The Crimson Canvas
Chapter 1: Sakura Kinomoto
By Joocie Fruit
Hey everyone! sorry for the long update but school has been a pain in the ass and i've barely had time to sleep let alone write. I think you to every person who has read and reviewed the prologue and to those who emailed me encouraging me to continue this ff. I was seriously about to stop writing but those of you who pushed me to continue it- thank you. Please read and review...even if its the worst story you've ever read!
End of Prologue Part 2- The cursed Child
"Good Morning Sir, how can I help you?" Syaoran greeted him, offering a hand. The man smiled, his glasses slightly crooked upon his crinkled nose. He answered in a suffocating tone, wheezing slightly between the words.
"Morning Son- I would- like- to have- my portrait painted. And- I hear you-are the- best choice in town-." Syaoran helped him into the studio which was prepared for the task; easel propped up, canvas upon it.
A few agreements and small talk were exchanged and the man, Hiro Sakuza, sat comfortably in the chair leaning forward slightly onto his cane. Syaoran picked up a pencil from the cup of sharpened ones. Saying a small prayer, he raised the pencil to the blank canvas and began to draw.
Chapter 1: Sakura Kinomoto
Sakura Kinomoto stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror. A tired, pale woman stared back. Her auburn hair fell in tresses down her back and complimented the midnight blue gown she donned. Her lips curled into a smile- the smile that she was instructed to execute when the paparazzi attacked with their cameras at her father, Fujitaka Kinomoto- the multi-millionaire owner of Kinomoto Electronics Corporations. Sakura's job was to stand to his left and smile as if her life was impeccable from every aspect.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in…" Sakura answered, her voice trailing off as she began to smooth out her curls. She spritzed a glob of mousse into her palm and ran it through her locks, giving them more volume and flair. It was a maid.
"Miss Kinomoto, your father would requests your presence in the common room immediately." said the young woman, bowing politely.
"Tell him I'll be there in a moment." replied Sakura, sighing. The maid bowed again and left the room shutting the door behind her.
Standing up to her full five foot six inch figure plus the three inch heels that boosted her height, Sakura admired her self once again in the stand in mirror. The gown hugged her slim figure perfectly and its plunging neck line revealed a hint of cleavage. If only she felt as good as she looked.
"Good evening Father." said Sakura as she walked daintily into the room. Fujitaka and Touya were there, waiting for her. She could tell that they were annoyed because she was late, as usual. Fujitaka acknowledged her appearance with a frown.
"All ready to go?" he asked her in a bitter tone. Sakura nodded. Then Fujitaka cleared his throat and Sakura knew it was another mini lecture. She was use to these by now. Her father gave one every time before a company dinner.
"Well then, before we leave let's get some things cleared up." Fujitaka began, "I don't want either of you getting drunk at the party, no sneaking off with some strangers and always be courteous. And oh yes- remember to smile. And don't forget to…" Sakura pretended to listen but in reality, she was worried about her makeup. Was there enough foundation to cover the shadows under her eyes from last night's partying? Fujitaka finished and Touya and Sakura both muttered a "yes". They followed their father out of the room. Although the lecture was suppose to be for the both of them, Sakura couldn't help but feel that Fujitaka's words were aimed at her.
It wasn't as though her life had been a fairytale- it was nothing like that. Her childhood was ridden with memories of poverty, arguments that shook the house, the constant pang of hunger…they had been poor. Fujitaka had yet to strike it rich as a failing inventor and his wife Nadeshiko, was barely getting by with a petty paycheck as an on and off model. When she looked back at it, Sakura realized that her mom could have made it to the top and strutted down runways in Paris or London. But two kids and a family to support ruined dreams like that. However, they were content. Poor, struggling, yet there was a silver lining of happiness. They had family time every now and then. This simple occasion, a picnic at the park or a day at the beach, was what Sakura missed most of the young life. Never again had she felt the same type of bliss than when they were a family.
"Sakura hurry! We're going to be late!" hollered her father. Snatching her purse, she dashed after the two men.
"Yes yes the stocks have been steadily increasing…" Fujitaka said with a fake smile. Sakura rolled her eyes. There was nothing she hated more than to hear her father drone on and on about his big success. She also hated being surrounded by big fat beefy men whom her father called partners and who seemed hungrier for her than the delicious seven course meal that had been planned for the evening. To avoid their stares, she gazed down at her silver plate and jabbed at the meat loaf with her fork. She wasn't very hungry. In fact her head felt like it was on fire. Lately, these migraines were the newest addition to her life. Touya sat beside her chatting excessively with a woman who was definitely out of his league. Yet Touya always had a knack for overachieving. Maybe he would get lucky tonight.
Sakura stood up and excused herself. Her headache was now a constant throbbing paininside her brain. She abruptly went to the restroom to take some pills for her migraine.
She knew her decision not to return to the party would be punishable later but Sakura could care less. She slowly ascended the flight of stairs leading to the roof, carefully lifting up the gown so it wouldn't snag. Twisting the knob, she found herself on top of one of the tallest buildings in Tokyo. To her west, the Tokyo Tower stood tall and erect, a golden trophy of the city. Pulling her coat tightly around her, she took in the scene for a few minutes before reaching into her Louis Vuitton bag and pulling out a cigarette. She put it in her mouth and lit it. Her mind was empty except for one thought. It was April first. Today marked the beginning of her twenty-second year of age. Standing there all alone, the fumes of smoke intoxicating her lungs, was not how she imagined her birthday to be. She had dreamt of a lavish party by the ocean and an enormous bonfire which was to be lit until dawn awakened the world. But what saddened her more was the fact that neither her father nor Touya had remembered. She was a big girl now. And even though Touya's birthday was met with cakes, party and a brand new apartment, Sakura knew that Fujitaka loved Touya more. After all, he was the ideal son. Touya was smart, educated, handsome, and polite, not at all like his failure sister. Squeezing her eyes shut, Sakura tried not to shed the bitter tears that began to form in her eyes. Softly, her lips parted and she began to sing, stopping every now and then to puff her cigarette.
"Happy birthday to me…"
At the end, Sakura closed her eyes and made a wish. She knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted someone who would love her for who she was. Someone who won't judge her based on her past or compares her to her brother. Tossing the cigarette onto the ground, she stomped on it with her pointed heels, smothering the smoke. She had never felt more alone.
"I got us some groceries today." Meilin said, throwing open a cabinet and shoving in a jar of peanut butter.
"Hmm " was Syaoran's response as he read the morning paper. It was just like Meilin to wake up early and shop for groceries before work.
"Do you have any clients today?" Meilin asked. Syaoran shook his head.
"I cancelled on them. I'm just not in the mood." He replied. Meilin sighed.
"You know Syaoran, it wouldn't hurt if you got a real job," she said, dispensing apples and grapes into the refrigerator. A ruffling of papers was heard as Syaoran set down the paper.
"What are you implying?" he asked.
"I'm implying that you find something else to do besides painting people. At least something with a steady paycheck because these bills aren't paying themselves." Meilin shoved the ice cream into the freezer and looked around for any more food items she had not yet put away. There were none.
"Well, I got work as always. Just lock up if you go anywhere okay?" she said. Syaoran was already back to reading the daily gossip column.
"Yes ma'am." He responded without looking up.
Sakura knew she looked ridiculous. It was eighty-five degrees outside and yet she was bundled in a thick coat and jeans. Her hair was tied up loosely and she wore dark sunglasses to mask her identity.
Today was a special day for Sakura Kinomoto. Not because she felt deathly ill but it was her mother's anniversary. Death anniversary. And religiously, each year at this time, she would ditch school and put her plans on hold to visit Nadeshiko's graveyard. It was like the bonding time which mother and daughter never had. She clutched her purse and ducked into the shabby flower shop at the entrance to the cemetery. The old woman who owned the hut glanced at her disapprovingly and took a sip of her tea from a white mug with a little panda etched into the side. Despite the shambles of the hut, the flowers were magnificent. Choosing a rather colorful assortment of roses, she paid for her purchase and entered the cemetery.
"Well Mother, I'm here again." uttered Sakura quietly to the slab of gray in front of her. She set the flowers down on the grave and knelt down in front of it.
"So how are you…" she said softly although she expected no response. "Dad and Touya are doing an excellent job running the company. You would be proud of them. As for me well…" Sakura's voice drifted off. "I've been-" she searched for the word, "hanging on." Sakura gritted her teeth slightly. "Hanging on" would definitely be an understatement to describe her life the past year. But what was she going to tell her mother? That she had sprouted into a young woman? That she had spent the last year partying instead of working towards that business degree? That she had dropped out of Tokyo University because her grades were failing?
Sighing Sakura felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. There was only one thing to do.
"Forgive me." She muttered to the grave. From her purse she drew out a cigarette and lit it. Smoking had been a common way for her to deal with the shit in her life. Sakura wasn't sure where she had picked up the habit but it was definitely less than a year ago. Her father and Touya were oblivious to her habit and she suspected that the maids knew but none of them had breathed a word to Fujitaka. If they did, it wouldn't have mattered. Sakura was already the black sheep of the family.
Syaoran stood over Uncle's grave.
"Well here I am once again." He said in his mind. For some reason, he felt like visiting today. He felt more accomplished visiting family than sitting at home painting portraits. Syaoran shuddered slightly when he thought of the people here who had sought him for help. Meilin was right, I do need another job, he thought. He stuck his hands in his pocket and stared blankly at the grave in front of him.
It was now April and the weather was perfect. Sunny, bright, and overall very docile. Nothing could ruin the peace except for the awful scent of smoke. Perturbed, Syaoran searched around for the source. It was a young woman clad in a caramel coat and dark blue jeans. Heavy, opaque, sunglasses hid her face from view and her hair was done up in a tidy bun. A cigarette perched between her lips. Syaoran frowned. He was never an advocate of drugs. About half of his clients owed their death to that crap. Trying hard to ignore the fumes, he turned back to his uncle's grave.
But the fumes increased.
"Hey do you-"
She was gone.
Good riddance… thought Syaoran as he glanced at where she had been a few minutes earlier. He noticed a lump of caramel on the ground. It was her cap. Syaoran pondered whether to just leave it there or go after her.
Sakura walked briskly along the cemented sidewalk. She had finished her cigarette and immediately bid farewell to her mother and left. A migraine found a home in her mind and was worsening with each step she took. In fact she was beginning to hear voices.
"Hey…Hey…HEY!"
Sakura whirled around to find a young man running towards her. She prayed he wasn't some nosy interviewer.
"You left something back there." He said running up to her. In his left hand was her newsboy cap.
"Thank you." She said as he handed her the item. She noticed that despite his shabby clothes, he was quite handsome. His dark brown hair and chestnut colored eyes complimented his robust build which protruded out of the green t-shirt.
"You're welcome." he replied. They stood in silence for a few minutes. Syaoran couldn't help but silently praise her beauty, although masked by clothes and glasses, seemed to radiate. Her auburn hair was his favorite shade of paint and the little complexion that showed was the purest of its kind.
"Well, I gotta go. Thank you." Sakura said again. She turned to leave.
"Wait."
Sakura turned back.
"You should stop smoking. You're increasing your risk for cancer and heart related diseases."
She shot him a quizzical look which could be seen through the glasses.
"Thanks," she said laughing slightly, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." What a freak… she thought to herself.
Syaoran stood there until she had disappeared out of the gates.
"Whatever Dad! It's not like you understand me anyways!" Sakura shouted. "I'm and adult now I can make my own decisions!"
"You haven't been very wise in that area either! You got kicked out of school, hung out with some fucked up druggies and now-"
"Shut up!" cried Sakura. "I can't take this shit anymore just leave me alone!" she shoved past Fujitaka and climbed up the stairs as he continued to holler at her.
Sakura reached her room and slammed the door shut, blocking out his shouts.
I hate this…I hate life…I hate the whole damn thing… Sakura thought to herself as she let the tears fall. Not that this was anything unusual.
After her mother's death, her father became a workaholic. In a way, it was how Fujitaka coped with his wife's death. Touya and Sakura were left at home most of the time and Sakura remembered how Touya struggled to provide for the both of them. He was only fifteen yet working two jobs and school.Finally, her father struck a deal with some company and they decided to manufacture his designs for a newly improved, longer lasting, light bulb. One thing led to another and soon they were millionaires.
Sakura and Touya were immediately thrown into rich, elite private schools and perhaps that was where the drama began. Touya grew to be the top of his class and was accepted to Tokyo University on a full scholarship. At first Sakura followed her brother's footsteps until her junior year of high school. She had begun to experiment with teen things such as drugs, sex, the usual. And it was fun. More fun than studying for chemistry tests or writing essays analyzing the literature of Hemingway. The partying and late nights eventually landed Sakura a spot in rehab.For six months she was forced to sit and "duscuss her problems" with a group of young adolescents her age. The only thing Sakura learned from that was there were people who were way more screwedup than her.When Sakura finished up her senior year with fairly sufficient grades, she was actually accepted into Tokyo University just like her brother. She later found out that her acceptance was based on a tremendous sum of money donated to the university by her father. But Sakura Kinomoto was in. And once again she dived into a world of drugs and partying. This time however, the consequences were much more severe. She began skipping classes and eventually just not attending classes at all. Furious was the understatement of the century in describing Fujitaka's reaction to his daughter's michief and uncanny ability to bring disgrace to the family. The comparisons between herself and Touya commenced and the arguments grew increasingly violent. Eventually, Touya had to step in or else the whole house would have crumbled to the ground. As for now, Sakura and Fujitaka pretend as though those three months never occurred. When either were asked of it, they answered with silence and an abrupt change in subjects.
So now here I am…thought Sakura miserably as she leaned back against her bedpost…no school, no job, no boyfriend. She reached for the pack on her dresser and lit one.
Boys. Were they not the root of all stress? Yet Sakura couldn't help but smile when she thought of him. Julian. She silently mouthed his name with the lips that had once melted onto his. She could still remember the ocean breeze and how it caressed her hair and her spirits at the same time. The setting sun cast a warm orange glow over herself and Julian. He reached for her hand and pulled her closer to him. Then he told her that he loved her. At that moment, there was nothing in the world that mattered more. A few weeks later, Julian was transferred to America to attend some prestigious university, Yale or something like that. She couldn't quite remember now. She wrote him everyday for abouttwo months but each letter was unanswered. The last she heard, he was with some girl named Elise in America.
Groaning, Sakura forced herself to stop thinking of the past. Julian was gone. Those "i love you"s were just bullshityet she had treated them as priceless artifacts. The time she spent with him, thoughshort and perhaps nothing of value to him, were the best months of her life. Raves were put on hold for romantic dinners and walks on the beach. She had actually stopped smoking for a while.It was crazy how love changes a person. If only he had feltthe same way.Glancing at the clock Sakura realized the night was still young. There was just enough time to grab a cup of coffee from the local shop a few blocks away. Reaching for her gray twilled coat and newsboy cap, she lifted up the window sill and began to scale down the cherry blossom tree outside her window.
Pleasedirect all your comments, questions, and suggestions and or flames to me viz a review, email, or AIM. Thanks. Love always.
