Chapter Fifty-Two

They'd been in Cirrus for ten days now, and Mokona was still having trouble pinpointing Sakura's feather. "There's definitely one in this world," she said, ears flattening against her back as she focused. "But it disappears, and then it moves."

"What a pain," Kurogane said, glancing up at the purple sky overhead. Mokona had sensed a general decline in his suffering over the past few days, but something still lingered, behind his abrasive exterior. At first, Mokona had labeled the feeling as worry, mixed with Kurogane's more typical anger, but now she wasn't so sure. It's too tangled. Mokona can't understand what he's feeling except that he's still suffering. She frowned, turning toward Fai. His web of feelings was less complex. The most dominant was guilt, but everything else was laced with a feeling of dread. Fai did not trust anyone except Sakura.

And Mokona, of course. Everyone trusts Mokona.

"We'll find it," Sakura said. There was no mystery to her emotions. She was simultaneously guilty for being unable to stop Syaoran while yearning for his presence. Just like Mokona, the white creature thought. Her ear twitched as the feather reappeared miles behind them.

"It's over there now. Far away." She pointed in the right direction, beyond the colorful buildings with rounded walls and cobblestone sidewalk.

The ninja sighed. "It's getting dark. If it's going to keep teleporting like this, there's no point in tiring ourselves out."

Sakura frowned while Fai smiled. Their emotions, as far as Mokona could tell, didn't match their expressions. Sakura was actually relieved that they were stopping. After walking on her crippled leg for days now, she was likely quite sore. Fai's smile was the same false smile he'd worn in all the previous worlds, a mask to hide the wintry edge of his emotions.

"Mokona thinks we should all go out to eat first!" she piped up, trying to be cheerful in the bleak atmosphere.

"I think I saw a bakery a while back," Fai said.

"Like you don't have enough sugar in your diet."

Fai took the ninja's comment with surprising lightheartedness. "Sugar doesn't affect my body the same way it used to. I don't have to worry about that kind of stuff."

"Cake sounds nice," Sakura said, subdued. Her quiet comment settled the matter. They turned back, following the magician. Mokona remembered every street they'd been down, and every quirky little shop they'd passed. Her navigation skills had improved vastly since leaving Yuuko's shop. She could recall vast stores of information, so as to avoid worlds they'd already investigated when they were between dimensions. So when they drew closer to the bakery, she poked her head out of Kurogane's shirt to smell the aroma of baking bread and cinnamon rolls.

Yuuko would've loved this place, she thought wistfully, remembering how many times she'd caught Yuuko sneaking baked goods into the shop, or requesting them in exchange for little favors.

They moved closer, and Fai pushed into the door, grinning widely at the tinkling bell. His smile lasted only a second before Mokona felt an echo of panic ripple out from him. The mood whiplash disoriented her, so it took a moment for her to realize everyone else had gone just as still and silent as Fai. When she looked up at the counter, she realized why.

A thin man with golden hair and sapphire eyes smiled as they gawked at him. His features shifted with surprise a moment later. "Welcome to the Little Kitty's Bakery," he said warmly. But all the warmth in the world couldn't have stilled the silent storm raging within their group. Mokona felt dozens of emotions tangle together: shock, horror, confusion, curiosity, cold blankness, fear, grief, panic, and all the variations thereof.

Because it just couldn't be possible. Yuuko had told her a hundred times that any copies of dimensional travelers ceased to exist as soon as such travelers acquired the means to traverse the worlds. It should've been impossible for such an encounter to occur. Yet by some anomaly, it had, because standing behind the countertop was a man that looked exactly like Fai.

They may hate me, but there's no point in crying about it. Syaoran's hands dropped to his lap, and he let the moisture on his face cool in the frigid air. He'd been crying too much lately, allowing his emotions too much power over him. It was time to stop.

He stood up, rubbing his sleeve across his face, and walked back to the center of the clearing, shaking snow off his clothes as he went. He summoned out his sword—the last souvenir of his original world, the blade his biological father had given him—and tested its balance in his hands. It was a quality weapon, forged from fine steel so it would be light but durable.

More than I deserve, he thought, moving into a front stance to go through his drills. If there was any chance to return to the others after this part of the journey was over, he wanted to show them he hadn't neglected his training. Kurogane-san would've wanted that.

Would he, though? asked the self-destructive voice in his mind. Or will he regret teaching you anything in the first place?

Syaoran ignored the voice, switching stances as he moved to strike. His ears picked up on the sound of the blade slicing air. He struck again, imagining he was facing his clone instead of empty air. His blade moved faster, and his body shifted stances without a conscious thought from his mind. I'm getting my muscle memory back, he thought, imagining the blade slicing through the Other's shoulder.

His movements accelerated, until the speed made his steps clumsy. He slowed just enough to get a clean cut, then continued on, pushing his body to the limit. I cannot neglect my training. I have to be strong next time I see them, so they'll have a reason to keep me around.

So they won't try to kill me in my sleep.

Another step. He danced out of the way of an imaginary blow, then brought his sword around from the side, aiming for the middle of the ribcage. His focus was so intense, he could almost feel the muscle and bone shredding as his blade parted the flesh.

This world was locked in winter, but still, he was sweating by the time he calmed. He took several deep breaths, realizing how long he'd been working. For the first time since he'd become a vampire, he felt tired. It was a strangely powerful sensation.

The sun was still high in the sky. Seishirou wasn't expecting him back for hours yet. I should've asked him if there was a feather in this world, he thought. But maybe I'll be able to sense it on my own with my magic. He closed his eyes, letting the world go quiet around him. His practice had scared off most of the animals in the vicinity, but he could feel the presence of some smaller animals, cowering in their burrows beneath his feet. When he focused, he could feel the faint signature of Seishirou and Fuuma back where they'd set up camp.

He couldn't feel any other energy source nearby. If there's nothing for us in this world, Seishirou won't want to linger. Maybe I should go back after all. He frowned at the thought. It wasn't that he didn't want to go back. After all, Seishirou was the only one since Tokyo who'd showed any interest in his wellbeing. But it wasn't Seishirou he wanted to be around, it was Sakura.

She's probably in another world by now, he thought, subdued. There's no point in thinking about it. She doesn't want to see you.

No part of his mind disagreed with that, so he let it go. There were better things he could be dwelling on, like how to stop Fei Wong Reed, or how he was going to gain control over his bloodlust. At least I don't have to worry about having nightmares anymore. I still have to be ready to meet the Other, but he'll probably need to gather more feathers before he's able to affect me while I'm awake. He thought of the sleepwalking incident, of how he'd woken up to feel the flames nipping at his fingertips. The burn had been minor, less than he might've received from picking up a hot pan without oven mits. It was the incident itself that unnerved him.

If I were to stop taking those sleeping pills, he'd be able to take control again, and next time, it might be in an even more perilous situation. I need to safeguard against that. His hand coiled around the bottle of pills in his pocket. But what am I going to do once he gets more powerful? With every feather he gains, he gains power over me. It might only be a few feathers before he can slip into my thoughts. And how long after that before he can slip into my skin and wear it like a glove?

Syaoran shuddered. "It doesn't matter," he whispered to himself. I'll kill him before he takes control again.