Author's Note:

Spoilers through Ceres for this chapter. Fai's past is alluded to, resulting in much angst for our favorite mage. Plus, we get to read about Fai naked in the shower.

Chapter Forty

Sometimes, Fai felt like he was really, truly alone.

It had been almost five days since he'd left his room for anything more than a shower or a bathroom trip. Since he didn't need to eat, there was no reason to venture out into the living room, to face the accusing glares, the averted gazes, the cold silence.

He wondered guiltily if this was how Syaoran-kun had felt in the weeks after they'd arrived in Infinity.

He endured this for over a month, Fai told himself. You can handle a few awkward silences.

But he couldn't, especially not when those silences extended for days at a time. Sakura's request, which would've been audible to his ears even if his door had been shut, was the first handful of words spoken in almost three days. Before that, he recalled Kurogane urging her to eat and announcing his plan to go grocery shopping at the market. That was all. The rest of the hours passed in silence, except for torturous bouts of sobbing from the other room.

After the brief conversation, the apartment was quiet once more. Beyond the door, the whisper of metal sliding against metal told him Kurogane was putting away his sword. Soft, uneven footsteps marked Sakura's return to her room. Her door clicked quietly as the ninja rose from his usual seat at the table. When Fai heard the front door open, he realized the silence would stretch on even longer.

He couldn't stand it. As soon as Kurogane was out the door, he stood up and plucked a bundle of clean clothes from his dresser. Thirty seconds later, he was in the bathroom, turning the shower knob and locking the door behind him. He gathered the necessary materials, stripped off the outfit he'd been wearing the past two days, and stepped under the water.

In Ceres, baths consisted of sponging off in a basin of lukewarm water, then quickly rinsing and drying to stave off the piercing cold. So whenever they visited a world where hot water was abundant, it always caught him by surprise. Today was no different. As the steaming water pelted his naked skin, he recoiled, throwing himself against the side of the shower with a hiss.

His hand quickly extended to lower the temperature of the water. For a moment, he let it settle at body temperature, like he was used to. As he stood there, water running down his skin, he turned the dial further to the right, until the temperature made him shiver.

It's time to wake up, he thought. It's time to stop dreaming and act.

Frigid water ran down his skin, raising bumps. He wrapped his arms around himself to preserve his body heat, not sure why he bothered when he knew he could turn the temperature up. The freezing water felt right somehow, a small discomfort to start toward his atonement.

He endured the chilly water almost half an hour, scrubbing until every inch of his skin was raw. At one point, as he scraped the washcloth across his hands so hard his knuckles started bleeding. A wave of revulsion came over him, and he doubled over, repressing the urge to break down completely. He found solace in the irony—a vampire sickened at the sight of blood—and chuckled darkly to himself. A moment later, his laugh changed in pitch, growing more ragged. Another second, and he was on the floor of the shower, sobbing.

The night he'd killed Syaoran-kun, a few tears had escaped his control. Now, muffled by the sounds of rushing water, he allowed himself to break down completely. "I'm sorry," he whispered, water running between his lips and spreading across his tongue. Shudders ran down his back, more intense than before. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . ."

His mumbles continued, varying only a little in the minutes he sat there. Eventually, though, he lost track of who he was apologizing to. Was it Syaoran, who would never be able to hear his apologies? Or was it Sakura, still mourning in the other room, torn apart by her imagined role in Syaoran's demise? Or someone else . . .

"It was my fault . . . I had to do it . . . I'm sorry."

Images of the tower—the tower with the rounded walls, the one that was impossible to climb up and too far to jump from—flickered through his mind. He'd been at fault then, too. I wasn't cursed then. They called me cursed, but I wasn't. I was just selfish, that's all. Another sob wracked his body, beating him down with its force. It had been a long time since he'd cried like this, a long time since he'd revisited those old wounds.

A long time since things have been so quiet, he thought. Abruptly, the feeling of cold water on his skin became too much. His hand snaked up to wrap around the shower dial, shutting off the water. He sat there, on the floor of the tub, for several minutes, shivering. "I'm sorry, Fai . . ."

Learning control when every person who passed by smelled like dinner was even more taxing than Syaoran had expected.

"Keep your breathing steady," Seishirou coached him as they walked. Syaoran stared straight ahead, focusing on nothing but his self-control. "Don't let your claws come out."

They'd left the previous world much sooner than he'd expected, as soon as he'd learned how to sheathe his claws. From what he knew of Seishirou, his teacher liked to stay in every country for several months, reading old texts and acquiring that country's information on vampires. Syaoran supposed their quick departure from the jungle country had been necessary, though. Someone would find Souma's corpse in the other world, and any strangers would be looked upon with hostility.

This country—Avantine, they called it—was much more advanced, almost like Piffle World in its stunning convenience of living. Already, they'd come across machines that distributed hot meals on paper plates in exchange for this country's currency.

Not that he had much interest in normal food anymore. He almost sighed, then remembered that he was supposed to be focusing on not killing all the innocent bystanders crowding around him.

"How are you feeling?" Seishirou asked, not out of any sort of politeness, but out of genuine interest—perhaps checking his new student's control.

Syaoran took a shallow breath. "I feel . . . fine."

The dark-haired man nodded. "Good. We're getting closer."

"How do you know there's a feather in this world?"

"Yuuko has many magical artifacts. The one in my eye serves essentially the same purpose as the white creature your friends carry with them. It translates, and it's sensitive to strong powers. It's not as convenient, given that the number of worlds I can go to is finite, but I intend to be done with my work by the time that number runs out."

"How many different worlds have you been to?" he asked, distracting himself from the sharp scent of blood. A young boy had strayed a bit too close, causing a concentrated cloud of the forbidden fragrance to rise up and fill his nose. From the way the little boy was smiling, he had no idea how close he'd just come to death. Self-control, Syaoran chanted to himself.

"Too many to count," Seishirou said after a moment. "More than you've been to, I imagine."

"Which one was your favorite?"

"I'm not sure. The most interesting world I've come across was a world where you could breathe underwater, but the air was almost entirely made up of carbon monoxide, because of all the volcanic gas that bubbled up from under the waves."

"That's incredible."

Seishirou laughed. "It was quite a shock at first. It was one of the few times in my life I thought I was going to die, vampire or not."

Syaoran glanced around automatically, making sure no one had heard the word. He couldn't be sure how many worlds were aware of the existence of vampires, but from what he'd studied, it wasn't common, and vampires were generally not welcomed in worlds where they were known. I think I read something about vampire hunts in the country of Jade, he thought, remembering the history book he'd borrowed.

No, that was the Other, some part of him thought. He flinched.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm in control," he assured the older man.

"Yes, but are you okay?"

The concern made him fidget. "I'm fine. I was just thinking . . . Back in Infinity, you said I didn't have to worry about making distinctions between my clone and myself, at least not in regards to our shared memories."

"Right," his teacher confirmed, an edge of curiosity in his voice.

"The thing is, it makes a difference, whose memories they are. At least for me. Sometimes, when I think about them, it's like I'm looking through the Other's eyes again. It reminds me how trapped I was for all those years. It reminds me of the connections I've lost."

"Like what?"

Sakura. "Just . . . People I've never met for myself. People I might never meet."

"But you never met me either, up until a few days ago."

He frowned. "I know, but that's different. You knew right away I wasn't the same one you'd met. The thought of trying to explain that to King Touya, and Yukito-san . . ."

"Then don't. If they don't sense it for themselves, there's no point in saying anything."

"But I'm not him!" He reined in his voice, surprised it had come out so forcefully. The first thing I have to learn to control my emotions. Everything will come easier after that.

"Is it really so important they know who you are?"

"It is to me."

Seishirou frowned. The expression didn't look as strange on his face as it did when Fai-san frowned, but Syaoran guessed it was almost as rare an occurrence. Like the expressions of concern before, it made him uneasy. Everything he does makes you uneasy, but he's done nothing to hurt you since you first met in Infinity. There's no reason to be so anxious.

"The feather is there," Seishirou said suddenly, pointing to a massive, floating ship as it sailed through the open air. Syaoran's eyes widened as he took in the bulbous steel structure.

"In there?"

The man nodded. "Probably powering the engines. That thing is enormous."

"But if we take it out, won't it crash?"

A grin split Seishirou's face. "Not if it's already on the ground."