Only two days off, right? Not too bad?

I've been way busy with work and school, though, so the next chapter might not be done in time...hopefully it should, though. Wish me luck? And enjoy.

Doumeki woke to the single worst headache he had ever experienced, great thirst, and an ache in every inch of his body. He felt exhausted to the bone, and even the weight of his eyelids was a strain to hold. But he opened his eyes and tried to take in his surroundings – a difficult task, as night had fallen as he lay unconscious. His right side was damp where it rested on the sand, and he was cold – though not unbearably so. Somewhere past where he lay on the riverbed, Watanuki must have started a fire. It was audible, and its warmth almost reached Doumeki.

"We made it?" he croaked in a hoarse whisper, one he could barely hear himself. He rolled onto his back, carefully so as not to disturb his aching joints, and tried again. "Watanuki." Though his voice fared little better, after a few moments there were feet near his head.

Watanuki sat in the sand beside him. "What happened to you?" he asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

"I'm not used to doing whatever I did," Doumeki replied, hazarding a guess. He probably could have sat up, but there seemed to be no need yet. And this mellow mood of Watanuki's intrigued him.

No one said anything for a few moments, assumedly both contemplating the events earlier. "What you did," Watanuki eventually said, "was destroy a large number of ghosts. I don't know how you did it, but I guess you don't either."

"I shot them," Doumeki offered.

"Not what I meant." Watanuki rolled his eyes, not yet actually irritated. "I've tried things like that before. Throwing things at them, fighting them off with weapons. It never worked for me. I could see them, but I could never touch them!" His fist clenched briefly, but yet the frustration was still aimed elsewhere. This really was strange in comparison to his usual tendencies to direct any and all blame toward Doumeki when possible.

But his words gave the archer a thought. "And I can touch them in a way, but I still can't see them," he said slowly. "Maybe it's one or the other."

Watanuki grimaced. "You're saying I'll never be able to fend them off myself?"

"It's only a thought," Doumeki reminded him, and though he did not say it, both probably interpreted the unspoken: I'll fend them off for you.

They sat (or lay, in Doumeki's case) there on the riverbed for a few more minutes of pensive silence. Doumeki looked up at the sky overhead was relatively clear; a half moon shone valiantly down upon the river, somewhat obscured by mist. In a few areas of thinner fog, a few dim stars could be seen. And high above them, several large, puffy clouds drifted by. Doumeki wondered idly how long it had been since he'd possessed time or energy to simply look at the sky at night. He'd once done so every night, back when he had lived with his grandfather…

"There's a fire," Watanuki mentioned, looking back toward him. "And unlike you, I have not been asleep all afternoon. I am going to change this."

"You didn't need to wait," Doumeki replied.

There was another pause, in which Watanuki did not meet his eyes. "I didn't wait," he finally muttered. "I had things to do. Like cleaning mud off of everything, and finding dry wood. Do you know how long that took? Nothing is dry here!"

Doumeki pushed himself into a sitting position, clenching his jaw just enough to keep himself from revealing just how much this action hurt him screaming muscles and cold-stiffened joints. "What are we doing tomorrow?" he asked from this new angle. "We can't go back."

"We don't need to. We'll just keep going on this side of the river." Watanuki's face was set with the same iron resolve that had been there for the past days of travel. Doumeki knew well enough that something was strange about this unexplained need to keep going in what seemed to be a completely random direction, but so far they had survived, and no one had come looking for them. It was likely that someone was looking for them – Seishirou at least, which was nothing small – and so constantly being on the move was a good idea. So Doumeki merely watched to make sure that the direction they were taking was not leading to a bad end.

"Sleep," he advised. "I'll keep watch."

Watanuki rolled his eyes in a more exaggerated fashion than was really necessary. "Keep watch for what, mosquitoes? We're safe here, at least tonight. I should know."

"Only an idiot thinks he knows everything," Doumeki replied, pushing himself to his feet and nearly collapsing when he finally stood. It was amusing to see concern and outrage battle on his companion's face. Outrage seemed to be winning, but it was a close call. Still, any moment now the yelling would probably start.

But to his surprise, Watanuki extended an arm, looking away. "I'm not carrying you across the swamp," he muttered. "So you better not fall over and get hurt." When Doumeki did not immediately respond, the other huffed an exasperated breath and grabbed his arm. "Are you listening to me?"

Doumeki responded by leaning on the proffered arm only enough for it to be useful, and carefully picking his way the short distance to the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed his irritated companion carefully, although he wasn't particularly sure what he was looking for. He didn't expect an explanation or telling expression to be readable on Watanuki's countenance. And indeed, if something was there, the firelight rendered his usually transparent expressions unreadable. When they reached the fire and sat again, he turned his face and openly studied Watanuki, continuing his search for… something.

Whatever it was, he found nothing, and Watanuki began to go a bit red. "Do you have to stare like that?" he demanded. "I haven't grown two heads!"

"Where are we going?" Doumeki asked suddenly, the question occurring to him in the instant. But from the sudden confusion on Watanuki's face, he knew he had hit on something important.

"What do you mean? We're getting away from Seishirou's men!" Watanuki crossed his arms.

"But where are we going?" Doumeki repeated.

Watanuki opened his mouth, perhaps to snap an answer, but froze halfway there as if the meaning behind the question had just struck him. For a few moments he stared blankly ahead, thunderstruck, and then he turned his face back to Doumeki. "We can talk about this later," he grumbled. "I need to sleep."

Which meant, Doumeki inferred, that Watanuki didn't know where they were going, either. The direction was important, but the location was completely beside the point. And they were going to run out of supplies eventually -–neither of them were experienced in fending for themselves in the wilderness beyond what they had picked up these past few days. Doumeki had learned some important skills from both his grandfather and Seishirou, but under the assumption that he would only be on his own for a few days. He didn't know much at all about Watanuki's past, but if Kyle were any example of how it had been, Watanuki was just as unfamiliar to this way of life.

But there was nothing either of them could do. They couldn't go back the way they came without encountering all the dangers they had barely survived. And it was better to have a direction, even one so mysterious as theirs.

Still, Doumeki's thoughts were not pleasant or peaceful as he sat with his back to the fire and river alike, keeping watch as he'd promised.

--

Somewhere in the gray hours between night and day Watanuki woke to icy rain beginning to fall from the sky, managing to leak into his bad eye. Rubbing his damp face, he sat up and took in his surroundings: fire still burning, packs where he'd left them, surrounding boulders dappled with rain. Doumeki was leaning against one, looking almost as if he were asleep but for the fact that he turned his head when Watanuki moved.

"It's raining," Doumeki said. "We should go as soon as we can."

He was probably right, but that was not at all forgivable and so on principle Watanuki felt compelled to object. "It's always raining," he replied with not nearly enough scorn in his voice as there should have been. Of course, it was just after he'd woken up. He could work up to proper irritability later. "What makes now any different?"

"Because it's colder than usual." Standing, Doumeki looked little better than he had yesterday – and was he favouring one leg? More striking than any of that (not that a bit of pain was any concern of Watanuki's) was the look of trepidation he was currently throwing the sky. Maybe just this once it would be a good idea to go along with what Doumeki was suggesting without further protestation.

There was very little to pack up – granted, there never was much anyway – and within a few minutes there was only the soggy ring of ashes left to mark where they had spent the night. Doumeki considered it for a moment, and Watanuki followed suit, but after that moment they exchanged unconcerned glances and simply left it there, walking away in the same direction as ever.

Doumeki's trepidations were soon validated, for as they walked they were quickly soaked despite all overcoats, and the wind was even colder than the still air. And worse yet, Watanuki's chosen direction took them inexorably uphill. They left the swamp fairly quickly, but by an approximation of noon the rain was more slush than water, and soon after this snow replaced it entirely. The cloth protruding from the opening of Watanuki's waterproof coat was frozen, and snow clung to his hair and face and melted to drip down his neck.

He would have liked nothing better than to call a halt and curl up somewhere out of the elements, but there was nowhere around to avoid the snowfall, and anyway he would not admit defeat in front of Doumeki. He had his pride yet.

Within the next hour or so, though, the snow had only begun to fall faster, filling silently the drifts that the two travelers were forced to skirt with decreasing success. In some places the snow was already waist-deep; in others the tips of trees barely protruded from the surface layer. In other circumstances the landscape would have been serene, even beautiful, but being forced to trek through it had altered Watanuki's perception considerably.

Eventually Doumeki called a halt. "There's some rocks over there," he said, voice mostly lost in the wind. "We're going to wait out the storm."

"What storm?" demanded Watanuki with less venom than usual, relieved to have a respite of any sort.

"You'll see," Doumeki replied cryptically, and then he shoved Watanuki gently but pointedly in the direction of the rocky outcropping.

The rocks yielded after careful searching a small hollow, which actually turned out to be the entrance to a slightly larger cavern. Not too much snow had blown in, protected as it was by a rather solid rock wall on three and a half sides and a very solid ice wall on the top half of the fourth. The lack of wind did a little for the temperature, though not as much as two warm bodies in a small space would do very shortly.

"What now?" Watanuki asked, somewhat awkwardly. He was rather too cold and miserable to seek out grievances, and despite their current stationary status, he was actually rather relieved to be in here and not out there. The snow was swirling past the cave entrance rather more quickly now, enough so that the predicted storm didn't seem so unlikely anymore.

Next to him, Doumeki had sat down on one of the blankets, looking about as much at home as he ever did. Normally this would have been irritating, but now Watanuki found himself growing actually angry. Maybe it was the strain of travel, or concern over the storm, or simply an in-built mechanism to keep warm. Nevertheless, it was enough to enrage him. He was cold and uncomfortable and didn't know what to think about anything anymore and Doumeki was sitting there in total comfort or the appearance thereof, and murder by asphyxiation was looking like a viable option.

Watanuki, in a fit of foolish kindness, opted for a less deadly route. "What are we doing here?" he yelled, voice reverberating in the small space. "Less than two weeks ago we were safe behind walls, and even afterwards we had other people with us. And now here we are in a tiny hole in a rock in the middle of nowhere with a snowstorm building and why is this?!"

Ever unreasonably reasonable, Doumeki did not protest but simply replied, "We would have frozen up there." And died, he did not say, but Watanuki could hear it as clearly as if he had.

As quickly as his burst of anger had possessed him, it now fled, and Watanuki sank to his knees on the cold stone floor, feeling just about as hopeless as he ever had. He didn't say anything, but made a small noise of desperation a the complete unfairness of everything. Every time they made it to 'safety', something else seemed to go wrong. All he wanted was a respite. That was all he'd ever wanted.

"I'm tired," he mumbled brokenly.

He didn't even startle at the hand that descended upon his shoulder; nor did he look up to see what kind of expression Doumeki was wearing. Similarly he didn't protest when he was pulled in to lean against Doumeki's side, but simply allowed the transfer of his weight to something less tenuous than his own waning strength.

"Then sleep," Doumeki replied, his voice more of a rumble in Watanuki's ears than an audible sound. But after today, and all the days preceding, this was not a difficult suggestion to follow. Watanuki was already halfway there, anyway. Within a few minutes of quiet breathing, he had dropped off.

--

To say that Doumeki wasn't quite sure what he was getting himself into was an understatement, to be sure. In the very least, there would be more yelling whenever Watanuki woke up. But it had seemed like the best action at the time, and he was going to stand by his decisions. Besides, there was something infinitely comforting in knowing that at least for a short while, he was being a comfort.

Even if this was only through doubling as a pillow.

Eventually he also went to sleep; it had been a long day for him as well, and after his collapse his sleep cycle was very much out of alignment. The last thing he noticed before drifting off still sitting against the wall of the cave, listening to the howling of the wind at the opening overhead, was a shifting at his side and the point of Watanuki's nose pressed lightly into his shoulder.