Chapter 1- Reproach Is Befitting
By silverymare
Disclaimer: CCS is one of CLAMP's best works. I own nothing except plot and new characters.
The doorbell buzzed sharply, alerting Syaoran's dulled senses of a visitor. The sound echoed down the wallpapered hallway, past the toppled family photos, the neglected phone holder on the wall, and into the modern kitchen. Normally, Syaoran Li would have answered the door as soon as it rang. It was something he'd always done. But the noise just rang on until it hit the unattended champagne glass on the kitchen counter, just a hand-span away from Syaoran's rag of dirty hair and slumped head. The still figure wilting on the kitchen stool twitched. After a short pause to make sure the tenant had heard it, the door belled again, brisk and insistent. Syaoran groaned, expelling foul air while his hand swept up from his side to cradle his ringing head, still fevered from sorrow drinking.
Lifting his head off the counter, Syaoran's tired eyes glared into the air as his apartment blurred too much for his comfort. His cocoa-brown hair was sticking out at weird angles; parts were slicked to his forehead, some falling over his eyes. With shaky hands, he pushed himself from his position before flinching at the flecks of drool that covered his counter. He grimaced as he wiped away the leftover from his own mouth with the back of his hand. As he stretched, sore muscles protested from lying in a stiff arrangement for too long.
What happened last night?
His mind was blank, though he attributed that to the alcohol. Scanning the room, he ignored the tissue scraps everywhere, and the white cordless phone discarded by the door. Now he remembered. She'd left. Her favorite blue-white scarf had been snatched up and she's carried away that hateful cardboard box she had brought in.
The room was so quiet; all he could hear was his own ragged breath. He closed his puffy eyes, as the throbbing ache within his chest hit him. It had all been so sudden, so much to take in. He swallowed tightly.
How…? I still don't really understand what happened.
The adamant noise that had woken him sounded again. He opened his eyes. He had a lot to think over, and lot to question. He needed to call some more people, find out if what Fanren had said was true. But first, I have to answer that stupid bell.
"I'm coming..." he huffed under his breath. If it's one of those chatty salesmen again… He groaned.
It took too much effort to care. His forehead slumped back down onto the counter, still too tired to move, tired even from the attempt to move. But it was so insistent! It came again and again. At the sixth ring, he got off the hard stool, ignored his lack of clean wear, kept his eyes focused on the hallway, and took one step towards the direction of the door. The ground swayed before his eyes and he shook his head to clear himself up. For a moment, it was as if he was still on Eriol's luxury yacht back on the Pearl River mouth. The nausea swept back into him. But the doorbell was firm, so he swayed his way across the debris to the front door.
Managing to prop himself against the wall, he bent to tug his keys from their forgotten place on the carpeted floor. He had dropped them in shock. Last night, yes… last night she'd been crying, so he had dropped the keys and pulled her small figure into his arms. That scene was still playing in his mind. She had hesitantly smiled at him when he opened the door, (no doubt due to his wide smile) until she remembered what she was holding. Then the tears had come out, and the truth came spilling out too. Then… He stopped that treacherous thought.
I don't want to think about that just yet. His eyes returned to the door. It still needed to be answered, and it wasn't going to do it by itself. He moved closer to the entrance, his shaky movements rattling the keys. His eyes were too hazy to spot the other key left on the floor, where it must have slid from under the front door. Shaking a bit, he managed to slot his key in, twist and open the door to glare out at the sunlit hallway.
Though the sunbeams hit his eyes a bit too brightly, he could see that he was alone along the passage. There was no sign of the mysterious visitor, except the item that lay at his feet when he bothered to hang his head, tired again. His blurred gaze managed to sharpen on something lying at his feet, a black box of red peonies, perfectly arranged. It was sitting innocently on his doormat, in its pre-ordered, ribbon box, and where the trimmed stems showed off the velvety, luxurious petals. Such perfection normally would satisfy him but today, it was just irritating on his senses. Last night was supposed to be a night of celebration. He's gone to much time and effort to make sure their anniversary was going to be wonderful, with champagne and flowers, and everything a girl would want to be romantic. They were going to spend the night together, just enjoying each other's time (he had so little time for fun) and loving each other. But when he'd woken up, she had gone, and he still couldn't believe what she had said.
It's impossible, they would never do that! The facts must have been wrong. The blistering knot of angry and confused feelings within him surged up, boiling his blood. He tightened his fist against the doorknob. He tried kicking the door in frustration but it did nothing, his anger didn't ease. He punched the wall with his fist. Red pain blossomed in his knuckles. Pain felt good, pain was what he was feeling inside now. Tension, denial and a sense of powerlessness was written in his frown. Flowers huh, stupid flowers.
"I DON'T WANT IT!" he choked out to the open air, and as the statement sprang down the quiet hallway and reverberated down the staircase, the owner of a cute brown cap stopped in mid-step, uncertain.
"You don't want it! Is that what he said? Or did I get the wrong room?" a light but warm voice whispered to herself in confusion. The cap owner tilted her head like an inquisitive bird, back towards the landing where her delivery had just been made. With carelessly tied auburn hair that framed a young, attractive face, Sakura Kinomoto furrowed her brows, her eyes darted upwards as she listened carefully to the noise that came from above.
"Not the peonies? He can't be talking about them," she said again to herself. She had other things planned, but curious, she decided to head back up the flight of stairs. She pulled her cap lower over her eyes, adjusted the green grocer apron and stuck her chin out. In a state of determination mixed with inquisitiveness, she jogged back up the stairs, up to the second floor of the Laine Apartments, one of the better residences in the urban, sea-side city. Dealing with stubborn customers always made Sakura Kinomoto rise up to the challenge.
He wants flowers, now he doesn't want flowers. He wants imported peonies, and now he doesn't. He'd better make up his mind; we're already low on customers as it is. Checked herself from that depressing thought, she pointed out that she was jumping to conclusions. It wasn't going to be that bad. All she knew about this order was what Rika had said.
'He wants peonies, he prefers 'red'. I think we're able to get red ones, maybe from out of the city though. Oh, and this one sounded cute.' Sakura smiled. Rika was always on the prowl for someone for Sakura, even though she'd told her friend again and again she was just too busy, and that a boyfriend would just make things even busier. There was so much to do every day, and what little time she did ever get away from her father's business or from visiting him was time for study.
She remembered how Rika had frowned, gloved hands placed on her hips before launching into another lecture about how Sakura was bound to have an overload; get depressed, a panic attack or maybe even faint in front of customers from over-working. She had looked so funny, waving her hands around, frowning; Sakura had given up from hiding her smile behind the sunflower stack she was spraying and laughed. She had meekly asked for Rika's forgiveness, batting her eyes prettily in exaggeration, easily avoiding a promise to take it slower. Rika had only given her a skeptical look but couldn't resist the patented Sakura smile, and ran over to give her friend a hug.
Still, Sakura wondered how she had somehow wound up becoming delivery girl. At least it explained why she had spent this bright Saturday morning getting the deliveries prepared. Yukito had yet to come in, (he was stationed on at twelve-noon) so she been the only one in the shop, arranged the flowers, furiously humming one tune or another as she had stuck different combinations together in an effort to get it just perfect. Hopefully it wasn't going to be time wasted.
She sighed, looking down at her soled feet. Things had been getting harder and harder since her father had fallen sick. There were night-school assignments piling up, and no more time for walking on the wet beach anymore. Preoccupied with thinking about these problems, she never saw that she'd reached the top of the staircase. When her feet connected with nothing but air she almost toppled over, flailing her arms around. She gave out a small peep of surprise, before she grappled the last bit of rail and was able to steady herself. When she had time to look up, in a most undignified and embarrassed state, she was horrified to see her stumble had been seen by someone. A high, pink blush blossomed in her cheeks, and she averted her gaze.
Klutz, klutz, klutz, Sakura! Didn't Yukito warn you one-day you'd fall into a sewer hole thinking about something? You weren't paying attention! Not only did someone see you nearly fall back down the stairs, but it was a customer too! She mentally kicked her shin, busy berating. Finally, she looked back up at the young man leaning heavily on his doorframe, noting with relief that no one else was down the corridor. She noticed the box of peonies that she'd left hadn't been touched. She frowned, worried. Her eyes went back up to the young man. Disheveled, with the messiest hair she'd ever seen, and serious red-rimmed eyes, Sakura was very startled to see him leaning on the frame, as though he had trouble standing. Stranger still was that he was cradling his fist, as though it pained him.
"Your peonies, right?" he murmured, his gaze lowering back downwards, towards the peonies at his socked feet. Sakura hesitantly followed his gaze, wondering if there was something wrong about them. The peonies just laid there. No, they look wonderful to me… in fact, they look nicer then they were this morning, they've finally begun to open up nicely.
"You did order them didn't you? Are they not up to standards?" she asked cautiously. She'd met stubborn customers before, who were always whining about the exact shade of a flower or an over-grown stem. They always required patience, but Sakura was usually able to smooth things out. She took a glance at him again, reading the body language. She eyed his awkward stance, the careless way he was slouched against the wall. He also looked like he was favoring his left foot, because he couldn't keep still on the right. Dressed in a comfortable-looking shirt, with what looked like a drool stain on it, she wrinkled her nose in slight disgust and hoped he was generally more hygienic. She also noted that he looked rather lethargic and wondered how he managed to rest up against the wall without falling.
"It's… it's not that. I just don't need them anymore."
And with that, to Sakura's horror, he crumpled. His arms drooped, his knees buckled, his grip on the door handle slid, and his frame slowly sunk down onto his welcoming mat. It was like watching a baby loose the slippery grip of balance, and fall. She started forward, as any sane person would if someone had just collapsed in front of you, but the young man crinkled his brow and slowly raised his hand as if to stop her.
"Just go away… Take the peonies. There's no use for them," he murmured, his hair falling all over his eyes.
He was in a fetal position; his legs managing to fold so he was sitting down, his back to the wall, arms lying at his side. His hair hid his face from her sight. He stopped moving, as if he'd fallen asleep. Terrified, Sakura stepped forward.
One step.
No movement.
Two steps.
Still as a stone statue.
She closed the distance between them and crouched down, coming close enough so she could reach out and touch him, quickly glancing at the blossoms in her way and pushing them to a side. She shuffled closer.
Is he dead…? Is he okay? Oh my god… What am I supposed to do?
"Are you okay?" she whispered. She reached a trembling hand out towards him. He made no movement. Gently, she touched his arm, and he flinched, but said nothing. She pulled back slightly, but reached out again. He was cool to the touch, and from this close, she could smell the alcohol on him. Taking a curious glance at the gaping shadow that was his supposed apartment, she could tell his place was the cleanest apartment she'd ever seen. There were only a few things to be cleared up… and that was just in the hallway. And it didn't seem likely the man at her feet was going to get up anytime soon. She gently nudged his arm again, trying to get a reaction.
"Hoeee…I think you need to get up… Come on. On your feet," she mumbled, sliding her hands around his limp arm, trying to tug him up onto his feet. A big hand came to push her away, narrowly missing her chest. She huffed, moving self-consciously out of his reach and took her hands off him, folding them crossly. With her hair falling over her eyes, Sakura looked decidedly determined.
"Mmm, you're really heavy, you know. And it's not going to be easy for me to carry you. And we don't even know each other too!" Now she was just mumbling away to herself, not really realizing she was casually trying to help a drunk back into his apartment, and was now cajoling him into getting himself up. So much for the easy, sunny day of casual work she had planned. And Yukito was expecting her to join him in about an hour or so downstairs, in time for the afternoon orders.
"Come on, come on... ah... What's your name again?" She bit her lip, as the still figure did nothing, refusing to respond to her. If she didn't know any better, it felt like they were pitting their wits against each other. Or that she was talking to a blank wall, or a computer that just kept giving out the same answer.
"Well if you don't answer me, shall I just make up a name for you?" she asked, huffing into the air. She was going to get her way, stupid stubborn drunk or not. She stood up and nudged him with a foot, softly pressing into his elbow. No response. Again, she made to kick him, this time in the side. But this time, his hand reached out and caught her foot before she tried to jab him again, firmly grasping her ankle and forcing her to put it down.
"Syaoran," he barked out, moving his head up from his resting place. "My name's Syaoran Li. And you're a very annoying girl, you know?" He grimaced. He absentmindedly rubbed the elbow she had kicked.
Pursing her lips in exasperation, she admitted that at least he was moving again and talking, but Sakura still placed her hands on her hips and glared. "I was just trying to help. Now, can you walk or do I keep kicking you?"
"I just want to stay here… out here is fine… Didn't I tell you to go away before?" His head lowered itself back down. "If I pay you, can you just take your flowers away and leave me alone? I've got lots to think about, and your whining isn't helping."
"Whining?" she squawked with disbelief. "I'm going to ignore that, just because I'm nice. And you've already paid for them. And if you weren't so drunk off your face last night then you would have remembered that. You're in no condition to be left out here in the cold. You need to get warm, have something to eat and go to sleep. That's the best way to cure a hangover," she told him, prodding him with a finger. "Or if you had hangover pills," she added as an afterthought.
"So I suppose you're an expert on hangovers now, eh?" He uncurled himself from his ball on the floor, glaring unfocusedly at the offending finger.
"I know more then you, if you call lying on your front step healthy." She was hearted to see him moving at least. A smile lingered on the corners of her mouth; she was enjoying the banter. He almost looks vulnerable there on the floor… but he's stubborn and he's if he still has strength to argue, then I can get him up. She pushed away the errant lock that had fallen out of her ponytail, before looking back at him. Wonder why he got drunk?
"If I go inside, will you leave me alone?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, and glancing up at her. He didn't like that half-smile. Even though his head was muddled, he couldn't help but wonder how strange this situation was. Talking with a stranger on the floor of your apartment, having them care about you. And where were the ones who were supposed to care for him? Tell him the truth? Support him? Huh, what an irony.
"Maybe. If you're a good boy."
He groaned, wanting to get away from her, her teasing and her unusual tenderness for strangers. So shifting his hands onto the floor, and in an effort to get up; he pushed his body weight onto his arms. Struggling, his feet and legs steadied him, and in a moment's time, Syaoran managed to lean heavily onto the wall, a similar position from the one before. He panted a bit, his consciousness swirling around once again. He grimaced as his stomach rolled in anger. He also needed food.
"I don't think I can do anymore," he commented as if he was doing some great task, and had just given up. His knees nearly buckled, but Sakura, who had been keenly watching his actions, rushed forward to support his weight. She let him rest his body weight on her, but though she was unusually steady for a girl her age, the both of them sagged in the direction of the floor. They looked a strange sight, out there in the hallway. With her arms half-embracing him, and his head resting cheek to cheek with hers, Sakura wrinkled her nose as she accidentally took a lungful of putrid alcohol breath.
"It's okay, I'll help you inside," she said, a bit stiff with how close he was to her, and how unstable he really seemed, even more so up close. The stinky alcohol wasn't really helping her either. She turned, trying to find a way to accommodate his weight and still walk. I'll probably have to drag him in… he's almost completely useless. And he managed to get to the door like this?
"Hmph. This doesn't mean I like you, you know. You're still annoying. Too perky." His voice entered her thoughts and Sakura momentarily narrowed her eyes at the jibe, reminded of Yukito's joke, calling her a sugar addict; she was always too happy and perky. She widened her eyes when she realized that she still had to meet him downstairs, at their shop. Not much time left. Better hurry.
"You are a pathetic excuse for a man," she quickly teased back, a bit stiffer now that she had remembered she was on a timetable. She smiled nonetheless. Heaving his arm over her shoulder, so they could walk side-by-side, she inched forward, dragging his almost-deadweight, and slowly entered his apartment. After making it past the cream-colored front door, and accidentally stepping on a key on the floor (she reminded herself to pick it up and put it somewhere he could see). She gasped at the sight that greeted her eyes.
The place was almost spotless, (at least, that was her opinion) and all that really marred the place was some tissues lying around, oh, and the empty bottle of champagne that was on the kitchen bench with the empty glass. There were also a few pillows off the couch and the phone wasn't placed back in the place. It looked like someone had just thrown a small, quiet tantrum. She sniffed, but only took in the muskiness of what she assumed was this Syaoran guy's smell, and a bit of a feminine perfume. She shrugged. It was a nice apartment with shaggy carpet and grey slate tiles; she could tell it was comfortable.
"Wow, nice place." She pulled forward, eager to see more of his modern apartment and managed to tug both of them into the living room, where she noted the nice flat-screen he had up. The room also held a coffee table which was in front of a comfy brown couch, while on the carpet, was a few discarded cream pillows. Looks like a good spot. I'd better go and close the door after he sits down.
"Hmm," she said, still supporting his weight with her body while looking around for anything else more suitable, maybe a door to a bedroom. "You don't mind the couch, do you?" He gave a disgruntled sigh, pulled his arm away from her, swayed for an incredible second away from her and stumbled over to the couch, settling heavily. He managed to prop himself with his back to the cold leather, his hands on his knees. He looked back at her dazedly.
"Can you go away now? You're boldly entering and disturbing." Syaoran was glaring. She had somehow managed to barge into his home, was audaciously staring around his apartment, and was noisier then any salesman he had ever met. The only people that were allowed to annoy him were his sisters (how annoying were they), Eriol (the one who blew him up the most, but understood him best), and— oh… Her. He turned away, an unhappy emotion filling his chest again. Instead he chose to look around his living room, ignoring the mess he'd made earlier, blind to everything but his dark thoughts.
Sakura managed to miss this though. "Mm… hold on." She had decided to leave him at the couch, opting instead to bend down and pick up his cushions, hugging them in her arms. The first one she managed to pick up was hugged affectionately and then placed onto the cushion beside his leg. He stared at it. Oh, it was just a pillow. How weird. He tuned back to her, where she was now placing used tissues onto his kitchen table with a clean rag she had dug up from somewhere. What? What is she doing now? My housework? Who does she think she is? A maid?
"Do you do this all the time?" he asked, mind numb.
"What?" she called. Eww. I see snot on this one. She grimaced at one of the tissues. Okay, going to throw that one in the bin. Immediately. She paused. Well… as soon as I find the bin first.
"Help strangers. Normal people don't do things like this." He sounded strained.
"Oh… well, I don't know. You just looked a bit pathetic, if you ask me." He could tell that she was grinning. An eyebrow twitched. He grabbed at the pillow next to him, clenching his fists. Go away. Just go away.
"I didn't ask for your help."
"So? Some people who don't ask for help need it the most." That reply was a bit tender.
"Hmph." He slumped down, pushing the trapped pillow to the head of the couch. His head was still dizzy. Arguing with a philosophical random was making it ache more. Maybe… maybe if he rested he could find everything normal. He yawned. Closing his eyes for just a second, he entertained the thought of sleep again. After sleeping before, surely he couldn't still be exhausted…
Somehow, without noticing, she managed to appear in front of him. Blearily opening his eyes, Syaoran blinked as she bent over him, a comforting half-shadow in his weary, red eyes, and a gentle pressure was placed on his shoulders. Hmm… he noted her green apron. It looks nice. All green. With that, Sakura managed to push his broad shoulders back, upsetting his sense of balance so that the world tilted. He fell back, colliding straight onto the soft cushion that he'd let go earlier. It rubbed against his cheek; soft cotton. Drowsiness overcame him, and before he could get back up into a sitting position to protest, he closed his eyes. Just a second. I'll just take one second, and then I'll get up. She can't tell me what… to… do…
He was asleep.
Mou, he drools when he's sleeping. It's sorta cute and funny.
With his mouth slightly opened, and his fist tightly curls up, Sakura watch a peaceful, relaxed Syaoran sleeping. His head was curled into the cream pillow, and his eyes were shut, hiding the redness. The bags underneath his eyes were smoothed out, and all his muscles had gone slack with tiredness. The strange tension that had seemed to hold him up had dissipated, and now he was a regular person again.
In fact, Sakura mused, he looks like a character from one of Rika's mangas. All tender and tired. Strange. They always looked so perfect and saintly. How did they manage that? Sakura shrugged to herself. He's just another guy, another person. I'm sure he's got as many faults as anyone. She peered at him again. His knees were inching upwards, towards his chest. She could tell he was feeling cold from lying on his couch. Sakura knew from experience how freezing couches could get. How many times had she fallen asleep on her own couch after studying late into the night, only to wake up with her father's blanket around her? Maybe she should scrounge around and find him a blanket. Mhm.
Yes. I better do that. She looked around. The lounge room with the couch led to the corridor she had come in through, an open kitchen and to an arched hallway. She guessed towards the unknown hallway, smiling at the green leaf spray painted on the center of the door. The same design was patterned in the kitchen she had been tidying up earlier, even on certain mugs.
Does he have a fixation on green and leaves or is it just me?
She meandered over to the hallway, glancing at the brown frames on the wall, noting the very masculine photos of a shiny Chinese-originated sword, an interesting book and a bunch of smiling (and alternatively smirking) women. Surprisingly they looked a bit like the tenant of the apartment, so she placed it down to them being relatives. Shrugging to herself, she grabbed the green motif door, and entered, glancing back to make sure that that Syaoran guy wasn't staring weirdly at her. She felt a bit paranoid. It really wasn't any business of hers to go exploring in his apartment.
Closing the door behind her as a barrier between her and the Syaoran guy, she looked towards down the new corridor. To Sakura's right, a wall of glass stared out to the blue sky, morning city, and its glittering beach. On her other side, a potted plant and a blue Chinese vase ornamented the neutral area. Before her, three other room doors were visible, one opened. With a little difficulty, she ignored the window scene (she loved looking out of windows), still feeling out of sorts in his apartment. However, the quick view that she let herself glimpse at, she loved; a view of the vast, lonely beach. She had to will herself not to look. No, I better check out the rooms first.
She peered into the opened door. Must be the bathroom. Sea blue tiles and shower. So clean! Dismissing that room, she easily paced towards the other closed door, but hesitated, unsure whether to open or not. She fisted the door knob and tried it. It eased up, as a warm grass-green room greeted Sakura's eyes. It had a wide, comfortable-looking bed dominating the room, and a high shelf above it that was filled with books. A plush brown rug added some element to the room, while the laptop on the bedside table hummed with untapped power. Rich, rich, rich. She pouted, slightly jealous. She had a stack of neat notebooks and hand-made study notes, but his fancy high-tech computer looked really fun to play with. And how useful in lectures!
She sighed tiredly, suddenly reminded of what was waiting at home, her workload. She rubbed her forehead with a hand and walked up to the bed. I just want to get this over with so I can get back to work. I'll just grab the bed cover and throw it on him. Using both hands to push away the cushions—"How soft!" she cooed—she grabbed the moss green sheet on the top, taking a huge whiff of a masculine smell (which made her sneeze), and walked briskly out making sure she didn't see anymore envious gadgets, and making sure to close the bedroom door again.
The blanket she was holding was all in a tangled mess, but she skillfully managed to walk without tripping on it past the gorgeously sunlit view (which she mourned, not having enough time to admire) and through the corridor, closing the door behind with a small, audible click. She turned around, a bit wary of open, accusing eyes, and surveyed the still figure where she'd last left him. She was still feeling a bit sneaky, wandering around his apartment… Was he staring at her as if she was a thief? She stopped to listen, to hear or see an angry voice or figure. All she heard and saw was him still lying on his couch, muttering softly in his deep sleep. As she skirted past the coffee table, she noted his furrowed brow.
"Bad nightmares eh?" she commented softly. "Hope they turn around." She dropped the blanket on top of him, allowing the bedspread to ease itself onto his body, molding itself neatly. She gently patted the sides so that there would be no gaps, before she straightened up. Her eyes quickly searched the apartment for a clock.
Ten past twelve already! I'm late! Late! She quickly walked towards the front door, only stopping to pick up both door keys that had been left on the floor. She quickly darted back into the kitchen and placed them on the counter, flinching when they clattered on the surface. Her gaze swept the room again, with no movement to answer her. Good, he hasn't woken up. She smiled and headed back out. Syaoran's apartment was quiet again. The front door was closed, and nothing stirred.
Sakura's head popped around the front door with sneaky eyes. She crept in, one hand balancing the peonies she had delivered and deposited them on floor, before properly shutting his apartment door, making sure it locked from the outside.
She sighed, just about to slump to the ground herself, a bit tired. She was still outside Syaoran's front door, resting her bodyweight against the door, her hands locked together, wishing she could rest. I can have a small rest, right? Then she cringed at a sudden thought. But this afternoon is scheduled to be busy. She cut through the apartment hall with a purpose, and strode down the stairs. Taking the steps two by two, she almost passed the window that had been cut into the apartment building's wall, but she couldn't resist. She could ignore Syaoran's apartment view because she wasn't supposed to be there, but this was a public window. She opened the glass panes in front of her, clicking the mechanism smartly and pushing out.
Her countenance relaxed. She looked beyond the clear glass, picking up the seaside breeze that had blew in. It caressed her cheek, and flirted with her escaped fringe. She grinned, secretly thrilled to have that small contact. Even in the busy, suburban city, Sakura had always been glad to see any glimpse of the dazzling sea, something that took away any thought that she had been worrying over or was just tired of. She wasn't really sure why she was so fascinated. The blue scrap of ocean, the white of the sand and the buildings huddled together to form the outer of the city…
The chimes of the grandfather clock downstairs cut through her thoughts. Sakura was reminded of time and, once again, of Yukito, who she knew would likely already be in Nadeshiko's. Taking one last glance outside which left a smile on her face, she quickly hurried down the stairs, her feet making light tip-tap noises on the surface.
Maybe if I'm lucky, Yukito would have already bought me some honey tea.
