Chapter 20
Ship of Fools
Hours turned to days, turned to weeks.
Still they searched, until they knew the city so well they might have been able to navigate it sleepwalking.
"Where is he hiding?" Kurogane grumbled, week three. Syaoran gave a one-shoulder shrug, careful not to upset Mokona sitting on his other shoulder.
"He can't keep this up forever," the teenager stated warily.
"I thought the bad guy was supposed to jump right out when you got near him and announce his presence, as he thinks he's better than you," the ninja continued, folding his fingers behind his head.
"Fei Wong Reed is a sorcerer," Syaoran said by means of reply.
Kurogane grunted in annoyance.
-
"Is it just me, or has this fog been getting thicker lately?" Fai noted, week five. Around them, gray mist swirled and eddied in the tiny, imperceptible currents of air playing through the city's streets.
Sakura edged closer to Syaoran's back. "It seems rather ominous."
The male teenager's eyes narrowed and he searched the area more carefully. "He's making our job harder. We have to hurry."
"We've got three people who can sense magic... well, two and a white Manjuu, and we still can't pinpoint this guy's hideout?" Kurogane grumbled. "What kind of sorcerer does he think he is?"
-
"It's hard to see your own hand in front of your face," Sakura said, week eight, as the group trudged through the fog-choked streets, keeping physical contact with each other to ensure none would get lost. Senses other than vision were at their highest as the group strained their ears and sixth senses to make sure nothing could sneak up on them.
"Wait..." Syaoran's voice sounded through the night air, and he turned to look at the building next to them. "Is it just me, or does this building change every time we pass it?"
No one said anything.
"I want to try something..." the teenager mumbled, and a flash of light through the misty darkness signified the drawing of his sword. He strode forward, and held his sword up, ready to strike. It flashed for a moment, and he brought it down through the brick facade of the building.
The sword cut through the facade as though it had hit air, and the brick on either side of the cut shifted and warped, before the cut faded.
"Magical illusion," Fai noted, nodding.
"I believe we've found the place," Syaoran answered.
Kurogane chuckled darkly. "Well, let's get going. I want to go home."
They took the door, though they knew it was merely a formality as the entire front of the building was one big doorway. Mokona jerked, and then fell limp in Sakura's arms. She gasped and shook the little creature, trying to wake it up.
"Don't worry about Mokona," Syaoran stated. "This place is surrounded by a barrier..."
Kurogane looked at Mokona, and tightened his grip on his sword, glad he'd had the creature call it forth before they had even left their room.
The interior was a vision in black decor, with small sconces along the walls that cast a sickly blue light on everything. The inside of the place was also oddly warm, though it smelled musty and unkempt. The farther they walked into the room, the more they realized, however, that it was one big circle, and there didn't seem to be doorways anywhere.
"They hid the doors in here as well..." Fai mumbled, edging closer to the princess protectively.
"Yes. It would be too easy for us to attack him if we didn't," Syaoran answered, gripping his sword tighter.
"Welcome..."
The voice was soft and barely audible, and for a moment, everyone looked at Syaoran as though he was the one that had said it. He, however, turned around abruptly, only to stare across the room and right into his mirror image. His eyes narrowed, and his hands and jaw clenched.
"The facade worked better than he had hoped," The clone continued on, without casting a glance at the entrance. "It took you nearly three months to crack it. Plenty of time for us to prepare to welcome you." He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out one of Sakura's feathers, looking it over, twirling it between his fingers. "Plenty of time for me to finish my task..."
"So you did gather the rest of them..." the original stated, watching the glowing white feather like a beacon.
"Of course..." and the clone stared at him with his cold, two-colored eyes. "It was what I was created to do, after all."
The princess gasped, and turned to look away.
Words in a language only Fai could read were scrawled in the air by the Syaoran with mismatched eyes, and it manifested into fire which launched itself at the other.
"Fuuka Shourai!"
Winds swirled around the real of the two, and the fire dispersed upon hitting the shield. The two magics faded, and the young men watched each other again, staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.
To the side, the rest of the group watched, conflicted, eyes darting between the two combatants.
"We have to stop this..." Sakura whispered.
"Interfering will only lead to one or the other's deaths," Kurogane observed quietly. "Could you really choose whose life you'd want to end? Or, perhaps sacrifice yourself and cause them both pain?"
She fell silent and looked down as the two older men led her farther to the edge of the room.
"This isn't our fight, as much as I hate to admit it," the ninja continued. "And any of us trying to step in won't do any good."
"So we get to be the silent observers, because this is going to affect us profoundly whichever direction it goes," Fai finished, single eye narrowing at the fight before them.
Another magical volley was launched, a powerful fire spell against thunder; a fight which ended in a draw once more.
"Where are you getting this power from..." The real Syaoran grumbled under his breath as the clone drew Hien.
"Maybe I'll give you a hint..." the other replied, and charged.
Metal screamed against metal, clashing and clanging as blows were exchanged and deflected. Neither seemed to be able to get the upper hand, until a particularly hard overhead blow from the clone and Hien left him wide open for an attack to the middle, an opportunity which the real Syaoran took to blow his opponent back and into the far wall with his wind magic, charging on the tail of the attack to try and take his opponent by surprise.
His opponent barely got the chance to bring his sword down before he was impaled against the wall, instead deflecting it so it carved a shallow cut into the skin over his ribs and stabbing a full inch into the wall behind him. The two found themselves face to face, incredibly close for a moment, eyes locked, cold impassion against fiery determination.
They separated for a moment, gaining some distance to set up their next attacks.
The clone was the first off the mark this time, nearly taking the other by surprise, and managing a gash across his opponent's forearm for taking the initiative as his blade was barely deflected.
Low, the real Syaoran ducked suddenly, sweeping his leg along the ground to knock his opponent off balance; but the one with mismatched eyes was just that much faster and leapt over the leg, rewarding the real version with a rising kick to his jaw for all his efforts.
Up and into the air the real one went, sailing through the room and tumbling to a halt at the bottom of the wall.
The one still standing raised his right hand up to the ceiling, and around it golden flame began to swirl, until it finally erupted into a fireball.
A fireball that spread its wings and began to sing a horrifyingly sad song.
"That's..." Fai gasped, watching as a single trail of flame led back to the clone's wrist, and wrapped gently around it.
"The Phoenix of the Sun..." Kurogane finished.
"You took Solaer's hand?" The prone Syaoran demanded, pushing himself to his feet, readying his sword.
"It was too powerful to not... besides," and the clone regarded him with those empty eyes. "You took the use of my hand from me in our last battle. So I needed to find a replacement."
"That's not an excuse to hurt people!" Feet apart, sword level, both amber eyes glaring angrily, Syaoran stared at his opponent.
The hand controlling the Phoenix swept down and it dove. "It's a matter of perspective."
A scoff as the real Syaoran dove out of the way. He could feel the heat from the Phoenix through his shoe, and from the way the bottom of it stuck when he rolled back to his feet, he knew the rubber had begun to melt.
He frowned in response. That Phoenix was too dangerous to let fly around as it was- it may end up hurting those who were not in the fight, and from the look his clone was giving him, Syaoran knew he probably wouldn't care.
The Phoenix wheeled about, diving again, but this time Syaoran stood his ground.
"Raitei SHOURAI!" He yelled, and the lightning burst forth, hitting the Phoenix hard enough it was forced to pause, convulsing in midair, squawking and screeching as it fought against the magic holding it back. And then it burst forth, and once again Syaoran was barely able to make it out of the way in time.
He studied it, dodging it two more times as he tried to figure out a weakness in its build. It seemed to be made from pure magical energy, and at the same time seemed to be able to sustain itself- he couldn't feel any power transferring through the link between the Phoenix and the hand that controlled it. Another sweep, another narrow miss, but this time the string that connected the two caught his left shoulder. It dug a white-hot line of searing pain into his skin as it began to sink in and cut through, but he hit the ground a second later and the thread traveled over his head, no further damage done.
The Phoenix went out, turned, and charged again, though this time Syaoran was on his feet and ready for it.
Maybe...
He tightened his grip on his sword, exhaled slowly, ignoring the burning pain on his arm as he concentrated.
If I sever its link with its master...
The Phoenix sang again, that heartbreaking tune that made him want to throw his sword to the side, fall to his knees, and weep. He grit his teeth against the feeling, and struggled to maintain his focus.
Maybe that will be enough...
He waited, waited until it was close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off the golden, flaming bird, and then he ducked. Talons lashed out, rending painful, fiery gashes into his back. But that didn't stop him. He waited until the tail had passed, then slashed, forward, up. His sword hit, and he felt the magical backlash scream into his arms like a river of molten steel, but still he pressed on, shoving his own magic forward to counteract it- his magic was attuned to the moon, and water and ice were two of the most powerful elements of the moon.
He imagined ice, and cold, soothing water as he shoved his power back against the Phoenix's fiery might.
The bird screamed and he could feel its pain in his own body; it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest, but still he pressed on, even as his sword glowed and the metal tried to bend and warp.
Finally, the thread snapped, and the Phoenix's cry was powerful enough he had to drop to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears, releasing his sword in the process. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear his clone screaming in the pain of suddenly being separated from the Phoenix, and watched as he grabbed his stolen hand, watched as his arm was enveloped in golden flames, even as the Phoenix faded from existence.
He looked back to his opponent, only to find the clone's separate colored eyes focused, almost angryat him.
But that couldn't be right- the clone had no heart, he'd proven that after the seal on his eye had been broken. Along with love, anger was an emotion of the heart.
Hien was raised high, golden flame swirling around its blade, mixing with the scarlet flame of its namesake, even as the clone sketched letters in the air, letters which set into the side of the blade and glowed cold, sky-blue.
Syaoran reached down, grabbing the tassels that hung from the hilt of his sword and used them to yank the handle back into his grip, even as the clone began stepping toward him in a rapidly building rhythm.
He barely saw the first strike in enough time to get out of the way, and it was followed by another so quickly, he would've found himself stabbed through the shoulder had his reflexes not been good enough to raise his sword and deflect Hien just past his ear. The impact jarred his arms with its power, and it sent another searing backlash of magic power into himself. He expelled the heat quickly, continuing to keep his own power cool- cold, even, still thinking of ice and frigid mountain water.
Strike after strike left the boy whose two eyes were the same color barely able to keep up a defensive as each strike chipped away at his physical and magical endurance. He could only hope an opening appeared or the clone tired himself out before he himself exhausted.
The two swords clashed off each other, sending glimmering, multi-colored sparks to the floor, charring small, almost invisible pits into the dark ground. Finally, an opportunity presented itself, the two swords clashing in such a way the real Syaoran was allowed to shift his weight, twist his sword enough the clone lost his grip, and Hien was sent flying. This, however, was counteracted as their very angle served to loosen his grip on his own sword enough that it joined the katana on the floor.
A smile tugged at the edges of his lips- this was the opportunity the real one had been waiting for. Close-range, he knew and could use all of his counterpart's kicking moves. His opponent, however, did not know of his own moves, of his own training for years with Wei, that he was an accomplished martial artist not only with his legs, but his fists as well.
This simple fact he took full advantage of, blocking a powerful round kick and getting inside his opponent's kicking defenses, pulling his fist back, and letting unleash with a punching combo. The first hit was all to be blocked as the next two hit stomach and nose hard enough the multi eye-colored one was sent reeling backward, opening him for a harsh rising kick to the jaw that sent him flying.
But Syaoran wasn't done with his clone yet.
He chased the flying body, keeping pace with it, and as it neared the ground he leapt, slamming his feet into his opponent's stomach as he came down, forcing him to the ground with a cracking thud. He rebounded off, landing a little to the downed one's left, and brought his knee down on his opponent's left arm before it had the chance to raise and do any damage. The right he caught easily as the clone attempted a bleary punch, and, using his favorable position, brought his elbow down right on the clone's face.
Blood spattered across the floor as mis-matched eyes squeezed shut with the snap of his nose breaking. And then his resolve returned quickly, magic flaring through his trapped hand and out, violently, shoving the real Syaoran backward with its power.
His magic wrapped around him protectively, and it lessened the pain of the fiery blast, though it wasn't quite enough to protect him fully. He hit the ground and rolled backward, coming to rest on his rear.
Another searing blaze of fire came after him, and he crossed his arms, barely managing a "FUUKA SHOURAI" before the fire hit the threshold of the windy shield and dispersed. It felt like a bulldozer had just plowed into his magical power. He fought back against it as hard as he could, watching as his heartless doppelganger sketched letters in the air, letters which wrapped around his hand as the fire faded.
Syaoran jumped up as soon as he could, knowing if another attack like the last one was launched, he wouldn't be able to defend against it for very long. He looked for his sword, and it was now farther away than it had been before. He'd have to run carefully to get to it.
Fire lashed out, a blazing trail, and he dove, rolling back to his feet and running. Another blast, and he leapt straight up, twisting into a flip in mid-air to avoid the sweeping horizontal column of flame from taking his feet. He landed on his shoulder, hissing against the pain of the gashes from the Phoenix's talons protesting such a sudden shock, but rolled over and onto his feet in one smooth motion, coming back up and running for the sword, ducking, dodging, jumping over the magical attacks the clone was sending at him, though this time the clone seemed to understand what he was doing and was running for his own sword.
It was too late, as the real Syaoran dove, grabbing his sword, and rolling out of it practically on top of Hien. The clone stopped and his eyes darted between his sword and the one standing guard over it. He raised his hand, and unleashed another swirl of flame.
"Fuuka Shourai!" And the edge of the blade glowed green, cutting through the flame, dispersing it to either side of the real Syaoran. It was easier this way, he knew, directing his magic into the edge of his blade and cutting through the attacks would be more physically draining, but less magically draining. And he would need all the magic he could get.
The fire magic faded, and he once again stared into the apathetic two-colored eyes of the clone.
"You promised you'd eliminate me if I didn't have my own heart. So why have you not, yet? Are you not powerful enough?" The voice was as impassive as it had been since they'd first met in Acid Tokyo.
Twin amber orbs narrowed angrily. "You never once stopped to consider how they might feel if I did?"
The clone cast a glance at the group huddled together near the edge of the room. "So you would try to merely disable me, is that it? That won't be enough."
"No. I was hoping, perhaps, that they merely being here would be enough to remind you of everything you had done together, for even after all you've done; after gouging out Fai's eye and eating it, after abandoning them all, going off to join Fei Wong Reed, their enemy, even after attacking a world of innocent people and killing many of them just to reclaim a feather, they are still willing to forgive you, to accept you back," Syaoran glanced from his opponent to the group his opponent watched. "Your heart may be gone, but your memories still remain- memories of your emotions, memories of your adventures. Why do you continue to stubbornly deny them? Why won't you realize what kind of monster you've turned into? They're all very sad for you, Syaoran, because they can see the change. How long... will it take you to see?"
Their eyes met again, staring at each other over the wide gap that separated them.
"... I... Feel nothing for them..." the clone stated, though his voice was soft, unsure. He looked back at the observers, eyes meeting Sakura's, and his own eyebrows inched up. "Nothing... I don't... feel anything at all..."
"But you do," the real one stated, keeping his guard up, firm. "I've said it once before- this feeling... that Sakura is your most precious person... That's not from me. Those aren't my feelings, though I am in love with Kinomoto! They're yours! You have to remember at least some of it!"
"Kinomoto..." The clone looked from his original self to the girl leaning against the wall. "... the one who looked... just like her..." And his gaze traveled back to his opponent. "... She seemed... very surprised to see me..."
"No..." the real Syaoran whispered, and his knuckles went white gripping his blade as red-hot anger flowed into his veins. "... NO! What did you do to her?! Where is she?!"
"I could ask the same of you," the listless voice turned back to him.
"I did nothing," the real Syaoran growled. "I wouldn't allow anything to happen to the princess... I wish I could say the same of you, since you're the one she loves anyway!"
The clone's stolen hand raised, flame gathering in the palm. "... I sometimes wish that were true. But she doesn't. She doesn't remember anything!"
He...
Syaoran cut through the fire, setting his jaw against the effort it took.
He's... hurt... because of the price...
The fire faded, and as the last of the golden embers died, the clone was treated to the sight of his original self giving a half-cocked smile.
"I get it now..." he looked from the clone to the princess, and back. "Princess... your chance... it'll be soon... are you ready?"
She looked surprised, but nodded, stepping forward slightly, keeping her eyes on the figure with two different eyes.
He didn't even spare her a glance, still watching the real Syaoran, confused as to why the young man was smiling the way he was as he raised a hand to attack again, but as he did so, he hesitated, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder at the one he knew approached now.
"Perhaps she doesn't remember what happened before, what you had," twin amber eyes narrowed slightly. "But that won't change her heart... after. It all ends up the same. It always ends up the same."
The clone raised one eyebrow slightly above the other to show his confusion.
"It's like a curse, you know," the real one said. "But it's a good kind of curse... the kind of curse that ends well." He purposefully didn't look in Fai's direction. "You've lost hope of her returning your feelings... but you know she does... why do you fight it?"
"Because, I know nothing will be able to come out of it," the clone stated, gathering power again. "Because she's a princess. Because I am..."
"That's NOT an excuse," the real one called, readying himself for the attack.
"Syaoran," the princess called, and the clone hesitated when his opponent's gaze didn't leave his own, and he watched him shake his head. She wasn't talking to the real one. "Rank and position don't matter! What happened before, before my memories were scattered, I don't even want to think about because it's obviously painful for you to remember, but everything else that happened after... after I woke up... after I saw you... those moments I do remember, and I cherish them. They made me... they made me so very happy." She came to a stop a few feet behind the clone, her fierce resolve evident on her face. "I was happy every moment I spent with you, because I really do love you. Even now. Even after all you've done to hurt us, hurt the people around you who trusted you the most, I still love you."
The clone's hand slowly lowered, and the real relaxed his grip and his stance, though he still kept a protective wariness. A moment later, he was glad he did as Fai and Kurogane both jogged up to the princess' side, and the clone raised his hand toward the former mage, gathering power.
"Hand her over. We have things to do," the clone stated, though a waver in his resolve was evident.
"No," Fai said, and Kurogane nodded.
"She may love you, but we can't allow a madman's plottings to go on any longer," the ninja added. "We must stop his plan."
The magic gathered, then lashed out for the mage. Sakura jumped into the path and the fire caught the princess, sent her flying backward, but then, in a flash it was gone, and she landed hard on the ground, looking up to find her Syaoran suspended a few inches off the ground, a length of blood-spattered steel protruding from his chest.
"I thought I could make you change," the real Syaoran yelled, anger and hurt in his voice from his position against the clone's back. "Why do you stubbornly continue to reject a heart? Why won't you accept their love? WILL YOU ALWAYS BE A MONSTER?"
The clone attempted a response, but all that came was a low, groaning gurgle and a spill of blood from his lips. He raised his hand again, gathering his power, pointing it straight at the two men who had stepped forward and now stood between him and the princess.
"I gave up half my heart, half my power... I gave up time I couldn't afford to lose on the gamble that you'd end up not hurting them, not hurting her... I guess I was wrong to trust something that wasn't human," The real Syaoran said, shoving his sword in that much deeper, and the clone jerked, his hand spasmed, his concentration broke momentarily.
"RAITEI!"
And no one, not even the Princess raised a voice to try to stop the attack.
"SHOURAI!"
Lightning coursed through the clone's body, and he jerked and writhed until the light fully enveloped him and he disappeared. When it all disappeared, smoke rose from the body on the sword as it hung, limp and lifeless, until the real Syaoran finally lowered the point and watched the body tumble to the ground.
He looked up to his companions: Kurogane watched him back, steadily, no trace of emotions evident in his scarlet eyes. Fai watched the body of the clone for a moment, his one golden eye narrowing for a moment until he, too looked up to Syaoran, gaze as unreadable as the ninja's.
Syaoran looked down, clenching his eyes shut against the tears that pricked them, leaning heavily on his sword, mind repeating to him the words he had no choice but to believe- he'd killed their friend. He couldn't be trusted. He'd been rejected. He was glad he couldn't see the Princess, he knew he didn't have it in him to look into her eyes, see what his actions had done to her.
A hand rested on his back, and he flinched from it, half expecting the contact to be a blow.
"Syaoran-kun..." the princess whispered, and the touch became a bit more firm. "... You tried." She took a deep, shaking breath. "Thank you."
Syaoran collapsed to his knees, clenching his sword tightly as his stomach flipped, his heart felt as though it were being torn from his chest. He'd killed the one she'd loved... and here she was thanking him for trying his best.
It made him feel very small, and very miserable.
-
A/N: Watch as the mirror shatters, leaving those before it lost in its wake, cut by the glass.