Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm really really late. Sorry, finals have been killing me this year. Um, not much to say here except this chapter is on the day Sakura got stabbed, with a few plot changes and stuff.
Thanks to nightshadow, riley s, LicyBabe2002, Meruru-chan, Rhea, ^_^, laura, SnickerS, BCZeon27, bishounen lovah (hmm…answers. Don't know if I will. *smirk*), Miya, Silly*Niecy, Peacewish.
Dark FantasyChapter 8: On the Beach
Syaoran knew it was Tomoeda beach, the little stretch of sand, the mix of tall and short buildings behind him across the street. He also knew it was a dream; he was becoming an expert on reality and fantasy these days. It was still summer as the air hung thick and hazy in the early morning sun. It must have been very early, maybe seven in the morning if the beach was this deserted. His commuter train always passed by here later, and there was always a developing crowd. But here, nothing. Just sand and water.
It was eerily quiet too, as if the breaking of the waves and rumble of the city were nothing more substantial than the phantom ocean in conch shells. In fact as he stared at the rolling blueness, the waves barely seemed to move, almost seemed solid. He slowly edged towards the shore to investigate, noting the strange way that his feet curved around rock hard miniature sand dunes and the way he didn't sink into the ground, instead traveling on top of it. It was all wrong. He knelt gently at the border between land and sea, landing softly on the rough hard sand that gave a strange hollow thunk in response.
He leaned forward gingerly, reaching out warily toward a solitary wave, one that was as steady as his hand. It was indeed solid, feeling like something completely other than water. He traced a finger along the skin of the wave, skimming its rough texture. Like coloured sand, rough and cold. The sea stretched on like this, a frightening landscape of sharp curved waves, like thick blades, like tire shredders. All blue and white, foamy stripes and colour gradients. It looked deadly.
The beach wasn't any better, a crinkling plastic sounding plane, bumpy with moulded sand pits and speckled with dark blobby kelp-like paint strokes. He shifted his weight back onto his heels as he stood up, slowly rearing to full height. For lack of a better word, the beach felt brittle, no forgiving sand to cushion your steps, no texture of tiny grains to run through your toes. It was as wrong as the sea was.
He turned to find Sakura; it was time for her appearance, just like his other dreams. But all he found was the still empty beach, stretching desert until it disappeared around the curve of the harbor. The waves continued to roll with their soft squishing sounds, the wind whistling like a human voice set on chant. Actually as he listened closer, there were words floating around him, muffled, scratchy. What was it saying? As if wishing to help him, the waves began to soften even more, slowly dropping down to silence. The wind blew harder, sandy, circling around Syaoran's ears, picking up intonation, enunciation, breathy words. Shaaalooon. Was it his name? He strained to hear though the pants, trying to isolate the pitch. Shaalan. It seemed to come from one direction, down the beach towards the freeway. It was calling. Syaoran. It was Sakura.
He tried to pinpoint the sound and took a small step in the direction, but froze as a sickening crack came from under his feet. Looking down, his stomach sank at the cracks that now crisscrossed the land, centered underneath his shoes. His palms felt uncomfortably moist as he tried to shift his weight, preparing to jump or run. But it was all for nothing as the land gave way underneath him. He fell through into darkness, surrounded by the soft accompanying sound of tinkling wind chimes and the prickly shards of landscape on his skin.
When his vision began to clear, he was back on the beach. His fingers sought a hold in the streaming loose sand, trying to pull himself up into a sit. The smell of seawater and roar of waves rose up against him. He scanned the land carefully, the faraway docks, the city skyline. It was still Tomoeda beach. The sun still hung lazily in the early morning sky; nothing had changed.
"Syaoran…"
Syaoran turned towards his breathless name, turning his back to the rolling waves. "Who's there?"
"Syaoran…" the voice continued from somewhere off to his right.
Syaoran squinted against the sun's reflection off some exposed rocks along the border of the beach. "Where are you?"
"The biking path…"
Gently, Syaoran lifted himself off the ground, taking small steps and feeling relief wash through him when there was no thunderous cracking. He knew where the bike path was, the thin little paved way that separated the beach from the city sidewalks. The rocks rose a little as he continued to move towards the path, directing him towards the stairs. "Where on the path?"
"Syaoran…" the voice gasped.
Two, three steps at a time Syaoran climbed the stairs, finally at the landing. The small black road crossed in front of him, empty save for bits of broken glass and usual beach litter.
"To your right…"
He turned sharply to look down the path, stepping onto the pavement to get a better look around the bend. He moved a little closer and frowned. Something was peeking out from the bend, something indiscriminant. Trash? Closer. Shoes. Closer. Legs. His feet closed the distance faster, baring legs, shorts, a torso, a head. Blood. Sakura. "Sakura…"
Green eyes fastened on him, her face pale but smiling, as if nothing were the matter. "You found me."
Almost by instinct, Syaoran had rolled up his sleeves, and knelt down to assess the wound. It was bleeding heavily and he knew there was no way to treat it outside of the hospital. He tried to gauge how much blood she lost by her soaked tank top and shorts. It looked bleak and his stomach lurched. "Sakura, I need to get you to a hospital."
"Sure."
Syaoran picked her up, staggering to his feet and rushing towards the stairs. They seemed to stretch forever until they opened to the road. The hospital was still miles away. Faint wails of an ambulance crept closer, the red flashing vehicle careening down the highway. Syaoran almost sagged in relief as the lights became brighter, faster, burning.
Syaoran crushed his eyes closed as the red light suddenly burst into painful pins. Even through his eyelids he could still feel the heat and stinging. His arms went numb and he tried to look down at how Sakura was doing, but it was impossible. The red was everywhere, searing.
Then there was nothing.
"What are you doing Syaoran?"
Syaoran forced his eyes open, finding himself face to face with Sakura. They were on a dock, overlooking the harbor and ships that stood still on the horizon. It looked noon as the dock was crowded with people, moving up and down the wooden platform and dodging in and out of souvenir shops and small restaurants. "We're on the docks."
Sakura looked at him dubiously. "Of course we are. We've been here all morning. Now stop being rude and shake Haruka-san's hand."
Belatedly, Syaoran realized he wasn't alone with Sakura. Another man was sitting near them, easel propped up against the railing, in the middle of painting the sparkling seas. He was oldish, probably barely past 50, white hair thinning, face hollow but still strong with wiry muscles. Dark eyes watched him back, while skilled, strong steady hands flew across the canvas. Syaoran felt a chill run up his side and stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you; I'm Syaoran."
The man's voice was gruff but affable. "Nice you meet you too. Sakura's talked a lot about you." Syaoran gave Sakura a questioning glance but the man was already up on his feet and talking. "…and so I thought this is the perfect opportunity to show Sakura the new sea shell craft stand. How about it Sakura?"
Sakura nodded enthusiastically, dragging Haruka off into the crowd. "Come on Syaoran, don't dawdle."
Syaoran pushed through the crowd behind them, but couldn't seem to catch up. The farther he went, the thicker the crowd became, jostling him. He was barely able to keep Sakura's head in view as he shoved people away. Off in the distance a boardwalk musician was wobbling out a haunting melody from a violin. The tune was drawn out, deep, resonating, breathing on Syaoran's skin and eliciting goosebumps. He shivered mildly and kept following Sakura's retreating head.
He found himself standing in front of a tacky souvenir shop, Sakura nowhere in sight. The crowd moved around him, dark points for eyes, walking like toy soldiers in random crisscrossing patterns. "Sakura?"
"Syaoran, you have to see the view; it's really great."
Syaoran turned sharply toward the voice, flattening himself against the wall so that he could squeeze into the small space between the souvenir shop and the one next door. "Sakura?"
"Come on Syaoran, move it."
Syaoran pressed forward, feeling the rough splintery wood against his palms as he moved toward the edge of the pier. An extra burst of speed and he was pressed against the railing, staring down a small walkway behind the row of shops on the dock. Sakura was nowhere in sight. The waves rose loudly against his ears, the foamy waves crashing against the shore like whoosh of something just burst into flames. They almost seemed to be beckoning, hypnotic. Syaoran leaned over the railing. Nauseousness rose high in his throat as he watched the squelching, sloshing green water break on the rocks and bleed into the sand. He could taste the bile in the back of his mouth and feel his stomach's convulsive jerks. Dizziness swept through him, spinning everything around him in a blur, spinning so fast that his breath lost itself amongst the blue and green streaks. Gasping he closed his eyes, gripping the rail trying to steady the violent twitching that he could feel deep inside him. Then he felt like he was punched in the gut.
When he opened his eyes, he was back on the beach, near the rocks and staring aimlessly at the blue blurry sea. His breath came in short erratic hisses.
"Nice morning, isn't it?"
Syaoran twisted, overwhelmed by the smell of paint. Haruka was sitting on a small fold out chair and painting. Syaoran peered closer at the canvass and recognized Sakura's shape, laying out on the sand, the rocks towering up behind her.
Haruka-san picked up another brush and viciously streaked across Sakura's body, thick unnaturally red lines scarring the painting. "Very nice isn't it?"
Syaoran swallowed a bitter taste and dared to peer over Haruka's shoulder, only partly surprised at Sakura sprawled out on the ground a few feet away, purple red stained sand underneath her.
Haruka turned swiftly to face Syaoran, smiling in a cruel, frighteningly child-like curve of the mouth. "She was beautiful, wasn't she?"
Syaoran nodded dumbly, an icy feeling shooting up his back. He took a stumbling step forward toward Sakura, but knew instantly it was mistake. A cracking creaking sound. Then falling, faster and faster, his stomach securely pressed against his ribcage and his heart thundering in his head.
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Tomoyo looked worriedly around at the medical staff. "Any change?"
One of the doctors shook his head. "I can't really give him any more stimulants safely. His pulse is already at 140."
"What happened?"
The receptionist twisted a towel nervously in her hand. "He was waiting out here and then fell asleep. We didn't think anything was wrong until you came out and we couldn't wake him."
"Hold on." The doctor bent low over Syaoran's body, listening closely to his breaths. "I think he's coming out of it."
Tomoyo knelt down by Syaoran side, taking a cup of water and placing it firmly against his lips. Soon his eyes began to open, pupils dilated and fixed on something over he shoulder. "Syaoran, how are you feeling?"
"Who? Tomoyo?"
"What happened Syaoran?"
Syaoran came slowly back to responsiveness, carefully sitting up. "Another one."
Tomoyo pressed her lips together. She knew he was talking about, and she was seriously worried now. There was no precedent for this kind of disorder and it really disturbed her that she had no idea what to do.
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Author's Notes: Okay, well, I thought this was a weak chapter. I'm thinking only 2 more chapters and maybe an epilogue. Here's to a productive new year. Cheers.