Five Years Later

His vibrant purple eyes, once so twinkling, now were solemn behind the crystalline lenses of his spectacles as he gazed into the blurry midst outside his window. The whole car bore an oath of overbearing silence, an odd way of respect. The only other passengers in the car were Sakura and Syaoran. Syaoran sat in the driver's seat, his body stiff and restless as he plowed the car through the torrents of rain. It had been this way ever since her death. Things had changed, lives had changed, for the better or the worse, in a way that would remain for eternity.

Sonomi had taken it the hardest, and of course was the most profuse in her grievance. However, after it sank in, the event seemed to have a positive effect. Although she was changed in the most incomprenhensible of emotional ways, Sonomi managed to find a second husband, a solemn but good- natured man (Eriol had met him once, at the wedding reception, but hadn't seen him since). She even sold her enormous estate and settled for a middle- class lifestyle. Eriol suspected this was her way of honoring her daughter.

Another changed was Sakura. This also hurt Syaoran. After Tomoyo's untimely death she sort of just shut out. She suddenly was not the bright, cheerful girl everyone remembered, but something much darker and reserved, saddened and dammed up. Eriol had hardly heard her talk in public since the incident. The very light that made her herself was dampened.

The motor stopped its whirring and came to a halt. The three sat placidly for a few minutes, none uttering a word. Yet they sensed each others thoughts, the familiar regrets, the 'only-if-I-hads', the fond memories. It was a kind of semblance so powerful it needed no phrase to carry its timeless meaning.

Syaoran spoke. "We should do it now," he more commanded than stated. But everyone knew he meant 'We have to get over it. Let's go now and get it done with, and go on with life.' Sakura nodded silently and clutched her umbrella, and they all piled out of the car and walked toward the small gathering of darkly attired figures, almost invisible through the heavy rain crashing down upon them.

It could have been a scene from any movie, so classic it was. The cold rains, the grieving family members attired in black, the solemn stillness. Sonomi and her husband were present, along with a few other students Eriol vaguely remembered from his elementary school years at Tomoeda. There was a small, humble sermon; but no one really listened, so caught up in their own personal mourning. Besides, the rain was so severe it swallowed the words before they left his lips. He seemed to know this himself, too, and halfway through his speech he was silent. All that could be heard was the tireless screech of the bitter cold March wind and the heavy smattering of raindrops. Someone blew their nose.

"You may now send the deceased your reguards," he choked out, and Eriol suspected that he too, a man in no way connected with the incident, just caught up in the tragedy of his gruesome work, was crying along with them.

He saw as Sakura and Syaoran placed their own bouquets of roses upon her grave before he placed his. He hesitated before laying down the bouquet. His flowers, unlike the rest, were not from the local florist. He had picked them himself on the way to the Li residence.

He looked back at the blossoms, already dampened from the raging winds and rains, blending in with other cellophane-wrapped geraniums and roses upon the muddy earth.

Plum Blossoms.

Just like her name.

With a long, last glance, he heard a honk and turned, without looking back, to make his way to the car. It was over. His eyes had run out of tears long since. He climbed in and strapped on the seatbelt, and the engine roared to a start and they drove away, passing the grim burial procession, leaving it behind for another year.

Eriol watched it fade from view as they exited through the iron gates.

Even if we cannot be together, even if we cannot be together........

They drove on.

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*bursts into tears* That concludes it, the sad, sad ending. I think its better left a cliffie, it speaks for itself in so many ways, a sequel would just be laughed at and never read. Thank you, everyone who has reviewed so far, your support has greatly helped me. I hope you catch the symbolism in that final sentence, there's a lot being said by those three little words.

Small yet powerful.

Thanks, everybody. It's been fun.

What should I do next?