Summary: Sometime in the near future, Syaoran Li is a brilliant quantum physicist who, for the past several years, has been working as the head developer on a top-secret government project called Quantum Leap. The premise works on the theory that one can travel back and forth through time along the lifeline of the traveler by "leaping" into the body of a person in any given time period. He works on the project with the sole hope that he can go back to save Sakura, who had died in an accident several years earlier. But before the project is completed, the government pulls its endorsement, leaving Quantum Leap without the funding it needs to continue. Refusing to let the one chance to fix things slip out from under him, Syaoran makes up his mind to use the unstable machine to go back and save Sakura before the project is shut down forever. Syaoran figures it'll be easy enough— all he has to do is go back to the night Sakura dies and change things. But, as with most things in life, things aren't as simple in reality as they are in theory...
Author's Introduction: I've been watching a lot of Quantum Leap: an old 80s scifi show about a quantum physicist (played by the super-sexy 80s Scott Bakula) who travels through time, fixing mistakes in history. It's a great show and I thought it would be fun to parallel it with CCS characters because, as it goes, my obsessions are now fighting for dominance inside my head and I'm going a bit insane. There's absolutely nothing to parallel between these two shows, but I'm doing it anyway! You don't need to know anything about Quantum Leap to get this fic, so just enjoy it for what it is: craziness. And you won't offend me if you don't like it. This is really just for my own pleasure. ;)
Disclaimer: watercircle does not claim the rights to either Quantum Leap or CCS. So there.
Chapter One
The First Leap Pt 1
"Sorry to interrupt your dinner, Eriol-sama, but we have a slight problem. Is this a bad time?"
Eriol exhaled softly through his nostrils while keeping the soft smile on his face perfectly steady. The woman across the table from him continued to yammer animately, her long black hair swaying from side to side every time she pounded the table with her fist to emphasize every word she deemed particularly important. The silverware on the table rattled under the slight tremor, but it was not enough to cause a scene— yet.
"And he deserved every broken bone he got, no matter what his lawyers say," the woman said, her black eyes flashing. Having finished her anecdote, she began to look around the restaurant. "Where's our waiter? I could really use another glass of water..."
Eriol's smile widened in a way that made it clear he was about to excuse himself. He started to get up.
"I haven't seen him, but when you manage to flag him down, make sure he fills my glass as well," Eriol said, taking the maroon napkin from his lap and folding it neatly on the table. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, please."
The woman nodded absentmindedly, still searching for the waiter in the dim dinner-lighting of the restaurant.
"No problem," she said, waving him off.
Eriol got up, bowing gentlemanly as he left the table and headed in the direction of the men's room. He pushed his hidden earpiece further into his ear as he slipped inside the restroom.
"What is it, Nakuru?" Eriol asked.
"How's the date going, Eriol-sama?" the woman's cheerful voice said inside the earpiece.
"Oh, perfectly well, I suppose," he replied briskly.
"That bad huh?"
"She's not an altogether unlikable girl," Eriol said, sighing a bit and leaning against on of the mahogany wood stalls. "But I can't possibly see how Syaoran thought we would get along. His dear cousin needs someone with a bit more boisterous personality. And perhaps a death wish."
Nakuru laughed hard at this. "A bit too much for you, is she?"
"No girl could ever be too much for me," Eriol said, bemused. "I just fear this one will find me much too dull. She doesn't seem to be the type that enjoys speculating about quantum theory. Anyway, Nakuru, you said we had a problem. Was that just a pretense?"
"Oh, right," Nakuru said, a huge grin breaking in her voice. "Well, I just thought you'd want to know that, as we speak, Li-san is inside the Accelerator and has prepared Suppi for ignition."
Eriol stiffened, then raised a hand to his face and squeezed his inside corners of his eyes together. "I was afraid he might do something foolish."
"Should I try to shut it down?" Nakuru asked. A deep rumbling noise was beginning to crescendo in the background.
"No," Eriol said. His voice was like a placid lake, but he had exploded out of the restroom and was now racing through the dining room, dodging tables and waiters as he flew past. "Any interruption could cause a facility-wide meltdown."
"With the way Suppi is acting, you'd think that was gonna happen anyway," Nakuru said, yelling to be heard over the background noise now. Eriol had to adjust his earpiece to compensate for the deep bass sound that was rumbling his bones. "But Li-san said he was knew about the risks when I tried to stop him. Why is he being so irrational? This is almost suicide."
"We got our letter today," Eriol said, jumping into his car and peeling out of the parking lot. "The Defense Department pulled their funding this afternoon. They're shutting Quantum Leap down, Nakuru."
"Oh..." she said, the grin leaving her voice for the first time. "So that's why."
"Yes," Eriol said. "This is his only chance. If he's going to save Sakura Kinomoto, he has to do it now."
"That poor girl," Nakuru said in morose tones that could barely be heard over the rumbling. "She didn't deserve to die. Not like that."
"Just concentrate on keeping the building intact, Nakuru!" Eriol said, stepping onto the gas like he was squashing a cockroach. "If Suppi loses control, they'll be sweeping the remains of Syaoran into a dustpan. I'll be there in two minutes."
"Roger that!" Nakuru said. The earpiece went dead, but not before Eriol could hear a sound like three or four commercial jetliners powering up their engines in the background.
"Good luck, my friend," Eriol said quietly, seemingly talking to the dashboard. "I hope to see you on the other side."
Blue.
That's all there was for the longest time. Everything was blue. And not just in color. Everything tasted blue. Everything smelled blue. Everything felt... blue.
Time is blue?
And then, suddenly, the overall blueness began to fade away and other colors and feelings began to replace it.
Real colors. Real feelings. Not blue.
Thank God.
Grass. Green grass. A house in front. A car to the right.
Feet. Hands. A newspaper.
He brought the newspaper close to his face. Blotches of blue still remained, but he could at least see the date.
April 1, 1996.
Ha! We did it! It's 1996! And I'm...
Confusion. A twisting, yanking sense of dread.
I'm...
He stood up. Slowly. He was in front of a modest, one-story house painted peach with white trim. A tiny, blue Saturn was parked in the driveway next to him.
It was all very 90s.
He turned around. Slowly. He was facing a quaint little neighborhood street lined with beautiful cherry blossom trees in full bloom.
There were a couple of things that burst through the confusion right away. One was an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Somehow, by being in this spot, he had done something absolutely incredible.
The second thing was that he recognized where he was. It was a strange, awkward recognition, but it was there. It was as if he had been sucked into a painting that he had admired all his life.
But that didn't help him remember who he was. Or the address of the house right behind him. Or his own name... Panic began to well up inside his chest.
Now just calm down. Get a grip, Syaoran!
He paused right in the middle of a deep breath.
Okay, right. My name is Syaoran. Syaoran...
He struggled to think of his last name. He rubbed his temples and tried to think as far back as he could. But all he could remember before the newspaper was a blur of blue.
What the hell is going on? He turned back around to look at the house. Is this where I live? It can't be. It doesn't feel like home. But I was just here, picking up the newspaper. I must live here. Unless I'm just some freak who goes around stealing newspapers from other people's lawns.
So, even though he felt extremely awkward about it, he walked up the steps and into the house. It felt an awful lot like breaking and entering, but the door was unlocked and, so far, no one had tried to stop him.
He entered the foyer and looked around. It looked like any average home. He could see a living room to the left where the TV was on, playing cartoons. The kitchen was just down the foyer and Syaoran could see shadows moving around inside. A tiny hallway ran down the right side of the house where the doors to the bedrooms were open, letting early morning sunshine spill against the walls.
Yes, it certainly was just like any other house he'd ever been to.
But he'd certainly never been to this one in particular.
Panicked, Syaoran was about to turn around and run back outside, but a voice from the kitchen stopped him in his tracks.
"Stop right there, young man. Just what do you think you're doing?"
Syaoran slowly raised his arms like a cornered fugitive, the newspaper still clutched tightly in his right fist.
"Listen, I'm really sorry," he began, turning around in awkward, jagged movements. "I didn't mean any trouble, I swear."
"You get over to this table this instant and finish your breakfast, young man. I am not about to let you skip another meal just because you can't wake up on time."
Syaoran finally turned around, confusion snapping violently in every synapse and making his expression twist up like he'd just slapped in the face with a fish.
A woman with shoulder-length black hair dressed in a dark purple bath robe was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, waving a spatula at him.
"Don't make me tell you again, Takeshi," the woman said, exasperatedly. "Or you won't eat for a week. Now get over here. Chiharu-chan will be here for you any minute and you still have half a plate left."
"Takeshi...?" Syaoran said. He whirled around to find the person the woman was talking to, because, if nothing else, he was absolutely positive that his name was Syaoran. So she couldn't be talking to him.
But the woman continued to stare meaningfully directly into his eyes with a very good "I mean business" mother-ish glare. "I don't have time for this, Takeshi, and neither do you. At least make a good example for your sister and eat your breakfast, please."
With that, the woman whirled back around and headed into the kitchen, her spatula clenched tightly in hand. She disappeared around the corner of the door frame and kitchen sounds resumed inside.
What is this? Syaoran said to himself as he warily padded down the foyer. He could smell breakfast as he got nearer to the kitchen. Flour, eggs, and bacon wafted down to him. This is all way too real to be a dream, but I don't know this woman, even if she seems to know me. I think I'd know my own mother if I saw her.
He was pretty sure of that, even though he couldn't recall his own mother's face at the moment...
When he got about halfway down the short foyer, a person moving beside him caught his eye. When he stopped, the other person stopped as well. Syaoran froze and then slowly turned to confront whoever it was that was turning to face him too.
It was a young boy staring back at him from what Syaoran fleetingly thought was a hole in the wall of the foyer. The boy's eyes seemed to be glued shut in a permanent smirk. He had short, neat black hair and a pale complexion. He was wearing the unmistakable blue blazer of a school uniform.
Syaoran stumbled back a bit, and, to his total surprise, so did the boy in front of him. After a few wild moments, Syaoran finally realized he was staring into a mirror...
But the reflection there was not his.
I have brown hair! Syaoran thought frantically. He reached up the ruffle his own shaggy, unkempt chocolate hair and watched the strands fall satisfyingly over his eyes. The boy in the mirror copied his movements exactly, only ruffling his own black hair instead. And I can't see them, but I know... KNOW my eyes are amber. I can remember...
But he was only bluffing. He really couldn't remember anything beyond that.
He could feel his mind about to explode, so instead of letting the absolute insanity of everything overwhelm him, he took a very deep breath and held it for a few tense moments. Then he let it out slowly, letting out as much confusion that would leave him.
Okay. This has got to be some weird dream or I'm hallucinating. Either way, I'm going to eventually wake up, or I'm going to come down, Syaoran thought to himself, happy that the rational part of his mind was still there. So, for now, I'll just stay calm and let the dream — or whatever — play itself out.
He opened his eyes and nodded confidently to the boy in the mirror, shrugging off the creeps he got when the strange boy nodded back at him.
"Let's go, Takeshi," Syaoran mumbled to the reflection and continued into the kitchen.
The kitchen was as normal as it got. It had a microwave, a dishwasher, and a little island where "Takeshi's Mom" was fixing a boxed lunch. There were normal little knickknacks hanging on the walls and potholders dangling over the handle to the stove.
All of it was so normal, and yet it seemed completely, one-hundred percent alien. Nothing could be more bizarre, not even if little green men started jumping in through the windows.
"Nii! Nii!"
Syaoran looked around for the source of the little sound and found it coming from the breakfast table nestled next to the back wall by a large bay window. A little girl was sitting there in a highchair, bouncing enthusiastically and beckoning to Syaoran with her arms held straight out in front of her, her little fists clenching the air.
"Nii!" she said, a wide grin on her face.
"Isn't that sweet? Kioko wants to eat breakfast with her big brother," Takeshi's mom cooed from behind Syaoran. "Well, go over there and sit down before she throws a fit."
Determined to go with the flow, Syaoran did as he was told and headed over to the table. A plate of half-eaten pancakes and eggs was sitting next to the highchair on the table. And, despite everything, the food actually looked appetizing. He sat down and gingerly picked at the stuff on his plate, cutting off a piece of egg with his fork and — after a moment's hesitation — sticking it in his mouth.
Tastes real, Syaoran thought as he chewed carefully. It's pretty good, too.
Beside him, the little girl had gone oddly silent. Syaoran raised his eyes to her and found the little baby staring at him with a very sour look. Her lower lip began to tremble.
"Not Nii! Not Nii!" she said, low at first, but soon she was shouting it and banging her little fists against the highchair's tray. "NOT NII!"
Syaoran stared at her as big tears began to roll down her tiny cheeks. Takeshi's mom came over to the little girl and picked her up out of her highchair, patting her soothingly on the back.
"Takeshi," she scolded Syaoran. "What did you do?"
"Nothing..." Syaoran said, staring at the baby's back as she wailed. "I guess she doesn't recognize me."
"Doesn't recognize you? Just what is that supposed to mean?" Takeshi's mom said sternly, glaring at Syaoran while she rubbed the baby's back.
Syaoran stood up and turned to the woman.
"Listen, I know this is going to sound really strange, but I don't think I am who you think I am," Syaoran said slowly, looking the woman straight in the eyes. "Somehow, you're mistaking me for someone else."
But, to Syaoran's surprise, the woman took on a bemused expression and simply shook her head. She sat the baby back down in its highchair.
"I don't know what you're up to, Takeshi, but I am not falling for it," she said as she hurried back over to the island. "Eat your breakfast and, for God's sake, don't mess with your sister. She's a little too young for your head games."
Syaoran sat down slowly, eying the baby in the highchair as he did. Takeshi's mom had managed to calm her down a bit, but she was still looking at him with an expression that clearly read, "who are you and what happened to my big brother?"
Which, ironically, was exactly what Syaoran was wondering as well.
Syaoran was just about to shovel some more food in his mouth, just for good measure, when the doorbell rang.
"Alright young man," Takeshi's mom said, pulling Syaoran's chair away from the table. She shoved a lunch box in his hands and guided him to the kitchen door. "You're off the hook for this morning. Just wake up on time tomorrow, please? And say hi to Chiharu-chan for me."
She left him to, obviously, walk down to the front door and say hello to Chiharu— whoever that was. Then, apparently, they were supposed to go somewhere together.
Syaoran took a deep breath, ran past the mirror in the foyer so he didn't have to look at the person who was not him, and yanked the door open at the end of the hall.
"Morning!" a cheerful female voice exclaimed. There was a girl with light brown hair dressed in a crisp school uniform standing on the other side of the doorway, smiling at Syaoran like they had known each other for years. "Ready?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Syaoran said, stepping outside and closing the door behind him.
"You know, I think they're making us wear shoes to school these days," the girl said, staring at Syaoran's bare feet. "And, call me crazy, but you may want to brings your books along, just in case you need to learn something."
"Oh, right," Syaoran said, feeling the heat rise to his face. He turned around and walked back inside to put on a pair of shoes and grab the backpack that was laying by the door. He could only hope that they were actually his.
Well, they weren't really his, of course. They were Takeshi's. But, because he seemed to be Takeshi now, everything that belonged to him now belonged to him...
Whatever, Syaoran. Just go with it and save your sanity. You just gotta hope that answers will eventually pop out of somewhere...
Because his own brain certainly didn't seem to have the capability to help him at this point.
Chiharu eventually lead Syaoran to a big, two-story school building. The welcome sign read Tomoeda High School as they entered the courtyard.
"Tomoeda..." Syaoran mumbled to himself. "That sounds familiar."
Beside him, Chiharu groaned. "Please not another lie about the origin of Tomoeda's name, Yamazaki-kun. It's too early. At least wait until lunch, okay?"
Syaoran could only stare blankly at this. Chiharu seemed to take his silence as a sign of defeat.
"Thank you," she said, heading for the school's main building. "Now come on. We only have ten minutes left until the bell."
Hoisting his backpack further up his shoulder in an attempt to shrug off another wave of the creeps, Syaoran followed Chiharu into the building and up a flight of steps. They entered a classroom that was packed with kids mulling around in the last few minutes of liberty before the the school day began. Chiharu broke off from him to join a group of girls on the other side of the classroom.
Syaoran found himself suddenly abandoned among a sea of strange people. But, even if he didn't know them, most people greeted him enthusiastically as they passed. Syaoran waved politely, but did his best to avoid direct eye contact, lest someone tried to strike up a conversation.
After he stood by the door for a few minutes like a moron (because he didn't know which desk was his— Takeshi's— whatever), a young man with dark, bluish-black hair and cool sapphire eyes entered the classroom. At first, Syaoran thought he was the class's instructor because he was at least ten years older than everyone there and he was wearing a ruffled tuxedo. But Syaoran's initial speculation was dashed when the class paid no attention to his entrance. In fact, everyone seemed to completely ignore him altogether.
As Syaoran watched the strange man, he made his way to the small section of wall between the white board and the door. He settled himself, then lifted his head and stared directly at Syaoran.
Surprised, Syaoran looked away instantly, only to feel the man's eyes still on him even as Syaoran moved quickly to the other side of the classroom. Something about the way the guy looked at him made him feel like...
Like he was actually seeing Syaoran. Not Takeshi. Syaoran. And it was creepy.
But really now, what wasn't?
"Yamazaki-kun..." Chiharu said, spotting Syaoran's disconcerted expression as she passed by. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't know," Syaoran said, lifting his gaze to chance a look at the guy. Yep. Still there. "That guy over there keeps staring at me. Should I know him?"
"What guy?" Chiharu asked, looking around.
"The guy in the tuxedo standing by the board," Syaoran said, getting frustrated. "He's kind of hard to miss."
"Tuxedo?" Chiharu said indignantly and pulling her arms across her chest. "You've sunk to a new low if you think I'll believe that one."
"But—!" Syaoran began, gesturing wildly at the man standing there right in plain sight.
"Yeah, yeah," Chiharu said, bobbing her head lazily. "I'm sure in your world, Yamazaki-kun, there are strange men in tuxedos standing everywhere."
The blue-haired guy continued to stand by the wall even as Chiharu — and everyone else for that matter — completely ignored his existence. For the most part, he was looking curiously at the people who passed and reading what was written on the board, but every so often he casted a very deliberate look in Syaoran's direction. And it was a look that clearly stated "We need to talk."
Chiharu wandered away, still shaking her head and bemoaning the fact that she had such a weird friend.
Syaoran still didn't know which desk he was supposed to sit in. There were way too many vacant desks to try to choose one, so he figured he'd just wait until more students came to fill in the gaps. And while he waited, he may as well go stand by the wall...
As he made his way over, the tuxedo guy's eyes fell right on him and remained there as Syaoran leaned up against the wall. Syaoran had no idea what to say, so they stood there silent while the ambient noises of the classroom filled the space between them.
"Isn't this incredible?" the blue-haired guy finally said. "Tomoeda High. I went to this school for a couple of years, you know. It looks a little different now, though. It's all the strange faces... they aren't the same."
Syaoran lifted a hand to his face. "No... No, the faces are definitely not the same."
The guy smiled. "Well, that's to be expected. But how does it feel? You must be really proud of yourself, Syaoran."
Syaoran's head snapped at the sound of his name. "Hey! You know my name!"
Mr. Blue Hair chuckled. "I haven't had that much to drink."
"Why is it that you are the only one who knows my name?" Syaoran said, whirling around to stare the guy down. "Everyone else keeps calling me Takeshi Yamazaki! I don't even know the guy! How could I be him?"
"Calm down," the guy said, raising his hands defensively. "Don't cause a scene here."
Syaoran turned around to see a few people staring at him. He hunched his shoulders and leaned back against the wall.
"That's better," the guy said. "Now, of course everyone is going to think you're Takeshi Yamazaki. After all, you look just like him." He chuckled again as he stared Syaoran in the face. "It's absolutely amazing."
"But I'm not him?" Syaoran mumbled. "Right?"
"What do you mean?" the guy said, his face dropping. "Of course you're not really Yamazaki... Is everything alright?"
"Obviously not!" Syaoran hissed at the ground. "I ate breakfast this morning with a family I didn't know in a house I'd never been to in a city that I've never heard of. And now I'm standing here talking to some strange guy who is invisible to everyone else! Now tell me what is right about that?"
"Strange guy...?" the blue-haired guy said, looking at Syaoran. He looked a little bit hurt. "Syaoran, are you saying you don't recognize me?"
"No, I don't," Syaoran said firmly, relieved that he was finally able to answer a question with certainty.
"And you don't remember the experiment?"
"Experiment?" Syaoran said, his heart thumping wildly. "What experiment?"
"Well this explains a lot," the guy said, turning his eyes toward the ceiling. "He doesn't remember anything!"
Syaoran followed the guy's eyes. He really seemed to be talking to someone else. But then he was talking directly to Syaoran again.
"Okay, so what do you remember prior to finding yourself in Takeshi Yamazaki's body?" the guy asked gently.
Syaoran strained his memory for the billionth time that morning. "Nothing. Just a lot of blue."
"Blue?" the guy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Syaoran said. "Everything was just... blue. It was in my eyes, my ears, my mouth... I felt like I was being suffocated by blueness."
"That's one for the journals," the guy said, laughing. "Time is blue."
"Yeah! That's just what I was thinking," Syaoran said, getting excited despite himself. "Subatomic particles, when accelerated backward or forward through time, emit a blueish-white glow on the molecular level."
Syaoran paused, recoiling from his own words. Subatomic particles? What the hell?
"I see not everything in your mind has slipped away," the guy stared at Syaoran. "Maybe all you've lost is personal data."
"How do I know about subatomic particles?" Syaoran asked.
"You won't know anything about anything," a booming voice sounded clearly in Syaoran's ear. "If you don't kindly take your seat, Yamazaki-san, and allow me begin class."
Syaoran whipped around to find the instructor staring down at him. A couple students giggled softly.
"Uh, right. Sorry," Syaoran headed toward the only vacant seat in the room amidst another swell of giggles.
"Okay, listen, Syaoran," the guy said, speaking loudly over the instructor who ignored him altogether. "I'm going to go back and confer with Suppi about this amnesia thing. In the meantime, you just keeping acting like Yamazaki and try not to screw up history."
And then, to Syaoran's complete and total surprise, a door of light opened in the wall behind the guy and he stepped into it. He gave Syaoran an encouraging smile, and then the door of light whooshed shut and he was gone.
End Note: This is kind of a long first chapter, but that's okay, right? I just hope it wasn't too boring. But then again, I don't expect many of you to know what to do with this fic, so it's all right if you don't like it. As for things to come, expect a lot of... non-canon parings and some OOC-ness. Heh, I really don't expect many people to like this crazy fic that much, but, hey, it brings me joy and maybe, just maybe, it will bring joy to someone else. And if torturing Syaoran by making him do really crazy things is wrong, then I don't wanna be right. ;P
Anyway, if you liked it in any small way, please review for me and I'll update sooner! Thanks.