Chapter Two
Blood splattered across the arena floor, and Syaoran twisted out of the way, hand flying up to the dagger in his shoulder. He ripped it out, letting it clatter to the floor. As he watched, the thorn-covered vines that had sprouted at the beginning of the fight coiled around the bloody blade and pulled it toward his opponent.
The others were still occupied with the fight. Kurogane busied himself fending off the attacks of their sword-wielding opponent, only glancing in his direction for a moment before getting his sleeve slashed open. Fai was busy dancing out of the way of a dark-haired girl's punches. Sakura had taken notice, when he'd ripped the dagger out of his shoulder, and half-risen from her chair before she realized she was not allowed to move from that spot until the fight was over. He watched her eyes glaze over and return to the others, observing the fight like a real chess match.
Syaoran rolled to his feet, grimacing. The dagger had stabbed deep, but except for the spurt of blood when he'd pulled it out, he wasn't bleeding much. It didn't hit an artery, at least, he thought, facing his knife-wielding opponent. Something like shock crossed the man's face as he stood.
The moment of panic only afforded him a second to recover. As the moment passed, his opponent ripped another blade from his belt and threw it. Syaoran managed to sidestep this one, swaying drunkenly as the thorny vines coiled around his leg, holding him in place. The chains connecting him to Sakura and the others jingled as he rocked, weighing him down even as he tried to rip free of the sharp plants.
His opponent was down to a single dagger now; he clutched it tight in his hands and rushed forward.
Syaoran waited, trying to judge the distance between them by the surrounding objects while freeing one leg. Depth perception was not his strong suit.
It's not Fai's strong suit, either, he thought guiltily. If he'd just arrived there a few minutes sooner, the Other would've been occupied fighting him instead of trying to get Fai's magic power.
And then maybe he would look at me when I enter the room, he thought. A shift in his opponent's gait cued him to counterattack. He brought his leg around in a wide arc, finally ripping free of the thorns. The side of his foot smashed into the man's wrist, knocking the dagger out of his hand. Before he could stoop down and pick up one of the blades littering the floor, Syaoran threw a second kick to his abdomen. The man doubled over, eyes going wide.
He heard the sound of a body hitting the floor behind him, and glanced back to see Kurogane standing over his unconscious opponent. A few feet away, Fai was in the process of tearing his enemy to shreds with his claws. None of the lacerations seemed to be fatal, but then, the magician seldom attacked at all. Syaoran shuddered to think what those claws could do if Fai was trying to kill someone.
The man in front of him was still doubled over, clutching his abdomen. Syaoran knocked him out with a kick to the temple, and it was over.
The announcer yelled about their victory, getting the audience to cheer and some of the bettors to throw fits. A hand came down on his uninjured shoulder. "You're going to the hospital to get treated," Kurogane told him, in a tone that brooked no argument.
Like he was talking to the Other.
"Yeah . . ." Syaoran muttered, eyes flashing up to Sakura as she rose from her chair. If his clone had been hurt instead of him, she would've rushed over here, asking if he was hurt, and how badly, and urging him to get treatment right away.
He wasn't the Other, and Sakura didn't do any of that.
Since fighting tended to cause serious injuries, there was a hospital within the stadium walls. He hurried down the corridor, leaning against the paneled walls for support. As the adrenaline faded from his system, the pain in his shoulder grew.
There was a heavy sigh behind him. "C'mon kid. I'll carry you there."
He shook his head. "I can make it."
The ninja sighed again. "It's a pain watching you do this kind of stuff. Stand still."
Syaoran took another step forward, pressing his hand against the wall so he at least looked like he could walk straight. "Really, I'm fine. We're almost there, anyway."
Kurogane frowned, crossing his arms in front of him. "Look, I know you think avoiding everyone is going to make them stop blaming you, but you're only making things worse."
His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, just do as I say."
They reached the doors of the hospital. Syaoran turned to the red-eyed man. "They hate me, don't they?"
A startled look flitted across the ninja's face.
"They hate me for what happened in Tokyo. Fai-san hates me for his current state, and the princess hates me because I'm not . . ." His hands coiled into fists. "I'm not the one she cared about. I'm not the one she knew."
"Kid . . ."
"I don't blame them for it. They have good reason to hate me." Just saying the words put a lump in his throat. He pushed open the hospital doors.
Kurogane gave no response.
"You should be able to pick him up tomorrow morning at the latest," the receptionist said, handing him a sheet of paper with neat kanji written across the lines. "The doctors said he'll make a full recovery, but recommend at least a week of bed rest before he fights again."
Well, there goes this week's schedule, Kurogane thought, returning to the others. "She said it's going to be a week before he can fight again."
Fai gave no indication he'd heard, staring at a spot of blood on his shoe. Sakura looked up and spoke. "I suppose we'll have to come back tomorrow to get him."
The coldness in her voice startled him. Yes, she was hurting after all the shit that had gone down in Tokyo, and no, he didn't expect her to warm to the new Syaoran so soon after losing the old one, but even so, he didn't like or expect the trace of bitterness in her voice.
Was the princess capable of hatred? A few weeks ago, the answer would've been no. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Syaoran—the real one—seemed sure the princess hated him for trying to take the place of the other one—the clone. Damn, I need to think of better names for the two of them, Kurogane thought, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes as the other two rose from their seats in the waiting room.
"We'd best go home and check on your wounds, Kuro-pii," Fai said. "You've been ignoring those cuts on your arms."
"Shut up. I always let my opponent cut me. It gives them the confidence to lower their guard." Okay, that was utter crap. He'd only gotten cut because he'd been distracted by the sound of the kid hitting the ground. It didn't matter, though. The brat was lucky that dagger hadn't severed an artery. Compared to the potential for damage there, the cut on his wrist was almost nothing.
It was a short walk to their tiny, sixth-floor apartment. Fai unlocked the door and held it open for them, pasting that false grin on his face. "Let's get those cuts looked at, shall we?"
The ninja grunted in agreement, taking a spot on the couch while the magician retrieved the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet. Tending to wounds had sort of become the mage's role here, even with his newfound sensitivity to blood. The blond man was skilled at making poultices and pain-relieving potions. Kurogane suspected these remedies were just as much magic as basic first-aid skill, given how well his methods seemed to work. He wondered if the kid preferred to treat his own wounds because he felt excluded, or because he didn't feel his injuries were enough to warrant medical attention.
He's definitely not the other kid, he thought as he smeared antiseptic across the cuts on his wrist. The old Syaoran would've taken the help because he knew that was what the princess would've wanted. Even if Sakura was acting distant, the old Syaoran would've taken care of it.
The princess finished getting treated first, her only health problem being the nagging pain in her leg after getting impaled in Tokyo, and disappeared into her bedroom. Kurogane supposed her absence made the next part a little easier. He turned to the magician.
"The kid thinks you hate him."
"Does he?" Fai unrolled a long ribbon of gauze, seeming preoccupied with the white fabric, but Kurogane noticed the slight tightening of his eyes.
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"I don't think it'll trouble him for very long."
"What happened at Tokyo wasn't his fault."
Another defensive twitch of the magician's face. "But in the end, he still blames himself, doesn't he?"
"Is that the straightest answer you're going to give me?"
"To be fair, what you said was more of a statement than a question."
His voice sharpened. "Does it bother you or not?"
Fai shrugged. "Does it matter?"
Kurogane stood up. "I'm going to bed."
The magician smiled, the same way he always did. "Goodnight, Kuro-pon."
The bedroom door slammed shut behind him.
