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It wasn’t like Kurogane didn’t care about the kids, it’s just that he had a hard time showing it. For years the only emotion he had, the only one he could understand, was ferocious, unbridled anger; affection was a difficult concept to grasp.
Against all odds, the two starry-eyed children had squirmed their way into his heart and stretched out a plethora of powerfully-clingy, tenacious vines that twisted and wrapped themselves around in his insides with probing, invasive fingers, embedding themselves firmly until there was no way to rip them out without shredding himself irreparably. The barbs and anchors were tough and powerful, an ever-present ache in his soul; he prayed to whatever gods existed that they would never be taken away. He knew how much letting someone in could cost, how much it could hurt — a decade and more of hiding himself away inside his own prickly, stone-hard shell proof of how dangerous caring could be.
He loved them anyway.
Some nights he lay awake for hours telling himself how foolish he was for continuing on this journey, for letting them in and sticking around and constantly stepping forward to protect them from danger. Sometimes he stayed up all night reminding himself of what could happen to the people you love, that he should just let them go and let them fight for themselves and save his strength. Sometimes he did not sleep at all because he worried about them so much he couldn’t breathe, close scrapes with death and heart-stopping moments reminding him that it was too late to go back, to forget, to be indifferent and cold and angry.
He had already given them his heart.
His life, his sword, were Tomoyo’s - a promise he could not break even if he wanted to and one day he would go back to her.
But not until they were safe, ‘til her memories were restored, ‘til Syaoran’s smile reached his eyes.
He loved them with just as much ferocity as he had angered and fumed and strove for strength for so many years before. He fought for them and protected them with a sword in his hand and a confident smirk on his lips and he made sure that no one could hurt them again, not while he still stood. Kurogane was battle-hardened steel, black as night and deadly to their enemies and no one would take away his loved ones ever again. He was their guardian, their angel, their protector, their warrior and soldier, their sword and shield, and he was vicious and strong and powerful.
And yet, here he was preparing food and offering reassurance and otherwise being rather motherly, gathering the children together in a huddle to keep warm while they waited for Fai to catch up.
This world was one of those few where magic was an accepted and utilized part of life, but it was also a dangerous world. They had landed just inside the edge of a walled city with nearly a dozen guards standing watch at the thick, stone gates mere yards in front of them who had all immediately lowered the weapons and surrounded them. Syaoran had tried to give an explanation, his steady voice calm and reassuring, but none of them had even so much as hesitated in their advance. Several of the guards had begun to chant, an eerie glow filling their eyes and pouring out like heavy, acrid smoke in nasty shades of yellow and purple. Kurogane had already brought his sword to the ready and looked to Fai, an unconscious action that had established itself during their time together, an unspoken gesture of reassurance and their strange ability to read one another’s intentions and coordinate attacks with little more than a glance.
But Fai was not looking at him with a cheery smile and the spark of excitement for a good fight; his lips were pressed thin in a grimace, his eyes hardened with determination and worry. He glanced at Souhi and shook his head and Kurogane’s gut clenched - his weapon would be useless here, this world’s magic too powerful and deadly even for him to combat. Kurogane looked hard into Fai’s icy blue gaze and tried to convey that it didn’t matter if he would lose; he would not just lie down and wait for death, would not let their attackers come at them without fighting back. He would not allow any harm to come to the children, not if he could help it, and he stared down the silly magician with a glare as fierce as any dragon.
Fai looked back wordlessly for a moment as long as an eternity, the air between them charged and hushed while their attackers stalked closer, and then he bowed his head and shook it, a fond smile turning up the corners of his lips. When he raised his head a moment later, the ice had melted into a blazing fire, the savage and fervid desire to protect shoving its way up past its usual place of peering out curiously, and rising from the earth with a roar of magical energy. It seemed as if the ground would splinter and crack under the violent pressure. Kurogane had always known Fai’s heart was even bigger than his own, that he loved more powerfully, would fight far more aggressively if the time ever came that it was up to him to defend them. Here was the proof.
The mage grew in stature before the ninja’s eyes, a strength and an energy swelling within the lithe frame and practically bursting out of him in its intensity. He mouthed a single word: “Go.”
For once, Kurogane understood that his fighting strength would not be helpful, his and the kids’ presence a hindrance, a distraction. Quick as thought he sheathed his sword and stretched out, wrapping an arm around each child and bolting toward the gate. Behind him he heard a strange sound, like the swish of the wind through the leaves on a tree, could see his shadow deepen as light bloomed behind his back. Streams of energy flew past his head and struck three of the guards that blocked the way to the gate and Kurogane rushed through the gap and out into the wilderness, the sounds of screaming and frantic battle fading from his ears. He chanced a single look back at the swirling maelstrom of blood and smoke and light, a veritable hurricane of magic and death as the bodies started falling, and then he kept running.
~~~
He found them a place to hide, ignoring the pleas from the children to go back, to wait, to help, biting his tongue to keep from roaring at them that he was nearly sick to his stomach himself with worry for the stupid mage, but there was nothing they could do. He dropped them gently to the ground in a small cave, a stream running along its side and pouring into a pond near its mouth that looked large enough to hold some fish for their dinner. He set them down and checked them over, grateful to note that there were nothing more than a few scrapes and dirt stains from their rough landing and subsequent sprint through rough terrain.
“He’ll come back,” was all he said to them.
He set about gathering water and food and firewood, doing his best to keep them all distracted as well as cared for, saving some food for Fai as the sun began to sink toward the horizon. It was hours after their arrival that Mokona quietly told them that she could feel no feathers in this world, that they could leave as soon as Fai found them, her little voice quavering though she tried to stand proudly and confidently. Sakura curled the tiny creature into her arms, closing her eyes and murmuring prayers to whatever gods might care in this world.
Syaoran stood at the mouth of the cave, his shoulders slowly sinking as his optimism waned along with the light.
Kurogane sat near the wall, watching the three of them and knowing that he was their only source of comfort, of strength; there were no sunny, bright smiles around to chirp out encouragement and seeds of hope. Kurogane was not good with words, was not skilled with his tongue like the lying, secretive mage; he could not say things he did not mean with conviction, could not offer false hope or remain cheerful for the sake of others while his own gut churned and his hands shook. But he had to do something.
“Hey,” he said, his rumbling voice breaking the quiet and turning three bright, slightly watery gazes to his own. He spread his arms wide, his broad chest open to them and welcoming. “Come here.”
Their eyes widened for a moment, Syaoran outright gaping. Sakura was the first to move, the first tears slipping onto her cheeks as she stumbled forward and threw herself into Kurogane’s side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and at the sound of a quiet sob from her shaking figure the boy seemed to startle out of his dazed state, his eyes clearing while his calm expression shattered for the first time in Kurogane’s memory. He jogged forward and sat at the ninja’s empty side with his back to the wall, curling into the man’s shoulder and hugging his knees to his chest. Kurogane wrapped an arm around him as well, hugging all three close once the pork bun squirmed her way in as well, and letting them cry and shake with worry like the children they were still supposed to be. He couldn’t offer them words of comfort, any reassurance and hope that their silly magician would come back to them in one piece, but he could give them this. He could give them his broad chest and shoulders, his strong arms and a safe place to break, just for a while. And if he needed their presence, their warm bodies pressed against his own and the reassurance of their steady pulses beneath his palms just as much, then so be it; children never understood how much their parents needed them anyway.
~~~
That was how Fai found them, hours later when his tracking magic finally lead him stumbling into the dimly lit cave, their faces loose in slumber and smeared with salt.
He let them sleep.