Blankly, Sakura stared at her window. Early in the night, an uncontrollable shivering had come over her entire body, despite the coming heat of spring. She'd pulled her blanket up to her chin, adjusted the heat, and even pulled on a thick sweater, but nothing could stop the aching, gnawing frigidity that had enveloped her body.

"Co-cold!" She whispered, tucking her legs under her chin and curling up into the tiniest ball possible. It didn't help; if anything, the shivering only became worst. She could barely feel her fingers or toes; her arms and legs were pinpricks of pain that burned like a thousand red hot needles, and even her chest was vulnerable to the empty, Antarctic feeling. Her stiff, sore heart pumped sluggishly, as if it were trying to push jagged pieces of ice through her body, rather than the life giving blood she needed.

This isn't normal, her body informed her with every frantic shiver. She wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but her mind was trapped under a layer of thick ice, unable to escape and properly command her body.

"Kero-chan," she tried, but her voice was softer than the weakest whisperings of wind, and her faithful friend slept on, unaware of her pain.

"Kero-chan," her tears burned the stiff, frozen skin of her cheeks, like a wildfire unleashed upon a field of ice. "Touya, Daddy, Tomoyo… Syaoran."

Her conscious mind, tired from its futile struggle, finally gave in to the delicious temptation of sleep, and Sakura's eyes sank close.

If there was one thing Kurogane knew about himself, it was that he was honest, almost to the point of cruelty. Kurogane did not cut corners; he did not hide from himself or others. He was straightforward and blunt (tact, what tact?), something at which his mother always shook her head. That's why, as he stared at his water glass with suspicion and disbelief, he felt like a whiny little girl who couldn't face the truth.

That morning, he'd woken up, dragged himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, washed his face, pulled on his school uniform (Sloppily, as it was 7 am), and walked out into the kitchen, wondering about the odd dream he'd had last night.

Then he'd seen that glass, the very same glass that had been in his dream, the one proof he had that the weird, glow-in-the-dark Fay had been real. Cautiously, like a forensic-scientist at a crime scene, Kurogane approached the glass. He examined it from every angle. He took in the fingerprint on the side, the condensation that had formed around the base, and the water's lukewarm temperature, and he decided that the glass had indeed been set out last night. The fingerprint was far too large to have come from his mother's delicate hands, so Kurogane knew it was his own—unless, of course, some robber had broken into their house in the middle of the night in order to get a glass of water, but Kurogane thought that was nearly impossible.

Growling, Kurogane reached his own conclusion about what had happened. Last night Fay had sent some girl of some sort somewhere, and Kurogane, instead of confronting him about it, had run into his room and curled up into a tiny ball like a puppy with its tale between its legs.

Angered by his own reluctance, Kurogane grabbed his book bag and stormed out through the door, slamming it so hard the frame shook. He ignored a fellow student, who had waved to him from across the street, and fisted his hands so tightly his knuckles cracked.

He was a man god damn it! When he got to school, he was going to shake Fay so roughly that the lies and facades would fall to the ground like acorns in the fall. And then Kurogane would break all of them open and they would wither away into nothingness. And then maybe, when Fay smiled at him, there wouldn't be a part of Kurogane that felt that it wasn't quite real.

His frantic rampage stopped as he passed by the local electronics store. The news was airing on the television displayed in the window, which in itself wasn't unusual; however, the teenagers crowding around the shop certainly were.

"Why's everybody crowding around?" Kurogane asked a small girl with braids. She turned to him with wide eyes.

"Don't you know? There was a murder late last night, at about two a.m. It was a girl in eighth grade at Tomoeda Junior High! They haven't decided the cause of death yet, but there were lots of gouges around the area that looked like they were caused by arrows! Arrows of all things," the girl went on, ignoring Kurogane's shocked face. "Who uses arrows in this day and age?"

Kurogane ignored her. All he could think of were Fay's words from last night, and the glowing little girl with a bow in her hands.

Sakura was all alone, isolated in a blackness that almost reminded her of 'The Dark', but the horrifying, terribly cold feeling from before still haunted her heart.

"Where am I?" Her thoughts echoed off the invisible walls of her prison in a disembodied voice she could only vaguely recognize as her own.

She took a step forward and tripped, falling flat on her face. "If only Touya were here to see me," she thought, but at the mention of her brother, several images flashed through her mind's eye, as hard hitting as rocks thrown into a pond, and as lingering as the ripples left behind. Her home, her father, her brother, Tomoyo, Kero-chan, Syaoran… They all seemed distant and unapproachable, as far away as the sun. Still, the memory of them, sharp and bitter, stabbed her heart, and Sakura curled up into a ball, wailing in agony.

"Where am I?"

"Why am I here?"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"Where is everybody else?"

"How did this happen?"

All that surrounded her was darkness and coldness. It was pure torture, leaking into her bones, her heart, and her mind. What was this place?

"Help me!"

Sakura shut her eyes as tightly as she could and prayed with all her heart for a way to leave this place. It was cold, freezing, icy cold, enveloping her, devouring her. She clutched her head, praying for something, anything, to save her.

And suddenly it was warm.

"Sakura-chan?"

Long, pale arms reached down into the water and pulled her to the surface. Sakura gasped for air, leaning into the warm, solid presence that had saved her. Her lungs burned, and each breath felt like the first one she had ever taken. Long, thin hands rubbed comforting circles on her back, and slowly Sakura found it easier to breath.

"Where am I?" She pulled away, only to see Fay-san, the class president, looking down at her with a worried smile.

"You're in my bathroom," he told her, a bit of bemusement leaking into his calm voice. It was only then that Sakura realized that she was indeed lying in a bathtub, her pajamas soaked and clinging to her skin. Fay wore only a towel, a dark blue one that sat low enough on his waist that Sakura could see his skinny hipbones. Her head was resting on his collar bone. His skin was moist from the steam in the bathroom and surprisingly soft.

"Kyaah! I am sorry for invading your privacy!" Sakura pulled away from Fay, their closeness making her dizzy and flustered. Her sudden movement caused her to slip on the bottom of the tub, and her head slammed into the tiled wall.

"Ouch ouch ouch ouch!" Sakura complained, rubbing the sore spot. Her pain was interrupted by Fay's cheerful laughter.

"Japanese people are so funny," he explained, "worrying about manners even when they are in trouble."

Fay pulled on a fluffy white robe and unfolded a fresh towel for his impromptu guest. "You should dry off; I will get you a change of clothes, though I do not know if I have anything appropriate for a lady!"

Sakura grabbed the towel as Fay walked towards the door. Just as he was about to close it, Sakura remembered the terrible feeling of aloneness which had cloaked her in the world of misery. How had she gotten there? How had she gotten here? Sakura knew there were answers somewhere, but they eluded her unfocused mind like a clever cat eludes an angry dog.

"W-wait!" Sakura held out a hand, carefully climbing out of the bathtub. "Don't you want to know how I appeared in your bathroom?"

Sakura slammed a hand over her mouth at that, wondering why she said something so unintelligent.

"Where I come from, there is a saying; 'some things are better left unsaid.' If Sakura-chan wishes to tell me how she ended up in my bathroom at seven in the morning then I will listen intently, but if Sakura-chan wishes to keep the information secret then we will not talk about it. Of course," Fay's eyes shone with a mischievous glint that Sakura saw frequently in Tomoyo's eyes when they passed the local fabric store, "this means that Sakura-chan will owe me as well!"

Fay closed the door lightly behind him, and Sakura smiled as she clutched the fresh towel to her cheek. Considering Fay's words, she was left with warmth in her heart and a chill running down her spine. Fay was a smart, colorful upperc lass man who seemed a little overzealous at times, but Sakura was sure that he was a kind person.

Kurogane was annoyed. Fay hadn't come to school today. He was sitting alone in room 9-D with Tomoyo, who was humming to herself as her fingers danced across the computer's keyboard. As the school secretary, it was her job to create flyers for the upcoming dance; Kurogane thought she was a little too excited for the entire thing. After all, the first thing she had done when she'd walked into the room was hold out a measuring tape and demand Kurogane's measurements.

Allowing his head to fall backwards, Kurogane peeked out the window. The Sakura trees that littered Tomoeda had started to blossom just as the school year started, and the pink flowers continued to dance on the light spring breeze. Just watching them reminded Kurogane of his childhood, when his parents would take him to the Tomoeda Central park everyday in the spring to watch the cherry blossoms bloom. They would sit underneath a tree, slowly sipping their sake, while Kurogane slid down the king Penguin and sword fought other little kids with twigs carelessly plucked from their spots littering the ground.

"Finished!" Tomoyo announced, printing off the flyers. Tomoeda Junior high considered itself a rather progressive school, and because the surrounding area was fairly well off, there was a computer and printer in each classroom for use by both the students and the teachers.

"All we have to do now is pass these out to the class representatives to hang around the school!"

The class representatives were members of the student council chosen by the teachers in each grade, based off their grades and their interactions with other students. Because these other students were usually in other clubs, they only showed up in the student council every Friday in order to keep updated and fulfill the duties the main council set up for them. There were two representatives from each class, one male and one female. Fay called them "Council members-light" or CMLs because of their limited duty.

Tomoyo stacked the flyers into six separate piles, and while she did so she asked conversationally, "so, are you going to ask Fay-san to next Satuday's dance?"

Kurogane fell out of his seat, blushing madly. "What are you talking about? Why would I ask that idiot to go out to anything?"

He tried to control his mad pulse, telling himself that dances were miserable concoctions for the lovesick and weak who tried to use the excuse of a public affair to weasel closer to each other. Besides, he didn't like Fay; he could barely stand the guy. He just had a little problem where the bottom half of his body didn't agree with his mind. Just because he wanted Fay to be honest with him didn't mean he wanted to take the guy to a dance; he was just mad because Fay was a big fat liar.

"Oh, I just thought," Tomoyo tapped the side of her mouth lightly, "it would be something Fay-san would like."

The idiot probably would like it too. His eyes would get all wide and touched for a second before he hid it with a smile and said something ridiculous like 'Kuro-chan wants me to dance with him! I never knew Kuro-sama was the type who was light on his feet!' And then they'd get to the dance and Fay would lean his head on Kurogane's shoulder, and be quite for once, and Kurogane would be embarra—angered by the fact that everybody was staring at them instead of dancing like they were supposed to because it was a dance and all.

"Whatever," he grumbled, before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Kurogane wanted to dream. He wanted to believe that something like that might be possible, but he had always been a realist. He was sure, at least, that Fay enjoyed the company of both men and women. His vision always turned a rather violent shade of red when he saw Fay staring at the eighth grade girls' volleyball team or the ninth grade boys' soccer team, and there was a certain amount of pride that Kurogane felt when Fay's eyes lingering on his body—not that he would ever admit to enjoying being sized up like a piece of meat in front of a hungry cat, but that didn't mean Fay would magically fall into Kurogane's clutches if he asked the other boy to dance.

Kurogane was so lost in thought that he didn't notice that he had wandered into the stair way until the boy Sakura had been with yesterday ran into him. Kurogane stumbled back a little, grabbing the rail in order to regain his balance, but the much smaller boy bounced off of Kurogane like a rubber ball, and he would've fallen down the stairs if Kurogane hadn't grabbed his outstretched arm.

"Oi. You shouldn't run down up the stairs so recklessly," Kurogane told him as the boy regained his footing.

"I apologize," the boy murmured, before he ran past Kurogane, up the stairs, and out of sight.

Kurogane took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short, spiked hair. "Whatever."

From the way Sakura had to roll Fay's jeans up four times to keep them from dragging on the floor, she had to wonder if Fay had ever been as short as her. With a sigh, Sakura tucked the baby blue shirt she was wearing into the jeans in an effort to keep the loose material from falling down around her feet. Fay's shirt fell to her upper thighs, so it didn't really matter too much, Sakura supposed, but it would be more embarrassment than she would be able to stand.

"Are you finished dressing, Sakura-chan?" Fay asked from the other side of the door. Sakura nodded, and then, remembering that Fay couldn't see her, blushed deep red.

"Yes," she called out, twiddling her thumbs while she bounced lightly on the edge of Fay's Western style bed. Fay's room wasn't anything like she expected. For one thing, the entire room was spotless in a way she thought only professional cleaners could achieve, and it was also completely dull. Instead of the cool blues and grays Sakura was expecting, the walls were painted a flat white that reminded Sakura of hospital walls. The bed frame was plain and wooden, and the mismatched furniture was worn down yet without any of the personality older pieces generally had. White curtains hid—rather than framed—the smallish window, and the only vaguely personal piece Sakura could see was a rather worn out cat plush that lay abandoned in the corner.

The room looked rather large, but in Sakura's opinion that only added to its loneliness. Even though the sunlight came in through the window, it reminded Sakura of the cold, dark space she had been imprisoned in only moments ago.

Fay walked in carrying two large, steaming mugs with a practiced ease—no surprise because according to the gossipy eighth grade girls, Fay worked evenings at a small restaurant that served foreign cuisine. In fact, the eighth and ninth grade girls seemed to know a lot of about Fay, small things, things that didn't really matter. For instance, Fay was right handed, had trouble using chopsticks, and slipped back into an accent if it had been a long day. They knew he always arrived at school early, and that he made top grades, though chemistry and home economics were his best classes by far. A lot about nothing, Syaoran had told her when she asked him about it over the phone. That's all those girls knew. They spent so much time simply watching their ideal Fay that they missed who he really was.

As Sakura took the mug from Fay's tray, she found that she didn't envy him in the slightest for all the attention he received. She'd rather have one person know a little about her than a group of people knowing a lot about nothing. That would probably have to be one of the saddest things.

The cup smelled like heaven, and Sakura's stomach growled. "Thank you," she muttered, before taking a cautious sip of the cocoa to hide her blushing cheeks. The gleeful taste of melted chocolate, milk, and just a touch of cinnamon eased her throat and warmed the parts of her heart that had been left frozen by the dream.

"This is amazing!" Sakura exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. Fay smiled at her warmly.

"It's my own secret recipe. If you would like, I could teach you," he told her, cradling his mug in both hands and leaning back into his bed post. It was weird, sitting on a bed with a person she barely knew—a boy no less!—sipping hot chocolate and exchanging personal information, but at the same time it seemed completely natural. Sakura had always been the type of person who reached out to everybody around her; she was as kind to people she had just met as she was to her long time friends. Every person she met touched a part of her heart, so near and dear to her that sometimes she felt like she might explode. She didn't know if that were a good or bad thing, if it was foolish or wise, but it was who she was, something that made Sakura Sakura.

Fay touched a part of her heart; not the pulsing, passionate side that belonged to Syaoran, or the nurturing side that belonged to Tomoyo, or even the fond, strung together part that belonged to her family and close friends. Fay seemed to fit in her heart somewhere between the cards and Kero-chan and Yue, on the border between magic and unfamiliarity, danger and adventure.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Sakura nodded, taking another sip of her cocoa and wondering how she would explain to Syaoran and the others that she'd had a terrible nightmare, only to wake up in the class president's bathroom.

During lunch, Kurogane casually strolled past the gates to the school. In seventh grade he had perfected the art of skipping. The whole idea was to look cool and composed, completely and utterly confident, like you knew what you were doing and had a reason to be out of class. Those people who ran for it or shifted their eyes side to side were always caught. Kurogane walked briskly, but not with panic. He had no pre-planned excuse lest he got caught; thinking too much was why most people didn't get away. As it was, nobody paid a second thought as Kurogane strolled down the street, hands stuffed in his pockets, heading towards one of the residential neighborhoods in Tomoeda.

The sun shone brightly, the Sakura petals glowed pink in the midday sun, and a light breeze rustled the grass, but Kurogane noticed none of it. He was a man on a mission. There was a dead girl lying on the street somewhere, bystanders gawking at her corpse like it was the newest fashion instead of a person who had lived, thought, and felt, and Kurogane knew it might have something to do with Fay.

Fay's house was a two-story white affair, a picket fence lining the front of the house and sleek solar paneling lining the roof. A mixture of Western traditional and scientifically advanced, it had an automatic sprinkler shower the grass while carefully hand-tended flowers bloomed under Fay's father's loving hands.

Kurogane vaulted over the fence gate and strolled up the path to Fay's house. The idiot hadn't been at school today, so this was his first bet as to where he could be. He was about to knock on the door when his cell phone rang.

Irritated, he reached his hand into his pocket, shuffling through his spare change to find his cell. Only a few people knew his number: Fay, his mother, the phone company, and the vice president of the kendo club. Of those people, the only ones who ever dared to call him were Fay and his mother (the phone company had stopped after Kurogane had issued a few creative curses). If Fay was calling him, it'd solve a few of his more outstanding problems, and if his mother was calling him he'd be an ill mannered idiot to ignore it.

"Hello," he finally answered.

Kurogane listened carefully to the unfamiliar voice on the phone, nearly falling to his knees from shock.

"I'll be right there," he promised, hanging up quietly and turning away from Fay's doorway.

His father, who had been missing for years, had just been found. Dead.

At around noon, Sakura headed home, waving goodbye to Fay and promising to wash and return his clothes. She felt funny, wearing a pair of too large flip flops under obviously masculine clothes, but at this time of day nobody was out and about. Most men were at work and most housewives were preparing lunch.

Sakura cautiously snuck into her house, cringing as the door shut a little too loudly. Her father would have already left for work—now that she was in middle school he no longer stayed home to see her off—but only god knew where Touya was. While he no longer had his magic powers to tell him when Sakura was out and about, his over-protective brother senses were almost just as accurate and a lot more dangerous.

She was just creeping up the stair, hopping over the second one which had developed a creek the last month, and holding her breath like a fugitive sneaking out of prison when she heard a gigantic yawn from the direction of her brother's room.

She froze like a deer in headlights, praying that maybe her brother would be too tired to notice her if she just held still. She wished she had 'the little' right now, so that she could shrink herself down to a size so small that nobody would notice her.

What she saw was definitely not what she expected. Yukito, wearing a pair of low slung pajama bottoms Sakura was ninety-nine percent sure were her brother's and a ruffled t-shirt, stepped into the hall, gently closing the door behind him. He had a kind, satisfied smile on his face, the likes of which Sakura had only ever seen after he had finished a particularly large meal.

The two eyed each other. Sakura took in the hickies dotting Yukito's neck; Yukito registered the rolled up jeans and gigantic flip flops.

"I fell into a bathtub—"

"Sakura, your brother and I—"

"And the Sakura cards—"

"Why don't we bring my other side out?"

Giant, white wings enveloped Yukito, hiding his form from Sakura's eyes, and when they fluttered away from his figure, Yue stood there, his arms folded over his chest.

"Why does it seem like I rarely have any say in our life?" Yue questioned, but there was a fondness in his voice that told Sakura he didn't mean it. Sometimes, Sakura envied those two. Most of the time she didn't; she imagined how annoying it would be to have another voice always stuck in her head (the one that appeared in hers sounded suspiciously like Kero-chan) and felt glad that her mind was her own, but sometimes, in the dead of the night, when Kero-chan was tucked away in his desk drawer and Sakura was all alone, she envied them. After all, no matter what, they would never be alone. They would always have each other.

"Do you sense that?" Yue asked suddenly, startling Sakura out of her reverie.

"Sense what?" Sakura asked, even as she focused her senses. It took a second; nothing had gone wrong in Tomoeda lately, and as a result, Sakura had unwittingly blocked out part of her sixth sense. It felt like she was staring through a pair of blurred glasses.

Then it hit her; the magic she felt was a card, not a Clow Card, but a Sakura card. She had been ignoring the signal because she hadn't been able to sense and recognize her own power without immense concentration.

Darting down the hall and into her room, Sakura pulled the Sakura cards out of the top desk drawer. Frantically, she ran her hands through the cards. Several of them pulsed with energy, but at least ten of them felt dull—cold and lifeless like the trading cards little boys bought at the grocer's. Arrow, Maze, Mist, Light, Mirror, Voice, Erase, Earthy, Firey, and Shield were all gone.

"Yue-kun!" Sakura shouted in alarm, but Yue's alert eyes were already scanning Sakura's room.

"Where is Kerberos?" He asked, his voice low.

Sakura gasped, pulling out Kero-chan's usual drawer. Kero-chan stared up at her with dull, lifeless eyes. Fighting back the tears in her eyes, Sakura gently lifted her dear friend from his room. His tale hung limply, his arms and legs remained in an uncomfortable sitting position. He was as stiff and lifeless as a brand new toy.

"KERO-CHAN!" Sakura screamed.

Kurogane didn't see the body. His mother insisted that he didn't. The funeral would be small, just him and his mother and a priest to perform the final rights. And now was the painful part, the part when he had to look into his mother's eyes and know that things would never be right again. A part of his mother had broken when she'd heard the news. Her eyes, once filled with life, gleamed dully in the sunlight.

She had lived for him. Every day she had hoped he would come home. It had taken her six months to stop setting him a place at the table. She still slept on her side of the bed, left his pillow untouched, kept his toothbrush lying in its holder. His clothes were still in the drawers. His slippers still sat by the door. To her, he had wandered their house every day.

"Mother," he started, but she put a hand to lips.

"You look so much like him," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "You've grown so much and I've ignored you in favor of a ghost. He would be ashamed of me." She smiled a little to herself, a deep, intensely personal smile that Kurogane knew he would never understand. She walked towards a drawer at the foot of her bed with a grace that reminded Kurogane of her past as a priestess.

Opening the ancient, creaking drawer, she pulled out a relic Kurogane thought he'd never live to see again. A sword, with a hilt carved to the semblance of a golden dragon, stared at him from his mother's careful embrace.

"The ginryuu is hereditary. It's been passed down from father to son for over five hundred years. Now it is your turn." She held out the weapon like an offering. Kurogane took three faltering steps towards her. With a calm, strong arm—his father had taught him that he must always be in control of his emotions when he handled a sword, lest the sword controlled him—he took it out of his mother's arms.

The comforting weight was lighter than Kurogane had expected. When he was a kid it had seemed so much heavier. Kurogane's eyes traveled from the intricate sheath to the curved scabbard. Holding his father's sword in his hands, he felt closer to being complete than he ever had before.