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It started as part of the same old, routine-filled day.
Wake up early, help clean the temple, eat the meal left at the table by himself, go to school, help the archery club, and go back home to tend the temple.
Clockwork. Ever the same. Just like how Doumeki had known his whole life. His household had a history and a tradition to be kept. It never bothered him; it was just another part of life. Caring for the temple was taught to him by his grandfather and then his father. It was their way of life. He didn’t know another way of living. And it never bothered him.
That Day changed it.
Doumeki would never have known how drastically his life would be altered due to a single day — especially one that seemed just the same as the others.
It was raining then, as usual for that time of year. He was on his way back home and rushing to avoid what he could of the would-be tempest. Seeing someone standing in the rain gave him pause. But only for a moment. After all, he really didn’t want to get wet in the rain — not sick, as Doumeki members never got colds for some reason.
Maybe if he hadn’t heard those fateful words, he would’ve continued his life as he always did. Live as a Doumeki, care for the temple as his only priority, marry whoever his family picked to keep the bloodline strong, and die as a Doumeki.
As all Doumeki males did.
But those words (unforgettable to the point of haunting his dreams) changed everything.
“I'll die like this, too. Alone.”
And for the first time in his life, Doumeki had a purpose.
In the beginning, it seemed as if a doppleganger had appeared before him that day. For the Watanuki Kimihiro he saw daily seemed like the opposite of the boy in the rain: loud, brash, opinionated, always ready for a fight and so confident.
In a week, Doumeki understood it was all bravado. The confidence was a way to survive. And survive did Watanuki do, every single day.
The other boy always seemed to be fighting something — or rather, running from something. Constantly on the lookout, noticing things no one could see, screaming out of nowhere, always tense. Always scared.
Watanuki brought yet another first for Doumeki: the wish to be able to see the other world.
For someone who lived in (and for) a temple and sacred family line, Doumeki had never cared for the sight. He believed in it, of course, as his grandfather’s tales could be nothing but the truth. But he never yearned to see what was hidden from his sight.
If it wasn’t bothering him, it didn’t matter.
But it was a problem in Watanuki’s life. Scratch that: it was a threat to his life. The boy fought tooth and nail to escape apparitions Doumeki couldn’t picture.
How he wished he could see those monsters — it would make piercing them with an arrow much easier.
Doumeki doesn’t quite care for the witch or her shop. Asking (or more like begging) for help isn’t his thing. Nor is it his family’s style. They solved problems on their own.
If they lacked knowledge, they sought it.
If they lacked strength, they practiced the bow.
He wasn’t going to start betting his everything on other people now.
Something about that day in the rain struck his very soul.
However, he never knew exactly what it was. What was it about a boy in the rain, craddling a dead cat?
Doumeki had seen death before. He was well used to it. Even as a toddler, he’d been part of the rituals and funerals held by his family and sister families. Weddings, the purifying of newborns, and death. The three stages of life had been part of his routine since he’d learned to wear his own hakama.
So why did that sight of death strike him so?
Dying alone wasn’t unusual. Unfortunately, many of the people they held funerals for died alone and old. Uncared for.
Only years later did Doumeki realize why. His heart had broken that day, seeing Watanuki face — no, accept — death by himself. Abandoned by all, from beginning to end.
The boy in the rain broke Doumeki Shizuka’s heart with a single sentence (and continued to break ever since, just a little).
Back then, Doumeki didn’t know who the student was, but he did recognize the dead cat in his arms. He’d seen it sometimes while he went back and forth to school. It was a cat. Plain and simple. Just like all cats, it strolled around, tried to hunt, and was small. It never left an impact on him. Even if it was alone in the fields (and, more dangerously, on the streets), Doumeki just assumed someone would eventually pick it up and care for it. It wasn’t his duty, in any shape or form.
So why did he feel sadness for the cat now? Why did it hurt to see this stranger with an animal in the rain?
Doumeki was never good with words. To this day, he couldn’t quite describe what he felt that day and why it moved him so.
What mattered was that it did.
No one deserves to die like that. Unknown to all, unloved. Alone from beginning to end. Abandoned in the rain as if it was nothing.
An existence that moved no one, that changed nothing in the world. That was the cat and the boy.
Doumeki felt a weight in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. He couldn’t breathe well. It was awful, and he wished it would stop.
Decades later, it still hurt to admit just how awkward and lost he was about everything then. He just left that day. How he wished he’d stayed. Said something (anything) to the boy in the rain.
Maybe if he’d reached out sooner, things would have been different.
If he’d been the first — and not Ichihara-san — maybe, just maybe, he could have convinced Watanuki to stay. To be with them, in their time. Living as a human, and not as something in between. Lost to time and space, in that little shop.
In a box to be forgotten eventually.
That day’s sadness and emptiness overwhelmed him. He, who was so used to having a reign over his emotions. It wasn’t even a challenge, much less part of his training. Doumeki just naturally had less of a disposition for fits of passion. “A sign of the noble Doumeki family line”, as his relatives would proudly say. His family was the same, particularly the men: the same temperament, the same appearance. Like a cycle, repeating a bit too similarly, without end.
It was only when, as a child, he went to school that he realized how strongly some could feel. How they would scream, argue, shout, and get violent. For no reason, most of the time. And then soon, perhaps on the same day, it was all forgotten and forgiven.
So strange, so unnecessary. Where did they get all that energy? Doumeki couldn’t understand… much less imagine having to deal with that level of headache. Never one for false courtesy, whenever someone got too loud or irritating, he would just up and leave. It was better this way. Even trying to talk to someone like that was too much of a waste of energy.
Of course, as fate would have it, Watanuki Kimihito was exactly that type of person. The annoying, overbearing and too loud type. The very one to be avoided like the plague.
And yet, something in that bespectacled, frail boy didn’t make him want to quit. Yes, there was the unforgettable (nightmarish in a way) memory of that day in the rain. That alone made Doumeki find the patience he never could before. But it wasn’t just due to that day.
It was never pity, not from Doumeki. And never for Watanuki.
It was something else altogether — what, exactly, Doumeki would only find out much later (too late).
Watanuki drew his eye, unlike anything else in this world. His contradictions, down to his very nature, were, for lack of a better word, bewitching. There was a certain energy, an allure that seemed otherworldly. Something drew Doumeki in.
(And Doumeki must admit: when he learned about Watanuki’s issue with ayakashi, he understood why they followed him so desperately. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. For both their benefits).
A walking puzzle piece that, for once, Doumeki wanted to solve. A myriad of contradictions that just didn’t make sense. A bundle of nerves that brought trouble wherever he went, who never thanked him — and, somehow, all the more lovable.
The constant loud (so loud) complaints arguing (more like attempts at arguing, as Doumeki didn’t care much for fighting) paired with the tastiest and warmest bento in this world, were complete opposites. Watanuki embodied them all. He wanted to drive Doumeki away but ended up asking him to join many missions anyway — for that, Doumeki had to thank Ichihara-san.
Every single time, Watanuki vehemently stated only Himawari deserved his bento filled with love, and yet, there he was the next day, faithfully bringing not one but three bentos. Always their little trio, happily talking away.
Like clockwork. It was a routine Doumeki liked much, much more. One unlike any other he knew. If he could even call it a routine, being dragged around for surreal cases that he only half understood. The ins and outs of ayakashi or the other world didn’t quite interest him.
The only question was whether they were dangerous to Watanuki or not.
That was all Douneki needed to know.
He’d always been a well-behaved kid. He wanted for nothing — and also never asked for anything. Life was part of a duty, a cycle to be inherited. He would take care of the temple and continue his father’s, grandfather’s (and so forth) line of work. One in a line. Just one in many.
It never bothered him.
He never desired anything in his life.
Until now.
“He’s quite a special one, that boy.” The owner of the store, the ever mysterious Ichihara-san said over a puff of smoke. She always looked elegant and well-dressed. Himawari was in awe of her and often called her a beauty, always admiring her. Even Watanuki clearly liked and respected her, though as… perhaps a mother? Doumeki was never sure about those two.
Stretching like a lynx, ready to strike, the woman rested comfortably (as if in a practiced pose) on the sofa that faced guests. “Take good care of him.”
Both a threat and advice. Most of what she said always held some double meaning — just like his grandfather’s words — though Watanuki rarely seemed to realize it.
Doumeki never felt fully comfortable with her, even at the very end. Ichihara Yuuko is a beautiful, powerful woman who genuinely cares about Watanuki. That he knew very well — it was the only reason why he never worried (too much) when she was involved — but something seemed off. As if one sees a kanji that is written slightly wrong, with a single stroke missing. You can see it for what it is, but there is that unsettling sensation that what is in front of you isn’t quite whole. It’s something that exists but somehow also doesn’t. That is how it felt to look at her.
He didn’t trust her. Didn’t want to depend on her. Sometimes, it turned out to be essential (and life-threatening) but if it was up to him, he avoided relying on her.
Doumeki didn’t need a shop, nor did he need any wishes granted. He always took care of his own problems by himself. He didn’t need someone else’s help.
Himawari was of the same opinion — in one of their discussions concerning the shop, which they would never be able to tell Watanuki — but the girl was also another mystery. Another person who felt off to him, somehow. She didn’t bring the sense of apprehension and danger that the shop owner did, though. But there was still something dangerous about her. He could feel it, instinctively, as one can detect if the water is cold or hot. He also knew (and had it confirmed by the older woman) that it wouldn’t affect him.
That didn’t matter. The problem was that it did affect Watanuki. Whatever it was their classmate had, one part of their trio was not immune to it.
So Doumeki made sure to always stick close. Invite himself to any and all events, no matter how rude it might appear. Watanuki’s complaints easily fell into deaf ears (sometimes necessary with that guy).
It was the lesser of two evils. Doumeki didn’t have the capacity — or want to — separate those two. Himawari was a good person, and she had that very same quality as the bespectacled boy: loneliness.
Complete and utter loneliness. The type when one believes there is nothing else in the world for them. That, try as they might to love — with a complete inability to believe they deserve love — there was a certainty of knowing to never belong.
It irked him. Such certainty in feeling unloved, of believing (down to their souls) that they could never be loved or surrounded by people whom they cared for. Especially when they were such good, kind people. Who always put others above themselves.
There were days, especially after dangerous missions or when the idiot would risk his life for no good reason, that Doumeki couldn’t stand it. He wanted to shake off that fool and ask him to see what was around him.
But Doumeki didn’t have the words to do it — he never did.
And he knew not even the most beautiful and heartfelt words could ever convince Watanuki. Not if coming from him.
“How could you??” Watanuki cries with anger and, for the first time, true hatred directed at him.
It stills his bones and that same awful feeling of being unable to breathe — just like it was that day, under the rain — takes over him. But he has to stand tall.
He does not regret. He will never regret.
Shooting that ayakashi, or woman, or whatever she was, that was leeching off Watanuki. Taking his life force away as if it were a daily meal for her.
Unforgivable.
If the only options were using his bow or letting Watanuki die, it was much too obvious.
There is no guilt when one does the right thing. He is sticking by his own sworn oath. To keep Watanuki safe from harm. To make sure he doesn’t die alone.
To protect him so he doesn’t live alone, either.
As much as Watanuki may hate him for this, Doumeki still prefers this option. Anything is better than the alternative.
After all, a cadaver can’t argue, complain, or cook the most wonderful food known to men (and maybe ayakashi alike).
Doumeki just wishes he could exorcise all the troubles Watanuki that easily.
That would be a wish he might have considered.
It was his own personal oath: to ensure Watanuki would not die alone. In vain. Uselessly and alone in the rain, discarded by all.
Doumeki would not let that happen.
Regardless of Watanuki knowing this or wanting it, or any shop or any ayakashi — it was Doumeki’s first real decision. His first desire.
Everything regarding Watanuki turned out to be firsts for him — and lasts as well: his last love, the last person he’s seen, the last thing he pictured every time he went to sleep for all his life.
“You are now a customer of this shop.” Her words were calm, composed. As if she knew one day this too would come to pass.
There is still the heavy taste and smell of blood in the air, even though not much is left. Thankfully, it’s now doing its duty — keeping Watanuki alive.
He did what he had to do. Himawari is the same. The two who never saw the solutions to their problems in the shop became customers now — for Watanuki’s sake. Always for him.
So they could save him. So Watanuki would open his eyes and be his same old self (unscarred, unhurt, back to normal). To just… be able to be with him. It seemed like a privilege more and more, Doumeki thinks.
As the witch looks both of them in the eyes with that enigmatic look (filled with sadness but also gratitude), that same question plagues his mind.
Doumeki wondered then (as he does until the end of his life) just how much she knew. Had she seen it all come to pass? Did she know how Watanuki would choose the dead (her) over the living (Doumeki, Himawari, Kohane-chan, everyone else)?
How imbalanced and cruel would that decision be?
He would never get this answer.
The only times Doumeki gets truly angry are when the idiot risks his life. For no reason sometimes. It doesn’t matter what he babbled on about; the fact is that there is no justiciable reason to risk his life. Be it for some stupid artifact (and Doumeki likes those), food, or some bizarre youkai of the week that somehow captured his heart more than Doumeki ever did — ever could.
Watanuki matters more than all ayakashis in the world put together. Yet he couldn’t see it. To the very end, he never understood just how much he meant to all of them. How important he was.
The whole spider affair was a nightmare come true. Watanuki losing an eye for Doumeki’s sake?
Unimaginable. Unforgivable.
It was the other way around; it had to be. Doumeki had to be the protector, the one to assure Watanuki would stay alive, safe and sound.
Because Doumeki had everything: a family, a duty, health, powers — how easy Watanuki’s life would’ve been, had he those very same powers?
Everything Watanuki was denied in life, Doumeki had.
So it turned out to reason that Doumeki had to be the one protecting.
“Idiot.” That unmistakable voice sounded somehow different: softer, lighter. Filled with gratitude (honestly so, for once). “You’re such an idiot, I can’t believe it.” Watanuki sighed while smiling kindly down at him.
‘Thank you.’
‘Never scare me like that again!’
‘Don’t die.’
… are the words they were never brave enough to say.
Kohane-chan is a more than welcome addition to their group. As kind as Watanuki and as unlucky in life.
Doumeki wonders why the good people suffer like this. The world seemed unfair more and more.
The young girl quickly becomes part of their routine: learning cooking from their most precious person, training her talent with that kind old woman, and always visiting whenever she could.
If one thing annoys him, it is the way Watanuki treats her. As if she were a fragile, poor girl in need of eternal protection. They had more history together than Doumeki knows. Still, he can’t bring himself to see this young birdling who needs protecting when all he sees is a strong young woman with steel.
Someone who had so much taken from her but never let life turn her unkind. Rather, she became even kinder — even to those who don’t deserve it. Just like Watanuki.
And Doumeki found a new person to protect.
Fate really had a bone to pick with him, he decided. For being jealous of his own grandfather was truly the cherry on top.
Nothing irked him more than having Watanuki skip to him early in the morning, chattering all about what Haruka-san (incredible, wise, smart, cool Haruka-san) did last night… in his dreams... just the two of them together.
For the first time, thanks to Watanuki (again), Doumeki got pissed with his own grandfather — something that never happened when he was alive.
“He- hey! Where are you going?? This is your grandfather we’re talking about! Come back here!” Watanuki would scream so loudly that even people in the upstairs classrooms would peek out their windows to see what was happening.
How come he got to visit Watanuki in his dreams?
The world seemed slightly better, kinder back then. The three of them together at school, Himawari finally free of her curse, Kohane-chan safe from her mother, and Watanuki slowly becoming more capable of handling his problems. Doumeki practices daily to be stronger, faster, and more dependable. So he could live with no regrets.
The future seemed to be much of the same. The very routine he grew used to — loved now, even — was a guarantee, and nothing brought him more peace. Being with the people he cared for.
It was all he needed. Even when he was able to (finally) put words into his feelings, nothing had to change.
He loved Watanuki.
There was no drama or theatrics necessary. It was a certainty of life: Doumeki Shizuka was the heir to the temple, could exorcise (but not see, unfortunately) ayakashi, and he loved Watanuki Kimihiro now and forever.
It was not a crush, like the one Watanuki had on Himawari, nor was it a budding love, like Kohane-chan for Watanuki himself (the fool never noticed anything concerning him, as always). It was a devotion that surpassed his life. A need to be close, always. A certainty that his day would only feel complete once he saw Watanuki.
If that wasn’t love, Doumeki didn’t know what to call it.
But just as certain as he was of his feelings, he also knew Watanuki was too slow on matters of the heart. And that was fine.
He didn’t wish to push anything into him.
Doumeki’s only wish was to make sure Watanuki was never alone, be it in life or in death. That he would always be surrounded by people who loved him. The more the better. Watanuki’s eventual most important person didn’t have to be Doumeki.
The only thing he needed was to stay by his side.
The egg didn’t matter.
Doumeki could never rob Watanuki of his free will — or his memory.
For Watanuki to choose the faded memory of Ichihara Yuuko instead of all of them, alive and close to him, was more painful than any wound or blood loss could ever be.
It wasn’t an easy time. Doumeki admits (now) that he sulked. A lot. Only to come out of that very dark place thanks to Himawari and Kohane-chan.
He wonders if Watanuki will ever come out of the predicament he put himself in.
And as much as it’s tempting, Doumeki does not use the egg.
It’s not the right time.
Maybe it will be decades into the future. Centuries, perhaps. Most likely long past his time.
No sacrifice is too big if it is for his most special person. In that, he, Himawari, and Kohane-chan are the same: Everything is for Watanuki. They would all make sure he would never stay alone.
Doumeki’s vow became their vow as well.
To love and to never abandon — even if their special person would outlive them all. It still wouldn’t change their feelings for him.
“Welcome, welcome!” The twins jump in joy — so strange seeing them back to being hyper after they were in a long (perhaps meant to be eternal) sleep — as he enters the store.
It all looks the same, but the energy is different. It feels weaker, lacking than before. As if the shop is only back at less than half capacity. He knows that is indeed the case, and that Watanuki realizes he is aware.
The girls welcome him into the parlor, which still looks much too similar to Ichihara Yuuko’s time.
A lower (much more beautiful, to a point it’s hypnotic) voice greets him in a room filled with smoke.
“Welcome.”
And as much as it feels off seeing Watanuki emulate her, cling to her cigarettes, outfits, and retain her poses, he knows it’s what keeps him here, sane.
Doumeki is just happy to be able to see him. Have him in his life.
They enter their well-established routine.
Like clockwork: Doumeki takes care of the temple in his off-hours, and after work, he always comes to the shop. Even when he must work longer hours, he visits the shop. The habit of seeing Watanuki daily is not an addiction he can quit now.
It’s easier for him when he sees Watanuki. He knows it’s the opposite for the girls.
“I cooked your favorite today,” Watanuki smiles warmly, but as if only half here and elsewhere, in another plane Doumeki can’t quite reach.
Still, he’s thankful for these small moments. Nodding in thanks, he goes to set the table surrounded by the twins.
Watanuki eats less and less these days. Never a fan of his own cooking for some reason, lately it seems he needs less sustenance. Doumeki nowadays tries his hand at cooking — being taught by Kohane-chan — for the sole purpose of having Watanuki eat something and finish his plate. He can always finish a plate when cooked by someone other than himself.
Their closeness now is what teenage Doumeki dreamed of: the knowing looks (combined by their shared eye), not so subtle smiles and invitations from Watanuki, the hands that reach for one another and those long legs that never seem to end.
It’s everything he ever wanted — more, even, than what he dared to wish for. And yet, it’s bittersweet. Since Watanuki is not truly one of them or with them anymore. He is of another reality, of different planes, meant to outlive all of them. He’s becoming the entity Ichihara Yuuko was.
And, as fate would have it, that distance made him all the more honest. Free to admit to his desires and to indulge in his long forgotten (and repressed) dreams.
It’s truly like a dream to have been chosen, Doumeki admits. But knowing how limited their time is always makes even the sweeter moments a bit bitter.
Each day he leaves the shop, Doumeki asks himself how he can keep his vow true. How to make sure Watanuki lives surrounded by love and never dies alone?
Doumeki’s very first and last decision toward his first (and only) love.
In their 27th year and on the day Himawari comes to visit the shop, they decide to throw a party. Their usually reserved time (Doumeki never asks either about the day, as it's their own thing) is open to all friends. It turns into quite a bit of a mess — in the best way: an assortment of ayakashi, youkai, humans, and inbetweens going in and out of rooms and eating all the food Watanuki prepared.
Doumeki isn’t really friends with any of the otherworldly beings, but he is polite to Zashikiwarashi and the Kitsunes who make delicious udon (though never better than Watanuki’s — not to Doumeki, at least). As an adult, he is a bit less put off socially, or so his friends say. Watanuki loves to laugh at him and says he remains ever the fool. Doumeki doesn’t care either way, as long as Watanuki gets to laugh like that more often.
It’s a celebration for the humans and apparently for the youkais, though Doumeki doesn’t quite care to ask what it is for them. As a force of habit, he can’t help but keep an eye on any suspicious movements or possible attacks — even though not only are all ayakashi here supposedly friends, but Watanuki has long surpassed him, power-wise. Still, old habits do not die for the Doumeki line.
Once a protector, always a protector.
Watanuki notices it but doesn’t comment on it now, just smirks (he saves his teasing for later, when it’s just the two of them and a bottle of sake under the full moon).
Everyone is having fun, humans and ayakashi alike, and Doumeki realizes for the first time that the two worlds are finally together.
Watanuki made it happen.
Perhaps it had been arrogance on Doumeki’s part to assume Watanuki should only have them (humans) as friends. Maybe it had never been the case, and he’d been too bigheaded to realize it. But he knows it is only with humans that Watanuki shares a bed and his most beautiful blushes. So maybe there’s some credit to the idea.
Watanuki is a being of two worlds, always present in both. Only now did he make it fully happen and have both sides meet and interact together peacefully.
This was truly a day for revelations as Doumeki has yet another epiphany: surrounded by ayakashi, some so long-lived, Watanuki truly wouldn’t be alone after they passed.
Doumeki’s vow had been, in a way, fulfilled by Watanuki himself. His love found belonging and would avoid a lonesome death. At least, that’s what this festivity showed.
Still, Doumeki wasn’t prone to daydreaming or wishmaking. He was a man of action and decisions. Even if now Watanuki was surrounded by so many loved ones, who was to guarantee the future? Doumeki wished there was something he himself could do — a way to make sure Watanuki would never be alone… for eternity.
“Hey, idiot!” Watanuki says, among laughter while having his hands filled with all sorts of candies, from the children ayakashi, the kitsune, and Kohane-chan all at the same time, “Come help me eat some of this!”
As the most beautiful smile graces his sight, all thoughts and worries are forgotten — left for another day — as Doumeki focuses on the now. The smiling, content Watanuki is the stuff of dreams. Everything he always wished for his most special person.
And if he wants him to help eat sweets, that’s exactly what Doumeki will do.
Watanuki changed his life completely — for the better. Routine is no longer the same old emptiness but an exciting, if slightly exhausting, everyday happening for Doumeki now. He wouldn’t trade meeting (and loving) Watanuki for anything else in the world.
‘I’ll make sure you never stay alone.’
And that is Doumeki’s vow for life.