Chapter One-Hundred Fifty-Eight
Shortly after Kurogane woke up the next day, the medical team transferred them to a real hospital. Kurogane suspected the change had less to do with their health than the fact that it was eight-million-fucking-degrees out in the desert, and the hospital probably had better ventilation than the tents they'd been staying in since their arrival.
Except for his brief moment of consciousness the previous night, the kid hadn't stirred, so the healers shifted him over to a stretcher and carried him. They tried to do the same to Kurogane, but before they could convince him to lie down, he was trailing after the boy, a cluster of healers fussing over him and insisting that he not push his body so hard. Their babbling became so disruptive after a few minutes that Kurogane stopped, turned to them, and said, "I cut off my own goddamn arm for these people. I'm not going to be carted around like an infant just because I've got a couple dozen stitches."
"Ninety-seven stitches, actually," one of the apprentice healers corrected, adjusting her spectacles.
"Whatever," Kurogane growled, picking up his pace until he was walking alongside the kid's stretcher. It took more effort than he'd have liked to keep his face impassive—damn, those stitches hurt when he moved—but he'd made his decision, and he would stay by the kid's side until he woke up, no matter how much it hurt.
The hike to the hospital took less than fifteen minutes, though Kurogane swore he'd torn at least a few of his stitches by the time they walked through the doors. The mage ghosted in behind him, already recovered thanks to his supernatural healing abilities. "You really should have let them put you on a stretcher," Fai said. "I can smell your blood from twenty paces away."
Unable to think of a reasonable objection, Kurogane grunted.
The healers carried the kid up to the third floor, where the princess had been brought the previous evening after the healers on-scene had attended to her. The king had insisted Sakura be brought to the hospital to continue her recovery, and Kurogane had already been asleep by that point, so he hadn't had any say in it.
The hospital was nice enough, he thought. A lot cooler than the medical tents had been, without the sun beating down on them. Kurogane grabbed a chair from the edge of the room and dragged it over to the boy's bedside as the healers laid him down. A few of them glanced at him as he sat, but no one objected. He waited for them to disperse, then pulled the privacy curtain closed, blocking the sunlight pouring in through the windows.
Time passed. Kurogane let himself sink into a twilight alertness which allowed him to perceive any sounds that might indicate danger or change, but also let him filter out the noise of the hospital staff going about their duties. He'd spent a lot of time in this state, guarding Princess Tomoyo, and it pleased him to know that he could watch over the kid in the same way, even if this country lacked any obvious threats. The pleasant complacency of the people who lived here might have unnerved him if he hadn't witnessed a far more disturbing level of cheer in the Clow they'd originally landed in, the one cut off from its parent-world's time. At least this time, there was enough variation in the peoples' responses that he doubted they were snared in some sort of magical trap.
The privacy curtain fluttered as Mokona bounced from the floor to the foot of the kid's bed. Kurogane watched the meat-bun for a moment, surprised that she hadn't announced her arrival in her typical hyperactive manner. From the way her ears had flattened against her back, Kurogane guessed the kid's continued unconsciousness worried the meat-bun as much as it did him. "Don't look so deflated," he said. "The kid's going to be fine."
"Mokona is worried," Mokona said. "Sakura and Syaoran haven't woken up yet."
"They had a rough couple of days," he said, though that hardly encompassed everything they'd been through. "They just need to sleep it off."
"Mokona thinks Syaoran doesn't want to wake up."
Adrenaline spiked through his bloodstream before he fully processed the comment. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, leaning forward.
"This Syaoran absorbed all of the other Syaoran's memories," Mokona said. "But some of the things the other Syaoran did . . . Mokona thinks he was under that big meanie's control for a long time."
Big meanie? Kurogane thought, eyebrows flying up at the absurd title. Jeez, that's an understatement.
"This Syaoran might have gotten a lot of really bad memories from the other Syaoran," the pork-bun went on. "Mokona doesn't know what those kinds of memories might to do Syaoran."
"He'll get through it," Kurogane said. "I'll make sure of it." He had no idea how he'd do that, if the kid did end up suffering because of the memories his father had left with him, but he'd figure it out.
He heard the staccato tap of footsteps nearby and turned just as the mage yanked the privacy curtain off to the side. "Sakura-chan is awake."
Without thinking, Kurogane jumped to his feet. The movement pulled at his stitches, and he hunched over the boy's cot, hissing with pain. The pork bun leapt from the bed into the mage's arms, and after a moment, Kurogane recovered enough to shove the curtain aside and stagger over to the princess's bed. Half a dozen people, including the king and the bespectacled blond who'd been with him when they'd first fallen into this world, ringed the princess's cot, cooing over her and offering encouragements.
"Everyone, back off," a familiar voice said, and Kurogane looked up in shock to see Souma, dressed up like one of the medical staff, sliding between him and the mage as she made her way over to the princess's bed. "I'm sure she's very glad to be so loved, but this is hardly the time to overwhelm her." Souma laid two fingers against the princess's neck—checking her pulse, Kurogane guessed—then nodded to herself. "How do you feel, Princess?"
Sakura's eyes slid open, glassy with whatever medicine they'd been giving her. "Syaoran-kun . . . Where . . . ?"
"He's in one of the other rooms," the mage said, touching her hand. "He'll be fine."
The girl nodded, but Kurogane felt a flicker of unease as he realized he had no idea how he was supposed to tell the princess that he and the boy were together. It seemed cruel to do it now—to break her heart before she was even fully awake—but he couldn't exactly keep it from her. Not for long. Ah, hell. No wonder the kid was so freaked out about telling her.
"Everyone's here," the girl murmured. "Everyone but him. I thought . . ." Her eyes filled with tears, and she didn't need to say anything more for everyone to know what she'd thought. Kurogane found himself shuffling to the side of her bed and awkwardly patting her hand.
"Hey, don't worry. The kid's going to be just fine." Probably.
"Okay." She nodded, seeming to recover her composure. "Okay. That's good. When will he wake up?"
"We're not sure yet," the mage said. "It could be hours or it could be days."
"I want to see him when he's awake."
"It will be done," said the bespectacled man. Yukito, if Kurogane remembered his name right.
Everyone stood around and fawned over the girl for a few minutes, but eventually the healers ushered them out of the room, stating that the princess needed her rest. Kurogane started back to the kid's cot, but the mage grabbed his mechanical arm. Or what was left of it, anyway. The core pieces still worked, but it had taken a lot of damage, and the artificial nerves had mostly been severed, meaning that even though he could move it if he concentrated, it felt numb, like it wasn't even there. If the mage's tugging hadn't caused the arm to pull painfully against Kurogane's shoulder, he probably wouldn't have even noticed. "What is it?"
"You haven't eaten all day."
"So?"
"So you need to take care of yourself if you want to be around for Syaoran-kun."
He scowled, but allowed the mage to tow him to the hospital cafeteria, where visitors and patients who were well enough to walk around could get something to eat. Today's meal consisted of some kind of grain Kurogane didn't recognize, some dried-up pieces of fruit, and a glass of fresh milk.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do next time we land in your world?" the mage asked. Kurogane nearly choked on his bread.
"Damn it, don't ask stuff like that when I'm eating."
"Have you thought about it?"
"No. I'm going to talk to the kid about it when he wakes up."
Fai paused with a piece of fruit halfway to his mouth. "Kuro-pon, you don't honestly believe he'll ask you to keep traveling with him if he thinks you want to go home, do you?"
"If I'd known you were planning to interrogate me, I wouldn't have followed you down here," he growled, biting down on his piece of bread. The idiot just raised an eyebrow. "Of course he wouldn't ask," Kurogane said bitterly. "But I'll be able to tell if he wants me to stay with him."
"You two want different things out of life."
"We're getting married."
This time, it was the mage who choked on his food. He set his pitcher of milk down hard, coughing. Kurogane felt a stab of satisfaction, seeing the shock and alarm turned back on the mage. "That's . . ." Fai swallowed, still wheezing. "That's great. When did this happen?"
"Back in Nihon. The day before we left. We didn't make a big deal out of it." He paused, thinking. "What I want out of life," he said carefully, "isn't the same thing I used to want. Before, I wanted revenge. Now I've had it. I also wanted to protect Tomoyo. Well, I spent years protecting her, and she's done fine without me since she sent me away, so I guess I'm not really needed there. The kid . . ." He took a breath. "There's nothing I want more than to make him happy. I'd like to go home, and I'd like to go back to protecting Tomoyo, but if I had to choose between those things and the kid, it's no contest."
"You wish you could have both," the mage said, nodding in understanding. He didn't accuse Kurogane of selfishness—his tone didn't even imply that he thought it was selfish—but phrasing it that way made things settle in Kurogane's mind. Of course he wanted it both ways. But he couldn't have everything—shouldn't have everything, he thought, otherwise what else was there to look for? So he'd pick the most important thing.
"You know, mage, as frustrating as you are, you do turn out useful sometimes," he said.
Fai laughed. "Well, thank goodness for that. I couldn't imagine how you'd put up with me if I were an idiot and useless."
Kurogane cracked a smile—the first in too long—and took a long swig of his milk. "Looks like we're all going to be leaving this world together, huh?"
The mage beamed. "I wouldn't want it any other way."