Chapter One-Hundred Twenty-Nine

Kurogane pulled the horse to a halt after a few hours of hard riding.

The sudden stop jolted Syaoran back into the waking world. Ever since they'd left Suwa, he'd been dozing in the saddle, leaning back to rest his head against Kurogane's chest. After spending most of last night half-awake and the day navigating both his and Kurogane's emotional extremes, he could have fallen asleep even if he'd been walking.

"Why are we . . . ?" he began, groggy.

"This is the edge of demon territory," Kurogane said. "They usually don't come any closer to the castle than this."

Syaoran's eyes widened as he tried to make himself more alert. He still felt sluggish. "How close are we?"

"Six hours at a gallop. Longer if we ride at a reasonable place. Either way . . ." Kurogane tilted his head to the side, stretching his neck and squeezing his eyes shut. "Can't go much longer without rest. You might be able to sleep on horseback, but I haven't slept at all since the night before we left."

Syaoran stared at him, his fuzzy mind trying to calculate how long it had been since then. They'd left in the middle of the night, arrived in Suwa around midday, and now it was dark again. Which meant that Kurogane had been up more than thirty-six hours.

"Here," Kurogane grunted, handing him two thin bedrolls and a bundle of blankets. "There's a clearing over there. Set those up."

Nodding, Syaoran dismounted, off to look for the clearing. He found it easily and set down their supplies. Mind numb, he unrolled the first bedroll, smoothing it out and letting one of the blankets rest on top. As he unrolled the second one, he paused. Would it be too presumptuous to lay the bedrolls side by side, as if they were two halves of a single bed? Or, if he separated them, would Kurogane take it as an indication that something was amiss between them?

Glancing over his shoulder to see the ninja approaching, his armor left behind with Mokona and the horse, Syaoran hastily laid the second bedroll a few inches from the first, not quite touching, but clearly together. As he laid a blanket over the bare bedroll, a pair of hands rested on his shoulders, one metal, one flesh. He tipped his head back as Kurogane pulled him flush against his body.

"I'm only going to say this once," the ninja said, his voice sober as his arms circled around Syaoran's body. "There's a part of me that agrees with you—about death being preferable to imprisonment. I've had people—other ninjas—ask me to make sure that they wouldn't become prisoners of war, and I'd have gone through with it if it had become necessary." He inhaled, as if gathering his resolve, then sighed. "But I can't lose anyone else. Especially not you. If we lose to that monster, it'll be because we're all dead. Because believe me, if you were taken prisoner again, I'd never stop looking for you. Neither would the mage, or the pork bun, whatever good they'd do. Do you understand?"

Moisture threatened to spill from his eyes. He forced it back. "I understand." He twisted in Kurogane's grip, facing him and letting his palms move down the ninja's ribs. "And thank you. That was . . . That was exactly what I needed to hear." His voice quavered a bit at the end, but as Kurogane's hand traced the curve of his cheek, he composed himself.

"We'll rest here a couple of hours, then start riding back before sunrise. The meat bun's asleep in one of the saddlebags, so . . ." He trailed off, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as he yawned. Syaoran stared, then realized he'd never actually seen the ninja yawn before. Or maybe he had, but he'd never been paying attention when it had happened. The pull of muscles over bone, the way he exposed his neck slightly as he tilted his head back . . . it was all rather fascinating, like watching a lion cuddling its cubs—something contrary to its normal, vicious behavior, yet still somehow natural.

"What are you staring at me for?" Kurogane asked.

"Oh, no reason." A smile fought its way to his lips.

"You look all . . . what was the word you used before we left for the mage's world? Gooey. You look gooey and in love. It's creepy."

The comment only made him smile wider. After a moment, the ninja rolled his eyes and laid down on one of the bedrolls. "You going to stand there all night, or are you going to get some sleep?"

Grinning, he curled up on the other bedroll. Next to him, Kurogane rolled onto his side and swung one arm over Syaoran's shoulder as he inched closer. Surprised, Syaoran did the same, pressing his face to the hollow of the ninja's throat and closing his eyes.

Both of them fell asleep within minutes.

When dawn arrived, Kurogane nudged the kid's shoulder to wake him. The boy stirred, nuzzling closer to him with a noise of complaint. With a sigh, Kurogane spoke. "Time to wake up, kid. You want to get back to the castle in time to rescue the princess, don't you?"

That had an effect. The boy's body jerked, and he sat up, looking around in confusion for a minute before hastily rolling up his sleeping gear. Kurogane did the same, stuffing everything in the saddlebags before untying the horse he'd borrowed from the castle's stables. The animal huffed, as if annoyed that it had been left tied to a tree all night. Kurogane patted the horse's head, dropping his hand when the boy appeared rather suddenly at his side.

"Ready to go?" he asked. When the boy nodded, he climbed into the saddle and stuck his hand out.

The boy grabbed his hand, and Kurogane hoisted him onto the saddle, tangling his fingers in his hair and using his metal hand to hold the reins. With a contented sigh, the boy tipped his head back, a soft smile touching his lips. Something coiled in Kurogane's gut, part protectiveness and part worry. In less than a week, they'd be facing the man who'd taken the kid prisoner, who'd stuck a sword through space and time to murder Kurogane's mother, who'd spun lies to make the mage believe he could bring his brother back from the dead. The man who had tried to turn them all into pieces on a game-board.

The boy shifted in front of him, reaching back with one arm to run his fingertips down Kurogane's bicep. His eyes, the same rich brown of cocoa mixed with honey, panned up to his face, but he didn't say anything. After almost a minute, Kurogane untangled his fingers from the kid's hair so he could wind his arm around the boy's chest. Syaoran faced forward, but leaned deeper into Kurogane's embrace, closing his eyes. "I never thought you would love me, too."

The statement came out of nowhere. Kurogane blinked.

"I never thought anyone would love me, actually," the boy clarified. "That was why I never told Sakura—my Sakura—that I loved her. I thought she would reject me. By the time I was in a position to think otherwise, she was out of my reach. And you . . . I never thought you, specifically, would love me. I spent so much time obsessing over what I thought to be impossible, back in Infinity. Sometimes I felt miserable because while I was developing those feelings, I thought you were looking at our relationship as something temporary."

"It was never temporary," Kurogane interrupted, holding the boy just a little tighter. "Believe me, even if we decided to cut all the romantic crap, I'd still care about you. I just wouldn't have to be so damn vocal about it."

The kid stiffened, craning his neck to look at him. "Kurogane-san . . ."

He tensed, wary. That uncertain tone always made him think the kid was about to start saying he didn't deserve love. Which was fucking ridiculous. "What?"

The kid gulped. "There's . . . something I want to ask. I mean, not ask ask, but . . . hypothetically ask."

This can't be good, he thought, bracing himself. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering if, maybe someday, you and I . . ."

"Spit it out, kid."

"Would you marry me?"