Fandom: Tsubasa Chronicle anime
Pairing: SakuraxSyaoran
Genre: Introspective
Word count: 793

Memories

Around Syaoran-kun, Sakura couldn't help but feel disquiet.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling; there was nothing inherently wrong with it, but it held something that the princess couldn't quite put her finger on; and it bothered her. Often, when Syaoran held her gaze, she felt his agony as if it was her own, frozen by his eyes, too serious for someone so young, and wished she had some way to bandage his wounds, and dry his tears. She'd smile, say thank you, but her words sounded distant, even to her own ears, and she knew she'd done nothing to settle his heart. When Syaoran looked away, apparently focusing on something else, Sakura wondered if she'd only hurt him further.

It was upsetting.

His devotion to her was unsettling. The seriousness with which he undertook the task of retrieving her scattered spirit sometimes scared her more than it should. She wondered what it was that made him love her so much, what she'd ever done to make him so indebted to her. Sakura had always felt oddly comfortable around Syaoran-kun, but that, she supposed, was only because they'd known each other beforehand. But if that was the case, why couldn't she recall him? Certainly a boy with such intense eyes and caring soul would have left a mark on her heart. Whenever she tried to place her finger on the first time they met, or a certain memory of the two of them, alone, together, a little fragment slipped away, and she was back at the beginning. Often even more confused than before, because she could no longer tell whether what she was feeling now was the same as she'd felt another life ago. She couldn't even say why she thought they should be different in the first place.

'It's because my memories are gone,' Sakura tried to convince herself, but her heart continued to worry. Her feelings were elusive, not even her own anymore, and Sakura found her emotions yearning toward the grave, brown-haired boy, only to have them tugged back. Was it because she'd had a bad history with him, that she had not yet recalled? Could there be something terrible in their past that drove them apart? What was it?

'Of course,' Sakura murmured to herself, 'thinking about these things don't help anyone. I shouldn't worry.' She was grateful for what Syaoran was doing, would be grateful until the end of her days, and that was enough…for now. These unfinished thoughts that chased themselves in endless circles through her head were simply worrisome. That was all.

She often felt him watching her. He also liked to fret. Sakura found his actions terribly contradictory-- he clearly worried about her health, and cared for her, but he stayed curiously distant, and refrained from touching her as much as he could. He hardly even spoke to her. How she wished she could hear his thoughts. He knew her better than she knew herself, and though the idea was unsettling, it made sense, as her feathers were still floating who knows where, waiting to be fetched. But when he looked at her, eyes searching, wordlessly telling her he was willing to die for her, she was startled. Warm, happy…but afraid. What could she possibly offer him for what he was doing?

'Just be yourself,' Fai once whispered to her slyly, before dancing off to tease Kurogane, Mokona on his shoulder. 'Be yourself. That is all Syaoran-kun asks for.'

What was herself? Sakura didn't even know. But of course she would try; and she did, smiling as much as she could, even when her mind was dazed and dizzy, devoid of reason she possessed in her former life. It made him happy, it seemed, and for that, Sakura was glad. She wanted him to see the Sakura that he once knew, again.

"Princess,"

Sakura blinked, and turned around, a towel in one hand, a wet glass in the other.

"Can you please make a cake? That gentleman over there--" he pointed, "would like one to take to his wife."

She nodded. "Yes, Syaoran-kun."

He smiled softly, melancholy as always. "Thank you."

She smiled back.

Feeling strangely guilty, Sakura finished drying the glass and set it down with a quiet clink. That was the other thing; often, he seemed to be searching her for something that didn't exist. Something, Sakura thought, that had nothing to do with memories, or feathers, or a life in the desert. It was deeper, like a relationship that she never knew she had, a colour she never knew existed. Sakura placed her hands on her apron, running her hands over its frilly edges, flattening them with her fingertips. With Syaoran, she felt--

Like she owed him a love that never was.