Chapter 4: Her Business

Syaoran popped open the back of his car and took out the paper bags of groceries. He had to take them all the way to the fifth floor, like he did every month.

He knocked and the person on the other side didn't answer, but that was nothing new. He didn't give a damn. He kicked the old door open, which was easy because the building was rotten and everything was decaying, including his sanity, and walked into the apartment. The person who lived there didn't greet him, but she'll come out once she was sure it was just Syaoran, and for just a couple hours, he'll feel close to Meiling again.

Arranging the peanut butter and jam and bread and pickles on the shelves – Meiling's diet consisted of that of a four-year-old mixed with pregnancy cravings – he heard the bedroom door creaking open.

"Syaoran? Syaoran, baby, is that you?" Her tentative voice followed by a deep cough punctuated the question as she made her way to the peeling kitchen in her ratty slippers. He turned around and leaned his waist against the counter, folding his arms on his chest and took her in. Meiling was in her early thirties, but she might as well be sixty. She was beautiful once, but drugs, alcohol, and life ruined her.

"Who else were you expecting? The Queen?" He quirked a brow, and she laughed and coughed, tucking strands of greasy hair behind her ear. She clasped him into a hug which he accepted, for no other reason than the fact that Meiling was his sister's best friend.

"You look good, kid," she said. If teaching high school girls has taught him one thing, it was that he was easy on the eyes. Young girls with crushes can be dangerous, so he laid low and stayed as his asshole self. It seemed to be working fine so far.

Things got really difficult when Fuutie left him. He would say 'left us', but it was him she left, really. His parents stopped giving two fucks the minute she failed to bet he person they wanted her to be. They cut off her cash flow and let her fend for herself instead of helping her with her addiction. For Syaoran, it wasn't that simple. Maybe because his parents were always so busy with keeping up appearances and their precious careers, they didn't make the time to actually parent him or get to know him, but Fuutie did. Fuutie took him to martial arts classes twice a week and tried – but failed – to make him birthday cakes every year and mothered him more than his mother ever did. Now that she was gone, a part of him was, too. A part he missed and would really fucking appreciate having back.

"Thank you," he said, exhaling harshly and grabbing a garden chair – the cheap kind you get for a buck at the Dollar shop –which is a part of her dining area. Syaoran plopped down on it, threw his head back, and closed his eyes on a sigh.

"I miss her," he said.

"I miss her, too." Meiling put a hand on her shoulder. "They say it gets better."

"They lie." He sucked his teeth. He heard her laugh, but there was nothing happy about it.

"You're still so young and successful, Syaoran. I may not know much about life." She laughed bitterly. "Hell, I don't even know if I'll make it to next month, but I do know you can be happy again. Put this all behind you and live your life before another life is wasted. Maybe find a girl. Have a family of your own one day. Don't you want that for yourself?"

That was the saddest part for him. Women didn't occupy his thoughts. Not for more than one night at a time, anyway. He had no recollection of showing interest in more than a warm body to spend the night with in the last few years. Sakura's face flashed in his mind, and he shut it down as fast as came. He didn't even know her, but he found her fascinating. It was like watching a car crash. She was spectacular in a sad, beautiful way. He knew there was more lurking behind those big, green eyes. Luckily, he wasn't crazy and self-destructive enough to ever find out.

"Thanks for the tip, Mum," he bit out, and that awarded him a light punch to the shoulder. "What about you, Mei?" Don't you want that? How is what you're doing to yourself any different?" Her eyes glazed over with tears that she tried to conceal as she focussed on the piece of lint on her pants.

"You forgot my cigarettes," Meiling said, avoiding his question altogether.

"I didn't forget. Those things will kill you," he retorted, even though he knew that he found himself smoking more in the past few days than he did in his entire life. Smoking was Meiling's least dangerous vice. They always went through the motions of this conversation. He would most definitely go get her cigarettes. And he would do so because he knew she'd be waiting upstairs, taking out the old albums of her and her late best friend – Fuutie – and she would tell him all about their adventures in being young and wild and free. Then, he would question her about Hiro's whereabouts, and she'd deny him. If he was lucky, she'd inadvertently give him another small piece to the puzzle.

"Three cigarette packets. Soft kind. It's crucial."

"They're going to kill you."

"No, baby. The drugs will."

"Is that the goal? To die? If so, you're right on track." He finally got up from the chair.

"At least I'm good at something."

Syaoran decided to walk to the gas station a few blocks away. It was a rough part of town, but he actually liked it. The streets felt real. In downtown Tokyo, it almost felt like nothing bad could touch you with its secluded, gated communities. Which was, of course, bullshit. A lot of bad things touched him. Touched Meiling. They left marks. The permanent kind. Just because you couldn't see them, doesn't mean they're not there.

He rounded the corner when he heard the exhaust of bikes behind him. He tuned it out and pushed open the door. The overhead bell dinged. A large, sleepy guy with a curly black ponytail lifted his head from a magazine and picked his nose as he followed Syaoran's movements behind the counter.

"Three packs of cigarettes, soft." He pointed at what he needed. He decided to cut his visit with Meiling short this week. He was in the mood for fucking. To blow off some steam. Especially after today. The fucker who left an imprint to last a few weeks on Sakura Kinomoto's thigh had been occupying his thoughts. Hurting women was not Syaoran's style. In or out of bed Hurting people who hurt women, however, was something he was completely open to.

Especially as he knew exactly who he was, and he wanted to do a lot of things about it, but none of them would benefit her. Or him, for that matter. He needed to be patient and play his cards right.

He still didn't know what role he played in her life, and reporting this to Headmaster Ayase would drag her into a lot of drama that he was certain that she didn't need. But he couldn't, in good conscience, turn a blind eye.

The cashier rung him up, and he grabbed his stuff. Just as he turned around, he bumped into a shoulder.

Speak of the devil.

Hiro Matsuwa, AKA Sakura Kinomoto's ride, is looking Syaoran right in the eye. He stared at him hard but impassive, his face wasn't giving away one damn thing. They held each other's stare far too long for it to be a coincidence, until someone in a leather cut without a shirt underneath and holey jeans grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled him away.

"C'mon, Hiro. We have shit to do. Let's get outta here."

Syaoran wanted to kill him for doing what he did, and not just to his sister, but he found himself helpless. For now. Just for now.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Syaoran lifted his chin up and inspected him. This part was crucial for him, because he needed to know how to proceed with Hiro Matsuwa. Hiro didn't say a thing, just looked at Syaoran like he was speaking a foreign language. If he recognised him, he didn't let on.

What the hell was wrong with this guy?

"Doubt it," Hiro snorted. "I don't go to no country club."

"I'm Sakura Kinomoto's teacher, Syaoran Li," he spelled it out for Hiro himself, because there was no way this Neanderthal was going to connect the dots without a little help. Hiro gave him a slow once-over, assessing the situation, and his forehead crumpled.

"Oh, yeah? I'm Hiro," he spat out, not offering his hand.

"A family friend?" Syaoran feigned ignorance.

"Stepbrother," he clarified, adding emphasis on the word step as if that made a difference. "I also own her."

"You do?" Syaoran smiled casually. "And here I thought that was illegal since the 19th century." Of course, the idiot didn't get the refence and stared at Syaoran blankly.

"She's mine," he said again, slow this time, taking a step in Syaoran's direction. Syaoran made no move. The asshole didn't intimidate him. "Make sure you remember that." He delivered the threat directly to Syaoran's face, the veins in his neck popping.

"I'm her teacher." Syaoran bypassed him with an easy smile, unaffected. "I will make sure my students make it through the year healthy and safe, no matter the consequences." The edge in his tone didn't leave room for doubt. He was returning the threat. "It's literally my job."

Before he came back with another idle threat – men like him always needed the last word – Syaoran walked out of the gas station, his hands clutching the plastic bag.

Syaoran went straight to Meiling's house, only staying for half an hour this time. He left out the part about his new connection to Hiro – though, he wasn't sure why – and completed his mission for the night. He made a short trip to the bar, picked up a random woman, made use of the condom in his wallet, and ended his night in bed alone, smoking and staring at the ceiling.

Hiro Matsuwa. He now had a way to get to him, and he will.

He was going to pay. Syaoran was going to make sure of it.


Hiro had never been accused of being reasonable or rational, but tonight, he seemed to be taking his unstable behaviour to a whole new level. Sakura didn't know what climbed up his ass, but she could practically hear the time bomb ticking. Sakura was lying on her stomach on the cold kitchen tiles, attempting to cool off while doing her English homework. Hiro wouldn't let her turn the air-conditioning any lower. Her hair was sticking to her neck, and even in a spaghetti strap tank top and a pair of hot pink sleep shorts, she was still on fire. Between the head, Hiro's angry stare, and his leg bouncing in place, focus wasn't coming easy.

"Somethin' on your mind, Hiro?" She huffed, rolling onto one elbow to meet his eyes.

"You runnin' your mouth, Kura?" he snapped back.

What the hell was he talking about.

"Not any more than usual," she quipped.

He nodded bitterly and took a swig of his beer.

"Funny, your teacher says otherwise."

Hiro stood and slowly walked toward her, and Sakura scrambled to get out of the vulnerable position on the floor. She stood with the counter at her back and straightened her shoulders. For the first time in a long time, she didn't only hope – but prayed – that her dad would come home sooner rather than later from Tomoeda.

"I don't know what you're–" She was cut off by Hiro slamming his beer bottle against the cabinets above her head. It broke, dousing her shoulders with lukewarm liquid and bits of shattered glass. She flinched so hard that she slipped in the beer that was puddled at her bare feet, but Hiro squeezed her bicep to keep her upright.

"Don't fucking lie to me!" Hiro screamed, and his spit landed on her cheek. Sakura's eyes were wide with fear, but it wasn't for herself. It was for Hiro. With each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that something was seriously wrong with him. And she didn't know how to fix it.

"Are you fucking him, Kura? Is that how you got into that fancy ass school of yours? Well, if you're selling your ass, then I should at least get a family discount," he sneered, grabbing her waist and squeezing. Not lightly either.

"Do you even hear yourself? There are so many things wrong with this conversation. You're not making any sense, Hiro." She pushed him away, and this time, she wasn't nice either. His eyes softened briefly before turning cold again.

"You keep your mouth shut about me. I don't need any extra attention right now. Don't need anybody breathing down my neck." He brought his fists to the cabinets, boxing her in. "Your pretty boy teacher isn't gonna save you, Kura." You and me – we were meant for this life. We'll never be good enough for people like them. It's time you get used to it. Don't let that pretty head of yours get filled with sweet sounding lies. I am your truth, baby. It's just you and me."

Sakura gave him a short nod, and he stormed off and slammed the metal screen against the frame. Once she heard his bike fade off into the distance, she let her tears fall. She cried for herself, because a part of her still believed Hiro when he said she was meant for this life. And she cried for Hiro. For the boy he was, and the man he won't get to become. This town was poison that seeped through the veins of everyone who lived here. And the only antidote was getting out.

Hiro was too far gone, she can see it now. And a part of her was scared he wouldn't make it out alive.

A part of her was scared that it was already too late.


Hiro and Sakura didn't say a word to each other the entire day. She was too pissed at how he treated her, and Hiro was just, well, pissed in general. When he called out Sakura after dropping her off at school, she thought maybe he would apologise, but instead, she got a stern reminder to keep her mouth shut.

Now, Sakura was in second period where she was shooting daggers with her eyes at Mr. Li for the past forty minutes. With each passing second, she become progressively irate at him for interfering. She didn't even know what went down with him and Hiro, but it was clear that she couldn't trust him.

Blinded by sheer hatred – hatred that was dipped in lust, slightly coated by something feral, and completely heady – she didn't even realise that he was talking to her until his voice became a low, pissed-off growl.

"Miss Kinomoto, I asked you a question."

Sakura straightened her spine, military-sharp and tilted her chin up. "I apologise, Mr. Li," she said robotically, and saw his features melt into confusion at her tone. "I'm afraid I didn't hear that. Can you kindly repeat?"

She wasn't going to let him ruin this for her. She was going to get out of this place, with or without Mr. Li's help. It's a mathematics class, for fuck's sake. She was acing everything else so far. She just needed to survive this man for the rest of the year.

Before he could continue, the bell rang, and students got up from their seats, chairs scraping and books snapping shut. Sakura flipped her hair over her shoulder as she bent down to grab her backpack, but a pair of chestnut leather shoes attached to long, lean legs covered in dark denim stopped her in her tracks. She paused almost infinitesimally and returned to the task at hand. Sakura stood, swung her bag over one shoulder, and attempted to move past him. Mr. Li sidestepped and blocked her, their fronts nearly bumping. Sakura rolled her eyes and pivoted on her feet to walk the other way, but he grabbed her wrists, causing her to freeze in place. Adrenaline coursed through her at his touch, and she shook out of his grasp.

They were alone. In class. He wanted to corner her again, but this time, she was going to get the upper hand.

"Sakura. Stop." He said her first name for the first time with an air of authority that had her belly flipping with desire. She turned around and painted her face with indifference.

"We've got to stop meeting like this, Mr. Li," she said, biting her bottom lip. "Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

"Cut the nonsense. What's going on with you today?" His brows were wrinkled, like he honestly didn't know that he made her life significantly more complicated by one little conversation.

"You think you know me well enough after a few days to make that assessment? Well, you don't. I'm not some project for you to fix up to make you feel better about yourself. And I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my business." Sakura could get reprimanded for speaking to a faculty member like this, but she couldn't stop herself. All she wanted to do was keep a low profile, graduate, and get into a decent fucking university anywhere but here.

"What do you want from me?" Sakura asked, moving in even closer. "Huh? What's your game?"

Mr. Li dropped his head back, and he sighed at the ceiling, hands on his hips.

He didn't know. He didn't fucking know what he wanted from her. Or if he did, he'd sure as hell not admit it to himself.

He was making her crazy. There was no other way to explain her next move. Maybe it was retaliation for him butting into her business. Maybe it was just an excuse to ruffle his feathers. But even as she did the unthinkable, the unimaginable, she still didn't regret it. Not even with one bone in her body.

She took a step in his direction and placed her hand over the first button of her crisp dress shirt, toying with it.

"Do you want this?" she parted her lips, her eyes dropping to his mouth. "Hmm? Is that it?"

Syaoran took a step back immediately, and she released the button, exposing milky skin and a hint of cleavage. If she released the next one, he was going to see the valley of her fat, heavy tits that were secured by nothing but her tattered home brand bra.

"Miss Kinomoto," he warned, but she knew enough about Syaoran by now to know that this warning didn't hold the usual authority. He knew he should stop her, and he was, but his attempt was half-assed at best.

Her finger slid down to the second button, and she took another step in his direction. He took another step back. They tangoed. She didn't know if she was fucking with him to show him that she was dangerous, that he should just leave her be, or because she was desperate for his reaction. His attention. God, his everything.

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Li." She popped free the second button, and her pushed-up tits were staring at him now, daring him to look at them. He didn't. His eyes became hooded, and his nostrils flared.

"I didn't answer because I don't want to insult you. Would you really like an answer to your question?"

"Yes." Sakura licked her lips, taking another step, and this time, he didn't even realise that he stopped walking backwards. They were almost chest-to-chest now, and she knew how it would look if someone opened the door. He did, too, because he folded his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up, his stance guarded and stiff. So unlike his usual self-assured posture. Good thing it was lunchtime, or students would already be pouring in.

"I'm not interested in high school girls, Miss Kinomoto."

"I think we both know I'm not your typical teenager, Teach," she retorted. She was pushing it, big time, but she wanted to see how far she could take this without getting her ass thrown into detention, or worse.

"Call me Teach one more time…" His face got into hers, and hell, she saw it. In his pupils. They were burning.

Yes, she was not imaging this.

This was mutual. This was magic.

"And what?" she smiled, shamelessly pushing her chest between them. "And what exactly are you going to do about it?" Her voice turned cold in a second. "Stay out of my personal life. I will be the best student I can, Mr. Li, but you don't get to talk to my stepbrother and stir chaos in my life." She threw the words in his face.

"I wasn't stirring anything, Sakura. I was merely dropping a very subtle warning." His lips were thin. She wasn't sure who was scarier, him or Hiro. They were intimidating in very different ways. And lookie here, he referred to her by her first name again.

"I can take care of myself."

"I beg to differ. Look at your thigh."

"Maybe you should stop looking at it, Mr. Li. Your job is to educate me, not to ogle me." She just went there.

"That's rich coming from the woman who's throwing herself at her teacher," he whiplashed quickly.

"So now you admit that I'm a woman?" She smiled sweetly, twirling a lock of chestnut hair around her finger, putting on a stupid show that he could see right through.

That awarded her with a simle, the first genuine smile she had ever seen from Mr. Li. Funny, she didn't even notice that he didn't really smile until this moment. But it was glorious and beautiful, and she wanted this smile to be only for her.

"You should be a lawyer, Miss Kinomoto," he said darkly, motioning with his head to the door, excusing her. "You'd be dangerous."

"I'm in the right school then." She shrugged her backpack onto her shoulder and walked away. He collapsed in the chair by his desk behind her and sighed.

"You're in the right school, but you're definitely the wrong kind of student."


"What's up with Mr. Li?" Eriol asked as he slung an arm around Sakura's shoulder on their way to the cafeteria. Sakura snorted and hitched one shoulder up.

"What do you mean?"

"He kept you after class. Again." He wiggled his perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Ugh," she growned as she tossed his arm off of her. "He has it out for me. Not sure why." Sakura liked Eriol a lot, but the less people she had knowing her business, the better.

"Ah-uh," he said, unconvinced.

"Miss Kinomoto." She recognised Headmaster Ayase's curt voice and looked up to see her down the hall, heading toward her. Jesus Christ, she couldn't catch a break in this place.

"I expect you'll have the proper shoe wear by next week?" Sakura glanced down at her Vans that she has made exactly zero effort to replace.

"Working on it!" she promised.

"Very good."

"Looks like Mr. Li isn't the only one who has it out for you," Eriol whispered into her ear after Headmaster Ayase passed.

"Shut up." Sakura laughed and bumped his shoulder with her own.

The cafeteria hall wasn't crowded or noisy like Tokyo High School. God, even social hour was quiet for these people.

How boring.

Eriol headed straight for the food line. Sakura didn't have lunch money today, so she pretended that she wasn't hungry. Eriol didn't buy it, but he didn't press her either. Once they were seated, he tossed a roll in her direction.

"I said I wasn't hungry," Sakura said, catching it with one hand.

"Gotta keep that booty ripe, Saks," he mused.

"You're an idiot."

"And you're stubborn. Are you really not going to tell me why he's kept you after class for two days in a row?"

"Can you keep it down?" Sakura hissed, her eyes darting around to gauge whether they had any eavesdroppers. "There's nothing to tell."

"Then I guess you're not interested in the rumours about him," Eriol teased.

"I wouldn't go that far. Show me yours and I'll show you mine?" Sakura batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"I don't usually play this game with girls," he drawled. "But for you, I'll make an exception. Spill it."

Taking a deep breath, she decided that there was no harm in telling Eriol about Hiro. For one, judging by his reaction to him the other day, she was sure he already suspected something. And two, she just didn't see Eriol as the malicious type.

"My stepbrother is going through some stuff. He got a little rough with me the other day, and Mr. Li noticed. He just wanted to make sure I was safe. Sort of part of the job description, you know?"

Eriol shook his head. "I knew something was off with that guy."

"Seriously, Eriol, I've lived with him for most of my life. He's not a threat. He's…struggling," she reiterated.

"Doesn't matter, babe. Don't be that girl. Don't make excuses for him."

"Listen, I'm not an idiot. I know Hiro, and he's not dangerous."

Even as she said the words, she wondered if that was still true.

"Your turn," she reminded him, taking a bite out of the softest roll she had ever had in her entire life.

"Okay, here's what I know. His first name is Syaoran."

Syaoran. She never knew a name could be sexy, but she stood corrected. He looks like a Syaoran. All dapper with a side of darkness.

"Twenty-nine years old," he continued. "Perpetually single, but never lacking female companions. He was teaching in China, but came here a couple years ago. Then, in the middle of the year, he left. He never came back," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Until now," he added thoughtfully. "That's all I know."

"You got all of this information in less than a week? I don't even know the school's mascot, and you have everyone's life story."

"People like me." He shrugged. "It's a gift."

The warning bell rang, and they both stood.

"Sharks," he said.

"Huh?" Sakura asked dumbly.

"Tokyo Private Sharks. That's our mascot." He winked.

"Noted." She laughed. "I'll be sure to file that under Things I Don't Give a Flying Fuck About."


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Guest - I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you.

Monstar . xo - More Li and Hiro here. Thank you.

Guest - Many crazy things to come. Thank you.

LM - I hope this was soon for you. Thank you.