Chapter One-Hundred-One

"Hey, Kurogane-san!"

Kurogane glanced up, unused to hearing his name from someone other than his traveling companions. Beside him, the boy did the same, standing taller as he became more alert. The man who'd called out pushed through the crowd, beaming. "Hey, you remember me, don't you?"

"No," Kurogane said. The boy nudged him with his elbow, throwing him a stern glance. Right. Tact, Kurogane thought, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. "I've been gone a while. Lost touch with the local noblemen." He looked at the man's ornate robes, judged him to be a mid-level nobleman. Then, since his mother would have been disappointed if he didn't, he bowed in respect.

"No worries. I'm Yoru Okugawa." The man return the bow, his eyes alight with curiosity. "We spoke once, after a meeting with the Tsukiyomi."

His jaw flexed—it always bothered him when people referred to Tomoyo as "the Tsukiyomi," as if her title mattered more than who she was or what she did. Still, it was technically an acceptable way of referring to her, so he couldn't really complain.

"Of course, your reputation has spread nearly as far as the Tsukiyomi's," Yoru continued, nodding to himself. "Kurogane, last of the Suwa line, now the strongest warrior in Nihon."

"Yeah." He shrugged. Once, the compliment would have stirred up his pride. Now, he felt an echo of remorse. He'd killed hundreds of men before Tomoyo had sent him away. Only in the past few months had he started to understand that it made little difference whether he killed or not—someone would always put the people he cared about at risk.

"So, are the rumors true, then?" Yoru asked. "Did the Tsukiyomi really banish you for being too bloodthirsty?"

At his side, Syaoran tensed. The discomfort Kurogane had felt a moment ago sharpened to shame. It's not like the kid didn't know, he told himself. He read my memories just like the other kid. He saw how I was at the start of this journey.

He turned back to Yoru. "Yeah, she did."

"That must have stung a bit, having the princess tie your hands like that. Uh, I mean . . . hand. Singular. Did that happen recently?"

Damn, this guy's got even less tact than I do. "Yeah. Couple weeks ago." He smoothed out his empty shirt sleeve. "If that's all—"

"What about the rest of it? The legends about you. Are those true?"

The corner of his lip twitched. "I wouldn't know. I don't make a habit of listening to gossip." And here he allowed a thread in insult weave through his voice. He'd never liked dealing with other nobles, with their poisonous gossip and political machinations. He'd spent the majority of his young life in rural Suwa, away from the games of the court, and learning to deal with others of his station had been one of the most challenging things he'd had to learn after coming here to serve Tomoyo.

Yoru turned to the boy, his gaze intent. "Not all gossip turns out to be false, my friend." A cold gleam of amusement flickered in his eyes as Kurogane tensed. With a lazy smile, he tilted his head toward Syaoran. "I would assume this is your apprentice. And perhaps . . . something more?" He raised an eyebrow.

Kurogane stepped forward until his face was inches from Yoru's. The nobleman didn't back down, but rather met his gaze with a childish look of glee. His breath carried a trace of alcohol. Stupid, spoiled aristocrats, Kurogane thought. "You want to back off," he said quietly. "I don't need a sword to kick the shit out of you."

Yoru chuckled. Syaoran edged forward, placing a hand on Kurogane's left shoulder. "Don't do this," he whispered. "He's just trying to bait you."

Kid's probably right. The thought didn't dispel his anger. Quite the opposite, the idea of being manipulated by this upstart, highborn brat made Kurogane want to wring his neck. "Let him," Kurogane said. "It's been a while since I got to snap someone's neck. I kind of miss the thrill."

Syaoran's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Please, don't."

"You going to let that kid boss you around?" Yoru taunted, snickering. "Makes me wonder which one of you is taking it up the—"

His fist shot forward, striking Yoru's nose with a satisfying crack. The nobleman staggered backward, tripping over his ornate robes and landing hard on the grass. Around them, the people who'd been furtively observing the confrontation turned, circling around them.

"You . . . You broke my nose!" Yoru yelled, blood dribbling from both nostrils. The man got to his feet, swaying slightly. "You fucking bastard, you broke my nose!"

"Keep talking and we'll see what else I can break."

"Kurogane-san, please, stop." The kid stepped between him and Yoru, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him. "It's not worth the trouble. We should leave."

"Didn't you hear him?" he demanded. "Are you going to let him get away with saying shit like that?"

Yoru chuckled viciously. "So the great dragon of Suwa lets his lover order him around." He spat out a mouthful of blood. "Wonder what your father would think of that. Some great warrior you turned out to be."

Kurogane almost punched him again. Only the kid, clinging to his shirt with both hands, stopped him. "Let's just leave. We'll go back to the castle. To your room. Please."

Kurogane looked down, about to shove the kid off aside, but the boy met his gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears. Kurogane grit his teeth, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away from the circle of witnesses. Syaoran followed, keeping his head down as the crowd parted for them. People fell silent as they passed, averting their eyes.

They reached the edge of the festival grounds, where the lantern light didn't reach. Kurogane released his grip on the kid's arm, then shoved him up against the wall of the castle with his elbow. The boy huffed out a sharp breath, visibly startled. "You," Kurogane growled, "are very, very lucky that I didn't break your arm for stepping between me and that pompous asshole."

"You're angry."

"Of fucking course I'm angry! You had no place in that fight. None! What the hell did you think you were doing, getting in my way like that?"

"I was trying to protect you!" The boy's shout ended as a croak, tears glistening in his eyes.

"I don't need your protection from some stupid nobleman, especially not one who whines over a broken nose."

"Not from him," Syaoran responded, sounding closer to losing his temper than Kurogane would have expected. "I wanted to protect you from Tomoyo-hime."

What? He blinked, his fury derailed just for a moment. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"That nobleman said she banished you because you were too bloodthirsty. Do you really think she wants you picking fights during a festival? Do you really think I want to see you fighting just because someone made a few remarks about us?"

Kurogane fell silent, anger coiling tight in his stomach. The kid stayed pressed against the wall, not moving. "You got in my way. I had it handled."

The boy inhaled slowly, breath shaking. "You're not acting like yourself," he whispered. "This isn't you."

"You're wrong. I feel more like myself tonight than I've felt in months." His hand tightened around the boy's arm. "I'm a killer. I've taken more lives than I can count. I've enjoyed it. I still would, if I started killing again now." He pulled the kid closer, lowering his voice. "Killing isn't just something I've done. It's part of who I am. If you're not okay with that that, then you'd better fucking say something before it's too late."

Syaoran's breath caught as he looked away. "I . . . We should head back inside for the night. I want . . ." He gulped, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I want you."

"No you don't."

"How could you know?"

His eyes narrowed. Without another word, he dragged the kid toward the castle doors. The guards gave him wary glances as he passed, but made no move to stop him. He pulled the kid down the corridors, eventually stopping at his room. He released the boy's arm just long enough to open the door before grabbing him by the collar and yanking him inside. Syaoran had fallen silent as they'd walked, his shoulders stiff, but now he looked at Kurogane with fear in his eyes, hands half-raised as if to fend him off.

There was something intoxicating about that fear, something that made the blood in his veins burn like fire. He slid the door shut and stepped closer to the boy, watching him retreat until his shoulders were pressed against the wall. He stopped there, towering over him, the air crackling with tension.

"You're not going to hurt me," the boy whispered. The monster inside Kurogane stirred at the uncertainty in his voice.

He seized the kid by the shoulder, looking him in the eye. "Yes," he said quietly. "I am."