I wrote a drabble to continue Name by request, but was urged almost violently to continue it to a complete fic. I tried, I really did, but even after I've already written more words than my average oneshot, I still have no idea where this is going. That's why I will simply name this a practice. My personal angst-practice. I don't have much experience in writing angst, but a few of the people regularly requesting things from me seem to thrive on angst.

So please regard this fic purely as a published practice, and not as a full-blown story. People may notice some strong parallels with stories from Obsidian Buterfly, but I have in fact gotten permission to publish this anyways. (But hereby: I do not claim originality here)

Warnings: Dark themes, aftermath of Name (which was rape/torture), failing English

Disclaimer: I do not own Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles or any of the ideas of other fanfiction authors I used in this practice.


To say Fai was shocked at the sight of the boy in the alleyway was a great understatement.

Of course he had been cold towards this new 'Syaoran' when he took the place of his clone in their group. He wasn't proud of it, but could he really be blamed for avoiding the person with the same face of the boy who betrayed him, discarded his offered help like an old shoe and gauged out his eye, proceeding to eat it? He knew this kid couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault. But it was still hard to act kindly to him.

That didn't mean he had deserved this.

Syaoran lay drooped against the wall in an alleyway, already drenched even though it was only drizzling and they had run over as soon as Fai felt the spark of magic signifying the clone's dimension travels. Syaoran had probably been drenched before being put here, but he looked miserably like a drowned cat. He wasn't wearing any clothes, but a ratty sheet was dropped haphazardly on top of him, only just covering his privates and part of his chest.

Not the part with the burn mark.

His entire body looked battered and broken, the twisted turns in his legs betraying different fractures from ankles to knees. The arm lolling free from the sheet looked like it had at least 4 fractures as well. His whole body was covered in welts, but no deeper cuts.

Just that mark.

Right underneath his right collarbone, still bleeding and festering on the corners. A bat-like mark. A signature.

Even though the large amount of fractures in his bones and the blanket of welts covering his skin, Syaoran looked too broken for the superficial damage to be the cause. His eyes were empty, staring straight forward and not reacting to movement.

When Kurogane carefully lifted the broken body, the boy still didn't react. The only proof they had of him being alive was the steady bleeding of the burn mark and the ever so soft movement of his chest.

Fai's breath halted in his throat when he saw what the bastard had done to the boy, shown to him only as Kurogane turned with the boy in his arms. Kurogane would notice soon enough.

There was no mistaking the white substance being released like a thin waterfall from Syaoran's slack opened ass, the movement allowing the liquid to escape.

Fai gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing gold in anger.

This man. This monster. He wouldn't get away with all these crimes.


Kurogane really didn't know what to think.

When he first picked up the motionless body of the boy – eliciting no reaction at all – he was quite aware things were rather bad for the kid. He made sure to pull the ratty soaked sheet over the kid's privates, to ensure at least some remaining thought of dignity no matter how small, but there was no way he couldn't notice the way the broken limbs dangled from the body.

For a moment he feared the boy was already dead, but no matter how chilled, the body still held a warmth underneath the cold skin, and the barely noticeable motion of the kid's chest proved he had to be still breathing. Kurogane mourned the fact he didn't check the kid's pulse before picking him up, for it may have saved him some anxiousness he was not used to feeling.

When he turned around, standing up to carry the boy back to their temporal apartment, he felt something wet splattering his shoes. He hoped dearly it was not a stream of blood – an amount enough to feel it splattering like that would mean the boy would really have not much longer to live – and a selfish part hoped it wasn't just the boy's bladder giving out either.

The disgusted scowl on Fai's face said enough. He'd seen the vampire look angry more often lately, but this particular look of deep disgust and hatred was new.

He still had no clue of what exactly it was now staining his shoes, but he was sure he'd be finding out soon enough. Not now, as the vampire tucked the sheet between the boy's legs and Kurogane's arm to protect the boy's naked form in an unexpected tender gesture.


Sakura's eyes widened when she opened the door for Kurogane and Fai, not having expected the ninja to be carrying the limp form of Syaoran. For a split second her heart lit up, hoping it would be her Syaoran they found, but the empty staring eyes were both deep gentle brown.

Empty eyes.

Oh God.

Never had she seen such dead eyes on a living person before. At least not within the memories she currently possessed, but she hoped sincerely she had actually never seen it.

Because it broke her heart.

Stumbling back into the hallway, Fai quickly caught her shoulders and started cooing softly to her. It didn't quite work with the scowl still present on his face, and Sakura wasn't sure when she had started sobbing either. She was supposed to act cold towards this Syaoran. It was supposed to save him, to save his life and allow him to reach his goal.

But not like this. He wouldn't be able to like this.

Kurogane carried the boy straight to his own room, seemingly not caring it meant he would no longer have a bed in this house if he put Syaoran in.

Silly girl. Of course he wouldn't care. Look at him!

Only now – after several minutes had passed – she suddenly realized she felt sick. Very sick.

Tearing herself free from Fai's grip, she sprinted towards the bathroom, only managing to keep herself upright by propelling herself forward using every wall on the way. Dropping on her knees in front of the toilet, she vomited.

As this IS a practice, I would be very happy with some constructive criticism ^^