Chapter One-Hundred-Four

Kurogane returned a few minutes later with a simple white robe and a pair of pants to go beneath it. The boy took the garments, pulling them on carefully. When his fingers brushed the belt meant to secure the front of the robe, he hesitated. "Here, let me," Kurogane said, reaching out.

The boy shied away, grabbing the ends of the belt and wrapping them securely around his waist. "I've got it."

Kurogane swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Need anything else before you go?"

The boy shook his head, starting for the door. Halfway there, he paused and turned, walking to Kurogane and standing up on his tiptoes for a kiss. Surprised, Kurogane leaned in and pressed his lips to the boy's swollen mouth. Syaoran's eyelids fluttered. Lashes as soft as a butterfly's wings brushed Kurogane's cheeks. "I'll see you around," the boy said, retreating.

"Yeah." He watched the kid go, then closed the door. Gods, what an awful night, he thought, shaking his head. He sat on the edge of his mattress, ignoring the stray drops of blood as he ran his hand through his hair. His anger had evaporated when the kid had reached out to him for help, but by then, the damage had been done. And not just physical damage, either. No, he'd turned away afterward, sulking as the boy wept beside him.

Worse, this sort of thing just kept happening. He'd hurt the kid plenty of times in Infinity, and now here. Kept hurting him, kept breaking promises, kept apologizing when apologies meant nothing. What if it's worse next time? he wondered. What if it's not a few bruises and a bite? What if I start breaking bones? What if I hurt him so badly he can't recover?

The thought sickened him, but in some ways, he'd done most of that already. The first time the boy had kissed him, he'd thrown him into a wall and broken his shoulder. A hairline fracture, one the kid had hidden from him for days afterward, but a break nonetheless. And after . . . There had been the time he'd shoved the kid into the counter for suggesting that Kurogane would advantage of him while they were drunk. He hadn't injured the kid that time, but he could remember the look of fear in his eyes, a look that hadn't gone away even after they'd settled things.

That same look Kurogane had seen in his eyes tonight when he'd pinned the boy to the mattress. In the moment, it had been thrilling, intoxicating. But after . . .

Has he always been afraid of me? Kurogane wondered, closing his eyes. And if he has, why does he stick around? He should have left me months ago. The thought rankled. He'd promised to protect the boy, yet the kid needed protection from him more often than he needed it from outside threats. What good could he do if he was the reason for the fear in the boy's eyes?

You could leave, whispered a tiny voice in the back of his mind. You could leave him for real this time instead of giving in like you did in Infinity. He tried to ignore those whispers, but they repeated over and over in his mind. The boy was stronger now, more confident. He could stand on his own. Or maybe . . . maybe, if Kurogane planted the idea in his head, Syaoran would decide to end the relationship himself. That could work . . .

A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie. "What now?" he muttered, standing up and walking over to the door. As it slid open, it was all he could do not to grimace. Crap. "Tomoyo-hime," he said, bowing his head before meeting her eyes. Her eyes glittered with tranquil fury. Kurogane braced himself; he'd been expecting this.

"Kurogane. I just finished speaking with Yoru Okugawa in the medical wing. Before I relay his account of tonight's events, would you care to explain to me how he ended up with a broken nose?"

"Ah, shit," he muttered.

"Language, Kurogane," Souma said, peering over Tomoyo's shoulder. The glare he shot her must have been spectacular, because she actually skipped back a step in alarm.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Tomoyo. "He pissed me off. I punched him in the face. It's not like I killed him." And frankly, he's the least of my problems tonight.

Tomoyo's eyes narrowed. Her voice whipped out, firm yet still somehow regal. "He claims you threatened him, then assaulted him without provocation in the middle of the festival."

"Without provocation?" He heard the dangerous edge in his voice and forced himself to calm down. He would not fuck this night up even more by throwing a fit in front of Tomoyo. "If you'd heard half of what he said, you'd have wanted to knock his teeth out, too."

"I asked you to show better judgment. Have you learned nothing from your time away from Nihon?"

He winced. "Of course I've learned things. You can't penalize me for losing my temper, Tomoyo. It's not something I can fix."

"The fact remains—"

"You can't honestly believe some spoiled nobleman over me, can you?" he demanded, cutting her off. "Believe me, I know I've got a bloodthirsty streak. I know how often it comes out. But I have never lied to you. Why would I lie about some five-second fistfight when I didn't even kill the guy?"

Tomoyo stared at him for a long moment, her expression stern. He inhaled slowly, then stepped back, letting all the air out of his lungs. "If that is all," Tomoyo said, "then I'd like to know what he said that made you so angry."

He deflated, face flushing. "It's . . . uh . . . Well . . ." Damn. He cleared his throat, eyes flickering to Souma. As a ninja bound to the royal court of Nihon, Souma understood the importance of discretion. He had no doubt that whatever he said tonight would be kept between the three of them. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to face the sarcastic comments she'd throw at him next time they worked together.

"I'm waiting," Tomoyo said, crossing her arms in a way that, had she been less poised, would have made him laugh. Instead, he gulped, stammering out what was probably the most incoherent explanation he'd ever given.

"Well, he might have implied that, uh, the . . . that my student and I might be . . . well, you know. Which was none of his business to begin with. Anyway, it went back and forth for a bit, and then he said something about . . . um, that . . . and I punched him in the face."

Tomoyo's expression didn't change, but judging from the pink tinge to her cheeks, she'd understood enough. "I see." Her eyes narrowed. "That is . . . troubling."

He swallowed thickly, keeping his mouth shut.

"I believe I shall have another word with Lord Okugawa. If he cannot behave as his station demands, then I shall have no choice but to remove him from the festivities." She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. "In the future, try to avoid punching the other guests. It does not reflect well on me if one of my most devoted warriors cannot control himself during a peaceful celebration."

He bowed his head, feeling even more ashamed than he already had. "Understood."

"Good. Souma, escort me to my chambers, please. It's quite late."

"At once, my lady." Souma moved to follow Tomoyo through the hallway, but paused just long enough to arch one perfect eyebrow. Kurogane tensed, his face reddening. Souma pressed a hand to her mouth, suppressing a laugh.

I am never going to live this down, he thought, unable to find any humor in the thought as the others departed. He sighed, then started down the hallway. Fuck it, he thought, passing through one of the peripheral corridors, then quickly turning a corner. He entered a small room devoid of furniture and grabbed a wooden practice sword from the container by the door. He'd often come here after Suwa had burned, working off his tense energy by practicing his techniques. It had helped him cope with the death of everyone he'd loved. Maybe it could loosen the knot of tension under his ribs.

If not, well, he needed to practice fighting one-handed anyway.