(Began a story but didn’t have time to finish it. XxxHolic and Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle fanfic.)


After an hour of tossing and turning, Syaoran gave up and stood from his futon, and, not wanting to disturb anyone, felt his way through the dark house to the kitchen. Someone else was there. It was his clone. They looked at each other, saying nothing.

Syaoran pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. The clone quietly pushed a mug towards him. It was filled with hot chocolate. “I’ll make another one,” he said. “There’s still some left in the pan.” Pouring another mug, he sat down across Syaoran, eyes downcast.

He looked up. “Not dreams,” he said, answering the unasked question. “Memories.”

Syaoran nodded. “Me too.”

They sipped their drinks, without tasting them.

So young, both of them, and so scarred. What boy has been held imprisoned in stasis for seven years? What boy had been responsible for destroying whole worlds? Syaoran had heard that the clone now refused to even touch swords.

There was a thump from the front door, then Watanuki entered. He’d been out on another magical night errand, with Doumeki tagging along. Watanuki was the one doing the errand, but he grudgingly admitted Doumeki was necessary to get him out of trouble. Watanuki seemed to attract supernatural sorts of troubles like a magnet.

Doumeki was right behind him, with a bag from which wafted the smell of curry.

When Watanuki saw the Syaorans were awake in the kitchen, clearly sleepless, he glanced briefly at Doumeki. On cue, Doumeki said, “Curry tastes better when hot.”

“Always thinking with your stomach,” said Watanuki rolling his eyes.

“Napoleon said armies march on them,” Doumeki replied.

“Well, you eat enough for one!” Somehow the curry was bubbling away in a saucepan, more milk was being heated up for chocolate, in less than a minute. Even the Syaorans ended up helping. Between fetching condiments from the cabinet and pottering at the stove, Watanuki twittered away about his day and what errand they’d been on. Apparently a giant cuddly forest spirit called Totoro needed a new top and had given them acorns wrapped up in leaves for it. Watanuki wouldn’t admit it, but it was obvious that he’d enjoyed the trip back, when he and Doumeki clutched on Totoro for dear life when the creature flew them home perched on his new spinning top, holding a tiny umbrella like a ridiculous Mary Poppins.

Having landed in a quiet park that night, Doumeki said that he was hungry and had to stop at a convenience store for curry, which would need heating up after the walk home, and who would do it? Watanuki, of course.

By the time Watanuki had finished telling the story, the food was served, and he joined the other boys already seated around the table.



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