Summary: He's merciless. He's brutal. He's uncouth. But more importantly, he still has the heart to love. KuroTomo.
Disclaimer: CLAMP owns 'em.
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If Only For A Day
Chapter 1: Without Goodbye
Suicide Bomber
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Kurogane tries to win her over, but knows that he can't.
How long has it been? Twenty years, twenty years, he reminds himself. Surely feelings must have changed. He is no longer needed; the job of protecting the impossible princess now belongs to another.
And as he stares at the raven hair of other man's wife, he calls himself an idiot.
He hates himself for not saying a proper goodbye.
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"Ah. I suppose I will grant your wish now that everything is settled..."
"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO MADE US GO THROUGH ALL THE TROUBLE!"
"I'm sorry, this is all my fault.. If it wasn't because of me..."
"S-sakura-hime! It's not your fault!"
"Saa... Saa... But I still don't want to go back..."
"Monoka-chan wants to do it again!"
He left the scene, muttering strings of curses. All he wanted was to return back home. It had been only that in his mind, along with finding true strength and such.
True strength?
He laughed bitterly, kicking an empty can on the streets. He knew what true strength meant... He knew it long time ago. He strolled for a while, and then decided to take a break.
The witch found him in a park, and then reluctantly gave him back his Ginry before sending him back.
"Why in the first place take my belonging!" He demanded.
"Part of the mission. And to make sure you don't run away," She smirked.
"So it was all planned huh? Tch, should have known"
"Well, say hello to Tomoyo-chan for me!"
And with a blink, he was home.
Or what was left of it.
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He came back to a palace he had never seen before, walls and pillars of different symbols and structure as that when he left.
He thought it was the witch's idea of a joke, however he has wrong. He saw men clad in black Chinese uniforms running toward him, and Souma's sad face. He was sure she was the Souma who scolded him for being disrespectful. He was sure.
Perhaps it was the magic cast on him, or the transportation, but was his first time fainting after screaming bloody murder.
And woke up to a face he so longed to see.
"...hime."
He reached a hand towards her, only to be stopped by a blade. A blade, he mused, a miserable blade. What was he now? Angrily, he went for the kill, trashing anything or anyone in his way, wanting answers.
Then, he felt his body growing weak, his throat in flames and his eyes burning.
He darted a look at her, betrayed. No, she wouldn't. She never.
Move, he commanded his arms, just move.
"I'm sorry," she mouthed, and left.
Without goodbye.