This chapter goes a bit slower.. I don't think you guys would mind though? :P

Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles and its characters do not belong to me. This chapter is rated M for mentions of sex.

when flight falls short

(Part 5)

It happened on the sixth night, whilst they were lying still in the car, windows drawn partway down so the cool, dry air drifted lazily in over them.

"Fai-san," Sakura ventured quietly. "I was... I was thinking."

He turned in his reclined seat to meet her gaze, sharp and alert for how tired she had seemed during dinner. It was late; he had been lying awake and staring at the ceiling, wallowing in his (sad, guilty) thoughts before Sakura stopped attempting to sleep and spoke instead. "What is it, Sakura-chan?" he answered just as softly.

"Well, the other day," she began, her forehead creasing, eyes dulling with memory. "At the mall, when we were searching for the feather, the shop we stopped in had that room Syaoran-kun and I weren't allowed to enter." At his nod, she continued, "Why— Why do people need things like lingerie? Or, well, or the things in the adults-only room? I know it's something adults in love do, but— I— I'm sorry if that's too forward a question—"

There must have been some surprise on his face, because she faltered. "No, no, don't apologize," he hurried to say. "It's a good question."

He realized that he didn't know if she'd known things like that before she lost her memories, and whether it was in his place to pass such information on to her. (Was he even qualified— Talking about this with Sakura made him feel so very old.) When she continued to look at him, he asked cautiously, "How much of adulthood do you know?"

The princess blushed. "I— I'm not sure. I don't have all my memories back, but it feels as if I should know... The maids in the palace were always giggling about something, and I can't recall what it was."

Fai pursed his lips. He knew, for a fact, that Kurogane was awake in the other car, and could clearly hear whatever was being said. Syaoran, he wasn't so sure about. The princess was aware of none of this. All the same, though, Syaoran was probably of age, and Fai didn't know if he'd received that talk from anyone at all (the boy looked so lost sometimes). Perhaps it would do them all a favor if he explained the intricacies of adulthood this way—all the better because the children could blush all they want, and not have to look at each other in the face.

(Maybe Kurogane would benefit from it too. Who knew?)

"Well," he said, making sure to speak just loudly enough so his voice would carry, but not so much that his intentions were obvious, "I'll start by explaining the fundamentals, I guess. You see, when boys grow into men, and when girls grow into ladies, their bodies change. I think you already know that, don't you, Sakura-chan?"

The princess watched him in embarrassed silence, but nodded and held his stare. He admired her for her bravery.

"As adults, people have different priorities—they work, (they lead kingdoms, just like your brother) they build homes, and sometimes they have families." Here, Fai paused, and forcibly removed thoughts of blue eyes from his mind, his breath hitching. He shifted his weight to lie back, staring at the ceiling. "People want families for different reasons. I— I can't tell you all the reasons, but sometimes their bodies tell them to. Sometimes it's just to carry on a lineage."

(What a joke his lineage turned out to be.)

Sakura gulped; he lifted his eyebrows, asked gently, "Would you like me to continue?" She smiled, so he did. "Sometimes people don't want families, sometimes they do. Either way, when two people like each other enough, I guess, there is an attraction between them."

(He could imagine Mokona asking, Like Fai and Kurogane? but he shoved that out of his mind, too.)

"It isn't just limited to an emotional attraction. Sometimes, people are physically attracted to each other—they like each other's bodies." (Like a large hand cupping his hip and fingers digging into his skin—) At her uncomfortable silence, he added, "Well, you don't have to act on that attraction, you know. Or if someone you aren't interested in is attracted to you. It's not expected of you to reciprocate those feelings, or do what you don't want to. Remember that, okay?" Sakura nodded. "Back to our discussion: whether it be emotional or physical attraction, sometimes people have sex."

She flushed at the word; he paused.

"Simply put, lingerie and other adult things are really to enhance the experience of sex. Sometimes people look to change things up in the bedroom, and sometimes they want to turn their partners' thoughts in that direction. Wearing lingerie is like wrapping a gift—sometimes one uses it to feel pretty, sometimes one uses it to entice."

"Oh. Will I need lingerie?" Sakura whispered. Her glance flickered towards the door, beyond which Kurogane's car was parked.

Fai smiled at that. "You're plenty beautiful, Sakura-chan. I'm sure that anyone who is interested in you will not require the use of additional accessories to see how beautiful you are. But if you'd like to change things up in an established relationship, they're an option."

The poor girl was so furiously red that he half-expected her to burn up. "O-Okay."

"That said," he added on a cautionary note, in case the princess and the boy ever got it into their heads to move past stuttering around each other, "There are consequences to sex—the most important being the possibility of pregnancy." Fai thought the girl might faint. He raised his eyebrows; she mumbled shakily for him to go on. (Was Syaoran listening and blushing just as hard? He would have snickered if Sakura hadn't been hanging on to his every word.) "I'm sure you know just how heavy that consequence is."

She nodded again, muttering, "We had to release some palace maids who were heavily pregnant—I didn't see them for some time."

He hummed in agreement.

"Well, there are different ways of avoiding it, of course." There had been various medical texts on Celes that he'd been through when he found that he couldn't wield restorative magics; some of them included non-magical forms of pregnancy-prevention, that he hadn't thought useful until now. "The withdrawal method—that is, when a man removes himself from a woman to avoid planting his seed in her. It isn't a foolproof method, and I'd suggest avoiding that," he added dryly. Sakura stared at him in horror. "I'm sure that in advanced worlds like this, there are physical barriers available to people who aren't ready for pregnancy.

"The other option is to engage in forms of sex which won't result in pregnancy," he continued. (Kurogane would murder him if he ever walked in on the kids having any sort of sex at all.) "Part of why people have sex is the pleasure it creates—it can be brought about with hands and mouths, and there might not be any need for sexual intercourse at all."

"I don't know how to do any of that," Sakura whispered, mortified. She glanced towards the other car again. "What if— What if I disappoint Sy— W-well, that is, what if I make mistakes?"

Fai tried to smile reassuringly at her. "Well, if you choose to share this intimacy with a person who cares for you, Sakura-chan, then they really won't mind if you make mistakes. He'll forgive you."

(At least, Syaoran would. Fai wasn't so sure about other people he wasn't going to name.)

"I— I know that, but... well." Here, she colored deeply once again. "Will— Will you teach me how? That is, if— if you know— You seem like you would know many things, Fai-san."

He froze and swallowed, blinking at her to hide his disbelief. The princess was asking him to educate her on pleasuring someone? (Someone who was probably awake in the other car and listening by now, no less.) It was probably a good idea to make light of the situation—heaven knew the girl would probably faint halfway through this otherwise. As it was, her brother would probably slaughter Fai if he found out.

"Please?" she mewled, and he found he could not resist.

"Well, all right," he said, deliberately lightly, easing a smile onto his face so it wouldn't be so awkward in the car. "Now, the first thing you probably need to know is that, in sex, there is one part of a man where he would like to be touched most." (He wasn't about to explain anal ministrations, not right now.) "When he's aroused, it rises at his groin, like... like a sword."

It really did not help that there were two swordsmen in the next car. No.

"There really isn't much to it," he continued, meeting Sakura's gaze kindly and absolutely not thinking about that night in Nagare. "You see, this part of a man very much likes pressure and heat. Stroking this... this sword with your hand works well enough, I would think, but if you'd like to add a little something to it..."

Fai trailed off at this point, looked slyly at the girl. (She stole a glance towards the other car.) It was nice sharing secrets like that, even if they were absolutely filthy. If she could witness gory fights and death and destruction, then surely a little bit of sexual knowledge wouldn't kill her. He could live with that reasoning. Better yet, he was preparing her for her future life with Syaoran (however hopeless that future was). They would thank him for this. The princess nodded fervently.

"You'd have to use your mouth," he confided with a little smile. "And your tongue. You see, it feels very, very good when you take him into your mouth and suck, though not to the extent that you choke. You can vary the pressure and the rhythm, keeping as much contact with him as you can."

(There had been fingers gripping tight in his hair when he did that.)

"The most sensitive part of his... sword is the underside of the entire length—that is, the part facing you," he continued. "If you dragged your tongue gently along this side, he would feel very, very good. More so when you stroke the sac of skin underneath. Even the most cantankerous of men would groan and lose control at that."

(Sweat had gleamed over a sculpted chest; tendons in his neck had strained, and he had been forced down hard on that very delectable length.)

A low, violent curse erupted from the next car, accompanied by a thump, and Fai nearly lost his smile. Sakura looked the direction of their companions, but did not peek out of the window. "Fai-san?" she breathed. She clearly wasn't dim, because her gaze was shifting back and forth between him and the other car in the next instant, the permanent blush on her cheeks darkening all over again. "Why is Kurogane-san—"

"Well, that was just a theoretical example," he answered lightly, waving her question off. "I'm not talking about my own experiences, you know."

(Except he was. And if the memory had destabilized his breathing and caused a slight discomfort in his pants, he certainly was not acknowledging it.)

Sakura parted her lips, as if she was on the verge of asking a question about Kurogane, but shut her mouth at the last moment, smiling gratefully at him. "I really appreciate you telling me all this, Fai-san."

He grinned back at her. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't. I'll keep it in mind."

But Kurogane had known exactly who he was talking about, and if Syaoran was awake, he would have inferred just as much from that explosive reaction.

Fai wasn't thinking about it, he really wasn't. Syaoran had looked traumatized enough the first morning in this place as it was. (All the same, release would be something very pleasant to have.)

"You should probably go to sleep now, Sakura-chan," he told her, listening as the door on the other car slammed, and footsteps quietly stalked away. The princess looked around in surprise at the noise, but smiled and nodded at him.

It was a while before her breathing evened out. By then, he'd stopped smiling, returning time and again to those memories in the dark—in Nagare, and in that dark bathroom on the first night here, when Kurogane had pinned him to the wall. He remembered the desperate groping, the other man growing wet for him, and swallowed hard. It really did not help that he was acutely aware of the fact that Kurogane had not returned to his car. Was he sleeping elsewhere, or was he—

Against his better judgement, he left the car, limped with his sturdy cane quietly over to the stairwell, which was the only place the ninja could be on the otherwise empty rooftop.

The door creaked open when he pushed at it with his fingertips; wine-red eyes glowed at him from the dimness within. Fai swallowed hard, closed the door firmly shut behind them. Their breathing was very loud in that tiny space.

Like before, there weren't any words exchanged when Kurogane pushed him into the wall, ducked down so their lips crashed and melded, opening and sharing slick heat. Their hips ground together; he gasped. He wasn't sure which of them was the first to begin reaching for the other, not when his blood was pounding in his ears and in his groin, and he ached for sweet wet warmth just as much as he wanted to coax all semblance of composure away from the larger man. Kurogane reached into his pants, curled large fingers around him, and he shivered.

Tonight, he decided, he wasn't going to think about consequences.

("She didn't need that talk."

"Which talk, Kuro-pyon?" A pause, a swallow. "You have good taste in wine."

"Tch. That one. Last night."

"Sakura-chan asked for it, you know."

"She's still a kid."

He chuckled lowly this time. "Are you sour about it because she's young, or because it was a talk about grown-up things?"

Silence echoed around them for a bit, interspersed with distant sounds of traffic.

"Are you blushing, Kuro-sama?"

"I am not."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. Shut up and drink."

"One bottle isn't enough for the two of us. You should buy a bigger one next time."

"Buy it yourself, idiot.")

They made it all the way to the weekend before the next wrinkle manifested.

"I've been looking forward to today. It's been a while since we got to rest," Sakura reflected cheerily over breakfast. The children had finally ceased to blush as horribly around each other after Fai's lesson on sex the other night—something Fai was grateful for. (He didn't need the reminder of what had happened after that talk.) "Syaoran-kun and I were thinking of going to a few places."

"Oh?" he glanced at the princess, dishing a large pile of sausages and toast onto a paper plate for Kurogane. Over the nine-day week, they'd accumulated a small fortune and purchased a tiny but workable toaster oven; the appliance was proving very useful in the provision of warm breakfasts. Neither he nor Kurogane were particular about needing hot food; Sakura especially appreciated it, however, and Syaoran was heartened by her joy. "Where?"

Kurogane yanked his plate away before Mokona could launch herself at it; Fai smiled at their antics. ("You have your own food," Kurogane snapped in the background, while Mokona tried to dive into his breakfast anyway. "Makes me wish we're eating out of those damn plastic bags from before.")

"I thought of going to the library," Syaoran announced between bites of a purple, pear-like fruit. "We'll spend the morning there. Sakura-hime wants to go to the mall in the afternoon."

Fai stiffened, kept the smile on his face. "The mall? Is there something you need, Sakura-chan?"

The princess blushed and shook her head. "No, not really. It's just that there were so many things there, it's almost like a market," she gushed, green eyes bright with excitement. "I'd love to visit a marketplace, to see if there's anything like the one in Clow Country. Maybe we can visit the cafe you're working at, Fai-san!"

Dread dropped into his stomach like a heavy piece of rock; he stared at her for a while, smiled wider. "Ah, no," he began slowly, scrabbling for something to say without disappointing the girl. "It's a— It's a cafe for adults only, Sakura-chan, I'm sure you wouldn't want to see something like that."

Both children flushed.

Kurogane glanced shrewdly over at his answer, losing a sausage to Mokona in the process. Fai didn't bother informing him about the theft.

Sakura's excitement diminished anyway; he winced inwardly. "Well, that is to say, I'm sure it's boring to you, Sakura-chan. But I do know of a marketplace on this island!"

Somehow, he managed to cheer the children back up with his descriptions of the fruit-and-vegetable bazaar—he'd had time to explore the island after work, after all—and relaxed when they began to focus on their altered plans for the day, chattering with much enthusiasm between themselves.

"You're working today?" Kurogane's low question cut beneath their voices.

Fai turned to smile blandly at him. "Why, yes, Kuro-pon. Are you?"

"Yeah," Kurogane revealed after a pause. The ninja continued to study him with that closed-off stare, and Fai knew that he'd caught the blatant lie about the cafe. Kurogane did not mention anything of it, though, instead turning back to his food and muttering, "At least we aren't eating sweet crap all the time here."

"The children like my cooking!" Fai informed him indignantly, propping fists on his hips. "It's you who doesn't have a refined taste, Kuro-daddy. If you weren't so picky about food, maybe you might even—"

"You need to shut up," Kurogane said lowly. What had Fai's mouth going dry, though, was the piercing gaze that held his, framed by dark lashes, and the strong jaw that didn't detract from full, moist lips. (Not to mention the hard, defined muscles rising and falling beneath his hand the other night, and the thick thigh between his—)

Fai gulped, turned back to his own food. He really needed to... to think about something other than Kurogane. Something less dangerous. (But wasn't he the lethal one?)

He focused on the piano in the mall instead. Yeah. That would work.

Kurogane swore at himself. He hadn't anticipated that he, of all people, would be the one resorting to lying by omission. He had lied, fucking lied. All because of the damn mage.

Granted, he had worked today. It was only the morning shift, but the idiot hadn't clarified which it was, so it had been a half-truth.

It still ate at him nonetheless.

He slammed the car door shut behind him, locked it, and strode towards the mall, doing a constant sweep of his surroundings for signs of danger. There wasn't any—shoppers milled about on the wide, palm-lined boulevard, which had glass railings on the sides and cars flying high above, and stepped into the mall, all over again.

The closed atmosphere, filled with so many people that it sounded like a low, incomprehensible murmur washing all around him, prickled his skin. It felt almost like a battlefield; there was the constant press of bodies, but no metallic sword clangs or firing of guns, just a bunch of glossy shopping bags that banged into his knees every so often.

What caught his immediate attention, though, were the lush notes of music that chimed around him, that sounded very similar to the piano the idiot had purchased back in Outo but never played, and the princess tested hesitant keys on. (Syaoran had proclaimed that she played well anyway.) Except the pianist here clearly knew what they were doing, and if Kurogane deigned to admit, was actually pretty good.

He filed the sound in his mind, flicking his gaze over the various lit storefronts on this level, which were swarmed with people, unlike the only other day he'd set foot into this place. It was the same through the worlds—where there was peace, people flocked to shops and marketplaces on their days off. (Tomoyo enjoyed visiting the bazaars around Shirasagi castle on occasion; the mere thought sent an hollow ache through his gut.)

Kurogane moved through the crowd easily—people tended to flow around him—and figured that the cafe the wizard was working at was probably one hidden away from plain sight. For all that he'd glossed over his workplace details, Fai's stiffness this morning had clearly revealed that he was working at the mall, and had not wanted to risk the children catching sight of him. It was definitely not an adult-oriented cafe, either. The idiot hadn't lied when they discussed their new jobs privately; yet, what kind of cafe would allow him to afford paying for showers every night? And why would he go to such lengths to conceal a job?

He wandered around the first level of the mall, ducking into corridors leading to busy little shops behind the ones facing the central escalator well. There weren't cafes there; he headed one floor down, and decided to look over the escalator railings to see if it was that same tall woman in the Outo bar on the keys.

Wispy cornsilk hair on a head bent over the keyboard, clean white sleeves wrapped around thin arms, and long, pale fingers that he was exceedingly, intimately familiar with.

Kurogane bit his tongue before he swore aloud. This was the job the idiot mage was trying to hide? Playing a damn fucking piano?

As if Fai sensed his fury, or his attention, he shifted slightly, looking up just as Kurogane straightened and pulled himself away from the edge of the escalator. There was no pause in the music to indicate whether he'd recognized him, though Kurogane wasn't too concerned about what-ifs. Instead, he quenched his irritation, stepped off the escalator and stood a little ways back from the railings around the well.

From this angle, he could still watch the mage on the piano without being seen. The man had his eyes closed, and his hands danced over the keys like swift-footed deer, chasing a melody that was soothing and calm, a lullaby from somewhere. What surprised Kurogane most, aside from the twit playing a piano in secret, was the fact that there wasn't a damn mask on that stupid face—or at least, there wasn't any resembling artificial happiness.

Fai looked... calm. Not frightened or sad or haunted, just... peaceful. It wasn't an unfamiliar countenance; Kurogane had seen it before—it was a look the mage wore when they'd had sex and the blond was coming down from his release, before he gathered his wits about him again. (For sure, it wasn't a hateful expression.)

Why would he go through such lengths to drop that brainless facade? Kurogane frowned, leaned against a marble-lined wall and folded his arms. That Fai found joy (if it could be called that) in something at all made him very human, more so than the persona he tried to hide behind. Kurogane refused to think of it as an endearing trait.

(Yet he could imagine Tomoyo sending him that sideways look, the one that was so knowing, like when he'd sworn never to bow to anyone and ended up pledging himself to her.)

Those scars on Fai's fingertips—were they from the piano? Kurogane frowned. The blond was admittedly good at playing the instrument (it was easy to see how he'd landed this job) but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine a mess of scars like that resulting from someone playing a fucking piano. There weren't even sharp edges on that damn thing. Were those scars and Fai's musical history even related? What had he to hide from even the children, to not be able to reveal even this harmless facet of himself?

Why was he so scared?

As far as Kurogane was concerned, the past wasn't something one held in front of himself. There was too much going on in the present to look back—did Fai not know that? (But Fai had used his magic to save the princess on two occasions now. Surely he knew the importance of not being restricted by his ghosts.)

The current melody trailed off; there was a moment's pause, and when Fai began playing again, it was to a light, thoughtful tune that tugged at the very corners of his lips.

Kurogane stared.

It was one of those rare smiles that were becoming increasingly common whenever Fai did something soft-hearted for the kids. His music picked up, like pattering feet in a meadow or a bubbling river rushing over smooth stone, and he seemed to lose himself in the song, speaking a language Kurogane could only guess at, with how the music hinted at a playful, carefree persona that the wizard tried so hard to emulate at times.

Was that who Fai wanted to be? Did he think that if he pretended hard enough, he could be that way? Why would he refrain from playing the piano openly if it made him this happy?

No matter which way Kurogane looked at it, the answer did not come to him, so he remained by the wall, mulling over what he was going to say to the idiot later.

Lost in the melodies he wove around himself, Fai didn't pay much heed to the flow of time. For certain, there was a stylish, wrought-iron wall clock mounted on one of the polished food court pillars to his right—he hadn't much use for it, though. The owner of the food court, Taran, had not minded when he chose to skip his lunch break; it benefited them both. Taran, because the patrons swelled in number during the hours Fai played, and Fai, because another hour spent working meant more pay, and money saved from not having to feed himself. (He could deal with hunger; it was nothing new to him.) Besides, with the extra money, they could afford to buy better food for the children, and set away some dry rations for the following worlds.

Where saving for the feather was concerned, they were doing better than he'd expected. All of them were working full time, and the children brought in the occasional commission pay for helping finish a car early. Fai estimated that they'd need just a few more days to accumulate savings enough to purchase that feather. After that, well, they'd probably move on to the next world. Or linger in this one to replenish their hoard.

His fingers had been moving of their own accord through the pieces whilst he thought. Over the past week, he had restrained his magic to the point where it didn't feel unnatural to separate it from his music, even if he was far more accustomed to weaving both together. Magically-charged music was potent, and he had learned to play the piano while holding back his magic; once he had grasped the basics, though, Fai had never played without magic infusing his melodies. He had earned prideful smiles from Ashura-ou with his life-breathing pieces, charmed the kitchen staff of the castle with jaunty tunes that made the silver cutlery dance.

In comparison, these tunes he played now were distinctly flat—but what did everyone else know about songs heavy with magic?

A sudden flare of negative energy had him glancing upwards. There was a bit of movement on the escalators above; but the presence was subdued almost immediately after. A threat?

Cautiously, Fai made his way through an old children's ditty, then a Celesian folk song, stretching his senses out the entire time. The hostile presence did not rear its head again, however. Perhaps it was a parent with an errant child? The thought reminded him strongly of Mokona and Kurogane; Fai couldn't help the little smile on his lips.

On a whim, he decided to play the tune he held closest to his heart—it was a song about the changing of seasons, when ice thawed into streams and tender grass pushed soft green heads through soil to bask in sunshine. Spring on Celes was a time of new beginnings. He appreciated the warmth and the fresh start, even if a murderer like him would never be granted salvation until—

Well, he was on his journey, making his way to that point, and that had to be enough for now. (He hoped.) Things were good in this world. Kurogane wasn't doing anything he shouldn't, and so Fai didn't have to kill him.

(Sometimes, Mokona talked about the other Mokona—she said they'd both be very happy to meet again. Sometimes Fai wondered if he would have been delighted to meet Kurogane, were their circumstances any different. The warrior was someone he respected, someone he almost wished he could be; brave, ferocious, good.)

He smiled thinly to himself, wistfully.

The next song was one of longing.

Fai lost track of how long he played. The patrons around him thinned, then began to crowd the tables—a sure indication of the dinner crowd. When he looked up, Taran was off to the side, as if waiting for him to finish. In his surprise, he cut the song short, tacking the ending bars to an appropriate segment, before raising his eyebrows in an invitation to begin a conversation.

"Mr Taran?" he asked politely, making to stand.

"Sit, sit," his employer replied genially, waving to dismiss the formality. The little prickle of something not quite right was back, and Fai forced a smile onto his face, flexing his calves in the event that he needed to flee. He remained seated.

"To what pleasure might I owe your presence?" Fai inquired. He remembered the lies and dishonesty of Jade country, the snow and invisible ghosts that reminded him too much of himself.

"Ah, it's not much," the tubby man rumbled in his thick accent, stepping closer. He was dressed in another fitted suit today, though the cummerbund was rose-red this time. "How are you liking the job?"

"I like it very much," he answered with painted-on cheer, "Without your generosity, I would not have found such a position."

Taran nodded, clasped his stubby hands together. Standing, he bore the height advantage over Fai, though this did not put the wizard in a precarious position. Fai took note of his surroundings anyway, looked discreetly for escape routes and leverage points. "I am glad to hear that," the not-waiter answered. "I would hate to think my pianist unhappy in this food court."

"I am very comfortable here," Fai hurried to reassure him. "But surely you couldn't have come just to ask me this?"

"Ah, you're a sharp one." Taran smiled—it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, it just so happens that I have a message for you." At Fai's curious stare, he continued, "It is as follows: Remember your mission."

His lungs froze into ice crystals; he stopped breathing. It couldn't— "Who," he gasped, "Who is it from?"

Taran's mouth pressed into a mirthless smile. "I think you know," he said smoothly, mustache twitching. "Fai Flowright."

"I— I see." Fai blinked, kept his face in a smooth mask. The uneasiness was back in full force, in the form of the prickling on his nape, and the heavy intangible bars that thundered down around him. (So much for playing the piano, so much for thinking to escape. They were still being watched.) He swallowed with some effort. "Thank you for telling me."

The food court owner nodded, and smiled wider the second time around. "There is more," he said to Fai's dismay. After a pause, "Remember the other. Just that."

(Fai, Fai, FaiFaiFai.)

"I understand," he said shakily, suddenly glad that he was seated. His stomach wrenched. "Thank you."

Taran nodded at him, then slipped a white envelope onto the reflective surface next to the music rack. "I thought I'd take the chance to leave you with today's pay while I'm here," he added, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Fai nodded, numb as he stared at the retreating back of his employer. Was this to do with Kurogane? Because his master would not have objections to him interacting with the children, would he? But all he did with Kurogane— Could it have been something else that necessitated the warning? Did his master know that he was prolonging the time they spent on this floating island, now that he'd removed his traces of magic?

There was still ten minutes or so before his shift ended, and Fai couldn't help the woodenness with which he played. (The warning couldn't have come because he was playing the piano, could it?)

(But he would much rather be ordered to stop fooling around with music, he realized with a jolt.)

Fai wheezed, trying to fill his lungs even as he moved his fingers unseeingly over the keyboard. He needed to remember who Kurogane was. The ninja was a pawn of the witch (they were both pawns) and he shouldn't spend more time with him than necessary. (But drinking with Kurogane was fun, and so were the times they—)

He screwed his eyes shut. It figured that his employer in this world had ties with the man who resided past that dark gap of reality, the wizard who had placed the curse on him. Who else would give him a job he loved, unlucky person that he was? (There was the Cat's Eye Cafe too, but that was in Outo, and Outo was not real.)

When his shift was finally over, and after he tucked the envelope of cash into his pocket, Fai stumbled back to his car in a daze. How could he bring himself to stop with... with whatever was between himself and Kurogane? (Because he sure as Hell didn't want to. It wasn't like they were close, anyhow.)

"Oi."

He snuffled at the voice, looked up.

Kurogane was leaning against the powder-blue car, arms folded, watching him shrewdly. Fai forced down a hollow laugh—this, too, was inevitable, wasn't it? "What is it, Kuro-tan?" he asked weakly, scooping his broken mask together to present some semblance of a smile. "How did you even find me here? Was it your sharp doggy sense of smell?"

The larger man frowned. "If you can't smile," he growled, "don't."

Fai smiled harder. It was a barrier between them, even if it didn't work. "Well, you can't tell me when to smile, since you don't seem to know how yourself."

Kurogane worked his jaw. His fingers twitched; for a moment, Fai half-expected the warrior to lunge at him—but it was daylight, and they were not in some secluded rooftop stairwell. "I saw you with that short guy. The one from Jade. What did he say to you?"

The smile slid right off his face; Fai wondered why he even bothered. "What?"

At this point, even denying the fact that he played the piano was a moot argument. Kurogane had seen it all. (Did Fai even have a chance at hiding? Truly?)

"I'm not repeating myself," the ninja said sharply, crimson eyes fixed on him, hard and assessing. "Answer the question, mage."

"It doesn't concern you," he bit, looked away. "How long were you here?" And in a more accusing tone, "you said you were working today."

"I did." Kurogane left it at that.

Faced with something to think about other than his own situation, he latched onto the discrepancy in the other man's words. "But you always show up at the car repair shop with the children," Fai pointed out resentfully. "You aren't sweating like you just came over from the port, and you don't use the air-conditioning in the car."

How he knew this much about Kurogane, Fai didn't want to know.

Kurogane clicked his tongue—he was annoyed; Fai had caught on to something. "And?"

It didn't take long for someone like him to arrive at his conclusion. "You were lying?" Fai blurted incredulously. "Kuro-pon?"

He was the one who lied, not Kurogane.

There was a telltale shade of scarlet creeping up the ninja's neck. "I worked today," the ninja insisted sourly, brow furrowed. "You're the damn liar, you idiot."

"But you didn't work the whole day," Fai concluded, his eyes wide. "So that means—"

"Nothing."

"—You were spying on me?" There were many conclusions he could draw from this, like He might know more about my magic and He knows I'm hiding something bad, and Maybe he heard the message, but a shiver raced down his spine anyway. He was scared. He wanted to preen. Kurogane had seen him do something he was good at.

The other man did not answer, and that was really all Fai needed to know. They stood in tense silence for a while, until Kurogane grumbled grudgingly, "you don't play badly."

His heart skipped. Fai turned away to hide the little flush that bloomed on his cheeks. What he was doing, he didn't want to know. His master was probably watching in sheer disappointment, and it was shameful, but he was fucking blushing at a compliment from Kurogane. Kurogane thought he did well.

He wanted to burrow into a hole in the ground, he really did.

Instead, he cleared his throat and limped over to the driver's side door. "Well, it's time to pick the children up, Kuro-tan."

Kurogane made it to his door quicker than he did, and splayed a large, tanned palm over the hard plastic window so he couldn't open it without some force. "That guy back in the mall," he said past the receding ruddiness on his neck. "What did he want with you?"

Fai swallowed and attempted another smile. "Well, he wanted to know how I liked my job—"

The ninja growled; large hands snapped out and grabbed his collar, hauling him forwards and up. "You were scared senseless, mage. Don't think I didn't see that."

He couldn't look away from burning red eyes; he was drowning in them.

"Was he threatening you?" Kurogane pressed. Fai jerked his head in an attempt to shake it. "The kids?" Another shake. "He from your past?"

Fai winced at that, a twitch of his cheek muscle, and Kurogane exhaled slowly, worked his jaw. The reaction seemed to satisfy him; he set Fai roughly on his feet, took a step backwards. (For a moment there, Fai had been afraid that the warrior would attempt to kiss him again.)

"I won't interfere," the larger man said quietly, fixing him with a calculating look. "You can handle him yourself."

"I did," he answered in a small voice.

Kurogane snorted. "Running scared isn't dealing with anything."

In that instant, Fai wanted to snap, What do you know about my past, but it would have given too much away, and he didn't want to invite more questions, not in the least from Kurogane. He remained silent.

There was another beat of tension between them, then the ninja turned towards his own black car, which was parked next to Fai's. "I won't hesitate to strike him down if he proves to be a threat," he said over his shoulder.

Fai didn't reply, merely watched as Kurogane started the engine.

"Get back to the repair shop in one piece," the man instructed. He clicked his seat belt, steered the car up into the air. With a loud engine roar, he was off.

Fai fell weakly back against the side of his car, laughed humorlessly. "If only you knew, Kuro-rin," he mumbled. "I'm the biggest threat to you."

A/N: Fai's lecture was actually inspired by a prompt on CLAMPkink (in which Fai verbally teaches Sakura how to give a blowjob); poor Kurogane. ;) Also, I imagine the song Fai was playing to be Yanni's Marching Season.

Question: I was just wondering if I should split chapter 7 into two parts, since it's 7900 words and the usual updates are around 4-6k words. Do you guys mind long chapter lengths? Short ones?

Hope you guys found as much amusement in this chapter as I did!