A/N: Anita Kelsey's rendition of "Sway" inspired this. If you listen to it on Youtube, you'll understand. Consider this my Valentine's Day entry for the Yue/Sakura people out there.

I meant to only take a simple walk in his garments. From Yukito's closet, I had selected a pair of khakis, a button up shirt the color of my eyes, and some brown leather shoes softened with wear. A piece of black twine held back my hair, folded several times over to keep its length contained to halfway down my back. All I needed was cautious avoidance of pedestrians so as not to expose the feline nature of my gaze.

Yet when I stood in his front door, ready to step outside into the night, I froze. How could I dread experiencing the life my false form took up so effortlessly?

A breeze passed and the collar on Yukito's shirt fluttered, and a rosebush rustled near. I leaned against the frame. White roses in his garden, with a gray shadow cast over, gently danced, bending, swaying to a rhythm.

The sounds of violins hung in the air, as the neighbors' daughters practiced Devil's Trill Sonata. I wondered if I was Giuseppe Tartini, himself, would I have sold my soul to set me free? To be served for eternity rather than serve?

Would I stand here, as a divided soul, halfway between two lives?

In the far end of the house, the bed stirred and gentle footsteps creaked on hardwood floor. Touya yawned and rubbed the edges of his eyes as he stepped into the porch light that softly illuminated a portion of the inside of the home he shared with Yukito. If he had not felt the bed they shared disturb earlier by stealthy movements, then he had felt the cold vacancy of Yukito's side.

"Are you thinking about her?" Touya asked.

"Who?" It was a pleasant night to take an uncomplicated stroll in someone else's shoes.

"Don't pretend. My baby sister, whose heart you both own. Your feelings aren't as clandestine as you believe."

"You overestimate your perceptiveness. I know he tells you everything."

His body filled the space next to me, looking out the doorway toward the origin of the music.

"It's heaven. Who'd think that kind of sound could be produced by an eight-year old?"

"It's two of them. They're playing together." The private recital could be easily be mistaken for a solo, but the delay, merely a millisecond, produced the audio illusion of a small echo for the second performer. It would only be acknowledged by inhuman ears. The siblings played so closely, it was as if they melded into a single virtuoso.

Two of them acting as one musical persona intentionally. I remembered them through Yukito's sight, a pair of identically dressed girls. They matched from the ribbons in their pale blonde hair in twin bows, to the pair of patent Mary Janes that moved in unison. They were each other's living mirror, basking in the awe following their near-flawless duality.

I coveted their harmony, ability to exist as two or one without the internal discordance Yukito and I shared. Two different lives in a singular soul.

We stood still, taking in the notes that reverberated between us, listening to them quicken with bravado. The piece finished as an alley cat in the distance meowed in our direction.

Touya walked outside and plucked a rose from the garden. He called out a name, of the first or second, I was unsure. "Amelia!"

A small blonde head peaked out of a second story window. "Hi, Touya!" A pink ribbon in her ponytail threatened to flit her round face as she held it back with her violin bow.

"A small gift for a small squirt." He threw the rose and she caught it with deft fingers. "Who is also a little league softball star. Could you be any more amazing?"

Amelia giggled. "Happy Valentine's Day to you and Yuki." She could only see part of me from her view, but with these clothes I wore and my height, who else would I be? "Good night!" Another face appeared behind her. Emily waved with her violin bow held in the opposite hand than the one held by her sister, as a perfect mirror would.

He waved at the girls before they disappeared behind lavender curtains.

Touya plucked another rose and tossed it at me. I fumbled to catch it. "Give this to the other squirt. You can tell her it's from me, if you want."

"I wasn't planning on visiting her tonight."

His left eyebrow rose. "No? Plans change all the time. It's Valentine's Day for her, too… and you."

I studied the rose in my hands, allowing it to fill a palm with its body and fragrance. I rolled a petal with my thumb. It was tinged in the brown that marked the beginning of its death. "It's only proper I pick the best rose. This one has a bit of whither."

"Guardian?" he asked me. The reminder of my role to his sister was dense with undertones. It requested my attention. It informed me of my duty. I was not allowed to forget my place. Had I been as transparent as he claimed?

Our eyes met. Stay with me, an inner voice said.

"Yes?" the rabbit spoke for the moon.

"It doesn't need to be more than a token of your friendship." Touya jabbed his index finger at my chest. "I am her big brother after all, and I will kill you if you hurt her, or even misplace a strand of hair on her pretty head." He went around me, making his way back to the room.

Don't give up long before you begin.

The creaks were still within earshot. "I am only following your ridiculous suggestions. Too late now to play devil's advocate."

The wooden hallway stilled its groaning. "Just… just keep your hands to yourself."

"Good night, Touya."

"I will interrogate Yuki first thing in the morning and coax out every sleazy detail if needed."

"Good night." A door closed and I was left alone in silence. I studied the rose again and gingerly removed the foul petal. It would have to do. The rose did not come from my picking and I would simply be delivering a brother's gift.

No.

A guardian should not bend with such ease to his master. Mine could rein in half the world with her sweetness alone, endearing them all with naivete. In contrast to my brother, I performed my guardian duties without complaint and with efficiency. That sufficed my concerns, to give me the right to live the night as I desired.

Tossing the rose behind me, I closed the door and stepped into the night. The soles of Yukito's leather shoes clicked against the pavement of the walkway. Every footfall felt grating, my feet never felt so restrained. The dress shirt felt scratchy on my skin, nothing like the silk of my guardian attire. I felt too light, too naked without the heavy armor that protected me from the world I did not fully understand yet.

A leporid force reached for its lunar counterpart. No fight for control needed to take place; a gentle influence reasoned and redirected.

Only ten steps were taken, before I turned back to toss the clothes and shoes into the lawn. My guardian clothes materialized on me. I dared not enter the house again to retrieve the stupid flower, and rouse Touya's interest or fury, so I picked a new one, one of average size and quality.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the rose, as another breeze ruffled the hair on my face. Before the weakness of cowardice took over, my wings flashed on and I ascended.

My body swayed to the paths that lead to her bedroom; my eyes would only see with a familiar desire that awoke inside of me.

...O...

"Here," I said nonchalantly and flung the unimpressive rose to her side of the room. Better versions of this gifting, with romantic intrigue, played in my mind earlier at Yukito's inkling. I disappointed myself in more ways than one. My mistress had noticed my entrance through her window, but ignored it as she worked at her desk.

The rose skimmed across the textbook and halted against a chipped pink mug filled with pens and pencils. The eraser in her writing hand fell and she reached for the rose. She turned the stem with her index and thumbs, the flower head pirouetting all of its mediocrity. Seconds passed before her head tilted to where I was. Her once short brown hair now gently swept past her shoulders and spilled behind her chair. Her eyes appeared fatigued, but they widened with what I interpreted as confusion then surprise.

"Yue, this is so beautiful. Thank you!" With such impressive momentum, she flung herself at me to hold me in an embrace that squeezed out any last pathetic breath left in my lungs.

After a few labored miniscule breaths I permitted my arms to settle around her. The embrace pressed her strangely close to me. Somewhere in the last seven years, my child-mistress became a young woman. And it was not that I had not seen what time had done to her body. Dresses fit differently, on a slender waist and the ones she sometimes favored in Yukito's presence fit a little too well. My hands rested there, above well-developed hips which held legs that had lengthened divinely. I felt her breasts press beneath my heart, through a thin tank top. My body betrayed me: my left arm pulled her a slight bit closer while my right hand reached up from her waist, gently touching her hair all the way to their ends in the small of her back. I fancied this length, though longer would be better.

"You're not wearing your armor tonight. I can feel your heart beating. It's so fast and loud."

In the clamor of thoughts earlier, I had forgotten to don my blue chest plate. I loosened the embrace, and reached for the sapphire, feeling only its absence on my chest.

"Did Yukito send you to bring me this?" she looked up, from where her head had laid against my shoulder. "I've been waiting for his rose garden to bloom. He remembered."

My throat could not produce the truth or a discernible word in any language. An "um" arose.

"Are you all right? Yuki's been working you too hard, huh? Come rest with me. I can't really study."

I suddenly remembered I, too, had a brother. "Kero?" I looked around the room. A guest mattress had been pulled next to her bed.

"Tomoyo," she answered. "They were here earlier, but her mom called her an hour ago begging her to be her emergency date to a charity event. There was food involved, so Kero, naturally…"

"Invited himself of course."

"We were watching a movie and stuffing our faces with French truffles and macaroons. I guess it wasn't enough."

Sakura walked over to her desk and lifted the mug, emptying its contents into a drawer. She poured water from an unfinished bottle into it and gently placed the rose inside.

"You can be my movie buddy tonight." She gestured toward the bed with a wink. I did not budge.

"Mistress, it does not seem... proper." My mind strayed to a million improper thoughts involving the two of us. Filth, unholy images to end with my head on a pike at her brother's discovery of the desecration of his most prized treasure.

"Don't be silly. Yue, you're my friend. C'mon, I'll give you a quick run through of what you've missed so far."

I lay down on the mattress, even as every fiber and cell in my body thought it unwise. I was as far as physically possible from Sakura on the bed next to me. I stared at her ceiling, remembering something lewd. Touya had once found Ruby Moon in his bed, unwanted but all the same, somewhere in the night. Yukito was not as amused as Ruby or I was. A smirk formed on my face.

"What's so funny?" I had overlooked her scrutiny above me.

"Nothing." It was not a sufficient response but I preferred not to elaborate on anything that would shift this moment into more shameful thoughts.

The movie continued in the screen across from us. The protagonist in a fit of drunken depression, lit up film reels in his grimy apartment as a dog barked at him. Realizing his stupidly, I deduced, the protagonist removed a reel from the blaze, but the growing fire was far too large to contain. I looked up, and I saw the white fire light up in her eyes. Her face perched on her palms, elbows pushing down the edge of her bed.

"His name is George Valentin. Those are his old silent films. He can't adapt to the new sound films like Peppy. He lost his wife and chauffeur, and whatever fame he once had."

The protagonist passed out in the screen, clutching a film canister. It turned out to be a film with outtakes of him and this Peppy girl. She is moved by this and takes him home to her mansion. There, he recuperated and eventually mustered up strength to explore her place. He learned that Peppy had bought all of his belongings, belongings he had auctioned to support his alcoholism. Apparently Valentin thought this was an exceptionally rude gesture on Peppy's behalf, so he stormed off.

Sakura scoffed. "Why can't he just let her take care of him?"

"Maybe it made him feel less like a man."

Another scoff. "How chauvinistic. He would probably have a heart attack if he saw how many women today are CEOs, political leaders, and… and um..."

I grinned. "And being the most powerful sorceresses in the world?"

"He wouldn't be able to handle that." Her eyes glinted with green deviousness. "Can you?"

"You're just a little kid. Shouldn't you be playing with dolls?" A doll to her likeness sat at the end of my mattress, and I positioned it on the edge of her bed. "Like this one? " My amusement was momentary, only prompting a mocking smile before she pounced on me. Her bare legs in gray shorts pressed against my sides as she sat on my lap with her hands gripping the front of my tunic. She smiled at me triumphantly, and pulled me up so my back was supported by the side of her bed.

"I'm not a squirt, if that's what you're thinking."

"I know." I admired legs that seemed to go on for days, on either side of me. Her tank top was partly lifted; exposing tan, smooth-looking skin over a small waist I soon covered with eager hands. She flinched. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything," I said. My hands lifted.

"Your hands are so cold, that's all."

"Oh," was my feeble response. Could she feel my own desires that not only stirred inside of me, but beneath her? "I apologize regardless." I smoothed out the strands of deep brown hair away from her beautiful face. Each unruly strand fought back to keep perfectly untamed.

Her very pretty head moved to inhale my wrist. "You're wearing Yuki's cologne, aren't you? It smells nice, like, like ocean shores, leather, and cinnamon-y."

I sniffed my wrist as well. "I must be used to it. I can't smell it."

"Yue?"

"Yes?" There were too many clothes, or not enough. I wasn't sure.

"Does he feel you, here?"

"Maybe." I had shut him out in actuality…

"If I kissed you, would he know if it's for him?"

"Maybe, but why –" …Off like a light switch.

And then she was on me, her lips fully forced on my speaking ones, halting my disagreement, turning them into betraying encouragement. My hand which I had placed on her sternum for restraint became aware of the softness of her chest, and reached for her face to pull her in deeper. I wanted to taste her better, let my tongue experience a faint flavor of dark cherry macaroon. Would the rest of her taste just as sweet? I would risk death to find out.

The flimsy top she wore found its way over her head, and her hair fell like wild waves over us. I was going to die tomorrow. That was certain.

"I will always have half of him with me, the one that can't love me."

I didn't care to disagree, to betray myself again. The truth would have to wait. How could I regain my composure, my strength in my current physical entanglement with her? She should have long outgrown this trivial infatuation. Yukito could never love her. The part of him that cared for her still after all these years was the care I now infused. He had broken her heart once, as a naïve child, and he was unknowingly on his way to breaking it again.

But not on this day.

"He wishes you a happy valentine," I said, "and apologizes for only giving you this through me." I planted a kiss on her forehead.

We were playing a game neither of us wanted to win or admit the purpose. For years, I dodged her growing curiosity towards me, dismissing the attention as belonging to someone else who I could never be. What she needed now was me, completely or incompletely.

"Help me take off your tunic."

I smirked. "I'm not your doll."

"But I'm your master..." Behind her, Peppy and Valentin panted at the conclusion of their dance, an elaborate choreography near the end of the film. Valentin spoke for the first time, his voice bright and refined in its French accent.

"I thought I was your friend," I said, kissing her neck with growing want. I carried her on the bed we shared many nights together, as a friend and guardian. Lately I avoided my presence there, as we grew increasingly aware of the desire that sparked in each other's closeness, unfulfilled in the complex roles we currently played. But we'd never admit to anything, only act along to spare dignities. Could she love me for me, and not for my other self? Could I love her, knowing she loved the humanity in him, something I could never share with her?

"Not tonight." Her eyes held another fire, whose hell I'd welcome over and over. We were both damned to live out an eternity as master and servant, in spite of everything. Could love ever exist inconsequential, impartial to halves?

My divided being did not have a complete change of heart, in fact, it was enraged that it not the whole to which I solely possessed. I falsely shared another kiss of my own alone. This division of two asked for something else.

If I could love her.

I happily obeyed.

Thrilled to serve. And to sway with her... and sway again… and sway…