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ii. Tsubasa can speak, without the aid of Mokona, Cantonese, Japanese, and English as he learnt all three when he was a young child living in Hong Kong. He can also read in many different languages, all of the ones that Syaoran knows ( due to having learnt through him ) and a few others that Syaoran doesn’t know how to read due to his own studies.

iii. Tsubasa has the ability to see ghosts, as this is something that has been passed down his family’s bloodline for centuries. He does help ghosts move beyond if they wish for his help, and he can also banish / purify ghosts that are hurting people with certain talismans and spells. No one in the group knows this, however, as it hasn’t come up yet.

During that time period ( until 1997 specifically, which would be one year after Tsu had left Hong Kong to go to Clow on March 25, 1996 ), Hong Kong was part of Great Britain, but while he wouldn’t have necessarily needed to know English, I have him headcanon’d as knowing English anyways. Therefore, Tsu is trilingual fluently ( Cantonese, Japanese, and English ) until he learns other languages through Syao. He is more assimilated towards Japanese, since he spent half of his life ( and most of Syao’s life ) in Clow Country, where they speak Japanese, but he retains the fluency in Cantonese ( sometimes, he’d repeat Cantonese words to himself to remind himself that he isn’t Syao when he got too involved in watching Syao’s life ). His English is a bit rusty, so he’d mix up some words and fudge up on grammar a bit, but he’d be able to speak fluently ( albeit with an accent ).

He also doesn’t mentally refer himself as “Tsubasa” or as “Syaoran” ( although, he refers to himself out loud as Syaoran ) but rather doesn’t use a name mentally at all.

As a continuation/longer headcanon, they all have rather violent nightmares ( they would have to be, with what they all experienced ), and it shows rather well since they all sleep in the same room ( probably to cut down on costs ).

By now, they all know how the other acts when having nightmares, even with specific nightmares ( Tsu shouts “Syaoran” whenever he’s having a nightmare about Syaoran’s death, Kurogane would somehow summon his sword and hold on tightly to the hilt of it when dreaming of his parents’ deaths, Fai would become deathly still when dreaming his twin’s death or whatever ), but when they were still learning how to interact with each other, sometimes they would make mistakes about ways in waking the other up.

Tsubasa would shake Kurogane’s shoulder only to be pinned against the wall and nearly stabbed by Kurogane until he realises where he is ( but Tsu would hold up no resistance, no means to defend himself because he knew that Kurogane wouldn’t hurt him ), Fai retaliates with magic or by putting Tsubasa in an arm lock that would allow him to break his arm easily, and Tsubasa just waits until Fai wakes up, Tsubasa attacks with either magic or his sword when he’s awaken from certain nightmares or lashes out with his fists depending on others ( the intensity of the nightmare and the worser the memory is directly related to how harsh he attacks when he is awakened from a nightmare ).

Now, they know of better ways to wake the others up ( opening a window to let the air in, putting sunlight directly on their faces, splashing them with cold water from afar, etc., ), but, sometimes, when slightly panicked, they forget and get attacked again.

    HE TENSES, automatically, at the weight on him before the events of the past night rushed through his head ( an attack last night when they were all asleep, they had been winning and then Mokona had been taken hostage, they stopped resisting and then… ). He looks down to see that the weight was the swordsman, eyes closed and he unconscious, most likely forced by their captors.

    It’s strange, perhaps, to think about how young the swordsman looks while he’s glancing across the room, cell, really, although not the typical jail cell he’s used to, they were in ( the mage wasn’t here, which mean that he had to be in a separate cell from them, with Mokona perhaps, and he wondered why ), noting possible weaknesses and methods of escape. The swordsman is physically older than he is, but in his forced unconsciousness, he seems…less hardened, somehow. There’s not even his customary frown on his face, and it’s almost startling ( the swordsman couldn’t be any older than thirty, right? probably even less than that ).

    He sighs because, with the swordsman on top of him and him unwilling to move him, there’s not much he can do but wait for the swordsman to wake up. Without notice, he’s petting the swordsman’s hair in an almost paternal fashion, despite the fact that the swordsman was ‘older’ than him but perhaps because of how they were currently arranged, as he eyes the door warily.

                         HE’S SURROUNDED BY BLOOD.

    It’s not his blood, but he’s covered in it ( d r i p p i n g from his sword and his clothes and even hisface ). Perhaps it’s not surprising, considering all of the soldiers lying on the ground ( there are still a few weak moans, but it’s clear they won’t last long ). He knows his face looks empty, maybe like it did when he first joined the group ( or maybe like the expression that had beenpermanent on his other’s face until his death ).

                                   { He’s not going crazy. He isn’t. Not more than he alreadyhas. }

                  { He’s always been ruthless in a way Syaoran never had been until he lost his heart. }

         “They were threatening the villagers,” he states calmly ( the kind villagers that had took them in with warm, open arms; that reminded him so much of Clow Country even if the environment was completely different ), “and I had to stop them.”

    He walks away from the absolute bloodbath he created, as if he hadn’t been uninjured after killing a great number of soldiers, and knows that he will sleep as he always does.

    Nose bloodied ( he could FEEL it flowing down his face – he couldn’t see it, considering how one of his eyes were currently SWOLLEN shut, and he couldn’t look into the mirror that was PROVIDED to him with the hold the swordsman had on his neck – and staining the collar of his ripped shirt ), an eye swollen shut, and numerous other injuries that ached and burnt all over, he wondered how his plans had gone SO WRONG.

             ( HE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SAVE HER AGAIN. )

    He gritted his teeth as the huge hand on his neck tightened in warning ( trying to force him to KNEEL in front of the one who had started everything ), but he remained stubborn and stayed upright ( it was a process that happenedAGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN with each new day – was it a day? there were no doors, no windows, no way to tell TIME with how disoriented his sleep and food schedule was ).

    A low growl was his only warning before he was pushed to the ground, and he landed heavily on his side ( not going to his knees, NEVER kneeling to thatBASTARD ). He made the struggle of going back on his feet ( with hisTREMBLING legs – not from fear but from exhaustion and hunger ), feeling his energy draining with every movement of his limb, with everySTRUGGLE of a breath, and he was allowed one, no, two heartbeats before another push made him fall roughly onto his stomach.

    He stayed there, panting for a few moments, before moving his elbows underneath his body and pushing himself up, feeling the BURN from overused muscles ( TENSED every time he came to visit ), his teeth gritting from the strain – trying to stifle the groans – ( but his eyesINFLAMED ), and he pushed himself to his feet once more.

    This time, however, he was allowed no moments of rest before a sharp foot hit the back of his knees and, in his drained state, he fell back down, but theHAND holding up his shoulders kept him from lying on his stomach on the floor again and instead KNEELING ( this, too, was part of the “routine” – he would get up and get up and GET UP until he was forced onto his knees ). The hand CLENCHED around his neck kept him from keeping his head up ( PROUD and still DEFIANT ), and he was forced into the HUMILIATING position by the one he thought would never betray him amongst the group.

    There was so much BLOOD. He was vaguely reminded of Celes ( when blood gushed from the swordsman’s stump, his arm gone – SACRIFICED – in order to stay TOGETHER ), but instead of the mage’s screams echoing in the air ( the mage wasn’t here; he was far away, separated by the chaotic battle that drove a wedge between the group ), it was the sound of DEATH ( swords slicing, the sound of the feathers from arrows cutting through the wind, screams of pain, and faint gurgles of bloodCHOKING warriors ).

    He was pale but SILENT as he dropped to his knees to cover the fallen swordsman from the arrows flying in the air and winced when an arrow cut his side ( but thankfully missed the already heavily wounded swordsman ). He knew that if the swordsman had been completely THERE, he would have glared or growled from his actions, but the swordsman was too distracted trying to putPRESSURE on the heavily bleeding wound ( and with how quickly the blood was becoming a pool underneath his body, he knew it was mostly aFUTILE attempt ).

         “You’re going to be alright,” he said quietly, bringing the swordsman into his arms in order to elevate him ( he wasn’t sure if he was doing anything right –he had never trained in first aid, not quite like this, and this was something that must be RECTIFIED once the swordsman was OKAY ).

    Any other ( MEANINGLESS, and he knew it but, oh!, he didn’t want to ) platitudes that he would have made ( even with the swordsman’sBLOOD staining his pants too rapidly to stop by MEAGRE hands ) was caught in his throat at the sight of the swordsman’s eyes ( there was noFEAR and no peace either, but there was a RESIGNATIONand a determination to face what would happen next ).

    The odd choking noise that came from the swordsman meant he was trying to speak ( YET unable, and this scared him more than the blood before the swordsman had always been STRONG, the strongest out of all of them ), and he tried to quiet him ( because the swordsman was already so WEAK, his hands had already fallen limp from trying to hold himself together ).

         “Just save your strength; don’t DISAPPEAR,” he whispered, saying words ( such FUTILE words ), the same words that he spoke to Kimihiro all those years ago ( A LIFETIME AGO ). He didn’t realise he was CRYING until hot tears dripped onto the swordsman’s cheeks. “Don’t GO. I…We…”

    They would be so LOST without the swordsman ( the only stability the two of them really had; Mokona HELPED, but when the mage was on the edge of DROWNING in his past, when he was wallowing in hisDECISIONS, the swordsman brought them up into the surface and into the FUTURE ), and they all knew it ( but they had neverTHOUGHT that the swordsman would be the first to FALL ).

    With an expression that he saw so RARELY – a small smile ( withBLOOD leaking from his lips ) – his eyes BURNED with a ferocious message that he understood yet didn’t want to. He watched, hot, salty liquid dripping from his eyes, as the FIRE dimmed and turned into ashes.

    A SCREAM left his lips ( FILLED WITH RAGE AND PAIN AND SUFFERING, OH!, THOSE WHO BROKE TABOOS WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE HAPPY ) and powerEXPLODED all around him as he clutched the body tighter, his magic growing CHAOTIC from his loss ( from the GRIEF tearing in his heart, sucking all of the oxygen from his lungs, and he COULD NOT BREATHE ) and the world became covered in FIRE.

    They’re alone in the house, which was supposed to have been great for     their   study   plans   but  was  really  great  for  their  kissing  sessions.

    Textbooks  discarded  and  left  forgotten,  Tsubasa languidly kisses his     boyfriend  while straddling his legs, the two of them seated – well, Yuki     seated  with  Tsubasa  on  his lap – on the couch. Normally, Yuki would     have  kicked  up  more  of a fuss in regards to ignoring homework, but it     had  been  a while since they could just enjoy being like this together, so     Tsu believes he had decided to wait until after they were both kissed out.

    It  would  probably definitely take a while, but he’s certain Yuki isn’t too     upset                                                about                                                it.

    Tsubasa’s  hands  are holding himself up, keeping most of his weight off     of  Yuki.  After all, he wouldn’t want to crush his boyfriend, or restrict the     blood  flow to ( ahem ) to his legs. He can feel the texture of the fabric of     the  couch  on the palms of his hands, and he can also feel Yuki’s hands     grasping  at  his  shoulders,  holding  tightly  as  they  continued to move     toward  and  away  from  each  other,  heartbeats  fluttering  in  their ears.

    It’s  glorious,  this  feeling,  but  it  leaves him wanting more – wanting to     taste  more  of  Yuki,  to  hear  his pants fill the air, to devour him so fully.

    He       wants,       so       very       badly      that      he      almost      aches.

    And                            then                           there’s                           tongue.

    It’s  messy,  and  there’s moans and groans that fill the air ( and he soaks     up  every  last  one  Yuki  makes and tries to make him make them again ),     but  he  can  taste the sweet, vanilla cake Tsubasa had brought over as a     gift,  still  in  his mouth, and it’s as if they’ve spent hours yet only minutes     connecting  with each other, breathing for each other as they steal the air     from                            each                           others’                           lungs.

    Eventually,  they  part,  both  flushed  and panting a little heavily, and Tsu     has  to  make  sure  that he’s holding himself high enough that Yuki can’t     tell   just   how,   ah,   excited   he   is ( even  if  he  might  not  be  alone ).

    And,              of              course,             Yuki             recovers             first.

                       “There’s  not  enough  bribery  in  the world to make                          me  forget  about our homework,” states Yuki, and                          it’s  a  challenge  as  much as it’s a mild reproach,                          and  Tsubasa lets out a breathy laugh as he smirks.

Everything before his eyes is dyed the colour of carmine, as if someone’s taken a large bucket of paint and tossed it zealously over the landscape. To any ignorant passerby, it very well could have been raining blood for as much as it covered the earth around them. The only thing that remained otherwise unblemished was Fai himself, who’s entire body was incarcerated in a purple glamour, a testimony of his own magical capabilities.

He was safe in there – or safe enough from the calamity that wreaked catastrophe across the backdrop of this impatient autumn evening, where dozens of black shapes clashed with one small but powerful flame.

At one time Tsubasa had been aglow with a different light; after insisting Fai keep himself concealed from whatever danger had been waiting to ambush them, he wasn’t set forward without a kekkai of his own. But that barrier had been broken within seconds of engagement, and five more followed, until – amongst the hysteria – Tsubasa shouted that Fai need not waste his energy any longer.

He was useless here. Fai was haunted by it, the thought curdled his mind and chilled his bones. With both of his hands pressed against the inner walls of his self-made barrier, he can only watch helplessly as the boy is batted around like a ball of yarn to a kitten, and every hit, every strike is like another red hot iron pressed against his gut.

Why was it that everyone else was always protecting him, but he couldn’t ever seem to do the same back? His whole being is screaming to break through the wall of his own making and rush to Tsubasa’s aid – but if Kurogane or Yuui were here he’d be forbidden from it, even Tsubasa would chastise him in his own way. He wasn’t the type fit to be on the battlefield in the way the others were, and oh, he’d trade his soul just to change that.

Among the din of chaos, within the growls, snarls, and teeth against metal, there’s a deafening crack that chases chilled pulses through his veins and greets his heart like a thousand tiny needles. Tsubasa’s down and Fai can’t tell what might’ve been broken – his cry goes otherwise unheard to anyone else but himself. If the impulse to abandon reason was present before, it had increased tenfold now as he watched the creatures slowly close around that body in wretched horror.

He was a hairline fracture away from giving in and making a break for him, but a glow, faint at first began to swell and expand at an enormous rate within the group. In the next second it exploded with a force strong enough to topple the nearest trees and send those monsters to their grave. Whatever was left of them now had been completely diminished, he was sure of that much, nothing could have survived something like that. Including…

Fai could feel bile rise in his throat, he was sick with the thought of what he was going to find when he finally shed his glamour and half-ran, half-stumbled for the boy. But as he drew closer, Tsubasa stirred and appeared to struggle to bring himself even just on his knees. Fai was there in seconds and all but fell on top of him entirely, securing both arms around battle-battered shoulders, paying no mind to the blood that soaked into his clothes greedily.

Every bit of fear, every ounce of the pain he coveted being forced to sit and donothing washed over him like the fresh ocean tide. He was rarely the kind of person who kept his true feelings under a lock and key and felt no shame in shedding his tears openly. If he reacted otherwise, he wasn’t truly himself, and he didn’t actually give a damn about the boy who justshook hands with death and parted ways on his behalf. It’d be an insult, the way he saw it.

There came the distant, dream-like sensation of fingers curling through his hair, clumsily coaxing the ponytail out and grasping hold. Tsubasa must have been on the verge of blacking out at this point, but even if he might be half out of his mind, he seemed to still comprehend the things Fai couldn’t quite get out through his tears. Stroking his hair was probably the only way of communicating ( given that Fai took to clutching him hard against his chest, as if holding on could keep his soul in his body ); I’m alright Fai-san, and I’m glad you are too. And the mage could steal a fragment of relaxation from it.

The silence stretched between them for a few more seconds until Fai finally felt the boy go lax in his arms. It looked like he’d have to carry him to the nearest shelter he could find, and Tsu would be unable to escape his magic ( one of theonly times Fai would break his promise to Kurogane and revive something at the expense of his own life force ) but as long as he was alive, then he, himself could be content doing whatever was necessary – even if it meant harming himself in the process.