Chapter One-Hundred Twenty-Four
Kurogane stalked through the halls, fury simmering in his chest. He wanted to kick something. No, he wanted to kill something, wanted to feel blood running down his hands, wanted to feel dangerous and powerful, wanted to hurt someone. He forced the impulse aside, reminding himself of the consequences of casual violence. He'd already hurt the kid enough by walking away; he wasn't about to make the mistake of going back and . . . And what? What more could I do to him that I haven't already?
As the corridors intersected, he veered to the right. Maybe he couldn't kill anyone, but he could damn well fight someone. As he pushed through the doors of one of the meeting rooms, he found Souma watching over Amaterasu. Fuuma sat on the floor, looking too casual considering he was meeting with the empress. He waved as Kurogane plowed through the entryway, but he must have sensed Kurogane's mood because a moment later, his hand drooped like a wilting flower.
"Such a dramatic entrance," Amaterasu muttered. "Are you going to flip a table while you're at it?"
"I need to talk to Souma."
Surprise flickered across Amaterasu's face. Belatedly, Kurogane realized that his request had probably sounded more like a demand, and that Souma probably thought he was mad at her. With effort, he modulated his voice. "If she's not occupied."
Amaterasu blinked slowly, lizard-like, then turned to Souma. Although it was Amaterasu's prerogative to keep her most skilled ninja at her side, she didn't keep a tight leash on any of her servants. If Souma wanted to speak with him, Amaterasu would let her. And, Kurogane knew, if Amaterasu told her to go, Souma would go.
The empress did neither, just beckoned several lesser ninja from the edge of the room before looking back at Kurogane. "I trust you can keep your temper about whatever is bothering you, yes?"
He grit his teeth. To the empress, he must have resembled the dangerous, bloodthirsty ninja he'd been before Tomoyo had sent him away. Great. Now she's going to report to Tomoyo and tell her that all my progress hasn't taught me self-control. He sighed. "Don't worry about it."
Souma flaked off the wall and crossed the room, her expression wary. Without a word, she gestured toward the door, indicating for him to exit first. He pulled the doors open and stepped out into the hallway. Before he could speak, Souma said, "Follow me."
She led him toward the sparring rooms, picking up several wooden practice swords before continuing to one of the exterior doors. This one didn't lead out into the imperial garden, though the scenery was nearly as picturesque. A dirt path twisted through the trees, well-worn by horses and carriages. It led west, away from the palace and toward demon country.
After almost five minutes of strained silence, Souma stopped in the middle of the path and looked at him. "All right: what's wrong?"
He took a breath. "I . . . need to get a handle on my anger." There. That was civil and logical.
"Yeah, I gathered that." She handed him one of the fake swords and took another for herself, setting the extras aside. "Fine. We'll go a few rounds, then you can tell me what's got you all twisted up."
The nice thing about Souma, he decided as he settled into a fighting stance, was that she didn't screw around with words when a fight worked just as well. He waited for her to take her stance—a slightly modified version of his own, altered for the shorter blades Souma preferred—then lunged forward, his bokken streaking through the air.
She slid backward half a step, narrowly avoiding the tip of his sword as it swung down. She tucked her arms in, withdrawing her own weapon, and spun, waiting to extend her arm until she was ready to strike. He blocked the attack with ease. Most people didn't understand how much physical strength factored into using a sword. Although Souma was one of the most technically skilled warriors he'd ever met, he had the edge in strength, and that had almost invariably allowed him to beat her in sparring matches.
Her blade whipped through the air, blurring with speed. His moved slightly slower, but with more power behind it, Souma had to go on the defensive, evading his attacks rather than trying to hit him in those brief moments he was vulnerable. The practice swords smashed together, splintering as the fight grew more intense.
Souma never faltered, always spinning, always stepping just out of range when he attacked. When he pushed her back toward the woods, she used the terrain to her advantage, letting the branches take the hits rather than being struck herself. She weaved through the trees, circling back toward the path. In response, Kurogane changed his attack pattern to cut her off. Surprise made her slow; he swung his sword as if to cut her in half horizontally, then stopped just before it hit, instead tapping her abdomen.
She nodded once, acknowledging his victory. They returned to the path.
The second match didn't last as long. He could tell he was wearing her down, and that cost her some of her speed. Since that was her primary advantage, it made the battle almost one-sided, and within fifteen seconds, he had his sword brushing against the side of her neck. "Ready to talk yet?" she asked.
He grunted his assent. A sheen of sweat had gathered on the nape of his neck—it took a skilled opponent to make him work so hard, and Souma was better than most. She sat cross-legged on the grass next to the path. "So what happened? You looked about ready to murder someone when you came to get me."
"Yeah. Crossed my mind." He sighed, sitting down next to her. "All I did was ask the kid if he was going to stay with me or with his princess."
Souma blinked. "I don't follow."
Right, he thought, trying to figure out the best way to explain. "You know the princess, right? Not Tomoyo, the one we brought with us."
"Yes."
"The kid's in love with an alternate version of that princess. Uh, by the way, there are different versions of the same people in a bunch of worlds, so . . . yeah, anyway, he's in love with her."
"And with you, as well?"
"Yeah."
"And you want him to choose between you," she guessed.
"Well, it's not exactly unreasonable. That's usually how it works, isn't it?"
Souma paused for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. "You make a good point."
"Huh?"
"I think you're right."
He blinked, then shook his head. "Hold on a second. You agree with me? You never agree with me!"
She shrugged. "Your demand isn't unreasonable, although your approach might have been flawed." Frowning, she cocked her head to the side. "You tend to sulk."
"I do not."
She raised an eyebrow, lifting her hands in an if-you-say-so gesture. "Maybe he needs more time to think about it."
"We've been spending too much time apart already," he said, thinking of the days between the festival and the roof collapse. "And we're leaving this world in less than a week to fight a guy with enough magic to . . . I don't know, incinerate us or something. He can reach through time and space."
Insight flickered in her dark eyes. "You're afraid one of you might not survive."
He bristled; few people dared to imply that he ever felt fear. That Souma had so easily picked up on his worries only made the words sting more. "We're not going to get killed."
She stared at him a moment more, then shrugged. "Knowing what comes next, you shouldn't risk letting the people you care about die thinking you're upset with them." She sighed. "You might all be dead within the week, and if you die, what does it matter who he planned to stay with? What does it matter for you to have his promise if there's no one left afterward to make it matter?"
"It matters."
"Yes. But it doesn't matter now."
He grit his teeth, then scowled at the dirt path. "What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime, anyway? I can't just walk back in there and tell him it doesn't matter what his answer is going to be. If we do survive, it'll matter, and I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure we make it through this."
"Well, in that case . . ." Souma tipped her head back, folding one leg over the other as she stared at the treetops. "Go back, remind him that you love him, and try not to screw things up before you leave for the next world."
"That's it?"
"Were you expecting more?"
He frowned. "No, I guess not." He started to stand, then glanced back at her. "Amaterasu won't lose her temper over me dragging you out of there, will she?"
A strange smile crossed Souma's face as she rose. "I know how to calm her down."
Kurogane stared at her for a moment, trying to understand the amused lilt in her voice. When he got it, his spine stiffened. "Wait a second. You and her?"
Souma's smile widened as she started for the palace. "You didn't think you were the only one with a complicated love life, did you? If you're still having troubles, try talking to Tomoyo—she'll know just what you need."
Kurogane watched the ninja walk away, too stunned to speak. When Souma disappeared into the palace, he let out a breath. "Well, damn. Didn't see that one coming."