Chapter Forty-Two

"Now sift three tablespoons of cocoa powder onto the paper," Fai instructed, looming over the sheet of wax paper with a container full of brown powder. Syaoran measured out three tablespoons of cocoa powder and put it in the sifter Fai had dug out of the back of the cupboard a few minutes ago.

"Is this the same measuring system you use in your world?"

"Nope," Fai said cheerfully. "But that system is a little needlessly complicated for baking. We use it for making potions, so the measurements are very precise."

"Oh." He started sifting the cocoa powder, surprised; Fai seldom revealed things about his home world, though when he did, it was just that sort of irrelevant information. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd shared this same tidbit with Sakura. They'd baked together in Outo, after all.

He sighed, hating himself for the pang of jealousy he felt at their close relationship. It was so easy for them. Even now, still broken and bleeding from Tokyo, Fai and Sakura got along.

"Syaoran-kun, you're brooding."

"I am?" He blinked, then glanced around as if that would somehow confirm whether or not he had, in fact, been brooding.

"If you're worried about something, it's all right to talk about it." Fai measured out a bit of baking powder with one of the measuring spoons, then held it over the bowl and sprinkled it into the mix. "That might help you work out a solution."

Syaoran shrugged. "I'm not really worried about anything specific."

Fai pulled a glass measuring cup from the cupboard and opened the fridge. "So it's a more general sense of worry?"

"I guess." He watched as Fai set a gallon of milk on the countertop, beside the measuring cup.

"We need half a cup of this, according to the recipe." Fai nudged the measuring cup and milk closer to him, and Syaoran dutifully stepped forward to pour. "Worried about where we're going after this world?"

"A little. But actually, I'm more worried about what's going on now." He frowned, bending at the knees so he could see the lines on the measuring cup better. Perfect, he thought, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"What's going on now?" Fai asked quietly. The question plunged him into the recent chaos, the hurt he'd felt when Kurogane had rejected him, how it had been so ridiculously hard to keep from crying. It was ironic, in a way. He'd survived monsters, magical assaults, even warfare, yet here he was, breaking apart over something so insignificant.

But it didn't feel insignificant. His connection to Kurogane had been like an anchor holding him in place in the middle of a tempest. Now it felt as if the chain connecting him to that anchor had broken, leaving him adrift in dangerous waters.

That wasn't exactly the sort of conversation he wanted to have with Fai. "Nothing specific," he lied. "It's just . . . Things have been tense lately, and understandably so."

Fai watched him for a long moment. Syaoran could feel the skepticism radiating out from him. After about thirty seconds, Fai turned back to the ingredients and wiped the glass measuring cup clean with a wet rag. Without a word, he poured the correct amount of oil into the cup and transferred it to the bowl. "Things have been rough, but I think we'd all like it if you came out of your room more often."

Syaoran swallowed. Kurogane had suggested almost exactly the same thing, numerous times, but he'd never really believed it until now. Suddenly, he felt horrible for distancing himself so much. I wasn't making anything better. I was just prolonging the most painful part. "I'll keep that in mind."

Fai smiled brightly and went over to another cupboard. "Great. Now let's mix this."

The noise of the mixer made having a conversation impossible, which allowed him to go away inside without having Fai accuse him of brooding. In fact, the only words between them were Fai's instructions on how to mix properly, which Syaoran could follow despite being lost in his own thoughts.

It was all so mundane—standing here, in an apron dusted with flour, making cake as if everything was right in the world. Yet he felt exposed. Kurogane had left earlier that afternoon, ostensibly to get a better bearing on their surroundings, but in his absence, it felt as if something was missing from the apartment. Syaoran kept expecting to hear sarcastic complaints about the noise or the cloying scent of cake batter—all remarks equal parts serious and teasing. The absence made the air thick, as tense as it might've been if Fai wasn't pretending to be on friendly terms with him.

The act is better than nothing, he thought, as Fai told him to stop the mixer. Syaoran pulled the still-spinning blades from the chocolate goop and let them fling the excess batter along the sides of the bowl before he turned the mixer off.

"Let's get this into the pan," Fai said, maneuvering around him and pulling a metal baking pan from the cupboard at his feet. He grabbed a can of baking grease and sprayed it across the inner surface of the pan. "That should do it. Here, Syaoran-kun. I'll hold this. You pour the batter."

Syaoran nodded, refocusing. The viscous batter slid out of the bowl and spread out across the bottom of the pan until it touched the sides. He ended up having to get a spatula to scrape the remaining batter from the bottom of the bowl, but from the way Fai was smiling, he was pleased with the result. "Good. Now we put it in the oven for twenty-five minutes, and then, if it passes the test, it'll be done!" He clapped once in excitement, then slid the pan into the oven.

This is the happiest I've seen him in weeks, Syaoran thought, fighting another twinge of guilt. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't hate me for what happened in Tokyo. "What's the test?"

"Hmm? Oh, you have to stick a fork in the cake, and if the fork comes out clean, it's done."

"Does that work for all baked goods?"

Fai shrugged. "Not all of them. But for things like cake or brownies it does."

Syaoran looked at the oven, contemplating that.

"Anyway, once it's done, we'll let it cool, put some frosting on it, and then everybody can have some while it's still warm."

But Kurogane's not here, he wanted to say. And there's no way this is good enough to give to Sakura.

"Syaoran-kun?"

He looked up. "Yes?"

Fai sighed and rested a hand atop his head, tousling his hair with such casual affection that all he could do was stand there, frozen. "Don't take too much responsibility onto your shoulders. Sometimes it's better to just relax and let things happen the way they want to happen."

If I wanted to relax, I would be alone right now, reading. He sighed. "It's hard to relax here. This world is . . ." He searched for a word to define the bustling city, the brutal fights, the overall state of disrepair. Even "chaotic" didn't quite fit because, while all those issues were prevalent, they were all in the background. No, it's more like this world is off-balance. Like everything is just a little bit wrong.

"I know what you mean," Fai assured him, when he didn't finish his sentence. "But let's not worry about that. It's time to make frosting."

"Frosting?" he echoed.

"Oui. La glaçage."

Syaoran cocked his head to the side, wondering if Mokona's translation abilities had faltered. Fai laughed, then tried to stifle the sound with his hand. "Sorry. I took a lot of language classes back in Ceres. Mokona probably realized I wasn't speaking in my usual language and didn't try to translate that. But yes, we're making frosting."

I didn't realize Mokona could selectively translate. Perhaps they could find a way to make use of that, later.

Fai assembled frosting ingredients from the cupboard while Syaoran picked out a bowl. "Now, Syaoran-kun, making frosting is a difficult art. You have to adjust and readjust, and you never add as much liquid as you think you need—trust me."

Syaoran nodded, noting the regal tone with which Fai gave this advice. He wasn't sure if Fai was aware of it, or if it was something he did unconsciously while baking, like lapsing into a different language.

Together, they assembled a lump of ingredients—milk, vanilla, butter, salt, and enough powdered sugar to make him want to gag—at the bottom of the plastic bowl. After that, Fai handed him a spoon and commanded him to stir the mass until it came out looking like frosting (which seemed odd, considering the mix was almost entirely powdered sugar). Surprisingly, after a while, the tiny amount of liquid spread through the sugar and made it smooth, buttery.

"Perfect," Fai said, leaning over the bowl with a look of pride. "You're really good at this."

Heat rushed to his cheeks at the compliment. Yet he couldn't help but feel that the words were lacking some vital component, some subtle inflection that would've made it sound genuine. He's humoring me, Syaoran realized, still stirring. He wants to make this work, but he doesn't know how to act around me.

Not for the first time, Syaoran found himself wishing Kurogane was at his side instead. The ninja would never be caught dead trying to bake, of course, but most of the time, it was easy to be around him. He understands that I'm not an exact replica of the Other. He knows that I need different things to cope. His eyes flickered to Fai, who was peering through the oven window as he examined their cake. There were still thirteen minutes on the timer.

Fai doesn't understand me. He's trying too hard to treat me like he treated the Other. "Fai-san . . ."

The magician glanced up, frowning at his tone. "What's wrong?"

Just say it. He took a deep breath. "I'm not the Syaoran you knew before. You don't have to do this for me."

Fai's eyebrows furrowed. "We could try something besides baking."

"It's not the baking." He exhaled, trying to think of a tactful way to say that Fai's attempts to right things were so transparently forced that it was painful to watch. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I think it's going to take time for things to get better. We've all been through a lot. Before we do anything else, we have to set that aside."

A small, sad smile curved up Fai's lips. "You want to forget Tokyo, too, don't you?"

He shrugged, not wanting to admit that he wanted to forget everything else that had gone along with it. "We probably won't ever be able to forget Tokyo. But I want to let it go, if there's any way to do that."

Fai looked at him. "Some things are hard to let go of."

"I know." But maybe, in this world, we'll have enough time to let go anyway.