XXXHolic Fan Fiction ❯ Thank Hitsuzen ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: Thank Hitsuzen
Pairing: Watanuki/Doumeki
Rating: NC17
Length: 5,017 words
Summary: Written as part of the xxxHolic Minibang. Prompt follows. Inspired by art created by Alexiel_neesan, placed in the story at the appropriate spot. Doumeki is quiet and brooding as he enters the shop to find it too quiet. He thinks about his life's choices and wonders about fate. Meanwhile, Watanuki has come to a decision of his own that has the potential to change the way Doumeki views hitsuzen. How does Watanuki come to this decision? By spying on one of Doumeki's dreams. What he sees makes him... wake up, as it were.

The prompt:
Like a stone
That rolls down a hill
I have come to this day.
[Ishikawa Takuboku]

For a long time, I've been wondering what Doumeki thinks about the effect Hitsuzen has had on his life. Mostly he appears to shrug it off, like everything else, but I wonder about the times it must be difficult for him. Choices he would rather have made, things he's had to sacrifice, for a person who mostly treats him like a nuisance. Does he ever despair over it? What keeps him going?



The story:

Silence greets me as I enter the shop. No Maru or Moro welcoming me. No Mokona bouncing like a hyperactive plushie come to life. Only the sound of my shoes on the walkway.

I grit my teeth and kick off my shoes, trying to stem the rising panic. After all, the shop is still here, I’m still able to enter it. Just because it’s quiet doesn’t mean anything bad has happened.

Somehow, I can’t quite bring myself to believe it, though. In the entire time I’ve known Watanuki, quiet has never been an indicator that things are good. Sure, he’s changed since he inherited the shop – he’s calmer now, more thoughtful. But I can’t think of those changes as a good thing.

He’s grown in power. He’s harder to rile up. He’s less like a skittish housecat now, and more like a big cat. Proud and in control like a lion, except lions are solitary, and he’s at least more sociable with the girls… Maybe he’s more like a cheetah. Well, he always was as fast as one. But he doesn’t need to run anymore.

So where the hell is he?

I stalk toward the kitchen. He won’t appreciate it if I don’t put the groceries away before I search the house to make sure he’s safe.

Sometimes I wonder why I continue to come. It’s not like he needs me anymore. Yes. I bring groceries. But although I’m fool enough to keep searching for an answer to his exile in this shop, I’m not idiot enough to believe that he couldn’t live without me. There are plenty of people who would be willing to run errands for him. He could even hire someone. So why do I keep coming to visit when it’s apparent I’m neither wanted nor needed?

Then again, my thumb strokes the side of the ring on my forefinger, and I think maybe I am wanted. Even if it’s only as a safety device – he does trust me. That is something after all.

I never would have imagined this. The kindest person I’ve ever met – even if he is a total spaz and an idiot to boot – living in isolation, me forsaking the temple to study folklore while acting as his errand boy on the side. Strange how the natural progression of events from our choices takes us down the road of our lives. Looking back, you’d imagine you could isolate the point where – ah, if I’d done this instead, it would have turned out like THIS instead. But there isn’t such a point.

Yuuko would have called everything hitsuzen. But I refuse to believe it. I make my own destiny. I choose to be here, I choose to be here for him.

Groceries away, I stalk through the shop. Where is everyone?

And then I catch a whiff of smoke. Ah. The porch.

When I step through the shoji door, I see that he’s set up a picnic of sorts. There are sushi rolls and inarizushi, dango, and he’s even set up a little brazier over which yakitori is grilling – the source of the smoke. His voice is soft, but it carries: “I was starting to think you weren’t coming today.” Turning the yakitori, he continues, “I shouldn’t have worried. You always show up when you’re hungry.”

No, I always show up so I can check up on you. The food is merely a fringe benefit, not compensation for the effort. But I say nothing as I sit down.

“Did you get all the groceries I asked for?”

I nod as I grab a piece of tuna roll. “In the kitchen.” I pop it in my mouth – delicious as always.

“You didn’t just leave it out, did you? Because some of that stuff will go bad if it’s not refrigerated properly.”

I just look at him. I’m not an idiot – although you’d never tell from the way he talks to me. He sighs and begins pulling the yakitori off the grill.

I continue eating. He made inarizushi, my favorite. As I take a bite, I pause and look up at him.

There is a reason why I enjoy the food he makes so much. It’s not just that he’s an amazing cook. He is. But more than that, if you’re paying attention, you can taste the feelings of the chef who cooked your food. The food Watanuki makes, you can taste the purity, the kindness, the very essence of who he is, in every bite. When you taste food Watanuki makes, it makes you believe in the better parts of life.

Yet, it’s like a seasoning, it accents the flavor of the food, but that’s all. It tastes almost as if he’s trying to hide himself, like he doesn’t want anyone to really know him that well.

Until today.

He’s continuing with the yakitori. I look back at my food and take another bite, and suddenly, I want to laugh. I can’t hold it in. I know my expression hasn’t changed, but I’m laughing as I’m eating. Because the taste…

It tastes like purity and…

I grab a yakitori and try it. It’s smoky perfection and it tastes like hope.

I never want to stop eating if it tastes like this.

“Is the yakitori cooked enough?” he asks, still not looking at me.

Swallowing the bite in my mouth, I nod. You’ve never cooked anything less than delicious. But today, it all tastes like a miracle.

Before I know it, the food is all gone, and he’s already stacked up all the dishes on the tray for cleanup. “It’s hot out today, don’t you think?”

A noncommittal grunt is my reply.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and takes the tray inside.

While we were eating, the sun had sunk below the fence, and the western sky was now blazing in orange, fuschia, and purple, fading up to a rich azure overhead, the brightest of the stars already visible.

“Here. Dessert.”

A creamy-peach colored frozen pop on a stick in front of me, I look up at him, eyebrow arched in question.

“They’re homemade popsicles.” Ah. I take the stick and place the tip in my mouth. It’s creamy and rich, and tastes like strawberries and peaches. But somehow, even though it’s frozen, ice cold, the flavor makes me feel warm somehow.

He lounges again, holding his own treat. “I thought they might help with this… heat,” he says.

The pop still in my mouth, I look up to see him staring at me. When he sees me looking at him, he closes his eyes and brings his own pop up to his lips. He holds it sideways, runs his lips over its entire length. The image makes me bite my own treat practically in half.

Then his mouth opens and his little pink tongue wraps around it as he licks from the base up to the tip. I convulsively swallow and then my jaw hangs open as he sucks on the treat. In. Out.

Dear god, he’s able to get the entire pop down his throat. His eyes open before he slides it back out of his mouth, and he’s staring at me. An audible “pop” sounds as it slips out of his lips entirely. “Your dessert is melting down your hand, Shizuka.” His voice is deeper than normal, and I blink at him, my jaw snapping closed.

Shaking myself aware, I see he’s right. Does he know what he’s doing to me? He must, he’s not an idiot.

I bite the rest of the treat off the stick, and as it melts in my mouth, I recognize the underlying flavor in these treats – the thing I couldn’t recognize before. Desire.

When I look over, he’s still looking at me and his eyes catch mine as he slides his pop back in his mouth. A moan rips from me as I swallow. He slides the clean stick out of his mouth, and then reaches over to grab my hand.

“Messy,” he says and begins licking and sucking the creamy treat off my hand.

Once my brain catches up with the lower one, I croak out, “Why?” He just keeps sucking on my fingers. Oh, god. He’s closed his eyes and… is he moaning?

Ripping my hand out of his grip, I grab him by the shoulders and shake him. His mismatched eyes smile at me as he looks at me. “Why are you doing this, Kimih- Watanuki? I need to know.”

His mouth twists up in a smirk. “Because I want to,” he says before his lips attach themselves to mine.

The taste of his tongue in my mouth is even better than anything he’s ever cooked. I wrap my arms around him, my fingers run through his hair. I can’t believe this is real. When we break for breath, I look down at him and he’s smiling shyly. “Watanu-“ I get out before he places a single finger over my lips.

“Call me Kimihiro, Shizuka.”

And then, he’s standing up, grabbing my hand, smiling, and walking backward into the house.

I’m probably just dreaming. This can’t be real. Kimihiro.


X


*flashback*

“You can’t make Shizuka do something that he doesn’t want to do.” Haruka’s gentle voice was amused.

Rolling his eyes, Watanuki replied, “Of course not. He’s a stubborn ass. But I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t want to get on with his life! He spends too much of his time here when he should be…” He looked down, away from the man that looked so – so very much like the person they were discussing. “Dating. Falling in love. Getting married. LIVING his life.”

Blowing out a ring of smoke, the dead man said, “You’re worried about him.”

“Well… He’s such an idiot – I mean, he’s spent this long in college, you’d think he’d learn something. Someone has to look out for him.”

“Mmm,” came his amused voice. “Well, I’m sure he’s very happy to have you watching out for him.”

“Right. Then why doesn’t he ever listen to me. He yelled at me the last time I told him he should take a night off and go on a date. Said he was going to be here whether I liked it or not. What the hell! I mean, it’s not like I don’t want him around. The girls and Mokona all have more fun when he’s here.”

Haruka gazed thoughtfully at the young man before him. “What about you? Do you have more fun when he’s near?” Watanuki quickly turned his face, but not before Haruka noted a blush color the seer’s cheeks. “You know,” he continued pensively, “I’m surprised with how concerned you are that you haven’t snuck a peek in his dreams to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Snuck a peek…?”

Laughing, the spirit of Doumeki’s grandfather explained, “Dreamwalkers can look into other people dreams. It’s… not exactly ethical – it’s like reading someone’s personal diary, except a person can control what they write in their diary. They can’t control what they dream. Which means, if you do peek in someone’s dreams, you’ll see right into their very soul. So, as you can see, not very ethical. But when you’re that worried about someone…

“I remember when Shizuka’s father was a teenager – and seemed to be rebelling, hanging out with a very rough crowd – I snuck a peek. Saw some things I’d rather not have seen. But, it did make me understand him better. Maybe if you looked in Shizuka’s dreams, you’d understand why he comes over so frequently.”

The seer contemplated the possibility. Spying on the big oaf. Would it be worth it to understand the idiot? But what if he saw something he’d rather not see? Seriously, though, it’s not like that guy had anything to really hide. Did he? Heck, the guy never showed any emotions anyway. What would there even be to see? But maybe there’d be something…

He was broken from his thoughts by Haruka’s voice, “If you do take a look, make sure you stay for the whole dream. People’s unconscious makes them work through their thoughts. If you leave in the middle, you might miss the whole point of the dream. Even if what you see is uncomfortable, remember that you were the one who decided to spy, so you have to stay ‘til the end.” He ruffled the hair of the seer. “Have a good night, Watanuki.”

And then, he was gone.

Should he really go through with this?

Doumeki was giving up his life to help him. It wasn’t fair to the moron that Watanuki’s decision to remain in the shop made it impossible for him to move on. Maybe, in the dream, there’d be a solution to giving the fool a happy life.

Mind made up, he nodded to himself, and the temple faded away. He floated through the world of dreams until he reached the spirit consciousness of the man in question. He wasn’t dreaming yet- Oh! One was starting. Good timing.

Flickering light, from many candles, lit the scene before him. There was Shizuka, kneeling in front of another… another man. From where he was watching, three-quarters of the other man’s back was to Watanuki – he couldn’t see this guy’s face, but he was completely naked, and it was obviously a man, not a woman. Which meant…

“Tell me what you want,” the archer’s voice was low and rough.

No response came back, but two thin hands grabbed hold of the archer’s head and pulled it close, pulled until the companion’s cock had completely filled Doumeki’s mouth. And Doumeki started humming as he sucked and licked. The noises were…

They were obscene. Watanuki found his hands covering his mouth. Doumeki was… was gay!?! He shouldn’t be watching this! But… Haruka said he needed to stay to the end, so…

It wasn’t like he WANTED to see more.

And the moans of this other person – this person taking advantage of his Doumeki – were becoming louder, more shrill. Suddenly, he pushed the archer back causing him to release him with a loud pop. He pulled the archer up to stand in front of him – the archer was taller than this mysterious man – and kissed him thoroughly.

When they broke apart for breath, the archer smirked and said, “You still haven’t told me what you want.”

A trilling laugh was heard. Then a voice that was somehow familiar – yet more beautiful than any voice he could recognize spoke. “Koibito. You are always so attending to my needs. Does it always have to be *me* that wants?” The archer’s face clouded and he quickly continued. “Yes, yes. I know. You need to hear it. You need to know that I want you to fill you and be filled by you. So, my giant idiot, I’ll tell you. I want to bend you over and fill you with my very essence. And then when you’re filled to dripping, I want you to fold me in half, and pour yourself in me until neither of us can tell who is who.”

The big idiot smirked at the response and immediately bent over, grabbing his own cheeks and spreading them for the mystery person. And then, the mystery person poured some oil over himself, over the protector’s opening, and thrust in smoothly.

Shizuka’s head rolled back, his mouth open, “Nnn. Nnn.”

Mystery man had grabbed Doumeki’s hips, and was thrusting in earnest. Watanuki watched, fascinated and horrified.

He was reminded of those manga Yuuko used to leave lying around, open to the most intimate scenes, in an attempt to embarrass him, he was sure. But comparatively, those scenes were much more… sterile. This was wet and messy and…

God, so hot.

And disturbing because some strange guy was fucking his Doumeki in the ass! Doumeki was dreaming about being fucked by…

And then the body shivered as he exploded into the archer. Whose smile became predatory now.

“Now that we’ve proven you’re not a girl…” he pulled forward, off the man’s expended cock and turned around, grinning.

What. The. Hell. Doumeki NEVER grinned like that. Like a wolf about to feast. Watanuki felt his heart leap into his throat.

“It’s my turn.” He pulled the other man into a kiss. That poor guy hadn’t even fully recovered yet – his shoulders heaving from his release – when Doumeki practically threw him onto his back on the center of the bed.

It was then that Watanuki finally could see the identity of Doumeki’s dream lover. Shaggy black hair was not long enough to cover the mismatched eyes that looked up at the archer in a haze of love and lust.

He watched as his dream-self grabbed his own knees, holding them up and apart to open access to his passage. Now it was Doumeki’s turn to apply the oil. But instead of thrusting, he teased the dream-Watanuki’s opening. And one hand was fondling the dream-seer’s cock, helping it ease back into a state of full attention. Only when the dream-seer was fully hard again, did Doumeki continue.

Slowly – so slowly that the dream-Watanuki was arching off the bed and moaning – Doumeki eased himself inside of his lover.

“God, stop teasing me, you big jerk, and fuck me!”

The real Watanuki stifled his own moan. He couldn’t agree more.

The view he now had was the back of Shizuka, as he was slowly riding his dream self. Moans and sloppy noises filled the air. Still he continued.

And then the voice of the person being fucked cried out, “Oh, god, Shizuka! I’m going to- Ahhhhhh!” His back arched even further as his dream-self’s semen exploded out across his own chest. The archer simply continued to thrust – almost lazily.

“Damn you and your stamina! I want you to come inside me!”

Even with his back to Watanuki, he could practically FEEL Shizuka’s grin. “As you wish,” he said, and then began pounding the body beneath him. And the body beneath him was enjoying it – the dream-seer’s cock was now erect. Again! And his back was arched. Shizuka pulled him up higher and asked, “There?”

At the shift in position, Watanuki’s head began to flail from side to side, and he screamed, “YESSSSS!” Then, gasping for breath between screams, “Oh, God! Shi- zu- ka! Yes! Yes! Yes! AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaah!”

Seeing the lithe body beneath him reacting, Shizuka’s own shoulders began to shake. And when the dream-seer splattered one more orgasm – with not much fluids escaping, but who could blame him on round three! – Doumeki’s body held still with a slight quiver as he grunted, “Kimihiro!” as he came inside.

The dream seer was panting as if he’d run a marathon – which in a way, he kind of had. “God. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“You can’t die, remember?” Shizuka’s voice was amused.

Rolling his eyes, the dream seer said, “Remind me again why I put up with you – and don’t you dare say it’s because you’re great in bed!”

“Stupid,” was the only reply.

“Honestly, Doumeki, why me?”

A hand stroked his face, brushing hair out of his eyes, “Because you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

And then, the dream was faded into grey, and Watanuki woke up in his bed.

Echoing in his ears were Doumeki’s words, “…you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

How long had this been going on? How long had Doumeki been in love with him? He remembered back in high school how much he’d railed against Doumeki, saying he was out to steal Himawari and Doumeki saying he had no interest. Guess that was the simple truth, wasn’t it?

God.

He started to laugh. No wonder the fool wouldn’t go off to find someone to love. If he wanted the idiot to find a real life, he was going to have to kick him out. Make him leave.

It would be for his own good. But…

Dammitall. He didn’t want to do that.

The image of Doumeki, pumping away into… into what was supposed to be him! He moaned.

‘Oh, god. I… I want that. I WANT it to be me. It doesn’t matter if it lasts. No wonder Doumeki’s always so dour – he must think I’d never…’

At that thought, Watanuki Kimihiro smiled. The plan formed, he got up and sprang into action.

He’d sent Maru and Moro into a sleeping, regenerative state, and sent Mokona on an errand with Kohane, to drink with Granny – which effectively would get him out of the shop all night.

His heart had been felt as if it were trying to beat its way out of his chest all day. He spent hours in the kitchen, making all Doumeki’s favorite foods, with dessert as the coup de grace. Then, all he had to do was just wait for him to finally show up.

The whole time, he kept wondering, ‘Am I doing the right thing? All this time and I never noticed…’

And then the archer had appeared. And it went exactly as he’d planned. Including dragging the archer toward his private bedroom, to do his best to re-enact the dream he’d witnessed.

*end flashback*


X


Silvery moonlight streams in through the open doorway where you now stand, silk yukata sliding half off your shoulder. Embroidered on the back, a golden eyed Kishu ken* sits at attention beneath a weeping willow. The dog stares into the distance, seemingly oblivious of the black cat lounging in the branches above, one paw draped over the branch carelessly, appearing almost as the Kishu were his personal servant. On the far side of the embroidered scene, storm clouds have gathered. The dog seems to be watching it for a potential threat.

There is no yellow bird in the scene. There’s that, at least.

I can’t help but wonder when he had this yukata made.

The wind blows, catches the corner of the fabric, pulling it father down his shoulder. Even with only a quarter profile of your face, I can see the irritated grimace as you carefully pull it back up, hold it closed with the hand that’s not stroking the doorframe. But still, you don’t look back at me.

It would be more appropriate, I think, if the cat were the one looking off into the distance and the dog were simply watching you.

My fingers slide over the silk sash in my hand. It’s soft, smooth. It encourages touch. I wonder when you’ll decide to pull the end I hold out of my hand so you can keep your yukata closed. Do you know I’m watching you even now? Or do you assume I’m asleep? Is that what keeps you from tugging on it?

I can almost feel how red this sash is. It winds from my hand, trails across to you, through a loop in your yukata, over your arm, connecting me to you.

It’s been a decade since we met. It feels longer. And it feels shorter. Like I’ve known you as long as I’ve existed, and like you could disappear in the blink of an eye.

Back before Yuuko ended, she said our meeting was hitsuzen. She probably would have said that all these years have been hitsuzen. I hated when she said that.

I can’t stand that word. Hitsuzen. It makes it seem like we don’t have a choice – that our decisions make no difference. I don’t believe that.

And I don’t want you to believe it either.

The decision to stay by your side, to protect you however I could, has always been mine. We both know I could have left at any time. Especially once you started understanding your own power and had confined yourself to the shop, which protects you even when you’ve done something stupid to cause yourself injury.

The decision was mine.

I could have ignored this red string wrapped around my pinky, wrapped around my heart. I could have cut it and walked away, just as easily as you could pull the end of your sash out of my hand and tie your robe shut.

You move, and I close my eyes. Well, just enough so they look closed. I keep one open enough to see what you’re going to do now.

The moon lights your skin, making it seem ethereal. You look like a faerie, beautiful and glowing as you turn to look at me. Your mismatched eyes somehow make you seem more myth than reality. I watch as a fond yet sad smile appears on your face and you close your eyes as you lean against the door.

I don’t want to believe in hitsuzen. I want to believe that this was not inevitable, that this was your choice. I want to believe that it was a choice not made because of the pieces of me that are in you. Half my eye, my blood. And now…

Through the lashes of one eye, I watch you.

And finally, I know you think that the reason I’m lying still, sheets barely covering my nakedness, is because you think I’m asleep. I know because I see your mouth move. If I wasn’t watching, I wouldn’t have been able to decipher your whispered voice as you shake your head almost despairingly.

But I was watching you.

Sometimes, it seems like that’s all I can do – that it’s all I’ve done forever.

I was watching you. I see your lips move, and as I watch my ear is able to translate the sounds into words.

“Good,” I say softly, eyes still mostly closed. “Because you’re pretty much stuck with me.”

I open one eye, the one the moonlight is shining on, to see him gasp and start to puff up like a riled cat. I can’t help but smirk at catching him off guard. Slowly, I move my end of the silk ribbon to my lips, and kiss it. As I tug on it in an attempt to pull him closer, I whisper, “Took you long enough.”

His eyes widen, and I can see him wondering how long I’ve been in love with him.

I don’t want to think it was hitsuzen. I don’t want to think that anything forced him to finally – FINALLY – love me the way I love him.

I want to think that I could have walked away at any time, but that I chose to wait it out because I knew this would be worth the wait.

My fingers stroke the sash as if it were the very string binding us.

The honest truth is, there really wasn’t a choice for me. Because he has always, ALWAYS, been the most important person in my life. And if it was fate, then I am thankful.

The years of waiting, watching you, listening to you scream at me, call me names. Watching you love someone else, watching her love you, witnessing how you could never be together – hoping for your happiness while cursing myself as a fool. Believing all the while that I would end up broken and alone. “Only you,” could make it all seem like a bargain to boot.

“Idiot,” he says as he sits next to me. I nod and pull him close.

Hitsuzen or not. I don’t really care anymore.


X


The action had been much more intense than he’d imagined– his own reactions stronger than even watching the scene unfold had been. It hadn’t been exactly like the dream. That was to be expected. And, there was, as Doumeki called it, “preparation” before the archer could fuck him. He hadn’t needed to prep Shizuka, though. He wondered about that. Did that mean Doumeki had been with others?

Accidentally, he’d voiced the thought aloud and Shizuka had smirked and asked, “Jealous?” Before he could stutter out a denial, Shizuka had kissed him and whispered in his ear, “No one but you and my dreams.”

Hearing him say that as he thrust deep inside the seer, Watanuki Kimihiro had a revelation. How long have I wanted this without realizing it? It was crystal clear now, he understood. He was truly in love with this giant oaf. For years. Years.

But, bound to the shop, Doumeki would get old and die while he remained young, trapped in this mystical cage. The fates were cruel. He HAD to wait for Yuuko – yet it was all so unfair. Life was beautiful and cruel.

After, he looked at the strong sleeping face that he now realized he loved, and it was just too much. He stood, slipped on his yukata, and walked to the doorway to look up at the shining moon and stars. Was happiness always tainted with the understanding that it could never last?

How was any of this fair to Shizuka? He deserved a REAL life. Sighing, Watanuki turned and looked at the man who apparently had taken his heart years ago without him noticing. Softly, he whispered, “I love you, Shizuka.”

And then the “sleeping” man’s eye had opened, his amused voice said, “Good, because you’re pretty much stuck with me.”

Smiling at the man he loved, the archer kissed the red sash of the seer’s robe and used it to pull him closer. And with that, Watanuki finally realized the most important thing, ‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that... He’s chosen me. And I’ve finally chosen him, too.’ As Watanuki finally granted his lover his purest, loveliest smile, the archer whispered, “Took you long enough.”

Lying back down to embrace the one he loves, his reply could have been meant himself or his lover. “Idiot.”




*Why I chose a Kishu: It was the bit about mind games that made me select this particular pup. http://puppydogweb.com/caninebreeds/kishuken.htm