Author's Notes:

We skip ahead a bit, but all will be explained over the next few chapters, so don't panic.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

The chirping of birds roused Syaoran from his sleep, but it was still several moments before he moved. How am I hearing this? he wondered. There shouldn't be birds down here.

He shifted where he lay. Something soft brushed against the skin of his torso, something that didn't belong in the canyon. His curiosity faded as he made another discovery. I can feel my legs again! What's going on?

He had a horrible notion that he'd died from his wounds, that Seishirou had killed him, and the last moments in the canyon had been nothing more than his dying dreams. And if I died, where am I now?

His ears—still sensitive despite his apparent death—picked up on a shuffling sound a few feet away. Sunlight stabbed at his eyes as they flew open, and he tried to rise into a sitting position. As soon as he moved, agony shattered his brief tranquility. He fell back into a lying position, panting at the sudden influx of pain.

"Don't try to move yet," someone scolded. His eyes, closed against the rush of pain, reopened to identify the speaker.

And then he went quiet, because he wasn't ready to face this conversation yet.

Kurogane sighed in exasperation. "Just stay still for a minute." He moved over to the wall, grabbing a handle embedded in the wooden framework. The paper wall slid open like a door, and he stuck his head out, rapping out a string of words that sounded nonsensical until Syaoran realized they were mostly names. When he was done speaking, Kurogane slid the door closed and turned back to him.

Syaoran tensed, waiting for whatever punishment he was about to receive. It was hard to tell from the ninja's expression whether that meant a beating, or a scolding, or being exiled from the group. And Syaoran knew he deserved much worse than any of those things.

Kurogane said nothing, only crossing his arms in front of him. Syaoran tried to say the obvious words—the apology he so badly needed to say—but his throat closed up as if a noose had been pulled tight around his neck.

The ninja stood there, letting the silence reverberate through the room. After a few more seconds, Syaoran looked away. His vision blurred. A dull pain wrapped around his throat.

"So," Kurogane said. Syaoran flinched. "We've got a lot to talk about."

Syaoran managed to nod.

"For starters, you're alive. It's a fucking miracle."

He winced at the sarcasm. I deserve that, he conceded silently.

"The princess is alive and unharmed, despite you nearly killing her. She'll be out working on her fighting skills until dusk. The mage and I are fine. So is the white pork bun." Kurogane lifted his crimson eyes to look at him. Syaoran wished he could understand the expression there, so he might have some idea what the ninja would say next.

"Seishirou is dead," Kurogane said quietly. "So is Fuuma."

Syaoran bit the inside of his lip to keep from showing a reaction. The last thing he wanted was to acknowledge his distress over the news while he was already in peril.

"We're in a new world now. We left the canyon as soon as we'd collected all the feathers Seishirou had."

This news jerked him out of his silence. "All of them?"

"There were more than we expected. But the princess handled it just fine."

"Even the one I had?"

Surprise flitted across the ninja's face for the first time. So he didn't know about that. Syaoran rose into a sitting position, moving slowly against the pain. Even so, by the time he'd managed to sit upright, he was sweating from the effort.

Kurogane sighed. "Worry about that later. We've got things to discuss right now." He stalked over to the bedside. His movements were quick enough to put Syaoran on edge, and his eyes darted around the room, looking for ways to escape, as well as potential weapons. Which was stupid, because even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to kill Kurogane-san.

"Where's my sword?" he asked, when he realized the familiar weapon was nowhere in the vicinity.

"We left it in the canyon so you wouldn't use it on us."

"I would never—" He broke off, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. But I have, haven't I? Twice now.

"That was a joke. It's with the manju bun. And you're not getting it back until I say so!"

Relief, confusion, and guilt battled for dominance in his mind. He settled on guilt. "That's fair."

Kurogane made a sound of distaste at the back of his throat. "Honestly, sometimes you act more ridiculous than the mage. What were you thinking, going off with him?"

"I—" He choked on the words. It was the question he'd been waiting for, the one that demanded an explanation. It was the one question he'd had an answer to. But suddenly, all his excuses seemed pitiful, reckless, illogical. He couldn't say he'd gone away because he'd felt lonely—the ninja, at least, had made an effort to connect with him, during his training. He couldn't say it was to protect Sakura, given his spectacular failure to do so in the canyon. He couldn't say it was to help Fuuma and Seishirou, because they were both dead, and one of them had been a hated enemy. And there was no way he was going to convince the ninja that he'd been trying to do the right thing. "I messed up. I was stupid, and I messed everything up."

"The thing I don't get is why you never said anything about it before you left. You never mentioned the deals you were making with him."

"I kept a lot of things from you that I shouldn't have."

Anger flashed across the dark-haired man's face, and he stalked over to the straw mat where Syaoran lay. He had perhaps a second of warning before the ninja's hand wound around his upper arm and hauled him to his feet. Agony ripped through him, like razorblades scraping off his skin. His body went limp, tears rushing to his eyes and overflowing.

Somehow, those tears were more humiliating than anything he'd done since his escape from Fei Wang Reed. To shed them now, in front of someone who he had no right to expect sympathy from, was worse than the most degrading comments he could imagine.

Kurogane held him like that for a long moment, then slowly let him down. "You should rest," the ninja said softly. "You're not fully recovered."

Syaoran turned away, dragging his sleeve across his face to rid it of the salty tears. The room was quiet for almost a minute before Kurogane spoke again.

"You weren't the only one who messed up, you know. So did the rest of us."

"No. It was—"

"I'm not done! Now listen. There's no getting around the fact that what you did was stupid. But you only did it because the rest of us treated you like shit. Right?"

Syaoran didn't answer. Kurogane seemed to take that as an affirmative.

"You remember the night before you disappeared? The night I got you drunk?

He said nothing.

"Do you remember or not?" Kurogane demanded.

"I remember."

The ninja nodded. "You said something—the last thing you said to us until we found you in Sapphirine. You said you didn't know which was worse: the fact that you thought Fai hated you, or that I thought I had to get you drunk to answer my questions."

"I'm sorry."

"And you were right," the ninja said, barely leashed fury in his voice. Syaoran looked up, startled. "You were right about all of it. We treated you like shit, and the only thing you could think to do was leave. And you had every right."

"I . . . don't understand."

Kurogane stood up, sighing. "No. You don't. We thought you were dead. For weeks, we thought that. Do you have any idea what you put us through?"

His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"I thought I'd lost my apprentice! The mage thought he'd killed you because of some stupid curse! The princess blamed herself for letting you leave! Do you even know—" He broke off. Then, his voice dropped low. "If you were hurting so much, you should have said something."

Syaoran looked down. "I didn't think anyone would care."

Shock crossed the warrior's face, wiping it clean of anger. He sat down next to the mattress, looking away. His features softened, shifting to an expression Syaoran had only rarely seen on his face: regret.

Kurogane didn't say anything, just got up and walked over to the edge of the room and picked something off the table by the door. The dark fabric made a crinkling sound, like a canvas bag being picked up. "I don't know if you wanted this," the ninja said, tossing him the bundle of fabric. "I don't know what happened between you and Seishirou, and I don't care. But that's yours now, whatever you decide to do with it."

Syaoran looked down at the bundle, hands moving to unfold it. As the fabric spread out and the scent rose from the material, Syaoran identified it. This was Seishirou's cloak, he thought, his body going numb all over again. It was clear from the lack of blood that it had been thoroughly cleaned before reaching this room, but the scent lingered, a reminder of the owner. Syaoran cradled the cloak against his chest. "Thank you," he whispered, trying to sound polite instead of like he was about to break down.

Kurogane just walked to the door and said, "I'm getting the mage."