Summary: "You would battle without care for civilians?" Seishirou said, voice cold. Harry barked a harsh laugh. "Says the pot to the kettle." TLR spin-off. A series of Harry/Seishirou drabbles.
Not much H/S action for now. Still trying to give shape to the various characters.
Pots and Kettles
People often underestimated him, the man who lurked in shadows, who often left the spotlight to his other companions. Syaoran, with his fiery determination. Fai, who wore mystery like a cloak. Sakura, whose innocence stood her apart from them. Harry, who had eyes too old for his face, who brooded quietly most of the time but was the first to be noticed for the sheer destruction he wrought in battle.
Kurogane preferred to choose his battles, perhaps more carefully than his other companions.
Point was, being in the shadows allowed him to really see. For all their masks and secrets, one only needed to truly observe to learn all about them. They all had issues, though Fai and Harry's were undoubtedly the worst of the lot. It was practically a minefield with them.
It was easier (relatively speaking, of course) reaching out to the older wizard, if only because his mask was a lot more vulnerable, a complete opposite to his dark nature. That didn't mean Kurogane was anywhere close to picking Fai's issues apart, though it meant he could understand him a lot better than he did Harry.
Harry was young, too young. He carried a heavy burden on his shoulders, and blood and loss trailed his every footstep. It wasn't that Kurogane hadn't met fellow warriors or ninja Harry's age, but they had all been unable to shake off that little sliver of immaturity and inexperience. Harry was like an old soul in a young man's body. Yet in some ways, he was so unmistakably young. He was reckless, but there was an undeniable edge of cunning to his actions. Eager to torture, but also to shield innocents. Essentially, Harry was a mass of contradictions and issues that Kurogane still had some trouble fully understanding.
Despite Harry's vehement protests to the contrary, despite the way his magic surged violently at any mention of Seishirou, Kurogane knew respect when he saw it. Harry respected the other man, if only for the sheer power he wielded, for the threat he could pose. And at the heart of it, Kurogane thought that Harry didn't truly believe that Seishirou would harm him. There was rage, over the man's actions, but also understanding.
No, what pushed Harry was not merely distrust of the other man. It was, if Kurogane had to guess, an instinctive hatred of being controlled. It was so intense that it made Harry blind to anything else, and made Kurogane wonder if it had anything to do with his past.
The irritated snap of the front door brought him out of his musings, and as he looked up, Harry stalked through the living room, his face so utterly blank that any one of their group could tell he was furious.
"Nothing," he said curtly, when Kurogane raised an eyebrow in question. "I had to ask the librarian in the end, and she-" he gritted his teeth "-wasn't impressed."
Kurogane said nothing, aware that there was more to the story. For all of his explosive temper, Harry didn't get angry over small things.
"And," Kurogane noted that Harry's fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles appeared white, "I think I saw him. In the library. Following me." He exhaled explosively. "I need to be alone for a bit. Tell the others for me."
Kurogane merely grunted in agreement, and watched him go.