Lost

He had been drinking. Kurogane couldn't remember why he was drinking or even what world that were stuck in this time, but his severe lack of limb control and slurred speech made it obvious that this was just not a social inebriation.

There might have been something to celebrate. Had they found the last of Sakura-hime's feathers? Had he learned the lesson Tomoyo-hime intended for him, and could go home at last? Had Syaoran finally pulled his head out of his ass and made a move on Sakura-hime? Did that idiot Fai finally decide to cut the act?

Kurogane took in the room from his position on the floor. His head lolled to the side as he looked around. It was just a small empty room two futons against each adjacent wall and a door opposite him. In the middle of the room was a low table, stacked with bottles and cans and glasses, which he assumed were responsible for his intoxication.

His head slumped downwards of its own accord. His clothes were baggy and torn. His arms looked thinner and weak. His hands were shaking.

Kurogane's mind frantically sobered, demanding the location of his sword. His eyes took in the quarters again, but still did not see it.

The door creaked open caused Kurogane's head to snap up. The older man breathed a sigh of relief to see it was Syaoran. The boy offered him a weak smile as greeting.

A bowl of noodles was placed in front of him on the table. There were also long pieces of shaped wood, which he assumed were homemade chopsticks. He raised an eyebrow at Syaoran who blushed slightly and busied himself with his own meal.

Now that he was sitting nearby, Kurogane noticed small changes from the Syaoran he last remembered. He was taller but still painfully thin. His face was lined with worry marks and there were large circles under his eyes. What had happened in this world to change him so much?

The sinking feeling in his stomach coupled with the inability to make his hands stop shaking long enough to use the chopsticks resulted in Kurogane eating very little. He glared at the table as if it alone was responsible for the frustration of the situation. Kurogane grabbed an open bottle next to him and drank heartily. When he placed it down, he saw Syaoran looking at him with sad eyes.

"Wakatteiru," Syaoran placed a steady hand over his shaking one. How long had their hands been the same size? "Watashi mo koishitau."

Kurogane's brow furrowed in confusion. He had no idea what Syaoran was saying, and was pretty sure that he nothing to do with his drunken state. Suddenly, Kurogane remembered Mokona's translation abilities, the absent members of the troupe, and the stranded state he and Syaoran would remain in forever.

Kurogane swallowed thickly and wondered if his sword wasn't the only thing that he'd lost.

A/N: A friend of mine is really into Tsubsasa and demanded I write something because there isn't much fanfiction out there for it. This is the result. I hope what happened was clear. If not, please leave a review and I'll attempt to make it more clear. Thank you for taking the time to read this.