Title: Fairyland: Part II (Rapunzel's Tower)
Disclaimer: These two were hatched from the collective brain of CLAMP. Not mine.
Spoilers: Yes. Post-Tokyo plot.
Rating: for violence, language.
Word Count: 2790

As always, feedback and criticism are welcomed (improving my writing is one of my goals.) But I also like brief notes, just to let me know you read the story. I'll try to remember to respond. :grin:


Kurogane let a low, appreciative whistle. The crow hadn't been exaggerating when it had informed Guide that the tower was at least fifty-five meters tall. Also, the tower stood on several acres of cleared forest land, so there were no trees nearby to detract from its impressive height. There was something off about that tower, though. He'd seen numerous towers during his travels, but they were always connected to a larger complex, usually to serve as a lookout for a village or castle. This one was just standing out in the middle of a forest with no discernible purpose. There was no door, either; it had probably been bricked over. There was one window, but it was set so high up the tower that no one could hope to survive a jump. A rather effective prison, all in all.

He started the engine of the jeep and reached for the stick shift, but a pale hand was already hovering over it, blocking his reach. Kurogane regarded Guide coolly, red eyes narrowed. "What's your problem?" The other man had been silent and extremely tense ever since the tower had risen into their view.

"We shouldn't go any closer." Guide withdrew his hand, his face still fixed forward as if he didn't trust the tower enough to let it out of his sight for even a second.

"One of my companions might be locked in that tower – you saw that coffin the brat was stuck in. You can't seriously expect us to just turn around after traveling all the way here."

"This... wasn't supposed to be here. Not this tower." Guide's hands twisted in his cloak.

Kurogane felt a flush creeping across the back of his neck, and his vision started to shorten, signaling to him that he was growing enraged. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. Losing his temper would not help his companions. "What are you talking about? How would you know what's supposed to be here and what isn't, unless you're involved with this scheme somehow?"

Guide turned his head to look at him. "I promise you that I've never harmed or tried to harm you or your companions. That's all I can give you."

Apparently Guide thought that was a sufficient explanation and he slipped out of the jeep before Kurogane could grab his arm. He started to walk down the road, away from the tower.

"Bastard. You promised to help me and now you're bailing again," Kurogane snarled at Guide's retreating back. "You can at least tell me what's waiting for me. More killer vines? Blob monsters?"

Guide laughed bitterly. "Just a worthless thing. There's nothing there worth saving."


Despite Guide's statement that there was no danger lurking around the tower, Kurogane had transformed the jeep into Souhi, needing the reassurance of the hilt in his hand and the weight of sword against his shoulder.

But that action had proven to be futile: he'd had to leave Souhi in the grass outside the barrier. Kurogane couldn't see the magic, but he had felt it pricking his skin whenever he drew within twenty meters of the tower. He had been able to pass through it easily, but Souhi could not, no matter which point of entry he tried.

So now he was reduced to standing at the base of the tower, staring up and wondering exactly how he could scale it. He'd just assumed he'd be able to transform Souhi into a rope and grappling hook – rappelling up perfectly smooth walls was no problem for him, provided he had some equipment. He cursed Guide loudly. The bastard had probably known this would happen but had, for whatever reason, elected not to share the information. Today had demonstrated quite clearly that he couldn't rely on Guide to be honest, not that he'd ever really trusted him to begin with; trusting a man who wouldn't show his face would be idiotic. Kurogane watched Guide out of the corner of his eye regularly, but the man was vigilant in staying covered up, untucking only his long, white hands from his sleeves when necessary. He'd have ditched the other man long ago if he didn't need him for directions. And why exactly had he accepted Guide's explanation for the brat's disappearing-light stunt in the first place? Clearly, his ability to judge situations had been degraded severely: there were so many weird things in this world that his perspective had suffered. Sleeping poorly certainly didn't help matters; the previous night he'd had another dream about the boy with the mismatched eyes and the bloody hands. There was something familiar and deeply unsettling about that boy.

Kurogane noticed a stone on the ground. He picked it up with interest. The tower was high, but he was good enough at throwing things to get it close to the window. Kurogane aimed carefully, and the stone clattered noisily against the window. After about a minute, he saw a flash of white inside. "Hey!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his face, "Got any rope?" Kurogane wasn't certain if the person could actually understand him at such a distance, but the white disappeared from the window. A little later, something long and thin snaked out of the window, coming down towards him. As the thing drew closer to him, Kurogane started in surprise: what he'd thought was rope was hair. Yellow human hair, impossibly long. He tugged on the hair experimentally. It was thick and tightly braided, and in theory should support his weight just as well as any decent rope. Assuming, of course, that the person in the tower was indeed one of his companions or at least not an enemy - and had secured the other end of the hair rope properly.

Kurogane took a deep breath and began to rappel up the tower at a steady pace. Hand over hand, foot over foot. He let out a small snort of surprise; to think that he was willing to place his life into the hands of a possible stranger. He wondered when exactly during his journey he'd lost his mind.

As Kurogane neared the top, he began to shiver. His clothes were thin and damp with perspiration, and the air up this high was bitingly cold. It was dry, too: his throat felt scratchier than normal. He hoped there was something to drink inside the tower.

His hands bumped up against a ledge. Still grasping the rope with one hand, he reached out with the other and pulled himself onto the ledge. In front of him loomed the window. It was much bigger than he'd realized from the ground, high enough for him to pass through without ducking, and he was a tall man. It was also barred with five iron rods. The hair rope was knotted securely around one of the rods.

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. The bars seemed rather excessive to him since the tower was so ridiculously tall. Unless the bars were meant to keep people out rather than in. A wolfish grin crossed his face as he wrapped his hand around one bar for support and placed a booted foot against two others. No stupid bars were a match for him. He kicked inwards and the two bars flew into the room, tearing away chunks of brick with them. The bars clanged onto the floor and rolled across the stone floor until they thudded against the opposite wall.

His noisy entrance was met with silence, and Kurogane warily stepped through the window. He'd been expecting to be greeted at the window; after all, the occupant had sent him the rope, implying that his presence was desired. The room was mostly bare, a cold, empty space built of dirty, cracked stone. Straw had been heaped together in a mound as if for a nesting animal. A few buckets and a lonely, twisted fork lay next to the straw. The floor was strange, though: there was some sort of pattern on it. Why bother putting a mosaic on the floor of a prison? Kurogane stepped to the side to let the light from the window illuminate the floor, and his stomach clenched.

What he'd thought was a mosaic were hand-carved drawings. Hundreds and hundreds of them, spiraling around the entire room, drawings of people and animals and fantasy creatures and plants, all painstakingly detailed. Every square inch of the floor was covered, except for one small bare circle in the middle of the room. Kurogane understood the twisted fork now.

Someone shifted. Kurogane looked up sharply into the shadows that clung against the back wall. He could sense a presence there now, but it was very faint - as if it were trying to shrink into itself. There was so much fear that the emotion was almost palpable. Definitely not the princess, then. Even if she'd been hurt by her captors, Kurogane was certain she wouldn't be afraid of him. She had a strong heart. That blond guy? Kurogane couldn't remember if he had a strong heart or not, but he was a grown man and this was presence was small. A child.

"Hey, I won't hurt you. You're the one who sent the rope, right? I've come to get you." Kurogane gentled his voice as much as possible. "Come on out."

There was no response.

With a sigh, Kurogane settled down onto the central circle in seiza. There was little point in forcing the child to come out of the shadows. He could easily run the child down, but the last thing Kurogane needed was to try to rappel back down the tower with a panicking child. So the practical option was to sit and meditate, and wait for boredom or curiosity to get the better of the child. He had time: there were no enemies in the surrounding vicinity.

He wasn't certain how long he'd been in a light meditative trance when the child finally edged out the shadows. He resisted the urge to open his eyes a crack since it might send the child scuttling away. Slowly, the child inched towards him, until it was standing just an arm's length away. Kurogane could sense its gaze upon him, strangely penetrating for such a small child. Then there were small hands on his face. The hands ran hesitantly over his hair, his nose, his cheeks and his lips as if committing every feature to memory.

"May I open my eyes?"

The hands fell away, but the child did not retreat. Assent, then.

The child standing in front of him was clothed more in hair than actual clothes. Kurogane had never seen such long hair on a human being; long wavy locks of blond hair spilled over the child's shoulders, and past her- no, his - ankles. The length of the child's hair and the state of the rags (they didn't deserve to be called clothes) suggested that it had been a long, long time since anyone had taken care of this child. His small hands and feet were caked with dirt and cracked from exposure. Comprehension dawned on Kurogane as he understood the gnawing loneliness that must have driven the child to painstakingly carve hundreds of figures into solid stone. He was making companions for himself.

An overwhelming urge to comfort the child flooded Kurogane, and he stretched out his hand towards the boy's shoulder. The boy flinched back, just out of reach, but there was a desperate longing in his piercing blue eyes.

"Look, kid, I don't know who did this to you or why, but it doesn't matter. I'll take you with me. You'll be safe," Kurogane said. The boy's eyes widened impossibly, but he stepped forward just a little, and Kurogane took his tiny hand and found himself crushing the boy against his chest. The boy went rigid as a porcelain doll, but Kurogane could feel the boy's heart hammering wildly like a terrified rabbit. Finally he calmed, resting his head against Kurogane's shoulder.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Kurogane growled softly, patting the boy's back gently as he moved back towards the window. Now that the child had calmed, it wouldn't be too difficult to rappel back down the hair rope with the boy gripping his neck. But perhaps, Kurogane considered, the boy wouldn't be capable of a strong grip. He'd probably suffered from malnutrition for a long time. Kurogane put the boy down and removed his belt. It was long enough to be used as a lashing to secure the boy to himself, if he wrapped it under the boy's arms and then looped it through his own.

"I can't go outside. It's not safe."

At the whisper, Kurogane almost dropped his belt. Somehow he'd assumed the boy couldn't speak. "It's fine, kid. I'll keep you safe."

The child stared out of the window sorrowfully. Then he met Kurogane's eyes, and a chill ran down Kurogane's spine. Those eyes were so old. No child should wear eyes like those.

"No, I meant it's not safe for other people."

Suddenly there were small hands pushing him. He barely had time to register surprise at the strength behind that push before he was falling. Kurogane looked up and he saw the child gazing down at him sadly and the child and the window were growing smaller as he kept falling and falling and falling. Somewhere in the back of his mind Kurogane thought he should feel angry in his last moments, enraged at being betrayed by the very person he was rescuing. But all he felt was a dim sorrow that the boy was still in the tower and would probably stay there forever.

Then everything went black.


The sky above was a cloudless blue, a startling shade of blue that seemed familiar. Kurogane stared at the sky, unmoving as he lay sprawled upon the ground, limbs akimbo.

Kurogane heard footfalls approaching, but he didn't stir. The grass was soft and the breeze was rather nice.

"I warned you."

Kurogane didn't bother turning his head to glare at Guide. That would have required movement, and he ached in every part of his body. He couldn't figure out why he wasn't dead, a fall from that height should have killed him instantly. Not that he was going to complain. "We just can't leave that crazy brat in there."

Guide laughed softly as he placed a wet cloth on Kurogane's forehead. "You're so stubborn. Perhaps we're just lucky you have a hard head, although it's what got you into this mess to start with."

"Tell me how to get him out."

There was a tense silence, and Kurogane knew that Guide was carefully weighing his answer, probably figuring out the best way to lie without directly lying. Bastard.

"He didn't belong here. So he's gone now, Kurogane."

Cold dread clawed at Kurogane. He jerked himself upright, and his body (especially his head) throbbed in protest at the speed. But Guide had been telling the truth: the tower was gone. So was the barrier. There was nothing to suggest the tower had ever existed, except for a few crumbling stone blocks and a rusted bar, half-covered with weeds. "What... happened?"

Guide held out Souhi to Kurogane on his palms. "I can't explain it any better than I just did. I'm sorry."

People inexplicably disappearing. Towers crumbling into nothing. And help who was less than forthcoming. "There's a feather involved, isn't there?" Kurogane said, putting his belt back on and attaching Souhi to it.

"Yes, there is! You must find it quickly as possible."

Kurogane stared at the man. He'd expected the cloaked man to lie or dance around the issue, but he appeared downright thrilled at the question, as if he'd just been waiting for Kurogane to ask it. Perhaps Guide was being manipulated somehow against his will and wasn't allowed to speak freely. He still didn't trust him, though. "Fine, then. Let's go."

They walked away from the remains of the tower and did not look back.

end: rapunzel's tale


A/N: 55 meters is the height of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Yeah, it's high.

in seiza: the Japanese-style of sitting with your legs folded under you. You'll see people doing this in tea ceremonies, go games, formal situations, etc. I can't do it.

If you visit my LJ (linked in my profile as my homepage), you can see a lovely fanart elenatha drew for this chapter!