Sacrifice

And so I return with a stupid Tsubasa one-shot but… it doesn't hold a funny, light side to it. Quite the opposite, I must say. So it's rather dark and… well, depressing and stuff. I guess.

By the way, did anyone else besides me find chapitre 150 extremely confusing? Yeah…

Note: Possible spoilers – no, scratch that, big spoilers for chapitre 150. If you haven't read the latest chapitre, please listen to me and go to the MSN Tsubasa Group. They have chapitre 150 up, and you should seriously read it before you read mine. Okay? Good.

Another Note: First section is in the past, probably like the night before, then the second part (after the ellipses; incase no one knows what ellipses are, it's the … people constantly use. Yeah. That's an ellipse.)

Disclaimer: Tsubasa RESERvoir CHRoNiCLE belongs to CLAMP and can stay as CLAMP's work. Yeah.

Summary: I never wanted to know if mages could die from hemorrhage, Fai. Especially if you intended to save us that way.

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Walking into a room that smelled of running blood wasn't really too pleasant, believe me. Sure, the scent of gore, human or animal, same thing since both have an animalistic emotion running through them either way, was soothing at times during war, where the red stains on rusty blades stood for victory and triumph, but when it's trickling down someone's wrist, it's not too reassuring.

Then it simply stands for death and mourning.

I found him in the middle of the room, lapping up his blood that slowly ticked from the deep gash in his right wrist; at that moment all I could do was stand there, hand on my sword's hilt. He glanced up at me with that red stuff smeared all over his unusually pale and thin face, beads of it on his bottom lip. All he could do was smile.

"It's actually good, the taste of your blood."

I snapped. I really don't know why I snapped, probably because his statement was just so disturbing, but instinctively I grabbed his wrist and pulled him upward. The permanent musk lingering in the air that he puffed out every exhalation smelled almost as bad as his cooking, but I held it in. Now wasn't the time to slap the stupid mage in the face and tell him that his cooking sucked.

… Maybe the slapping part seemed pretty suitable in this situation.

I raised my hand to do so, but he cut me to it by interrupting me, saying,

"I was wondering if I can live off my own blood," the blond said rather happily, despite the gloomy atmosphere he set up, especially with that blade in his hand, "incase you disappear or something."

I frowned, glaring at the mage with the hardest glare I could manage. "Disappear? What's going to happen to me? Afraid I might get kidnapped by other ninjas and get my head chopped off?" I muttered as sarcasm dripped from every word. I did it purposely, just to get the point across.

"Yeah."

That was his reply. I couldn't help but arch an eyebrow in amusement; who would expect such a straightforward answer from a dolt like him? I'd least expect some puzzle pop up before me and a silly little riddle that went along with Mary Had a Little Lamb that would give me a few clues or something.

"What do you mean, 'Yeah'?" I questioned as my grip on his bleeding wrist tightened. I couldn't pop his vein or anything. He already cut it himself.

"Well, what does the word 'Yeah' mean to you, Kuro-pon?" the blond asked with such a mocking tone that, for a moment, I saw a snotty Dimension Witch instead of that bubbly and cheery attitude, and smile – which was fake, all the time, no doubt about it – that was plastered on his face constantly. I felt myself pale. Bad sign.

"My question is," I coughed, trying to jump that obstacle and go straight to the problem, "why the hell were you sitting in this room, waiting for your very own demise to come straight at you due to lack of blood?"

Aha, got him. He took a small, yet really noticeable even in the dark, step back from me, just to compose himself and snap back rather rudely,

"I think that's my own business."

The strings of patience were slowly, slowly snapping with a poing deep within me – wherever those 'strings of patience' existed – when the blond glanced at the floor and not at me. I felt like exploding, but not before I threw this idiot into a pit of the flickering flames of Hell.

"What's cutting your wrist going to get you?" I barked in his face, pulling his chin up harshly. I mean, he deserved it for looking away in the first place. "Oh I don't know, maybe half the blood that once ran through your body spilling onto the floor and, maybe, just maybe, two kids including a live bunny rabbit spazzing out down the hallway?" It ended up more like an exclamation than a suggestion, but I think he got the point after that.

He winced visibly. At least I got him that time. I pushed further.

"Don't tell me! You wanted to see if immortal, stupid figures like you could die because of a hemorrhage?"

I was surprised to find him stand there silently, left arm at his side with his right wrist in my grip. The flowing of the blood was slowly stopping once the idiot dropped the blade. He sighed.

"I wanted to know if I could live without being a burden," he muttered almost inaudibly, so softly that I had to lean closer an inch to catch what he whispered, "and if I could change the future by dieing. Dieing like this seemed like the simplest way, better than taking your sword without permission and piercing my heart with it." Then he smiled in that chilly, fraud way. "Though I don't think a simple stab with a steel sword would kill a vampire like me."

This time I stood there, flabbergasted, unable to conjure words to spit back at him. Probably the first time an idiot made me stumble over my own words.

"The future will be changed if I die, really," the idiot said with more of a dead tone in his voice than before, that mask slipping off completely. "Syaoran will be able to live, Sakura can continue to find her memories, Mokona will have someone to be with and you…" He paused between his words and looked up at me with blank eyes.

"You can live without such a burdensome idiot breathing over your shoulder constantly."

Truthfully I thought that would be a great idea. But since it wasn't a joke, I didn't laugh.

"I never thought I'd see the day where a blond idiot would be sitting in the middle of a dark room, wrist cut and losing blood, thinking that people will actually be happy after he dies." I let go of his wrist. "Never."

He laughed. It was hollow this time, like it should be all the time, but he always intends on putting that stupid smile on when around those kids, and it did all but make me feel comfortable in this situation.

"Well you did now, right?"

"That's not the point!" I yelled on top of my lungs. I was pretty sure that, in a second or so, that brat was going to barge into the room, acting as if it was some serious situation and that there was some murderer on the loose, due to the screaming.

"I want you to stop this bull shit," I tried to say as calmly as I could which, really, wasn't calm at all, "and go to the bathroom to wrap this up. And who the hell wanted you to die in the first place? You'll probably just bring more grief to this hell of a party anyway. Besides, no one wanted to see you die because of some shitty hemorrhage or something."

He smiled again. Curse him. And then he leaned forward, on his toes to reach my height, and whispered,

"Trust me, if I died, then you would be able to live longer. My death can save three lives, all at once. All I'm giving up is just one soul, right?"

He stepped away and I was pretty sure that he made way to the bathroom, following what I said. All I could hear as he left was the soft pitter-patter of blood trickling down his cut.

I walk towards him. He's in the same room again, same smell, this time with the room lit and all traces of blood gone. Sure, the kids notice the odd scent at first but shrug it off as they pass by in the morning. They're too sleepy to realize what had happened.

He sits on the futon-like bed placed at the far end of the blank room and looks up at me, smiling.

"Good morning, Kuro-pii."

I grimace and stay silent. All I do is hold up my arm, where a dark red cut can be seen along it, blood pooling at that injury. He stares at it for a brief second, confused, then asks,

"What?"

I sigh, clearly agitated in the morning. I'm not a morning person, truthfully, and the way he acts stupidly ticks me off.

So I quickly mutter, "For now you can stay as a burden. Feed off my blood, not your own. You can stay as a burden for the moment, and when the time comes where you snap and decide to kill us all, I'll be one step ahead of you." Of course I really don't mean the last part, but I say it anyway, just to catch his attention. I feel his warm tongue against the cut, stinging at first, but oddly soothing as he laps it up. "And you heard the stupid Witch. The future can't be changed. It'll remain the same, no matter what man does to it."

"So even if you die, you won't reach your goal."

His licking stops and, instead of his tongue, he places his hand over the wound. I stand there, unchanging, unaffected by the stinging, lingering pain that he's causing. And he smiles.

"I'm sure you'll try your best, Kuro-nya."

I pull away my arm and retreat towards the door to leave, stopping before the entrance and shot back, just as a farewell in the morning,

"You better spray yourself with the girl's perfume or something. You reek of blood."

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Uh… I don't know what to say? It was really bad, I gotta say (since I can't write in present tense or first person; really bad mix for me) so it wasn't the best thing I wrote for Tsubasa. Oh well. Came out, stays like that.

But it'd be nice if you drop a review or something. A hit. Favourites would be like "OGM" in a good sense. So yeah. … Thanks for reading?

-Muffinizer, nye