Challenge #4
Gang
By Kaori
Challenge: Write a cliché that you absolutely hate (or dislike because it's been used to much) and make it a good fic, one that you'd want to read, despite being 'overused'.
Genre: Action/Romance
Rating: PG-13
Canon: Nope; alternate reality.
Length: 5,264 words.
A slender hand pulled the falling sock back up into position on her leg. Stumbling a bit as she did so and sighing with relief as she maintained her balance, she continued along the path heading towards her school. She sighed again, this time wistfully. Emerald optics gazed upon the golden leaves of the large branching trees, trees that arched over the pathway, sprinkling the makeshift tunnel with rays of sunlight and fallen leaves.
Suddenly she fell to the ground, her knees and hands connecting painfully with the pavement. Looking up with tears in her eyes, she blinked them away quickly. It was a man, sprinting frantically and slamming other pedestrians over as he went, too panicked to pay them any mind.
Her head tilted to the side, curiously watching the rude man. His hair was tied back in a topknot and he was dressed in a hakama. Shrugging, she pushed her hands off the ground to settle fully on her knees, wincing at the pressure. Both her palms and knees were grazed no doubt. Suddenly another person slammed into her. Hardly having time to think, she managed to cushion her fall with her forearms; this time, though, she was knocked flat against the ground. She moaned. "Itai…" From her peripheral vision, more strangely dressed people ran past her.
Huffily she pushed herself up, getting straight to her feet and backing out of the way. The messages being sent from her brain to her limbs were momentarily short circuiting and caused her steps to falter. She exhaled noisily when she was once again correctly balanced with gravity holding her firmly to the ground. Wincing through a small smile, she brushed off the dirt on her grazed palms and knees. Satisfied that she wasn't bleeding, she bounced up with a small skip, intent on spending the remainder of the walk to school getting into as little trouble as possible.
In mid skip, another person ran into her, a long black steaming tail whipping out and around her. "Hoe!" She closed her eyes tight, awaiting the inevitable fall to the ground. When a hand grabbed hold of her wrist and abruptly pulled her up, she squeaked, staggering about to adjust her footing. A few seconds passed and she opened one eye. In front of her was a man clad in a business suit, but she was way too aggravated to thank him. "Mou… THIS IS THE LAST TIME!" She snatched her hand out of the person's tight grip and stormed away towards her destination, purposefully making her footfalls heavy in an attempt to stay glued to the ground when one foot was off. She tripped on a crack in the cement.
A dark brow rose. "Strange girl." The tall man slipped his hands into his pockets. "Why did you run into her?"
Rubies twinkled brightly as the woman latched herself onto the man's arm. "It looked so fun seeing the others knock her over," she laughed obnoxiously, her free hand in front of her mouth. "And, I admit, I wanted to see how she'd react. She's an amusing little girl." A smile curled at her lips but quickly turned into a frown as the man yanked his arm out of her leechlike hold. "What's with you today?" A pout lingered upon her darkened lips.
Amber eyes narrowed, "Stop being so petty. We have business to do." He headed in the direction that the men earlier had gone, his strides long and slow.
"Relax much? Hmph, tight ass," she muttered, miffed, but followed him nevertheless.
She flopped down onto the couch, stretching out her limbs to drape over the sides. She yawned lazily, rubbing the tears away from her tired eyes. She laid there for a while, just blinking and listening to the strong tick of the grandfather clock. Slowly she became drowsy and her blinks slower. Her lips formed a tiny smile. If only she could stay like this forever—surely a small nap wouldn't hurt.
SLAM!
She rolled off the couch and clutched her chest, her breath erratic.
"Ah Sakura-chan!" A girl with long wavy hair smiled down at the girl, "On the floor again?" She laughed, "You really need to work on the whole center of balance thing that sensei recommended."
Sakura grumbled something and sat on the floor, leaning against the couch. "So, what was so urgent that you had to barge in here?"
"You haven't heard?" her left hand clasped her cheek and her eyes sparkled unnaturally, "Oh Sakura-chan, you're so kawaii! Ohohohohoho!"
Sakura would've stared blankly at her friend for longer, but found looking at her was took too much effort so she twisted her head back around. She yawned and stared sleepily at the television.
There was a sigh from nearby her. She turned her head around again to see Tomoyo sitting on the couch. "'Sup Tom'yo-chan?"
The girl smiled gently, her soft purple locks falling over her shoulder. She ran a hand through Sakura's short hair soothingly, "You've been so tired lately. Not to mention you're always falling down."
Sakura beamed brightly, "It's nothing Tomoyo-chan! You know how it is this time of year; all the assignments get piled up."
"Even so…" Tomoyo looked at her sternly, "At least tell me you've eaten."
A sheepish smile crept over her face. Tomoyo sighed and stood up, nudging her friend with her slipper-ed foot. "You really need to take better care of yourself." She walked into the kitchen, browsing through the refrigerator and the cupboards. "Oh! Before I forget," she poked her head out from behind the rectangular column. "Turn on the TV."
Moving almost sloth like, the auburn haired girl reached for the remote and pressed the red button. "What channel?"
"Doesn't matter, it should be on all channels by now," was the muffled reply.
"Eh? That big?" She watched the broadcast with interest, switching channels from time to time to find the better one. "Murder?"
Tomoyo popped up from behind that counter, a frying pan in hand. "Hai, it happened this morning, near the end of the main path you take to school, Cherry Lane."
"Hoe!" Sakura looked back at the TV, listening to the news reporter. "In broad daylight?"
"The nine men killed were all part of the Yakuza," Tomoyo bent down, searching for the container with the overnight rice. "Aha!" she pulled it out and set it on the counter. "Do you have any frozen peas or corn?"
Gaze still fixated on the screen, Sakura murmured, "Should be in there somewhere… Nine?" Interest made her lean over the coffee table, "Why are they making such a big deal out of this?"
"Supposedly members of the Triad killed then; they owed them a debt."
"Hoe… Triad as in China? That mustn't be good for border relations." Then her eyes widened as they showed brief flashes of the bodies. She choked on a her breath. "Uso…"
"Hm? Nani?"
"T-Those men," she thought back to the morning, brows furrowing, "…I think… I saw them… this morning."
Worriedly Tomoyo closed the freezer door, "Are you sure? You could've been mistaken."
"Iie, I'm sure. How likely is it to see nine men dressed like that, now of all times? Besides, at first I thought it was just one man being chased by that whole group of people," she laughed nervously, "Seems he was just faster than the rest."
"Chasing?"
"Un!" Sakura looked at the ceiling and tapped her chin, trying to think. "But I didn't see anyone else chasing them, so I assumed. Who were they running from?"
Tomoyo leaned against the counter, worry clouding her expression. "Did you see any suspicious people around?"
"Hmm… There was a woman who knocked me over, but then a man helped me before I hit the ground."
"Honto ni?"
"But they didn't seem to be in much of a hurry…"
"Hmm…" Both were contemplative.
Suddenly Tomoyo's eyes narrowed dangerously. "They dare involve Sakura-chan in the middle of a murder!" the spatula in her hand quivered. "Oooh why I…" her eyes lit up, "I know!" She pointed the flimsy weapon towards Sakura, "Sakura-chan can have my bodyguards!"
Sakura tore her attention away from the interview. "Hoe? Bodyguards?"
"That way I'll know you're safe."
"Demo saa, it's not that big of a deal. I doubt they even remember me! They were in a rush anyway. And I wasn't the only person they knocked over."
The dark haired daughter of the famous stuffed toy entrepreneur waved her arm dismissively as she poured some oil into the pan. "All the more reason why I can't let Sakura-chan go outside without protection. What if some evil man followed kawaii Sakura-chan back home?" She clicked her fingers, "That settles it." Tomoyo pulled out a pink earpiece and set it in her ear, lightly tapping the sensor on the outside. She turned on the stove and waited patiently for the oil to heat up. "Don't worry, they won't mind, they love Sakura-chan! Ohohohohoho—!"
From the floor Sakura was banging her head against the couch, a sweat drop running down the side of her head. "Hoe…"
A strong hand breezed across the clipboard, the pen grasped lightly between his fingers as he inked his signature across the page. The courier, standing high and proud, thanked him with a smirk and motioned for the men behind him to bring the package inside the house. Amber eyes lazily watched the men struggling with his package. Boredom etched itself into his eyes as he stretched out fully, his bare chest gleaming from his early morning work out.
"By the way," he said flatly, sure that the men would hear him over the racket they were making, "Next time you try to deliver an assassin to my doorstep, be a little more convincing." He grabbed hold of the sword hanging on the wall and threw it towards the wooden crate. The sound of the blade connecting with the wood resounded throughout the now silent air, followed by a dull thud. A menacing smirk curled his lips when he saw blood seeping through the cracks.
Before his enemies could regain their bearings, he somersaulted into the air, retrieving the daggers strapped to his ankles. When he was above the wooden container, he straightened out, forcefully propelling his upside down body with his arms to slash at the men on either side of him. He swiftly curled into a ball as the daggers connected with flesh, and twisted his legs around to land in a low crouch atop the crate. "At least have the decency to do this outside in the yard. I don't like having your filthy blood staining my furniture," he growled coldly.
With finality, he pulled the daggers out of the dying men's hearts and flipped off the box, throwing them with deadly accuracy towards the pseudo courier. The man landed lightly on his feet and pressed the intercom button on the wall just as all three bodies collapsed.
"Send someone to clean up this god damn mess." The button was released and he headed for the kitchen, not bothering to hear the reply. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and guzzled it down in one gulp.
"Not exactly what I expected for a morning visit. Some fine friends you have here Syaoran."
Syaoran groaned. "What are you doing here?"
"Heard you were creating havoc here in Japan, the least you could've done was invite me."
He slanted the older man with a half hearted glare. "Go crawl back into your hole Hiiragizawa."
The man shrugged from the doorway, "England's too boring now, nothing but criminal wannabes raiding the streets. I bet I'd have much more fun being a detective."
"You do that then." He grabbed another bottle and trudged over the thick warm carpet to sprawl unceremoniously across the sofa.
A disappointed sigh escaped him, "Manners, there's no point with you is there?" Eriol pushed himself off the door frame and assessed the dead bodies bleeding onto the marble floor. The light clicks of his shoes against the cold marble sent Syaoran's brow twitching with annoyance. "And you're getting sloppy too. Old age must really be affecting you."
He was pinned with a death glare. "You're seven years older than me, old man."
Eriol gasped dramatically and put on his English accent, "The nerve, I'm seven and a half years older than you. Respect your elders!" He flicked his bangs away from his eyes and pulled off his spectacles, examining them for traces of prints. "Dear youngling, your youthfulness will never match up to mine." He used the edge of his dress shirt to wipe his glasses clean. "Ever."
The twitch in Syaoran's brow was getting stronger. "Nor your senselessness it seems." He blew at the hair in front of his eyes and proceeded to swallow the rest of the water.
"So, how's the business going?" Eriol settled down on the comfortable armchair. Ah, he thought, right at home.
"Business in fine," he capped the bottle and threw it at the man. "The Yakuzas are a pain in the ass. Damn bastards." He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. "Even this is getting tedious."
"No use crying over spilt milk."
Syaoran cracked open an eye, "The hell, that doesn't even make sense."
A cat-like grin stretched across his face. "Felt like the right time to say it."
Syaoran gave him a look, the one that said he was clearly an idiot. "Whatever old man." He stood up and headed towards the bathroom, "Go ahead and drown yourself with some coffee, clean up the mess while you're at it."
"What am I, you're maid?"
"You sure as hell could pass for one."
Eriol threw the bottle back at the man and snickered when it met its target, "Ah, still got it." He ran a hand through his neat hair and smirked. "Oh, before I forget, a group of senior Yakuzas will be at that quaint little coffee shop you always go to. They're expecting you to show up."
Sakura stirred her cup of coffee wearily and successfully suppressed a yawn; however the familiar feeling of warm tears still pricked her eyes. She sighed and rested her head in the crook of her elbow on the table. She had one foot crossed in front of her and the other supported on top of the chair, a rather awkward and discourteous position to be in when sitting at a table in a public café, but she found it comfortable. That, and she was too tired to care about the rules. "Why am I so tired? More so than usual…" she murmured sleepily. A small hand brought the spoon to her mouth and she sipped the steaming hot drink front it. A bright spark lit up her eyes and she dipped the spoon into the cup again. Drinking this way would take a long time to finish, but she was having fun and her classes today were all unimportant briefings. She reached out for another packet of sugar, ripped at the edge half heartedly and then let it sprinkle into her cup.
What happened next wasn't entirely her fault; it wasn't anyone's fault, just her failing luck when it came to the battle against gravity. That or there wasn't a fault to be found as this happened to her all the time that it could be considered an everyday ritual. Because of the unstable position she had put herself in, she was an easy target for anyone passing by, and because she was so prone to such things, someone did bump into her chair, and thus, she found herself falling once again.
With a whimper, Sakura screwed her eyes shut, anticipating the pain that would come when she came in contact with the hard tiled floor. She landed with a thud, but was surprised by the odd feeling of being suspended in the air, not to mention the lack of pain. An emerald eye cracked open. "Hoe?"
Her savior deposited her safely onto her chair and spoke, his deep sonorous voice calming her previous shock. "You need to learn how to keep your feet on the ground."
Sakura blushed and planted her feet to the floor. "A-ano, arigato gozaimasu!" She bowed from her seated position, not daring to look up at him.
A rough hand tilted her chin up, "It's polite to look at the person you are speaking to."
Her blush deepened as the amusement twinkled in the amber orbs.
"It's also polite not to scream at the person who was helping you."
Sakura blinked innocently and tilted her head to the side, brows furrowing. "Hoe?"
Syaoran smirked, "The other day, when my cousin ran into you."
Her blinking slowed as she thought hard to remember. "Cousin…?" she scratched her head, perplexed. A light seemed to go off inside the student's mind and she perked up. "Ah! You're the guy that helped me!" She bowed again, "Gomen nasai for being so rude, you caught me at a bad time."
The business man flicked her forehead, "What did I just say?"
She flushed a deeper red but craned her neck up to look at him, smiling sheepishly. "Gomen nasai."
He shook his head dismissively, "Mind if I join you? The other tables have been taken."
"A-ah…" Sakura glanced around the shop quickly. The café was really packed for being so late in the morning. "Hai."
Syaoran sat down in the spare chair and inclined his head, "Li Syaoran."
"Kinomoto Sakura desu," she extended her arm in greeting. The man smirked and grasped her hand in a tight hold, shaking slowly. With a rather strained smile, Sakura pried her hand away from his grip and was amazed to hear him laugh. He didn't seem like the type to. Playful she imagined him, if not a bit cruel, but laughing? Wait… she was over analyzing things once again. A sigh escaped her lips. She really needed get some sleep, and soon before she fell asleep in her coffee. Coffee. She sipped from her cup, relishing on the warmth that ran down her throat. It suddenly became harder to keep her eyes open. How strange.
Across from her, Syaoran was tapping his fingers rhythmically against the glass table, every inch of his being relaxed and calm. It was fun to act like that around the girl; what's more she seemed to believe that he was somewhat a perverted fool. He smirked. No doubt the fools stationed around him were deceived as well. He almost felt sorry for using the girl like that.
He stared at her curiously. Her short layered hair was tied back in two low ponytails, something he would've termed cute if he were in the right mood. She also looked like she was falling asleep, continuously jolting back up every time her head slipped down. A tiny unnoticeable frown clawed at the edge of his lips. Her drink was spiked. Everyone's drink was. He scanned the room in the corner of his eyes. Several people were slumped over their table. A man to his right had his face buried in his plate of donuts; the man next to him had his head tilted back, dangerously close to falling over.
He scoffed. His enemies were still casually chatting with each other, their cups left untouched. Did they think he was that oblivious? With a roll of his eyes, he stood up, drawing the attention of the men.
"Come on Sakura-chan," he grinned mischievously and reached over to help her stand up. The girl batted feebly at his hands, a faint protest sounding from her lips. "I don't want you to wake up in the middle of all this blood. Best listen to me little girl."
She was blinking furiously, trying to wriggle out of his firm hold. If only she wasn't incapacitated with exhaustion. She didn't want to go with him, all she wanted was her coffee and then to get home so she could sleep the rest of the day away. She reached for her coffee, but he dragged her out of arm's reach. "Mou!" She whined, attempting to hit him on the head and stomp on his foot. "Let me go!"
Syaoran detected movement from all around him. He ignored the flailing girl in front of him and discreetly scanned his surroundings. How strange, scattered around nearly every corner of the shop were women all dressed in identical attire, each reaching for the weapon strapped to their thighs. He scoffed. Since when did the Yakuza employ a band of female bodyguards to fight against him? Last time he checked, they were a group of sexist man whores who used prostitutes to lure his men into traps. These women were covered from head to toe.
A clap made his head swerve to the left. "Ah, seems you've fallen for our trap," the pot bellied man chortled with laughter, "At long last we have managed to fool you!" The men who were still awake jumped to their feet, arms extended and guns aimed.
Loud recognizable clicks resounded throughout the room and the man stopped with his senseless laughing. Syaoran looked around. The women had their guns aimed at every single person inside the shop. He was confused, a state of mind that he did everything in his power to avoid. The vein in his brow twitched.
"Call off your… women and I won't be forced to give my sniper the signal," the greasy man sitting at the table said before wiping his mouth with the stained napkin.
"Eh?" Syaoran raised a brow, "My women? I assure you, they do not work for me. However…" Everyone lying asleep on the tables sprang up, guns pointed at every potential enemy. The fat man's men stood up with protest. "The next time you try an attempt on my life; do remember to keep a tighter leash on your men Hanazawa. There is a leak."
The man named Hanazawa slammed his fist into the table. "What is this? CALL THEM OFF NOW!"
A lazy smile crawled onto his face. His attention was turned towards the women; the Yakuza senior could be dealt with later. "What is your business?"
The leader spoke, a glare piercing through the dark shades, "The girl."
"Ah, sou," he ran his hand through Sakura's hair. Some time during this confrontation she had fallen asleep and was slumped onto his form. He didn't mind so much, he hardly noticed the added weight. Must've been the sleeping pills, he thought. "Seems you are quite the prize young one." A quiet, almost inaudible giggle vibrated against his chest. He narrowed his eyes. Her eyes were half lidded, emerald orbs peaking out shyly. He raised a brow. Interesting, she wasn't asleep yet. "Not to worry, your charge is safe." He smiled charmingly towards the ladies and gave a bow, "I promise."
It didn't appear as if they noticed that their charge was still awake, but not one of the female bodyguards dropped their guns. Syaoran sighed, disappointed. "Right, right." He pulled a silver case out of his breast pocket, well aware that the atmosphere had become tenser. The lid flicked open and he swallowed the tiny white tablet. Then he pulled out the small metal device and threw it towards the woman. She caught it deftly. "Tracking device. Will last for forty-eight hours." He gestured towards the exit, "After you, ladies. I'm sure you wouldn't want to concern yourself with Hanazawa and my business." After all, more than fifteen people had their guns aimed at him and would shoot the minute he slipped, their own life be damned.
The women stayed firmly rooted to the floor. She pressed the button on the metal object; an erratic beeping sound emitted from the inbuilt speakers, the coordinated screen flashing brightly. "We ensure your safety, any smart man will, don't we Hanazawa?" Syaoran's sharp eyes pinned the man to his seat and he nodded, hesitantly.
Silence seemed to be the loudest sound, Syaoran mused, waiting patiently with a pleasant smile plastered to his face. And then, tersely, the women filed out, their movements rigid and tense, yet their gaits were polished with elegance. The sound of the beeps grew fainter and calmer, losing intensity the further it got away from him. The second the door closed, Syaoran's attention was focused on the Yakuza member. Amber eyes were expectant, almost amused when he saw a gun pointed at his head.
"Do you have a point for all this?"
"Today you will die oh great Li Clan leader," spat the man, disgust lining his every word, "You Triad scum won't be meddling with us anytime soon!" Hanazawa unlatched the safety, his men followed suit.
Syaoran's face was blank. "Tell your leader that my business is mine, my customers are mine, and my country is mine. Don't you dare try to sell your dirty drugs in our territory."
Hanazawa made a signal with his free hand. "Too late bastard, you forgot I had a sniper." The Japanese man threw his head back and chortled triumphantly; it was cut short with a choke. His gun slipped from his slackened grip as he gasped, opening and closing his mouth continually, trying to say something. Blood trickled down his lips and he gurgled pitifully, reaching for the dangerous gang lord standing stoically in front of him.
"And you forget who you're messing with." The second Hanazawa's gun hit the floor, Syaoran had the half conscious girl flung over his shoulder and pulled out a gun from his holster. Sounds of gunshots rang out from every corner of the quaint little coffee shop. The battle was on.
Yakuza against Triad.
Japan against China.
There was just something about that smile, the smugness of it all, just taunting him, dangling secrets mockingly before his eyes. It was so goddamn haughty. It made his skin crawl. Damn it, it was times like these he wanted so desperately to punch him, to wipe that aggravatingly creepy grin off the pale, refined face. Unfortunately, all he could do was glare. And growl. So that he did.
"A student eh?" Eriol tsked, "So pedophilic of you Syaoran. I would've never expected that."
His eye twitched with annoyance and his hands gripped the steering wheel in a death grip.
The girl sprawled across the back seat of his car giggled and sat up abruptly. Syaoran cursed himself for not strapping her to the seat with the seatbelt. Curiously, the girl stared at the screen in the middle of the dashboard and poked it. The monitor's image became distorted from where her finger touched it and she withdrew it quickly, falling into fits of giggles.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's still in middle school!" The bespectacled man gasped, exaggerating what little shock he would've felt if he were less insane. "That's twice your junior!" Eriol's head moved from side to side yet again and his eyes became grave, "And you've made her drunk. Shame, Syaoran, shame!"
The glare intensified, and it took all his willpower not to take out a dagger and stab the gadget to pieces. "This is entirely your fault Hiiragizawa." Forgotten briefly, Sakura pouted. The conversation the man was having wasn't quite so enjoyable anymore. However… she leaned forward and blew playfully against the man's neck. At his surprised yelp, she shot back into her seat and stared innocently off to the side, outside the window, cooing innocently at the passing scenery.
An amused glimmer sparked back to life inside sapphire eyes. A sly smirk danced upon his lips knowingly, but he pretended not to have witnessed the scene. It was such beautiful blackmail that had its uses for another time. "Me? How so?"
A light blush painted his tanned cheeks. "Whose smart idea was it to mix sleeping pills with coffee?" he retorted bitingly.
Eriol laughed deeply, "Ah, the leader of the Lis must learn to hold his temper."
"YOU—"
"Though I am curious; how was the girl able to enter the café? I was sure I had it sealed off from innocents."
"She was accompanied by bodyguards," he answered curtly. Syaoran would never, ever admit that his superior always never failed at doing anything perfectly.
"Bodyguards?" the man's insatiable curiosity was piqued once again. "Why would such a girl need bodyguards?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl interrupted cheerfully. "They were Tomoyo-chan's bodyguards!"
"Oh?" Eriol smiled charmingly and turned his full attention towards the girl. "Tomoyo-chan you say?" The vein in Syaoran's brow pulsed dangerously. He hated being ignored.
Sakura almost glowed. She wasn't being ignored anymore! "Hai! Tomoyo-chan gave Sakura-chan her bodyguards because Sakura-chan saw the people murdered running away!" she clapped excitedly before her energy seemed to deflate. Her head lolled to the side and settled upon Syaoran's shoulder. "The mean man made Sakura-chan fall," she whispered morosely, "and then the mean people ran into Sakura-chan," she moaned with despair, covering her face, "and then this mean lady knocked Sakura-chan over!" she angrily caught her fist. Suddenly she perked up, exclaiming very loudly, "But then this nice man saved Sakura-chan!" she threw her arms around the driver's neck and hugged him gleefully.
The car swerved slightly to the right and Eriol chuckled. "Is that so?"
Short auburn hair whipped about as she nodded furiously. Thin pale arms then retracted itself from around the neck and rested on her lap. Disappointment washed away the joy. "But then the nice man became a perverted man."
Eriol laughed outright, no longer able to contain himself. He even had to hold onto what looked like a table to keep from falling off his chair.
"Hiiragizawa…" Syaoran snarled threatening, eyes narrowed to slits on the pixilated form of the shaking British. It worked because Eriol had calmed down significantly, however… "My, Sakura-chan was it?" Seeing her energetic nod, he continued, "You are an excellent conversationalist, I do hope to speak with you again soon, very soon. We'll have coffee some time."
"Hai!"
"If you don't mind," Syaoran frowned; displeasure was rolling off him in waves. "I'll speak with you tomorrow." The conversation swiftly ended before anything else could be said. He heard a small sound of complaint and turned a deadly glare towards the girl, all the while skillfully staying safely on the road. "You try my patience little girl."
The pout remained on her lips, but large green eyes blinked bewilderedly. Syaoran scoffed, turning his eyes back to the road and continuing his drive back to his temporary home. She was just like Hiiragizawa, but where as Hiiragizawa was aggravatingly sly, she was brimming with goddamn naivety. He made a mental note never to drug her again, if he were ever in position to. She was just too damn pure it was driving him up the wall. He liked her much better when she was in the right frame of mind.
A red light distracted him momentarily. He blinked. "Eh?" Reaching under the white collar of his shirt, he felt a cool diminutive metallic device. A lazy smirk drifted across his face, his sharp haggard appearance relaxing as he pulled the tiny contraption free. He studied it briefly, watching the red light blink slowly. "So they must be trying to track me now," he murmured softly, eyes bored. "Heh." With a flick, the tracker was sailing out of the open window.
Poke.
The vein in his brow started pulsing again. Why the hell hadn't she fallen asleep yet?
Arigato Zana-chan for reading over most of it for me! And Sakura is 18 where as Syaoran is 27 if anyone is wondering.
