True Warrior

Summary: Plunged into a world of deceit and bloodshed, Sakura Kinomoto lost her hold on everything normal the day she turned 16, the day she lost her parents and the day an old rival bid her farewell. "It's a small world Kinomoto, we'll see each other again." Were his parting words. Who knew eight years was all it would take for those words to come true?

Author's Note: Well, this is my second attempt at trying to finish TW. Any of you remember the first version? I just took it down tonight.

Tell me what you thought.

Disclaimer: Everything you read here, apart from the familiar CCS characters, plot and cards, are mine.

i.

The autumn evening was seemingly ordinary, with the sun tucked beneath the dark skies and the stars twinkling bright.

"Would you like some champagne, miss?"

Her eyes briefly glanced in the waiter's direction before she shook her head no. Large chandeliers hung off of the roof, as if about to fall, while the marble floor remained flawless. It had to be. After all, this was the inauguration of Mr Takai Yamamoto's fourteenth estate. The waiter was off to his next even before she heard the voice in her head. And no, she didn't mean that voice that we all heard.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded before moving forward through the crowd, her smile in place as she came closer to her next target. Music ever so classical was playing as her footsteps met the rhythm of the music, beat to beat. She always did enjoy Beethoven.

"Word is he's going to take his leave in the next ten minutes. You've probably got two minutes before he's escorted off."

"I heard you," she told the voice, trying her best to ignore it now.

"Miss Mai," she saw him smile at her through his wickedly white teeth. He wasn't alone. "Here for more questions, I presume?"

She laughed. Two women. She could handle two women, if she had to. "No. I'm afraid I'm going to call it a night. It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Yamamoto. You truly live up to the prestige of being the fourth richest man in Japan."

"And you let your readers know it, Miss Mai,"

"Please," she leaned in closer, one hand on his, the other in her pocket. "Call me Mai,"

The shot was clean and precise, straight through his supposedly vicious heart. She was walking back, through the crowd, as he slumped to his knees, his eyes bulging and frenzied. She was over twenty people away before the red seeped through his impeccably white suit and jacket. The shrieking began then. Did three seconds really pass so slowly?

"Take exit route 3,"

"Got it,"

First she stashed away the black wig. Next, she looked over her shoulder to confirm that she was alone. She was in the door, down the stairs and on the balcony, in the clear night air, before she brought out her gun and shot the arrow to the tree about fifteen metres away. She then brought her hook on the rope that went with it and made to slide away when she heard the voice.

"Stay where you are,"

She felt the shiver roll up her spine as she wondered if she should turn around to see who'd been the one to find her. It'd only been thirty seconds since Yamamoto died. She made to turn around just as she placed a hand into her pocket.

"Don't,"

Too late, she thought, as she shot into the air, missing her captor. Without wasting another second she made for the hook and slid down the rope, to the tree and onto a firm branch.

"Over here," she could hear the man screaming all the way here. She leaped from branch to branch before landing firmly on feet and sprinting. She had to get out of there, pronto.

"Escape route 14,"

Which one was that again?

"Take the underground entrance,"

Right.

The subway.

"On it,"

The electric fence had been dismantled even before she entered the premises. Over the wall and a leap later, she was one step closer to scot free.

The skirt had been a bad idea; she'd known that from the start. If only Yamamoto wasn't such an old sleazebag. Down the empty streets she ran before dashing into the second alley on her left. A second for breath and she was running once again. The shoes she wore were louder than she liked but it couldn't have been helped. She only hoped once she was back in public that she would be less conspicuous.

"Next train leaves at 21.45,"

Shit.

Six minutes to freedom.

She heard the trails of men galloping down the road she'd just dashed off of even before she left the thin scrape of the alleyway she'd dodged into.

"You're being trailed,"

"You don't say," she told the voice sarcastically as she finally saw the way lead up to the main street. Lights and honks flashed as she joined the public once again. She let out her neat bun, her auburn hair now free and cascading down her back, as she put on the glasses and turned her coat inside out. One with the crowd now, she was exactly four minutes away from the subway entrance. She already had her ticket. She just needed to make it.

"Four minutes,"

"I know,"

Down the stairs again, quick and swift, before inserting her ticket onto the detector and the gate opened for her. Sweet freedom, she was almost through.

As she stood on the platform waiting for the subway, she realized she hadn't cut it this close in a long while.

Just as the train approached she heard the running footsteps, loud and tardy. This guy was good, clearly, but not good enough. He was still a few feet away, and she was going to see this job through, no matter what had to be done.

The doors opened as she hid behind the veil of people, her eyes on him as he approached. Her smile was firm, even if she knew this was cutting a little too close, as she realized that she was going to make it and there was no way some silly agent or bodyguard was going to stop her.

Two seconds before the doors would shut she walked into the train. And right behind her, was him. She should've known.

Through the train they ran as she neared the next door, but it wasn't good enough. His hands were on her elbows, pushing her into the doors that had just slammed shut. She knew what she had to. There wasn't another choice.

"Who are you?" he asked her as his eyes met hers through the frame of her glasses, in the reflection of the glass in the door.

Dear, God.

"You've got sixty seconds before that train is taken care of," she heard her sadistic voice through the receptor as nothing but the brown of his eyes and hair sank in.

God was playing another cruel trick on her.

'It's a small world, Kinomoto,'

His voice hadn't really changed. He even looked the same, she realized, when she thought about it. What was she doing, losing herself in the moment? How many seconds had passed? Twenty seconds, she realized, had passed as she simply gazed at him like a fool.

"Time," she whispered under her breath as he spoke again.

"Look, there's no way out of here. Just tell me who you are and what you wanted—"

She watched his face for any recognition of what he felt, of what she was using. He'd moved to say something, but it was too late. Yesterday was here, and before she knew it, she was back on her bed. The soft mattress was a nice change compared to the night she just had. Correction: will have.

One day ago, that's where she was right then. She'd turned back time exactly twenty four hours and here she was, back in her home, on her turf, thinking about the boy that'd left her all those years ago. And now, he was back as a man and tomorrow, everything would take place as it had tonight only this time around, he'd be prepared.

Had he recognized her?

Sakura would know tomorrow night for sure.

She had a feeling it would take Syaoran Li a lot more than a move to China to forget the current Card Mistress.

It was you, breathless and torn
I could feel my eyes turning into dust
Into strangers, turning into dust
Turning into dust

- Into Dust, Mazzy Star.

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