The Desease that Killed Love

Chapter 5- Yue

I did not want to wake up. I wanted to stay ignorant. To stay in the dark, with the viel over my eyes, seeing my son that I never heard of. Or perhaps, wake, and then find it was all a mistake. That Syaoran wasn't my son after all. Or perhaps, it was all just a dream, and Syaoran never was.

But guardians don't dream.

The paternal feeling had gone, but it was returning, as I stood at the foot of the bed. Touya had left. The two of us were alone, me, and that child that was named my son.

He looked like the half dead thing that he was, his eyes closed and his mind off to some hopefully more comforting world. And I know that if I was lost he was more lost than I. He was a withered lily, white as the dry snow that falls in winter, with no color whatsoever about him. How he managed to become so dark when he came to Japan I do not know. Some magic at work? But now, whatever thing that vieled over him it was gone.

I remember looking at him and wondering if he is anything like me. And I found that he was. The same coldness, the same compressed mind. Yet he endured too much rage for his age. And it was all my fault.
All mine.

" Daddy?"

I blinked. No one had ever called me that, and I was sure he wasn't calling me. His eyes were closed. He was dreaming.
" Tell me that story about the girl with the deer again." He said.

I was silent. It was his dream. He had been imagining a father all alone. It was what he meant. That ' daddy' had told him a story about a girl with a deer. But it wasn't he who had told it. Syaoran made it up by himself.

Daddy? Tell me that story about the girl with the deer again.

And I saw him as if for the first time. The child, yearning for love, longing for something he could not have. And he did the only thing he could do, to picture some strange image, some figure to subsitute him through his troubles. And all the while I was in Japan, completely ignorant as I had before wished, while he was left all alone to deal with his own problems. How awful it must of been, thinking of the father he wished he had, and when he turned to me, and did not see him. How did I look to him? Do I look harsh and cruel? Neglectful? Would I tell him the story about a girl with a deer?

I sat down at the edge of his bed and thought. Perhaps I shouldn't worry about who was my son. Because Syaoran wasn't the problem. Most likely it was me. If I was not a good father, then it could prove great ruin for him.

And I knew I did not want him to die.



It was some time before he woke. I was not in his room. At length, he seemed well, almost healthy, but the darkened coloring of his skin was gone, and he looked paler than Eriol. But other than that, he seemed quite well, which explained why we were fooled for so long.

He avoided me. That was reasonable. I was ready to accept him. He wasn't ready to accept me, and I knew I couldn't force him. No one spoke about the other day. Yelan never appeared, so we were hosted by her daughters, and they and I had a lot to talk about.

Yukito probably knew by now, but I wasn't going to let him do anything stupid. Syaoran, staying away from me, went and hung out with the least likely person-or beast-Kero. It was actually not much of a surprise though; Kero was perhaps the most optimistic person in our group-the only good thing about him. And I was glad that he was helping me on this one, which I knew he was, since he always gives me a reassuring glance when he manages to bring a smile on the poor child's face. But such things are short-lived. Syaoran has never smiled often, and he did not then.

I remember walking out into the gardens, when I saw Yelan again. She was not the woman that I had last remembered, cheerful, carefree, for now she looked worn and troubled, a woman of many days. I remember she looked at me once, speaking nothing, and then dwindled far away. No longer the proud, Mistress of the Li clan. She was a heartbroken and ashamed mother.

All the while, Touya was getting information about what we had been doing. He already had an idea, but there was much that he did not know. I was not the one to tell him, though. He got all the news from Sakura, as was appropriate. And I simply waited for Syaoran.

Fanren taught me how to make the draught. There were many rare herbs in it, and it was a wise thing that the Li clan kept a garden of it. Li had to drink it daily, and I felt pity for him, a young child having to endure this all.

And then, came the day I wished it didn't. And yet I did.



It was several days after he woke. Syaoran was out in the garden, practicing his martial arts, and I was worried. He had a look of anger on him, as if he was practicing to throw off his rage.

I watched him for a while before he suddenly dropped to his knees and started sobbing, and I became alarmed. I remember rushing over to him and holding him by the shoulders, and he went on sobbing, sobbing like the poor child that he was.
" Why?" He asked. " Why can't I move fast enough? Why can't I do it?"
" Syaoran, you're tired. You should rest." Was the only thing I could muster." Come."
" Iie!" He cried, pushing away from me and falling over. " Iie!" He was starting to shriek. " What's happening to me? Why can't I hide it anymore?"
" No hiding!" I said quickly. " No hiding! No more hiding, since it's no use, iie iie iie, don't start hiding things ever again, Li Syaoran."
" Li Syaoran?" The child blinked at me through his tears. " Li?"

And I suddenly realized that he does not have the same father as the other four had.
" Li, if you wish." I said tiredly, suddenly weary.

Then he laughed.

It was horrible. It was not the laugh of a child that he was. It was a laugh of someone mad. I stared at him in horror as blood began to roll down from the side of his mouth.

" Baka." He said in a voice hardly above a whisper. " Hiding. No more hiding, is that what you say? No more hiding. Well, then, I won't hide. See the blood?" He wiped it from his mouth and stared at it. " Pink. Like a girl. The weak girl." I blinked, and realized he said " the" weak girl.
" Pink. Her favorite color, the color of her name, hai? Well, we match then. She has the eyes of my aura. I have the blood of hers. Isn't it so romantic?"

I blinked and held on more tightly.

" I wonder what her blood is like." And to my disgust, the child tasted his own blood. " Is it as stale as mine, or more salty? You see, Yue, you told me I shouldn't hide anymore. No more hiding, you say. Well then, I won't hide this. Your mistress is as idiotic as any other fool that dwells in this world. Her heart blinds her judgement. Or she might have found out long ago." He laughed again, but the laugh turned to sobs, heartbreaking sobs that I knew the laugh had attempted to cover.
" I hate her!" He suddenly cried, " That Card Mistress. She goes about smiling, making so many friends, doing sports without fear of fainting. And she won. She made me fail. I could have won, honestly!"

Was he breaking down at last?

" Why is she strong and healthy? Why does she get everything? I worked hard, honestly I did! I wanted to be strong..." He fell into sobs. I held him close, rocking him, pondering on his words.
" You were strong." I said to him softly. " You were strong. You're as strong as the strongest person I know. It's okay..."
" Mmh." He moaned, his voice muffled from being pressed to me. His entire body was shaking, but at least it was not so perilous. I stroked his hair, trying my best. I have never been a father.
" I can't hate her." I heard him say. " I see her and then-and then-"
" Shh." I said to him. " It's alright. It's alright," I rocked back and forth. " There's nothing wrong with being jealous, especially if you're like this. Come, don't cry, be a big boy. I'm proud of you Syaoran. If I had known you were my son before, I would be so proud, but it makes no difference. I'm still proud of you."

He drew back and looked at me with those eyes filled with tears, but searching eyes, eyes searching mine, as if seeking the truth. I remember wondering, was I like the father he imagined?

He sobbed, and leaned forward, burying his head into my breast, and as I rocked him, a small, innocent, childish voice came from my son. The one word I have never heard directed at me my whole life. The word I had been waiting for.

" Daddy..."