Chapter Fifty-Five
As Sakura cracked two eggs over the edge of the bowl, she wondered what kind of world Syaoran had landed in.
Yuuko-san said he was in a different state, she remembered, rinsing the yolk off her hands in the circular kitchen sink. Everything seemed rounded around the edges in Cirrus, as if everything was childproofed so that if anyone ever fell, they wouldn't hit their heads on something sharp. Her thoughts wandered on as she returned to the bowl to mix the ingredients, like Fai-san had shown her in Outo. What did she mean by a different state? Has he been hurt? But she said he was fine, so it must be something else that's changed him. Did she mean he's loyal to Seishirou now?
The thought disheartened her, and the speed of her mixing slowed. They had automated tools for blending cake ingredients and similar things together in this world, but like everything else, the appliances were multicolored and more fit for a child than a girl her age. At least the oven is normal, she thought, as the appliance beeped to announce it had reached the appropriate temperature. Sakura kept blending, making sure the mix was evenly spread and of the right consistency.
If he's joined Seishirou for real, that could mean he won't come back. And if he's not coming back, I might never get to apologize to him for the way I treated him in Infinity.
She finished mixing and walked over to the oven, flinching at the sound of her crippled leg hitting the puzzle-patterned floor. It's so loud compared to the other foot, she thought bitterly, transferring the cake mix over to a more suitable pan and spreading it with her spatula. With great care, she opened the oven and stuck the pan inside.
She took a seat across from the oven, turning the interior light on so she could watch it bake. The last thing she wanted to do was burn the cake meant as an apology to Fai-san. He'd eat it even if I burned it, she thought, still not smiling. Because he wouldn't want to hurt my feelings.
Syaoran wouldn't want to hurt you, either. Her frown deepened. A cake like this would be sufficient to apologize to Fai for shunning him. After all, his actions had been driven by a curse. It wasn't his fault, so it was her place to apologize, however hurt she still was. But the way she'd treated Syaoran . . . I was rotten, she thought. I acted like he wasn't even there, even though he was still going to help me get my feathers. Is it any wonder he didn't believe me when I told him I wanted him to stay?
Cakes baked slowly. As she stared at the mass of dough, Sakura found her mind drifting back to the day he'd left. For a few seconds, he'd opened up to her. He called me Sakura. Just Sakura. But why would he do that, if he was leaving? He said he'd come back, but . . . She felt the tremor in her breathing that marked the start of tears, and reined in her emotions. If she got all weepy every time she thought of him, she'd never be able to think of a solution. The way he looked at me when he said my name . . . It was like he was trying to memorize my face. Like he was never going to see me again. Did he leave because he thought I didn't want to see him?
She lifted a hand to her cheek, where Syaoran had touched her, just before he'd left. The first time he ever touched me, she thought, as if some sensation of his featherlike touch still remained in her cheek. But why? Why bother if he was just going to leave?
Sakura couldn't think of a reason. This Syaoran had been too distant for her to grasp his mentality. I want to know him, she thought. I want to know him like I knew my Syaoran.
But she only had her Syaoran's reactions to go on. She knew the one she'd traveled with would've done anything for her, even died for her. He'd been that selfless. But even if his body still remained, that Syaoran was lost to her. And, as hopeless at it was, there might still be some slim chance that the new Syaoran would return to her. It wouldn't be the same, but it would be something.
It would be enough.
The door to the hotel room swung open. Sakura stood up to greet the returning members of her party. "Welcome back."
Fai-san blinked at her greeting, a look of shock crossing his face. Guilt flooded into his eyes almost immediately. "Good evening, Sakura-chan."
"I'm making you a cake."
He stared at her for a long moment, seeming to collapse in on himself. Sakura checked the oven, noted the approximate amount of time before the cake would be ready, then got out a clean bowl to make frosting with. The others observed her behavior with a mix between fascination and disbelief, and she felt compelled to explain. "Since we didn't end up getting a cake at the bakery, I thought it might be nice to make one myself."
"It's one in the morning," Kurogane said, staring at her as if she'd sprouted a second head.
"Mokona wants some," the white creature announced cheerfully.
Sakura nodded. "We can send a piece to Yuuko-san, too. I made plenty." And Syaoran-kun's not here . . . She forced herself to remain cheerful as she mixed the frosting. She checked on the cake again, and pulled it out of the oven with one of the oven mits. Once it was free, she turned off the oven and went back to making frosting, waiting for the spongy cake to cool.
The others sat down at the kitchen table, exchanging glances. Sakura slathered the frosting onto the cake and smoothed it out so it was even before bringing it to the table. She searched the kitchen for an appropriate knife and returned to the table, cutting the cake into six slices, one for each member of their group and one for Yuuko, leaving one left over for . . . Oh, she thought, any attempt at good cheer fleeing from her mind when she saw the extra piece. Well, I guess that was the easiest way to cut it. She sat down.
"This is good, Sakura-chan," Fai said, taking his first bite.
Mokona squeaked in agreement, sucking up a slice of cake for Yuuko-san before digging into her own.
Kurogane grunted once in approval, accepting the sugary treat without complaint.
Sakura took her first bite of cake. The flavors blended together just as they were supposed to, and the sugary frosting forced her lips into a smile, but a blanket of depression still hung over her. I'll find him again, she thought. I'll find him, and he'll come back to me.
He has to.
They left the snowy country that morning. "You're feeling well-rested, I trust?" Seishirou asked as he rolled up their bedrolls and slung them over his back.
Syaoran nodded. The pills they'd picked up in Avantine were almost magical in their effectiveness. He hadn't dreamed of the Other once since he'd started taking them.
He hadn't dreamed of Sakura, either.
"Fuuma," Seishirou said to his brother, nudging the other man's shoulder. "Are you going to wake up?"
The dying man didn't stir. Syaoran looked away, sensing the private nature of the moment. Not that there's much between us that we can't say anymore, he thought, thinking of last night. He knows something about me I've never told anyone before.
"Hand me that feather, would you?" Seishirou asked. After a brief hesitation, Syaoran handed him the feather from Avantine. He'd been holding onto it ever since they'd arrived here, uncomfortable having it out of his hands.
And besides, the gentle waves of magic rippling out from the feather reminded him of Sakura.
"Ready to go?"
Syaoran nodded. Seishirou stood and took a deep breath. The space around them bulged, the dark liquid of the dimensional sea seeping into this world. Syaoran held his breath, getting ready to endure the uncomfortable sensation of the space in between dimensions. All at once, the three of them were lifted up into the shifting mass and transported out of this world.
They landed in the most bizarre country. Syaoran fell onto a sidewalk that seemed to be made of large puzzle pieces instead of squares. The sidewalk was too soft to be stone, and smelled synthetic, like plastic. Beside him was a green trashcan overflowing with what appeared to be snack wrappers and discarded cotton candy. Cheery music twisted through the air, the kind of music that went with dancing fairies and gumdrop trees. "What country is this?" he wondered aloud.
A passerby, cloaked in what appeared to be hundreds of multicolored ribbons sewn into a dress, answered them with a smile. "This is the country of Cirrus."