Chapter Nineteen
"I do want him dead. Him and his clone both."
The words echoed around in his head, solidifying themselves in his memory. Tendrils of rage coiled around his stomach.
Yet he had not acted on his anger. He'd strolled through the living room as if he had every right to interrupt. The worst part of the rage had come later, as his sleep-deprived mind stewed over the tainted words.
". . . want him dead . . ."
He crossed his arms in front of him, curling up to keep warm. Cheap apartments had drafty bedrooms, and living on the outer edge of the building allowed the morning chill to seep in through the walls.
Syaoran wished once again for his mind to quiet long enough for him to rest. The few times he'd fallen asleep, dreams of the Other had driven him back into awareness. Though there was nothing horrible to see tonight, the mere thought of watching his clone made him wish he didn't have to dream. He'd managed two hours of sleep at most, almost nothing next to what he should be getting to stay sharp and attentive throughout his training.
A patch of sunlight peeked in from his window, shining against the door. It'll be time to get up soon, he thought wearily. Not half a minute later, someone knocked on his door.
"It's time to eat," Kurogane said, sounding annoyed.
Syaoran contemplated feigning sleep a few moments longer, then sighed and sat up. "Coming."
He dressed as quickly as he could, then shuffled out to the living room, where Fai was setting down a plate of crescent-shaped pastries.
None of them looked at him as he entered. He wasn't sure whether to take that as an omen, or if he should feel relieved. He sat down, ignoring the dazed feeling in his head. The sensation seemed similar to being drunk, at least from what he knew of the Other's memories.
Breakfast was the quiet event it always was. The sheer normalcy seemed out of place after all he'd overheard last night, but he didn't dare speak of it. A fragile peace existed at this table; regardless of what had happened the previous night, this was neutral ground.
"Ready to go?" Kurogane said as he finished eating. He looked a bit tired, too. He stayed up later than usual, Syaoran thought, feeling suddenly grateful that the ninja was allowing him to keep secrets.
"Yeah."
The ninja dropped his plate in the sink and walked over to the door, moving as if he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. Syaoran thought about asking him what he was thinking about, then decided there would be no point.
". . . makes me wonder if the kid is telling us everything."
They don't really trust you, part of his mind said. The thought wove threads of doubt through his heart. Fai wants you dead, and that's no surprise, but no one trustsyou to tell the truth.
Why should they? he countered, almost angrily. They're right. I've kept things from them. They have every right to be suspicious.
They reached the elevator. Kurogane pressed the appropriate buttons, and they descended in silence.
The walk to the park was the same as always. The ninja told him to practice walking on his hands again, which was a relief, given how many bandages he still wore from yesterday's training. By the time the sun went down, he could walk almost halfway across the park without falling.
"We've got to stop by the arena on our way," Kurogane said, looking up at the darkened sky. "If you're ready to go back."
"I can fight." Besides, we need the money to pay the rent.
They started walking toward the massive dome. This part of the city overflowed with people: competitive warriors sizing up their opponents, young children toting around hotdogs half the length of their arms, bettors handing wads of money to arena employees. For such an advanced city, they sure do love to fight, Syaoran thought. Clow Country hadn't had any such traditions. The closest Clow came to these violent battles were sports played at annual festivals. Maybe it's a leftover from the society they came from, Syaoran thought, drawing on what he knew of history to understand this world as it was.
"What are you thinking?" Kurogane asked, out of nowhere.
"I was just wondering what kind of tradition these battles were founded on. It seems like a world with such impressive technology and architecture would've sacrificed fighting for cooperation, but . . . Who can say? It might be some vestige of the society that came before theirs. Why?"
A pair of red eyes scrutinized his face for a moment. "I didn't know you were interested in history."
For a moment, the remark confused him. Of course he was interested in history. He'd shown them that dozens of . . .
Oh, he thought, eyes falling to his feet. I guess that wasn't me, was it? He frowned.
They walked past the tourist section, and moved across a benign-looking waiting room. Kurogane walked up to the reception desk and requested the next open slot in the tournaments. After a few moments, the woman behind the counter handed him a ticket with their scheduled fight and a yellow sheet of paper. "All participants must sign a waiver before entering the pit."
The ninja filled out the form, writing in the blanks with ease.
The language here must be very similar to the one he learned in his home country, Syaoran thought, watching with interest. He understood the words well enough, but he didn't know if he'd be able to write things in this language with such ease. The Other learned dozens of languages, but he knew the language of Clow best of all. And because of that, so do I.
"We're done here," Kurogane said. Syaoran walked over to his side without a word. They started toward the Ephemeral Apartments. "We'll take it easy tomorrow, so you don't hurt yourself before the fight."
"Thank you."
The ninja looked at him as if his reply had been strange somehow. The red-eyed man said nothing, but his face turned thoughtful after a moment.
It's strange, he thought. In the beginning, it seemed like he'd be the hardest to get along with, but now . . . Even though he knows I'm keeping secrets, he's the only one who gives a damn about what happens to me.
His thoughts flashed to Fai and Sakura, their words echoing in his ears for the hundredth time today.
"You'll never be him, so stop trying."
"I do want him dead. Him and his clone both."
Syaoran shivered. If they were just angry, things should've started to cool down by now, but . . . Why isn't it getting any easier? At least I should be used to the way they treat me.
The trip to the battle dome added several minutes to their trip, just long enough for Syaoran to feel the brisk autumn air seeping through his clothes. The cold was easy to ignore during training, when he was exerting himself. Without that, though, the chill in the air was more noticeable. It'll be winter here, soon. I wonder if we'll be gone by the time it snows.
He hoped so. Even before Sakura had lost her feathers, he'd been restless, compelled to travel and explore.
No, he corrected himself. The Other liked to travel, not you.
Some small part of his mind responded to that. Would it be so terrible to have something in common with the Other? Sharing so many years of memory . . .
"You'll never be him, so stop trying."
"Kid?"
The voice broke his reverie. "Huh?"
Kurogane rolled his eyes, sighing. "Quit staring off into space. It makes you look like a stray dog."
"Sorry," he said. His teacher sighed.
"You're a strange kid."
"I'm sorry."
As they walked, Syaoran was surprised to realize they were headed in the wrong direction. His apprehension must've been apparent, because Kurogane chose exactly that moment to explain. "We're going to try blindfolding you again. We're not nearly as far off as last time, so you'll be well within the manju bun's range." The ninja handed him the piece of black cloth. Syaoran stared at it a moment longer, his heart sinking a little.
Kurogane was going on, so he swallowed his reply and tried to come to terms with the fact that this particular exercise had never turned out well for him. "If Seishirou finds you, take off the blindfold and run. If morning comes and you're still not back, I'll come looking for you. Otherwise, everything is the same as it was in Outo."
Hands shaking a little bit, he wrapped the piece of cloth over his eyes. As soon as he was blinded, everyone and everything seemed to disappear from existence. A moment ago, his mentor had been within sight, easy to get to in the event of a catastrophe. Suddenly, that reassurance was gone.
Let's see if I can make it back in time to get some sleep, he thought, trying to quell the nausea swirling around in his stomach. He started walking.