Eriol's POV:
Every member of our gang, even the elders and children, stared up. Or, more precisely, stared up at the four of us perched on the tables: myself, a battle-hungry Futomaki, a worried Tomoyo, and of course a very paranoid-looking Syaoran. I felt troubled as to what was coming, but I knew I was well prepared. Clow Reed had always said I was five steps ahead of the game . . .
I looked around at my people, then at my fellow three table-toppers. Futomaki, my left-hand man. Syaoran, my best friend and right-hand, not to mention my successor. Finally, my Daidouji Tomoyo, who was many things at once. Healer, singer, friend . . . and most importantly, my girlfriend. Oh, how I would miss her. Syaoran, I begged in my mind, you better take care of my flower for me, or suffer the worst haunting in the history of all mankind. And you of all people should know what I am capable of.
My gaze found Sakura and Meilin standing in the crowd. Meilin only had eyes for Syaoran, putting on her appropriately-dubbed (by Syaoran, I might add) 'horrifically flirtacious' face. If I were Sakura, I'd have knocked her upside the head then and there. This was a raid for crying out loud, woman! Not a chance to flirt! Plus, I was personally convinced that Syaoran and his 'Ying Fa' were a match made in heaven itself. The Big Man had it all planned out for them . . . whoa, listen to me. I'm getting all preachy! I may lecture Syaoran constantly, but preachy?!
Looking around at the rest of the gang again, I cleared my throat. "All right! We've been working on defenses, so that's what's holding them off for now. More or less, we have about fifteen minutes to prepare. We need to get organized, and fast!"
"Elders, children, and those unable to fight or unwished to fight, over to the left wall. Those who can fight, over to the right!" I continued, then paused to wait as they scrambled towards their places. "For all who fight, get your weapons ready! Tomoyo, go through and pick a team to help you with the medical . . . disturbances. syaoran, Futomaki, help them organize."
Syaoran nodded, stepping down from the table. He headed straight for Sakura and Meilin. Mostly Sakura, but Meilin was included as I watched. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it appeared Syaoran wanted the both of them over with those on the left. Label them under 'those unwished to fight', I presume.
It was amazingly amusing to watch the girls' reactions. Meilin immediately skipped off, beaming. It was actually a pretty scary sight . . . while Sakura seemed to want to argue with my cute little descendant. Oh, this was rich. After fighting for a while (complete with angry hand gestures, including a very insulting one from Sakura I will not describe), Sakura huffed off towards the left. I knew it wouldn't last, though. As soon as Syaoran's back was turned, she rushed over to the right side as fast as she could. Sakura, I pray you survive once he's through yelling at you about this later . . .
Futomaki and Syaoran rejoined me once the hall was completely sorted. Tomoyo was already perched atop her table again, this time with a group of women standing in a bunch behind her. She sent me the most tender look ever seen on the face of the most beautiful woman, before going into battle-mode and facing the crowd again with her face set and expressionless. Syaoran and Futomaki took their places.
"Those on the left side, exit through the back door and sneak away. Syaoran will send up a green flare if we've won and it's safe to come back, red if we lost and it's not safe." I waited for those on the left to file out before turning back to the remainder. More than 7/8 of our members remained, a mixture of male and female. Each was armed with a sword, or bow, or some other weapon.
To them, I said "I will not lie to you. There is a chance you will die. There is a chance I will die." Oh, if only they knew how mcuh of an understatement this was. Gasps broke out in horror, and some people clutched each other. It appears I was better liked than I thought . . .
"Like I said, there is a chance I will die. Thus, I must be prepared for my death." I pulled my tape out of my pocket, brandishing it with a knwing smile. Futomaki blinked in confusion at the tape; yeah, nothing gets past that guy. Syaoran paled, and Tomoyo gave me a look that clearly said oh-no-Eriol-please-tell-me-you-didn't-you-did-didn't-you-you-idiot. I simply smirked at all and pulled a tape recorder out of my other pocket (what dcan I say? they're big pockets).
Inserting the tape, I pressed play.
Syaoran, I've chosen you to be my successor, my voice echoed in the silence of the hall. Syaoran recognized it, just like I kenw he would. He gaped at me, too; i knew that was coming, too.
No way, Eriol his own voice said. You told me you were going to die in the raid, and you remember what I promised?
Syaoran . . .
I won't let you die, not as long as I have a breath left in my body! Stop this nonsense already and just forget about these stupid lessons.
Syoaran . . .
Eriol, you are NOT going to DIE! I've said it a million times, and I'll say it again: I WON'T LET YOU DIE.
Syaoran! Shut up and listen to me already! Are you really going to leave these people without a leader, oh brave little wolf? Wou you want them to fall apart with my demise?
(stony silence)
Syaoran, answer the question.
(stonier silence)
Answer the question.
. . . well, no. But! But I'm the wrong person! I can't lead anything! Remember my goldfish? He didn't even last an hour! If the fish kicks the bucket in an hour, how long will it take for your people to die?! Train Futomaki . . . wait, did I just say that? Scratch that! Train Tomoyo! She's fit for leadership, not me.
Tomoyo is our healer, our doctor. Much as I love her, she will not be the leader. Syaoran, I chose you. You are my choice, and I will not change my mind. I can be just as stubborn as you, wolf-boy.
Wolf-boy?! Eriol, are you under a death wish? Maybe it's drugs.
Either you agree and take responsibility to help these people, or you refuse and doom them to Futomaki's reign.
. . . Futomaki in charge. That's a scary thought.
Choose, Syaoran.
You play some dirty trickes with the mind, Eriol.
So do you, on occasion.
At least I try not to . . . the opposite of you, I might add.
Don't let Tomoyo hear that. Yes or no?
. . . fine. I hate you right now, you know that?
Strangely, I expected that.
Yeah, yeah. I won't like it, Eriol.
I never asked you to, Syaoran. I never asked you to.
I stopped the tape, letting the conversation sink in. After what I deemed a reasonable amount of sinking-in time, I said in a quiet voice, "Syaoran is my successor. No one can change that. I urge you to respect him. He may not seem it now, but I know for certain Syaoran will grow into a leader you will not dream of ursurping."
Everyone stared at Syaoran, whom I knew (without looking!) was gazing forlornly back with a depressed frown.
Cannonfire interrupted a tense moment, and all were reminded of why they were there.
"Seperate into four groups." I said softly, but was still heard over the battle. "Align yourselves with the compass. Takashi, you will lead the eastern group. Futomaki, the northern. Syaoran, the west. I lead the south. Tomoyo, you and your group remain here with as many healing supplies as possible. If any are wounded, bring them straight here. i want as few deaths as possible." Without another word, I stepped down and to the front of my group. Sakura would be safe in Takashi's group, I knew. Seconds later, I led my group out and into the battle.
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I yanked my sword out of a raider's chest, grimacing at the reek of blood and gore. Death hung in the air around us, and the fighting throbbed around us. We were so tightly packed that once you felled a man, you had to immediately move on to the next or die. Already I'd used up all of my majic, and could only hope that Sakura and Syaoran still had reserves left.
Another man fell, and then another. Hacking, slicing, it didn't matter how I striked. Each man fell dead to my blade, and it sickened me.
I have never been one for the blood, pain, and ugliness of the battlefield. Syaoran had never taken to it either, but after the deaths of his sisters . . . let's just say that Futomaki was lucky Syaoran had enough control over his rage that he didn't want to slice up his spinal cord.
I hate to see people die, but looking around me I had to admit that a battle was amazingly like a dance. Those you fought against were your 'partners', and once you killed them their place was taken by a new 'partner' or 'partners'. It was an intricate waltz, yet still rather like a waltz performed by a Neanderthal. The dancers moved stiffly or fluidly, depending upon their skill or type. Some killed without a second thought, while others only left severe wounds before moving on to their next dancing partner. The pairs wove around each other, both with a pattern and without. So conflicting, but so balanced at the same time. At times it was beautiful, while at others it was terrifying.
Once I realized that battles were rough dances in disguise, I came to terms with myself. I was a reincarnatin of Clow Reed at the beginning of my life, nothing more. But as I grew, and matured, and thought for myself, I became myself. I became a person of my own. Not Clow Reed, not the rich son of the Hiiragizawas, not the sneaky schoolboy of my youth. I was me, no one else. The whole time I spent trying to become a perfect Clow-Clone, I should have spent trying new things, or getting to know myself.
Of all the places to realize this, it had to be upon a battlefield. A battlefield, one of the places I'd always hated the most. Battlefields, where people died so others could live. This was what I was doing myself; dying so Syaoran could live. My purpose had reached out to me, found me, and claimed me.
Releasing what I thought was a mighty battle cry, I slashed my way through the God-forsaken raiders. For a moment, I thought I saw Clow Reed himself fighting among us as well, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. To find the rival gang's leader . . . that was my goal for the moment.
I found him standing just inside the ring of defenses we'd built, not even fighting. The defenses we'd worked so hard on were ruined, ripped to shreds, mangled beyond belief. When Satoshi saw me, he smirked.
The rest of the battle died away in my mind, and I raised my blood-streaked sword. "Go to hell for attacking my gang, you dirty-"
"Ah ah, no cusing in front of the fanfiction readers!" Satoshi scolded me, even wagging a finger in that creepy motherly-sort-of way when you get in trouble again. "You should know better than that, Eriol!"
I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Go to hell for attacking my gang, Satoshi." I repeated in monotone, as if bored.
"Satoshi what?" he tapped a foot imatiently.
"Fine! Go to hell for attacking my gang, Satoshi-sama" I layered on the sarcasm, if you couldn't tell from the italics.
"Eh, close enough. Take it from the top." Satoshi waved me off. I scowled, muttering something unter my breath about roasting him in a vat of purloined pigs' sweat followed by something having to do with a baguette and some sort of dull weapon as I stormed off. Five feet away, I turned around and stormed back.
I raised my blood-streaked sword (again). "Go to hell for attacking my gang, Satoshi!"
He smirked wider. "After you, Hiiragizawa. After you."
"No, after you!" A brown-ish blur fell from what must have been the sky (it was actually a tree). Satoshi just barely managed to block Syaoran's attack, eyes widening upon the sheer strength of my best friend.
"I couldn't have said it better myself, Syaoran. Thanks." I grinned.
A eccentric fight, a couple scuffles, a few well-placed punches and a kick from Syaoran that landed horrifyingly close to Satoshi's personal area, the rival leader was sprawled across the ground with a victorious little wolf sitting quite calmly upon his back.
"No problem, Eriol." Syaoran replied cooly. "Not a problem at all. Right, Satoshi-sama?"
"Argh, little brat . . . right, Syaoran-sama."
"Correction. It is supposed to be 'argh, little wolf', not 'argh, little brat'." Syaoran stated in a regal tone. "I take offense of that 'brat' comment."
"Yeah, yeah." Satoshi rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be protecting your little girlfriend? Sakura, wasn't it? She's surrounded, I'll have you know."
What a wonderful way to make it almost painfully obvious how Syaoran felt about Sakura. He was off Satoshi in a flash, sprinting off in the vague direction of our eastern group.
"Nice save." I told Satoshi as he brushed himself off. "Syaoran-sama's appearance was a nice touch, don't you think?"
He growled at me, standing and dusting off his crumpled clothing. Not that it wasn't crumpled before Syaoran got his hands on Satoshi . . . why was the rival leader smirking at me again? This was not boding well.
Finally, I realized my true purpose. To kill Satoshi, however much I would have liked it (he'd raided us before; it was his same gang that killed Syaoran's sisters), that wasn't why I was facing Satoshi right now with his little smirk. I had to die to help Syaoran achieve his own destiny, and in turn help Syaoran help others achieve their destinies. I had to die. That was the way it had to be.
Thanks Syaoran, for trying, but this is what I have to do.
Fate is a brutal mistress, isn't she?
I stood there alone as Satoshi snapped his fingers. Automatically, I was surrounded in a ring of his men. The pattern alternated here; an archer, a swordsmen, a hand-to-hand fighter, then another archer and a swordsmen, a second hand-to-hand fighter, and so forth. A completely new dance, and one I had not even the slightest clue as to how it went.
"Well now, I may have been beaten by your little protector, but you . . . you die now." Satoshi grinned and snapped his fingers again.
A/N: The next chapter will be hard for me to write in genreal (because of the content and all), so you probably shouldn't expect an uber-fast update. This is the second-to-last time we'll see Eriol . . . did you catch the EriolTomoyo relationship hints:)
As for my challenge: you can guess as much as you want, so keep guessing! You could personally guess fifty times, just guess! The answer is a lot simpler than you think, and there's plenty of hints here in this very chapter! For example, a nudge towards the meaning of Wolven is 'hidden' somewhere in the conversation between Eriol and Syaoran. Just a little clue to help you along . . .
'Til next time . . .