Author's Notes:

Some fluff and romance in this chapter, but the explicit stuff is over for a bit. For those of you who read the last two chapters, you can skip the rest of this author's note. For those of you who haven't, here are the important plot-and-character-related bits: Kurogane and Syaoran slept together. They didn't get caught and they didn't go all the way. The experience was enjoyable for both of them, and Syaoran has come to the conclusion that their coupling was a good thing. Also, he's discovered that Kurogane is surprisingly gentle in some ways. Anyway, if you want more detail than that, you'll have to read the chapters.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Syaoran started keeping track of everyone's habits.

Fai and Sakura continued their evening walks, staying out a few minutes longer each day as Sakura regained her strength. Lately, their strolls had been right around the hour mark, and had continued growing longer. Most days, they left at six, but if they started later, they returned later. When there was a chess match, they either postponed their walk, or stayed out for a shorter period. Syaoran catalogued their habits, their absences, waiting for the moment when he could be alone with Kurogane without fear of getting caught.

Yet in the two weeks since Syaoran had started mapping out everyone's schedules, the ninja hadn't given any indication that he was interested in repeating their last encounter.

Patience, Syaoran reminded himself. It's only an hour each day. He probably doesn't want to cut it too close.

Once a week, on an undetermined day, Fai and Sakura went out shopping. These excursions were longer, some lasting almost six hours, but never less than three. They brought Mokona with them so they could communicate with the shopkeepers, which occasionally left Syaoran unable to understand Kurogane's words.

That didn't stop him from reading the ninja's body language.

They were in the middle of a chess match—not in the arena, but on a chess board that Fai bought the previous week. The rules were somewhat complicated, but Syaoran remembered playing enough board games with Fujitaka (all his experience secondhand, filtered through his clone's eyes) to make sense of the game.

"Are you sure you haven't played this before?" Kurogane asked, eyebrows slanting as he studied the chessboard. They were on their third game, and the ninja had yet to defeat him. It was a strange feeling.

"Nothing quite like this." Syaoran picked up one of his pawns and moved it forward one square. Kurogane picked up his rook, then set it back on the board before moving his knight instead. Syaoran slid his bishop into position and smiled when Kurogane scowled at the tiny wooden piece.

When the ninja said something incomprehensible, Syaoran glanced up. It took him a moment to realize that the others had strayed too far from their apartment, and that Mokona was no longer translating for them. "I guess Mokona's out of range," he said, figuring Kurogane would hear Mokona's name and get the gist of his comment.

The ninja glanced up, frowned, and muttered what Syaoran assumed to be a curse. He grumbled a few other words, each laced with annoyance. Syaoran listened to the music of the ninja's native language, noting the staccato bursts of sound, the way the syllables all blended together despite their hard edges.

Knowing the ninja couldn't understand him, Syaoran said, "You have a wonderful voice."

Kurogane's expression changed, and Syaoran wondered if he'd been mistaken. It seemed way too convenient for Mokona to wander close enough to translate again the moment he said something embarrassing, but the possibility had him blushing. "I was hoping you wouldn't hear that."

Kurogane spoke, using the clipped syllables of his native language, and Syaoran was relieved to realize the man hadn't really understood his words. Even so, the man's shoulders were stiff with annoyance as they stared at each other.

"It seems like every time I open my mouth, I say something I shouldn't," Syaoran murmured. "But if I only talk when no one understands me, maybe things won't turn out so badly."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kurogane's hand reaching toward him. Syaoran remained still, wishing he knew how to control the blush rising to his cheeks. The ninja's fingertips combed through his hair, moving lower to cup his cheek. Syaoran leaned into the warmth automatically, closing his eyes. Yes, he thought. Finally. Kurogane's thumb traced his lower lip.

Syaoran trembled.

Kurogane said something in his native language, and suddenly, Syaoran understood the success of foreign movies. There was something indescribably alluring about listening to another language.

When he opened his eyes, every joint locked in place. Kurogane's face was mere inches from his, his red eyes critical. Then, as if testing him, the ninja leaned forward, their noses brushing against each other, breath mingling in the air between their mouths.

Yet their lips didn't touch. When Syaoran tried to lean forward, Kurogane's hand tightened around his hair and held him in place. He said something else, his voice sharp, like a command. The man's hands moved down until they found his shoulders. He applied pressure there for just a moment, then let go. Syaoran sat, allowing himself to revel in that touch, that silent affection he'd been yearning for over the past two weeks.

The ninja proceeded to press his lips to each of Syaoran's cheeks, then his forehead, then his neck, trailing down until he reached the collar of his shirt. Even forcing himself to remain still, Syaoran couldn't stop a shiver from running down his spine. "Please," he said, hoping the ninja would at least pick up on the desire, the need, in his voice.

Kurogane's lips twitched against his collarbone. The ninja kissed the edge of his jaw, then his ear. The faint pressure tickled, sending jolts of electricity down the rest of his body. The ninja whispered something into his ear, and Syaoran felt the back of his neck warm.

Abruptly, Kurogane sat back, studying the chess board between them as if nothing had changed. Syaoran struggled to remember his own strategy even as the electricity of the kisses continued to course through his body. He'd had a strategy. He knew he'd had one. But he couldn't call it back. It took him almost a minute to think of a move, and after he did, Kurogane captured his knight.

"You did that on purpose," Syaoran said.

The chess game went quickly after that. Strategy in shambles, Syaoran tried to salvage the game, but in the end, Kurogane defeated him.

Syaoran didn't understand what the ninja said after the game was over, but it sounded smug.

He sighed and started piling the game pieces into the pouches they'd come from. He put those back in the box, which he left on the coffee table for the others to play with later. Fai had a talent for strategy, and he remembered how Sakura had loved to play board games, back in Clow. Both Sakuras . . . he thought.

Kurogane moved behind him as he set the box down. His clone had learned to perceive unseen threats in Outo, and that knowledge had carried over to this body, so in spite of the ninja's silent steps, he knew the man was standing behind him, slightly to the left. Syaoran remained still, facing the wall, as the ninja's hand came down on his shoulder.

"Sorry. That was unfair."

Syaoran turned. "I can understand you again. And yes, it was."

Kurogane released his shoulder and stepped back, his posture guarded. "The others are probably on their way back, then."

He glanced down. He yearned for the unreserved intimacy they'd shared before, but part of him was terrified to take that step too soon. Even after two weeks, he was still getting used to the idea that the two of them could be together in that way, without the world collapsing in on itself.

"We still have some time," Kurogane said, drawing closer. Hope flared in Syaoran's chest as their lips met. That single touch released all the tension in his body. He reached forward, clinging to the man's arms so his legs wouldn't turn to overcooked noodles beneath him. As their lips separated, Syaoran leaned forward and pressed the side of his face against Kurogane's chest. A comforting hand moved through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"You have a beautiful language."

The ninja froze, then relaxed. "Yeah?"

Syaoran nodded. "It's good that Mokona translates for us, otherwise we wouldn't be able to communicate, but I wouldn't mind just listening to you talk for a while."

Kurogane arched one eyebrow. "You're a strange kid."

"I know." There was a pause, as he leaned deeper into the embrace. "I'm glad things can be like this. I'm always afraid you're going to change your mind."

Kurogane shrugged. "I doubt that's going to happen. Unless you've got any other life-shattering revelations you want to throw at me."

He winced.

The ninja sighed. "Stop moping. What happened in Suwa wasn't your fault."

"I'm sorry."

"And stop being sorry. Listen." With his index finger, Kurogane tilted Syaoran's head up. "You didn't know it was going to happen. There's no way you could've prevented it, even if you'd known ahead of time. If anyone's at fault, it's the one who's been pulling the strings since the start. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"We've got an enemy to face." Kurogane released him and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Don't forget that."

"I won't." How could I forget him? He's a monster.

The ninja regarded him with eyes as hard as granite, then reached forward and tousled his hair. The touch lasted only a moment before Kurogane turned away and headed into the kitchen.

I won't forget my purpose here, Syaoran thought, walking to his bedroom. I won't forget all the suffering Reed caused us.