Chapter Ninety-Seven

Syaoran would remember the next seven days more like a series of snapshots than a string of cohesive events.

First, he'd remember the grin on Kurogane's face when Hinata declared him fit to leave the medical wing. Syaoran sat in the corner of the room, trying to appear busy as the healer gave the news, but watched them both as a smile fought its way to his lips. Oddly, Hinata's look of relief mirrored the ninja's, though hers was tinged with a weariness that made him think her job was even more hectic than he'd assumed.

The second thing he'd remember would be standing in the imperial garden, admiring rows and rows of paper lanterns as Tomoyo admitted people—nobles and commoners, men, women, and children—onto the castle grounds in preparation for the festival. The cherry blossoms had come into full bloom, pinkish-white petals swaying in the light breeze as people chatted amongst themselves. The focal point of this memory was not the grandeur of the garden or the people in it, but the young girl with sun-kissed hair cradled in the branches above, kept alive by a combination of her own innate magic and the tree's spiritual qualities. She looked strangely peaceful, eyes closed as if in sleep, yet Syaoran couldn't help but feel guilty as he looked at her. Hinata and the other healers had tended her wounds and changed her into a more appropriate outfit, but he couldn't chase from his mind those moments in Infinity when he'd believed her dead.

The third thing he remembered was racing down a dirt path on his way to Kurogane's room, eyes blurring with tears he refused to shed. The fourth thing he remembered was sliding the door open and seeing Kurogane sitting up in his bed and staring at the wall toward the festivities, perhaps listening, perhaps only daydreaming. The fifth, crawling into the ninja's bed and pressing his face against the man's good shoulder to hide the tears that had escaped his eyes. The sixth, apologizing profusely even as the sobs ripped through his lungs. The seventh, hearing the words It doesn't matter and It's all right over and over again until he calmed down.

"I'm sorry," he said when he trusted his voice. "I overreacted. I should—"

"Stay," Kurogane finished, resting his chin on Syaoran's shoulder.

"But I . . ."

"Stay and tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

He shook his head. "It's not . . . It's not something that can be fixed," he said, burying his face in the crook of the ninja's neck. After a few tremulous breaths, he clarified. "I saw Sakura, up in the tree."

Kurogane stiffened. "Did something happen?"

"No, it's not that. She . . . She looked so peaceful up there, and I thought: It looks like she's sleeping. Like Snow White."

"Who?"

Syaoran blinked. He hadn't really considered the fact that Nihon wouldn't have the same fairytales he'd grown up with, but it made sense. "It's an old story about a woman whose beauty causes a jealous queen to despise her. One day, the queen disguises herself as an old woman and gives the woman a poisoned apple that puts her into a death-like sleep."

Kurogane raised an eyebrow. "What kind of queen gets jealous enough to poison one of her subjects?"

Syaoran shrugged. "The evil kind, apparently. Anyway, when I saw Sakura . . ." He trailed off, not sure how to convey that it had been the peacefulness itself that had unnerved him. "She's not asleep. Not really. Everything she was—everything she could ever have been—was taken from her when her body and soul split. Her body's still alive, but . . ."

"But you're worried that she's not coming back," Kurogane finished when he trailed off. Syaoran nodded. "Kid, listen: if we're living in a fairytale, then the author is one sick, sadistic bastard. And if someone is up there writing about all the shit that's happened to us in the past few months, I will personally go to the witch and ask her to give me a shot at them." The back of his hand brushed across Syaoran's cheek. "The only person I take orders from is Princess Tomoyo. Other than that, I make my own choices. And so did the princess. She told us she'd been looking for a way to keep all of us alive. Doubting her now is as good as saying you never believed she could make a difference in the first place."

Syaoran looked down. "I didn't mean it like that. I just . . . There's a price for changing the future." And for changing the past. "Right now, we don't know what form that will take. That worries me."

Kurogane's hand settled on his shoulder. "You have no way of finding out right now. There's no point in worrying."

"I know." He lowered his head. "I know," he repeated softly. He leaned into the ninja's side. "Thanks for listening. I think I just needed someone to talk to."

"Always." His arm tightened slightly around Syaoran's shoulders in a gesture of comfort. The minutes slipped past like sand between loose fingers until the only sound was the distant noise of people chattering in the garden. After a while, Kurogane spoke again. "Hey, you want to go to the festival with me tomorrow night? I'm sick of lying around."

His heart started thumping. "Like a date?"

The ninja's cheeks darkened. "Well . . . We've never actually been on a date before, have we? I guess we better get that out of the way so we can check it off the list."

Syaoran's lips pulled into a broad smile. How like him, he thought fondly, to treat our first real date like a chore. "Okay. Meet tomorrow at sunset?"

"Sounds fine to me. But no touchy-feely crap in public, got it?"

"Okay." He raised his head, fastening his mouth over the ninja's lips and lingering there for a few moments. Then he stood. "I'll see you then."

Within minutes after the boy left, Tomoyo arrived in his chambers. "Good afternoon, Kurogane," she said.

Grimacing with pain, Kurogane shifted and bowed so his head touched the floor. "Tsukiyomi," he said formally. "What's the occasion?"

Tomoyo smiled, saying nothing as she knelt at his bedside. "I wished to speak with you, now that you're feeling better."

He sat up, absently rubbing the fresh bandages on his shoulder. "Did you have a dream?"

Something flickered across Tomoyo's face, gone too quickly to identify. She looked down, folding her hands on her lap. "I can no longer see the future in my dreams."

His spine went rigid. "What? Since when? Why? It was the witch, wasn't it?"

Tomoyo smiled sadly and nodded. "I gave up my ability to see the future in order to ensure that you and the others would land here at the moment when you needed it most. I lost my power when you left Ceres."

He felt his shoulders slump. "Why?" he asked, his voice sounding faraway even to his ears. Why sacrifice something so valuable for the sake of three strangers and one ninja?

"I saw a great many futures before I gave up my visions. Your choices, and the choices of your companions, have opened up a new path for you, a path that makes you even more valuable to this world and every other world than I could ever be. Our enemy's wish affects not only you and your friends, but every world that has ever existed. And because of his wish, reason itself is beginning to crumble. If he is not stopped . . ." She shook her head, and his stomach tightened as he saw the shiver run down her body. "The consequences of his wish will destroy the very fabric of the universe. It would cause a series of disasters that humanity could never recover from."

"What's his wish? What's so important that he's got to rip the universe apart by the threads?"

To his surprise, Tomoyo smiled. "His wish, I think, is not so different from your own." When he stiffened, she laid a gentle hand on his wrist. "It is a wish nearly everybody has made, but nobody has ever accomplished—a wish that threatens the rules of the universe, and therefore everything it contains." Her dark eyes met his. "He wishes to bring someone back to life, Kurogane."

"So what? So does everyone. What makes his wish so special?"

"Because soon he will have the power to accomplish it." She sighed. "I do not know how he plans to do so, but I have seen what will happen if he does. With every choice you make that moves contrary to his plan, that future grows weaker. Fei-Wang Reed can be beaten. You and your companions have the power to do it."

"How?"

"I do not know."

"Then what do I need to do to be ready?"

"I do not know," she said again. "And I'm afraid I can give you no further guidance."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, studying her. After almost a minute, he spoke. "It's happening soon, isn't it? The final battle."

"Yes."

"Then I have to be ready to fight. I lost my sword in the last world. I'm going to need a weapon."

"I will take care of it."

He nodded, having expected as much. "The kid and the mage need to be warned."

"In time, Kurogane."

His eyes narrowed. "Why not now?"

"It would interfere with the way things must occur. If one wishes to change the future, they must also choose the correct time to disclose information about it. Saying more now could jeopardize what you have all sacrificed so much to do."

Kurogane regarded her for several seconds, then sighed. "All right, but I still don't like it."

"And one other thing." Tomoyo turned to him, touching his forehead with her fingertips. Magic flared just under his skin, sparking down his body. He gasped, mind going blank for a moment even as his instincts screamed for him to retaliate.

"What was that?" he gasped, pressing a hand to his forehead. It didn't seem to be bleeding, but he could still feel the tingle under his skin, as if someone had spent the better part of the afternoon sticking needles into his forehead.

"I removed the remnants of the spell I placed on you before I sent you away. You will be able to kill without losing your strength."

He frowned. "That spell . . . it triggered in Ceres, before I killed the king. It kept his magic from ripping me apart."

Tomoyo nodded. "I knew that by preventing you from killing, I had also in some ways prevented you from protecting yourself. And so I bestowed upon you what protections I could offer without drawing unwanted notice." Her expression grew somber. "I do not remove this prohibition lightly. You are a good man, Kurogane, and you have grown considerably as a person, but you are also impulsive and, at times, dangerous. I am not giving you permission to kill indiscriminately, but I cannot expect you to face our enemy with my magic holding you back. Do not make me regret this."

If anyone other than Tomoyo had used that tone with him, he'd have knocked them out. But it was Tomoyo, so instead of losing his temper, he nodded. "I understand." Then, after a moment's consideration, he added, "I don't think I'd be able to look the others in the eye if I went back to the person I was. Even if circumstances force me to kill, I won't let myself become a monster."

Surprise flickered across Tomoyo's face, followed by a smile so bright it threatened to outshine the sun. "I would expect no less." She stood, her smile turning mischievous. "In any case, you still have some time before you leave this world. You should enjoy it. I heard you had a date for tomorrow evening."

He felt a blush creep across his cheeks. "Uh . . . yeah. Wait a minute—you were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

She giggled, sliding the door open. "Well, now that my visions are gone, I have to find new ways to get information," she said, stepping into the hallway. "Have fun on your date!"

"Very funny," he growled, watching the door slide shut between them.