Author's Note.
Hey, everybody, thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you all like the story so far. I'm just writing this to thank Obsidian Butterfly for pointing out my misuse of Kurogane's nicknames. I will correct that as soon as the opportunity presents itself. I only got to read all the way through the series once, and when I was looking back for reference, my computer got swamped with viruses. As a result, there may be a few inconsistencies. Please feel free to point these out, as I want to try to be as true to the story as possible. Happy reading!
Chapter Seven
The feather was suspended in a glass case, high in the bell tower. Syaoran stared up at the memory fragment, then walked up to the guards at the tower's entrance. Without a word, he unsheathed Hien. The guards raised their short-swords in defense. "I have to get it back," he said, voice devoid of all emotion.
"No one's allowed to enter the bell tower. The power up there is sacred."
"Move."
They didn't move. He swung Hien, his body used to the movement after so much practice with the sword master from Nihon. The two guards lifted their swords, not realizing how dire their situation was until Hien's scarlet flames wrapped around their weapons. One was wise; he fled. The other did not. Syaoran slew him with a decisive swing, splattering blood everywhere and drawing a single scream from the unnamed man before he collapsed in death.
As the man dropped, Syaoran sensed a presence behind him. He turned, staring at the empty air behind him. The part of him that was still connected to his clone recognized the aura of the Original.
He stared a moment longer, remembering how the Original had watched him, for just a moment, in the last country he'd landed in. There had been no feather there, he'd ascertained. The magician's eye had given him some sense of the magic, and when he'd sensed no great power in that world, he'd called on Fei Wang Reed to send him to the witch. After giving up the insignificant affection this body had held for the Princess of Clow, he'd received a charm that allowed him to traverse dimensions.
Satisfied the Original was unable to do any more than watch him, Syaoran stepped over the guard's corpse and pushed through the doors to the bell tower. He climbed the winding staircase, walking as if he was a tourist, not a thief.
If anyone came to stop him, he'd be able to bring them down with a swipe of his sword. Except for the feather, there was no great power in this world, nothing that could stop him, not even the body he'd been molded from.
He reached the top level then, almost smirking when he found it unguarded. For something that was supposedly one of the country's most sacred sites, the security was quite lax. Syaoran approached the glowing feather, shattering the glass that held it. It fell into his hand.
The sensation of eyes on the back of his neck grew stronger. He turned to face the presence, cradling the feather in his hand. Droplets of blood stained his fingertips, some old, some new. He didn't bother to wipe the blood away unless he needed to appear normal to acquire information. With the sword at his hip, he seldom had to.
To the Original, he said, "One down. Many, many more to go."
A surge of angry energy pulsed through the tower, as if the Original's emotions could somehow take shape in this world. Syaoran waited a moment to see if this surge of fury threatened him, then decided the Original wouldn't be so frustrated if it could.
He pocketed the feather, then descended down the stairs, moving with the ease and grace of a wolf.
In Infinity, Syaoran woke with a start, hand flying up to his face as he surfaced from his dream. Even after his fingers encountered the soft fabric of his blindfold, it took him a moment to regain his bearings.
His heart hammered against his ribs. The adrenaline rush had woken him, it seemed, not any outside force. The Other was looking for Sakura's feathers in some other world. Whatever the reason, the realization unnerved Syaoran enough to make a shudder run down his back.
For a moment, he considered taking his blindfold off, just so he could decide if he was hopelessly lost, or if he could still find his way back to the apartment. He decided to leave it on.
The streets were much quieter now, everyone returning to their homes for the night to rest. That meant fewer bumps and less annoyed shouts. He stood up, biting his lip as pain shot through his feet, and started in the direction he guessed would lead him to the apartment.
His brief sleep had rejuvenated him enough to keep him going until the roads grew crowded again. The sun fell across his dark shirt, warming him after the crisp night. He judged from the spots of heat that he was headed East, toward the sun. Their apartment building was somewhere in the eastern part of town. If he followed the trail of warmth, he might find his way back.
He still had to walk for hours. When the sun was shining directly on his head, he stopped and felt his feet for blisters. He found more than he wanted to think about, some of them already broken, blood crusted on the skin of his feet. People passed by, some turning their heads to stare, and he realized that he was becoming capable of sensing more distant obstacles. The discovery was enough to bring him to his feet.
He wandered another mile, relieved when he overheard a conversation he actually understood. His ears zeroed in on the sound. "Excuse me," he said. The couple who'd been speaking turned to him, recoiling a bit in surprise when they saw his blindfold(at least, he assumed that was the reason they reacted that way). "Can you tell me which way it is to the Ephemeral Apartments?"
After a confused jumble of words, the woman told him to keep going straight for two blocks, then turn right and walk another three. He thanked her, then hurried on his way.
He stopped at every intersection, waiting for someone else to cross the street before he dared brave the car-infested blacktop. That added a few minutes to his journey, minutes he only allowed for the sake of preserving his life.
On the way there, he asked for directions twice more, confirming that he was on the right path. Not once did he walk into an area where he didn't understand what everyone was saying. The relief was so great it made him want to smile for the first time in weeks. Longer than that. It's been years since you've smiled in this body.
His customary frown deepened at that, but it didn't matter, because a few minutes later, he arrived at the doors of the Ephemeral Apartments. He followed these hallways with more confidence, knowing few people were moving about the building this time of day except to do chores like laundry.
Syaoran took the stairs, not sure if he remembered which buttons to push once he got into the moving boxes called elevators. Once he reached the right floor, he moved swiftly down the corridor leading to their apartment. It was the last door, stuck out at the end of the hallway instead of branching off to the sides like the others. That made it easy to find.
For a moment, he stood outside the door, pressing his ear against the wall to confirm that the people within were his group members and not total strangers. He reached for the handle when he heard Fai-san's voice.
His fingers froze as he realized what they were saying.
"It's not safe," Fai said, in a tone Syaoran had never heard him use. Hushed, but thick with anxiety. "We don't know anything about him except that he looks like the other one."
"He was being kept prisoner," Kurogane grumbled. Syaoran pressed his ear to the wall once again, listening more intently. "He has good reason to be on our side."
"Then why is he so secretive? He's barely said a word to any of us since we left Tokyo, and even before that, his explanations just barely covered what we didn't know about the clone."
"We know the name of our enemy now."
"That's not enough. It's still too much of a risk. He could've easily made that story up so we would take him in. For all we know, he could be even more of a psychopath than his clone."
Air hissed through his teeth, partly a gasp, and partly a noise of frustration. How could they think that? All I did in Tokyo was damage control.
Another thought pushed the last one away. How could anyone be more of a psychopath than my clone?
"You don't know that," Kurogane muttered.
"And you don't know he's better than the other one. Look, all I'm saying is that I feel uneasy around him."
He couldn't have pulled his ear from the wall even if he'd wanted to.
"I'm being careful," Kurogane said. "I'm not teaching him anything that'll help him kill us if he turns out like the other one."
If I turn out like him?
"We can't expect things to turn out well if he's around," Fai said. "You must know that."
"I told you, I'm being careful. I don't want him to end up like that any more than you do."
There was a lull in the conversation. Syaoran pried his ear away from the wall.
End up like that . . .
If I turn out like the other one . . .
"Never. I will never love you."
Syaoran ripped the blindfold off his face and threw it down in front of the door. It hit the carpet with a muffled thud, not loud enough to draw their attention. He didn't care. He ran down the hallway, eyes adjusting to the glare of the ceiling lights even after being blinded so long. His vision blurred every few seconds, eyes sore from the sudden change.
He ran down the hallway, then down the stairwell, then out the door. He ran past the park where Kurogane had been working with him day and night since he'd started eating meals with them. He ran into the overflowing marketplace, running down the rows with the setting sun in his eyes.
When he was finally out of breath, he slowed and walked over to a less populated section of town, weaving through the more spacious residential areas like a child playing hide and seek. Feet aching, he walked until the houses started to thin out and gradually disappear.
After a time, he came across the stump of a tree. He sat down, the pain in his feet becoming too much with relief in sight. And for the first time in years, Syaoran cried.
