Chapter Thirty-Two

Seishirou heard the fibers of Syaoran's cotton shirt ripping apart, heard the unmistakable sound of something sharp being driven through flesh, but the most troubling thing in that moment was what he didn't hear.

Four heartbeats, he thought, mind racing so fast that, if the words had been spoken, they would've gone by too rapidly to be understood. One ninja, one mage, Fuuma, and me.

He heard the distinct whistle of a blade cleaving through the air, and remembered he was in the middle of a fight. Rather than parrying the blow, he dodged backward, his shoulder hitting the wall hard enough to crack the sheetrock. He used that momentum to push his body toward the door.

His opponent, the dark-haired ninja who'd stormed in here looking for the Little Wolf, leapt forward, a snarl on his lips. Seishirou brought his blade—named "Lion's Bane," in the tongue of old Azarath—around, knocking the ninja's sword away with superhuman force. There was no time for games now, no time to hold back his strength in favor of a fair fight.

Little Wolf was dying.

"Hey, where are you going?" the ninja demanded, fury accenting every word. Seishirou ignored the man, whipping around the corner and flinging himself into Fuuma's room. Horror washed through him as he took in the scene before him.

Considering the injury, there was remarkably little blood on the floor. The boy's heart had stopped almost instantly when the magician's had buried his claws in the muscle. Syaoran's face was frozen in a mask of shock, his head tilted up toward the mage as the blood flow in his body abruptly stopped. The mage was still holding onto the boy, one hand supporting him by the shoulder, the other impaling him. The tips of the mage's fingernails stuck out of Syaoran's back.

Seishirou had seen a lot of violence in his travels, killed people who'd gotten in his way, but this disaster touched him in a way the other's hadn't. He lurched forward, feeling slow despite the inhuman speed at which his body moved. "Little Wolf!"

The blond vampire just seemed to be realizing what he'd done. With an almost childlike look of disbelief, he pulled his hand out of Syaoran's chest, allowing a gush of blood to pour out of the boy. Seishirou rushed forward, passing the vampire as he ran to catch Syaoran. There's still time, he told himself. The flesh hasn't started to decay.

Viscous fluid from the dimensional sea wrapped around his body, and the boy's. From the corner of his good eye, he saw the shifting globes wrap around his brother, encasing his diseased body in much the same fashion. As he turned his head away from his brother, Seishirou saw the dark-skinned ninja burst into the room, saw the look of shock on the warrior's face as he drew the same conclusions that had flitted through his own mind, took in the same gruesome scene he'd witnessed for himself. "What the hell?" the ninja asked, raising one hand as if to help Syaoran. Seishirou clutched the boy closer to his chest, wishing the globules of fluid would take them away faster. He had to go now, if the Little Wolf was going to survive.

He caught one final glance of his brother before the three of them were swallowed up by the dimensional sea.

He did not panic. He did not cry. He did not yell. It was not in his nature to do these things in the first place, and his years as Tomoyo's most faithful protector had only cemented that pattern in his reactions. So, as the dark-haired bastard fled from this world with the boy in his arms, Kurogane did not panic or cry or yell. He lost his temper.

"What the hell!" he snarled, snatching the vampire by the collar and driving his fist into the blond man's nose. A loud crack resonated through the room. "What the hell did you do?"

Fai didn't answer. Fluid dripped from his nose, the same crimson color as the blood glistening on his fingernails. Kurogane hit him again, knocking the mage's head back into the wall.

Everything around him was tinged red, like he had a thin coating of blood over his eyes. Red everywhere, splattered across the carpet, dripping slowly down the vampire's claws. Blood that was gone from this world now, dripping down the dead kid's shirt in some other dimension. Kurogane's fist slammed into Fai's jaw, resulting in another sharp snap, but no more red than there already was. "What did you . . . What did you . . ." He faltered, loosing another brutal punch. This time, the crack came as much from his knuckles as it did from Fai's face.

"I killed him," the magician whispered, his single eye far, far away.

This time, Kurogane punched him in the stomach. The vampire flinched, but otherwise didn't react. His face was starting to swell, becoming discolored.

A long, long time ago, Kurogane had watched someone stick a sword through his mother's heart, and gone into a wild rage, slaying demons without restraint. But there were no demons to kill here, not now that Seishirou had taken off.

No demons except the one standing, blank-faced and bruised, in front of him. The ninja brought his broken hand around again, striking the center of a bruise. A low whimper broke free of the mage's throat, and Kurogane punched him again, out of spite.

"I killed him." The confession echoed around in his head, the same confession Seishirou had given him after killing the boy in Outo. But, Syaoran hadn't really been dead then, not for real.

Now he was.

For real.

"I didn't . . . I didn't mean to . . ." Fai whispered, voice distorted because of the swelling.

"Shut up!" There was a loud snap as Kurogane struck the gold-haired man again. "Shut the fuck up!"

He had thought he'd reached the limit of his anger earlier today, when he'd found out the kid had gone off to meet with the enemy. How that outburst paled in comparison to the raw fury burning in his veins now . . . How little he cared that his apprentice was a traitor. How pathetic he felt for letting this happen.

The pain in his hand was starting to break up his concentration. He let go of the magician's shirt and stepped back, breathing hard, trying to gain some semblance of control. Such displays of anger, however justified, were uncivilized, unnecessary. He could kill half a dozen men in a second, but he could do it just as well calm. Anger was not a prerequisite to murder. If he didn't have a clear head, he wouldn't be able to do anything productive.

And besides, he wanted the mage alive so he could hit him again later.

"I didn't mean to . . ." Fai whispered.

"Shut up!"

Back under control, he told himself. Get back under control before you do something stupid.

Fai's eye had shifted back to its normal blue color, and his claws had retracted. Except for the blood coating his fingertips, and his paper-white skin tone, he looked almost normal.

The red tint had almost disappeared from Kurogane's vision. His thoughts turned inward. I should woken him up, like always. He wouldn't have had a chance to come here if I hadn't ignored him after last night. Last night seemed like a distant dream now, a much happier dream than this one. It was my fault he left. He felt so horrible, because he thought we didn't trust him.

And did you? No. You never once gave him the opportunity to earn your trust, you just worked him to the point of exhaustion in the hopes he'd get better. You never once treated him like he deserved your trust.

His breathing hitched. A dull ache sprouted in the back of his throat, like he was catching a cold. For just a moment, his vision blurred.

He wanted you to trust him. He went out of his way to earn it. If you'd believed in him, just once, he wouldn't have needed to go to Seishirou. The self-imposed accusations stabbed at him, sharper than the point of a sword. Once again, he felt a strange break in his breathing. What's happening to me?

"Kurogane . . . You're . . ."

My apprentice is dead, he thought numbly as his vision blurred again. The pain in his throat sharpened. "What?" he demanded hoarsely, glaring down at the fuzzy lines of the mage's swollen face.

Sounding like someone who'd just witnessed a car accident, Fai said, "You're crying."