Title: The Reason
Fandom: Tsubasa RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE
Pairing: Syaoran/Sakura
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 314
Summary/Description: Syaoran fights. The reason? Pretty simple.
Warning/Spoilers: None of either.
A/N: I feel guilty. Like I should have written fluff instead. This couple is the very embodiment of fluff, really. Not that the fic's angsty, or anything. But it's not fluff. What it is, is weird, yo. And I'm too lazy to try to insert some coherency. Sorry.
Dedication: For Pikachumaniac-san. :-)
Disclaimer: Tsubasa RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE can be called many things, the least of which is 'mine'.
Feint left, jab right. One down. Another is approaching from the back; duck, spin, roundhouse kick. Quick check on the others. Damn, Fai-san is in trouble…! – Wait, no, Kurogane-san took care of it. Two more are advancing rapidly; turn, dodge, fist to the head; stoop, knee to the stomach.
Syaoran fights.
Punch, dodge; shoot, can't dodge! Block, kick, elbow to the nose. Back away a bit. Fai-san and Kurogane-san seem to be okay. Scan the remaining opponents. Which one of them has it?
The reason why he fights is simple and clear-cut; it needs no peeling away of layers or deep reflection.
Mokona said the one who had the feather was tall; long, flowing yellow cape that was like Yuuko's hair, except that it was yellow, and he had big, bright glasses that made his eyes look all googly and weird, but sort of pretty in a… There!
He fights for clear, sincere emerald eyes that sparkle and shimmer like a sunbeam's play on a cool green sea. For golden brown hair that is soft and silky; the touch of which he relishes in each time some of those strands make contact with his skin by chance. He fights for the smile of an angel; these days, as rare as puddles in the sun, and even more beautiful for that reason. He fights for lilting, playful laughter, a sound stilled and trapped in the past; a sound he hasn't heard much of lately, but he will, if he has anything to say about it.
The yellow-caped man senses the approach, but does not flee; attack, even. Punch, kick, feint right, pivot, leap, descend, arm outstretched. Shoot! He dodged that; he's fast. Spin, too late, kicked in the chest. Fly back a few yards, skidding in the dirt. Stand at once; the pain is inconsequential. Teeth grit; fists tighten. Attack again.
Syaoran fights. For Sakura.
A/N: Ahhn. /flops/