Chapter One-Hundred-Nineteen
Petals spun through the air.
Syaoran stood on a shifting mass of black smoke, too stunned to move. In front of him, the Other did the same, staring as his hands as Sakura's soul broke apart. She's . . . gone, Syaoran thought, an ache sprouting in his chest. I lost her again.
Across from him, the Other's blood-smeared hands began to tremble. A look of utter horror gathered in his eyes, as if he'd experienced a trauma that would break a saner mind. And then a scream ripped free of his throat, loud enough to make Syaoran cover his ears. Unwillingly, he felt a pang of sympathy for his clone, a thread of sorrow to add to the tapestry of horrors he'd witnessed today. Yet he felt . . . disconnected from the pain.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice lost in the sound of his clone's screaming. The Other's eyes opened wide, burning with rage, hatred.
It was the most human thing Syaoran had seen from him since Tokyo.
The black substance beneath his feet writhed, rising up and twisting around him. It felt viscous, like dough, but it moved like water. Some rushed downward, joining with the fluid flowing across the ground. Several strands of blackness wrapped around Sakura's body, while others immobilized Kurogane and the others. Syaoran met his eyes for a fraction of a moment, and even if the substance hadn't already bound his limbs, he doubted he'd have been able to move.
And then he felt something. A ripple of disquiet, like what one felt upon walking into a room and realizing something was amiss. Out of place. Like someone had been there, invading their space, rifling through their things, yet leaving the room seemingly untouched. The feeling sent a shiver through his body, starting in his chest and ending in his fingers and toes.
His eyes focused on the place just above Sakura's body, and he saw a rift opening up, like someone had taken a knife and cut through the barrier between this world and the next. The slit widened to reveal a man wearing a black and yellow crest on his shoulder. Doctor Kyle! Syaoran's body jerked, but the tendrils of magic held, keeping him restrained.
"Sakura-chan!" Fai cried below. He couldn't escape the magic trap any more than a fly could escape a spider's web, and when Kyle's arms circled Sakura's body, the vampire let out a hiss of frustration.
No, Syaoran thought, not caring, at that moment, that she wasn't his Sakura. Not again. I can't lose her again.
The dark magic spun, a glob of it gathering next to Sakura. Kyle snatched it before it could merge with her body, and Syaoran saw it form into a feather, catching the dappled light. He leaned back, pulling them both toward the tear in the world. "This time, she's coming with me."
"Wait!" Syaoran yelled. Kyle paid him no heed, disappearing into the void. The rip closed like an eyelid, disappearing. A moment later, the magic restraining Syaoran dissipated, becoming as intangible as a shadow, and he plummeted toward the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kurogane running to catch him, but they were too far apart. Syaoran braced himself for the landing.
The kid hit the ground hard.
"Oh, shit." Kurogane shot toward where the boy had fallen, taking his hand. The kid's fingers remained limp. "Kid? Kid, wake up. Come on. Shit." He rolled the boy onto his side, shaking him gently to wake him, as if he might fracture into a thousand pieces if Kurogane shook him too hard. After watching the princess's soul dissolve in a whirlwind of flower petals, he doubted such a thing would surprise him.
After a few seconds, the kid stirred, groaning. Blood spotted his clothes in several places, some from his battle with Seishirou, others from whatever had happened in the dream world. The arm that had been wounded in the roof collapse had reopened, and Kurogane could feel the blood slipping between his fingers as he gripped it. The boy's eyelids fluttered, and he met Kurogane's stare with a glazed look. Kurogane lifted his hand to touch the kid's face, then withdrew when his fingers left a smear of blood on his cheek. He turned to the mage. "Get a healer."
"No," Syaoran said, loud enough to make the wizard stop. The kid struggled to sit up, gasping in pain. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine," he growled, pulling the boy into his arms. "Lie down before you pass out."
The kid stared at him a moment, then reached for the sacred tree. Several fissures ran up the trunk, and a massive hole marked the spot where Sakura's body had been only minutes ago. "I have to . . ." the kid began, breathing hard.
Kurogane placed his thumb over the boy's lower lip. "You've fought enough for one day." Just rest. For once in your fucking life, just rest for a minute.
"Sakura has been taken," Mokona cried, waddling over to Syaoran's side. Tears budded at the corner of the meat bun's eyes, and Kurogane gave the creature an absent pat on the head.
"The other Syaoran-kun is gone, too," Fai said, surveying the disaster area. The others gathered around them, all except for Souma, who had presumably gone to fetch one of the healers.
"I couldn't save her," the boy whispered. "I couldn't save anyone."
Kurogane shushed him. "It's all right."
Syaoran sank into his arms, pressing his face against his chest as he began to shake. Kurogane adjusted his hold on the kid, waiting for the tremors to pass, but seconds later, he felt a damp spot on his shirt and realized the boy was crying. He rubbed the kid's back, trying to soothe him. "It's all right, now. Everything's going to be all right."
The boy sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head. Kurogane kept murmuring reassurances, pausing only when he realized everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "What?" he demanded.
"Well, it's just . . ." the mage began, lifting one hand, then letting it drop to his side.
"Your personal growth has stunned us all," Amaterasu said flatly. At his glare, she sighed. "That was not meant to sound judgmental, Kurogane. You have grown since you last left here. I wonder—" Her eyes flickered to Tomoyo. "—if you have changed so much that you would no longer be content to stay."
He bristled. "I will always serve Tomoyo. I'm not about to—"
"I did not say serve. I merely suggested that you might wish to go elsewhere while you serve us. Much could be gained from having a warrior who has seen the technology and tactics of more advanced places."
"I've never played at politics before. I'm not starting now."
"Merely a suggestion, as I said. At any rate, there are more pressing issues to deal with." She turned as Souma reappeared, this time with a healer at her side. Hinata Yamura walked over to him, crouching to get a better look at the kid.
"His condition appears stable, but he will need to be brought to the infirmary." She gestured toward several servants Kurogane recognized from the medical wing. They immediately began unfolding a stretcher for the boy.
"I can carry him," Kurogane told them, cradling the kid in his arms. Syaoran continued to cry silently, hiding his face in Kurogane's shirt. He carried the boy toward the nearest set of doors, casting one last glance at the others. "Meet up in the dining hall in an hour. We've got to plan our next move."
Several of them nodded. Kurogane carried the kid inside, turning down the hallway that led to the medical wing. "Firstly, we need to determine if he has incurred any life-threatening injuries," Hinata said, which seemed pretty obvious to Kurogane. She went on about more specific problems she expected the boy to have, including exsanguination, which Kurogane understood, and peripheral nervous system damage, which he did not. All the while, the kid kept up a polite but steady protest, claiming that he hadn't been hurt badly enough to merit so much attention. When they reached an open room in the medical wing, Kurogane laid him on a bedroll and pressed his hand to the kid's forehead.
"Look, I know you want to go after the princess, but you're in no shape to be walking around. And you would say the same thing if I'd been hurt this badly," he added when the kid opened his mouth to disagree. Syaoran frowned, looking a little guilty.
"I know."
"Good."
Hinata crouched next to the bedroll. "Where do you feel the most pain?"
The kid inhaled, and Kurogane winced at the raspy quality of his breathing. "Here," he said, pointing to a puncture wound on his arm, where Seishirou's demon-blade had skewered him.
Hinata nodded. "This will need antiseptic, but it's not bleeding severely." She frowned, then went to check the wound on his leg. "The same is true of this one. And the wound on your neck." She paused, then glanced at Kurogane. "How did these wounds occur?"
"Sword fight."
Her eyebrows pulled together. She studied the wounds a moment more, frowning. "These wounds are consistent with a narrow blade, but I would think that anyone skilled enough to strike so many hits would also be skilled enough to hit a major artery, and certainly skilled enough to cause the victim to bleed profusely, even fatally. And yet none of these wounds have hit any significant blood vessels."
That doesn't make any sense, Kurogane thought. "But that guy he fought—he's no amateur. I've fought him myself." He stopped, not wanting to admit that the duel in Edonis had been perilously close—close enough that, had they not been interrupted, the match might have ended in a loss for him.
"If that's the case, then I would have to say that this man must have missed intentionally."
Kurogane blinked, glancing at the kid. The fight had looked pretty damned close, but it wasn't impossible that Seishirou had intended all along not to inflict any major damage. But if he didn't intend to kill the kid . . . "What do you think?"
"It's possible," Syaoran said, wincing a little as Hinata prodded at his chest. "Seishirou-san is . . . unpredictable."
"Breathe in and out," she ordered, kneeling to listen to his chest. The kid obeyed, repeating the process when Hinata turned him onto his side. "A little breathless, but it doesn't sound like anything fatal."
"I'm fine," the boy murmured. Kurogane brushed his mechanical fingers over the back of the kid's hand. After a moment, the boy's fingers curled around his palm.
"What about other significant pains?" Hinata asked. "Possible broken bones, deep-tissue bruising?"
"He fell from a little over ten feet up," Kurogane said. Obviously, he's going to be in pain.
"There's nothing too bad," the kid said.
"You fell out of a tree and hit the ground face-first."
"I'm not hurt."
"I'll make some tea to soothe the pain," Hinata said before the argument could escalate. "And you should leave," she said to Kurogane. "I don't need two stubborn patients in the same room."
"I'm not leaving."
She sighed, but the kid interrupted whatever she'd been about to say, his voice soft, pleading. "Can he please stay? I don't mind having him here."
Hinata frowned, then shook her head in defeat. "As long as he doesn't interfere with my work." She stood, walking over to the teapot one of her servants had discreetly brought over. "You'll be out of commission for a few days. I understand that you both have urgent matters to deal with, so if you must go somewhere, have someone carry you. No trying to walk until you feel better."
The kid looked down, his grip on Kurogane's hand tightening. Coffee-brown eyes panned up to his face. "You'll let me walk when I'm tired of being carried, right?"
Kurogane lifted the boy's hand, pressing his lips to his knuckles. "We'll see."