Chapter Ninety-Two

As soon as Kurogane left, Syaoran removed the lid from the cylinder and downed half its contents. The blood—warm, though not as hot as that from a living body—splashed across his tongue, a cocktail of flavors ranging from cloyingly sweet to savory. At once, he could tell the blood was from two or three different sources, all mixed together to give it that unique flavor profile.

Though he loathed himself for learning the differences between samples of blood, he couldn't deny the restorative effect it had on his body. After the first few swallows, his gnawing hunger faded, and he was able to control himself. The next few gulps came slower, and by the time he lowered the cylinder from his lips, the cramping in his body had all but subsided. He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, letting the scent of blood fill his nostrils.

I'm back in control, he told himself, inhaling again. The scent was sharp, more appetizing than any mortal food, but he could endure it.

After a minute, he lifted the cylinder to his lips again and downed the rest of the blood, letting the last residue run slowly across the interior of the cup. No sense in wasting it, when several people had been generous enough to offer. Even if I didn't ask . . . He looked down. Kurogane-san is still taking care of me, even though I'm a traitor. Fai-san and Sakura, too. But why?

Syaoran set the cup aside and threw off his blankets. Sunlight streamed in through the window, warming the room and making the extra padding feel superfluous and smothering. And now that his thirst had been slaked, he had other things to do.

Someone had left a bundle of clothes a few feet from his bed. Upon closer inspection, Syaoran found they were all of appropriate size. He put them on, peeling off the clothes he'd been sleeping in for the past four or five days. He thought about searching for a place to bathe, then hesitated, unsure if he had freedom to walk around the castle.

If they wanted me to stay here, they would've said something, wouldn't they? Or did they just assume I wouldn't be able to walk? Maybe they have guards posted outside to keep me in here. He frowned, pressing his ear to the thin walls and listening for other heartbeats. He heard a distant thrum, probably coming from farther down the hall, but there was no one waiting outside his door. Cautiously, he slid the paper wall open and stepped out.

The corridor was quiet. The heartbeat he'd heard a moment ago had disappeared around the corner. Syaoran inhaled, then sighed. As much as he dreaded running into the others, he felt a pang at how distant they all were from him. Sakura is probably out practicing right now, he thought. Kurogane-san probably went to check in with her after he left. Maybe I could talk to Fai-san, instead. He sighed. Fai had held the strongest opposition to him in Infinity, with good reason, and the stark difference in his demeanor between then and now confused Syaoran more than it reassured him. But if the vampire had decided not to hate him, perhaps they should speak.

He wandered through the labyrinth, mapping out the building plan in his head. After years of traveling with Father, his memory of places was sharper than most. Even if they aren't my memories.

Building plans were generally easy to follow once one understood the general layout. Syaoran identified several patterns in the corridors and found the laundry room. Yesterday, Fai had mentioned something about going to do laundry. Perhaps the other servants would know where Fai's room was, if he came here often.

As it turned out, he didn't even have to ask. Fai walked out of the laundry room with a basket of folded towels just as Syaoran arrived. The magician looked over. "Good morning, Syaoran-kun. Did you sleep well?"

Worse than usual, without my medicine. "Well enough. Can we talk?"

Fai smiled. "Of course. Here, walk with me to the bathhouse so I can put these away." He readjusted the laundry basket and started down the corridor. Syaoran followed for a few paces, then walked beside him, being careful to keep his distance. "What did you want to talk about?" the magician asked.

Syaoran hesitated. There wasn't much he wanted to talk about. Mostly, he wanted to know who was willing to talk to him. "Just . . . How have things been, since I left?"

Fai shrugged, the whole laundry basket shifting with him. "We missed you, but everything's fine. No harm done."

No visible harm, anyway. He stared down at his feet as he walked, watching them move over the floor. After his temporary paralysis, the rhythmic motions required to walk seemed somehow miraculous. "So things are just like they were in Infinity?"

"No, not exactly." Fai shifted the basket again so he could get a hand free to open the door. A cloud of steam rose through the narrow opening, much warmer than the surrounding air. The magician glanced over, as if to make sure Syaoran was still there, then swept into the steamy room. "Infinity was dreary and dangerous. But here, we can relax."

"Relax?"

Fai nodded, setting the basket down and picking a pile of towels from it to lay on the shelf. "We've all hurt each other enough. It's time to leave that behind and start over."

"Start over?" Syaoran echoed.

"Mm-hmm."

He stared at the magician, not quite believing what he'd heard. Start over? he thought. Start over now, after all the damage I've done? He shook his head. His hair waved in front of his eyes, having grown out considerably since Tokyo. I really need a haircut, don't I?

"Is there anything else you wanted to ask?" Fai said, after a few moments of silence. He picked up the empty basket and started for the laundry room.

"Why is everyone being so nice to me? How can any of you trust me?"

"I told you. We're starting over."

"That's not—" He bit his lip, turning away. "That doesn't make sense. You should hate me now more than ever."

Fai lost his smile, his face turning unnaturally somber. He glanced around, noting the different servants scampering in and out of the laundry room. Despite the rush of activity, Fai evidently thought that where they stood was private enough for their conversation; he sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. A patch of sunlight shone on the floor a few feet away from him, bright and warm as it streamed in from the window.

Fai beckoned. Syaoran sat down beside him.

"In Cirrus, we fought," Fai began, head tilted up toward the ceiling as if he found it fascinating. Perhaps he did; the patterns in the wood varied, never repeating themselves in precisely the same configuration. "In that fight, you gained the upper hand. You could have easily killed me then." He paused.

"Yes . . ." Syaoran said, waiting for the magician to explain.

"Why didn't you?"

Syaoran blinked. "Because that would've been wrong."

Fai nodded, as if he'd expected this answer. "I thought you were going to do it—I deserved it after the way I treated you in Infinity, and I could see why you'd hate me enough to kill me, given how I almost killed you. But you surprised me."

Fai's eyebrows pulled together, and he hesitated before continuing. "Later that night, when I saw you in the city, you said something to me. You said I would never understand you. And you're probably right. But if there's one thing I do understand, it's that you'd never do anything to harm me or Kuro-pon or Sakura-chan."

"That's hardly a reason," Syaoran criticized. "I wouldn't be able to hurt Kurogane-san, even if I wanted to, and I got lucky in our fight. And Sakura . . . I would never hurt her, if I could help it."

Fai smiled. "And that's the best anyone can do, right? Trying not to hurt the people we care about most. But sometimes we fail, and we hurt them by accident."

Beyond the window, a cloud covered the sun.

"We all mourned when we thought you were dead," Fai said quietly, turning somber as the sunshine dimmed. "Out of all of us, I think you hurt Kuro-sama the most."

Syaoran looked away. "He must have been furious with me."

"Oh, he was. But . . . sometimes, I wonder if he felt more guilt over letting you leave than I felt when I thought I'd killed you."

Syaoran shook his head. "He has no reason to feel guilty."

"But he does feel guilty," Fai said, his voice overflowing with conviction. "I know he does. I've felt it through the blood bond."

Syaoran shook his head more vigorously. "It doesn't matter. We've finally landed in his world. He'll want to stay here."

The blood seeped out of Fai's face. "Did he say that?"

"No, but . . . Of course he'd want to stay here. That was his wish, when he arrived in Yuuko's shop. It would be selfish of me to expect him to continue this journey, especially now."

The magician shook his head, but remained mute. Belatedly, Syaoran realized what that meant for Fai. He needs Kurogane-san's blood to survive. Fai can't leave this world without him. And his wish was to travel to as many different worlds as possible. A new thought crept in, dislodging the others. If Fai has to stay here . . . I still need to help Sakura find her feathers. Will I be able to do that, without either of them? Will I be able to keep us both alive?

Suddenly, the world seemed horribly unstable. Syaoran stood, indecisive. Should he beg Kurogane to continue the journey, knowing he'd be shattering the ninja's hope to remain here? Even if he begged, what were the odds the ninja would listen to him? He'd done nothing to deserve such kindness, and everything to inspire antipathy from the others. How could he ask for something like that?

Should I try to go alone to search for the feathers? he wondered, wrapping his arms around his torso as if he was cold. As if he could feel cold anymore. No. I wouldn't survive more than a few worlds without help. I'm useless.

Fai had regained his composure. "I'll talk to Kuro-chan tonight. Don't worry."

"No. No, I'll talk to him. I have to . . ." I have to apologize. I have to make amends, before I go. He started for the door, heart beating faster. "I have to talk to him."

"Syaoran-kun?"

He hesitated in the doorway. How much must've changed for him to be addressing me like I'm a real person? "Yes?"

"Don't worry so much. Everything will be fine."

Syaoran looked at the magician for one moment, trying to decide how much of that last statement was a lie and how much was wishful thinking. Then he went outside.