Synopsis:

Sakura fell in love with a man she knew was out of her league. He had an incredibly long line of suitors waiting to enchant him and become his wife. What would he see in her that the other women did not have? As fate would have it, they cared for each other deeply. Their love blossomed over time. But one fateful day, he disappeared. She was told he was dead. But she held on to the belief he was still alive. Alas, he reappeared, but not as a her Li Syaoran, but a fiancé of the daughter of the Wang clan. He did not know Kinomoto Sakura existed, let alone a certain little boy who carried his surname.

Chapter 9: To Know and Be Known

Sakura was completely gobsmacked while Fuutie had a look of self-satisfied smugness written all over her exquisitely embellished face. Her deep brown eyes illuminated with a truth that even Sakura harboured doubts about.

"So? What do you have to say, Sakura-chan?" Fuutie teased, her voice slicing through the hush of the midsummer night like a sturdy, sharp blade.

The confident command in her words made her seem like a marionette with the threads of verity woven around her fingers and hung down, entangling Sakura in a web of unspoken questions that demanded answers. She was well aware that the only way out was to be upfront with Syaoran's sister who was as indomitable and overpowering as he was. Like her brother, she seemed to be able to read her like an open book.

But… she was not even sure what was real anymore, especially after hearing what Zhenni had said earlier on. There seemed to be incredible layers to this entire thing with Syaoran that were difficult to unpack. All of a sudden, Sakura, who was usually bursting with energy, felt completely frazzled as disappointment crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Noticing her distress, Fuutie softened her stance and smiled genially. "Relax, sister. I'm not here to interrogate you like an FBI agent."

Sakura felt her body uncoil and her chest loosen. She did not realise she was holding her breath until that moment. Noticing that her thoughts starting to settle as the tension in her muscles eased up, Sakura began, "Fuutie-s—"

"Onee-san," Fuutie interrupted, holding up her index finger in mock disapproval.

Hesitantly, Sakura echoed, "O-onee-san."

After realising how truly illustrious the Li family was, Sakura felt she would be making a faux pas if she had addressed her so informally. She did not think someone as polished and charming as Li Fuutie would regard her as someone familial, or even a friend. A sense of warmth crept into her heart, throwing a comforting blanket snugly over it.

Sakura loved her onii-chan dearly despite his humourless chaff regularly tossed at her. Perhaps it was his warped way of lifting her spirits and displaying his brotherly affection, though it definitely peeved her no end. There were times Sakura wished for an older sister—someone to play dress-up and share girly secrets with, someone whom she could turn to for advice for issues only girls would understand.

And here was Fuutie, embracing her as her little sister with open arms.

"That's better," Fuutie said with an approving nod. Folding her arms in front of her, she tilted her body forward and eyed Sakura with a gaze so intense that it was as if she could see straight into the trenches of her very soul, unearthing the deepest, innermost secrets and thoughts she had not planned to reveal. "You like him too, don't you?" A knowing smile hinted at the corner of her lips.

That inexorable force that demanded compliance and attention ran in the blood of the Lis, didn't it?

Sakura felt her face redden for the umpteenth time that night. She stuttered, "I–I…"

"I saw the two of you," Fuutie interjected, her softly defined eyelids unblinking.

"You saw…" Sakura faltered, unsure what she was referring to.

"Remember the day we just returned from Hong Kong?" Fuutie began. When she saw Sakura nod her head, she continued, "I could sense something was up between the two of you. Especially Xiao Lang. There was this… gentleness that I haven't felt from him ever since Father passed away. And I noticed the way he looked at you–it was so full of an emotion that no one would associate him with."

Fuutie paused, as though letting her words reach the chasm of Sakura's heart. She scrutinised the wordless, gilded-haired lass with thoughtful interest. Despite her carefully maintained indifference, Fuutie could tell that the neurons in her brain were lighting and firing up with a slow, hesitant flicker of clarity, dissolving whatever doubts she was carrying inside her. Still, there were vacillations that she could not seem to overcome and Fuutie was able to empathise with her. After all, her brother did not have the most impeccable reputation in the realm of romance. Fuutie had heard countless rumours about how ruthless he could be when it came to getting rid of women he had become disinterested in, how he would shove his wealth into their faces to seal their lips, how he would play with their hearts and lead them on when he was certain he did not want them to be part of his life. To all this hearsay, Fuutie only held her tongue although she knew none of it was even close to the truth. They were just shreds of groundless gossip circulating around the high society, especially among women whom he had 'maliciously dumped' and those who sought to mar the name of the Li clan. Ironically, the women who claimed to seek justice for their female peers who fell victim to the allegedly cruel clutches of Li Xiao Lang became those who sought to become the future Li mistress. In their scheming eyes, he was their golden ticket to a life of endless prestige and privilege. It was like watching a ludicrous soap opera.

"You guys shared an intimate moment at the front porch. I had the honour to witness it," Fuutie said, giving Sakura an impish wink.

Sakura's cheeks were now in flames. "I… we…"

Smiling reassuringly, Fuutie placed a well-manicured hand on Sakura's shoulder and said in a theatrical whisper, "No one else knows except me." Resuming her customary speaking tone, Fuutie continued, "And of course I had to pump my annoyingly uncommunicative brother for details." She let out a sigh and frowned, seeming to recall what an agonising experience it was to extract information out of her brother.

"H-he told you… everything?" Sakura stammered, her heart hammering in her chest.

It was strange and even ridiculous, wasn't it? The mere mention of his name gave her the jitters.

Fuutie tapped her chin with her finger solemnly. "Hmm… I suppose so. Xiao Lang would always succumb to my relentless grilling," she muttered, "since young."

An uneasy chuckle escaped Sakura's lips as she pictured a looming figure of Fuutie towering over Syaoran, wringing information out of him, and he could not help but to yield to his unassailable, commanding sister.

Meeting Sakura's jade green gaze, Fuutie went on, "From what I've gathered, Xiao Lang is serious about you. As his sister who has watched him grow up, I must say I've never seen him quite like this. He had never once expressed any interest in the opposite sex. To be honest, we were quite worried. That was why Mother was always arranging dates for him."

Sakura clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle an impending giggle. "I would be worried too."

Grinning, Fuutie said, "Now we know our worry was groundless."

Her expression darkened as she seemed to be deliberating what she wanted to say. A brief moment later, Fuutie carried on, "Xiao Lang wasn't such a recluse before Father died. Yes, he wasn't much of a talker to begin with but he was happy. He was a smiley boy, quite expressive too. After Father's passing, his face became devoid of emotion and nothing seemed to interest him. Except his training with the Elders, though I think it's just his sense of duty that was pushing him to keep going. He is the kind of person who doesn't air his fears and worries. He simply shoulders them all."

All of a sudden, Fuutie's voice broke and her typically confident gaze faltered. It was as if a long-buried, painful memory had been brought into the open once again. In a subdued tone, she said, "Xiao Lang has gone through a lot, not just because of Father's passing, but as the future leader of the Li clan. His training can be… harsh. The Elders have great expectations for him, seeing that he is the only legitimate male heir. But Xiao Lang is totally unflappable even in the most dire situations. Not once did he ever complain about what he had to endure during his training with the Elders. Even when he got injured on a few occasions—"

"Injured?" Sakura interrupted. For some inexplicable reason, the idea of him being physically hurt seemed unbelievable to her. Perhaps it was the impenetrable exterior he always maintained that made people believe he was as unbeatable as an unrivalled champion.

"Well, you can't expect this kind of training to be a walk in the park," Fuutie replied matter-of-factly.

"What kind of training… does he undergo?" asked Sakura. She realised there was so much she did not know about the man she was dating. Her heart twisted at the thought of Syaoran keeling over in agony. She hated it.

"Mmm… magic wielding, swordsmanship, those kinds of stuff an heir to a renowned clan needs to learn and master," Fuutie explained, going down the list on her fingers.

Sakura's revving mind conjured up images of the injuries he could get from those drills. As an athlete herself, she was no stranger to sports-related afflictions. But trainings that involved swords, magic? She shuddered at what might invade her thoughts if she let herself dwell on all the possibilities. Still, Sakura could not help but to venture, "The injuries… they weren't too serious… were they?"

Fuutie's eyes misted for a moment. She swallowed before saying, "Not enough to kill him, no. But enough to make someone as hardy as him bed-ridden for a good few days before he could function normally again."

A chill ran down Sakura's spine. "Bed–bed-ridden?"

"Surely, no human who's been slashed could bounce back on his feet the next day, could they?"

Her hand flying to her mouth, Sakura stifled a gasp as she felt her stomach hollow out. "How? Why?"

Fuutie shrugged, a look of helplessness etched on her face. "The Elders insist he gain practical, on-the-ground experience. 'Coddling him would only weaken him, eroding the influence of our clan'. That was what they said when Mother tried to talk sense into them. I guess a woman's 'sense' isn't valid in our family," Fuutie bemoaned, giving an exasperated sigh.

An ache gripped Sakura's heart as she pictured how much pain Syaoran had to endure all those years. No wonder he was ripped of any joy that life wanted to offer this hardworking, devoted man, shut down like the gate of a fort. All she wanted to do right now was to run to him and give him a hug so tight it would squeeze out every ounce of sorrow and pain that had nested themselves unwelcomed inside him. It cut her to the bone just thinking how lonely he must have been all this while, suffering in an endless well of silence.

"Anyway," Fuutie began, drawing Sakura away from her brooding thoughts. "I'm here because Xiao Lang called me earlier. He told me he couldn't get you and he was getting worried. So he deployed a search party." Smirking, Fuutie pointed to herself.

Sakura fished inside her bag for her phone which had been forgotten since the start of cheerleading practice nearly four hours ago. She unlocked her mobile device and saw three missed calls and a text message from Syaoran. He had tried to call her while she was at the ice cream shop but she was too overwhelmed by the unexpected twist of conversation that the bustling of the world around her blurred, leaving her mind in tatters. Her eyes scanned his text message.

Are you okay?

Just three words, yet they spoke volumes of his feelings for her.

What about Zhenni? His past… relationships? Did he treat them the same way he did her?

As if reading her mind, Fuutie said, "He had always kept himself aloof from the girls Mother had arranged for him. We knew he wasn't interested and only went ahead with Mother's plans out of sheer filial piety. But you, Sakura-chan, have stirred something inside him. I know, without a doubt, you are someone he would go to the ends of the earth for at the drop of a hat."

The tickle of jealousy which had found its way under Sakura's skin when she learnt about how Syaoran and Zhenni had some kind of a history gave way to a blooming effect on her heart. She felt a smile creeping up her face and any slither of doubt about him that had woven its way into her mind was quickly erased.

"You know, he has never once asked a favour from me, or any of my sisters, or even our mother, until now. That speaks volumes, doesn't it?" Fuutie pointed out, flashing Sakura a smile full of sisterly warmth.

Sakura's phone dinged, bestirring her from her slumber. She was so worn out from the previous night's events that she had forgotten to switch it to silent mode and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Eyes still shut, Sakura felt for her phone on the nightstand. When she finally grasped it, she unlocked the screen and groggily checked the time. It was 5 a.m. Who would text her in the wee hours of the morning?

Struggling to focus on the text with drowsy eyes, she blinked several times and tried to make sense of what she was reading.

I'm back home. I know you must be still asleep. I'll see you in a bit. :)

For a few seconds, Sakura's mind was an empty slate. She could not figure out who would send her a message this early informing her of their whereabouts. Then, realisation dawned on her and she leapt up from her bed, suddenly wide awake. It was Syaoran! His name at the top of the screen confirmed it.

That's right! He said he would be back by Sunday!

Acting before her brain clocked in, Sakura bolted out of her bedroom door and nearly sprinted towards the third level where Syaoran's room was. She had been counting the hours until she could see him again since he left for Switzerland three days ago. After the illuminating heart-to-heart talk with Fuutie the previous night, the wait had become even more unbearable, even though she knew he was already on his way back to Japan.

Without a second thought, Sakura rapped on the solid, mahogany door. Her heart thudded, bursting with excitement to see the man whom she knew for certain she had fallen for. Despite her initial qualms about getting into a relationship again and especially with someone like Syaoran, Sakura found her heart gravitating towards him, like the tide to the moon. Like a slow-burning flame, her affection for him grew and before she knew it, she was tumbling into the mysterious world of Li Syaoran. And she could not stop it even if she tried.

Sakura caught the faint sound of the doorknob turning and her senses flooded over her in a sudden rush. What was she doing—running to his room at this hour of the day? She had not even washed up or changed. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her face must look hideously puffy. What had she done? Sakura panicked. But there was no time to react because the heavy door swung open, revealing the face of the man whom she had been longing to see, to touch, in the last thirty-six hours.

A look of utter surprise spread through his amber eyes, gleaming like molten honey. One hand gripped the doorknob while the other lingered midway, the towel still draped over his damp hair.

"Sakura?" Syaoran uttered, a blend of bewilderment and glee woven into the rhythm of those three syllables.

A searing heat flared in Sakura's cheeks and her heart hammered frantically. There was so much, so much she had wanted to say but everything—every word, every sentence—she had rehearsed in her head was thrown into the wind at the sight of him. Her eyes briefly flicked from his dripping hair which was the colour of warm cinnamon to his loungewear which made him look… vulnerably sweet.

"O-okaeri… nasai," Sakura managed to eke out, her eyes hastily cast towards the lush, cloud-like flooring.

A smile curved across his lips as he answered, "Tadaima."

Sakura brought her uncertain gaze to meet his. In that moment, when she saw his gladdened countenance, the stiffness in her spine gave way to stillness and the knot in her chest slowly unravelled. Her face split into a pure-hearted beam. She melted into his presence like she had always belonged. She was home. Where he was, there was her heaven.

Something unseen whispered courage into her bones and without a second thought, Sakura bridged the gap and hugged him tightly around his waist. She missed his scent. Bergamot. It was so comforting, like finding shelter in a storm.

Momentarily, Syaoran stood motionless, thrown off by the unexpected act of affection. But just another fleeting second later, he surrendered into the warmth of the hug, wrapping her close to him.

"I missed you, Syaoran-kun," Sakura whispered into his T-shirt which felt buttery smooth on her skin.

It was fascinating how, in a moment like this, words that had been held inside for fear of revealing one's vulnerability would spill out like a broken dam.

Pretending not to care is strong armour, but letting the pretense fall away and just be vulnerable and real—though terrifying—is true courage.

Syaoran felt it. Her reciprocation, her feelings for him, her susceptibilities, her insecurities, everything. He also felt something else–there was a deep sense of sorrow radiating from inside her. He did not know what was causing it but he held her tighter, silently willing her grief to fade.

Reluctantly, Syaoran pulled himself away, his hands still resting firmly against Sakura's back. He studied her carefully. "Everything okay while I was away?"

His voice was so tender that it tore at Sakura's heart as she thought about what Fuutie had told her the previous night. How could someone so afflicted still have gentleness in him to give away? She still remembered her first impression of him. He had been the most unapproachable person she had ever met. Arrogance and anger he wore like a shield, protecting himself from the world around him. So shut down, so… out of reach. But Sakura understood now that the hardships he faced justified his retreat into apathy and the fortress of aloofness he had built around him.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, muffled footsteps echoed in the distance. "Look, we'll talk later. I just wanted to pop by to say, um, hi," Sakura said limply. Noticing how lame she sounded, she added, "I shall head back to my room first. Someone's coming. See you–" Her words rolled out at a blistering pace, flustered of being seen together, not when things between them were not official yet.

In a swift, seamless motion, Syaoran pulled her into his room, the door closing behind them with a click. For the second time, Sakura found herself in his room, just the two of them.

Syaoran released his hold on her hand and waved his own towards the foot of his bed. "Make yourself comfortable."

Sakura felt the heat rise, staining her cheeks with a deep shade of pink. Her breath stilled and she did not budge an inch. She watched as Syaoran strode towards his silver-tinted luggage, sprawled open with his belongings still piled inside, her feet still cemented to the ground.

Crouching beside it, Syaoran sifted through its contents, searching for something. When he found what he was looking for, he smiled to himself and turned towards Sakura. Eyebrows raised in amusement, he stated, "You haven't moved."

"Well, I–"

Syaoran sat down on the edge of his generously spacious bed and patted the spot next to him. "Come, sit down. I've something for you."

Moving slowly, Sakura closed the distance and eased herself down beside him. She blinked. His bed felt impossibly soft, as though she was lying on a bed of feathers. At that moment, Sakura wondered how it must feel like to grow up with all these luxuries within reach, not needing to strive or struggle. Then, she remembered the ordeal Syaoran had to go through in order to secure his place in the family. Though he was the rightful heir to his clan's leadership, Sakura knew he still had to earn it with his sweat and blood.

Perched awkwardly on the edge of his cloud-like bed, Sakura intentionally laid an invisible rift between her and Syaoran. She swallowed hard, her erratically beating heart unable to keep any kind of rhythm. Being this near him, sitting on the same bed, inhaling the clean, calming scent left on him after his shower—it was just impossible for her to keep a cool head.

While Sakura's eyes were everywhere else but on the source of her nerves, his were fixed only on her. A faint snap reached her ears. Curious, Sakura tipped her head towards Syaoran and caught a glimpse of something sparkling nestled in a white, plush cushion.

"I got this for you while I was in Switzerland. As promised," Syaoran said, removing the perfect gift, which he had spent hours searching for, from the navy blue leather box.

Sakura's pupils dilated and her lips parted, hardly believing what she was seeing. It was the most beautiful watch she had ever seen in her life. Its face was framed with rose gold stainless steel and little gems in the shape of hearts crusted with diamonds danced between two sapphire crystals as Syaoran pulled it out of the box.

Gingerly, he placed the watch on her wrist and buckled the flamingo pink straps, a gratified smile planted on his face. "As I'd imagined. This piece is totally made bespoke for you. When I saw this at Chopard, I saw you."

"It's… like… something one can only find in heaven," Sakura gushed, her eyes unable to peel away from the breathtaking timepiece. "It must have cost a fortune," she remarked, feeling that familiar sense of guilt that would always gnaw at her heart whenever her best friend, Tomoyo, gave her something she could never afford on her own. Sakura knew she should see it as a blessing but often she could not help but to feel indebted to all her kind, generous gestures. Perhaps it was her own sense of inadequacy that made it difficult for her to accept blessings wholeheartedly.

Syaoran interlaced his fingers with Sakura's, his other hand cupping her face with a touch so tender it sent waves of warmth radiating through her body. Sakura leaned into his soothing palm.

"Wear it for me. That's all I ask," said Syaoran, thumbing her face in small, gentle strokes.

Sakura gazed into his sincere, earnest eyes and found herself saying, "Thank you, Syaoran-kun."

As though her thoughts echoed in his own head, Syaoran began, "Sakura." Resting both hands on her shoulders, he continued, "You deserve every good thing in this world. And I want to be the one to give you all that you deserve. And more."

A lump formed in Sakura's throat as she fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Syaoran's words cut through all the layers of doubt and insecurity that she had unconsciously been carrying inside her all this while. It was so heartening and liberating that it made her heart sparkle with every colour of the rainbow. Her hand rose to meet his and she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "It means a lot to me to hear that from someone. And that someone is you." Then, a trace of smile played at her lips. "You deserve every good thing in this world too, Syaoran-kun."

"Says the one who's gonna give it to me," Syaoran half-teased.

Every part of Sakura ached to find out from Syaoran himself about what he had to go through in this ironically prestigious position that he was destined to assume. She wanted—needed—to know more about the man she had come to develop affectionate feelings for. And she wanted to be his source of comfort, at least a piece of his heaven here on Earth.

Wearing a solemn expression, Sakura hesitated, "Fuutie-san told me something last night… about… about…"

Syaoran's eyebrow lifted, encouraging her to go on.

Drawing in a deep breath, Sakura continued, "She shared with me… about your… your training with the Elders of your clan…"

His eyebrows now crawling closer together, Syaoran pressed, "And?" His visage seemed to tighten. He fidgeted uneasily on his bed—was it worry? Worry about a secret that was threatening to slip free? Or had a memory so immobilising that it froze every muscle in his body?

Tightening her grip on both his hands, Sakura said, her tone circumspect, "Is it true? That you have to withstand… real injuries when you train?"

Syaoran did not seem fazed by her question. Instead, his lips curled upwards as though amused. "You mean getting stabbed and slashed?"

Sakura winced, then nodded.

Chuckling, Syaoran said, "Yes. But not always."

Sakura's forehead creased in disapproval. "How can you be so flippant about such a serious matter?"

"It really isn't that bad," Syaoran assured, though a fleck of apprehension still sat quiet in his eyes.

A soft silence enveloped the room as Sakura deliberated over the request she was about to make. From her peripheral vision, she could make out a glimmer of light streaming through the window. A new day, a new dawn. It was time that she took herself out of herself so that she could be all that she could be for Li Syaoran who deserved every ounce of goodness this world had to offer and even more.

Finally, she broke the stillness. "Can I… Can I see them?"

A look of confusion washed over Syaoran's face. "Them?"

Sakura blushed. "Yeah, your battle scars. I… I would Iike… to see them… that is, if… if you don't mind…" she faltered, her confidence waning with each second of silence that passed between them.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to be scarred for life," Syaoran joked, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

"I'm sure," Sakura replied, her expression grim.

Syaoran eyed her for a brief moment. Though her voice was calm, there was something resolute in it that made even him afraid to refuse her. Still, those scars… they were not things he wanted anyone to see or even know about. Why did Fuutie have to mention them to Sakura at all? Syaoran let out a silent sigh.

Sakura's steely countenance was unwavering, so much so that it seemed every molecule in the room paused, reluctant to move until her request was acceded to. The hefty weight in the air pressed on every side of Syaoran, urging him to reveal himself completely to the woman who had cemented herself as a quintessential presence in his life–irreplaceable and written on the pages of his present moment and the unfolding future. A series of rapid thumps echoed in his chest as he clutched the hem of his white T-shirt, bracing himself to lay bare before someone else for the very first time. But it was not just anyone—it was Sakura, the only one who had found the way to his very soul. Wouldn't it be pointless, then, to keep up a facade before the one who had already held the keys to his heart?

You are my pride, son. I know—I just know—that you are going to bring honour to our family, to our clan.

Those were the words of a passionately proud father whose approval and affirmation meant the world to him, more than gold or silver. He sought to gain his recognition, to earn his affection, and to live up to his standards, through his sweat, blood and tears.

Syaoran had only just entered into childhood when he was taken away by the Elders to begin his training as the future leader of the Li clan. He would bawl his eyes out, screaming for his mother who would watch helplessly as he was torn from the cocoon of comfort—her arms. Every time the grey-headed, severe-looking men came for him, Syaoran would protest wildly, thrashing about on the floor. His mother had always commented he was a sweet child with a sweet temper but being snatched from the safety of familiarity instantaneously turned him into a monstrous brat.

One day, something that his father said brought a ceasefire to a tantrum-fuelled battlefield.

"I'm not going to be here forever, Xiao Lang. You need to be strong—for yourself, for me, for your family. When I'm not around anymore, you need to be even stronger."

To Syaoran's four-year-old mind, he did not understand why he had to be strong or why his father would not be with him forever. Parents were supposed to always be with their child, weren't they? They would never leave them, would they? When he asked his father where he was going, he only smiled and ruffled his hair. Though his words left Syaoran puzzled, they were so compelling that he just had to obey in spite of the deep unwillingness that swelled inside him at the unwelcome thought of being dragged away by those old, surly men. From then on, he had never once cried or hollered like an overindulged, coddled tyrant. Driven by his desire to please his father, Syaoran stopped all his protests and committed himself wholly to the task of becoming a strong pillar for his clan, for his father.

Then, when his father was laid to rest, Syaoran's drive became sheer doggedness that only left his heart cold and empty. He let the injustice dealt to him by the heavens hollow out his soul, leaving a cavernous well which he would try to fill with arduous hours of training to become a befitting bearer of the mantle passed down to him. The Elders had always been harsh and unyielding in their teaching of the youngster who was destined to rule. But ever since the passing of Syaoran's father, they had made every session even more brutal than the last. The atmosphere was always charged with a palpable sense of urgency and desperation, as though the Elders were afraid that by wasting even one second would fling wide the gates for others to usurp the prestigious position that only belonged rightfully to Li Tian's one and only son. Their loyalty was pledged solely to him and his offspring, no one else. That was why they were so vehemently eager to ensure Syaoran was ready and capable enough to be positioned at the helm, so much so that they drilled him with the intensity of an actual trial.

Not once did Syaoran breathe even a word of complaint or resentment. He surged forward with the momentum of defiance, his resolve to fulfil his esteemed father's last wish stronger than the sword he wielded. Even when blood spilled from his flesh, he gritted his teeth and wore the pain like armour. He made his body bow to his adamantine will, refusing to be besieged by pressure that came crashing down on him from every direction. In those moments, Syaoran had forgotten what it was like to… love, and be loved.

Until Sakura came waltzing into his life without any warning, throwing him off his feet, helpless and defenceless.

And that was what he was feeling right then. He found himself at her mercy, unfortified and powerless. The walls he had built around him all those years had been torn asunder by the girl seated just next to him. And he had allowed it. He liked how she made him feel, butterflies swirling in his stomach, every cell in his body more alive than ever. Kinomoto Sakura had taken a piece of him with her, whether she realised it or not.

Before his decision faltered, Syaoran lifted his shirt with one smooth movement, revealing all the scars he carried on his lean and defined physique, battered from the countless hours he had spent raising himself to be the shield and sword for his people, for his family.

A tremor of breath escaped Sakura's lips as she drank in the sight before her. Her heart ached from a pain that cut deeper than words could reach. Time seemed to hold its breath, a shadowing presence of grief unfolding in the air around them. There were at least a dozen threads of pale, raised lines snaking across his back and front, twisting and intersecting like a piece of warped contemporary art carved into flesh.

When her voice finally returned to her, Sakura mumbled, "Can I… Would you mind… if I… if I… touched them?"

Syaoran hesitated for a second, then nodded his head, the movement almost indistinct.

Sakura's trembling hand hovered over one of the ridge-like threads near his left shoulder blade, the joints in her fingers suddenly stiffened, as though bracing for the consequences of what they were about to do. When her fingers grazed against the scar on his bare skin, she felt his entire body tense beneath her touch. The sensation of jagged smoothness on her own skin raised a torrent of emotions surging through her veins. It was so strong a sensation that she had to close her eyes and just let them consume her. She felt them–the turmoil, the frustration, the fury, the longing, the loneliness–all melded messily together in a pot that brewed poison capable of eclipsing one's soul. Sakura had always known there was more to his glacial exterior than mere indifference. But she had not fully realised the sheer weight that he had been carrying all this while. How could any human being shoulder such elephantine burdens all alone and for so long? Her eyes moistened with unshed tears as she delved into the depth of his core, reliving those moments of anguish, indignation and desolation that he had all wordlessly endured.

"Do they… still hurt?" Sakura murmured, her voice raspy from the knot in her throat.

"No, not really. They only itch sometimes," Syaoran answered, his skin tingling from her touch that still lingered.

Sakura's fingers traced the next scar. "I'm so sorry you have to go through this." Slipping her arms around his waist, Sakura pressed herself against his back, hoping she could erase all his painful memories.

He smelled nice, like the scent of bitter orange blossom–so fresh, so clean, so… calming.

Syaoran's hands cupped hers as he pivoted his body to face her. Looking into her eyes of forest green, he said in a low voice, each syllable deliberate and measured, "If everything I went through led me to you, then it was all worth it."

Unbidden, a tear slid down her face. Sakura hastily wiped it away.

"Don't feel sorry for me. If you did, I'd be insulted," Syaoran quipped, flashing a crooked smile.

In spite of herself, Sakura sniggered. "Who would dare insult the great Li Syaoran?"

Seeing her laugh, Syaoran's shoulders sagged in relief. He hated seeing her upset. Darkness did not belong in her world. Pulling her closer to his chest, Syaoran captured her lips with his and kissed her with a passion that even the fiercest frost could not quench. What were a few lacerations on his flesh if he could have Kinomoto Sakura nestled so perfectly in his arms and this peace that his soul had always longed for?

An air of desire and longing roiled in the space between them, their hearts drumming in their chests–hinting for more, afraid for more.

As Sakura tasted him on her lips, all her pent-up feelings, which words could not even scantly express, found a rapid vent. Every touch, every inch of their skin that found each other, every taste that lingered in their mouths–was not merely a caprice of their youthful inclinations, but a persistent ache for closeness and connection with someone whom they trust. If just by being his could chase away the shadows haunting him, Sakura would give herself to him–every part, every fragment, completely, without hesitation.

In that sacred moment when they became one—flesh, soul and spirit intertwined in silent communion, a burst of vibrant greens and pinks danced with epic exuberance around the bell of enigma. It chimed a tune of the century.

If you don't know your heart, put it to the test.

Once, two hearts beat in separate worlds, strangers to each other's rhythms.

Now, those same hearts could not live without the other—they beat as one.

Once, those two hearts were full of doubt, jaded by the trials of this world.

Now, they contained so much eager anticipation and hope for the future–their future.

In that moment, their hearts soared with triumph, knowing that they had found one which fitted like a glove.

As they lay side by side on Syaoran's cloud-like bed, their chests danced with the tempo of budding, impassioned hope. Arms threading around each other contentedly, they snuggled into each other, drunk from the euphoria of the apotheosis of a pure and elevating passion–love.

"Sakura?" Syaroan whispered into her dishevelled crown of honeyed silk.

"Mmhmm?" mumbled Sakura.

"I love you."

Despite her somnolent state, a wide smile decorated her radiantly flushed face. She burrowed herself deeper into the arms of Li Syaoran whose presence was a warm, safe cocoon of serenity, and said, "I love you too."

Words had the propensity to bring death or life.

In that stillness of time, those precious three words filled their hearts with immense hope, joy and unwavering faith that promised a lifetime ahead for them.

"Syaoran-kun?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Your bed is the most comfortable thing I've ever lain on."

"It's yours too."

Together, Sakura and Syaoran surrendered to a blissful slumber–it was heaven in its purest form.

"Da jie, I need a favour."

"Ooohhh… this is a historical moment–the Great Li Xiao Lang asking his sister for a favour," sniggered Fuutie, pressing her mobile phone between her ear and shoulder as she painted her final fingernail. She could sense her brother roll his eyes on the other end of the line. He was so adorable.

Instead of the usual snappy comeback, Syaoran ignored his sister's playful provocation and continued, "I need you to go to Hikari Gymnasium."

Raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow, Fuutie repeated, "Hikari Gymnasium?"

"Yes."

"It's about Sakura-chan, isn't it?" Fuutie deduced, amusement and interest colouring her tone.

Silence lingered on the other end of the line. She could practically feel the heat coming off his face, even through the bevy of optic fibre that connected their conversation.

"She isn't answering my calls. I'm…" Syaoran trailed off, as though embarrassed by what he was about to say.

"Worried?" Fuutie finished his sentence, saving him from the awkwardness of having to admit something that he was not used to.

Lounging back into her cream-coloured cushioned swivel chair, Fuutie remarked with a sly grin, "Seems like you know I know about you and Sakura-chan."

Another pocket of silence followed. Then, a faint grunt reached her ear. A reluctant grunt of acknowledgement.

"You saw me, didn't you?" Fuutie asked casually, spinning slightly in her chair.

"You weren't exactly subtle," Syaoran answered plainly, wincing inwardly as he recalled the obnoxious smirk on his sister's face. It was the most mortifying moment of his life–his sister, of all people, catching him in an intimate situation with a girl. He had chosen to turn a blind eye to those prying hazel eyes that were shooting arrows of questions at him.

"As sharp as always, even in a moment like that. I expect no less from my dear brother," Fuutie said fondly. "So, how long has it been?"

"Da jie," Syaoran warned.

"Fine, fine," Fuutie relented. "I will help you. On the condition that you answer two of my questions truthfully."

Syaoran heaved a sigh of exasperation. Trust his sister to be as helpful as a paper umbrella in a hurricane. "Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth.

A toothy grin spread across Fuutie's face, as thrilled as someone who had just heard the best news of their life. "What does she have that the other women Mother arranged for you don't?"

In a heartbeat, Syaoran answered simply, "She makes me need her."

"That's huge–to make the I-don't-need-anyone-in-my-life Li Xiao Lang need someone," Fuutie remarked thoughtfully. "So you think she's the one for you?"

"Without a doubt."

"Aww, little cutie pie Xiao Lang is all grown up," Fuutie let out a sigh fit for the stage, "how did all those years just disappear?"

A sharp inhale crackled through the other end of the line, edged with mounting impatience. "If you do not wish to—"

"Hikari Gymnasium, is that it? I'm on my way," Fuutie cut in, a satisfied smile creeping up her face. It was always amusing to irritate her little brother.

"Thank you," Syaoran exhaled, grateful that the inevitable grilling was over.

"You're welcome, Xiao Lang. But honestly, I'm quite sure Sakura-chan's perfectly fine," Fuutie said dryly.

"Keep me posted."

"Aye, brother."

Da jie: The term that Chinese-speaking individuals typically use to address their eldest sister in the family.

A/N: Thank you for reading till the end. :)