Habagat: Hey there! Welcome to yet another Sang'gre Habagat fanfic. Read on and enjoy, everyone. Please drop a review afterward, too if you like it. Flames are welcome. Lol.
Upon reading, you might find that the story is a bit confusing. XD Just note that evey section denoted by "oOo" means a shift in point of view from Sakura to Syaoran or vice-versa. I hope that that cleared things out. Lol.
Chances Are
By Sang'gre Habagat
CHAPTER 1
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I had returned to Hong Kong about five o'clock that afternoon pretty much overwrought. I had stayed two months in Japan, and was sort of fed up with it. But there's no sense lying to myself, since the truth is half of myself regrets leaving Tomoeda. Well, if someone said anyway that I'd feel like this now, I would have laughed at them, but there was the fact that the weather and the air around the conversations of those elitist Japanese girls about the latest in the Tokyo fashion world made me feel uneasy. It was hard to exercise my martial arts in public -- it would just make me look odd, and thus I couldn't get enough exercise, besides the occasional jogs around the neighborhood. The amusements of Tomoeda seemed as monotonous as heavy rain on a rooftop.
But… "Li Syaoran," I keep telling myself. "Wasn't Tomoeda where you should have stayed?" It made me bite my lip to think of those plans I had been building in the past months in Tomoeda. She had been there all along, and I never took the chance. That last bit was pretty awkward, and I'd bet she'd think it was a joke. It's too late, anyway, I couldn't go back. Besides, it would be a waste of time and money. There wasn't any way that she could come here either. Other from Sakura, anyway, nothing else beckoned me to stay. I had no real pal to go around with, anyway, which probably explains things. Takashi? Well, he's got Chiharu, so I can't talk. A few people invited me to their houses, nevertheless, but they weren't really interested in me. They found out that my parents were of the wealthy sort, and the moment they stopped asking questions about Hong Kong and started inquiring about my lovelife, it was clear that it was all they were after. If they did get through me, anyway, they'd get nothing of the sort from my estranged parents. I had more than the needed older siblings, so to speak.
It seemed like a long day to me, and I regretted the fact that I walked from the airport to the apartment buildings. The door unlocked with a snap as I swiped my card-key through it, and I scooped up the pile of mail on my dusty doormat. I lay it on the coffee table, set my luggage down on the tiled floor, and flopped down on my couch. As usual, the mail was full of more pleas from those hungry children in Sudan, solicitations from the Social Worker's League of Hong Kong, and was garnished with various phone, electricity, and cable bills. If I hadn't known any better, I might have been sending thousands of dollars to scammers. It wasn't anything interesting really, but I somehow missed that pink postcard in the bottom of the pile.
The next morning, I got up as usual and started on my daily routine: bath, brush, and breakfast. I looked into my bathroom mirror after brushing my teeth, and as usual, it was still unruly, that mass of brown hair, and I looked more overworked than ever. It was pretty unfortunate, though, that I had only noticed that postcard in the mail that morning after breakfast. It was strange that that piece of mail didn't catch my eye easily, as it was shimmering with variously colored glitters and little beads. Nevertheless, it was dated a few days ago, so I took to reading it. It was quite heavy, literally, and I didn't bother to think about the fortune that the sender had to pay to mail this particular beaded, glittery postcard.
"Dear Syaoran," it said in bright pink ink. "I'm coming back from London on the 25th. I miss you so much, darling! I'll tell you all about my trip when I come home. I'll wait for you at the airport on that date at 8AM. Love, Mei Ling."
"Of course," I told myself, smacking my palm on my forehead. It was the 25th, and it was a quarter to eight. Mei Ling was my fiancée, and she definitely wouldn't want me to pick her up late. Annoyed with myself, I rushed to the room, got dressed as quickly as possible, and sped off to my parked car.
I jumped into the red Toyota and hastily put the key into the ignition.
"Buzz...t" was all that issued from the car's engine.
Great.I told myself sternly. I just happen to run out of gas in the best time possible.
I got out as quickly as I got in, and started for the bus stop. Mei Ling would be fuming when I finally arrive there. Bus after bus passed by before me, not even slowing down a bit since they were uncannily full. I wouldn't mind standing though, but the drivers seemed to think otherwise. More buses passed and came, until, at half past eight, one of them finally stopped. It was hopeless to still get there on time, I thought, and Mei Ling would be seriously flustered. It was already nine o' clock when the bus finally stopped at the airport, and as soon as the vehicle slowed down, I rushed off the vehicle and ran full speed towards the lobby.
And there was Mei Ling, sitting there, arms crossed and fuming.
"Li Syaoran, where have you been!" She exclaimed. "I have been waiting here for an hour? Did you get my postcard? Explain yourself!!!"
I went uneasy as the people started to stare at Mei Ling's shouting fit. I began to melt… or so I thought.
"Um, dear, erm…" I began, "You see, I was taken by the newspaper editors to Japan to photograph the sights and everything and I was only able to get home yes…"
"What?! You went to another country without telling me?! You have a LOT of explaining to do!!! Now take me home! I want to hear about everything, Syaoran, and I mean EVERYTHING! You could have been meeting a Japanese girl and I didn't know…"
The people at the airport just continued staring at that shouting Chinese girl. Still overcome with humiliation when we got to the exit of the airport, I hired a taxicab back to the apartments.
I awkwardly fumbled the sliding card-key through the lock, and it opened with its automatic click. A click that sort of reminded me of sudden death. But of course, I was exaggerating at that time. Who wouldn't experience life in hyperbole with your aggravated fiancée glaring penetratingly at you full force?
"Now explain yourself." Mei Ling said unusually calmly, sitting down on the leather couch. I sat on the seat opposite hers, still overcome with the same feeling as when I opened the door.
So I told her that The Hong Kong Tribune's photography department had training sessions in Japan, that I left two months earlier and everything. I decided not to mention Sakura in fear of another bout of blind rage, so Mei Ling, still in her state of unusual calm, finally agreed to leave and go back to her apartment in the adjacent building. Relieved by the fact that the raging storm had already passed, I slumped back onto my armchair and turned the television set on. I was staring at the screen, not really watching, which was why after just a few hours I was asleep.
oOo
"Your serve, Tomoyo!" I cried, tossing the tennis ball to my friend opposite me. Tomoyo and I did enjoy tennis a lot, and as a matter of fact, and we played every weekend.
The lass on the other side of the playing field flung the orb in the air, and in a split second, slammed the ball to my side of the court. The serve was too strong and fast that I missed hitting it by an inch.
"Great, Tomoyo!" I said along with a little giggle. I wasn't really that good at tennis, since I just relished the company of Tomoyo. She was the athlete here, so I couldn't talk.
We decided to end the game there, as the sun had just deposited its last, shimmery ray behind the Tomoeda skyline, and entered Tomoyo's abode. The Daidouji mansion was more than just a big house along the main route, as it was one of the most well renowned landmarks in Tomoeda, and all of the townspeople knew of it. Well, it really was just a big house, come to think of it, but the estate was more than that to Tomoyo and I. We had our share of laments, laughter, recreation, and arguments right here on this very land.
"Sakura! Come on, I'll show you to your room, " Tomoyo said, beckoning me to come upstairs with her.
She needn't have done this, having the multitude of servants who could wait on her hand and foot, but Tomoyo was the kind of moneyed lass that didn't fit into the stereotypical standards. She was of rich girl who was sort of like a self-sufficient young woman who didn't want other people working for her. She was more than worthy of the jeunesse doreé, but she simply chose not to take part of the social meandering of the elite.
"Sure, Tomoyo, lead the way! " I said, following Tomoyo up a flight of stairs. I didn't quite need Tomoyo to do this fatiguing task for me (the Daidouji place has six floors), because I've been staying over at their place and sleeping in the fourth-floor guest room ever since we were in sixth grade. So after two more staircases and some way past a bust of some ancient Daidouji ancestor, we arrived at one of the estate's umpteen rooms.
Tomoyo unlocked the door and entered before I did to check if the room was all right so she could decide that it would be suitable enough for me to rest in it. She was very fastidious, in a good sort of way, so to speak, and she fusses over the tiny details to get everything right. Well, I'm the complete opposite, really, and I seem to be a bit scatterbrained at times.
"Come on in, it's okay!" Tomoyo said with her trademark thousand watt smile, beckoning me into the chamber. It was beautiful, as always, since each of the two hundred and forty-seven rooms in the Daidouji manor were always well kept. I wonder sometimes why Tomoyo even bothers to be so fussy.
"Good night!" Tomoyo greeted in a while, before exiting the room and heading for her own two floors below. I reclined on my bed. 'Twas soft as cotton, as usual, the highest quality. A while later, mostly due to the bed, air conditioning and the exhaustion of the previous tennis game, I immediately dozed off. Tomoyo's really nice, isn't she?
oOo
The neighborhood seemed as welcoming as ever the moment I got off the Shinkansen bullet train. The ride from Tokyo was easy enough, since I'd lived in Japan for a few years, and there was no trouble speaking the language. The plane, however, was sickening. I somehow never get used to the up and down of the aircraft going against the strong air currents.
Well, the ride was the first part of my little recollection trip. It had been well over a decade since I stepped foot in Tomoeda. It was still as beautiful as ever, the falling cherry blossom petals caught the warm light from the lampposts, and a round, glowing orange moon peeked out from behind the towering trees.
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Habagat: Well, that's it! I hope you enjoyed! Watch out for the next chapter.
Remember to review after reading, as the more reviews there are, the more updated the fic will be! XD
Have fun, and 'til next time!
