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Last Modified: 2006.02.09
Disclaimer: I Know Very Little About TRC
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To get to the village square, one had to walk down a steep, narrow flight of
stone steps -- an ordeal made more difficult by having to deal with the
multitude of people going up the steps at the same time. Traffic was slow;
there was much jostling and grunting and crashing against the rails. Syaoran
was desperately trying to keep his footing and not bump into the lady in front
of him (she was wearing a strange pointed hat with rosette holes through which
candlelight glowed) and turn around to look for Sakura, whose hand had slipped
out of his grasp several steps back. He wanted to stop, but he feared for his
balance; the steps were worn and uneven. Down before him shone a long line of
several flickering lights; everybody was wearing some other form of the strange
candle hat. A man wearing something resembling a church, with steeples and
glowing glass windows, lifted his brim lightly and smiled as he passed.
"Excuse me," Syaoran began, desperately, but the man had already
moved on.
Dusk had fallen; it was getting difficult to make out some familiar-looking
heads in the crowd (did Fye and the others get hats too?), and each step was
becoming unbearable, so Syaoran took a deep breath and turned around. There was
a surprised gasp from the man directly behind him; Syaoran had accidentally
elbowed him in the stomach. "I'm so sorry--" Behind him, all the way
up, the long line of lights lurched about, shocked by the sudden stop. A few
flames were snuffed out; the rest danced this way and that in impatience.
"I'm sorry, but I need to find someone!"
Several replies came at once. "What does the kid want?" "Why did
we stop?" "What's going on?" "My hat!"
The man behind Syaoran, wearing a hat shaped like a ship, placed a hand on his
shoulder. "Calm down, lad. Who're you looking for?"
"It's the Princess-- I mean..." There was a lot to say, but he was
pressed for time. “A girl named Sakura. She was with me but she fell
behind."
The man then turned around and shouted her name, and the others behind him did
the same, and it went on and on and soon the air was filled with voices calling
out sakura sakura sakura, some low, some high and lilting, as if in
song. And then came the sound of his name, faint but most certainly there,
shouted back from somewhere in the midst of those lights. "There."
Syaoran let out the breath he had been holding. "Over there. I heard
her."
There was a pause, the sound of shifting feet, then one by one the lights
parted and down she came, flouncing down the steps in a way that made him feel
strange, like he was seeing the old Sakura move, so carefree and happy, until
she finally reached him and grabbed his hand. Her cold fingers told him her
rush down the steps had been out of fear.
“You were moving so fast.” Her eyes were wide.
Syaoran mumbled an apology and threaded his fingers through hers, more
carefully this time.
***
They were still holding hands when they finally reached the square and found
their companions waiting by a sign that read “Festival of Lights”. Just as
Syaoran had suspected, the others had gotten some candle hats (“to get
in the spirit of things, right, Kuropyon?”). Fye was wearing a pineapple-shaped
hat, Mokona had a small cupcake-like hat, and Kurogane had been forced into wearing
something that looked like a tower. “A damn tall tower,” he grumbled.
“Stupid hat. She all right?”
“Er, yes,” Syaoran stammered, glancing at Sakura, who was looking at her
friends’ heads with growing interest. “We had a bit of a scare back there, but
we’re all right now.”
“Sakura-a cha-a-an,” Fye sang, “do you want a hat?”
“A pretty hat!” Mokona exclaimed.
“We might be stuck in this country for the night,” Kurogane said, “but
hopefully we’ll get a move on tomorrow. Something had better come up, because
there’s no use staying here if there’s--”
“No feather,” Syaoran quietly said. It seemed like a good place for one, but
Mokona hadn’t picked up on anything yet. (No no no nothing, said the
plump marshmallow-like creature, flapping ears this way and that.) But maybe
tomorrow, or maybe the day after that, they could find a sign, a glimmer of
something--
Somebody was mussing up his hair. “Now now, don’t look so glum!” Fye was
beaming down at him. “Why don’t we take a break and have as much fun as we can?”
“Mokona wants to play a game!”
“Right! Kurotan wants to play too, right?”
“QUIT CALLING ME--”
“All set!” Fye waved a hand in the air, eagerly, like a tour guide. “Now, shall
we go get these two some hats first? Don’t worry about the candles, Syaoran-kun.
Let’s see…hats, then dinner? Then maybe Sakura-chan would like to try that
lovely ribbon dance? See that one? Oh, she’d be wonderful at it. Skipping round
and round the pole…”
Syaoran was about to turn to Sakura and ask her how she felt when her hand in
his suddenly tightened and fell limp, and there was barely enough time to lunge
forward and keep her from collapsing onto the cobblestones.
***
They had found a modest room near the town square, roomy enough for a band of
four, with peach-colored walls and a small bed. Sakura was quickly tucked in
it, a quilt drawn up to her chin, and there were orders for a quick tea (“for
the young man, he needs something warm”). The others had lingered but
eventually left for the festival, mostly at Syaoran’s insistence, with promises
of sweets and paper hats upon their return. They had been gone for over an hour
now.
The tea went untouched; Syaoran felt restless. He sat on the edge of the chair
by the bed, rocking himself on his heels. He looked at the odd array of
knickknacks on the side table -- there was a ceramic figurine of a boy with a
violin, some paper flowers in a glass jar, potpourri in velvet bags, and small
pots with melted candles swirled at the bottom. When this tired him, he got up
and paced by the window. A leafy bough hid his view of the festival lights, but
he could still hear the faint sounds of merrymaking, and spotted a couple of
red-cheeked boys running from the square, gripping bags of colored water with
something shimmery in it.
Sakura would like that, he thought. She would also love the ribbon dance, and a
candle hat of her own. There were probably other things at the festival she
would love, like a funny-looking trinket, fireworks in the night sky, a cup of
something fizzy and sweet. The more he thought about this, the sadder he grew;
he drew back from the window and returned to his chair, sitting on the edge at
first, then gradually sinking into a slump in it, watching the gentle rise and
fall of the covers as Sakura breathed.
[ snip ]
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