Chapter Forty-Seven

His teacher blinked, not understanding the significance of the words.

The Other can control me from my dreams, Syaoran thought, feeling hollow. He can make my body move without my permission, take control of me when I'm at my most vulnerable . . . He wrapped his arms around his torso, shivering from the cold. No, not the cold. It was cold there, not here. This is fear.

His eyes flickered once again to the burner on the stove. The dry noodles—those were branches in the dream, weren't they?—had mostly burned up, leaving fragile, black skeletons behind. Still, the wispy blue flames of the burning gas cast an eerie glow across the miniscule kitchen.

Seishirou saw him staring at it, and moved to turn it off. With his enhanced vision, the lack of light did little to blind him. He looked up at his teacher, unable to say anything.

"You were just sleepwalking. You should go back to bed."

He doesn't believe me, Syaoran thought, feeling irrationally betrayed. It was like trying to tell the truth to Fai-san or Kurogane-san—he could probably do it, but it would open up so many sensitive questions that he would have to start lying, and they'd never believe him. He could never tell anyone anything. "I can't," he mumbled, voice quavering. He knew he sounded like a whining toddler, but after what had just happened—waking up to feel the flames nipping hungrily at his fingertips—he couldn't bear the thought of going to sleep. "Please, I'll have nightmares. He can get in. He can get in through my dreams."

The dark-haired man studied him for a long moment. "You fear him."

Syaoran nodded once, humiliated. "He's getting stronger. I used to only dream of him once every few nights, but it's becoming more frequent. And now, I just . . ." I just followed his every movement like I was under a spell. Oh god, what if he takes control of me like that next time he kills someone? Will I be able to stop myself? I don't even remember how I got here. His breathing started to speed up again, and a soft whimper broke free of his throat. "How long will it be until he's strong enough to take control of me during the day? How long until he's invading my every waking thought? I can't live with this." The confession broke him. He doubled over, clamping his hand down over his mouth. "I can't . . ." he mumbled.

"Just relax. Everything will be all right."

He shook his head. "It won't. If he can get in . . . I might hurt someone next time. He might . . . I would . . ."

Seishirou rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. Impulsively, Syaoran darted forward and pressed his face into the other man's shirt, stifling the sob building at the back of his throat. "I need help."

"Everything we'll be fine. Avantine is a very advanced world. I'm sure they have medicine to suppress dreams."

But only that much, he thought. Nothing to stop my clone from getting into my head if he gets more powerful. And he will, it he keeps finding feathers. He closed his eyes, struggling to regain control of himself.

"There, there, don't you worry. We'll pick up some medicine first thing tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" he echoed, voice hoarse.

Seishirou smiled, not his usual confident smile, nor the amused one he sometimes wore, but a sympathetic smile. "The drugstore won't be open for hours yet. Until then, you just have to relax and go back to sleep."

Syaoran felt the irrational fear creeping up on him again. I can't, I can't, I can't . . . If I sleep, I'll have nightmares.

Be reasonable, another part of him snapped. There's nothing to be done about it until tomorrow. You just have to lie down in bed and pretend to sleep.

He pulled away from his teacher, embarrassed to have clung to him like he had. "I can wait until morning," he whispered.

Seishirou's smile turned jolly. "Good. Now back to bed."

"Okay." He turned and allowed Seishirou to walk him to his bedroom. Once inside, he closed and locked his door. Then he unlocked it. No reason to be worried about that here.

Then he locked it again. Just to be safe.

He stripped off his socks—when did I put socks on?—and sat down on the edge of his bed.

He stayed awake until the sun came up.

Kurogane didn't sleep that night. He spent the earlier part of the night polishing Souhi, though the blade was still shiny from its last polishing. There wasn't much else to do once everyone else had gone to sleep, and he didn't especially feel like getting drunk when they could fall into any situation tomorrow.

In Tomoyo's service, he'd often gone several nights at a time with nothing more than a brief meditation to reinvigorate himself. By nature, he was a light sleeper, aware of what was going on around him even in unconsciousness. So his body was used to going without sleep. He could stay awake for their last night in Infinity.

"Is Kurogane still sad?"

His head whipped around, hand going to his sword before he realized it was only the white pork bun. "No."

The round creature—even after traveling to many different worlds, he had no idea what kind of creature the thing was—jumped up onto the chair, and then onto the table. A small frown turned down its face. "Does Kurogane miss Syaoran-kun, then?"

Kurogane glared at the manju bun. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Mokona can sense when someone is sad. It's one of Mokona's one-hundred-and-eight special techniques."

"I'm not sad."

"But Kurogane misses him, doesn't he?"

His hand tightened around Souhi's hilt, and he contemplated bringing the blade down on the white thing's head. Of course, he still needed the creature to take him home. "He was a good student," he finally said, sliding Souhi back into its sheath so it wouldn't tempt him.

"Sakura misses him, too."

"I know." That had been obvious enough when he'd heard the girl sobbing in her room.

"And Fai misses him."

The ninja's fingers coiled into a fist. That damn mage was the last person he wanted to think about right now. "Maybe he shouldn't have killed him then."

"He was under a curse."

"Which he didn't fucking tell anyone about until after he—" He bit back the words, as if saying them aloud would reopen the wound.

"Mokona has sensed a great sadness from Fai for a long time now."

He ought to be suffering. That bastard. "So?"

"This tragedy has affected him greatly. Mokona thinks . . . Mokona thinks he needs someone to talk to."

"Then talk to him. What the hell do I care?"

"He wants to talk to Sakura, but he doesn't want to make her suffer. Mokona thinks he would like it if Kurogane talked to him."

He slammed his fist down on the table and stood up. "Then he can get his ass in here and come talk to me. I'm not about to go baby-sit him, like some stupid kid."

The manju bun's eyes flew open. "Yuuko is calling."

The shift in conversation threw him for a moment, and the only response he could muster was, "Does she know what time it is?"

A soft glow emanated from the red gem on the creature's forehead, and a circle of light appeared on the table, featuring the witch. Though the ninja had seen devices do similar things in some of the worlds they'd visited, he still found it eerie that the witch could pop in any time for a chat. "What is it?" he grumbled.

The dark-haired witch looked up at him solemnly, and while he didn't exactly regret his tone, he wished he'd been a little less abrasive.

Her solemn look didn't change as she spoke. "I have a message. It concerns all of you."

"Everyone's asleep." He didn't care to wake the princess when she was already so exhausted from training, and the mage was a pain in the ass to wake up if he wasn't ready to do so.

"It's urgent."

To Hell with this. He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to suggest she just pass the message on through him, but she interrupted.

"It's from Seishirou."

Well damn. "I'll go wake them up."