Chapter 2: Suddenly Aware
Kinomoto Sakura
6-2 Tomoeda Elementary School
July 19
Watashi no nisshi*, (literally, "my diary")
Mizuki-sensei asked me once if I ever felt sad. I told her, yes, all the time, because I
always cry. She told me she wasn't talking about that kind of sadness.
She told me she was talking about the kind of sadness so deep and so painful.. because
you had to pretend you were happy so that the people around you wouldn't worry about you and feel
sad, too.
I asked her to explain, because I didn't understand.
Today, Syaoran-kun told me he was going back to Hong Kong. To stay.
So I wrote a letter to Mizuki-sensei.
Telling her I finally understood what she meant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, you could go over to the Lis' and ask for it back," Tomoyo reasoned.
Sakura put the phone down resignedly. The airline had confirmed that there were only two black
Vuitton suitcases on the conveyor belt that day. "I.. I can't," she said. "I- just can't."
"But your diary--"
Which was more important?, Sakura mused. Her eight year old diary or preserving her
unpained-as-yet state?
She sighed. Her unpained-as-yet state.
".... It wouldn't matter, really. What'll he do with a stack of eight-year old memories?" Sakura
asked. "Come on, we'll be late and Orochi-sama will kill us both."
*Baka!* she berated herself. *Why do you insist on bringing that notebook of yours everywhere
anyway? Now look what happened.*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Syaoran sat reading the notebook all throughout breakfast.
"What's that he's reading?" his sister, Li Feimei wondered. "He looks pretty serious about it."
"Beats me," replied Li Shiefa. "Hey! Xiao Lang!"
Syaoran wasn't listening. He'd been transported to another place. Another time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Before I go-- I want you to promise me something," thirteen year old Li Syaoran said.
"What's that?" thirteen year old Kinomoto Sakura asked.
The wind blew softly to ruffle the leaves of the trees. The chains on the swing creaked as the girl upon it moved slightly.
"Promise me... that you'll never forget," he said.
Her eyes shot open and only then did she look up at him. He had his hand held out to her, his
little finger in the air. Their old sign of shared secrets, promises.
Promises to be kept. Forever.
She hooked her own little finger with his, her other hand gripping the swing chains tightly, thinking maybe if she held him there,
and she held on to the cold metal, he'd never leave, he'd always stay, and they would always, always be together.
"....Promise me you'll be back," she whispered.
The words hung in the air, suspended, resonated, and the gone with the breeze.
He nodded once. "I promise. I promise I'll be back."
"And I promise I'll never forget. Never, never forget..." she replied.
He stood up quickly and held her in his arms.
*Don't go*, her heart screamed. *Don't leave me here. Don't leave me.*
"Dai suki da," he said softly.
I love you.
And with that, he left.
And her tears began to flow uncontrollably.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Sakura... Sakura-san!"
Sakura blinked. "--Huh? Oh. Gomen, Orochi-sama."
Yuri Orochi was a great director. He was filming Sakura and Tomoyo for a TV special about their
tour in Hong Kong.
"You seem distracted today, Sakura-san," Orochi observed.
Sakura hung her head. "Gomen nasai. I'm still pretty tired. I think I should..."
"...go to your dressing room, Sakura-san. We can finish taping later," Orochi finished.
Sakura was extremely grateful. She loved Orochi-sama. He was considerate.
Then she began to wonder why, of all the memories in her head and her heart, did THAT particular memory resurface.
Tomoyo appeared at her side. "Daijobu ka, Sakura-chan?"
She nodded. "Hai, otomodachi-san."
She entered her dressing room. Once there, she locked the door and faced herself in the mirror. Green eyes met identical green
in utter confusion and resurfaced pain.
*Why now?*
Her reflection did not answer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Xiao Lang! You seem so distracted! Have you heard a word I said?"
Syaoran looked up. "Sorry. Lack of sleep. Jet lag."
Wong Ming-na shook her head. "You mustn't tax yourself so. You'll get sick."
"I'm okay," he replied.
"Well, as I was saying, I have to go to our branch in Beijing. Will you be really okay?" Ming-na asked.
"Yeah."
"I have to go." She stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "Get some sleep. I'll call you when I get there."
Syaoran saw her off.
Ming-na was a girl he'd met shortly after being proclaimed Clan Master. The daughter of one of the most influential men in Hong
Kong, Ming-na was beautiful, street-smart, logical, funny and understanding. His mother approved. His sisters approved (But not
after an impossibly long debate).
So he went out with her.
But now...
But now Sakura was here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late that night, Sakura crept out of bed when she was completely sure that Tomoyo was asleep. Making as less noise as humanly
possible, she crept around in the inky darkness and found what she sought in the closet.
The black suitcase.
She left the bedroom dragging the suitcase along with her. Tomoyo stirred, and she froze. Later she heard her best friend's
labored breathing and sighed as she continued on.
Okay... so in this particular conquest she might seem like the most perverted person on earth. But no, really. She just wanted to....
wallow.
Her hands were shaking as she opened the suitcase and sifted through the wardrobe.
Business suits, she found, and A LOT for that matter. She smiled ruefully. *Syaoran-kun. In a business suit. Yeah, right.*
And some formal tuxedoes she found, too. *Waaaaayy spiffy. And I bet he hates it.*
She was giggling to herself now. Syaoran had always told her that he would NEVER wear a tuxedo. Or a tie.
"I like my way better," he'd said. "I don't like clothes that are so neat they make me not want to move. And I need to move a lot.
Either to protect you from a Clow Card or to punch out the face of any guy who even goes near you."
She'd laughed then.
But now things have changed, and here was a suitcase full of the clothes he so despised.
She wondered how he was. What he'd been doing.
If he still remembered.
*Fat chance,* she thought. *If he remembered, then he'd have been back.*
Under the pile she found a green shirt, sort of old, sort of worn.
This was more like it.
She hugged the garment to her chest, giving in. So she still loved Syaoran. There. She admitted it. Well, to herself. But she did.
She caught his scent as she closed her eyes. Maybe he'd forgotten. But she hadn't.
And she could always dream.
Kinomoto Sakura
6-2 Tomoeda Elementary School
July 19
Watashi no nisshi*, (literally, "my diary")
Mizuki-sensei asked me once if I ever felt sad. I told her, yes, all the time, because I
always cry. She told me she wasn't talking about that kind of sadness.
She told me she was talking about the kind of sadness so deep and so painful.. because
you had to pretend you were happy so that the people around you wouldn't worry about you and feel
sad, too.
I asked her to explain, because I didn't understand.
Today, Syaoran-kun told me he was going back to Hong Kong. To stay.
So I wrote a letter to Mizuki-sensei.
Telling her I finally understood what she meant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, you could go over to the Lis' and ask for it back," Tomoyo reasoned.
Sakura put the phone down resignedly. The airline had confirmed that there were only two black
Vuitton suitcases on the conveyor belt that day. "I.. I can't," she said. "I- just can't."
"But your diary--"
Which was more important?, Sakura mused. Her eight year old diary or preserving her
unpained-as-yet state?
She sighed. Her unpained-as-yet state.
".... It wouldn't matter, really. What'll he do with a stack of eight-year old memories?" Sakura
asked. "Come on, we'll be late and Orochi-sama will kill us both."
*Baka!* she berated herself. *Why do you insist on bringing that notebook of yours everywhere
anyway? Now look what happened.*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Syaoran sat reading the notebook all throughout breakfast.
"What's that he's reading?" his sister, Li Feimei wondered. "He looks pretty serious about it."
"Beats me," replied Li Shiefa. "Hey! Xiao Lang!"
Syaoran wasn't listening. He'd been transported to another place. Another time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Before I go-- I want you to promise me something," thirteen year old Li Syaoran said.
"What's that?" thirteen year old Kinomoto Sakura asked.
The wind blew softly to ruffle the leaves of the trees. The chains on the swing creaked as the girl upon it moved slightly.
"Promise me... that you'll never forget," he said.
Her eyes shot open and only then did she look up at him. He had his hand held out to her, his
little finger in the air. Their old sign of shared secrets, promises.
Promises to be kept. Forever.
She hooked her own little finger with his, her other hand gripping the swing chains tightly, thinking maybe if she held him there,
and she held on to the cold metal, he'd never leave, he'd always stay, and they would always, always be together.
"....Promise me you'll be back," she whispered.
The words hung in the air, suspended, resonated, and the gone with the breeze.
He nodded once. "I promise. I promise I'll be back."
"And I promise I'll never forget. Never, never forget..." she replied.
He stood up quickly and held her in his arms.
*Don't go*, her heart screamed. *Don't leave me here. Don't leave me.*
"Dai suki da," he said softly.
I love you.
And with that, he left.
And her tears began to flow uncontrollably.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Sakura... Sakura-san!"
Sakura blinked. "--Huh? Oh. Gomen, Orochi-sama."
Yuri Orochi was a great director. He was filming Sakura and Tomoyo for a TV special about their
tour in Hong Kong.
"You seem distracted today, Sakura-san," Orochi observed.
Sakura hung her head. "Gomen nasai. I'm still pretty tired. I think I should..."
"...go to your dressing room, Sakura-san. We can finish taping later," Orochi finished.
Sakura was extremely grateful. She loved Orochi-sama. He was considerate.
Then she began to wonder why, of all the memories in her head and her heart, did THAT particular memory resurface.
Tomoyo appeared at her side. "Daijobu ka, Sakura-chan?"
She nodded. "Hai, otomodachi-san."
She entered her dressing room. Once there, she locked the door and faced herself in the mirror. Green eyes met identical green
in utter confusion and resurfaced pain.
*Why now?*
Her reflection did not answer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Xiao Lang! You seem so distracted! Have you heard a word I said?"
Syaoran looked up. "Sorry. Lack of sleep. Jet lag."
Wong Ming-na shook her head. "You mustn't tax yourself so. You'll get sick."
"I'm okay," he replied.
"Well, as I was saying, I have to go to our branch in Beijing. Will you be really okay?" Ming-na asked.
"Yeah."
"I have to go." She stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "Get some sleep. I'll call you when I get there."
Syaoran saw her off.
Ming-na was a girl he'd met shortly after being proclaimed Clan Master. The daughter of one of the most influential men in Hong
Kong, Ming-na was beautiful, street-smart, logical, funny and understanding. His mother approved. His sisters approved (But not
after an impossibly long debate).
So he went out with her.
But now...
But now Sakura was here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late that night, Sakura crept out of bed when she was completely sure that Tomoyo was asleep. Making as less noise as humanly
possible, she crept around in the inky darkness and found what she sought in the closet.
The black suitcase.
She left the bedroom dragging the suitcase along with her. Tomoyo stirred, and she froze. Later she heard her best friend's
labored breathing and sighed as she continued on.
Okay... so in this particular conquest she might seem like the most perverted person on earth. But no, really. She just wanted to....
wallow.
Her hands were shaking as she opened the suitcase and sifted through the wardrobe.
Business suits, she found, and A LOT for that matter. She smiled ruefully. *Syaoran-kun. In a business suit. Yeah, right.*
And some formal tuxedoes she found, too. *Waaaaayy spiffy. And I bet he hates it.*
She was giggling to herself now. Syaoran had always told her that he would NEVER wear a tuxedo. Or a tie.
"I like my way better," he'd said. "I don't like clothes that are so neat they make me not want to move. And I need to move a lot.
Either to protect you from a Clow Card or to punch out the face of any guy who even goes near you."
She'd laughed then.
But now things have changed, and here was a suitcase full of the clothes he so despised.
She wondered how he was. What he'd been doing.
If he still remembered.
*Fat chance,* she thought. *If he remembered, then he'd have been back.*
Under the pile she found a green shirt, sort of old, sort of worn.
This was more like it.
She hugged the garment to her chest, giving in. So she still loved Syaoran. There. She admitted it. Well, to herself. But she did.
She caught his scent as she closed her eyes. Maybe he'd forgotten. But she hadn't.
And she could always dream.