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Kanaete

A CCS fanfic by Sakura

Standard disclaimers apply.

 

*raises glass*  This chapter is dedicated to the following:

To Jae-san, even if she doesn’t know why, 

To Sophie and Silverlight, who came up with the nicest bribes, 

To Belle-oneesama, for everything (you know what I mean ^^;;), and

To Harry Potter, who almost made me forget about writing this fic. 

(If you think you’re getting away with this, Potter, you’re pushing your luck. *fanged niko*)

Here’s to a sugar high! *cues clinking of glasses all around*

 

[ edit ] This fic is so old, I was still calling Eva-kun ‘Silverlight’.

 

More author's notes at the end.

 

Tweaked slightly 2004.12.09.

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            They had been standing by the lake at the Tsukimine Jinja in silence for almost twenty minutes now. 

 

Twenty-five, Tomoyo frowned at her watch, turning it this and that way in the moonlight.  There was not the slightest stir from the boy beside her; he was staring up at the dark sky, busy searching for something.  She could not remember if he had mentioned why they were there in the first place.  She racked her brain for a recollection…  It was something about a surprise.  Something he wanted to show her.        

           

Tomoyo let her arm fall to her side and tried to mimic his stance --- straight back, hands lightly clasped in front, chin lifted --- for a few minutes, faltered, and gave up with a groan of exhaustion.  She turned to him.  “Eriol?”

 

            “Hmm?”  He still did not move.

 

            “May I ask you something?”

 

            “Certainly.”

 

            She pursed her lips.  “What are we doing here?”

 

            Amusement flickered in Eriol’s eyes as he turned slightly to glance at her.  “Would you rather we be someplace else?” 

 

Tomoyo felt herself scowl.  Patience was one of her strongest points, but she had only so much of it left.  For the briefest of seconds, she considered pushing him into the water, glasses and smirk and all.                  

 

            He had already turned back to the sky.  “Just a minute more.”

 

“The festival’s almost over,” she said flatly.

 

He seemed unperturbed by the news.  “Is it?”

 

“Sakura-chan and Li-kun must be looking all over for us.” 

 

“Let them,” he carelessly said, the moonlight casting a dull sheen on his glasses.    

           

Tomoyo sighed inwardly.  She had known Eriol long enough to know that when he said he had no intention of leaving, he meant it.  No amount of pleading and bargaining could ever make him change his mind.  Sakura often said that Syaoran was stubborn as a rock, Tomoyo believed that Eriol was stubborn as a mountain.

           

The calm Tsukimine Jinja lake stretched out in front of them like a silent silver pool, glimmers of pale yellow moon reflected in its depths.  Tomoyo stared at it for a while, pulling her jacket more tightly about her; thinking how the nights were still chilly, how it was almost spring, and (here she felt a slight twinge of disappointment) how the festival was merrily going on without them.  As if on cue, faint laughter and music rang out in the distance.

           

“Tomoyo,” she heard him say.

           

“What?”

           

“You’re cold.”

           

She turned to him, and noticed that he was staring at her hand, unconsciously clutching a fistful of her jacket about her.  She quickly released it.  “No, it’s fine.  I was just thinking.” 

           

He looked unconvinced.  “You should’ve worn a thicker one.” 

           

“I’m fine.”  She stretched out her arm.  “Really.”

           

Eriol reached out to touch a bit of the fabric at her elbow, pulling it gently between his fingers.

 

“See?”  Tomoyo lifted her chin.  “Feels warm, doesn’t it?” 

           

A wry smile lifted his lips.  “As warm as a summer shirt, yes.”

           

“Eriol,” she gave him a look, “of all the people in the world, you should know that this fabric is one of the---”

           

Then she spied something out of the corner of her eye, turned to look, and felt her jaw drop.

           

The night sky was ablaze with stars.

           

Shooting stars, millions of them, trailing through the dusk in shimmering gold, fading into a haze at the horizon.  Tomoyo watched the sky breathlessly, festival, chill and jacket tiff forgotten.

           

Something brushed against her arm and it was Eriol, bending closer to whisper in her ear.  “Surprise.” 

 

“It’s wonderful,” she breathed, unable to look away from the spectacle.

 

“Isn’t it?”  She heard the note of triumph in his voice.  “Don’t forget to make a wish.” 

           

She took a deep breath.  “There’s too many of them.” 

 

“You can never have too many wishes.”  He made a grand sweeping gesture at the sky.  “They’re all yours, Tomoyo.”   

           

She turned to him.  “But what about you?”

           

He stopped in mid-sweep, slightly surprised.  “Me?”

           

“I can’t have all these to myself,” she insisted.  “You must have half.”

           

A little voice inside her head was telling her they were being very foolish, thinking that the stars were theirs to divide between them, but both of them were contemplating the matter seriously, as though it were of great importance.

           

“I don’t need any.”

           

“Of course you do.”

           

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but she cut him off.  “There must be something you really want.  Something you’d wish on a million stars for.”

           

They stared at each other.  As Tomoyo lost herself in his dark blue eyes, she felt a familiar fluttering in her chest, a sensation she felt whenever she found him looking at her like this…  He took a step forward and she remembered a time when they had stood in the snow, gazing into each other’s eyes in silence, finding themselves drifting closer and closer and closer---

           

Like this.

           

They were now standing so close that their breaths mingled, slightly fogging up his glasses.  He did not move to touch her, but instead let his gaze slowly drift from her hair down to her lips.  The effect was as searing as a finger’s caress.  She felt herself flush, willed herself to move away, but found herself unable to do so. 

 

“The one thing I want,” Eriol softly said, “is standing before me right now.”

 

A star streamed across the sky above their heads, leaving pale embers of gold in its wake.

 

Tomoyo reached up to touch his cheek, trembling slightly.  His fingers enclosed themselves around her wrist in silent encouragement, keeping her still.  Her heart started pounding madly in her ears.  There was no escape.  “The one thing I want…” she faltered, feeling her face burn, “I mean…”

 

“You mean?”  His dark blue eyes were aflame.

 

“The one thing I want,” she whispered against his mouth, so quietly that she almost could not hear herself, “the one thing I want is---”

 

 

 

 

BRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!                                               

           

Tomoyo groaned, flinging an arm across a pillow.  Fingers of light started to filter through the drapes, bathing the room with the pale glow of morning.  The alarm clock continued its relentless ringing for what seemed like an hour before the dark-haired girl finally raised herself on an elbow, threw the covers back, and took aim at the clock with a pillow.  The pillow hit the clock on the face and dropped to the floor with a muffled thud.  The clock had turned itself off.        

 

“Quiet,” Tomoyo grumbled.

           

She hated the alarm clock, but her mother Sonomi insisted on her keeping it.  We can’t have you running late for school everyday, she declared, and nobody in this house can wake you up as effectively as Hiiragizawa-kun does.

 

At the thought of Eriol and his blue eyes Tomoyo felt herself flush again, sinking back onto the bed with another groan.  She had fallen asleep on the floor of her video room the previous night, and had woken up hours later to find the screen completely blank and the projector whirring madly.  She didn’t remember how she managed to tumble into bed after that, but what she did know was that she had spent most of the night dreaming about a certain pale dark-haired boy…

 

Tomoyo turned on her side, burying her face in her pillow.

 

It happened months ago.  There had been a small festival at the Tsukimine Jinja, she didn’t remember why, but Sakura had insisted that she and Eriol come along with her and Syaoran.  It turned out to be a fun affair.  Syaoran had been determined to win a prize for Sakura at every booth (they all agreed his prize catch was the funny kappa mask he won at a duck-shooting game), and Tomoyo was enjoying herself when Eriol suddenly turned to her and asked her if she had a moment to spare.  I have something to show you, he solemnly said, and without a second thought she found herself trailing him to the lake.  They waited at the lake for a long time and there was a shower of stars and she almost told him that she---

           

“Tomoyo!”  Her mother’s voice rang through the door.  “Tomoyo dear, do get up or you’ll be late for school.” 

           

“I’m up already,” she weakly called out.

           

“Then hurry up and get dressed.”

           

“Haaaai.”

           

The sound of her mother’s footsteps faded, leaving Tomoyo alone with her thoughts.

           

She and Eriol had always been friends; friends were all they ever would be, until… 

 

Her fingers sprang up to her lips, touching lightly.

 

Until that winter, when they kissed for the first time.

           

And it wasn’t just the kiss that changed everything; it was Eriol, touching his forehead to hers and whispering what had been waiting to be said for the longest time---

 

            I love you.        

 

            She fell to staring back at him wordlessly, trying to silence her pounding heart, trying to collect her thoughts into coherent speech: yes, Eriol, I know you do and the truth is, I feel the same way --- when she realized with a pang that she had never expected this much from him, that he roused so many feelings she was only beginning to discover, that she was not ready to accept him or push him away because…

 

Because she just did not know what to do.  

           

He must have sensed her hesitation, the sudden confusion in her eyes, because he just laughed and fondly leaned his chin on her hair and said, it’s all right, you don’t have to say anything.  I just wanted you to tell you, that’s all.  We don’t have to change anything.

           

And he kept his word; they had fallen back into their old routine --- being friends, enjoying each other’s company, hanging out with other people.  But they were both aware of what lingered in the air between them, of what he had said and what she had yet to say.  It was there, whenever their eyes met or their fingers touched or when they sat next to each other.  He had come to terms with his feelings and had spoken his mind.  Now it was all up to her.  All she had to do was say the word.  It was all up to her now…   

           

Tomoyo sat up in her bed and sighed.                 

           

She suspected that Eriol had never expected her to say anything because he knew that she had always loved Sakura.  He probably thought that Sakura would always be the one thing that would keep her from opening up to him completely.  And she secretly shared his fear; she thought that it would take her time to get over Sakura, to stop holding on to the things that tied her to her best friend…

           

But, to her surprise, it really had not taken much time at all.

           

Tomoyo’s eye fell on the boxes of V8s that were piled neatly against her desk.  A rush of warmth coursed through her veins when she recalled his dark head bowed over the projector all afternoon.  He had worked so hard on those tapes.  For her.           

           

And there were many other things he had done for her, so many things he could do for her, if she would only let him.           

           

If she would only let him.           

           

Tomoyo knew that it would only be some time before the stairs creaked and her mother started knocking on her door again, before there came the revving of engines and faint hissing of garden hoses outside her window, before the Daidouji mansion slowly burst into life.  But she willed herself to keep still, to shut out all the noises, until there was only the dull throbbing of her heart, slow and steady.    

           

She closed her eyes.

           

The one thing I want is…

           

The stairs creaked, and there came sharp rapping on her door.  “Dear, hurry up or you’ll be late for school!”  Knock knock knock.  “I made breakfast today, too, so be sure you get down before it’s cold.” 

           

Tomoyo’s eyes flew open.  “I’m coming!” 

           

“You’d better be!”  There came a final rap, and her mother’s footsteps faded away.

           

Tomoyo jumped up from her bed, smiling, filled with a strange buoyant feeling.

           

Eriol had given her enough time to think.

           

She was ready now.

             

 

 

 

Chapter IV:  Kono Yo de Ichiban Taisetsu na Mono 

      (The Most Important Thing in this World) 

           

 

 

 

            The final box of V8s landed on the floor of the student council office with a muffled thud.  Tomoyo straightened up, brushing the dirt off her hands, and turning to her helpers.  “Well,” she smiled, “This will be all, I guess.”

 

The boys’ faces were flushed.  Tomoyo couldn’t tell if it was because she was smiling at them, or because they were exhausted.  After all, they had to lug seven heavy boxes of tapes up five flights of stairs.  She had insisted on carrying everything herself, but the boys had seemed so eager to help out, and she figured that it probably didn’t hurt to let them lend her a hand. 

 

She bowed deeply.  “Thank you very much for your assistance.”

 

“N-No, it was our pleasure.”

 

“A-Anytime, D-Daidouji-san.”

 

“Just call us when you…uh, that is---”

 

“Splendid, Daidouji,” a voice boomed loudly.  Tomoyo looked up to see the president standing behind Tomoyo’s entourage, glaring at them.  Fortunately, they got the message.  Waving clumsily and mumbling incoherent goodbyes, they hastily turned on their heels and scampered towards the exit.

 

The president sniffed, staring after the boys with distaste, and turned back to her.  “I wasn’t expecting this much, really, but I must say this is impressive.  Good work, Daidouji.”

 

“Thank you,” Tomoyo forced herself to smile.  She never liked him and his pompousness.  When she and Eriol talked about it once he said that the president ‘deserved a good prick on the belly’.  To release all that hot air, Eriol’s eyes glinted mischievously.  An image of the president flailing frantically in the air like a punctured balloon suddenly flashed in her mind, and Tomoyo hastily ducked her head to cover her smirk.  She let him talk more, nodded at something she didn’t understand, turned on her heel, and traipsed back to her desk.  So far so good.  Nobody had seemed to notice that---

 

“Daidouji!”  The president called.

 

Tomoyo froze. 

 

“Where’s Hiiragizawa?  I haven’t seen him all morning.”

 

A hush fell over the room as the rest of the student council looked up from their desks to stare at her. 

           

She turned to smile at them.  “Hiiragizawa-kun is absent today because he has an appointment.”     

           

The president nodded and everyone went back to work. 

           

Tomoyo sighed inwardly and gave her chair a little kick.  The ordeal had finally begun.  Everyone --- teachers, classmates, passers-by --- would be asking her about Eriol all day. 

 

She and Eriol were year-level representatives, active in various organizations and popular students in their own right, but that was not the reason why everyone would be asking her about the pale dark-haired boy’s whereabouts.  Everyone was just very used to seeing Tomoyo with Eriol and Eriol with Tomoyo, so much that when they were not together, they figured something was bound to be wrong.

           

There was one time she caught a cold and absented herself from school.  She had expected nothing to come of this --- not even a raised eyebrow ---  but apparently her absence had caused something short of a commotion, and Eriol had almost lost it.  He burst into her room that afternoon, wild-eyed and furious, turning white at the sight of her doing homework in bed.  How do you expect to get well, he roared, if you’re doing algebra instead of sleeping!  When he had calmed down enough to talk, she was surprised to find out that he had been hounded by the whole school all day with questions about her – about them --- and the ordeal had drained him of his time, his energy, and his supposedly infinite patience.   

           

And now it was her turn to suffer.

           

Tomoyo sighed, glancing at the empty desk beside her, the place where Eriol usually sat.  She wondered if he met the person he was supposed to meet, and made a mental note to call him in the afternoon to ask him about it.  She would tell him that she was hounded by queries on his absence, of course, and afterwards they would probably have a good laugh about it.  Knowing Eriol, he would probably come up with wild ideas on keeping curious people at bay--- 

           

The school bell rang shrilly, rousing her from her reverie.  Everyone jumped up from their seats and started fumbling for their books, rushing out the door to class.

           

“Meeting at four,” the president hollered over the din, “don’t forget!”

           

“Hiiragizawa!”  A teacher poked his head through the door.  “Is Hiiragizawa in?”

           

Everyone looked at Tomoyo.

           

“Hiiragizawa-kun,” she sighed, “has an appointment.”

 

 

 

 

            Sakura propped her chin on her palm and frowned at the sky outside the window.  The heavens were dull and gray and completely devoid of life.  There was not a bird in sight.  Sakura idly wondered if the angels had moved out and set up residence elsewhere.

 

            The chair to her right scraped against the floor with a squeak.  “Good morning.”

 

            Sakura watched as her best friend, Daidouji Tomoyo, dropped the books on her desk, sank in her chair and tipped her head back so that dark curls tumbled over the back of the seat.  She had her eyes closed and seemed to be busy catching her breath.

 

            “Good run?” Sakura asked, smiling.        

 

            “Two floors,” Tomoyo breathed, still not opening her eyes.  “And too many people.”

 

            Sakura’s green eyes drifted to the empty seat behind the dark-haired girl.  “Eriol-kun’s not coming today?”

 

            There was a pregnant pause before Tomoyo turned her way, staring at her with narrowed violet eyes.

 

            “Bad question?” Sakura sheepishly asked. 

 

            Behind her, she sensed Syaoran stir.  The amber-eyed Chinese boy had been sleeping on his desk the whole while, head buried in the knot of his arms. 

 

            “Hiiragizawa-kun,” said Tomoyo softly, “has an appointment.”

 

            “Sorry,” Sakura said.

 

Syaoran made a small whimpering sound.

           

“It’s all right.”  The dark-haired girl finally straightened up in her seat, stretching pale arms in the air.  “Which reminds me, did you call yesterday?  I got your message on the answering machine.  I was about to call you last night but I figured you’d already be sleeping at the time so----”

 

            “Oh, I did,” Sakura cut in with false cheer. “And forget about it.  It was nothing.”

 

            Delicate brows knitted slightly.  “What do you mean it was nothing?”

 

“What I mean is,” Sakura fumbled for words, “it was really silly because it was nothing much, you know, a spur of the moment thing, and I shouldn’t have called you about it and asked for a return call because it was nothing, really.”   

 

            Pale arms noiselessly dropped from the air to her desk.  “Sakura-chan.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Spill it out.”

 

            Sakura sighed.  It was useless keeping anything from her.  It did not help that she was transparent to a fault, either.  Sometimes she wished she had her best friend’s gift of perennial calmness.  “I had a dream.”

 

            Tomoyo’s voice was soft.  “About?”

 

            “Two people saying goodbye.”

 

            “And?”

 

            “And that was it.”

 

            Sakura avoided Tomoyo’s searching gaze and chose to stare back outside the window.  The sky was still the same.  For once she wished for something, even the slightest bit of blue, to break the dullness of it.

 

            “And this dream,” Tomoyo slowly said, “did it bother you for some reason?” 

 

            “Not really,” Sakura forced a laugh.  It sounded very unnatural.  “I just thought I’d tell you about it so we can have a good laugh together.”  And a good laugh was all it was worth.  It was just a silly dream.  Never mind if she always woke up feeling as if her chest had been broken in pieces.  Never mind if she always found herself staring at the ceiling, filled with some inexplicable ache of loss, feeling the urge to crush her hands against her face and cry for all she was worth.

 

            It’s just a dream, that’s all there is to it.

 

            Syaoran had sounded confident when she told him about seeing the vision for the third time.  She had to admit that she was rather disappointed at his reaction.  She had expected him to give her answers.  She thought he would tell her that she, as Mistress of the Cards, had the ability to forsee certain events and that she was now having a premonition of a Separation.

 

            But he mentioned nothing about sorcery, about premonitions, or even the Cards.  All he said was that it was just a dream, a not very pleasant one, and that she had nothing to worry about.  So read a book or something to keep your mind off it for a while, and it’ll go away.

 

            “This dream,” Tomoyo was saying, “is it about people you know?”

 

            Sakura stared at her best friend, read the compassion lurking in those violet depths, felt the restless stirring in her own stomach and knew she had to say something.  Anything.  She closed her eyes and suddenly felt very very tired.  For once she wanted to think about nothing at all, to have her thoughts dull themselves into something like a long stretch of gray heaven---

 

            She took a deep breath.

 

“Tomoyo-chan,” she heard herself say, “don’t worry about it.  It was just a dream, and that’s all there is to it.”

           

The classroom door slid open with an explosive bang, and everyone swerved in their seats.

 

            Syaoran lifted his head.

 

A classmate was standing at the doorway, clutching a piece of paper and holding a box under one arm.  “Tayama-sensei’s not coming in today!”  He announced cheerfully.  “She said we have to talk about the play we have to do for the school festival, and I got the instructions!”

 

 

 

 

            Tomoyo threw Sakura another wary glance before focusing on the scene in front of the classroom.  She was obviously hiding something.  I might have to talk to Li-kun later, Tomoyo mused, biting her lip.  I’m sure he knows what’s wrong.  And if it helps, I’ll have Sakura-chan talk to Eriol.  He’ll be able to help her out for sure.  Comforted somewhat by that thought, she straightened up in her seat.  

 

The boy in front had grabbed a piece of chalk and was now busy writing something down in huge jagged characters.  The piece of chalk snapped in half, and he stepped back with a smile.

 

‘Hikoboshi and Orihime’, the blackboard read.

           

The classroom filled with murmurs.

           

“Hikoboshi and Orihime,” said a girl to her friend, “you mean we’re staging the legend of Tanabata?”

           

“Sure looks like it,” replied her friend, turning back to the front of the room where their classmate stood, clapping his hands for attention.  “Well, Tayama-sensei said for the school festival, our class will have to stage a play on the legend of Hikoboshi and Orihime.

 

            “As we all know, legend has it that Orihime the weaver --- the youngest daughter of the celestial emperor, Tentei --- descended from the sky to earth and fell in love with Hikoboshi, a cowherd.  The two married and were so much in love that they neglected their duties, and this angered the emperor so much that he separated them, placed them on opposite sides of the Milky Way, and decreed that they could meet only one night a year, on the day that we have come to celebrate as Tanabata.”

 

            “How sad!” sighed a girl, and others agreed. 

 

“But why ‘Hikoboshi and Orihime’?” protested someone.  “Why not a samurai drama instead?”

 

The classmate only shrugged.  “Because romance sells?”

 

“Action sells too!” cried another boy, and his seatmates chorused their agreement.

 

“I say we change our play to a samurai drama!”

 

“No, we’ll stick with ‘Hikoboshi and Orihime’!”

 

“Right, I’d rather have a play with romance in it than some silly fight.”

 

“Well I’d rather have a silly fight than some thirty-minute mushy love scene!”

 

The protests grew louder and louder until a full-scale argument ensued, tempers flaring.  Some had jumped up from their seats, waving fists in the air.  The boy in front screamed and clapped his hands for attention, but it was all in vain.  It had become impossible to carry on a class discussion. 

 

Tomoyo sighed and turned to her best friend, who was watching the scene with wide green eyes.  “What do you think, Sakura-chan?”

 

Sakura blinked.  “Well, I actually kind of like the ‘Hikoboshi and Orihime’ idea.”

 

Tomoyo grinned.  “Me too.  If we do ‘Hikoboshi and Orihime’, think of all the costumes that’ll need!”  She closed her eyes and gave a little shiver, as if relishing the thought.  Some things about Tomoyo had changed little over the years, and one of them was this --- her infamous ‘Dress Up Sakura-chan’ habit.  Sakura only managed a weak smile as the dark-haired girl opened her eyes, gave a little squeal of excitement, and began to rave.  “Oh, it’d be wonderful, Sakura-chan!  I can just picture you in a long flowing robe of gold and red.  There’ll be jewels, of course, and your train will be made of silk…  You’ll be so pretty---”

 

“Hoee…”  Sakura flushed. 

 

“---And slippers!  Rose satin slippers.  Maybe a few gold bracelets.  And as for Hikoboshi, Li-kun will wear---”

 

“Wait,” a low voice suddenly cut her off.  It was Syaoran.  He was scowling and still looking slightly rumpled, but was now fully awake and glowering at Tomoyo.  “Who said I was going to be Hikoboshi in the first place?”

 

Tomoyo feigned surprise.  “Why, Li-kun, it’s only natural for you to be Hikoboshi if Sakura-chan’s going to be Orihime, right?”

 

Syaoran and Sakura glanced at each other, blushed and looked away at the same time.  Tomoyo grinned to herself and instinctively wished she had her camera at the moment…

 

Then she remembered that she wasn’t filming Sakura now.

           

That she would never film Sakura again.             

           

She had already made up her mind.

           

Her eye fell on the empty seat behind her.  An image of the pale dark-haired boy that sat in it came to mind, and she felt herself smile, reaching out to give the desk a small tap as if to say, hey there.

           

The boy in front started clapping his hands once more.  “All right, that’s enough, everyone!”

 

Tomoyo spun around in her seat, and the room fell silent.

 

“It was Tayama-sensei who decided on the play, so if you don’t like it, you can talk to her about it after class.”

 

Somebody coughed.

 

“Now, we have to pick our respective parts for this production.  I have here,” he whipped out a box with a flourish, “roles for each and every member of the class.  Everyone will have a chance to be a cast member, or be part of the backstage crew, or even be director.”  His eyes glinted.  “It depends on how lucky you are when it comes to drawing lots.”

 

“I’m unlucky at drawing lots,” Sakura mumbled.

 

“Me too,” grumbled Syaoran.

 

“Now,” said their classmate, giving the box a little shake, “I’ll pass this around and everyone has to get a piece of paper.  Is everyone in today?”  His eye fell on the empty seat behind Tomoyo.  “Oh, wait, Hiiragizawa’s absent.  Where is he?”

           

Everyone turned to Tomoyo.

           

“Hiiragizawa-kun,” she said flatly, “has an appointment.” 

 

           

***

 

 

            “Oh my,” Kaho breathed, stopping in the middle of the foyer.  The suitcase fell from her loosened grasp and landed on the carpet with a thud.  The mansion was larger than she had remembered.  It was even larger than the mansion back in England, which had always been too large for her.  Soft sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting a faint glow on the shiny wooden floor.

 

Nakuru danced before Kaho in the sunbeam, his slippers emitting little squeaks of protest.  “Make yourself at home, ne, Kaho-san!  Suppi and I’ll be making a snack in the kitchen.”

 

            “I am not Suppi,” grumbled the small blue-gray creature that flitted after Nakuru.  “And do stop that racket, will you?”

 

            “What racket?” Nakuru did a twirl.  Squeak squeak squeak.                        

 

            “That racket.”

 

            “Aww.  Don’t be such a spoilsport, Suppi.”

 

            “I am not Suppi!”

 

Sounds of their banter faded as they rounded the corner and disappeared.

 

Kaho stared after them with a smile, then looked up at the high ceiling.  It had been painted ivory white, but had turned a faded parchment hue over the years.  A large crystal chandelier was hanging in the middle. 

 

The foyer back at the house in England had a similar chandelier, an old Swarkovski one, which had a tendency to swing precariously whenever somebody walked upstairs.  Let’s take it down, she remarked once during dinner, but Hiiragizawa-sensei had only laughed it off.  That chandelier’s stubborn; it’ll never fall. 

 

And the son had agreed with his father, giggling gleefully at the prospect of having the chandelier fall on someone’s head.  It’s not funny, she snapped.  The boy stopped laughing at once, but amusement lurked in his eyes.

 

Kaho smiled at the memory, reached down for her suitcase, and was surprised to feel another hand on the handle.

 

It was Eriol.

 

“Let me,” he said.

 

She did not let go.  “It’s all right, I can manage.”

 

            “I’ll help,” he insisted, and the dark blue eyes were solemn behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

 

            She shrugged, and they both carried the suitcase down the hall.

 

            It was a short, silent walk from the foyer to her room, but Eriol had to tug her in the right direction.  She did not know if it was just her terrible sense of direction or if the house was full of unexpected twists and turns.  They stopped in front of an oak door, and Eriol nudged it open with his foot.  

 

            Kaho gasped.    

 

            The room seemed to hold all the light in the entire house.  The sunshine streaming through the open windows painted the walls an effervescent cream.  Delicate white lace curtains fluttered in the soft breeze.  The bed, with its rose-patterned sheets, was neatly made.  A small array of pillows were lined up against the bedpost, and a neat pile of towels and robes rested on top of the covers.

 

            “Here we go.”  Eriol effortlessly carried the suitcase to a corner.  He surveyed the room with satisfaction.  “Ruby Moon did a very good job, if I may say so myself.”

 

            “It’s wonderful.”  Kaho smiled.    

 

            He caught her eye and grinned back.  It suddenly struck her that the Eriol standing before her was a bit different from the Eriol she had known back in England.  For one thing, she thought idly, this Eriol is so much taller, he looks more calm and self-assured, and his smile is a lot more beauti---

 

            Kaho froze at that thought.  Wait a minute.  She was thinking his smile was what?

 

            He suddenly turned away and opened a door.  “Oh, before I forget, this is your bathroom.  I fixed the taps and double checked them so you shouldn’t have any problem with hot water or anything.”

 

            “Right,” she mumbled, still surprised.  Her head was beginning to throb painfully.

 

It was probably jet lag. 

           

He looked at her.  “Is there anything else you’d need?”

 

            “No,” she took a deep breath, “I think I have everything.”

 

            “Well.”  He smiled again.  “Just in case you have any problems, you can tell me or Spinel or Ruby Moon anything.”

 

            “All right.”

 

            It wasn’t just his smile that was breathtaking, it was his eyes.  He had dark blue eyes with the longest lashes, almost imperceptible behind his wire-rimmed glasses.  Kaho was overcome with the wonder that this beautiful young man was the boy she had taught years ago in England.  How could he have changed so much in so little time?   

 

            “…and the lampshade at night.  All right?”

 

            Kaho continued to stare at him for a while before it dawned on her that he was waiting for a response.  She opened her mouth to say the first thing that came to mind.  “Huh?”

 

            Eriol frowned, reaching up a pale hand to rake through his hair.  She saw that even his hair seemed different now; the tendrils of dark hair looked like soft velvet threaded through his fingers…

 

            Stop it, the small voice in her head screamed. 

 

“Kaho.”  His hand fell to his side.  “Are you…  Never mind.  You look tired.  I think you’d better rest for a while.”  He began to move towards the door, and she suddenly realized that he was leaving.

 

            “Wait,” she hurriedly said, “I’m fine.  I just didn’t get that bit about the lampshade.”

 

            He gave her an odd look.  “The lampshade.”

 

            “Yes, the lampshade.  You were talking about that a while ago, weren’t you?”

 

She knew it sounded stupid, and was not surprised to see Eriol staring at her as if she had suddenly grown horns.  She just started to fidget when his eyes lit up and his lips lifted in a broad grin.  “The lampshade.  Right.”  The smile widened.  “Well, I just said that I left a map under your lampshade, just in case.”

 

            Kaho gaped at him.  “A map?”  

 

            “Yes, right under the lampshade, just in case.”

 

            “A map of what?”

 

            Eriol was already standing by the door.  “A map of the house.”  His smile suddenly turned impish.  “I can’t have you wandering around in search of the front door for the rest of your vacation, can I?”

 

            When Kaho finally caught on, it was too late; the pillow she aimed at him bounced off the side of the door.  He had yanked it open in time to escape.  The sound of his laughter was fading.  

 

            She poked her head out of the door and yelled after him.  “Just you wait, Eriol, I will have my revenge!”

 

            A faint guffaw sounded in response.

 

            He’s changed so much, Kaho smiled inwardly, and yet he’s still so much the same…

 

 

***

 

 

            “No,” Syaoran stared at the piece of paper in his hand in abject horror.  “Oh no.  I don’t believe this.” 

 

            “What did you get?” Tomoyo asked curiously, half-expecting to hear him say ‘Orihime’.  Syaoran had always been unlucky when it came to class plays.  When they were in fifth grade, he was made to play Princess to Sakura’s Prince, and while everybody thought it had been a splendid performance, the Chinese boy believed it was the most humiliating thing he had ever done.

 

            First Princess, and now Orihime.  An image of the tall unruly-haired boy in a long gold and red robe and satin slippers flashed in Tomoyo’s mind, and she fought to stifle a giggle.

 

            “Let me see,” Sakura urged, reaching over to slip the piece of paper from his fingers.         

 

            Tomoyo jumped up from her seat to peer over her shoulder.

 

            “`Hikoboshi’?” they chorused in disbelief.

 

            “Wow!”  A classmate exclaimed.  “Hey, Li got Hikoboshi!”

 

Everyone looked over at Syaoran, who had his head in his hands and was taking notice of nothing at all.

 

            “Nice one, Li!”

 

            “Great!”

 

            “We’ll get all the girls in the school to watch us for sure!”

 

            Sakura slipped the paper on the desk in front of him and lightly lifted his chin so she could look into his eyes.  “Syaoran-kun, I think you’re perfect for the part.”

 

            The amber-eyed boy immediately flushed a deep shade of red.

 

            Afterwards, everybody else had scrambled to open their own pieces of paper, letting out groans of disappointment or cheers of triumph at their respective roles.  Tomoyo had picked Lights.  Her friends, Rika and Naoko, had landed minor roles as peasants.  And Sakura, much to their surprise, was Director’s Assistant. 

 

“It’s great,” Sakura beamed, “I think I like this job better than acting, anyway.”     

 

“But what’s the use of being Hikoboshi if you’re not Orihime?”  Syaoran complained, and Sakura slightly reddened at his remark.         

 

            There came an embarrassed cough from behind them.  “I…I got Orihime.”

 

            They all looked up.

 

            Chiharu awkwardly stood there, holding up her piece of paper.  “I got Orihime, so…”

 

            “So that means you get to work with Syaoran-kun!” Sakura exclaimed.  “That’s wonderful!”

 

            “Great,” Syaoran miserably agreed.

 

            Tomoyo noticed that Chiharu looked as if she wanted to say more, but Rika suddenly tapped on her arm and she had to look over at her.  “What did Hiiragizawa-kun get, Tomoyo-chan?”

 

            Tomoyo smiled.  “I don’t know.  I decided to let him open it himself later.”

 

            Sakura clapped her hands.  “I think he’d make a good Emperor, don’t you think?”

 

            “A good cow is more like it,” Syaoran muttered.

 

            “Wait, Sakura-chan,” Naoko cut in, “if you’re Director’s Assistant, who’re you assisting?”

 

            They all looked at one another.

 

            Chiharu only shrugged.

 

            There came an audible cough from the front desk.  “Now, if I may have your attention, please.”  Yamazaki Takashi was standing in front, beaming.  “As director of this play, I will be---  Oh, speaking of plays, by the way, did you know that in the fifteenth century, they used gorillas as stand-ins for---”

 

            Everyone fell over.

 

 

***

 

 

            “You mean Yamazaki-san’s the director,” Eriol sounded mildly amused,  “and Sakura-san’s his assistant?”

 

            Tomoyo giggled softly and adjusted the receiver against her ear.  “Funny, isn’t it?  It’s as if Chiharu-chan and Sakura-chan had drawn the wrong roles intentionally.  I couldn’t help thinking what would happen if it were the other way around…”

 

            “You mean if Yamazaki-san got Orihime instead?” he laughed.

 

            “Don’t be silly,” Tomoyo wheezed.  She was making too much noise; some of the passers-by were giving her looks, and she knew she only had two minutes left on her phone card.  But she just had to share the events of the afternoon with Eriol, so she took time to call him up before she headed off to the student council meeting.

 

            “And what did you get?” he asked.  “Costume design?”

 

            “Lights,” she admitted.

 

            “Congratulations,” he said.  “Was I lucky enough to get Lights, too?”

 

            She gave a start at that.  She had completely forgotten about his part.  She fished around in her pocket for the paper twine and fished it out.  “I don’t know what you got, actually.  I thought you might’ve wanted to open it yourself.  I’m not very lucky when it comes to drawing lots, so if you get something horrible, I’m sor---”

 

            “I have complete faith in you,” Eriol warmly said, cutting her off, “and I’m sure it’ll be a good part.  Will you read it for me?”

 

            Tomoyo smiled.  “Okay.”  She quickly unraveled the piece of paper.  “Oh, it’s…”

 

            “What is it?”

 

            “Guess.”

 

            There was a pause.  “Lights?” he wagered, hopefully.

 

            Tomoyo giggled.  “You’d wish.  You got Promotions.”

 

            “That was going to be my second guess,” he said.   

 

            There came a small beep from the payphone, and Tomoyo’s eyes widened in alarm.  “Oh no, I don’t have much time left.  And I think I’m going to be late for the meeting.  I’ll just call you later, okay?”

 

            “Wait,” Eriol suddenly said.  “Will you come to my house for dinner tonight?  There’s someone I’d like you to meet.  Be here, say, eightish?”

 

            “Dinner at eight,” Tomoyo panicked, running out of time, “right, I’ll be there.”

 

            “Thank you Tomoyo---”

 

            “See you later.”

 

            “Good luck with th---”

 

            The line had been cut off, and Tomoyo hung the receiver with a sigh.

 

 

***

 

 

            Eriol smiled at the receiver before setting it down gently on the cradle with a click. 

 

Despite her obvious excitement about the class play, Tomoyo had sounded exhausted.  He knew that classes and meetings and answering queries from hordes of people had taken its toll on her.  That’s why it seemed only fair that he prepare something to make up for the torment his absence brought her.  

 

Tormented by my absence, Eriol thought, smiling inwardly. 

 

            “Eriol,” rang out a voice behind him, “shall I bring these to the pantry now?”

 

            He looked up to meet a pair of soft brown eyes.  Mizuki Kaho was standing behind him, carrying a supermarket bag in her arms.  Spinel hovered over her shoulder, a stalk of celery poking out from the corner of his mouth.             

 

            Eriol automatically held his hands out to the bag.  “Let me?”

 

            Kaho laughed.  “It’s all right, I can manage.  Honestly, Eriol, do you think I’m some frail helpless female who can’t even carry a bagful of vegetables?”

 

            He dropped his hands and assumed what he hoped was a plausible expression of hurt.  “I was only trying to be a gentleman.”

 

            “Ho ho,” said Spinel.

 

            Eriol’s eyes narrowed.

 

            Kaho grinned.

 

            “There you are!”  Nakuru poked a head around the corner, holding a spatula.  “I’ve been waiting for those, Kaho-san!”           

 

            “I got everything you needed,” Kaho sang gaily, moving towards him, “and I must confess that I would’ve gotten lost on the way home again if you hadn’t sent Spinel after me…”

 

            “I didn’t send him out, he went out on his own.”

 

            “Did he?”  Kaho spun on her heel and gave Spinel a wink.  “Well, he was such a darling that I decided to give him a treat…”

 

            Spinel gave the stalk of celery a little wiggle.

 

            “Ewwwww,” Nakuru made a face, and disappeared into the pantry.

 

            Eriol turned to Spinel.  “Don’t go around putting unwashed vegetables in your mouth.  It’s unsanitary.”

 

            The blue-gray creature gave a small shrug and flew off to the pantry to run his prize under the tap, leaving Eriol alone in the silent, empty hall.

                         

 

***

 

           

            Sakura leaned against the wall, feeling cold brick against her palm, and took a deep breath.

 

            She must not be seen.

 

            Her breath came out in small wisps of smoke in the air.  She was freezing.  She felt as if she had been caught outdoors in winter without a coat.  Running fingers up and down her arms to warm herself, she looked up at the dark sky.  Rain, she thought, or maybe snow.   Carefully, she slowly moved to peer around the edge of the wall.

 

            The two figures were there.

 

            Farewell, said the first.

 

            Again, said the other.

 

            Sakura squinted, but she could not make out a thing; a thick cloud of fog had settled itself around the two of them, hiding them in a  colorless haze.    

 

            Come, said someone.

 

            A  figure bent its head and the other let out a small sound that was like a sob, and slowly, the two merged into one dark shadow. 

 

 Sakura flinched.

 

The shadow began to fade away, melting into nothingness.  Sakura suddenly felt her chest tighten so much that she wanted to cry out in anguish, but when she opened her mouth to scream there was nothing---

 

 

            “---ra.  Sakura.  Sakura!”

 

            Her eyes flew open.

 

            Syaoran was bent over her, his auburn eyes wide with worry.  “Sakura.  Are you all right?” 

 

            She immediately sat upright, feeling a dull throb in her temples as she did.  The classroom, now completely deserted save for the two of them, was painted pale orange by the late afternoon sun.  Sakura stared blankly about her, slowly remembering that class was done.  Tomoyo had left for the student council meeting hours ago, and she had fallen asleep at her desk while waiting for Syaoran to come back from the library.

 

            Syaoran was now hovering over her restlessly.  “Is anything wrong?”

 

            “Ouch,” she mumbled.

 

            He pulled Tomoyo’s chair close to her desk and sank in it, reaching out to brush the disheveled bangs from her forehead.  “You look awful,” he whispered, touching a palm against her forehead then holding it out for her to see. 

 

Her eyes widened.  His palm was slick with sweat. 

 

            She looked up to meet his questioning gaze.

 

            “Did you get your book?” she automatically asked.

 

            “I did.”

 

            “That’s good.”

 

            There was a pause. 

 

 “Don’t tell me it was that stupid dream again.”

 

            She winced.

 

            He smiled, faintly.  “I catch on quick, don’t I?”

 

            She should have laughed at that, she knew, or at least told him she was fine.  But she could not bring herself to do anything.  She could only watch Syaoran as he continued to brush the hair out of her eyes, gently.

 

            “I’m sorry,” he softly said.  “I had no idea it was something like this.  The way you told me about it, well…  I just didn’t know it was serious.  I’m sorry if I acted like a jerk.  This definitely isn’t something you can just forget about in the morning.”  He paused.  “Maybe we should talk to Cerberus about it.”

 

            Now Sakura did laugh.  “What on earth are you talking about, Syaoran-kun?”                    

 

            His amber eyes clouded over.  “This.”

 

            He brushed a finger against the side of her face, and it was only then that Sakura realized that her cheeks were stained with tears.

 

            “Tell me,” he implored.  “Everything.”

 

 

***

 

 

            Tomoyo was just about to raise a hand to ring the doorbell when the great oak door suddenly groaned and swung open on its hinges.

 

            All by itself.

 

Other people would have run away screaming at the sight, but Tomoyo only smiled and carefully stepped inside, slipping off her shoes.  “Hello?” she called out.  “Is anyone home?”

 

            The foyer was dark and completely deserted.  As Tomoyo walked on, the door behind her suddenly closed with a bang and the huge chandelier that hung from the ceiling instantly burst into life, blinding her with bright yellow light.  She instinctively raised a hand to her eyes. Magic, she thought, wincing.  Squinting, she saw an old record on a shelf slipping itself out of its plastic sheaf, ready to fly to the gramophone.   

 

            It’s Eriol.

 

            “It’s all right,” Tomoyo called out to the record, “I won’t need music.”

 

            The record slipped back into its sheaf and lay still.

 

            Tomoyo sighed and thrust her stocking feet into the guest slippers that lay on the doormat for her.  Eriol’s using magic again, she thought, grinning.  He always said that ever since he had given half of his sorcery away, he had very little of it left to work with.  I can’t even charm a leaf down from a tree, he sighed once.  Not having much magic takes a lot of getting used to.      

 

            But Tomoyo knew he was lying.  Even if he had lost half of his sorcery, she knew he still had enough to make doors open and make lights turn themselves on.  She suspected him of using magic a lot when he was alone.  It was very easy to imagine him standing in the kitchen with his nose buried in a book while pans stirred and knives cut and bottles of spice flew behind him, making his dinner.  But she had never come across such a scene, for Eriol was strangely reluctant to use his magic in front of her.  There was one time when she practically had to beg him to show her a bit of sorcery, and when she thought he would never give in, he suddenly sighed and raised a hand.  Just this once, he had said.  A single rose from a nearby flower vase slipped up, drifted through the air and landed gracefully in her lap.                                       

 

            His reluctance to use magic in front of her had always puzzled her, but she never talked to him about it.  She figured that he had his reasons for doing so, and that he would tell her about them when he was ready.

 

            For now, she was willing to wait.

 

            For now, this display of magic only told her that everyone was too busy at the moment to answer the door.

 

            Tomoyo cleared her throat.  “Hello?”

 

            There was a small distant squeal, and there came the padding of slippers down the hall.   

 

            It was most probably Nakuru, who --- as Spinel put it wryly --- was the Hiiragizawa Mansion Welcoming Committee.  Tomoyo had grown fond of both bubbly, cheerful Nakuru and stoic, aloof Spinel, and looked forward to seeing them everytime she came over to Eriol’s house for a visit.  She looked down at the box in her hand and smiled.  Her mother had insisted that she bring a large lemon meringue pie with her for dessert.  I just remembered that Hiiragizawa-kun liked that pie I served with tea before, Sonomi had said, so I baked him a big one today.   I’m sure his family will love it too. 

 

            “Nakuru-san?” Tomoyo began as the figure burst into the foyer.  “Good evening.  Okaasama had me bring over a---”           

 

The words died in her throat.

 

            Instead of ruby-haired Nakuru, a tall slender woman with sparkling brown eyes was standing in front of her.  She had long brown hair tied at the nape in a clumsy ponytail, and a few wisps had escaped to brush against her flushed cheeks.  She was busy untangling the apron that hung around the waist of her skirt, staring at her as if she were a ghost.  “Daidouji-san?  It’s Daidouji Tomoyo, isn’t it?”

 

            Tomoyo’s eyes widened.  “M-Mizuki-sensei?!”      

 

            It was all she could say, all she could think of saying, when Mizuki Kaho, her former mathematics teacher, bounded up to her and threw her arms around her in a warm embrace.     

 

 

           

 

            “I just arrived here this morning,” Kaho grinned, setting a large pie on the already crowded table.  “I should be knocked out by jet lag, I know, but I’m not the least bit tired---”

 

            “This morning?” Tomoyo echoed, still stunned at the sight of her former teacher bustling around the dining room with trays of food in her hand.  “How come Sakura-chan never told me anything about----”

 

            “Sakura-san doesn’t know,” Eriol cut in.  He had entered with a huge soup tureen, and he was smiling.  Their eyes met and he gave her a look that clearly said, surprised?  Tomoyo made a face at him, which only made his eyes twinkle more. 

 

            “I told Eriol to keep it a secret,” Kaho laughed.  “Even from Sakura-chan.”

 

            “But why?”

 

Eriol laid the soup tureen on the table.  “Because she’s always sneaky like that.”

 

Kaho gave him a look.  “I am not.”

 

“Sneakier than I am, really.”

 

“If I were any sneakier than you, I’d be in jail by now.”

 

“You wound me.”           

 

Tomoyo looked from Kaho’s narrowed brown eyes to Eriol’s lazy smile, thinking it was rather funny to hear them tease each other as if they had known each other for a long time.  But they have known each other for a long time, she reminded herself.  They met in England.  Or so Eriol said… She let snatches of their lighthearted repartee drift by, realizing that they were very comfortable with each other, and strangely feeling as if she did not belong.  She fell to standing awkwardly by the table, listening to their banter, smiling weakly when Kaho turned to her (Don’t you think Eriol needs a haircut, Daidouji-san?), and racking her brain for something to say.     

 

“Pass me that plate, will you, dear?”  Kaho suddenly said, and she hastened to oblige, thinking of something as she did so.  “Uh, how long will you be staying here, Mizuki-sensei?” 

 

“Oh,” Kaho airily said, “Days.  Weeks maybe.  I’m not sure yet.  I have a very flexible schedule.”

           

Tomoyo smiled.  “That means you have all the time in the world to look around.”

 

“That means she has all the time in the world to get lost in Tomoeda,” Eriol retorted.

 

From the kitchen, Nakuru chortled.

 

Kaho heaved an exasperated sigh.  “Eriol.”

 

Tomoyo fixed him with a stern look.  “Now, that wasn’t very nice.”

 

Eriol assumed his best painstricken expression.  “Oh no.  Please don’t be angry with me, Daidouji-san…”

 

Kaho burst into laughter at Eriol’s theatrics, but Tomoyo found herself staring at him in surprise.  Daidouji-san, the words echoed dully in her mind.  He called me Daidouji-san.  She knew for a fact that he never called her by her first name in front of other people, and she was used to calling him ‘Hiiragizawa-kun’ in front of other people as well, but it was just… 

 

It felt different now. 

 

She had spent the whole day thinking of him as Eriol and telling other people why he wasn’t at school, with an air that said I am close to him to know where he is and I would always be close to him to know where he will be because we had been through so much that I think I am… 

 

Tomoyo froze at the thought.

 

That I am in lov---

 

She looked away, feeling her face burn.

 

Fortunately for her, Nakuru suddenly burst into the room with a tray.  

           

“We cooked all afternoon,” he gleefully announced, “and you won’t believe how many pies we baked, Daidouji-san!  We can feed Tomoeda for a week!”

           

“I think we overdid it,” Kaho laughed, staring at the crowded table.

 

Eriol sniffed.  “Ruby Moon always did cook too much.”

           

“You cook too much yourself,” came a retort from above.  It was Spinel.  The small winged creature was resting in the rafters, no doubt hiding from Nakuru, who loved to prey on him and his tendency to get intoxicated on sweets.

           

“Suppi!”  Nakuru squealed.  “You know what?  Tomoyo-san brought a big meringue pie just for you!”

           

The winged creature in question only raised an eyebrow.

           

“Now Nakuru-chan,” Kaho chuckled, “I think that’s enough harassment for one day.”

           

Nakuru turned to her.  “But you haven’t seen him drunk yet!  He can be soooo funny!”

           

Spinel harrumphed, then cast a dark eye on Tomoyo.

           

Tomoyo stared back.  She had a strange feeling that Spinel had been watching her right from the start.  It was hard to tell from where she was standing, but his dark eyes seemed to gleam with realization, as if he were fully aware of the turmoil inside her.  It probably did not take much for him to piece things together.  Spinel had a keen sense of perception.  The thought that he knew embarrassed her, but there was something strangely comforting about it… 

 

Still confused and suddenly hungry for affection, she held out her hands to him.  “Come.”

           

With amazing alacrity, Spinel swooped down and tumbled into her arms.  Tomoyo laughed as his fluttering wings tickled her skin, and she pressed her cheek against his soft head, closing her eyes briefly.

           

“Will you look at that,” she heard Kaho say. 

           

“Spinel loves her,” Eriol spoke.  Tomoyo held her breath.  Did she just imagine the warmth in his voice or did he--- 

           

Nakuru coughed meaningfully.

           

Tomoyo looked down at Spinel and tickled his downy blue-gray stomach.  Spinel let out a funny sound that was like a giggle, wriggled in her arms and brushed tiny feet against her skin.  Tomoyo grinned.  She was grateful for Spinel in her arms --- the small warmth comforted her; it made her feel like she finally remembered where she was.

 

It told her she knew what she had to do.

           

She looked up to meet their gazes and smiled.  “Shall we eat?”

           

 

[ end chapter 04 ]

 

 

Author’s Notes (old):

 

            I enjoyed writing this chapter.  Everything seemed to come very easily to me.  It was really scary.  I wonder if this has something to do with the fact that yesterday I was on a sugar high and practically whizzing around the room singing at the top of my lungs…

            Ah, rambling is so therapeutic.

            The title of this chapter comes from Shiina Hekiru’s song of the same title.  Now that sounded funny. *shrugs*  It comes from the album, “Face to Face”, which is a wonderful album, IMHO.  She also has other songs from this album, ‘Aitai’ and ‘Zutto’, which are very lovely and would do very nicely as songfics.

            ‘Tayama-sensei’ actually exists; I was fortunate enough to have her as a teacher last year.  I was a horrible student (too lazy to memorize goi, and then there was that borrrrring reader, but I’d like to think that I redeemed myself in that final essay).  She was a very nice lady, and I have fond memories of her class, so I thought I’d use her name here to remember her by. 

            The dinner scene was supposed to end in this chapter, but it just got longer and longer until it couldn’t fit in anymore.  And about the play, I was supposed to have them do something traditional like Noh (anything that already has a script, to make things easier for me) but I was looking through the books and thinking, hell, let’s just go with Hikoboshi and Orihime and see how that works out.

            So there.

            Here’s hoping my explanation for Sakura’s dream problem will be plausible enough... *crosses fingers*

            And yes, as if it weren’t obvious enough, I love Spinel to bits.  *hugs Suppi-chan*  Oh, what I’d give for a little Spinel of my own.

              

Up Next: A Dinner Mishap.  A Kaho Discovery.  Rehearsal Blues.  Smart Cerberus.  Eriol the Artiste.  Tomoyo’s First Try.  A Script Problem. I Like Having the Start of Everything In Caps.

 

Author’s Notes (new):

 

            Again, I talked too much and knew absolutely nothing.  Sorry for subjecting you all to this.

            Kanaete is supposed to be ten chapters long, with an epilogue of sorts, but I ran out of steam by the fifth chapter.  I suppose this means this fic will never be finished.  I promised the ML I’d get back to it, but some things are difficult to continue, especially when you’ve been out of touch with CCS for years.

 

 

            Kanaete was nominated for Best Romance Fic in the 2001 CCS Fanfic Awards.  Thank you very much for the honor.

 

            Sakura

            http://www.geocities.com/naikouteki/