an xxxHOLIC/CCS fic
serieses not mine. o.o
What attraction that was between them was largely formal: polite and stately like a court dance. They knew each other too well for lust.
Come to think of it, they had known of each other a long time before they met; an awareness at the edge of their minds like a hum. Tigers, she thought, marking the edges of their territory and examining the signs of the other, but being careful never to meet. Here is another powerful mage. If you don't get in my way, I shan't get in yours.
When they finally met it was as if they had known each other for a long time.
Also, she was the only one who knew that he meant to die.
His power took him more than hers took her -- she thinks she should explain what that means to Watanuki, and then remembers that Watanuki hasn't been born yet. He had fits of shaking at the touch of air on his skin, driven by visions that he could not control. She would find him with his hands clamped over his ears, his nails digging into his eardrums, and lead him carefully out of whatever dark corner he had found and put him to bed, tending his wounds and allowing him to cling to her and shake.
Waves of power drowning him, visions unbidden crushing him. He couldn't control it. She herself only had one or two attacks like that, and woke from them to him brushing her hair out, carefully, gently, and humming something in Chinese. A lullaby, she thought.
We are becoming as gods, he said, abruptly. I would rather remain human.
She never did meet his creations, although she helped him as much as he dared let her in their making. Later, she borrowed his notes when she made Maru and Moro. Some of them, anyway. His research covered an entire floor of his house, in scrolls and leatherbound notebooks and piles of paper in boxes.
Sometimes she regrets this, although she thinks it was for the best. She might meet them and their new mistress someday. Well, she's going to meet their mistress. Almost.
It was mostly a stupid, desperate plan, made by a stupid and desperate man. The thing is, it /worked/. He always was a lucky bastard.
The other thing was, he'd had visions of that girl since he was a boy, and he loved her with all his idiot heart. He was desperate to love people -- might even have loved /her/, if he hadn't barely had enough sense to see the stupidity of that -- and he concentrated all that terrible ability to love on her. She was his darling, his future, his one hope.
Well, she thinks, he was also stupidly in love with that young woman, blasted if she could ever remember her name, something to do with a flower that grew in Jerusalem, only not (carnation? pink? no, it was a Japanese word, she was nearly sure), and he was hideously fond of the boy, too.
Also, come to think of it, he never said goodbye to her.
It wasn't so much that they traveled the dimensions crushing evildoers, it was more that some people needed to learn the difference between their sandbox and other people's. Vulgar, he said. There's enough room for everybody.
His plan was this: the creatures would protect her, the task would teach her to control her powers, and the completion of the second task would diffuse her power enough so that she wasn't a great blinking magical target in the mind's eyes of every mage across the universes. Also, and almost secondary, was that if she managed the second task, she could also manage to help him.
She still thinks it wasn't fair that he got to annoy that boy. So she wasn't anything but a distant cousin. She still should have had the fun of making him twitch. She could have made him growl, too. Selfish bastard.
The night he died, she held a wake of sorts, staying awake and drinking her best brandy. The next day she went to his house and picked up the book like he'd asked her to. It left her house, stayed in Kansai for a while, and then returned to her. Eventually the flower-name girl came looking for a present to give her fiance.
A good girl, really. Much too good for him.
She knew she was dying.
Mostly, though, she misses him.