Chapter One-Hundred-Fifteen

"It's been a long time," Seishirou said, smiling as if unaware of the hostile stances everyone had taken at his arrival. Dressed in black, he looked like a shadow come to life. "Although, I cannot be sure whether your time flowed at the same rate as my own, so perhaps it's not been so very long after all."

That's what Fuuma said when he arrived, Syaoran thought. He glanced back, half his attention on Fuuma. What would he do if Seishirou decided to attack? Whose side would he take? More importantly, will Seishirou attack? Syaoran wondered. The man had murdered his clone when they'd met in Outo, but Outo hadn't been real, and his clone had woken up unharmed. Still, if there was one thing Syaoran had learned after that encounter, it was that no one could predict Seishirou.

"You haven't changed at all, Brother." Fuuma stepped forward, grinning.

"The same to you, Fuuma." Seishirou paused, his gaze resting on Syaoran, then on Fai and Kurogane behind him. Cold calculation sparked in his eyes. "I'm afraid I cannot say the same of all of you. You seem to have undergone many changes, in many different ways." He cocked his head to the side, taking a lilting step toward them. The hairs on Syaoran's neck prickled as Seishirou's eyes returned to Fai. "And you—you've lost your magic, but gained something else instead, have you not? Vampire blood."

The entryway exploded with movement, and Syaoran caught only snippets of what happened. Seishirou surged forward, his steps fast, predatory. Before Syaoran could react—before anyone could react—he grabbed Fai by the throat and shoved him backward into the wall. "Kamui's blood. Am I right?"

"What would you do if I said 'yes'?" Fai asked, a feverish grin spreading across his lips.

"Where are they? Where are the vampire twins?"

Suddenly, Fai jerked free of Seishirou's hold, swiping outward with his claws. Syaoran hadn't even seen them extend. Just as fast, Seishirou jerked back, avoiding the dagger-sharp nails by inches. He jumped backward through the open door, every step agile. In a way, the scene resembled a dance more than a fight. Neither side had yet drawn blood, though both stood poised to attack.

"Your brother?" Tomoyo asked Fuuma, not sounding at all perturbed by the battle a few feet away. Syaoran glanced over his shoulder as Tomoyo made a quip about her sister.

"Quiet in the peanut gallery," Kurogane growled, sounding more weary than upset. What is going on here? Syaoran wondered, glancing back to Seishirou. Despite his sudden assault, no one tried to attack him. Even Fai seemed more amused than afraid. Don't they realize he's serious? Don't they understand how dangerous Seishirou can be? He glanced at Kurogane, about to say as much, when Fai interrupted.

"As if you have the right to talk about anyone's attitude, Kuro-pon."

"Ah, shut up," Kurogane growled. Behind him, Mokona sided with Fai, and Tomoyo muttered about Kurogane's anger issues. "I told you to be quiet!"

"Kurogane-san," Syaoran said, nudging his mechanical arm. The annoyance seeped out of the ninja's face as their eyes met.

"What is it?"

Syaoran glanced at Seishirou, gritting his teeth. "I know he seems playful, but this is serious."

"I know." Kurogane crossed his arms. "We fought in Outo. Or Edonis, or whatever. I know how dangerous he is. We can handle it."

"Allow me to rephrase," Seishirou said, his voice lilting, melodic. "You've met those twin vampires, haven't you?"

"In a different world," Fai said. "A world called Tokyo." All the humor bled out of the group at the mention of Tokyo. Even those who had never been there—Tomoyo, Amaterasu, and Souma—looked at their feet as if weighed down by the mere mention of the place.

"And did they remain in this 'Tokyo'?" Seishirou asked, seeming unaffected by the change in the atmosphere.

"Nah." Fuuma stepped forward. "They moved on after these guys left."

"Where did they go?"

A brief silence followed the question. Unlike Seishirou's previous inquiries, his last question had been laced with subtle menace. "Do you think," Fuuma began, his voice still remarkably steady, "even for a moment, that your little brother would pass on that information?"

The surrounding silence deepened, tense as a piano wire. After a moment, Seishirou straightened from his fighting stance, a genial smile replacing his predatory grin. He turned to Fai. "It is said that hunters are drawn to their prey. And yet, I can never catch up to the vampires I most desire to meet." He shook his head. As he did, a pale purple circle of light formed beneath his feet. "I suppose I must move on, then."

"Wait!" Syaoran called, darting forward as the dimensional waters seeped out of the space in between. The circle dimmed, and the black substance disappeared. I can't miss this chance, Syaoran thought. He still has the feather he had in Outo.

Seishirou studied him for a moment as the magic faded. Syaoran waited, allowing himself to be scrutinized. At last, Seishirou spoke. "You are Syaoran, as well, hmm?"

So he can tell. He knows I'm not the same as the one he knew. He stood taller. "What about the feather?"

The man arched an eyebrow, as if surprised the feather still mattered. Syaoran wondered if it did. With Sakura sitting, soulless, in a tree, would another feather do her any good? It wouldn't heal her—only recovering her soul would do that—but since each feather was a piece of her soul, would it preserve her body after they left this world? "I still have it," Seishirou said, touching his chest. Something glowed beneath his cloak.

What if it can save her? I can't risk giving it away. She might not be my Sakura, but if I have a chance to save her, or even to prolong her life, I have to take it. "Give it back."

"I found it in the country of Outo," Seishirou said, his voice reflective. "Or, rather, the country of Edonis. It holds enough power to turn virtual reality into actual reality. Do you really think, Little Wolf, that I'm going to hand it over so easily?"

"Give it back." Without a conscious command from his mind, fire bloomed above his hands. Moments later, he felt the hilt of his sword forming in his palm.

"Is there no way to solve this through discussion?"

"No." Not anymore. "I've been watching you for a long time. I know what kind of person you really are."

"Watching me through the eyes of . . . that other you, was it?" The predatory look returned. He lifted his hand, palm open. A shadow formed around his fingertips, coalescing into a narrow rod that gleamed in the sunlight. "You are much like your father in that respect. One could say that the similarities come from the fact that you truly are father and son."

Syaoran stepped outside, his sword fully formed in his hands. What does he know? he wondered, edging forward. He hadn't anticipated this, but then again, Seishirou had been traversing dimensions far longer than he had. He'd have learned a lot in his travels. But about me? Why the special interest? What does he expect from me? How can I turn this to my advantage?

"Hey, kid!" Kurogane called. Syaoran glanced at the ninja, wincing at the stern look on his face. It occurred to him that he should have taken a moment to explain himself before drawing his sword, but nothing could be done now, and he wouldn't let Kurogane fight in his place. Not while he was still recovering from having a roof collapse on his head. Kurogane eyed him for a moment, then sighed. "Don't get yourself killed in a pointless battle."

His eyes widened, flickering to Seishirou's face. The man pulled a pair of glasses from a pocket in his shirt and put them on. Why? Syaoran wondered. I know he can see perfectly without them. His forehead wrinkled. He remembered seeing Seishirou in glasses once, although it took a moment for the scene to become clear in his mind. Outo. When Kurogane had hunted Seishirou down, believing he'd killed the rest of them, Seishirou had donned his glasses. But only after the fight had started.

Only when he began to take Kurogane seriously, Syaoran thought, his grip tightening. Magic swirled around his body, stirring the sakura petals into the air. Seishirou gave him a hard grin. "Now, shall we begin?"

The hilt of his sword warmed in his hands, as if afire within. Syaoran braced himself, waiting for the first attack.

"Halt right there!" a voice said. Syaoran glanced over his shoulder to see Amaterasu holding up one manicured hand. "If you battle here, Shirasagi Castle will be reduced to ruins. This fight will take place within protective wards." She glanced at Tomoyo, who nodded in return. The Tsukiyomi lifted her hands, magic swirling around her body, forming smoky curls wherever it moved. Moments later, a crescent-shaped border formed on the ground, encompassing both Syaoran and Seishirou. Murky walls shot up from the perimeter, sealing them in, like fish trapped in an aquarium, and pieces of the earth rose into the air like floating stepping stones. A pocket dimension, Syaoran realized, wondering how much magic Tomoyo must have held to create such a place. A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision made him return his focus to Seishirou.

"From this point on, we can be as destructive as we desire," he said, his tongue lingering on the word destructive as if it gave him some peculiar satisfaction. Syaoran suspected the man would destroy something precious for amusement, so long as it didn't interfere with his goals. Seishirou slid two fingers down the length of his sword, a dark glint in his eyes. "Nothing we do here will affect the world beyond these wards. However, injuries within this reality are as real as those outside."

Syaoran repressed a shiver. His old mentor only grinned wider.

"At the risk of repeating myself: Shall we begin?" Without waiting for an answer, he shot forward, his black sword moving like a shadow through the air. Syaoran raised his weapon to block, adrenaline pulsing in his veins.

Their swords collided with a shriek of steel.