Reservoir Chronicle | Tsubasa

He took her hand anyway. “I’m here.”

And that, perhaps, was the only magic that Fei-Wang Reed had never understood.

Fei-Wang laughed. “The wish is simple. The clone must willingly surrender his existence—every memory, every bond, every second of love—to the original. In return, the original’s suffering ends. And the clone… simply never was.” Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle

Sakura stirred beside him. Her eyes opened—clear, violet, full of recognition.

In the stagnant void between dimensions, where time bled like a slow wound, Syaoran knelt alone. His left eye, the one that held the price for his wish, ached with phantom memory. He had long since stopped searching for Sakura’s feathers. He had found something far worse: the truth. He took her hand anyway

It pulsed with a cold, silver light, unlike the warm, golden glow of Sakura's stars. Inside it, he saw a scene he had never lived: a young boy with fierce, determined eyes—the real Syaoran—whispering a spell to a witch in a shop full of clocks. The witch was Yuuko. The price was everything.

He thought of Sakura’s smile when she had no memories. He thought of Kurogane’s gruff hand on his shoulder. He thought of Fai’s laughter, the first genuine one in years, shared over a campfire in a country of perpetual rain. “The wish is simple

“Show yourself,” Syaoran said, his voice flat, emptied of rage.

The clone looked at his original self. He saw no hatred there. Only an exhausted, heartbreaking relief.

In the library of Clow Country, years later, Sakura would find a pressed flower in an old book. She would not remember who put it there. But her heart would ache with a sweetness she could never name.

He wanted to say yes . But the word caught. Because he was Syaoran—the real one, the one who had been stolen away as a child. But the one who had loved her across a thousand worlds, who had bled and wept and hoped… was gone.