With its 1200+ students, it's no wonder that anything said at Seijou High is carried throughout the entire school within minutes.
So when one Daidouji Tomoyo, a lowly first year, helped the most popular graduating girl with her long time boyfriend, it's no wonder that within a week she was receiving more pleas for help than she could deal with.
"It's. Getting. Ridiculous," said the aforementioned Daidouji Tomoyo, after her lunch had been disrupted by a boy who insisted that girl A loved him but was scared that he was dating girl B, and girl C was bring irritating. "Not one day when some person or another doesn't come up to me asking if I can please show them what's sitting in front of their faces. Honestly, don't you think I might have gone through the entire population? Twice? Except for you, of course."
Sakura giggled and squeezed Syaoran's arm. "Ne, Tomoyo, you say that every day. But you don't mean it, I know you don't."
"She enjoys it. And she would enjoy it even more if she could make everyone of those people embarrassed beyond their wildest dreams." Syaoran scowled after finishing.
"Give her a break, I doubt you would have ever confessed otherwise."
"Me had troubles confessing? Excuse me, I think someone else had troubles in that area."
"I did not!"
"Well, I seem to recall you not telling someone something until that someone was thought to be dead. Seems to me like someone needs to get a reality check…"
"Oh, take that back. You will take that back!" Sakura pushed Syaoran, and then shrieked as he pushed her back. Before long, it had escalated into a minor spat that wasn't in any way serious.
Tomoyo smiled, genuinely happy for her friends. Absolutely genuinely; she knew that Sakura was a thing of the past. But then… It was just…
Ikindawantsomeoneofmyown.
With a mumbled I have to go do something, she stood up, taking her trash to the nearest bin. She turned to walk back to the school, when she suddenly was ambushed by-
"Tomoyo, if you dare move, I shall be swamped."
"What?"
"See those vicious man-eaters standing under that tree?"
"You mean, see those gorgeous women who you've probably dated?"
"Not funny. I have not, and I certainly hope I never will."
"Oh, not your type? They certainly look attributed, dumb, and gorgeous to me." Tomoyo bit her lip, then gasped as she was spun around to meet a pair of sincere eyes.
"When will you get it into your thick head that plenty of people think you're gorgeous?"
Tomoyo shrugged off his hands, walking again towards the school. "Maybe when it becomes true?" Maybe when you notice?
"I can't believe it…my otomodachi, my genius, is actually a numbskull. Have I sucked all the smartness out of you?"
"Very funny, Eriol. You're smart on your own. I just study until my eyes slam shut in protest."
"One of these days, you'll realise that you are smart, funny, and gorgeous," Tomoyo held her breath, "to many people."
Tomoyo exhaled sharply, flinging her head down so that her hair partially covered her face. Just once, once, if he could say that he thought she was gorgeous, beautiful… Not other people, who cared about them? Just once, she wished that he thought of her as one of those things.
Hiiragizawa Eriol had surprised all of them as they really got to know him this second time back. Not as much a womaniser as a player, he proved himself to be deathly allergic to commitment. And one of those people who prefer people dumber than they were – for all his self-esteem talk, Tomoyo guessed that he needed to be told that he was Mr. Perfect Incarnate, not Clow Incarnate. His current record was a month, and Tomoyo guessed that was only because that girl had been a apprentice priestess. At a certain moon shrine. He still pined for her, she guessed. She had guessed a lot of things.
Just had never guessed that she would fall for him. So cliché.
"Tomoyo? Are you okay? Is your head spinning?"
Just another way that I'm fragile and need to be protected, why don't you. I don't need a brother. Tomoyo shook her head to clear the negative voices. "No, I'm fine. Just a crick in my neck. Are you going to the exam session last period?"
"Ah, you forget, Miss Tomoyo, that in my previous life I designed the structure for many of these so-called aptitude tests."
"…right. I can't make it either, wanted to make sure that you knew. Besides, I wouldn't want to have classes today. What on earth are you laughing at?"
"You."
"Oh, very nice. You know, I'm still waiting…"
"You could even assume that I would forget? Happy Birthday, dearest Tomoyo." He brought his head close to her ear, wrapping his arms around her.
Tomoyo's heart raced, and she wriggled her way out. "I have Art, you have a free. Ja, Eriol." She walked away briskly, turning her head only for the briefest of smiles.
oOo
By the time she saw him again it was last period. Music Elite. Six students out of a class of over twelve hundred. A mind-boggling group of extraordinary talented musicians.
Two were sick, one was visiting universities, and one was with her dying great-grandmother.
"Daidouji and Hiiragizawa, I have to run off copies. There are only a few minutes left in class anyway, so if you would just run through the Italian one last time, you can leave." The lady almost ran out of the room, as many teachers did when faced with untouchable talent that both of them possessed. Her voice was heavenly, and he…well, he played as if he invented the thing himself.
Tomoyo's protest was caught in her throat, one hand slightly outstretched. "But…sensei…I hate Italian…" Frustrated, she plopped down onto a chair, glaring at the page.
"Tomoyo, you can't go about avoiding all Italian arias, especially not at your level."
"What's wrong with French? The language of love…le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point. Pascal."
Eriol shook his head, but it was more to himself than anyone else. "Mesmerizing," he said lightly. "Now, about this Italian…let's start with the beginning, shall we? Repeat after me… Benedetto sia 'l giorno, et 'l mese, et l'anno."
"Gibberish." She leant forward, unaware of the neckline of her shirt.
"Nonsense, just sit up straight…that's better. Say it."
"Benedetto sia 'l giorno, et 'l mese, et l'anno."
"Exactly. Was that so difficult?"
"I hate languages."
"But don't you…?"
"I know English and French. I didn't learn either by choice, as I was five. I don't know Italian, and I don't want to learn."
"Well, I could give you the gift of Babel. Renders you fluent in any language."
"What are you waiting for?"
"It's cute to see you pout like a child."
"ERIOL!"
"Benedetto sia 'l giorno, et 'l mese, et l'anno."
"I am going to murder you."
"What?"
"Benedetto sia 'l giorno, et 'l mese, et l'anno!"
"Next line… et la stagione, e 'l tempo, et l'ora, e 'l punto."
"Et la stagione, e 'l tempo, et l'ora, e 'l punto."
"Very good! E 'l bel paese, e 'l loco ov'io fui giunto."
"When does it end? Fine… e 'l bel paese, e 'l loco ov'io fui giunto."
"Last line. Da'duo begli occhi che legato m'anno."
"Da'duo begli occhi che legato m'anno. What does all this mean? How do I know you aren't making me say something incredibly stupid?"
"It's Petrarch," Eriol explained, "the true founder of love poetry, in my mind. One day he caught sight of a lady by the name of Laura, and he fell deeply in love with her." He paused, taking a sip of water. "She was already married, you see, and for that reason she denied her feelings for him.
"Petrarcrh couldn't get her out of his mind, and he tried very hard to convince her to accept his overtures. She was stubborn, though, and insisted that she couldn't, possibly, because she'd already accepted another. He persisted, however, and wrote her the most beautiful sonnets in which he proclaimed his love for her."
"What happened?"
Eriol smiled. "She died, he wallowed in grief, the typical ending. She went from being an untouchable goddess to being an image of perfection in his poetry. You should really read his works in the original Italian—they're so perfect, it's gorgeous. This one is actually one of my favourites."
"Care to translate?"
Eriol put his glass down, his eyes piercing hers. "Oh blessed be the day, the month, the year, the season and the time, the hour, the instant, the gracious countryside, the place where I was struck by those two lovely eyes—" He was cut off when the school bells started their chime for the end of the day.
Tomoyo busied herself with picking up her books, not trusting her voice. As she reached the door, she turned back and said, in a voice somewhat higher and fainter than normal, "You're coming today, aren't you? I'll have Sata-san buzz you in." And then she turned and practically sprinted away.
oOo
"Welcome to Daidouji Manor. Visiting hours for school are only on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
Eriol punched the button, irritated. How many times had he visited before? "I'm here to talk to Tomoyo."
"Name, sir?"
"Hiiragizawa Eriol."
"One second…ah, I see that she has listed you. Please stand back from the gates…"
Shaking his head, he jogged the rest of the way down the moving sidewalk. Opening the patio door, he was about to launch into a small tirade when he stopped, transfixed.
Tomoyo was standing there, hands clasped, eyes closed, just beyond the glass doors. Her voice filtered through, surrounding him just enough so that he had to hold his breath to hear it. His eyes drifted shut, and he thought for a moment that he should ask her for a lullaby one night…
"Eriol, how long have you been standing there?!"
"Just a few seconds."
"How dare you?"
"Oh, I had a question for you."
"That's a poor attempt at changing the subject, you know."
"Well, it's true. I did have a question, and you zipped out so fast I never got a chance to ask your advice."
"What advice?" Eriol could have sworn that she was putting her music back almost forcedly.
"Well, you're known as the foremost authority on all things concerning le cœur. So I was going to ask you…what's the matter?" For Tomoyo's face had a look of utter shock.
"You, of all people!"
"Well, even professionals need to retune every now and then."
She smiled, but her eyes crinkled slightly at the edges. "Well, I can't deny mon ami advice. What?"
"I'm planning on creating the most romantic setting possible at my house, and I need some help…please?"
Tomoyo paused, staring at the piece of music in her hand, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Tomoyo?"
She slammed her case shut and spun around, her hair twisting around her body. "Okay, Eriol, I'll help you."
He smiled, and then took her hand. With a single deft motion, he pulled off her glove and placed it in her school jacket pocket, placing his bare hand in hers. Tomoyo gasped when her world seemed to swirl, focusing back on a large, marble room with elegant tapestries and almost floor to ceiling glass windows that were currently open, that would be closed by large brocade curtains.
"Now Sata will be summoning all the available security reserves on the island of Japan…warn me next time, Eriol." She quickly pulled out her cell phone and began typing away.
"Maybe. It's going to be in the second dinner hall."
"The second dinner hall? Who're you wooing, the Queen of England?"
"No, close though."
Tomoyo stopped, turning around. "Eriol, please tell me that you're not having Kaho-sensei over. Please." She knew it was brutal, but she also knew that this was the only way that she could get it out of him, even after all this while…
"Iie."
The single word shook her to the core, for in it there was a lifetime and a half of passion and sorrow. Shaking herself, she grabbed his arm lightly. "Come on, let's go. We don't have all day…you really should have asked me earlier. And given me some time to change out of my singing robes."
"They look nice."
"I look…misshapen in them."
"Tomoyo, you don't have enough body mass to look 'misshapen.' No, really, they look nice."
She blushed slightly, reassured. She was especially glad that she had thought to bring her overthrow: her teacher had somehow reassured her that wearing a strapless, a-line navy blue dress was a good idea in front of over 5,000 people. "Okay…how long has it been since you cleaned this place out?"
The two of them grimaced as weak light from the chandelier threw shadows on a dust-coated table with a few chairs. The floor was similarly attired, but Tomoyo guessed that once cleaned, it would look marvellous.
"I suppose I should clean it up a bit then…"
"I'll help."
Eriol simply raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, really?" he drawled, waving his hand. Almost immediately, everything was gleaming. "More?"
Tomoyo felt tears behind her eyelids and convinced herself it was just the dust. "It's fine, Eriol." She took a deep breath. This was ridiculous; she was helping her love (she flinched inwardly) woo another girl.
"I don't…"
"Look, do you trust my advice or not? It's fine, I said so." Her curt remark seemed to reverberate around the room, sharper with each echo.
Eriol looked mildly hurt. "What I meant was I don't want just fine. This girl is…well, she's beyond fine, to say the least. The room needs to be gorgeous. Perfect."
Tomoyo felt her heart shudder at the look on Eriol's face. For a split moment, there had been a look of such tenderness, such adoration…she suddenly felt like a rat. "Eriol, I…"
Eriol had turned away from her and was staring listlessly around the room. Turning his head back, he mouthed, "Please, Tomoyo."
Tomoyo shrugged a little. "That's better, but not quite. You need some red to balance it out…too bad there aren't any curtains like in the…oh, never mind." She turned around, weakly smiling, as a set of red curtains fluttered over the windows.
"My hand is at your command."
"Good. Well…I guess that I'd like some twirled ivy and roses. Maybe around the entire perimeter? I mean, call it or me cliché, but I-"
"Just love roses. I know, I know…" Tomoyo breath caught in her throat. He knew? "which girl doesn't?"
Tomoyo felt her heart shudder again and wondered, cynically, if it were possible to get a heart attack from idiocy. On one's own part.
Eriol, in the meanwhile, was still talking. "I think this girl does too…if she isn't allergic." He waved his hand, thoughtful. Luscious roses in full bloom appeared everywhere, yet the fragrance was light and not overbearing. He smiled, satisfied with his handiwork.
"No."
Eriol looked at back at her quickly. "What's wrong? Those are roses, right?"
Tomoyo took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "They're not the right shade. Not enough yellow."
Tomoyo felt herself grow irritatingly picky and didn't care. It was her birthday…but she'd be properly surprised tomorrow, Sunday, when she was thrown her 'surprise' birthday party by her house staff, and then she'd be understandingly supportive when her mother showed up on Wednesday.
However, for today she would never forgive herself if she didn't go all out for her best friend. This would be fantasyland once she was finished.
"Yellow? What're you talking about? They're red roses!"
"But they aren't the proper red. They need a smidgen of yellow."
He waved, and they became orange.
"No."
Again, and they became two-toned.
"No."
This time, they were a swirled red-yellow pattern.
"Headache-inducing no."
A rather nice red-orange was featured next.
"Nice, but no."
"Fine." He swatted at the air, turning all of them into a hideous dirty yellow. "Tomoyo, can't we just go with the original?"
"No. Definitely not; it doesn't match."
Tomoyo heard Eriol take a deep breath, and she was immediately caught between two opposite feelings: joy at being with him all this time, and jealousy that this person could hold his patience for this long.
Suddenly, he was hugging her from behind, his head on hers. Tomoyo jumped as he seemed to go limp.
"Eriol? Are you okay? Speak to me!"
His voice answered, dangerously close to her ear for the second time. "Do it yourself."
"Pardon me?"
"I'll channel my magic through you, so you can mix your roses with the right amount of yellow."
"Really?"
"Um, are you…comfortable? It's easier, for me at least, when I'm…closer…"
Tomoyo blinked hard just once. "It's fine," she said, her voice slightly airy. She cleared her throat and cast around for something to lighten the mood. "You know, Syaoran can channel from across-"
"Oh, hurry up."
Tomoyo smiled, resting back slightly. She waved her hands back and forth, amazed at the results. Wave, perfect roses that florists would kill for. Swish, white silk table covers woven without a single imperfection. Far too quickly, Tomoyo looked around at the transformed room. It was a pristine paradise, sparkling whites mixed with hints of red and forest green, and trailing streamers winding up and down every last pillar and leg. Tomoyo sighed, turning back slightly.
"Eriol. Eriol, wake up."
She felt him stir and then jump back, and she shivered slightly. It was slightly cold in here, she'd have to fix – Tomoyo stared at her hand for a moment when nothing happened.
Eriol chuckled. "I see you've become accustomed to having things happen for you. Trust me, it's a lot less glamourous than it seems." He waved, and the room heated up a tab to a comfortable level. The curtains admitted the light of the moon, a tad brighter than Tomoyo could ever remember it being…but her work was finished.
"Ja, Eriol. It's late, and if I don't get home soon I won't be leaving the house alone for months. Also, thank you for the birthday greetings." Tomoyo gave him one last smile and started opening the (very, very, very) heavy oak doors. Just as she could see a notch of light through it, a rush of cold air streamed through. "Ack, forgot. Eriol, could I please have my coat?"
He walked up to her, face totally blank. "It's warm, you won't need it."
"Eriol, it's slightly chilly outside. Besides, you know I'm not comfortable in something as…" she glanced down, pulling at her dress, "revealing as this."
"I think you look gorgeous."
Tomoyo froze, looking him straight in the eye. It had happened: not the dress, not every-bloody-one else…he had thought she looked nice. "Arigato, Eriol."
"Dance?"
The single word brought her back to earth. What was she doing, delaying him? "Eriol, you should be calling her. Does she live far from here?" She paused, then continued hesitantly, "Eriol…it is a she, right?" She was rewarded with laughter.
"Yes it's a she. And she's already coming…would you like to hear about her?"
Not a chance in hell. "Sure, won't she mind when she comes and sees you talking with me?"
He didn't even have the grace to fluster. "No, I think she knows that you're mon amie. Just one of things I love about her."
Tomoyo sat down at one of the chairs, knowing full well that she couldn't leave until she had listened to a blow-by-blow rendition of Mystery Girl's life story, starting with her birth and ending with what she had eaten for lunch. "Okay, I'm ready."
"She's really nice and popular-"
"-as are all the popular bimbos you date."
Eriol looked at her, wounded. "Tomoyo, could I just…finish for once, without your comments?"
Tomoyo looked down, contrite. "Gomen. Continue." She had meant to say please.
"And popular in that everyone loves her. Not as much as I do, I hope, but," he took a deep breath, as if a load had been lifted from his back. "She's, in a word, as close to perfect as anyone has ever achieved."
"I'll have to meet her sometime, then. I'm sorry, 'kaa-san is waiting for me at the dinner table already, and I'm slightly late." A little voice was whispering hope in her head…
"I'm telling you, she needs an esteem boost. Almost as much as you."
Tomoyo wanted to rip that smirk off his face.
"Maybe if you'd talk to her, get to know her…"
Tomoyo spun around. "As…me? I should meet her?"
Eriol seemed relieved that she had stopped moving away. "If you just knew her…"
"Why don't I already? I know everyone in school…who isn't one of your, um, pursuits."
"I didn't want you to get like this."
Tomoyo felt incredibly hurt. No matter how embarrassed he was, she had just spent an hour helping him on her birthday. Him, whom she considered her best friend. "Don't want me to get like what? Who is she? Hmm?"
"I don't want you angry, not now—hey!" A single picture soared out of his coat pocket, and he snatched futilely at the air, slightly panicked. "How did you…?"
Tomoyo caught it easily, almost as a reflex. "Maybe your magic is rubbing off on me, Eriol. Come on, it's not that big a deal. I'm your otomodachi, remember? I swear, I won't laugh…let's see, our mystery guest is…" she flipped the picture over and froze.
A picture of…
Her.
Tomoyo knew she should look up; ask him why he had a picture of her. At the very least, ask him why it was moving, but that was trivial.
She watched herself braid her hair; fingers moving nimbly as she finished one plait and started on the next. She looked as if nothing else mattered, just her hair. In the back of her mind, Tomoyo knew that this girl was her, but she just couldn't…the girl in the picture seemed to jump at something. She smiled and then reached out a hand with a hairbrush.
'Eriol', picture-her called, 'how long have you been standing there? Watching me braid all his hair?' There was a pause, and picture-her listened to something, and then she jumped down from the brick wall she was sitting on and made her way closer, until she took up most of the picture. Then it stopped.
Tomoyo stared at the wall, hearing him say something behind her that she didn't quite catch. Taking a deep breath, she turned back, cutting him off. "So, you have a picture of me." She formulated and abandoned a number of conversation tracks in her head, letting the conversation go where it wanted.
"Yes."
"What…what am I supposed to believe?"
Eriol walked closer, prying her fingers off the picture and holding it close to him. "I want you to believe that everyone thinks you the most gorgeous, the most beautiful, the most perfect person out there. When will you believe it, Tomoyo?"
"When you believe it."
A flash of realisation sped across his face for the briefest of seconds, but Tomoyo caught it all the same. Eriol took both her hands in his, looking in her eyes. "Tomoyo, I, personally, with all my heart, think that you are the most gorgeous person in possibly the entire world. I think you are beautiful in every way, smart, funny, witty and wise. You are the closest thing to perfection that I have ever seen."
Tomoyo wanted to say something, but the only thing that escaped her lips was, "Arigato."
Eriol laughed lightly. "Tomoyo, I love you. I've loved you for the longest time. Don't ask why, because I've scripted an entire speech and we don't have enough time to listen to it and eat. Although…do you…I mean, at times it appeared…as if…maybe I'm just being an idiot…"
Tomoyo felt a smile break out on her face, and she looked at Eriol. "You're wondering if I reciprocate?"
It would have been so easy to torture him further, she mused as she moved forward, wrapped her arms around neck, and covered his lips with her own, but there's so much time for that later…
--Finished--
"The heart has its reasons that logic cannot understand." - Pascal