Chapter One-Hundred-Seven
Syaoran flinched as if he'd been struck. Numbly, he shook his head. "You're lying . . ."
"I'm not." The Other lifted Hien, studying the sharp edge of the blade. A strange, bitter smile crept onto his face. "I can't. Our fates are intertwined. You would know if I was lying."
Syaoran's eyes flickered to the hazy outlines of Sakura's seven-year-old face. She didn't see him, or rather, she couldn't see him. It was as if their dreams existed on different planes, each unreachable from the other. Separated. Isolated.
"Fei Wang Reed created a clone of your Sakura," the Other said. There was something in his voice that had been absent a moment ago, some emotion Syaoran couldn't quite place—regret? Disappointment? Relief? Something other than the emptiness his clone had displayed thus far. Something almost . . . human.
The Other went on. "He sent the clone to Clow, to replace the one you'd tried to save. And then he took your body and copied it, sealing you away until we met in Tokyo. All that time, you looked through my eyes, just as I've been looking through yours in those dreams. All that time . . . and you never realized she wasn't your Sakura."
"Then what did Reed do with the original Sakura, after he cloned her?"
"Her body split apart from her soul, and she died." The Other's eyes flitted to the ruins once again. "She'd outlived her usefulness."
Syaoran shook his head, trying to block out the words. "I don't believe you."
"Don't you?" the Other demanded, voice rising. He took several steps in his direction. Syaoran raised his sword, but instead of attacking, the Other lifted a hand and made a circular motion in the air above him. Blue threads stretched out across the ground in a circle, like the strands of a spider's web. Even as his vampire reflexes carried him away from the path of the light, he realized what the Other intended to do.
"No!" he called, eyes flashing up to Fai and Kurogane. The line of light flared, rising from the ground in a curtain of magic fire. The others reeled back, then lurched forward, recognizing the nature of the spell a moment after he did.
A fraction of a second too late, Fai's hand smashed into the other side of the barrier. It threw him back like a taut spring. Through the veil of cold fire, Syaoran saw Fai's face settle into a mask of horror, saw Kurogane shaking his arm to break him free of his shock-induced stupor.
"There's one Sakura left," the Other said, capturing Syaoran's attention once again. "My master needs her. You want her returned safely. Only one of us can accomplish our goal. You know what has to happen next."
Syaoran hesitated, eyes flitting to his friends beyond the barrier, to the image of Sakura playing in the ruins, then finally to the shadows pooling at his clone's feet. A cylinder rose from the dark patch, materializing from the ground like a mirage. The colors shifted, shadows receding from the surface. As it took shape, Syaoran's heart started pounding.
Suspended in the tube, eyes closed in sleep, was Sakura. The slow currents tangled her hair. Bubbles rose from the base of the tube and drifted across her skin, her dress, her face. "Sakura!"
"One of us will leave this place," his clone said, raising a hand and moving it to the left. The tube containing the desert princess slid to the edge of the arena, inches from the fiery blue barrier. "But only one of us."
Syaoran met his clone's eyes and raised his new sword, feeling the resolve form in his blood, like ice crystals. He would not allow Sakura to be hurt. Not even if she was never my Sakura. "Fine."
Lightning flared at Syaoran's fingertips. Shadows writhed in the flickering light, forming phantom patterns around him. "Raitei Shourai!"
The Other lifted Hien; the edge glittered with the magic he'd stolen from Fai. As the lightning shot through the air, it bent, as if redirected by the magic coming off the dream-forged sword.
Syaoran darted in, hoping his supernatural speed would give him an edge. Before he could come within striking distance, the Other murmured another spell. Glowing cobalt triangles formed in the air in front of him, outlined with streaks of black, like the space between the stars. Too late, Syaoran tried to change direction. When he struck the barrier, sparks of agony shot through him, shredding the muscle of his arms and traveling down the rest of his body. It was all he could do to stay conscious as he collapsed to the ground.
The Other darted in, bringing Hien down.
Syaoran moved to parry the blow, not realizing until the last second that the attack was merely a feint, like so many of the drills Kurogane had taught them both. A feint. A trick.
Too late, Syaoran reared back. Flames erupted from Hien's blade, caressing his bare arms, grasping his shoulders and brushing its fingers across the side of his neck with a touch as light as one of Sakura's feathers. Blisters rose on his skin wherever the heat touched him, flesh melting even as sickening waves of pain penetrated deep into his body.
Instinct took over, and Syaoran called out another spell. "Fuuka Shourai!"
The air twisted around him, fanning the flames that bit into his skin. A gale pierced the air between himself and his clone. The force of it knocked them both backward. Frantically, Syaoran rolled, the fire clinging to his clothes like a jealous lover, eating away at his skin. Cinders glowed at the edges of his burnt clothes, even as he trampled the flames under his weight.
He laid still, breathing, as his wind spell raged around the closed off area. When his eyes caught sight of his friends beyond the barrier, he saw Fai frantically inscribing runes on the outside, trying to shatter the spells keeping them out. I only have to hold out long enough for them to get through, Syaoran thought, rising to his feet despite the claws of agony rending his flesh apart. As the wind began to die down, he realized that even his vampire blood couldn't afford him enough time to recover. He lifted his sword, channeling his magic down the steel. "Raitei Shourai!"
Electricity crackled along the line of the blade, shooting out in a straight line perpendicular to the sword. It roared, hot enough to melt stone. The Other reacted, drawing a line of magic in the air with the tip of his sword. It expanded, crimson fire forming a shield in front of him. The lightning pierced the wall of fire, and for one instant, Syaoran thought it was going to break through, that his clone would die from the jolt.
Instead, the barrier absorbed the brunt of the electrical attack and sent it back at him.
Syaoran threw himself to the side, the brilliance of the bolt leaving afterimages printed across his retina. Thunder tore through the enclosed space, echoing off the magic walls as if they were made of solid, tangible material. Between the afterimages and the noise, Syaoran was, for one moment, blind and deaf to everything except the chaos of the blast.
He did not see the threads of magic forming at the Other's fingertips, like fishing line.
He did not hear the whispered words of a magic language he didn't know.
He did not see or hear anything until he was caught.
The thread of magic wrapped around his throat, thin as spider's silk, but unbreakable as steel. He clawed at the obstruction, trying to gasp in a breath through his closed windpipe. His eyes sought the source of the spell, falling on the Other's cold gaze. His clone's lips moved, forming words too quiet for even his vampire senses to detect.
Twenty meters away, effervescent bubbles roared around Sakura's limp form, getting trapped in her hair. Still she slept, untouched by the chaos.
"How pitiful," his clone whispered, approaching. Syaoran struggled to stand. Thousands of invisible threads pinned him down, going taut as he tried to move. Perhaps in ones and twos, he could have severed them. Perhaps if they had only bound one arm or one leg, he could've broken free. But like the spells Fai had described when they'd first landed in this world, thousands of fine threads wrapped around his body, their combined force immobilizing every joint, every miniscule muscle. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could only feel his heart constrict as he realized once again that he'd never been in control of himself. Like a fly caught in a spider's web.
The edges of his vision grew hazy.
The Other had nearly reached him now. "How pitiful, to be the original, yet still overpowered so by a copy. How pitiful that you can't even be free from me now, when the person you love most is at stake."
His eyes could still move, Syaoran realized. They flickered to Sakura. Within the confines of the tube, her arms were moving, her eyelids slowly sliding open. No . . . he thought, remembering the moment she'd awoken in Tokyo, unable to keep himself from drawing parallels. No, not now. Don't wake up now, it will only hurt you . . .
The Other knelt down beside him, tugging the sword from his immobile hand and tossing it aside like a piece of broken costume jewelry. "I'll let you in on a little secret," the Other said, watching him like a middle school kid observing a dying bug. The cord of magic around Syaoran's throat loosened slightly; he gasped in a ragged breath, only to feel the rest of the strings pulling his body up, like a marionette. In a moment, he was face to face with his image. "There's a reason your Sakura died and mine didn't. It's because Hitsuzen demands balance. Two of the same person, both with the ability to travel dimensions . . . It goes against fate. So to compensate, the original Sakura died and the clone survived. And it has to be the same with us."
"Why?" Syaoran demanded, stalling for time. Surely, Fai was still searching for a way through the barrier, or, failing that, negotiating with Yuuko. Surely they wouldn't leave him here. Surely . . .
Uncertainty clouded the Other's mismatched eyes. "Why?"
"You said . . . You said the one over there was . . . your Sakura. Why do you call her that?"
"Because she's mine."
"But why?"
A shift came over the Other's face, like he couldn't really comprehend the question. His features went slack. Hien's point drifted down half an inch.
In the tube, Sakura was now fully alert. Her fists came down on the glass. A dull thump echoed across the arena. Muffled by her watery prison, she shouted. "Syaoran! Syaoran!"
"I wonder which Syaoran she's talking to," the Other said, any semblance of humanity fading from his eyes. "Is she defying fate by trying to stop me? Or is she calling out to you, trying to spur you to action?" The strings pulled tighter, and he lifted Hien, placing the tip at the juncture between Syaoran's shoulder and neck. A tingle of disquiet ran down his spine. This is it, he thought. This is how I'm going to die.
"Syaoran!" Sakura's fist came down hard on the inside of the glass, shattering it. Water flooded out from the tube, forcing the damaged glass out of the way and freeing her. Clutching the sword Kurogane had given her, she sprinted toward them. "Syaoran!"
The Other looked to her, then back to him. "It doesn't matter if she loves you now. I've won."
The sword came down.
Author's Note:
I told you I'd explain. Have a little faith in me, readers.
So essentially, there was an original Sakura and a clone Sakura, but unlike in the series, the original Sakura wasn't sealed away, but killed by the stresses of being cloned. AU!Syaoran didn't know this, so he assumed the Sakura he'd been traveling with was the original, and fell in love with her again during this story. That doesn't mean he didn't love the original Sakura, but right now, his mind is too muddled to really process her death, especially when clone Sakura is so close.
In other words, I lied when I said there was only one Sakura. But only technically, as the existence of an original Sakura didn't affect the plot until now.