R i p p l e s
Crossmyheartforever
Summary:
Sakura Kinomoto is the cheerful bubbly artist while Syaoran Li is the cold icy martial arts master. Syaoran's family believes he should study art to calm his nerves down and learn to express himself through art. Now that's just insane...right? SxS
Disclaimer: Why even bother say the disclaimer? We all know that I don't own Card Captor Sakura or the characters.
Japan is a busy country, especially with all its many business incorporations, and note worthy leaders. Many of those that fall into that category are heirs to prominent clans that held supremacy during the early 1940s, when Japan was at large with military weapons. During that period of blood-shed many Chinese scorned upon the mention of the Japanese for theirs acts cruelty and killing.
Despite the image, Japan was now, finally at ease. However, the society of people was severely separated. The eminent and honored and the less influential population. The crème de la crème, if you will, were mostly given snide privileges to issues.
One most murmured and gossiped, the Li Clan. What actually brought them over top; no civilian could rightly determine nor ask for the matter. Oh, but there were guesses. Where they were many people mingled together, there would bound to be rumors. And like crows, they clutch at what was available at them, twisting at it, until it was barely recognizable, miles away from the truth.
The sun was setting, complimented by the splashes of red in the far distance sky. Clouds drooped dangerously low near the horizon while shadowy forests enveloped the panorama, like a second jacket. The scene was awfully similar to one on a bloody battle field, where the empyrean was filled with the smoke from gun fire, and canons.
It may be one photographer's dream. And another's frustration.
A boy stood amidst the scenery, clad in a thin white sleeveless shirt, which flared up when ever he jumped, and dusty black draw string pants. A strip of black silk tied around his forehead kept his bangs from sticking to his sweat covered face.
His disheveled brown hair blew in the wind as he twirled his wooden staff in his hands. The cane was almost the same length as his height. His eyes were fixed and blank focusing on his imaginary opponent. Forward, step to the side, jump, flip, land, attack. His hands plunged the wooden weaponry towards the space in front of him, producing a swift air slicing sound.
After what seemed hours, the sky had fully darkened, when he fully collapsed against his staff. His breath was quickened and heavy in compare to a few minutes ago. His chest rose with each pant he made, making any visitor obviously to his exhaustion.
Lifting his chin up, his dark eyes flickered towards a house to the side of the grass field in which he trained. It was lit in most rooms, even though the fact that there was no one currently occupying was clear as water. He knew that in one of those rooms, his mother was currently no doubt sighing over him. He was anti-social, and hated everyone around him. He was rude, and didn't have the needed manners to be next heir. He didn't listen to the elders...
He was this, he was that. He never made any expression to take in what they all say, but it was all there and particularly lodged into his mother's heart.
While he stared absent mindedly, his hand gripped tighter and tighter onto the stick. Not until did a sore feeling reach him, did he notice the reddening swollen fingers.
Flexing them slightly, he noted how no one came to bicker him on the fact, it was passed supper time. Maybe that last person he spat out at really did learn a lesson. A dry sarcasm filled chuckle filled the cool night air, but the expression on the teenager's face did not change from its unreadable facade.
People knew him for his status and impenetrable exterior. The boy that didn't have all the silly notions. He was supposed to lead the clan, bring its drowning status up. To listen to the selfish elders, that claimed their honor to 'guide' the young successor. All part of the brilliant word called duty. Duty made the world go round. Duty was the string that still kept attached to the clan.
If he was the heir of the clan, why did the clan elders have to always butt themselves into his duty?
They schedule his daily activities.
They made sure who he interacted with and will not.
Heck, they even engaged him with his cousin, without him knowing ten years later!
He felt like he was telling a story...his sob story. A really stupid worthless sob story...but he didn't want anyone's pity. The sorry looks that people pretend to give him made him gag in repulsion. "Oh...isn't that the boy whose heir to the Li clan?" "I heard his father died and left him alone...poor thing..." Pure bluff. Their motives were all clear upon their shallow faces. The famous Li surname, money, and protection. What else? "The poor boy..." Poor boy my butt, he thought.
He didn't care about happiness, why would he when he already knew that was not even part of his life?
He didn't show any affection, why would he when the responses he got back were simply enough to make him sick?
He didn't care about the love and care other's gave him, why would he when he knew it was all fake?
Didn't...
A girl sat in her chair with her elbows rested firmly on the desk. Her head was propped up by her hands. Her legs swung back and forth making small thumping against the side of her chair.
On either side of her arms were piles of paper, notebooks and several textbooks. The wall in front of her was filled with small pieces of paper taped to the wall. All of them filled with scribbles ranging from calculus formulas to reminders to walk the neighbor's dog.
A first look of the room immediately tells the person, it belonged to a girl, with its flower printed bed spread, and pink wall paper. A second glimpse would tell just exactly how messy the person is. Ranging from a scale of 0 to 10, it would likely fall between 8 or 9.
Plush toys were scattered across the bedroom floor, as well as class notes that littered from ceiling to wall to carpet. Through the small windows a faint oak scent wafted across the room, to the girl sitting in the chair.
Spread across the however crowded table were sketching pencils ranging in hardness. A board was propped up against her knees, a square 12x12 piece of rice paper taped rather poorly across it.
Light auburn hair covered her eyes like a curtain as she was bent over the board, nibbling her lips, a moment of peevishness passed by as the thoughts of homework nagged her.
A few more moments of silence followed before a soft 'hoe' was whispered from her mouth.
The girl's eyes slowly opened revealing exotic yet captivating green eyes. Slowly her fingers wrapped around her pencil and started sketching. She didn't really understand what she was drawing or why, but slowly her nonchalant scribbles started to take shape. As they finished to first stage of shading it was quite clear what it was.
A pair of exquisite looking eyes...
