Work Text:
The professor calls Shizuka in to help meet a last-minute publishing deadline, so it falls to Kohane to deliver Himawari's share of the new chrysanthemum wine. It's easier for them all now that Himawari is graduated and back in the city. Kohane knows that Himawari needed to leave – to take the space between herself and Watanuki and press it into the recesses of her heart, until she could no longer be tempted or tested. But no one misses the long-distance phone bills or the fees for express couriers to Hokkaido.
Kohane walks from the subway station to Himawari's apartment building, and senses the lines of probability warp and tangle around her. She doen't try to read how the visit will go. Himawari's sphere of influence is no place for divination; all of Kohane's signs and portents are obscured by a thick black cloud of negative fortune.
In an odd way, it's refreshing. For as long as she can remember, Kohane has known far too much about the reality of the world. So she does not let the abandoned suites surrounding Himawari's apartment bother her, and she grins, broad and genuine, when she knocks on Himawari's door.
"Kohane-chan," Himawari greets her, "it's so nice to see you." She pokes her head out into the hallway, and for a moment, Kohane catches sight of the delicate web of scar tissue on the back of her long, pale neck. "Is Shizuka-kun having trouble with the freight elevator again? I wish he'd take the stairs. Elevators and I don't get along very well."
"It's only me today," Kohane says. "For the Double Ninth, we think I'll be fine without his protection. There's a lot of good luck in the air right now."
Kohane holds up the cloth bag she's been carrying, showing Himawari that she's brought Kimihiro's package. Himawari blinks in surprise, maybe, that Kohane would take the risk, and Kohane thinks that she sees Himawari's expression relax a little around the edges. Or maybe she's only imagining things. It's never easy to tell with Himawari and her stainless-steel smile.
"Oh, how nice," Himawari says, and pads back inside. "Please come in."
Kohane trails in after her. They exchange some idle chit-chat about the festival, Kohane's classes, the weather, until Kohane realizes that Himawari is pulling out a sake set, and that she's been maneuvered into staying for a drink.
"It's not often that I get to share good fortune with friends," Himawari explains, carefully neutral, as she empties the bottle of chrysanthemum wine into a carafe.
"And it's not often I get the afternoon off," Kohane replies. She neglects to say that she doesn't cultivate many girl friends either.
Kohane sits down on one of the kitchen stools and pays no mind to the oversized suit jacket draped over one of Himawari's chairs. Shizuka calls the shop his home, now, and Himawari has never had trouble finding dates who enjoy a brief flirtation with disaster. Kohane can only assume that Himawari and Kimihiro have an understanding about what goes on while they wait for April First.
It's-- well. It doesn't bother Kohane, exactly, because she trusts the people she loves to know what they're doing, and she's enough of what goes on behind television cameras to be shocked about such an arrangement. Yet it makes Kohane feel young in a way she can barely remember; young like she is still in braids and trying to play dolls with the ghosts. Kohane hasn't spared much thought for romance or its attendant mysteries. There's been her training to think of, and Granny to care for.
Thankfully, there are many things for them to talk about that don't involve their love lives. Himawari walks out onto her tiny balcony, and holds up a shot glass of liquor until Tanpopo – now flame-bright, and far too big to stay cooped up in Himawari's place all day -- flaps down from on high to join them. Kohane stays where she is, because she knows better than to stand by Himawari and an open railing.
They're halfway through the bottle before Himawari works herself up to saying anything of consequence.
"Kimihiro's e-mail said that this wine will draw blessings and prevent disasters." Himawari holds her glass up to the light from Tanpopo's feathers. Tokyo is spread out behind her; a million accidents waiting to happen. "What do you think this that could mean, for a woman like me?"
"I don't know," Kohane admits. "I've studied, but as far as Shizuka-kun and I can tell, there's never been another woman like you."
She frowns to herself. Was that rude? She can't tell if that was rude. A pleasant buzz is building in her chest. She doesn't drink this much when she visits Kimihiro, because Larg always finishes off the spirits before she's finished nursing her first glass.
"No, there hasn't," Himawari laughs, sort of, so Kohane supposes that what she was was okay.
"Kimihiro asked Yuuko-san, once, what it would cost to take my curse away, and she said that the price would be all the happiness I could ever feel. He doesn't say, but I'm sure she meant I'd have to kill myself. A better person probably would."
Tanpopo tugs sharply at Himawari's hair.
"That wouldn't be--" Kohane blurts. "That's not right, it's only what you are, no one says that the Baku should feel guilty for existing, or the Jorogumo, so--"
Oh, now she's definitely been rude.
Himawari holds up a hand to shush Kohane before she can dig herself in further. "It's not a price I'm willing to pay. I'm a selfish woman, Kohane-chan. More selfish than guilty by far."
Himawari is still smiling, sad and definite. Kohane thinks that she must have an entire vocabulary of smiles. Or maybe that's only what Kohane reads into her. For the first time, Kohane realizes how terribly exiting it is not to know.
Kohane swallows, puts down her glass, and scrambles to find her bag. "I have my cards. Would you like me to try a reading? To see if the wine has had any effect on your interference?"
"That's fine. I think I've got it." Himawari pats Tanpopo on his crest, and gently eases him off her shoulder. He pulls into a gyre above the building, wide and watchful, while Himawari returns to the kitchen. "Let me show you."
Himawari leans in, smelling like sweet wine and scorched feathers, and Kohane's eyes have almost fluttered shut by the time she realizes that her friend means to kiss her. It's soft lips, and a gentle hand tangling in her hair, and the slow ache of waiting for Himawari's tongue to seek entrance, and this isn't remotely forceful but it's still dangerous, so dangerous, Kohane can't for a second forget that. Her heart is beating so fiercely in her breast that she fears that she could die.
"Thank you for coming on your own today, Kohane-chan," Himawari says, once she is done. "I like seeing Shizuka-kun as well, of course, but it's nice to have some girl talk without boring the poor man."
"Ah-" Kohane flushes, feeling guilty for wanting to bolt.
Himawari must understand, though, because she's ushering her out by the shoulders, practically giving her a royal dismissal.
"Please give Kimihiro my love, and tell Shizuka-kun that I hope his work is going well."
"I'll call you. When the timing is auspicious," Kohane promises, and then she is gone, panicking all the way back down to street level.
It's a dry, cold October, but it's not that dry and cold, and there's no reason for her lower lip to chap and crack, except that Himawari had been nibbling there. The wine must have done some good. Kohane feels the sweet sting of residual alcohol, and thinks that as far as bad luck goes, this isn't bad at all.