Chapter Six
The Red Band opens each evening at dusk.
Or, rather, it opens at what qualifies as dusk here in the Undercity, where the only way to judge time is by lamps that shift in color with the passing of hours. Regardless, it's too early to meet up the others at the gambling house, and he has little incentive to return to the inn, so he finds an out-of-the-way tavern a few blocks from The Red Band and orders a mug of cider. Like most of the beverages in the Undercity, it's alcoholic, though he suspects that has more to do with staving off illness than anything else, given this world's unsanitary conditions. He still grimaces as the cider still burns down his throat.
The tavern has a Trick Tile board. It's cheaper than the one at The Red Band, smudged with fingerprints and cigar ash. Syaoran stares at the machine for nearly ten minutes, thinking of Ryuuo, before sitting down and dropping a coin into the slot.
He makes it less than halfway across the board before triggering a trap—a careless mistake borne of distraction. He can't stop thinking about the kiss. Somehow, his mind has preserved every detail: the warm weight of Ryuuo's hands, the flick of his tongue, the suction of his mouth over the Syaoran's collarbone. The memory alone makes his body stir, and Syaoran inserts another coin into the machine, trying to focus.
It's futile. The memories creep up on him like mist, manifesting so gradually that he hardly notices his attention drifting, the quiver of want gathering in his stomach. He wonders if it's this body, seven years too young for the mind residing in it, or if it's simply been so long since he's felt anything like desire that he's forgotten how intense it can be. Is this a betrayal of the love he felt—the love he still feels—for his Sakura? They've never properly courted, but he's known for nearly two-thirds of his life that he loves her. It seems wrong to find pleasure with someone else.
In his abstraction, he triggers one of the trick tiles. The game board buzzes, flashing red several times before returning to its default state. Syaoran considers playing another round, but there's no point. Muddled as his thoughts are, he'd only be wasting money.
Instead, he downs the rest of his cider, returns the mug to the barkeep, and spends the next two hours wandering the Undercity.
The others are waiting for him by the time he arrives at The Red Band. Or, rather, Kurogane is waiting. Fai and Sakura have already settled in at one of the tables.
"Where were you?" Kurogane asks when Syaoran approaches. His arms are crossed, and while his tone is neutral, there's something in his eyes that Syaoran can't place.
"Sorry. I lost track of time."
"That's not what I asked." Kurogane advances, looming over him, and Syaoran backs away instinctively, only to bump into an unoccupied table. Between that and the wall to his left, he feels suddenly cornered, the jagged edges of his anxiety sparking against each other. "Where were you?" Kurogane repeats, his voice low with threat.
"I was taking a walk."
"For four hours?"
Syaoran hesitates. Just for an instant, but it's enough to make that elusive something in Kurogane's expression crystallize. He's suspicious of me. The realization makes him flinch, and his thoughts scatter like sand in the wind. "I . . . As I said, I lost track of time." He edges to his right, his only escape route, but Kurogane grabs him by the arm, pinning him where he stands. Immediately, his vision starts to tunnel, distress surging from the depths of his mind. He forces it back, thinking of Ryuuo, of his welcoming smiles and gentle laughter. It's enough, just barely, to chase away the panic.
When he dares to look up, Kurogane's expression has eased from suspicion to something almost like concern. He releases Syaoran's arm, but instead of stepping back, his fingers snag on the collar of his shirt and pull it aside. Startled, Syaoran stills, goosebumps rising on his skin as Kurogane's thumb moves over the tender spot on his collarbone. By the time Syaoran lifts his hand to cover the mark left by Ryuuo's mouth, it's too late.
"You were with someone," Kurogane says.
It's not a question, and with the evidence is plainly visible on his skin, Syaoran cannot deny it, so he simply nods, wondering if it's possible to drown in one's own shame.
Kurogane releases his shirt. Takes a step back. Studies him. Then, quietly, he asks, "Do I need to be worried about this?"
Syaoran shakes his head.
The ninja grunts, grabbing a bundle of fabric from one of the chairs behind him. My jacket, Syaoran realizes as Kurogane thrusts it into his hands. "Don't try to hide things from me," he says as Syaoran pushes his arms through the sleeves. "I get enough of that from the mage."
He nods, buttoning up the front of the coat and drawing the collar close around his neck. Bad enough that Kurogane has seen the hickey; better that none of the others find out about Ryuuo, even obliquely. They already have enough reason to resent him without adding this indiscretion to the list.
Several hours later, before the Spectacle but after they've won an implausible nine games in a row, Sakura withdraws from the card table. "We should register for the tournament before we miss the deadline," she says as the dealer trades out their chips for currency.
The words lodge in his heart like a shard of ice. "Ah, about that . . ." he begins, recalling what Ryuuo said about the tournament, about the risks involved. Sakura regards him steadily, hands folded as he explains the penalties and conditions applied to participants. Ryuuo had been mercifully vague about the consequences of losing, but he knows enough of this world to guess at the possibilities.
Sakura listens to it all without flinching. When he trails off, she nods once. "I see."
Syaoran hesitates, only to realize that he's waiting for her to suggest the option that has been lingering on the fringes of his mind all evening. But she doesn't, so he forces himself to say it. "It might be better if you didn't participate. Safer. Kurogane-san and Fai-san both understand the games well enough, or we could find someone from this world who would be willing to act as our teammate."
"But that person wouldn't have my luck," Sakura says, a rueful smile tracing her lips.
It's not an argument he can counter. Even if he could find someone with similarly good fortune before registration ends, that person will undoubtedly already have a partner of their own. And once they pay for the tournament fees, they won't have enough left over to bribe anyone to take Sakura's place.
"What about you?" Sakura asks. "Are you still willing to join me in the tournament, even knowing the risks?"
There is only one answer to that question. "Of course, Princess."
Sakura nods. "Then we move forward."
Twenty minutes later, they finish signing the registration forms, including a waiver which states that The Red Band will not be liable for any injuries sustained during the tournament. The house attendants stamp their papers and take the velvet pouch containing their entry fee, all in hard coin, with a nonchalance that suggests they are accustomed to handling large sums.
A grim silence hangs over the two of them as they rejoin the others at the bar, made more pressing by the clink of glassware, the buzz of shuffling cards. Their commitment to the tournament weighs like an iron collar around Syaoran's neck, heavy and cold.
"How did it go?" Fai asks, and while his smile is devoid of enthusiasm, there's a hint of warmth in it as he meets Sakura's eyes.
"Well enough," the princess replies.
Kurogane remains silent, watchful. Aside from Mokona, Kurogane has been the most welcoming of his traveling companions—if a lack of hostility can be interpreted as welcoming. But it's difficult to discern what he thinks of Syaoran seeking out someone else's company. Is he disappointed? Indifferent? Does he assume that because Syaoran's clone loved Sakura, he does as well?
"Perhaps we should retire for the night," Sakura says, voice low. "We've spent enough time here."
"No kidding," Kurogane mutters, eyes flicking toward the arena.
Syaoran nods, though for a different reason. Sakura's luck has allowed them to find success even here, where the odds favor the house and its veteran players, but if anyone were to realize that their exceptional luck is a regular occurrence, the consequences could be lethal. He thinks of Ryon accusing Ryuuo of cheating, more than a week ago now; he has no desire to see that same accusation flung at Sakura.
Fai finishes off his cocktail. "Best be on our way, then, before this place gets too crowded."
No one says it, but the way they all studiously avoid looking at the arena makes the real reason for Fai's haste clear. They head for the exit, weaving between card tables and tipsy patrons. Though he doubts Ryuuo is here tonight, Syaoran finds himself searching the crowd for his familiar face, torn between hope and anxiety. He'd seen the flash of hurt in Ryuuo's eyes when he'd fled the apartment. Would he even welcome Syaoran's company, if they ran into each other again?
The thought distracts him so that when a stout man stumbles into him, he's too slow to get out of the way. "I'm sorry," he says reflexively, lifting his hands in a pacifying gesture.
The man turns, a sneer on his face. "Watch where you're—" he begins, only to halt abruptly when he sees Syaoran, beady eyes darkening with hostility. Ryon. "Oh, it's you."
Syaoran tenses, flicking a glance toward the others. Fai interposes himself between Sakura and Ryon, while Kurogane slips subtly into a fighting stance. "Who's this?" he asks, tilting his head toward Ryon.
"No one," Syaoran says, turning aside and taking a step toward the door.
"Where's your friend, huh?" Ryon calls after him. "Still hiding like the coward he is?"
Syaoran grits his teeth and keeps walking.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Ryon says, meaty fingers coiling around Syaoran's forearm.
Syaoran's body reacts before his mind can catch up; he seizes Ryon's wrist and twists it until Ryon crumples to the floor. His cry of pain draws the attention of everyone within ten paces, including a pair of attendants who bustle over, their faces stark with disapproval.
Syaoran releases Ryon's wrist. "Let's go," he says, pushing through the gathered crowd and slipping out the door. The others follow, Kurogane and Fai flanking Sakura, placing her in the most protected position as they leave The Red Band behind.
They make it almost three blocks before Kurogane grabs him by the elbow and tows him away from the others. Syaoran allows it, though it's difficult not to react, with the adrenaline pounding through his veins, urging him to move. "Who the hell was that?" Kurogane demands, pulling him into a narrow alley between two brick buildings.
"His name is Ryon." Syaoran focuses on the patterns in the brick wall across from him, tracing the gaps between them with his eyes. "His father is one of the councilmen for the Upper City."
Kurogane's eyebrows slant. "And how does he know you?"
"There was . . . an incident, about a week ago. It's not worth worrying about." Syaoran braces himself for the anger, the accusations, but Kurogane just scowls at him, eyes narrowed. It's the same look he had in Tokyo, sitting at Fai's bedside after the transformation: contempt mingled with concern, as if he couldn't believe Fai would choose to fade away.
When Kurogane finally speaks, his voice is as calm as the air before a thunderstorm. "I don't care what you do or where you go when we're not around. But we have our mission here. You interfere with that, you answer to me. Got it?"
He lowers his eyes, a fresh wave of shame cresting over him. "I understand."
"Good." Kurogane turns aside, heading back toward the others.
Syaoran holds his breath, shoving the guilt and frustration and hurt into a tiny box in the back of his mind. Then, numb, he follows.
Author's Notes:
Welcome back, everyone! Apologies for the delay. I meant the hiatus to last only a couple weeks, but it ended up stretching into a month. I did manage to write out most of the ending, but I've been struggling with these middle chapters (I'm only about halfway finished with the next chapter, though I did have a breakthrough on it a couple days ago, so hopefully I can manage steady weekly updates for the rest of the fic). I also have some announcements:
1. I now have a tumblr account. I realize I'm a little late to the party on this one, but for those of you who still use tumblr, my username is cinderstorm (I will be adding a direct link through my profile, near the beginning). The blog itself will be pretty varied, jumping between fandom stuff, announcements, and writing advice. I will also be posting sneak peeks of upcoming chapters (in fact, I've already posted a sneak peek for this fic, so if you're the sort of person who enjoys that sort of thing, you can find it on my tumblr). I will do my best to keep the sneak peeks only mildly spoilery, though by their very nature, they can't be 100% spoiler-free. I'll also take requests and answer questions from time to time, so please feel free to contact me through the Ask Me Anything tab.
2. My dear friend Aquarius Galuxy has just released a book (yes, another one). It's called The Wizard by the Sea, and can be purchased on Amazon at a very reasonable price. I've talked about her work in other author's notes, so I won't go into too much detail, but here's the blurb for those of you who are interested:
On his tenth birthday, Connor trips over a wizard on the shore. Amidst glowing clovers and roses drawn in the sand, the wizard shelters him from the rain and promises to teach him magic. Three years later, they meet again, and Connor becomes his student.
Yates has never been a mentor—he doesn't deserve the privilege. But Connor comes to him after a tragedy, broken and helpless, and stays for years. Without realizing it, they fall in love. Yates knows he shouldn't: he has shaped this boy into a man. At a loss, he pretends not to notice Connor's affections... until his nineteenth birthday, when they celebrate a hard-won victory and give in to desire. Ashamed, Yates banishes his student, leaving a hole in both their hearts.
Four years later and still lonely, a tidal wave sweeps Connor back into Yates' life. When they meet again, he discovers that Yates has withheld secrets from him, secrets that could change his life. Their past is fractured, their future uncertain. But the one thing Connor knows is that he's always loved the wizard by the sea.
