"There are some things," she had once said as their pulses slowed, the silence of the room broken only
by their ragged, rough breathing, "that we can only get from another person. A need so great, it can
only be sated by someone else."

His hand traced her stomach in lazy circles as she spoke, his fingers gently teasing her soft, warm skin.
"We come into this world to feed off each other, and it is only in the end that we realize the depths of
our falsehoods." She caught his hand as it moved upward on her ribcage, dancing on her subtle
curves. "Do you understand me?"

He nuzzled his face in her long, chestnut hair. "Hai, but I think it's thoroughly unromantic," he returned,
his voice a muddled tone hovering evenly between that of a boy and that of a man. "There's true
emotion in the world. I know there is."

She turned her face away, the strands of hair licking his face, tickling him. "Perhaps," she admitted
quietly, "but I doubt I will be the one to touch such a thing."

"What makes you think you haven't already?" He leaned into her warmth, and she could hear his
breath slowing into a dull, regular pattern. "You've got more than that with me, don't you?"

She didn't answer, even as he drifted off to a peaceful sleep, his arms wrapped tightly around her
lithe form. His breathing was peaceful even as she slid out of the bed and wandered across the
room, to the window.

The moon, bright and full, shown down over Tomoeda, and she sighed.

"I can only have those things I need," she whispered to the shadows and the sleepers, watching the
flickering of distant street lights. "And even if I yearned for more, I could not have it with you."

Three days later, she proved all-too-well her theory on emotion and was gone, leaving him painfully
alone.

"Sympathy, Tenderness"
A Cardcaptor Sakura Fanfiction
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler

Three years later, in a dark corner behind the high school, the boy - now a man - discovered the
meaning of that one fateful night.

Most of Tomoeda hadn't noticed her return after a three-year sabbatical to Britain, and remained
blissfully unconcerned by the news that a middle school math teacher had reappeared in town.
Even as she crossed the athletic fields before school or during lunch, they - absorbed, perhaps,
in their own daily meddling - failed to notice her long auburn tresses or her gentle gaze, familiar
trappings to a class of eleventh-graders who had been together since they were all in diapers.

But, despite his classmates' collective disinterest, he saw her. He smelled her scent on the breeze
as it tumbled through an open window and saw her familiar smile everywhere, flitting visions out
of the corner of his eye, and unnamed phantoms looming in the distance. A few of the more
observant teen's classmates, innocently enough, considered her reappearance as unremarkable
when directly questioned about it, allowing the issue a half-shrug before it was completely
disregarded.

A select few rumors, mostly generated by the upper-classmen, were murmured quietly, almost
innocently, and then died as nothing truly scandalous emerged.

"Didn't she teach algebra to the eighth-graders?"

"Seems she's dropped down to elementary school. Not surprising. We did give her the run-around."

"Wow, she's hot! I wouldn't mind a detention period with her... Lucky ankle-biters."

And then, the scandal they so desperately searched for - buried in three years of unspoken stories
and unvoiced pain - dissipated into tales of the previous nights' basketball game.

Only he, standing awkwardly in the school yard, knew the truth about the mysterious woman in
the cream-colored business suit. Only he, resting his hands heavily in his pockets, was privy to the
secrets that had come to pass those years ago.

Only he, brown eyes focused carefully into the distance, watched her every subtle movement like
a man possessed.

His clubs cancelled for the afternoon, he loomed beside the fence that separated the primary
school and the high school, studying the woman as she strode briskly across the elementary athletic
yards, obviously on her way to some important tryst elsewhere. Her hair was neatly pinned back,
her business suit hugged all the right places, and her high-heeled footfalls were certain, decisive,
even when crossing the grass.

And every step, however well-meant, was a familiar dagger, twisting in his chest and leaving him
to bleed.

The pain seemed to heighten his dulled senses, and - despite the ache coursing through his body -
he could not bring himself to look away. Unaware of her observer, the young woman - barely
twenty-five - fiddled distractedly with an earring. He recognized the unconscious habit and a new
pang of hurt sparked in his chest; she only twisted her earrings when she was in a hurry. How
many hundred times had he seen that exact same motion and immediately smirked, teasing her
lightly about it? He had lost count long before she'd departed.

Three years, and she was still the same woman.

Three years, and he was far from the same boy.

A sudden, crisp gust of wind caught her long hair and tossed it behind her, and - perhaps
surprised, perhaps not - she turned her head suddenly. The motion caught him off guard, and he
realized too late that, even if he'd expected her to turn, there was nowhere to hide, or to flee.

She was staring right at him.

Brown eyes met copper as their gazes locked, and her plump red lips curved into a slight, sad smile.
A smile not unlike the one she'd offered that fateful night, her last smile in Tomoeda. He tried to
force his facial muscles into a similar position but, finding it impossible, simply contented himself
with nodding a hello.

She nodded slightly in response, her slight smile fading quickly, and then, with a few more
well-placed steps, was gone, turning the corner and disappearing behind the massive gray
elementary school building.

Leaning his head against the metal fence, he heaved an involuntary sigh. All-too-familiar emotions,
many and nameless, welled in the pit of his stomach and the sting of tears bit his eyes. He bit his lip,
hard, and tasted blood on his tongue as he waited for the moisture to dissipate. Why, after so long,
did -

"To-ya?"

The voice was soft but also sudden and he, emotions flaring, whipped around on his heels. With him
whirled his book bag, the heavy, if makeshift, weapon aimed towards the unexpected visitor.

The newcomer raised a hand and blocked what would have been a very successful - and, if the
grunt of effort was any indication, very strong - blow to the side. Touya's grip slackened and then
released, and the bag thumped to the ground, spilling pencils, pens, and books onto the grass.

He didn't seem to notice as his shoulders slumped, the adrenaline draining as quickly as it had come.

Tsukishiro Yukito, however, did notice, and he glanced down at the mess for a brief moment before
returning his attentions to his friend. He offered a wide smile. "I didn't meant to startle you," he
informed the dark-haired teen cheerily, as though the threatening gesture had not occurred. "I'm
finished with my make-up test, if you want to get going."

There was no response. He frowned slightly, taking a cautious step forward. "To-ya, is something
wrong?"

Touya quickly turned away, terrified that his eyes, still brimming with tears, would betray him. A
grim, pained expression crossed his tanned face, shadowed by the handful of trees dotting the edge
of campus, and for a long moment, the only sound was that of elementary school children playing
sports on the athletic fields.

"Do you believe that people only use one another, Yuki?"

The question caught the shorter teen off guard and he blinked, surprised. "I... I don't know," he
admitted after a slight pause, shrugging his slender shoulders. The tell-tale smile, sweet as candy,
returned, and he adjusted his book bag distractedly. "I don't think people use one another without
feeling pain for what they've done, though. Selfishness is human nature, perhaps, but so is sympathy."

"Sympathy..." His friend snorted, raking a hand through dark locks. "I don't think there's any such
thing. The only sympathy we have is for ourselves, when we cause our own foolish suffering." Their
eyes met, a clash of copper and chesnut, and he scowled despite his friend's smile. Pulling himself
away from the fence, he quickly closed the distance between himself and the smiling, gray-haired
teen. "And what of human emotion, Yuki?" he pressed on, less than half a meter from his
companion's face. "Is there true emotion in the world, or is it all just selfish need with an unselfish
label? Can we really feel strong emotions like empathy, passion, and love - " The last word caught
in his throat, and his eyes burned a second time. " - for one another?"

That familiar smile, so warm, faded away as Yukito became aware of the ever-lessening distance
between himself and the much taller teen. The tension was nearly palpable as he set his jaw,
obviously working to formulate his thoughts. "I believe in true emotions," he decided, his tone
becoming suddenly serious. His eyes never left Touya's face, presumably scanning him for a reaction.
"I believe that, with everyone, there's a tenderness within their heart, something stronger than even their
own selfishness. Maybe it's hidden, but under the stone, there's a gentleness that comes out only at the
right times. The best times." The corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly, and he reached up to
lay a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know you have that tenderness, To-ya," he assured him
lightly. "I see it every day."

A breeze picked up as, suddenly, their lips clashed together, a bursting forth of emotion that neither
had ever expected. The force of Touya's kiss sent them both stumbling backwards, Yukito's back
roughly meeting the bark of a tree. Their bodies merged as they clung desperately to one another,
Touya's hands roaming his partner's chest as his mind was only vaguely aware of hands roaming over
his own body.

Their tongues danced together and a blazer was tossed aside. Shirt buttons popped, fingers tangled in
hair, and soft, voiced sighs danced across the air and into their ears. Above them, the wind whistled in
the trees, the leaves rustling softly against one another.

"To-ya," groaned Yukito, and the dark-haired man was vaguely aware of his shirt hanging limply off his
shoulders as he began to undo his friend's tie, his lips landing roughly on an earlobe. "To-ya... You're
crying."

The moment ended abruptly, crashing to a jarring halt. Touya pulled away and stumbled backwards
until he hit the fencing, staring wide-eyed at his long-time friend. Yukito's blazer, along with his own,
was crumpled on the ground, his hair disheveled and glasses uneven. Hugging his opened shirt to his
body, he leaned heavily against the fence and gave in to his own misery, the few tears that had alerted
his companion doubling and then tripling as he held himself tightly.

Silence covered the corner of the school yard as Yukito straightened his glasses. "Touya..." he
whispered, his voice barely audible. "Touya, I..."

"I hate this!" Touya suddenly announced, collapsing to the ground. He buried his face in his hands. "I
hate this feeling of emptiness! I hate not knowing what she meant that night! What did she mean, using
me for THAT and then leaving? What did she mean, that there was no real emotion? What does any
of it mean?

"I loved her! I loved her, and she left!" He gestured widely towards the elementary school yard,
knowing far too well that he might as well point at a ghost. "How could she? How could she leave?
And how could I...? I..."

His tear-filled eyes met the wide-eyed stare of his friend, and he turned quickly away, shaking his
head. "You... You should go..." he managed to choke out, his voice giving way to racking sobs. "It'd
just be better if... If you left, too..."

The wind carried the carefree voices of the elementary schoolers across the silence that welled up
between the teenaged duo and then died, leaving them in absolute quiet. Then, soft footfalls plodded
across the cool ground and stopped abruptly. Perhaps they had faded out of hearing range? He
found it appropriate. Another person he cared deeply about, disappearing from his side. Another
piece of his heart, shattered.

And then, perhaps more suddenly than the kiss had been, strong, warm arms wrapped around him,
and a head lay gently on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, To-ya," came the reassuring murmur in his ear, and his despair renewed itself a second
time as he realized it was Yukito sitting beside him, their backs against the fence as he held his best
friend close. "But I also believe in you, and know that you can feel that emotion. I know you well
enough to never doubt that." He nuzzled his soft hair into the crook of Touya's neck, and copper
eyes slanted closed. "And I promise that you that you'll never hurt that badly again." A chuckle
rumbled in his chest. "After all, you're To-ya! I would do anything to see To-ya smile, even for a
moment."

He sniffled, his shoulders shaking, as another past moment flitted across his mind, a moment that - in
the pain and sorrow of his first love's return - he'd forgotten all together, a moment that he had never
fully understood.

'When I return - and I will - I will love someone new,' she had told him at the festival, three nights after
their passionate love-making, her brown eyes burning bright in the light from the paper lanterns. 'But
know this, Touya-kun: so will you.'

She'd turned and fled, disappearing into the crowd and leaving him to his own tears at the shrine,
burning the impression of her sad smile into the very fabric of his existence. He'd wanted, so badly, to
believe the purity of her intentions, but cynicism had overtaken his body, and he'd pushed it away.

Tomoeda had not missed Mizuki Kaho when she'd departed, three years earlier, and had not cared
greatly for her return. Only he, a lone figure in a crowd, had even paused to consider her disappearance
and subsequent reappearance, and all the moments in between.

At the time she had left, he hadn't understood. He hadn't understood her words or her actions, or the
nature of her own sympathy. The nature of her private, hidden tenderness.

Touya leaned his head against Yukito's and curled more comfortably into the embrace, his heart ache
ebbing with every tear, however fleeting, that coursed down his cheeks.

Perhaps now, with the wind whistling in the trees and the sound of joyful children in the distance, he
could begin to understand.

Fin.

Author's Notes: Touya and Kaho. World's most twisted couple. I really don't like either of them
as characters, or the couple as a whole. However, I've gotten into more twisted T/K moments
(and somewhat twisted T/Y moments, as we can tell!) and this was born. I honestly am pretty
fond of the fic as a whole, and Touya being a bit unglued. Evidently, Mr. Stoic has a personality. ;)

Thanks to Yume, of course, for beta-reading. And thanks to my computers class, because I blew
off doing work so I could write this fic.

Whee.

February 11, 2005
4:08 p.m.