Times Change
Prologue
Past
For first time
in two years, eleven year old Syaoran Li was climbing up the steps of his
ancestral home in Hong Kong. A crashed
resounded from inside. Concerned, he
rushed up to the door and heaved it open.
The only things left intact were his memories. Broken furniture and ornaments littered the rooms. Decorum had been the least of the
assailants concerns. He tripped over
his fourth sister, the youngest, lying across the entrance, a grotesque
rendition of a welcome mat. Her
attackers were good. They had cut her
throat, leaving no other marks on her body.
The blood was splashed everywhere.
Time slowed, and reality took on a surreal aspect. His third sister, the family librarian, lay
in the next room, her neck broken, eyes open in terror. The smell of burned hair permeated from the
hallway. At the base of the stairs,
Syaoran found the source. The eldest
sister had been second to only him in magical power. Judging by the severe burns on her body, and scorch marks on the
wall, her attacker had outmatched her as well.
His second sister, mistress of arms, had chosen the high ground, the top
of the spiral staircase. Her sword lay
against the wall, her crushed body dumped next to it as an afterthought.
Syaoran looked to his mother's room. Someone had made that noise. Opening the bedroom door resulted in a groan
from the broken bed. Lady Li's white
robes, symbols of her matriarch status, were stained red. He rushed to her side and called her name.
"Little wolf," matron mother gasped as her eyes
fluttered open, "you have come back to us."
"Mother," Syaoran cried, "we need to get you to the
hospital. You've lost so much blood."
"I was married in this house," she whispered in
return, "why should your father's spirit have to leave here to meet me?"
"Don't say such things!" her son admonished. Her pulse is faint, she's going into shock,
he thought. Where is the phone? He upturned a pile of debris.
"That's how we got a few minutes warning," she said
from the bed, "the phone went dead while placing a dinner order." There was pause, as she caught her
breath. "Come to me, there is something
yet to be done." He kneeled by her
head. She was so pale. "You could not have prevented this, not
without the Cards." Syaoran shook his
head in disagreement. With strength she
should not possess, Lady Li reached out and held his hand. "You would have died, with us." Syaoran's eyes watered. "But, Fate saved you. As long as you live, so does our clan." She let go his hand and pulled a card from
the folds of her robe. Her shaking hand
pressed the ornate card into his grasp.
"Our family has been caretakers of a temple in China. Throw this card into the pond behind
it." His mother smiled. "Little wolf, your father wants to
dance." She looked past him and
relaxed, leaving Syaoran, last of his clan.
***
Present
Sakura sat in math class, body present, mind
elsewhere. The junior year of high
school is supposed to be fun. Being
sixteen is about boundless energy, budding romance, endless adventure, and
feeling alive, but that sounds more like her life at age ten and eleven. She was a candle snuffed out prematurely,
waiting to burn once more.
"Sakura!" the teacher yelled, "what is
the double integral of e2xsin(2y) dxdy?" Brought back to reality, Sakura smiled sheepishly at the teacher,
focused for a moment, and recited the correct answer. When Syaoran had been here, the math teacher had left her alone
for the most part. He was so eager to
go to the board, crisply outlining the problem and deriving a solution, not so
different from his mindset when they captured cards together. She had brute power with good
instincts. Kero said Syaoran had less
power than her, but his strategic and tactical abilities had saved her life
more than once. The bell rang, inciting
commotion, books being put away, students rushing for the door, and the teacher
shouting out the tomorrow's assignment over the din. Another school day is done.
Tomoyo cornered Sakura after class,
"Where did your mind wander to today?"
"I was just distracted," mumbled
Sakura, blushing in dismay.
"By what? Or should I say…by who?"
Tomoyo's eyes twinkled.
"Trust me, no one at this school,"
stated Sakura in a miffed tone, "I can guarantee that one hundred percent." She grabbed her backpack. "Let's head to my place."
They
walked in silence. Tomoyo had not paid
a visit since school ended in spring, though the girls were best friends. She had spent the summer at her
grandparents' country cottage. A young
man named Tenchi lived in a summer home across the lake with three sisters and
his dad. Tenchi was a writer, who
dabbled in poetry and prose. Tomoyo
claimed he sat at his desk, writing for many hours. Tomoyo still blushed and giggled when asked about how her summer
went. "Perhaps he wasn't at his desk
all summer," she confessed with a knowing smile. That is definitely sleepover confession material, thought Sakura. Problem is, I have nothing to confess in
return, Sakura concluded, her cheerful mood darkening for a moment.
"Sakura! You just walked by your own house." Tomoyo shook her head. "Let's get some ice cream and head to your
room. Looks like we have some catching
up to do."
***
Past
Syaoran closed his eyes and felt the rain
sting his face. Whoever attacked his
family would be watching the airports, but they would be hard pressed to check
every ship leaving the dock. His tears
mingled with the rain. "Why did I stay
an extra year in Japan?" he thought out loud.
He looked around and shook his head, like anyone could hear him in this
gale. He knew why he stayed. It had to do with feelings and
emotions. "Emotions that got my family
killed," he bitterly remarked. His
mother must have known this was coming.
He remembered when she called him back to Hong Kong.
"Little wolf," his mother said,
"forces are aligning, power is shifting, and potential enemies circle our
family. You are needed back home. I know you do not have the Cards. In your absence, your sisters and I did much
research. Power, like all other goals,
has many paths. In this case, a journey
completed a millennia ago."
They were dead, their research for
naught. This card is all that remains.
For a moment, he thought of asking Sakura for help. No, how many more people must suffer for my
weakness? "I will be focused," he
addressed the cyclone, "following my heart distracted me, which in turn, hurt
those around me. I will not make that
mistake again. I will be like you, a
typhoon, an unstoppable force, from which there is no hiding. And, there will be nowhere to hide from
me. I shall kill them all." Syaoran looked out at the cold, gray sea. This is the way my heart will be. The pain in his heart was replaced by a
frigid emptiness. He stood on the bow
through the rest of the stormy voyage.
His eyes slowly turned to stone; his face became expressionless.
The ship arrived in a Chinese port, a little after
midnight. A determined, young man
walked down the plank, into the night.
The thieves on the dock gave him wide berth.
***
Present
Tomoyo glanced at the pictures by bed. "Sakura, you still keep these pictures from
sixth grade around? Like the one of you
and Li at the beach?"
Sakura was suddenly very interested in stirring her
ice cream. "I never got around to putting
them away, forgot they were even there."
"Really," remarked Tomoyo, "why are they free of
dust then?" Sakura offered a partial
guilty plea by blushing deeply. "You
two were an interesting pair back then," Tomoyo continued, "it was exciting,
dangerous… perhaps romantic. And then
you let that boy slip through your fingers."
Sakura put her bowl down on the desk. She looked a way from Tomoyo, walked over to
her bean bag, and fell in a sprawl. "I
was eleven years old!" Sakura grumbled, "What did I know? I didn't have time to reflect, to
ponder? There was always a new danger
or mysterious opponent. Then, Syaoran
had to go back to Hong Kong. It was
like he vanished off the face of the Earth."
"I can understand the commuting difficulties, but
did you try to call him?" Tomoyo wondered out loud.
"Oh yes," Sakura blurted, and then blushed, "but the
phone just rang and rang. A week later,
when I tried again, it said 'This line is disconnected'. No forwarding number was given." She let out a deep sigh.
"We all miss him, Sakura, but isn't there anyone
else who interests you?" Tomoyo asked in a concerned tone.
"No one I'd want sitting behind me on Fly," she
answered with a grin.
"You've got to move on."
Sakura finally looked at Tomoyo. "You're right. I can't let life pass me by.
I have to seize the moment."
Sakura grinned at Tomoyo.
"Speaking of moments, Tomoyo, how IS Tenchi?"
Tomoyo jumped off the bed and grabbed her bags. "You know, Sakura, I completely forgot. I have these cute outfits I want us to try
on."
She can dodge the question, but she can't hide the
blush, thought Sakura. Tomoyo deserved
to be happy, and at least one of us should have fun. Sakura's eyebrows lifted as her friend pulled out a myriad of
outfits. "Tomoyo, how many outfits did
you bring?"
"Sakura, you may have stopped capturing cards, but I
will never stop making outfits," Tomoyo said resolutely. The friends stared at each other, and broke
into giggles. As Tomoyo continued with
her work, Sakura took one last look at the pictures, before archiving them in
her bottom desk drawer.
It was late into the night, when Tomoyo left for
home. Sakura went back up to her
darkened room. Standing by her desk,
she pulled out the beach picture from the drawer. Moonlight streaming in through the window illuminated the image
of Syaoran's face. How long did she
stand, she knew not. But, it was not
until she heard the midnight toll that she set his picture down.
***
Past
Syaoran stood in front of
the pond, looking at the ornate card. I
have finished one leg of the journey, he thought. Without another glance, he gracefully flipped it out over the
foggy water. At first, no immediate
effect was discerned, but then the sound of water churning could be heard. The wind picked up and the mist began to
swirl. A luminescent entity coalesced
before his very eyes. Then, it
spoke. Its voice was that of every wind
chime he had ever heard.
"I have heard the call, and I am
here. Who wishes to undertake the
training?"
"I do," Syaoran said firmly.
The entity appeared to appraise
him. "The trials are challenging, the
dangers untold. Many errors which lead
to failure, also result in death."
"Death and I are acquainted," Syaoran
replied. He felt himself judged once
more. The wind died down. Mist became solid, forming the appearance of
an old man.
"I shall train you. It begins now," said the old man.
***
Present
"Art class is the best way to start the day,"
remarked Tomoyo, "it's exercise for the soul."
Mixing colors on her palette, she eyed the canvas.
"Tomoyo, I never imagined you'd trade
the camcorder in for brushes," Sakura said incredulously, "that thing appeared
to be a natural extension of you."
"Oh, it is!" Tomoyo replied. She tugged at a chain in her bag, pulling out
a very thin, calculator-sized object.
"Six hours of full motion video compiled into 250 grams!"
Sakura chuckled, "So why are you doing
this? It's so old fashioned."
"There are advantages to the old
arts," Tomoyo explained, "for example, oil paintings force one to change
perspective and look at the big picture.
That is something easy to lose track of in video. Why are you doing it, Sakura?"
"I had never done this before,"
Sakura admitted, "but how will you know if you like something unless you try
it?"
"Going into the unknown can be very
difficult," Tomoyo countered.
"Yes, but when conquered, the prize is
relished even more," Sakura shot back.
A person appeared out of the corner of her eye. Tomoyo followed her gaze.
Sato, one of their high school counselors, was
standing next to the entry way.
"Professor," he yelled, "can you fit one male student in your class?"
"Yes," said a gruff male voice from the back, "but
only one. We are here for Art!"
Tomoyo giggled, "It must have gotten out, and after
only two days of class! What is the
probability of having an all girl class?"
"Remember, athletes and cheerleaders choose classes
first," Sakura reminded her, "neither group needs class ratios to get a date."
"Then what's your excuse, Sakura," Tomoyo teased,
"hmm, having one eager to please boy around may be interesting."
"Thank you," Sato responded, "he enrolled late, and
we want him to meet all his requirements.
Where do you want him to sit?"
"Back here, where I can keep an eye on him!" Giggles emanated from the class.
Tomoyo poked Sakura, "Aren't you
interested in the new boy?"
Sakura continued to paint. "I'm not desperate!" she whispered, "besides, he's probably gay."
Sato looked into the hallway, "Your schedule is
complete. There's a seat for you at the
front of the classroom. Good luck,
young man." He gestured for the student
to enter.
Syaoran Li walked into class.
***
End of prologue
