Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kurogane knew his student had trouble sleeping. The bruise-like shadows over his eyes were the most obvious indication, but now the sleepless nights were starting to affect his focus.

"Your reaction time is slowing down again," Kurogane said, bringing Souhi around and leaving a shallow cut across the boy's nose. He jerked back, almost a quarter of a second too slow. The sudden movement threw him backwards into the dirt, leaving him vulnerable to attack. The ninja stepped forward, letting the tip of his sword rest on the boy's throat. "You died."

"Yeah . . ." He looked up, his expression torn between fear and hope. When the ninja didn't move the point of his blade away, the hope vanished.

Kurogane sighed. "Look, I don't know what's keeping you up at night, but you need to let it go, because it's messing with your focus."

Something flashed across the boy's face too fast for him to identify. Slowly, he lifted his sword and allowed the kid to stand up. He said nothing, just blinking sleepily as if the reminder had exhausted him even more.

"Okay, we're going to try this again. Ready?"

The boy took a defensive stance and nodded. Kurogane shifted forward to attack, and the dance began again.

They worked like this for a few more hours, until the kid was covered in fresh cuts. Exhausted as he seemed, he offered no word of complaint. He's afraid that if he complains, I'll have reason to stop training him. That's why he always waits to be dismissed. That's why he won't complain even when the pain is obvious on his face. He sighed. "It's time to go back."

"Okay." The quick obedience was something every master looked for in their students, but it actually worried him a little. The kid hadn't balked at being blindfolded, even knowing nothing good ever happened during that phase of the training. He'd been reluctant to display the extent of his injuries the night he'd come back with bloody feet. He'd agreed to every part of his training so far, without a fight, without a single word of protest. The perfect student, Kurogane thought, trying to figure out why the kid's flawless behavior bothered him. Does he need approval so much that he'll risk overextending himself to get it?

The kid glanced up at him, his expression turning to worry. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't say it.

I can't exactly yell at him for listening to everything I say, Kurogane thought, frustrated. But there must be some way to get my point across without breaking down what I've built up. He looked at the kid again, trying to think of something he could ask the kid to do that he should refuse.

That could work, he thought, as an idea occurred to him. He turned toward the boy. "I want you to go meet up with Seishirou."

That seemed to jar the kid out of his fatigue. His face paled and his eyes went wide and still, like he'd just witnessed a car accident. He hesitated, hands clenching into fists at his side. "W-what do you need me to do?"

Kurogane's palm hit his forehead with the force of a baseball bat. "That was a test," he said. The boy's shoulders sank in relief.

"I . . . failed, didn't I?"

He nodded, trying to be patient with the boy. Don't destroy the complex. "You said you weren't suicidal."

"I'm not."

"Then why would you agree to that?"

Confusion flashed across the boy's face. "Because you told me to."

Let it go. Just let it go. "And if I told you to jump off a building, would you do it?"

"No."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind. Let's go."

They hurried to their new apartment building in silence. After a few minutes, the kid's confused expression gave way to the dull gaze of the sleepless. Maybe this wasn't the best time to test his judgment, the ninja thought. In times of strife, he'd spent days at a stretch guarding Princess Tomoyo. Sleep deprivation stole judgment away almost as reliably as alcohol. Though heavy amounts of the latter tend to relieve the former, he thought as they passed through the doors. Maybe I can make the kid pass out for a few hours.

They moved to the elevator and waited for it to lift them to the right floor. Once they were there, they walked down the corridor and turned left into their new apartment.

"You're later than usual, Kurogane," the mage said, wiping down the counters. "We already had dinner."

Sakura said, "Welcome back."

The mage is taking care of her, he thought, noting the mechanical quality to the princess's voice. There's no point in worrying about her right now.

The kid walked toward his room, like he always did after practice. "Hey, stick around, I've got something for you."

He glanced back, unsure if this was another test. Kurogane beckoned him once, impatiently, and pulled a bottle of wine from the shelf.

Sakura muttered something about going to bed, and fled to her room. Fai looked on with interest as the ninja poured wine into three shot glasses.

"I'm not sure if I should . . ." the kid began, looking guilty.

"Sit down. Have a drink. It'll help you sleep."

The back of the kid's neck turned crimson, as if his sleeplessness was an embarrassing medical condition. Obedient at ever, he walked back to the table and sat down, sipping at the wine as if he was drinking poison instead of a shot.

"What's the occasion?" Fai asked, after he'd downed his first drink. Kurogane poured the mage a second, hoping the alcohol would put him to sleep as well.

"To the new apartment," he said, lifting his glass ceremoniously. The other two did the same, one with exuberance, the other with obvious reluctance.

The ninja waited until the kid had about three drinks in him before he started asking questions. "So why are you having so much trouble sleeping?"

The boy shrugged shrugged. Surprisingly, Fai helped him along. "Is it nightmares?"

"Sometimes."

"What about?" the mage asked, pouring himself another shot.

"Lots of things . . ."

"Oh, be specific, Syaoran-kun."

It was hard to tell whether the kid was actually drunk or not. His speech didn't slur, and he'd yet to do anything clumsy or stupid. No, the only indication of his drunkenness was the fact that he seemed to take no notice of the mage's suddenly playful mood.

"The usual things. Getting killed in horrible ways, watching someone important die . . ." He hesitated, weighing the next words before he spoke them. "Mostly I dream of the other."

The word seemed to have some significance to the boy, but, slightly inebriated from the wine, Kurogane couldn't guess what. "The other what?"

"The other," he said, with more emphasis.

"You mean the clone?" Fai asked sharply.

Syaoran poured himself another shot and drained it in a single gulp. Definitely drunk, Kurogane thought. "What about him?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't remember. They're just dreams . . . They don't mean anything."

It's bothering him a lot more than that, if it's keeping him up. He should remember. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"The other is scary enough by himself, don't you think?"

He says "other" like it's a name. "Why do you call him that? The Other?"

"What else am I supposed to call him? It's not like I can call him by name."

"Why not?"

"Names have great power in some places. They're not things to be handed out carelessly. If I call him by name, it'll be like acknowledging the power he has over me." He smiled bitterly, lifting his glass up to take another drink. Kurogane pushed his hand down.

"What power does he have over you?"

The boy shook his head, paling a little. Out of nowhere, he rose out of his seat. "I should go to bed."

"Sit back down." He pulled the boy's sleeve, forcing his hand back to the table. He bent down to accommodate the movement, but didn't sit. "What power does he have over you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Like hell it doesn't!"

Cold anger flashed across the kid's expression, aging his face almost a decade. "Why don't you pour me another shot and see if it'll loosen my tongue?" he demanded.

Kurogane brushed the bottle aside with the back of his hand and stood. To his surprise, the kid didn't back down. "You're right. Maybe you should go to bed."

Another flash of anger, this one somehow colder than the last. The boy held his ground a moment more, testing his boundaries, then turned and started for his room, swaying with each step. He stopped at the door, leaning against the wooden frame for support. "I don't know which is worse," the boy said, his voice calm, frigid. "The fact that one of you wants me dead, or that the other one thinks I need to be drunk to answer a question."

He stalked through the threshold, slamming the door behind him.