Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fai feels their arrival into this new world in his knees first as they slam, finally, into solid ground. His eardrums ring with a loud whine from the impact, drowning out any ambient noise around them. His palms strike next, but only for a second - there are too many things his hands need to be doing now. There is so much blood, so much blood flowing, spurting from the empty remains of Kurogane's sleeve, and the only way to stop it is with his hands. His hands that are shaking and slick, already coated red and so, so clumsy as he forces them down onto what is left of Kurogane’s shoulder and presses. Presses down, presses into the dirt, throws his entire weight onto it to pinch closed that damned stupid artery that this damned stupid fool has severed.

And even as some of the bleeding slows at his shoulder, the wound torn into Kurogane's side continues to seep dark red onto the ground below him. They're going to lose him - he is going to lose him - Fai realizes, no matter what he does now. His useless, cursed magic is tapped dry and his useless, cursed body has spent too long frozen in stupified horror to stop the inevitable. The whine in his ears reaches a fever pitch, a sob or a scream breaks from his throat, and the world goes dark for a moment.

When he opens his eye again, he is on the ground, kneeling in the same puddle of blood, but alone. The keening in his ears has died down, replaced now by a flurry of shouts and movement. Kurogane - or maybe just his body - has been lifted away by men in white masks who look like they should be running, but everything is moving painfully slowly. He shouts after them – telling them to hurry, don't let him die – but he is the most painfully slow moving of all. They've pulled too far away to hear him now, if they even had to begin with, and as they disappear from sight, he feels the ground drop out from beneath him and braces for it to swallow him whole.

Instead of falling, though, he feels a warm, solid hand grasp his arm and anchor him into place. With great effort, he manages to pull his gaze back to his immediate vicinity, and only then does he realize: he knows this person. Or knows others of her, that they've met in different worlds. Or maybe he knows enough of her from Kurogane's stories and rantings to say he's familiar with this version as well, this version where she is the Tsukuyomi, the dream-seer princess of Japan.

Princess Tomoyo. The name rings through his head but can't quite form itself on his tongue.

She smiles warmly at him, through all of the blood and tears, and somehow her voice breaks through the cacophony of shouts and blood rushing in his ears. "Never fear. Kurogane will not die."

And in that moment, he believes her, because...what else is there to do?

The walls of the castle are high and white and topped with sharp-hipped roofs. Tall, stacked towers rise to either side and cast barbed shadows into the courtyard that swallow up an otherwise innocuous entrance carved of dark wood.

Inside, the hallways are a labyrinth of repeating wood and plaster, austere and beautiful.

Everyone moves quickly, their footsteps clattering into a swirling cacophony that makes his head spin and his stomach threaten to empty. But he follows.

He follows.

His face is a battered mess with bruises purpling up his neck and onto his cheeks. There's blood – so much blood – smeared and spattered against his skin and matted in his hair.

His?

No.

Ashura.

He's lying there in a pool of it, shining and red and steaming far too gently for all the savage free-for-all that set it flowing. His lips are moving. His chest rises. And then-

The attendants here are pushy. He's tying to map out the day's carnage in the mirror but they're poking and prodding, pulling at his clothes, trying to strip them away. He should let them. He should help them. But his hair is in his face, and it is caked with blood, and all he wants is to rip his fingers through it, put it back where it fucking belongs-

Kurogane.

He's lying there in a pool of it, shining and red and seeping into the grass, draining away from him and stealing his life along with it-

No.

Princess Tomoyo–

His reflection fades away and the scenery changes.

His eyes are burning.

The light filtering in through papered windows is warped beneath the surface of the bath water. The water itself is crystal clear - he probably wouldn't notice the shift in refraction at all if it weren't for the way the water flutters hot against his eyes. Or maybe he would - the sudden rippling of the surface distorts Syaoran's face as it looms over him, looking concerned.

He blinks.

There are hands under his shoulders, dragging him back above the water's surface.

"Fai?"

The air is cold and hurts his eyes. He closes them tight and tries to slip back into the water.

This room is as bright as the others, but less formally furnished with brightly colored cushions and swaths of fabric that drape from the windows. There is a low table set with ceramic tea service pieces at the center of the room. Syaoran and Mokona lean heavily against it, wordless despite the bustle of servants darting in and out to fill cups and shuffle plates of food.

"Her Highness wishes for you to rest," one says, bowing deeply in front of Syaoran, "She will be along as events permit. In the meanwhile, this herbal tea should help you relax and hopefully sleep."

Fai slumps against one of the cushions. The tea will probably only make him sick, but sleep, well…

When he finally comes back to himself, the room is dark. Fai sits with a start, sucking in a loud breath as he bolts upright. He barely has the wits about him to notice Mokona as she slips from his chest where she's been resting. She lands in the crook of his elbow - his reflexes might be too sluggish to keep her from falling altogether, but he manages to catch her before she tumbles all the way to the floor. He frowns and pats her head in apology as she murmurs anxiously in her sleep.

Fai blinks a few times as his eye adjusts to the darkness and tries to assess the scene around him. The room hasn't changed apart from the time of day. There's no movement now, save for the quiet flutter of drapes against the open doors, no sound apart from the quiet breathing coming from the opposite corner. Fai's breath catches as he spies Syaoran's silhouette. It takes a few seconds to register that he's sleeping: he's sitting upright, back resting against the wall, one knee bent with the other leg crossed under, and arms folded across his chest. It's the same posture Kurogane used to sleep in during their earliest travelling days - the way he still sleeps when they're in unfamiliar or dangerous territory. Across the room and through the darkness, Syaoran looks so much like him that Fai is left doing a double-take to ensure he actually isn't.

Syaoran...

Fai's heart drops into his stomach. The past few days have been a nightmare of loss and bloodshed. They've lost Sakura - he has stolen her from them - and come within an inch of losing Kurogane, and Syaoran...Syaoran has had a front row seat for every last, bloody bit of it. And still, here he sits, taking up his mentor's mantle and offering protection to the very person responsible for all of it, even as he sleeps.

Nausea roils Fai's stomach as he grapples with his new reality. He shouldn't be here. They should have left him back in Celes. For one glorious, halcyon moment he'd truly believed they would, believed that this would be his end. An end he surely deserved, even if it wasn't the one he'd chosen. And then–

He feels some of his earlier panic rushing up into his chest, trembling down into his hands at the memory of searing hot blood splashing across his face. The dull thud of Kurogane's arm hitting the ground at his feet. The metallic clatter of a falling sword that followed and shattered whatever bit of calm he'd gathered to face his end.

He digs his fingernails in the palm of his hands and breathes. Breathes.

Because what else is there is to do?

A long moment passes before the silence is broken. "Fai?" Mokona asks, sleepily, "Are you awake? How do you feel?"

Fai offers her a lopsided smile and rubs her head. "I've felt better, Mokona," he answers truthfully.

Mokona hugs his arm tightly and looks like she might cry. "Mokona too," she says, then seems to remember something. "Princess Tomoyo wanted to talk to you," she says, "She said to call for her right away when you woke up."

"No, not now–" Fai begins.

"She said you wouldn't like it, but Mokona should do it anyway," Mokona insists, bounding down to the ground. She's halfway to the door before Fai can even call after her.

He sighs and settles back against the cushion, wondering briefly if he might simply be able to feign sleep. But that would be insanely rude to the person - Her Highness - who has not only taken them in on a moment's notice, but is also likely managing – if not outright providing –ĥ the majority of Kurogane's care. He drags himself back up, slumping his elbows onto his knees. If he can't simply disappear, he can at least try not to make their situation worse.

The sliding door cracks open, spilling dull lamplight into the darkness of the room for a moment before Mokona bounds back in. "Princess Tomoyo is waiting for you," she says softly, "There is a girl in the hall waiting to take you to her."

"Okay." Fai hauls himself to his feet, suddenly feeling as if each limb weighs several hundred pounds. His knees are still shaky, but he manages to stagger to the door without too much difficulty. He pauses, waiting for Mokona to take up her usual position on his shoulder, but she shakes her head.

"Mokona will stay with Syaoran," she says.

Fai nods, silently cursing himself for the sudden twinge of anxiety that shudders through him. He shouldn't need a crutch, and certainly shouldn't be expecting Mokona of all his companions to act as one. "See if you can get him to lay down," he says instead, "His back will hurt in the morning if he stays like that."

He slides the door closed behind him and returns a bowed greeting to his guide. She is silent as she leads him down the long maze of corridors, but he is grateful for her all the same. He has no memory of passing this way before - no memory of much of anything since they've landed, if he's honest. Only small snippets that amount to not much of anything at all. It's shock, most likely, which he has some experience with, but probably also has something to do with the massive drain of his magic, which he does not. Now seems to be fairly lucid, though, so he tries to count the doors they pass and make note of the corners they turn.

He realizes, as they shuffle into a much larger room, that he has no knowledge of court etiquette beyond what he's been able to glean from Kurogane (which is very little and questionably appropriate at best), so he simply decides to ape his guide and prostrate himself on the floor. He looks up when he hears a stifled giggle. The serving girl is gone, and he is alone with the princess and her single guard. He sighs and rises to his knees, unsure what he should say.

She smiles and takes the burden of speaking first. "Wizard Fluorite," she says kindly, "My sister, the Empress of Japan, is abroad on state business at the moment. But even were she seated here beside me, there would still be no need to be so formal in my sitting room. And certainly not at three in the morning."

Three in the morning? Fai sees then the weariness in her eyes, the dark circles hanging beneath them, the worry in the lines creasing their edges. He sighs. She's been awake and attending to their every need since they fell into her courtyard and he's been sleeping like he hasn't a care in the goddamned world. He should be the one coordinating doctors and healers, he should be the one suffering through exhaustion, and carrying on with with burning, tired eyes-

"Are you alright?" her tired eyes are suddenly and impossibly filled with more concern as she lunges toward him. "I am so sorry," she frowns deeply, "You're still in shock and pain, and I probably should have left you until the morning. But I felt it was important to speak with you and inform you of Kurogane's status as soon as possible."

Fai tries to ignore how her words punch into his gut like a fist. He swallows thickly and nods, "Thank you, Your Highness. I appreci–" His voice cracks before he can finish the sentence.

"Please," she says and motions to a low table sitting a few paces away, "Do you think you can make it to the table? Souma, fetch some cushions for him to rest on."

"Don't–" he starts to say, but she is already encouraging him to his feet and leading him back toward a low table. He goes without a fuss and leans heavily against the table. Its edge is sharp and digs in just below his ribs.

Princess Tomoyo settles at the opposite side of the table and folds her hands on its surface. "Can I send for anything?" she asks, "Do you eat?"

"I–" Fai stumbles over the strange wording of her question, but sets it aside. It's three in the morning, after all. "Please don't trouble anyone. I’m not hungry," he says truthfully.

She nods and frowns at him. "I'll be as concise as I can, then. You are still very much in need of rest."

Fai lets the table dig deeper into his side and longs for the floor to swallow him.

"Kurogane is out of immediate danger," Princess Tomoyo continues gravely, "He cut his arm far enough from the shoulder that the doctors were able to find and close the major arteries almost immediately, but..." She trails off, eyes pinching closed. Fai holds in a breath. "But the damage to the joint and surrounding muscles was too great, and they ended up taking the entire arm."

Fai exhales. "But he's–"

"Yes," she breathes, a small smile finally creeping back onto her face, "He will survive. But his recovery will depend on a great many things. Including yourself, Wizard Fluorite."

Fai cringes. He's done enough to put them in this situation already. "What can I do?" he croaks miserably.

Princess Tomoyo raises a hand. "First you need rest," she says matter-of-factly, "In the morning, I will take you to see him and the doctors can give you a full assessment. You'll be working directly with them."

Fai bristles at this. "Many thanks, Your Highness, but I believe you will find that I have no talent when it comes to healing."

"Nonsense," she says in a tone that brooks no argument, "I believe you will find you are far better suited for some things than even our doctors. But for now, you are injured as well, and you must care for yourself. Trust us to handle Kurogane for the night."

"I–"

"You've spent most of the day floating in and out of consciousness, Wizard Fluorite." Her voice is stern, but her face is kind. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, especially considering the death of your king prior to you arriving here. But in your efforts to escape, you seem to have depleted most of your magic and possibly dipped into your very life force."

He feels his mouth fall open. How-

"You saw," he realizes at last. He's forgotten, in the moment, that she is a dream-seer. There is an immense power radiating from her – so immense it must have clouded his senses, because "dream-seer" doesn't even register as part of the whole.

She nods. "I see much," she admits, "Though, much of it is colored by the dreamers I visit."

"Ah." He stares at the table.

Do you eat?

He's a fool. An idiot of the highest fucking order. And she knows. She knows so much, and yet she treats him with kindness. What is the point of it?

Hot tears prick at his eye, and he is helpless but to let them fall.

Why?

"Let us return you to your bed," she says softly, "The morning is not far off, and we will all be better for some rest. We will talk more, and I can answer any questions you have then."

He nods and stands, but then remembers: “What of Princess Sakura?”

Princess Tomoyo’s eyes close, and she breathes out a sad sigh, “Her body is resting comfortably,” she says, “However, it seems that her soul is elsewhere.”

Fai nods. “In a dream,” he confirms, and winces as he sees her expression fall ever-so-slightly. “She won’t wake.”

“I see,” Princess Tomoyo says with a frown, “In that case, I shall move her to rest somewhere with more favorable spiritual energy, and we will pray this helps to sustain her until her soul can be returned.”

"Thank you, Your Highness," he manages.

"It's only a temporary measure," she says sadly, "But I pray it will buy us enough time. Now please, return to bed and I will send for you in the morning."

Fai nods and takes his leave, eager for the emptiness of sleep to claim him once again.

Chapter Text

Waking for the second time is less jarring than the first. For one thing, there is sunlight shining through the papered windows, filling the room with soft light and erasing the ominous shadows that belonged to the early hours. For another, Fai has managed to settle himself onto an actual futon with actual blankets in a not-uncomfortable position. There is no Mokona to fall from his shoulder and spike his adrenaline this time, either - she is comfortably snuggled up across the room with Syaoran, whom she was apparently successful in wrangling into his own bed.

Regardless, every fiber of his being screams in protest as he sits, shoving the blankets toward his feet. There is nothing physically wrong with him. His cuts have already healed, and his bruises faded, and yet simply getting to his feet is an impossible task. He may as well be made of stone - his arms weigh as much and his back is just as stiff - with a vein of cold dread running through him like ore.

This is a day he never expected to see and one he has no idea how to begin.

He's dreamt of Fai, of chasing him through twisted hallways and trap doors, across complicated mansions and rooms that seem to have no end. It's far from the first time he's had this dream, but it is the first time it has ended so abruptly, with Fai shattering into stardust and floating away on the breeze. Just as he had the day before, leaving his twin just as alone and stranded in a dark, empty world with no clear path forward and no relief until the sunlight had finally made enough of an impression through his eyelids to wake him.

It's a strange feeling, suddenly finding himself cut free of his reason for living. If he is made of stone, he'll surely sink now, back into the abyss of guilt and self-loathing.

After all, what else is there to do?

He drops back to the futon with a groan and pulls the blankets over his face. There is something he must do. He's promised Princess Tomoyo that he'll tend Kurogane with her this morning, and now he's slept so long he's not even sure if it is morning. Maybe if he lays here long enough he'll simply fade away, or Kurogane will die, and the point will be moot.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

He rolls, achingly slowly, out from beneath the blankets. He struggles to his feet and finds the clothes left out for him, but that cold vein of dread pulses once again, and he catches himself hesitating as he pulls them on.

He doesn't want to see.

He doesn't need to see. Knowing is bad enough. He knows what Kurogane has done, the stupid, stubborn ass. Even the shock hasn't been able to wipe the memory of Souhi tearing through his arm in real time. He knows, too, that even if Kurogane's wounds heal, he'll suffer the rippling consequences of missing a limb for the rest of his life. And he knows that Kurogane knows this all, knew it all in the split second he had to make his choice.

But seeing... If he sees Kurogane now, sees him clinging to life, laid low by blood loss, sees the stitches holding him together, then it all becomes real, doesn't it? And if it's real, then he has to accept the reality that it was done for his sake, that he might live. And if he accepts that–

Well, fuck it. He doesn't have to accept anything.

For now, he gathers himself as best he can and slips silently from the room, letting Syaoran and Mokona continue to rest. He can’t face them right now, anyway. There is a servant waiting in the hall to take him to meet Princess Tomoyo. He apologizes for keeping her so long, but she laughs his worries off, and insists that it would be no trouble to wait even a few hours more.

He follows closely through the hallways, and is surprised when they arrive at what appears to be living quarters, rather than a hospital or medical wing. The servant announces his arrival, then leaves him to wait.

A few minutes later, the door slides open and Princess Tomoyo emerges with a frown.

Fai's heart sinks to his stomach, then jumps back to land somewhere in his throat.

He's too late. In all of his infinite fuckery, he’s slept too long and now…

"Is he-"

"Kurogane is safe," Princess Tomoyo quickly assures him. Her frown, however, deepens. "At the moment, however-"

Her explanation is cut short by loud, tortured curses bellowing out from inside the room.

Fai's eyes go wide. "Is he awake?" he gasps. He hasn't even considered that possibility. He backs slowly away from the door.

"No," Princess Tomoyo says, then sighs and seems to reconsider. "Not exactly." She shakes her head slowly, "It's hard to keep someone as…large as he is sedated. He's delirious and fighting the doctors at the moment."

"Fighting them?" Fai chokes out as another howl breaks free from the doorway. Part of him wants to laugh at how very Kurogane that sounds, but those cries sound far too painful for levity.

"Trying to, anyway," she concedes, "We've had to restrain him a bit." Her words hit Fai like a punch to the gut, and he accepts now for certain that he is not ready for whatever awaits him inside the room. Princess Tomoyo must see this on his face, because she continues gently, "The doctors have just administered the reformulated sedatives. They'll take a few minutes to work, but he'll settle down again." She gestures to the door behind her. "Why don't we move inside so we don't draw any more attention down this way?"

Fai follows her inside, and finds himself squarely inside living quarters, just as he had suspected. A large, folding screen has been set up to separate the entryway from the greater room beyond.

"These are Kurogane's rooms," Princess Tomoyo explains as Fai looks around, "The doctors thought it would be best for him to recuperate somewhere familiar."

"I see," Fai says, although he doesn't really. He had assumed that Kurogane, even as the princess's sworn protector, had lived amongst other soldiers, not in private chambers within the castle itself. "You treat your military very well," he says.

"Sorry?" Princess Tomoyo looks confused for a moment, then seems to catch his meaning. "Ah," she nods, "Yes, well, I believe we do, but Kurogane was our ward before he became part of our guard." Her brow furrows, "Did he never tell you?"

"No," Fai murmurs, realizing (not for the first time) that he knows barely anything about Kurogane beyond the time they've spent traveling. He's pieced together small bits: his parents were killed and his homeland destroyed, but no one, least of all Kurogane, has made mention of anything that would have suggested he had been taken in by the masters of Shirasagi themselves.

"He never was fond of the arrangement," Tomoyo sighs loudly, "I'm sure he speaks of us here as though we're nothing but wicked witches, who cursed him and exiled him to flail in the wilderness."

Fai frowns and shakes his head. "I have never heard him speak poorly of you, Your Highness." He tries and fails to force a smile for her sake, "And he speaks very poorly of very many people."

For the first time, Princess Tomoyo allows a small crack to form in her formal façade and chuckles with genuine warmth. "That he does," she agrees. She cocks her ear toward the screen and listens for a moment. The shouts have died down, leaving only heavy breathing and whispers between what Fai assumes are the doctors in their wake. "He seems to have quietened," she says presently, and steps forward to peer around the screen. Apparently pleased with what she sees, she continues, "Shall we?"

Fai says nothing, but draws in a deep breath and wills his feet to move. They do at last, though painfully slowly and with every tiny ripple of the woven mats beneath them presenting an obstacle to overcome. He shuffles around the screen and braces himself.

The scene that awaits him is not nearly as grisly as his imagination had led him to believe it would be. The room is bright and sunny, with the shoji pulled wide to allow the cold spring breeze in and wash away some of the heavier medicinal smells. Kurogane lies on a futon near the center of the room, partially hidden by a long curtain that's been pulled along the outer wall to shield against some of the breeze's remaining chill. A triad of doctors in white full-face masks kneel around the periphery, cleaning and rearranging various instruments and bottles. Kurogane looks...suspiciously good for someone only hours out of surgery. Miraculously good, even, for someone who's recently lost a limb.

Fai knows death, and he knows blood loss. He has an intimate acquaintance with the shifting color palette of those who have lost an exceptional amount of blood over a short period of time; he knows the blues and grays and mottled hues of skin fed with too little oxygen. And he knows the amount of blood that poured from Kurogane's wounds the day before. Even without his vampiric senses screaming at him (and oh they had screamed), he would have known it for all it splattered his face and seeped into the ground around them. And yet Kurogane is...

Kurogane is pink. Perhaps a little washed out, a bit more taupe than olive in complexion, but there is unmistakably color in his cheeks and his lips and the tips of his fingers.

Fai balks at Princess Tomoyo with a mixture of relief and incredulity. "How..." he starts, not sure how to finish. He gives up and starts again. "He looks-"

"Remarkably well for someone who lost so much blood, yes?" Tomoyo smiles.

“Truly,” Fai stammers, “Your healers must be miracle workers.”

“We leave the miracle-working to the Tsukuyomi,” one of the doctors snipes from behind his mask. “This one here is just too stubborn to die. He’s always had the temperament of a dragon, but it seems he’s also received the blessing of one too.” The doctor pauses in his packing for a moment to consider Princess Tomoyo. “Unless that was your work, your highness.”

“Alas, my spells only protected him from worse injury,” she smiles sadly, “His recovery is entirely out of my hands.”

The doctor nods and signals to the others to finish their chores. “The new formulation of sedative seems to be working, though it’s anyone’s guess as to how long it will last. We’ll be changing his dressings presently, Your Highness. If you or your companion wish to take your leave-”

“Not at all,” Princess Tomoyo assures him, “This is Kurogane’s traveling companion, the Wizard Fluorite of Celes. He is in possession of some healing magics that may prove useful, but he must first be better acquainted with the extent of Kurogane’s injuries.”

Fai’s blood runs cold as she speaks, and he has to fight the urge to bolt from the room altogether. He told her–

But even as he grapples with his baser impulses, Princess Tomoyo catches his gaze from the corner of her eye. She offers the barest of nods in his direction, but it is enough to reassure him that he’s been understood, and she wishes him to remain quiet for the time being. He closes his eyes and returns the gesture.

“Well,” the doctor says, drawing a wicked-looking pair of shears from his bag of instruments, “I have never heard of Celes, nor met anyone who hailed from there. But I have nothing but the utmost respect for any person that can put up with this little thug’s bullshit and still find something in him worth saving.”

Fai cannot see the doctor’s expression, but his voice sounds almost…fond. “Did you know Kurogane well?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if this type of banter is appropriate for the setting.

The doctor doesn’t seem to mind, however. “I’ve stitched him back together enough times to make an entirely new human. Of course, that’s nothing compared to the number of his opponents I’ve had to treat. And those are just the friendly combatants.”

“I see,” Fai frowns. He’s always known that Kurogane has all the skills necessary for ruthless thuggery. It is, however, strange to hear him actually referred to as one. “Or, rather, I don’t. He’s always struck me as being so…purposeful in his violence, even when it’s clear he’s enjoying himself.”

“Ohoho,” Tomoyo chuckles softly as his side, “I may have told him a teeny, tiny falsehood about the protection spell I laid on him.” She grins at Fai, “My intention was to help him be more…restrained in his need to fight everything and everyone, but it’s not clear it had the intended effect.”

“Your Highness always was too fond of the brat,” the doctor huffs, shaking his head. “At any rate, god knows where he’s left his arm, but here we are, and these dressings require changing before they begin to stick to his wounds.” He motions for Princess Tomoyo and Fai to move closer as he slips the shears into the fold of the bandages at Kurogane’s collar bone and slices down the length of his sternum.

Fai is struck at once by the extent of Kurogane’s injuries – they cover far more ground than what had been visible through their thick, cold-weather clothing. There is, of course, the matter of his shoulder, or rather what used to be his shoulder, but now exists as a sort of abstract interpretation of itself. The stitches here are small and close and carefully threaded but still manage to scream out their presence, thick and stark black against the skin they hold together. They’ve managed to close the skin with a single seam directly down Kurogane’s left side, which seems like a miracle after witnessing the gaping, bloodied stump originally left behind. His right side, however, is less neatly secured, especially now that the bandages binding its surface have come loose. There are several small wounds here that have been stitched closed, but these pale in comparison to the large laceration below his ribs and its weeping center where the skin has been rent completely away. Fai shudders involuntarily.

The doctor follows his eyes and shakes his head. “The big one isn’t the worry,” he says, too matter-of-factly to be of any real comfort. “That one is just surface tearing. These, however,” he pauses to point at the cluster of smaller, stitched wounds, “Are deep. Damned near punctured his liver. Bled like it, too - I searched around as best I was able, but didn’t find any signs they actually did. So now all we can do is wait and keep it from festering. The sedatives will keep him from doing any more damage.”

A sudden wave of nausea works its way from Fai’s stomach to settle in the back of his throat, and he has to look away. Whether this is guilt or simply an untapped reserve of horror he had long assumed to be dry suddenly welling up in him doesn’t matter – either way his cheeks are burning with shame. He pushes the anxious churning of his guts back down and forces himself to look again. The doctors work quickly to clean the exposed wounds with boiled cloths and strong-smelling tinctures.

“Sensei,” Princess Tomoyo addresses the doctor as the last of their working cloths fall into a heap on the floor, “I’d like to ask for a few moments of privacy as the Wizard Fluorite works. I will send for you again once we’re ready to reapply the bandages.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The doctors bow politely and quickly make their way out of the room.

Fai waits for the sound of the closing doors knocking together to speak. “Your Highness,” he says quietly, not wanting to offend, but desperate to reiterate, “I cannot perform healing magic. Whatever your intentions were in saying so to the doctors, please understand–”

Tomoyo only smiles and grasps his hand. “It may very well be true that your usual source of magic cannot be used to heal,” she says, “But whether you acknowledge it or not, that is not your only source of power.”

So that was why she had sent the doctors away. “I’m afraid the healing effects of vampirism aren’t meant for sharing,” he says, bristling slightly, “If it were that easy, I doubt I would be…the way I am now.”

“That is indeed a harsh reality,” Princess Tomoyo agrees, “And while it is almost certainly the case that you are unable to heal most humans, Kurogane is not most humans – especially to you, yes?”

“Because he is my ‘prey?’” Fai supplies, “I’m only a parasite.”

“Because he is your only source of sustenance, as I understand it,” she continues, “Tell me, does he often seem pale and drained of energy?”

Confusion twists his face as he considers her question. “I haven’t noticed,” he answers honestly, “And I doubt he would tell me if he were.” Although… He focuses on the subtle pink highlights in Kurogane’s cheeks again and feels a knot loosen in his chest. “He does have a lot of color for losing so much blood, doesn’t he? Are you suggesting that he…makes extra blood? Or replaces it faster?”

“The way it was explained to me was something akin to a mother producing milk for her nursing child,” Princess Tomoyo says thoughtfully, “There is an excess, or reserve held that can be easily consumed without causing harm, and any additional consumption beyond that will spur greater production for the immediate future.”

Fai’s ears perk up at this. “You’ve met other vampires in Japan, then?”

“No,” Princess Tomoyo says, shaking her head, “There are no vampires in Japan, save for you.” She sighs deeply and closes her eyes. “I learn much through my dreams. Unfortunately, this necessarily requires an amount of blind trust in others that isn’t always deserved. And in situations like this especially, the essential facts cannot be verified by me alone.”

“I see.” His chest tightens again. Maybe if he’d bothered to learn the first damned thing – or any damned thing – about this–

“Don’t despair,” Princess Tomoyo reassures him, “I believe we are seeing this confirmed right before our very eyes.”

Fai begrudgingly agrees and decides to press her further. “I’ll agree with that much – this could be a passive effect of being prey,” he says carefully, “But earlier it seemed you hoped I would help him directly.”

“Of course,” she smiles, “As much as I wished to reassure you by bringing you here, I do have a favor I must ask.”

He swallows thickly. “Please ask.”

Princess Tomoyo nods solemnly. “You said earlier that you view yourself as a parasite, but that is not the entire truth of your bond. There are a number of benefits for the ‘prey’ as well, especially when it comes to longevity and wound healing.”

This makes Fai snap to attention. “Wound healing?” He frowns deeply and stares back at Kurogane. The arm he’d sliced open so many times is gone, but Fai can clearly remember the pink stripes of healing skin that slowly faded into white scar tissues. Small scars, to be sure, but Souhi was sharp and Kurogane was a master swordsman. Surely none of that had to do with-

“Indeed,” she nods, “Healing factors, chemicals to keep wounds from festering.”

“He’s making these?” Fai stares in awe.

“No,” Princess Tomoyo stifles a chuckle, “You are. They’re passed through your saliva during feeding.”

Fai sighs, “Or so you were told.”

“Or so I was told.”

Fai closes his eyes and tries to remember all of those bleak, angry nights he’s tried so hard to forget. A shitty kitchen in a shitty apartment with blood spattering against the shitty linoleum. The overly-rich, intoxicating scent of Kurogane clouding all of his better judgment. Slavering mouthfuls gulped down with shame. His tongue running along whatever wound the asshole had inflicted on himself this time…

And the edges holding together after a few simple swipes.

He’s an idiot. He's a fucking idiot. Kurogane knew this – Kurogane knows this. Kurogane has told him as much an uncountable number of times, and Fai has remained too much of a fucking idiot to take it to heart. This game he’s been playing by avoiding drinking for days at a time has left him absolutely ignorant of his own body and abilities. And now that it matters…

“I-I can’t drink from him,” Fai stammers, “Not like this.”

“I would not ask you to,” Princess Tomoyo assures him, “Though I believe you already know he won’t thank you for starving as he heals.”

“I won’t starve,” Fai insists, somewhat confident that this isn’t a lie.

“Very well,” she nods, “What I will ask, then, is that you tend his wounds.”

“And by ‘tend’ you mean…?”

“As you would a wound that you yourself created,” she says, and once again Fai finds himself admiring her way of saying only what needs to be said, “And if, in doing so, you happen to also ingest some of his blood, it will be a consequence of medical care and nothing more.”

Fai sighs and holds her gaze. “You’ve thought this through,” he says, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“You’ll do it then?”

Fai draws a deep breath and nods, “There was never a question. I am grateful one of us isn’t shamefully ignorant of vampirism’s…everything."

Princess Tomoyo shakes her head and grasps his hands together in her own. “You are here and willing and that is all that matters.” She smiles then – a smile so warm and genuine that Fai is forced to reckon with how convincing the facade she’s worn thus far really is. Even though she has remained resolutely optimistic since their arrival – declaring with full-confidence that Kurogane will not die – it is suddenly crystal clear how precarious the situation actually is. Kurogane, for all he may be more pink than ghastly in pallor, is still gravely injured, and the ideal future that the Princess has foreseen still requires pieces outside of her direct control falling into place. He cannot imagine the weight she carries, but there is a burning in his veins now that demands he help her carry it.

“I would like a little bit of privacy, if you don’t mind,” Fai says gently.

“Of course, of course,” she nods and takes a step back, “I’m sure this is difficult for you.”

“No, that’s-” Fai pauses mid-denial to consider. Difficult isn’t the right word, but… “That’s very kind of you,” he says, rather than keep her waiting any longer, “I’ll try to…work quickly.”

She gives his hands a final squeeze before taking her leave. And then he is alone.

Well, mostly alone.

It’s a funny thing, he thinks (for certain values of “funny”), that he should find himself here. A vampiric wizard with no healing magic, who has never been fond of feeding himself, now attempting to harness both in order to heal the wounds of a man he’d sworn to kill. Irony and hitsuzen may be different beasts, but it seems they share a sense of humor.

He kneels at the bedside, unsure of how to actually begin. It’s easy to get lost in the enormity of the task: there are certainly no shortage of places he might start, and his tongue turns to ash in his mouth as he considers whether it’s even possible. He sighs and covers his face in his hands. Half of him wishes Kurogane would wake up and pop a few of his stitches just to insist he start there because it’s already bleeding, you idiot. But that same inability to act on his own – to choose to act on his own – is exactly what has landed them in this position to begin with.

In the end, he simply closes his eyes and tips his face forward until the scent of blood and iron and Kurogane is too powerful to ignore. When he opens his eyes again, the wounds and stitching stare back at him in gorey detail, but their horribleness is tempered somewhat by the hunger blooming in his stomach, and the dryness of his mouth is quickly relieved by whatever reflex kicks his glands back into gear. And the rest is…instinct.

At least in theory. In actuality, it still takes an overwhelming amount of concentration to break the lock his muscles have placed on his bones, to press his lips to the wound, to taste flesh and blood and antiseptic. And even then, it takes all of his control to keep to the task and not lose himself in the thoughts that insist he will fail, and excoriate him for taking even the small amount of blood that seeps past his lips.

Because Kurogane, bruised, battered, and missing pieces of himself, still tastes like Kurogane, and Kurogane has always tasted decadent. Too rich, like butter melting on steak or shortbread drenched with cream. The first time Fai had allowed himself to drink, he’d felt the sickening weight of it in his belly for days afterward. And while it’s difficult to put a name the precise flavor or texture that he finds so unbearable, Fai nonetheless knows exactly what is at play here:

Kurogane tastes like the selfless bastard that he is.

And Fai–

Well, he may enjoy sweets, but his tongue is far more accustomed to dirty ice and snow and vodka that could double as paint thinner.

He keeps working, though, moving from stitch to stitch despite the hateful thoughts that play on repeat. He works through the heaviness growing in his stomach, and the slow wearing of his tongue as it scrapes against the sharp ends of stitches and rough patches of still-forming scabs. He closes his eyes as he reaches the wound at Kurogane’s right side – he’s paid witness to it once already, he can’t bear a close-up view. Besides, he can taste the entirety of it – from the shallow, ragged edges to the worryingly deep punctures at the upper margins. He covers all of it – sealing, soaking, stealing…whatever the fuck this is supposed to be doing – and before he realizes, his lips are skating along the edge of solid skin, seeking uselessly for something more to do.

He settles back on his knees and wipes at the corner of his mouth, hiding the last evidence of his handiwork away on the back of his hand, and looks over Kurogane’s wounds again. Nothing appears different, although the stitched join across his shoulder appears to be weeping now, where it hadn’t before. Fai sighs and closes his eyes. He should have known better than to hope.

All he can do now is find Princess Tomoyo and the doctors once again and help to replace Kurogane’s bandages. And so, once he’s slapped his cheeks sufficiently red to chase away the wave of disappointment threatening to overtake him, he makes his way back to the hall.

The room becomes a flurry of action and noise once again as the medical team and princess file back in, and it is a welcome distraction. Now there are things – actual things, things that are actually useful in healing wounds – that he can make himself busy with. Water basins and ointments and tinctures and-

“Wizard Fluorite?”

He jumps at the sound of his title. Apparently he’s made himself a bit too busy – there’s a commotion rising from near the futon, where the doctors have settled in for a better look at the results of Fai’s “magic,” and it hasn’t even cracked the outer shell of his awareness.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly to Princess Tomoyo, and shakes his head, “It doesn’t look like it made any difference.”

She looks at him in confusion for a moment before seeming to understand. With a faint smile, she grasps his shoulder and turns him toward the doctors. “That’s not what they seem to think,” she corrects him.

“What sort of magic did you do, wizard?” the doctor asks, dumbfounded.

“I–” Fai starts, not prepared to spin a yarn on the spot, “Just the normal–”

“Look at this!” The doctor is enthusiastically waving Princess Tomoyo over and gesturing to the stitches at Kurogane’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Tomoyo pulls Fai along behind her for a better look. They settle on the opposite side of the futon from the doctors and have to crane their necks over Kurogane’s broad, sleeping form to see, but it’s apparent even from this vantage that tiny bands of skin and fascia are beginning to bridge the sewn-together skin. It’s not terribly impressive, at least to Fai’s eyes – the bridges are miniscule in the face of the sheer size of the wound – but still the doctor stares in wide-eyed disbelief from behind his mask.

“This is not how wounds heal, Your Highness,” he says, “And certainly not at this speed. You surely have brought a wonder of a magician to court that can manage to treat wounds like this. If he might assist us in the-”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Princess Tomoyo cuts in, just as the hairs begin to rise on Fai’s neck, “But while Wizard Fluorite is indeed gifted, this type of healing magic is only possible for him to perform because of his close relationship with Kurogane. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed if you try to sneak him away to treat your other patients.”

Well, it’s not entirely a lie, Fai supposes. He nods gratefully at Tomoyo and agrees. “I am sorry, doctor. My magic is indeed limited.”

“Well,” the doctor eyes him warily, “I suppose limits are necessary where power is involved. I won’t say it’s a shame, though. This one is in need of a miracle, and it seems as if he’s gotten two.”

“Two?” Fai wonders what he's missed. The wounds might look better, but it's nothing he would call a miracle.

“Never mind, Wizard Fluorite,” the doctor says and turns back to the array of bandages spread out at his knees. “It’s of no consequence now. Come and see how we put this delinquent back together again.”

Fai does as he’s bidden, and in short order he’s learned – but decidedly not mastered – the fine art of winding, folding, and tucking bandages in a way that all professionals present insist will withstand even the least compliant of patients. And seeing as how this patient is fully sedated and about as compliant as Fai has ever seen him, he feels almost confident that even his student-quality workmanship will last until this evening’s change of dressing.

“How are you feeling?” Princess Tomoyo asks him later, as the doctors shuffle out of the room.

“Less terrible,” he answers truthfully, after considering for a long moment. His mind has been anywhere but on himself. “I’m feeling much better for having seen him.”

“Your physical wounds are practically healed,” Princess Tomoyo says, “At least the ones that I can see. I am glad to hear, though, that Kurogane’s health heals you as well. I am forever grateful that you joined us today.”

She smiles at him mischievously, and for some reason that he can’t quite explain, he’s overcome with the urge to grin back at her like the big idiot he undoubtedly is. It’s the first time he’s smiled in days – weeks even – and his cheeks scrape dull and clumsy against his teeth.

“I’m sure your other companions are looking for you by now,” she says, “They would probably appreciate it if I brought you back to them.”

Fai says nothing, only sighs and looks back to Kurogane.

“Of course, if you’d rather collect yourself for a while longer, I’m sure a message from one of my servants will suffice,” she adds, “For today, at least.”

Fai could kiss her. “Thank you,” he says, “I would like to stay here, if that’s alright with Your Highness.”

“Of course,” she smiles reassuringly at him, “I only hope you won’t mind if I inflict my company on you for a bit longer, if that is the case.”

“I would never,” Fai manages another smile, and it’s slightly less awkward this time. He is, in fact, quite glad for her company, in part because he has no excuses or apologies to make to her, but more importantly because finds that he genuinely enjoys...her. He’s known her for less than a day and yet it is easy to see why Kurogane is so devoted to her.

“This is excellent news,” she grins. “I was afraid it would cost me far more to hear about the many worlds you’ve been through.”

Chapter Text

Princess Tomoyo’s sitting rooms have become nigh unrecognizable overnight. This afternoon finds them awash with bolts of fabric, ribbon, and enough thread to wind several times around the circumference of the earth. Fai steps lightly through the clutter, wondering when she’s had time to spread out an entire dressmaker’s shop's worth of materials.

“Please excuse the mess,” she says with a grin, “I must admit I have some ulterior motives in inviting you into my clutter.” She pushes several bolts of fabric away from the low table they had spoken over and gestures for him to have a seat again. Fai nods and changes direction to meet her, but his attention is captured by the varied patterns and textures of the piled fabric bolts. Some are silk, some are cotton, and all are brightly hued and of the finest quality. So this Tomoyo enjoys making clothing as well…

“No apologies necessary,” Fai assures her, “Your Highness is most gracious.”

“I am truly sorry that I am not able to treat you to a formal guest experience on your first visit to our country,” she says with twinkling eyes, “But I confess I often find court manners and rituals exhausting, so I am glad for the opportunity to talk with you casually.”

Fai stifles a smile at this. For someone who dislikes court manners, she surely doesn’t let any of her politeness slip away in private. “I am glad for it too,” he agrees.

“Of course, being a friend of Kurogane, you’re no doubt accustomed to rough treatment.”

Fai can’t help the snort that rips out of him at this and has to clasp a hand over his mouth to hide his embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I-”

Tomoyo only chuckles behind her hand in response. “It is good to know that some things about him will never change.”

“I suppose not,” Fai tucks his hands into his lap and bites his lip. He hopes, sincerely, that Kurogane will one day count him amongst his friends again. Until then, rough treatment is good enough.

“As I was saying, though,” Princess Tomoyo continues as she settles into a tiny section of uncluttered space across the table, “I do have an ulterior motive.” She hauls a few bolts of material onto the table between them. “I think a small distraction is in order for the two of us, yes? Something to lighten up the day.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Fai starts to say, “But-”

“It is!” Princess Tomoyo cuts him off soundly and with a smile, “I had hoped we might spend the afternoon out of doors, but the weather seems to be conspiring against us.” She shrugs helplessly. “Nothing for it – the spring rains always descend without much warning. Hopefully the weather will warm over the next weeks and I’ll be able to give you a proper tour.”

“I would enjoy that very much,” Fai smiles.

“Then we will look forward to it!” Princess Tomoyo clasps her hands together, her eyes sparkling. “For today, then, I will ask your help in designing some warmer clothes for your Princess Sakura.”

Fai starts, a grimace creeping across his face and onto his neck. “Your Highness,” he says quietly, “As you said last night, her soul is-”

“Her soul is dreaming,” Princess Tomoyo nods, “But her body still feels the cold, and it is still early spring in Japan. I’ve moved her to a sacred place on Shirasagi’s grounds, but the clothes she arrived in are not suitable for keeping her warm.”

She doesn’t mention the hole ripped through the bodice, nor the blood staining its ragged edges. Fai adds them to the image he’s conjured of Sakura in his mind’s eye anyway.

“And even if she does not wake here in Japan,” Princess Tomoyo continues, her smile slightly sadder now, “I’d like her to know she was cared for. And I’d like very much for your traveling party to know she was cared for as well.”

Fai sits in quiet awe of her kindness. It is a rare thing to meet such a genuinely kindhearted person in their travels. So much so, that he expects the last time was actually way back in–

“We met another version of Your Highness, once,” he says, “In a country called Piffle. She was also very gracious - a true friend to all of us.” And especially to Sakura. “The Dimensional Witch told us at the beginning of our journey that we would meet people across different worlds who share a soul, and it seems like yours is full of kindness and generosity in every one.”

Princess Tomoyo’s eyes widen in surprise at his praise, but she only allows it to show for a moment before her expression fades back to her normal gentle smile. “You must mean President Daidouji,” she says, nodding her head, “Yes, I’ve met with her myself in dreams. I am honored to hear you find us both agreeable.”

“She was also fond of clothing,” he continues, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as memories of a pair of teenage girls disappearing for hours on end with a sewing machine carry him back to a happier time. “And she certainly knew how to make a splash with her antics.”

“Antics?” The princess looks slightly vexed.

Fai waves his hands. “Nothing scandalous,” he says with a laugh, “Well, maybe a little scandalous. She did rig a race in our favor, after all. I only meant that she was also very good at making these sorts of grand gestures at exactly the right time.”

“I see,” Princess Tomoyo looks somewhat relieved, “Well, I certainly don’t mean to be grand, but I do often find my true feelings stifled by court manners and expectations.” She frowns, and stares at her hands for a moment. “Among other restrictions. But,” she resumes sunnily, “There are many things that can be said without words. Oftentimes, I find that showing my feelings through actions or ‘grand gestures’ is a much more effective way of sharing them with others. Don’t you agree?”

“I–” Fai’s tongue suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. This is where Kurogane spent his formative years, after all. “Yes,” he manages with much difficulty, “If they’ll listen.”

“Of course, you are used to royal double-speak and half-truths as well,” she says with a giggle.

Fai breathes a silent sigh of relief that her meaning is different from what he’d assumed. “It’s true,” he admits, “Although I’ve been told I’ve picked up a silver tongue instead of a talent for speaking wordlessly."

Princess Tomoyo favors him with a skeptical look. “While I don’t doubt your silver tongue,” she says, “I think you might find that you underestimate yourself.”

Fai smiles and shrugs off her words. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

“At any rate, you’ll be showing your love for your princess by helping me here,” she says decisively, “Now, let’s start with a color that suits her.”

“Pink,” Fai answers without hesitation.

Princess Tomoyo’s smile brightens.

“Your companions are hoping to see you tonight. You were sorely missed at dinner.”

Fai looks up from the paper he’s busied himself covering with ink scrawls to find Princess Tomoyo frowning at him from the doorway. It’s nearly midnight, by his best estimation, and he’d assumed – hoped – that everyone else had retired for the night, leaving him alone to while away the small hours undisturbed.

“It’s late,” he says, careful not to catch her eye, “And I volunteered for night-shift.” He looks back over his shoulder to where Kurogane lies sleeping.

“The doctors have assured me that Kurogane is quite stable,” Princess Tomoyo cocks an eyebrow at him, “And I am surely happy to relieve you for an hour or so.”

Fai says nothing, but refocuses on the paper before him and scrawls a long, swirling sigil. For all the writing he’s been doing, he might have at least planned out a few words to say to Syaoran. But he still hasn’t the slightest idea of how to even begin.

“You have a most interesting way of holding a brush, Wizard Fluorite.”

Fai looks up from his scribbles to find her crouching low for a better view and feels an instant rush of relief that she’s decided not to press him for now. He smiles halfheartedly back at her. “Please, Your Highness, call me Fai. After all, I’ve spent all of my magic, so there’s no sense in addressing me as ‘Wizard.’”

“I am happy to call you as you like, Fai,” she says, “But I disagree that all of your magic is spent.”

This doesn’t actually comfort him, but he feigns a smile and nods all the same.

“It is a small amount, but I can still sense that some remains,” Princess Tomoyo assures him, then turns her attention back to the brush in his hand. “Your calligraphy, then,” she says, “Is this the way you learned to write in your homeland, or is it a technique you picked up on your travels?”

Fai stares dumbly at the brush in his hand, balanced in the saddle between his thumb and index finger and pinched tightly by his fingertips near its distal end. He hasn’t thought about holding a pen – or a quill, or a brush – in years, not since he first learned to write. “It’s how I’ve always written,” he says, “I learned in Celes. Is it wrong?”

“Not wrong,” she assures him, “Just different. May I?” Her hand hovers above his, waiting for permission.

“Of course.”

“We hold the brush straight up and down when we write,” she explains, and gently lifts the end from his hand to stand straighter. “Like so. Hold it securely with the pad of your thumb and first two fingers, don’t let it rest on your palm.”

Fai makes a few swipes using this new grip and is pleasantly surprised by how smoothly the brush tip flits across the paper.

“This way you’ll be able to vary the thickness of your strokes just by adding pressure,” Princess Tomoyo adds. She glances over the mess he’s made of the paper with a thoughtful look. “Your script is very beautiful. Are these spell arrays?”

Fai looks down at the paper. In truth, he’s been mindlessly doodling for the past hour, but yes, he supposes there are a few spell arrays mingled in with poetry verses and curse words. “Some of them,” he nods, “You have a keen eye, Your Highness.”

Princess Tomoyo taps near the center of the paper, where he’s drawn an array meant to bring good luck. “It was this that tipped me off,” she explains, “It’s very similar to what you’d find on one of our shrine’s amulets.” She holds out a hand toward the brush. “May I?”

He passes the brush to her without hesitation and watches with rapt attention as she carefully writes out several characters next to his own. It’s a little bit of a stretch, but the general shape of the characters is similar, if one squints.

“I see it now,” he grins as she repeats the characters in a horizontal line beneath his own, “That’s astonishing how close the shapes of the letters align. The Celesian is a good luck charm. You mentioned yours are found on shrine amulets – are they for luck, too?”

“In a way,” Princess Tomoyo bites her lips together in a way that suggests she’s fighting back a chuckle, “Yes, I would say it’s a good luck charm.” She rises back to her feet and favors him with a grin. “I will be sure to sew some into the clothes I am having made for you and your traveling companions. As a reminder of our shared wish for luck.”

“That is very kind of you,” Fai says, “Please don’t-” He stops himself from finishing with ‘put yourself out on my account,’ recalling their earlier conversation. Instead, he smiles and simply offers a heartfelt, “Thank you, Your Highness.” After all, he should be glad for any luck he can get, especially as he no longer has a means of powering his own array

“You’re very welcome,” she beams, then rises back to her feet and looks around the darkened room. “Now, is there anything I can have sent for you? Books, blankets, pillows?”

“Oh no,” Fai shakes his head, “I won’t be sleeping. I’ll stay awake to keep watch.”

“Fai,” Princess Tomoyo says sternly, “Kurogane is stable. You’re here for emergencies, but you are more than welcome to sleep.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insists. He’s not sure that he can sleep for all the raging thoughts that start bickering inside his skull the instant he stops occupying himself. “I promise Your Highness that I will sleep when my shift is finished.”

She doesn’t appear to believe him, but grants him a small nod and a sigh in assent. “Very well,” a not-quite-wicked-but-still-slightly-devious smile spreads across her face. “Syaoran will be coming by in the morning to relieve you. You’ll need to give him a thorough account of everything that needs doing, and he’ll help you with changing bandages and bedding.”

Fai starts. “Aren’t the doctors coming back?”

“They’ll be by later in the afternoon,” Princess Tomoyo assures him, “But they do have other patients they need to attend to in the morning. They should have given you a draught of the sedative to give him around dawn, did they not?”

“They did,” Fai nods.

“Then you should have everything necessary for the night,” she says, frowning at him, “If there is anything else you should require, I have stationed a servant just outside the door.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He watches as she turns to leave, wondering if he should say more. In the end, he opts to save his words – he’ll need to conjure up a few extra to say to Syaoran in the morning.

Chapter Text

In Fai’s dreams, Ashura’s strikes do not veer wide.

There is no moment of horrified relief when the icicles tilt to the right and graze Kurogane's side, only inevitable dread as they strike Kurogane dead center and splatter the contents of his chest across the floor like an overripe tomato.

There is no voice in his throat to scream. There is no will to live left in his hollowed out soul as he raises his hands, gathering enough magic from long forgotten reserves to shake the very foundations of reality. It rips through his fingers, shredding what remains of his gloves, then flares into a shapeless mass of anger that cleaves Ashura in twain and severs Syaoran-

"FUCK!" Fai shouts as he bolts upright. Or, tries to shout – his tongue is still slow and stupid with sleep and wholly uncooperative in producing the sharper consonants. His hands rip through his hair, yanking his head in different directions as he desperately tries to make sense of his surroundings.

It's Kurogane's room, of course, where he hadn't meant to fall asleep. Only, it's subtly different now – just enough so to be confusing. There is the smell of incense, for one, which he surely did not light, and for another, his lower half is covered by a thick blanket and there is a pillow at his side with a freshly damp patch that could only have come from him.

Princess Tomoyo has been here, then. He sighs and wonders what ungodly hour he's slept in till this morning.

There is a loud clatter from the other side of the privacy screen and in short order a pair of concerned brown eyes peek around its edge. A second later, a pair of white ears joins them.

Ah. So, not Princess Tomoyo, then.

"Fai!" Syaoran croaks, scrambling around the screen on his hands and knees. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Princess Tomoyo said not to wake you up when we came in this morning, and I even found you a blanket and a pillow because you looked really uncomfortable. But…" he trails off with a frown, "I guess I was too loud anyway."

“It was Mokona,” Mokona insists, quickly darting the short distance between them and burrowing her way into Fai’s chest, “Mokona was so worried when we didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Mokona, give him a few minutes to wake up,” Syaoran says, snatching her back to sit on his own shoulder, “Fai, I’m sorry we woke you. You should go back to sleep.”

"No, you didn’t. That's not-" Fai frowns back at the boy. There really isn't a good way to tell someone that you've just dreamed their head being forcibly removed from their shoulders, and this is doubly true when they’re busy fretting over you like a mother hen. Tripley true when the dream was only two steps removed from recent realities. "Syaoran, I'm fine," he lies.

Syaoran looks dubiously at him, but lets any suspicions slide for the moment. "I was going to start changing Kurogane's dressings – I thought I could spare you the-"

"What?" Fai coughs, "You don't have to worry about sparing me from anything, Syaoran." Just shout at me and let me do the dirty work. He'd almost rather raw disdain at this point, for all the conflict Syaoran's kindness stirs up in his chest. "Um, let me just-" He hauls himself to his feet and brushes the last of the sleep from his eyes. "I'm ready now."

"Alright, well," Syaoran sighs, "I've started cutting away some of the bandages at his shoulder, and I have to say the wounds look really good." He freezes momentarily, looking at Fai with muted panic in his eyes. "I mean, not that they're good-looking – they're terrible and–" his face falls, "Shit."

Fai exhales patiently at Syaoran's boyish fluster and steps around the privacy screen. "You mean they look like they're healing well," he offers lightly.

"Yes," Syaoran says gratefully, offering him a small smile in return, "They're scabbed over pretty well, and there's no sign of infection."

“None at all!” Mokona confirms happily.

"Well that is good," Fai smiles lightly, but genuinely back at Syaoran. "I'll give you a hand with the rest of the bandages."

With the remaining bandages cut away, Fai is pleased to note that Syaoran's initial assessment is largely spot-on. There are a few places where the stitches in Kurogane's shoulder have pulled too tight against the skin – likely from Kurogane's own thrashing during the few occasions he came close to waking the previous day – but these appear to be easily remedied with a few changes in position and bedding (and better sedative dosing). The broad wound on his side, however, has cracked open in several places and is weeping clear fluid from the seams.

Fai frowns, but quickly soothes Syaoran's worries, "The doctors were pretty clear that this wound is too big to scab over properly. We covered it with some salve to keep it moist, but it looks like it dried and cracked overnight. Nothing for it – we're just going to have to add an extra thick layer of salve now and make sure to check it more often."

"Okay," Syaoran nods resolutely.

"Although…" Fai says, eyeing the edges of the wound and realizing that they define a noticeably smaller circumference than yesterday. "I'm not sure that we have enough,” he says slowly, “I need you to go ask for more. Ask the servant outside in the hall to take you to the doctors' surgery." He clucks his tongue loudly against the roof of his mouth as he considers. “Take Mokona with you.”

Syaoran mumbles something in assent and heads towards the door, Mokona balanced on his shoulder, but Fai's attention is too fixed on the wound's healing edges to pay them any mind.

That wound is definitely smaller.

Significantly smaller.

He stares dumbstruck at Kurogane’s side for a moment more. He isn't well-versed in healing arts by any stretch of the imagination, but even he is aware that wound healing is much slower than what he's seeing here. He’d brushed off every bit of praise the doctor had to offer yesterday, but now a flutter of hope stirs in his stomach. Potions are dose-dependent, so maybe…

Fuck, how does this work?

If the healing is dose-dependent on whatever factors are swimming around in his saliva, he'll need to work very quickly to lave the wounds a second time before Syaoran returns. Possibly it would be more effective to bite? To inject whatever it is directly into Kurogane’s blood stream?

That thought stirs a wave of nausea, which puts a decisive end to that line of thought. Biting, cutting, anything that leaves new injuries is out of the question for now. He’ll have to rely on speed and hope Syaoran takes his sweet time or gets lost in the winding hallways. And so, Fai swallows his discomfort and sets to work. The taste today is less Kurogane and more medicinal herbs and tinctures, but he pushes it to the back of his mind and reminds himself that if either should make him sick, it is a small price to pay.

He is already on to firing the water and arranging clean cloths to boil when he hears the door scrape open once again.

“Sorry that took so long,” Syaoran apologizes as he jostles around the screen divider. Mokona is perched on his shoulder, holding a comically large ceramic jar above her head. “The doctor was in the middle of mixing a new batch.”

“That’s no problem at all,” Fai assures him, and waves the pair over to where he’s busily adding cloths to the boiling water. “These will still need to boil for a few minutes anyway. The clean bandages are in the linen bag over there,” he pauses to point to a tightly tied sack near the foot of the futon, “Bring them here, but don’t open them up yet.” He clears off a place for Syaoran to set the bag and then directs him to the wash basin. “You need to scrub your hands with soap - all the way up to your elbows. Once we clean out the wound we’ll cover it with the salve-”

“Wow, Fai makes a great doctor!” Mokona chirps happily.

“No, no,” Fai assures her, “The actual doctor just left very good instructions.”

“But you’re still doing better than Syaoran and Mokona,” Mokona insists, “Even though we tried our hardest.”

“Yes, well, I’ve had a whole day of practice,” Fai bops a finger against the patch of fur where he assumes her nose is, “And you’ve only just started. So let’s all keep at it, ok?”

“Ok!” Mokona leaps from Syaoran with the jar still clutched against her forehead. Fai sucks in an anxious breath as her feet smack the floor and the lid rattles unsteadily, but she finds her footing easily and trots over to deliver it without further incident.

The three of them working in tandem manage to quickly clean and rewrap Kurogane’s wounds and shift him into clean bedding. Syaoran makes no further comment on the state of the wounds’ healing, much to Fai’s relief. Syaoran doesn’t comment on much at all, for that matter, but Fai can’t fault him for this. He hasn’t managed to dredge up the words he’s been searching for, either. In their stead, he opts for a more immediate sincerity, “Thank you, Syaoran, Mokona. It’s much easier to do this with multiple people and I’m…glad – all things being what they are – it was you two here to help this morning.”

He half expects Syaoran to acknowledge him with a nod and continue his wordless streak, and so it hits with full force when he immediately answers, “Me too. I’m glad, too. I was…worried.”

“Syaoran, I-” Fai starts, still without a damned clue how to finish.

“But Mokona is right,” Syaoran continues, plowing over Fai’s sputtering, “You’re…I don’t think I could have done all this,” he gestures wildly to the bandages and mess of discarded bedclothes, “I’m glad Kurogane has you taking care of him.”

Fai smiles awkwardly at the praise he surely doesn’t deserve and turns away to start gathering the remaining mess. “I’m just doing what I can.”

Mokona lands on his shoulder with a thump. “You can do a lot.”

For the first time in recent memory, he finds himself wanting to believe her relentless optimism.

“We’re going to have to find something better to keep you occupied during these late nights,” Princess Tomoyo laughs as she slips a pin in the fabric gathered at Fai’s waist, “You make an excellent model, but it can’t be fun to stand for hours on end at the mercy of my sewing pins.”

“You’ve only stuck me once,” Fai reminds her. He cranes his neck over his shoulder for a better view of her handiwork. “Besides, watching you work is a pleasure.”

“Well, that is very kind of you to say,” she chuckles appreciatively, “But surely you have some of your own favorite distractions? It might do you good to indulge a little.”

Fai frowns. He has the distinct impression that “guzzling alcohol and staring into the void” isn’t the type of distraction she’s hoping for. But it’s about all he has left now, completely devoid of magic and without close companions to dote on or pester. It’s almost funny – he’s done without magic for so long now that he’s only feeling its absence this keenly now that Kurogane is asleep and Sakura is-

“I think I am in the market for some new distractions,” he says, and shoves the rest of the thought away. The thought of Sakura is still too painful, even if this beautiful kimono pinned to his back is meant for her – specially crafted to keep her warm and protected from the elements until her soul returns.

If her soul returns…

“Careful, you’re slumping,” Princess Tomoyo pokes a finger into his waist playfully, but her smile fades as she catches his eye. “Perhaps it’s time for a break,” she says, carefully fitting her handful of pins into the skirt of her own robes. She rises to her feet and takes him by the hand. “Come, let’s get this back in its box for now.”

Fai obliges, mostly because he doesn’t wish to offend her. In truth, even just standing here while she putters about is surprisingly effective at filling some of the hollowness that has eaten away at him since landing, but if he can’t manage to do it well, then he’s better off keeping to himself. But for now, he tiptoes to the screen divider for a peek at Kurogane while she fusses with the fabric and carefully fits various sewing paraphernalia back into her cases. Kurogane looks much the same as he has for the past three days, which, while undoubtedly a Good Thing, would be a greater comfort were he not still forcibly being kept asleep. Still, he seems to rest easy, his face untwisted by pain or nightmares, and for that much Fai is thankful.

“The doctors say he’s making remarkable progress,” Princess Tomoyo says from behind him, “They expect to be able to wake him within the week.”

Fai starts; he hadn’t expected her to finish so quickly. Or perhaps he’s been standing here for too long. “Is that so?” he croaks out in response.

“Once the doctor decides he’s not likely to re-injure himself,” Princess Tomoyo chuckles, “He’s not exactly known for following doctor’s orders, or having half the patience necessary to heal his wounds half-way.” She sighs and lets her eyes fall closed, “He’s always been reckless.”

Fai frowns. Reckless isn’t a word he would use to describe Kurogane. Not now, anyway. Recklessness implied barrelling ahead without thought, acting purely on impulse. Maybe when they’d first met…but even then he’d seemed so much more deliberate about life than Fai. Hell, of the two of them, Kurogane was the only one who gave any thought to his future, rather than fumbling from crisis to crisis with the vague hope that things maybe somehow might work out in the end.

“You look like you disagree,” Princess Tomoyo says.

Fai shakes his head, “He’s brash for certain. Stubborn. Quick to violence and hot-headed to a fault. But I’ve never had the sense that he didn’t understand exactly what he was doing and what it would lead to.”

“Is that so?” Princess Tomoyo asks quietly, “I am glad to hear you say so. So often it seemed that he just didn’t care.”

“He’s always been the one to try and knock some sense into the rest of us,” Fai adds. He isn’t sure why he suddenly feels the need to…what? Defend Kurogane’s honor? But Kurogane has always been better than him and so-

“And has it worked?”

“Maybe.”

“I see,” Princess Tomyo grins at him and beckons him back to the opposite side of the screen. She takes a seat at the low table that has been cleared of all of her earlier work and he joins without thinking. “He has always done exactly what he’s wanted. I suppose it is some comfort to know that he’s begun to consider exactly what it is he wants.”

Fai cocks an eyebrow in response, unsure of what she means by this.

“I have a confession I must make,” Princess Tomoyo continues, "I assume that by now you've pieced together some of what transpired when you left the last world."

"Some," Fai nods, "The world was collapsing in on me, on my magic. I had cast a spell on his arm – one that would let him store his sword – the arm must have replaced me as the core of the collapse." Tomoyo nods, and he continues. "I used so much of my magic there, and so that little bit was enough..." His fingers trace the lid of his intact eye. "But what I don’t understand…Kurogane has no knowledge of magic, or spells, or laws of equivalence. So how could he..." He trails off, watching her reaction closely.

"I told him, of course," she answers with a grin.

His stomach sinks to the floor. "How?" Fai chokes out, "Why?"

"I see people who are near death in my dreams," she says slowly, "And the wound he’d already taken was very grave."

"But if you knew that, then why-" his voice chokes off before he can finish the question. The answer is right there in front of him – she’d managed to coax it out of him before he realized what she was doing – but he doesn’t feel better for knowing it. "Why-"

She shakes her head, looking down at the table and sighing loudly. "I will always pray for the best for him, and offer him any help I am able," she says at last, lifting her head again to meet his eyes, "But as I said, Kurogane has always done exactly what he wants to do." She pauses, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "And as you said, he isn’t one for acting recklessly anymore. And that, I think, is something you should take solace in."

Fai stares at the table. Had she known, at the time she spoke to him, about the blood sacrifice Kurogane had already made on his behalf? Did she understand, really, what it would mean to lose a limb? She is young, after all, and a princess at that. What would she know of injury and death?

But there is something about her eyes that speaks of wisdom beyond her years, and something in the power she radiates that feels…different to other dream-seers he has met. It's possible her knowledge and powers are far more vast than her years would suggest, and it's possible that, like Sakura, there are cards she must still hold close to her chest. It's maddening to hold his tongue when he wants to press her further, wants to drag every last answer to the question of What the hell were you thinking telling him that?? out of her but...

For now, he'll settle for sputtering, "Is this the best?"

Tomoyo closes her eyes and pulls in a deep breath before focusing on him again. "Do you really not know?" she asks incredulously, but not unkindly.

He says nothing. He knows nothing.

(He knows.)

"At any rate," Tomoyo continues after a long moment of silence, "He made the choice, and now we are here. So let's do what we can to ensure he survives it."

Chapter Text

The next morning finds Fai already awake, having successfully whiled away the night without any major mishaps (and also, not coincidentally, without any sleep). He’s expecting Syaoran to arrive shortly after sunrise, and so is surprised when it is Princess Tomoyo who peeks her head around the sliding door to the hallway.

“Good morning!” she sing-songs. She sounds far happier than someone who was awake with him into the small hours of the morning ought to. “I’ve brought you some new clothes!” She makes her way through the door carrying a large, wrapped parcel.

“Your Highness,” he balks, “I was expecting Syaoran. I didn’t think I would see you this early. I hope you didn’t have trouble sleeping?”

She closes the door behind herself with a chuckle. “Truthfully, I had some of the most restful sleep in ages. I think it must be a result of the spring air. It is quite invigorating this morning, wouldn’t you say?”

Fai nods in agreement. The shoji have only been cracked in Kurogane’s quarters, but even the small breeze this allows through is bracing. “And it’s finally stopped raining,” he adds.

“Ah, you noticed!” she clasps her hands together, “That is actually what I’ve come to see you about this morning. I’ve had Princess Sakura moved from a private room to the sacred site I mentioned. I had hoped you would accompany me to visit her.”

Fai’s heart skips a beat. He has thus far fastidiously avoided “visiting” Sakura, or Sakura’s body, or however he is given to thinking about her or it at any given point in time. Princess Tomoyo has assured him that she is well taken care of – the palace staff have been meticulous with cleaning and comfort, and she herself has overseen any major changes to Sakura’s person – but he hasn’t been able to muster up the will to verify any of it for himself. He’s satisfied himself with the knowledge that Princess Tomoyo is eminently trustworthy and convinced himself that his time and effort are better spent elsewhere, but he hasn’t managed to fool himself into believing his resistance is anything other than cowardice.

“I…” he starts to say, shame flooding into his cheeks.

“It’s time,” Princess Tomoyo says gently, then brightens once again, “And besides, you’ll need to be able to guide Syaoran and Mokona there later, when I am busy at court.” She pushes the parcel into his hands and nods toward the privacy screen. “So please go dress, and we’ll head out.”

“I…yes,” Fai concedes. He owes Syaoran and Mokona that much, after all, and owes Princess Tomoyo herself even more.

It is only a short walk through the palace corridors to the courtyard. For the first time, dressed in clothing made by Princess Tomoyo herself, Fai feels almost at home here, or at least that he doesn’t stand out like a sore thumb. The fabric she has chosen for his outer robe is a delicate silver. It’s close enough to the simple grays of the serving staff that he doesn’t draw suspicious eyes, but the crescent moons sewn at the breast and the silken sheen of the fibers under the right lighting mark him as an honored guest of the princess. It’s surprisingly comfortable as well, with its long lines and swinging sleeves. Truly, Princess Tomoyo has put more thought into its design than she ought to have spared.

The courtyard itself is enormous and its flowers are in full bloom. It radiates a clean, rejuvenating energy – even if Princess Tomoyo had said nothing about it, it would be impossible to mark this as anything other than a sacred space. He’s expecting a small shrine or shelter to reveal itself from between the blossoms as they walk, and so he is shocked, verging on appalled, to find his dear Princess Sakura resting comfortably ten feet off the ground in the boughs of an enormous tree.

“She’s quite secure here, I assure you,” Princess Tomoyo says, “This sakura tree is the oldest in all of Japan and one of our most sacred places. Its energy will help to support her body until her soul can return.”

A sakura tree. And in bloom.

The tree is much larger and more sturdy than it appears at a distance. As they approach, Fai runs his hand along the trunk, appreciating the craggy splits and crackling bark that age and size have brought to it. His gaze moves upward, to where Sakura looms above, casting a princess-shaped shadow down through the pink-tinted sunlight. His breath catches and he sways for a moment before he feels Princess Tomoyo’s hand at his shoulder.

“You can join her, if you’d like,” she smiles, “There’s no taboo about climbing the tree.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. It’s an easy enough climb – the rough textured bark and wide branches make it easy to find hand- and footholds. The breeze is stronger up here and whips his hair against his face as he settles onto one of the larger boughs.

Sakura is secure here, he notes with a rush of relief. Not that he’d had any reason to doubt the princess’s words, but several of the more painful knots in his gut untie themselves as he takes in the complicated array of silk web-work holding her in place amongst the flowers and branches. The breeze may rustle her hair and shake her skirts, but it won’t shake her loose from her resting place.

And this is just that - a place to rest. A plush bed of blossoms for a tired princess to stay her head against. The robes Princess Tomoyo has created for her are thick and comfortable, and cut so long they give the appearance of bed clothes draped over the foliage. And that is fitting as well – let this be a bed, a sofa, a futon. A place to dream, safe and warm, and wake when she’s done. Hadn’t the dimensional witch said her soul had found its way to a dream, after all? What better place than this for her body to find respite?

“I’ll leave you to talk with her a bit,” Princess Tomoyo says from the ground, “I’m sure you have much to say.”

He wants to beg her to stay, to spare him being left alone with his thoughts. But he’s not alone, and she understands this even better than he. And, he knows she’s already done more than he deserves. Her simple acts of kindness have worked their magic on Sakura – transforming her from a bloodied husk into a sleeping beauty – and on him as well. Recovering Sakura had seemed a hopeless endeavor, and the price has already proven astronomical. Yet now he feels his hope renewed – and not just for Sakura. It’s a debt he cannot hope to repay, but he’s fairly certain Princess Tomoyo is not expecting a return, anyway.

So instead he nods and thanks her again, and takes the opportunity she has offered him. Sakura’s eyes are closed, but her cheeks are pink and her fingers pliable as he gently grasps them. He isn’t sure exactly what to say, but as the wind picks up to stir the petals in the air around him, he’s sure he’ll be understood.

“You are looking exceptionally well this evening,” Princess Tomoyo greets him again many hours later. Fai isn’t sure of the exact time, but it seems several hours at least have passed since the dinner hour, and the sky is dark besides. “I sincerely hope that means you’ve had a pleasant day.”

Fai smiles and bows quickly before rising to move out of the way of her servants shuffling in through the door. They’re carrying a low-sitting table and what appears to be a full tea service with them, and quickly arrange settings for two. Fai marvels at the efficiency as he takes a seat sitting cross-legged on a small cushion across from the princess.

Princess Tomoyo quickly shoos the servants into the hallway and takes a small cup with tea for herself. “I do apologize," she says, frowning at the cup set in front of him, "I did remind them that you don’t drink tea."

“Ah, it’s late,” Fai smiles and waves this away. “And even if I can’t drink it, I do love the smell.”

“I shall leave it for you to enjoy, then,” Princess Tomoyo says, "With your nose, if not your stomach.”

“Thank you,” Fai says. He lifts the cup with both hands, the way Kurogane has admonished him to countless times, and pauses for a moment to savor the rising steam. Its aroma is green and floral – jasmine, if his memory serves – and painfully familiar. This is the tea Kurogane seeks out in every world they visit, the tea each world seems to prefer slight variations on, and the tea Kurogane fumes over time and again when the flavor inevitably isn't quite right.

("These all taste the same, Kuro-pon. You must have ruined your taste buds with all the pickled horrors you torture them with.")

Fai longs to take a sip, to finally taste this perfect mixture that has been so elusive, but steadies his hands and sets the cup down after a long moment. Few things taste the same as they once did before the vampirisim took hold of his senses, and more often than not they only make him sick, anyway. Heaven knows there are enough sick and injured in this room already - there's no sense adding another over flowery tea.

"Is it not to your liking?" Tomoyo asks.

"It is," Fai says carefully, wrapping his hands around the cup with a sigh, "It's lovely. I wish I could drink it."

"This particular blend was a favorite of Kurogane's mother," Princess Tomoyo says and takes a long sip from her cup. "It nearly cost us our tea master trying to recreate it to his specifications."

“Oh, Kurogane,” Fai grins, the echoes of a hundred different tea tantrums ricocheting around his head. “He’s mentioned that he enjoys a very…ah…specific blend.”

The princess raises her eyebrows, "Mentioned?"

"Oh yes," Fai grins, "Very loudly.”

Princess Tomoyo can’t stop the rolling, "Ohohoho," ringing out from behind her modestly placed hand, and Fai can’t help but chuckle along with her. Still, nothing prepares him for her next question, or the way she puffs out her chest and drops her voice to ask it. "Is he still threatening to 'cut out craftsmen’s useless tongues' and 'spit roast them with a bag of their own shitty tea shoved up their ass!'?”

Fai has to pick up his jaw from where it is lying – somewhere on the table next to the tea he can’t drink – before he can react, and by then it’s all he can do to stifle the guffaw that wants to spill out of his mouth. He can only hold back for so long, though, and by the time it rattles its way through his defenses it's compressed into a high-pressured snerk that jerks his shoulders and squeezes out tears from his eyes. And with that already out, what’s the sense in holding back the laughter boiling up in his belly?

Princess Tomoyo regards him with a devilish smile. “It’s good to finally hear you laugh properly,” she says, “Although I admit I didn’t think it would be Kurogane’s tea zealotry that pushed you over the edge.”

“It was all you, Your Highness,” Fai assures her between fits, “You do a frighteningly good impression.”

“Was it the growl?” she asks, effortlessly returning to her normal register, “Did I get the inflated neck right?”

This makes Fai positively howl, bent over, and banging a fist against the table. “How long did it take you to perfect that?”

‘Hmm,” Princess Tomoyo’s lips twist thoughtfully, “It was pretty early on.” She grins. “It’s important for a princess to know how to best handle all of her subjects, you know? And since Kurogane only listens to himself…”

“So he likes being order around as long as it’s in his own voice?” Fai balks.

“Oh, no,” Princess Tomoyo giggles, “He hates it. He stomps and curses…but eventually he gives in and does it. Probably just so he doesn’t have to hear it anymore.”

“That is…very devious of you, Your Highness,” Fai smirks, “I am impressed.”

“Ohohoho,” Princess Tomoyo hides the better part of her expression behind her hand, “Honestly the hardest part has been keeping up with how deep his voice has gotten over the years. At first, it was just a few notes at a time, but then…” She sighs wistfully.

Fai leans forward on the table, his interest piqued. “So Kurogane came to live here when you were both still children, then?”

“Oh yes,” Princess Tomoyo relaxes and sips at her tea again, letting some of the laughter-induced flush drain from her face, “At least, I was a child. He was already a teenager, albeit on the younger side.” She pauses, seeming to gauge his interest, “And right away I was left trying to find ways to reign him in.” She sighs. “It went about as well as you’d expect.”

Fai chuckles and lifts the tea cup to inhale its delicate fragrance once more. “So he’s always been…er, a bit prickly?”

"My dear Fai," Princess Tomoyo laughs, "You have a way of understating things that would make you very popular among the Shirasagi court."

Fai bows deeply, his head nearly touching the table in front of him. "I take it that's a 'yes,' then," he says, sitting back up with a grin.

"An emphatic yes, at that," Princess Tomoyo giggles, "When he first came to us, he frightened the kitchen staff so badly I had to start carrying his meals to him myself." She shakes her head with an amused grin and continues, "After a week I insisted he make amends by peeling vegetables for the cooks."

"And did he?"

"In a way," she says in a tone that suggests he most definitely did not. "Mostly he just shaved them all down to spears and stabbed anyone who critiqued his handy work."

"Stabbed them?"

"With the vegetable spears," Princess Tomoyo clarifies hastily. She folds her hands on the table and shakes her head. "I'm painting quite a terrible picture, aren't I?" She sighs, looking over her shoulder at Kurogane's sleeping form. "In the end, we found it was better to let him take out his aggression physically, with sword training and so on. However…” she trails off with a frown.

“Yes, well, swinging a sword certainly does seem to take him to a happy place,” Fai says absently.

Princess Tomoyo sighs, loudly and with such drama that it takes Fai by surprise. “Unfortunately we failed in helping him find anything else that did the same.” She looks genuinely saddened by this admission and Fai wishes he could fly across the table to hug her. “Please don’t misunderstand,” she says quietly, “He has a very soft heart-”

Fai swallows the retort building in his chest.

“-and so he has done everything he can to hide it away under muscle and steel so that nothing can ever hurt it again.”

Fai’s stomach twists uncomfortably at this. Kurogane is strong. Kurogane is resilient. Kurogane…is a surly, cantankerous, hulk of a man with no heart to speak of-

Except when it comes to Syaoran, and his yearning for a mentor and friend.

Except when it comes to Sakura, and her indefatigable perseverance throughout this mess.

Except when it comes to himself, and-

Well. He’d worked that one out long ago, even if he hadn’t let himself believe it. Even without believing it, he'd been counting on it, hadn’t he? When he’d decided to simply put up a wall between them, rather than fight or, god forbid, kill him as he’d been instructed to. And it had been devastatingly effective.

For a while, anyway.

“Fai?” Princess Tomoyo says. She looks concerned, so he quickly rearranges his face into something more neutral.

“I was just thinking,” he says slowly, “That he hasn’t been very good at hiding it away.”

“No.” To his great relief, she smiles at this, rather than berating him. “He hasn’t, has he?”

Chapter Text

“Alright, gold takes rook.” Fai slides a wooden shogi piece one square to the right on the checkered game board. He goes to claim the piece he’s just displaced, but Mokona leaps onto his hand and pulls at his index finger as if it were reigns.

“Fai, that’s the lance!” she squeals, “It only moves forward.”

Fai stares at the symbols on the piece for a long moment. Mokona – ever helpful, even when she’s costing him the game – holds up an actual gold general.

Fai scowls. “They look exactly the same.”

“The bottom character is different,” she laughs, and hops back to Syaoran’s shoulder. “Mokona thought you were supposed to be good at this game!”

“I…thought I was!” Fai whines, throwing his head back for dramatic effect. “I haven’t played it since we got separated in Yama. But I beat Kurogane every time we played, then!”

“Maybe Kuro-puu let you win!” Mokona chirps.

“I doubt it, we were playing for alcohol rations.” Fai sighs and squints at the pieces. There are several noticeable differences from the pieces he’s used to playing with. This is Japan, after all, and any similarities to the game they played in Yama are purely coincidental. “The pieces we had there had all the moves each one could make scratched onto them. These just have…words I can’t tell apart.”

“You were using a cheater set!” Mokona squeals.

“I wasn’t cheating-”

“More like a beginner set,” Syaoran quickly corrects her, “They’re pretty common for little kids who can’t read yet, or for when they’re first learning how to play.” His cheeks quickly flush several shades darker. “I mean…common for beginners! You must have been a beginner, right?” His forehead creases and he cocks his head questioningly, “Actually…how did you even manage to sort out the rules in the first place? I thought you couldn’t talk to each other?”

“Ah,” Fai grins. He taps a finger against his bottom lip as he recalls fondly, “There was quite a bit of yelling at first, and pointing,” he chuckles softly, “But eventually Kuro-tan got mad enough that he scratched all the legal movements onto the pieces. Once he did that, I realized it was almost identical to the version of chess we played in Celes.” He pauses to huff in mock-indignation. “Although in Celes, we had the decency to carve different heads onto the pieces.” He flicks his lance piece back onto the board and sighs as Mokona erupts into another fit of laughter. “What’s so funny, Mokona?”

“Kuro-puu made you a kiddy set,” she wheezes between great, honking guffaws, “And you…and you turned around and kicked his butt and stole his alcohol!”

Syaoran tries and fails to stifle a snort. Fai tries to hide his grin behind a pout. “I let him keep some of it.”

“You’re an evil genius, Fai!” Mokona insists.

Fai shakes his head and laughs softly. It’s genuinely nice to have these two to banter with this morning. He’d nearly left for the baths immediately after passing off news of Kurogane’s status and handing off the chores that still needed doing, but the sight of Syaoran in the new clothes Tomoyo has commissioned – so similar in color and style to his own – made him feel…nostalgic probably isn’t the right word, but he had been flooded with memories of all the costumes they had donned in different worlds, and suddenly the urge to stay put and be with the two of them had become overwhelming.

“It’s still pretty impressive that you were able to work out how to play,” Syaoran says, “It can’t have been easy…”

Fai considers for a moment. “It wasn’t too difficult. Actually, most things were easier than you’d expect. Kurogane is very demonstrative, you know.”

“I suppose so,” Syaoran nods, and Fai has to appreciate his commitment to understatement.

In fact, it had been Kurogane’s commitment to overstatement that had made those early days in Yama tolerable. The exaggerated pantomiming and shouting got the point across eventually, and kept Fai entertained along the way.

(“Kuro-tan, saying it louder and slower isn’t a translation spell!”)

In the end, they had learned to read each other so well it was almost frightening. Fai had never been well-versed in the subtle language of facial tics and breathing patterns before, but where Kurogane was involved, he was now downright fluent.

It’s made the past six months nigh-unbearable, but now that he has nothing at all…

“We could try playing something else,” Syaoran offers sincerely, eyeing him with growing concern.

“No, that’s-” Fai starts to say, but he quickly quiets himself and waves a hand to silence the others as well.

The barest of sounds is coming from the opposite side of the privacy screen, and Fai isn’t sure if it’s a moan, or a creak, or something else making noise out-of-doors. He’s ready to chalk it up to some of the floorboards settling, but just as he’s preparing to turn back to Syaoran and insist they finish the game they’ve started, there comes a follow-up grunt and gargled groan.

Fuck.

Fai freezes, apart from his stomach, which manages to fall somewhere in the vicinity of his ankles. He’s known since that first day that keeping someone of Kurogane’s improbable stature and bulk sedated is more art than science, and that the mixture of sedatives the doctors have been using have been improvised and altered several times already. But for all the doctors’ worry, Kurogane hasn’t stirred or even moved much under the drugs’ influence. He isn’t sure what it means that Kurogane is stirring now, but he is sure that it isn’t a good thing.

Syaoran is on his feet first. “He’s not supposed to be waking up yet, is he?”

Fai shakes his head rapidly. “No, he’s supposed to be out for another two days at least.”

“Maybe it’s ok,” Mokona whispers. The quaver in her voice sounds nearly as terrified as Fai feels. Fai pats her head and steadies his breathing. There’s no sense in all of them getting worked up and flailing around uselessly.

“It’s alright, Mokona,” he reassures her, “He just needs more sedatives.”

“Where are they?” Syaoran asks, “We should get them to him quick-”

“No,” Fai sighs, “The doctors need to do it. They have to get it down his throat with a…thing, and…I don’t trust myself to do it.”

“Ok,” Syaoran nods, “Let’s go find them.”

“You two go,” Fai says, shooing them toward the door before they can argue, “I’ll stay here with him.”

“He sounds like he’s in pain,” Mokona whimpers.

“I’ll take care of him,” Fai promises. Whatever that means. “Go.”

The door slides shut with a bang as Fai maneuvers his way around the screen. The sight that greets him isn’t the gore-filled, worst-case scenario of ripped stitches and freely flowing blood that he fears, but it isn’t the serene picture of healing he’s become accustomed to, either. Kurogane’s hand is fisted into the mattress tightly enough to drain the color from his knuckles. His knees are buckled and his neck is tilted at an unnatural angle into his pillow, and the strangled groans spilling over his lips are well-matched by the painful contortion of his face.

Shit. Shitshitshit.

Fai, having no real idea of what to do in this instance, does the only thing he can think of in the moment and drops to his knees at the side of the futon. He grabs Kurogane’s hand and gently pries the fingers loose from the bedding, then slips his own into its palm. He means to be soothing, but Kurogane’s grip is relentless. The bones and joints of Fai’s hand pop and strain under the pressure, but that’s fine. It’s fine. He can bear it until help arrives.

He runs his free hand over Kurogane’s forehead. His skin is sweaty, but not feverish, and this can only be a good sign.

“Hold on just a few more minutes,” Fai mutters. He isn’t sure if this is directed to himself or Kurogane, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter.

Kurogane grips his hand harder, and Fai tries not to wince as the knuckle at the base of his middle finger creaks and shatters.

“It’s alright,” he says through clenched teeth, “They’ll be here soon.” He stops talking then, too-well aware Kurogane can’t hear him. He brings his other hand to the back of Kurogane’s death grip and strokes the tips of his fingers against the straining tendons and knuckles there. The fingers locked around Fai’s palm relax ever-so-slightly, and Fai lets out an incredulous huff. Truly, they have always communicated better without words.

It was how they had survived (thrived, even, if he allows himself the guilty pleasure of admitting as much) in Yama without being able to speak to one another. He had been thankful for the diversion, at the time. It had been clear for a while already that Kurogane was more than capable of seeing through every lie and deflection Fai could throw at him. And so, when the massive effort involved to communicate even simple statements like “I am hungry” suddenly negated the need to talk about more abstract notions, let alone lie about them, it felt like a goddamned holiday. He hadn’t meant to come out the other side so intensely attuned to Kurogane that he was able to decipher his intentions from the inflection of a thoughtless grunt, but here they are.

And it’s probably why they are here, Fai realizes with a cold shiver up his spine. The only other person he has ever allowed himself to become so fully entangled with was his twin, and up until five days ago he’d fully believed that he’d murdered him in cold blood. He’d believed (hoped, feared) that pulling away from Kurogane would allow him the space to betray him when the time came.

That this had always been an impossibility is something he’s only now starting to accept.

The bones in his palm are already knitting back together when Syaoran comes barreling back into the room. The doctors are trailing close behind, though without the panicked urgency. They’re quick to shoo anyone non-essential to the task – and Fai and Syaoran and Mokona are all non-essential when it comes to mixing medicines – out of the room.

Fai sighs loudly as the door slides closed in his face. “Well, I guess we’ll have to find something other than shogi to entertain ourselves for a while.” Fai frowns, wondering if it’s best to simply head back to their rooms and rest for a bit, when he remembers a promise he’s made to Princess Tomoyo. “Syaoran,” he says, rounding on the boy, “I have somewhere I need to take you.”

The sight of Sakura has caused Syaoran no small amount of angst for all the months he’s traveled with them, so it’s no great surprise that his expression draws taut at the first glimpse of her resting in the sakura tree. Still, he climbs quickly to sit by her side, and with a closer viewing, his anxiety seems to unravel slightly. Mokona exhales a sigh of relief from her perch on his shoulder.

“She looks much better,” he says, offering Fai a small but genuine smile.

“She looks beautiful,” Mokona agrees.

“That she does,” Fai agrees with a nod, “She feels a little warmer, too.”

Syaoran touches the backs of his fingers to her forearm and nods in agreement.

“I can leave you alone to talk for a bit,” Fai says after a few long moments of silence have passed.

“No,” Syaoran says quickly, then softens his demeanor, “I’m sure she’d appreciate it more if you stayed, too.”

“I’ll stay, if you like,” Fai agrees, but doesn’t dignify the self-deprecating quip with an answer. The boy probably isn’t wrong, per se – Sakura had gone out of her way to be cold and distant to him – but he also doesn’t need the reminder. He obviously cares for Sakura – whether he knew her before he was imprisoned and cloned, or whether he knew another version of her in another world is a secret he hasn’t shared, but Fai doesn’t need to know the specifics to see that his heart is breaking.

So, he settles in against a large bough, rests his head against one of the many streaming bolts of silk, and waits in companionable silence.

“Thank you,” Syaoran says, seemingly out of the blue after a long while has passed.

“Hmm?” Fai opens his eyes and sits up again.

“Thank you,” Syaoran repeats, still staring at Sakura and not making eye contact, “For bringing me here. And for taking care of her.”

“That’s…” Fai trails off, at a loss for words, “You should thank Princess Tomoyo. She’s been the one doing all the work.”

“But you’ve helped, too,” Syaoran insists, even if he still won’t look at Fai, “I can tell. The design of her dress, the colors – they’re all things Princess Sakura would have liked.”

“No, Syaoran-”

“You’ve had so much on your mind,” Syaoran continues, apparently intent on ignoring argument Fai tries to offer, “And so much to take care of with Kurogane since we arrived here. I can’t imagine-”

“Syaoran,” Fai cuts him off with force, “Please. Don’t thank me.”

I can’t accept it. I’ve been so awful to you…

Syaoran finally looks him in the eye. “Why not?”

“Yeah, Fai,” Mokona chimes in, “Why can’t he?”

“Because I…” Fai searches the surrounding branches helplessly for the answer and comes up empty-handed. “Syaoran,” he starts again, “This is the least I could do. I’ve…I’ve treated you terribly. Ever since you joined us. I almost got you killed-”

“You haven’t treated me terribly,” Syaoran says, looking a bit bewildered, “When did you treat me terribly?”

Fai balks, searching through his jumbled memories for a specific instance, but coming up empty. It’s just as well, though. “I’ve been cold,” he says at last, “I’ve barely spoken to you. I never patched your injuries – and there were so many – and I never brought you a meal-”

“Fai…” Syaoran trails off, shaking his head, “I just… You were grieving. Him. And I look just like him – I wouldn’t want to be around me, either.” He sighs loudly and stares at the ground far below. “I didn’t take it personally.”

“Grieving,” Fai sighs, “I suppose. It doesn’t make it better.” He drops his forehead to rest in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“You never did anything unkind,” Syaoran says earnestly, “So please don’t apologize.”

“Fai is kind, and that’s why he thinks treating you like you’d treat any stranger is mean.” Both Fai and Syaoran snap their faces around to Mokona, who startles and nestles closer against Syaoran’s shoulder. “It’s true, though,” she insists.

Fai smiles uncomfortably and shakes his head, but Syaoran’s eyes light up. “Mokona is right,” Syaoran says, “I just couldn’t explain myself. I watched you for so long through the other me’s eye, and you were always so kind. Even if you didn’t realize it,” he adds as Fai opens his mouth to argue again.

“That’s why no one believed that scary king when he said you were a bad guy,” Mokona says. She sounds every bit as earnest as Syaoran, and it carves a ragged hole into Fai’s chest.

Fai has no idea what to say to this, and so he says nothing. The sakura petals dance in the air around them, and he feels momentarily comforted, as if Sakura has heard every word they’ve said and wants to add her own two cents as well. He reaches a hand out to catch a few as they scatter, and breathes a bit easier as they press coolly against his palm.

Perhaps he’s not wicked, he concedes, but it’s hardly commendable to wander through life being accidentally good, either.

And so, he’ll need to decide. Or rather, he has decided. Where he stands now, the path he’ll tread from here on out…these answers are much more clear since arriving here in Japan. Now, he’ll need to decide what his first steps will be.

“You’re both good kids,” Fai says, sliding lower on the branch to position himself for an inevitable leap to the ground. “Syaoran, thank you.” He holds up a hand to stop the boy’s protesting that he was thanking Fai. “I need some time to think, now.”

“Will you at least come to dinner?” Syaoran calls after him as Fai drops to the ground.

Fai grimaces. One thing at a time, Syaoran. “Come by Kurogane’s room after,” he offers instead, “Maybe this time we can get a full game in. And…” he sucks in a nervous breath, “I’d like to borrow Mokona tonight, if she’ll stay with me.”

The projection flickers, then flares brightly against the white of the wall.

"Fai. I was not expecting to see you tonight."

That couldn't be more obvious, Fai thinks, attempting not to gape at the obscene amount of cleavage shining across Mokona's projection field. He knows the Dimensional Witch has few qualms about taking calls in various states of undress, but this is the first time he's met her wearing only a towel on her head. She tussles this down around her shoulders and shakes her wet hair in a wide arc.

"That surprises me," Fai admits, "I thought you had a knack for these things."

"Generally speaking, I do." She grins. "In this case, I expected to hear from you earlier this morning," she says, arching an eyebrow, "You're late."

Fai huffs out a not-quite-laugh. "It's been a busy day."

"I imagine it has," Yuuko frowns at him, "How is everyone holding up?"

"Some of us better than others," Fai admits, bending forward to sit with his elbows against his knees, "Some of us are only holding together with stitches."

"I am sorry to hear that," Yuuko says with sincerity, "I assume Princess Tomoyo is taking good care of you all?"

Fai's brow furrows. "How did you know that?"

Yuuko shrugs, "It's my business to know things," she pauses to chuckle, “And Mokona does care for you all quite a bit, you know. She may have mentioned it.”

Fai looks down at where Mokona has nestled into his lap and strokes a hand across her ears. She squeezes his fingers in reply.

Yuuko smiles at this display of affection, but quickly brings her expression back to something more serious. “But that is neither here nor there,” she says, “Or, more importantly, I should say: What can I do for you?”

Fai sighs, swallowing down any lingering reservations he might have about asking for help this way. “I have a wish," he says, holding her gaze, "I want an arm – a replacement. For the one Kurogane-" His voice cracks, but he swallows it down. "For the one he left behind."

Yuuko nods appraisingly. "And what would you offer in return?"

She's testing him. But after confirming his suspicions about their escape with Tomoyo earlier, he has some idea of what an appropriate price might be. He swallows and says slowly, "His arm was infused with my magic. He traded that for the magic at the core of the spell that was collapsing Celes in on itself...on me. The magic still in my eye." He takes a deep breath, twists his thumb until the knuckles pop. "Let me trade it back - let me use it to pay for a new arm."

"Your ability to determine a fair price is somewhat improved," Yuuko says with an approving smile, and Fai breathes a sigh of relief. That relief is short-lived, however, as her smile fades, and she continues, "Still, though, I think you’ll find you’re undervaluing your own life."

"The vampire blood is more than enough to keep me alive," Fai argues, "If anything, using what's left of my magic is what will kill me."

"You misunderstand," Yuuko soothes, "The exchange in Celes was not simply magic for magic. It might have been the means, but one can't overlook that the ends served to save your life."

Fai exhales deeply, disappointment sinking into the pits of his stomach. "Are you saying I would have to trade my life?"

"Would you?"

"No," he answers without hesitation, "But it hardly seems like a fair price to ask, either."

She laughs at this. "It’s steep, to be sure. But it is certainly fair in terms of replacing a living arm that has been used as currency for a human life.”

Fai mulls her words over for a moment. “So restoring the arm as flesh and blood is out of the question?”

She nods, “Short of transfiguring him into a newt and encouraging him to grow it back – which I doubt he would tolerate – I don't see any means of doing so that would carry an amenable price.”

Fai stifles a chuckle at the image this conjures up and nods. "A non-living arm, then?" he asks, "A prosthetic?"

"Much easier to facilitate," Yuuko agrees, "And even the little that remains of your magic should cover the cost of a high-quality, technologically advanced model – although that will have to come from a world different from the one you're in. That will come with its own set of complications as there is no way to fit him for a prosthetic directly." She regards him for a moment, "But it's your wish. Are those terms acceptable?"

Fai nods. They're more than acceptable – they’re more than he had dared to hope for, if he's being honest.

"Very well," Yuuko nods solemnly, "It may take several days to procure, and I will have to send a man to deliver it. Are you agreeable to waiting in Japan for the time being?"

"Kurogane is expected to sleep for at least two days yet," Fai says, "And will need plenty of time to recover after that. I think we are quite comfortable here for as long as we need to be." And some of us for longer.

Yuuko raises an eyebrow. "Asleep? Have they tied him down?"

"Their drugs are quite strong.”

She chuckles behind her hand. "I see. In that case I will set to work right away. We'll speak again when it arrives in Japan, and I will accept your payment then."

Fai nods his assent and strokes Mokona's ears. "Thank you."

An odd expression creeps onto her face then – not quite devious, but not entirely benign, either. "What will you say this time?" she asks, the corners of her mouth twisting ever-so-slightly.

"Say?"

"When he is the one to wake," Yuuko eyes him closely with that same half-amused expression, "What will you say?"

"Ah," and Fai has to smile at this despite himself. He considers for a second, rocking forward in his seat to balance his elbow against his knee and his chin against his elbow. "I suppose," he says at last, "I will say 'Good Morning, Kuro-sama.'"

She smiles, just barely, and he continues.

"And then I'll punch him in the throat." He’s only half-kidding. All the grief, panic, and anxiety – not to mention the broken bones in his hand – he’s felt during the last week of treating wounds and keeping a nightly vigil are going to have to go somewhere.

"Fai!" Mokona shouts from his lap, "You can't punch Kuro-puu in the throat!"

"I agree," Yuuko adds, "Not when his face is right there."

Fai snorts and pats Mokona on the head. "I promise I won't punch him in the throat," he says seriously, even though the prospect of punching him somewhere is still tantalizing. More importantly, Kurogane's preferred method of communicating has always been through extreme violence, and there are so many things that need to be said.

"Or anywhere," Mokona insists.

Fai strokes her ears. "Hm," he says noncommittally, "I'll be gentle."

Chapter Text

Another two days pass before the doctor declares Kurogane’s wounds to be healed enough to properly wake him. Still, while those days creep by with all the speed of a hobbling garden snail, this is still a full week earlier than expected, and for that much, Fai is ecstatic. He gratefully assists the doctors as they wind a final clean set of bandages around Kurogane’s torso and shoulder, even as they try to pin his successful healing on Fai’s efforts instead. He waits patiently through the hours as they taper down the sedative mixture until it is only water, and less patiently as Kurogane begins to shift restlessly in his slumber.

And then he waits some more, as the sedatives take longer than expected to clear from Kurogane’s system and daylight fades away. He sends Syaoran and Mokona off to bed and sits with Princess Tomoyo, picking at his fingernails while she works a needle back and forth at high speed through an embroidery frame. Neither of them have much to say tonight, their minds too occupied with anxious thoughts and playing through worst-case scenarios.

It’s well past midnight when Kurogane’s breathing finally quickens, and his great, gulping breaths signal consciousness is quickly returning. Fai nods to Princess Tomoyo as she stashes her work away and quickly makes his way to the door while she heads toward the futon. They’ve agreed that she will be the one to greet Kurogane. She is, after all, his oldest and most trusted friend and master, and while they both bear some culpability for the present circumstances, her role in this mess is undoubtedly less traumatizing.

There is also the small matter that Fai, despite his earlier babbling to the Witch of Dimensions, still hasn’t decided exactly what he’ll say. There are things he ought to say, things that he needs to say. But these are things and not words, and so he’s left pacing and muttering curses to himself.

It’s Kurogane’s voice that rumbles through the closed door first. It’s harsh and panicked, and far too similar to the handful of times he’s fought through the sedatives already. Fai winces, and against his better judgment, presses his ear to the door. Tomoyo is talking now, her voice low and soothing. He can’t make out her words – either of their words, come to that, and the cadence of their speech sounds distinctly foreign (perhaps Mokona can’t translate what he can’t hear), but that’s just as well. They have many things to discuss that he shouldn’t be privy to, anyway.

And so he sits. And stews. His blood turns to ice in his veins, then melts back into something approximating a liquid again. He’s given up rehearsing words because at this point they’ll only betray him, and so when he finally hears Princess Tomoyo call for him, he enters silently and silently crosses the room. He stares at his feet as he walks, marveling that they’re somehow managing to carry him across the floor when every other part of him seems to be shutting down or on the verge of noncompliance. And when he finally manages to lift his eyes–

There is a sadness written into Kurogane’s expression that grips Fai’s ragged and exhausted heart like a vice. There’s softness and longing there too, though they do little to ease the twisting in his chest. After all, the real culprit isn’t the expression itself, but how familiar it is. This is the face that has weathered every rejection, every slammed door, every snide insult Fai has flung at it for the past six months. Being treated to it up close used to feel like a consolation prize for swallowing down his own wants – a stark visual reminder that he was successful in his enforced solitude. But now, he’s not stupid enough to delude himself into believing it’s a simple expression of hurt or disappointment. Now, he can read it so clearly it seems to scream in his ears.

I choose you. What do you choose?

Fai gathers his nerves, curls his fingernails against the palms of his hand. He’ll-

“Oi,” Kurogane grunts impatiently, and Fai lets his fist fly without further thought.

To say he’s as surprised by the impact as Kurogane would be incorrect – there had been plenty of planning and forethought involved, even if he hadn’t actually intended to follow through with any of it. Still, the crack of his knuckles against Kurogane’s cheeks snaps him back to reality, and the reverberations up his arm shake loose some of the anger and worry that have been festering in his gut for the past week. He grins. “That’s payback, Kuro-sama.”

And it is, of a sort. But it’s also a punch to the face of a man who’s already grievously injured, and the stark reality of that comes slamming into Fai a second later as Kurogane topples into the wall and stares back at him with a look that is half confused and half sad puppy.

But if his face stirs pity, his words quash it almost immediately. “You bastard. I’ll kick your ass.”

It’s the most Kurogane response Fai can imagine, and before the last of the prickling guilt even fades away, he’s laughing – deep guffaws that shake his ribs and bow him over. He slips to his knees at Kurogane’s side and grabs at his robe to steady himself. His laughter is already crumbling into great, heaving sobs that hurt as they rip from his chest and through his throat, but don’t stop even when he tries to still his breath.

“Oi,” Kurogane grunts again, and grabs at Fai’s shoulder. It’s too rough and betrays the amount of shock he must be feeling before Fai can even raise his head enough to look him in the eye. Fai is expecting disgust or anger, but the expression on Kurogane’s face is something closer to terrified.

“It seems you have everything well in hand here, Kurogane,” Princess Tomoyo says, rising to her feet, “So I will take my leave until the morning.”

Kurogane’s head snaps to face her. “You’re going?”

“Yes,” she smiles behind her trailing sleeve, “I will have some food sent for you. You must be very hungry.” And with that she offers a small bow and makes her way out.

Fai takes the occasion of the door sliding closed to collapse bodily against Kurogane’s chest. He’s careful to avoid both his shoulder and the wound on his right side, which is still partially open and raw beneath the bandages. It’s a delicate balancing act, but Fai has spent more than enough hours tending these wounds and is well-versed in the topography. Kurogane’s hand tightens against his back, and for a moment they simply sit there, toppled over like two ancient trees with branches all akimbo and roots woven into a hopeless mess. Fai would be content to stay here for the rest of eternity, but Kurogane shifts uncomfortably beneath him and pats at his back.

“Sit up.”

Fai does and they are left staring awkwardly at each other in silence for a long moment.

“I wasn’t going to die that easily,” Kurogane says at last, and attempts a lop-sided grin.

Fai isn’t having it, though, and the fire in his eyes easily wipes the half-formed grin off Kurogane’s face. His blood may have run cold only a few moments earlier, but now it is boiling – hot anger creeps up into his cheeks and flares at his temples as he grinds out through clenched teeth, “Two minutes, Kuro-sama.”

“Two minutes?”

“Two minutes is all it takes to bleed out from severing an arm.” Kurogane looks appropriately chastened, and Fai forces some of the seething rage back into his belly. Not all of it, though. “I had to use my hands,” he continues, “I had to pin what was left of you into the dirty ground to try to stop the bleeding.”

“I-”

“You’re lucky it’s not festering.”

“Fes-”

“You made Syaoran worry.”

“Hey-”

“And you made Mokona cry.”

“Oi!” Kurogane roars at last, and Fai feels a guilty rush of pride for making him angry enough to shout. “What do you want, an apology?”

Fai sighs, closes his eye, and lets his head sink back to rest on Kurogane’s shoulder. “No.”

“Good,” Kurogane barks, with only slightly less force, “Cuz I’m not sorry. For any of it. I’d do it all again if it meant we could leave together. And you-”

Fai allows himself a raspy chuckle and lifts his head. “I suppose this isn’t the best way to thank Kuro-sama for saving my life.”

Kurogane snorts incredulously. For all his ninja training, he isn’t prepared for the embrace Fai wraps him in, nor the kiss he plants on his cheek. He stiffens noticeably when Fai leans in close to whisper, “Thank you.”

Fai releases him with a satisfied grin and slides back to his seat on the floor. It’s a rare treat to see Kurogane flustered these days, and for once he hasn’t had to wheedle him into it with sing-songy taunts and nicknames. But Kurogane has never been one to remain unguarded, and his eyes quickly narrow back to a normal size, and the twitchy smile playing at his lips hardens into a wolfish grin.

“Yeah,” he smirks.

Fai considers punching him just once more.

“Come on, you arrogant…thing,” he says instead, and proffers a hand to help Kurogane to his feet. It can only be a good thing if Kurogane is already feeling well enough to smirk. Fai hauls them both up with only a little difficulty, and positions himself as a support crutch beneath Kurogane’s shoulder when he stumbles. “You need to move around a little. We can wash your face at the basin, and the doctors left a really neat little bottle for you to pi-”

“Shut up,” Kurogane groans.

“Don’t be embarrassed, who do you think has been changing your sheets for the past week?” Fai teases. Kurogane groans again, but allows himself to be led to the small vanity station that’s been set up with a basin and bowl and assorted other toiletries servants have deemed useful after a week of sleep. It’s slow-going – a week off of his feet is enough to make even a big brute like Kurogane wobbly at first – but they manage, and Fai dutifully turns his back to give Kurogane privacy.

There is a knock at the door before Kurogane has finished, and Fai opts to dash across the room to answer it, rather than risk waking everyone in adjoining rooms with shouting at this hour. Two servants have arrived with the food Princess Tomoyo promised, and Fai quickly ushers them to an empty space not too far away from the futon. He isn’t sure how far is too far to expect Kurogane to move this early in his rehabilitation, so might as well play it safe.

Kurogane refuses to be limited by silly things like “healing,” however, and with very little outward struggle, manages to haul himself to his feet entirely of his own volition. But while he may be strong, he is not yet steady, and though the wobbling of his shoulders may be slight, it’s enough to send Fai rushing back to catch him under the arm again.

“Yes, yes, Kuro-tan is very strong,” he chides as he drags them over to the low table. A small snort of laughter escapes from one of the serving girls, who quickly stifles it. Fai’s eye twinkles mischievously. “But there’s no sense in showing-off for little old me, especially since I have to be the one to pick you back up if you fall over.”

Kurogane shoots him a dirty look, but Fai is too busy laughing at the serving girls’ shocked expressions. They continue arranging dishes and pouring tea with wide eyes and pursed lips, seemingly teetering on the edge of laughter and outright terror. Fai grins as they finish and step away with low bows.

“Thank you very much,” he says as they move to the door. He pokes a finger into Kurogane’s cheek. “Don’t be rude, Kuro-sama.”

“Thanks,” Kurogane grunts, but for once he sounds sincere, and so Fai stops his prodding. The servants blush and giggle as they slide the door closed. Kurogane sighs and stares down at the food with a disdainful sneer. “I fucking hate rice porridge.”

Fai sneaks a look at the tray and frowns. “Well, at least you’ve got boiled eggs and boiled chicken and boiled root vegetables to go with it.” He plops down across from Kurogane and pokes experimentally at the rubbery chicken. He is immediately greeted with a pair of chopsticks pinched around the tip of his finger. “That hurts,” he whines and yanks his finger back to suck at pitifully, “But at least you won’t have any trouble feeding yourself.”

Kurogane ignores him in favor of stuffing large quantities of food into his mouth. This particular combination may not have been his first choice of food to celebrate his return home, but it seems it will do just as well. The only trouble he has is with the porridge itself, but after struggling with the spoon over the long distance between the table and his mouth, he opts just to slurp it straight from the bowl. This comes with the unexpected bonus of leaving behind a delightful little porridge mustache that Fai is almost sad to wipe away.

He does, though, and he’s halfway through the motion of it when he realizes Kurogane is staring at him strangely. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head and quickly dropping the napkin, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“‘S fine,” Kurogane says, swallowing down a final mouthful of porridge. He sets the bowl on the table and leans toward Fai with a more serious expression, though.

“Kuro-sama?” Fai asks tentatively.

Kurogane sighs. “You’re pretty attentive for a guy I was pretty sure hated me.”

“I never-” Fai scoffs, but snaps his mouth closed just as quickly. “Kuro-sama…I…” he tries again, desperately searching for the words to organize his feelings. “I am so…so…sorry.” Kurogane continues to hold his gaze, so he continues to let the words fall out. “These last…fuck, it’s been months! I…I’ve never had a, a…friend,” friend isn’t the word he wants, but he barrels ahead anyway, “I never had anyone I cared about like that before. We were so close and I couldn’t…” He stops, drags in a breath that doesn’t want to come, closes his eyes. “I didn’t see any way out. I couldn’t…kill you. I couldn’t not kill you. There wasn’t a scenario in all the worlds where you would forgive me, I thought. For siding with the man who killed your family. And then.” He slumps forward completely and lets his head rest on the table as he speaks. “And then you gave me your blood and I couldn’t…the only thing I could do was push you away and hope it would be less painful for us both when it all came crashing down.” He raises his head as he finishes and forces himself to catch and hold Kurogane’s gaze.

“Was it?” Kurogane asks quietly.

“No.”

Kurogane nods, and the silence between them seems to stretch into eternity.

“You didn’t side with him,” Kurogane says at last.

“What?” Fai jumps to attention, “Of course I did. I did exactly what he demanded and forced my way onto a journey with all of you. Even the witch knew me for exactly what I was-”

“Not when it counted, you didn’t,” Kurogane says with more force. He balls his finger into a fist and sighs irritably. “Look, if you want to apologize for being a brooding bastard for the past six months, I’ll take it. But if you’re gonna come along with some nonsense about being responsible for a deal some evil wizard forced on you when you were a kid, then save it.”

Fai scoffs. His jaw is somewhere on the table and his brain is probably right there next to it, for all the good it’s doing coming up with a rebuttal.

Not that Kurogane has any intention of letting him voice one. “Besides which,” he continues sharply, “Has it never occurred to you that you’re a really fucking awful villain?”

“What?” Fai coughs, and is impressed with himself for managing this much.

“You’re talking like you’re some henchman dedicated to following that asshole’s orders. But all you really did was take care of two kids who were already in a world of trouble. You kept them safe, and ended up caring so much about them that you chose them over your own wish.”

“I chose…” Fai repeats slowly, “I chose…all of you.”

“Yeah.”

Fai chews at his lips, “I…I don’t…” Stop. He sucks in a deep breath, then blows his lips back out with a pop. “I’m not used to you saying nice things. It would be easier if you just called me an idiot.”

“Yeah?,” Kurogane huffs, “I’m not used to you talking about…anything, so I guess we’re both out of our depth.”

Fai allows himself a small chuckle at this, then sinks back into the quiet.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t understand?” Kurogane asks after a long moment.

Fai lifts his head. “Understand which part?”

Kurogane sighs and rolls his eyes. “The part where you did everything you could to save someone you loved.”

“Ah,” Fai nods, “The part that involved betraying you. Killing you?”

“Whatever,” Kurogane scoffs, “You think I haven’t done the exact same thing a hundred times over? I told you: I’ve killed so many people I can’t even count them anymore. All in the name of not losing anyone else important to me.”

“That’s different, Kuro-sama-”

“It’s not.”

“You didn’t know them. You did it-”

“You didn’t know me before this whole fucking mess, either. I was just some nameless asshole stopping you from saving your brother.” Kurogane draws in a deep breath and lets it out with a long-suffering sigh. “Look, I’m not saying it isn’t terrible. But I’ve been pretty fucking terrible myself, and so if anyone could understand you…”

Fai feels something twist tight in his chest because no, he hadn’t considered that anyone might understand, not this, not now, not in a million years, and certainly not Kurogane. And this probably makes him an even bigger idiot than Kurogane is always insisting he is, because it’s all been laid out in the open for ages and his head has been crammed too far up his own posterior to see it. “You’ve always understood me too well,” he says at last, “Especially when I didn’t want you to.”

“Idiot.”

Something about that single syllable unties the knot in his chest. “Ah, there is the Kuro-sama I know,” Fai says with a short laugh. He grins and shakes his head. “Chopping off your arm for an idiot though,” he clucks his tongue, “How embarrassing.”

Kurogane snorts, but fails to take the bait. Instead, he refills his tea cup and contemplates the steam rising as he holds it close to his face. “You deserve to live free,” he says after a long moment and drains his cup as if his mouth has suddenly run dry, “Just like he said.”

Fai is glad he’s already sitting down, because these words are enough to flatten him. Part of him wants to rage at Kurogane – how dare he use his brother’s words to justify his own self-mutilation this way – but the other part wants to melt into a puddle at his feet. Still a third part feels like it might combust from knowing there have been two people willing to sacrifice so much on his behalf – it feels unfair for an unworthy liar like himself, and yet oh does it set something in him alight.

“...I don’t know what to say to that,” Fai mumbles after a moment. It’s an honest statement, if nothing else.

Kurogane shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything.”

And it’s true, Fai realizes. Kurogane has sifted through the millions of words he’s flung at him since they began traveling and somehow managed to find the real him buried beneath the bullshit. There had been a time when they could read each other so well they had survived without words for six whole months – on and off the battlefield. His life has been astoundingly short on certainties, but being understood by the man seated across from him has always been a sure thing. And so, he summons what’s left of his courage and takes Kurogane’s hand between his own to grip tightly. He stares at their fingers in silence as they fumble about and slowly interlace – light skin on dark, perfectly contrasted as always, and yet so easily fit together. He smiles to himself and squeezes a bit harder than strictly necessary.

“Just one last apology, then,” Fai says quietly.

“For what?”

“There was a moment, when Celes was collapsing. I thought–” he pauses, swallows thickly, and continues, “I thought you would leave me behind. Accepted it, even. Believed it.”

Kurogane frowns and cocks an eyebrow.

“And I’m sorry for doubting you. For ever doubting you.”

Kurogane is silent for a moment, then lets out the kind of loud, belting laugh Fai has only imagined him to be capable of. “I must have been sleeping for a fucking year,” he says, “You’re…different. Better.”

Fai looks away sheepishly, “Yes, well, Princess Tomoyo pounded a lot of sense into me…”

“Tche, I’ve been trying to do that for months. Years.”

“Yes, well, she is very convincing where Kuro-sama is merely very violent.” Fai grins and releases his hand. “I should get this cleaned up and get you back to bed. You can’t be up and around too much yet, but I can bring you something to read or a game or something if you like.” He sets about stacking the empty dishes on the dining table.

Kurogane groans and stretches his arm over his head. “Feels like I’ve been lying in bed for a week.”

Fai cocks an eyebrow. “That would be about correct, Kuro-pon. Don’t overdo it-”

“I’m not gonna overdo it, I just need a short walk.” He shuffles out from under the table and hauls himself to his feet.

Kurogane seems steadier than before, but Fai isn’t about to let him tear something open or, god forbid, find some new and creative way to injure himself before he’s healed the last batch. He quickly abandons the precariously balanced dishes and jumps up to catch the stubborn bastard under his good shoulder. “At least let me walk with you.” He’s half expecting some sort of argument, but it never comes and the two of them plod carefully across the room.

Cool night air greets them with a rush as the shoji slides open. Fai shudders as it bellows into his lungs and sneaks into even the deepest folds of his robe, but stays steady on his feet as he helps Kurogane across the threshold. The engawa is empty this late at night and the doors to neighboring rooms are pulled firmly shut to keep out the cold. They wander along the wall a little way, until Kurogane’s pace slows to a bare crawl and Fai insists they sit.

“I’m not a goddamned invalid,” Kurogane counters, but Fai is hearing none of it.

“Think of it as a moon-viewing if you need to. Either way, Kuro-tan, just sit down.”

Kurogane hmmphs as he complies, but eventually settles onto the floorboards and kicks his feet over the edge like a schoolkid. Fai snorts, but allows him this – it can’t be easy for someone as active as Kurogane to suddenly find their movements restricted. He plops down at his side a few moments later, possibly a little closer than strictly necessary, but there’s no sense in parking himself too far away when he’ll only need to slide back to help Kurogane back to his feet later.

The moon is beautiful tonight, and the cold, crisp air seems to make it shine all the brighter. Still, any appreciation Fai might usually feel for it is buried beneath the roaring tide of a million other thoughts and worries. He keeps these to himself, though, as they sit and bask in the sounds of the night.

“Are you glad to be home?” he asks, when the absence of voices finally becomes too much.

Kurogane doesn’t answer immediately. He chews his cheek and stares at the moon, at the stars until Fai is very nearly ashamed for asking.

“It’s nice,” he says when he finally does speak, “I’ve missed it.”

Fai sighs in relief and allows his legs to swing a bit.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m…” Fai takes a shaky breath, “I’m glad to be here, too.”

It’s a true statement, even if what he means is actually closer to “I’m glad to be here, by your side.” There will be time for that later, though, once Kurogane is back to full strength and Fai can borrow some of his confidence, or even just mimic a bit of his arrogance to find his voice.

“Heh,” Kurogane laughs and shoots him a toothy grin. Fai could get used to seeing that grin. He returns a smile, if only so he can see it a few moments longer. Still, it eventually fades into a thoughtful scowl as Kurogane pinches at Fai’s bicep. “Boney,” he declares, “How long has it been since you ate? If I’ve been out a week, it’s longer than that.”

Fai pouts and swats his hand away. “I’m fine,” he insists, “Princess Tomoyo wouldn’t have let me starve, even if I had wanted to.” He crosses his arms and rubs at his elbows awkwardly. “And…as it turns out, vampire saliva is something of a miracle tonic.” It somehow sounds worse than he’s expecting and, he’s completely unsurprised to find Kurogane sneering back at him with a tightly wrinkled nose.

“You never mentioned that before.”

Fai sighs and wrings his hands. “I didn’t know! Princess Tomoyo was the one who suggested it might be. She knew…something from her dreams, and I was so desperate that I…” He trails off as the sneer fades from Kurogane’s face and is replaced with something closer to amusement.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Kurogane allows, “Wouldn’t be the first time Tomoyo came along with something crazy from her dreams.” He stretches his arm out across his chest. “So what did you do? Spit in my mouth?”

“No!”

“I don’t see any bite-marks-”

“Kuro-sama, you had so many open wounds I didn’t need to make any new ones.”

“Ah,” Kurogane absentmindedly pats his empty shoulder and flinches at the contact. “So you just…”

“...yeah.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“On purpose?”

Fai balks at him, disbelief screwing his nose and lip onto his cheeks. “It would have been a lot of ground to cover accidentally.”

“But you chose to do it.” Kurogane is staring at him so seriously now, Fai thinks it might be easier to duck back inside than to continue the conversation.

“I,” he begins, then falters, “Of course I chose it. Kuro-sama, there aren’t many things I wouldn’t have done just then if I thought they would help–”

“Heh.” Kurogane grins again, and Fai contemplates another punch to his face. He’s being as truthful as he ever has, and still…

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Kurogane exhales and stretches his arm above his head, which somehow results in his hips sliding ever-so-slightly closer, until they smack unceremoniously against Fai’s.

“Kuro-tan?” Fai asks with wide eyes. He watches Kurogane’s arm as it drops back down behind them, feels the thump as his hand meets the floor, and freezes as it creeps back upward – painfully hesitantly, as if Kurogane fears losing it as well – and hugs tightly around Fai’s shoulders. Fai chokes out a surprised cough as he’s crushed into Kurogane’s side, but has to finish with a laugh when he realizes how furiously red Kurogane’s cheeks are. The heat is enough to make him melt, and so he allows himself to do exactly that. His shoulder sinks into the warmth of Kurogane’s side, his head droops to rest against his shoulder, and his breath leaves him like steam escaping a kettle.

“Where are the kid and the pork bun?” Kurogane asks some time later.

“Hopefully sleeping,” Fai answers, “It took longer for the sedatives to wear off than the doctors thought it would.”

Kurogane scoffs. “That half-trained flesh-tailor still in charge?”

Fai stifles a chuckle. “I suppose that’s nicer than what he called you. You are impossible to dose correctly, did you know that?”

Kurogane ignores the question. “What did he call me?”

“Nothing,” Fai waves the question away. There’s no sense in riling Kurogane up when he’s barely able to move on his own. “Anyway, Syaoran and Mokona will come by in the morning. And then we can…” He trails off, having realized halfway through the sentence that he is about to suggest they solidify their plans going forward, and he really isn’t certain he wants to hear the answer yet.

It doesn’t matter, though, as Kurogane’s head comes crashing down against his own while he is stewing on the thought.

“Why am I so goddamned tired,” Kurogane whines – and it is a whine, though Fai doesn’t think he’s ever heard the sound pass Kurogane’s lips before. “Slept for a goddamned week…”

Fai tries very hard not to react to this, but within seconds he’s shaking with silent laughter, which only grows more violent when Kurogane demands to know what’s so damned funny.

“Kuro-sama,” he manages at last, “You might have slept for the better part of a week, but you fought it tooth and nail the entire time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you kept trying to wake up! And then you would try to fight us…it was quite a scene.” He doesn’t mention the broken bones or the black eye one of the doctors is still sporting.

“Hmm,” Kurogane frowns.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Yep.”

“Come on, Kuro-tan, at least blame it on nightmares or something,” Fai chides, though he understands all too well how pain and worry make for rotten sleep, even (and maybe especially) when you’re unfit for anything else. He waits a few beats, but the only response he receives is quiet snoring. With a sigh, he gently shuffles free and pats Kurogane’s cheeks to wake him again. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmurs quietly when Kurogane’s eyes flutter open, and slips an arm back under his shoulder.

They stumble back to the futon – Kurogane’s eyes might be open, but his brain has apparently closed for business – and Fai quickly tucks the blankets in around him. It’s almost funny how second-nature this has become – it’s a simple enough task, certainly, but one he never would have attempted (or been allowed to do, if he’s being honest) prior to the past week. And yet now there is something comforting in the familiarity of it.

Stranger things have happened, Fai reminds himself, and settles at the side of the futon. For the first time all evening, some of the adrenaline pounding through his veins seems to fade away, leaving his eyelids drooping and his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He rolls to his knees, starts to stand to begin the long trudge back to his own pile of pillows, and stops just as abruptly as the hand fisted into the sleeve of his robe catches and pulls tight. He clucks his tongue and tries to pull free, but Kurogane’s fingers don’t budge, and he simply hasn’t the wherewithal to actually care. The tatami mats will suffice for bedding tonight, he decides, and slumps back to the floor.

Chapter Text

Fai does not dream. For once in his overly long life, the demons that haunt his sleep have decided to grant him a respite and leave him to drift in the tides of deep, black nothingness.

He wakes only when the burning of morning light against his eyelids becomes too intense to ignore, and even then he’s slow to come around fully, taking in his surroundings one by one as he fumbles his way back to consciousness. He’s sprawled on the floor next to an empty, messily piled futon. There’s a blanket around his shoulders that he has no recollection of acquiring, and a cold breeze blowing across his feet. He jams his toes beneath the futon and closes his eyes again, fully intending to slip back under the waves, until he’s reminded of where he is.

He bolts upright, staring at the empty futon. There’s no real reason for him to panic, he realizes after a long moment of staring – it’s not as if Kurogane is meant to be confined here – but panic has become his default state over the past days, and it will probably take some time for him to train it back out. With a clearer head, he can survey the room.

Kurogane is seated in the gap of the open shoji, staring into the courtyard beyond. His robe has been shirked to his waist, and the bandages around his shoulder and middle hang loose where they haven’t been peeled away completely. Fai frowns and pads quietly to his side. When Kurogane turns to face him, it’s with a mouthful of bandages that limply connect to his torso on one side and out to a clean spool clenched in his fist on the other. He looks irritated by the entire arrangement, but his face softens as he spits the bandages free to offer a curt “‘Morning.”

“Good morning,” Fai says with a wry smile, “Having some trouble?”

“No.”

Fai ignores him and gathers the spool of bandages from the floor. “Did you bleed last night?” he asks with a frown, and leans in for a closer look at Kurogane’s injuries. “I thought these were closed up enough. I shouldn’t have let you move around so much-”

“No,” Kurogane says again, though with less irritation in his voice this time, “I just…kind of…wanted to see.” He looks away, as if he’s ashamed by this revelation. “But I didn’t think it was going to be such a pain to wrap it up again.”

Fai has to laugh at this, even though he knows better than anyone that “wrapping it back up again” is no easy task. He hands the bandages back to Kurogane and hauls himself to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll get some water and the ointment – it’s probably a good idea to put some more on anyway.”

Clean water and ointment obtained, he settles on his knees in front of Kurogane and sets to work. The water is cold – he knows Kurogane well enough to know he doesn’t have the patience to wait for it to boil now that he’s worked himself up – and the sponge is rough, but it gets the job done quickly. There are no breaks in the scabs – there is precious little left to scab around the shoulder wound in particular – and no signs of pulling or shearing in the stitches. Fai’s fingers glide smoothly over their surface as he coats them with the ointment, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“These actually look pretty good – I was afraid they would pull once you started moving around,” he mutters, half to himself, as he screws the lid back on the jar of ointment.

Kurogane scoffs with exceptional force, “Pretty good?”

“Yes, they’re not pulling or cracking at all-”

“Wizard,” Kurogane balks, “I’ve had wounds like this before.” He quickly backtracks as Fai’s eyebrows make a break for his hairline, “Not this bad, but close.” He sighs and stares at the line of stitches trailing down his empty shoulder. “They didn’t heal this clean, or this fast. This is…” He closes his eyes and exhales loudly, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything, really,” Fai waves this away, “If you hadn’t given-”

“You did,” Kurogane says, and then goes quiet. He grabs Fai’s hands where they are winding long strips of bandages around his chest and holds them there, where they reverberate with each hammer stroke of his heartbeat. It’s comforting to feel beneath his palms, pounding away as swift and sure as a blacksmith, but the memory of its weaker echo only days earlier is still too fresh in Fai’s mind to feel at ease.

“I was so afraid of losing you,” Fai whispers, looking at the floor.

“Me, too.”

These two simple words leave Fai’s heart fluttering tumultuously against his breastbone, and it’s only with a deep breath that he finally manages to summon the courage to meet Kurogane’s eyes again. He knows, before he even looks, that Kurogane is wearing that expression again – that soft, sad, hopeful expression that he’s avoided so many times before. “Kuro-sama, I-”

But when he finally manages to drag his eyes away from the floor, he’s shocked to find that Kurogane is…smiling. Genuinely, and without any of the feral toothiness of his normal grins. Fai has no idea what to do with this, but his fluttering heart seems to melt away in his chest, and its remnants drip down to liquify his stomach and then his knees. He sinks forward, hands still braced against Kurogane’s chest, and shudders as the last bit of reticence seems to evanesce through his shoulders.

I choose you, too.

He’s barely aware of closing the final centimeters between them, but the first brush of Kurogane’s lips against his own greets him like a firecracker lighting up his spine. His breath catches as they meet – halting and a little unsteady – and he very nearly loses his nerve as they part again. But Kurogane has no intention of letting him slip away. He chases back after Fai’s lips with such ferocity that Fai has to catch his cheek in the palm of his hand to keep from being devoured whole. The initial unsteadiness fades as they surge together, any lingering hesitation unceremoniously dropped to the floor alongside the roll of bandages.

This kiss is as desperate as it is sweet, with wayward teeth interrupting what had started as a firm, but gentle devouring. Fai has always known Kurogane to be intense, but he hasn’t truly appreciated until this very moment – with Kurogane’s hand clawing into his hair and teeth dragging across his lip, clinging to whatever he can just to keep them here, together – how absolutely, crushingly overwhelming the fear of loss must have been in the seconds before he severed his arm. Fai knows what it is to trade away a piece of one’s own body to save another, knows very well the sort of demented calculus that takes place in those split seconds before the actual rending of flesh.

And Kurogane had traded it for him.

Fai has never dared to dream anyone would trade anything for him. Especially not after every single fault and transgression accumulated throughout his overly long life had been paraded before them as a sort of “greatest hits.”

This realization should be too much to bear. And, in truth, Kurogane’s feelings have always felt like a burden too great to bear, but a burden he must bear nonetheless. Whether as penance or punishment for slipping too close, or daring to dream didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that it was heavy enough to smother his own desires, to crush them down and warp them until they were barely recognizable. But this…this drapes over him like a gossamer mantle fluttering in the breeze and threatens to take him airborne. His head floats, light as air, and giddy with rushing blood and adrenaline.

Fai wraps his hands around Kurogane’s neck, desperately trying to keep himself grounded, but it is still not enough to keep him from wobbling as he pulls back in search of a breath. He balances his forehead against Kurogane’s, anchors himself there for a second as their breaths mingle in the small space between them. He hasn’t quite managed a proper lungful of air when Kurogane tips his face up to kiss him once again, and with a mischievous glint in his eyes, tips them backward onto the tatami mats.

Fai’s first thought is for Kurogane’s injuries, and he flings himself to the side as much as he can to avoid landing directly on his half-bandaged chest. He wants to yell at him. He wants to scream that healing comes first. But mostly, he just wants to fucking kiss him again. And maybe it’s the floatier bits of his brain that have seized control for the moment, or maybe whatever height he’s ascended to has stretched his tether to reality so taut it's snapped, but it’s the kissing that wins out in the end. He spares a quick glance up and down Kurogane’s torso, making sure the fool at least managed to land on his back and hasn’t reopened either of his wounds, then sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever am I going to do with you?” Fai leans up onto his elbow to find Kurogane smirking at him and immediately decides to tweak his nose.

“Hey-” Kurogane starts to grumble, but Fai only rolls his eyes again and leans in closer to close his lips over any further complaints. He grins as the grumbling slowly fades into a gentle tangle of lips and tongues and closes his eyes to savor the sensation. His fingers slip into the roots of Kurogane’s hair, the pad of his thumb traces the angle of Kurogane’s jaw, and for a moment time seems to fade away to nothing at all. He’s vaguely aware of the cold breeze lapping at his toes and the slow shift of the dawn light from pink to gold, but these are only hazy suggestions of a world outside ticklish tongues and bottomed-out stomachs.

He isn’t sure how long they manage to stay like this, sprawled across the floor like yesterday’s laundry, but it’s the announcement of breakfast from the hallway that finally convinces them to part. That announcement is quickly followed by another informing them that Princess Tomoyo will be joining their meal. A quick glance between them reveals not only a shared, silent panic, but also an understanding that parting is probably not enough, and some furious rearrangement of clothing and smoothing of hair is also in order. Fai isn’t sure how presentable he can look with only three seconds of grooming, but it’s going to have to do. He almost envies Kurogane, who can only be expected to look like he’s spent a week in bed.

“You’re looking exceptionally well this morning, Kurogane,” Princess Tomoyo says as she takes a seat at the newly-set breakfast table. She nods to Fai with a mischievous smile. “Although that’s quite the flush you’re wearing. You haven’t developed a fever, have you?”

“No,” Kurogane insists as his cheeks burn an even darker shade of red, “No fever.”

Fai bites down a chuckle at how easily she manages to fluster him. Truly a skilled professional. He leans to one side to allow a serving girl to fill the pour tea for Kurogane, who accepts it with the barest of thanks.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she says pleasantly, “Although you’re being suspiciously kind to my servants this morning as well.”

“I can be nice!” Kurogane growls. The serving girl flinches and nearly drops the teapot directly into his lap. He sighs, “It’s fine, thank you.”

“Ohohoho,” Princess Tomoyo giggles behind her hand. She waits until the last servant bids them goodbye and the clink of the sliding door announces their exit to say conspiratorially to Fai, “Perhaps it’s true, what they’re all saying?”

“Hmm?” Fai curses his inability to properly tame his hair in under a minute.

Kurogane grumbles threateningly. “Who’s got something to say now?”

“Well, you know,” Princess Tomoyo continues, fighting down a grin, “Gossip spreads quickly. It seems you were almost pleasant to one of the girls who brought your meal last night, and now they all seem to think dear Fai here is a witch who’s worked his magic on your temper as well as your wounds.”

Fai claps a hand over his mouth to hide his snickering. Kurogane scoffs.

“Jokes on them, you’re the witch,” he huffs at Princess Tomoyo.

“And yet in all of these years I’ve never managed to magic a single thing through that thick skull of yours,” Tomoyo beams.

Kurogane rolls his eyes and quickly shovels a bite of grilled fish into his mouth. “I’m sure you managed something, somewhere,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing remarkably well with just one hand,” Princess Tomoyo says, watching him eat. Fai has assisted with shuffling around his dishes to avoid awkward reaching and spills, but he’s managed most of his meal completely on his own.

“It’s fine,” Kurogane insists.

“How are you moving otherwise?”

Kurogane sighs and sets his bowl on the table. “Slowly,” he admits, “Balance is off. Gonna need to rebuild a lot of strength.” He rolls his good shoulder for emphasis.

Princess Tomoyo frowns. “Please promise me that you’ll stick to the exercises the doctor recommends. He should be by this afternoon to check in on you-”

“Heh,” Kurogane scoffs, and in the next second he has reached around the corner of the table and lifted Princess Tomoyo one-handed and slung her unceremoniously over his shoulder. “I ain’t that weak!”

There is only a single glimmer of light that alerts Fai to the sudden appearance of a knife pointed directly at Kurogane’s throat. He backs away with a start, but Kurogane somehow manages to look nonplussed about the situation, even as the tip of the knife draws a drop of blood where it presses against his Adam’s apple.

“There you are,” Kurogane smirks as a slender woman emerges from behind him, “Thought I was going crazy, getting to have a private audience with Her Highness.”

The woman sheathes the knife again as she helps Princess Tomoyo back to the ground. “You of all people should know I am never far from the princess’s side.” She glares at Kurogane and crosses her arms across her chest as Princess Tomoyo chuckles again and shuffles back to her seat. “You should just be grateful you still register as a threat. You wouldn’t be worth the effort to cut down if not for your friend here.”

Fai blinks in surprise as he realizes she’s referring to him and puts his hands up as if to surrender.

“I apologize, good sir,” the woman continues, “That I have not had occasion to introduce myself. I am Souma, head of Her Highness’s security. I work in the shadows, but I am grateful for the opportunity to thank you for the care and grace you’ve given my pain-in-the-ass underling.”

Fai balks. Underling? Shadows? He’s torn between embarrassment over the sudden realization that every conversation he’s carried on with Princess Tomoyo has had an unseen audience and unholy glee that this woman has just stared Kurogane in the face and called him a pain-in-the-ass. Princess Tomoyo seems to recognize the conflicting emotions as they play out across his face, though, and quickly reaches across the table to reassure him.

“Souma’s discretion is absolute,” she says, “You have nothing to fear from her.”

“It’s quite alright,” Fai says, waving her concern away – he had grown up around royalty, after all, and knew that no one inside a palace was ever really alone, “I should have assumed–”

“What’s this discretion crap?” Kurogane cuts him off, “What did you do?” His eyes narrow at Fai, then soften again as a sheepish grimace takes over his face. “Oh, right.”

Souma throws her head back to laugh. “Oh, Kurogane. I always said you were kind of a tit, but I never meant it literally.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Kurogane shoots back.

“Ahem,” Princess Tomoyo coughs politely into her fist, “I may have likened your increased blood supply to a nursing mother.” She folds her hands on the table and looks at Kurogane apologetically. “Any further embellishment is entirely courtesy of Souma, however,” she adds with a sly smile.

“Well, then it’s a load of horseshit anyway.”

“You will watch your language in front of her highness!”

“Why the fuck should I?”

“Kurogane, I will–”

“Ohohohoho,” Princess Tomoyo interrupts the brewing tempest with a deliberately shrill peal of laughter, “Let’s save all these dramatics for another day, shall we? There is much to be thankful for this morning, and I’d hate to waste our time together bickering.”

Souma has the decency to look ashamed. Kurogane looks like he’s just getting started and pulls his lip back into a snarl.

“I am very sorry, your highness,” Souma splutters before Kurogane can find another curse to lob in her direction.

“You’re quite alright, Souma,” Princess Tomoyo reassures her, “I am fully aware of how entertaining it can be to get him all riled up. In fact, I was just explaining to Fai the other day that...hmm.” Her eyes crinkle as she giggles sweetly, then drops her voice to growl, “RAHAHAHA! WEAK! WEAK! I’ll kill all you motherfuckers and boil your corpses in shitty tea!”

Fai nearly chokes on the tea he isn’t drinking. He looks wide-eyed from Kurogane, to Souma, and back again. Souma’s face is buried neatly in the palms of her hands, and Kurogane’s jaw has landed somewhere on the table between his chopsticks and his tea cup.

“Now, don’t go making that face, Kurogane,” the princess chides as she reclaims her own cup and sips at her tea, “It’s very unbecoming.”

“You don’t have to be so…!” Kurogane splutters.

Princess Tomoyo shoots Fai a look that plainly asks Can you believe this guy? “As I was saying to Fai,” she explains, “In all the years I’ve known you, this has remained the only surefire way to stop you once you’ve started spiraling into a tantrum.” She smiles weakly, blinking her eyes and fanning her face with her hand as if this is all terribly scandalous. “I don’t like to do it, though.”

“Yes you do,” Kurogane grumbles, but then falls silent.

“At any rate,” Princess Tomoyo says, “It seems to have worked, so let’s all enjoy this meal.”

As she brings the tea cup back to her lips, there is a loud clatter from the hallway entrance, and the sliding door closes with a bang.

“We heard shouting!” Mokona chirps from Syaoran’s shoulder, “Is everyone okay?”

Syaoran walks tentatively toward the table, his expression suggesting he isn’t sure whether their presence here is an intrusion despite the invitation they’d received from Her Highness herself.

“Everything is fine!” Princess Tomoyo greets them with a sweeping gesture toward the table, “Please, join us. I was just giving a little demonstration.”

"Kurogane!" Mokona shouts and leaps from Syaoran's shoulder before the poor kid even has a chance to heed Princess Tomoyo's invitation. She manages to fling herself directly onto Kurogane's face, which she quickly covers with loud, smacking kisses and happy tears. "Mokona was so worried…"

Kurogane's nose twitches in a way that suggests Mokona is in very real danger of being flung right back at Syaoran, but a second later his expression softens, and he simply ruffles his fingers through her fur.

"Are you still hurting?" Mokona asks as she settles herself down onto the table.

"Nah," Kurogane grins and winks at her, then nods solemnly at Syaoran, "Kid."

Syaoran looks for all the world like he, too, would like nothing more than to fling himself across the table in joy and relief. Unlike Mokona, though, he manages to retain most of his dignity, even if the distance he keeps from the table is a little awkward. "It's so good to see you awake, Kurogane."

"Here," Fai hauls himself to his feet and gestures for Syaoran to take his seat, "I don't need a place setting, sit here." He shuffles away from the table, fully intending to sit just a few feet back to give Syaoran enough room to eat comfortably, but Kurogane catches his sleeve with an index finger and hauls him back.

"Where are you going?" he demands.

"Nowhere, Kuro-rin," Fai assures him, "I'm just trying to make room."

Kurogane rolls his eyes and slides over to make actual room. "Sit." His expression is clear: You’re part of this whether you want to be or not. Fai doesn't argue.

“What were you demonstrating?” Mokona asks Princess Tomoyo as she plays a twirling, bobbing game of peek-a-boo through the breakfast dishes.

“Nothing,” Kurogane barks.

“Oh, just some creative vulgarity,” Princess Tomoyo giggles over him.

“Vulgarity?” Mokona repeats, pausing mid-spin around a tea cup, “Mokona loves vulgarity! Especially the creative kind!”

“Pork bun,” Kurogane grumbles threateningly.

“Mokona is really good at it, too!” she continues, ignoring him completely.

“Oh my goodness, you really do look like a pork bun!” Souma exclaims, leaning closer to squint at Mokona. Her cheeks flush red with adoration. “But where does such a darling pork bun learn vulgarities?”

Mokona is practically glowing under the attention being lavished on her. She hippity-hops to perch on Souma’s shoulder and leans in close, cupping her paw around her mouth conspiratorially. “From Kuro-daddy,” she says with all the subtlety of a fog horn, “He’s a terrible influence.”

“Don’t start that shit again!”

“See?” Mokona hops to the top of Souma’s head, “Terrible!”

“I’ll show you terrible–”

“I think you already are, Daddy,” Souma leers at Kurogane. He hasn’t actually made any moves toward them, but his hand is twitching threateningly toward a serving dish.

Fai scoops Mokona up and plops her firmly in his lap. “Mokona,” he says gently, “Maybe give Kuro-sama a break today. He’s still recovering.”

Mokona frowns and settles back onto her heels. “You’re right. Mokona was just so excited to see Kurogane up and moving again. Mokona was so scared – our family keeps falling apart and we keep losing people. It would be good if we could all stay together from now on.”

Fai strokes her ears gently. “You still think of us that way?” he asks with a sad smile, “Even after everything that’s happened?”

“Of course,” Mokona insists, and Fai has to look at the ceiling because now there are real tears falling from her eyes, “Mokona loves you all.”

“Oi,” Kurogane grumbles lowly and extends his hand, palm up, in front of Mokona. She looks at it in confusion for a moment, then smiles and hops aboard. “Just don’t do anything weird,” he says as he deposits her on his shoulder. Mokona nods resolutely and nuzzles her entire face against his cheek.

“Well, Kurogane,” Souma grins across the table at him, “She doesn’t look much like you, but it seems you’ve become a bona fide father on your journey.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, it’s better than I could have hoped!” Princess Tomoyo sighs happily. If Mokona had been glowing, Princess Tomoyo is dangerously close to sparkling as she clasps her hands together and beams at their traveling group across the table.

Kurogane sighs exasperatedly and shakes his head.

“I can’t wait for you to tell me more about your journey,” she continues.

“What, these guys didn’t tell you everything already?” Kurogane eyes his traveling companions.

“We’ve been busy, Kuro-tan,” Fai reminds him. He doesn’t mention that he remains eternally grateful to Princess Tomoyo for her complete lack of questions about their travels or the events that brought them here. He isn’t sure if it is purely out of respect or if she already has a full accounting from her dreams, but it has surely spared him the anguish of reliving any number of horrors while he needed to be focused elsewhere.

“We’ve mostly just talked about you,” Tomoyo assures him with a wink.

Kurogane sighs in defeat and snatches his chopsticks back from the table. Stealing from Syaoran’s plate is apparently a preferable alternative to arguing.

“Don’t worry,” Tomoyo continues, “I didn’t tell him about that.”

Kurogane nearly chokes on his ill-gotten eggs.

And now Fai simply has to know. “She did mention something about sharpening spears out of carrots,” he teases, hoping this will open the floodgates to something larger.

Kurogane only rolls his eyes. “Of course she did.”

“Are we talking about the time with the dango?” Souma pipes up hopefully.

“No,” Princess Tomoyo says airily, a sparkle in her eye, “That’s a good story, too, though.”

“The stable rake?” Souma muses.

“That was the same incident,” Princess Tomoyo giggles.

“Are you done?” Kurogane sneers. He reaches across the table to snatch another piece of egg from Syaoran’s plate and stuffs it in his mouth.

“Kurogane, you are going to need to relearn proper manners if you want to continue to dine with Her Highness,” Souma scolds.

“Eh,” Kurogane shrugs.

“It’s really alright,” Syaoran insists, and proffers his entire serving, “You can have the rest. You need to-”

“Eat it, kid,” Kurogane says, pushing the plate back to the table, “You need it more than I do.”

“But-”

“I said eat.”

“He really has gotten fatherly,” Souma chuckles, though she sounds a bit awed as well.

“He has, hasn’t he?” Princess Tomoyo smiles.

Kurogane heaves a long-suffering sigh and pushes away from the table.

Souma swats at him. “You can’t leave before Her Highness!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Kurogane insists.

“Mokona will keep him in line!” Mokona declares.

“Are you sure you don’t want my eggs?”

“Protein would probably be good for you, Kurogane–”

“Since you’re eating for two, now–”

“Hey–”

“That’s not what I meant, I just meant you’d been sleeping for so long–”

The commotion around the table condenses to a faint buzz in Fai’s ears as he watches the scene play out. It feels like ages since he’s been enveloped by warm, comfortable chaos like this, with Kurogane shouting as Mokona dances and Syaoran tries desperately to keep the peace. There are some new characters, it’s true, and others whose absence is sorely felt, but for the most part it’s…wholly familiar. If Princess Tomoyo truly wants to know about their journey together, this is probably as good a demonstration as she’s likely to get.

It shouldn’t be a startling revelation, but for a wastrel like Fai, who has always preferred to scatter his feelings like breadcrumbs through the forest than to sit with them for any length of time, it hits like one anyway. It’s all so simple – a meal with friends, silly nonsense gestures, jokes that only make sense to a handful of people across all of the worlds – and yet it’s everything. He would trade away a hundred different adventures through time and space for a single moment more of this.

He’d thought himself so clever, keeping everyone at arm’s length. He’d believed moments like these were silly, inconsequential. No harm in indulging a few, simple pleasures, he’d thought. He’d been a fool.

And now that he’s spent so long keeping himself from even that much…

“Fai?” Mokona’s small voice manages to break through the haze, “Are you alright? You look like you’re going to cry.”

“Hmm?” he shakes his head and focuses on her. She’s seen more than enough of his terrible moods over the past months, and he wants nothing more than to reassure her. Luckily, she’s hanging from Kurogane’s earlobe with a fork in her hand, and he can’t help but crack a smile – a true, genuine smile – at the utter ridiculousness of it. “I’m fine, really,” he promises, because he is. It's not a grandiose purpose like bringing his brother back to life – it's not even all that exciting, truth be told. But if he can have more moments like this, well… He closes his eyes and sighs, “I’m just…happy.”

And for once, not only does he believe it, but the rest of his companions seem to as well.

Chapter Text

“This is worse than prison.”

“Oh, hush. If you keep making that face, I’ll never get your nose right.” Fai scrunches up his own nose in frustration and licks the tip of his brush into a point.

“That is disgusting.”

“It’s art, Kuro-sama.” Fai dips the brush carefully into its dish and adds a few flourishes to the unwound scroll set at the table in front of him.

“It’s ridiculous–”

“Ah!” Fai yelps and nearly drops the brush in his lap, “That! Right there! That’s the face! That’s the face he pulled right before he threw me to the ground!”

Princess Tomoyo claps her hands in glee as Fai quickly makes a few alterations to the exaggerated cartoon drawing he’s been puttering at all afternoon. It’s one of dozens of such pages he’s doodled in the days since Kurogane woke. The poor fool had waited only hours before making the mistake of introducing Her Highness to the collection of manga he amassed during their travels. She had been so charmed by the storytelling that Fai hadn’t thought twice about offering up a fully illustrated travelog of their journey. In retrospect, he might have thought twice about the impossible number of illustrations this would involve, but she seems quite happy with the small snippets he’s able to provide.

Kurogane rolls his eyes and lifts his manga higher to cover his face. The small volume might be the source of all his current woes, but staring at it is still preferable to watching over whatever unholy alliance he’s convinced Fai and the princess have entered into.

“No one threw you anywhere,” Kurogane grumbles.

“Kurogane dropped Fai because he was so surprised to see Souma!” Mokona chirps. She quickly abandons what is quickly devolving into a full-contact game of go with Syaoran to leap onto his head and spin on her toes. “And then we got drunk and Mokona was a kitty!”

“Oh how exciting!” Princess Tomoyo lifts Mokona into her palms and twirls her around, “I didn’t know you liked to drink! I’ll have some sake brought right away!”

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Kurogane growls, low and dangerous, “It’s bad enough you’ve all turned my room into a circus; I’ll end up tearing myself open again if I have to kill you, too.”

“Oh, Kuro-rin,” Fai laughs, “Look, I’ll add some extra fangs on the demons I drew so you look extra cool fighting them.” He rifles through a pile of papers to his side until he finds the one he’s looking for, then whaps it triumphantly against the table.

Mokona leaps to his shoulder. “Don’t forget to draw the cat ears! Nya~”

Kurogane groans loudly and slaps his book down on his futon. “I gotta take…I’ll be back,” he grumbles, hauling himself to his feet.

“I’ll walk with you,” Fai insists. He quickly shuffles the papers into a pile and stashes his brush.

“Don’t bother,” Kurogane waves him away before Fai even manages to get to his feet.

Fai frowns at his back as he stomps off toward the toilet. Kurogane has been conscious now for nearly a week, and his injuries have continued to improve by leaps and bounds. His mood, however, is a different story entirely. Confined to his rooms and the adjoining veranda by the palace doctors and staff, Kurogane has recovered just enough of his strength to ensure that he no longer begrudgingly accepts help and instead becomes actively hostile whenever it is so much as offered. Fai doesn’t resent him for this, even if he has spent the better part of the week camped out here at his side, but it does make it that much harder to appreciate that they have finally settled into something resembling a daily routine instead of a constant looming disaster.

But, that is exactly what his drawings are meant to distract from, and coupled with Mokona’s creative narration, they are quite effective. When the doctor arrives some hours later, they’ve managed to avoid any further explosions of temper.

That all comes to a screeching halt as the doctor closes the door behind him, and Kurogane’s hackles are instantly raised.

“What do you need to poke at today, old man?” he growls.

The doctor ignores this and settles at the side of the futon. “No poking,” he says in a tone that refuses to betray the annoyance he surely feels after a week of identical accusations, “I just thought I would see how things are progressing.”

“They’re fine,” Kurogane grunts and turns back to his manga once again.

“I was rather hoping I might be able to pull the stitches today,” the doctor continues, “And bring our disagreeable acquaintance that much closer to an end.”

Kurogane pauses to consider this, then shrugs free of the top half of his robe. “Fine,” he agrees, “Whatever gets me out of here faster.”

“Oh, you’ll be able to ‘get out of here’ tomorrow,” the doctor says, clucking his tongue, “Even if the stitches need to stay in for a few days yet. I’ve signed off on instructions for the security staff that you’re to be allowed access to all appropriate palace grounds.”

“Hmph,” Kurogane grunts in place of an acknowledgement.

The doctor turns to address Fai as he sorts the last of his tools. “You’ll be keeping an eye out for him still, won’t you? Making sure he doesn’t do something stupid or find new ways to injure himself?”

Fai nods politely as Kurogane splutters.

The doctor nods his approval, then turns to examine Kurogane’s shoulder. “At least one of you isn’t a complete idiot.” He runs his fingers over the remains of the wound and finds it closed neatly into a faint pink line. “This is remarkable,” he says again, “Whether it’s an actual dragon’s blessing or your magic, young man, I can’t say. But I’ve never seen the like.”

Fai flushes faintly at the praise, but stays quiet.

“So you’re taking them out?” Kurogane asks impatiently, nodding at the stitches.

“Yes, I’d say they’re fairly useless now,” the doctor affirms. He stares Kurogane directly in the eye. “If you can make it through this next part without hitting me, I’ll believe you’ve grown as much as Her Highness seems to think you have.” He readies a pair of forceps and a small pinch-scissor to break the stitches.

Fai can’t help himself. “Is that a real concern?” he asks.

“He’s done it before,” the doctor sighs wearily. He snaps the first suture and yanks the thread from the skin. The rest follow quickly, and without drawing so much as a peep from the patient. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says as the last stitch drops to join its discarded brethren, “Perfectly healed and not a word of complaint.” He sets his tools down and gives the shoulder one last look. “Miracles abound.”

Kurogane has something to say to this, but all Fai registers is the rumbling cadence of his voice. He’s too busy mulling over the doctor’s half-joking appraisal of Kurogane’s healing as miraculous. He knows it’s no miracle, only altered the biology of vampire and prey, but–

At the very least, he no longer feels like a useless parasite.

“Now,” the doctor continues as he wipes his tools clean and stashes them back into his case, “Just because you’re allowed the run of the castle tomorrow doesn’t mean you’re in the clear.” He turns to Fai and Princess Tomoyo, clearly aware his next words are about to fall on deaf ears if directed to Kurogane, “Even with moving around, most of his time should still be spent resting. He is to take no vigorous exercise. And no fighting–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurogane grumbles.

“And no sake,” the doctor finishes and struggles to his feet. He gathers his case and starts toward the door. He bows to Princess Tomoyo and slides the door open, turning to Fai as he crosses the threshold, “See that he doesn’t try anything, the stubborn mule.” Fai smirks as the door clacks shut.

The bath house is not the first place Fai would choose to visit, were he suddenly granted free-run of an entire palace and surrounding grounds. Still, he has to admit it is a practical choice, even if it’s not a particularly fun one. And after weeks of enduring with only a bucket and sponge, he’s certainly not going to begrudge Kurogane a hot bath.

He will, however, begrudge him the quiet that might normally accompany a soak in a hot tub.

“I haven’t nursed you this far just to have you drown in the bathtub, Kuro-pon.”

He’s expecting more of an argument – especially when Mokona declares that she and Syaoran will be joining in for old time’s sake – but Kurogane only shrugs. “It’s big enough.”

And it surely is that. This may not be the Royal Bath, but what it lacks in grandeur, it more than makes up for in simple elegance. The last of the evening sunlight filters in through rice paper windows and casts latticed shadows over them as they soap and scrub, and its rays follow the pathway of wooden panels that cut through dark stone masonry to the tub.

“Hurray for new scenery!” Mokona cheers as they settle into the steaming water. She floats on her back between the three men seated along the dark wood walls.

Kurogane folds his towel over his eyes and leans back against the edge of the tub. “You could have gone out anytime, Pork Bun,” he grumbles.

“Mokona couldn’t bear to leave your side!”

“Haven’t you gone out every day to visit Sakura?” Fai asks with a smile.

“Mokona couldn’t bear to leave her side!”

“You should be out there now,” Kurogane mumbles beneath his towel, “Who ever heard of a boiled pork bun?”

“Mokona is steaming nicely!”

“Anyway, should you even be in the men’s bath?” Kurogane asks, lifting one corner of his towel to stare her down.

“Mokona can go in any bath, because Mokona is Mokona!” she insists.

“Mokona floats very well,” Fai agrees, “Definitely a welcome addition to the men's or ladies’ baths.”

“Maybe Kuro-puu is nervous about Mokona seeing him naked.”

“Feh,” Kurogane scoffs. He doesn’t dignify this with a further response.

“It’s okay, Mokona has already seen most of your scars,” Mokona continues, “Ladies love scars, so you don’t have to hide them.”

“Is that so?” Fai chuckles, faintly amused, “Have you done a survey?”

“Mokona has many girlfriends.”

“What makes you think I’m trying to impress women?” Kurogane snorts.

“Mokona has many boyfriends, too!”

Kurogane sits up just long enough to send a wave of water splashing over Mokona, who coughs and splutters dramatically until Fai manages to catch her and set her atop the towel on his head. She huffs a few times, but eventually rearranges the towel into a reasonable approximation of a nest.

“And that’s enough of that,” Fai chuckles. He stretches his arms above his head and sinks lower into the water. “It is nice to have a proper bath again, though.”

Syaoran shoots him a look of concern. “Haven’t you been bathing, Fai?”

Fai waves this away. “Don’t worry, I’ve been taking care of myself. It’s just been busy. So, it’s just been quick washes for me…and getting soaked every time I try to help Kuro-sama with a sponge bath.”

“Heh,” Kurogane grins, “You deserved more than a soaking.”

“I was only trying to help! You act like I was trying to molest you!”

“Weren’t you?”

“I would never!”

Mokona hops from Fai’s head over to Syaoran. “They really are getting back to their normal selves, aren’t they?” Syaoran nods solemnly, and Mokona plops back into the water in front of him. “Now we just need to help Sakura and the other Syaoran…” Her voice trails off, and she floats in silence for a long moment. Syaoran bites his lip and looks awkwardly from Kurogane to Fai and back again.

“Mokona,” Syaoran says at last, staring into the water to avoid direct eye contact, “Kurogane’s wish was to return home. I don’t think–”

“Don’t think anything,” Kurogane cuts him off.

Fai sucks in a breath. He’s been dreading this conversation, and so he’s put it off until later, and then put it off again. “Kuro-sama?” he manages.

Kurogane pulls the towel from his face and tosses it out of the tub. He sighs heavily and rubs at his eyes, as if this is the most annoying topic they could have possibly forced on him right now. And it probably is, because he’s been carefully tiptoeing around the subject all week, too.

“Returning home was my wish,” he acknowledges, “But there’s more to consider, now. The princess…” he sighs, shaking his head, and for the first time it strikes Fai how very much Kurogane loves Princess Sakura. He’s known this, of course, in a roundabout sort of way, but to see it so clearly on his face is something else entirely. Kurogane coughs to clear his throat, or maybe to distract from the emotions he’s still not entirely comfortable showing, and continues, “I want to find that bastard who killed my parents. And…” he sighs again and shoots Fai a meaningful look, “I can’t make this decision on my own.”

Fai smiles faintly and stares at the water. For the first time, those sentiments don’t stir something guilty and ugly in him. Instead, he feels almost relieved.

“We should stay and rest here as long as we can,” he says, “We’ve only just gotten back to somewhat normal, there’s no sense in rushing into whatever comes next.”

“I agree,” Syaoran says, and Fai can’t help but notice that his cheeks are redder than even the warm water really warrants.

“Mmm.” Kurogane nods.

“Mokona wants everyone to stay together.”

“We know, Mokona,” Syaoran says, patting her head, “We’ll do our best.”

Chapter Text

“It’s not like you to put off making a decision like that,” Fai says quietly after they’ve said goodnight to Syaoran and Mokona and made their way back to Kurogane’s room, “I had assumed you made up your mind the instant you woke up.”

Kurogane half sighs, half growls in response, “I meant what I said. What a pain…”

“Ah,” Fai smirks, grabbing Kurogane’s hand as the door slides shut behind them, “There’s the Kuro-sama I know. Except…” he trails off to take a look at Kurogane’s fingers, which look suspiciously swollen in the candlelight. He even goes so far as to haul them up to his face for closer inspection, “It feels like there’s…more of you? Your fingers are all swollen.” He quickly drops the hand to lean back for a fuller view, and grips Kurogane’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Your face too. Are you feeling alright? Did you eat something…?”

Kurogane bats his hand away. “I’m fine,” he insists, “It’s because you need to eat.”

“I…what?”

“You’re the one who said it,” Kurogane folds his arms across his chest, “I’m like…a nursing mother or something.”

Fai splutters out a single belt of laughter before choking it down again. “Actually, I think that was Souma,” he corrects, “And she called you a tit.”

“Tche,” Kurogane scoffs, “Whatever it was. They’ve always gotten like this when you don’t eat for too long.” He flexes his fingers in front of Fai’s face for emphasis. “Just never knew what to call it.”

“Hmm,” Fai frowns and grasps Kurogane’s hand again, poking his own fingertips into the swollen pads of Kurogane’s fingers. “It doesn’t seem very comfortable.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m sorry.” Fai closes his eyes and exhales. One more injury he hadn’t even noticed he was doling out.

“Oi,” Kurogane’s fingers close into a fist around Fai’s hand, “Stop being sorry and just…eat.”

Some of Fai’s guilt eases at this, and he even manages a small chuckle. “You’re so practical, Kuro-pon.” He blows a breath out through pursed lips and looks around the room for the best place to settle. “Alright,” he says at last, “You’re a messy bleeder, though, so let’s sit over there, away from your futon.” He points at a small, clear patch of floor close to the outer wall.

“Messy blee–” Kurogane starts to argue, then thinks better of it and simply grabs Fai by the elbow and hauls him across the room. “Sit,” he orders, “I’ll…find a knife.”

Fai catches him by the wrist before he has a chance to do more than turn. “No,” he insists, “I’ll do it.” He gently but firmly tugs Kurogane to the floor. I’ve had enough of you carving yourself up on my account, he doesn’t say.

The tendons along the back of Kurogane’s hand light up as he curls his fingers into a fist, then relax again as Fai gently coaxes his palm flat and twists just enough to gain better view of his wrist. Fai runs his fingers experimentally over the pulse here and traces it onto his forearm, sending Kurogane’s sleeve toppling back to settle into the crook of his elbow. Hunger surges in Fai’s belly – in his bones – with a strength he hasn’t felt in weeks. It’s a conditioned response, surely, trained into him by countless drags of Kurogane’s own blade against his wrist. But those cuts had been made with the precision and confidence of someone who knows exactly where and how deep to cut. Fai is suddenly acutely aware that he knows neither of these things, even as a prick of a fang grows sharp against his tongue and the nail of his index finger lengthens eagerly into a point. The scars leftover from those cuts are gone as well, lost with Kurogane’s arm–

Fai’s stomach drops at the thought of marring Kurogane’s only remaining arm. He focuses on the pulse beating just below Kurogane’s thumb and briefly considers calling the whole thing off.

“Oi,” Kurogane grumbles.

Fai drags his eyes away from the fluttering pulse at Kurogane’s wrist long enough to read the concern darkening his face. He blushes furiously and wonders if there is a tactful way to explain that he doesn’t know how to do something as rudimentary as feed himself properly because he’s been too busy gambling his life to see how little could sustain him for the past six months. There isn’t, of course, so he simply sighs and asks, “Where do you want me to…?”

Kurogane visibly relaxes at this. “Doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, “Wherever is easiest.”

Fai laughs bitterly. “It does matter, though, Kuro-sama.” He traces his fingertips over the tendons pulling taut with each subtle movement Kurogane makes. “This is your sword arm. And it isn’t easy.” He jabs his thumb into the gap between bone and muscle where Kurogane’s pulse is still keeping time, “What if I hit an artery?”

Kurogane starts to argue, but Fai shushes him just as quickly.

“You might be okay with it, but I can guarantee the palace staff won’t appreciate the over-spray.”

Kurogane frowns and gently tugs his wrist back toward him. “I’ll do it–”

“No,” Fai says, more decisively than he feels. He refuses to let go, and instead smooths his fingertips across the faint blue markings of veins where they cross from wrist to forearm. Kurogane’s darker complexion hides much of the blue-green hue that announces the spider-webbing network of veins in Fai’s own skin, but the telltale warmth remains where his fingers graze their surface. It’s not easy to trace them, but–

He lifts Kurogane’s arm closer to his face, leaving his lips to hover mere centimeters above the skin. The warmth is faint beneath his fingers, but fairly burns beneath his lips.

“Can I?” he asks quietly. Kurogane nods and raises his eyebrows because of course he fucking can, and Fai presses his lips down in search of that same warmth.

And there. There it is: a slow sweep of motion surging gently beneath the skin, narrow but well-defined, and hot like fire against his lips. It doesn’t flutter or keep time like the pulse at Kurogane’s wrist, but murmurs gently in the echo of his heartbeat, and oh, how had he never realized how beautiful this rhythm was before?

Kurogane's fingers twitch absent-mindedly, and Fai is sharply reminded that there are tendons here that he doesn't wish to interfere with. His lips slide along the faint stripe of blue, continuing their exploration onto the back of Kurogane's wrist. There is a gorgeously supple vein just above his thumb that flattens and recoils with even the barest pressure from Fai's lower lip - he imagines the delicious pop sinking his fangs in here would bring and, without thinking, quickly sweeps the tip of his tongue out to test it.

Kurogane's breath hitches and his fingers jolt, and Fai quickly breaks contact. "Here might work," he says sheepishly, "There's a few tendons, but not as many, and it's..." he swallows thickly, "...full?" He silently curses his lack of vocabulary for everything about this.

"Doesn't have to be my wrist," Kurogane says, drawing in suspiciously even breaths, "That was just the easiest place to cut." He looks away for a split second, and color floods his cheeks. "They should get bigger as you go higher, so..." He shrugs his arm completely free of its sleeve, allowing his robe to hang precariously from his empty left shoulder, and lifts his arm back toward Fai. When several beats pass without movement, he sighs and makes a gesture that is half nod, half shrug, and all demand.

Fai chortles nervously, mirroring the anxious twist of his innards. "Right, then," he says in what he desperately hopes is a cheerful tone, "Higher up." His lips close back around that same luscious vein and linger only a moment before wending their way upwards toward the inside of Kurogane's elbow. Here, the vein suddenly unfurls into a jumbled mess - branches and bridges and apparently an artery pounding away beneath it all. The heady thrum of it all drives Fai to momentary distraction, and it takes several rounds of heartbeat-and-echoes before he decides to pull away. If he had a needle, or a small knife, instead of big, clumsy teeth and claws...

"Too complicated," he mumbles against Kurogane's skin and continues upward with an anxious knot growing in his gut.

The veins leaving the crook of Kurogane's elbow are as complicated as they are coming into it, but a few stops and starts is enough to track the most superficial of these up and around the curl of his bicep. Fai chases the heat of it here with renewed fervor: up and onto Kurogane's shoulder, across well-defined swells and dips of muscle. Fai has watched these same muscles working flawlessly so many times that he's not prepared for the way they jump and stutter under his lips. "Sorry, did I-" he starts to ask.

"Fucking tickles," Kurogane hisses out through clenched teeth.

Fai bites back laughter, but pulls away all the same. "I'm sorry," he manages, "I seem to have lost it here at your collar bone, anyway. Um..."

How is he so fucking bad at this?

"Just pick a place," Kurogane insists impatiently, "You want a leg?"

"No, I-" Fai is too busy watching Kurogane's carotid pulse titter not three inches from his nose. To say it's distracting would be putting things mildly. He's wounded enough people to know better than to go messing around with vessels in the neck – the larger ones especially are completely out of the question. But that doesn't stop them from announcing their presence with an obscene cadence and hyper-focusing all of his hungry attention directly on them. He can practically taste Kurogane's blood pounding away just below, and he has just enough wits left about himself left to wonder if this is why vampire legends always involve feeding from the neck.

But he is a vampire without a clue what he’s doing, and so legends will have to stay legendary for the moment. Fai wrenches his face to the side, dragging his lips to scrape over the long line of muscle pulled taut along the side of Kurogane's neck from his ear to his clavicle. It's solid, and warm, and pulls him back from what would surely have been a messy (and probably fatal) brink.

Kurogane's breath hitches, and Fai suddenly has enough self-awareness to realize he's crawled directly into the other man's lap. He freezes for a moment, wondering if he's lost his damned mind, but then his lips trace across a large vein skirting down the muscle's face, and his attention is swept away once again. It's smaller than the jugular, but sits high in the skin with no neighboring artery to complicate access, and it is full. He drags his tongue across it, pressing in and testing how much pressure he might need to puncture its walls, wondering if the muscle deep to it is enough to keep his teeth from puncturing something else–

Kurogane's arm wraps tightly around his waist, pulling him in closer.

"Do it."

Fai blinks and fades back into the present. "Hm? What?"

"Do it," Kurogane hisses again, "You're purring like a goddamned cat, just do it."

"Sorry, I'll-"

"Do I need to bite you?" Kurogane huffs and jostles the thigh Fai is balanced precariously on.

For a split second, Fai considers taking him up on this. But then, almost with realizing, he is latching down and clumsily gnawing into the skin. It doesn't give easily, and for a moment he's left cursing himself for not knowing how to make his stupid fangs work. But then the skin splits, and there is hot iron melting over his tongue, and all thoughts of teasing seem to drown in the soft burble of blood that engulfs his senses. It slips over his taste buds like wine, with no trace of the cloying over-richness he’s come to expect. There’s a sharpness to it, but also a delicate, honeyed aftertaste that leaves his head spinning.

It tastes like…more.

Kurogane's heart thunders against his chest as he drinks, the echoes of each beat rattling almost as loud as they pulse through his veins and trickle down gently across Fai’s tongue. It’s a percussive chorus that surely he's heard before, but he's never bothered listening to. Feeding is, was, has been until this very second an extraordinarily solitary affair. Oh, Kurogane might have been "there" in the literal sense (might even have had a vein or two involved), but in the end it had always been Fai, alone, cold, and walled-in by his own thoughts as he fought desperately to drink just enough to stop the pain and not a drop more.

This is an entirely different experience, and one, Fai suspects, that is not strictly dictated by their roles of predator and prey. Now, settled here in Kurogane's lap, the warmth where their torsos press flush is a constant reminder that he’s anything but alone, and the arm circling his waist feels more like a promise than a walled-in prison. Kurogane's movements are his movements; Kurogane's heartbeat is his heartbeat. For these few moments as Fai drinks and forgets his old inhibitions, he can’t imagine what he’d found so appealing about closing himself off.

Eventually, though, the fog of hunger begins to lift, and he tumbles back into something approaching clarity. He's still hyper-aware of Kurogane's movements beneath him - the slow, shuddering rise and fall of his chest and the twitch of his fingers against Fai's back - but his own begin to bleed back into his consciousness as well. He finds his arms twisted around Kurogane's head and neck, fingers tangled in between spikes of hair. One leg is wrapped around Kurogane's hip, the other is hooked beneath a knee, heel digging into its underside. He breathes out a chuckle and starts to unwind himself, feeling only a little foolish for getting so thoroughly enthralled by something as simple as…eating.

He pulls his limbs free slowly, reluctantly even, and presses the flat of his tongue against the wound to staunch the bleeding. Kurogane shudders beneath the touch, and Fai allows himself a wicked little grin as he pulls back to see his face.

“Better or worse than-” he starts to ask, but shuts up immediately on seeing Kurogane’s face.

Kurogane’s breath is still shuddering out of him at that same painstakingly slow pace, but his eyes are dazed, and his mouth is gaping like he’s been struck dumb. It’s a far cry from the usual, vaguely annoyed face Kurogane usually puts on while he’s feeding and-

Fuck. He’s an idiot. He’s taken too much. Hurt him. Been so completely engrossed in his own feelings and sensations he’s completely ignored-

“What are you doing?” Kurogane mumbles, eyes finally focusing on him, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Fai scoffs, “Are you alright?”

Kurogane swallows heavily and looks at him like he’s grown a second head. Instead of giving a proper answer, though, he simply mumbles something that sounds a lot like “idiot” and pulls Fai flush against him. He buries his face in the crook of Fai’s neck and continues to shudder out a few hot breaths against his skin, then seems to find his purpose and gently scrapes his teeth along the contour of Fai’s shoulder. His tongue follows, tentative and a little awkward, but roaring with heat and surprisingly effective at soothing away the sting.

Fai’s stomach drops somewhere into his groin, and he’s left gasping in an obnoxiously large rush of air to fill the void. He lets his head tip slightly to the side to give Kurogane a better angle and is rewarded with a procession of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that trail to just behind his ear. Kurogane’s nose bumps gently against his earlobe before his lips close around it, and the electricity that sparks through Fai’s shoulders leaves him jolting in Kurogane’s embrace, trying to catch the breath that’s been punched from his lungs. His head kicks back and he can feel the smug grin against his cheek as Kurogane abandons his earlobe with a final nibble and begins mouthing a slow trail back down to his collarbone.

Fai steadies himself with both hands at Kurogane’s shoulders and tries to remember how to breathe. His robe, already shifted and hanging loose from his sloppy knot-tying, slips further down his shoulder with every brush of Kurogane’s lips against him. By the time Kurogane presses a kiss against the hollow of his throat, it’s laying pooled around his elbows. The rush of cool air against his bare skin ought to be bracing, but instead it only bolts through his shoulders and leaves him groping desperately at the sides of Kurogane’s neck and face. Not to move him – oh no, Fai is certain he’d be quite happy if Kurogane’s lips were to stay firmly pressed against his throat for the rest of all eternity, thank you – but to keep himself present and remind himself that this version of Kurogane is solid and real, and not some phantom that he’s conjured up in his bloodlust. One hand tangles into Kurogane’s hair, still warm and damp from the bath, and Fai allows his eyes to flutter closed, satisfied for the moment that he’s not dreaming.

“So it’s…” Fai rasps as Kurogane pulls back to take a breath, “It’s better, then?” He balances his forehead against Kurogane’s, trying to capture his gaze, but only succeeds in mashing the ends of their noses together. It must be the perspective making him clumsy – he’s not used to looking down at Kurogane’s face. Or maybe it’s the greedy look Kurogane is fixing him with – all glassy eyes and trembling lips – as if his self-control at this moment is nothing more than a house of cards about to come crashing down around them.

It’s a good look on him, Fai decides. His hand caresses Kurogane’s cheek, gently lifting his chin to kiss him once again. Kurogane follows willingly, teasing Fai’s lips apart with his tongue.

“Strange way to taste blood,” Kurogane mumbles when he pulls back. His lips and the skin around his mouth are stained an orangey-red.

Fai chuckles and thumbs at some of the smudging. “Sorry,” he says, “I didn’t think–”

“It’s fine,” Kurogane says, nipping at the tip of Fai’s thumb.

“You’re kind of an acquired taste,” Fai teases.

“Shut up,” Kurogane demands with a heavy roll of his eyes. And then they’re kissing again, only this time the kiss is a fierce, fiery thing that catches Fai unawares. He’s grown fond of stolen glances and lingering touches throughout the day, of a gentle snog or two when they finally manage a moment alone. It’s warm, safe. Familiar. But this is enough to burn the breath right out of his lungs, to consume any lingering ruins of the walls he’d built between them. And while these are mostly ruins, they’re also the final boundary between life as he’s known it and the vast unknown.

Kurogane’s hand slides beneath the folds of his robe and creeps up the small of his back, urging them closer still.

Let them burn, Fai decides.

He twists his fingers into the hair at the nape of Kurogane’s neck, and devours him.

It’s only when they finally pull away for air that Fai realizes how hard Kurogane’s heart is thudding against his chest and how raspily his breaths are coming. He soothes a hand against Kurogane’s cheek and frowns. “You’re not supposed to have vigorous exercise,” he says with a sigh.

Kurogane balks at him, then narrows his eyes. “Be gentle, then.”

Fai can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him. He tucks a few stray hairs behind Kurogane’s ear and leans back in.

“You’re a terrible patient Kuro-tan,” he scolds, but he can’t deny that this solution has merit. He grins and places a gentle kiss to Kurogane’s top lip.

It’s harder than he expects at first, to pull back from that ravenous edge, especially as Kurogane accepts this invitation to pull him closer once again with a grip so decidedly un-gentle Fai is sure he’ll find black and blue marks along his spine in the morning. But he stays the course, forcing his own hands to move slowly and purposely across Kurogane’s neck and shoulders, savoring the resistance as his fingertips press into taut muscle, and steadying them both before they topple back into overexertion. And Kurogane reciprocates in kind, slowing the movement of his lips to match his breath and softening the force of his grip. (He is, Fai notes, still impressively hands-y for a man with only one hand, and seems intent on leaving no patch of skin unexplored.) Soon they are not much more than a mess of limbs tangled together, sharing breath between languid kisses. It might be relaxing, save for how hard Fai’s heart beats against his chest.

Eventually, Kurogane’s grip loosens entirely, and he buries his face into the side of Fai’s neck with a sigh.

Fai presses a kiss against his temple, runs his fingertips along his spine. “You’re tired,” he whispers.

“No.”

“And surprisingly childish about it,” Fai laughs. He sighs and loops an arm beneath Kurogane’s shoulder, trying and failing to urge him upward. “Come on,” he insists, “Let’s at least lie down.”

Kurogane refuses, tangling his fingers obstinately into the inner folds of Fai’s robe. They catch against something, and he gives a few experimental tugs before managing to free whatever it is from its bindings, and drags it out for a better look.

“The hell is this?” He squints at the small, white brocade sachet sewn with gold thread that he’s plucked from Fai’s seams. “Omamori?”

“Mmm,” Fai frowns and leans in for a better look. “Ah,” he says, a memory stirring, “That must be the amulet Princess Tomoyo talked about.” He gently takes the sachet from Kurogane and runs his fingers along the characters stitched in golden thread. “I was doodling, and she saw that a good luck array I had written out looked similar to…” he trails off as he realizes Kurogane is frowning back at him. “Don’t look at me like that – we were all in need of some luck.”

“No, it’s–” Kurogane sighs and shakes his head. “She called it a good luck charm, huh?” he mumbles, flushing a bit, “I guess you could call it that.”

“And what would you call it if you weren’t guessing?” Fai asks, wondering just what he’s been tricked into wearing around.

“There are specific types,” Kurogane says slowly, “I guess…you’d call this one a love charm.”

“Oh,” Fai says, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks as well. Dastardly. He’d been taken in by the princess’s innocent smile only to fall victim to her scheming–

“She loves shit like this,” Kurogane huffs, tossing the charm over his shoulder, “Probably another sewn into mine. Damn it.” He shifts around, trying to feel any irregularities in the fabric of his robe against his skin. He stops abruptly, though, to laugh at himself. “Whatever,” he says after a moment, “It’s not like…you needed it.”

Fai sucks in a breath. That is about as blatant a confession as he is ever likely to hear from Kurogane, and he can’t help the idiotic smile that spreads across his face. "Well, most charms are just children's toys, anyway," he says, leaning over to pick the omamori back up from the floor. He secrets it away in his sleeve for later. "Their magic is all in what you choose to believe, and I choose to believe a little luck never hurt anyone."

Kurogane grins at this and leans in to kiss him again, slow and sweet, and fading hopelessly into a yawn. Fai chuckles and redoubles his efforts to haul Kurogane back to his feet and off to bed.

It’s only a short stumble back to the futon, and Fai easily kicks away the covers to deposit Kurogane on his pillow.

“Is it always like this?” Fai asks as he settles down and resituates the blankets.

“Like what?” Kurogane cocks an eyebrow suggestively at him.

Fai slaps playfully at his cheek. “Does it make you tired?” he says emphatically.

“Ah,” Kurogane nods, albeit with a slight air of disappointment, “Yeah. A little. Doesn’t last long, though.”

“I didn’t know,” Fai says softly. He lies his head against Kurogane’s arm and shuffles slightly closer.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kurogane huffs, “No need to get bent out of shape about it.”

“No bending,” Fai agrees, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “Just…trying to pay more attention.”

“Mmm,” Kurogane hums in response, and brushes the tips of his fingers through Fai’s hair. Fai leans into the touch and has to force down a small surge of regret that this evening is already coming to a close. They’re bound together for the foreseeable future, anyway. It’s not like–

“Does it always get you all…wound up?” he ask, a thought suddenly occurring.

Kurogane snorts at this. “No,” he says, emphatically, “You were just…”

Fai waits for him to finish his thought. “In your lap?” he offers when nothing comes.

“...Yeah,” Kurogane says, “That, too.” He stares up at the ceiling, forehead creasing as if he’s grappling with uncomfortable thoughts. “Honestly,” he sighs after a long pause, “This is the first time it didn’t hurt.”

Fai narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t say anything about hiding that little tidbit away from him. It wouldn’t have changed anything if he had known, anyway.

“Maybe because you didn’t cut yourself,” he offers.

“Maybe,” Kurogane agrees. He buries his face deeper into Fai’s hair, nose brushing gently against the shell of his ear, and yawns. “Better this way.”

“Mmm,” Fai hums in agreement, “Much. Now sleep. We’ll visit Sakura-chan in the morning, and then you can show us all your favorite places to get into fights.”

Kurogane’s breathing slows beside him as he fades off into sleep, and Fai is left to contemplate the curtains hanging at the head of the futon. It’s early enough that he’s not ready for sleep himself, but he has no real desire to move, either. And so he simply breathes, reveling in Kurogane’s heat beside him, the gentle pressure where his fingers are tangled into Fai’s hair, and the soft puff of his breath against Fai’s forehead.

It’s easy to drift in this space, with his belly full and his head blessedly empty. And so, when a knock comes at the door some time later, Fai’s first instinct is to pinch his eyes closed and ignore it. But it comes again, signaling that whoever is on the other side is well aware they’ve been heard and intends to be met.

Fai hauls himself to his feet with some difficulty and rearranges his robe just enough to feign modesty before stumbling to the door. He’s relieved to find Princess Tomoyo on the other side, alone, but with Souma surely lurking in the shadows.

“Come in, come in,” he beckons her, but she pauses, looking behind him at the dark interior of the room.

“I’m sorry,” she says with a frown, “I didn’t realize you would be sleeping already.”

“Kurogane was in need of some beauty sleep,” Fai reassures her, “Nothing to worry about. Should we speak somewhere else?”

“We can talk here,” she says, “It’s nothing private in nature. I just wanted to make you both aware that my sister had returned from her travels. She’ll likely want an audience with all of you, but I will make it clear to her that you’ve retired for the evening.”

“I see,” Fai says with a nod, “I will be happy to finally meet her, and tell her about the generous hospitality you’ve extended in her absence.”

“That’s very kind,” Princess Tomoyo says with a giggle, “But quite unnecessary. When you speak with her tomorrow, you only need to give a truthful accounting.”

Fai frowns. “That is the truth, Your Highness. Without your kindness, I’m not sure things would have turned out as they have. I can’t speak for everyone, but for myself especially…you’ve been a lifeline out of a very dark place.”

“Now I think it is you who are being kind,” Princess Tomoyo says airily, “All I did was hand you a great burden and put you to work as a nursemaid.” Fai opens his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off with a simple lift of her hand. “You cannot blame me that you ended up being good at it.” Her airy smile fades and she sighs and looks at the floor, “Truthfully, Fai, I am very grateful and happy to have finally met you, and I hope we can remain friends always. But I am not responsible for your healing – that was a decision you made and carried through.

"I see," Fai says with a grin. He pulls the omamori from his sleeve and dangles it between them. "Was this just Plan B, then?"

She chuckles lightly and pushes the charm back into his palm. "That was simply too good of a coincidence to pass up. I take it Kurogane has found his as well?"

"Not yet," Fai says, "He didn’t get too far before he stopped looking – I don't think he minds too much."

She shakes her head with a smile. “It used to be something like that would send him into a stomping rage.” She sighs happily. “Maybe you have enchanted him, after all.”

“Enchantments don’t work on anyone that ornery,” Fai scoffs playfully, “I’d have better luck turning him into a pumpkin.”

“Well, that may yet prove useful,” she giggles, then grows serious once again. “But your deflections are not as clever as you think." She grasps his hands in hers and looks him sternly in the eye. "When you first arrived here, I feared you might just lie down and die amongst your sorrows. You say I offered you a lifeline, but I believe that you thrive when you care for others. It was simply luck, or perhaps inevitability that what I needed from you aligned so perfectly with your greatest strength.”

“Greatest strength?” Fai repeats, barely managing to hide his incredulity.

“Mmm,” Princess Tomoyo nods, “Although from your tone I expect you may need a lesson in the meaning of strength as well.” She sighs dramatically and looks away, cupping her cheek in her hand. “There simply isn’t time for another journey...”

“What-”

“I’m only teasing,” Princess Tomoyo shakes her head and looks back to him with a grin, “My point was that strength is not just one thing, but the sum of many parts. Including the love we share with those closest to us. Or did you truly not realize?”

“I…” Fai starts. He wants to argue, but what has his life been if not a series of trying and failing not to care about people? “I guess I hadn’t thought about it in those terms before.”

“Most people don’t,” she says with a rueful smile, “It costs some people an arm and a leg. An arm at the very least.”

Fai allows himself a small chuckle at this. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“There are no thanks necessary,” she assures him, “Only, please promise me that you will keep moving forward.”

“Of course,” Fai nods. It’s an easy promise to make, but one he intends to work like hell to keep.

“I’ll take my leave now,” she says, “Please sleep well.”

Fai closes the door behind him and settles back at Kurogane’s side to stare at the ceiling once again. It’s possible, he supposes, that he’s not giving himself enough credit – it would be rather like him. But every time he closes his eye he sees Fai and King Ashura…

"What are you thinking about?" comes a groggy voice at his side.

"Thought you were sleeping, Kuro-rin." He rolls his eye and grins into the darkness.

"I am," Kurogane cocks one eye open, "What did the princess want?"

"Nothing much," Fai rolls to face him, traces the pad of his thumb across Kurogane’s cheekbone, "She just wanted to pass along that her sister had returned."

Kurogane grumbles irritably and closes his eye again.

"And that you'll probably have to meet with her tomorrow."

"Feh," Kurogane grumbles. He drags in a few deep breaths and relaxes again. "She's right, you know."

"About her sister?"

"About you."

Fai huffs indignantly and tweaks Kurogane’s nose. "Did you eavesdrop on the entire conversation?"

"What if I did? It's not like I heard anything I didn't already know."

“Hmm.”

“Sounds like you don’t agree.”

“It’s not that…” Fai considers, “I've always thought of getting involved as a weakness. It has been a weakness. Your arm–"

“It's not a weakness just because some asshole uses it against you. Using your opponent's strengths against them is effective strategy, too," Kurogane says, plonking his closed fist against Fai's forehead. There’s no real malice, or even any real weight behind it, though. "Idiot."

"Hmm."

"Look, believe it or don't," Kurogane huffs, "But you're still here, so…"

"Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment."

"You're that, too." Kurogane closes his eyes and sighs. His arm worms its way into the gap between Fai's neck and the mattress, slithers down around his shoulder to pull him closer. “Whatever, just…stay.”

“I can do that,” Fai says quietly. Because at long last, he can.