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Tsubasa: RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE, Vol. 17

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CLAMP

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“Kurogane: That's what you want, isn't it? Underneath that constant grin, you're keeping everyone away. So that nobody gets involved with you. But look. Just now you checked to see if the kid had a fever, and you're relieved that the princess doesn't see the wretched condition of this world. And in the last country, you used your magic. Fai: *smiling* I said it, didn't I? I wasn't going to die. And so... Kurogane: Yeah, but that was all about you not dying on your own account. Dying for somebody else... That's a whole new question. Back then, if you hadn't done anything, we would have been captured, and if we handled it wrong, we might have died. But you decided to use magic on your own. You involved yourself in their lives. Fai: *no longer smiling, looks depressed* I... I don't want to make anyone unhappy because of their involvement with me.”

“Fai: But... Don't you think they've changed? At the start of our travels, Syaoran-kun never smiled at all. Like he was suffering. And maybe it was because Sakura lost all of her memories but she always seemed so unsure of herself. And Kuro-run, you were always angry. And now you're exactly the same. Kurogane: Huh? Fai: But... During our travels, there are a lot of painful spots, but there are also fun times. And when I see those two giving it their all and smiling... I can't help but think they've changed. Kurogane: If you think that, then you've changed too.”

“- I won't be able to think. I won't be able to work. - Nothing will interfere with your work like suicide. (Silence) - I dreamt that I went to the doctor's and she gave me eight minutes to live. I'd been sitting in the fucking waiting room for half an hour. (A long silence) - Okay, let's do it, let's do the drugs, let's do the chemical lobotomy, let's shut down the higher functions of my brain and perhaps I'll be a bit more fucking capable of living. Let's do it.”

“- Please. Don't switch off my mind by attempting to straighten me. Listen and understand, and when you feel contempt don't express it, at least not verbally, at least not to me. (Silence.) - I don't feel contempt. - No? - No. It's not your fault. - It's not your fault. That's all I ever hear, it's not your fault, it's an illness, it's not your fault, I know it's not my fault. You've told me that so often I'm beginning to think it is my fault. - It's not your fault. - I KNOW. - But you allow it.”