DIFFICULT, DAUNTLESS DARLING

CHAPTER 9: FALLING SKY

THURSDAY : NOON

Sakura carefully entered the classroom through the rear entry, making sure not to slam the door behind her, and found Touya and Meiling mid-argument. Sakura tried to make herself scarce by hiding behind a large textbook but she was unable to escape whatever it was that had upset Meiling that morning.

"You pushed me!" She exclaimed, her body was facing sideways where Touya sat. They were all students in Kanazawa University. Sakura and Meiling were about to enter their sophomore year while Touya was rendering his last semester.

"I absolutely did not," he had his arms crossed, his voice dry. Sakura wasn't sure when they started to be friends, but it's been half a year since they've been training together, but she's certain they've been close a bit longer than that. "You slipped on a rain puddle." They were jogging on campus grounds around 6 AM, and the black-haired athlete had tumbled off a short slope on the track beside the tennis court. Since the duo became fitness buddies, the chick had put her body in its original energetic state.

Meiling gave a little snort and pushed back her thick, dark hair, tucking it behind an ear. It was as if she didn't believe him. "Whatever," she rolled her eyes and then spotted Sakura at the back of the room. She waved her over, "I need to speak with you... alone."

Touya knew the last word she uttered was addressed to him, an indirect request for him to leave. He vacated the chair and strode toward the isle. He vowed to continue this argument later.

He passed his sister a message from their father before he disappeared through the door.

Meiling looked at her expectantly, watching her approach and take the seat that once belonged to her brother. She appeared to bring good news.

Some days things just take way too much of my energy...

FRIDAY : LATE MORNING

Tomoyo was dressed elegantly – in a wine-red dress with a tailored collar, sleeves that covered her elbow, and length that stopped at her knees. Her delicate curls bounced beautifully on her shoulders as she walked in one of the hallways of Kyoto University's Law School. Now twenty years old, she was alongside her boyfriend of almost a year and a quarter, who was a current fourth-year Law student in said campus.

They were talking about something she recalled as devotion and vigorous support for their country, Japan. He said he didn't want to study nor work anywhere else. Their land needed his skills. His revived spirit of nationalism was all well and good, but Tomoyo was finding it hard to keep her eyes open. She had been studying late last night because she knew she'd be spending her morning on this educational date.

Every conversation they had these days always gave her a pang of guilt for not responding so emphatically. Most likely because she honestly did not care about what he felt or thought. She tried, though. Heavens knew she's still trying… but the truth was, he was no replacement for Eriol…

"GYAAA –" She abruptly gave a short, loud, piercing cry; her voice scandalously echoing in the hall. She apparently tripped on her heel and Fumihiro Imai instantly caught her arm, stopping her mid-fall.

"Sumimasen!" Tomoyo frantically apologized whilst regaining her composure, embarrassment reflecting in her amethyst orbs. "I got a little clumsy," she slightly bowed her head, grace and poise returning to her aura.

His lips curved, forming the beginnings of a genuine smile. "It's okay," he gently held her hand. "It's quite cute, actually…" She responded with a nervous chuckle and simply launched herself back into their walk.

She wanted to make this work, but she probably didn't want it enough. Destiny, she thought, was probably getting annoyed trying to weave her heart into this man's. She'd tire of her soon…

Feel my blood runnin', swear the sky's fallin'. How do I know if this shit's fabricated?

SATURDAY : MORNING

Eriol Hiiragizawa was spotted alone in one of the floors of Ritsumeikan University in Kyoto when his phone rang. It only took two seconds for him to have a peek at the screen before he answered it, "Hello, darling."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Boomed the voice from the other line.

Brows smoothed over his dark sapphires; his facial expression indifferent. "Then quit calling me," he replied, somewhat annoyed. After a quarter of a minute, his face returned to normal. "So, how's his royal highness and his regal duties?"

Once more, the caller let out a loud roar: "STOP CALLING ME THAT, TOO!" After a few seconds, he composed himself and recalled the question he wanted to ask. "So, when are you coming over?" His voice was very well-mannered, as if he aimed to please.

"Aren't you in New York!?" Eriol quickly reacted, his eyes darting toward his wristwatch which read 8 AM. "And it's… 6 PM over there?"

Syaoran straightened up and let a sigh escape his mouth, frustrated that he wasn't getting the kind of overseas conversation he wanted. "I mean, in Hong Kong, doofus! I'm flying back soon!"

Placing his thumb and pointing finger on his chin, he momentarily pondered about the possibility of a vacation. His sight then raised to the paper posted on the bulletin board – the very one he intended to check that weekend. It was the Dean's List. Closely monitoring his grades and not letting any unit suffer was achieved, without a doubt, by the lack of playing around. He wouldn't have made the cut if he was lax. "Maybe next break," he finally said.

"That's too far! Maybe this weekend!?" No one could have accused Syaoran of being passive. It seemed tenacity was common to those born rich and had everything at their beck and call.

Eriol adjusted his glasses and closed his eyes. He had a notion that he was a replacement for someone he couldn't invite. They had a bitter parting, so he couldn't help but feel bad for the guy – after all, a spoiled punk like him couldn't have taken it easier than everyone else. "Fine. Next weekend," he finished their bargain, and both seemed happy.

As soon as their call ended, his gaze flicked back to the Dean's List where his name, along with others, was legibly printed right in the middle. It should make him excited and overjoyed, but he would have to celebrate it alone, wishing that he had someone to whom he could tell all the good news. The one person he knew cared for him the most was probably within the same city he was in, but nowhere near him. Later, he'd have to take a swim to extinguish some of the overwhelming regret. Under water, he'd hold his breath until there's no more breath to hold.

Time goes by and I can't control my mind, but you tell me every time: Just keep breathin'...

SUNDAY : LATE MORNING

Four square knotty pine tables were fixed around a tree in one of the streets of Queens, New York. Settled in one of them was Syaoran Li who was donned in an unbuttoned, red, plaid shirt, a white tee, and ripped, grey jeans. It was a reasonable outfit as the country was on the verge of bidding its summer adieu. A pair of aviators dangled on his neckline; his thick brows slightly furrowed at his mobile's screen. Swiping left and right, he was examining the bikes in a renowned Triathlon Shop in Hong Kong. He planned to purchase one as soon as he got home.

He turned twenty-one last month and spent his large birthday bash with the friends he made in America. There were balloons, cakes, decorations, and lots of drinking games. Having spent a semester in Columbia University, the popularity he gained didn't fall too inferior from his high school stardom. He had fun and got drunk, he experienced and learned a lot, but something was off. Perhaps it was the weight of his responsibilities that kept him somewhat gloomy mid-parties, or the fact that he knew he was only there for four months. Whatever it was, it kept his laughter a little duller, his flirting a bit too forced. He wasn't in his A game.

The thick paper cup he had in his hand had coffee in it, and he had managed to take sips in between his hunt for the right decal, frame, and lights. He was so engrossed in it that he didn't notice someone joining his café table. A tall Asian girl with clear skin talked, "I heard your flight's today." She spoke in perfect Cantonese.

He gaped up from his device and regarded her. She had an adequately proportionate face and a stylish appearance, but her nose seemed unnaturally straight, and her teeth had something what Syaoran would describe as extensive dentures, as though they could fall off if she forced a scream out of her mouth. Nonetheless, overall, Dandan Wong was more beautiful than the average babe… just not beautiful enough.

"You heard right," he answered with a nod and a small smile. Since he was currently studying a black and silver Trek bike, he didn't want to put his phone down. Howbeit, etiquette demanded it. "Can I get you something from the menu?" he offered, his right hand somewhat raised, gesturing for the café adjacent to them. They knew each other even before Syaoran left for Japan for the entirety of his high school years. Her father was a Hotel Manager in one of the hotels owned by the Lis. They often met in social gatherings, and never outside of it.

A soft, practiced giggle escaped her lips. She leaned closer to him, her elbows crawling on top of the table. "No, thanks. I'm good. Why must you fly back as soon as the semester ended? I'd rather you stay a weekend more," Dandan gave him a coy smile. "Better yet, stay for another semester. Let's go back to Hong Kong later… together."

Syaoran returned her brazen, flirtatious approach with a dry one. Did he look like that whenever he tried to pick up girls? He certainly hoped not. "Columbia's great. It's an Ivy League, after all," his words were vigilant but he was afraid that his tone was becoming careless. "There's just nothing in it that could make me tarry a bit."

As if Syaoran called him himself, Zhu Leong, his bodyguard / chauffeur approached the duo and informed him of his need to go to the airport. Putting on his aviators, the Li heir exhibited a polite nod and took a step away from the table. To this, she called out, "I won't forget to call you then! Have a safe trip." He would have stopped walking mid-sentence, but he preferred not to. Those two simple sentences stung.

Seventeen months ago, if only one certain emerald-eyed lassie had said those, he wouldn't have as much anxiety as he had when they parted. Her reasons for complying to the urgency of him returning to Hong Kong was, in time, something he learned to understand… but no call or text was something he did not. Sakura Kinomoto did not contact him that day, nor any day since.

Some nights he laid in bed and imagined what it'd be like if she cared as much as he did. Not wanting to separate was an illusion he didn't want destroyed. What were the odds that him, of all people, learned that it was possible to live with pain? And he learned it the hard way.

One day after another… until he gets to where it won't bother him as much anymore.

TUESDAY : LATE EVENING

One humid summer evening, not long after her meeting with Meiling Li, Sakura, age twenty, was spotted in a modest street bar with a classmate. Wearing a white ruffled top and jeans, she shared iced cold beer with a peer. "Are you… going to take it?" she slowly asked the emerald eyed beauty.

"It's a great opportunity," Sakura simply answered while she picked up a piece of gyoza with her chopsticks. She had her head slightly low, her glance somber, "but I'm really unsure." Frankly, Syaoran's going to be there.

Five days ago, Meiling Li offered her the scholarship Li Enterprises cooked up. Aside from Banking and Hotels, they're planning to make a bold expansion to Perfumery. They're choosing a few Chemistry Major students from Hong Kong, Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan to be part of the pioneer team. It's akin to an early internship training, promising a ton of experience and learning.

"What's keeping you?" asked Kishi, a fellow student from Kanazawa University.

Sakura hasn't checked in on Syaoran about what he felt about her colluding with the people he deemed as his enemies at the time. She knew she had to find out, but she had cowardly put it off as much as she could. Eventually, the urgency passed, and it became too awkward to bring it up. "I just know someone in the area, and it's –"

Kishi laughed, cutting Sakura off mid-explanation. "I think Hong Kong is big enough not to see this person within a semester's time. More so, isn't the opportunity too good to pass up? Especially, if your only reason is the terror of bumping into this person?"

The lady sighed. She gave her friend a small, sad smile, wanting to tell her that she's picturing it quite wrong. There's more than a hundred percent chance that she'll be crossing paths with this said person, and it's doomed to become ugly. "If I do see him," she began, her guilt weighing on her decision, "I guess fate would want me to apologize. It's long overdue…"

Kishi wanted Sakura to have a different perspective… because it didn't reflect her own. Nonetheless, so long as she takes the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, it didn't matter what her reasons were. After all, it's something a lot of students would fight over while she receives it on a silver platter. Sakura would be too arrogant if she dared to pass it up, wouldn't she?

Half an hour later…

Occupying the street bench was the same auburn-haired heroine. Since the light from the lamp post didn't quite hit her seat, the atmosphere was dim, heavy, and lonely. Slumped in an ungraceful position, she had a small bag of dates next to her. One by one, she placed the small oblong fruit to her mouth, and gradually, lazily bit parts of it. She was staring hopelessly in the street, gloomy and troubled.

Should she take the offer, she would be alone in that strange world. There would be no Tomoyo to comfort her, no Touya to protect her. Worst of all, Syaoran, should he show himself, would probably be mad at her. It wouldn't be very comfortable. It would only last for four months, she thought optimistically, and she could make temporary friends out of her fellow interns. Then again, owing the Lis without the ability to give something to them in return was distressing her.

Interrupting her train of thought was the ringing of her cellular phone. Since it had Touya's name flashing, she dropped the need for formality. "Yeah?" she picked up, and didn't even try to hide her slightly slurry voice. Touya didn't waste too much time, he just asked her to come to where he was.

Another half hour later…

Arriving at the outskirts of the prefecture, Sakura hopped off the cab and let her eyes take in the details of her destination. Stood by were ornate stone walls, matched by the abundance of lush greens and fully bloomed flowers. It was a restaurant you'd like to dine in if you want to impress someone, especially if there's a desire for it to be romantic and memorable.

It was the very one Syaoran took her to seventeen months ago. While she froze on the pathway outside, the sensation that swam inside her was a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. It was comparable to the running out of power in the batteries of a wall clock – you would know what time it stopped, what hour, what minute, what second. Until you put in new batteries, it would remain to be displayed on the wall like that for everyone to see. It's as though time had paused… or for her case, her story with Syaoran was in a limbo.

"You're about to meet my special someone," Syaoran had said, his smile oozed with confidence and excitement. Sakura looked at him as if he was there, trapped in a loop.

The chef, the special someone he referred to, joked about her being his girlfriend – which she nervously denied, and the edge of hysteria was in her voice. The other two laughed and made her feel quite silly. The chef's eyes glinted under the lamp. If she wasn't his girlfriend, she said, at least she was the first one he brought there, also the only one she met.

Honestly, meeting the chef shed a new light on Syaoran's character. The strenuous, invincible party boy she once knew had begun to appear as a cordial, even a gentle type of man. Maybe.

Walking in, she bathed in the gold luminescence paired with wall to ceiling plants and bars of cutlery and wine. Sakura spotted her brother in one of the tables. Across him was Meiling who eagerly waved her over with a big grin on her face. They seemed to have completed their dinner course. Joining them, she noticed Touya not sharing the other female's expression – he had his arms crossed and his typical glower.

While Meiling handed Sakura a menu and urged her to order something, Touya had his head turned to her, ready to cut to the chase. "I heard from this brat that you're given the opportunity to spend a semester in Hong Kong. It's not going to be easy, Sakura," he held the tone of warning and concern. "You're going to be juggling your work for this start-up Perfumery and also attending classes –"

Interrupting him was Meiling's voice, "It shouldn't be that hard. I mean, you do it!" That may have been true, but, Touya had cut off most of his part time jobs since last year.

In a shadow of a moment, Touya's brows knitted at the raven-haired chick and shook his head, as though to pay her no mind. Returning his focus on his sister, he continued, "You can say No if you don't want to."

Sakura, for a minute, sadly smiled. Meiling recognized the expression, the same way Touya had. While the girl's heart was melting, the male was in silent horror – his sister had fallen for that fuckboy! "This is a bad idea…" he muttered, closing his eyes in contemplation.

"But you already said Yes!" Meiling tried her best not to slap her palms on the surface of the table, her garnet orbs glaring at him.

Fully understanding the cautious aura of her brother, Sakura smiled nervously and added something on the table, "It's not like I'll be seeing much of Syaoran, oniichan."

Goodness, the man grunted, she even calls him by his first name! "That's right!" Meiling butt in. "Syaoran's busy. VERY BUSY. He hasn't even gone to a single party in Hong Kong!" In America, he had – she carefully, wisely left out that detail.

The day ended with a decision bright and clear, bringing with it both anticipation and dread. Sakura needed to get ready – mentally and emotionally.

THURSDAY : NOON

Sakura propped the plane window open as soon as the take-off completed. A pretty stewardess inquired if she required anything. When she politely shook her head and answered None, she let her spine recline on the comforts of her beige and royal blue seat.

She watched the buildings and houses shrink from view, and then they were replaced by a sea of clouds. Afterwards, she reached for the magazine displayed behind the chair in front of her. She started off simply by gradually grazing her fingers through the pages, finding something of interest. Upon seeing an article with an image of man in his earliest of twenties in the business section, she dropped her hand, the calm smile vanished from her face, and felt a bubble of nervous energy rising in her chest.

Syaoran Li, it said, has come of age. 'Meet the young Hong Kongese magnate for whom there are great expectations.'

MERCHESHIRE'S NOTES:

New readers, hello! Sandra Mutate and Mafalda. Thanks for your input regarding the Nadeshiko bit. I was thinking about it and still can't come up with any. Haha!