"What is living?" he once asked her, a thoughtful look on his face.

Her CardCaptoring days were long since over, her days of motherhood was over as well, though wifehood had yet to end.

"Living?" she asked, settling back into her seat, vibrant green eyes staring at the wall.

"Living is dying. Living is beginning a dream, a blank book, a blank dream, something to fill with your heart. Living is freedom to do what you believe in. Living, perhaps, is destiny."

"Destiny," her husband mused, running a hand through his tousled brown, white-streaked hair.

"Maybe we'll meet again in another life, Sakura."

She smiled at him. "And then I'll ask you that very question, and you better answer correctly."

"Alright then."

Again

For why do we live? Again and again, we live lives we will never remember, horrid choices we won't remember not to make again.

Again and again, we live life… But what is living?

"Who are you?" he asked softly, amber eyes specked with confusion and anger.

"You know," she told him. "You know. You just haven't remembered yet."

He sat on his throne, staring down at the old woman standing before him, the woman who had the audacity not to bow before the king.

She may have been beautiful, once upon a time. Vivid green eyes staring out underneath pure white hair, lines on her face depicting age, the firm set of her mouth that told of knowing.

"Then why don't I?" he asked her, feeling annoyance poking at him.

"Should you not ask yourself that question?" she said, her unnerving large eyes never tearing away from his.

"Why don't I?" he asked again.

"Because it was never meant to be, perhaps," she murmured, her eyes darkening with memories, her voice just loud enough so he could hear, just soft enough the guards behind the large doors couldn't.

"I am the king," he said. "Whatever I wish, should be."

"What is living?" she asked instead.

Li Syaoran, King of Tsubasa frowned, the familiarity of the question insistently prodding at him to hurry up and remember.

She waited, but when it became obvious that he would not remember, she bowed once and shuffled away.

She was getting too old for this.

Li Syaoran died at age 36 underneath all the stress of being king, sick out of his mind, happy knowing his kingdom was in his cousin Yamazaki's hands, as he had had no heir, nor a Queen.

Kinomoto Sakura, mysterious old woman, died at age 103, and never again did she visit her beloved.

"Do you remember?" she asked her best friend, the white ribbon that kept her hair up swinging in the wind along with her simple ponytail swishing in the wind.

"Remember what?" he asked back, eyes closed and laying on his back on top of the roof, feeling the wind dancing on his face.

"…Never mind," she said, sounding sad.

His eyes popped open and he sat up, looking at her, concerned.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he said.

"Really, it's nothing," she said, her color pencil green eyes flashing in annoyance.

"Let's go back in," he offered, smiling softly.

"Did you even study for that test we have next period, in Mrs. Daidouji's class?" she deadpanned, watching the cheerful expression on his face drop into horror with some satisfaction.

"Oh, cr-"

"No cursing," she reminded him.

"Right."

"What is living?" she asked him as they began gathering things from their adjacent lockers.

His expression was blank as he thought about it, something strange twisting in him.

The bell rang and Sakura turned to look at her best friend, and nothing more than that.

"Forget it," she said softly. "Now come on, we'll be late."

Later on, Li Syaoran would die at the age of 86, married to his high school sweetheart, Mei Lin, after living a simple life.

Kinomoto Sakura would at the age of 18, as the result of a freak car accident.

They met in a dark room, purposely designed that way to seem intimidating.

"Li Syaoran," he offered, a dark smirk dancing on his face.

A face she knew all too well.

"Kinomoto Sakura," she answered him.

An eyebrow was raised. "There have been many rumors surrounding you."

"As you," she replied calmly. Because if she didn't take this calmly, there was no chance he would remember.

"True," he agreed, dark amusement glittering in his gold orbs.

"Are we going to get down to business, then?" she asked him coolly, her emotion-dead eyes concentrating on him and only him.

"Let's," he said ever so graciously with a dramatic swing of his arm as he pulled out a chair for her.

"One more thing, before we start this," she said, drowning out the other noises as people in the room began discussing, her world crashing down on her as she stared at him.

"Yes, m'lady?" he asked, the smirk reappearing.

"What, do you believe, is living?" she said, her dark green eyes searching his for answers.

He tapped a finger on his chin, a bad habit he had gotten from someone. Maybe Eriol, that irritating right-hand man and best friend of his. Perhaps even Touya, that annoying business associate he had. Why was everyone he knew annoying?

But the whispers had quieted down all too soon, and he had no time to answer, to think a bit further on the subject. So he pushed the idea to the back of his mind, not realizing how important it was, and focused on the deal they were about to make.

"Let's begin."

Li Syaoran, the most successful businessman in the world, had died at 51 after being shot in the heart by his right-hand man.

Kinomoto Sakura died at age 26 after watching her business rise and die.

"Magic," the professor had announced, looking amused at all the eager faces, "is rare. So completely, utterly rare that the government is giving you special classes. You, with all the luck in the world."

By luck, if he had said bad luck, he would have been completely accurate. The government was rounding magic-users in herds and brainwashing all the young ones. Literally brainwashing the older ones, so they would forget all the horrors they had dealt to them.

It had been quite easy to turn back time for herself, turning herself back into an eleven year old child, and her acting skills were perfect for the job. It was easy to act the clueless, innocent little kid that wouldn't harm a soul.

She had killed far too many for the children's freedom.

"Class dismissed," the professor said and the rush for the door was just like a regular school's, though none of them would ever be normal by the end of the year.

She, however, stayed behind.

"May I help you somehow, Ms. Avalon?" he asked kindly.

He had been one of those literally brainwashed. She had been so very, very close…

"Professor Clow," she said innocently, turning her large green eyes on him, "what is living?"

A tiny little crease appeared in-between his eyebrows. "Is this another one of your philosophical questions, Sakura?"

She merely smiled at him, deigning neither to confirm or contradict him.

He leaned back on his desk, wondering why his star student would ask such a thing. Such a strange, strange question to ask him.

A few moments passed before she stood up, smile still in place.

"Never mind, Professor," she said, and he watched her leave the classroom.

Kinomoto Sakura, alias Sakura Avalon, would die in the body of a 16 year old, while in mind, she was actually 25. She would die fighting against the government, fighting to free the magic-users.

Li Syaoran, mentally and on record, died at age 21, after being captured by the government. Professor Clow, however, died at age 93 because of old age, blissfully ignorant and unaware of who he was before.

I've messed up again, she thought dryly.

She sat there, watching all her past lives with some self-pity, wondering why the only time she had gotten this damn thing right was the first time, why she could get so close but couldn't get past the finish line.

"Maybe," she murmured, looking down at the blank dream before her, the one she was going to live soon.

"Maybe he'll remember this time. What it means to live. And maybe I'll get this stupid thing right."

She closed her eyes one last time, drifting into a new life, a new path with so many possibilities, another chance. She wouldn't give up, not until she'd finally gotten what she wanted.

Again. Let's live this dream again.

This endless cycle of living, unable to remember how you lived, pointlessly going on and on… Different circumstances, different outcomes.

Tell me. What is living?

*laughs* This is some kind of odd mix between Dreams of Death and Free Flyte… Also inspired by Recycle, by ForeverFalling86, the best Bleach oneshot I have ever read. That was just wow. Recommended.

Note: Happy birthday to me! *cheers* It's my birthday~~ ^_^ I also have some more ideas for other lives… should I write them?