Seeds of Gentleness
Daidouji Tomoyo neatly pulled the ribbon loose from the bow, removed it
from the package, and applied her short nails to the tape on the brightly
colored wrapping paper.
"Just rip it off," Sakura suggested. "You're taking too long."
"It's not as if you're going to be able to reuse it," Chiharu agreed.
"She might, if it were for a *small* package," Rika contradicted.
"I'm opening it," Tomoyo protested, unfolding one end of the wrapping
paper and pushing on the box from the other end. She flattened the paper,
set it aside on the pile of other discarded wrappings, and only then
lifted the top off of the box.
"Thank you!" she smiled at Chiharu. "It's really... unique!" She
carefully picked up the large stuffed tarantula, admiring it from all
angles, before setting it on the floor beside her foot.
"Chiharu-chan, you're weird," Naoko hissed to the orange-haired girl.
"Well, what did *you* get her? Tomoyo-chan's hard to shop for."
The girl in question was politely assaulting another present. Some
moments later, she removed the stationary set from its cocoon and smiled
at Naoko. "I will be sure to use this every day. Thank you!"
"You're welcome."
"Actually, I think Rika-chan's has been the best so far," Chiharu
remarked, looking at the packet of high-quality videotapes and the Middy
The Girl idol card where they were piled neatly next to the rest of the
opened presents.
Sakura winced slightly.
The birthday guests were sitting more or less in three groups; not from
any conscious desire not to mingle (for the most part), but because they
had naturally seemed to fall into such. In one group, Sakura, Chiharu,
Rika, and Naoko; Tomoyo's friends from her class. In another, the two
friends from choir: Aya and Narumi. And in yet a third, the brand-new
transfer student, whom Tomoyo had asked at the last minute.
"Are any of these from your mother?" Meiling asked curiously.
"No... she gives me those at the Amamiya family birthday party, along
with my cousins. That's tonight."
Sakura looked at Meiling, wondering if the question had been an offer of
friendship.
Meiling sniffed and ostentatiously looked away.
Apparently not.
Sakura had approved of the idea of inviting the Chinese girl when Tomoyo
had first broached it -- she herself would not have liked to be a
transfer student in a strange country where she had not yet made friends
-- but throughout the party, she had been more and more convinced that it
had been a mistake. Aya-chan and Narumi-sempai at least had mingled with
them, laughingly taking turns at the mini-golf course, sharing bits and
pieces of the meals ordered from the American restaurant, throwing the
balls in the ball pit at each other. Why had Meiling come, if all she
meant to do was sit aside sulkily and now and then make officious
comments?
Chiharu handed Tomoyo another present, unsuccessfully trying to hold
back a smile.
Tomoyo pried the envelope loose, ripped it open as neatly as she might,
and looked at the humorous card. "From Yamazaki-kun and Li-kun."
"Ehh?" Meiling yelped. "Why is Hsiao-lang giving you a present?"
Chiharu's smile turned into a giggle. "It's... it's Yamazaki-kun's
fault," she managed. "He was c-caught in his own trap..."
The Chinese girl looked at her suspiciously.
Chiharu pulled herself together and began explaining. "Yamazaki-kun told
Li-kun that in Japan, you have to give a birthday present to each of your
classmates."
"Do you?"
"No, of course not," Naoko interjected. "Yamazaki-kun likes to give
false explanations and trick people."
"Don't believe a word he says," Chiharu agreed. "Anyway, so Li-kun asked
him what he was getting Tomoyo-chan."
Narumi giggled.
"So Yamazaki-kun made up an answer on the spot, and Li-kun... Li-kun...
"
"Li-kun," Naoko interrupted, smiling almost as broadly as Chiharu,
"asked if he could please go shares in it."
"And so," Chiharu finished with great satisfaction, "Yamazaki-kun and
Li-kun went out and bought you this. Open it!"
Tomoyo duly opened the present, which proved to be a 28-cm posable doll
with hair almost the color of Sakura's. The quiet girl's hands twitched
in a way which Sakura found somehow... disturbing... before placing its
box next to Aya's miniature eyeshadow and blush, in order for the doll to
stand guard over the rest of the presents.
The next to be opened was Narumi's, a paperback copy of *Madogiwa no
Totto-chan*.
Naoko started counting. "One from Li-kun and Yamazaki-kun, by way of
Chiharu-chan. One from Meiling-chan."
Sakura's eyes flicked to the beautiful fan, decorated with the legend
"Caring" elegantly calligraphed on it and with silk tassels that were a
little too brownish to be the color of Tomoyo-chan's hair.
"One from Ken-ken-san. Is she happy, off in Germany?"
"Oh, yes," Tomoyo smiled, thinking of her ex-sitter. "She's written me a
few times; she's made some good friends, and she's studying music, the
way she always wanted to."
"And she wrote you a *song*," Sakura said, not for the first time.
"After all the presents are opened, you should sing it for us."
"You should," Chiharu agreed. "Since she sent you a tape of the
background music and everything."
"One from Aya-chan. One from Narumi-sempai. One from Rika-chan. One from
Chiharu-chan. One from me. One from Sakura-chan."
"I'm going to open Sakura-chan's present last," Tomoyo said, smiling
sweetly.
"So... whom did the one you're going to open next come from?"
"That big one," Sakura clarified for the benefit of Narumi, Aya, and
Rika, who had arrived after she had.
"It's just in a cardboard shipping box," Meiling said critically.
"Maybe a wrapped one is inside the box," Rika speculated mildly.
"Who sent it?" Naoko paid no attention to such digressions.
Tomoyo smiled again, and if her smile at the thought of Sakura's present
had been a lit candelabrum, this was a bonfire. "Toochan."
Her four guests fell over in shock.
"Y - your *father*, Tomoyo-chan?" Sakura was the first to find her
voice.
"It arrived on time this year," Tomoyo said.
"Where does your father live, Tomoyo-chan?" Chiharu asked.
"Buenos Aires."
"Bu-e-whichwhat?"
"It's in Argentina."
"South America," Rika said wisely. "Is the mail service slow from
there?"
"Very slow," Tomoyo verified. "Sometimes they arrive a month late. This
is the first one to come in time for my birthday."
"You should open *it* last, Tomoyo-chan," Sakura said firmly.
"Really?"
All seven of Tomoyo's guests nodded.
Tomoyo hesitated, then reached for Sakura's present.
She took even more care with it than she had with the others (if
possible), at last removing a stuffed bear. It would have been a simple
yellow teddy bear in a T shirt fashionably emblazoned with an English
phrase, if not for the piece of white felt sewed slightly crookedly to
its back, suggesting wings.
"I sewed the wings on myself, so they're not too good..." Sakura said, a
little nervously.
"It's *cute*," Chiharu remarked. "What's that on its shirt?"
"'#1 Stud,' whatever that means," said Rika, who was closer to the
birthday girl.
"A... um... friend said it was the perfect label," Sakura added.
"It would be nice if there were a Sakura-chan stuffed animal to match
it... " Tomoyo said, speculatively.
Sakura laughed nervously.
"And now... " Narumi said, gesturing grandly to the last present.
Tomoyo lifted it into her lap and began picking at the tape. The tape,
as is the way of packing tape, refused to cooperate.
One of the often-present Kuromegane Kunoichi, in their trademark black
suit and sunglasses, materialized from some door and set a pair of
kitchen scissors in the girl's hand.
"Thank you, Miss Bertram," Tomoyo told her before opening the scissors
and neatly slicing the box flaps open.
She then pulled out a mass of wood shavings, setting them aside next to
the wrapping paper before removing a tall box wrapped in eye-piercingly
bright paper. Tucked underneath its ribbon was an unsealed envelope, from
which she removed a card and opened it.
"What does it say?" Chiharu, Aya, and Naoko asked in ragged unison.
"'Zenryaku,'" Tomoyo replied. "'From what you said in your Children's
Day letter, I thought you might like this. I hope you are doing well in
your studies. Keep in mind that some of your friends probably don't come
from families as wealthy as yours, but don't talk about it, because it
would just make them feel bad. Be a good girl and don't do anything too
dangerous. Soosoo, Toochan; to Tomoyo-chan.'"
Chiharu and Sakura exchanged a speaking look.
Tomoyo put the card with its fellows, slowly removed the ribbon, and
then began to neatly remove the wrapping paper, pausing only to pick a
stray piece of excelsior off.
"*Rip* it," Aya begged.
"Please," Rika added.
But Tomoyo didn't.
She used the scissors again to open the box underneath, reached in, and
pulled out --
Another handful of sweet-smelling wood shavings.
And another.
"What *is* it?" Naoko wondered.
And then Tomoyo removed the Hat.
It was made of straw.
It was tall.
Not that the height depended on the *straw*, of course.
For the Hat was simply *piled* with artificial fruit.
"Now there's something," another of the Kuromegane Kunoichi remarked, "I
haven't seen in a *long* time."
Tomoyo and Sakura looked at her curiously -- she was older than the
general run of the Daidouji family's bodyguards, being perhaps Sakura's
father's age or a little older.
"Roumajo is sick this week," Miss Bertram explained, "and her aunt, Mrs.
Hanashi, is filling in for her."
"It's a Carmen Miranda hat," Mrs. Hanashi declared.
"What's a carmenmiranda?" Tomoyo asked politely.
"Not what -- who. She was a singer."
The two kunoichi bowed their way out as their young mistress turned the
Hat over in her hands, face serious. Then she smiled.
"This Hat will look wonderful on Sakura-chan!"
Sakura winced.
The girl who'd looked after Tomoyo on occasion before leaving for
college in Germany (she'd been from a wealthy enough family herself, as
these things went; Daidouji Sonomi wasn't the sort to trust anyone whose
parents she didn't know with *her* little girl) had self-denigratingly
written 'My voice sounds like a sick frog, but I'm including a tape of
Annette and a few others singing the song the way it's *supposed* to
sound, and another of the background music so that you can karaoke to it.
Have fun!'
Tomoyo, declining to sing her lovely birthday song without *any*
practice beforehand, had played the tape of the music students singing.
"She sounds like you, Tomoyo-chan," Rika remarked.
"Except where she pronounces words wrong," Chiharu pointed out.
"Well, Annette-san is German, right? She can't be expected to speak
Japanese perfectly," Naoko rationalized.
"Annette's not a German name. It's French," Chiharu contradicted.
"French, German, same difference."
"The French and Germans might disagree," Rika suggested.
"Annette-san's probably studying at the college, the same way
Ken-ken-san is," Chiharu decided.
"Shush!" Sakura told them. "Don't interrupt Tomoyo-chan's song."
They obediently shushed.
The last notes of the song died away.
"It sounded like you," Sakura said.
"We've been over that," Chiharu said irritably.
"No, I don't mean that Annette-san sounds like Tomoyo-chan. I mean that
the *song* sounded like Tomoyo-chan."
"Even the title," Rika agreed.
"Seed of Gentleness," Sakura agreed in turn. "Tomoyo-chan is a very
gentle person."
Tomoyo blinked at Sakura. "You think so?"
"You should show that to the choir teacher," Narumi said. "Maybe we
could sing it."
"Please do," Aya added. "It's really nice."
"Well... I'll think about it."
Narumi, being the closest, hit the rewind button.
"So, did you like Ken-ken-san's or your father's present better?"
Meiling asked.
"Meiling-CHAN!" Sakura gasped.
"Well... to tell the truth... I think *Sakura-chan's* present was very
nice!"
"Um, thank you," Sakura said.
Mrs. Hanashi stuck her head in the door, bowed, and said, "Pardon me,
but Mrs. Hirano is here to pick up her daughter... "
"That's my mother," Narumi said. "I'm afraid I have to go. Thank you for
inviting me to your party, Tomoyo-chan. I really enjoyed it!"
"Thank you for coming, Narumi-sempai!" Tomoyo replied.
"Don't forget your coupon!" Chiharu said.
"I've got it right here," Narumi said, patting the pocket in which she
had placed the coupon for a free game of mini-golf, which she had won
when returning her ball.
The group of girls moved en masse to the door, chattering about this and
that, with Li Mei-ling trailing behind. Narumi waved before following her
mother down the front walk to the car.
"I really ought to be going, too," Chiharu said. "It's getting late, and
it's sort of dark out."
"I'll go with you," Naoko offered. "It's on the way."
"Here," Tomoyo said. "Miss Bertram will drive you. Would you like to
ride with them, Aya-chan?"
"Let me just call my parents and let them know," Aya said.
A third kunoichi handed her a telephone, bowing politely.
Rika's parents showed up while Aya was on the phone, collected their
daughter, and left amid thank-yous and mata-ashitas.
And then the car departed and it was just Tomoyo, Sakura, and Meiling.
"Thank you for coming to my party," Tomoyo told the other dark-haired
girl.
Meiling snorted. "I just wanted to keep an eye on HER." She jerked a
hand in Sakura's direction. "I still can't believe a girl like that is
the Card Captor."
"Well, regardless of your reasons," Tomoyo smiled, "thank you anyway,
especially for the beautiful fan."
"I have a bunch." After a pause, Meiling unbent enough to say, "That one
reminded me of you."
"*Thank* you," Tomoyo repeated. "And please thank Li-kun for the doll.
It will be just the thing for trying out those costumes which I will make
Sakura-chan when she is older!"
Sakura was still trying to work out whether she should be relieved or
not when Wei arrived to escort the newest transfer student home.
"Meiling-chan," Sakura said after she left, "is a little rude... isn't
she?"
"Yes, a little," Tomoyo agreed. "But she is new here. Maybe she's being
rude because she's nervous. Or scared."
"What's there to be scared of?" Sakura said. "We're very nice people. We
don't bite."
"But I would think a whole new country would be scary," Tomoyo
contradicted, "no matter how nice the people were."
"Do you think your father was scared to go all the way to Argentina?
Isn't he lonely there?"
"Probably." She thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure he's nervous
about writing to me."
"Why should he be nervous? Does he think you won't miss him or
something?"
Tomoyo sat on a bench conveniently placed in the foyer. "He's been there
since before I was born, so I'm not quite sure if I miss him or not. It's
a little hard to miss something you've never had."
Sakura blinked. "Doesn't your mother miss him?" Then she clapped two
hands to her mouth. "Tomoyo-chan, are... are your parents divorced?"
"Oh, no, they were never married."
The other girl stared at her friend for a moment before dropping onto
the bench on the opposite side of the hall. "Hoe?"
"Toochan offered to marry her," Tomoyo continued matter-of-factly, "when
he knew I was going to be born. But Okaasama said that unless she would
have had problems with money, just because she was going to have a baby
wasn't a very good reason to get married, and that she didn't
particularly want to spend the rest of her life with him. So she gave him
a job at her company instead, and he did well enough that now he runs the
Buenos Aires branch of Okaasama's company."
"So... he's never even SEEN you?" Sakura's mouth worked, appalled.
"We send him pictures of me, and I visit my grandparents -- his parents
-- every so often. I went to see them this summer, as a matter of fact.
They're very nice people; they'd spoil me if they had the money to do it
with."
"Your grandparents don't have much money?"
"Well, they have a little, and Toochan sends them some of his money so
they can have a few nice things. But they always think of fun things to
do, and Ojiisan built me the nicest shelves and cupboard to put my stuff
in when I visit them. And Obaasan knows more ways to make tofu taste
different than anyone I know of."
"But your father's never seen you," Sakura brought the conversation back
around to what was, for her, the main point. "That's awful."
"He writes me for New Year's and my birthday and Children's Day and
O-Bon and the Doll Festival and Christmas," Tomoyo said. "And I write him
back. But... " she shrugged her shoulders, slightly, expression a little
sad... "he doesn't quite know what to say to me, and I don't quite know
what to say to him, and we end up writing rather formal letters that
don't say much."
"That's *terrible*," Sakura repeated. "You ought to feel close to your
father."
"I tried," Tomoyo said, a little sadly. "I looked at the awards he won
in grade school and his school projects. I look at the presents he's sent
me and the pictures I have of him. But... "
"No, it ought to be something else," Sakura said. "I'll think of
something."
"I'm sure you will."
"Your mother is going directly to the Amamiya party," Mrs. Hanashi said.
Sakura started -- she hadn't noticed the older woman come out or go in,
and wondered if she had been in the hall all the time. "If you go over
now, I'm sure one of the others could stay with Sakura-san, or we could
swing by and drop her off..."
"No, no, it's fine," Tomoyo told her. "I'll wait with Sakura-chan."
"I'll just let your mother know you might be late, then."
"Sakura," Tomoyo said speculatively, "what are your feelings about white
leather and pink lace?"
"Together?" Sakura said nervously.
"I'm sorry," Touya said for the third time, looking rather frazzled.
"What happened?" Tomoyo asked as Sakura pulled her other wrist guard on.
"Um..." he blushed. "I sort of broke Yuki's toilet, so I had to fix it."
"Oniichan!" Sakura squawked, slipping her feet into her roller skates
and bending over to fasten them. "How do you manage to break a *toilet*?"
"Well, the arm thing in the tank snapped."
"What arm thing?"
"I'll show you on ours when we get home," her elder brother offered.
"No, no, no," Sakura said hastily, "that's fine, thanks."
"Well, we'd better hurry. Did you thank Tomoyo for... "
"Yes, yes," Sakura told him, rising to her feet and beginning to skate
off. "I'm sorry for keeping you from your family party! Mata ashita! I'll
have thought of something by then!"
"Goodbye, Sakura-chan!" Tomoyo called in response, waving from the door
as her friend set off, skating vigorously in order to catch up to Touya
on his bike.
Kinomoto Fujitaka had not been quite as annoyed at his two children for
coming home late as he might have been; Touya had called him before
finally leaving to collect Sakura --
"Why didn't you call us?" Sakura asked.
"I don't have Tomoyo-chan's telephone number memorized, Monster."
"I am *not* a Monster!"
-- and Tomoyo had thought to call him with the limousine telephone to
reassure him that Sakura and Touya had left her house and were on their
way home.
He had, however, had dinner without them, which meant that Touya had to
make himself soup, and Sakura had to think of some other way to acquire
Kero-chan's supper.
"What are you doing in the kitchen?"
"I'm thirsty, Oniichan."
"Well, don't stand with the door open."
"I'm not sure what I want to drink..."
"Close the door until you are sure, then."
"Um... " Sakura said, closing the door. "What would you do if you wanted
to feel close to someone far away?"
"Call them," Touya suggested, stirring his soup.
"Tomoyo's father lives in Argentina. Wouldn't day and night be the other
way around there or something?"
"Argentina?" Fujitaka said from the living room, where he was watching a
program about the Russia of Ivan Grosny. "That's very far away."
"Yes, it is," Sakura said, weighing the merits of apples and cold
leftover chow mein. "What do you do when you feel separate from someone?"
"I look at things that remind me of them," her father said mildly. "When
I miss your mother, I look at the things we bought to use together, and
the things which she gave me, and the things which I gave her. And I feel
her presence."
"This house likes Mother," Touya said, carrying his soup to the table.
"It *wants* her presence to remain."
Sakura opened the refrigerator and hastily stuffed an apple and the
foil-wrapped remnants of chicken into her pocket before pouring herself
some fruit juice.
"Man!" Kero-chan said when she had finally made her way up to her
bedroom, guiltily conscious of the food burning a hole in her pocket.
"What kept you?"
"I'm sorry," Sakura apologized, setting her backpack down. "Oniichan was
late picking me up.
"Here's your supper... "
"That's not my favorite kind of apple," Kero-chan complained. "I like
the big red ones."
The girl rolled her eyes. "This is what we had. And anyway," she bent
down and opened her backpack, "for dessert, Tomoyo-chan sent you a piece
of her birthday cake."
"What flavor is it?" he asked as Sakura took out the pink-ribbon-wrapped
box.
"Lemon poppyseed. It came in a ring with ridges, and it was iced instead
of frosted."
"Oh, hey!" Kero-chan said, taking a bite of apple. "Mph... gglm...that's
my sixth favorite!"
"Hoe...?"
When Kero-chan had eaten his apple, eaten his chicken, and nearly
polished off his cake slice, Sakura brought up the subject of Tomoyo and
her father.
"A parent and child parted for long years before they can rejoin each
other!" Kero-chan declaimed, holding the last bite of cake aloft on his
fork. "That's very sad."
"Yes, but I wanted some helpful suggestions," Sakura pointed out,
flopping across her bed, as her partner swallowed the cake. "'Very sad'
isn't very helpful."
"It reminds me," Kero-chan continued, apparently oblivious, "of what
Clow Reed said about when he went to school."
Sakura blinked. "What's sad about going to school? You're home again in
the afternoon."
"Not if you're English, you're not," Kero-chan contradicted. "At least
not if you're from a family with money, like Clow Reed was. He went to a
boarding school in England, and he was the only boy in his year who
looked Chinese or East Asian at all, and he was just miserable."
"Hoe?"
"Well, if you were in a foreign school, studying in a language which you
weren't used to reading or writing, only able to come home for vacations
-- during which you would spend all your time being tutored in the
literature and culture of your mother's people, AND magic -- you wouldn't
be too happy, would you?"
"Probably not... " Sakura said tentatively.
"He said that one of the few things that made him feel better was to
look at the beautiful poem tablet which his mother had had made for him;
it was his favorite poem, and it looked almost exactly like the tablet of
that poem that his mother had. So he could look at his and feel close to
her, knowing that she could look at hers and feel close to him... "
Sakura jumped up. "Kero-chan, you're a GENIUS!"
"Of course I am," the Card-Sealing Beast smirked. Then he paused. "Which
particularly brilliant act of mine do you have in mind now?"
But Sakura was no longer paying attention to him.
Kinomoto Sakura, as was her wont, slid into class barely before the
starting bell rang; which meant that she had no time to say anything to
Tomoyo other than "I've got it!" before she had to pay attention to the
minutiae with which the Board of Education saw fit to stuff the heads of
fourth grade students.
Classes seemed to drag on for an eternity, until Sakura thought that
someday, when they finally ended, she would be as old as the old man she
had met on her summer vacation and far more feeble.
But recess rolled around several lifetimes later, and she was finally
able to pour out to Tomoyo the idea that had come upon her in all its
glory.
"What you do," Sakura told her older friend authoritatively, "is get him
a present... but not just ANY present."
"Oh?"
"You get a *matched set* of something, you see. Then you keep one of
them, Tomoyo-chan, and send your father the other. That way, you can look
at yours and know that he has one to look at and think of you, and he can
look at his and know that you have one to look at and think of him
thinking of you, I think... um... where was I again?"
Daidouji Tomoyo smiled radiantly. "I understand absolutely, and I think
it's a *wonderful* idea! Thank you! Sakura-chan comes up with such good
plans."
"Uh," Sakura said, laughing nervously, "actually I got the idea from
something Kero-chan said... "
"Then thank him for me, too," the other girl said. "But what should I
get?"
"Um, well, I haven't *quite* worked that part out yet."
Tomoyo smiled comfortingly. "Well, it had better be something that we
can mail easily."
"I suppose armchairs are way out, then."
The two girls giggled.
Sakura was so occupied with the problem of What Tomoyo Should Get that
she forgot to notice Meiling's inexplicable coldness to her (thus causing
the Chinese girl to be annoyed no end), Terada-sensei's explanation of
improper fractions (thus causing her father to have to explain it to her
that night for her homework), and the position of her baton relative to
the earth and to herself (thus causing it to clonk her rather painfully
on the head).
Regretfully, all this cogitation did not do much except to produce the
aforementioned results and rule out a great many possible presents.
"Sa-ku-ra-cha-n!" Chiharu waved a hand in front of the bronze-haired
girl's face.
"Oh, Chiharu-chan, I'm sorry!" Sakura said. "What is it?"
"I said that I'm busy this afternoon, but would you like to go to Twin
Bells with me tomorrow and look for some new stuffed animals?"
"Well -- " Her eyes widened. "Yes, I would! Thank you for asking me!"
"Tomoyo-chan," Sakura told her best friend after the last bell of the
day had rung, "let's look in Twin Bells."
"I like Twin Bells," Tomoyo agreed. Her voice turned reflective. "But
I'm not sure that it's a Toochan kind of store."
"I meant," Sakura said, "let's look there first. Who knows? We might
find something."
The walk to the toy store was pleasant enough, being short on a day with
bright blue sky and puffy white clouds drifting carelessly from one
horizon to another. Many of the places they passed held memories of one
sort or another, whether it was a place where she and Tomoyo had rested
and eaten taiyaki that first summer, a place where they had thrown grapes
at Chiharu and the more energetic girl had tried to catch them in her
mouth, or a place where Sakura had faced down and sealed a Clow Card.
Some high school kids were sitting on the steps of a building, or
twisting to the tinny cheap-stereo-reproduced sound of Okui Masami's
voice. Here and there faint streaks of gold could be seen amid the green
tree leaves. A man in a business suit whistled an originally-enka tune in
a brisk, major key.
"Don't you wish every day could be like today?" Sakura asked
expansively.
"I don't know," Tomoyo said, mulling it over. "We might grow very tired
of it."
"We want to get two matching things," Tomoyo explained to the
proprietress of Twin Bells. "I shall send one to my father and keep the
other myself. Soft would probably be better than hard, I think, since it
has to travel a long way."
"Well," Maki-san said, nonplussed. "I don't really know... it's been a
while since I've had *sets* of stuffed animals, if that was the sort of
thing you were thinking of... or perhaps -- *perhaps*... "
"What perhaps?" Sakura asked, ungrammatically but clearly.
"I recently bought a few boxes of older toys from a store near Shibuya,"
the woman explained. "It was going out of business, and they were selling
off all the things they hadn't been able to sell themselves. You *might*
be able to find something in there, and if you did, it wouldn't cost as
much."
"That seems to be a good idea," Tomoyo said. "May we please look through
them?"
"Certainly," the shopkeeper said. "They are in the back; please follow
me."
The two fourth-graders trailed after her into a large whitewashed room.
Three cardboard boxes sat against the left-hand wall.
"There," Maki-san said, indicating the boxes. "They are not taped down,
so it should be easy to open them up. I need to go back to the front of
the store; call me if you need anything."
As soon as she had left, the two girls began rooting through the boxes
with might and main. There were model cars, which Tomoyo rejected out of
hand. There were science kits, which met similar treatment. There were
Rubik puzzles of several varieties, which were set aside as 'possibles.'
There were resin models of several animated figures, of which the girls
could only recognize that guy from Dragonball and Sailorneptune. There
was a 28-cm doll which Sakura claimed was Musashi from Pocket Monsters in
a costume, and Tomoyo believed to be several years older. There was a
red-furred gangly creature called, if its label was to be believed, an
'erumo.' There were frisbees with Sanrio pictures on them.
And then, at the very bottom of the second box, Tomoyo found 'them.'
"UFO catcher dolls?" Sakura said dubiously.
"They're perfect," Tomoyo pronounced. "I know it."
And she carried the two soft-bodied dolls out to the front and the cash
register, as Sakura followed her.
"Aren't these part of a set of five?" the proprietress asked when the
demure girl handed her selections to her.
"These were the only two there," Tomoyo assured her.
"We looked in all the boxes," Sakura backed her up.
"Maybe," Tomoyo squinted at the tag, "CLAMPSymbols didn't send the
others to the other store, or it sold them separately. But I only wanted
two, so this is fine."
"I'll still mark them down some more, though, to be fair," Maki-san
said; and mark them down she did.
Somehow -- Sakura wasn't quite sure how -- it had been decided that they
would wrap and pack Tomoyo's father's present at her house, and that they
would ask her own father to mail it.
This meant that her room was a logical place for the operation; and,
stopping only to retrieve a small cardboard box and butcher paper from the
closet, they went upstairs to it.
"What," Kero-chan demanded when he saw the UFO catcher dolls, "are
*those* supposed to be? Knights in armor?"
"They're from one of the tokusatsu shows, of course," Sakura told him
forbearingly. "I couldn't say which one; they all look alike to me."
"The blue one reminds me of Toochan," Daidouji Tomoyo explained.
"Because he has a sword, and Obaasan told me how Toochan won kendou
tournaments in high school."
"So you're going to send him the blue one?" Sakura surmised.
"No, indeed. I want to *keep* the one that reminds me of Toochan. I'll
send him the red one."
"I think I have some cards in my desk drawer," Sakura offered as her
friend began to neatly wrap the soft-bodied doll in the opaque white
paper.
"The thing is," Tomoyo confided. "I'm not sure what to call it. I sent
him an O-Bon card, and it won't be Christmas for ages yet -- I can't
think of any good holidays in October."
"Call it an unbirthday present," Kero-chan offered from where he was
sprawled on the bed.
"What's an unbirthday?" Sakura asked, rummaging through her drawer.
"Well... how many days are there in a year?"
"Three hundred sixty-five and a fourth."
"It's not quite a quarter," Tomoyo put in.
"Ignore the fourth for now," the Card-Sealing Beast told his Card
Captor. "Now, how many birthdays do you have in a year?"
"Well, one."
"What's one from three hundred sixty-five?"
"Three hundred sixty-four." Sakura triumphantly unearthed a pale grey
card and envelope. "Found it! Here's your card, Tomoyo."
"THEREFORE," Kero-chan said grandly, "in every year you have three
hundred and sixty-four unbirthdays, so it should arrive in time. Unless
-- when's your dad's birthday?"
"It's right before New Year's," Tomoyo informed him, beginning to
inscribe her message on the card.
"Oh, well, then you've got TONS of time. Even if it takes a month it
should still come on an unbirthday."
"What are you writing on the card, Tomoyo-chan?" Sakura asked her
friend.
"I'm telling Toochan about the matching dolls," Tomoyo said, "and how
lucky I am to have Sakura-chan for a friend, and sending my regards to
Oda Midori-san."
"Who's Oda Midori?" Sakura and Kero-chan demanded in unison.
"You didn't say anything about a Midori," the Card Captor continued. "Is
she your father's girlfriend?"
"I don't think so," Tomoyo said. "Not really. She was an office lady,
and now she is Toochan's secretary, and a friend like -- like Naoko-chan
or Rika-chan. Okaasama thinks that he will marry her, but she just thinks
he will because Oda-san's there, and who marries someone just because
they're there?"
Oddly enough, when his unbirthday present arrived, Tomoyo's father was
himself contemplating the possibility of marriage.
Working with Oda-kun as he had been, he knew both that she was
attractive and that, more importantly, she had become a friend. He was
aware that several of their coworkers doubted that she had won the post
of secretary at the age of barely twenty-two solely on her own merits,
but he would never have done her the insult of raising her to any
position she had not honestly earned.
He knew that nearly all of the Japanese workers at Daidouji's Buenos
Aires office -- and several of the Argentinan ones, for that matter --
thought Oda Midori to be the most attractive, in both beauty and
personality, of the women in the office. From almost two years of close
interaction, he knew her to be utterly dependable.
She was twenty-four now and not getting any younger, and he was of an
age when men should begin to think of settling down. They had been
partnered at several office affairs; she was a good conversationalist,
and he knew that she would undoubtedly bring to her eventual marriage the
same drive and efficiency that characterized her work for the firm.
There were several parties scheduled for this month; one tonight, as a
matter of fact. At any of them he might single her out, ask her to leave
the group and go on a two-shot with him, and begin a long slow courtship
whose end would be in sight all the way. As yet her affections were not
engaged; he knew that if he made a push he would bring her to the
requisite fondness for him, and that he would always know exactly where
he stood with her. With Oda-kun, he would never need to worry what she
might do; even if some upsetting situation were to come along, she would
never conduct herself other than with perfect decorum.
And yet...
He called, "Come in," in response to a knock on the door, and the object
of his current ruminations entered.
"You have a package, Buchou," she told him, setting it on his desk. "I
believe it's from your daughter."
"So it is," he noted, seeing the return address in purple marker. "It's
not the usual time of year. I wonder what it can be?"
"I'll be out dealing with the rest of the paperwork," she told him.
"We'll need to hurry if we're to have the end of this job cleared out in
time for the party. Tell me what it is, okay?"
"Okay," he echoed as she left for the outer office, leaving the door
open. He removed the letter opener from his desk, neatly slit the packing
tape, pulled out a crumpled ball of paper, uncrumpled and flattened it,
and then extracted the card in its envelope.
"It's an unbirthday present," he called when he had used the letter
opener to good effect on the grey envelope. "She sent something to help
us feel close to each other, whatever it is; she just says that she sent
this one and kept the blue one because that one reminded her of me. Oh,
and she said to say 'hello' to you."
"How thoughtful of her," Oda-kun called back.
"Tomoyo-chan's very perceptive for her age," he replied, and then
blushed, to be so openly praising his daughter, the marvelous being he
and Sonomi-sempai had somehow created, with the words which his mother
had written to him.
'Tomoyo-chan is incredibly perceptive for her age. It's as if she's
intently watching everything she sees, and storing it away for later
reference. It's a little unnerving sometimes, the way she'll see straight
to the heart of the matter.'
He removed and flattened another paper ball, and then took out the
paper-wrapped doll. The letter-opener was called into play again, to part
the cellophane tape holding the butcher paper to itself.
Tomoyo certainly had learnt the art of wrapping well; he unfolded the
paper and then had to roll it over, to unfold a second and third time.
And as he lifted away the last concealing shroud, his hands froze in
mid-movement, as the small cotton-stuffed cloth warrior stared up at him.
'The blue one makes me think of Toochan, so I kept that one.'
'It's a little unnerving sometimes, the way Tomoyo-chan will see
straight to the heart of the matter.'
Incredibly perceptive.
Uncannily perceptive.
He had been running away; for the last few years he had almost forgotten
that he was running, so cleverly had he lied to himself.
But he could not lie any longer; he had run as far as he could and yet
remain on the Earth, and he had not escaped at all.
He had cut himself off from every reminder, at an impossibly high price
he had not even realized he was paying until it was gone from him.
Because he hadn't really been running from what he'd thought he'd been
running from.
"Oda-kun," he called.
"Yes, Buchou?"
"This is going to take longer to wrap up than I thought it would. I'll
stay and work. You run along to the party."
"Oh, no, I couldn't do that."
"Yes, you can. Go. Have a good time. Even dance, if you feel
particularly brave. I can do this by myself; there's no sense in your
sacrificing yourself."
"Well... if you're sure this decision isn't a mistake."
"I'm sure. *This* decision isn't."
He went on staring at his unbirthday present, mind blanked, as the
little sounds from the next room told him that Oda-kun had collected her
belongings and left the office.
Near a dozen long years he'd been running. To the ends of the earth he'd
run.
And it had all been a Red Queen's race. For the thing he'd run from as
from the plague...
"It was me," he whispered. It had been, all along.
He'd wasted almost twelve years trying to run away from himself, and
that's the one thing one can never do.
He'd always known that if there ever were one chink in the armor he had
built for himself, he was lost.
But not, as he'd thought, because of some mighty root or tentacle
driving inward.
He had unknowingly locked the seed within himself, like hope in
Pandora's box, and it was growing with all it's pent-up force through the
opening that his marvelously perceptive daughter had given it, beginning
to blossom at last.
He had run to the ends of the earth only to find himself; ten years and
more too late, of course, but better late than never.
He hoped that his daughter might be wiser than either of her parents.
And then he reached out and took up the thing with which his daughter
had gifted him, hanging it from his desk lamp so that it faced him.
He tapped it then, setting it swinging freely, as he finally spoke the
name which gave it power.
"Ohisashiburi, Kentarou."
*****************************************
Notes and Glossary:
1. My sister is under the impression that Maki is the name of the lady
who runs Twin Bells. We're not sure of her surname.
2. Thanks go to my dad, for suggesting why Touya was late (and for not
frarking when asked "Dad, what's something that can suddenly go wrong
with a house and takes time to fix?")
3. Also to my sister, for kick-starting the second half.
4. Middy The Girl: voiced by Tange Sakura.
5. Hsiao-lang: I figure Meiling and Wei are the only ones who'd pronounce
his name exactly correctly, so I try to reflect that.
6. Madogiwa no Totto-chan (Totto-chan at the Window): This is a popular
book.
7. Tomoyo's song: Yasashisa no Tane.
8. Kuromegane Kunoichi: Black Sunglasses Ninja Lad(y/ies).
9. Bertram: Bright Raven.
10. Zenryaku/Soosoo: Secondmost formal way to write a letter.
11. Roumajo: Wave Witch.
12. Hanashi: Leafless. Given the general tree themes...
13. The music college: I cannot for the life of me recall its name,
either.
14. O-Bon: It's in mid-August, when your ancestors come back to visit
you.
15. Grosny: Awe-Inspiring. (Often mistranslated "Terrible.")
16. Oda: Small field.
17. Midori: Green.
18. Oda-kun: She works under him.
19. Buchou: I *think* this is 'Section Head.' Let me know if I'm wrong.
20. Ohisashiburi: It's been a while.