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He opened his eyes to a cozy twilight in his room. Breathing in the fresh air, he listened for a short while, a delightful breeze rustling the silk curtains over his bed.
The air was neither too hot nor too cold, and Mokona was not in his usual spot, and he never actually slept till twilight, anyway.
By now he could tell fairly easily, whenever he was in a dream.
He slowly lowered his bare feet on the floor; it was wood, so never cold, only pleasantly cool.
Through the open sliding doors he could see the garden; it was dark, but even so, a certain ethereal light shimmered about its edges, calling him into the green night.
He fixed the belt of his yukata and waded into the engawa, a little thrilled to find out who decided to visit his shop in their dreams.
There was a man sitting on the engawa next to the step to the garden.
For a moment he thought it was Haruka-san, but as the light of passing fireflies flashed over his face, Watanuki realized he was much, much older.
His heart cramped just a little.
So this was the night.
‘Yo,’ the old man mumbled. ‘It’s been a while since I last had a chance to visit here. Your garden is as nice as ever.’
‘Doumeki,’ Watanuki approached him.
The years had been long and not too kind to him. Doumeki looked very old, shriveled in his old body, his once graceful large frame now all but skin and bones, his arms and legs just twigs, barely wisps of white hair on his head, deep wrinkles and dark spots on his face, and his amber eyes, once deep and fierce, now wandered wearily over dark treetops, a tired shade of grey.
They hadn’t even seen each other for the last few years, after Doumeki’s legs gave out and he could not leave his home anymore. Watanuki… He never went to visit him in his dreams either.
The fact that Doumeki was here tonight, the fact that he came, himself, here, after such a long time, it meant-
Watanuki put his palm on his chest, hoping to quell the sudden sting. He had known this night would come, such was the inevitability of mortal world.
And yet.
‘You turned into a super-dry raisin, and you still have that blank boring look on your face.’
‘Look who’s talking, you still look like a teenager, only with an old man’s boring mind now.’
Watanuki made a face.
‘A drink, then?’
‘The finest one you’ve got.’
‘This is mostly your dream, I’m sure I’ll be able to find exactly what you want.’
Doumeki gave him a glance, but only nodded. Watanuki waded towards the liquor storage. He wondered if he should hurry, to have as many moments as there may be left - or if he should draw this out, in hopes that maybe Doumeki would linger longer.
The cabinet was filled with various fine liquors, all stacked neatly in their places, just like he had remembered leaving them in the real world. Except for one glass jar with a silk cover and a yellow string around its neck; that had not been here before.
‘So this is what you want, huh, old drunkard,’ he muttered to himself and picked up the jar. He wondered what kind of drink was Doumeki dreaming of.
His old friend hadn’t moved from his spot on the engawa when Watanuki returned. They had been in a dream and his broken legs would not have failed him - and yet it was too hard sometimes, to escape the constraints a mortal world would put on their minds.
He put the tray down between them and sat down, lowering his feet on the cool sand. Without a word he broke the seal on the jar and poured the first cup; Doumeki then took it over from him and poured his.
Watanuki put the cup to his lips.
‘Chrysanthemum wine?’ He whispered, stunned, when the cold clear liquor touched his tongue.
Doumeki downed his drink and put the cup back on the tray. He had his eyes closed.
‘Just like I remember,’ he mumbled after a short while.
‘When you said you wanted the finest, I didn’t think you’d get this fancy!’
‘It’s my dream, I do what I want.’
‘That’s true,’ Watanuki chuckled and poured another round, smiling privately.
They continued to drink in silence. It dragged on, and it was heavy - and yet, safe and comfortable, like it had been for many nights they had been sitting just like this, in the garden of the shop, most times neither of them able to speak any words that mattered.
And now there was no time for them anymore… or so he thought.
‘Say,’ Doumeki was the first to break it. He had his hands joined in his lap, ‘would you grant a wish for me?’
Watanuki even gaped.
Doumeki had only asked Yuuko-san to grant his wishes a few times, and he never, ever asked that of him. Even though he probably would’ve had a lot... He had never asked for anything of him. Not for himself, his family, or his life, or even the truth from him.
‘If it is within my power to grant it,’ Watanuki whispered the law of his shop, feeling his voice tremble. ‘And if… the price…’
‘Mm. I know. I think it is in your power. And for the price, I too think that maybe I’ve already paid it.’
Watanuki hid his hands in the pockets of his sleeves; he suddenly felt very cold.
What was it Doumeki wanted, tonight of all nights, what could it have been..?
‘Tell me your wish, then.’
He turned to him all serious, and for a moment his eyes looked like they had come alive again.
‘If only once, I wish,’ he said in his old creaking voice, ‘for you to call me by my name. If only once.’
Watanuki’s eyes grew wide; he counted his breaths while the words rang in his ears.
They had never spoken their names. Everything else, it was a fancy - their fleeting closeness, the countless dinners in the garden between just the two of them, however quiet they had been, even the stolen looks and touches over the years.
But names… names had power, and meaning, far beyond just their characters. And so they had never let themselves cross that line.
Yet. If this was their last night, ever…
‘I see. It is within my power,’ he confirmed slowly, even if it sent shivers down his spine. With cold, or… fear? Of what this kind of request could unleash. ‘Would you like your wish granted now?’
‘Yes, please.’
Watanuki rose from his spot and crawled towards Doumeki on all fours and settled next to him, and then took his hand between his palms.
His skin was coarse and dry, and his hand was hard and bony and cold - and Watanuki could not let go of it.
What Doumeki said was only right - for such a trivial wish, his price had been paid ten times over. With his patience, and his loyalty, and kindness - and with his strength to walk away and bear it, so that maybe both of them would be hurt a little less.
Even though it probably wasn’t the case for him.
Watanuki leaned to his ear. He saw him close his eyes.
He wondered what his name would taste on his tongue.
‘Shizuka,’ he whispered.
The silence that followed was so thick he thought for a moment that Doumeki had stopped breathing - but it was not so, no, it was just the way magic settled over them; all the pale light of the garden gathered over his head, and swirled and rippled down his face, shimmering on his chest and his shoulders, raising them, droplets on his head turning into hair, and when the light finally trickled down his arms, Watanuki realized the hand between his palms was now lively and warm.
He felt water behind his eyes. Not even in his own dreams had he ever hoped to see this face again.
Doumeki finally looked at him.
‘You didn’t have to be so petty about it and grow tiny,’ he complained. Watanuki even snorted out loud, and gripped his hand tighter.
‘Are those really the first words you say to me after granting your wish, you rude bastard?’
Doumeki was staring at his hand between Watanuki’s palms. He slowly raised his free hand and touched his face; it was now clear of wrinkles, and fair, and young again, and he had a full head of black hair, and his back was straight and his shoulders broad, and Watanuki could swear he had never looked as beautiful as he did now - only it wasn’t right, not really, because he had, then and always, he was beautiful-
‘What did you do?’ Doumeki leaned back. ‘I didn’t ask-’
‘And I didn’t do anything. It was your name that released this magic.’
Doumeki still looked bewildered. ‘I didn’t-’ He started again, trying to pull away, but Watanuki did not let go of his hand.
He stood up before him.
‘Shizuka,’ he repeated the name. Doumeki froze, staring at him with unspoken fright.
‘I only asked it once…’
‘With the price you’ve paid, I should be speaking your name a hundred times,’ Watanuki smiled. ‘Come now!’ He tugged his arm. ‘There’s still a lot of dreams to be had in this place.’
Doumeki followed him, and as soon as his feet touched the ground, it vanished - or rather, turned into a lake under their feet, but they did not sink, no, just like a pair of water striders they ran across the surface, sending small ripples with every step, Watanuki pulling him towards the center of the lake where a pale yellow moon reflected on the water.
When he stopped and turned, he saw fright over Doumeki’s face again, but it was soon replaced by silent awe.
‘That time you made the chrysanthemum wine,’ he said. ‘I’ll die but I’ll never forget the way you looked that night.’
Watanuki smiled. He had not known he could still feel this bright inside. Not from the words of this man..?
But he had had a wish too, ever since way back when.
‘You can say it too. My name.’
Doumeki stepped closer, taking his hands again and bringing them to his chest. ‘Kimihiro,’ he said without hesitation, not turning his eyes away, and his face, accented by the moonlight, gleamed with peace.