Dreamless Love Story Chapter 3: Ripples, a tsubasa chronicle fanfic

Dreamless Love Story

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Chapter 3: Ripples

If you could hear the dreams I've had, my dear
They would give you nightmares for a week
But you're not here, and I can never sleep
Come home so I can be a creep

"Fireman" - Jawbreaker

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing. Is this really necessary?

It's too late, too early in the morning – across the harbour Odaiba is grey. In a few more hours, the sun will come up and soak the water with molten peach light, but for now, it ripples black. He crushes an empty can in his fist, leaning back on this bench. Nothing but black ripples. The night air is cold and moist on his face; the heavy humidity that comes before rain. He breathes it in - this suspension, this tenuous balance, this dreamless, waking sleep. It won't be long before the weather breaks.

Wincing, he lazily checks the swelling around his cheekbone and temple with two fingers – still stinging, it has lessened since the night before. That bottle broke the skin just below his eye. The cheek feels tight where blood has clotted… Stupid kids. He grimaces, cracking open another can from the case beside him. It must be the lack of sleep… he should be healing faster than this.

Taking a long drain from his can, Kurogane scans the empty boardwalk. Nothing but a row of benches, disappearing, and black ripples out into oblivion. It's vaguely familiar. He has seen the sun go down here, once before. When was that?

His swollen eye twitches in recognition. A year and a half ago, was it? He fixes his gaze on the railing, a few feet away. Over by that railing, he had made a phone call.

"Flowright."

There is a pause on the line, then, "Wait wait, don't tell me… I'd recognize that grouchy tone anywhere…"

Kurogane, leaning on the boardwalk railing, cringes at the familiar, lilting voice with its flamboyant, foreign-accented Japanese.

"…It's our little Kuro, isn't it?"

"Would you cut the bullshit…" snarls Kurogane, his forehead twitching.

"Of course. But to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of this phone call?"

"I said, drop it." Kurogane feels sweat forming on his brow. He takes a brief glance up and down the boardwalk, before growling - "Today I was followed - black car, Kyushu plates."

He hears his friend clear his throat. "Hmm."

"You know anything about that?"

There is a moment of silence before the response. "I thought you'd been lying low down there, Kuro-sama."

Kurogane grips the phone closer. "I have been. What the fuck are they after?"

A deep breath is audible over the line. "There's been some trouble… at least that's what I've heard." The voice drops in volume. "From the mainland, mostly. Wang's… nervous. He's tightening his control."

Kurogane snorts. "That's got nothing to do with me."

A light laugh tinkles across the line. "Kurorin… you of all people know that it doesn't work that way."

"The hell it doesn't. I cut my ties with Wang."

That laugh again. But the cheery voice is noticeably darker. "You really think you can do that?" There is a distinctly sour note, audible in his casual tone. "After all you've seen… and all you've done…" Kurogane feels a wedge of ice burning somewhere low in his chest, and grits his teeth. The voice continues, effeminately cold, ascerbic. "You're Fei Wang's man, Kuropii. It's in your blood… That's why he wants you back."

Veins bulge in his thick neck. "Fuck blood! Wang murdered my flesh and blood!" He spits the words into the phone.

There is silence on the line. "I know." A boat horn sounds across the harbour, ringing in the crisp air. "But then, you've killed a few people yourself… Kurogane."

The tangerine sun is dripping its last light into the bay. The tall man in black grinds his teeth as joggers jog and young couples stroll past behind him.

"Yeah, well what about you? You act like this doesn't concern you." His scarred knuckles are pale, gripping the steel railing.

"Me?" He laughs again. "Me, I've got my own troubles…" And as his voice trails off, Kurogane can almost see his face. Cheerful blue eyes wrinkled in a smile, masking cowardice… masking some unspeakable terror. The lilting voice continues - "Worry about yourself, would you?" Always that smile. "If I were you, I'd try to stay out of sight for a while."

"Mmn." Kurogane's lips form a thin line.

"Watch your back, okay?"

He grunts. "…You too."

Click.

Fei Wang. Kurogane feels his shoulders tightening. Goddamnit. He leans hard on the railing, looking out over the blackening water. Biting the edge of his lip, he glances down at the phone still open in his hand, and blinks. Five characters stand out on the screen.

Daidouji Tomoyo.

Daidouji Tomoyo. He finds himself still sitting on the bench, staring at the cell phone screen. Droplets of rain begin to splash on the cement. Closing it in his large hand he grumbles. Should have deleted that by now…

The side of his mouth almost turns upward in a smile at the memory. What a weird kid she was. Just grabbing his phone like that…

"I entered my phone number."

"What the hell for?"

"…For you to call."

Their eyes had met very awkwardly, over the table in that shitty diner. What a situation. But even that hadn't been half as bad as the first time he'd actually called it…

"Yes, Tomoyo here."

"…"

"…Is that… Kurogane?"

On the verge of hanging up. "…Uh, yeah." Kicking himself.

Silence. "Um, may I ask why you are calling?"

"Keh, I don't… know…" Shaking his head in frustration.

Her cheerful voice. "That's okay! I'm… glad you did. I'm really very happy…"

That was Tomoyo. He'd been taken aback by how calmly she went along with the things he said – like she wasn't scared of him, like she could see right through him. Why hadn't he deleted that number?

Downing the dregs of his beer amid the taste of raindrops, he slams the can into the receptacle at his side, standing abruptly. He knows exactly why. Because, she's the only person who ever looked at him like that. Who ever spoke to him like that. And he doesn't feel like he's really broken up with her. He feels… like he's in exile. An expatriate. Banished by the only person who ever saw him for what he was.

Frowning, grimly, he begins to walk. Time to get something to eat – this body has to keep living, keep moving. Sleep is only one of the demons creeping slow at his lonely back... Banished and betrayed – the exile walks on.

It's raining hard now. Tomoyo's hooded cloak is flimsy against the downpour, but she keeps walking. Wet cement reflects splashes of light and colour, drowning her dainty form. Monochrome soaked in neon, wandering aimlessly through half-familiar streets, she loses all direction.

The fabric of her blouse is sodden with rain, and clings close against her skin, causing her to choke back an unbidden memory – of him. Wet cloth on hot skin. Why is he so much in her thoughts today? Maybe just the rain… and the black night. They remind her of that time – after all, it had been dark and wet, last winter when it began. He started showing up at her door late at night – mostly they would talk, while the rest of the household and staff slept, behind closed doors. But that night it had been pouring down much like this, and she hadn't expected to hear his knock on her patio door. He was soaked to the skin, and she had forced him to change clothes so as not to ruin her carpet. Angrily, he had turned away, peeling off his wet shirt over his head. And there, sitting on the edge of her bed, she saw that his back was…

Tomoyo shakes her head furiously. Why this? Why now? She had tried so hard to forget. But hearing about it again from Sakura's lips… She wants to tear at her long hair.

Gasping, she looks around and realizes her feet have carried her without thought – to a familiar street. This is near Inokashira Park… I know this place…

Underneath an awning, Tomoyo turns, and there, directly across the street, is the warm and inviting glow of that all-night diner…

She closes her eyes, and breathes a deep sigh. So, her unconscious heart has brought her to this place, once more. But how could she love someone like that? She bites down on her trembling lip, drawing blood. He's a bad person. He's not a good person. He's cruel. How could she ever… Behind her eyelids, there is nothing but Sakura's kind smile. Sakura's gold-speckled green eyes. Sakura's hands, holding hers. Tomoyo grits her small, white teeth. And in that moment she understands what her heart has known for a very long time. That there is no way to control it... who you will love.

With eyes still firmly closed, she steps delicately down from the curb into the rain-washed street and lets her feet carry her, soundlessly, where they will go.

Pushing open the door, a small bell tinkles. There is no waitress to greet her this time – it is long past midnight and the café is almost empty. Heart fluttering, she cannot prevent her eyes from moving to the back booth… where they had sat together, that day.

It is occupied.

Her face flushes with hot blood, throbbing at her temples, heart leaping from her chest to hang in the back of her throat, recognizing those black shoulders. It couldn't be anybody else. Why… Why is he here? She is paralyzed, vaguely shaking, unsure whether to move toward him or run for the door. Again, without bidding, her feet draw her forward. Closer, step by step, until she stands at the edge of his table – their table? – looking down at her feet. Rain falls from her soaking hair and cloak to pool on the floor by her shoes.

"Kuro… gane…"

He looks up. And as he does, their eyes meet in a breathless, speechless, quiet rush. Unnoticeable to anyone but the two. His red-rimmed eyes widen in a moment of surprise – and a flash of tenderness, of vulnerability, crosses his sharp features before she feels swallowed in his ferocious gaze. He looks thinner than she's seen him, cheeks drawn and eyes dark-lidded. There is deep purplish bruising on his cheek – she feels a twitch in her fingertips, reflexively desiring to touch his face. Her whole body aches, a dull roar emanating from her very bones. "Um…"

"What do you want." His voice is flat, and sullen, but it lacks confidence. Tomoyo shuffles her feet, and looks away.

"Can't you say anything nice to anybody, Kurogane?" She hears the reaction in her own voice and knows she is slipping into an old role. But, glancing at him quickly, she perceives in vague surprise that his usual chafing irritability is nowhere to be seen. He seems… tired.

He grimaces, narrowing his red eyes. "That's… a nice looking dress. You make it yourself?" He coughs. "Just sit down, would you."

She complies, with a tiny smile on her lips and a wet shimmer in her eyes. "I did… thank you… very much."

They look at each other in poignant silence for a few moments, neither exactly sure what to do. As if they are standing on the edge of a steep and precipitous drop – wrapped up in heavy weather about to break. Tomoyo clasps her hands in her lap, finally aware that they have been shaking. Why is he here? One look in his tired eyes across the table and she knows the answer. Same reason she is.

"Um…" She clears her throat delicately, trying again to speak. "How have you been?"

He grunts. "Fine." Then, something changes in his face. "How the hell do you think I've been?"

She bites lightly at her bleeding lip, nervous. "I'm sorry… Kurogane…"

But he is no longer looking at her. "It's been a year." He says, gazing toward the window.

"Mm." She nods. The words die on her lips. She knows that his pride is as bruised as his face.

"Why now. Why are you here? What do you want?" He turns to her, snarling, his eyes aggressively searching. Tomoyo shrinks under his glare – deserving of his anger. He seems genuinely betrayed, wounded even, but it's tough to believe. Tough to comprehend, that it was possible to hurt someone as rough and hardened as him.

That's right, someone as angry and as unfeeling as him… "I know you've had a great deal of pain… in your life…" She begins, in a quavering, polite voice. "But, didn't you once think that you might have been hurting me, too?"

"Don't act like you know anything about me!" He snaps, showing his teeth. Then, almost to himself, with eyes lowered – "I never wanted anything but to protect you – from that…"

There's that look again, on his face – like a lost and angry child. She suddenly remembers the boy who more than once rescued her from bigger kids, who helped her carry her bag when she was still too small to cross the street alone. Those proud eyes, that athletic demeanour – everyone used to talk about the neighbourhood boy with that extraordinary, natural talent for swordsmanship... He was always winning tournaments, big competitions. He could have gone far… What a shame it was, about his family. What a tragedy…

She looks up at him, tentatively. "Why don't you practice kendo, anymore?"

He glowers at her. "How come you don't sing anymore?"

Tomoyo is surprised. She hadn't told him about that. How she felt different and marginalized enough these days without drawing attention to herself in front of an audience – placing herself in front of cruel, discerning eyes. Asking to be criticized, for showing off her talent, pretending to be better than other people… all those things they said about her. She had forgotten the way he did that – the way he could read people's faces with such startling insight.

He sniffs, leaning back in his seat. "You shouldn't have quit."

Her lower lip quivers. How can he know so much about her? Without words, how can he understand how she is feeling? She thinks of Sakura's innocence, Sakura's beautiful, cheerful ignorance…

He starts to stand up, saying gruffly, "C'mon. I'll take you home."

She leaps up suddenly, grabbing him by the arm. Her cheeks are flushed. Face brushing his jacket, she whispers, "No…" Kurogane is frozen in place. He doesn't breath, paralyzed by the intangible ripples spreading through his body from her touch. And in this moment, he feels vanquished, completely, and utterly, powerless. She clings to his arm, holding it against her trembling chest. Whispering – "I… I don't want to go home tonight…"

A/N: Okay, I know I promised no more flashbacks, but I couldn't help myself - I set a bunch of important plot points in their respective pasts, oops! Expect even more background on Kurogane's mysterious past shortly... I think I just like it when couples have "a history" - makes them more interesting to me. grins So much more complex, nostalgic and heartwrenching... like the real KxT! Anyway, it's heating up now, heehee. I'm looking forward to writing chapter 4... rubs hands together I'm such a perv.

Okay that's enough teaser for you. Thanks so much for reading & reviewing, you guys!