Chapter Twenty-Four
"I have questions," Syaoran said, getting that out of the way before his old teacher made him agree to anything. "And qualifications."
"Naturally." Seishirou smiled lazily. "Come with me, then." The man turned, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Syaoran followed, keeping a few feet back, out of range. He didn't think Seishirou was going to attack him, now that he was being compliant, but assumptions had a way of backfiring in the most spectacular way possible, and he didn't want to risk getting knocked out and dragged away to do whatever his old teacher had in mind.
"Where are we going?"
"To my apartment, in the Paradox District."
"Why are we going there?"
"There's something I have to show you, to put things in perspective."
He said nothing more as they walked. Even when he'd trained with the dark-haired man in Clow, he'd been aware of how indirect his methods could be. That wasn't me, that was the Other, he reminded himself. The thought came automatically now, whenever he referenced something that related to his clone's past. I have lived his life from the moment he landed in Clow, but I will never be him.
He tried to return to what he'd been thinking about a moment ago. Seishirou has always been cryptic, even when he was helping me learn. He would always say things I didn't understand. Was he like that because he'd been traveling so long he didn't feel the need to tell me anything, or because he thought I wouldn't understand? That would make sense. If he told me about all the things in all the worlds he's seen, I still wouldn't understand half of it. Even when I first saw the Hanshin Republic, I was awed by all the technology, the buildings, the cars . . .
The Other was awed, at least.
Seishirou turned a corner, his beige cloak billowing out behind him, throwing clouds of ash into the air. Syaoran followed, refocusing. When he told the Other he was looking for vampires, way back then . . . That was the most direct piece of information he ever gave up, and he didn't even include any details about who they were, or that they were traveling through dimensions to avoid him. I still don't know the story behind that. Maybe I should ask. Maybe I'll get an answer.
"We're here."
The steel skyscraper must've gone up at least fifty floors. One-way windows reflected open sky, a bright blue expanse laced with cumulus clouds. The squared-off edges of the tower shimmered as the sunlight hit them, producing a glare that threw rainbows across the nearby buildings. Through the windows on the bottom floor, he saw a lobby with a hardwood floor, recently polished, and half a dozen flat-screen TVs like those he'd seen in numerous shops on the way here. A front desk made of some rich, polished wood dominated one wall, while the rest of the lobby overflowed with soft seats and end tables.
"You live here?"
"Temporarily."
"How can you afford this? How long have you been here?"
"When you've been traveling as long as I have, you learn how to make money fast. Come on, we'd best be getting up to my suite."
After a brief hesitation, Syaoran followed. The man behind the front desk looked up in distaste as their grayed figures moved across the floor, but his disdainful expression quickly changed to one of warmth as he took in Seishirou's face. "Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Devin. Will you please have one of your employees send the elevator down?"
"Of course."
They have people that do that? Syaoran wondered. What kind of place is this?
"Are you coming, or not?" Seishirou asked. Syaoran hurried over to his side, then fell back a little bit, keeping his distance. They passed through a small antechamber, where an attendant waited for them beside a pair of red elevator doors.
"To the penthouse, Seishirou-sama?"
"If you would be so kind."
The short, balding man hit a button in the elevator, allowing the doors to part. The three of them stepped inside the spacious elevator, where the hotel employee pressed the appropriate buttons and sent them shooting up to the top floor. Syaoran fidgeted as they moved, uneasy in the closed off space. On the off chance Seishirou decided to kill him now, or whisk him away to another dimension, he'd have no space to fight back, and no means of escape.
His old teacher didn't attack, though, and they reached the top. The doors opened up again, and they stepped out, leaving the balding man to return to the main floor.
However luxurious this hotel was, Seishirou had decorated his apartment comfortably, like a regular house. A wine red couch sat in one corner of the room, in view of the TV. Several rugs were sprawled across the wooden floor, giving the suite a softer touch.
"Why did you bring me here?" Syaoran asked, not sure how any of this could be relevant to making a deal.
For once, Seishirou wasn't smiling. Without a word, he strolled across the apartment, over to a door covered in ornate carvings. Syaoran edged forward.
The man pressed down on the handle, but didn't open the door. "You've realized by now that time flows differently in each dimension, yes?"
He nodded.
"So, even though you saw him not long ago, you'll understand why his condition has deteriorated so. I ran into him in the last world I went to, and found him like this."
Found who? he wondered as the door swung open.
"My brother, Fuuma, left Tokyo shortly after you did. In the world he went to afterward, he fell ill with a strange disease that leaves him exhausted, always near death."
Syaoran stared at the unconscious man's face, noting the paleness of his skin, the gaunt features of his once-smooth face.
"The feather I have keeps the disease from spreading too fast, but if I take it away for more than a few hours at a time, he grows ill again, and I know you'll need the feather back at some point. I need a long-term fix for this, something that will allow him to travel on his own again."
"And that's what you need me for," Syaoran surmised, looking down at his feet.
"Yes."
"I don't have any magic that can help him, if that's what you're looking for. All the magic I have is for self-defense, and even if I were to try and adapt that to some form of healing magic, I doubt there's anything I can do."
"That's why I contacted Yuuko-san. The price to save him requires me to enlist your help."
He made himself look up at the ill man in the bed. His brother. All he's doing is trying to save his brother. The plight was worthy of pity, worthy of a steep price, but he knew from what Seishirou had told him before that the price his old teacher had in mind would interfere with his quest to find Sakura's feathers.
So why did you go looking for him, if you weren't willing to listen? part of his mind demanded. You know the price is going to be something you're unwilling to pay, so why give him false hope?
"So you see, we need help. Are you willing to help us?"
"You still haven't told me what I'd need to do."
"Travel with me. I'll keep you safe until the time comes, but there is a certain place we have to go in order to pay the price. I give you my word that you have nothing extraordinary or personal at risk. I will pay the brunt of the price, all I need is someone to assist me with the final stages of my payment."
"Your word . . ." Your word was good in Clow, but that was a promise with a child over a history book. Is your word as good over something of value? "Can I trust it?"
"You have before."
"Can I trust it now?"
Seishirou nodded. "For the life of my brother, take me at my word."
Syaoran looked away again, turning from the door and moving over to the edge of the couch. I can believe that, he thought. Seishirou never mentioned Fuuma was his brother. I had to find that out from Fuuma, back in Tokyo. But it makes sense that, if someone precious to him is dying, he'd do anything he could. That was why I . . . No, that was why the Other went on this journey. He sighed. "What kind of timeline are we looking at here?" he asked, in a monotone voice.
"A few months of your time. I don't know precisely how much time that's going to be for the rest of your group, seeing as they'll be in different dimensions, but Yuuko's set up the path of least interference, so it shouldn't be too long for them, either. As for Fuuma . . . he only has a few months left. If we don't leave Infinity soon, we won't finish up our work in time to save him."
Syaoran considered that for a moment. A few months shouldn't seem so long, he thought. But it took my clone less than an hour to destroy months of work, and these past few weeks have been the longest of my life. No, a few months shouldn't seem like an eternity, but it very well could be.
But it's his brother. He's just trying to save someone he cares about. That would be like you saving Sakura. Even if it took years, even if you had to give everything you owned to save her, you would do it. Even now, even though she's mourning over the Other, even though you don't love her like the Other did . . . Is it so different? Is your journey any more important to you than Seishirou's is to him? "I need a few days," he said. "I need to think, to get away from this for a bit. But I need your word on something else, before I do anything."
"And what would that be?"
"Whatever I choose . . . Whether I help you or not . . . You can't come after me, or Sakura, or any of my companions. I won't make this choice with a sword hanging over their heads. If I feel they're in enough danger, I'll kill myself to keep you from harming them, so . . . Do I have your word?"
To his credit, Seishirou didn't hesitate a second. "You have my word."