Author's Notes:
Sorry about the long wait. I've been working a lot lately—much more than usual—and I haven't had the energy or the time to work on this as much as I should. My schedule has loosened up a little, but I'm still in for another fairly busy week, which means I may not have the next chapter out for a while. The thing is, I tend to slow down during the last few chapters of any given fic. It's like the moment I finish planning everything, the very moment when I know exactly how the story must end, the act of actually finishing it becomes something of a formality. That said, I will finish this fic, because I always finish my fics, but I'm probably not going to be as quick to update as I have been in the past, at least in regards to this story (on a more positive note, I've made some headway on other fics, so hopefully we'll be seeing new chapters for those soon).
Anyway, I didn't write this note solely to apologize for my tardiness. I have some behind-the-scenes information about this chapter, for those of you who are interested in reading it. So here it is:
You'll notice that the explanations of Fai's magic get somewhat technical in this chapter. This is intentional, as I believe all magic systems should have well-defined rules and limitations, but ideally, this system should have been introduced and more thoroughly explained earlier in the fic, especially since I'm using it to solve a problem now. However, it took me a long time to figure out just how Fai's magic was supposed to work, apart from the "draw runes and shoot" aspect we see in the manga, and there was never really an opportunity to showcase his magic from his perspective without adding a miniature character-arc for him in a fic that doesn't even focus on the development of his character. I hope I managed to give enough explanation in these chapters to give you all a general idea of how the magic system works, but if you're looking for more detail on it, it's actually the same magic system I'm going to be using in Reversal of Fate, and I'm going to be elaborating on it more and more in upcoming chapters for that story. I want to be consistent in regards to Fai's magic throughout my fics from now on, even though each story follows a different continuity. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter despite the fact that the magic isn't fully explained, and I will try to be better about that in my next fic. Thanks!
Chapter One-Hundred Fifty-Three
A burst of magic rippled toward Fai, like flames cast off from an explosion. He dodged to the side, deflecting the spell with a simple defensive weave. At the same time, he let his magic quest outward, exploring the barrier around the capsule where Fei-Wang had trapped everyone. I can't miss this chance, Fai thought. Tendrils of pale blue energy nudged the spell-work around the tube, disappearing wherever they brushed against the capsule itself. The spell acted as a lock; the capsule, a prison cell. Without help from the outside, nothing trapped in that tube could escape. Even then, the lock would block any spell that interfered directly with the device except for one cast by the person operating it. It was a lock that could not be picked or broken, or even opened with a key, if the wrong person held it. A perfect prison.
Almost.
Spears of shadowy magic streaked through the air. Fai projected a field of influence around himself, using it to propel his body out of the way, always keeping half his mind on the exploratory wisps of magic he'd sent toward the capsule. Yes, a very precise weave, he thought. But only a fool designs a lock impossible to pick, and the creator of this was no fool. He dodged three more missiles, hoping Fei-Wang would think his attention diverted by those simple acrobatics. He'd scarcely used his magic in all the time he'd traveled, and he'd felt Fei-Wang's touch on Ceres only a few times in the years leading up to his own departure. Checking in, making sure he was still alive and well enough to play his role, but never examining his talents in-depth. Never truly understanding the depth of his knowledge.
One of the shadows struck the edge of Fai's field of influence, popping it so he had to counter the next three bolts individually. But still, a trickle of energy traced the spell-work on the tube. Mentally, he mapped the spell, but it was like mapping every thread in a tapestry. Too much to think about, too much to look at without an array of sketchpads around him to record everything. So he looked at the patterns instead, the connections between the segments of the weave, all while evading Fei-Wang's barrage of attacks. He found several sequences, many of them attached to the bind points of more important weaves. Many served no other purpose than to hold the intricate web together. It would take more magic than he had to break all of those, and he might destroy the whole capsule in the attempt, if he survived long enough to do it. No, he needed something else. A string he could pull on that would unravel the whole tapestry.
Amidst thousands of threads, he found a single, unbound wisp of energy, the final component of the spell, tied off to keep everything else in place. There, he thought, seizing it with his own magic and yanking on the thread. For an instant, nothing happened, and the dim lights within the capsule continued bouncing against the glass in a futile attempt to get out.
Then the spell unraveled and those lights spilled out to fill the entire room.
Kurogane squinted against the brightness. This had better work, he thought, gritting his teeth. His neck ached, the muscles tense with anticipation. Beside him, the boy stared into the dawning brilliance, his fingers laced with Kurogane's, his shoulders square.
Across the glass partition, the light around the princesses resolved into a pair of luminescent white wings, one on the outward-facing shoulder of each girl, forming a complete set between them. Kurogane could feel the energy pouring off them, like the pounding of battle drums, resonating through the tube. It electrified the air and pressed against the foggy glass walls of the container. It shivered in his bones and made his blood burn.
And it wasn't enough.
"If they channel any more magic, it will kill them," the kid's father said, voice hoarse, pressing his knuckles against the glass partition between them and the princesses. "We won't be able to—"
A harsh blue light crackled along the outside of the tube, like a net being set afire. Then the pattern somehow changed, just subtly, as if the thread holding it all together had been torn away. On the other side of the tube, the light around the princesses grew impossibly brighter—so bright that even with his eyes closed, he could see the outlines of their magic on the backs of his eyelids, like a bright light shining through a curtain. A sound like breaking glass pierced the air, and then the ground disappeared from beneath his feet. Light and sound ripped away from him as he tumbled through blackness, and instinctively, he reached out, hoping to catch hold of the boy. His fingers merely passed through cold, empty air.
"Kid!" he called as he wheeled through the void.
"Over here."
He twisted in midair, only to find himself spinning in another direction, the contents of his stomach sloshing around like clothes in those washing machines he'd seen in the Hanshin Republic. He opened his eyes, though that hardly helped. Blackness consumed everything around him, and he continued to spin in defiance of all logic and physics.
"Just imagine yourself standing upright," the kid called. Or . . . no, not the kid. This voice was deeper, and not nearly as warm. The boy's father. Well, at least we're all in the same place, he thought, trying to imagine himself standing still, grounded by gravity. The awful tumbling ceased, and despite the apparent lack of things to stand on, he found himself upright, his feet resting on a platform as black as the air around him.
"Kid?" He sensed movement behind him and turned to see the boy hurrying in his direction, running through the blackness with ease.
"Kurogane-san." Relief filled the kid's voice. "I'm so glad you're alive." He burrowed his face in Kurogane's armor, and though Kurogane couldn't feel much through the metal plate, he returned the embrace, sheltering the kid with his arms.
"Yeah, good to see you, too," Kurogane said. "Now where are we, and how do we get out of here?"
"That," said a taut voice, "is a very good question."
Kurogane turned. The boy's father walked toward them, his expression cold. He eyed Kurogane for a moment, conflict warring in his eyes, fingers curling and uncurling as if he couldn't decide whether to fight or walk away. "It would seem that there is no way out," the boy said. "We're trapped."
"Didn't expect you to be the pessimist here," Kurogane grumbled. "Mind explaining what's got you so pissed off?"
A quick flicker of guilt skated over his face before once again being swallowed up by resentment. Kurogane waited, watching the older kid's eyes dart between him and the boy, watching his expression grow at first frustrated, then angry. "It is not supposed to be this way," he said at last. "The two of you . . . It should never have turned out like this."
The kid stepped between them before Kurogane could so much as raise a fist. "I believe you misunderstand."
"Do I?"
"Kurogane-san isn't . . ." A thread of defensiveness wove through the boy's voice. "He has never abused me, and I don't like you implying that he has. I love him." His breath caught, then steadied. "I love him," he repeated softly.
The boy's father regarded them both for a long moment, but his face remained tense. "He is far too old for you."
"I'm older than I look," the kid replied.
"He should never have come to think of you in such a way."
"He thinks of me this way because I encouraged him to do so."
"You are supposed to be in love with Princess Sakura."
At this, the boy flinched, dropping his gaze for the first time since he'd stepped between them. Kurogane laid a hand on his shoulder, earning a sharp look from the boy's father, then, very deliberately, pulled the kid closer to his chest. "Look, I know this isn't exactly what you expected when you came back—"
The older Syaoran's head snapped up. "How could you?" he demanded before Kurogane could finish. "I thought you were a man of honor."
A wordless growl rose in his throat. He stepped forward, only to have the kid nudge him back. We don't have time for this, he thought, unsure if he should be more frustrated with the situation itself or with the older Syaoran's attitude.
The boy's father took a breath, clenching his fists. "How am I supposed to react when I find my old teacher—someone who I regarded with admiration and respect for so many years—in an intimate relationship with my son?" His voice rose in pitch, distress sizzling along the edges of his anger. "I trusted you! For an entire lifetime, I waited in another world, believing that when the time came again, my son would be in safe hands. I trusted you, and you . . ." He inhaled sharply, biting back whatever he'd been about to say. Then, quietly, he went on. "And if that were all . . . if he really loved you, then I could find a way to make peace with it. But it's not. He is supposed to be with his princess. They are fated for each other. He cannot be happy without her."
"You're wrong." The voice came not from Kurogane, nor from the kid. He turned, reaching toward his hip, toward Ginryuu. The kid stilled his hand with a touch, standing taller as the speaker approached. With no weapons and a lanky frame, the newcomer hardly looked threatening, though he did seem . . . familiar. Where do I know him from?
The newcomer paused a few meters away, studying their group with his hands folded in front of his white button-down shirt.
"Who the hell are you?" Kurogane demanded when the pause stretched on.
The boy glanced at him, surprise flickering in his eyes before his expression settled into a serene mask. "I suppose you wouldn't recognize me. We met only briefly, after all, and I'm sure you've encountered many much more memorable people since your journey began. I am called Watanuki."