Chapter Text
Dear Dr Fluorite,
I know you appreciate brevity, so I will forego formalities and let you know how happy I am. It is with the deepest gratitude that I respond to your letter accepting my request. My utmost hopes were satisfied upon opening your correspondence and reading that you are willing to take on a patient. Having been content with recruiting a suitable specialist for the treatment of my friend’s health, you can imagine my joy at reading the following offer. To provide medical services of your calibre for no payment is a serious commitment. Your generosity has left a warm impression on my heart, and I thank you deeply.
I must point out, however, that my offer to fulfil the payment for Mr Kurogane’s treatment still stands. His lack of monetary resources need not be a consideration in the decision to treat him for free. As you well know, his surrogate sister is a friend of mine, and I would do anything within my power to ensure the stability and happiness of their family. Should thought of their financial standing have been a factor in your decision, I humbly request that you reconsider my offer.
I await your reply and will pass on the details of your estate to Mr Kurogane. It is my understanding that his sister would like to accompany him on his trip, if your situation allows. She has informed me that she is willing to assist around the property in any capacity you may see fit while she is there. I will also add that I would be glad to cover any expenses which may arise due to the presence of an extra person at your estate.
Thank you again for your kind help. I look forward to hearing from you and leave you, and your future patient, with my best wishes.
Tomoyo Daidoji
The train rattled to a halt around 3 o’ clock, when the autumn sun was beginning to set and the leaves left a din in their wake. The conductor stepped onto the platform to oversee the disembarkation of the train’s passengers. One by one, people began to file out of the doors. A late afternoon breeze stirred their collars as they trudged away, hugging overcoats closer about them. The hall of the train seemed to widen as it unloaded its burden and the last passengers left.
The backmost car was one of the last to empty. Inside, a burly young man hauled two satchels out of the overhead racks, passing one down to the quaintly dressed girl beside him. He paused a moment with his bag in his arms, looking out at the families waiting for loved ones to return from the city. With a final heave, Kurogane secured his bag over his shoulder and waited for Sakura to do the same. Together, they left the train.
Despite the overcast sky and the waning daylight, the platform outside was brighter than their compartment. Kurogane had to squint to see the platform, and ended up following Sakura to a nook in the wall where they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. Sakura took long strides, stretching her limbs as she walked, and it was a few moments before Kurogane realised she was smiling at him. He returned a companionable grunt and waited for his balance to steady.
“Where are we catching the coach from?” Sakura wondered aloud, eyes fixed on her brother. Kurogane surveyed the area – he had never been to this town before and had barely seen it on a map before arriving. The mountains rose around them like watching, emerald-clad titans and a dense forest was visible beyond the houses. The sun was already dipping behind the trees so that night felt likely to arrive before it was due.
“Fountain at the station entrance, Fluorite said so,” Kurogane said at last, pointing to the exit. He was eager to find somewhere warmer before dark. They found the fountain after a brief search, though it hadn’t been grand enough to catch their attention straight away. It was a dry grey artefact, stone birds knocked off their perches and lichen clinging to the bowl. Their coach was little better off, with two underfed-looking horses at the head and a ratty curtain tied shut over the window.
The siblings confirmed their identities to the driver and stepped inside. They barely fit in the tight space, and just wrestled the bags into their laps when the coach rattled to life. Kurogane sighed and began fiddling with the curtain. He already wished he could breathe the fresh air on the other side of the glass.
“All those hours on the train and we’re sitting down again!” Sakura said, as though reading his thoughts. “I hope Dr Fluorite has a garden.”
“He’ll have a garden,” Kurogane said. “He’s a doctor. He’s rich.”
Sakura rolled her eyes, which made him feel slightly better. “Maybe not all rich people like gardens,” she said. “How do we know Dr Fluorite does?”
Kurogane gave a weak shrug and peered out the window instead of answering. Dilapidated halls and cottages swept by as they picked up speed, bare-fingered trees brushing the tops of buildings and reaching out to each other over broken fences. People walking home stopped to watch them pass from time to time, craning their necks to see where the carriage was going. The siblings were headed towards the empty end of town, where the spaces between the cottages grew from lanes into yards and finally into fields. Kurogane realised that they were bound for the forest.
He closed the curtain and shut his eyes, laying his head back to rest. He was careful to face away from Sakura – he’d rather not look half-dead if she could gawk at him for it. The train ride that day had been hell. The darkness, blotted with unforgiving sunlight from a co-passenger’s window, had given him a headache. He was still shaky from finally standing up and suppressed a growl in favour of lolling into a semi-conscious daze. He would be glad to be free of this rickety carriage, too.
Kurogane drew awake some time later to find that the carriage had stopped. He pulled back the curtain and found that dusk was beginning to seep into the forest around them. They were in a clearing in front of a drive, and Kurogane could hear a metal gate clanging open somewhere before them.
“This is us,” Sakura said, shaking him gently by the arm.
“Don’t know who else it would be,” Kurogane said and grasped his bag. The door opened abruptly as the driver urged him out, stuffing something into a coat pocket which he had taken from a stranger near the coach. Kurogane frowned at the sight. For a second, he imagined handing over the payment himself, heavy coins tumbling out of his palm like grapes, and looked away. Wordlessly, the driver rallied his horses and leapt back into his seat.
“Wait,” said a voice, and Kurogane saw the person who had just delivered payment to the driver. He was a lean boy around Sakura’s age, with wide brown eyes and a serious set to his mouth. The driver waited. “Will it be safe on the road back? It’s getting dark soon, if you need more oil for your lamp-”
“Save it, kid.” The driver gave a half-hearted wave and turned the carriage back onto the road. In a matter of moments, it had disappeared among the trees.
Kurogane steadied himself and looked around. He was standing in front of a tall gate of wrought-iron, which encircled the hallowed figure of a manor. He hadn’t really known what to expect, but it was not this. In his mind there were more straight edges, more of the colour white. Here, the remains of daylight lingered timidly in the boughs of evergreen branches, and the yard encircling the manor was filled with overgrown ornaments and the whispers of insects. It was indeed a garden, but one so wild that he hesitated to call it that.
The boy (he was hardly any older, now that Kurogane looked him over) cleared his throat politely. He gave a welcoming smile and gestured to the gate, his back so straight it looked ready to snap. “Welcome to the Fluorite manor,” he said. “I’m Syaoran, Dr Fluorite’s assistant. And, um, this is the manor.”
“How do you do,” said Sakura, holding out her hand. Syaoran shook it, looking more pleased than surprised at her presence. “I think Tom- Miss Daidoji told you I was coming? I’m Kurogane’s sister.”
“Oh, yes!” Syaoran nodded enthusiastically. “She told us all about you.” His voice faltered slightly as his eyes flickered to Kurogane. “And that would make you Mr Kurogane,” he said, unsure. Kurogane didn’t have much confidence in this one.
“That would be me,” he confirmed. Syaoran tried to shake his hand, but drew it away after a moment of idling when Kurogane reacted a beat too late.
A regretful understanding passed between them before Syaoran perked up again. “Mr Fluorite’s out at the moment, but I can show you to your rooms and tour you through the manor before he returns. Oh,” he added, seemingly embarrassed, “Shall I take your bags? I can carry them, if you need to-”
“This is fine,” Kurogane said, before Sakura could reply. He ignored her gaze and swung his bag over his shoulder. Syaoran led them down the garden path, shutting the gate behind them and gesturing them through the overgrowth.
“We haven’t had a lot of time to devote to the garden, I’m afraid,” he said as he leaned into the front door, which swung open in a slow arc. Kurogane’s first instinct was to look up, to take in the looming vault of a ceiling he knew must be there. But it wasn’t. Lofty silks had instead been fixed to the centre of the ceiling to create a sort of tent, and the room below it was not the echoing void he had pictured but a study full of mahogany desks and soft rugs. A fireplace crackled in the back wall and books lay open on the lounges.
“This is the entrance hall. It’s small, so we actually use it a lot – I made those cushion covers myself, I took a class when I went home to visit my parents… and this over here is the kitchen.” The boy crossed to a door in the side of the entrance hall, peering in. “It’s actually not the main kitchen, but we cook and clean in here, and the other one we just keep as a kind of all-purpose workspace. That room back there is the dining room, we sometimes use it for guests, but we usually just eat wherever we feel like – ah, but you can eat in the dining room, if you prefer, it’s quite nice… Oh, this room down the hall-” (Sakura gasped) “-is the library. I sleep in here sometimes…”
Kurogane and Sakura were led from room to room for the next ten minutes. The majority of these were empty but for a few rugs and boxes, or standing instruments the purposes of which Kurogane could rarely identify. There was a telescope in one room, surrounded by a clutter of pens and spreads of paper on the floor. There were no less than four halls that could have been put to any purpose Kurogane could imagine, but which seemed mostly unused. There were also six different bathrooms, the largest of which was a servants’ washroom with three adjoined bathtubs, which struck Kurogane as impressive for a room which would feasibly be used by nobody.
The manor put him off. He became more uncomfortable with every echoing space until he could no longer hide the jittery feeling in his limbs. He crossed his arms, which made him feel more secure, and stopped in the middle of a connecting hallway between a study and a storage room to attract Syaoran’s attention. “Where is everyone?” he said.
Syaoran seemed prepared for the question. He turned to his guests with a half-shrug and a smile. “It’s just me and Fai – Dr Fluorite, that is. He’s never been interested in hiring servants. He’s a little eccentric like that. He’s my teacher, really, and I get accredited as a training scientist through him, but apart from me, there’s no-one.” He must have seen the incredulous look on Kurogane’s face, because he added, “He’s always off sharing his research, though. He just likes his space.”
Kurogane barely stopped himself rolling his eyes. He felt instantly bad about it, but defiance quickly defeated guilt. This was ridiculous. He didn’t like being in the position to owe anything to anyone in the first place, and much less so when he was going to have to endure the sight of wasted opulence every day for who knew how long.
It was shortly after this interruption that Syaoran led the pair upstairs to their rooms. Kurogane had the distinct impression he was attempting to make up, and nodded to the boy as he opened the door to Kurogane’s room. “You can use anything you find in the manor, except for the stuff in the main kitchen, and feel free to go anywhere in the house expect for in there unless Fai’s with you. If you need anything,” he said, bravely, “I’ll be downstairs. Fai should be back soon, so I’m sure you can have any questions answered then.”
“Where is he, exactly?”
“He’s in the neighbouring town,” Syaoran said. “You would have passed through just before you got here. He’s ordering some food and supplies, he said he’d be back before dark…”
Kurogane nodded briskly. “Thanks,” he said, and Syaoran made to leave with a final hopeful smile. Kurogane retreated into his room until the boy had gone, and then sought out Sakura in the next room over. She’d left the door open and turned immediately as though she’d been waiting for him.
“Did you see that library?” she hissed.
“I saw it,” he said, feeling some of the tightness in his stomach lift. “Did you see that garden?”
Sakura gave a dramatic sigh. “It’s not what I was hoping for, but it has a certain desolate beauty to it.”
Kurogane snorted and Sakura giggled. Then, slowly, the smile slipped from her face. “I know you’re not too happy about all this,” she said, “But were in a good place, right? We could have wound up with someone who turned their nose up at us and so far we seem to be in good hands…” She looked up at Kurogane from where she sat on the edge of the bed, which was probably bigger than any she’d ever slept in. “I know how you’re feeling – well, I don’t know how you’re feeling, and if you need to rest, you should, but just remember you’re not here alone.”
Kurogane didn’t meet her eyes. “I know,” he muttered. “Thanks.” They were silent for a moment before Kurogane excused himself. “I’m going to take a walk outside. I’ll see you later.”
Sakura uttered a “see you” and Kurogane made his way to the staircase. He felt rejuvenated after his doze in the carriage, and didn’t have to lean heavily on the banister as he descended, but he kept an eye out for the passing figure of Syaoran anyway. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and didn’t feel like reprimanding himself for his rudeness, either. He just needed to be outside.
The halls wheezed like the cavities of a dying beast. Kurogane had the distinct impression as he walked inside them that he was privy to a relic few others would see. Chandeliers hung bedraggled from the ceilings, tendrils of crystal dripping stained from their cores. The friezes around them were chipped and shrivelled like old bone, and the air stagnant like a breath held too long.
He found a back way into the garden after a little exploring near the room with the telescope. From there he only had to edge down a narrow hallway and open the back door, and was rewarded with the evening air washing over him as he stepped outside.
The tips of firs on the garden’s rim arrowed skywards, and the cool, creeping darkness in their midst made him shiver. He pulled his coat around himself enough that the cold couldn’t hurt him, and walked onto the satisfying crunch of gravel. The magenta sky was quickly deepening into the pelagic blue of night, and Kurogane could hear owls calling in the forest. This, he thought, inhaling as deeply as he could, was far preferable to being cooped up inside.
He began to wander the edge of the house, gaze meandering over the empty rooms behind the manor windows. This place was bizarre. The inside of the manor looked like the lair of an indecisive ghost, which favoured studies full of books and teacups as much as empty armoires that stood alone in the middle of bare rooms. He walked towards the forest several paces and turned back to the manor, hoping to get a clearer view of it and perhaps of his whole situation. He was taking in its two tall storeys when something caught his eye.
He hadn’t noticed it up close, but from back here, he could see discolouration on the foundations of the building. There was a black smear running across half of the brickwork. It flicked and streamed as though fashioned by a brush. He squinted, trying to make out its shapes, imagining what caused it, when he heard something move behind him.
“Would I be correct in assuming you’re Kurogane?”
He almost jumped. Bristling with embarrassment, he turned around with every intention of looking as formidable as he could. Instead, he fell short of speaking. In the arch of trees stood a tall man in a thin overcoat, golden hair bound in a low ponytail, a static tension about him. He held a bag of something under one arm and was eyeing Kurogane quizzically. Kurogane didn’t like those eyes, narrow and challenging, and he didn’t like the way the man smiled.
“I am,” Kurogane said. “So you’re Fai.”
The doctor raised his brows. He approached Kurogane with a wry smile and gave a little bow before falling into step beside him. “Most people call me by my surname.”
“You can take that up with Syaoran, then. He kept calling you that.”
Fai laughed in a way that was hard to pin down as either genuine or affronted. He seemed unfazed by the appearance of a ragged stranger in his garden, as though he encountered the situation on a regular basis. Kurogane could feel the buzzing urgency from earlier rear up inside him again, willing him to storm back towards the forest and leave the doctor behind.
“When did you arrive?” Fai asked.
“Nearly an hour ago.”
“Excuse my lateness. I had to order some supplies and couldn’t get to town until this afternoon.” Fai held the door open. He waited serenely for Kurogane to stomp through before following him inside, door gliding shut behind them.
“Sounds like it wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere,” Kurogane said. He felt the rush of satisfaction that told him he was being needlessly rude. “When did you move in? This place looks like it’s been neglected for years.”
Fai didn’t look back at him. Kurogane could imagine the placid look on his face by the sound of his voice. “We can’t choose what we inherit.”
“You’ve never considered selling it and moving somewhere else?”
Fai chuckled and emerged into the main hallway. Kurogane didn’t like following him through the house. He didn’t like the press of the walls or how it was so hard to catch a clear view of the doctor’s face. Nor did he feel the reassurance that setting eyes on a doctor is supposed to instil. Fai didn’t feel like a doctor at all. He had a few years on Kurogane, but he was definitely no more than middle aged, and the way he glided about the hall and tugged at his long blonde hair gave him the impression of being younger still. His grey overcoat was tailored well, hugging the slim figure gracefully, but it had been thoroughly used.
In his attempts to crane forward, Kurogane spotted Syaoran moving between the little kitchen and an adjoining room up ahead, and stopped. The boy was wearing what appeared to be a lab coat over his clothes. He was talking to Sakura, who emerged from somewhere donning an identical coat and carrying a pile of mixing bowls. Kurogane’s pulse quickened. What on earth was happening?
“Forgive me for assuming, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself outside,” Fai said. He turned to Kurogane at last, and Kurogane had been right – he still wore that peaceful smile on his face. “Do you have a problem with where we’re situated? We could relocate our tests to a hospital in the town, if you’d like.”
Kurogane felt the world slow down and his ears began to burn. So, he thought, his choice was between staying here and being hospitalised. He didn’t know which repulsed him more. He felt a rush of adrenalin and suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of the doctor’s smiling mouth.
“Fai! Welcome back.”
“Syaoran!”
The boy was waving them into the entrance chamber, eyes lighting up when they landed on Fai. “We’ve been cooking dinner. I hope it’s okay. We didn’t have a lot so I tried to keep it simple, but I think it will still taste good.”
“Excellent! What did you make?”
“A light soup to start with, but right now we’re roasting the pheasant from this morning with a stuffing of herbs from the garden, and I have some plum sauce to go with it. Oh, and there are potatoes and some pumpkin, too.”
“You were right!” cried a second voice. Kurogane started as Sakura burst from the kitchen with yellow stains on her hands, apparently having paused her work to make an entrance. There was a feather stuck to her shoe. “They do have a garden! A real one, behind the kitchen, with herbs in it. Syaoran makes tea with them.”
Syaoran looked more bashful than a boy who had just planned a two-course meal wearing a high-grade lab coat had any right to be.
Sakura took notice of Fai at that moment and became rigid, ready to say something, but Fai gently interrupted. “You must be Sakura?”
“Yes.”
“Nice to meet you. You can call me Fai.” He looked her over with a laugh and added, “I’d shake your hand, but perhaps that can wait until later.” He gave a theatrical bow instead, which Sakura returned with all the seriousness her cooking partner had earlier displayed. She had a smile on her face that suggested the whole world had laid itself at her feet. Kurogane realised that his hands were still balled into fists, and crossed his arms instead.
“Right. Is there anything I can help with?” Fai asked. “I bought some extra flour and wine…”
“No, it’s okay,” Syaoran said, and took the bag from Fai’s arms for good measure. “We have it under control. You can rest until it’s ready.”
Although the boy’s generosity was honest, Kurogane had the impression that it wasn’t what Fai wanted to hear. “Okay. Thank you – you too, miss,” Fai said, and beckoned Kurogane further into the entrance hall.
Fai lit several gas lamps as they walked, so that warm light filled the room. Kurogane followed in silence until they reached a set of couches near the fireplace, and Fai sank into one of them gratefully. Kurogane chose the one opposite, tossing aside one of the hand-stitched cushions before nestling into the corner.
There was a moment of silence. Kurogane avoided Fai’s gaze and Fai twirled the tassel on a throw rug, smiling at nothing in particular.
“I hope the journey from the city wasn’t too long?” Fai said at last.
“About eight hours,” Kurogane replied.
“Well,” Fai said, “You won’t have to make it again for a matter of months, unless you decide to visit home. I’m committed to working on a cure for your illness for as long as I might need to.”
“You’re already close, aren’t you?” Kurogane said. “Miss Daidoji told me. You just need a patient willing to take some tests, and then you’ll have a cure. Right?”
Fai tilted his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I’ve developed a theory, but I still haven’t tried it out. I think Miss Daidoji is under the impression that it is more advanced than it really is.” He looked meaningfully at Kurogane, smile tautening. “Lead poisoning is a tricky thing, even among other kinds of heavy metal poisoning. The treatment may be as dangerous as the sickness.”
Kurogane flinched at the final word. Fai apparently noticed, because his eyes flickered to Kurogane’s tightly crossed arms, but he didn’t say anything.
“Miss Daidoji says you were the crown jewel of her mother’s university,” Kurogane said.
“They were good to me,” Fai conceded. “I have a lot to thank them for.”
“You’re peerless. So I hear.”
Fai laughed, smile coming undone at the edges. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“But you can treat it?” Kurogane pressed. He looked the doctor in the eye as though challenging him to give the wrong answer. He hadn’t come all this way at someone else’s expense just to be coddled and prodded until next spring. “I have a job to get back to,” he added, pointedly. “I don’t know the Daidojis all that well – they’re doctors, I’m a miner.” He stopped. Hoped Fai couldn’t see him grinding his teeth. “Was.”
Fai made an understanding noise in his throat. It irked. “Miss Daidoji told me she’s offered you a risk-free job upon your return, if you help me develop my research.”
“I didn’t ask for it. She’s adores Sakura, so she promised her I’d get it.”
“But you’ve accepted?”
Kurogane grunted ‘yes’.
“Good.” Fai sank further into the couch, head in hand. “I wouldn’t have been comfortable knowing I was sending a patient straight back into danger as soon as I’d worked a solution out of him.”
“I’m not the only one in danger,” Kurogane said. “Half my colleagues are already screwed. Especially the older ones.” Fai didn’t say anything, which only irritated him further. “I’ve seen them die,” he said. He was pleased to see that the doctor’s smile was gone.
But Fai looked away and before long it had returned, as opaque as before. “Then you understand. This isn’t just about treating you.”
That was true. Kurogane shrugged and stared at a stack of notated books. Fai didn’t seem particularly eager to pursue small talk after that, which Kurogane was perfectly fine with. They let the silence deepen around them, broken only by the muffled voices of Syaoran and Sakura in the kitchen, until Sakura presented herself in the doorway and cleared her throat.
“Dinner is ready!” she announced. She had taken off the lab coat and was smiling triumphantly. “Syaoran said we might have it in the proper dining room tonight, if that’s okay with you, Doctor?”
“Perfectly so,” he said, standing up, and Kurogane was relieved to do the same. “And Fai is fine, really.”
Sakura fell into step beside Kurogane as they walked into the dining room. “How does the doctor sound?” she asked him.
“Shady,” Kurogane grumbled. “I don’t like him.”
“Oh.”
Syaoran was zipping in and out through another door to the kitchen when they arrived. He and Sakura had set the table. Candles glinted in the serving platter in the centre of the table, and the lamps on the walls set the dining room aglow. When everything was prepared, Syaoran seated them and served them the best dinner Kurogane could remember eating.
Fai complimented Sakura and Syaoran on their cooking, and the two teenagers took control of the conversation from there. Kurogane had the impression that Fai was as grateful for this as he was. Despite the banquet laid before them, the doctor ate little, citing a lack of appetite when Syaoran asked what the matter was. Kurogane ate as much as he could, because he knew he needed it and because he felt compelled to counter the doctor’s frigid attempts at feasting – but to his dismay, he found that his appetite soon ran dry, too.
“The sickness,” he muttered to Sakura when she leaned over to ask him why he didn’t go on. “I haven’t eaten this much in ages.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Eat as much as you can though, okay?”
“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I did. It was good.”
Sakura eventually turned her attention to the doctor. “So, Fai… is there anything I might be able to help with around the estate while we’re here?”
Fai smiled more warmly than Kurogane had seen him do yet and turned to Syaoran. “Do you have any projects Miss Sakura could help with?”
Syaoran shot up straight at the suggestion. Kurogane could see him counting with his fingers, hands half hidden beneath the tablecloth. “You mean research?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t do that!”
“Anything,” Fai said, grinning. “It doesn’t have to be research. Any dinner parties planned? Orders of tea?”
Syaoran blushed. “Some orders of tea… But I don’t mind you helping out on minor things in the lab, really,” he said to Sakura. He caught Kurogane’s narrowed eyes in the process and looked away. “You’re a precise cook, and it’s basically the same thing…”
Sakura looked slightly panicked. “Will that really be alright?” she asked Fai. “Is that enough to…”
“To repay us?” Fai finished. “You don’t need to. I just hope you don’t get bored. This place is awfully large.”
“It is,” Kurogane said. Fai cocked an eyebrow.
Sakura looked squarely at Fai, frowning with the gravity of whatever was running through her mind. “Thank you,” she said. If she had been standing, Kurogane thought she might have bowed again. “All this is so kind of you. Especially with the treatment being free.”
Fai sustained a half-smile and stared at the remains of the roast pheasant. All their eyes, Syaoran’s included, were fixed on him. He pushed a lump of congealed plum sauce around his plate in a way that struck Kurogane as most un-doctorly. “Please don’t mention it. This treatment has to be developed, whether I succeed or someone else does.” With that, he stood up and pushed his chair in, motioning to his plate. “Syaoran, would you mind cleaning up tonight? I have to finish putting things in order for tomorrow, and then I plan to get some sleep before Mr Kurogane’s treatment starts.”
“Of course,” Syaoran said.
“Mr Kurogane,” the doctor trilled, turning on him. “I think we should start as early as possible so you can rest in the afternoon. Can you be at the main kitchen at seven tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll be there,” Kurogane said. “What are we doing?”
“We’ll just run through the treatment and make sure you’re comfortable with everything, then I’ll take some notes on your health. I’ll explain properly tomorrow. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Sakura and Syaoran returned dutifully, and the doctor disappeared into the hallway. Kurogane grimaced. He didn’t count on the doctor answering any of his questions tomorrow, either. He trusted him about as far as he could drag him through a collapsing mineshaft – and considering Kurogane could hardly carry himself at the moment, that was saying something.
Dinner concluded quickly after that, with Syaoran standing to clear the table and Sakura eagerly following. Kurogane tried to ignore them scrambling around him like ferrets as he picked up his own plate. But Syaoran insisted on letting him take care of it, so Kurogane left it to the two of them with a huff. Sakura’s apologetic look did little to counter his restlessness.
“Are you staying up?” he asked her afterwards, when it looked as though she wouldn’t follow him upstairs.
Sakura gave him a sheepish look. “I asked Syaoran if I could use the library tonight.”
“Yeah. Go have fun,” Kurogane said. He shrugged off the look of surprise that crossed Sakura’s face. “Do whatever you can. You’re a smart kid.”
Sakura beamed. They bade each other good night and she began to leave when Kurogane added, “Keep safe and call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
He headed upstairs slowly, stopping at the halfway landing on the premise of looking around. But there was nobody to see him, so he rested a moment longer than usual before finishing the climb. The moment of solace made him burn as soon as it was over. Rest was becoming an addiction that left him hung-over and angry. He was ill, not dying. And yet this echoing enclosure made him feel more vulnerable than he could remember ever feeling before, in addition to the usual swooning and shaking. He felt the need to tiptoe over these floorboards lest someone be listening underneath.
He didn’t turn on the lamps in his room. He liked the thickness of the dark around him, and welcomed the breeze that blew in through his open window, until he had to close it because of the cold. The shivers stayed with him a little longer than they should have, but he brushed them off and changed without need of light or warmth, and got into bed.
He didn’t sleep for a long time. He stared at the shades of darkness blooming before his eyes, listened to the groan of the manor and the creak of the trees. It was only when he was on the cusp of sleep that he drew awake again to listen to another sound. Somewhere far below him, a piano was playing.
Yes, he’d seen it earlier that day. It was in one of the more well-furnished rooms at the back of the house. The room had a fireplace, and a quilted nook with stained glass windows above it, big enough for two. He could picture it now, the fire murmuring and popping, the air warm, and the spectral figure of Fai Fluorite bent over an aching, quiet song…