Title: Slash of the Titans OR: How Kurogane Got His Groove Back
Prompt: Between the devil and the deep blue sea
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: comedic gore, eye-scream, amputation

( Book I )


In beginning any tale with the “interesting bits,” there is inevitably some – regrettable – loss of detail and characterization. For instance, one thing is not immediately apparent about the character of Syaoran is his rather remarkable ancestry. The God of Wine and God of Love did not just happen upon a child in need of a home one day, nor would they have been especially disposed to take one in out of the kindness of their hearts (a harsh truth, but considering the mindset of the God of Love at that time, not an especially surprising one). No, Syaoran’s story involves much more goading and arm-twisting on the part of a higher ranking deity.

At the time of his birth, there were many rumors flying around the small kingdom he hailed from that any issue of the king would grow to kill his father and marry his mother. Where or why these had started is still a matter of some contention, but most can agree that it was a lot of superstitious nonsense stemming from the fact that the king really did not like children. Moreover, while Syaoran’s mother might have been the Queen, his father was certainly not the king (though it is unlikely his fate would have been much different, had this been known).

Ruling over the gods without a partner is lonely work. And Yuuko did not suffer loneliness gladly.

And so it was that Syaoran was born the son of two Queens. Between the two of them, he was spared a bloody end and given a new start in the home of two gods who, over time, grew to love him as their own.

(Which isn’t a bad start for a demigod, considering how badly things went for poor Perseus.)

---

There are certain privileges that come with being family, and chief among these is the right to curse their name loudly when they do not return home from the capital on time like they promised and plot creative ways to punish them when they do bother to turn up. Kurogane has made good use (some might say “abuse”) of both of these privileges in the past twelve hours, and while the thought of making the kid scrub the wine presses clean with only a chisel and paintbrush (or better, the latrines with only his bare hands) is appealing, any sort of pleasure he might have been deriving from these machinations is quickly banished to the shadowy parts of his brain by the rising sun.

As the sunlight creeps over the fields, it fails to reveal any teenagers struggling to make their way home before their fathers kill them (or any teenagers passed out with their loincloths on their head for that matter – which might have at least been funny once it was finished being infuriating). Kurogane’s rage subsides to a sickening worry – or is at least tempered by it – as he stares out over the horizon. Unlike Fai, he hasn’t be able to sleep, secure in the knowledge that boys will be boys and boys will piss off their fathers. He’s too well aware that boys tend to be idiots and idiots tend to be killed or run off the road or arrested and held in solitary confinement while their parents waste away with worry and-

Fuck it – he’s going into Outo.

The kid has their only horses, but there are other ways for a god to travel, and bringing Syaoran home safely outweighs any sort of risk of outing himself as an immortal. It’ll be more efficient if there are two of them to search, however, so it’s back into the house for now to wake Fai and fill him full of enough wine to produce a moderately functional god. He casts a long final glance over the fields and turns back to the door.

“It’s five in the morning, do you know where the son of Yuuko is?”

Kurogane freezes with his hand on the door latch. He hasn’t heard anyone approach, nor should anyone around here know about-

“Yue.”

He steps back from the door to where he can get a better view of the winged messenger god’s likeness at its side. The statue itself has seen better days – it’s been here as long as they have, which is to say nearly a century – but the face has suddenly taken on new definition, and somehow manages to look even more judgmental than usual. Kurogane sighs as it cranes its neck up for a better view at him.

“Well, do you?”

“No,” Kurogane growls, “I don’t. I don’t suppose you’re here to tell me?”

“No,” Yue lifts an eyebrow peevishly, “I am here to summon you to Mount Edonis for an audience with Her Efficaciousness, Yuuko the Great and Mighty. Keeping track of that brat was your responsibility.”

Kurogane curses loud enough to scare away the larks gathering to search out their breakfast. Nothing good has ever come of meeting with that witch of a goddess and, considering the circumstance, he has little reason to believe that this time should be any different. He fixes his grip on the door handle. “Let me just wake him.”

“See that you do it quickly,” Yue taps his foot impatiently, “I haven’t got all day and this marble is terrible quality.”

Kurogane slams the door shut behind him. This has all taken a turn for the worse very quickly.

---

It should be noted, as it was not in the last bit of narration, that Yuuko is fiercely protective of her children and unforgiving of those who would do them harm.

She is also, however, fiercely proud of them, and not about to let a good opportunity for them to show off and carve their names upon the tablets of history go to waste.

---

At this time of morning, the sunlight spilling into the halls of Mount Edonis is almost blinding. Situated high about the cloud line, there is little obstruction for the morning sun, and the high-pillared arches invite its rays in to be scattered across the polished marble floors. It’s an effect intended to dazzle and disarm audiences to the high gods, but at the moment it’s only managing to give Kurogane a massive headache.

Fai shades his eyes from the glare. For all Kurogane might be suffering from the light, he is suffering the after-effects of a night spent at the bottom of a barrel. There had been no time to stop off at the store house – he’d simply been shaken awake and a pitcher of water dumped over his face to ensure the job was done. Kurogane had shouted something about messages and suddenly they have found themselves swept off their feet and dumped at the foot of the mountain.

The climb to the top had been enough to sap them both of the will to argue, which was probably the point.

“Wait here,” their winged escort says shortly, “Her Bombasticness will arrive shortly.”

The chamber they’ve been lead to is as ornate as it is large, with fantastic sculptures intruding into what might have been barren spaces and rich fabrics draped to catch and cut the light into shadows. There’s a decided lack of furniture, but that’s to be expected – no one sits to greet the queen.

And speaking of the queen-

“It’s been quite a while, boys,” she says, waltzing in with the air of one who own not only this room, but the whole of creation. “Hopefully this meeting will be more pleasant than our last?”

“You tell us,” Kurogane grumbles, “You’re the one who summoned us here.”

“Now, see, this is a very poor start already.” Yuuko circles the two of them with an appraising look and reaches out to lift Kurogane’s chin with her index finger. He averts his eyes from her stare. “I’ve been back on this mountain for less than a day, you know. I haven’t even had time to sit down to a decent meal or indulge a drink or six. And do you know why?” She tilts Kurogane’s chin further back. “Hmmm?”

Kurogane twists his head to the side with a grimace. “I will find him. I swear it-”

“Oh, I know where he is,” she says airily and skips over to Fai. “How are you darling?” she asks, laying a hand across his shoulder, “You look terrible.”

“I’ve had better days,” Fai says truthfully, “But, if you know where Syaoran is-”

“I thought it might be instructive for you to see as well. Let’s review the events of yesterday afternoon, shall we?” she beckons the two of them to a large pool of water surrounded by a bed of colorful stones at the center of the room. She fills a cup and passes it off with a wink to Fai, who accepts it gratefully, before stirring the surface of the water with a fingertip. “Watch carefully.”

The ripples in the water part, leaving a pristine surface that glows with a golden light. At the bottom of the pool, the events from the day before surge by at a rapid pace: a stolen kiss and burning barge, an unimpressed messenger of the gods, and a promise that strikes like a knife into Kurogane’s heart to hear. The night comes and goes, and Syaoran appears again, this time bidding farewell to his friend and taking off on foot through the Great Forest of Rekort.

Kurogane stares in disbelief. He’s already fighting back the urge to throttle Yue for taunting him when he knew full well where Syaoran had been, but now he’s faced with explicit evidence that his son has disregarded every single thing he has ever taught him and is quite possibly an idiot on top of that. If he had any inkling the little brat was capable of this, he would have-

“Where is he heading?” Fai asks. It’s the obvious question, but one that Kurogane is not certain he wants the answer to. “There’s nothing in Rekort Forest apart from dark magic and evil spirits.”

“Isn’t there?” Yuuko lifts an eyebrow, “I think you might be surprised.” She plucks a well-worn stone from the bed around the pool and casts it in. The picture in the basin is thrown into disarray as ripples chatter across the water’s surface; when it clears once again, the scenery has changed to a thatched hut in the middle of a dark wood. It looks abandoned apart from the smoke pouring from its chimney, but not at all like the sort of sinister dwellings one usually found in Rekort.

“What is it?” Kurogane demands, “Some hag’s hut?”

“In a way,” Yuuko smiles, “Though they would probably not appreciate being called such.” She flicks her finger across the water’s surface and the camera changes again to show endless rows upon rows of shelves in a darkened chamber. “This is the Library of Rekort,” she explains, “One of our better kept secrets, I must say. It has held all of our knowledge and our secrets since the dawn of time.”

“How does he know to go there then?” Kurogane asks.

“He doesn’t,” Yuuko answers, “Right now he has taken the advice of a local oracle and is heading into the forest in hopes of stumbling across an old seer who lives just beyond the border of the woods.”

“Will he find them?”

“I don’t know that she’s still alive, to be honest,” Yuuko frowns, “I haven’t heard from her in years. A shame – she always had the best wine…”

“Then why-”

“Because,” Yuuko says forcefully, “It may have escaped your notice for the past nineteen years, Kurogane, but Syaoran is a demigod and my son on top of that. Whether or not he finds the seer is irrelevant. Once he is deep enough into that forest, he’ll be pulled toward the Library.”

“Is there something dangerous in the library?” Fai asks. He leans in toward the pool to get a better look. The room is too dark to make out specifics, but it’s clear enough that it not only books that line those shelves.

“Oh, rest assured that every dangerous thing in creation has a home in that library,” Yuuko grins, “And several less dangerous, but still unpleasant things as well.” She dips her finger into the pool again, and this time brings up the image of a face neither of them have seen in one hundred years. Both men turn their heads immediately to the side, lest they be turned to stone immediately. “Don’t worry,” Yuuko laughs, “It’s perfectly safe to look at in reflection. Oh, Fei Wong my dear, the years have not been good to you.” She flicks a few drops of water onto the reflections eyes. “Not that you ever were much to look at.”

“The head is there?” Fai asks, finally understanding, “So he’ll succeed?”

Kurogane feels an enormous weight lift from his chest. Curse her for toying with them this way! “You could have just said so from the beginning!” he growls.

“It’s possible that he’ll succeed, Kurogane,” Yuuko agrees, “Provided he survives the trials of the library’s keepers. But please don’t mistake this for a good turn of events.”

“What?”

“I’m not in the habit of doing things for no reason,” she continues, “Everything here has a cause and effect, just as young Syaoran discovered yesterday when he destroyed the tribute to the Largos. Now, without food, it will sack the shore until it is sated and take that girl as recompense.”

“Unless Syaoran succeeds,” Fai says, “In which case…something bad will happen.”

“Correct,” Yuuko snaps her fingers, “At least one of you is bright enough to keep up.”

“Hey-”

“Here’s the problem,” she splashes the water again to bring up the image of a great black sea monster, flanked by countless tentacles and in possession of a single blue eye in the center of its body. “The Largos is more than a monster that needs to be appeased. It is the Destroyer – one of the ancient titans who maintains the balance of all things on this earth.”

Fai wrinkles his nose. “That thing?”

“Oh shush, he’s adorable,” Yuuko insists. Once Fai has relaxed his sneer, she continues, “But he will be affected by the head of Fei Wong just the same as you or I would. Should he be turned to stone, well…” She snaps her fingers and suddenly Kurogane and Fai find themselves standing knee-deep in compost. She snaps again and the heap tops itself off with a layer of tree branches. Again and broken shards of ceramics fall into place.

“I get it,” Kurogane growls before she gets around to dropping dead animal carcasses on them, “Without the Destroyer, nothing that is spent will disappear. It will just keep building up and building up without anywhere to go.”

“At least until we manage to create a cosmic garage of some sort,” Yuuko nods.

Kurogane rolls his eyes. “What do you want us to do?” he asks, “Your little henchman was the one who put this idea in his head!”

“And Yue is very sorry,” Yuuko pouts, “He’s already apologized and everything.” She heads to a table at the side of the chamber and rifles around its cluttered surface. She eventually locates a scroll, which she carries gingerly back to the pool. “What I need from you is very simple,” she holds out the scroll toward Kurogane, who stares warily for a long moment before accepting it, “I need you to find the Creator.”

“What the hell is the Creator?”

“The other of the ancient titans that maintains the balance of all things on earth.”

“You don’t know where the Creator is?” Kurogane scoffs.

“I lost track of her!” Yuuko waves this away.

“You are awful with your pets.”

“Oh, don’t mistake them for pets, Kurogane,” she laughs, “Chances are, they think of you as their pet.” She claps her hands together, “Now the last place I saw her was in the underworld, so you’ll need to-”

“Hold on,” Kurogane cuts her off, “Why do we have to do it? Why don’t you just send your pretty boy messenger?”

“Oh no, they don’t get along,” Yuuko says seriously, “That would be a disaster. No, Kurogane, I am sending you to do this firstly,” she holds up one finger, “Because your duties as they boy’s guardian have not yet come to an end. Secondly,” she adds another, “Because I have just spent six months in the underworld and I am in no fit condition to do it myself. And finally,” she waggles all of her fingers in front of Kurogane’s face, “Because this is all your fault, O Great God of Love.”

“What?”

“While I certainly appreciate that it’s taken you the better part of a century to relax enough, your unfocused experimentation yesterday created a shockwave of infatuation between anyone unlucky enough to be standing too close to another.”

Kurogane’s mouth drops open.

“Not that it hasn’t been entertaining, mind you,” Yuuko laughs, “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a threesome that included both a priest and a used chariot salesman. That was one for the record books…” She straightens her face. “The point is, were he not head over heels for that girl, the sacrifice would not have been lost and all of this might have been avoided.”

“Head over heels? But he doesn’t know her!”

“Oh, that hardly matters. Especially not for a teenager,” Yuuko rounds on him, “You’ve not been the greatest god of love, Kurogane, but you’ve at least been consistent until now. I would suggest you learn how to control your power, now that you seem to be on the verge of figuring out how to actually wield it. And you’d do well to figure out what comes after infatuation if you don’t want a giant mess on your hands.”

“I-”

“I know you will,” she cuts him off, “Fai?”

Fai, who is still staring into the viewing pool, startles at the sound of his name. “Sorry,” he smiles wanly and scratches his head, “I got a little lost there.”

“So I see,” she frowns, “You’ll have to trust Syaoran to do his part in this.”

“Oh,” Fai clears his throat, “Yes, certainly. And we’ll do ours as well.”

“Yes…” Yuuko’s eyes narrow on him, “And when all is said and done, perhaps the two of you will return to Mount Edonis and share of some of our wine.”

“Of course,” Fai bows deeply.

“Right then,” she claps her hands together and moves to escort them from the chamber, “Once you’ve found the Creator, bring her to Outo. She should be able to calm the Destroyer.”

“Should be?” Kurogane stops in his tracks, “You mean will be.”

“Well I daresay that depends on you,” Yuuko smiles and whacks him on the back. Kurogane protests, but starts moving again. “Good luck boys. If you follow Yue back down to the base of the Mountain, he will arrange for transportation to the underworld. Please remember to keep your arms and legs inside the cart at all times and if you experience turbulence on the way down, just remember that you’ll be landing in the world of the dead shortly, and there is guaranteed to be something more frightening just around the corner! Oh!” she snaps her fingers loudly, “That scroll will get you in, but don’t forget to ask Clow for the toll for the return ferry!” With that she gives them a hearty shove back into the hall and slams the door behind them.

“She gets worse every time,” Kurogane mutters.

---

The descent into the underworld is about as unpleasant as Yuuko describes, though do keep in mind that most of those making the journey are newly dead, and therefore their days aren’t about to get much worse.

---

Where the halls of Mount Edonis had been stupefyingly bright, the entrance to the underworld is proving to be suffocatingly black. Surprisingly, this has much the same effect as the dazzling light, except instead of fearing wrath from above, one starts fearing wrath in the form of something oogey climbing up one’s leg. There is no shortage of oogey things littering the shores of the River Infinity – that much is certain – and it’s only gotten worse now that they’ve ferried to the far shore. The stink clawing at their noses grows more pungent with each step toward the great black gates.

Kurogane grabs Fai’s arm, pulling them both a halt as they reach the gates. He can hear arguing coming from just beyond, but can’t make out exactly what the words are, or who they’re coming from. “Do you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Fai nods and tiptoes closer to the gates, “I’d been told there was a guardian, but I wasn’t expecting him to be so busy-”

“What kind of a guardian?” Kurogane asks. He creeps closer to the gate as well – the last he’d heard, one of Yuuko’s god-forsaken pets was the only thing guarding the gate between the souls of the dead and the world of the living. While he supposes that it’s possible she’s taught her pets to speak (it sounded asinine enough to appeal to her), this sounds like an full on argument between at least three sentient participants, and it only seems to be getting more heated as they draw nearer.

“Kuro-fancy?” Fai mutters beside him.

“What?”

“I think…I think they’re fighting over who’s scored higher at table tennis.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m quite serious.” He skips the last of the way up to the gates and motions for Kurogane to follow suit. He cranes his ear toward the black bars. “It’s definitely table tennis.”

Kurogane sighs and plods over to where Fai is standing and cups a hand around his ear to listen. And sure as day, there it is.

“You bounced outside the line, so it doesn’t count!”

“It does so – besides which, you hit the net on your last serve and I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t say anything because it didn’t happen!”

“It happened! I’m standing right by the net!”

“You’re not even playing – shut up!”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m playing, I still hold the high score. AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“You do not!”

“I do! I scored 400,000 on that last round! AHAHAHAHAHA!”

“The game only goes to 11 you idiot!”

“I’m not an idiot, you’re an idiot!”

“Well you’re ugly!”

“Your mother’s ugly!”

“Don’t talk about our mother like that!”

“Um, excuse me,” Fai calls out tentatively. Immediately, the arguing ceases and they find themselves standing in the shadow of a gigantic, snarling, three-headed…cat-bear? With floofy white wings.

“Who goes there?” all three heads demand in unison.

Kurogane claps a hand over his eyes and groans. “What the hell is this?”

“We are Keroberos! Guardian of the gate of the underworld. State your business!”

“Give him the scroll, Kuro-beau.” Fai nudges him forward.

“Right.” Kurogane holds out the scroll Yuuko gave him earlier. “We’re looking for Clow. Yuuko sent us down here.”

The leftmost head eyes him up. “Are you dead?”

“What?” Kurogane sputters, “Do I look dead?”

“You smell dead,” the middle head answers.

“I don’t think that’s him,” the rightmost head says, “I think it’s you.”

“You don’t know what you think.”

“Well I know what he thinks he thinks.”

“I don’t care what you think he thinks he thinks-”

“Besides, if I stink, you stink-”

“OI!” Kurogane shouts.

Three heads round back on him. “State your business!”

“We need,” Kurogane says, attempting to speak through gritted teeth, “To see Clow. We have passage papers from Yuuko.”

“But are you dead?” the leftmost head demands again.

“We’re immortal,” Kurogane seethes.

“This is Kurogane, God of Love, Lust, and Beauty,” Fai supplies, “And I am Fai, God of Wine and Ecstasy.”

“Why does the God of Beauty stink?”

“I told you it’s not him.”

“Can we stay on point?” Fai begs, “Please?”

“Of course,” the middle head says, “We’ve heard your case. And we refuse you entry.”

“What?” Kurogane snaps, “What do you mean, you refuse us entry?”

“Did you stutter?”

“I didn’t hear him stutter.”

“No, I don’t think I stuttered.”

“He didn’t stutter,” all three heads sound in unison and cock incredulously to the side.

Kurogane pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why,” he growls, “Are you denying us entry?”

“Because,” the middle head answers, “Only the dead may enter here.”

“Are you deaf?” Kurogane barks, “We’re both gods. Sent by Yuuko herself. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Faionysus the Twice Born cannot enter here.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he neither fully dead nor fully god.”

Kurogane looks dubiously at Fai. He’s certainly immortal enough to have driven him insane for nearly a century now – surely he would have noticed a little thing like that?

Fai frowns, “I suppose that is true, in a way.”

Kurogane balks.

“But,” Fai continues, “That was nearly 7000 years ago. On my twenty-fifth birthday I was taken into the pantheon as the god of wine. Since then I’ve been as full a god as anyone.”

“This is stupid,” Kurogane decides. He stomps up to the gate and kicks at its locks. “Worry about him all you want, but I’ve been keeping his immortal ass in line for longer than you’ve been standing guard here. So I’ll make you a deal.” He smacks the flat of his boot against the support bar of the gate and draws out a long, tortured whine, “You can either open the gate, or I can tear it down.”

Sudden understanding flashes onto the faces of the three headed beast.

“That’s why he stinks like death – he was the god of war.”

“The god of violence.”

“He’ll kill us all.”

“That won’t take much, we only have one heart.”

“Don’t tell him that.”

“Yes, keep that quiet.”

“And open the gate.”

“Yes, open the gate.”

“Certainly.”

“It’s about damned time,” Kurogane smirks triumphantly as the locks fall away from the gate and one door creaks slowly inwards.

“Well done, Kuro-charming,” Fai breathes and heads for the entrance.

Kurogane grips his arm and pulls him back in line with himself. “Don’t get too far ahead of me,” he growls, “Just in case.”

“I’ll be fine, Kuro-crushing-my-arm,” Fai shirks away and smiles breezily. “Let’s go find this Creator, shall we?”

“Yeah…” Kurogane eyes the path sprawling before them with a growing uneasiness. He doesn’t like this – not one bit. Keroberos steps to the side to let them pass. From the looks on its faces, it’s obvious it doesn’t like this one bit either.

---

It is a little known fact that Keroberos can be easily tamed by feeding it its favorite food, which happens to be vanilla pudding. It’s too bad for our heroes in this case that pudding will not be invented for another three thousand years.

---

The Forest of Rekort is much more difficult to navigate than Syaoran had imagined and is therefore much slower going than he has the patience to accept. He has yet to find any sign of this seer woman who is supposed to live just beyond the border of the forest, despite mucking about in the fallen trees and gullies for the past five hours.

It should be coming up on noon, or so he assumes by the rumbling in his belly. The sun appears to be in the right position as well, but he’s wary of relying too heavily on its position to tell time in a forest supposedly full black magic. He settles down on a fallen log and rifles through his leather satchel for some food. Sakura had been kind enough to send him off with several loaves of bread and some dried meat and fruits, which he gratefully unpacks and sorts into piles on his lap. He has no idea how many days he’ll be wandering alone in these woods, even after he finds the seer, but he’ll ration for seven. After that, there will be no point-

He chooses a loaf of bread and a handful of dried figs and shoves the rest back into his bag. There’s no sense in despairing just yet, not on the first day of his journey.

He swallows the bread down with a long gulp of water from his carrying skin. The forest is far too quiet for his liking, with only the occasional rustling of leaves – the chittering of birds and small animals is completely absent. He’d prefer the loud roar of something particularly dangerous to this. There’s nothing to be done about it though, and with no wildlife about to watch as he eats, he decides to entertain himself by tossing the figs into his mouth.

When the first one fails to land, he curses his bad aim and vows not to waste any more food.

When the second fails to land, he snaps to attention and looks around nervously.

He’d watched this one closely as it had arced up and over his head, then dipped back down-

And disappeared shortly before hitting his mouth.

Perhaps the forest wasn’t as empty as he’d thought.

He takes the third fig carefully in hand and, with a quick glance around himself and a deep breath, tosses it in the air. He follows the arc again, first as it flies up, then turns and-

He snaps his hand out to catch the fig in mid-air, before it has the chance to disappear like the others, but to his everlasting surprise comes away with a handful of fuzzy bunny.

At least, it looks like a fuzzy bunny, as he sends it flying back into the air. He’s not sure if bunnies scream, but this one is definitely doing just that. So is he, in fact, and he’s not sure which of them is being louder about it.

The possible-bunny-thing lands on his lap and proceeds to chirp indignantly at him and rub its head. From this angle, he can see that it’s not quite a rabbit – it seems to walk on two feet and has a large pink jewel set into its forehead – but he can’t imagine what an animal like this is called. He reaches out to touch it-

“Don’t eat Mokona!”

“Eat you?” Syaoran squeaks out, less upset by the notion of a talking rabbit than the accusation, “Why would I?”

“Because Mokona is cute and sweet like sugar!”

“But I’m-” Syaoran is at a complete loss. What do you say to a creature who thinks it’s delicious? “I just ate,” he settles on after a long pause.

“Oh.” It looks almost…disappointed by this.

“But, I’m sure you’re very sweet…?” Syaoran says hopefully.

“The sweetest!” It holds a hand – paw? – out to him. “The name is Mokona!”

“Um,” Syaoran stammers, and reaches out to shake the paw between his thumb and forefinger, “Hello, Mokona. I’m…Syaoran.”

“Ooh, that’s a strong name!”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome! What are you doing in my woods?”

“Your woods? I didn’t know-”

“That’s ok! As long as you’re not here to burn them down, Mokona doesn’t mind!”

“Right…” Syaoran shifts around uncomfortably on the log. “Well, I’m actually looking for someone. Supposedly there is an old lady that lives around the edge of the forest here. I need to find her to ask her where I can find…” he cuts himself off before he says too much. He has a sneaking suspicion that the head of Fei Wong would not be a welcome addition to Mokona’s Forest.

“Hmm,” Mokona says thoughtfully, “Don’t know anything about that. But I know of a house deeper in the woods!”

“Do you know the woods well?”

“Mokona knows the woods the best!” She – he’s decided from the voice – jumps from his lap and motions for him to follow. “Come on! I’ll show you.”

“Wait!” Syaoran yells after her. He’s wary of forest creatures – especially talking ones – after years of nightmare inducing bed-time stories of trickster spirits who lead unsuspecting travelers into the woods and stole pieces of their bodies. They have been mere children’s stories, but in the past two days, he’s come face to face with the messenger of the gods and a talking rabbit, so he’s not interested in taking chances.

“What’s wrong?” Mokona asks, bouncing back to him.

“Well, I don’t want to stray too far-”

“You don’t trust Mokona?” She looks crestfallen at this and kicks her little feet into the fallen leaves.

“I only just met you.”

“Syaoran is looking for something very important. But Mokona is too! So if Syaoran promises to help Mokona, the Mokona will help Syaoran! What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Syaoran says, “What is it you’re looking for?”

“It’s a secret~!” she chirps, then seems to think better of this. “Tell you what,” she says, “I will give you a kiss.”

“That’s really alright, Mokona, you don’t need to-”

“MUWAH!” Her…lips? smack against his forehead. Mokona herself comes to land on his should his shoulder and nuzzle against his cheek. “How do you feel?”

“I feel…” Syaoran stares at his hand, which seems to be glowing faintly. The shimmer fades away momentarily and he snaps his attention back to Mokona. All of the aches in his muscles from yesterday’s work and today’s parading around the forest are gone, right down to the soles of his feet. “I feel great – what did you do?”

“Nothing much!” she chirps, “Just a quick restorative spell!”

“That’s amazing.”

“Mokona is the most amazing!” she says happily, “So follow me!”

“But-”

“Oh right!” she says, “You’ll need a way to get back if we get separated.” She taps her paw against her jaw thoughtfully. “How about…” She jumps to the top of his head. “Hold your bag open in front of you.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it!” she insists. She taps her foot impatiently as Syaoran hauls the satchel off his shoulder and unstrings the opening. He holds it open in front of him and rolls his eyes as far back as they will go to see what she’s up to on top of his head. He snaps them shut again as a torrent of brightly colored…things pours down over his face and into the bag.

He opens them again – slowly, blinkingly – once the downpour has stopped to look at what she’s given him. “Things” is about the best descriptor he can come up with – some are wooden, some are brightly colored material that he’s never seen before. One looks like a paint brush with the bristles sticking out to one side of the handle, another looks like a brown brick with an angry face drawn on it, and still another appears to be a wedge of silver that won’t stop shaking. “What…” he picks up a piece to inspect it more closely, “What are they?”

“Dunno,” Mokona says, “Most of them haven’t been invented yet.”

“But how-”

“Just use them to leave a trail!” she insists and jumps down from his shoulder, “Come on, now! Mokona will show you around the woods!”

“Wait!” But she’s already bounding away from him. He tosses the silver wedge onto the forest floor and takes off after her.

---

Gods are notorious liars, as are Queens.

---

Despite the prevalence of so many less-than-flattering portrayals of Clow, Kurogane has always found him to be a much more tolerable god than his counterpart. There is always less ridiculous pomp involved in meeting with him – he is the sort of god who welcomes you to his fold and treats you with the sort of dignity befitting another immortal, rather than luring you in, slithering around you and speaking in riddles.

Of course, in this instance at least, that just meant there were fewer words involved in telling them they’d been sent on a wild goose chase.

“The Creator?” Clow taps at his chin thoughtfully, “No, I haven’t seen her in years. I don’t believe she’s been in the underworld for quite a while either – not since the rebuild. She did an excellent job of repairing Fei Wong’s damage – the space is now ever-expanding down here and the walls are elastic enough to handle temporary upticks in the population-”

“Sorry,” Fai says incredulously, “It’s not here?” He looks crestfallen, and Kurogane understands this feeling far too well. There is a sinking feeling in his gut that now their job has become that much harder-

“No, I apologize,” Clow says, “She’s not. Yuuko ought to know better than that – she’s been lamenting the loss of her best drinking buddy for years now…”

“She knew?” The sinking feeling slowly morphs into an icy rage, “Why the hell would she send us down here and waste our time when so much is at stake?”

“Perhaps you have other business in the underworld?” Clow offers, “Yuuko is not one to send people down here lightly.”

“Tche,” Kurogane scoffs. He’s sure now that she wanted to share the pain of her six month confinement down here with someone else, and they happened to be the easiest target.

“At any rate,” Clow continues, “The only way to find the creator is to go back to the beginning. This is surely the ending, so it’s not likely you’ll find her down here.”

Kurogane balks. “What is that supposed to even mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Clow laughs and smooths his hair back, “It’s something Yuuko said to me once, although she had been drinking quite heavily at the time…”

Kurogane takes back every flattering thought he’s had about Clow in the past hour. Perhaps it’s the influence of the underworld, but he’s become just as flighty as Yuuko and less shrewd at cloaking it with fancy sounding riddles. Go back to the beginning. The beginning of what?

“Perhaps what you need is to return to your own beginnings,” Clow suggests, and Kurogane resists the urge to punch him, “The underworld is no place to lurk unnecessarily.”

“You mean return home?” Fai asks.

“That too,” Clow smiles.

Returning home is at least something Kurogane can agree with, even if he’s not going to dignify as much with more than a scoff and turning on his heel in response. He stalks back toward the entrance to Clows chambers, fully expecting to hear Fai’s footsteps following closely behind. He stops when he hears nothing.

Fai is standing exactly where Kurogane has just left him, facing Clow and fidgeting with his fingers. He isn’t saying anything though, which is both awkward for the moment and odd behavior for Fai.

“Was there something you wanted to ask?” Clow prods.

“I-” Fai begins to say, and then apparently thinks better of it. He closes his mouth and turns his head quickly to the side. “No,” he says at last, “Nothing at all. Sorry.” He turns and walks quickly from the chamber, leaving Kurogane to stare at his back.

“What the hell was that about?” Kurogane demands once he has caught up. Fai continues plodding ahead, saying nothing. “Oi!” he grips Fai’s arm and pulls him back.

Fai smiles and laughs. “You’ve got a real thing for my arm today, Kuro-crush.” He jerks his shoulder back and rubs at the flesh gingerly. “That hurts, you know.”

“You’ve been acting stranger than normal since yesterday,” Kurogane snarls, “And I don’t like it. You can either tell me what’s going on-”

“Nothing is going on, Kuro-lust,” Fai assures him in the least convincing manner possible, “There are more important things to take care of right now, anyway. I think I know where we need to go.”

Kurogane glares at him suspiciously.

Fai ignore this. “Yuuko mentioned earlier that the Forest of Rekort has housed the collections of the gods since the beginning of time,” he says. When Kurogane fails to react, he continues, “Which means it must have been around since the beginning of time.”

“The beginning,” Kurogane says, finally understanding.

“Exactly,” Fai says, “So let’s hurry and leave here.” His eyes dart nervously around him, “I think it’s starting to get to me.”

“I’ll say,” Kurogane grunts in agreement, “Let’s go.” He can certainly see why Yuuko and Clow have chosen to split their tenure of this place into half-years stints. The dead are not quiet, and the howling alone would be enough to drive a mortal man insane. When the cold, damp, and unpleasant smell of rotting flesh are factored in, it’s enough to make even him uncomfortable.

They trudge back through dark, cavernous halls, marveling at how much longer the return journey seems. It’s only the disappointment, Kurogane insists, that makes it seem so. They’re no longer distracted by the promise of fulfilling their goal, but instead left to stew on the bitter reality that they’ve been sent on a fruitless mission. It’s only natural that this should seem more arduous.

Kurogane is contemplating the exact nature of their failure when the shrieking ghost of a puppy darts between his feet and nearly sends him tumbling ass over teakettle.

---

It’s growing dark within the Forest of Rekort, and Syaoran is growing less and less confident of his newfound companion’s navigational abilities. It seems to him that they’ve been doing naught but walking in circles for the past five hours , but he still has yet to cross back over any of the…things he’s left as a trail behind him. He isn’t sure whether to be glad of this or troubled by it, so instead he refocuses his energies on moving forward.

“It’s not far now,” Mokona says, a refrain she’s been repeating for the past hour at least.

“I hope not,” Syaoran says. It’s all well and good for her to say such things, riding as she is on his shoulder, but his legs are aching and his heart is heavy with anxiety. Nearly a day has passed and he has made no progress whatsoever.

“There!” she points suddenly off to his left, and he slows his steps for follow her direction. Sure enough, off in the distance there is a pitiful thatched hut with smoke billowing out from its chimney. Throwing caution to the wind, he races toward it.

He’s met at the door by a young man seemingly no older than himself. Despite this, the man walks with a strange gate and groans with every step he takes. It isn’t until Syaoran is mere centimeters away that he realizes this is because the man has no eyes and is attempting to carry a heavy bucket of water from the well.

“Here, let me take that for you,” Syaoran offers.

“Thank you,” the man says, “I was wondering when you were going to say something. Been listening to you two chatter for ages.”

“I’m sorry,” Syaoran says truthfully, “I only just saw you here.”

“Well, I didn’t see you there at all!”

“Who has the eye today?” Mokona asks, as if this is a completely reasonable question.

“Oh god, it’s you,” the man groans and strikes out toward Syaoran’s shoulder. Mokona bounds up to land on his head. “Here to drink all my wine and eat all my snacks again? I’m not your slave!”

“Not Mokona’s slave,” she agrees, “Mokona’s pet!” With that she leaps from Syaoran’s head to land on the shoulders of the blind man.

“I’m not your pet either!” the man grumbles. He beckons them to the door. “I suppose you’d better come in. Since you’ll just sneak in when I’m not looking anyway.”

He shuffles through the door, holding it open for them behind him. Syaoran steps in to find a much bigger homestead waiting for him than the outside of the hut would have suggested was possible. He stares in awe for a long moment, nearly forgetting that he is a guest here, until the blind man coughs at him and he remembers to carry in the water bucket.

“Watanuki is that you?” a woman’s voice calls from a different room. The owner appears shortly through an archway – a tall woman with long black pigtails, holding a ladle with a blackened end. Like Watanuki, she has no eyes in her head. “I’m so glad!” she exclaims, “I think I’ve ruined dinner!”

“Oh, Himarwari!” Watanuki’s voice suddenly changes from struggling and put-upon to sparkling with energy, “Don’t you worry about a thing! I’ll take care of it – just as soon as that bastard gets back here with my eye!”

“Whose eye?”

Syaoran jumps as a third person enters the room – this time a tall man with close cropped hair. One of his eye sockets is blank, just like the other two, but strikingly, one large, brown eye fills the other. He carries a cord of firewood to the edge of the fireplace where he drops it with a withering glare.

“I seem to recall it being my eye.”

“I don’t remember that at all,” Watanuki says – shouts, practically – and stomps over to where the other man stands. “Now hand it over so I can make dinner, Doumeki.”

Doumeki sighs and slaps himself on the back of the head. The eye pops free of his skull and lands neatly in his hand. “Don’t drop it in again,” he says warningly. He shakes his head to adjust to the lack of light and turns toward Syaoran. “Who’s the visitor?”

“It’s that Mokona again,” Watanuki sneers, “I’ll go get it some wine…”

“Who’s the other one, though?”

“I’m,” Syaoran says, taking a step forward, “I’m Syaoran.” He swallows audibly. This is the second strangest thing he has seen today.

“Syaoran, hmm?” Doumeki nods, “Well Syaoran, why don’t you and Mokona come sit with us and tell us what brings you out this way.”

Syaoran nods and follows him toward a small dining table where Himawari is busily readying place settings. He can only hope they’ll believe what he has to say.

---

Meeting one’s predecessor in any job carries the possibility of being instructive, or infuriating. For gods, the experience is most often both. Despite the seemingly endless cycle of Love Gods over the years, it is not actually all that easy to move to a new position. It requires time, dedication, and above all, a direct order from the Great Gods.

It does not, as is probably obvious by this point in the narrative, come with training.

And so, while meeting one’s predecessor, it is important to take note of both what they did well, and what they utterly cocked up. Unfortunately, getting the to reveal what exactly the cock-up was can be both time consuming and, well, infuriating.

---

Finding a puppy in the underwold does not surprise Kurogane, though it might make him a little sad, if he were inclined to acknowledge such petty feelings. What does surprise him, however, and in fact sends him flying into a rage, is the reason that it has decided to scurry between his feet and attempt to use him as a shield.

Hurrying closely behind it is the impetus for all of Kurogane’s suffering and hardships of the past century: the former God of Love, Seishiro.

Seishiro cackles to himself, quite oblivious to the presence of anyone outside of himself and his own machinations, and dives between Kurogane’s feet to retrieve the puppy. Kurogane stares at him as he crawls back to his feet, pets the dog once before holding it arm’s length, winds his leg back for the kick and-

“What the hell are you doing?” Kurogane snatches the puppy back before Seishiro’s foot can make contact with its behind. He’s always been a sick bastard, but this is a bit much, even for him.

Seishiro’s eyes refocus rapidly as it dawns on him that he is not alone. His line of sight shifts, jerkily, between Kurogane and Fai as he sizes them up. Then, with all the grace of a rodent in its death throes, he reaches out to drum his fingers anxiously across Kurogane’s face. “It’s you,” he mumbles.

“That’s my line,” Kurogane grabs him around the wrist and twists his arm back. “What is this? You disappeared after Dragos. It’s because of you that I’ve had to suffer the past hundred years as the god of love and why? So you can kick puppies around the afterlife?”

Seishiro laughs, long and low and with a cadence that can only be describe as unnerving. “Don’t be silly my boy,” he hisses, “You had to pick up that title because you are just like me – cold and violent unable to love. It’s a curse, you know.”

“What?” Kurogane twists his arm back farther, but all this produces is more laughter.

“I also heard you got drunk and slept through the final battle at Dragos. What a fantastic God of War you must have been…”

Kurogane releases his grip abruptly and leaves Seishiro to slump over on himself, clucking his tongue and nursing his wounded wrist. He stomps overtop of him, purposely grazing his heel across the skin of his forehead and kicking up enough dust behind him leave the ex-god of love choking. “Let’s go.”

“It’s supposed to be such a wonderful emotion, isn’t it?” Seishiro calls from behind them, “Humans write plays about it, epic poetry. They’ll spend their lives happily pining away, pretending that they’re lost in a sea of bliss. But we know better, don’t we?” He pauses, obviously waiting for some response that isn’t forthcoming. “What happens when their love is not returned? When it can’t be returned?” he giggles loudly to himself, “They lose all ability to function. Crying, wasting away, dying of broken hearts, starting wars. You’ll do more damage as a god of love than you ever managed as a god of war!”

“That ought to have been right up your alley, then,” Kurogane sneers over his shoulder.

“It was!” Seishiro agrees, “It was the most fun I ever had!” He pauses to laugh again and pull himself back to his feet. “The trick is,” he says, suddenly very serious, “To never let yourself get involved. You have to stay above it!”

Fai is pulling at Kurogane’s arm, urging him to drop the matter and hurry back to the surface world, but letting an argument drop has never been a strong point for Kurogane and letting this bastard have the last word feels antithetical to anything that is good and right in the world. He turns back to him, “What do you mean?”

“The minute you fall is the minute you’re cursed,” Seishiro smiles, “And you can spend eternity searching again for your Subaru.”

“You’re a coward,” Kurogane spits, finally understanding. The death of the prince of Dragos hadn’t merely been the end of the war, it had also been the end of Seishiro’s reign as the God of Love. He’d fallen in love with a human and had now doomed himself to an eternity of suffering, trying and failing to find the face of his love in the depths of the underworld. “A spineless coward who is too weak to accept his loss and move forward.”

“That may be true,” Seishiro smirks, “But what does that make you, then?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone knows your story. You lost the humans who raised you,” Seishrio says, “And flew into such a rage that you were declared the God of War and set to work razing cities and destroying lives. And you were so good at it that Clow and Yuuko themselves feared you and threatened to revoke your immortality. Tell me – what is a god who buries his fear of loss under anger and rage but a coward?”

“I’m not burying anything.”

“Indeed,” Seishiro collects himself and turns his back on Kurogane, “Which is why you have spent the last one hundred years suppressing love, rather than spreading it, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh god, you don’t even realize it.” Seishiro adds a spring to his steps. “You’re far beyond any help I can offer, God of Love.” He waves casually over his shoulder, as if this has all been one grand lark for him. “Good luck with that,” he pauses, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m still looking for my Subaru.” He skips off down the trail into the darkness, humming a jaunty tune.

“He’s fucking nuts,” Kurogane hisses. He turns back to Fai, but finds himself decidedly alone in the darkness.

---

And now for a short interruption to outline how very very dedicated the former God of War had been to his duties.

The first nine years of the Dragan War were glorious. He’d ridden out to battle every morning with his swords gleaming and ridden back every night drenched in the blood of the invaders. Hour after hour he’d fought, raw power flowing through him, ripping into enemy flesh and battering their weapons to pulp. Battle cries rattled against his ear drums, screams pierced the very core of his soul.

He’d taken to drinking the nights away – he didn’t need sleep the way humans understood it and it was better than staring at the sky all night, itching for the sun to come back up. Wine was harder and harder to come by as the siege dragged on, but finding the ceremonial stashes wasn’t hard for a god.

It should have been harder for regular soldiers, however, and damned near impossible for ordinary citizens who had no reason to be near the citadel. So, it was a shock to find a skinny, unkempt little rat of a man poking his nose around the locked stores. It was near midnight, and there was a curfew in effect for the city. He debated whether to turn him over to local authorities or just beat the snot out of him himself for all of the two seconds it took the thief to levitate one of the amphorae down from the top stacks of the store.

“What the hell?” He’d been so shocked by the sight of the floating clay pot that he’d completely forgotten that he was an intruder here as well. Not that it mattered – he was Kurogane, God of War, and blowing his cover amongst mortals wasn’t exactly a death sentence.

Not that this man, with his levitating wine and sudden hardened expression, appeared to be a mere mortal. The amphora whipped wildly side to side, sending long, lapping splatters of wine over its rim and into Kurogane’s eyes. This man was smart, Kurogane realized – smart enough to make up for his lack of size with chemical warefare. He’d dropped into a crouch then, hoping to have his sworn drawn before the man could readjust his aim, gripped the handle of his blade and-

-and that was when the hiccups had started.

And the swaying. There was an awful lot of that going on – so much so, in fact, that Kurogane began to wonder exactly how much of that little projectile wine stunt had been intentional.

He began to wonder if the idiot even knew he was there.

“What the hell are you doing?” he finally demanded after a long, painful minute of watching the man stagger around the store room, humming to himself and hiccupping with little to no rhythm.

“Hmm?” The man spun on his heel to face Kurogane. The amphora smashed unceremoniously to the ground. Kurogane’s palm smashed heartily against his forehead. “Shit,” the man giggled and staggered back toward the shelves, “That was the good stuff too.” He finally caught sight of Kurogane, eyes squinting and focusing as if he were trying to stare down some slippery beast well-hidden in the shadows. “Aww,” he crooned and slipped his scraggly fingers into Kurogane’s hair to ruffle it about his forehead, “Who’s a naughty boy, hiding in the shadows?” That Kurogane was in fact crouching completely unhidden, directly under a window, in a steady stream of moonlight seemed to make no difference.

Kurogane had shot up to full height at this and very nearly taken out a row of shelves in his anger. “Do you have any idea who you’re taking to?” he bellowed.

“Ooh,” the idiot clapped his hands together, “Are we playing ‘Who the fuck are you?’ I love this game.” He wrenched another jar off the shelves (with his hands this time, even if they seemed just as unsteady as his levitation skills) and giggled, “But first, you have to tell me who the fuck I am!”

“The hell…?” Kurogane was left wondering at an empty space where the man had stood only a second before.

“No, that would be Fei Wong,” raucous laughter taunted him from somewhere above, “I think you’ll find I am much less…decrepit.” There was a loud crash from across the room and Kurogane did not spare any time to dart toward it.

Another empty corner.

“You seem quite spry yourself,” the voice continued, “For someone so huge and…chisled. Usually you think of these big marble statues as idealistic and unmovable but you. Say,” the voice paused thoughtfully, “You wouldn’t be a god, would you? Because I’ve heard rumours-”

“Shut up!” Kurogane swung his sword and brought a rack of shelves crashing down. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been subjected to this same tired pick-up routine. It had never been particularly new so he couldn’t even call it old and tired. It was just bloody awful, and he was in no mood to put up with it. “Get back here and fight me,” he demanded instead, “These are sacred wine stores you’re pilfering. Better to fight me now than defile yourself and face the wrath of the gods.”

“Now that might be interesting,” the man appeared before him again, far enough down a shelf row to avoid danger. He dipped a finger into the jar and smacked his lips around it, “Oh yes, this is the best.”

“Are you an idiot?” Kurogane balked.

“Hmm?” the man’s eyes darted back to him, “Oh, no. I just thought it was interesting to think what sorts of punishment I could dole out on myself.”

“What?” Kurogane had missed something here, between the darting amongst the shadows and cackling; he was sure of it.

“Oh dear, I suppose we haven’t met,” the man walked steadily – but slowly, as if he were perfectly aware he might pitch over at any moment – toward Kurogane and stretched out his hand in greeting, “Kuro-strife.”

“What did you just call me?” Kurogane bellowed. No, hell to that – he wasn’t giving him time to repeat himself. “My name is Kurogane, God of War and you will address me thusly.”

“That’s not what I heard,” the man chuckled and took a swig from the amphora, “’Thusly,’ he says. So formal. Calm down, Kuro-smash, we’re not on Mount Edonis, there’s no need to talk like you’re sitting at court.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“That’s better. Still, I’m so disappointed,” the man hung his head and dug his toe into the dirt floor, “Although I suppose I really can’t blame him – they always make me look so beefy in those sculptures and I really haven’t been to court in, well, centuries-”

“You’re not making any sense,” Kurogane spat, though that last rambling had lit a small flame of memory. “Wait,” he said, “You’re that twice-born idiot who spends all his time flitting around humans and pilfering their wine-”

“To be fair, it’s my wine-”

“Their wine and-”

“At any rate, I hear you’ve been pretty near kicked off of Edonis anyway.”

Kurogane froze midsentence. ‘Did She send you here?”

“No,” the man grinned coyly, “I came here all on my own. For the wine,” he quickly explained, “It’s really the best you can find. Clever bastards have figured out how to age it properly and it’s – muwah!” He smacked his lips at the tips of his fingers. “Anyway, it would be a shame for it all to be destroyed without drinking some. It does have my name on it, after all.” He lifted the jar to Kurogane for closer inspection, and sure as hell, there it was in large, scrawling letters: The Great Giver of Wine and Ecstacy The Twice Born Lord Faionysis.

“Tche.” At least that explained the disappearing act. And here he had thought he was up against a formidable, albeit human, opponent…

“You can call me ‘Fai,’ though,” ‘Fai’ laughed and offered the amphora closer still, “Go on, have a bit. You won’t regret it!”

Kurogane eyed him warily, but accepted the wine. “You’re sure she’s not involved in this – in any way?” he asked before taking a sip.

“Her Great and Awesomeness Yuuko might have requested a few jars for herself, but that was almost fifty years ago,” Fai assured him, “I’m sure she’s forgotten about it by now.”

This didn’t entirely reassure him, but Kurogane took a deep swig of the wine anyway. He’d come here to drink, after all, and if this is what he had to go through to get it, well…he could always slaughter extra Togakushiites tomorrow to make up for it.

“There’s a good God of Destruction,” Fai smiled and clapped a hand against his back.

“That’s God of WAR to you, Wino.”

“That’s God of Wine to you, Kuro-decimate.”

“No wine is worth this,” Kurogane growled. He’d stomped toward the door then, fully intent on leaving without another word, but the idiot grabbed him around the wrist and promised something ridiculous – like not speaking for a full ten minutes or something equally as stupid – and Kurogane had changed his mind and chased after him, sword unsheathed-

The rest was a little hazy, but he remembered plenty of swearing and slashing and eventually drinking. They had drained six or seven of the amphorae by the time the sun rose and swallowed down another just for good measure before Kurogane stormed out onto the battlefield. He did indeed kill more than his average number of invaders, and decided that he’d been right all along – rage and anger were indeed the keys to strength, and strength was what would win this war. For neutrality and morals. And Her Mightiness the Great Queen Yuuko would, once again, be proven wrong and irritating.

He found himself back at the wine stores that night, looking for a certain slippery drinking companion, and was not disappointed.

The following months went by in a blurr of booze and blood – days to the slaughter, nights to the jars. One might have accused him of enjoying himself, and one would not have been wrong (but one would have been dead). Fai seemed amenable to this arrangement too, or at least amenable enough to hang around a city under siege as long as he was free to deplete the wine stores. Together they spent the nights pursuing such fascinating topics as “how do you go about being ‘twice-born’ anyway?” and “oh no, you did not just fucking eat my last fig.”

And that was where it should have ended, so naturally it did not.

Kurogane nearly shat himself when the idiot showed up on the battle field.

He was fairly certain that you couldn’t kill a god, but you sure as hell could injure them and he didn’t have any desire to play nursemaid to a wine god with a spear through his head, nor did he have any desire to explain to that high and mighty Queen of his how this wasn’t his fault and he shouldn’t have to babysit idiots and win wars at the same time.

Luckily – amazingly – Fai proved to be a multitalented god, and did more than hold his own on the battlefield. Perhaps it was his ability to throw the oncoming soldiers into fits of ecstasy before neatly removing their heads from their bodies, or maybe it was that he was cheating and no one could see him coming. Either way, he was a huge boon, and the Togakushiites numbers dwindled. The numbers of the dead surged – the halls of the underworld were surely swelling over capacity with their ranks.

And then it all ended rather abruptly. They had delivered an undeniably brutal beating to the Togakushiites the day before, it was true, but…

Kurogane didn’t like this sudden, clean end to the war. It felt wrong, unfinished. If he had it his way, he would line all the remaining soldiers up and take them out one by one-

Fai had informed him that this was probably a sign of psychosis and shut him up with wine and vague promises of maybe, maybe letting him sample one of the fits of ecstasy he was so well known for. Kurogane had, in turn, informed him that he wasn’t that cheap – psychosis or no – and then proceeded to spend the next two days soaked in wine with tingling toes and wondering if he’d ever be able to pull himself away to get back to business as usual.

That question was answered – very messily – by the Hidden Penguin Warriors. In the end, pulling themselves away proved less difficult than he had imagined. Unfortunately, it had taken him ages to even register that anything – much less a huge, roiling battle – was going on around him. Considering most of the city was actively on fire, this was no small feat, and by the time he and Fai found themselves suited for battle once again, he was frothing with an indignant rage.

An indignant rage that had, in the end, done no one any good.

---

“So,” Doumeki says slowly casting what would have been a furtive glance at Himarawi if he’d had any eyes to cast with, “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You’ve been sent into these woods to find a seer, who is supposed to help you find the resting place of Fei Wong’s head, which you intend to take back to Outo and offer up as a sacrifice to the Largos.”

“Yes, that’s pretty much verbatim what I’ve told you,” Syaoran leans into the table and buries his head in his hands. They’ve been over all of this three times and three times they have been able to repeat back to him exactly what he’s told them. He unsure exactly where the failure in comprehension is, but it’s becoming tiresome.

“There’s no seer in these woods.”

“So you’ve said,” Syaoran groans.

“Doumeki, are you boring him to death with your twaddle?” Watanuki shouts from the kitchen. He emerges a moment later, carrying a large cauldron which he carries to the table. “What’s the trouble now?” he asks, taking the bowl from Syaoran’s setting to fill.

Syaoran opens his mouth to explain for a fourth time, but Doumeki answers for him. “He wants Fei Wong’s head.”

Watanuki nearly drops the bowl into Syaoran’s lap. “You didn’t tell him it’s here, did you?”

Doumeki claps a hand across his face.

“It’s here?” Syaoran says excitedly, “You have it?” He turns to Doumeki, “Why didn’t you just say so? What do I need to do? What can I give you for it?”

“Nothing!” Watanuki shouts almost immediately, “There is nothing you can do or give us! That head is cursed!”

“But-”

“But nothing!” Watanuki shouts. He slams the kettle down on the table and moves to filling everyone’s cups. “Stay here, eat, drink, but don’t say another word about that head!”

“I-” Syaoran snaps his mouth shut and reaches for the glass. Mokona has laid a tiny paw on his shoulder and is shaking her head. She catches his eye and bounds up to rest on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Mokona has an idea!”

Later on, after dinner has been eaten and much wine consumed, the three owners of the hut take to reclining around the table with warm mugs of tea.

“In the morning,” Himarwai says, “Watanuki will make you breakfast before you head back on your way, Syaoran. He makes the most amazing pancakes – you’ll love them.”

“I’m not getting up that early!” Watanuki shrieks, “It’s bad enough I had to cook dinner again when it’s this jerk Doumeki’s turn!”

“Not my turn,” Doumeki drones.

“That’s too bad,” Himawari frowns, “I was really looking forward to them-”

“Well that’s alright then!” Watanuki says happily, “I’ll set out the dough tonight so they’ll be extra fluffy!”

“Thank you, Watanuki!”

“But for now then, we’d probably have a restful night, don’t you think? What’s a nice, restful way we can entertain our guest?”

“We could play spoons,” Doumeki says, and Syaoran swears that if he had eyes, they would have lit up right at that moment.

“I said restful!” Watanuki shouts, “With you it always turns into full-contact spoons and I’m not having that tonight!”

“It was just a suggestion-”

“Well you can keep your suggestions,”

“Like you’re keeping my eye?”

“It’s MY eye! You-”

“Hey!” Himawari says, just as things are about to get physical, “How about we play riddles!”

“Riddles!” Watanuki claps his hands together and squeals with delight, “What a fantastic idea, Himawari!”

“Thanks!” she smiles brightly, “Who wants to go first?”

“Oh, I will!” Watanuki says, flapping his arm above his head, “Here goes. Why is Doumeki always so tired?”

“Um,” Himawari bites her tongue for a long moment, “Because he doesn’t sleep well?”

“Because it’s exhausting being this beautiful,” Doumeki insists.

“Shut up, you!” Watanuki swats at him, “No. It’s because he does nothing all day, so he can’t stop to rest!” He practically falls out of his chair laughing at his own joke.

“Lame,” Doumeki says shortly.

“Let’s hear you do better!”

“Fine,” Doumeki says, and settles his cup on the table, “How many eyes does Watanuki have if you count the one in his head?”

Syaoran opens and closes his mouth, wondering what the catch is. Is it possible that Watanuki has more than one eye? Do they have a store of eyes hidden somewhere? He’s almost afraid of the answer-

“None,” Doumeki finally answers, “Calling it his doesn’t make it his.” He slaps his open hand palm up on the table, “Now gimme back my eye, I gotta go take a leak.”

“Take it in the dark!” Watanuki snaps back at him, “You’re not playing with us anymore anyway – that was horrible!”

“Mokona’s turn!” Mokona suddenly decides. She jumps up from her perch on Syaoran’s lap and onto the table.

“Oh goody,” Watanuki drones, “Here we go. Will it top the one it had last time it was here? What was it? ‘How many boards would the Mongols hoard if the Mongol Hoardes got bored?’”

“You still haven’t answered that one,” Mokona says proudly.

“What the hell is a Mongol Horde?!” Watanuki shouts back at her.

“I guess you’ll never know!” Mokona sticks her tongue out, “Anyway, I have a new riddle!”

“Alright, let’s hear it…”

“What has eyes but cannot see?” Mokona says very mysteriously.

“Very funny,” Watanuki groans, “Um, a potato?”

“A needle!” Himarwari says.

“A storm,” Doumeki guesses.

“Nope,” Mokona says, clasping her hands behind her back and grinning innocently. “It’s you!” As fast as she’s spoken, she’s leapt from her spot on the table and landed on Watanuki’s head. She gives him a good, solid kick-

And the eye pops free of his face and soars across the table.

“Quick Syaoran!” Mokona shouts, “Grab it!”

Syaoran doesn’t waste any time – he snatches the eye from the air and squeezes it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Alright!” Mokona chirps, bounding back to his shoulder, “Now you’ll take us to Fei Wong’s head – or we’ll crush your only eye!”

Syaoran nods steadily, though his heart is racing in his chest. If this doesn’t work-

“Don’t do it!” Watanuki cries. All three of them are suddenly very anxious, which Syaoran finds odd for people who had been doing so well with out it just minutes before. “It’s the only one we have left,” Watanuki explains, “We’ll never be able to keep the catalogs without it?”

“Catalogs?” Syaoran asks. He tightens the grip on the eye. “What do you mean?”

“This is a library,” Watanuki explains, “A collection of all the knowledge the gods have amassed since the dawn of time. It’s too much for any one god to know, so to work here, you must give up your eyes and share with the rest of the staff. It’s the only way we can hold each other accountable.”

“That’s…” Syaoran trails off. He wants to say ‘disgusting,’ but isn’t at all sure that will go over well. “Unfortunate,” he decides on at last, “But I will have that head, one way or another. So please, don’t make me ruin your only eye.”

“I-” Watanuki gapes helplessly at the others, who in turn gape helplessly back. “Fine,” he says at last, “But I’m sending word directly to the Great Goddes Yuuko once you leave here-”

“That’s fine,” Syaoran says, “Just take me to it.”

“It’s back in the archives,” Doumeki says, “I’ll take you.”

Syaoran murmurs his thanks and follows Doumeki back deeper into the hut. Beyond the living room, the “hut” opens into a cavernous void, filled with rows upon rows of shelving.

“How will I find it?” Syaoran asks, awed by the sheer size of the chamber.

“Row 32F, shelf C,” Doumeki answers without missing a beat. Syaoran stares at him. “I’m the index,” he says, matter-of-factly.”

“I see,” Syaoran says. He swallows thickly and wanders into the darkness to get a better look at the shelves. He finds Row 30A almost immediately-

“The letters designate the section of the row,” Doumeki says, “Walk down 32A, each gap you come to will start a new letter.”

“Thank you,” Syaoran starts to say-

“And you’ll want to keep your eyes closed,” Doumeki interrupts him, “There are things in there that will turn you into much worse than a piece of stone should you catch a glimpse of them.”

“But how will I find it?” Syaoran wonders.

“Maybe if I had my eye, I could do something for you.”

Syaoran steeles himself. “No,” he says, “I’ll hold it until I’m done. I’ll figure something out. Mokona, do you have any ideas?”

“Hmm,” Mokona taps at her face, “Maybe. Give me a second.” She appears to be doing a little dance on his shoulder, bobbing and weaving and shaking side to side, but in a moment it becomes clear that this is not the case at all when she opens her mouth wide and sends a large, pink-cased mirror flying into Syaoran’s free hand. Syaoran stares at it – he’s never seen a mirror with so much clarity or such strange resin casing before. Not only that, but the casing appears to be in the shape of a cat’s face-

“Where did this come from?” he asks, afraid he already knows the answer.

“I made it!” she announces happily, “Use it to look at the shelves – they can’t hurt you if it’s just a reflection!”

“Is that true?” Syaoran asks Doumeki, who offers a shrug in return. “Alright,” Syaoran murmurs. It’s betting than the alternative, which is to do nothing. He steadies his nerves and heads into the stacks.

He can hear things fidgeting on the shelves around him. As he moves deeper into the stacks, the fidgeting becomes squaking and eventually moaning. As he approaches section E, he’s certain he can hear something calling his name. Still he soldiers on, not looking at the contents of the shelves, except for what he can see in his mirror. As he approaches section F, he stops and stares in mute horror.

The entire section is stacked with disembodied heads.

Some of these are labeled – “Kotori,” “Daisuke,” “Dearest Aunt Tokiko,” – but the majority are not, leaving only Syaoran to guess which, if any, belong to Fei Wong.

“Mokona,” he says quietly, “Do you know which one it is?”

“Hmmm…” Mokona mumbles, her face still buried tightly into Syaoran’s neck, “Fei Wong will be the ugliest one for sure!”

“How dare you!” a voice rings from the shelves.

It’s all Syaoran can do to not drop the mirror and flee in terror. He holds himself together by remembering Sakura and then remembering that tiny little Mokona is cowering against him, probably terrified out of her wits-

“Yeah that’s right,” she shouts into the darkness, “I said you’re ugly!”

“Shut your mouth, you rodent!”

“Shut yours you ugly!” Mokona continues to shout, “You’re the ugliest pet I ever had – that’s why I hid you in the underworld!”

“Why you! If I had hands I’d wring your neck!”

“Can you see which one is talking, Syaoran?” she whispers. He nods. “Good, then stuff him in your bag and let’s get out of here!”

This is quite possibly the best idea Mokona has had throughout their entire acquaintance, and Syaoran can’t comply fast enough. He nabs the talking head by the hair and, with his eyes pinched tightly closed (just in case!) jams it into the bag and makes a mad dash for the exit. He tosses the eye to Doumeki, slowly down only to be sure he’s caught it, and continues straight out the front door.

The head screams the entire way.

---

There is no sign of Fai lurking around or behind any of the craggy outcroppings of rock in this area. He can’t have gone far – Kurogane hadn’t been lost in that argument for that, but the twisting maze of tunnels and darkness is enough to lose even the loudest and most obtrusive of companions, it would seem. Kurogane curses to himself. He’s not going back without that idiot, but he sure as hell isn’t about to spend any more time skulking about in the dark by himself, either.

He turns and storms back to Clow’s chambers. Maybe idiots can sniff out their own kind, even in the darkness of the underworld. He arrives without incident, which is just as well, because the scene he finds waiting for him there is going to require all that remains of his energy.

Fai, God of Wine, Ritual Madness, and Ecstasy, is sobbing like a baby at Clow’s feet.

“It’s true,” Clow is saying, “You would disappear, even as an immortal, if you offer yourself to the Destroyer.” His voice is calm and patient, much like a kindly father-figure, but his face remains grave as he speaks. “But you would not die. Your soul would not return to the underworld, and you would never meet with your brother or those you have known during their lifetimes again-”

“Brother?” Kurogane coughs, completely forgetting that he is an outsider to this scene, and probably an unwelcome one at that. Still, the sight of Fai – laughing, idiot Fai who can’t take a damned thing seriously – sobbing on the floor twists a bitter knife in his gut.

“Kurogane,” Clow greets him, “I think it’s best that you take him out of here. The underworld has a way of playing with human minds-”

“I’m not human,” Fai cries, “Everyone has reminded me for the past seven thousand years as I’ve watched everyone I’ve known and loved wither and die.”

“Fai-”

“Fai was conceived as a human,” Clow says, “Along with a twin brother. When their mother fell ill, I – young and foolish at the time, and desperately in love – attempted to intervene, and took one of the twins into myself. Fai was born twice – once of his mother, and again of my flesh. His brother-”

“Lived until he was twenty five,” Fai interjects, “And when he died in battle, I tried to join him. But it was no use – no matter how many spears pierced through me, I would not die.” He looks up from beneath the tangled mop of hair hiding his face and smiles a sickly smile. “Living without the burden of love for the past hundred years was like a dream come true.” He closes his eyes and continues shakily, “Kurogane, I’m sorry. I’ve done nothing but sabotage you for the past hundred years. Every time you started to relax your grip on yourself and allow the tiniest amount of love to slip back into the world, I would find ways to humiliate you and drive it right back down. But then you took in Syaoran and I-”

“We took in Syaoran, you idiot.”

“No matter how hard I tried to kill the feeling, I loved him. I still love him. I want him to be happy, Kurogane. Against all my better judgment I… And you… Every time you get closer-” Fai balls his hands into fists and draws in a sharp breath, “Let me replace the girl as the sacrifice to the Destroyer. Let Syaoran live free of guilt. Let him love and be loved. Without me there to undermine you, you’ll figure it out. I know you will – I’ve felt it- Yesterday I-”

“You really are a dumbass, you know that?” Kurogane slaps a hand across his face and rakes his nails down the skin. “And so am I.” He storms to where Fai is still kneeing on the floor, and in one swift movement hefts him up and over his shoulder. “We’re leaving.” He nods to Clow – a silent thanks for refusing this idiot’s entreaties and promise to return him safely home – and turns to go.

Fai refuses to go quietly. “Put me down,” he kicks a knee into Kurogane’s gut and beats his fists against his back. “Why are you refusing me the only opportunity to be useful that I’ve ever had?”

“Because,” Kurogane says simply, “That bastard was right. For the past hundred years, I’ve been a coward.”

“You’re the God of War,” Fai insists, “You’re not afraid of anything.”

“I’m the God of Love,” Kurogane practically shouts, “And for the past hundred years, I have been afraid of you disappearing.” He tightens his grip around Fai’s waist, fully expecting him to roll and pitch and fling himself away from that revelation-

Instead, Fai’s struggling grinds to a halt and he hangs, limp and silent and breathing unsteadily, as Kurogane continues to drag them both through the darkness.

Kurogane takes a deep breath before continuing. “After the village priest who cared for me and his wife were killed, I never wanted to say goodbye to someone I cared about again, and so I stopped myself from caring. I killed and I destroyed and I loved every minute of it. And then you showed up and managed to distract me from all of that. I missed the end of the fucking war because I was too busy fucking you. And I ignored it, like a fool. I convinced myself I was incapable of love and let you do whatever the hell you wanted – drinking all night, leaving me with all the heavy work on the vineyard. And I see now that it was all so I would never have to say goodbye.” He stops walking altogether. The gate is visible up ahead and there is still more that he wants to say. “If you’re going to disappear anyway, then it’s time to take a different approach.”

“Kuro-” Fai coughs, “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurogane says. He drops to one knee and settles Fai on the ground so he can look him in the eye. “I know.” It’s hard to breathe if the knot forming in his chest and his stomach is doing all manner of impressive loops in his abdomen. Even now, he can’t understand why this feeling is so revered above all others – “hurts” doesn’t even begin to describe what he’s feeling. But there is also excitement and longing and relief mixed in, and above all, a will to-

“Kurogane?”

His forehead crashes down against Fai’s. He’s laughing in spite of himself, like an idiot. “Don’t call me that, idiot,” he breathes out shakily, “You’re going to make me say this, aren’t you?”

“It might make it hurt less,” Fai smiles lopsidedly.

“Fine,” Kurogane grumbles, “I lo-”

“Oi!” a screaming roar in triplicate comes barreling at them. Kurogane glares over his shoulder to find Keroberos flailing with all of its three-headed, floofy-winged might. “You’re about to miss the last ferry to the other side for the day! Hurry up or you’re going to be stuck here for the night!”

“Tche,” Kurogane scoffs. To hell with the words anyway – they’ve taken forever to say already, they can wait a bit longer. He settles for mashing his lips against Fai’s; it’s quick and violent and in no way conveys all the things he wants it to, but it’s expedient and the hungriness with which Fai meets him tells him he’s understood nonetheless. With a quick squeeze of his fingers, they’re back on their feet and running for the gate.

They arrive just as the ferryman is pushing away from the shore and leap toward the boat. They fall fantastically short, even though he appeared to be no more than a meter from land, and the cold, black water of the River Infinity twists around their legs.

“What the hell is this?” Kurogane roars. Of all the things to go wrong-

“The toll!” Keroberos’s middle head shouts, “You have to pay him the toll or he can’t take you back!”

“What’s the toll?” Kurogane shouts back. The water is reaching to his waist and Fai is sinking in even faster.

“Didn’t Clow give it to you?”

“No!”

“I don’t know what to tell you!” the leftmost head shouts, “But you’d better give him something!”

“Fine!” Kurogane roars and tears at the first thing he comes across, which just so happens to be his left arm. It comes off with a loud POP and he hurls it, splurting and dripping, at the ferryman’s head.

The next instant finds himself and Fai seated comfortably in the boat.

“What the hell did you do?” Fai shouts.

“It’ll grow back.”

“Maybe someday! What will you do until then? Oh my Clow on a cracker – you’re bleeding everywhere!”

“It’ll stop.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Do you want to go back in the water?”

“..no.”

“Then shut up.”

---

Some stories are not complete without amputation.

---

It’s just past sunrise on the third day when Syaoran finally makes his way back into Outo with Mokona perched on his shoulder. The streets are packed, especially as he winds his way down to the docks, where he assumes the best vantage will be. It appears that the entire populace has turned out to see a mauling, and they’re not terribly fussed whether it’s a it a devil of the deep blue sea, a headstrong country boy, or even their very own townsfolk that’s on the receiving end. They’re here for blood.

They’re going to be sorely disappointed.

He believes this. He has to.

“Are you sure you want to come with me, Mokona?” he whispers, “You can wait at the edge of town until I’m done. I promise I’ll come back to help you find whatever you need then.” He scratches her affectionately behind the ears. “It’s going to be much safer up there.”

“No,” she says confidently, “I’m coming.”

“Alright,” he say, and lifts up the edge of his cloak, “But at least hide in here so people don’t try to snatch you.” She happily obliges him, and he quickens his pace until he is practically jogging down the hills, through the crowds, and down into the port. The crowd is the thickest here, and despite being the main attraction, he finds he has to elbow his way through just to make his way to the water.

He finds Sakura at the water’s edge, and his heart skips a beat. She’s dressed in the fanciest robes he’s ever laid eyes on, and somehow she looks even more beautiful than the day he met her (which is impressive, because that was only two days prior). He feels slightly foolish thinking this way, but when this is finished-

“Syaoran!”

“Kid!”

He tears his eyes away from Sakura long enough to find two familiar faces in the crowd. His fathers – both of them and apparently sober – are fighting their way through the crowd toward him. This sight probably would have terrified the life out of him two days ago, but now it’s almost comforting.

At least until they both attempt to hug him and manage to knock the wind from his chest instead.

“Kurogane, Fai-” he says. He’s not going to cry – not here, not now, not when there is a hungry sea monster that still needs vanquishing. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t-” He chokes back a sob. “How did you find out?”

“We went back to the beginning,” Fai says, with a ridiculous grin, “And then Kuro-charming stormed back up Mount Olympus and started snapping columns in two until Yuuko told us what was going on.”

“Fai…” Syaoran looks at his father with a healthy dose of worry. He’d seemed fairly steady on his feet only a moment ago… “Are you drunk already?”

“Not at all,” he smiles, and runs a hand through Syaoran’s hair, “That’s for later.” He drops his hand back to his side, “I’m sorry, I’m probably embarrassing you.”

“No, it’s fine, but I still don’t-”

“You’d better go,” Kurogane tells him, and nods toward the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Syaoran nods gravely and turns to leave but-

“Are you…holding hands?” he gapes at his fathers.

“No,” Kurogane manages with a mostly straight face, even though it’s plain as day that he’s threading his fingers more tightly in between Fai’s even as he speaks.

“Right,” Syaoran says, and stares at them in mute horror as something else dawns on him, “Is your arm off?”

“It’ll grow back.”

“I-”

“Hurry up or your girlfriend’s brother is going to piss himself!”

Syaoran catches a glimpse of Touya’s face from the corner of his eye and knows Kurogane isn’t exaggerating. In two steps, he is at Sakura’s side, which is exactly where he wants to be. He has no idea what to say, so he says nothing, only grips her hand and motions to his bag, to assure her he’s succeeded where he promised he would.

This isn’t good enough for her brother, however, who demands to see what he’s brought.

Syaoran considers showing and turning him into a nice garden fountain, but he has a sneaking suspicion that will get him nowhere with Sakura, who he would very much like to see again when this is all said and done-

“It’s really hot in here, you bastard! Is it showtime yet or what?”

Syaoran punches the side of the bag. The head groans in response.

“Did it…just talk?” Sakura whimpers.

“No one wants to see your ugly face, you uggo!” Mokona shouts suddenly.

Sakura’s eyes go wide as the lump in Syaoran’s cloak starts wiggling and wider still as a pair of wide eyes blinks back at her. “What is that?”

“Mokona, what are you doing-”

“It’s time,” she says, and points out to sea.

The water just off the coast appears to be boiling over, with deep dark swells overrun with a million fizzling bubbles. From below, a single eye opens to size up its prey, and the tips of hundreds of tentacles peek up over the water’s surface to taste the air. Syaoran gulps down air and steeles his nerves. His eyes race through the skies above for that damned messenger god. He’d promised he’d be here to judge whether their sacrifice was fitting, but now that the Largos is rapidly approaching the coastline, he’s nowhere to be found.

Syaoran grips Sakura’s hand. “I want you to run,” he says, “Push your way through the crowd and get out of here.”

“That’s cowardly,” she insists, “I’m staying right here until the end.”

“It’s coming!”

The shout first rings out from the hillside, where they have a better vantage point than those on the beach. Syaoran cranes his neck and shield his eyes and sure as day, the black figure is racing toward them. It’s difficult to see beneath the surface of the water, but the black shape sucks up whatever light makes its way through the water to reach it. He reaches into the bag and twists his fingers tightly into the roots of Fei Wong’s hair. A terrible scream rips its way through the crowd – Syaoran isn’t sure whether it’s from the head or from the Largos – and the wind whips against the shore. The Largos breaks the surface of the water and turns its eyes on the beach.

“Close your eyes!” Syaoran shouts. He waits until he’s sure the monster is looking directly at him and-

“No, Syaoran, don’t!”

Mokona leaps from beneath his cloak with such force that Syaoran is struck dumb and actually obeys her. He’s left to watch with no recourse as she bounds across the beach and into the water and disappears beneath the waves.

The Largos ceases its advance.

“Mokona…” Syaoran says helplessly. He doesn’t release his grip on Fei Wong’s head for fear the Largos will start its assault again, but his jaw falls slack with disbelief. She can’t –

She isn’t. In the next second, a black tentacle breaks free of the water, wrapped around a small white lump. Syaoran braces himself, certain he’s about to see the little creature who has helped him so much in the past few days squeezed in half.

It takes him a second to realize that she is laughing. And that the black tentacles, far from roiling angrily beneath the surface of the water are actually splashing excitedly.

They’re hugging.

Syaoran releases his grip on the head and walks toward the water, still unsure of what he’s witnessing. He waves his arm out. “Mokona! What are you doing?”

“Syaoran!” she shouts back, “You found him!”

“I…” He stares at the black sea creature. It’s gurgling with happiness. “This is what you were looking for?”

“Yes!” she shouts back, “We’ve been apart for so long! One hundred years! It was so lonely!”

Syaoran doesn’t know what to say to this, so he resolves not to say anything. Touya is not so tactful and shouts out to them, “Does this mean you’re not going to eat my sister?”

“You won’t need to feed him anymore,” Mokona assures them, “I’ll take care of him for here on out!”

“But-”

“It’s okay, Syaoran,” she says, “I’m the Creator.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re my favorite pet!” The thrashing water settles down a bit and the tentacles wrapped around her loosen enough for her to turn to face them with a smile. “And I will always remember you!”

“Wait,” Syaoran yells as the black form starts to sink back beneath the waves, “You’re leaving?”

“Just for a bit!” she waves, “I’ll be back again next spring! And when I come back, I want to meet your most special person.”

Syaoran flushes bright red. “I’ll watch for you,” he tries to say, but they have already sunk beneath the waves.

No sooner have they disappeared than the crowds start rumbling anxiously. But all accounts, this is a massive disappointment; they’re here for blood and guts, not a fuzzy bunny and a love-struck octopus.

It’s the worst Spring Festival ever.

Or possibly the best, if your name happens to be Syaoran and you’re finally face to face with a girl who you once happened to kiss because your dad couldn’t keep his libido in check and then nearly destroyed the Destroyer to save. Definitely the best if your name is Syaoran and this girl still makes your heart pitter patter despite all of this and maybe, just maybe, you’ve finally worked up the nerve to ask her on an actual date.

It’s a proud moment for his parents as well – all three of them – and certainly not a day any one of them will forget throughout their unending years.

---

The ending of a story such as this has the capacity to be just as fickle as the beginning. True, the “interesting bits” have now concluded, love has prevailed, and everyone is happy (except for Touya, who died a bit inside that day). But perhaps a better ending might take the reader all the way through young Syaoran’s first date, or even all the way through his wedding day (because of course he marries Sakura, don’t be ridiculous). Or perhaps better yet, it might take you directly into Kurogane and Fai’s bedroom (saucy – very saucy)…except that they’re gods and don’t need sleep and the couch works perfectly well for that sort of thing.

And so perhaps this is the best ending, with everyone celebrating their victory on the shores of Outo, Syaoran about to get a kiss, and Kurogane lamenting the fact the Creator of all things is a fuzzy bunny (don’t worry, he’ll get a kiss too, just as soon as Fai realizes it’s the best way to shut him up).

May they all live happily ever after.


Thank you for reading! How did I do?
Please score my fic according to these guidelines:
1. How in-character was this fic? (1-10)
2. How well did this fic fulfill the prompt? (1-10)
3. How much did you enjoy this fic overall? (1-10)
Remember that you must provide some form of identification (a link to a blog or profile on another site will suffice) for your vote to be counted!