Chapter Fifty

"Magic is driven by the mind, but limited by the body," Seishirou explained, watching the boy's reactions to see if he understood. "It's possible to manipulate the level of power anywhere within these boundaries, but it requires focus and practice to manage that quickly. Emotion plays a role in the force of your spell as well. If you're angry or in pain, you'll be able to access the full scope of your power, but you'll lack control. Likewise, if you're calm and relaxed, you'll have better control, but your spells might be weaker."

Syaoran nodded, absorbing the lesson with a rapt expression. Seishirou took this to mean this was new information for the boy. His clone didn't have magic when I trained him in Clow, he thought. And it seems this one has little background in the functions and application of it. He went on. "You must always be in control of yourself, whatever your emotions are. It is possible to be both furious and calm at the same time. In battle, this is the ideal state in which to cast spells. In order to do so effectively, you have to acknowledge your anger and let it run its course, while still keeping a cool head."

"What about other emotions?"

"Like what?"

The Little Wolf fidgeted, moving closer to the glowing embers of the fire. It was well past dark now, though the lack of light did little to affect his vision, and the branches they'd used to make the fire had turned to ash. We'll need to bank that fire before we sleep, so Fuuma doesn't freeze.

The boy had gathered his wits. "Good emotions, like joy, or love, or . . . things like that." His face reddened, eyes straying to the dying coals as if their light held some answer.

His mind is still stuck on that princess. That'll be a problem. "You can draw magic from those, too, but they aren't as reliable as raw fury."

Syaoran looked down. "Okay."

Still quick to agreement though, Seishirou thought, revising his assumption that there was a problem. "Some emotions aren't conducive to using magic. Grief and sorrow will only serve to break your control. It's hard to build up much enthusiasm for magic when you're feeling either of those. Frustration that doesn't develop into anger will also hinder your spell casting. Whatever you feel, though, the most important thing is to be calm." Seishirou doubted that would be a problem. Even when upset, the Little Wolf kept a level head.

The boy nodded, to show he was still paying attention. Seishirou forced his lips up into a smile. "That's all we need to talk about tonight," he said. "The rest can wait until tomorrow."

Syaoran frowned. "Oh."

"Have you taken your pills?"

"Not yet." The boy fished the translucent orange bottle out of his pocket and popped one of the pills into his mouth. His expression grew distant as he did so, as if he was thinking about the nightmares that plagued him.

He said he dreamed of the Other, Seishirou thought. But are they psychic dreams, or nightmares born of insecurities? He hadn't met a dreamseer since that girl in Piffle World, and she had only picked up her vestige of power from a tenuous connection to another witch. No, if Syaoran was a dreamseer, the dreams wouldn't be so focused around his clone. It's more likely there's a lingering connection. If this Syaoran was able to see everything as the Other experienced it, they may yet be in contact.

"Is something wrong?" Syaoran asked timidly, noticing his stare.

Seishirou shook his head, rekindling his false smile. "Sorry. Zoned out for a minute there. Let's get some more wood for this fire before we go to sleep for the night."

The boy rose, obedient as ever, and they walked into the woods.


Sakura fell backwards into his arms, her jade eyes meeting his blue eye for the first time in two weeks. Those eyes closed as the feather integrated with her body, and a moment later, she was unconscious.

Yuuko watched the exchange through the magic circle Mokona had provided. "That is all I was requested to pass on," she said emptily. If Fai had been paying closer attention, the careful neutrality in the witch's voice might have made him wonder what was going on in the other world. As it was, he was just relieved.

"Thanks, Yuuko-san," he said, showing her the first genuine smile he'd shown anyone in far too long.

The witch bowed her head and disappeared, the circle of light wavering for a moment before going out. Mokona plopped down onto the kitchen table with a contented expression

"So the kid's alive . . ."

The magician glanced up at Kurogane, his curiosity spiking as he registered the ninja's tone. He didn't say anything, though, not wanting to chance a difficult conversation when he couldn't guess what the ninja was thinking.

Kurogane sank down into the kitchen chair, one elbow on the edge of the table as he rested his forehead in his hand. He looked somewhere between hung over and exhausted.

"I'm going to put Sakura-chan to bed," Fai said, moving the princess so she sat more naturally in his arms. Her eyes didn't open, but her expression was more peaceful than it had been since Tokyo. Without waiting for a reply, he brought Sakura to her room and laid her down on the bed, picking Mokona up and laying the long-eared creature next to Sakura. Fai pulled the sheets over Sakura's body so she wouldn't be cold. She grew up in a desert country, after all, he thought, brushing a fine strand of sunset-colored hair away from her face."Sweet dreams, Sakura-chan."

He left the room, closing the door behind him. He was about to go back to his own room, sensing Kurogane would need some time to come to terms with the news. While it was probably not as difficult as accepting his student was dead, finding out the boy had truly betrayed them for Seishirou had to hurt. Fai doubted Kurogane would be back to his normal, abrasive self for a few more days. And by then, we'll be in another country, looking for feathers.

Before he reached his door, the ninja spoke. "Sit down. We need to talk about something."

Fai approached the table, feeling the smile on his face sour. "I never pegged you for much of a conversationalist, Kurogane," he said lightly.

The ninja pulled Souhi from its scabbard and let the sharp side graze the skin at the crease of his elbow. Fai blinked, watching the red fluid well up from the cut. "I won't offer," the ninja said, staring at the wall. "But it's going to bleed either way, so . . ."

The magician had trouble speaking around the lump in his throat. "I . . . I don't have to."

"You might as well. There's no point in torturing yourself. The kid's not dead." At this, a tiny thread of emotion leaked into Kurogane's voice.

The sweet scent of the blood filled Fai's nose, shredding his self-control. His breath came quicker, and his senses sharpened. The sound if the ninja's heartbeat seemed deafening to his ears, and the brilliant crimson stood out against his skin like black ink on paper. A drop of red slid down the curve of Kurogane's arm, then hung tantalizingly from his skin. Fai caught the drop with his finger, being careful not to scratch the dark-haired man with his claws.

The warm wetness filled the grooves of his fingerprint. Slowly, Fai drew his finger across the trickle of blood and brought it to his mouth. The blood tasted like liquid fire, a brilliant explosion of flavor on the tip of his tongue. All other thoughts fled from his mind, and he lowered his lips to the dripping cut, desperate to sate his long-ignored thirst. As soon as his lips made contact with Kurogane's skin, he felt the surge of emotion shared through the blood bond.

Kurogane, it seemed, was not as stoic as he tried to act. Fai felt the tangled mass of emotions, and the confusion underlying it all. On the one hand, Kurogane was hurt by his student's apparent betrayal, but on the other, the ninja was preoccupied with the coils of guilt wrapped around his every thought. Fai sensed that the ninja had gone over the night before Syaoran had left dozens of times since they'd gone after Seishirou, trying to piece together other scenarios where he might've been able to prevent the boy from leaving. The fact that he had missed the signs—he, who ought to have been the first to see them—had caused Kurogane much grief.

It's not your fault, Fai thought to him, directing the thought through their blood bond. The ninja stiffened, recoiling at the mental touch.

I know that, moron.

Fai's lips curved into a smile over the line of blood. Things are going to be okay. He's alive.

He's with that demon-controlling bastard.

Ah, Fai thought, momentarily shielding his mental presence. So that's it. To Kurogane, he thought, It'll be okay.

"Seishirou's a monster," the ninja said aloud, uneasy with telepathy. "And that kid is too damn obedient."

Fai thought of Syaoran's quick agreement to keep searching for Sakura's feathers. In such circumstances, it would've made more sense for Syaoran to split up from them and return to his home world. At first, Fai had assumed he'd stayed only for the fear of getting killed on the way there, but he was much more likely to get killed traveling with Seishirou than he was to get killed here. He must realize that. So why did he stay as long as he did? Why not go with Seishirou out of hand?

"Don't ask such stupid questions," Kurogane muttered. Fai withdrew his lips from the laceration, swallowing the last few drops of blood.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

Only you would get mad at someone's thoughts. "It just seemed strange to me. Why he'd stay, that is."

Kurogane's eyes slid to Sakura's door, then back to the table. "We're still leaving at first light. You might as well get ready to go."