Author's Note: Here goes my first attempt in writing a TRC fanfic after being on hiatus for a long time. Please bear with me. By the way, I wouldn't be using any Japanese terms in this fanfiction for easy understanding.

Tokyoites don't die. It's one general fact among them. They were like the chosen ones.

Why? There is one story passed unto different mouths and soon, people recognized it as the truth.

Centuries ago, a magician experimented on things related to war. This certain magician was a Tokyoite. He created weapons, armors and runes by the use of his magic force. People from other places could use the weapons and the armors but only people from Tokyo could use the runes.

One of these runes was an image of the wings of an angel. And it was told that it was this rune which made Tokyoites impossible to kill.

At first, people found this story silly, but then all of a sudden, this certain magician showed up.

And since then, it was proven that Tokyoites do not die.

This knowledge drove Seishirou crazy.

He didn't like the idea of one race being greater than the others (though he joked that he wouldn't care about this at all if he was born a Tokyoite).

He stared at the magician in front of him.

Being the talented treasure hunter that he was, somehow, he was able to take this magician into his captivity (though it seemed that the magician himself knew what he was planning to do but let him anyway).

He questioned him as to how exactly the Tokyoites remain immortal.

Yet, all the magician told him was the exact story narrated a while ago.

This only angered Seishirou. He tortured this magician.

He tried burning him, freezing him, drowning him… And yet, the magician was still alive.

"I am certain that there is more to this." Seishirou was being impatient now (not that he was patient to begin with).

The magician grinned at him.

This only added another fuel to an already heavily burning fire.

Seishirou glared at him. The magician's grin just grew wider.

As if from instinct, Seishirou shot a gun into his heart. Then, in a blink of an eye, there was a pool of blood.

It was the blood of the magician.

That's when it struck Seishirou.

"Definitely not an immortal..." It was Seishirou's turn to grin. Judging from his expression, his hatred a little while ago was long forgotten.

The magician gasped for breath. And yet, somehow, he still looked elegant. He was hurt and he wasn't hiding it; that only made him seem so beautiful.

"…" The magician coughed blood.

Seishirou made a maniacal laugh and directed the gun to the heart of the magician.

He couldn't wait to kill this guy. He wanted to show to the world that Tokyoites DO die.

And he would start with the magician in front of him, the very same magician who made the world think that Tokyoites are immortal.

Just the thought made Seishirou happier.

And it seemed that the little second of distraction was just what the magician needed.

As he was about to pull the trigger, the gun was already into the air, flying.

"That is dangerous. It's bad to play with guns." The magician winked at him. He wasn't bleeding anymore. In fact, he seemed as healthy when he captured him, if not healthier.

And he was holding the hunter's gun.

All of a sudden, the room was filled with smoke.

Finally realizing what happened, Seishirou frantically looked for the magician.

Yet, as he expected, he was already gone.

Sakura was running fast. She felt like her lungs would rip apart. Yet, she ran. She turned right, and then left. She sensed that she was burning. Her emerald eyes stung and her muscles sore. Soon, she was only half-running then brisk-walking. She tried to regain her speed but in vain. Her legs betrayed her. She limped then fell.

She was continuously running for six hours and knew that she was at her limits. But she couldn't give up this fight. She placed her palms on her heart. It was beating rapidly. The beats were in rhythm. It was like the ticking of a clock.

The rhythm somewhat eased her. At least it assured that the feather was still there.

She clutched her heart and was pulling something. It was her last resort. If she would die, she wouldn't die easily. She'd destroy herself. She won't let them touch her.

She sighed.

She closed her eyes and sorted out her thoughts.

She tried to picture a lock. It was white and shining brightly. In fact, she couldn't bear to look. Yet, instinct told her that she had to open this lock.

In her vision, she saw herself reaching for the lock. Chained in her neck was a silver key. She clasped the chain from her neck and held the key on her palm. It was surprisingly cold.

As she reached for the lock, someone lifted her and pinned her on the wall.

They're here, they're here, they're here. That was all she could think.

Because of panic, she couldn't visualize the lock and key anymore.

She gasped.

She struggled to break free but the man was too strong for her.

She tried to reach for her heart once more but as if knowing what she intended to do, he gripped her hand.

She screamed. Then the man laughed at her.

Yet, his laugh calmed her senses. The man's laugh wasn't evil. It was filled with happiness and relief. His laugh, she felt, was sending her a friendly message.

That's when green eyes met a pair of blue.

That's when the magician found his princess.

- –

He browsed the shelves in the library, trying to choose which ones to borrow.

His hands came across a sturdy book, with the letters embossed on the side.

Another pair of hands also brushed against the book which sent a jolt on his spine.

"Sorry," the girl smiled. She was beautiful.

He blushed.

"N-no, it's… it's…"

He couldn't process his thoughts.

It just made him more embarrassed.

The girl laughed. It was a hearty laughed. And he felt a smile form on his face.

"My brother asked me to borrow that book," the girl said. "I don't know what for, though."

He just stared at her. She really was a beauty. He didn't hear anything she said.

"Pretty…" He muttered. The girl stared at her in confusion.

"No, well, I… I'm interested in history. It's pretty," he covered, but he knew he was blushing furiously.

The girl smiled at him and nodded. "I see. You borrow it first, then."

"But-"

The girl just grinned at him. "I don't need the book, anyway."

And she started to walk away.

Without thinking, he grabbed her hand.

The girl looked back at him curiously.

"Syaoran," he whispered. But it was enough. She heard him.

"Sakura," she answered back.

Syaoran heaved a sigh.

"I… Well…" Syaoran wanted to talk with her more, but wasn't sure if he should, or if the girl would let her.

"Yes?"

"I'll read the book here in the library… I'm a fast-reader… and then you could wait until I finish… And then… Go ahead… and borrow the book."

He tried not to stutter. However, he paused in between sentences.

The girl beamed. "Really? Are you sure?"

He nodded.

They sat side by side as Syaoran examined the book.

He laid the book in between them, staring at pictures, gaping at words…

The book held the history on why Tokyoites were immortal - on why they were immortal.

The information was vague, but the main point was that it was the work of a magician.

"I'd prefer if we weren't immortal, though…"

Syaoran looked at her. And he looked more beautiful than how he saw her a while ago.

Her words hung in the air.

Syaoran couldn't help but agree.

They continued examining the book, until it was late.

He volunteered to walk her home. At first Sakura hesitated, saying she didn't want to trouble him, but Syaoran insisted.

That's when he knew that he was a princess.

They were just twelve then.

And now, they were both sixteen.

They were childhood friends, but Syaoran knew he loved her more than anything.

If he would live forever, he wouldn't mind if he could spend his days with Sakura.

But he knew it was impossible. A princess should marry someone worthy, not some archeologist like him.

Sakura was sleeping on the grass beside him.

And that was the last time the archeologist saw the princess.

- –

He hated his master.

He hated how easily she manipulated him.

He hated how she knew him better than he did himself.

Yet, his hatred equaled his love for her.

As to what kind of love, he wasn't so sure.

He was protective of his master, yet if given the chance, he would not hesitate to kill her.

He wouldn't let anyone touch her.

But what surprised him was, he didn't want to touch his master.

His feelings for his master were the only things he couldn't understand.

And maybe that's just how a ninja views his master.

He started to think that it was normal, to love and hate someone at the same time.

Isn't it the law – that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction?

He nodded. Not only was he strong, he was also a genius.

He smirked.

"Kurogane…"

It was his master.

He bowed as she entered.

"I need you to do something…"

He snarled. He just returned from another mission. Couldn't she just ask someone else? It's not like he was the only one she could summon.

Then, someone appeared behind his master. It was someone with green eyes that highlighted his fair skin.

"Protect this magician."

Author's Notes: This idea kept bugging me and I just had to write it. If you have any suggestions and comments, they are all welcome. I hope you would all tell me how you think of the story.