This was probably my favorite to write.

I hope you all enjoy it.

Warning: This part is VERY long compared to the other one. But it's better written.

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PART TWO

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"Syaoran. If you poke my arm one more time, I'm gonna smack you so hard your mother will feel it."

"You sure did bleed a lot, Kuro-san. You sure you're not lightheaded?"

Prod.

"Grah! What did I JUST say?!"

"Something about hitting on my mother."

"I'm going to KILL you!"

The mood was lighthearted in the main hall of the hotel building, owned by his father, and most of the members were all gathered around, smoking or enjoying a drink. As the two fought many of their audience found it exceptionally entertaining, not worried about the sparks that were flying off the two boys. That night was a special one indeed, with the Head's son becomming of age.

Kurogane's right arm was bandaged from the elbow up, small red speckles tainting the white of the gauze. The youth wore what looked to be a jean jacket with the sleeves torn off, due to his arm being sore from the inking only a few hours before, his father also proudly showing off his heavily tattooed arms. He wanted to badly to tear the bandages off and walk around showing off his pride, but he didn't want it getting infected.

There was a mixed chorus of:

"Congrats, kid!"

"Old enough to drive!"

"Old enough to buy cigs!"

"Old enough to walk the streets with your head up high!"

"...I did all of those things before."

"Yeah, maybe at night, kid."

"Still-- Syaoran! Stop touching it!!"

Another fit of laughter.

"You sleep on that side, don't you?"

"Huh? Yes..."

"If you think him poking hurts just wait until you roll over onto it. That's a great way to wake up in the middle of the night."

"Speaking from past experiences, Kousuke-sama?"

"Ha ha. Perhaps."

It was a great feeling, all of them mostly in one just having a great time. The cool air from the oncoming night filled the room in exchange for the haze of smoke that had accumulated due to the amount of chain smokers all in one room, and it felt so nice. Kurogane found himself leaning against his father, who draped an arm around his shoulders, not missing a beat in the conversation he was having. He was silent, of course, due to his enjoying the warm feeling that the room had. His father would say something interesting in the middle of his story-tellings and several people would laugh-- he saw his mother smile dearly, a rare sight with the way she was more than likely feeling.

Everything felt so perfect, so comfortable, so right, he wanted so badly for it to stay that way. He thought about it, what it would be like if things were different, if there weren't people out there who truely hated his father and the Suwa family, if his mother smiled like that all the time...

These happy thoughts wrapped their way around him, and the sound of his father's voice became even more so soothing.

He didn't even realize that he was falling asleep.

-++-

"You realize how hard it was to convince your father to let me take you to this place, right?"

Syaoran sounded somewhat irritated as they slowly made their way down the street, of of them with hands shoved into pockets. The night air was chilly, and the closer they got to their destination the louder the music seemed to get.

"Che."

"You better actually getting sick, Kuro-san. He'll have my head."

"He won't have your head, idiot. And I told you, I'm not getting sick I was just tired."

"You fell asleep during your own party."

"I was tired, Syaoran!"

"Yeah, yeah. Now listen. There's someone I want you to meet who works at this place, alright?"

"Syaoran If you're dragging me to a bar at two in the morning to hook me up with women..."

"No, no. It's nothing like that. You're not her type anyway."

"...type?"

"Well. Yeah. Women have types. Like people that are compadable wi--"

"AUGH! I KNOW what you meant!"

Syaoran had known him long enough to realize that when Kurogane's voice hit a certain pitch, he was going to get hit. This was probably his reason for breaking into a run and snickering, the older letting out a scream before following suit with his fist raised.

Kurogane almost tripped when Syaoran came to an annoying, sudden hault. Ready to flip out and demand an answer of WHY? -- he paused when he realized where they were. A building, the one that all of the music was blaring from. Lifting his gaze he read the poorly painted sign, confused and almost curious.

"'Tsu...basa'? What the hell kind of a name is that for a bar?"

Syaoran didn't bother with answering, instead he just shrugged and started on his way down.

Down.

Kurogane took a moment to note how odd the structure of the building really ways. It didn't have a physical door anywhere, and there wasn't any hinges for one either. The structure of the building seemed old for some reason. Was that on purpose?

"Oi. You comming?"

Oh, right.

"Yeah, yeah." He began boredly, stuffing his hands back in his pockets and starting down the stairs. "This place is weird, Syaoran. How'd you find it?"

"Hmn. Well. It's...sorta hard to miss. Oh! I forgot." Kurogane paused as he watched Syaoran dig through his pockets and pull out what seemed to be a bottle of asprin. "You'll want some of these. It's best to take them before you really get in there. The music can get pretty loud sometimes..."

"You come here often, don't you?" Kurogane asked dully, swiping two pills and downing them.

"I like it here."

Another shrug of the shoulder, and then two of them continued their way down until they reached the bottom.

It was a really shadey place. That was the first thought that hit Kurogane's mind. The walls and floor were stone with a sort of a green, almost moldy tint...and the tables had candles on them. The ceiling was covered in what looked to be different shapes and sizes of Christmas lights...very odd considering the guitar that was blaring from large speakers that had to be somewhere. Kurogane turned to ask Syaoran what the Hell he was thinking...

But Syaoran had already left his side! It wasn't too hard to spot him, he'd run over to the bar as if his life were depending on it...and Kurogane could clearly see why.

Behind the bar stood a girl who looked close to Syaoran's age, and a man who was looking at Syaoran with little intrest as he and the girl spoke excitedly. There was a small moment where Kurogane considered walking right back up those stairs, but Syaoran had waved him over and he was forced to waltz over to the bar.

"Kuro-san. This is Sakura. And her brother Tōya, he's the one that owns the place."

Both he and the tall male exchanged nods, and Sakura smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Kuro-san."

She bowed her head slightly, and then asked Syaoran if he could help her move some crates in the back. Although Tōya looked as if he highly dissaproved, Sakura dragged him back there anyway.

Left alone...five minutes into the game.

And so, he sat listening to the music and taking in his surroundings, rather bored until an interesting noise hit his ears.

"Wheet-whoo."

Kurogane snapped out of his daze, sat up and looked around for whoever the Hell was dumb enought to say 'wheet whoo' rather than actually whistle. Sure enough, his eyes landed on what he thought to be a woman at first...but with a double take realized that was somewhat inaccurate. Right. So very inaccurate.

There was a boy, probably not much older or younger than he himself sitting alone at a table with two bottles before him. Kurogane raised a brow when the blonde motioned him over, paused, looked to his left, his right, and then stood to make his way over.

"You looked lonely." The blonde said, his voice cheerful and calm.

"And you look suspicious."

He watched blue eyes blink in curiousity.

"Suspicious? Why?"

Kurogane didn't bother with answering, but took the seat across from the strange boy anyway. It was suspicious. Period-- even more so when a brown bottle was pushed towards him. There was a small voice in his mind...somewhere far back that shouted 'Oh yes. Lets sit with strangers and drink POISON!', but he did well to ignore it and lift the bottle to his lips and take a sip.

He blinked, not once, but twice and stared at the bottle.

"You don't like Rootbeer?"

"It...wasn't really what I was expecting."

"Are you hurt?"

"Eh? Oh. No...it's nothing like that."

"You got a tattoo? Sounds scary. I don't care for pain much."

"Heh. It wasn't so bad. Not really." Boast.

"You must be brave." The one across from him smiled, and Kuro felt his cheeks tint.

"I am." Boast. Boast.

He felt himself smile. Was he actually having a good time in such an odd place? Maybe. Would he actually admit that to Syaoran later? Of course not.

The boy across from him also seemed to be having a good time, and he was about to ask him for his name...but something in his face stopped him short.

What looked to be worry, and perhaps fear.

He wanted to ask what was wrong, but that question was answered as a shadow loomed over him and most of the table before him.

"Well, well, well." Kurogane felt his body tense slightly as slurred words hit his ears, and the smell of something similar to vodka swarmed over him. It was almost sickening. "What've we got here? A stranger in our lovely tavern?"

Kurogane frowned, and slowly stood, his hand still firmly around the neck of the bottle. Then at the same, slow, calm speed he turned to find three men glaring at him, the smell of alcohol even worse now that he was facing him. He didn't need to see their faces or their clenched fists to know something bad was about to happen. The words spoken a moment were clearly fighting words.

"I think you're a bit young to be in 'ere boy." The first man, the one who smelled the worst slurred, ringed hands raising so that he could crack his knuckles. The two men on either side of him mimiced this action, each pop seeming louder as the did so. "I think we may have to teach this brat a bit 'o a lesson, eh boys?" He smiled some, and took an unbalanced step forward. Kurogane's body tensed even more more as he spoke again. "You must think you're pretty bad assed and special to sit in here, eh? Look at you. You've got nothin'."

That did it. With a swift movement, Kurogane took the bottle he'd been holding into and smashed the end of it against the table. The glass gave in, and rootbeer and shards scattered across the table and onto the floor. There was a chorus of laughter from the three in front of him, and perhaps a few more people scattered around the bar. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few more people stand from thier seats, hungry for a fight.

He took a step back, wanting more room to swing if he had to, his hand raising the broken bottle and his red eyes blaring. The middle man stepped forward again, and his foot slid backwards again-- only to meet the other chair at the table. It seemed he wasn't going anywhere in that direction.

"Nothing to say, kid?" The man asked, his grin so big that it didn't look right on his face.

"I don't speak to trash." Was his smooth reply, dispite the trembling in his knees. He watched as the grin fell right off the man's face and managed a smirk of his own.

Silence.

"Kurogane-san!!"

He made the mistake of turning his head to try to spot where it was Syaoran was, and got a glimpse of him behind the bar, but his vision was instantly ruined as a ringed finger connected with his cheek. He gasped in surprize, and would have fallen backwards-- but one of the other men had reached out and grabbed him by his bandaged arm. This caused him to actually yelp, the noise being cut off as the first man swung again, this time the impact breaking open his skin. Struggling, he managed to free his right arm, the bandage tearing slightly the in the process, and he swung at the one with the rings, hard.

The bottle connected and broke even more against the other's face, and Kurogane saw Syaoran leap over the bar and join in, kicking at someone else who decided to join the fight. Someone got a hold of his arm again, and kicked him so hard in the stomach that he thought the wind would never return to him, and he fell to his knees. The remains of the bottle clattered on the stone beside him, he'd dropped it due to the instinct to hold his stomach. A boot connected with his side, and he would have screamed if he could've, but the air would not return to him.

Talk about the shittiest birthday of your life.

"You fucking idiot! STOP!"

Kurogane lifted his head to see one of the men trying to stop him from getting him in the face again.

"Why the hell should I?!"

"Look at his arm, asshole! He belongs to Suwa!"

The bar seemed to quiet a moment, aside from Syaoran kicking someone in the shin and uttering. For a moment Kurogane thought that the fight was over-- but he was proven terribly wrong when he attempted to stand.

A moment played itself in what seemed to be slow motion. The danerously drunken man had reached for the a bottle off the table, his face dripping with blood due to earlier.

"I. Don't. Care."

There wasn't time to move, Kurogane was stuck in his own mind, watching the man swing the bottle at him.

A blinding pain suddenly took over his whole body, the bottle connecting with the side of his head with such a force that he swayed.

As he fell, he noticed that there weren't colors anymore. The lights on the ceiling were all shades of gray.

His head connected with the stone of the floor.

And then.

Nothing.

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PART TWO

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Hurray! Please review and I'll start working on Part Three!!