Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sakura didn't intend to follow him out; it just sort of happened.
He glanced back when she opened the door, flinching. He looked away almost immediately, rejecting her in a way her Syaoran never had.
"Syaoran-kun, where are you going?"
"I was going to check the library to see if there was anything interesting to look at," he said dully. "I'll be back in a few hours." He turned his back on her and took another step toward the elevator.
Something's not right here, she thought, seeing the way his shoulders sagged, hearing the edge of resignation in his voice. Her instincts weren't sharp. She'd lived a sheltered life in a palace, had lived these past few months missing most of her memories, had lost everything that had once been important to her. Where the rest of her companions had hardships and experience to go by, she had only the most basic germ of intuition.
But something wasn't right here. "Syaoran-kun . . . Are you leaving us?"
He stopped for a moment, as if processing the question. He must've known she wasn't referring to any temporary trip, because he didn't answer right away.
"Tell me the truth. Are you leaving?"
He turned, his face a mask of tangled emotions: regret, sorrow, pain. Beyond all that, a spark of something unidentifiable. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, approaching her as if she was a wounded animal, and he was taking care not to scare her off. "Sakura . . ."
The sound of her name coming from his lips stirred strange feelings in her chest. Suddenly, it was a little harder to breathe. Her heart fluttered behind her ribs, the same way it did when a feather merged with her body. He called me Sakura. Just Sakura.
He took another cautious step, then a third, until they were face to face. Slowly, he lifted his hands to the side of her face. His fingertips brushed against her skin, as gentle as the wings of a butterfly. The touch wreaked havoc with the rhythm of her heart, sending the fluttering muscle into overdrive.
She wanted something, needed something, but she couldn't figure out what it was.
He held her face a moment more, looking at her with an expression she could neither identify nor look away from. It's like he's trying to memorize my face, she thought. Like he doesn't expect to see me again.
Almost a minute passed before the intensity of his gaze faded. His fingertips lifted from her cheeks, and he took a step back. "I'm leaving," he said. The words echoed hollowly in her ears.
"Why?"
"There's something I have to do." His eyes flashed to the bland carpet under his feet, then back to her, almost as if he was struggling to come to terms with whatever he was thinking. "If there's any way for me to come back after I'm done . . . I will. But you have to promise me something."
"Syaoran-kun . . ."
"I want you to ask Kurogane-san to teach you how to use a sword. Tell him that's my last wish for you. Tell him whatever it takes to make him agree. You need to be able to protect yourself, if I don't . . ." He gulped, eyes flashing away and back to her face again. "if I don't come back."
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"Away."
"No . . . You can't. You can't just leave me alone!"
He hushed her, touching one finger to her lips. Tears started leaking from the corners of his eyes. "Don't. Please don't, I've already decided. You're just making it more difficult. Now, promise me you'll ask. Please."
To protect myself? So I won't be a burden on the others? More tears flooded her eyes, blinding her. "Syaoran-kun . . ."
"Please."
Her vision cleared for a moment as the tears in her eyes slipped down her face. When her eyes shed the veil of water, everything else jumped into clarity. "You're going to Seishirou."
He winced. "Yes."
"Why?"
"It's complicated."
She believed him. She believed him because she knew no one else would. "Are you really going to come back?"
"If there's any possible way, I'll come back."
"How long . . . do you think?"
"A few months for me. I don't know how long it will be for you. You'll ask Kurogane-san to teach you?"
Sakura doubted her ability to say anything more, so she just nodded.
"Thank you," he whispered, looking at her for one long moment before turning back down the hallway. His pace picked up, until he was almost running away from her, but he stopped at the end of the hallway. "One more thing."
"Yes?" She looked up eagerly, to see his face once more before he disappeared.
He faltered visibly, choking on his words. "When the others come back . . . can you tell them something? Can you tell them I'm sorry?"
She nodded, vision blurring again. "I'll tell them."
"Thank you." He disappeared into the elevator as soon as the doors parted, leaving her behind.
The soup sat uneaten on the edge of the end table, cold after an hour of sitting out. Seishirou knelt down beside the bed and rested a hand on his brother's sweltering forehead. The disease sapping Fuuma's strength wasn't contagious, but on some level, Seishirou wished he could suffer alongside his younger brother. I can't, though, he thought. Not as I am now.
It had been years since Seishirou had been sick. After he'd taken Subaru's blood, his body had undergone a fundamental change that had kept him from getting sick at all. He hadn't been ill since he'd stopped aging.
"Fuuma," he murmured, nudging his brother's shoulder to wake him. The younger man didn't stir.
He picked the bowl of soup up off the table and brought it over to the kitchen sink to dump out its cold contents. The soggy noodles and soft chunks of chicken floated down the drain.
You'll have to wake up and eat sometime, Brother, he thought, turning on the faucet to wash down the remaining particles of soup. As he shut it off, he heard a mechanical voice coming from the metal box by the door. "You have a visitor, Seishirou-sama."
He hurried over to the box and hit the red button with the image of a phone on it. "Send them up immediately."
"Yes, sir," the voice crackled.
Hope was a treacherous emotion. When hopes were met, it gave the dangerous illusion of safety. When they weren't, they tormented the wishful thinkers who'd allowed themselves to hope in the first place. So, rather than getting antsy or excited about his visitor, he kept calm and went about his business as the elevator ascended from the lobby. He closed the door to Fuuma's room, not wanting his visitor to have to see his brother in that condition regardless of whether they were a stranger, or someone he knew. Even if that someone is the Little Wolf.
The elevator could be heard sliding up the shaft now. He turned toward the door, waiting for the doors to open. Too slowly, they parted to reveal his visitor.
"Syaoran-kun," he greeted the boy, smiling easily. The smiles hadn't always been this easy to maintain, but he'd had years of practice to get them right, and the result was that he had total control over his expression at all times.
The Little Wolf bowed his head and stepped out of the elevator. "I need to know something," he said, as the doors closed behind him.
"What do you want to know?"
The kid glanced back to make sure the man who'd escorted him to the apartment was gone. "People died in the apartment fire."
"Yes."
"Were you expecting that to happen? For people to die?"
"I was prepared for the eventuality, yes," he said, knowing there was no point in lying. Whatever Syaoran's decision was, he'd made it before walking through the door. "I was willing to sacrifice them to accomplish what I set out to do."
Syaoran's reaction was somewhat subdued for the response. He expected that, then.
"There's something else," the boy said after a moment. "Something I'm going to need from you if I go through with this."
Qualifications. He's put some thought into this. "And what would that be?"
"I know you only had a few months to teach the Other, back in Clow Country. I know you know a lot more than that, so . . . I want you to teach me, as much as you can given the timeframe. Teach me things I'll need to know to survive. Teach me how to fight like you."
Seishirou studied the boy for a long moment. He's stuck with the search for those feathers this long. He's probably a lot more stubborn than he was as a child. "You'll agree to come with me if I teach you?"
"Yes."
Seishirou stood. "Fine. We leave tomorrow morning."
