Challenge #6
Inevitable
By Kaori
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Challenge: A character is in a situation where they are close to death or on their deathbed. Cannot use the word red, and the letters P and Q. Must use at least one simile/metaphor involving good.
Genre: General/Tragedy
Rating: PG-13
Canon: Post-canon
Length: 1,867 words
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A loud clang echoed across the clearing and shockwaves of energy throbbed around the gleaming blade. Swiftly, several clashes of steel and metal followed, the force between the two objects distorting the air within the courtyard.
"I never did like you." His voice was layered with venom as he executed a series of horizontal slashes with his blade. "It was hard enough not to smash your face in every time I saw your annoying face." With a violent thrust, the brunette forced the deadly edge of his sword down against the golden staff. It slid off the smooth alloy with barely a scratch. He growled but continued with his attack.
"Oh?" The slender youth glided backwards, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Saa, Syaoran, in all these years we've been together—" Eriol smiled widely, revealing shining white incisors, "Oh, say, the last seven years or so," he nimbly ducked the attack aimed for his neck, "—I don't believe I've ever seen you lose control before." The young Englishman shook his head almost regretfully, evading another deadly blow. "I thought you'd have more self-restraint, you, my great Li Clan Heir!" The taller male laughed, midnight irises glinting mockingly behind rimless glasses.
The glare was lethal, the eyes just as severe. The amber flames guaranteed an agonizing death and the wolf inside was not about to loose sight of its target. "We were never your clan," he sneered disdainfully, "You are not Clow Reed!" His body twisted to the left, and with his free hand, he vaulted to the edge of the glass flooring, landing in a low crouch with his sword aimed menacingly at the grinning man. A fatal arc of dark crystallized magic was embedded within the tree that was just behind him earlier. Syaoran frowned, a brow lifting slightly.
"Can't fight on your own Hiiragizawa?" Syaoran eyed the yin double of Clow's guardians distastefully.
Shoulders cloaked with rich silk robes shrugged, "You think so little of me," he sighed, "But alas, it is only natural for my creations to assist me against a threat, danger or no; it is their will." Eriol smiled chillingly, "Why can't you understand that Syaoran-kun?"
His jaw tightened briefly, but he swiftly forced his muscles to relax. Tensing would do no good in a fight with the reincarnation.
"There is nothing to understand," he said lowly. "All I want to know is why."
"Why?" Eriol leant against his staff and eyed his challenger lazily, "Why what?"
The amber glare intensified.
Eriol feigned the sudden dawning of realization, eyes widening, "Oh how silly of me; why is Sakura the Card Mistress you mean?" He hummed with concentration, eyes closing and a hand rubbing his chin, "I can't say really; why are you my descendent?"
A crackle of raw energy distorted the air around the jian. "You know what—"
"Regardless of what some might say," he cut in before the angry male could finish his tirade, "I do not have the inane ability to read minds, unfortunately for you." The aged sorcerer straightened, his weight no longer leaning against the golden alloy. His grin suddenly seemed strange within the youthful face. "But I am flattered that you might think so, Syaoran-kun."
"That's enough."
"Enough?" The older man blinked dubiously, "But Syaoran-kun, we've only—"
"I said enough. I've had it with you." The hand around the jian tightened. He was unable to maintain control; he never could around the irritating man. "Just tell me why," he enunciated slowly, a snarl curling at the corners of his mouth.
And then the calm and serene look on Eriol's face shifted, changing into one of remorse. The smirk slid off his face and his hold on his golden staff loosened. His smile was rueful, barely noticeable.
Syaoran snarled and launched to attack the reincarnation, his tolerance thinning dramatically. Amber eyes widened with shock when the man clumsily dodged the attack seconds too slow. A long shallow gash graced his fitted sweater and blood soaked the blue cotton.
An alarmed cry echoed from his left, but he ignored it.
"What are you doing? Why aren't you fighting back?"
The magnificent staff fell from the alabaster hand and hit the ground with a heavy thud. "Syaoran," he smiled with understanding, "You have every right."
Instead of mollifying the heir, it made him angrier. He could clearly hear the mockery behind the sorcerer's words. Furiously, he threw lunged again, and successfully tore across the man's sweater. The wound was more severe than the cut across his arm. Rivulets of blood leaked out.
This time the echoed cry was louder and Syaoran couldn't ignore it. He turned towards the direction of the noise and felt his heart wrench. There within the heavenly embrace of the moon guardian was the Card Mistress. His large wings, as white as cream, were extended affectionately around them as a makeshift shield. Before them was the hunched form of the sun guardian, ready to strike at any moment, large and feathered wings nowhere in sight.
Syaoran dismissed this. What had his attention was the fact that the emerald eyed girl was crying, staring at him fearfully and full of hate, as if he was a threat. That, more than anything, hurt him more than he cared to admit. He forced his gaze back to the solemn man.
Eriol breathed in the cold winter air and almost hesitantly answered. "You know why, Syaoran," the raw honesty in his voice was received with a glare. "You were raised with the reason engraved into your very soul." And then he smiled wryly, "Why waste breath on something you already know?"
"Then how?"
"To change her back? I told you Syaoran, it is inevitable. Irreversible." He closed his eyes, "What has been cannot be undone." With a sigh, the azures flickering with a shining glint revealed themselves behind half lidded eyes. "Has the clan taught you nothing Syaoran-kun?" The cheerful grin was back on his face.
Syaoran didn't bother to waste the energy needed to control his anger, as a result, he was unable to resist the urge to clobber the grinning male.
Eriol staggered backwards to maintain his balance and cleaned the blood from the corner of his mouth, careful of the throbbing ache.
"There was a reason you were trained to be without emotions, Syaoran. That reason was to strengthen yourself, for the clan to be able to strive forward." His gaze flickered towards his half-daughter. "Unfortunately, I didn't foresee any obstacles."
Syaoran remained silent.
Eriol continued, "No matter what some would say, the heart is only just an organ that circulates blood around your body. Love is merely a combination of feelings and beliefs, disillusions if you will, caused by the nerves within your brain. Though a relatively emotive and effective source, that is all it is. Useful, yet wasteful."
"You're talking nonsense again," Syaoran frowned.
"In layman's terms, Syaoran-kun," Eriol smiled seeing him scowl at his continual use of his name with the annoying suffix, "You were taught to know better, but even the greatest men fall."
The leader narrowed his eyes, still confused and not at all delighted with the fact that he was being led around in circles.
"And?"
Eriol sighed, the amusement falling out of his eyes yet again. "It is inevitable that this would occur. Your interference will change nothing."
Syaoran clenched his fists, suddenly annoyed. "I do not believe in foreordained fate."
Eriol ignored him. "Sakura-san is the daughter of Clow, his magical heir. She is the only one who fits—you did not," he killed the sentence before it could leave Syaoran's tongue.
His eyes softened, seeing the younger male trying to come to terms with reality, "It's the balance Syaoran. Not one individual can fully harness all the forces and survive. Clow didn't have the chance to try; he died because of the strain."
The jian trembled.
"And Sakura, it's amazing that she was able to get this fair. Unfortunately, it cannot last forever."
The onyx attached to the ruby tassels clinked against the hilt.
"This was inevitable. Thankfully, it will end with her."
"You knew." The ambers glowed eerily with fury. "You knew from the very beginning how things would end." Head still bowed, Syaoran threw the resigned, mentally-unbalanced male a death glare, imagining daggers embedding themselves within the soft ashen flesh, almost tasting as the rich ruby life force drained out from the injuries. He was shaking uncontrollable, flexing his free hand to relieve the high strung tension within his body. "And you did nothing to avoid it."
And he could take no more.
Like a wolf, Syaoran blindly charged forward, sword aimed terrifyingly at the still man's heart. The moonlight brushed against his blade and a dark emerald blaze flared around its double edge. With satisfaction, he felt the sword run through flesh, rather than seeing.
An echoed choke yanked him from his reverie.
Syaoran stared, wide eyed and horrified, at the hateful emeralds. The green eyes were filled with scorn, and not an ounce of familiarity.
"S-Sakura," he released the hilt of his sword, as if it burned. Disbelief washed over him like cold water and he stumbled backwards. His foot settled on a stray rock and he fell. "No."
The lithe figure fell back into waiting arms, and Eriol slowly lowered to the ground onto his knees, careful not to jostle her further.
"Now, who told you to go and do that?" Eriol asked softly, his voice a stranger mixture of fondness and sorrow. His eyes were glassy. Eriol blinked carefully, trying not to cry.
The disdain immediately drained out from the unnatural eyes as her gaze shifted to the reincarnation. Sakura grinned brightly at him from his chest and reached to caress his cheek. Soft fingers ghosted over the corner of his mouth. She brushed gently against the small scabbing wound, healing it. She was totally unaware of the desolate stare coming from the young Chinese heir.
"Zettai daijoubu da yo." Her glowing skin and bright eyes, though unnatural, were nothing like her voice. What once was of a high and soft timbre was now a resonance of many voices, a choir of smooth and melodious feminine tones joined together in one. Long thick lashes drifted downwards, covering the emerald jewels for the last time.
Her white skin glowed with a soft cherry hue. Suddenly her aura grew bright, consuming, and all he could see was the burning colors of sakura blossoms. With a small serene chime, her body burst into tiny glowing stars. Eriol's arms around her waist fell lifelessly to the ground and he watched as she disintegrated into the air, small orbs of light floating towards the starry night sky. The sword clattered against the ground.
Eriol smiled faintly and he reached out to hold the hilt of the heirloom. "Fate makes fools of all of us," he murmured, staring intently at the shock setting within his descendant's face. The smile transformed into a sardonic smirk, uncharacteristic of his earlier melancholy. The sorcerer used the sword as leverage to stand. "And it's rather fun to watch, ne Syaoran-kun?"
There was no answer.
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Every bloody sentence I write has a friggin p in it. Go jump off a bridge Ebony. XP
Can't be bothered reading over it, I seriously dislike this plot, but I can't think of anything better so meh.
