Last Update: January 4, 2015
Hello, and welcome to It was Once so Simple. I'm MajesticPurpleCupCake, but you call can just call me Cupcake. For starter, I want to get the disclaimer out of the way. It applies to this and all future chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Cardcaptor Sakura.
See? That wasn't so painful.
Alright, so here's the gist of what's going on here. Basically, this story is currently a work-in-progress. I'm still posting new chapters; however, due to grammatical errors in the first few chapters, I'm going back and editing them, so I'll be listing when the last update/edit for each chapter is. I already put this chapter's at the top for you.
Now, some background on the story: Syaoran and Sakura are 17 and in their Senior year of high school. Syaoran is still from Hong Kong. Sakura's mother, as you will soon find, is deceased. The two used to be friends, but aren't any more. You find out several chapters in what happened, but I hint at it several times.
Note: Most of the time, I don't italicize thoughts. Everything is present tense, though, so it mostly just all flows together. You'll have a better idea of what I'm talking about after reading the chapter.
Enjoy
Sakura's POV
My mother died on a chilly afternoon near the end of Autumn. The doctors all told us the same thing. They told us it was Cancer. The winter before my tenth birthday, my mother was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia. At the time, and still to this day, I've never been able to wrap my head around how something so awful could happen to such a kindhearted person.
Even though it happened seven years ago, back when I was only ten, I still remember it like it was just yesterday. The pain and loss my family went through on the day of my mother's death left a gaping hole in our lives. It was like we were a house, and she was the support beams. Without her, the entire foundation collapsed in on itself.
As strange as it sounds, I've always remembered the months leading up to my mother's death as being worse than her actual death itself. All four of us had cope with the knowledge that Nadeshiko wasn't going to be with us for much longer. Her death was inevitable, and we all knew that. It was just a matter of facing the facts.
The worst part of dealing with my mother's Leukemia–besides the chemo and her death–was that she would get nosebleeds. Nosebleeds are never pleasant, but the ones that my mom got were simply on an entirely different level in terms of severity. The doctors explained to me that Leukemia is a type of blood cancer that can prevent blood clotting, so when my mom bled, she wouldn't stop bleeding without a medic.
For a ten-year-old, the events were quite traumatic, especially since there wasn't any warning about when one was going to come. One minute she would be standing there smiling brightly and the next she would be on the ground surrounded by a pool of her own blood.
All that blood. All that pain. All that suffering. And for what? She still died in the end. Seven years later, and it still haunts my nightmares.
I'm in a kitchen, across the room from a young girl–no older than eight or nine–with auburn hair and bright, shining emerald eyes. She stands atop a stool and leans across the kitchen counter, trying to peer over the rim of a large mixing bowl. There's movement to my right, and I watch as a beautiful woman in her early thirties with tumbling blue-gray curls walks up to the girl and rests a hand on her shoulder, saying something to her. For one perfect moment I watch the two of them as they bake together like any happy mother and daughter would–should–do. But nothing lasts forever, and I find myself watching with dread as the scene darkens.
The woman is measuring out flour from the bag and pouring it into the bowl when suddenly, without any warning, she stops abruptly and grabs onto the counter's edge with one hand. Her hand flies up to her face. The little girl looks over to her, surprised by the abrupt action, and sees the look of nausea on the woman's face.
"Mommy?" Her voice alone is so innocent that it makes me want to cry. The girl watches in confusion as a single drop of red liquid falls from behind the older woman's hand. "Mommy, what's wrong?" Panic runs deep in my veins, knowing all too well what's about to happen. Time seems to slow as the woman reaches out and grabs hold of a nearby towel just as the dam breaks.
Crimson red blood pours from the woman's nose like a faucet. She covers it with the towel, but not before the red liquid can spread out over the countertop and start to drip down the sides.
"Mommy!" The young girl's emerald eyes are wide in a mix of confusion and panic as she leans over to the counter to her mother. When the woman's grip on the counter loosens and she falls to the floor, the little girl nearly tumbles off of the stool to get to her.
At her mother's side, the girl franticly asks her mother what to do. When the woman speaks, her voice is nearly inaudible. "The phone, sweetie. Bring mommy the phone."
The panicked child stands on wobbling legs and stumbles as quickly as she can manage towards the phone. After grabbing it from the island, she half-crawls back to her mother. When she gets there, she stares down at the phone in her trembling hands and tries to remember the most simple three-digit number that she has been told since she was old enough to understand what it meant. It should have been the simplest thing to do, but in that moment, she can't move. Can't think.
Then her mother's blood-stained hands reach out and take the phone from her daughter's trembling ones. 1-1-9. Simple as that. The woman holds the phone up to her ear, and when theres a voice on the other end, she speaks in as steady of a voice as she can manage, informing the call taker of the situation.
Time seems to blend together after that, but I watch only half aware as after a while, the girl's head suddenly shoots up and she hesitantly leaves her mother's side to get the front door. My viewpoint shifts to follow the girl. Paramedics rush past her with a stretcher, and moments later, the girl is running after the strange people who are carrying her mother away.
Just before they load her into the ambulance, the woman turns her head to look at her daughter. "It's going to be alright," she says. "Don't worry, Sakura. Mommy is going to be alright."
I wake up with a gasp. My heart pounds in my chest and my body is covered in a cold sweat. Sitting up in my bed, I think back to the nightmare I just had. Only it's not just a nightmare. It's a memory. The same one that's haunted me for the past seven years.
After I catch my breath and my heart rate slows down, I lay back in bed, my eyes still open. I stare up at my ceiling for a while. Some nights I'm able to fall back asleep after the nightmare, so I simply close my eyes and hope that sleep doesn't continue to elude me.
Syaoran's POV
I wake up late Monday morning. Glancing over at the alarm clock, I see I only have about half an hour before class starts.
Well, there goes that promise to Terada. I've already been late a few times this year. What's one more tardy going to do?
It's been over five years since I left Hong Kong to return to my second home in Japan, yet I still haven't adjusted to the hours. Worst case of jet lag ever.
I pull myself up out of bed and do the same thing I do every morning with the exception of training, since it usually takes up a good hour. Take a quick shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush teeth, and head out. Always in that order. I'm a creature of habit, so days like this when I don't get my routine started on time, everything feels off.
This morning, like every other morning without exception, my legal guardian and family butler, Wei, catches me on the way out and asks, "Would you like to take the car today, Syaoran-sama?"
I don't know why he bothers, since I almost always say no. "That's alright, Wei, I think I'll walk today."
He bows. "As you wish." And just like that, he disappears down the hallway.
No more than five minutes later, I'm strolling down the sidewalk on my way to school, not even bothering to hurry. I'm going to be late either way, so there's really no point in exerting extra energy just to be slightly less late.
Oddly enough, though, part of me almost wants to hurry. It mystifies me, since there's nothing waiting for me at school, but I just have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that today is different. Whether it's for the good or the bad, though, I haven't the slightest clue.
Sakura's POV
The next time that I wake up, it's to the sound of my alarm clocks going off. They blare in my ears as they do every morning with that same obnoxious, nerve-racking beeping. I get up half-heartedly and turn off the one on my headboard, before walking around the room to turn off the rest of them. As much as I hate doing it every morning, it's the only way for me to be sure that I wake up on time.
After shutting off all the clocks and briefly stretching, I head into the bathroom to take a shower. Within twenty minutes, I'm downstairs shoving scrabbled eggs into my mouth.
As soon as I finally finish eating, I grab my things, pull on my roller blades, and race out of the house. Rolling down the streets of Tomoeda on my way to school, I observe the vibrant array of colors that the autumn leaves hold. I've never liked the season very much, but the beautiful colors are what make
Upon reaching my school building, I switch into my indoor shoes and head strait to the art room. I always get to school early and go to the art room before anybody else arrives. It's basically the only part of my day when I can let all of my worries go and really express myself.
The first thing I do after entering the empty classroom is pull out my most recent work. After setting it down on the easel, I grab the painting supplies, and sit myself down in front of the painting.
For the next twenty minutes, I fill the paper with a wide variety of tints and shades of blue.
It's not until the five minute warning bell rings that I wake from my trance. My head shoots up and I look around to find the room is still empty. The sound of students rushing through the halls, trying to get to class on time, doesn't fail to make its way to my ears. On instinct, I stand up and start to put away the painting supplies, but then I turn around find my eyes glued to the painting I've spent the last two weeks pouring my heart into.
The overall image is of a young girl, no older than ten, laying underwater, her hair cast in all directions, and her two frail hands outstretched as if trying to reach through the canvas and grab onto me. Her eyes are filled with fear and her mouth is open in a silent scream. She's drowning. And no matter how much I wish I could, I know that I can't reach through to the barrier of reality to pull her up. I can't save her. Can't pull her into my arms and tell her everything will be alright. She'll die there in that dark world where no-one can hear her desperate cries for help.
I stare at it for a few minutes, not even registering it when the final bell rings and I'm still in the art room. The image is almost complete, but something is still missing.
But what?
My mind races as I try to uncover the solution. After running through a number of possible changes in my head, I finally give up. It'll come to me eventually. It always does.
As soon as I set my foot into the classroom, my teacher is on my back.
"Ms. Kinomoto!" Oh great, he sounds pissed. An angry Terada is never a good thing.
I stop in the doorway and suppress a groan. Forcing myself to look at him, I say as innocently as possible, "Yes, Terada-sensei?"
Sometimes I wonder if it's worth the lectures just to paint, but, in the end, I can never seem to help myself.
"You're late. That's the third time this month." Here we go again.
"I know. I just got a little sidetracked. It won't happen again, sensei." Well, at least I'll try not to let it happen again. No guarantees.
Mr. Terada just lets out a heavy sigh and says, almost to himself, "That's what you said last time."
I stand there for a second, and right when I'm about to enter and take my seat, the sound of someone clearing their throat comes from behind me. I turn my head to the right with a frown of frustration, and my emerald eyes clash with a pair of amber.
Great, it's none other than the one and only Li Syaoran.
"What, Li?" I ask, my voice sounding more annoyed than I intend. Not that I really care.
His eyes narrow. For some reason, I've gotten the impression over the years that he doesn't like it when I address him by his last name. It's a little odd, really. I'm not about to start calling him Syaoran to his face again, though. Even if I did, I highly doubt that would make him any less irritated. If anything, he might get even more annoyed.
He nods to the door. "You gonna move any time today, Kinomoto?" Glancing over, I try not to show my surprise. Right. The door.
Rolling my eyes, I step into the room to let him through. He doesn't even give me a second glance as he passes by.
"You too, Li?" Mr. Terada shakes his head. "What's your excuse?" Syaoran just shrugs and sits down in his seat in the back of the classroom. The action results in Mr. Terada pinching the bridge of his nose and saying to the both of us, "Alright, the two of you stay after class. We need to talk."
With that, the subject is dropped. Mr. Terada goes back to teaching, and I sit down in my seat that just happens to be right in front of Syaoran's. The entire time, he just stares out the window like I don't exist, and I can't help the resentment that bubbles up inside me. Not to mention the fact that he's able to stir up such a response over something as idle as not paying attention to me.
Luckily for me, my thoughts are interrupted by the familiar feeling of something being tapped against my right hip.
Tomoyo.
Without turning my head, I reach out and take the note from her hand. First I make sure Mr. Terada isn't looking, and then I carefully unfold the paper on top of my math textbook.
Is everything alright? You've been late a lot recently. Is it your dad again?
After reading it, I carefully scribble down my response and hand it back to Tomoyo in the same manner.
Everything is fine. No, it's not my dad this time. I'm working on this art thing. By the way, I really need to talk to you at lunch. It's about Touya. Wait for me on the roof?
I give her a quick glance and she nods, mouthing a tiny 'okay'. Now all that's left to do is wait for lunch to start.
When the lunch bell finally rings, Tomoyo gives me an encouraging smile and leaves the classroom. I'm left in the room with Syaoran, waiting for Terada to finish up at his desk.
For crying out load, what is he doing? This is awkward as hell! Why does he have to talk to us at the same time, anyways? Can't one of us just wait in the hall? Preferably Syaoran, that way I can get out of here quicker.
After what feels like forever, Terada finally looks at us and speaks. "Alright, now that I've got the two of you here, we need to talk."
Yeah. Got that. I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
"Now look, you two are the only ones who I have to repeatedly talk to, and that needs to change. Li, as we all know, you're the brightest student out of all my classes–maybe even in the entire school."
Great, go and put him on a freaking pedestal, why don't you? Oh hell no! Did he just smirk? That little son of a–my thoughts are interrupted when Terada continues talking.
"Whereas Kinomoto is, well, more or less the opposite." I look at him in complete and utter disbelief. Is he seriously saying these things with my mortal enemy standing right next to me? I would throw my head back and groan at his bluntness if not for Syaoran's presence.
"Sensei!" My eyes dart over to Syaoran to emphasize that this is not something I am okay with. Don't I–or just students in general–have any right to privacy nowadays? Mr. Terada just holds up a finger to silence me. Meanwhile, Syaoran is just standing there with his head down, hand over his mouth, trying to hide his laughter.
Don't even bother; I can see your shoulders shaking, moron.
"Which is why I have decided that Li is going to tutor you." Haha, where's your stupid smirk now, smart–wait-
"What?" Syaoran and I shout at the same exact time. Wow, who knew we were capable of being so in sync. Right after thinking it, I mentally slap myself. Don't even go there, Sakura.
"Look, just because she's a total blockhead-"
"Hey!"
"-why do I have to tutor her?"
"Why do I have to be tutored in the first place?"
Terada's hand goes to the bridge of his nose again. That's like his go-to whenever he's stressed. He answers me first. "Because, we both know that you aren't going to bring up your grades on your own. And as for your question, Li," he turns to look at Syaoran, "with your grades, you're the obvious candidate for the job. Not to mention I think it would do the two of you some good to spend a little time together."
"In what way?" I haven't the slightest idea what goes through this man's head. Time with Syaoran? I have to sit in front of him all day! Even though it's not like we talk or acknowledge each other in any way, shape, or form, the close proximity alone is far greater than I would like.
"Well, as I said earlier, the two of you are the only ones I have this problem with on a regular basis. Not to mention that you two clearly have some," he pauses, "issues with each other."
Syaoran lets out a dry laugh. "You can say that again."
Screw you, Li. Screw you... Although it is more or less true... And by 'more or less', I mean one hundred percent correct.
Mr. Terada ignores him and continues. "So, I figure some time together might help the two of you to work them out."
"I highly doubt that," Syaoran says, looking over to me. I glare at him and cross my arms to provide my conformation. "Very highly doubt that," he mumbles after glancing down at my posture.
"Either way, I've already decided. You two will start today after school."
At the mention of after school, I quickly uncross my arms and turn serious. "Wait! I can't," I tell him. "I have to go to work after school." Both of them look at me a little surprised, but Mr. Terada's shock soon fades to sadness.
"Sakura..." Now it's my turn to be surprised. Teachers scarcely call their students by their given names, because it can be interpreted the wrong way.
Terada squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose–yet again–before he continues. "Look, Sakura," he looks directly into my eyes, so I follow suit, "Touya was one of my students before-" He looks over at Syaoran, and I'm thankful when he doesn't finish what he was saying. He looks back to me. "I don't want to see what happened to your brother happen to you, too."
I lean back against the desk, using it for support. Even though I'm looking at the ground, I can feel Syaoran's eyes trained on me.
When I don't speak, he continues. "You two will just have to meet before school, then."
I look up and almost say something, but Syaoran beats me to it.
"Pause. I don't see why I'm doing this. I mean, clearly she," he jabs his thumb in my direction, "needs help with her grades, but what incentive do I have? It's not like I need the extra credit." Oh, the things I would say to him if Terada weren't standing right in front of us. Why did he have to bring up grades to begin with?
Terada raises his eyebrows as if to challenge what Syaoran has just said. "Oh really? You wanna talk about incentive, huh? You've still been late twice this week alone."
"So?"
I almost crack up when Terada breaks out a smirk. "We wouldn't want your mother to find out about that, would we?"
As soon as I see the look on Syaoran's face, I can't stop myself. I bend over and burst out into laughter. I have to clutch my stomach, it hurts so much. When I look up, Syaoran is glaring at me and Mr. Terada is looking at him as if to say 'I told you so'.
"How's that for incentive, huh, Li?" It's official. Terada-sensei is my hero. Best. Teacher. Ever. Well, except for the whole tutoring thing. That still sucks.
"You're afraid of your mom!" I clap my hands together. "This is priceless. The almighty Li Syaoran afraid of his mother."
"Oh, shut it, Kinomoto." If only I could. My poor spleen is really getting a workout. "You don't even know her." Hearing this, I manage to subdue my laughter enough to speak.
"In case you forgot, I've met your mother before," I remind him, standing up and looking at him. Just to see what he'll do, I raise my eyebrows and cock my head slightly to the side. "Or did you forget about that," I challenge.
Forget that we used to be close. That we used to call each other friends.
I think I see his eyes soften a little, but he goes on. "You met her once when we were kids. That hardly counts. Besides, it's totally different having her as a mother."
He realizes his words too late. I'm honestly not sure if he would take them back anyway, but he stops talking after that. It's not like he meant it to sound cruel, but none the less, any topic even remotely related to mothers is a touchy subject, and regardless of how much we may dislike each other, Syaoran still knows better than to cross that line.
I turn back to Mr. Terada. "So, when do you want us to get here," I ask, too tired to argue.
Even Mr. Terada is surprised, but says, "You two can meet in the front of the school an hour before classes start. But don't go thinking that just because you two are studying, that gives you an excuse to be late for class. I want both of you in this room and ready to learn when the bell rings. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You two may leave now." With that, we hurry from the classroom in silence.
Alright, so that's the new-and-improved first chapter. Even if you're just starting this story, I welcome any feedback you may have. If you're rereading the chapter, tell me what you think? Did you notice any differences? Besides Syaoran's POV, of course.
There's still 27 more chapter, so I hope to see you again!