Disclaimer: I do not own Card Captor Sakura or anything else by CLAMP.

OKAY, I know I've rewritten this chapter three times already. Thanks to those who've stuck around for my clumsy entrance into the world of CCS fan fiction! I swear, this is my last time fixing this chapter- and this time, I have an actual storyline and details figured out, haha. Let me know what you think! :)

-SFairyT


Spring, Senior Year Seijou High School Ladies Restroom, 2nd floor

"Alright, we're almost done! Close your mouth," Tomoyo Daidouji instructed. She gently slid in the last hairpin into her friend's auburn updo and spritzed a little hairspray to tame the fly-aways.

But Sakura obviously wasn't paying attention, and started hacking up a lung to get rid of the foul taste. "Tomoyo!" she turned and whined, her large green eyes tearing up from the fumes.

"I told you to close your mouth!" Tomoyo reprimanded, pulling some of her friend's auburn locks to frame her face. She clasped her hands together in joy. "You look so kawaii, Sakura-chan! You're going to look amazing tonight," she squealed, already imagining the way the stage lights would play off her friend's coppery locks and emerald eyes.

Sakura sweat-dropped at her friend's dreamy far-off expression. "We should probably get going. Hiiragizawa-sensei might have an aneurysm if I show up late to our last concert ever. I'm pretty sure he was actually aiming for my head yesterday!" She cringed as she remembered crashing into a cymbal after ducking to avoid being stabbed in the face by the crazy conductor's baton.

Tonight was the spring concert for Seijou High School's Premiere Orchestra, and it was always a big deal for the tiny town of Tomoeda. The people of Tomoeda were very proud of the award-winning orchestra, and concerts were always black-tie affairs.

Not that the musicians could wear anything but black— house rules.

Tomoyo had pulled Sakura into the women's bathroom on the second floor of the high school so she could do her friend's hair and makeup— a tradition that was quickly established in their eight-year friendship.

"Hiiragizawa-sensei isn't so bad as you make him out to be," Tomoyo clucked, shaking her head gently.

"Well, you're one to talk," Sakura grumbled. "I'm not the one with the huge crush on him," she hrmphed.

Tomoyo blushed. "It's not my fault that you have a chronic over-sleeping problem! Can you blame him for being a little mad that you always run into morning rehearsals late like a maniac?"

"It's not that late. It was like…a minute," her friend sulked. "I don't think that justifies throwing a chair at my face," she shuddered, a flashback of what happened last week.

They really needed to get going. Sakura stood up, and promptly fell back down. "HOEE! You made my dress too tight!" she gasped, her eyes bugging out. "I can't breathe! I can't even stand up!" she complained.

Tomoyo had taken it upon herself to make a few…minor… alterations to the black dresses they had been issued for performances. They were jet black with long sweeping skirts and velvet bodices. How could she resist altering the dresses to flatter Sakura's natural curves a little more? Was that a such a crime? She looked fantastic—what's a little oxygen, right?

"Oh, you're fine!" Tomoyo snapped, checking the mirror one last time to check her make-up. She tied the ribbon on the back of her own dress into a perfect bow, patted her sleek french twist, and smiled at her reflection. Her luminous violet eyes smiled back.

She glanced at Sakura, who was inhaling shallow breathes like a flopping fish out of water, and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

My work, Tomoyo sniffed, is duly unappreciated.

oOo

Sakura fumbled around the dark backstage of the concert hall, trying to assemble her clarinet and not trip over the multitude of instrument cases haphazardly tossed around the floor.

Oh, Kami-sama, Hiiragizawa is going to kill me! she cursed inwardly, wincing as the toe of her three-inch black high heel caught on the edge of a cello case. Sakura fished around for her wooden reed case and picked a reed up from the interior glass surface, sticking it in her mouth while pushing the clarinet joints together.

After nearly a head-on collision with a trombone slide and plenty of embarrassed "—'scuse me, pardon me, coming through!"s and close call involving a triangle beater, Sakura collapsed in her seat. She let out a sigh of relief— her butt had made contact with the seat just as the strict blue-eyed conductor called out her name for attendance.

"Kinomoto, Sakura!" he squinted through his wire-rimmed glasses.

"Present!" she yelled, a little too loudly.

The second chair clarinet, Naoko Yanagisawa, giggled. "Nice of you to show ON TIME for once, right Tomoyo-chan?" she winked at the girl sitting on Sakura's other side.

Tomoyo patted her friend on the shoulder sympathetically as Sakura slumped in her seat in exasperation. She, of course, had gotten there ten minutes earlier, now sitting lady-like with ankles crossed and her freshly polished flute lying diagonally across her lap.

Tomoyo and Sakura, ever since dinky fifth grade band, were both principal players and well-liked by their peers. Somehow fate let them sit side-by-side in every ensemble they advanced to over the years; directors changed the seating arrangements to accommodate the two rising stars because of how they complimented each other's playing—Tomoyo could anticipate Sakura's crescendos and diminuendos while Sakura could anticipate her friend's changes in tonality. It was a little magical.

But they were seniors now, and the spring concert was the last one of the season. And even though they were both rooming together at Tokyo University in the fall, Tomoyo was pursuing fashion design while Sakura was studying clarinet performance.

This was the end of this road for Tomoyo, and she couldn't help but feel a little sad.

The house lights dimmed, and the chattering in the audience died with them. The intercom buzzed, and the a voice announced that flash photography was not allowed and asked that cell phones please be turned off for the duration of the concert.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the spring concert of Seijou High School's Premiere Orchestra. Please help us welcome to the stage conductor Dr. Eriol Hiiragizawa and the award-winning Premiere Orchestra!"

A smattering of applause filled the room as Eriol Hiiragizawa stepped across the polished hard-wood stage, his dress shoes making deliberate taps as he bowed to the audience and stepped onto the podium.

Whatever polite facial expression he had on his face during his bow was immediately replaced by an evil glint in his blue eyes as he turned around to face the students. A few of the first violins were shaking in their seats as his lips twisted into a maniacal smile, like a diabolical cheshire cat.

He was crazy. Eriol Hiiragizawa was a terrifying man to cross in rehearsal. He had no qualms about ripping into a student or (as Sakura was all too aware of) throwing whatever was in his reach for misplaying or not paying attention. On numerous occasions his temper had induced crying jags and stress headaches so bad that they had to skip the next several days of school to recover.

Except for rehearsals. NO one dared to skip rehearsal. Legend has he snapped someone's violin in half with his bare hands after they missed practice because of a ruptured appendix.

But he was an interesting man, Tomoyo admitted. And handsome. She shook her head and internally scolded herself.

He was one of the youngest doctoral conductors to graduate from Tokyo University, and already had a notorious reputation before coming to Seijou High. He was tall, and exuded a certain grace in every one of his movements, just like a panther tracking its prey. And the way his navy blue eyes could strip you down to the core and see into your soul— usually to break a student with succinct, cruel words from his full lips. And his fiery passion for perfection made him all the more alluring. On occasion, he would whip off his glasses and slam them onto his stand to emphasize a point— and Tomoyo's heart would go all a-flutter.

Whether is was from fear or something else, she couldn't tell.

"Psst, Tomoyo!"

Tomoyo blinked out of her reverie. She hadn't noticed the velvet red curtains pull back, leaving the orchestra face to face with the audience.

She turned and saw Sakura holding out her hand, a warm, wistful smile on her face. "Ready? It's the last time."

Sakura's golden skin glowed under the sparkling stage lights, and she seemed to grow taller, like a flower stretching its leaves in the sun.

This is where Sakura-chan belongs, on the stage, in the spotlight, she admired.

Tomoyo took her hand and squeezed. "Ready."

And with a flourish of his pale hands, Hiiragizawa's baton came down.

oOo

After the concert, the crowd of families, friends, and students gathered in the foyer. Congratulations and hugs were given, and a flurry of photographs were taken by parents.

"Oi, kaijuu!" a dark-haired man called over the masses. Sakura turned from the group of girls she was talking to and saw her brother waving a bouquet of flowers at her. She dragged Tomoyo by the wrist and stomped over, a scowl on her face as she mumbled, "I'm not a kaijuu!" But she hugged her brother and squealed at the flowers. They were cherry blossoms, her favorite. "Are these for me?!"

"No, I bought them for myself," he replied dryly. But he looked pleased with himself.

Tomoyo watched the siblings with a half-smile on her face. Despite their constant bickering, it was obvious that they cared about each other a lot. It must be nice to have a brother, she thought, watching Touya mess up Sakura's hair affectionately.

Tomoyo lived alone with her mother, the every-busy Sonomi Daidouji, executive president of an expanding toy company. While that meant Tomoyo had more than enough pocket money to spend and a multitude of servants at her home, it did make for some lonely dinners and missed performances. But she didn't blame her mother for missing a concert or two— she had responsibilities, and that wasn't her mother's fault.

Still. Tomoyo was a teeny-tiny bit jealous that Touya always came to every single one of Sakura's concerts. He always made the trip from his apartment in Tokyo to Tomoeda, never failing to show up. She and Sakura would join him at Tokyo University in the fall, where Touya was getting his masters degree in Architectural Design.

She was lost in thought, her eyes drifting to the double doors of the school. Her driver would be here to pick her up soon, and then she could take a long, hot, bubble bath and go to sleep.

She almost didn't notice the hand waving in front of her face. Tomoyo snapped out of her daze and blinked, looking up.

Touya held out a single purple lily towards her. "You didn't think I forgot you, did you?" a half-smile tugging at his lips.

Tomoyo flushed, but took the lily from his fingers. Its petals were soft and smooth, and the color matched her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, smiling demurely. "It's beautiful."

Both of them stood in a comfortable silence, having retreated to a corner to avoid colliding with other people. They watched as Sakura made her way to each clusters of friends, hugging her fellow clarinetists and coming out of each embrace a little teary-eyed.

"Sakura seems sad to be graduating so soon," Touya observed. "She's put a lot of effort into the music department, and I don't think she wants to let it all go."

"I think she cares a little too much about this orchestra," Tomoyo said slowly. "But I think the change will be good for her. She'll adjust well. She always does."

"And you?" Touya asked, turning towards her and crossing his arms. The arms on his black tuxedo jacket strained against his lean muscles. He towered over her, and for the first time, Tomoyo saw just how much he looked like his little sister.

But Touya was a man. And where Sakura-chan was pretty, he was handsome. Extremely handsome.

They were standing so close that Tomoyo was acutely aware of how big his hands were, how his eyes were dark brown, like coffee. And how he smelled good. Really good. Like warmth and musky brown sugar.

She was too aware of his closeness. It was disconcerting suddenly noticing all of these details about her best friend's older brother, and forced herself to look away.

"I guess I'm ready for some change," she said softly, still looking at the ground.

What is wrong with me? Tomoyo smacked her head internally. First Hiiragizawa-sensei, now Touya? Get a hold of yourself.

He didn't reply. Tomoyo's violet eyes flickered up, and all of a sudden she was looking straight into Touya's warm coffee-colored gaze. They held eye contact for a beat too long, and Tomoyo felt her face turn pink.

Tomoyo's phone chirped, and she was shocked back into reality. She glanced at the phone and shifted uncomfortably.

"My driver is here," she said. "I'm going say bye to Sakura-chan. Thank you for the flower." She began to walk away. But she only got a few steps before Touya's rough, calloused hand grabbed her wrist.

Her violet eyes widened in surprised.

"You—" he cleared his throat, a faint flush on the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable as well. "You looked beautiful tonight, Daidouji," he finished in a low voice.

And then he walked away, leaving a gaping Tomoyo behind, who couldn't figure out why her heart was fluttering so fast in her chest.