Chapter One-Hundred Thirty-Nine
"This will bring down the swelling," Syaoran said, laying a small capsule on the table. "And this," he went on, setting a second pill beside the first, "will ease the pain." He set a glass of water next to the pills, feeling a pang of guilt for using the house's water supply without permission. In a desert, the price of water could exceed that of gold, and drinking from someone else's water supply fostered resentment even in the most permissive households. But considering the fact that everything in this world seemed to repeat itself day by day, the water level would likely return to normal by tomorrow. If not, at least tomorrow I can have Mokona refill it with the water bottles we stored away in Infinity.
Kurogane regarded the pills for another minute, then swept them up in his hand and swallowed. With a grimace, he picked up the glass of water and drained it. "People actually prefer taking pills over tea?"
"Tea would be far too expensive for most households to have in abundance," Syaoran explained. "The price of the water and the herbs make it so only the richest people in Clow can have tea whenever they want." People like the princess.
"Huh. And those pills will really take down the swelling?"
"It should, as long as you don't do anything to irritate the wound." His fingertips grazed the synthetic material of Kurogane's prosthetic. "Next time we find a technologically advanced world, we'll have them look at this and make sure everything fits together correctly."
"Yeah, I guess. Thanks."
Syaoran smiled, but it withered after just a few seconds. "I think we should all try to stay awake tonight, to see if we can gauge when, exactly, time starts over—if that's what's happening."
"Good idea." Kurogane grabbed his chest plate and helmet, slipping them on. I'm not the only one on edge, Syaoran thought.
"Let's head back to our room," he said, leading Kurogane away from the table. "I want to be with you."
"With the mage and the pork bun watching?"
"No," Syaoran said quickly, his face heating up. "Not that way. Not tonight. I want to be by your side." I want to feel safe again.
Something crossed the ninja's face, wiping away the wry amusement of a moment ago. Kurogane took his hand. "All right."
They walked into the bedroom, where Fai paged through a book too fast to read any of the words. "I miss books," the vampire said, setting the tome back on the shelf. "All these worlds we've visited, and I have yet to come across a single world with a language I can read. It's ridiculous."
Syaoran glanced at Kurogane, then shrugged. "I think Mokona has a deck of cards we could entertain ourselves with. We'll need to stay awake long enough to see when the day starts over, and there isn't much we can do at this hour without disrupting the pattern we established on our first day. If it even can be altered anymore."
Mokona hopped down from the bed Fai had claimed the night before. "Does Syaoran want the cards from Jade or the cards from Shara?"
"Shara," Kurogane said before he could answer. "I can't read those other cards."
Mokona summoned up the deck of cards, and the four of them sat in a circle. Perhaps it was the fact that the past day and a half had been so disturbing, or the fact that soon they would face their greatest enemy, but it was a relief to be doing something normal, as if they really were just a group of friends traveling together and not the only people with a chance to take down one of the most dangerous sorcerers who had ever lived.
Fai dealt the cards first, quickly reviewing the rules for a game he'd taught them in one of the previous worlds. Kurogane grumbled about the game being too simple; Fai grinned and poked the ninja in the ribs, though that did little good since he'd donned his chest plate again; Mokona commented on their bickering.
Syaoran couldn't help but think that Sakura would have won every game with her luck. And as soon as he thought of her, his mind turned to a darker place. If we fail, she'll either die or remain forever as Fei-Wang's prisoner. And even if we defeat him, there's no guarantee we'll be able to find both Sakuras.
"Kid, it's your turn."
His eyes darted back to the cards in his hand, and he hastily laid one of them on the pile in the center. Both of his companions looked at him oddly, and he shied away. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted."
Fai recovered first, smiling at him. "That's all right, Syaoran-kun. We're all a little distracted."
The vampire laid down a card, and Kurogane laid down the next. Then Mokona jumped onto the top of the stack, throwing down her last card. "Mokona wins!"
"Want to play again?" Fai asked, gathering up the cards and shuffling them. Syaoran hesitated, feeling guilty for his inattention, but Kurogane nudged him with his elbow, nodding toward the deck as Fai shuffled.
"Yes, I think that's a good idea," Syaoran said. "It's a nice distraction."
They played three more rounds—Mokona won every game—then switched to a more complex game which required Syaoran to keep score on a sheet. That, at least, kept his mind from straying to the day ahead. When he felt a sudden rush of drowsiness, however, he looked at the others. "Did you feel that?"
Fai nodded. Or . . . it wasn't a nod, Syaoran realized. Fai's head had started bobbing as if he was on the edge of falling asleep. "I feel . . . tired," the vampire said, voice slurring.
"What . . . the hell?" Kurogane's body rocked slightly, and he caught himself, sitting up straight even as his eyelids drooped.
The fatigue came on even more strongly, dragging Syaoran closer and closer to sleep. He heard Mokona murmur something about being unable to keep her eyes open, and then everything lapsed into darkness.
He woke minutes later, the playing cards still clutched in his hands, his head spinning with the same disorientation he'd felt when he'd woken after that first night. "What just . . ."
"It happened again," Kurogane said blearily. "Damn."
"I think . . ." Fai said, sitting up. "I think we should go outside and—" a yawn broke his sentence in half "—see if everything's still the same as it was yesterday."
Syaoran nodded, the disorientation fading as quickly as his unnatural sleep had begun. He rose to his feet, drawing his cloak tighter around his shoulders and starting for the door. The others followed, seeming to regain their wits as they walked. "Time seems to start over late at night," Fai said, "and begin again in late afternoon. If it follows the same interval today, we'll know for certain the amount of time we're working with."
"I'm starting to think we should just avoid this whole repeating-day bullshit altogether and go somewhere else," Kurogane said as they headed toward the market.
"One more day," Syaoran said. "Then we'll know for certain, and we can move on." They reached the market then, and he found himself searching for the most familiar faces. He could see their hostess working at her stall, selling apples, unaware of them, and he could see a few of the people who'd crowded around them on the first day, asking if they were travelers. But unlike yesterday, he was prepared for the bizarre similarities, and this time, he tried to see the smaller details. Something had to be different. A person, or a pair of clothing, or—
"Ah!"
Syaoran turned, extending his arms automatically to catch the basket of apples as the boy carrying them crashed into him. "Thanks, mister!"
He said nothing, studying the boy for any sign that he might have changed somehow. Maybe I shouldn't have let him run into me, Syaoran thought. Our first day here disrupted whatever the natural flow of events was. Maybe he was meant to trip. But if we changed that, then what else changed because of us?
"Are you a traveler?" the boy asked, as usual. Syaoran didn't speak, and after a few seconds, the child continued. "You'll like it here. The kingdom of Clow's a good place."
I know, Syaoran thought, wondering what would happen if he walked away without a word. Instead, he turned to his companions. "It has to be some sort of plot by Fei-Wang," he said. "Something that requires him to force everyone in this world to relive the same events over and over again."
The boy ran off, heading toward the apple stand, and Mokona spoke. "These people's lives aren't advancing at all. That's what this means, isn't it?"
It seemed a bizarrely astute observation from the creature, one that had Syaoran looking around, focusing on each face in the market. Everyone looked content, and many of them seemed actively happy. It wasn't the worst day to relive over and over again, but . . . But it's still wrong that they have to, he thought. Wrong that they're trapped here, whether they know it or not.
"No matter how long they wait, tomorrow will never come," Mokona went on, ears flattening. "There's something about it that makes Mokona sad."
Syaoran patted the creature's head, feeling a pang. Living this day, over an over, without ever moving forward. Without ever knowing that you're trapped.
"Hey, mister!" the boy called, waving them over. Saying nothing, Syaoran walked over to the apple stall, listening as the boy and his mother thanked him again, for something he'd done at first by reflex and today by habit. They don't know that tomorrow will never come for them, he thought. They don't understand what's going on here.
"There are people," Fai began, his voice wavering slightly, "for whom the advancement of time may be sadder than if time had stopped."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kurogane growled, even as Syaoran felt a surge of anger at the injustice.
Fai didn't react to the ninja's tone, only looked out at the people milling around. "For example, if, after this time passes, something awful were to happen . . . It might be preferable, for some, to remain content, even if time never moves beyond that point."
"Bullshit," Kurogane muttered as people began to gather around them again.
"Those sure are strange clothes," said a man Syaoran recognized from the previous two cycles. "Are you from some other country?"
"They're saying the same things," Kurogane said. "But not everything is the same."
The statement made Syaoran's heart jump. "What's different?"
"Look around, kid. Not at the people, but at the space between them."
Syaoran frowned, surveying the empty spots peppering the group that had congregated around them. That's strange, he thought. The first day we were here, this group was so closely packed that we couldn't have walked away even if we'd tried. But now . . . "There are people missing."
"Yeah. There are."
"Yes," Fai said. "There was a man on the first day who said something about how much better it was to travel with others, but I can't recall seeing him yesterday, and he's not here now."
"Which means the pattern is changing." But why? Is it us? Is our interference doing more damage to this world than we realized? A chill swept down his back.
"Well, take your time while you're here," one man said after an awkward pause. "The festival is coming up pretty soon."
If they really are disappearing, then we need to get whatever information we can before they go, Syaoran thought. And if the cycle is changing every day, maybe we can get it to change again. "What is the festival for?" he asked sharply, looking at the man who'd just spoken.
"It's to celebrate Princess Sakura's birthday, of course!"
Her birthday? How can that be, unless . . . He turned, addressing the boy who carried the apples. I changed what that other man said by asking a question. Maybe if I ask another, I can change it even more. "How old will the princess be on her birthday?"
"Now, let me see." The boy started counting on his fingers—one of the first things Syaoran had seen him do that didn't match up with what he'd done already. "The birthday coming up makes her . . . seven years old." He beamed, like a student being praised by a teacher, but Syaoran's heart dropped. Seven?
Memories slashed at him like pieces of glass. Sakura's seventh birthday. In his clone's time-line, the princess had had a birthday party at the castle and offered to share her date of birth with him, since he'd arrived in Clow with no memory of his birthday. But in his own time-line, Sakura's seventh birthday had launched him into some of the worst days of his life, the days after she'd been marked for death, the days where he'd lived every moment knowing that his hesitation had as good as killed her.
"That means we're in Clow's past right now," Kurogane said. Syaoran barely heard him.
"We'll have to go to the castle to see Sakura," Mokona interrupted.
"The princess isn't at the castle right now," the young boy said, looking puzzled.
Syaoran's voice shook. "Where is she?" Not the ruins, please not the ruins, please, please . . .
"She's doing purification rituals at the ruins."
Then this is a piece of time removed from the day she was marked for death, Syaoran thought, feeling as if someone had taken a metal wire and wound it around his lungs. Of course. I should have known the moment we arrived here that I would have to go back to that moment. "I should have known . . ."
"Should have known what?" Mokona asked as the rest of his companions turned to stare at him. He flinched, shying away. I'll have to tell them. I'll have to explain what happened. They'll know that when I had a chance to save the princess, I hesitated. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he let out a soft squeak.
"Should have known what?" Kurogane repeated, eyes narrowed.
"I . . ."
"Look!" Fai hissed. Syaoran yanked his gaze away from the ninja's to look in the direction Fai pointed. And then he couldn't say anything because the woman in front of him was melting.