Author's Notes:

For the sake of clarity, I will be referring to Syaoran's clone as the Other. I know I've done this a few times in earlier chapters, but it's been a while, and since he's a prominent figure in this final battle, I need some way to refer to him without making things confusing. Some dialogue and action will be altered in order due to the medium, pairing, and other various things. Also, the way this scene is set up divides the battle into two halves—the fight between Syaoran and his clone, and the fight between Kurogane and Fai and Fei-Wang's minions. So the POVs will alternate accordingly and each part of the battle will play out as its own separate stage, despite happening simultaneously.

Chapter One-Hundred Forty-Three

The Other descended, his footsteps echoing in the vast room. In one hand, he held Hien, his grip relaxed, the tip of the blade scraping against the stone floor with a sound that grated on Syaoran's ears. His clone paused on the landing, looking at them. His expression, if such a thing could exist on a face so utterly devoid of emotion, seemed to suggest that they were an annoyance, rather than a threat.

Kurogane and Fai stepped forward, forming a wall between Syaoran and his clone. "Not a chance," Kurogane growled, his hand on his sword. To Syaoran's right, Fai stood tall, his fingernails ripping through the tips of his gloves, becoming claws.

"Mokona, get some distance from us," Fai said quietly.

"But—"

"Look after Syaoran-kun for us, okay?"

Look after me? Syaoran thought, then realized that the command wasn't meant to protect him, but to protect Mokona. Of course. Because out of all of us, Mokona is the least equipped to defend herself. He caught the creature as she bounced into his arms, then quickly set her on the floor behind him. "This is going to get dangerous," he murmured. "If you have to run, go through there." He pointed to the doorway through which they'd entered. "That's the easiest way out."

Mokona's ears drooped. "Syaoran . . ."

"We'll be fine," he promised, stomach clenching at the lie. "It's just a precaution." As Mokona scurried toward the door, he turned back to his clone. The Other hadn't moved from the steps, but as Syaoran watched, a rift opened up behind him, reality splitting like a slit in a curtain. As the rift widened, a figure in rich black robes appeared. The sigil of a bat on a yellow background marked his identity as surely as his mocking grin. "Fei-Wang Reed."

The sorcerer chuckled. "So we meet again. Such a shame that it could not be under better circumstances." He reclined into his chair, a king on his throne, and ran a finger through his beard. "What do you think of it? This is the moment you wanted to come back to. The moment cut off from time. The instant burned into your regrets." With every word, his amusement deepened, until Syaoran could all but hear the laughter in his voice. He grit his teeth. "You warped space and time in order to relive this moment, and now space and time have been abandoned by divine providence. Both past and future, damaged so that you could come back to this moment. But if you want that distortion to have any meaning, then this moment will have to change. And to do that, you must act to change it." He let out a laugh that made Syaoran think of vultures and maggots and carrion. "You never could stop wishing, could you? That's why you and I are the same."

Suddenly, the water in front of them erupted, propelled out of its stillness by a wave of energy that resonated in Syaoran's bones. That energy skimmed across the reservoir's surface and slammed into the Other as he jumped in front of Fei-Wang's portal. He let Hien take the brunt of the attack, his footing never wavering, his expression never changing.

"Ah, shut up," Kurogane said, his sword glistening as he grinned at Fei-Wang Reed. "Cut the lecture. We don't need your self-serving bullshit."

Syaoran balked at the ninja's tone. Behind the dark humor, a streak of malice ran through his voice, painting the words a striking red, like fresh blood. In any other situation, that voice might have made his insides turn to water, but now, it tempered the guilt he'd felt at Fei-Wang's speech. They don't believe him. They don't believe a single word of it.

He hadn't realized he'd been worried his companions might believe their enemy, hadn't realized that he could feel shame at the words of the sorcerer who had ruined his life, hadn't realized that he could be so heartened by Kurogane's casual dismissal of Fei-Wang's claims.

In that moment, he realized he'd never loved Kurogane more.

"Why don't you come out here?" the ninja taunted, beckoning Fei-Wang with his sword.

Fai grinned. "I don't think he will. Every time we spoke, he was always hiding in that little rip in space."

"Oh, I get it. He's a coward."

"That would be difficult to deny, wouldn't it?" Fai glanced over his shoulder, expression sobering. "Syaoran-kun. After we left Shara, I said something to your other self. Do you remember?"

He hesitated. They'd been separated in both Shura and Shara, only meeting up just before they'd had to leave for the next world. His confusion must have been evident on his face, because Fai clarified. "I said something about whether we could be forgiven for changing the future. But you can never be absolutely certain of what the future will bring, or how your role in the present will affect that future. So for now, don't even think about it. Think about what you want to do and what you can do, and that will be enough."

Syaoran nodded, turning his gaze to the frozen vortex of magic around Sakura's body, then to the Other. "I will not let Sakura die," he said.

The Other stared back at him with empty, mismatched eyes. Then, seemingly unconcerned, his clone turned and walked down one of the peripheral stairwells, toward the edge of the room. Choosing his battlefield.

"Looks like you've got some unfinished business with yourself," Kurogane said, inclining his head toward the Other.

"Yes, I do." Stepping knee-deep into the water, he started crossing the room, heading toward his clone. Fire bloomed in his hands as he summoned his sword. The Other regarded him emptily, Hien's point touching the stone at his feet, until Syaoran turned to face him. "This is where it ends."

The Other blinked once, slowly, like a lizard, then spoke in a detached voice. "Yes. Here is where we end this."

Syaoran leapt forward. Months of frequent battling in Infinity had granted him agility and strength even greater than what he'd had before his imprisonment, and although that strength had waned in Nihon, his skills hadn't regressed. Their swords met with a clang, and he pivoted on his foot, trying to nudge the Other's blade to the side so he could strike. His clone held fast, his expression devoid of all emotion as he freed one hand to write a string of runes in the air. Fai's magic, Syaoran thought, throwing himself backward and calling on his own sorcery. Between them, the electric blue runes formed a spiral. There's no way he's doing that consciously, Syaoran thought. Which means he absorbed at least some of Fai's knowledge when he stole his magic.

"Fuuka—" he began, his own magic coalescing along the edge of his sword. Before he could finish the spell, the rune spiral shot toward him, bringing with it a blast of kinetic energy that threw him backward into the reservoir. He's even better than he was when we fought in Nihon, he thought as his back struck the bottom of the pool. A dull ache rolled down his shoulders as he stood. Have to strike before he can—

Another blast sent waves of pain through his body, once again knocking him off his feet. Distantly, he heard Fai shouting his name. He glanced back to see his companions surrounded by dozens of faceless guards—the same guards who had invaded Clow the night his clone had gone to Yuuko's shop, begging her to save Sakura.

How could he have fallen so far? Syaoran wondered, ignoring the pain and looking back at the Other's empty expression. How could he have forgotten how much he loved her? How could he have given up on that love so completely? He remembered the look of horror on his clone's face in Nihon, when the princess's soul had dissolved into petals. He'd wondered then if some scrap of humanity had remained in the Other, some shred of love or, at the very least, fondness. Was I wrong? Syaoran wondered, raising his sword as the Other approached.

"She loved you," Syaoran whispered, heart beating faster when the Other's steps faltered. He stood up straighter, positioning his sword in front of him, ready to strike or block as necessary. "Your Sakura . . . she adored you. Couldn't you see?"

Something flickered in his clone's eyes, disappearing before Syaoran could identify it.

"Don't you care?" he asked, his voice rising. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

The sounds of battle rang through the reservoir, but between them, silence reigned, as thick as honey, as tense as the wires of a piano.

"She wanted you to be free!" Syaoran yelled into the silence. "That's what she said before she disappeared! You can be free of him!" He gestured sharply to the rip in space where Fei-Wang Reed oversaw the battle. "That's what Sakura would have wanted."

The Other's expression hardened. He advanced, extending two fingers to write more runes in the air. Syaoran braced himself, drawing on his magic again, directing it into his sword. And this time, he didn't make the mistake of hesitating. "Raitei Shourai!

A bolt of lightning tore free from the tip of his sword, meeting the runes. The two twined together like lace, neutralizing each other. Syaoran let loose a second blast, gritting his teeth as the Other produced another string of runes to catch it. The warring spells crackled in the air, writhing like snakes around one another. A smell like burnt wiring drifted across the reservoir, and on its heels, a wave of heat followed. Calling on every shred of his magical power, Syaoran sent another bolt toward his clone, hoping that he would be unable to block three in such close succession, but the Other caught it effortlessly, his magic pushing back.

Can't give in, Syaoran thought. His sword began to heat up in his hands. It wasn't meant to channel so much magic at once, reinforced though it was, and the blade glowed brilliant white with energy. Even if he could gather enough magic to throw another lightning bolt, his sword would fracture before it hit. And he couldn't maintain his current spell for more than a few seconds without draining his energy completely. With a hiss, he released the spell, throwing himself to the side as several strings of runes—no longer forced to contend with the opposing magic—raced toward him.

I'm not strong enough, he thought, the heat from the spell passing so close that the skin on the back of his neck began to blister. He dropped to his knees, submerging himself in the reservoir, but even that was uncomfortably hot, like water placed over a stove. Still, he waited for the spell to pass before resurfacing. As hot as the water was, he didn't dare get caught up in the spell itself.

The Other raised one hand and carved another line of runes into the air.