Chapter Sixteen

"You're going to learn how to walk on your hands," Kurogane announced as they reached the park. Syaoran nodded, glad he wouldn't have to trudge through a day of training on his healing feet. "Start by bracing yourself against that tree, and try to get as good a handstand as you can."

He went over to the indicated oak and laid down beside it, manipulating his body until it was upside-down against the trunk. The blood rushed down to his head, turning his face red and making his legs sway slightly.

"Careful. Don't fall."

Since when does Kurogane ever tell anyone to be careful? Syaoran wondered, moving his legs to get better balance. Several seconds passed as he waited for some sort of instruction.

"This will improve your balance and coordination," Kurogane explained. "It'll also make you more conscious of your surroundings, since you're looking from a skewed perspective. Now try to balance without leaning against the tree."

He tried, the muscles of his back going rigid as he tried to do an unsupported handstand. Not even a second passed before he fell back into the tree trunk. Kurogane winced.

Several minutes passed before he was able to do a halfway-decent handstand, and even then, he didn't dare try to walk on his hands. The ninja watched him try to regain his balance, flinching every time he swayed too far to one side.

"You seem jumpy, today," he noted, almost falling.

Upside-down, it took Syaoran a moment to identify the emotion that flickered across the ninja's face. Trying to understand the thoughts behind it only confused him more.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together.

"No. Nothing." The ninja crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Distracted by the brief conversation, he lost his balance and toppled over, like a stack of blocks pushed over by a child. An arm extended to help him up.

"Thank you . . ." he said, surprised.

"You lose focus too easily. In a proper fight, you have to be conscious of all your surroundings, without ever losing focus on your enemy. This exercise will teach you the basics of paying attention, but you're going to have to fight for real to get better."

He nodded once, and settled back into a handstand.

By the time the first hour was up, he could feel the blotchy bruises forming across his body from the falls. When the Other had trained, he'd come back with cuts and bruises galore, but never a word of complaint. Even after dozens of falls, even after his arms started to tremble and give out beneath him, he told himself he could do the same.

Three hours passed before he made his first successful step with his hands. Using his momentum to propel him into the next, he tumbled forward and landed flat on his back. Slowly, he sat up, ears ringing.

Kurogane waited wordlessly for him to do something. Syaoran stretched out his arms, letting the joints in his wrist crack a little bit to relieve the pressure. Then he moved back into a handstand, looking up at his teacher for approval. After a moment, the ninja nodded.

He trained until his arms couldn't support his weight.

"We're done for the day," Kurogane said, holding out a hand to help him up for the last time. Every muscle in his arms ached. After so many years imprisoned by Fei Wang Reed, his body had grown frail.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah." He took a cautious step forward, noting that the pain in his feet didn't seem so bad compared to the pain in his arms. Maybe I'm healing fast.

As they walked, Kurogane asked, "How's the shoulder?"

He lifted one hand to the bandages, noting the sore spot. "Not too bad. I think I'll be able to go to the arena again soon."

The ninja tensed, and Syaoran looked up. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about."

He frowned, not sure what to say. Usually, their conversations were just the opposite, with him denying any pain he felt.

They reached the apartment complex. Kurogane led him to the elevator. As they moved up through the tower, the ninja sighed. "I'm sorry."

The sentiment was so unexpected, it robbed Syaoran of any reply.

"About last night," Kurogane explained. "I should've waited until I was sure you were out of the blast range. That was ill done." The man's crimson eyes slid over to look at him, waiting for some kind of response.

"I shouldn't have been caught like that in the first place," was all he could think to say.

The ninja's eyes narrowed. Syaoran struggled to understand the thoughts behind that look.

Kurogane shed no light on that subject. "Tomorrow, you'll be practicing how to dodge attacks. It'll give you a sense of your opponent's range so you don't wander into it accidentally." Their elevator hit the floor they were staying on. "Eat, and then get some rest. You'll still be exhausted tomorrow, but you'll get used to it."

"Okay."

They walked to their little apartment. On their way in, Syaoran grabbed a plate of the spaghetti Fai had made. The noodles were cold, and he had to reheat the sauce, but he ate it. Ten minutes later, he was in bed, eyes shut.

After such a long day, one might've expected him to fall asleep instantly. But for a while, he lay awake, worrying.

"There's something I need from you . . ." Seishirou had said, and he couldn't deny that, for a moment, he'd considered listening. " . . . nothing that will impede your journey more than a few months."

The Other had trusted Seishirou, trusted him to keep his word. For a moment, Syaoran had trusted the man to do the same now as he'd done for the Other in Clow Country. Just for a second, he'd wavered. I could've left, he thought, immediately flinching away from the notion. Things were getting better, after all. Fai didn't hate him, or at least didn't act on his hatred. Kurogane trusted him enough to train him all over again. Sakura . . .

Sakura feels nothing for you, a small part of his mind said. You could go missing again tomorrow, and she wouldn't shed a tear.

No. That's not true.

You aren't the one she knows. You aren't the one she cares about.

"I know you're not happy where you are now," Seishirou had said. "You're feeling rejected, lost, alone. You won't have to feel those things with me."

Syaoran pushed the words away, unwilling to face them. I'm fine here, he told himself. And I don't need anyone's approval to stay.

"You'll never be him, so stop trying."

He winced at the memory of Sakura's voice, the first thing she'd said to him since their arrival in Infinity. "You'll never be him, so stop trying."

How could she know those words would cut me so deep? I didn't even know until she said them. He rolled over, wrapping the sheets tight around his torso. It should be better. At least she's talking to me. She let me hold her hand.

"Never. I will never love you."

"It was a dream," he whispered to himself. "That part was just a dream."

Except that it's true. She will never love you. You will always be the one who took her Syaoran away from her. His fingers coiled around the sheets, bringing them close to his body.

Don't think about it, he told himself. It shouldn't matter to you, anyway, not when you have everything else in the world to worry about.

His mind finally yielded to the needs of his body. His hands relaxed, and he drifted off, into that state between reality and dreams. For a while, his imagination wandered, drifting between his training, the encounter with Seishirou, the fudge sitting in the fridge, uneaten.

And after a while, he slipped into his dreams and saw visions of the Other.