The rooms where they'd been staying are bare now, furniture moved back to how it had been before they'd touched it and surfaces wiped down with disinfectant, scrubbed of the marks of them having been there.
The walls are white, no more noticeably scuffed than when they'd moved into them, and the carpet are just as beige and nondescript as any floor they'd seen in any other building in any other world.
Still there are boxes, fewer of them now, most taken care of yesterday, which contain some of the things they've kept, precious to them or useful enough to keep hold of and not let go. Some basic cookware, tinned food, a can opener, matches, knives, a gas stove, a set of raincoats, some chopping blocks, some fancy soaps, extra bottles of water, campbeds, a tent, pillows, towels, a brush for scrubbing things, a brush for hair, toothpaste, a set of cards with two missing, a small solar generator, some painkillers, masks, spare shoes, an axe, a set of measuring cups and one million other small things they've collected along the way.
Sakura looks at the couch in the empty room where they'd stayed up late only the night before with a take-away and one of the board-games with Syaoran had taught them all how to play, cushions on the floor and little thought of what was to come next.
It feels unfair somehow, that they always have to move like this, so suddenly taken up from one place to the next as if they are nothing more than board-game pieces themselves. She knows that it's in pursuit of her memories, and she's thankful that everyone is helping her so much, but still she wishes that they could just have an opportunity to be still together, to not have to move about for just a little while longer, to really enjoy where they are and the people who help them.
Mokona hops in, perches in her shoulder and is quiet for a second, staring at the same spot she is.
"Mokona-chan will miss it too," the small creature says, patting her neck comfortingly, ears drooping, "but in the next world we'll get to do it again, and the next world, and the one after that! And we'll make so many friends that one day wherever we land we'll have somewhere to stay and people will make cakes for us and big soups!" They chirp, flapping their little arms excitedly.
"I know." Sakura says softly, patting the mokona on the head and turning away to head into the kitchen where Fai makes breakfast for the last time, eggs sizzling in the pan as Kurogane waits at the table, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. She doesn't say anything more to Mokona who makes the leap from her to Fai, just as thrilled by the eggs in the frying pan as they had been about moving to the next world only a few moments ago.
The princess sits down, accepts the fruit juice which Fai sets in front of her, glass condensing already and forming patterns as droplets of water slide down the sides.
The kitchen has the same hush as the rest of the house but there's a comfort in being in a room with other people, a reminder that she hasn't been left behind or forgotten.
Kurogane doesn't say anything or try to make any conversation but that feels welcome to her as she listens the noise of Fai and Mokona chattering, enthusing about breakfast and the way the sunshine feels and what the next place they go might be like, whether they'll get to start a bakery or run a delivery truck again.
Fai opens the oven, steam filling the air with the smell of tomato and toast and herbs. He slips a plate in and closes it just as quickly and soon the sizzling starts up anew, eggs cracked into the pan spitting in complaint at the disruption to their day.
The front door opens and closes, Syaoran back from returning some books he'd borrowed from one of their friends here.
The hallway rings with the sound of his steps in a way that Sakura knows she'll never hear again exactly the same.
He smiles as he rounds the corner, sits beside her, says good morning to Kurogane, asks how her morning is going and how she slept. She can see in his eyes the hint of sadness and knows that she is not alone.