Chapter Seventy-Eight
Syaoran learned several things at the dinner table, some more important than others.
The first thing he learned were the names of the people who lived here. There was Sadie, who'd found them in the berry fields, and her mother, Joanna, who had cooked everything on the table. When a man of fifty clunked in through the front door with his leather boots and a case of milk bottles, Joanna introduced him as her husband, Bob.
"We've been married thirty-five years," she said proudly, squeezing her husband's hand as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Haven't we, hon?"
He grumbled an assent. The nonverbal reply and continuing lack of conversation reminded Syaoran oddly of Kurogane, and he felt a little pang of guilt when he realized he missed his old teacher. But I still have work to do with Seishirou. And it might be a while before I see them again anyway.
The next important thing he learned about was the phenomena Sadie had referred to as "the Mist."
"It started up a couple years ago," the girl explained, pausing between bites of mashed potatoes. "At first, everyone was real scared. The government said it was some sort of unnatural phenomena, and they were worried another country was trying to make war on us. But they couldn't find nothing dangerous about the Mist. All it did was rise up out of this canyon and turn the sun blue when it got down to the horizon. It affected the way the light hit our eyes, somehow. Whenever they went down to investigate, though, the Mist got too thick to see through. So they decided to leave it, on the condition that all the landowners 'round here would up and call 'em if weird stuff started to happen."
"Has anything strange happened?" Syaoran asked, suspecting a feather's involvement.
"Nah, nothing much. There were some rumors going 'round that if you got too close to it, your body started getting stronger, but those were just rumors. Some kids started 'em, I think."
Seishirou nodded, but for just a moment, his eyes touched knowingly on Syaoran. "Kids will be kids."
"Is there any way we can get a closer look at this Mist?" Syaoran asked.
Sadie looked suddenly uneasy. "Well . . . I guess it's not dangerous, but . . ."
Joanna cut in. "People just don't go around that canyon much, for fear of what the Mist might do. We're not such fools as to believe something so strange is safe to play around."
"I'll take 'em tomorrow," Joanna's husband interjected, rising from his chair. "I'm mighty curious myself as to what might be down there."
The first spoken words by the man sent another wash of nostalgia through him. Kurogane-san would've done the same thing, he thought. To keep me from getting hurt. He looked down at his plate, and suddenly, his throat felt too thick for him to eat. He rested his fork on the edge of the plate, keeping his fingers wrapped around the handle. Kurogane-san would also make me come to breakfast and dinner. And we would already be looking for this world's feather, or doing sword practice, or something productive.
Seishirou nudged him with his elbow, and he looked up again. The dark-haired man gave him a look that seemed somehow cold, as if he'd overheard his internal monologue.
Syaoran looked back down, ignoring the cool glance. He lifted a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth and kept eating.
Dinner passed with surprising ease after that, though Syaoran no longer participated actively in the conversation. It was more comfortable than the meals in Infinity had been. Despite their assertion that they didn't get guests often, these people were good hosts. They chattered about recent events, about Sadie's schoolwork, about the berry crops sitting out on the terraces. Once in a while, Joanna would try to bring him into the conversation by requesting his opinion. He gave short answers, not knowing what might offend the people in this country.
Dinner went on much longer than the meals in Infinity, probably because of the excess of food. Everyone gorged themselves, and Syaoran wondered how such skinny people could eat so much in one sitting. They must work hard on the crops, to burn so many calories, he reasoned, scooping up the last of his green beans and swallowing them. He didn't care for the taste, but he imagined it would've been rude for him to refuse their hospitality, since they offered it so freely.
"Y'all can spend the night in one of the guest rooms," the husband said. "But don't go snooping around my daughter's room, got it?"
"Bob," Joanna chided him.
"I mean it. We'll go out and look first thing tomorrow morning, after the cows are milked."
"Thank you," Syaoran said, daring to meet the man's eyes for the first time. They were dark, but earnest. "For your hospitality, and also for helping us."
He got up and rinsed his plate. "We should all be heading to bed. It's late."
They rose from the table and retired to their rooms. Syaoran walked into the spacious room where Seishirou had left Fuuma before dinner. His teacher perched himself on the edge of the bed and drew a feather out of his body, as he'd done every few hours during their travels.
"You seemed reserved tonight," Seishirou noted after a moment.
"I guess . . ."
The room was silent for a few minutes, until the older man sighed impatiently. "Are you going to tell me why, or do I have to guess?"
Syaoran was about to say he was fine, before he realized the reassurance would do little to mollify his teacher. So instead, he told the truth. "I miss the others."
Seishirou stiffened. "They betrayed you."
"So did you."
The dark-haired man looked up sharply, frustration flitting across his face. "When?"
"Outo."
"That wasn't you."
Syaoran frowned. "You say I shouldn't differentiate between myself and my clone, yet you don't want to acknowledge that the way you treated him in Outo hurt me, too. So do you only want me to differentiate between us when it's convenient for you, or should I keep my mind separate from his like I have been?"
Seishirou seldom got angry, but Syaoran could see the look of resentment in the man's eyes at the accusation. He arched one eyebrow, waiting for a response. Finally, Seishirou said, "Is that how you're going to handle it, then? Twisting it around so I'm wrong no matter what?"
Syaoran crossed his arms in front of him, emboldened by the turn in the conversation. "You certainly seem to twist things around on me often enough."
Seishirou gave no response except to turn his head back to Fuuma.
"You tense up whenever I talk about Kurogane-san, or Fai-san, or Sakura, and you tell me I'm better off without them. Why is that? You think I'm just going to back to them, without warning, without even talking to you? You think I'm going to make this past month and a half pointless by abandoning my duty now?"
Seishirou still didn't respond.
"They mattered to me," he went on. "Even if they hated me, I didn't hate them. I needed them too much. I still do. And having you react like you do whenever they come up . . . I don't like it."
"You've been brooding over this a while, haven't you?"
"Since Cirrus. At first, I went along with what you said because I thought you were right. That they'd betrayed me back in Infinity, that they could've done anything else to help me and it would've worked better. That Fai-san had attacked me in cold blood and Kurogane-san had come in knowing it was a possibility. But that was wrong." His voice came out stronger than he'd intended as he spiraled further down in his misery.
"You shouldn't criticize Kurogane-san," Syaoran went on, rising to his feet and pacing the length of the room. "I can see now that there's know way he could've known what Fai would do in Infinity. But if you did, and this was all just some elaborate plot to . . . to . . . I don't know what, then—"
He jerked back, startled by a sudden movement in his peripheral vision. His reaction came too late, though. Seishirou's palm smashed into his cheek hard enough to knock his head back. He recoiled, shocked by the sudden sting on his face.
Seishirou's hand coiled around the front of his shirt, and Syaoran felt his back hit the wall. "Don't question my motives," Seishirou snarled. Fear coiled around Syaoran's lungs, making it impossible to breathe. "All I've done, I've done for my brother. You will not question me." His mentor shook him once, claws piercing the cotton fabric of Syaoran's shirt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, too scared, too stunned, to retaliate.
His teacher went on. "I've gone out of my way to make this journey easy on you. I've even helped you look for the feathers so your traitor friends might take you back, if you ever choose to go to them. So don't you dare question me."
"I'm sorry."
Seishirou released him. Syaoran shuffled sideways, since he couldn't retreat any further with his back against the wall. His mentor turned away, crawling onto the bed and continuing Fuuma's treatment. "Remember that, Syaoran."
Syaoran lifted one hand to his bruised cheek, hanging his head. "I'll remember."