Shi

Her Fiancé

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS characters;

just the plot of this story.

The early morning sun had barely begun to rise when Syaoran set out after Takeda Hito, the youngest son of the respected Takeda family of doctors. Hito walked through the streets, his dark kimono of fine silk marked with subtle patterns, signifying his prestigious lineage. His fine hair was tied up in a neat topknot, and his posture was every bit the image of a man who knew his place in the world. A small group of attendants followed, their quiet steps as dignified as their master's.

Hito made his rounds with a practiced ease, stopping at merchant stalls to purchase herbs, remedies, and the occasional medicinal tool. His manner was calm and measured, and his interactions were courteous, yet the faintest hint of authority lingered in his voice as he discussed prices.

By midday, Hito took lunch at a local inn, surrounded by colleagues. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, shifting from medical matters to light banter. As Syaoran observed from tables away, he could not find a single crack in Hito's public persona. The doctor's manners were impeccable, his words measured, and his behaviour dignified. He fit the role of a perfect son, a perfect doctor - a far cry from the unscrupulous figure Syaoran had hoped to expose.

When Hito finally made his way back to the family estate, Syaoran followed. As the doctor stood with an elder of the Takeda family, exchanging polite words with the kind of respect reserved for those of high rank, Syaoran continued to study him. There was nothing in Hito's demeanor - no sign of arrogance, no glint of hidden ambition - that suggested any dishonour.

A pang of disappointment rose within Syaoran.

What am I doing here?

He had spent days trailing this man only to come up empty-handed. All of his efforts had led to nothing more than a man who seemed, against all Syaoran's expectations, well-suited for Sakura. Interesting however, that he would marry far beneath his station. What was Takeda Hito up to?

Not willing to accept defeat, Syaoran continued his pursuit. Days passed in a blur of watching, waiting, hoping for a sign. He saw Hito at all hours - sharing meals with his family, walking the streets, exchanging pleasantries with townsfolk and officials alike. His smile was always present, though it never quite reached his eyes. Yet, despite the coolness that was present in his gaze, the people around him were drawn in.

By the time nightfall came, Syaoran's patience was wearing thin. He stood in the shadows of two buildings, his gaze fixed on Hito, who had emerged from a small, inconspicuous entertainment house - one of the many places where wealthy men might seek the company of courtesans. Unfortunately, even this, he had to admit, was hardly damning.

Men of Hito's stature were often expected to partake in such things. Courtesans, after all, were for pleasure and distraction, while a wife's role was to bear heirs and manage the household. The distinction between public indulgence and private responsibilities was well-understood, especially among the upper classes. Hito's visit to the establishment was not unusual - it was not even scandalous.

Still, Syaoran's lips pressed into a firm line as his thoughts turned to Sakura. He could not fathom why a man would seek out a courtesan when he already had a woman - his future wife - to be the subject of his focus.

The cool night air carried the sound of drunken laughter, sharp and unrestrained, as Hito staggered down the street, his entourage of friends trailing behind him. Their laughter echoed, loud and boisterous, as they filled the stillness of the evening with their carefree chatter, oblivious to the quiet of the world around them.

Hito's steps faltered, his usually composed figure swaying unsteadily as he tried to maintain his balance. It was a side of the doctor Syaoran had never seen - the polished, respected physician now unraveling before his eyes, diminished by drink and the easy abandon of the night. For a moment, Syaoran felt a flicker of satisfaction. This was the crack he had been searching for: Takeda Hito unguarded.

As they reached the end of the alley, Hito paused, leaning heavily against the wall for support, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. One of his friends slapped him on the back with a booming laugh.

"So, your father really did it, huh?" he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. "Got you a wife. I can't believe it. Is it true you've already seen her?"

Hito, swaying slightly on his feet, managed a smile.

"Yes," Hito replied. "I saw her… and she is… what a man would want. Physically, I mean." He straightened himself, forcing a more confident look into his eyes. "I think she will make a wonderful wife."

Another of his friends, louder and more boisterous than the others, slapped Hito on the shoulder with a wide grin.

"A wonderful wife?! You're already imagining what she'll look like in your bed, aren't you?"

Syaoran's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening at the crude remark. His fists clenched instinctively. This was the kind of behaviour he knew he would uncover. But when he looked back at Hito, he felt thwarted.

Hito had stiffened at the comment, his face flushing a deep crimson, the color of shame more than excitement.

"Don't pretend you're not thinking about it," one of the men taunted, his voice thick with drunken amusement.

Another hugged Hito around the shoulders with a knowing smirk.

"Come on, Hito-kun, be honest. You can't deny it. You'll be her husband. It's only natural to think about it."

Her husband.

The words twisted in Syaoran's gut, coiling around his intestines like a constricting snake. Hito would have every right to touch Sakura, to hold her, to claim her in all the ways a man did a woman. Syaoran had not thought of that before. Her fiancé had been an abstract concept and something to be wary of, but now, standing there, he understood exactly what that meant.

Hito, however, seemed to recoil from the taunts, his voice faltering as he quickly blurted out a denial.

"I... I d-don't see her that way," he stammered, his words tumbling out in haste as if to rid himself of the unwanted thoughts.

His friends only laughed, clearly unconvinced by his embarrassed defense.

"It's just-" Hito exhaled heavily. "She's more than just looks. There's something about her. The way she carries herself... the way she looks at people. It's charming, I think..." His voice dropped slightly, as though he himself was not entirely sure how to explain it. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head at himself, and then glanced back at his friends with an awkward smile. "My father likes her a lot. He said she is ideal."

Syaoran felt a twinge of irritation. Hito's words were not the crude fantasies of a man eager to bed his new bride. Instead, there was an unexpected sincerity in his voice, something deeper than the shallow remarks his friends had made. The way Hito spoke of Sakura felt almost reverent.

"So, she's a beauty, huh?" the first friend asked, raising a brow. "But you're marrying a commoner, Hito-kun. What's your father thinking?"

A subtle defensiveness crept into Hito's posture.

"She may be a commoner by birth," he replied. "But her bloodline is more than that. Her great-grandfather is Amamiya Masaki - a samurai of high standing. His family had always been well-respected among the other samurai families."

The mention of Amamiya Masaki caught the attention of the group. Even Syaoran, who had not known of this connection, felt a ripple of surprise. The Amamiya name carried weight, especially among those who knew of the family's reputation of brave and loyal samurai. The atmosphere shifted, the earlier teasing turning to something more thoughtful, as Hito's friends exchanged glances.

"Wait," one of them said slowly, voice skeptical. "You're saying she's got samurai blood in her? From Amamiya Masaki? The one who fought in the wars years ago?"

Hito nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"Yes. Her family does not flaunt it, but it is there. She has that blood in her - the samurai spirit. And Amamiya-sama himself favours her. He has shown her special attention, even when she was younger. He and her father approached Otou-san to betroth her to me."

A murmur of surprise passed through the group, and the teasing tone from earlier was replaced by genuine curiosity.

"I did not realize she came from such a background," another friend remarked, his voice softer now. "Guess that explains why you're so eager to marry her, doesn't it?"

"It's not just her bloodline either," said Hito. "There is… something about her. Something that draws me to her. I can't explain it. I have seen her, and I believe I like her already."

Syaoran understood that feeling all too well, but his thoughts were a swirl of confusion and frustration. Hito was not simply thinking of her as a wife - he was beginning to genuinely feel for Sakura. This troubled Syaoran the most. Even now, Hito's face softened, a quiet pride filling his gaze.

"I will make her my wife," he said firmly, his voice imbued with emotion. "And I will do it right. I want her to be proud of me. Proud of the family she's marrying into. I want Kinomoto-sensei and Amamiya-sama to not regret their choice or their faith in me."

Syaoran looked away in distress. Hito was more than just a man with a respectable place in society - he was someone who truly cared, someone whose actions spoke louder than his status. He was not simply focused on appearances or power; he wanted to be a good person, to leave a meaningful impact on the world and those he cared about.

The men fell silent for a moment, taking in the sincerity in Hito's voice. One gave a philosophical sigh.

"Then you'll make a fine husband, Hito-kun."

Hito smiled wide.

I could kill him.

The thought came to Syaoran suddenly, cold and dark, rising like a reflex.

And just as quickly, it faded. Absurd, he thought. It was not as though Hito had done anything wrong. He was not a real threat - he was simply there, filling a role that had already been established long before Syaoran had come into Sakura's life.

Yet, despite that reasoning, vicious thoughts continued to infiltrate his mind.

I could strike. One quick, decisive blow. Takeda Hito wouldn't even know what hit him.

However, taking action against Hito would only bring grief to Sakura - she might mourn the loss of a man she had once been promised to; that grief could shatter her, and Hito's death would strip away her chance to enhance her standing in society - something that had been carefully built for her future.

Exhaling sharply, Syaoran's fingers loosened their grip on the hilt of his wakizashi. When had I grabbed hold of it? The leather-wrapped grip became a tether, rooting him to the spot when all he wanted to do was lash out; to strike at Hito for being everything he was not. He could kill for Sakura, but Hito could offer her everything he could not: respectability, a future without fear, a place in society that would elevate her, not drag her down.

And she deserved it all.

He turned and walked away from the group before he changed his mind.

Takeda Hito will live another day.

For the past few days, Syaoran had found himself needing a break from his constant watch over the doctor. The tension was becoming suffocating. Today, he made his way to Akatsuki Inn, hoping for a moment of peace - an escape from the ever-growing knot in his belly and, of course, the welcomed sight of Sakura. She was the one bright spot in his spiraling thoughts, the one person who could make everything feel a little less grim. When he arrived, his usual spot by the window was already taken so he opted for a seat on the main floor - tucked behind a pillar - where he sometimes sat whenever that was the case.

Naoko came to greet him, her eyes bright with recognition.

"Welcome back to Akatsuki. What can I get for you this afternoon?" she asked cheerfully.

"Kinomoto," he answered.

A faint blush spread across Naoko's face as she replied, "I'm sorry. Sakura-chan isn't here today. She had a meeting... with her fiancé."

The way she said "fiancé" was deliberate, as though she wanted to impress upon him that Sakura was already taken. Perhaps word had spread that he had asked for her the last time he was there.

"Grilled fish," he said flatly.

Naoko took his order with a small bow, before disappearing into the kitchen. When the food came, he ate listlessly, his thoughts consumed by the fact that Sakura was out with him. She had her life, her obligations, and Syaoran had no desire to dishonour that. And yet, the idea of seeing her - of hearing her voice, of simply being in her presence - pulled at him greatly. Was there any harm in that?

Syaoran finished his meal quickly, paid, and left. As he walked along the streets, he scoffed softly beneath his breath. Despite his best efforts of staying away, Takeda Hito was still intruding on his day. How many meetings did this man need to have with her before they got married? It was unusual to say the least, not to mention, a thorn in Syaoran's side. If Sakura was with him, she would likely be at either her home or the Takeda's estate. He would check both.

First, he went to Sakura's house but found it empty. His next stop was the estate. Syaoran had spent the past few mornings observing it from a distance, noting the comings and goings of the household. The gates, guarded by two burly men, were not an easy entry point.

Today, with the sun hanging low in the sky, he saw an opportunity. The guards were distracted by the arrival of a small caravan of merchant carts, and most of the servants were busy unloading goods. Syaoran's footsteps were silent on the grass as he approached the rear of the estate, where a narrow path wound its way through a small grove of trees. The trees offered him cover but his eyes still searched for any servants who might wander too close.

Reaching a small gate at the back of the estate - one typically used by servants - Syaoran spotted a young guard, barely more than a boy. He sat on a stool, eyes scanning the horizon out of boredom. Syaoran crouched low, moving quickly toward him. In a heartbeat, he drew his wakizashi and, with a calculated strike, the flat of the blade landed against the base of the boy's neck. The guard collapsed without a sound, his body going limp as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even realized what had happened.

Syaoran dragged the boy's limp form into the nearby bushes, making sure he would not be discovered. The gate creaked slightly as he slid it open, but no one was around to hear it. He moved through the gardens, purposefully, his gaze fixed on the main house. There was a chance that guests would be hosted there. Staying low against a stone wall, he paused by a small wooden door, slightly ajar. Through the gap, he could make out the faint murmur of conversation. He edged closer.

Inside, Hito and Sakura sat across from each other, her father and an older woman - likely Hito's mother, given their striking resemblance - were seated beside them. Hito held a teacup, his smile polite, posture upright, engaging with Sakura in conversation.

Syaoran's heart pounding painfully. The sight of them together - Hito, the man that offered stability and status, and Sakura, his future bride - was harder to bear than he had expected. But his gaze was drawn to the scene nonetheless, unable to tear himself away. It was not just the sense of inadequacy that clung to him; it was the overwhelming realization that this was the life Sakura was moving toward, a life that had no place for someone like him.

And yet, despite the ache in his chest, his gaze remained fixed to the scene, drawn to them as though some invisible force held him captive. He could not tear himself away, not even if every part of him screamed to look elsewhere.

"Kinomoto-san," Hito was saying. "I trust you have learned the dishes I favour, as I mentioned last time?"

"Yes, Takeda-sama," Sakura replied, her voice soft but steady, her gaze lowered out of respect. "I have learned the five dishes you prefer. Onii-chan said they were well done, and he is a harsh critic."

Hito's lips curved upward just slightly in acknowledgment.

"That is good to hear," he said, nodding with approval. "Cooking is an important skill, and I expect you to perform this duty with care."

Syaoran's jaw tightened as he listened. This was what a man in Hito's position would say, of course. A wife's place was clear, her duties well-established. But hearing it directed at Sakura... it was not the expectation that provoked, but rather, it was the audacity of Hito, sitting there so calmly, telling her what she should be, how she should act, as if he had any right to shape her in this way.

This is not your wife. You're not her husband yet, doctor.

But Sakura nodded, her hands resting neatly in her lap, her posture graceful and acquiescent.

"I will do my best, Takeda-sama."

Fujitaka, spoke up, his voice tinged with affection and pride.

"Sakura-san has always been diligent with household matters, Takeda-sama. I have no doubt she will fulfill her role well."

Hito's mother's gaze swept over Sakura.

"I trust she will," she said, her voice quiet but cutting. "It is good that Kinomoto-san is already familiar with the duties expected of her. But," she continued, her tone dropping just a touch, her words heavy with meaning. "I do hope she understands the importance of maintaining a proper, humble demeanor once married. A woman's beauty is only an advantage if she knows how to keep it in check, to ensure it does not become a distraction."

Sakura's face remained impassive, but Syaoran could see the tension in the small movements of her shoulders.

A brief, heavy silence followed. Hito's mother glanced at her son, whose gaze was still fixed on Sakura, despite his best efforts to appear properly indifferent. With a small sigh, she returned her attention to Sakura, her eyes now sharp and calculating, her voice sweet but with an undercurrent of veiled malice.

"It would be... unfortunate, Kinomoto-san, if someone as beautiful as you were to attract too much attention," she said, her tone slipping like silk. "Such things can create... complications."

Sakura's gaze drifted to her father for some sign of support. Her eyes silently begged for reassurance. Fujitaka cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that was the very definition of diplomacy.

"Beauty is but a fleeting thing," he said. "What matters, in the end, is strength of character and one's ability to manage a household."

Hito's mother gave a faint smile, but it was as cold and distant as her words.

"Indeed," she agreed, her voice still sugar-sweet, though her gaze remained on Sakura, probing, almost judgmental. "But a woman of beauty who does not understand her place... well, that can be a problem. I trust you have noticed this yourself, Kinomoto-sensei? You keep her hair so short... like a young boy. I assume that is to avoid attracting attention?"

The implication behind Hito's mother's statement was clear: the reason for her modest appearance was not a choice she had made for herself or a show of good character, but one enforced by her father to suppress her beauty, to prevent her from becoming the very distraction Hito's mother had warned against.

Fujitaka, however, did not falter. He pushed back against the insinuation.

"Sakura-san's hair is simply practical," he said. "She was twelve years old when she cut her hair in mourning after her mother passed. Since then, she has had many responsibilities - caring for the household, working at Akatsuki Inn, and fulfilling the duties expected of her. There was no need for her to regrow it when she's already so busy. It is not to hide anything." His tone softened just slightly, his gaze turning towards Sakura, as if to convey more than just the words he was saying. "What matters is her inner strength, her ability to bring harmony and care to a family - something far more valuable than appearance."

Hito's mother, however, could not seem to let go of the topic. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint, almost condescending smile.

"I see," she said, her voice dripping with distaste. "But working at a lowly inn… is that really necessary, Kinomoto-sensei? Surely someone of the Amamiya bloodline should not be involved in such menial tasks. It does not seem very... fitting."

Fujitaka did not shy away from the remark, but instead leaned forward slightly, meeting the woman's gaze with a firm resolve.

"The innkeeper is a family friend," Fujitaka explained. "And Sakura-san works there out of a sense of duty and respect. Akatsuki is not just any inn - it is a place of warmth and hospitality, where guests are treated with care. Her work there has helped to foster that same spirit within her. It has taught her humility, patience, and how to care for others." He paused, allowing the words to sink in before continuing. "As for her standing, the true measure of one's worth is not in their title or appearance, but in the actions they take and the people they care for." He nodded slightly toward Sakura. "Sakura-san understands this better than most."

Hito's mother's expression wavered, just slightly. Though she did not respond immediately, it was clear that Fujitaka's words had struck a chord. She crossed her arms, her gaze sharpening.

"Of course, once Kinomoto-san is married," she said. "She will no longer be allowed to work at that inn."

"Yes," Fujitaka agreed. "Once Sakura-san is married, her duties will shift, as they should. Her place will be in her husband's household. We all understand that."

Hito's mother nodded, her smile returning - this time, colder than before - but she said no more on the matter. An uncomfortable silence settled in the room, pressing down on everyone, until Hito finally spoke, his voice cutting through the tension.

"Thank you, Okaa-san for your concerns," he said, his tone polite but laced with unease. "I have no doubt that Kinomoto-san understands the seriousness of her responsibilities. And Kinomoto-sensei, I do believe she will meet all expectations."

Sakura gave a small smile.

"Yes, Takeda-sama," she said, keeping her gaze low in deference. "I will fulfill my role as expected. I will support you with everything I have."

She was submissive and obedient - everything Takeda Hito... everything any man would want her to be - more so than she had been at the inn. Syaoran's eyes burned as he watched her, struggling to reconcile the image of the Sakura he once knew. Was this really her? The same Sakura who was full of life, whose laughter rang like music, whose questions were as bold and unafraid as her smile?

No. This was a different woman, one shaped by expectations, molded by the world around her. The woman she would become after marriage - the one who would disappear behind the walls of her husband's house, her energetic spirit swallowed up by the silent, endless duties of a wife. Syaoran's stomach turned. And Takeda would get all her attention now. All of her time and goodwill. Her kindness. Everything that once had been hers to give freely - now bound to him.

And what if... what if she started to like her husband? Not just out of politeness, but truly, deeply? Takeda was well-liked by everyone else. He was everything she was supposed to want. Everything that made sense. Then, the most devastating thought hit Syaoran next.

Would she forget me?

The conversation inevitably shifted toward the wedding ceremony, and with it, Takeda's mother seemed to scrutinize every word and gesture Sakura made. Her sharp gaze rarely strayed from her, as though she were searching for any sign of rebellion, any flicker of pride that might mar her perfect image of a compliant wife. It was clear that Sakura would not go unnoticed by those who felt their place in the family's hierarchy threatened.

Perhaps Takeda Hito was not the real danger after all.

Syaoran decided to leave before he was found out. He could not stay. He could not bear to watch it any longer. To see her disappear before his eyes, swallowed by traditions and the inevitable pull of a new life. As he walked past the walls of the estate, a thought crossed his mind.

I could return tonight. Rid Sakura and myself of Takeda Hito, once and for all.

No, he rebuked himself. It would be wrong. Her father had already decided this path for her. Takeda Hito, despite his mother, was not a bad man. He was respected, responsible - everything Sakura could need to live a stable, secure life.

I can't take that away.

That night, Syaoran lay beneath the branches of a tree near the river, wrapped in the familiar quiet solitude he had long since become accustomed to. But sleep refused to come. His mind churned restlessly with thoughts of Sakura, relentless in their return no matter how he tried to push them aside. Each time they came back sharper, more urgent - like an unspoken truth he could not escape. The idea of her, her soft surrender to someone else, sparked a possessive longing within him.

He could not stop imagining her beside Takeda, her every word so gentle, so compliant, her gaze lowered in that demure way, Takeda's claiming stare. A wave of jealousy gripped him, a feeling fiercer than anything he had ever known. And in the silence of the night, alone with his turbulent thoughts, Syaoran finally allowed himself to admit something he had been denying.

I want to be with her.

He wanted to be the one she looked at with such respect. He wanted her to speak to him in that soft voice, her every word touched by reverence. He wanted to be the one she obeyed, whose desires she fulfilled without hesitation. The thought twisted inside him, dark and intoxicating, like a dangerous temptation.

He wanted to be the one who held power over her - not in a cruel or domineering way, but in a way that made her his; in a way that bound her to him, body and soul.

The intensity of this yearning… this was not him. This was not what he wanted. He did not have these feelings. He could not. He told himself that over and over, as if repetition could erase the truth. He longed for nothing. Wanted nothing. Except the end of magicians.

And what could he even do with these feelings? He lived just outside Japanese society, on the edges of the world that demanded conformity. Even if he wanted it - even if he could picture a future where he and Sakura were together - he knew it was impossible.

He tried to resist the allure, to silence the thoughts that kept spiraling. But his mind rebelled, persistent and demanding. And for the third time, even though it may not lead to him acquiring what he wanted, he was tempted to end Takeda Hito's life.

A/N

Hey Tomodachi!

Thank you for the reviews. FYI, since I first posted this story, you would see that I changed S+S ages and Tomoyo's to reflect the time period (somewhere around Kamakura era) if anyone was wondering why. Women married younger and men were seen as established around 25 or so. I think I changed their ages in APCTFC too (somewhere around Tang dynasty).

meridalass: I'm not quite sure about Eriol yet but there is an idea floating around. And no, no more honeymoon chapters. I have an outline for a sequel, but I need a break from the story. Sorry.

Hopee sg: Sakura won't use her powers right now but when she does, she will be careful. Let's see if he notices. Also, I think "stalking" Sakura seems very natural to him as he is an assassin.

Ivichan: I'm trying to keep it true to the manga/anime because Syaoran was her adversary at first, but he fell in love against his will. Here, he is her adversary too, but they don't know it yet. Not until it's too late to make easy decisions about each other. Who will be the first one to be found out first, I wonder?

Until Next Time,

Ja ne! ^_^