Title: The Power of Art
Summary: A beautiful fairytale dream. One spell that can weave it into reality. But the problem is… all dreams end, no matter how much we don't want to wake up. SxS AU
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the incomplete research paper waiting in the backpack next to me.
Enjoy and please review afterwards!
But that wasn't the reason why they all gasped. No. She did have a pretty intense stare. So brutal, so threatening, so cruelly captivating…. That Syaoran was struck by the most dazzling pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen.
Who knew that all you needed to win this competition was a good pair of color contacts? Eriol smiled.
§ × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × § × §
Chapter Two: Black and White Art
Italicized phrases- thoughts
It wasn't that they were beautiful. He wasn't even drawn by the way it sparkled in the sunlight that poured in through the windows. Maybe that's why everyone else was struck dumb, but it took more than unusual eyes to catch Syaoran's attention. Hell, he even vaguely remembers seeing red eyes when he was little.
No, that wasn't why he was staring stupidly at the figure before him.
Syaoran Li's eyes were fixated on her for the sole reason that she looked familiar. The glare was wiped clean from his face, and a little arc of the lips gracefully replaced it. It was the memory, not the person who caused it, that made him smile.
Maybe this is what they call "déjà vu". Because he knew for certain that he'd never seen this woman before in his life but those eyes…those wonderfully nostalgic hazel eyes…
They make my heart ache.
A sharp tug of his sleeve broke his stupor. Syaoran blinked a few times. Whoa. Where did that come from? "You all right?"
Syaoran ruffled the hair on the back of his head a little in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "Uh yeah, Eriol. Just kinda spaced out there I think."
The contestant had gone back to staring at the ground, allowing her hood to hide her face again. The same raggedy red cloak. Gray stringy hair, check. He slowly reached up to rub his forehead.
I must be hallucinating.
He looked at her again. Focused on the figure and squinted his eyes in concentration.
Still ugly as ever.
"Well... er...pray continue with your performance, then." Syaoran cleared his throat.
Suddenly he realized that Eriol was staring at him. To be more precise, everyone in the entire room was gawking at him. Hundreds of pairs of eyeballs glued towards yours truly.
Syaoran had to admit; it was mildly creepy. And the looks weren't the usual "oh-my-gosh-he's-so-hot" or the "wow-I-wish-I-had-as-much-power-as-him". More like "what-the-hell-did-you-just-do" gawking.
He raised an eyebrow. All I had was a freaky moment of déjà vu…" Is something wrong?"
The unfortunate man looked down almost embarrassedly before hesitatingly looking up to the king's curious expression. "Your majesty..."
Holy crap. Syaoran thought. This must be serious. Eriol just said his title with...could it be...deference? Could it be that the great Lord Hiiragizawa was actually scared of him for once? He would've started to grin maniacally at the thought if it wasn't for what Eriol said next.
"Your majesty... you just smiled. Does that mean..."
"What!" Syaoran sputtered.
Eriol shifted in his spot uncomfortably. "With all due respect, sir... but does that sign of approval show that er... miss uh..."
"Kinomoto." She didn't even budge a muscle from her spot on the floor as she answered.
"Ahem, yes. Miss Kinomoto. Does that mean that she has wo—"
"Enough!" For the first time in his life, Eriol cowered as the king's frightening glare. Sure, he made fun of Syaoran a lot in daily life, but even he knew where the line was. And making a fool of him in front of hundreds of spectators was definitely not on his Top 10 New Year's Resolutions. If there's anything that he has learned from living with him since they were in diapers, it's that Syaoran Li has the biggest ego in the world.
Maybe they should've changed the rules so that the competition wouldn't be overthrown by any old person who happened to have pretty eyes.
Luckily for Eriol, Syaoran calmed down considerably quickly after a couple of deep breaths. He then announced in a very king-like manner, "Due to the fact that Miss Kinomoto has not performed her talent yet, the rules thereby do not apply to said participant." He cleared his throat, "Are you ready to continue, Miss Kinomoto?"
She laugh/cackled.
Definitely just deja vu. I'm pretty sure that if I'd met her before I wouldn't forget such a… memorable encounter.
"I've been ready for quite some time, your Majesty." Again that annoying tone that made Syaoran suspect that she was smirking under her disguise.
So he glared at her again. No reaction. "Just get on with it," he growled.
Ignoring the obvious contempt in his voice, she demanded, "Do you have a piano?"
Syaoran rolled his eyes. Where did she think that she was? A homeless shelter? "Of course we have a piano, hag." He motioned impatiently for a servant to come near.
"I mean one of good quality." Damn it. How is she always a step in front of me? She smirked. "Or do you not have any? I doubt you're talented enough to play the piano anyway."
Ouch. Insulting the royal genes? That sure hit the spot. "Actually, the pianos belong to my sisters. We men don't do weak things like sitting on a bench for 5 hours plunking on some black and white keys." His brown eyes glinted mockingly, as he challenged her. "But then again, I guess you're an exception. Didn't anyone ever tell you that this competition was for women only?"
Not missing a beat, she fired back, "Well then, whom may I ask was Beethoven? Was he not a 'man'?"
"No, he was a raving lunatic who had a bipolar disorder. He was a special case," he said.
"Mozart?"
"A little shrimp who had no life besides scribbling down circles and dots all day. Also a special case."
"That's because he started writing music when he was 5!"
"Once again: no life."
"Rachmaninoff?"
"Him? All he had was freakishly long hands that could stretch to a foot long."
She didn't even bother to counter his half-true jeer, "Chopin?"
"Poor guy who was dying practically his whole life. I don't think there was a time when he wasn't sick of some strange fatal disease."
"But he was a genius!"
Syaoran pretended to ponder this for a moment. "You know, you may be right about that one."
Caught off-guard by the comeback (or lack thereof), she found herself speechless. "O-okay."
"Too bad he died so early."
"Yeah," she replied quietly. "What a shame." She found herself unexpected smiling at him.
He seemed to reciprocate her smile. "It's funny how he's more feminine than you though." With that said, the former smile promply disappeared.
She stomped her foot at his devious grin, "You annoying, bratty, stuck-up, insufferable jerk! I don't know how I put up with you!"
He gasped. "Do I hear an admittance of defeat? An announcement of departure? If so, then please. Be my guest. You don't need anyone to escort you, do you? Just go out the way you came in, darling."
This brought about another furious onslaught of insults, some of which that made the awestruck audience widen their eyes at her colorful language.
Somewhere in between "worthless piece of dung" and "rude pompous bastard" Eriol decided that it was time to stop the immature spat... no matter how amused he was by it. It was his job to preserve at least some of his best friend's dignity, after all. "The piano is here, miss."
"Kinomoto!"
"Oh right," he chuckled nervously. "My apologies, Miss Kinomoto. I assure you that I didn't forget such a beautiful name. I just prefer to refer to charming young ladies like yourself as "miss" sometimes. Really."
She hauntingly tilted up her face a little. "Humph." He could've sworn that he saw a tip of a nose being pointed up, but with that huge blanket on, who could tell?
After waiting for what seemed like ages for her to walk to the piano and sit down on the bench, Eriol asked, "May I ask what you shall be performing for us on this lovely afternoon, miss?"
She took her time before answering. Shifted in her chair. Touched the keys a little. Cleared her throat.
"It's called... 'Song of a Secret Garden'."
Syaoran blinked, his earlier anger suddenly dissolving in the matter of seconds. What happened to her voice? For a second there, I thought I heard a sound that was remotely... young. And...actually good-sounding? No, more like... melodic. Wow, she must have a wonderful singing voice then...
Eriol had the privilege of seeing his boss suddenly go in a panic attack.
Whoa, there! Where did that come from? "Wonderful singing voice"? No way in the seven depths of hell can Kinomoto carry a tune. It'd probably come out all raspy and disgusting anyway. I bet she's tone deaf.
And then he felt the art that began to flow from her hands.
There really was no other way to better way to describe it. As the notes surrounded his body, the word "hearing" became too degrading to be used to portray it. All of the feelings of the piece... Pain. Sorrow. Longing. They cried out to be heard as her fingers ran up and down the keys, coaxing the melody to express itself freely. One did not just "hear" her playing and praise that it was "interesting". That would be, quite frankly, an insult to the captivating melody that filled the room.
It sounded like she was trying to release her own inner frustrations on the keys. And somehow…I don't think that this was caused by just me.
In fact, she seemed to forget where she was the moment her fingers touched the black and white surface. One minute she was still frowning, but after calming herself down for a few seconds beforehand, it seemed like she wasn't even aware that she was playing to please a person whom she'd so elegantly referred to as an "insufferable jerk."
When a person is playing music well, gender, physical beauty, age, ethnicity, and every other outer appearance is forgotten by both the audience and the musician herself. As they close their eyes and let their minds wander to where the voices take them, nothing matters except the song. It overwhelms the body and enriches the soul.
Art is not just a type of "recreation" or "hobby". It is a legendary form of communication that has been handed down for centuries. It is the basis of civilization, the power that never weakens.
For example, think about this. A famous pianist was once asked what he thought made his playing so magical after a particularly amazing performance. He frankly told his fan that he completely missed half of the notes.
"So then why does it sound so good?" The fan asked confusedly. How could his idol make jokes about such talented playing? He thought dismayed.
The prodigy answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I make the piano sing."
And if Syaoran had heard of that story, he would've definitely agreed wholeheartedly that Sakura was a master of the concept.
5 minutes later after the last note sang into each and every one of the listener's hearts, Eriol glanced to his right to see what Syaoran's reaction.
And was, well, met with the biggest shock in his life.
Syaoran's facial expressions were actually relaxed. Usually (Eriol can state this confidently from many personal experiences) Syaoran was tense, every muscle in his body and his face tight, ready to spring into attack within a moment's notice. His eyes usually had a ferocious animal glint that scared many people from even approaching him. No wonder his name was "little wolf".
But now, he looked the exact opposite. His usual serious eyes were hidden under his eyelids. His breathing was slow and steady as he leaned back in his chair. And most of all... he was smiling as if he didn't have any troubles in the world.
And in response, Eriol smiled too.
Random babbling: Omfg the more I edit this story, the more I'm amazed that anyone even bothered to read it in the first place.(Thank you so much to the people who actually did and said that it was "good", by the way. Even though I totally don't believe you, it was sweet of you to say so.) The description in the beginning of the chapter about Sakura's eyes was just ridiculous, for lack of a better adjective. Totally sappy, totally wannabe-dreamlike, and totally unfit for the situation. Therefore, I spent a total of fifteen minutes just editing those five paragraphs.
Oh-kay, just finished editing the entire thing at 1:05 in the morning. Wow. Who knew that revising your own story could be so hard? Dunno if it's any good though.
Remember the three R's: read the chapter, review the story, and raise my poor tired spirits:)
