Chapter One-Hundred-Twelve

The sound of the door sliding open made them both flinch. Kurogane rolled onto his back, pain shooting through his head like falling stars. The boy wriggled out of his embrace and sat up, running his fingers through his hair. The clumsy attempt only made it look messier, and when Hinata Yamura walked in, she gave them both a wry glance. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Kurogane repressed a scowl. "No. Not at all."

"Excellent." She set a scroll on one of the tables and produced a jar of herbs from a pocket in her sleeve. As one of the other healers hurried in with a pot of hot water, Hinata spoke. "I'm told you were a bit disoriented when you woke up. How do you feel?"

Like crap, he thought, the throbbing on his head growing more pronounced. "Fine."

"No hallucinations, dizzy spells, confusion?"

"Maybe a little dizziness."

"That should pass soon." Hinata added the herbs from the jar into the teapot. "How would you describe the intensity of your pain?"

"It's not that bad."

Her eyes flitted to his face. "Is that so?"

His eyebrows slanted, but before he could snap at her, the boy nudged his arm. Kurogane's eyes flickered to his face, saw the worry there. Glancing over to make sure the apothecary wasn't looking, Kurogane ran his fingertips along the back of the kid's hand. At the touch, the boy seemed to relax.

"Drink this," Hinata said, handing him a cup. "No arguments."

"What is it?"

"A painkiller. I left out the sedative, since you protested so much last time, but you will drink this, and then you will get some sleep."

"I thought you weren't supposed to sleep if you had a concussion."

"That's a myth," Hinata said. "Sleep deprivation is one of the worst things you can do to your body when you're injured. The only reason people think you're supposed to stay awake if you have a concussion is because you need to be woken up regularly to make sure you don't fall into a coma."

He frowned. "Then why do people always—"

"Drink your tea."

"I was going to," he grumbled, downing the bitter mixture in one gulp. The taste of mint did almost nothing to disguise the medicinal flavor. He grimaced and set the cup down next to his bedroll.

"I lied about the sedative, by the way," Hinata told him, gathering up her supplies. "You'll start feeling drowsy in a few minutes, so don't bother yelling. You'll only make a fool of yourself."

"You—"

"Get some rest. One of my apprentices will check on you later." Grabbing the teapot, Hinata swept out of the room, closing the door behind her. That sneaky bitch. Kurogane glowered at the door until the kid nudged his arm.

"She's only trying to help."

Kurogane sighed and laid back, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, well, she could have asked."

"Would you have taken the medicine if she had?"

He thought about that for a moment. "No."

"Would you have taken it if I offered to take you to the hot springs for another bath?" the boy asked, adding just enough suggestion to his tone to make his meaning clear. Kurogane felt his face warm, and he had to concentrate to keep a smirk from reaching his lips.

"Maybe."

A smile touched the boy's face, and Kurogane inhaled as if he'd gotten his first breath of fresh air in weeks. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the kid's smile. He rolled slightly, cupping the boy's cheek with his hand. Surprise danced in Syaoran's eyes, and his cheek warmed under Kurogane's touch. Hesitantly, he edged closer, wrapping his arms around Kurogane's neck. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

His eyes widened. "You want to?"

The boy nodded against his chest. "I missed you. And we've only really slept together once, and that was an accident, so . . ." His cheeks reddened. "If you want me to leave, I can—"

"Stay."

Syaoran relaxed, his smile returning as he burrowed his forehead into the hollow of Kurogane's throat. The drowsiness started to kick in as he felt the boy's lips on his neck. He wrapped his arm around the boy's torso, holding him close as he drifted to sleep.

Syaoran stayed awake for a long time after Kurogane's sedatives kicked in, thinking. Swallowed up in the ninja's embrace, he knew that their connection hadn't been lost despite the horror of the past two weeks. If anything, the longing Syaoran had felt for the man's touch had only deepened as they'd avoided each other. It felt good to be lying next to him again. It felt right.

Still, he had some things to think about. He couldn't continue on as if the past two weeks hadn't happened. To do so would be to invite those things to happen again. It's time to find the root of the problem, he thought, resting his forehead against the ninja's collarbone. Knocked out by sedatives, Kurogane didn't respond to his slight movement. Syaoran allowed his fingers to trace the patchwork of bruises the ninja had incurred when the roof had fallen on them. In places, the tan color of his skin disappeared under ugly, purple splotches, and when Syaoran ran his fingers over those places, he could feel the swelling.

Syaoran stretched, wincing. He'd taken a few hits himself when the roof had collapsed. Bruises colored his arms, throbbing with every heartbeat. By comparison, the bruises Kurogane had given him after the festival seemed insignificant. Yet if the ninja hadn't protected him, he'd have been even worse off, so in that way, staying with him was less dangerous than trying to avoid him.

But how much more of this can we take? he wondered. It seems like every time we resolve one issue, another comes up to take its place. Would it be the same way in any relationship, or is it because of something inherent in what we have? Syaoran frowned. Kurogane had claimed that killing had been more than something he'd done; it had become a part of him. A part Syaoran had rejected by trying to ignore it. Kurogane hadn't been mad about their run-in with that nobleman—or, at least, only a small part of his anger had come from that. He'd been mad about Syaoran's reaction to it. A handful of words echoed in his mind: "You think I'm a monster."

Is that what he thinks of himself? Is that what I thought of him? Disquieted, Syaoran pulled himself closer to the ninja. He didn't want to think badly of the ninja, didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he'd killed, often and without regret, those who had threatened his princess. Syaoran thought that if Sakura—either Sakura—was in danger, and he had no other way of saving her, he would do the same. He would kill if he had no other choice. But only then.

But if that were all, there wouldn't be a problem, he thought, sighing. Tomoyo wouldn't have sent him away for killing out of necessity. There must have been times when he killed out of convenience, or . . . A sickening thought occurred to him, spawned by something else the ninja had said: "You know I've killed. You know I've enjoyed it."

Had Kurogane killed just for the sake of killing?

"You're different now," Syaoran whispered, closing his eyes as if that would keep the awful thoughts away. "The only person you've killed since this journey started was Ashura. You'd never . . ." He trailed off, hating the uncertainty in his voice. He's not like he used to be. He's a better person now. He'll only kill if he absolutely needs to. Syaoran drew his knees up to his chest, easing out of the ninja's embrace and turning away to stare at the wall. Can I accept that? Knowing that he may have killed before for no other reason than enjoyment? Can I live with that?

He pondered the question, but by the time dusk settled over the castle, he still had no answer. Eventually, Kurogane stirred, recovering from the sedatives. Syaoran rolled toward him, taking his hand. As he did, the ninja's eyelids slid open. "Hey."

Syaoran tried to smile; he couldn't quite manage it. "Good evening."

Kurogane closed his eyes for a moment, his grip tightening. "What's wrong?"

He tensed, guilt spearing through his chest. "I . . . I've been wondering about something you said before."

The man opened his eyes again, blinking groggily. "What?"

"Back at the festival . . ." he began, watching Kurogane's eyes for a reaction. The glazed look disappeared at once, replaced by attentiveness. But not anger, Syaoran noted with relief. He went on. "You said that you'd killed before."

"You knew that already."

He nodded. "I was wondering if you meant what you said about enjoying it."

Kurogane stilled, then lifted Syaoran's hand to his lips. His gaze seemed faraway. "Yeah. I did. But I lied when I said I'd still enjoy it."

"Oh." Syaoran let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So . . . Have you ever killed just for . . . just because you liked it?"

The ninja paused. "I always had the excuse of protecting Tomoyo. Back then, I really believed that was the best way to deal with any threat—you couldn't be killed by someone who was already dead."

He sounds so . . . resigned, Syaoran thought. Like he expects me to walk away. His lips thinned, guilt making his throat tight. A part of him wanted to leave, to pretend this conversation hadn't happened. But that would accomplish nothing.

"Nothing's holding you back, you know," Kurogane said, squeezing his hand. "You can go if you want. I'm in no shape to stop you. Fuck, I don't even think I'm in any shape to walk right now." He closed his eyes. "Unless you have something you want to say, that is."

"Would you take it back if you could?" The words spilled out like a spigot gushing water. "If you had a chance to go back and redo everything, knowing what you know now, would you?"

"If I'd been less bloodthirsty, Tomoyo wouldn't have sent me away. If she hadn't sent me away, I wouldn't have met you. Everybody likes to think that if they had a second chance, they could do better. Maybe they could. But would I have ever learned what I know now without taking this journey?" He shook his head. "It's a paradox, kid. If I went back and made different choices, I'd never have learned the lessons that led me to make those choices, and I'd be right back where I started."

Syaoran leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the ninja's chest. It was a moot point. Syaoran had gone back in time once, and it had ruined everything. Second chances cost too much. Sometimes, there is no going back. He wrapped his arms around Kurogane's neck, sighing in relief when the ninja returned the embrace. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

"Why do you love me?"

Kurogane stiffened, drawing back as if to get a better look at him. "Does the reason really matter?"

"I'd like to know."

The ninja looked at him for several seconds more, then lifted his hand to stroke his hair. "I love you because you're a better fucking person than I am, all right?"

Syaoran stared at him, shocked. "What?"

"I love you because when you vow to protect someone, you don't screw it up every five minutes like I do. Because when the people you care about treat you like shit, you still love them. Because when you see a total stranger in trouble, you don't even have to think before you help them—you just do it. You could be ugly, or incompetent, or stupid, and I would still love you because you're a good person."

Syaoran stared at him. He thinks that highly of me?

"Why do you love me, anyway?" Kurogane asked, scowling. "Can't imagine it's my personality."

"You never treated me like I didn't exist," he whispered, thinking of those awful months after Tokyo. "You gave me a cloak to cover that shirt I was made to wear as a prisoner. And . . . you were so gentle with me that first time you took me to bed. You were nice to me."

The ninja's mouth fell open. "You think I'm nice?"

Syaoran nodded. "More than nice. You're . . . kind." Just like my Sakura, he thought, feeling a twinge of guilt. He still hadn't figured out who he was going to choose, and it frightened him that the answer wasn't obvious.

Kurogane stared at him for a long moment, his expression softening. Eventually, he pulled Syaoran closer and whispered in his ear. "I wish that could be true."