Sep 12 2008
The moon should have risen an hour ago
Title: The moon should have risen an hour ago
Author: dorrie6
Fandom: xxxHolic
Characters: Watanuki, Doumeki, Yuuko, Mugetsu
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The characters and universe presented in this story are the property of CLAMP.
Summary: That time comes.
Notes: Written for blindmouse’s First Lines Challenge. First line, “The moon should have risen an hour ago.” by blindmouse, the rest by me. Comment-fic.
*****
The moon should have risen an hour ago
The moon should have risen an hour ago, but the sky has gone black, heavy and black, barely penetrable by the small lanterns hanging from the porch of the shop.
“Even the street lamps are dark,” Watanuki says, to nobody in particular. Mugetsu curls softly around his neck and nuzzles his chin.
There’s something moving in the darkness, and Watanuki squints to try to make it out. By the time he realizes it is a flock of birds, they are swooping through the yard and past his head, knocking him off-balance, and then continuing up and over the roof. Watanuki reaches for something to steady himself, and ends up grabbing onto an arm, which apparently belongs to Doumeki.
“When did you get here?” Watanuki snaps, pulling his hand away as quickly as possible. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!”
“The sky is black,” Doumeki says, as if that explains everything.
Watanuki opens his mouth to retort, but he is interrupted by an enormous wail echoing through the darkness, along with a brisk gust of wind.
“Did you bring it, Doumeki?” Yuuko’s voice is close behind him, and Watanuki jumps.
“Yes,” Doumeki says, holding out something in his hand that looks oddly like an egg.
“What is it with everyone sneaking up like this?” Watanuki sighs. “Is it so difficult to let a person know you’re coming?”
Another wail engulfs the shop. As Watanuki is reeling from the noise, he notices something shifting in the blackness.
“What’s that moving?” he says, pointing out toward the front fence. As he concentrates further, he can see that it is something like a hole in the air–a deeper black in the blackness, becoming larger, or maybe coming closer every moment. “Yuuko-san,” he says. “What is that?”
“That blackness you see, Watanuki,” she says, her voice unearthly calm, “this shop was created to hide you from it.” Watanuki turns to look at her. One of the lanterns is swinging back and forth in the gusting wind, casting her alternately in light and darkness. Her hair is billowing around her like a veil, her eyes fixed on the growing hole in front of them. “The shop is failing,” she says. “It’s falling apart.” Her voice is getting lower. “And now you must face it.” She turns slowly to Watanuki. “I can no longer help you.” Her mouth quivers a little, and then she is still again. Her eyes are large and sad, and Watanuki can barely stand to look at them like that. She closes them. “I’m sorry.”
Watanuki stares. “Yuuko-san.”
“The time has come.” She has turned away from Watanuki. “Doumeki,” she says, and Doumeki is immediately at Watanuki’s side, bow slung over one arm. Mugetsu slithers to the ground, and then he is full-size and howling on the other side of Watanuki.
The wail comes again, even louder, and the hole is practically upon them, swallowing up most of the yard, and the wind pulls one of the lanterns from the roof of the porch and into the blackness. Watanuki feels Doumeki’s hand on his arm, and whips his head around, ready to complain, but something in Doumeki’s look stops him. The wind is whipping violently around them, and it is all Watanuki can do to stay standing.
“You won’t be alone,” Doumeki says, shouting through the swirling wind. His face is earnest and open, which is something Watanuki has not seen before, his brow knit in determination, and eyes focused on Watanuki, warm and real and almost pleading.
Watanuki knows he should say something, and he wants to, but the wind is so loud, and he just nods, at which point Doumeki grasps his arm more tightly and turns to face the wailing blackness.
Mugetsu whines, spitting fire, and the final moment arrives.