Author's Notes:
Warning: explicit content in this chapter.
Also, I'm changing around some canon scenes in this chapter. For one, Yuuko will be explaining some of her own musings to our travelers, rather than keeping those thoughts to herself. Some of the dialogue has been altered as well.
Chapter One-Hundred Twenty-One
A wave of guilt yanked Syaoran back to reality. He gasped, his knees giving under his weight as he pulled out. His aches and pains flared to life again as his mind came back to him, but that wasn't the worst of what he felt. Shame swelled in his chest. He'd lost himself too soon, his body giving in to the sinful pleasure before he could control it. His throat tightened. "I . . ." He didn't know what to say. He knew stamina mattered when it came to sex, particularly for the one taking the lead. He hadn't forgotten that, but he hadn't been able to control himself, either. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."
Kurogane sighed, the sound carrying both disappointment and resignation. Syaoran looked down. "Don't worry about it," Kurogane said, still hunched over. "Just finish the job."
He winced, but slid his hand down the ninja's side. His fingers curled around the man's length, and he squeezed gently, tugging downward, then relaxing his hand before repeating the motion. At least I know how to do this, he thought miserably. I obviously can't do anything else right.
His shame deepened. He'd never been in this position before, but that was no excuse. He'd read enough books to know this would be more intense, but he'd thought he'd be able to control himself better.
The ninja's breathing became strained as Syaoran worked his length. Moments later, hot, Kurogane arched under him, letting out a groan. Finished with his task, Syaoran drew back, curling into a ball as if to physically protect himself from the awkwardness.
Kurogane tossed him a piece of cloth. "Wipe your hands."
Nodding, Syaoran wiped the sticky fluid from his fingers. The now-familiar smell of sex drifted through his nostrils, and his stomach bunched up tighter with guilt. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, he thought, the back of his neck warming. A few feet away, Kurogane got dressed, facing away from him.
Humiliated by his inadequacy, Syaoran began to cry.
"Easy, now." Kurogane slid over to him, still shirtless, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Easy. It's all right."
He shook his head. "No. No, I shouldn't have—"
"It's all right," Kurogane insisted. "Everybody loses themselves the first time."
"You didn't," Syaoran said softly. "And this isn't my first time."
"It's the first time you've done it like this. And what makes you think I was any different from everyone else?"
His eyes widened. "You never . . . Every time, you always let me . . . lose myself first. I thought . . ."
"You thought I'd always been good at this?" A hint a disbelief crept into the ninja's voice. "You think the first time I fucked someone, it was perfect?"
Syaoran grimaced, not wanting to admit that he had thought that—that he'd considered Kurogane naturally talented. "You make it look so easy."
The ninja studied him for several seconds, then sighed. "Don't cry, all right? You did fine."
He nodded, though he didn't believe it. After a moment, Kurogane grabbed the pile of clothes Syaoran had discarded earlier and thrust it into his arms. "Get dressed. I don't care who sees us, but you'll be mortified if someone walks in on you naked."
He obeyed, pulling his pants on. He'd forgotten the stiffness in his legs, the soreness in his body. Some of his bandages were moist with sweat, but at least nothing else dampened them to add to his humiliation. He pulled his tunic on and started smoothing out the wrinkles. Halfway through, Kurogane, now fully clothed, sat next to him. "The first time I fucked someone, I didn't even last thirty seconds."
Syaoran blushed at the ninja's choice of words, but said nothing.
"The second time, I only lasted about a minute. That was with a different woman—I never had any long-term relationships. Both times, I had to find another way to finish what I'd started—and believe me, that was just as awkward for me as this was for you. But I got over it, and I got better. It takes practice."
Syaoran looked down, his face burning. He didn't want to listen to Kurogane talk about his past relationships. It wasn't jealousy, exactly, but he felt like he was being compared to them, his pitiful skills measured against theirs.
"Stop looking so damn guilty," Kurogane snapped. Syaoran flinched, then wiped his eyes as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. The ninja's expression softened, and he raised his mechanical hand to brush the line of Syaoran's jaw. "You want to know something?"
He grit his teeth. "What?"
"The only time it was ever right for me—really right—was with you."
Syaoran blinked, the tension draining out of his body. "But . . . But you said . . ."
"The women I've been with were good, don't get me wrong. But I didn't love them. For the most part, I didn't even care about them." He leaned in closer. "But I love you. That's what makes it good for me."
His lips parted. "I . . . I didn't realize . . ." He trailed off as Kurogane's fingers ran down the side of his neck.
"Anyway, we should probably meet up with the others. I'll carry you."
Syaoran nodded, wrapping his arms around Kurogane's neck and pressing his face into the man's shoulder. He could feel the ninja's pulse against his ear as Kurogane hoisted him up. Within moments, they were halfway down the hall, the air moving fast over Syaoran's skin. He always walks with such purpose, he thought, tilting his head back to look at the ninja. Kurogane met his eyes, his grip tightening. "You all right?"
"I'm fine." Still aching, despite the painkillers, but not as sore he'd expected. Kurogane carried him through the doors of the dining hall, and Syaoran saw that most of the others had arrived already. It surprised him a little to see Amaterasu and Fuuma standing at the edges of the room.
When they entered, Fuuma glanced up and smiled. "Seishirou said he had to go, but he told me to stick around so I could explain all this to him next time we met up." He tilted his head back, and light glinted off his glasses. "I suppose a lot of this will go right over my head, though. That's how things usually turn out when Yuuko-san is involved."
Kurogane walked over to a bench in the middle of the crowd and eased him down. "If you need anything—"
"I'll let you know." But I don't intend to miss this, no matter what.
The ninja nodded and turned toward Mokona. "You going to call the witch, or what?"
Mokona bobbed her head and turned toward the wall, a beam of light shooting from the red crystal in her forehead. Yuuko appeared in a circle on the wall. "I've been expecting you," she said, her voice solemn. "I assume you have questions."
Kurogane spoke first. "What happened to the princess's soul? Is it gone?"
Yuuko's expression didn't change. "That is . . . difficult to answer. It depends on your definition of 'gone.'"
"I mean exactly what I said."
"A person's soul cannot be destroyed. However"—her eyes panned up to Kurogane's face—"I believe you wish to know if her soul, such as it is, can be recovered. If that's the case, know that all things are possible in the weave of the worlds. All but one, and I am certain you all know what I am referring to." Her eyes flickered to Fai, making her meaning clear. The one unbreakable rule of the universe, Syaoran thought. You can't bring the dead back to life.
"Does that answer your question satisfactorily?"
Kurogane jerked one shoulder in a frustrated shrug. "I guess."
"Did Sakura-chan always know what she was?" Fai asked, his voice pained.
"No. The time she came to know it was probably after her feather was returned to her in Tokyo."
Fai nodded. Syaoran couldn't tell whether that was the answer he'd been hoping to hear or not, but after a moment, Fai spoke. "The other Syaoran-kun vanished from our lives. I think we all assumed that her reactions had changed because of grief over that absence, because she couldn't accept the new Syaoran-kun. But if she knew, then the change in her must have been at least partially as a result of that knowledge." Fai's eyes slid over to the bench where Syaoran sat. "She must have known the real Sakura was in another place, waiting for you."
Syaoran stiffened.
"Even so," Yuuko said, "she wanted to change the future she saw in her dream. She did everything in her power to do so, even at great peril to herself."
"Sakura . . ." Mokona whimpered, the circle of light rippling as tears slipped down the creature's face. Syaoran laid a bandaged hand between Mokona's ears, trying to soothe her.
"So, when did you know about all this?" Kurogane asked, looking at Fai.
The magician met his eyes with a dull look. "From the very start. I was told . . . by the one who set this journey in motion." He sighed, closing his eyes. "For that reason, more than any other, I wanted to grant her any wish it was in my power to give."
Syaoran looked away, guilt and resentment churning away in his stomach. He'd forgiven Fai—he knew the magician had been forced into betraying them, that he'd been subjected to a worse set of circumstances than any of them—but it still hurt to realize that he'd understood Sakura's nature and never spoken of it. But then, I knew about it, too, and I kept it from them for months. I can't criticize him for doing the same.
"The image of Princess Sakura is different from the image of Syaoran," Yuuko continued, addressing the group as a whole. "In Sakura's case, both body and soul were cloned, whereas Syaoran had to give up a piece of his own soul to instill in his image a sense of morality. And the feathers that were scattered throughout the worlds were no different from the memories of the original Sakura."
"Why make her image different from the kid's?" Kurogane asked, crossing his arms.
A few feet away, Fai fidgeted. "If something were to go awry, then . . . Fei-Wang could exchange one for the other."
Yuuko nodded. "That is what he thinks. He is willing to repeat the same events over and over to reach his goal, even if it meant creating a life of man-made construction. Creating a life meant to be snuffed out."
Beside him, Kurogane went rigid. "So he meant to kill them once they accomplished his goals for him."
"We have to save her," Fai said. "Even if she is only an image . . ."
"Sakura is Sakura!" Mokona shouted, bouncing from the floor to the bench to Syaoran's shoulder. On the wall, Yuuko's image bobbed about. "It doesn't matter how Sakura was made. Sakura will always be Sakura."
"That's right," Syaoran said, resting a hand on Mokona's head and pulling her into his lap. He thought of those years he'd spent watching through the Other's eyes, seeing him fall in love with his princess. Those moments his clone had shared with her had been among the few times Syaoran had felt hope during his imprisonment. "I've watched her all this time. I've watched all of you." His eyes slid to Fai, then to Kurogane. His gaze lingered there for a moment, and he wondered if, even that long ago, he'd felt some spark of affection for the man he'd come to love. "That's why I'm going to get her back." Because even if she and I met each other only a few months ago, I've known her for years. Because she deserves to be saved.
Yuuko nodded. "Fei-Wang's wish is one anyone might have, so long as they have something they don't wish to lose. But something lost will never come back again. Not in the way he wishes."
Syaoran wondered, briefly, who had been precious enough to their enemy to merit such extreme measures. Someone he'd loved, certainly. Almost unwillingly, Syaoran found himself sympathizing, despite all the horrible things Reed had done to accomplish his goals. He set that sympathy aside and addressed Yuuko. "I have a wish."