Do you realize just what you are wishing for? the dimensional witch asks.
I know, Himawari says.
A plume of smoke curls from the witch's pipe, and fate turns with it.
She's alone now.
Now, that's not right. She has the twins, Tanpopo, Mokona, and the house.
She's never been this deep into the house before. To her it seems a living being, a creature slumbering. The drafts in the slats sound like sleep talk in a language she doesn't know.
She wonders if it dreams.
It's an ideal job for her. She doesn't touch anyone, and she has workers to do the tasks for her. The magic is untainted by her own luck, for it is too separate. Magic is a force of nature, and she absorbs it. She takes on people's bad luck and it melds into her own. She's a scapegoat sent out into the desert.
She closes her eyes and imagines the house as an oasis.
She thinks of all the people she's making happy this way.
She lets their happiness be her own, even as the world forgets her.
She doesn't expect to see them ever again, but one day, a boy tumbles into her parlor. He rants and raves, and wishes the monsters away. It hurts just to look at him and the fate they lived.
He stops and says have we met before? you look familiar.
It's been so long, she never guessed fate would take this road.
But then, isn't everything inevitable, Yuuko? she thinks. Maybe somewhere out in the ether, Yuuko is laughing.
Maybe she says. The world is a very vast place, after all.
And so, fate–inevitability spins its web. Soon Doumeki will come, and the trio will be complete. The last time will reassemble itself, and only she will know what could have been.
Only she and Yuuko will remember the sad face of a dimensional wizard locked to the house, everything he loved turned to sand.
And she is happy to take another sadness to her own, bad luck.
She is happy.