Hey all! HURRAY! Im back! that's right! All better! Though it was no fun to get there. I
was in the hospital for 9 days and saw about 20 some neurologists, had two spinal taps, an
MRI and a crazy annoying IV in my arm for 5 freaking days, which left an unusual looking
scar on my arm… im home now with about 4 different types of medication and the ever so
reassuring statement from those million doctors who woke me up at 7 in the fucking morning
to shine flashlights in my eyes that I will in fact, be ok. Anywho, that's beside the point. The
point is im typing again! And I have a new story!! Beauty and the Beast and A Place to Call
Home will continue and ill have the new chapters up soon, I just really wanted to get this one
up cause it struck me like a lightning bolt and I was thinking " omyfreakinggawd, its
brilliant!!". So, without further ado, here we go!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Cardcaptor Sakura or any of the characters. I also do not own
any songs or quotes I may use through the course of this story. here, are you happy, crazy
domain peoples? GOOD! Now, we roll our eyes and keep on reading, that's what I do
anyways.
The Ties That Bind
Kirralle Hazayaki
It was fairly normal, as one would think, to window shop. Glancing at the items you can only
dream of having because your current salary could never pay for it much less pay for the rent
that's a week overdue. Jewelry studded the shops windows, beckoning paying customers
inside with their intimidating shine, clothes hung perfectly on mannequins that most of the
female population has, of late, strived to look like. They smiled coldly, their expressions
telling us that we could never look like them, even if we bought the clothes they wore. I
sighed and turned my gaze to the reflection that stared, equally depressed, back at me. Her
clothes were plain, nothing special. Some denim boot cut jeans and a hooded sweatshirt
from some random outlet store. Her hair, cut to a little below her chin was pinned behind her
ears with a couple of bobby pins and her bangs fell haphazardly in front of her face, which, in
all honesty, could be worth looking at if she actually tried. Her shoes, a pair of black
converse high tops from the late eighties, were tattered and worn, the tongues folded under
the laces, which she had wrapped around her ankles instead of laced and tied like a normal
human being. Though you couldn't see the tops of her shoes from under her jeans I knew
what they were like because the reflection was me. Sakura Kinomoto, 24 years old, just
another one of Japans minorities. Not worth a second glance walking up the street, but
pleasant enough to hold a conversation with if you could spare a moment from your oh so
busy life. I stared at the identical emerald green eyes in the reflection coldly and turned to
make my way down the street. Passing more commercial shops on my trek home, I came to
an abrupt halt when I realized the heavy flow of five-o-clock traffic barreling towards me at a
fast speed. I decided against trying to pick my way through the oncoming crowd and instead,
turned down a side street that I was fairly certain would lead me back to the main road
sooner or later.
I hadn't been down this street more than twice in my life. I was sure I had been down it
before though, because I distinctly remember the smell of rotting fish that came from the sushi
restaurant's Dumpster that sat precariously in the corner that connected the back of the
restaurant to a brick wall. I was in no hurry today however, so as soon as the smell of
decaying tuna had left my nostrils, I slowed down a bit and picked my way through some of
the odds and ends shops that hid themselves along alleys like this. One in particular caught
my eye, it boasted, in large, elegant letters, that it was an antiques shop. I myself was always
fascinated by these, bits of the past I thought of them. Each piece telling a story of sorts. You
just had to find out what the story was. I suppose I got this trait from my mother. She often
dragged me off to random markets during the summers and we would spend hours going
through and buying the most unusual things, be it for age or the sheer fact that we liked it. I
grinned lightly and pushed open the door, a bell dinging as the top of the door smacked
against it, announcing a customer. A young girl, about 16 or 17 looked up from the magazine
she was thumbing through and nodded as means of hello. I did the same and began to
browse the array of strange objects displayed randomly on tables. Making my way to a large
table covered in a powder blue cloth, I began running my fingers along the edge of it,
stopping when the tips of my fingers hit the bottom of a book. Looking up slightly from the
floor in which I was so preoccupied with, I smiled as a large variety of books fanned
themselves out before me. I ran my hand along the bindings and picked one up every now
and again, flipping through the pages occasionally, only to find that it was merely a very worn
and old copy of a modern, well, somewhat modern fiction novel.
One book however, caught my eye in particular. It had no title at all, but the book itself
was quite the sight. Small red and green jewels covered the books spine, whereas the front
and back covers were a sturdy black leather with a gold trim snaking its way along the outer
edge. The lower left hand corner on the back had a name engraved into it, Li Syaoran.
Traditional Japanese, last name first, but otherwise, this book was a complete mystery.
Highly intrigued, I gathered my things and the book and picked my way to the front counter
where the girl held a shocked expression. It must be a rare thing that somebody actually buys
something.
"How Much?" I asked, praying it was under twenty dollars, because that was
about all I had in my pocket. She shrugged and cracked her gum.
"Uhh…well, it doesn't look like its worth much. I'll sell it to you for two bucks." She said,
holding out her hand expectantly. I forked over the money and collected my book and bag.
"Thank you!" I called from behind me as I left the small room. She waved, but said nothing
as her attention was focused on the magazine.
I turned my attention to the darkening sky and frowned. A storm was rolling in and fast.
So, against my better judgment, I turned around and made my way back to the main road.
The traffic had cleared substantially and I managed to make my way back to the apartment
about ten minutes later. Fortunately too, because the sky seemed to grow darker and darker
with heavy black clouds and a steady rain had begun to fall by the time I reached the front
door to the apartment complex. I sighed tiredly and dropped my bag and the book on the
kitchen table, quickly pouring some water into a mug and shoving it into the microwave,
grabbing a package or Ramen noodles in the process. As the microwave whirred quietly, I
shrugged off my sweatshirt and pulled on the bottom of the tank top I was wearing
underneath, to get rid of some of the wrinkles that had set in during the day. I sat down on
one of the two rickety chairs that graced the lopsided table that sat in my kitchen and pulled
the book closer to me. I ran my fingers along the spine, turning it here and there, watching
the reflections the jewels cast on the table when held a certain way in the light. Thunder
began to roll outside and soon after, lightening tore its way across the sky, illuminating the
darkened rooms in the rest of the house for only a moment. I sighed at the fact that a good
storm would probably lead to power failure and began rummaging through drawers for
candles and matches. Returning from my hunt victoriously, I dropped a few candles and a
book of matches on the table, along with a flashlight and some batteries. Another crackling
boom and strikes of lightening echoed through the house. Yup, power outages were defiantly
in order. I retrieved the mug of soup from the microwave and returned to my seat, staring
out the kitchen window placidly, watching the lightning zip across the clouds in zigzag
patterns, a loud crack of thunder returning me to my senses. I set my half empty mug aside
pulled the book closer once more, this time cracking open the cover and flipping to a
random page, just to see what exactly its contents were. But no sooner had I opened the
book, the room had begun to shake.
"An earthquake?" I questioned, standing up and looking outside. Aside from a slight breeze,
the surrounding world was still. Then why on earth was my kitchen shaking so violently? I
gripped the table as the quaking grew worse and watched in fear as things began to fall from
the wall. One of those things being a shiny brass tea kettle that was hanging directly above
my head. It made its decent and stopped as soon as it met with the top of my head, sending
it crashing to the floor. I flung my hands to my head and sunk into the chair, listening intently
as a loud moaning began. It wasn't a siren, but I wasn't sure what it was exactly. Behind the
tears that had swelled over my eyes, it looked as if the book on the table was glowing a faint
orange hue. And it sounded as though the moaning was coming from the book itself. I
clasped my hands over my ears as the screaming grew louder and louder to the point where
my vision became blurry. Then everything went dark.
Mmkay. Chapter one! Hurrah! OOHH, what's that book doing?? Well, of course, I
know, but do you?(If you read the summary, im almost positive you know!!!!) Hehe.
This whole story was an inspired work, I have been reading this book called
Outlander by Diana….something or other. But its REALLLLLLYYYYY Good. I
mean seriously. It inspired me to write this. Plus, I've always wanted to write a
story with a plot that had to do with this. Anywho, Review and
tell me what you think! Oh, Yes, they are in Japan, but i am terrible at translating
american currency to yen. So when they say twenty bucks and two bucks and what
not, theyre paying with yen, i just suck at currency translations And as usual, until
next time!
Ja!
Kirra
(God, it feels good to say that again!)