Beyond Blood

Chapter 1

The door creaked opened as he took what felt like his first steps into the house. Savoring each moment like never before, he lightly closed the door.

A foreign feeling greeted him with each step further into the house. Walking aimlessly like a zombie, he kept his head down as his bangs partly covered his soulless brown eyes.

He glimpsed his father passing by wearing a striped blue and white apron. His joyful face ignited a rage he did not know he possessed. Water began to surround his squinted eyes. And quickly he looked everyplace else trying desperately not to let any emotions surface.

"Is your sister with you?"

His sullen face snapped towards the tall figure. Rage was beginning to build as he clenched his fists fighting the urge to punch the man that he calls father. However, feelings of sorrow and detachment began to sink in relaxing his body and mind.

He knew better than to allow such a question to stir up whatever was left inside of him. In a sense his father was no longer there. His actions were nothing more but those of a robot, predetermined and continuous. His thoughts were of only the past. And his joyful face and positive words were proof enough.

Disregarding the question, knowing too well that any truthful answer given will be ignored, he headed up the stairs.

He placed his hand on the doorknob to his room…he stopped…and turned to the door directly across the hall.

Sakura's room.

The closed wooden door served as a barrier, but knowing that he can easily break it was enough temptation. His slow steps felt like one quick motion. Instantly, he was standing in the now opened doorway to her room.

The familiar scent of Cherry Blossoms mixed with light hints of raspberry lingered in the atmosphere.

Carefully, he stepped onto the white carpeting, not wanting to move even one fiber out of place. The sun's blazing light shinned in giving the cozy room a heavenly feeling. Explaining why the girl that lived in here once gave off the presence of an angel.

He sat down on the soft spring bed hearing the well-known squeaky sounds. Gliding gently over the surface, he felt the cloud like fabric contrast to his rough hands.

He looked at her pillow, which to his dismay held no indication of her stay. It was as if her soul was never here to begin with.

Reluctantly, he laid back onto the bed wanting to feel closer to her. Yet he feared that his mere presence would change everything destroying what he had left. He knew how easily he could disrupt the perfection around him.

He opened his arms out from one end of the bed to the other, feeling the need to hug her once more. Missing how tight she used to squeeze him.

Water began to burn his eyes again, but this time it managed to break the invisible shield allowing a few drops to slide down.

His stretched arm reached under the pillow and hit something solid, something square.

Sitting up he pulled out the object staring at the brown leather cover with the golden edges. Stray papers were randomly sticking out, already crumpled by the light weight of the pillow.

It was nothing more than a plain book but as he looked at it, he could not help but feel there was more to what he was looking at. For it to be so close to someone, even as they slept, it must have some value, significance that one cannot see by simply looking at it.

Gently, he placed his fingers between some pages opening the book. The creasing sound told him that it has been some time since anyone has last opened it. When exposed all that was seen were blank pages waiting for someone to fill them. He flipped backwards towards the front of the book until he came upon a page that had writing.

April 16

I remember it so clearly. I remember everything so clearly. Touya and I would make plans for every Friday night to spend time together. Normally, we would go to the video store and rent three movies. One for him. One for me. And one that we both wanted to see. I had to sit through his movies and him through mine. It was like an unwritten rule the two of us had. A fair exchange since we always ended up liking the same movies anyway.

I miss that. The times when we used to laugh. I mean truly laugh. When I used to be happy to see him. When coming home from school was a treat because I knew that he was there waiting for me.

Yeah…I miss that.

But those were the good old days. The days before I became bitter and angry. Before all happiness slipped from my grasp and all I feel is guilt and depression. The days before he got a girlfriend.

I have become a person that I never imagined I could become. This morning I woke up and got dresses for school.

That's it.

No music…no smiles…no nothing. I've tried to brighten up my day. I know it isn't good to be so young and yet so old all at once. But I no longer care to hang out with friends or go to parties. And I've already learned that drinking away my problems would do no good.

I walked down to the breakfast table. Dad told me the day before that he was going to make me my favorite blueberry pancakes.

He's trying hard to make me into the person I once was. I know he can see the difference in me. When we talk I no longer argue nor do my eyes light up at the sight of him. I try hard…not to show him my pain, not to become a disappointment. But he knows. When I stare off into space with no expression…he knows what I'm thinking about. When I sit in front of the television forgetting to turn it on…he knows.

So I have made a promise to myself. I will always smile when I see him. Try not to let my mind wonder and just fake being happy.

I don't want him to worry about me. Especially, when we have bigger finical situations to worry about. My problems are insignificant and childish. But it hurts.

A light kiss on my forehand blasted me back to reality.

I didn't even realize that I was sitting at the kitchen table staring a hole into my pancakes.

I looked at my father.

He smiled and rubbed my head messing up my hair.

He knew what I was thinking about. He always does.

But I had to try. Maybe if I forged a smile he would think everything is ok. Maybe he would stop forcing his happy expressions in a useless effort to make me feel better. Maybe all one needs to do is smile a little and all sad, miserable feelings will wilt.

I took a deep breath.

Yes, this is what I will do. If I cannot be happy at least I can appear happy. I'll do anything to lessen his worries.

I took a fork filled of food trying to bring joy from any little happy sensation I got. Any little positive idea or sweet taste that came to me, I'd use it as an inspiration. Who knows, if I do this long enough I might just become a great actress one day. Then I might really have something to smile about.

I was doing great. Ten minutes passed and still no sign of a frown. That was until he entered the room.

He sat next to me like there was no problem. Well…in a way there wasn't really a problem. At least not one that he knew of.

The sent of his cologne made me want to barf. He piled stack after stack of pancakes onto his plate not even thinking about if dad had eaten.

"Morning Squirt."

He rubbed my head messing up my hair. What kind of insensitive jerk does that when I have to go to school? Really all he cares for is himself. I can't wait for the day he moves out.

I nodded purposely not saying a word to him. The less said the better.

"What time are you getting out today? If you want I can wait and give you a ride."

His nonchalant voice made me want to slap him. Not even an eagerness for me to say yes. Like my company is nothing more than that of the wind.

I continued to eat my food until I felt a hard nudge from besides me.

"Well squirt…when you getting out?"

I shrugged my shoulders resisting the urge to yell. Holding my tongue, knowing well that if any word was to come out my mouth my dad would punish me.

Feeling another nudge I dropped the fork which I considered to be a dangerous weapon in my hands and punched him with every bit of strength I had.

But as I suspected…to him my fists were feathers, not even being able to give off the threat I had intended.

He however, took that as a challenge and nudged me again, but this time with more force.

I didn't even look at him as I got up and went for my bag lying under the golden framed mirror. After securing the backpack to me I noticed my face.

My hair was a mess and I had forgotten to put on my lip gloss. But those little details were the least of my worries.

That frown. That horrid haunting frown that I tried so hard to banish from my face….it came back.

How?

How could this happen? I tried so hard to be happy, to be carefree. How in hell could this happen?

I turned towards the kitchen viewing my brother sitting there eating all traces of anything eatable.

My chest began to rise and fall at such a quick speed.

I can hear my own breath.

Water began to sting my eyes and piles of pent up anger were ready to fall.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

I saw my dad standing there looking at me. His concern was all that could be recognized through my anger.

He knew.

He always knew.

He slammed the book shut looking away. His hands gliding over the leather texture as he began to think.

'I hate him. I hate him so much.'

Those words, as if she had spoken them herself were echoing through his head. Not once did he ever think that she could hate him. They were too close to ever let a little thing like hate come between them.

He had to admit that in the recent months that went by, his feelings towards her resembled that of hate. They would no longer acknowledge the presence of each other. And speech was something that rarely happened between the two.

Their father, being the caring person that he is, tried his best to mend the broken relationship. Going from person to person, sending information of love and regret. But now it was clear that it was all false.

He looked down at the book. His eyes no longer possessed the loving caring side of him that was tortured by her absence. He was looking through new eyes. Eyes of resentment, hatred, and curiosity

These were her words, her private thoughts that he was reading.

He squeezed the book between his hands.

He was never a man to invade hers, or anyone else's privacy. He had opened it with intent to feel a lost connection, to be able to relate with her in a way that no other could. They were blood. Who knew her better than her big brother?

But when he reopened the leather cover, it was no longer for the purity of knowing his little sister. He did not care to feel any connection with someone that could hate him for no apparent reason.

He read to fuel his satisfaction. He wanted to prove to himself that his actions towards her in the recent months were justifiable. He was now collecting evidence to build his case against her. He needed to prove to everyone and mostly himself that he was not the reason why she could never come back. It was her own undoing that is making their father silently suffer.

That book was his key to winning the battle that lost him the war.

He opened the front cover of the book feeling the paper between his fingers.

In a split second he hesitated on whether it was worth it. To read what she thought of him…of everyone around her. But after coming to the conclusion that no emotion he read can hurt him more than that of hate, he easily read the front page.

September 10

I do not intend for this to be a diary, a journal, or a log. I will not fill it with meaningless rumors and gossip.

My father brought this book for me while he was out of town looking for a job. I tried to explain to him that I had many notebooks and needed not another one. But he wanted me to write down my thoughts and not equations.

I don't talk much about my personal feelings. I view them as my own burdens. But my dad thinks it is unhealthy for one to hold in such things. He feels that I have an inexcusable amount of stress for someone so young.

Personally, I don't see why he worries so. I am young, healthy, in college and happy.

I have just started my first year in the closest community college. It is not that I am not smart enough to go to a big time university, but I am not rich enough. My father has managed to put my brother through college but unfortunately for me I have no such luck.

My daddy is no longer employed. Over the summer his company laid him off without so much as a warning.

But things will look up. I can get a job and that combined with my brother's help, will ensure us a place to sleep and food to eat.

At least we have each other. In the end our love will only get stronger. But I do worry about my father much of the time. I've seen the dampened look he gets when picking up the mail. How he tosses the bills aside trying not to worry us with his problems.

He's a good man my father. And even through our hardships I know God still loves us. My mother is up there staring down at me with grandpa by her side.

They won't let anything bad happen to me…to us.

September 22

College is so much harder than I had expected. I am no longer being forced to show up for class, and the idea of skipping seems more appealing with each day that passes by.

At least I have made new friends.

When I got into class today I sat up in the front like I always do. I remember in high school I would try my best to sit in the back, but I figured that since I have to pay for this education, might as well get the most out of it.

I'm studying to be an engineer. My dad has been trying to get me into software, but I have a passion for the complexities of a schematic, and the challenge of bringing it to life. It is a passion my father could never understand and at times even I don't see the thrill in it. But I know the sensations in me when I have successfully designed and built a circuit that works. How my heart beats faster knowing that I can hear what's wrong with a circuit without laying eyes on it.

It is my passion, but also encumber. No boy wants to be with a girl that rather smell like solder than vanilla. A girl that takes no mind to her appearance but cares very much about resonate frequency.

But it is not like I'm unlike any other girl. I do dream about being hugged and kissed. I think about finding the right guy and one day getting married. I dream about one day being the princess of some guy's heart. Having him view me as the girl that I really am, and not the girl that I appear to be.

So of course when the teacher tells us to pair up no boy wants to be with me. I'm as plain as they come.

Tomoyo, the girl who is on the other end of my newly formed friendship, is the opposite of me. Although she may not know the basics of the trade or even understand binary, I sometimes wish to be her. She gets the attention from the opposite sex that I fail to acquire. She has a way with people that make it easy to talk to her. After one introduction she can immediately become your best friend for life.

She's really nice. Plus she's friends with Eriol. He's a guy in my class that I think is cute. I won't go so far as to say that I like him, but I still think he's cute.

To them I am a baby. I am only 17, while most of my friends range from 18 to 23. I am inexperienced in life, love, and probably anything else that started with an L. The good part is that they feel that it's their duty to tell me everything I don't know. Must be because it hasn't been long since they were in my shoes.

When I got home my dad was in the porch waiting for me. He viewed this time out of work as a blessing. He's usually too tired to even listen to our day, but now he waits just to see us smile. Him being home if anything, has brought me closer to him.

My brother is like a second father. He looks out for me and teaches me morals and life like a father would his daughter. It has gone so far that he would brag about me to his friends. Telling them about my latest accomplishments and comparing me to their little brothers and sisters.

He told us that they used to say he was lucky because he had a sister that didn't bother him, and because I liked to watch the football and basketball games with him. It's not everyday you get a sister like that.

I used to be extra proud that I was like no other little sister. I was not annoying and it was his option to spend time with me.

That to me was the most important thing. It is one thing if he felt obligated either by his own conscious or by my father to spend time with me. It was another if he willingly came home at night just so that he could talk to me. Hear about my day and tell me about his.

I did my fare share of bragging. I would tell all my classmates when growing up that I had the best brother. And after hearing stories of other families I've concluded that I in fact had the best brother.

Everything is going to work out ok with my father and brother by my side.

Speaking of my brother, I wonder where his is?

October 3

I've finally got the hang of things. College isn't really that bad. In between classes I go out with Tomoyo and Eriol to pick up something to eat. Since I understand everything in class, it's only natural that I help them out when they need help.

Tomoyo didn't come in on Thursday so it was only Eriol and I.

He was sitting to the desk trying to figure out problem 5. I noticed how his lips would slightly part when he couldn't understand a question. His dark blue, almost black hair shinned in the florescent lighting. The way he licked his lips every so often when he thought they were dry.

I know I must sound like a schoolgirl, but I can't help it. There is something about him that makes me want to be close to him. A weird feeling, yes I know but it's still something that I can't repress. I like spending time with him. He's funny, smart when he needs to be, and he loves to smile.

I figured since he's a happy person and I'm a happy person that we would be perfect for each other. But I know it would never happen. All thoughts of being with him crashed when I talked with Tomoyo on the phone earlier.

I was sitting in my room listening to music when I heard my cell phone ring. Normally I wouldn't have a cell phone, but my dad and I agreed that with me spending so much time in school, that I needed a way to contact him.

When I picked up the phone I heard Tomoyo's normal cheerful voice on the line.

"Sakura! You won't believe the new shoes I just brought! They are pink with straps that go up to your knees. It is so gorgeous, you have to come over and check em out."

I smiled at how a little thing like shoes can brighten up her day.

"Tomoyo, I don't even know why you're taking all those classes. You should try to design clothes. I've seen some of your drawings. They're amazing."

"I know."

Her voiced sounded lower on the other end. She never told me why she didn't go to the school of her choice. Or why she wasn't studying fashion. And I'm not the person to pry it out of her.

"You missed class AGAIN. How do you expect to pass when you don't even show up?"

"Don't worry," Her voice returned back to her cheerful tone, "I went over to Eriol's house earlier and copied his notes."

"You know you could've copied them from me if you wanted."

I was hoping that my voice didn't reveal what my mind was thinking. Thinking about Tomoyo alone with Eriol was not one of my best thoughts. True they are both my friends, but she's so much prettier than I am. If he ever did take a good look at her then there would be no hope for me.

"Yeah but he lives closer. Plus I got to see his girlfriend."

I felt a shiver through my body moving from head to toe.

"Girlfriend? I…didn't know he had a girlfriend?"

I tried desperately to sound calm. To sound like saying 'girlfriend' didn't hurt one bit. I couldn't let Tomoyo know that I had a mini crush on Eriol. We were friends. Things like attraction and feelings would only destroy that relationship.

"Yeah, Sakura she is so cute. Don't know how she could ever stand to be with the Beast."

The Beast was our little name for Eriol. We would joke about how Tomoyo was the Beauty and Eriol was the Beast. Of course my feelings were the exact opposite of my words, but I couldn't tell him. It was never like me to just openly come out and tell people how I felt. Whether it be good feelings or bad, I always held them in.

"Yeah…the Beast."

There was a silence that hung in the air. It was not that I was lost for words or failed to come up with a topic we could talk about, but…I feared that if I did open my mouth one more time I would give away what I was really thinking, what I was really feeling.

"Well, next time you need help just call. And don't forget about that movie we're going to."

We bid our goodbyes and hung up.

As happy as I was to hear Tomoyo's voice, I was just as happy to hear her hang up. We may have become instant friends over night, but I have yet to feel comfortable enough around her where silence was just enough. Our friendship was too novel to experience the awkward silence, minus the awkward.

I really only had that closeness to three people. Risa, my dad, and my best friend in the entire world…my brother.

I was supposed to go to the gym with him today. My brother has this thing about working out.

While he lifts the weights, I will be shooting around mostly missing every attempt at the hoop.

I remember some time last year when he took me to a new gym. He had to go through his daily workout routine leaving me alone in the gym throwing that orange ball into the net.

There were others shooting, practicing to become a better player.

When I shoot the ball I visualize myself in the fourth quarter of a game with fifteen seconds left on the clock and the other team is up 93 – 92. Although, it may not seem like much, in basketball fifteen seconds can translate to three or five minutes.

My teammate would inbound the ball to me frantically dashing onto the court. I would start dribbling, feeling the sweat roll down my wet face as I searched for the open player. I pass it back to my partner knowing he is the better shooter and run behind all the hysteria trying to free myself of the defensive player blocking me. On queue the center would move up setting a pick knocking down my adversary allowing me the open shot.

The ball whips through the air hitting my hands at a force I have to ignore as I jump up tossing the ball towards the net. Hearing the whistle blow in the background I watch the ball bounce from one side of the rim to the next until it tips over the edge and into the other players' possession.

I missed it. The shot that would have won the game. All hopes are gone as my body slumps and my eyes droop.

I lost the game.

But then the referee calls a foul on the player that hit my hand without my knowledge, sending me to the line to shoot my free throws.

The crowd goes silent and I can hear the sweat drip on the court floor as the men line up in two rows. Some bent over breathing heavy, others concentrating on the ball in my hands.

I dribble, bend my knees, bounce up and down stretching my hamstrings before extending my arms and hurling that ball into the air.

Nothing but net.

The fans go wild stamping their feet and cheering as they jump with excitement.

Then the ball is back in my hands and all is silenced. I hear the coughs of an elder man sitting in the balcony as he struggles to see with his poor vision.

I bounce the ball, straighten up, and extend my arms one last time. All eyes follow the path as it hits the back of the rim rolling around the edge before it falls between the net.

The game is over and the people rush to the court lifting me up on their shoulders as the music begins to play signaling our victory.

In reality the shot I attempted as those wonderful thoughts raced through my head bounced off the front of the rim being reflected to the other side of the court.

As I forget my moment of imaginary glory I run after the ball finding it in the hands of a stranger.

He passes it with more force than I have thought possible causing it to sting my hands on acceptance. Thinking myself proud that I must look strong enough to receive such a rough pass I smile and go back to my world.

However, later I found out my brother had yelled at the stranger for the aggressive pass. I smiled yet again upon hearing this news.

My gratefulness of being deemed worthy of such a pass was in no way measurable to the knowledge of how much my brother protected and watched over me.

I know that he will always be watching over me.

October 8

I was sitting in the living room watching television when my father entered the room.

My first thought was that I should be doing homework. I should be doing something that could show him why he was struggling to pay for my education.

I was nothing but a load for him to encumber through these hard times. I had no way of carrying my own weight. With school full time and the crazy schedule of my classes, there was no way I could get a decent job to hire me.

At least my brother was out of school. He always seems to be off at work trying to make more money to help support this family.

What would we do without him?

Sitting next to me he pretended to be interested in the program I was watching before deciding to open his mouth.

"Sakura, how are things going at school? I know this must be a big change from the normal high school setting."

The guilt of not holding a book sank into me, and now I wish that I had not only been holding two books but also doing some complicated math equations.

My initial thoughts of college had to be shoved to the part of my mind where nothing could escape.

How attractive I found Eriol was certainly not the subject to be aroused at the moment. The last thing I wanted was for my father to perceive that I only attended college for the opportunity to search for a future husband.

As a girl I try not to let my conversations, whether it be to family or to friends, revolve around the male species that inhabit this earth. What good can come from the discussion of how Joe Somebody greases his hair or how he fit into his jeans?

I had explained to him how the classes are in fact a bit more difficult than I had anticipated. But I had also slipped in the ease at which I was passing Algebra and Trig.

I had to make it sound as if I was not a complete idiot. That he was not wasting money and time by investing in my education. The books alone were enough to wipe out my bank account.

"It's just that since the semester has started, you seem so busy that I barely see you anymore."

This I could feel was going to be one of those touching talks that I will never forget. My dad had a way of sitting and talking. But it was what he said that affected me. During these discussions he would open up to me, telling me things that only another adult was privileged to hear. His heart needed to vent all its emotions somewhere. And I was always there to listen.

"Have you noticed that your brother has been acting different lately?"

My eyes stayed glued to the television although I had no knowledge of anything that appeared on the screen.

The fear of my brother's strange actions that I have missed began to worry me.

Was he sick?

Was he depressed?

Was he mad at me?

Is he not coming home?

What I ask, what is it that has caused a disturbance in his behavior?

As I tried not to think of the worst, more thoughts flooded my mind. Thoughts about my lack of observation.

I'm with him almost constantly yet I have failed to see what was so obvious to many. His pale skin, the dark circles around his eyes. The way he began to lose weight.

How could I fail as a sister? How could I be so caught up in my own pathetic life following after some guy that will never like me, and neglect to notice the main person in my life deteriorate right in front of my eyes?

"Your brother…he's been seeing a girl lately."

My father paused as if to rethink the words that he spoke to me.

"That's why he has been gone so much lately. And why he has been putting on cologne before he goes out. He met someone."

My eyes have somehow discarded the picture box sitting in front of me and was focused on the lines that surrounded my father's mouth.

Was that it?

Was it only a girl that had 'disturbed' my brother's behavior?

I could breathe easily, and sleep soundly knowing that I had not failed at being the sister that I have worked so hard and have been praised on being.

A girl, so what. He has had a girlfriend before……

I get it.

I get all of it.

Why my dad has found the need for this heart to heart talk.

Why the worry lines appeared around his mouth as he waited to hear my response.

I remember what happened before……his very first girlfriend.

Thinking this through, I decided to put on the smile that was not ready to come out. There was nothing to smile about. Nothing.

"You know your brother is a young man, and he needs to be with young women. We can't expect him to live like this forever."

Keeping the smile on my face I gave the reassurance that I know he wanted to hear. I told him how I understand that he was a "man" and that he would have to find a wife one day. And most importantly I told him that I accepted it and was happy for him. That I was growing up and that I was old enough to get all the points that he was making.

I in no way lied to my father during that talk. I DO understand that he is a man. I DO understand that like every other guy on this earth he has to date. And most importantly I DO accept it and I DO want to see him happy.

I always pictured him coming over to my house when we got older bring his wife and kids over to play with my kids and talk with my husband.

More than anyone, I just want to see him happy. And if a girl is going to make my brother happy then I will not be sour about it.

But I couldn't stop the memories of his past relationship from resurfacing. I couldn't shake the gut wrenching feeling that I will never have my brother again.

And only one thought kept lingering through my mind haunting me, making my jaw clench and my eyes sting with a question that has occurred once before.

How come he didn't tell me?

October 13

It was raining that day. As I walked through the puddles to get to the other end of campus my mind began to total the amount of tests I had that week.

Three.

One for Advanced Algebra and Trigonometry, another for Computer Programming, and the third for Digital Electronics.

With each step on the ground it felt like the wetness at the end of my jeans were rising until I would no longer be dry. My shoulders were wet and being weighed down by not only the books on my back, but the weariness and tension that knotted my muscles.

Equations and commands were whirling in my head as I made my way to the next class.

On my venture to class I had come across what seemed like the hugest puddle possible. Not only its depth, but the width was also a formidable opponent. There was no way of getting to my class without turning around or getting soaked.

Looking around I saw the muddy tracks that I knew I would fall in. Given no other option I took giant slow steps until I was successfully on the other side. It was at that moment that a strong wind blew almost knocking me back. Thanks to not only the weight of my body, but also the books on my back, I was able to overcome the blow. However, the cold wind combined with the soaked ends of my jeans and the lightly wet socks, made me shiver the rest of the way.

When I entered the computer lab I saw a familiar face smirking at me.

I had forgotten that the window of the lab was facing the main walkway. It did not once occur to me that he had seen the dilemma and was smirking at my damp hair falling in my face.

Sitting a seat away from him, I tried not to let his stares anger me. He so bluntly watched my actions as I took out my notebook and my textbooks.

I kept my head forward looking at the screen but not really knowing what was on it. Swallowing hard I moved the mouse taking away the screensaver and started my work.

I had more things to worry about than a chocolate haired boy that looks familiar.

By the end of the day I had spent a full twelve hours at school. Moving from one class to the other and staying after to do some volunteer work filled my time.

It was 8:30 P.M. and the sky was dark. The relentless rain only came down harder during the passing hours. I was stuck behind the glass watching as the rain slammed against the window.

"Hello this is Fujitaka Kinomoto. I'm not available at the moment. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Dad wasn't home.

I searched through my digital phone book trying to find the only other person that I know will be able to pick me up.

"What you want squirt?"

"Touya is dad with you?"

"No, why?"

"I tried calling home but no one answered. Can you pick me up?"

"Umm…hold on a second."

Hold on a second? I'm his little sister. It's dark and raining. Yes. That was all that needed to be said. Say yes Touya! Tell me that you are going to pick me up!

It was then that I knew the worst was not gone…it was coming.

I could hear him talking to a girl with a thick Southern American accent in the back. She had asked who it was calling him. He told her it was his little sister and if she would mind going on a ride to pick me up.

It was at that point that I had lost him. That I had lost the only brother that I would ever have.

When he got back on the phone I told him to wait. That I was going to try calling the house one more time before making him come.

After hanging up I had no choice but to step out in the darkness surrounded by nothing but the sounds of each drop hitting the pavement.

I had not even gotten off of school property when my phone rang again.

I yelled hello trying to speak over the rain.

"Did dad pick up?"

"No. I'm going to walk home."

"Wait, I'm coming to get you."

This was out of guilt. It had to be. If it was out of love he would have already been on his way.

"No, I'm almost home anyway."

I lied. I had just started this trip and it would take me half an hour to walk home.

While I was walking down a poorly lit street I saw a car pull up on the other side of the road.

My heart lightened thinking it was my father coming to get me. But the black painted car told me otherwise.

"You need a ride?"

The strong masculine voice broke through the echoing rain. Looking in the driver seat I noticed it was that chocolate haired boy that was staring at me earlier.

"Sakura! Sakura are you there?"

I had forgotten that Touya was on the line as I stared across the street.

"Yeah, I have to go…um…I got a ride."

"Oh, dad's there?"

"…a…I…a…I have to go…he's waiting."

I hung up the phone and rang across the street. Everything on me was soaked. My hair, my shoes, my bag.

Sitting on the dry interior I couldn't help but feel bad. And the awkwardness of not really knowing this guy was starting to set in.

After explaining to him where I lived, he started the car and began to drive.

It was silent. Even the radio wasn't playing. I held one hand with the other as I tried to make myself as small as possible.

Looking straight out the windshield I tried to think of something I could say. Something that would break this uneasy silence.

"It's Kinomoto right?"

I looked at him as he kept his eyes on the road. He was calm and relaxed. I had doubted if he had even asked me a question or if it was my own mind speaking to me.

"Yeah, but just call me Sakura."

He glanced at me giving me that smirk I saw earlier. Blinking my eyes I tried to figure out who he was and how he found out my name.

His chocolate bangs hung down in front of his face yet amazingly it did not block his view. Balls of amber occasionally looked at me, watching the quizzical expression on my face.

"We used to go to the same high school."

"Oh."

I put my eyes back on the road in time to direct him onto the right street and to my house.

I grabbed my wet bag lying by my feet and was about to unlock the door when I heard him speak.

"Li Syaoran, I'm guessing you forgot."

He unlocked the doors and I placed my feet right into another puddle.

"You always were forgetful."

Closing the door on pure reaction, his words didn't hit me until he was at the end of the street.

I stood watching the light white mist of rain bounce off of his car until he was out of sight. Ignoring the rain pounding on my shoulders and the puddle I was in, my mind could only focus on a few things.

Where are my keys?

He knows I'm forgetful?

Where's Touya?

That night lingered in him longer than he thought it should. If he had known there was no one to pick her up…

Without his knowledge, tears began to fall from his eyes hitting the book in his hands. Closing his brown orbs memories crept to the surface, thoughts that he tried hard to forget. Feelings that he had sworn to banish from his body.

The night that haunted him to this day, the one that took her away from him. It was so similar to what she wrote.

He could have lost her sooner. That could have been the night she……but it wasn't. For some deranged reason she had managed to make it home only for their relationship to fall apart.

In the back of his mind he knew the anger between them would by no means last. He knew that one day they would look back on this rough patch of their lives and admit to their immature behaviors.

He opened his eyes, shaking his head. Getting up, dropping the book on the floor as he ran into the hallway holding his head leaning against the wall.

He couldn't hold it in any longer. He was crying…crying because of the guilt that she put on him…because of the anger he felt towards her…for even feeling anger at a time like this.

"Touya!"

Hearing the footsteps thumping up the stairs, he wiped his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

His father, somewhat perplexed, looked at his son and then to the open door leading to Sakura's room.

"I…I have to go out son. If she calls…tell her she's late for dinner…but she can still come home."

He turned around heading back down the stairs and out of the house.

After hearing the closure of the door Touya burst.

"If she calls! Damnit if she calls?!"

He punched the wall cracking the plaster as he yelled down the steps.

Falling to the floor leaning his back up against the wall he laid his head on the cold vertical surface.

"She'll never call dad," shoulders shaking from his weeping body, "she'll never call."

So, be honest. I would really like to know what you guys think about this. I know I wasn't going to start a new story but, guess I can't help it. Comments are deeply appreciated.