The Disease that Killed Love

Chapter 19-Touya

" You never had a brother before, have you?" Was the first thing I had asked when Syaoran had came to our house and promptly refused to eat anything.
" Iie." Syaoran blinked. " What do you mean, before? I don't have one."
" God, you're mighty dense." I winked at Kero. " You know, during our stay in Hong Kong, we learned quite a few things about you."
" Like what." Syaoran's question was blunt and flat.
" The fact that you are ticklish."
The little boy jerked up and stared at me with wide eyes.
" Now, as long as you remain in this house, you're either going to eat, or," I reached for his tummy and began to tickle him. The poor kid squealed, and there came a childish smile that broke over his face, and then the sound of bells that rang for the first time.
" Stop, stop! Stop! Alright, I'll eat, for heaven's sake, Touya!" He shrieked. I decided to stop the torture.
" You are so mean!" He yelled at me. I smiled. It's nice seeing the youngster so spirited. Even during the night of poker, he was not very enthusiastic. These days, he barely moved around, other than playing that stupid cello of his.
" I can be meaner. There's a reason why Sakura stomps on me feet." I told him.
His reply surprised me. He stomped on the exact place Sakura had several hours ago that morning.

Well, there's a reason he's called Jingxi.

And the amusing thing is, Tomoyo's camera wasn't there.

Alright, let me touch on what the heck the setting was. Sakura and Tomoyo had gone off to the mall. Yukito had to go to his college because of the ' open school' thing, which was held for two days. I went the other day, which Yukito missed, having to make sure Syaoran didn't try to burn himself by heating his drought. ( The guy is starting to give me the creeps, and to think, I've known him for ten years!) So he had the decency to trust me with his son. I remember thinking, Gee, wait until I tell Yukito what just happened.



So back on the story. Syaoran managed to finish his breakfast. He's the slowest eater in the world. That one plate of pancakes costed me two hours. Of course, it was partly my fault because I kept on talking to him and feeding him milk. I guess he sort of got sick because of that. ( I had forgotten Asians don't digest milk that easily, and some are even allergic. I drank too much milk for that knowledge.)
And me, with my wonderful personality, managed to make him laugh the whole breakfast hours, although the bad thing was right after that he began to cry. He told me he missed his mommy, or " Mama", in this case, that he missed his sisters, that he never had a chance to really show them how much he appreciated them and all their support, and now he couldn't go to the Dead world because he was refused admission. The outburst was late in coming, but heartbreaking all the same.

Afterwards he sort of vomited, the contents being mostly white. Luckily, he went to be bathroom before the fit came, so the contents were in the toilet. Then he became so tired I thought he got AIDs. He's the deepest sleeper in the world, slept for three hours straight, and I was forced to play video games with Kero.



He came to my room, and just then his stomache grumbled. I raised an eyebrow at that.
" Alright, I'm hungry!" He yelled at me, annoyed that his body betrayed him. " Where's lunch?"
" Downstairs, get over here." Secretly, I had been very happy. He behaved quite like my sister, you know, demanding, sweet, caring, quiet. Although the sweet and caring didn't come at that moment. The demanding did. He wasn't particularly quiet-well, he couldn't stop humming some cello song, which he told me was by Brahms. I had to cook lunch for him. He raided the fridge, not for himself, but for Kero, who wouldn't wait. The stuffed animal had even less patience than Nakuru. So Syaoran gave some cookies to Kero and I urged him to take some for himself. He decided to get chocolate. We had noodles for lunch. Then he said something that disturbed me.
" Do you think if anything happened to Sakura, Yue would still care about me?"
" What are you talking about, you baka. Of course he'll care about you. You're his son!"
" I had a bad dream." Syaoran replied slowly, his voice a little weak. " Yue didn't want me anymore. Sakura was gone."

I got a bit uncomfortable. " I think that dream is all nonsense." I said roughly.
" I don't know about that." Syaoran replied. He put down his chopsticks.
" Hey, Yue isn't taking care of you so intensely for nothing, you know."
" I know. But he's a guardian."
" So?"
" He has a job." Syaoran pointed out. " He wasn't created to be a father. He doesn't really have his own life. If something happens to Sakura, then he's going to follow that direction. I wasn't supposed to be alive."

And as confusing as that sounded, and as frustrating, I couldn't help but understand and agree. The boy has every reason to fear. He has every reason to doubt Yue.

And I started to wonder if Syaoran had more power than Sakura.


The next day, the whole group was together, heading for the library. I did not know how it had happened. Somehow, the white walking sign was on, and we were crossing the street. Sakura was before us all, when there came a huge van, all white and shiny, and then...

It happened to be that it wasn't just Yue who had abandoned him. Tomoyo turned away from him. I turned away from him. Kero cursed his name. Spinel and Nakuru remained silent. The search for the shamans were forgotten. Only Eriol lended a helping hand, but barely.

Why did we abandon him? It wasn't simply because Sakura was killed. It wasn't because she lingered for three days and three nights, at the Tomoeda hospital, between life and death. It was because Syaoran had every opportunity to pull her back. Or so we believed.

And so the dream turned out to be true. Sakura was dead.

I remember being with Yukito, in his living room, when Syaoran, in his robes, went over to him. Yukito wouldn't look at him, so angry he was. I looked at him coldly. Quiet and despondent, the child pulled out the cards that Sakura had given him. He held them out. Yukito took them without a word, eyes cold and hard. The child looked like he was going to cry, but no tears fell. He looked long and hard at me, and I remembered the talk at the lunch table, the laughter when I had first and last tickled him. Then he turned, went up the stairs, we heard the quiet shutting of the door, and from that same door, stepped a ghost.