Kurogane wanted to scoff, to walk away when he knew he couldn't, to brutally knock some fucking good judgment— and maybe with his own bare hands at that— into his battered and bruised opponent stumbling over his own feet.
It was a hard fact but one he had to accept eventually.
This other kid couldn't be— couldn't replace the excessively confident, fearless, and persistent Syaoran they all were acquitted with and loved in some parts of their bleeding hearts— not with his permanently grieving brown eyes observing everything around him apprehensively and sadly. Like his presence was some sort of disease.
Everything else about him appeared identical to the old Syaoran— his outer features like his short chestnut-colored hair, or the shape of his sharp teenage face, or his thin muscular body (responding much slower then the clone). The ninja-warrior didn't expect that his coordination or his experience with exercise to be top notch due to the reality that he had thrived in a giant glass tube most of his life.
Their group was already out of Tokyo, in a new world complete with woods and rivers that went on forever with little human interaction but plenty of animal game. Due to his own fatigue and healing injuries after a few days, along with feeding the mage on a daily basis, Kurogane still hadn't quite gotten back the extent of his full strength.
And he hadn't planned on staying away from some well deserved resting hours after providing dinner for everyone— pacing the boundaries of wilderness to train exclusively with the new Syaoran (the dark haired man sincerely hated coming up with new ways to refer to this kid) on a few attack moves he wasn't practiced with. He couldn't even remember the reason why this boy insisted on doing this now. Or why he even agreed in the first place. Maybe it was the painfully noticeable plea within the doubled realm of a familiar soulful brown color staring back at him. Maybe the older man was finally growing soft in the head.
Kurogane planted the end of his long curved sword into the soft soil of the grove they stood in momentarily, touching the line of his tan arm to the butt of the handle as he growled, just a little bit concerned on how the teen swayed, "Listen, we've been going at this since yesterday afternoon. It's almost sunrise. You are getting tired, runt."
"You too," the brown-haired boy countered with furious determination, his knuckles turning a fleshy white as he visibly tightened his grip on his own magically formed sword. Kurogane was tempted to sneer. The boy was trying to get on his nerves.
Two could play that game.
"Is there a reason why you are trying to be the boy the princess is searching for?"
It worked. Syaoran's entire body stiffened rigidly. Unsurprisingly, the dark-haired man didn't feel any reassurance in plucking at a sensitive nerve.
The teenager's head lowered sullenly so that his bangs fell over his eyes.
"Maybe it would be better for everyone else…"
"That kid would have already seen the opening I made while you were daydreaming. He could have beaten me by now." Dark brown eyes widened silently at the malice of his statement as the stern man cuffed Syaoran's silver sword out of his right hand with a fist. "You waste too much time feeling so goddamn sorry about something you had no control over. You'll never be able to take his place so don't even worry about."
Kurogane trapped the stunned boy's wrist into his callused hand and twisted, causing him to flinch back from the other man at the mild ache, and pulled his body closer until he felt a smaller chest press against his faintly, fluttering lightly with pants. The ninja lowered his face over another face flushing and beading with perspiration from the bodily exertion, getting an eccentric taste of satisfaction that went traveling hotly in and out of his arteries, that kindled and stretched the tissues of his muscles, as the surprised boy glanced up at his narrowing red eyes.
"Decide for yourself who you want to be," Kurogane whispered this, near enough to feel the ghosting warm puffs of breath escaping the teenager. He smirked as something resembling a true emotion (wonders behold!) paralleled to admiration surfaced. He physically felt the quick hesitant smile creeping over Syaoran's lips as the boy raised up on the tiptoes of his boots in anticipation of the hard wet kiss covering his mouth, groaning into the depths of it and digging his fingers into the boy's back pleasurably.
Without a doubt, the other Syaoran had a hard on for the princess. Having the goodie-two-shoes attitude that nature granted him, he would have never acted on those feelings until Sakura got all her feathers back. But Kurogane knew nothing about this Syaoran— about his sexuality, his inner most thoughts, or any of his goals. This Syaoran was much harder to read. And much more unpredictable.
Kurogane hadn't considered the boy he had taught previously in any manner other then a child. Honorable, weighted, and a stubborn punk when he decided on a course of action…
…but never this. This source of vicious arousal ensnaring the filaments of his ever stable composure, the gears of his thoughts clouded over as one of his hands seized unconsciously into the teenager's pants and as Syaoran cried out raggedly into his open mouth, his sweating body shaking underneath Kurogane's precise fingers stroking him. The boy came fiercely into his palm, bending back and clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the scream, the other trembling and unclenching his companion's loose black shirt.
Tsubasa does not belong to me. After reading this, I don't think the creators would consider it. Ahahaha. New smutty crack I worked on overnight. I didn't realize I was so drawn to the idea of Kurogane/RSyaoran until I saw some fics and tried it on my own. This was just a little disconnected crackish scene. I welcome any form of comment. :D I hope my first Tsubasa fic was to your liking.