Author's Notes:

I'd like to thank all of you who submitted ideas for oneshots - you all had great ideas, and I wish I could do all of them. My first selection is nearly finished, so you can expect that within the next few days (I shall leave my decision a surprise until then). But the ideas were so interesting that I'm actually compelled to try several of them. When I have time, I'll write and post those ones.

Chapter Seventy-One

Syaoran spent the next eight days acting as if there was an hourglass counting down the seconds until the next chess match. Mornings he spent either in his room or at the kitchen table, eating breakfast with his companions. Their shared meals remained tense, the silence a pressure on his eardrums. Fai fidgeted, shifting his weight in his chair and nibbling at his food. Sakura ate the same way she usually did—with great dignity and few comments. Kurogane plowed through his meal as if they were racing to clear their plates.

Afternoons were harder. A late breakfast meant no defined lunchtime, and there was little to do apart from chores. Between the four of them, every countertop, cabinet, floor, and miscellaneous surface gleamed as if polished. And since Mokona's translation range extended only about two miles, no one strayed from the immediate area unless necessary or habitual. Not that conversation flourished while they were in Mokona's range, but still.

Syaoran lived his life in the snippets of time when the others left the apartment.

He entered the living room, as usual, when Mokona, Fai, and Sakura headed out for their walk. And, as usual, Kurogane glanced over from his seat on the couch, his gaze almost expectant as Syaoran crossed the distance between them. He sat on the arm of the couch, letting his elbow brush against Kurogane's shoulder. The ninja reached over, fingertips tracing the fine hairs of Syaoran's arm, smoothing them down.

There was no need for words. Syaoran turned his head, his lips exploring the line of Kurogane's jaw, becoming more desperate as he moved down his neck, then across his collarbone. He paused there, nuzzling the hollow of Kurogane's throat with the tip of his nose as his fingers searching for the bottom of the man's shirt. When he found it, he slipped his hands underneath, running his fingers along the ninja's plated abdomen.

"Quick to the point, aren't you?" Kurogane muttered, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. Syaoran shifted, pressing his lips against the ninja's mouth. The kiss deepened, became desperate, as his tongue skimmed across Kurogane's lower lip. He felt fingernails scraping his scalp. Sparks of pain danced across his head, and he instinctively pressed closer, seeking the comfort of the warm body beneath him. His hips wriggled, his body repositioning itself.

Kurogane bit him.

Syaoran drew back, shocked. His lower lip retreated into his mouth, his tongue running across it as he tried to determine if the bite had drawn blood. The taste of iron spread across his tongue. "Kurogane-san—" The torrent of words halted as Kurogane's mouth moved against his. Syaoran closed his eyes, suddenly torn between giving into his desire and withdrawing to reassess the situation. It took him a few seconds to decide. "What are you—"

"Don't talk."

"You bit me."

"I know." Kurogane's hands swept down his sides, falling onto his hips and pulling him forward. A second later, Syaoran felt the Kurogane's tongue move across his neck. He jerked, wriggling free.

"Wait," he said, panting. "Just hold on." He paused to breathe, a strange mix of panic and pleasure shooting through his veins. "Are we . . . I mean, did something change?"

Kurogane arched an eyebrow, frowning. Syaoran instantly regretted asking. "Why would anything have to change now?"

"You just seem very . . . active today." The word seemed inadequate somehow, considering the way his pulse had started hammering at the unexpected bite.

"You've been doing the same thing all week."

"I have?"

"You didn't realize?"

He shook his head.

Kurogane sighed, closing his eyes. "It's probably a bad idea to complain about this, but you've come to me every day since the last chess match. It's like you're trying to satisfy some need you won't talk about."

"I . . . didn't realize."

Another sigh. Kurogane placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him at arm's length. "You know you don't have to hide anything from me, right?"

He looked down, face warming. There was one thing he kept hidden, one thing he could barely admit to himself. "I know."

"So tell me why you've been acting so desperate for the past week."

Syaoran bit his lip, reopening the tiny nick left by Kurogane's teeth. "I . . ." His throat closed up. How could he describe the unease, the insecurity, he'd felt since the last chess game? It had been gnawing at him for days now. It felt like he'd jumped off a cliff hoping to sprout wings on the way down, except that he still couldn't fly, couldn't even slow his descent as he careened toward the unforgiving earth beneath him.

Eight days, he thought, feeling the same stirring of disquiet he'd felt in the arena when Sakura had scheduled their last match. And seven of those days gone now. His breath caught. Surely, he was being ridiculous. It was only a chess game. The possibility of injury was always present, of course, and he couldn't deny that some pain still lingered in his knee that would make fighting a challenge, but it wasn't as if the world was going to collapse all around him.

Kurogane crossed his arms, still waiting for an answer.

"I'm not hiding anything," Syaoran whispered, not sure if that was the truth or a lie. There were things he hadn't mentioned, such as the fact that the Sakura traveling with them now was a clone, and the way he'd turned back time, but he wasn't actively withholding those truths. They just hadn't come up. Not that anyone else would have known to ask. Not that anyone would have wanted to, he thought, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"Don't," Kurogane said, resting a hand on each of his shoulders and tugging him back into the present moment. "Don't close up on me like that."

"I don't . . ." I don't know what's wrong. I don't know how to fix it.

I don't even know who I'm in love with anymore.

The thought shook him. He jerked free of the ninja's hold, jumping to his feet and retreating until his calves hit the coffee table. "I have to go," he whispered, arms crossed in front of him as he clutched his sides, as if he could physically hold himself together.

"Kid, wait."

Syaoran started for the door, lungs seizing up as if they'd been filled with sand. He grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and stuffed his arms through the sleeves. A moment later, Kurogane grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around so his shoulders pressed against the wall. "Wait," he said. "Just talk to me."

"I can't." I don't know what to say. How could he know? Before, he'd always been certain, always known who he'd been fighting for. But if I can't choose between them . . . How could I save either of them, if it came to that? If I had to choose . . . I can't have it both ways. It's not fair to either of them. His throat closed up. He tried to slip his arm free of the ninja's grip.

"Kid."

"I have to go."

"Syaoran."

His breath caught. His eyes zeroed in on the ninja's face. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Syaoran," Kurogane said again, his voice soft. Something shook loose in Syaoran's heart. He gasped in a shaky breath as the ninja closed the space between them. His heart, already bruised and beaten, fractured into bloody shards.

Kurogane kissed him, his lips desperate, demanding. "Syaoran . . ."

Thumbs traced the curve of Syaoran's cheeks, wiping away the tears. His chest heaved as Kurogane pulled him close. Syaoran had never felt like such a child, even when he could've been called one. "Kurogane-san . . ."

"Don't leave."

"I have to."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do." He pulled back, wiping an arm across his face. "I can't be here right now. I can't think."

Something flickered through the ninja's eyes, disappearing before Syaoran could identify it. Kurogane stepped back, releasing him as if he couldn't quite follow what was happening.

Syaoran zipped up his coat and started for the door, not daring to look back. As he opened the door, Kurogane spoke. "If you're not back by sunrise, I'll come looking for you."

Syaoran swallowed thickly, bowing his head. "Thank you," he whispered as the door closed behind him.