Author's Notes:
Sorry for the late update, everyone. I had to finish writing this chapter (NaNoWriMo tends to make me fall behind, as might be expected when one commits themselves to writing 50,000 words in a month . . . which I accomplished by the 12th of November. Which prompted me to shoot for 100K, which I will comfortably complete by the end of the month). I think I'll be able to maintain the once-weekly update cycle, though, at least for the time being, so expect to see another update on Saturday.
On a side note, this chapter marks the point at which I have logged one million words on FFN, which is pretty cool (If only I'd spent all that time on original projects, I might have written something I can publish by now. On the other hand, I might not have such a loyal following). Thanks for everyone who's stuck with me, not only in this fic, but throughout all the stories I've posted on this site. You guys are awesome.
Chapter One-Hundred Thirty-Four
The boy curled up in his arms, limp and languid. They'd made love a second time, long and slow, and that had drained the last of the tension from both their bodies. Kurogane would have been content to lay there for the rest of his life, if he could, but he would settle for an hour. Or two. Or six. Gods, I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed, he thought, running his hand down Syaoran's back.
"That girl said he went this way."
Kurogane's body jerked at the sound of the mage's voice coming from the hallway. "Ah, hell," he muttered, sitting up and grabbing his clothes from the floor. Next to him, the boy did the same, his movements hasty, the back of his neck reddening as the voices registered with him.
"Kuro-pyon!" the vampire called, his singsong voice reaching an annoyingly high pitch. "Where are you?"
"I'm coming," he snapped, pulling on his pants.
"I think he's in that room, Moko-chan."
Yeah, no shit, he thought, stalking over to the door and dragging it open to find the mage standing outside, a faint smile on his face. For a moment, Kurogane stared at him blankly. Fai was wearing the fluffy, elaborate robes he'd worn when this journey had started, and though Kurogane might once have dismissed such an insignificant detail, the last time he'd seen the mage wear that coat, they'd been in Ceres. Now, it made him feel like he had rocks rolling around in his stomach.
The meat-bun sat on the mage's shoulder, ears flat against her body. "Is it time?" Kurogane asked, shoulders tensing.
"Tomorrow morning," the vampire said. "When the sun reaches past the treetops beyond the imperial garden. That's when we'll have to go."
Kurogane nodded, trying not to let his relief show on his face. He turned back to the kid, whose face had turned somber at the mention of the upcoming battle. The healers had finished applying fresh bandages only hours ago, and though he seemed a lot healthier than he had before their trip to Suwa, Kurogane knew he wasn't back at full strength yet. We need more time, he thought.
"I'm ready," Syaoran said, lifting his chin to look at Fai. "We'll meet out in the garden tomorrow morning. We should use tonight to prepare."
Kurogane didn't say that all the preparation in the world wasn't going to make the coming challenges easier. Tomoyo said my sword was ready, he thought, wishing he'd stuck around a bit longer to get it before heading off to propose to the boy. Then, at least, he wouldn't feel so unprepared.
Fai nodded, his single eye darting between the two of them. "We'll save her. No matter what else happens, we'll save Sakura-chan."
After a few murmurs of agreement, they parted, the mage and the meat-bun heading toward the dining hall. Kurogane paused, brushing the back of his hand across the kid's face. "You should go back to the infirmary. Tomoyo's restorative magic will be stronger there—you'll heal faster."
The boy nodded, lacing his fingers through Kurogane's and leaning his cheek against his palm. After a moment, he stepped back, squeezing Kurogane's hand, then left for the medical wing.
Kurogane returned to his usual room, leaving the door of the guest room partially open so the servants would know to change the sheets. He wasn't surprised to find a sword sitting at the foot of his bed when he returned. He was, however, surprised to see the silver dragon carved into the hilt, and the black, wooden sheath sitting in front of it, a dark ribbon against the lighter paneling of the floor. Eyes widening, he knelt in front of the weapon, not believing it could possibly be real, even when he picked it up and realized that its hilt fit his hands perfectly, that the balance was even better than that of the sword he'd lost in the mage's world. "Ginryuu . . ." he whispered, hearing his own voice as if from the end of a long tunnel.
It was the same as the sword he'd surrendered to Yuuko in order to travel between worlds, except . . . It can't be, he thought, turning the sword over and studying the maker's mark at the base of the hilt. The sword he'd given away in the witch's shop had been a copy—a fine copy, made by one of the best sword-smiths in Nihon, but a copy made by a different hand than that which had crafted the original. He remembered his father once pointing out the maker's mark on the bottom of this sword, etched into the steel. It's the same, he thought, heart clenching in his chest. This is the original Ginryuu.
He grabbed the sheath and began to slide the blade inside. As he did, he caught sight of a red cord wrapped around the sheath, holding a scroll against the wood. He slid the blade into place, then carefully untied the string, freeing the scroll. It bore Princess Tomoyo's personal seal.
Dear Kurogane, the note began.
I think it would be best for me to begin this message with an apology. When you came to Shirasagi Castle all those years ago, you asked me to make sure that this was buried with your mother. Instead, I kept it. Prior to the disaster at Suwa, your mother asked me to keep it safe in the event that something happened to your father, so that you might one day wield the sword yourself. In some ways, her preparations made me wonder if she had received a small spark of the same gift I possessed—the ability to walk through dreams to see what was to come. If not, then perhaps she possessed the spark that all mothers have—the ability to know, instinctively, what is best for their children. What I know is that she loved you deeply and wanted you to be taken care of in the event that something happened. This was to be her last gift to you.
I know you will use it well.
On the bottom, the note had been stamped with the royal seal of the Tsukiyomi. Beneath that, Tomoyo had signed her name in the same elegant script as the note. Kurogane rolled up the paper and tucked it into the inner pocket of his armor before securing the sword and sheath to his belt. My mother's last gift to me, he thought, running his fingers over the hilt one more time. And not just her gift, but my father's as well.
He closed his eyes, drawing the sword several inches out of its sheath. It felt right to have Ginryuu at his side again, its weight comfortable even after months without the copy. He slid his thumb down the dull side of the blade, then let his fingers wrap around the hilt. Then, in a movement that only the most focused of opponents could follow, he brought the sword out of its sheath and swung it through the air, testing the blade. Power surged up his arms, emanating from the enchanted steel with which Ginryuu had been crafted. He didn't need a magic sword to perform any of his techniques—that all came from within—but having spells hammered into the weapon itself made it stronger, more resistant to wear, and better equipped to channel his attacks. Ginryuu was a sword that would not crumble or wear away, no matter how many times he used it. It was a sword he could rely on to help him protect the people he cared about.
And it was the sword he would bring to this final battle.
The night hung heavy around Syaoran's shoulders. He tilted his head back, staring up at the moon—tonight, a thin, luminous crescent. A few clouds roamed the sky, but the spaces between them gave the stars windows through which to shine. The air felt damp. Like the air after a storm, cleansed of the electricity that had made the hours before so eerie.
Syaoran wasn't sure what he'd expected the eve of the final battle to be like, but he hadn't expected this. The night felt peaceful. Serene. Like a pond that never rippled.
He wished he could feel as calm. But dark waters churned in his mind. One more fight, he thought, closing his eyes. Moments later, the faint tap of footsteps had him looking over his shoulder. He hadn't thought anyone would follow him up to the roof, least of all the person who stood behind him now.
"Am I disturbing you?" Fai asked, his voice piercing the quiet night.
Syaoran shook his head. The vampire stood for a moment at his side, looking up at the moon, then crouched down next to him. "You should go inside and rest. Your wounds haven't fully healed yet."
One night won't make much difference, Syaoran thought, looking down. Even once we're there, it could take days to find Fei-Wang Reed.
That was the hardest part, he decided. Knowing that they had their most perilous fight ahead of them, but not knowing exactly when it would come. At least we know what time we have to leave for Clow, he thought, folding one leg and resting his chin on his knee. "I'll be all right."
Fai nodded, accepting his claim. After a moment, he spoke. "Sakura-chan is waiting for us."
"Yes." He looked down. An hour ago, he'd come up here to clear his mind. Naturally, his thoughts had turned to Sakura—his Sakura. He'd thought about how he would tell her about everything that had happened. He'd thought about everything he owed her—not just because she'd been kind to him, but because being with her had taught him what it was like to love someone so much that he would do anything to keep that person safe. He suspected that he would always love her, that she would always occupy a part of his heart that his love for Kurogane did not reach. But the reverse was also true: if he had chosen to stay with her, he doubted he'd have been able to let go of the love he felt for Kurogane now. He loved them both. But it would have been selfish to try to hold onto both of them.
At the very least, Syaoran thought, he could show his gratitude to the one person who had never left the other Sakura's side. He turned to Fai. "Thank you."
The vampire's eyebrows lifted.
"Thank you for staying by the princess's side," Syaoran said, looking down again. "You always put her safety and happiness above your own. I can't say that I've done the same." Not anymore, he thought.
Several seconds passed in silence as Fai gathered a reply. "The most important thing now is that we all do our best for her. And staying by her side was probably the only thing I could have done, whatever good it did."
"You did more than enough," Syaoran said, throat tightening. "Just having you there probably helped her more than anything."
Fai laid a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward with his chest resting on his knees. "You don't have to feel guilty for making a choice, you know."
He stiffened, shocked that Fai had so easily identified the source of his unease. "I . . ."
"Every choice you make comes with a price," Fai said. "Some prices are easy to pay—time spent doing one activity over another, money in exchange for something you decide to buy. Other prices are much more dear to the heart. But if there is one thing that's always worth the price, it's love." The vampire sighed. "Kurogane loves you."
"I know."
"And you love him."
"Yes, I do."
"Then don't feel guilty for sacrificing part of your past to enjoy that love."
Syaoran hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Thank you. That's . . . more reassuring than you probably know."
"I'm glad." Fai smiled at him, rising to his feet. "Get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us."
"Yes." He cast one last glance at the sky, then slid down the sloping roof toward the tree he'd climbed to get here. A long, long day.