Author's Notes: By the way, I was kind of wondering if it would be a good idea to blend a little Yugioh into this fic. I need the duel monster cards and millenium items to heal Syaoran if I decide to end this story with a happy ending. But I also know that there are some people who probably do not like crossovers or Yugioh. Please review and tell me your opinion on this matter.
Chapter 29-Xuyan
Jingxi and I always had this grudge against each other. It intensified because we were cousins. But trust me, anyone would be a little resentful if someone weaker than they accomplished more than they could. And that was just the type of person Jingxi was. He was weak, he was ill, he was fated to die, and yet he came out the best, in the spotlight, plus the newspapers, while I, a healthy person, who works equally hard and grassively, just loomed into the shadow. Which is what happened to Syaoran and Sakura, the girl got the spotlight while Syaoran got the shadow, although that quickly changed.
So anyone should understand why we were always competing. At first, it was simply a test to see if Syaoran was as good as I am, not because I'm proud or anything, just out of curiosity. That curiosity killed all the confidence I had in myself, so I guess out of logic I had reason to hate Syaoran, however unacceptable it may be. Syaoran worked hard, truthfully, for in this story there are no lies. Every word was simple truth, except for the opinions, which are neither true nor false. But at the same time, it is equally logical that Syaoran would get the spotlight and I nothing, now that I think of it. Just because Syaoran gets the name, doesn't mean he was better than me. And what I mean is, I'm a very careless person, not because I want to be, but simply because my brain is too quick. And at the same time, I get impatient with slow things, so I skim over them, sometimes making mistakes. This cannot be helped without music, but music didn't help much at that time either, because I still miss notes, my scales get slightly sloppy, and everything gets messed up. Jingxi, on the other hand, is very smart, but he is slow, not his mind functions, but his movements. And with his brain quick and his muscles slow, he was bound to get slower. Also, he has little endurance, and he knows it, which made him concentrate more than most people, as well as mature quicker in the name of ' necessity'. Which is why he scores hundreds on tests but never has enough time to check over his answers; he always has to stop on long ones and does short ones slowly. I, have plenty of time to check my answers; only I'm too impatient to do so.
And now that I am more mature, as I think I realize that in cello Jingxi was probably not much better than me either. I read tons of books, mostly classics, he reads a lot but doesn't understand it. I understood the books, he doesn't, but he enjoys it. But at the same time he's living in a classical story himself, he was filled with pain, as most books are. So we had a touch with music, we both understood it. But when it comes to competitions, judges are usually sympathetic, unless they're very old, or you're very old. In that case they're indifferent. But with five, six, seven, eight year olds like us, judges had to be nice, unless they're plainly evil, which is impossible, or they're in a bad mood, which doesn't happen often. I was strong, tall for my age, considered handsome or going to be. I had the strength to play Beethoven. Syaoran, on the other hand, was weak, medium height but very feminish, with a tired but determined look in his eyes. The competitions are usually ones that involve all ages. Judges think he's younger than he is, base him on his health, his ' age', and mark him as first place because he supposedly did better for his age than others. I also realized that second place was just the name; many times we had tied. So all that goofing around all those years was just childish nonsense, although the jealousy was not.
Syaoran was a pretty good goalie. He's a good player in the field, but resting every
ten minutes was just too much for the coach. He had fun, you can see it. Eriol once
joked that maybe Syaoran would give up the cello for soccer. At which Syaoran
wacked him lightly with his bow. I was tuning my violin. Eriol was testing his pedal
on his piano, quite a good piano it use to be, and what a racket it made. The pedal
creaked, crrrrrk, crrrrrk, like wood scratching wood. It was horrible.
Jingxi had been goalie again, I think it was a Thursday, when the ball came straight for the goal, and Syaoran caught it. He fell to the grass and didn't get up again. I had thought, gee, this is not the world cup, you don't have to hug the ball, but when I turned him over he didn't respond.
At first I didn't react, maybe because my mind was blocking it, so I shook him, again and again, and his body fell limp and the ball rolled out of his hands. His eyes were closed, his mouth tight, his hands limp. Eriol came running up to me, sweating, hot and panting.
" What's wrong? What happened?"
I felt Syaoran's nose. No breath. His neck, no pulse.
" Oh shoot!" I jumped up, expecting the worst. " Eriol, ano, do you have a cell
phone? Anyone?!"
I know how to take care of Syaoran, despite what many may think. And Syaoran never, never fainted like that, with his aura gone, his breathing still, and his skin suddenly cold. Whenever he fainted, there was always an aura, small but sure, that kept him in this world. When he sleeps, that's a different story, but not when he faints. Now that aura was gone.
I was seriously freaked out and horrified. Yamazaki, the good for nothing storyteller, happened to have something useful, and I took his phone and quickly dialed Yukito's phone number.
I caught him right in the middle of class. At first he got really upset, because this ring was going to cost him. Then, the other side went all quiet. I was standing guard, protecting and shielding Syaoran from the sun, while Eriol tried to find any signs that Syaoran was alive.
" Oh, alright. Arigatou. Ja." I didn't think Yukito understood me at first, but when he hung up, I guess that was that.
" Alright Xuyan-san," Eriol was next to me, scaring me out of my wits. " You
better help me with Syaoran. Oh my god!!"
" Huh? Nani? What is it?"
" You!" Eriol's eyes were wide. " How did you do that? How did you? I mean, of
course you did..." He looked away and thought for a while.
I stood there, not comprehending.
" Of course." He said at last. " That was why we all felt very uncomfortable. Your
aura was black all along." He eyed me warily. At first I was confused, than I realized
what he meant.
What most people, perhaps, don't know, is that I had carried some kind of evil force within me ever since I was born. It seems that the Li clan was cursed, because everyone of that blood was in danger of some kind of evil luck. Meiling, for example, was born without magic. Syaoran's father was an immortal. I had a black aura. I wield dark magic.
" Oh well," Eriol looked at me. " If you have that magic, than you're capable of
bringing him back."
" I never tried." it was the truth. " I'm not sure I can do it."
" I know. And you can't try that with Meiling anyway, because her body's torn."
Eriol was thinking and not minding me anymore. " Xuyan, you make sure no one
touches him, and tell them everything if that keeps them away. Shoot, his skin's
delicate," He poked at Syaoran as if he were a cockroach, but the skin teared. " Eee,
pink. He's very brittle. Make sure no one touches him, and don't you go harming
him either. I'm going to find Sakura. I wonder, did she give him the cards?" Eriol
turned and ran back, feeling Syaoran's pockets carefully. " Iie." He stood up and
left.
I seriously had no idea what Eriol was talking about, but I kept everyone away from Syaoran. There was something about him that seems to be rotting. And I could almost smell the smell in the air. But it couldn't be; he just died, and the rotting takes some time.
Eriol came back about fifteen minutes later with Sakura close behind him. No one spoke, not one boy. I held the soccer ball and was stampin on it impatiently with my foot, careful not to let the ball skit towards Syaoran. Eriol whispered something to Sakura, who nodded and took out a card.
One might expect me to say, " Hey! In front of everyone?" But I didn't. Quite frankly, I didn't really care if it takes ten years to explain everything about the magic, its history, what the cards are, who Syaoran really is, as long as he's here to join in the talking. So I remained silent, the coach watched curiously ( I had shooed him away from Syaoran, the punishment for boldness and disrespect can come later.) There was a dim glow that surrounded Sakura, bluish mixed with pink, wait, no, a funny color I can't describe. It wasn't exactly purple, but it was a color I couldn't identify. But the feeling was Dream Card, a good choice, if Syaoran's soul is still in his body, but it's not. However, I wasn't the one who studied the Clow Cards.
Sakura went limp and collapsed beside Syaoran, the two sleeping beauties, and if it
sounds funny it's not. Because this time, the kiss wouldn't do anything.
" Now's the time, when you can lend a little of whatever you have to her." Eriol
told me sternly. I nodded, pressed my hands on Sakura's shoulders and
concentrated.
If you had ever tried self hypnosis, or tried something that can help you sleep other than pills and massage, than you would get an idea of how it felt like. It felt quite eerie, I had never done this before, and I believe I did it wrong. After all, Eriol had said to lend Sakura what strength I had. Instead, I ended up in the same place with her, using her body as a portal.
I do not remember what went on at the gate to the dead. I only know what had
really happened to Syaoran. The ball had hit him right when he was starting to have
a reaction, somewhere deep in his body, towards some aura of some magic. The ball
carried its energy and had enhanced the reaction, causing him to die immediately,
like a strong heart attack or stroke. I guess the ball had carried some magic, perhaps
Eriol's or mine, and had really caused a deadly accident. The rotting feeling was
because the body is rotting, not physically, because rotting is, after all, the process of
decomposing, or in other words, bacteria eating at your insides. The magic started
to eat little by little at Syaoran, as if the immune system belonged to someone else
and didn't recognize Syaoran's organs.
The three of us woke up really tired. Eriol was standing over me, feeling my
forehead.
" I knew you could do it. How do you feel?" He asked me.
I was grateful for his faith, but the problem is I was feeling nauseous and upset. All
of the sudden I was grumpy, and I told him that, smart me. Eriol was
understanding, he seemed suddenly relaxed, and he tended to the others.
I stood up and then for the first time I noticed my clothes. Black and purple, with
the symbols of the clan. I dusted myself off, too grumpy to be surprised. So instead
I said,
" Why the heck am I wearing this stupid thing for?"
In actuality, the clothes weren't exactly stupid, but they were out of place and time. And they were strange. I'm regular old Xuyan, so I didn't see why I should get this, but they were robes, of course, made of black silk, the type that is quite heavy and shiny, like one of those Chinese silk dresses, qi pao. It was quite warm, surprisingly. I wore a purple belt, one that really squeezes your stomach until you can't breathe. I was not happy. The bottom part of the robe was wide, like a dress, but it went straight down. There were four slits; one in the front, one in the back, and at the sides. I seriously didn't know whether to feel subconscious and stupid, or pleased and surprised. It was like a dress. The sleeves were loose but not baggy, and there was loose, long purple cuffs. I was dressed halfway between a Qing dynasty Emperor and a Ming dynasty noble. It was one of the weirdest piece together outfits that I know of, that actually worked because you can't really combine European King with Native American Chief.
The only thing I was glad about was the hat, actually, because it was like Syaoran's, instead of the cupcake hat of Qing dynasty on men with long pigtails. I think that time people are starting to get the wrong idea about fashion-but than again, you won't worry about losing your hair; you're already pretty much bald. While Syaoran's was gold at the sides, mine was purple, yet again. For quite a long time I didn't know what this is about, and for the present I won't mention any of it.
Sakura wore a Japanese outfit, appropriately, the only problem is it looked too Chinese to be Japanese. And I guess the reason for that was because Japanese was Chinese anyway, that remark being factual and not opinionated so don't think I'm discriminating anyone. Pink, like her name, pink and red, with white, the flower of the field. She no longer had those pigtails on top of her head, which were quite, ahem, kawaii for an eleven year old but not for a twelve. And without the pigtails one would realize that her hair was pretty much the same length, except for the stray and front hair which were shorter. She wore no hat, her dress was simple, but it had a godly feel, a display of might and power. In her hand the staff was held, the star no longer a simple star but engraved with many designs. The ring around the star was carved with words, words, perhaps the incantation she uses. But the words were not modern but very old, very chinese, because it was underdeveloped chaligraphy that came from the Latinlike China. Her outfit was silk as well, but not heavy and shiny like mine, more of satinlike, with a sandy texture that is light and fluttery. She had baggy sleeves, not too baggy, but loose, and her dress reached down to the ground. She had a belt of read against her pink dress, simple, without design, and the collar, pink as well, had white edges, small, thin white ages. It was a cross between a kimono and a modern Chinese dress.
Just the two of us would have made our team start, after all, we had been wearing uniforms. But if you add Syaoran, it would take some pages to tell. He had woken up very pale, his aura flickering wildly, and he was a tired child, exhausted and lost. When he looked at himself he gave a start, nearly fell, and was caught by Eriol, who did not seem very surprised at our outfits. ( I grew to learn much later it's hard to surprise him.) He wore pretty much his own outfit, except on his chest area there was some weird design that took me some time to figure out, and I'll tell, for fear of keeping too much suspense. It was actually a fancy dragon, the most powerful of all immortal creatures in the Chinese culture, and that dragon actually meant protection. Now this is actually quite queer, because when you talk about guardians to Chinese people, you're actually talking about lions. ( I grew to observe that Chinese lions look like Asian dragons and Jewish lions look mostly like golden retrievers.) But dragons are not guardians. They are actually wild, they are their own creature. They have no mind for mortals like ' us'. Nor do they mind immortals like Buddha. So when a dragon is guarding you, there's something going on.
The dragon, a golden one by the way, was stretched out, and I found the chest area to be the head. It went up and down, as if it was dancing, which is actually how it flies. Syaoran had the sword, but this time it was at his belt. The sword had changed. Instead of the dark stone in the hilt it had an emerald. The hilt was made of white gold. The blade was made of blue steel, I think. Syaoran had the sword. I had a pole, which can change sizes, and when I saw that, being grumpy that I was, the first thing I thought about was that story about the journey of four immortals, or rather, three and a mortal, Xi You Ji for any Mandarin people who are interested. ( I use Mandarin because, after all, most people speak that.) It was mostly about a monk during the Tang Dynasty, plus an immortal pigman, a guy that was once evil, and an interesting monkey who knows seventy two immortal tricks and magic. And the first thing I remembered was that he use to put the pole he carries in his ear. I was not going to do that.
So Syaoran had a sword, and he drew it, stared at it, put it back. Then he drew it out again and lifted it into the sunlight. On the blade, in clear symbols, some kind of writing was written on it.
Eriol took the sword carefully and read it.
" What does it say?" Sakura asked. Something about her changed.
" It is in an ancient language." Eriol blinked. " I think I know what it says, but not
exactly. It's a mixture of chaligraphy, hereoglyphics, and characters. But they're not
very...modern, I should say. I think...this is a warning." He looked up at Syaoran
carefully. Then at the dragon.
" A warning not to touch Jingxi," Eriol turned to Sakura. " Do you remember
anything of what happened?"
We did, after all, we just came back. But now I forgot, as did she, so I cannot tell here.
" Give me that." Syaoran held out his hand. Eriol handed the sword over, and Syaoran read it to us. I remember thinking, since when could Syaoran read these things?
" Whoever touches the half mortal will bear the penalty of the dead.
The half mortal is protected by the Great Dragon.
Those who will sincerely aid the half mortal would receive the same protection,
But those who harm will face the wrath of all three.
Some warning, I would suppose." Syaoran looked up.
" Who are the three though?" I asked. I had a feeling I knew, I just wanted to make
sure.
Eriol knew. " I'm not any more sure than you, Xuyan, but I think it is you three."
" Or maybe the dead, the dragon and the half mortal, although that's not exactly
three." Sakura pointed out.
" Possibly, I doubt it." Eriol shrugged.
" Ahem."
We turned.
Just several minutes ago Syaoran was dead.
Just several minutes ago we were wearing uniforms.
" Hoeeeee!!!"
