Never Let Me Go (2/3)
May. 23rd, 2012 06:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eijentuTitle: Never Let Me Go
Series: Holitsuba Gakuen
Rating: R-18 (NSFW)
Warnings: Twincest, sexual abuse
Summary: Everything in the compound is an imitation of something, Fai and Yuui (and Kurogane) included. KFY AU.
Part two of three forreikah's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KYRA. <3 <3 <3 MORE WILL FOLLOW!
‘What’s that door for?’
Ashura looked up from his desk in surprise. Well, Fai supposed that was to be expected – they’d been quiet as church mice for the past hour, absorbed in their reading. Beside Fai, Yuui had gone stiff, small fingers caught around the page of his book. That was to be expected too. They didn’t usually ask questions here; they didn’t say much of anything, in fact, until Ashura inevitably stood and stretched and said, ‘How about some cocoa?’ – but Fai had been eyeing the door for their last three visits to Ashura’s room and now he really wanted to know. It was different from the auto-doors on nursery deck, and all the secure doors he and Yuui passed through on Celes to get to Ashura’s office. He wondered why.
Ashura tapped a couple of keys on his computer. Stood up, and walked over to the faded armchair that contained Fai and Yuui and their (his) books.
He knelt down beside them.
‘That’s a very special door,’ he said quietly, and Fai nodded, satisfaction breaking over his small (identical) face.
‘I thought so,’ he said. He pointed to the plastic box on the doorframe. ‘That doesn’t look like the other scanners.’
Ashura turned to look at the thing. Then, ‘No,’ he agreed. He turned back again. ‘It’s different. Those are just card scanners and this one is a bit more complicated than that.’
‘Because of the buttons?’ asked Yuui, shy, and Ashura hesitated just a fraction this time before he nodded. ‘Yes. Because of the buttons.’
Fai screwed up his face. ‘Why do we have to have scanners anyway?’ he asked.
There was a silence. Ashura considered him a moment, and then he said, ‘You don’t like them?’
Fai shook his head. ‘No. I always forget my card and then I get locked out.’
And at that, Ashura smiled – that kind, warm (reassuring) smile they had come to know so well in those few short months – and patted Fai’s head. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘You’ll get better at remembering as you get older.’
Fai’s eyes flicked back towards the door. ‘So, what’s on the other side?’ he asked, curious.
(The hand slid from his head.)
‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ and there was something very final about the way Ashura said it..
Yuui nudged Fai in the ribs then, and Fai knew what that meant; Ashura let them slip away from nursery deck to come and read his books (real leather-bound books worn with age) and so Fai shouldn’t pester him.
Ashura straightened and stretched. ‘How about some cocoa?’ he said.
And so Fai nodded, willing to put special doors aside (for now).
‘Can I help you make it?’ Yuui asked. He slid to the edge of the seat, because he already knew the answer, and sure enough, Ashura smiled down at him (at them), so kind and warm. He held out a hand.
‘Let’s make it together,’ he said gently.
Fai went back to his book. He was reading about a world with princes and curses and evil magicians; it was different from his world (their world), because in the compound there was no ‘good’ and no ‘evil’, no heroes and no villains. There was only ‘permitted’ and ‘prohibited, grey-coat and donor.
Fai read, and he didn’t look up until Yuui returned with the mugs.
(The special door led to the Celes loading dock.)
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane.
‘I think,’ Fai says to Yuui, his eyes drifting away from Kurogane’s (massive) back, ‘that when we get out of here, we really need to teach puppy some new tricks.’
Puppy stiffens. He casts a sour look over his shoulder (tail up, hackles raised), but, oh, he really doesn’t have time for games. His hands are full now, fiddling with wires and switches and tape. And that’s a rather shame, really, because whatever Kurogane’s doing to the surveillance hatch outside RZ, waiting for him is growing terribly dull.
A wan smile appears on his twin’s face. ‘I don’t know,’ says Yuui, and he’s playing along, even if his voice is horribly strained. ‘Looks like he knows quite enough already.’
(Puppy’s ears are enchantingly pink.)
Fai shifts closer and slips an arm around his brother’s waist. Yuui is pale and stiff, there’s tension pulling at the thin curve of his mouth, and Fai sighs then, because it’s all so unnecessary. There’s no need to worry. Fai has paid the price and everything will be fine. He strokes his thumb over his brother’s hip, leans his weight into the hold, and smiles when he feels Yuui lean back.
After today, Yuui will never have to worry about anything.
(Please be free.)
But back to the matter at hand… Fai’s still grinning. ‘No, no,’ he says; he waves his spare hand for emphasis. ‘They stop learning, you know, once they get to a certain age. You have to teach them everything before that, otherwise it’s hopeless.’
Yuui watches Kurogane work. He says ‘Oh?’ He’s only half-listening, but he can still follow the thread of it – too many ridiculous conversations over too many years have taught him well. ‘I thought that wasn’t actually true.’
‘Nope.’ Fai waits a moment, and then, ‘I think sit-up-and-beg would be an excellent place to start.’
The colour that leaps into his companions’ faces then will never get old or dull or boring. Never. Fai’s grin stretches so wide it might actually crack.
‘Will you two shut up?’ snarls Kurogane. He steps back from the hole in the wall, pressing the metal hatch shut with one (massive) hand – only he could have forced the thing with a butter knife. ‘Get ready to move. This only gives us a minute.’
‘What are you doing?’ Yuui asks (at last).
Kurogane glances up at the camera above the secure door. ‘Disrupting the feed,’ he says. ‘It’ll show the same image for a minute while we pass the scanner. Any longer, grey-coats’ll notice.’
‘Oh,’ says Yuui, and his eyes are round as Fai pulls away to coo over his clever puppy. ‘Where did you learn that?’
Kurogane growls. Pushes Fai off. ‘Nihon,’ he answers shortly, and as ever, that ends the discussion.
Breaking into the Celes deck RZ is ridiculously easy.
‘You got the card?’ Kurogane says to Yuui, and Yuui shakes his head. He points to his twin.
Fai smirks. ‘Such an impatient puppy,’ he says. ‘We really need to work on that as well, Yuui.’
But Yuui just looks at him now, and Kurogane quivers with the effort of self-control. Fai thinks it would be nice to take advantage of all that, but, ‘Just. Get. The. Card,’ reminds him that time is ticking along.
Fai runs the plastic card over the scanner. It’s strange, how naturally it comes. He could be nine years old again, creeping with Yuui towards the forbidden kingdom (books and cocoa and kind, kind eyes). Life was simpler then – the whole world contained in blue eyes and blond hair; the whole universe stood beside him, clasping his hand. Because Fai has never needed anyone but Yuui (Kurogane), and all the other things don’t matter: light and dawn and the wide blue sky. They don’t matter. Fai would keep to his cage forever if he could keep Yuui (Kurogane) too, he would pay forever just to meet blue (red) eyes every morning and night. Just to know that he always could.
Fai would have given anything (he’s already given everything) for that much.
(The scanner flashes green.)
And then something washes over Fai – quick, raw, and startling. He blinks back at the little winking light on the scanner: the secure door to the RZ glides open easily as ever, and perhaps they could have escaped a hundred times before today. A thousand times.
Fai stares at the card in his hand. Perhaps. Easily.
Then something touches his arm. He looks up, pulls his smile wide, and, ‘Alright?’ Yuui asks: there’s concern in his eyes. Through his jacket, Fai can feel the warmth of his brother’s hand, feel the curl of his fingers, and it calms him, grounds him, draws him back. Makes him forget everything else in the world.
And Fai smiles. Because, oh, yes, it’s ridiculously easy.
He tucks the card away again. Shifts to take Yuui’s hand, ten (identical) fingers folding together (like always). Yuui’s eyes are perfect blue, and Fai marvels at the sight of them before he says, ‘Yep! Let’s go!’
(Yuui is the world, and Kurogane is Kurogane, and it’s fine.)
They head deep into the RZ. First turn left, and past four doors, and right and right and left. Fai can hear Ashura’s instructions in his head after all this time, and beside him Yuui murmurs them like a prayer. Fai glances at his twin and grins at what he finds, because Yuui could be nine years old again too: back straight and face set, leading Fai through the corridors. Matching shirts tucked into matching shorts and hair so neatly plaited.
Four plaits, two for each (identical) head. Yuui had learned from someone – Freya, maybe – and for a while he’d been quite obsessed, plaiting their hair each morning (Fai never had the patience) and forcing Fai still while worked. Never a hair out of place, never a loose ribbon. The house-mothers on nursery deck used to coo over them like there was no tomorrow (there wasn’t).
Sometimes, when Fai wakes in the not-grey light of late morning, he finds tiny braids scattered through his (identical) blond hair, feels the slide and pull of slender, strong fingers, and struggles to breathe against the rush of something in his chest (I love you, I love you, please don’t ever leave me).
Yuui is the world and no price will ever be too heavy to bear.
Then Kurogane rounds the corner ahead of them. All at once tension rips through his (massive) frame, and Fai’s heart very nearly stops.
Yuui grips his hand tighter, and pulls him on. Stiff and pale and far too grim.
(They turn the corner.)
Sheltered against the wall are two small (familiar) figures, and Fai smiles then because it’s Sakura and Syaoran – Yuui’s sweet kids, such good kids, and it’s been so entertaining over the years, seeing them dance around each other; all pink cheeks and stolen glances until finally (finally) one of them had plucked up the courage to act.
(Almost as entertaining as Kurogane and Yuui.)
Then Fai’s brain reminds him where they are and what they’re doing, and the smile freezes on his face.
Syaoran looks surprised (shocked and relieved and worried). He says, ‘Kurogane, Yuui.’
‘Fai,’ Sakura says softly.
They stand there, staring at one another for what seems an age. There’s no way to explain what Fai and Yuui (and Kurogane) are doing there – they’re not kids sneaking off to make out, they’re grown men, moving purposefully through a very restricted area. Whatever they say next will determine how this plays out, and it’s probably best to leave it to Yuui…
But Kurogane is looking at Syaoran. ‘Can you keep quiet, kid?’ he asks.
Fai has never heard Kurogane sound like that before.
The boy blinks, not expecting the question, maybe, but he nods. He looks determined, suddenly. Strong.
Kurogane nods too. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘Then keep quiet.’
And just like that, there are five of them.
‘How did you get in here?’ asks Yuui. They’re moving again.
Sakura blushes. Syaoran glances at her, and he hesitates a bit before he says, ‘Actually, we’ve been in here before. Sakura… Sakura is pretty good at things like that.’
’Good at things’. Fai doesn’t know what that means exactly, but it’s a marvellous euphemism, whatever it's for. He grins, takes the girl’s hand to help her along, and she gazes up with a honey-sweet smile.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says softly. ‘Everything will be alright.’
And that makes him grin even wider, because surely he should be reassuring her.
It doesn’t matter. The next room is Ashura’s; Fai has to drop Sakura’s hand then to dig out the card. Like magic, the scanner flashes green again, and they pour into the room: this room, the same room – no, a very different room now.
Fai glances about, taking it in. The faded armchair has gone, and the bookshelf, replaced by metal shelves and shipping crates. Fai hasn’t a clue what’s inside them – well, it’s impossible to tell at a glance – but the logos on the sides remind him of the medical station. One or two have ‘CAUTION – SHARPS’ printed onto the cardboard. And in the crate next to him are an assortment of what look like miniaturised cooler boxes: each one has a fiddly sort of catch and ‘STERILE SPECIMEN’ embossed in bright red letters.
Fai reaches out, touches his hand to one of those little boxes, and thinks that Yuui’s heart could never fit inside this thing.
‘We need to keep moving,’ Kurogane says sharply. ‘Someone’s been here. They could be back any second.’
Fai looks at him. Kurogane's brow is furrowed, there’s a tiny muscle bulging in his cheek, and, oh, they’ve got such a grumpy puppy! He’ll really have to speak to Yuui about it later, but for now Fai opens his mouth to say something glib and quick and lighter than air – and then he spots the cocoa cooling on the desk.
And his throat goes dry. Because surely not. (Surely not.)
He looks away, quickly.
One thing about this room has not changed, though. The plastic box on the doorframe looks exactly as Fai remembers, the special scanner for the special door, and he moves swiftly towards it to work his magic once more. Yuui slips past Syaoran to stand at Fai's side, and Fai can hear his brother’s breathing, shallow and quick; can feel the rasp of the air in his own lungs. For what feels like forever, the scanner doesn't respond.
Then the light flashes orange and a message appears on a tiny screen:
ENTER SECURITY CODE
(Yuui’s breath hitches in his throat.)
‘What’s going on?’ says Kurogane, from somewhere behind them.
Fai doesn’t know what’s going on. There’s something pounding in his ears, something closing up his throat, and he mustn’t think about that now. Not now (not ever). And in fact, Fai really shouldn't think, because he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, but, ‘Sakura,’ he says, and flashes a smile. ‘What code do you think we should enter here?’
He can feel Yuui’s eyes on his face, and doesn’t turn to meet them.
Sakura gazes back at him, brow creasing. ‘Code?’ she says, uncertain.
Fai nods and takes her hand again. ‘Yep! Any code,' he says. 'If you wanted to go through this door with Syaoran, what number would you try?’
‘Oh,’ she says, and thinks for a second. She looks impossibly young. Then, brightly, ‘Well, I’d try 0104 because that’s my birthday…’ (Fai’s stomach sinks) ‘And. Well. It’s another special day as well.’
The pink creeping into Syraoran’s cheeks suggests the special is to do with him.
Fai looks at Yuui then, into blue (identical) eyes. Somehow it’s all come down to this: a door, a code, and a gamble with the numbers of a girl who is good at things. If they trip the alarm, there will be no going forward. No going back.
‘Get on with it,’ Kurogane growls. His brows are drawn tightly, and, well, Fai has to smile at that.
He squeezes Sakura’s hand one last time. Turns back to the scanner and swallows down the lump in his throat. He taps Sakura’s special numbers into the machine – and the buttons are over-sensitive: he has to clear it to try again – and then they all wait. For a few seconds. Forever.
It’s about then that Sakura falls. Yuui gasps and tries to catch her, and Syaoran’s quickly at her side, but she’s folded to the floor like some broken marionette.
‘This happens a lot,’ Syaoran murmurs. The look on his face as he smoothes her hair is completely different from the pink-cheeked fluster of before. ‘Don’t worry about us. I’ll stay here with her.’
Kurogane rolls his eyes and pushes Syaoran out of the way. He bends to lift the girl in his arms. ‘No-one’s staying anywhere,’ he says shortly, and that settles that.
And then it happens. The door beeps quietly, something clunks in the works of the thing, and Fai finds himself shaking when he turns the knob.
It opens.
He staggers out, aware of the press of bodies behind him, into heat: the world, the real world, it turns out, feels like the sauna in the Celes gym. Moist and close. An unfamiliar scent holds him in thrall for a moment, sweet, calming, and a breeze (not from a fan) sweeps across his brow. The sky is dark and the light is bright and he squints against it, drinking in this world, until a hand tugs at his own.
He looks around into gentle blue eyes. Yuui. It’s always Yuui, and his brother says, ‘Come on.’
There’s no need to wonder which is their intended transport – beyond the sleek white vans emblazoned with the compound logo is a truck that’s little more than a metal box with a cab stuck on the front. A four-inch gap runs along the side of the thing: a crude window meshed with wire that invites no prying eyes. At the very back, a steel cargo gate is secured with a large, uncompromising bolt.
Fai thinks that if this were something shady, once inside the box, they’d certainly never be able to escape. It would almost be funny, in a way – people that don’t exist running from one cage to another. It would be almost hysterical.
Kurogane’s clearly having the same thoughts (possibly not the hysterical part). ‘Are you sure about this?’ he grits as they scud towards the vehicle. Sakura is slung over his shoulder.
But Fai’s paid the price and today he’s going to collect. He grins and nods. ‘Daddy should trust Mummy,’ he says, waggling his brows.
It speaks to Kurogane’s level of strain that he hardly even splutters about that (though his face goes a delicious shade of puce all the same).
Syaoran pulls on the cargo gate and they all breathe as it swings noiselessly open. Fai shoves Yuui in then, tells his brother to help Kurogane with Sakura, and there’s a bit of fiddling about as the two men get her inside. And then Fai isn’t sure what makes him look back at the place he never wants to go back to – conscious decision or mere idle glance - but he does look. Sees it. Then his heart hurls itself into his throat, hammering so fast it can only be seconds before he chokes.
Because the door to the loading dock, the door that they escaped by and that requires a very special code to unlock, that door is hanging open, and Fai can see movement in the room beyond.
Sweat trickles down his back.
If the grey-coats search the loading dock, it will be only minutes before they are all discovered, and they will never have this chance again. No forward. No back.
So, it’s simple, really. It’s nothing.
‘Kid, get in!’
And Kurogane’s voice chases away any lingering hesitation.
Fai snaps to attention, waving away Syaoran’s protests that he should go first. He grins and bustles the boy forward, reminding him about the unconscious Sakura already in the truck, and Syaoran climbs in with no further protest. Then Fai grabs the cargo gate. He pulls it close behind him as he makes to scramble in too.
‘Here, quickly,’ says Yuui, and holds out a (slim, strong) hand to pull Fai aboard.
Fai looks up at his brother and smiles (says goodbye).
There’s probably only half a second where what he’s about to do creeps into his expression, but it’s enough: panic spills across Yuui’s face and he’s lurching forward even as Fai slips out of the gap, bolts the cargo gate firmly shut on his twin.
‘Fai! Fai!’ Yuui’s voice is sharp, frightened, and he’s forgetting to be quiet. Fai moves to the side of the truck and peers through the mesh, and he has to grin at what he sees (or he’ll cry and he can’t cry yet). Yuui is pale in the darkness, mouth ragged, chest heaving, and Kurogane is snarling against the wire (grouchy puppy in his travel box).
‘What do you think you’re doing, you bastard?’ Kurogane hisses. ‘Get in here!’
Fai shakes his head and looks back towards the building. He’d better get moving, or he’ll be too late, but, ‘Someone came back,’ he says simply. Kurogane’s face goes slack, and Fai grins in delight, because he’s never seen that before (or at least, not outside bed). ‘So, Kuro-wan should be a good boy and wait quietly for his walkies.’
‘Bastard!’ Kurogane spits it through the grate, and then there’s the sound of furious scrabbling against metal (slim, strong hands), of racked sobs, and Syaoran exclaiming softly in the dark.
‘You promised you’d take care of Yuui,’ Fai says to Kurogane, and the look he receives is murderous.
‘I told you to take care of him yourself!’
Fai steps away from the mesh. ‘That’s what I’m doing,’ he says. The smile twists on his face. Before Kurogane can even growl about it, he’s gone.
Fai trudges towards the open door (the end of the dream) and doesn’t look back.
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane, but Fai is only Fai and it’s simple. It’s simple, it’s nothing, and it doesn’t matter. He might’ve been born for this moment (he was born for a heart) and now Yuui (Kurogane) will be free. Kurogane will take Yuui far away and give him all the things that Fai never could, that Fai never knew how to give, because Fai is only Fai.
(Please be free.)
He’s halfway to the door when Ashura steps out. In truth, Fai can hardly believe it’s him: it’s been so long (not long enough) and this all feels so surreal.
What a shame it’s not.
It takes the grey-coat a few seconds to register him, and then alarm spreads quick across his face. Fai knows that face well: its warm smile, its kind eyes, but things are different now. He’s not nine, curled with his brother in Ashura’s armchair to read stories and sip cocoa; he’s a clone, a donor, standing somewhere he’s not supposed to be. He and Ashura are staring at each other across the divide now.
There’s ice in those golden eyes today.
Ashura says, ‘Fai? What are you doing here?’
Fai smiles and stretches his hands behind his back. ‘Sorry!’ he says. ‘I just wanted to see what it was like.’
Ashura looks at him, sharply. ‘How did you get outside?’
The swipe card. Lucky he’s still got it. Fai reaches into his pocket and takes it out. ‘We still had this,’ he explains, holding it up. No point in keeping the thing now. Ashura takes it cautiously as Fai breezes on with, ‘No-one was around when I came in, and I kind of just couldn’t resist.’
Suspiciously: ‘Where’s your brother?’
Fai hesitates, then lets something like a pout slip onto his face. ‘Yuui’s with Kurogane,’ he says finally. Dissatisfaction lingers in his voice: the implication is clear, and there, he didn’t even have to lie!
Some of the softness returns to Ashura’s face then. ‘Well,’ he says gently, ‘that happens, I’m afraid, when people get older, Fai. It doesn’t mean your brother loves you any less. It’s just a different kind of love.’
Fai wonders if Ashura is the only grey-coat in the entire compound who hasn’t seen the surveillance footage from their room (the only one who hasn’t jerked off to it).
He says, ‘I guess so. I’d better go find him,’ and starts towards the door.
(But Ashura’s eyes are ice today.)
‘That has to wait, Fai,’ he says. He frowns. ‘You know how serious this is, you being out here. I’m going to have to…’
Fai spots the cloth half a second before it clamps over Ashura’s mouth, caught in the grip of one (massive) hand. The grey-coat struggles against it a minute, but then he goes limp. He slumps heavily to the ground. Standing in his place is Kurogane, and Fai’s mind whirls – how did he get out of the truck? Surely he couldn’t have forced the bolt…
And then Fai blinks, and his mouth flies open, and he stares. The world crashes in on itself because, fuck, it’s Kurogane and it’s not – a one-armed giant with flashing red eyes who growls, ‘Move it!’ and so he does.
They run towards the truck, Fai’s legs working even if his brain cannot. He shoots a look sideways at the man wearing Kurogane’s face, and says, ‘How…’
The man doesn’t flicker. ‘You were going to get left behind, idiot.’
Fai’s mouth snaps shut again. If this were Kurogane, he would think of something to say to that, something to make Kurogane roar and bluster and twitch – but it isn’t and so he can’t.
Fai keeps quiet and runs.
The engine is already idling when they reach the truck. The giant slams back the bolt and tosses Fai in before he can even register the shock (and something else) rushing over Kurogane’s face, the blood staining Yuui’s face and hands. His brother grabs him, holds him (painfully, deliciously) tight, and Fai doesn’t realise he’s crying until Yuui wipes his tears.
The giant eyes Syaoran and the still unconscious Sakura. ‘Wasn’t expecting you today,’ he says evenly.
Kurogane says, ‘Wasn’t expecting you either.’
The giant’s mouth quirks slightly. ‘We’re going,’ he says. ‘Get down if you don’t want to fall down.’
And with that, he slams the cargo gate shut. Slithers the bolt into its cradle. Fai sags to the floor, his legs rubber suddenly, dragging Yuui with him. His arms are still clutched about his brother’s shoulders, and once they’re both seated, he scoots closer again, buries his face in Yuui’s (identical) neck, breathes in the scent of Yuui’s (identical) hair.
He doesn’t know how long they drive, but he stays that way the whole time.
‘Fai? I think we’ve stopped.’
That would make sense. That would probably explain the absence of rumbling, sputtering engine – a Kuro-truck for a Kuro-giant – prickling against his consciousness. Yuui’s arms are heavy across Fai’s back, and it’s an effort to pull away just now (always). Yuui is warm and safe and Fai clings to his brother’s shoulder, breathes him in just a moment before he lets go.
He gazes up, meets Yuui's (identical) blue eyes. There’s no reproach there, no anger. Just softness, warmth, worry – and Fai doesn’t know why his brother decided he deserves those things, why he holds him and kisses him and loves him despite it all – but he does and Fai doesn’t need to know why. As long as he has Yuui, Yuui, only Yuui (Kurogane).
Fai says, ‘Ah! Yuui, you’ve got blood on your face.’
There’s a snort from the side. ‘You’re both idiots,’ says Kurogane: and there’s the reproach, even if it is clouded slightly by something else. Ideally, Fai would like to reach up and wipe the blood from Yuui’s cheek, tuck that hair behind his ear, but he can feel the tremor in his arm even before he raises it. He really doesn’t want to worry Yuui any more than he has.
(Please be free.)
The rattle and scrape of the bolt is a rather welcome distraction then.
Fai struggles upright, leaning against Yuui’s side. His brother’s hand shifts to his waist, supporting him, and now Fai can see what's going on.
It's worth seeing. The cargo gate is open. In the gap of it stands Kurogane and the man who shares his face; they’re both doing their best to control the overwhelming what-the-fuck that meeting your exact double tends to evoke. Kurogane’s eyes are drawn to the empty, pinned sleeve on the man’s left side, and the man in turn is peering at the curious web of scars that snake up Kurogane’s neck. His souvenir from Nihon.
Then Syaoran gasps, and Sakura (oh, good, she’s awake) cries out.
Because at the gate of the truck, beside the man-who-is-not-Kurogane now stands a-youth-who-is-not-Syaoran. There’s a hint of a smile on his rather serious face, and Fai thinks that Syaoran really will only get more handsome as he gets older. One look at his original promises that.
The newcomer says, ‘We were planning to get you next time.’ He’s talking to Syaoran and Sakura. ‘But I’m glad it worked out today. My name is Tsubasa.’
Syaoran startles into life. He offers his own name, and Sakura’s too. His original - Tsubasa - just nods, and holds out a hand. ‘Well, we’ve arrived,’ he says pleasantly. Where, no-one asks. Yuui's hand is firm against his side. Fai watches as Tsubasa and Syaoran help Sakura from the truck.
The man with Kurogane’s face looks at Fai critically. ‘What about him?’ he says.
Kurogane glances across too – such a serious puppy! – and his expression doesn’t change when Fai smiles lazily (unevenly) back. ‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
And before Fai can so much as raise an eyebrow at that, Kurogane’s leaning into the truck and Yuui’s dragging him across the metal and then he’s weightless, suspended, his face pressed into Kurogane’s (massive) shoulder.
Kurogane’s mouth flutters against his ear. ‘If you ever do anything stupid like that again,’ he says, hoarse and low, ‘I’ll fucking come after you and kill you myself.’
Fai will probably laugh at that later. For now, he’s content to bury his face in that firm, strong shoulder. Feel the damp of Kurogane's T-shirt against his skin. Kurogane’s scent is nothing like Yuui’s, but it’s comforting all the same.
He’s dimly aware of people speaking – Syaoran and Sakura and Tsubasa – and Yuui making arrangements of some sort. They’re all talking about times and addresses and impossible things. But then a hand squeezes his, small and soft. When he drags his eyes open, he finds himself looking into Sakura’s shining face.
‘Please take care of yourself,’ she says softly, and then, ‘I hope you're feeling better when I see you again.’
Somehow this makes him wonderfully warm.
Then Sakura moves away, and he realises she’s going now, leaving with Syaoran and the other Syaoran (Tsubasa). In the world, the real world, he thinks, there are two Syaorans and two Kuroganes, and they are different people, each with their own hearts and minds and souls.
Fai wonders what that’s like. And drifts away.
‘Don’t you think you’re a bit old for stories now?’
‘I like Yuui’s stories. Please! Just tell me the one about the ninja and the magician.’
‘You always want that one. What about the princess of the desert instead?’
‘But I like the ninja –’
‘Would you two shut up?’
END PART TWO
Series: Holitsuba Gakuen
Rating: R-18 (NSFW)
Warnings: Twincest, sexual abuse
Summary: Everything in the compound is an imitation of something, Fai and Yuui (and Kurogane) included. KFY AU.
Part two of three for
reikah's birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KYRA. <3 <3 <3 MORE WILL FOLLOW!‘What’s that door for?’
Ashura looked up from his desk in surprise. Well, Fai supposed that was to be expected – they’d been quiet as church mice for the past hour, absorbed in their reading. Beside Fai, Yuui had gone stiff, small fingers caught around the page of his book. That was to be expected too. They didn’t usually ask questions here; they didn’t say much of anything, in fact, until Ashura inevitably stood and stretched and said, ‘How about some cocoa?’ – but Fai had been eyeing the door for their last three visits to Ashura’s room and now he really wanted to know. It was different from the auto-doors on nursery deck, and all the secure doors he and Yuui passed through on Celes to get to Ashura’s office. He wondered why.
Ashura tapped a couple of keys on his computer. Stood up, and walked over to the faded armchair that contained Fai and Yuui and their (his) books.
He knelt down beside them.
‘That’s a very special door,’ he said quietly, and Fai nodded, satisfaction breaking over his small (identical) face.
‘I thought so,’ he said. He pointed to the plastic box on the doorframe. ‘That doesn’t look like the other scanners.’
Ashura turned to look at the thing. Then, ‘No,’ he agreed. He turned back again. ‘It’s different. Those are just card scanners and this one is a bit more complicated than that.’
‘Because of the buttons?’ asked Yuui, shy, and Ashura hesitated just a fraction this time before he nodded. ‘Yes. Because of the buttons.’
Fai screwed up his face. ‘Why do we have to have scanners anyway?’ he asked.
There was a silence. Ashura considered him a moment, and then he said, ‘You don’t like them?’
Fai shook his head. ‘No. I always forget my card and then I get locked out.’
And at that, Ashura smiled – that kind, warm (reassuring) smile they had come to know so well in those few short months – and patted Fai’s head. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘You’ll get better at remembering as you get older.’
Fai’s eyes flicked back towards the door. ‘So, what’s on the other side?’ he asked, curious.
(The hand slid from his head.)
‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ and there was something very final about the way Ashura said it..
Yuui nudged Fai in the ribs then, and Fai knew what that meant; Ashura let them slip away from nursery deck to come and read his books (real leather-bound books worn with age) and so Fai shouldn’t pester him.
Ashura straightened and stretched. ‘How about some cocoa?’ he said.
And so Fai nodded, willing to put special doors aside (for now).
‘Can I help you make it?’ Yuui asked. He slid to the edge of the seat, because he already knew the answer, and sure enough, Ashura smiled down at him (at them), so kind and warm. He held out a hand.
‘Let’s make it together,’ he said gently.
Fai went back to his book. He was reading about a world with princes and curses and evil magicians; it was different from his world (their world), because in the compound there was no ‘good’ and no ‘evil’, no heroes and no villains. There was only ‘permitted’ and ‘prohibited, grey-coat and donor.
Fai read, and he didn’t look up until Yuui returned with the mugs.
(The special door led to the Celes loading dock.)
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane.
‘I think,’ Fai says to Yuui, his eyes drifting away from Kurogane’s (massive) back, ‘that when we get out of here, we really need to teach puppy some new tricks.’
Puppy stiffens. He casts a sour look over his shoulder (tail up, hackles raised), but, oh, he really doesn’t have time for games. His hands are full now, fiddling with wires and switches and tape. And that’s a rather shame, really, because whatever Kurogane’s doing to the surveillance hatch outside RZ, waiting for him is growing terribly dull.
A wan smile appears on his twin’s face. ‘I don’t know,’ says Yuui, and he’s playing along, even if his voice is horribly strained. ‘Looks like he knows quite enough already.’
(Puppy’s ears are enchantingly pink.)
Fai shifts closer and slips an arm around his brother’s waist. Yuui is pale and stiff, there’s tension pulling at the thin curve of his mouth, and Fai sighs then, because it’s all so unnecessary. There’s no need to worry. Fai has paid the price and everything will be fine. He strokes his thumb over his brother’s hip, leans his weight into the hold, and smiles when he feels Yuui lean back.
After today, Yuui will never have to worry about anything.
(Please be free.)
But back to the matter at hand… Fai’s still grinning. ‘No, no,’ he says; he waves his spare hand for emphasis. ‘They stop learning, you know, once they get to a certain age. You have to teach them everything before that, otherwise it’s hopeless.’
Yuui watches Kurogane work. He says ‘Oh?’ He’s only half-listening, but he can still follow the thread of it – too many ridiculous conversations over too many years have taught him well. ‘I thought that wasn’t actually true.’
‘Nope.’ Fai waits a moment, and then, ‘I think sit-up-and-beg would be an excellent place to start.’
The colour that leaps into his companions’ faces then will never get old or dull or boring. Never. Fai’s grin stretches so wide it might actually crack.
‘Will you two shut up?’ snarls Kurogane. He steps back from the hole in the wall, pressing the metal hatch shut with one (massive) hand – only he could have forced the thing with a butter knife. ‘Get ready to move. This only gives us a minute.’
‘What are you doing?’ Yuui asks (at last).
Kurogane glances up at the camera above the secure door. ‘Disrupting the feed,’ he says. ‘It’ll show the same image for a minute while we pass the scanner. Any longer, grey-coats’ll notice.’
‘Oh,’ says Yuui, and his eyes are round as Fai pulls away to coo over his clever puppy. ‘Where did you learn that?’
Kurogane growls. Pushes Fai off. ‘Nihon,’ he answers shortly, and as ever, that ends the discussion.
Breaking into the Celes deck RZ is ridiculously easy.
‘You got the card?’ Kurogane says to Yuui, and Yuui shakes his head. He points to his twin.
Fai smirks. ‘Such an impatient puppy,’ he says. ‘We really need to work on that as well, Yuui.’
But Yuui just looks at him now, and Kurogane quivers with the effort of self-control. Fai thinks it would be nice to take advantage of all that, but, ‘Just. Get. The. Card,’ reminds him that time is ticking along.
Fai runs the plastic card over the scanner. It’s strange, how naturally it comes. He could be nine years old again, creeping with Yuui towards the forbidden kingdom (books and cocoa and kind, kind eyes). Life was simpler then – the whole world contained in blue eyes and blond hair; the whole universe stood beside him, clasping his hand. Because Fai has never needed anyone but Yuui (Kurogane), and all the other things don’t matter: light and dawn and the wide blue sky. They don’t matter. Fai would keep to his cage forever if he could keep Yuui (Kurogane) too, he would pay forever just to meet blue (red) eyes every morning and night. Just to know that he always could.
Fai would have given anything (he’s already given everything) for that much.
(The scanner flashes green.)
And then something washes over Fai – quick, raw, and startling. He blinks back at the little winking light on the scanner: the secure door to the RZ glides open easily as ever, and perhaps they could have escaped a hundred times before today. A thousand times.
Fai stares at the card in his hand. Perhaps. Easily.
Then something touches his arm. He looks up, pulls his smile wide, and, ‘Alright?’ Yuui asks: there’s concern in his eyes. Through his jacket, Fai can feel the warmth of his brother’s hand, feel the curl of his fingers, and it calms him, grounds him, draws him back. Makes him forget everything else in the world.
And Fai smiles. Because, oh, yes, it’s ridiculously easy.
He tucks the card away again. Shifts to take Yuui’s hand, ten (identical) fingers folding together (like always). Yuui’s eyes are perfect blue, and Fai marvels at the sight of them before he says, ‘Yep! Let’s go!’
(Yuui is the world, and Kurogane is Kurogane, and it’s fine.)
They head deep into the RZ. First turn left, and past four doors, and right and right and left. Fai can hear Ashura’s instructions in his head after all this time, and beside him Yuui murmurs them like a prayer. Fai glances at his twin and grins at what he finds, because Yuui could be nine years old again too: back straight and face set, leading Fai through the corridors. Matching shirts tucked into matching shorts and hair so neatly plaited.
Four plaits, two for each (identical) head. Yuui had learned from someone – Freya, maybe – and for a while he’d been quite obsessed, plaiting their hair each morning (Fai never had the patience) and forcing Fai still while worked. Never a hair out of place, never a loose ribbon. The house-mothers on nursery deck used to coo over them like there was no tomorrow (there wasn’t).
Sometimes, when Fai wakes in the not-grey light of late morning, he finds tiny braids scattered through his (identical) blond hair, feels the slide and pull of slender, strong fingers, and struggles to breathe against the rush of something in his chest (I love you, I love you, please don’t ever leave me).
Yuui is the world and no price will ever be too heavy to bear.
Then Kurogane rounds the corner ahead of them. All at once tension rips through his (massive) frame, and Fai’s heart very nearly stops.
Yuui grips his hand tighter, and pulls him on. Stiff and pale and far too grim.
(They turn the corner.)
Sheltered against the wall are two small (familiar) figures, and Fai smiles then because it’s Sakura and Syaoran – Yuui’s sweet kids, such good kids, and it’s been so entertaining over the years, seeing them dance around each other; all pink cheeks and stolen glances until finally (finally) one of them had plucked up the courage to act.
(Almost as entertaining as Kurogane and Yuui.)
Then Fai’s brain reminds him where they are and what they’re doing, and the smile freezes on his face.
Syaoran looks surprised (shocked and relieved and worried). He says, ‘Kurogane, Yuui.’
‘Fai,’ Sakura says softly.
They stand there, staring at one another for what seems an age. There’s no way to explain what Fai and Yuui (and Kurogane) are doing there – they’re not kids sneaking off to make out, they’re grown men, moving purposefully through a very restricted area. Whatever they say next will determine how this plays out, and it’s probably best to leave it to Yuui…
But Kurogane is looking at Syaoran. ‘Can you keep quiet, kid?’ he asks.
Fai has never heard Kurogane sound like that before.
The boy blinks, not expecting the question, maybe, but he nods. He looks determined, suddenly. Strong.
Kurogane nods too. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘Then keep quiet.’
And just like that, there are five of them.
‘How did you get in here?’ asks Yuui. They’re moving again.
Sakura blushes. Syaoran glances at her, and he hesitates a bit before he says, ‘Actually, we’ve been in here before. Sakura… Sakura is pretty good at things like that.’
’Good at things’. Fai doesn’t know what that means exactly, but it’s a marvellous euphemism, whatever it's for. He grins, takes the girl’s hand to help her along, and she gazes up with a honey-sweet smile.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says softly. ‘Everything will be alright.’
And that makes him grin even wider, because surely he should be reassuring her.
It doesn’t matter. The next room is Ashura’s; Fai has to drop Sakura’s hand then to dig out the card. Like magic, the scanner flashes green again, and they pour into the room: this room, the same room – no, a very different room now.
Fai glances about, taking it in. The faded armchair has gone, and the bookshelf, replaced by metal shelves and shipping crates. Fai hasn’t a clue what’s inside them – well, it’s impossible to tell at a glance – but the logos on the sides remind him of the medical station. One or two have ‘CAUTION – SHARPS’ printed onto the cardboard. And in the crate next to him are an assortment of what look like miniaturised cooler boxes: each one has a fiddly sort of catch and ‘STERILE SPECIMEN’ embossed in bright red letters.
Fai reaches out, touches his hand to one of those little boxes, and thinks that Yuui’s heart could never fit inside this thing.
‘We need to keep moving,’ Kurogane says sharply. ‘Someone’s been here. They could be back any second.’
Fai looks at him. Kurogane's brow is furrowed, there’s a tiny muscle bulging in his cheek, and, oh, they’ve got such a grumpy puppy! He’ll really have to speak to Yuui about it later, but for now Fai opens his mouth to say something glib and quick and lighter than air – and then he spots the cocoa cooling on the desk.
And his throat goes dry. Because surely not. (Surely not.)
He looks away, quickly.
One thing about this room has not changed, though. The plastic box on the doorframe looks exactly as Fai remembers, the special scanner for the special door, and he moves swiftly towards it to work his magic once more. Yuui slips past Syaoran to stand at Fai's side, and Fai can hear his brother’s breathing, shallow and quick; can feel the rasp of the air in his own lungs. For what feels like forever, the scanner doesn't respond.
Then the light flashes orange and a message appears on a tiny screen:
ENTER SECURITY CODE
(Yuui’s breath hitches in his throat.)
‘What’s going on?’ says Kurogane, from somewhere behind them.
Fai doesn’t know what’s going on. There’s something pounding in his ears, something closing up his throat, and he mustn’t think about that now. Not now (not ever). And in fact, Fai really shouldn't think, because he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, but, ‘Sakura,’ he says, and flashes a smile. ‘What code do you think we should enter here?’
He can feel Yuui’s eyes on his face, and doesn’t turn to meet them.
Sakura gazes back at him, brow creasing. ‘Code?’ she says, uncertain.
Fai nods and takes her hand again. ‘Yep! Any code,' he says. 'If you wanted to go through this door with Syaoran, what number would you try?’
‘Oh,’ she says, and thinks for a second. She looks impossibly young. Then, brightly, ‘Well, I’d try 0104 because that’s my birthday…’ (Fai’s stomach sinks) ‘And. Well. It’s another special day as well.’
The pink creeping into Syraoran’s cheeks suggests the special is to do with him.
Fai looks at Yuui then, into blue (identical) eyes. Somehow it’s all come down to this: a door, a code, and a gamble with the numbers of a girl who is good at things. If they trip the alarm, there will be no going forward. No going back.
‘Get on with it,’ Kurogane growls. His brows are drawn tightly, and, well, Fai has to smile at that.
He squeezes Sakura’s hand one last time. Turns back to the scanner and swallows down the lump in his throat. He taps Sakura’s special numbers into the machine – and the buttons are over-sensitive: he has to clear it to try again – and then they all wait. For a few seconds. Forever.
It’s about then that Sakura falls. Yuui gasps and tries to catch her, and Syaoran’s quickly at her side, but she’s folded to the floor like some broken marionette.
‘This happens a lot,’ Syaoran murmurs. The look on his face as he smoothes her hair is completely different from the pink-cheeked fluster of before. ‘Don’t worry about us. I’ll stay here with her.’
Kurogane rolls his eyes and pushes Syaoran out of the way. He bends to lift the girl in his arms. ‘No-one’s staying anywhere,’ he says shortly, and that settles that.
And then it happens. The door beeps quietly, something clunks in the works of the thing, and Fai finds himself shaking when he turns the knob.
It opens.
He staggers out, aware of the press of bodies behind him, into heat: the world, the real world, it turns out, feels like the sauna in the Celes gym. Moist and close. An unfamiliar scent holds him in thrall for a moment, sweet, calming, and a breeze (not from a fan) sweeps across his brow. The sky is dark and the light is bright and he squints against it, drinking in this world, until a hand tugs at his own.
He looks around into gentle blue eyes. Yuui. It’s always Yuui, and his brother says, ‘Come on.’
There’s no need to wonder which is their intended transport – beyond the sleek white vans emblazoned with the compound logo is a truck that’s little more than a metal box with a cab stuck on the front. A four-inch gap runs along the side of the thing: a crude window meshed with wire that invites no prying eyes. At the very back, a steel cargo gate is secured with a large, uncompromising bolt.
Fai thinks that if this were something shady, once inside the box, they’d certainly never be able to escape. It would almost be funny, in a way – people that don’t exist running from one cage to another. It would be almost hysterical.
Kurogane’s clearly having the same thoughts (possibly not the hysterical part). ‘Are you sure about this?’ he grits as they scud towards the vehicle. Sakura is slung over his shoulder.
But Fai’s paid the price and today he’s going to collect. He grins and nods. ‘Daddy should trust Mummy,’ he says, waggling his brows.
It speaks to Kurogane’s level of strain that he hardly even splutters about that (though his face goes a delicious shade of puce all the same).
Syaoran pulls on the cargo gate and they all breathe as it swings noiselessly open. Fai shoves Yuui in then, tells his brother to help Kurogane with Sakura, and there’s a bit of fiddling about as the two men get her inside. And then Fai isn’t sure what makes him look back at the place he never wants to go back to – conscious decision or mere idle glance - but he does look. Sees it. Then his heart hurls itself into his throat, hammering so fast it can only be seconds before he chokes.
Because the door to the loading dock, the door that they escaped by and that requires a very special code to unlock, that door is hanging open, and Fai can see movement in the room beyond.
Sweat trickles down his back.
If the grey-coats search the loading dock, it will be only minutes before they are all discovered, and they will never have this chance again. No forward. No back.
So, it’s simple, really. It’s nothing.
‘Kid, get in!’
And Kurogane’s voice chases away any lingering hesitation.
Fai snaps to attention, waving away Syaoran’s protests that he should go first. He grins and bustles the boy forward, reminding him about the unconscious Sakura already in the truck, and Syaoran climbs in with no further protest. Then Fai grabs the cargo gate. He pulls it close behind him as he makes to scramble in too.
‘Here, quickly,’ says Yuui, and holds out a (slim, strong) hand to pull Fai aboard.
Fai looks up at his brother and smiles (says goodbye).
There’s probably only half a second where what he’s about to do creeps into his expression, but it’s enough: panic spills across Yuui’s face and he’s lurching forward even as Fai slips out of the gap, bolts the cargo gate firmly shut on his twin.
‘Fai! Fai!’ Yuui’s voice is sharp, frightened, and he’s forgetting to be quiet. Fai moves to the side of the truck and peers through the mesh, and he has to grin at what he sees (or he’ll cry and he can’t cry yet). Yuui is pale in the darkness, mouth ragged, chest heaving, and Kurogane is snarling against the wire (grouchy puppy in his travel box).
‘What do you think you’re doing, you bastard?’ Kurogane hisses. ‘Get in here!’
Fai shakes his head and looks back towards the building. He’d better get moving, or he’ll be too late, but, ‘Someone came back,’ he says simply. Kurogane’s face goes slack, and Fai grins in delight, because he’s never seen that before (or at least, not outside bed). ‘So, Kuro-wan should be a good boy and wait quietly for his walkies.’
‘Bastard!’ Kurogane spits it through the grate, and then there’s the sound of furious scrabbling against metal (slim, strong hands), of racked sobs, and Syaoran exclaiming softly in the dark.
‘You promised you’d take care of Yuui,’ Fai says to Kurogane, and the look he receives is murderous.
‘I told you to take care of him yourself!’
Fai steps away from the mesh. ‘That’s what I’m doing,’ he says. The smile twists on his face. Before Kurogane can even growl about it, he’s gone.
Fai trudges towards the open door (the end of the dream) and doesn’t look back.
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane, but Fai is only Fai and it’s simple. It’s simple, it’s nothing, and it doesn’t matter. He might’ve been born for this moment (he was born for a heart) and now Yuui (Kurogane) will be free. Kurogane will take Yuui far away and give him all the things that Fai never could, that Fai never knew how to give, because Fai is only Fai.
(Please be free.)
He’s halfway to the door when Ashura steps out. In truth, Fai can hardly believe it’s him: it’s been so long (not long enough) and this all feels so surreal.
What a shame it’s not.
It takes the grey-coat a few seconds to register him, and then alarm spreads quick across his face. Fai knows that face well: its warm smile, its kind eyes, but things are different now. He’s not nine, curled with his brother in Ashura’s armchair to read stories and sip cocoa; he’s a clone, a donor, standing somewhere he’s not supposed to be. He and Ashura are staring at each other across the divide now.
There’s ice in those golden eyes today.
Ashura says, ‘Fai? What are you doing here?’
Fai smiles and stretches his hands behind his back. ‘Sorry!’ he says. ‘I just wanted to see what it was like.’
Ashura looks at him, sharply. ‘How did you get outside?’
The swipe card. Lucky he’s still got it. Fai reaches into his pocket and takes it out. ‘We still had this,’ he explains, holding it up. No point in keeping the thing now. Ashura takes it cautiously as Fai breezes on with, ‘No-one was around when I came in, and I kind of just couldn’t resist.’
Suspiciously: ‘Where’s your brother?’
Fai hesitates, then lets something like a pout slip onto his face. ‘Yuui’s with Kurogane,’ he says finally. Dissatisfaction lingers in his voice: the implication is clear, and there, he didn’t even have to lie!
Some of the softness returns to Ashura’s face then. ‘Well,’ he says gently, ‘that happens, I’m afraid, when people get older, Fai. It doesn’t mean your brother loves you any less. It’s just a different kind of love.’
Fai wonders if Ashura is the only grey-coat in the entire compound who hasn’t seen the surveillance footage from their room (the only one who hasn’t jerked off to it).
He says, ‘I guess so. I’d better go find him,’ and starts towards the door.
(But Ashura’s eyes are ice today.)
‘That has to wait, Fai,’ he says. He frowns. ‘You know how serious this is, you being out here. I’m going to have to…’
Fai spots the cloth half a second before it clamps over Ashura’s mouth, caught in the grip of one (massive) hand. The grey-coat struggles against it a minute, but then he goes limp. He slumps heavily to the ground. Standing in his place is Kurogane, and Fai’s mind whirls – how did he get out of the truck? Surely he couldn’t have forced the bolt…
And then Fai blinks, and his mouth flies open, and he stares. The world crashes in on itself because, fuck, it’s Kurogane and it’s not – a one-armed giant with flashing red eyes who growls, ‘Move it!’ and so he does.
They run towards the truck, Fai’s legs working even if his brain cannot. He shoots a look sideways at the man wearing Kurogane’s face, and says, ‘How…’
The man doesn’t flicker. ‘You were going to get left behind, idiot.’
Fai’s mouth snaps shut again. If this were Kurogane, he would think of something to say to that, something to make Kurogane roar and bluster and twitch – but it isn’t and so he can’t.
Fai keeps quiet and runs.
The engine is already idling when they reach the truck. The giant slams back the bolt and tosses Fai in before he can even register the shock (and something else) rushing over Kurogane’s face, the blood staining Yuui’s face and hands. His brother grabs him, holds him (painfully, deliciously) tight, and Fai doesn’t realise he’s crying until Yuui wipes his tears.
The giant eyes Syaoran and the still unconscious Sakura. ‘Wasn’t expecting you today,’ he says evenly.
Kurogane says, ‘Wasn’t expecting you either.’
The giant’s mouth quirks slightly. ‘We’re going,’ he says. ‘Get down if you don’t want to fall down.’
And with that, he slams the cargo gate shut. Slithers the bolt into its cradle. Fai sags to the floor, his legs rubber suddenly, dragging Yuui with him. His arms are still clutched about his brother’s shoulders, and once they’re both seated, he scoots closer again, buries his face in Yuui’s (identical) neck, breathes in the scent of Yuui’s (identical) hair.
He doesn’t know how long they drive, but he stays that way the whole time.
‘Fai? I think we’ve stopped.’
That would make sense. That would probably explain the absence of rumbling, sputtering engine – a Kuro-truck for a Kuro-giant – prickling against his consciousness. Yuui’s arms are heavy across Fai’s back, and it’s an effort to pull away just now (always). Yuui is warm and safe and Fai clings to his brother’s shoulder, breathes him in just a moment before he lets go.
He gazes up, meets Yuui's (identical) blue eyes. There’s no reproach there, no anger. Just softness, warmth, worry – and Fai doesn’t know why his brother decided he deserves those things, why he holds him and kisses him and loves him despite it all – but he does and Fai doesn’t need to know why. As long as he has Yuui, Yuui, only Yuui (Kurogane).
Fai says, ‘Ah! Yuui, you’ve got blood on your face.’
There’s a snort from the side. ‘You’re both idiots,’ says Kurogane: and there’s the reproach, even if it is clouded slightly by something else. Ideally, Fai would like to reach up and wipe the blood from Yuui’s cheek, tuck that hair behind his ear, but he can feel the tremor in his arm even before he raises it. He really doesn’t want to worry Yuui any more than he has.
(Please be free.)
The rattle and scrape of the bolt is a rather welcome distraction then.
Fai struggles upright, leaning against Yuui’s side. His brother’s hand shifts to his waist, supporting him, and now Fai can see what's going on.
It's worth seeing. The cargo gate is open. In the gap of it stands Kurogane and the man who shares his face; they’re both doing their best to control the overwhelming what-the-fuck that meeting your exact double tends to evoke. Kurogane’s eyes are drawn to the empty, pinned sleeve on the man’s left side, and the man in turn is peering at the curious web of scars that snake up Kurogane’s neck. His souvenir from Nihon.
Then Syaoran gasps, and Sakura (oh, good, she’s awake) cries out.
Because at the gate of the truck, beside the man-who-is-not-Kurogane now stands a-youth-who-is-not-Syaoran. There’s a hint of a smile on his rather serious face, and Fai thinks that Syaoran really will only get more handsome as he gets older. One look at his original promises that.
The newcomer says, ‘We were planning to get you next time.’ He’s talking to Syaoran and Sakura. ‘But I’m glad it worked out today. My name is Tsubasa.’
Syaoran startles into life. He offers his own name, and Sakura’s too. His original - Tsubasa - just nods, and holds out a hand. ‘Well, we’ve arrived,’ he says pleasantly. Where, no-one asks. Yuui's hand is firm against his side. Fai watches as Tsubasa and Syaoran help Sakura from the truck.
The man with Kurogane’s face looks at Fai critically. ‘What about him?’ he says.
Kurogane glances across too – such a serious puppy! – and his expression doesn’t change when Fai smiles lazily (unevenly) back. ‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
And before Fai can so much as raise an eyebrow at that, Kurogane’s leaning into the truck and Yuui’s dragging him across the metal and then he’s weightless, suspended, his face pressed into Kurogane’s (massive) shoulder.
Kurogane’s mouth flutters against his ear. ‘If you ever do anything stupid like that again,’ he says, hoarse and low, ‘I’ll fucking come after you and kill you myself.’
Fai will probably laugh at that later. For now, he’s content to bury his face in that firm, strong shoulder. Feel the damp of Kurogane's T-shirt against his skin. Kurogane’s scent is nothing like Yuui’s, but it’s comforting all the same.
He’s dimly aware of people speaking – Syaoran and Sakura and Tsubasa – and Yuui making arrangements of some sort. They’re all talking about times and addresses and impossible things. But then a hand squeezes his, small and soft. When he drags his eyes open, he finds himself looking into Sakura’s shining face.
‘Please take care of yourself,’ she says softly, and then, ‘I hope you're feeling better when I see you again.’
Somehow this makes him wonderfully warm.
Then Sakura moves away, and he realises she’s going now, leaving with Syaoran and the other Syaoran (Tsubasa). In the world, the real world, he thinks, there are two Syaorans and two Kuroganes, and they are different people, each with their own hearts and minds and souls.
Fai wonders what that’s like. And drifts away.
‘Don’t you think you’re a bit old for stories now?’
‘I like Yuui’s stories. Please! Just tell me the one about the ninja and the magician.’
‘You always want that one. What about the princess of the desert instead?’
‘But I like the ninja –’
‘Would you two shut up?’
END PART TWO
