Chapter Sixty-Two

The first thing Syaoran heard when he woke up was the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears. He sat up, his back rigid as his eyes scanned the room for the mismatched eyes that tormented his dreams. His sharp vision pierced the darkness with ease, but he couldn't find the monster anywhere.

It took him a moment to realize he was lying on Miss Adele's couch. A dream . . . he thought, resting his uninjured hand over his heart. He could feel it beating through the fabric of his shirt. I just fell asleep without taking my pills. That's all. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, freeing himself from the smothering comforter someone had draped over him. Probably Seishirou, he figured. But it could've been Miss Adele, too.

Adrenaline flowed thick through his veins, and he knew he wouldn't fall asleep again tonight. His eyes scanned the room for a clock, hoping to gain some bearing on how long he'd have to wait before it was acceptable to be awake. It wasn't even five in the morning yet.

He sighed, standing up and walking over to the coat rack by the door. Though he didn't get cold anymore, it would've looked strange to be wandering around at this hour without a jacket of some kind. Well, it's still strange to be wandering around at this hour, but there's not much to be done about that. He stepped outside, greeted by the chilly winds.

He didn't know where he was going, but he was glad to be going there of his own free will instead of being controlled by his clone. With his pills, it had been over a week since he'd dreamed. The Other had evidently been waiting for a moment like tonight's, because as soon as he'd slipped into a dream, his clone had greeted him with a fresh pile of corpses. The dream had lasted only a few minutes, or that was how he perceived it, but the horror had been enough to startle him into awareness.

And thank goodness, or I could've been walking around like a puppet right now, he thought, crossing the empty street and continuing down the sidewalk.

His wrist still ached, but despite the swelling, the pain wasn't too bad. There was something in that tea Miss Adele gave me, he thought. A sedative to make me sleep, but also something to take the pain away. If only I'd realized soon enough to take my pills. He sighed. She meant well. It doesn't matter now, anyway.

Truthfully, he still felt a bit drowsy. The refreshing bite of the breeze cleared his head somewhat, but if he fell asleep out here . . . Someone could find me. And that someone might not be Seishirou.

So he kept walking, feet heavy with the effects of the tea. Did I bring my pills with me? he wondered, fumbling in his pockets for the little orange bottle. He found none. Damn. I can't let myself fall asleep then. Images of the Other flashed through his mind, both the visions sent to him through dreams, and fragments unseen but imagined. His heart started pounding again, loud in the silent night. This kind of adrenaline rush was separate from its siblings. It was not the thrilling high of a carnival ride, nor the short-lived panic after a near-accident. It wasn't the helpful edge given to his body in a fight. It was a deep, sickening fear that made the world spin around him.

"Just stay in control," he whispered to himself, though that was getting harder and harder with each passing day. It was the small lapses in judgment—the mercy he'd shown Fai in the battlefield when common sense dictated he should strike; the risk he'd taken trying to separate Sakura from the others; allowing himself to fall asleep without first taking his pills . . . All the small lapses, all adding up to a greater sense that his life was beginning to spiral out of control.

I should go back, he thought. Seishirou won't be happy I left, but he'll know what to do. He'll say something, and everything will be clear and simple again.

Except that it won't. He bit his lip. Because there's something he's not saying.

After all Seishirou had done for him, Syaoran hated himself for thinking it. But it was true. There were things his mentor wasn't telling him—was actively keeping from him. Like his exact purpose in this journey. In Infinity, he said he needed to make use of my magic. But Seishirou has magic of his own, and if he needed another person to help him, he could've found someone from any world he'd visited. So why my magic, when I only know spells capable of destruction? Is there something I'm missing? Something he knows about me that I don't? How could he, when he only knew my clone?

It's possible he's getting the information from an outside source. Yuuko might be passing it on to him. He said he's been in contact with her. But even so, what would she know about me that I couldn't figure out on my own? No, it doesn't add up. There's no reason Seishirou would need me to help him.

So why? Why is he so intent on bringing me along? He threatened Sakura, tried to kill everyone by burning down the Ephemeral Apartments. It's obvious that there's something that compelled him to bring me along, over everyone else. Syaoran tried to recall what little his mentor had told him. He said I was honorable. Whether or not that's true is debatable, but he believes it. Is that why he chose me over someone else? Because he knew I would stick with him once I decided to go? Or is it because we're going into something that's going to require me to make some difficult decision to do the right thing?

He frowned, walking past a bakery. The smell of cinnamon rolls reached his nose, a powerful, cloying fragrance. A week ago, the strong smell might've made his mouth water. Now, there was only one substance that could make his stomach feel hollow, and it wasn't a pastry.

Seishirou said I'd be able to go back to the others as soon as my work with him was done. Yet so far, he's done nothing but remind me of their betrayals, of how they hated me. Why? He can't think I'd up and leave now, after he's saved my life. And if it was concern that motivated those words, they wouldn't sound so harsh. Yes, Fai tried to kill me, and today I showed him mercy. But Seishirou keeps talking about how Kurogane-san allowed it to happen, about how they're both irredeemable. Seishirou-san and Kurogane-san fought each other in Infinity. If either of them could've prevented it, they would have.

Wouldn't they? He tried to remember the look he'd seen on the ninja's face, right before everything had gone dark in Infinity. The shock. The anger. Whatever their intentions, Kurogane, at least, hadn't known Fai was going to kill him. He couldn't have stopped it. And Seishirou must know that. But why does he keep telling me it's their fault for not saving me?

His mind drifted back to the fight yesterday evening, and the tangled mess of thoughts he'd experienced afterward. He remembered asking himself which of the two—Kurogane or Seishirou—he would rather have won if the fight hadn't been interrupted. When he'd first thought it, he'd resorted to logic to determine which of them would've probably won. He'd confused who he would've wanted to win with who was most likely to win. With a vampire's reflexes and an equal degree of skill as his previous mentor, the odds leaned toward Seishirou coming out alive.

But if I'd had to choose someone to root for, Syaoran thought. It wouldn't be Seishirou.

He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the cold for the first time since leaving Miss Adele's house. Perhaps the tea had some side effects that messed with his sensitivity to temperature. Even in a blizzard, his stronger body shouldn't be so affected by the cold. I should go inside, where its warm, but Miss Adele's house is so far away. His eyes scanned the street for a building that might be open. Eventually, his gaze strayed to the blazing windows of a train station. His legs propelled him forward, stiff with cold.

I can't control what Seishirou does or doesn't tell me, he thought as he walked. But I can remember what Kurogane-san taught the Other in Outo. How not to hurt the people I care about. How to show mercy.

The revolving door spun as he shoved into it, and a warm gust of compressed air greeted him as he entered the train station. His ears picked up on the distinct rumble of a train sliding across metal tracks. A flash of movement caught his eye, a silver train coming in and unloading its passengers. People flooded out as soon as the mechanical doors parted. That's the first thing I've seen in this country that isn't either primary colors or decorated with plastic animal shapes, Syaoran thought, staring at the sleek nose of the train. Maybe it's bringing people from somewhere beyond Cirrus.

The last of the people stepped off the platform, and the doors slid closed again. The train lurched forward with a whistle, then sped off, pushing a cushion of air out across the lobby. Syaoran turned away from the gust, shielding himself instinctively. As he looked away from the train, his eyes grazed a pair of figures, identical in everything except their clothing. One of them was facing away from him, the only visible part of his body the golden crown of hair on his head. The other man had the same light mop of hair. With his sharpened sight, Syaoran could see the sapphire color of this man's eyes, downcast though they were. Two eyes, not one, he thought, unable to look away. Another Fai-san?