Some people, thought Doumeki, have a thing for standing out in the rain. It was pouring, and he was feeling a bit chilled as the wind gusted some raindrops into the shade of his umbrella. But in front of him was, a familiar figure stood alone, still, like a statue. He did not turn as Doumeki approached.
“The rain may not seem like much, but you’ll catch cold just standing here.”
Syaoran opened his eyes. “Oh. I didn’t mean to worry you Doumeki. I was just… remembering.”
Doumeki wondered if it might be prying if he asked.
“When Sakura-hime didn’t remember me, I went out into the rain so no one could see me cry, ” Syaoran looked up, feeling the rain on his face. “But I think Kurogane-san and Fai-san knew anyway.”
“Ah.” The Black Mokona had told Doumeki that story over a bottle of sake, as he (she? it?) had seen through its white twin’s perceptions.
“Bless you,” Doumeki moved closer and tilted the umbrella slightly to shelter him. “We’d better get to someplace dry and warm.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m just a brute, but there are days like this when I feel human, even if a sad human.”
Doumeki raised an eyebrow. “Brutes don’t wonder. If you’re wondering about it, you’re no brute.”
“I think, therefore I am?” Syaoran quoted, then frowned trying to remember who he was quoting.
Doumeki looked at him. Watanuki and Yuuko had explained that the boy was a clone of the real Syaoran. But what was a person really? The Five Aggregates of the Self, as a monk had explained to him: Form, Senses, Feeling, Consciousness and Thought. Syaoran had all of these. He thinks, therefore he is.
“Nietzsche!” cried Syaoran jubilantly.
“Gesundheit!” said Doumeki, perfectly deadpan.
Startled, Syaoran looked at him, then laughed. “You’re funny.”
Doumeki smiled. He’s human all right. Even if does confuse Nietzsche with Descartes.