Disclaimer:

This is my first piece in a long, long time.

Also, I haven't seen CCS in almost ten years. I recently started watching it again, and this little idea popped into my head: what would Yukito's reactions be after figuring out the truth? If things are inaccurate or make no sense, it's because I flat out don't remember the details! I hope you can forgive me.

Regardless, enjoy this small, humble offering. Perhaps there will be more to come.

To Myself

Stark. That was the word. Yukito stood in the middle of his living room and thought about his current quarters. It reminded him of an empty classroom, early in the morning, before students came to take their seats. Or Touya's living room, when he had helped apply a coat of fresh paint. Large, expansive, and utterly empty; without the furniture, the Kinomoto's cozy den lost its warmth and hospitality. Stark was the word Touya had called it, and stark was the adjective he was choosing now.

Large, expansive, and utterly empty. His house fit that definition.

It was odd, at first, learning he was half of a whole being. Perhaps another person would have denied it, or maybe even try to call a bluff. But Yukito thought it none other than odd. He remembered the trepidation on their faces as they confronted his secret; perhaps they expected him to be equally shocked, or upset, or even to run away. Acknowledging Yue for the first time in his presence felt like an intervention. And Yukito, the prime suspect, was the star of the spectacle.

Naturally, he felt surprised but not quite shock. And then, a smile appeared, bright and expressive. Yukito, like he always would, took the news with a light heart. "Hmm…that does explain my never-ending appetite," he mused.

Yukito's reaction – or rather, lack of reaction – was not such a mystery to him as the others. From what he understood, Yue wasn't as opinionated as everyone else. Rather, Yue didn't seem to have an opinion at all. Sakura had described the guardian as distant and quiet. Like a ocean lapping the shore on a damp winter's night. Yue rarely spoke unless necessary, and evidently, he rarely shared his feelings.

So Yukito's lack of reaction wasn't so strange to him. Maybe this was the part of Yue that was evident in his soul.

Yue's 'appearance' didn't bother him, either; in a way, Yukito felt comforted. Now, his weirdness, his unyielding need for food, and his burning desire to please and protect his friends grew clarity. It was as if he always knew, but like the others, did not acknowledge it until recently.

His home life, on the other hand, was harder to accept. Yukito had returned that very night to an empty house. The former projections, weaved by his darker soul, fell like a stage curtain. Through the door was nothing: just walls, and stuff, and air, culminating to a large, expansive and utterly empty space.

Yukito took one step forward – it echoed like rain. Such a hollow sound. He mourned those images, and although they were nothing but mind tricks he had felt complete. Like he had something. Accepting he held another person was something he could handle. But adapting to this lonesome lifestyle…it simply wasn't in his nature.

But what is my nature? Would it be fair to call it my own? Aren't I just a vehicle for a greater purpose, a mere puppet used for the opening act?

Yukito glanced around the room once more. He was tired of seeking answers within dead space. He wanted someone with knowledge: someone who could empathize with his large, expansive, and utterly empty space.

You are not alone.

Those words. Were they his own, or from a distant brother? He was himself, and he had thoughts, but were they his own?

I am two, we are one, and thus together we are complete.

Yes, I know, answered Yukito. But who am I? What are you?

"What are you?" Yukito said aloud. He caught his reflection on the glass window. His skin, recently so pale and fragile, seemed to glow under the moonlight. Yukito stepped forward and stared at the looking glass. He recalled a literature lesson from weeks ago – a book about another world through a mirror. There was no such thing as trans-portal windows, but perhaps this reflection could show him something else.

Or someone else.

The answer is in me, thought Yukito. I'm the answer.

A moment passed. Yukito turned on a small lamp; the light immediately warmed the dead space. He walked to the middle of the room, sat down, and began to meditate.

At first, silence. Then, Yukito began. Hello?

More silence. Would this even work? Yukito decided it was worth a shot.

Hello, Yue? Are you there?

One second lasped. Then two. And then I am here, Yukito.

Yukito was startled by the voice. It was almost like he was listening to himself on tape, but only if he had a bad day. A really bad day. A cold, distant note overtook the sound. And, just as easily as thoughts popped into his head, the voice appeared smoothly, subtly. It was like listening to music from the finest headphones: perfect in pitch, volume, and clarity. He could easily fall asleep to it.

Yukito, however, didn't quite know how to continue this self-sufficient conversation. How are you, Yue?

There was another moment of silence, and then a surprisingly reply: You have figured out the truth, Yukito. But you are questioning it because you are missing a part of your life.

Yukito was startled by the answer. How do you know this?

I am you, retorted Yue. I know many of your thoughts, and feel all of your emotions. I knew how you felt as soon as you stepped into the doorway.

That's not – that's not fair. Yukito's thoughts stuttered as he thought back. He suddenly felt violated. Why do you get to know everything about me?

I do not know everything about you, Yue replied. I simply know how you feel. Your emotions – not merely your thoughts – connect us.

I don't feel yours, Yukito thought defensively.

Yue's respond was quick. That is because I will it not to.

A few moments passed before either one spoke. Yukito felt a familiar sensation bubble in the pit of his stomach: that feeling of familiarity. The conversation with Yue, so far, was not an easy one, but it relieved him. Maybe he really had always known Yue existed. The realization of comfort made Yukito feel, well, content.

I do not wish to make you feel so uneasy, or ashamed, Yue immediately thought. I am not an intruder, for the two of us are one in the same. If you wish, I can retreat into your mind more frequently, and will cease to read your emotions.

Yukito didn't know what to say. He was gracious of Yue's consideration, but the reason for this conversation was his lack of connections – real connections.

No, it's alright, Yue, the young man said. I know you aren't here to hurt me. He was going to leave it at that, but questions still burned in his mind. Yukito sent a serious of uncensored thoughts to his other half. But Yue, wasn't it hard to keep yourself a secret? Didn't you ever want to just say what you felt, or question what I felt? Yukito, although the one in emotional turmoil, felt compelled to reach out to his other half. Didn't it bother you to keep quiet?

Silence for a moment. It was my purpose, my duty. Yue's reply was robotic. I could not reveal myself.

But why not? To me, at least? Why did you lie?

As if a wave crashed into his mind, Yukito was moved by a strange sensation: Yue's emotions. Pride, loyalty, and a sense of secrecy rolled over his nerves like a cold front. The feelings – pure, uncensored, and at full capacity – literally made him shiver. But at the end of the spell, Yukito undeniably detected a small but significant feeling: regret.

That, Yue responded, was not my choice. It was never my choice. You were created to be a part of me, to act that way; I was to remain a secret. Then Yue's voice softened just slightly. Yukito, it is in your nature to nurture, to be kind, friendly, and helpful. If I were to reveal your identity, you would have told Sakura, or Touya, because of your genuine connections with them. Quite simply, you would have wanted to help her. Yet in doing that, she would have lost the challenge. She would have not passed my judgment.

MY nature? Yukito thought back. Aren't we the same?

Only in body, Yue thought. Perhaps we share some similarities. But are we not conversing now? Our minds separate us. You are you, even though I am. Yet together, we are one.

I can share my thoughts with you more often, Yue added. There is no need for us to hide anymore.

With that, Yue retreated. It was like a part of Yukito's brain turned off, but it was an oddly comforting sensation. A flash of feeling sparked through his mind; Yue would be going to sleep.

Amazing, Yukito thought – to himself. He opened his eyes from his trance and stood. The small light flickered. Yukito welcomed its amber glow. Again, he turned to his reflection in the window; the moon was gone, but the light created a mirror.

He smiled. His grin was large, expansive, and incredibly content.