Chapter One-Hundred Twenty-Five

The soup had gone cold. Syaoran stirred it, his stomach contorting with guilt while his thoughts circled his dilemma like vultures circling a corpse. Kurogane had asked him to make his choice, and he deserved an answer. Syaoran just hadn't expected to need that answer so soon. I should have, he thought. I knew I would eventually have to make this choice.

Eventually. That was part of the problem: Eventually. Without a deadline, he'd delayed this decision for weeks, then months. It had gotten to the point where he'd rationalized waiting—he could make the decision after he found his Sakura; he could spend more time developing the relationship, then decide whether to break it off; he could wait until they defeated Fei-Wang Reed. He'd allowed himself to believe that it was better to wait, better to be sure of himself.

But I can't wait anymore, he told himself. He took a breath, organizing his thoughts. If he couldn't be sure which outcome was best, then he had to assemble everything he knew about the situation to make a logical choice.

He realized he'd been stirring his soup for almost five minutes. Blinking, he set his chopsticks down and watched the vegetables swirl around the broth like petals caught in a whirlwind. The image made him think of Sakura, and he felt a stab of guilt. The guilt had become such an automatic response to his thoughts about Sakura that every time she crossed his mind, in any context, he felt a twinge of remorse. He shook his head, forcing himself to stop stalling.

"All right," he murmured to himself. "First task: examine the benefits and drawbacks of each relationship." He closed his eyes, thinking. If he stayed with Kurogane, he would always have someone to protect him, whereas staying with Sakura meant that he would, in essence, become her personal guard as well as her companion. He'd failed to protect the princess he'd been traveling with—he couldn't be certain of his ability to protect his Sakura. So in that regard, staying with Kurogane was more advantageous.

If what happens after today is anything like what's come before, I'll need someone strong to help me. Unbidden, his thoughts flitted to the time before he'd arrived in Tokyo, to the years he'd been sealed away in a tube. All that time, it had been as if he'd existed without truly living, breathed without tasting fresh air. Fei-Wang's magic had kept his mind and body alive, but inert. Unable to act, Syaoran had spent his days looking through the Other's eyes, trying to feel what he'd felt. When he had finally broken free after seven years of imprisonment, he'd realized that though he'd clung to his clone's experiences, he hadn't been able to really feel. If they lost this battle, what would keep Fei-Wang Reed from imprisoning him again? Reed would no doubt have some use for him, whether he wanted to create another image, or to make him a hostage.

I can't think about this now, Syaoran told himself. The only way to keep him from using me if we lose is to make sure he doesn't take me alive.

The thought echoed in his mind, dark, seductive. Death would be preferable to the half-life he'd lived in Fei-Wang's prison. Even if no afterlife awaited him, at least if he died, he could not be used.

Shaking off the thought, he returned to his earlier musings. True, Kurogane could protect him, or, if necessary, end his life so Fei-Wang could not capture him, but Kurogane would do those things regardless of who Syaoran chose. Therefore, he had to consider other aspects of their relationship. So . . . love.

Kurogane loved him—he'd outright admitted it. Sakura had never confessed her love for him, but she did care deeply about him. Even if she didn't love him now, he might win her over. But with Kurogane, he had a guarantee, and that meant a lot. At the same time, Kurogane wasn't particularly loving. Affection was rarer with him, rare enough that it still surprised Syaoran when he showed any tenderness at all. By comparison, Sakura overflowed with love, showing affection as easily as breathing.

Syaoran shook his head. They were too evenly matched—he'd call it a draw.

What else should I consider? he wondered. Thinking about status and stability seemed shallow, but Sakura won that competition without question. The princess of a country, however small, had more prestige and status attached to her than any warrior.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his musings. He stiffened, unsure whether to answer. After a moment of silence, the door slid open to reveal Kurogane. The ninja loomed over him, his figure made more imposing by the fact that Syaoran could barely sit up, let alone stand. He shrank back. "I'm thinking!" His voice came out as a squeak, his throat too tight. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, but his blood felt thick, like syrup, and he couldn't manage to say anything else.

"Thinking about what?" Kurogane asked.

He flinched, guilt slamming into his stomach. I should have made my decision earlier. If I had, this wouldn't be happening. "About . . . about us."

At the foot of his bed, Kurogane went still. Syaoran froze, except his hands, which quivered. He wrapped his fingers around his arms, forcing the trembling to stop. Slowly, Kurogane slid the door closed. "What about us?"

"I . . ." He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded small, unsure. "I'm just trying to find an answer for you. I haven't decided, but I'm thinking about it. I'll have an answer by the end of the day." He glanced up, expecting to see impatience, frustration. Instead, Kurogane surveyed him, his expression sober. Syaoran let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You're . . . not angry."

Kurogane sighed and sat down next to him. "No, I guess not." His fingers tangled in Syaoran's hair, and he moved close enough that Syaoran could feel his body heat. Seconds passed in silence as Kurogane stroked his hair back. It was an absent gesture, but a tender one, and it made Syaoran reconsider his conclusions about the ninja's affection.

"Forget I asked, okay?" Kurogane said suddenly. "I don't want to know."

Syaoran drew back, blinking rapidly. Kurogane glanced at him, then let his hand slide down the side of Syaoran's neck. His fingertips rested just over his carotid artery, and he could feel his pulse speeding up at the contact. "You don't want an answer?"

The ninja opened his mouth, then closed it, as if choosing his words carefully. At last, he said, "I want you to have an answer for yourself. But we're going up against a dangerous enemy in a couple days, and we might not survive long enough for it to matter. So as long as we're here . . ."

"We should make the best of it?" Syaoran finished uncertainly.

"Yeah."

"So you really don't want to know?"

"I want . . . Ah, hell." Kurogane exhaled sharply. "Look, I want you to choose me. There's no getting around that. But I don't want you to feel like you have no choice, and I don't want you to rush this if you're worried about making the wrong decision. If you think you're going to be happier with the princess than you'll be with me, choose her." His eyes, already trained on Syaoran's face, grew more intense as their fingers twined together. "You deserve to be happy."

Syaoran stared at him. I deserve to be happy? The thought resonated in his mind, echoing like bells in a tower. All his life, from the moment he'd first arrived in Clow and met Sakura, he'd had to work for anything resembling happiness. He'd always had a goal, whether it was researching things that might save his Sakura, or protecting the princess who had lost her memories. But to deserve happiness . . . It had never occurred to him that happiness could be considered a right instead of a goal. It seemed wrong and alien, but also wonderful, like a precious, unexpected gift. He glanced up at Kurogane. He thinks I deserve happiness.

"What's wrong?"

Syaoran blinked. "Nothing. It's just . . ." His head tilted to one side, his sense of wonder deepening, blooming. When he breathed in, the air tasted sweeter, and the muted colors of the walls and furniture seemed vivid to his eyes. A pair of tears rolled down his cheeks, and he let them go, marveling at the warm wetness, the tickling pressure. He met Kurogane's eyes. "Thank you."

Puzzlement flickered across the ninja's face, but a moment later, he nodded, his hand reaching out to curl around Syaoran's shoulder. "So, we're good, then?"

Feeling lighter than he had in weeks, he pressed his lips to Kurogane's throat. "Yes."

"Good." Hands moved down Syaoran's ribs, one cool, the other warm. He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against the ninja's. A moment later, he felt the man's lips collide with his, fierce and tender all at once. Syaoran started to lift his arms to pull the ninja closer, but a jolt of pain made him break away, gasping.

Red eyes surveyed him for a long moment. "You're still in pain."

He hesitated. "A little."

"It'll take a couple more days for you to heal. You should rest."

As Kurogane started to stand, Syaoran reached out to take his hand. "Wait."

"What is it?"

He grit his teeth, blushing. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep? I missed you last night."

The ninja's eyes widened, but he knelt next to the bedroll, hand curling awkwardly around Syaoran's fingers. "Sure, kid. Whatever you want."

"Thank you." He rolled to face Kurogane, keeping his face blank as the movement made his wounds throb, and rested one arm over the ninja's side. Kurogane mimicked the gesture, stroking his back. They said nothing for a time, and the quiet made Syaoran drowsy, even as his mind continued to circle. Sakura. Kurogane. The battle ahead. So many things to consider, so many things to worry about. Maybe he could put at least some of those worries to rest. "Will you promise me something?" he asked, on the verge of sleep.

Kurogane's arm flexed. "What is it?"

He stilled, trying to find the words. "Before I met all of you, I'd been kept prisoner for a long time." He paused as the ninja's hold tightened. "And all that time, I was alone—no family, no friends, nothing but what I saw through the Other's eyes." His eyelids felt heavy, weighted down. "If the same thing happened again, I don't . . . I don't think I'd be able to endure it. I'd rather die."

"Don't," Kurogane said sharply.

"Just listen." He forced himself to meet the ninja's eyes. "I know what I'm about to ask is selfish. I think it's the most selfish thing I've ever done. But . . . If we lose, I don't want to go back to being a prisoner, and I don't want to be used as a blueprint for another image. So . . ." His voice shook. "If it looks like there's no hope, I want you to be the one to . . . to make sure I don't have to go back."

For a long time, Kurogane said nothing. Syaoran waited, struggling to keep his eyes open, yet afraid to see the ninja's expression. "If you're going to bring it up," Kurogane began, "then don't play around with the wording. If you're asking me to kill you, look me in the eyes and say so."

His eyelids squeezed shut. He craned his neck back and forced them to open. "I'm asking you to kill me. If there's no chance we'll make it out, I'd rather be dead than imprisoned. And you're the only one I trust to do it right."

"I'm the only one who'd do it at all," Kurogane snapped. "The mage can't, and you can't, so I have to do it. That's what you're really saying."

Syaoran bit his lip. "That's part of it."

"And what's the other part?"

"You wouldn't let me suffer. Dying is better than being used."

"Is that what you think?"

He winced. This wasn't how he'd expected this conversation to go. "If I were to wait until the final battle to ask, I think you'd always wonder whether it was the right thing to do. If I wait to ask until I'm about to be taken prisoner, or tortured, you would always wonder whether I'd been clearheaded enough to know what I was asking for. So I'm asking now."

"No."

"Please." He clung to the ninja's shirt. "Please."

"No!" Kurogane's hands circled his wrist, tight as manacles. "If you want to die that badly, you can do it your-fucking-self. But I won't."

He flinched. "I . . ."

"I shouldn't have even come back here," the ninja growled, standing up and stalking toward the door. "I don't know why I bothered."

Pain, emotional and physical, shot through him as he tried to sit up. "Wait!"

"I can't believe I fell in love with such a coward." Threads of ice weaved through the man's voice. Tears ran hot down Syaoran's face. "And if you think I'd ever be the one to put you in your grave, you don't know a damn thing about me." He grabbed the door and jerked it open. Something splintered, and one of the paper panels tore. Without acknowledging the damage, Kurogane stalked into the hall, leaving him alone. Again.