldn't stop the hatred from flowing-

and even now that she had killed the thing that caused all this, there was a feeling of emptiness inside. in her travels to find the woman responsible for her father's death and her carrying the seed of the new god, she hadn't had time to mourn her father. he was the man who despite her not being his real daughter had protected her from the cult and raised her with love. he encouraged her to be herself [even if she couldn't technically due to hiding from the cult] and was the best father anyone could ask for.

so how dare she, claudia, kill her father? to use him as a catalyst to make heather mad, to use her anger to feed their god was barbaric. even if she had won in the end, had liberated the world from this god and of the cult, she was still angry and stressed.

so wandering the streets, late at night [still covered in blood and tears], she roamed about aimlessly. she had spent the past few days roaming around silent hill, fighting monsters and defending herself from the manipulation of the cult. heather had not slept and although she wasn't the best looking girl around, she looked even worse now. her acne flared up even more now and her eyes were red from the tears.

eventually, in her aimless travels, she stumbled upon a bird. it was the most beautiful bird she had seen, the most innocent thing she had witnessed in days. it had been so long since she had thought about anything outside of the monsters that haunted her, outside of getting revenge, and outside of her father. this beauty drew her to it, causing her to run after the bird who flew away.

much like a child chasing after a balloon, she eventually caught the bird. only thing was she found herself standing before an ominous looking house. )

Where...where am I?

( she muttered to herself, standing before the door and looking at the wooden frame. had she not learned her lesson about going into random doors? had she not seen the way god's servant had tortured her past selves, hanging from a wall? why would she go in at all when the risk was too great?

regardless of these fears, heather found herself moving forward and pushing past the doors. greeted by two young girls, she found herself kicking her boots off and being dragged along to a room. with the thick smell of incense and a light fog covering her, heather eventually stood before a man who made her visibly gasp. )

I'm sorry? I'm not sure...how I got here. I guess I should leave.

[keepingshop]

( the pain radiating off of heather mason is the first thing he feels and he feels it days before she arrives. by the time she actually is drawn to the shop, watanuki has had enough time to consider and reconsider the multitudes represented by the girl both past and present, and while he's not outright clairvoyant, he has a sense he knows what she will ask for.

it's in her right to ask -- well within her right.

but a great deal of things are within one's right to ask and not necessarily still intended for one to receive.

if the shopkeeper is, as years pass, more watanuki and less kimihiro, it isn't for a lack of trying to preserve himself. he has no intent of keeping his promise only to come out the other side of time a stranger to himself. yet encounters like these require that the mantle he wears be not just regalia of ceremony but almost of quiet war -- not with the client but rather, with himself. he's had enough decades to learn from his mistakes -- about cost, about failure to exact said cost, about the tenuous nature of even his most well instated and worn habits; bred by observation, time, and love.

it's the love part that always gets him.

here is a person whose very being has been thieved through and through but she retains herself somehow, that which remains is entirely heather mason, and even through the fog and smoke of the room, the shopkeeper can tell.

it wouldn't hurt so much otherwise -- the coexistence of loss that never stops hurting but also never lets you yield; not when you are the sort of person the girl is.

behind the smoke, he leans up light as almost not being there at all, today's kimono dark blue with faded gold chrysanthemums painted into its waves that are as silent as the person they remind him of. it spills down to the floor behind where it parts and bare feet show, likewise the dip of the cross at the chest doesn't do much but it's almost like clothing is like the smoke from his borrowed pipe or the glint of light off the glasses he peers at her through -- there but not really the point of anything at all.

his smile is probably not trustworthy.

not after everything she's been through.

but he smiles anyway, bowing his head in a show of respect and greeting. he cannot treat her like a child because she isn't one, not really; but the temptation under all the layers of his occupation is there -- to care for, to let them know they are cared for, to not let anyone be lonely if they don't have to or want to be.

that's the kimihiro in him, he supposes, and gently shuts him away.

he blinks, his expression languid; it might put her in mind of summer evenings too humid and uncomfortable to sleep, or perhaps of full moons and butterflies, or, perhaps, of a white bird that flies to him now and lands on his pale hand as he says )

This is a shop and you've been brought here. ( he nods at the bird that seems to kiss his wrist with a soft extension of its wing before taking off to perch on the furniture instead. ) And you would have found it anyway, as you've a need of this place, or rather, a question to ask me, I believe.

( he doesn't get closer but perhaps he seems closer as he says just as mild yet weighted despite his next words being, )

Do you drink tea?

[ingestion]

( disoriented is what heather appears to be-

she stands before watanuki with her head moving about, taking everything before her. from the bird fluttering to him to the sparkles in the robe he wore, it all made her stand before him like a deer in front of headlights.

eventually though she composes herself, enough to speak. )

Tea?

( at a time like this, at a place like this. the very thought was ridiculous, especially considering she didn't trust people easily. how could she be sure she could drink said tea without being poisoned. after all his language was far too familiar to that of one of the cult members.

yet he looked to be her age, he wasn't an adult like the others [or so she thought]. maybe this meant she could trust him, even if there was an air about this place that just felt odd. )

You know, someone told me something like that before. Turns out he just wanted to use me for his own purposes. How can I trust you?

( like the teenager she was, she was quick to rebel against anything imposed upon her. she won't sing to his tune until he utters those words-

'what's your wish'.

it was the only way to diminish the flame that still fueled her anger. )

[keepingshop]

( he knows without asking that he's not trusted because why would anyone? he certainly didn't -- at the start, so long ago. and he can see clearly the girl's pain and distress both emotional and physical, can feel it like something terrible and burning that has claws that hurt both others and itself in its endeavors -- not the girl herself but a thing that clung to her whole existence and multiple times at that; his heart hurts. but none of this acknowledgment shows; he doesn't even speak to the blood on her because if he was trying to make himself more untrustworthy, he suspects offering for her to wash up is a one-way ticket for that.

unmoved by her statement -- he knows; he really does, can't help but know -- to the naked eye, he simply cants his head slightly.

the tiny movement causes his earring to ping, the metal of it and the hanging gems curiously musical even in the noise of it. )

You don't have to trust me. But you are here for a reason. No one who comes here comes for no reason; they can't. They come to me because they have something they want though, not the other way around.

( the look he lays out between them is not unlike a dealer of cards but he doesn't come closer to her; he'll let her decide if she comes in further or walks away. some do, after all.

some run. )

You do have a wish, do you not?

( of course she does. he's not asking for lack of knowing; but maybe, he supposes, she doesn't know -- or hasn't had time to even entertain the transition of loss and grief to regretful longing; or perhaps she has and he's forgetting himself because admittedly even if one's life is wound up with the reincarnated terror of a god and the bloody path attached, it's possible a shop of wishes is a tad too much on top of it; he'd give her that.

at this point, the smoke is gone and maru and moro have reappeared, unapologetically standing at heather's side with fresh towels and a basin of water.

he smiles softer. they take such good care of everyone -- him included. )

[ingestion]

( the more this man spoke, the more heather found herself paralyzed. it felt as if her legs were melting into the floor under her, sinking her down further and further. it wasn't beyond the possibility of someone knowing about her- after all that detective was able to figure out where she lived and help the cult in finding her. however the realization that someone knew about all she went through made her sick. sick that someone else could have such an intimate view of her-

something she felt deeply in silent hill. that the adults there were simply preying upon her and watching, knowing everything she didn't know. yet that feeling began to transform when he mentioned the wish aspect. it also helped that the girls had returned with water and towels.

it was the first nice gesture she had been given in a long time. it was enough to cause her to fall to her knees before the man and observe every little detail. the way the smoke from the incense wrapped itself around him, the design of the earring that pinged previously. the entire scene made her head spin; mentally she was a mess and hadn't been given a chance to recover.

finally, after a few moments of silence, she looked up directly at watanuki and spoke. )

Yeah....I want....

( she hesitates, like a stray child looking for hope. she isn't sure if she should ask but....

harry mason was her entire world. he was her precious father whom embarrassed her by telling her to be careful, who spoiled her with attention, and wasn't controlling- only protective. he didn't say anything at all about the way she dressed, how she would sometimes steal, or her humor. he simply supported and loved her, even if he had once desired to end her life. )

I want him back. I want my father back, I want Harry Mason to be brought back to life and for Claudia....for Claudia to be brought back so I can kill her myself. It isn't fair, why did she have to swallow God and die giving birth to it?

[keepingshop]

( the magic of the shop and the magic inside himself is not the same but the two have been entwined so long at this point it's hard sometimes to tell them apart -- watanuki a mere conduit for a power that no number of decades can make him as fluent as he would like to be. other times, he isn't fluent so much as instinctive. and still other times it's a shot in the dark's scramble of these things. with heather's wish, even before she says it, he can feel both power and imbalance surge under his skin -- a sensation that peels itself off like the dead heat of midday to reveal the cold spine of lightless hours. it weighs as worlds do -- because that's what life and death are; worlds -- and maybe his years of being in this post have come to something after all because he neither staggers nor sighs.

he does: look at heather directly, walk closer but not too close, fold his hands under his elbows to keep them where she can see them, and pause.

this person deserves so much more than she'll ever be given and it's this kind of knowing that hurts the most perhaps -- the ability to see but not change, not as much as one would like or as much as one deems fair. because it isn't up to him beyond a certain degree and those degrees make themselves apparent in sharp unforgiving lines where this girl's fate is concerned.

but such a person hasn't surrendered yet; such a person stands here covered in blood and tears and the unfairness of things and still contains in her the thing that allowed her to come here at all. such a person is, whatever the outcome, strong.

he wonders if that's a thing about strong people though -- the aloneness of them.

then he slots that thought away; the shopkeeper has no room for that and watanuki can think on it later -- as he will.

for now, he tilts his head briefly then says -- even, quiet, honest, )

Wishes for death and life are too high in cost. There is nothing you could give to balance them.

( not waiting for her reply, he continues, but he does move past her, pausing at the screen door to the hall in a manner that suggests she might follow him; though part of him knows that's only 50/50 at best. )

But there may be other things you can ask for, yes?

( it's not remotely hypothetical; the few exceptions to this rule almost always have the same face, which is an irony as that face is the reminder of his own human wish he won't ever give word or full thought to. but that's neither here nor there.

without even looking at her, the shopkeeper can feel the multiple lives and the shadows and the relentlessly jagged parts of everything that has gone into heather mason and everything that has been taken from her all in the single span of his exhale; he can feel it and it's no shock that it hurts. he can't tell her what to ask him for, which may prove too aggravating for her; if she leaves before they get there, his shop will remain open to her should she seek him again if that's the case, because a customer is a customer.

the door has to be open, just in case.

but for now he waits. perhaps she will tough out the verbal maze of this transaction; in his opinion, she's already done much harder things, but that's all subjective; isn't it? )