The rest of our adventure in Yama was disorienting. It was as if most of it had never happened. The pattern broke, the rhythm was gone. I fell back into calling him ridiculous names and babbling light-heartedly when we were alone just to break the silence. I didn't have the courage to ask about what he would no longer act on. Besides, I was back in Fei-Wang Reed's clutches; I had no right to try to bridge gaps and heal breaches, as if we had a future to try to preserve. At night I slept alone, curled tight around the pain and wondering what, exactly, I was grieving the loss of.

We are in a completely new world, as different from Yama as one could wish. There is something called "technology" that pervades almost every aspect of daily life, and it is bewildering and bewitching at the same time. Our eyes are back to normal and so is the distance between us. I smile and lie and he growls back while looking straight at me, frustration and anger shining out in those red eyes. Our journey and adventures continue and we are as we were before Yama, except that at night my body hurts because it lacks that satisfying ache it has foolishly gotten used to, and my bed is cold as it never was before despite the artificial heat that pumps through our living quarters through strange silvery pipes.

It is the third day before I remember the words I had been determined to find out the meaning of. Mokona makes some chance remark that has both sweet Sakura-chan and Syaoran-kun blushing, and when I try to share in the joke, the children turn the subject to me instead. They were apparently speaking of their time in Shura, and commiserate with me again on the long nearly half-year that Kurogane-san and I were cut off from them, and how difficult it must have been to have been unable to speak. I laugh it off, and the moment passes, but I remember. I remember.

As soon as I am alone, Kurogane in the garage and the other three off on a shopping trip, I grab a piece of paper and an ever-so-nifty "ballpoint" and begin writing, scribing out phonetically the sounds I memorized over ninety-nine beautiful, brutal days. I go over them multiple times, frowning in concentration and making sure I have written them all out correctly, placing accents and stresses where they should go. With one more glance out the hallway at the door to the garage to confirm my privacy, I take a deep breath, steel myself for whatever final heartbreak might hit my ears - I need to know - and begin reciting.

I almost get to the end of the list of sounds before my voice breaks and my knees hit the floor. My eyes are snapping back and forth, looking at nothing but searching desperately for something to hold on to. I'm dreaming. I'm having a nightmare. I'm feverish and insane. I make myself look at the paper, now trembling uncontrollably in my hand, and start reciting again. And again. And again, until I finally make it through everything he was growling and whispering and snarling and murmuring at me for ninety nine days. I'm shaking and sobbing and just then he walks in, wrench in hand and frown in place, looking for something, and sees me instead.

Hitsuzen is a bitch.

He startles to see me breaking down in the middle of the kitchen and glances at the paper, but of course he can't read the spidery Celesian script, and brings his eyes back to my face. Before he can speak, I do.

"I do trust you," I cry out to him, and he frowns in confusion because I'm responding to a conversation we last had about a week ago. And then it hits him, and his eyes go wide and he sucks in a sudden breath of shock. Again I interrupt him before he can say a word, surging to my feet and practically yelling at him now, my paper crumpled in my hands and my heart breaking over how stupid we've both been. We're both idiots.

"I've been looking at you for months, I've heard everything you said, and I would have opened up to you if I'd only known. For God's sake why didn't you just tell me? I would have...oh God I would have let you love me...I did love you...I do love you..."

I'm completely broken now and sobbing like a lunatic and he just stares at me while I cry for every wasted moment. Everything that's held me back, every fear and pang of guilt, every thought of my past and my future, it's all gone now, disappeared more completely in the face of my discovery than it had been hidden under my delusions and daydreams in Yama. He stares, frozen, then suddenly throws the wrench away, takes one long stride forward with his hands outstretched and then he is on me. He's covered with grease and sweat and I couldn't care less; I throw my arms around him and meet his mouth halfway, tasting salt sweat and the chemical tang of oil and loving every bit of it. My hands twist in his hair and it must be painful but he doesn't seem to care, only crushes me to his chest and I'm breathless from the pressure and the contrasting sudden release of that tight pain in my own chest. Even after we crash together he's still moving, walking me backwards into the kitchen table and then lifting me onto it with one quick surge of his strong arms.

I yelp because he sits me down on a fork and then I'm laughing uncontrollably because it's so stupid. All the months of torture turn out to be one horrific misunderstanding, and here we are in the middle of our great revelation and a (for-adults-only) storybook romance scene and he sits me down on a fork. He's looking at me like I've gone utterly insane so I explain between hiccups while pulling the utensil out from under me, then I tell him he's a pain in the ass and I'm laughing so hard I start crying. Again. It's so stupid and mixed up and just so us. I'm so relieved and overwhelmed that I feel him drag me off the table with one arm but I don't realize where he's leading me as I wheeze and gasp and wipe my tears away.

It's only when I land on my butt on a much softer surface that I finally open my eyes and find myself in his bedroom. I hiccup again and then look at him in surprise, and the expression on his face as he sits down on the edge of the bed and brushes the traces of tears from my cheeks makes me want to cry all over again, but I don't. I smile, and he smiles back. He leans over, bends to bring his face close to mine and I am dying of a heart attack as he smirks and growls at me.

"You'd better not bite me this time," he says, voice heavy with an empty threat. I try to promise that I won't, but he's already closed the distance between us, and I fumble the words against his lips, soft against my mouth. Strong fingers are gentle against my scalp as he lightly runs them through my hair to cup the back of my head while he continues pressing light, lingering kisses onto my lips. I soon grow impatient for more and tug lightly with the hands that I've wrapped around his neck while giving his lower lip a quick lick and suck. He growls and this time it sounds like a purr to me, and a laugh of pure relief and joy and love bubbles up out of me as he sinks me slowly down onto the blankets. He quirks an eyebrow at the noise and examines my face, then tells me he loves the sound of my laugh.

I look at him in surprise at first, but then I get it, and pull him in for another kiss, more insistent than the others. My demands are met with eagerness and soon we're lost in each other. I writhe and moan and drag at him with my hands as if I'm dying for more closeness although he's already tangling with me from head to toe. He's murmuring to me again and this time I understand him and every "yes" that falls from my lips causes an interruption in his endless litany of requests as we kiss to seal our promises.

We make love.