Fountain of Age
Summary: AU. Syaoran and Eriol are on the trail of the Fountain of Youth... a trail that would lead them inevitably to Tomoeda... and Sakura...
Disclaimer: I don't own Card Captor Sakura. None of it: manga, anime, little plushie Keros; I own nothing.
88888888
Chapter 10: In Depth...
88888888
Syaoran felt as though the world was breaking at the seams, and he was sinking down to the earth's core. He wished dearly, anyway. The Fountain of Age?! How could he mix it up with the ultimate prize, the fabled one, the Fountain of Youth? Certainly, not many people had heard of the Fountain of Age; he'd only learned about right there, when Sakura had mentioned that her father had gone looking for it. If his mother caught wind of this, he would be dead.
Sakura, for her part, couldn't grasp the gravity of this situation. She was even excited, blurting that she'd call her dad's hotel that night, and tell him that the Fountain of Age was in Tomoeda.
"I bet he could even come home tomorrow!" she exclaimed.
"But Sakura..." said Syaoran woefully, and he told her about the consequences he would now have to face.
"You'll be all right," she soothed. "I think you're still on the trail; the two fountains are certainly linked if they're in the same picture."
"Is that your uncontrollable magic?" Syaoran asked, hopefully.
"Nope," replied Sakura, cheerfully. "It's just a guess."
This helped his situation a mere iota, and he looked at her incredulously as she perused the note herself.
"Hmmm..." she glared at the note through slitted eyes. "Who wrote this?"
"I have no idea," answered Syaoran, his head preoccupied with reminders of impending doom.
"Well the hand writing looks familiar," said Sakura. "Where'd you get the book anyway?"
"Eriol's library."
"Maybe Eriol wrote it then," Sakura said, and she shut the book on the note. She ran her eyes over the plain cover of Youth.
"Have you ever done a search on the author?"
"Kaho Mizuki?"
"Yes." Sakura nodded. "Although her last name is Mizuki, so it's actually Mizuki Kaho. She might know something; she had to get the picture from somewhere. Or maybe the publisher." She leafed back to the picture. "Darn, there isn't an artist written here," Sakura said of the caption. "We could've done research on that."
Well, at least she was being as helpful as Syaoran had hoped.
He still felt, somewhat, that he needed to start from the beginning. He needed to return to England, and do a real strip down of that library, instead of the one day sponging he'd done. He must've been delusional that day; the heat had gotten to him; this was the wrong book. He'd come up with the wrong conclusions. That note was written by someone whose existence didn't matter and it had nothing to do with the fountain. That stupid painting had just been staring at the shelf for no reason.
Syaoran returned home with lead where his heart was. He found Eriol in his red chair in the library, and explained everything his new discovery. He needed to return to England, and renew the search for the Fountain of Youth.
But Eriol did not do anything. He sat comfortably in his seat, Supi in his lap. The stuffed animal was eyeing Syaoran rather intensely, and he wished it would turn away if it could, although he knew it was just some stupid stuffed animal.
"Well, like Sakura said," Eriol declared. "The Fountain of Youth and the Fountain of Age are linked. If we find the Fountain of Age, it will give us very important clues to the Fountain of Youth. Cheer up, Syaoran. We're still on the trail."
This was not what Syaoran wanted to hear. "No! We must return to England! If my mother finds out I screwed up, she's going to kill me!"
"Your mother's not going to kill you," said Eriol. "Even she understands that for a person to rise up greater than ever before, he must make mistakes. It's all right, Syaoran."
"I messed up." Syaoran trained his eyes on his hands, but he was looking very far away. "I really messed up. That note; I read it wrong. It's just some note someone slipped in. I was totally wrong."
"I doubt that you were wrong," Eriol said, in a tone Syaoran had never heard. Was it- was Eriol trying to be... gentle? The bespectacled boy stood up, smiling. "Something tells me that you were right on the dot."
88888888
"So Eriol is also capable of uncontrollable magic," Sakura deduced. They were at the library again, hunting up facts on Mizuki Kaho.
"Yeah," said Syaoran, somewhat depressed after recounting for Sakura his chat with his cousin. Not only was Sakura reminding him that he was a B grade magician, but they were getting no where! He fussed at being miles and miles away from where he felt he could find the right answer.
At least they were tackling neutral ground.
"Here," said Sakura, and she pulled a book down. It was entitled Famous People of Tomoeda.
"The only book with anything about Mizuki Kaho," Sakura said, and she cracked the book open, and leafed until the appropriate page.
"Not very famous is she?" said Syaoran, glancing at the short paragraph.
Mizuki Kaho was born on February 11 at Tomoeda General. At a very young age, her teachers discovered her profound gift for the Japanese language, which they helped nurture. Ms. Mizuki first won the Tomoeda Short Story contest when she was only eight years old, and continued to do so until she left to attend college in London. Her book Youth was published fourteen years ago, and has become a best seller all around the world. However, she still claims that her best works are her countless dissertations on mythical artifacts.
"Mythical artifacts," said Syaoran after reading. "You think she wrote a dissertation on the Fountain of Youth?"
"Maybe," Sakura replied. "Let's check with the librarian."
The librarian searched for it on his computer. "The Dissertations of Kaho Mizuki," he read. "Sorry, kids. Our only copy's checked out. Would you like to place a hold on it?"
They answered in the affirmative. Sakura then led Syaoran to the computers where they spent several minutes trying to find more information on Kaho Mizuki via the Internet. Several sites praised Youth, mentioned that Mizuki resided in England, then apologized for their lack of any other information.
"She's a very private person," excused one website. So private, apparently, that there were no pictures of her. Mizuki had never done a book signing, had never seen a representative from her publishing company, and had never spoken in public. No one on the Internet had a copy of any of her dissertations either, though some claimed to have read them. They did not discuss the content of the essays.
It was as if Kaho Mizuki did not really exist. She was just the name on the cover.
"Now what?" asked Sakura, once they'd returned to their table in the corner. She leaned back on the back legs of her chair, and caught a face full of sunlight.
"Sakura..." said Syaoran, slowly, formulating the thought as he went along, "why would a person be prouder of a bunch of dissertations than a best seller?"
Her chair thumped back on all four legs as Sakura edged forward. "What exactly is a dissertation anyway?"
"It's an essay," Syaoran explained. "A very long essay. They can go on for hundreds of pages."
"Well," said Sakura, "Let's think of all the reasons why you would write an essay."
"You would write an essay," Syaoran thought out loud, "to explain something. Or, to convince someone of something."
"And her dissertations are about mythical artifacts," Sakura added.
The two caught each others' eyes, but it was Syaoran who voiced it first.
"Do you think she found something?"
"Maybe," Sakura said. "But, wait. We don't even know if she wrote a dissertation on the Fountain of Youth. Just mythical artifacts. We could be jumping to conclusions here."
88888888
Tired, Syaoran stumbled into Eriol's house an hour later, in time to hear something heavy fall right above him. It was coming from the second floor, and it was followed by voices.
"Hey! This is oil paint, be careful."
It was Eriol. Syaoran stared at the ceiling as if he could see through it. What was he doing up there?
Giggles came next, punctuated by garbled exclamations. Certainly curious now, Syaoran climbed the stairs, and headed for the noise. It was in Eriol's room. He opened the door and found no one present.
"No kisses allowed, you know that," said another voice. A girl's voice. A familiar girl's voice.
Syaoran's head was instantly attracted to his right. The white door he had seen earlier, and had assumed was the door to the bathroom, hung open. It wasn't a bathroom after all. Instead, it was a room covered in plastic. Paint splattered all over the floor.
Framed in the doorway stood Eriol. There was black paint on his cheek and on his nose. In his hands, positioned near his face, were two wrists. The wrists were connected to a pair of hands, and the pair of hands were both holding paintbrushes sploshed in paint; paintbrushes, that were resting on Eriol's shoulders.
Syaoran couldn't believe who Eriol was holding on to. Paint all over her white dress, and face, Tomoyo stood there, her eyes closed, Eriol barely an inch away from her. They seemed trapped in their own little world. There was only the two of them, and Syaoran didn't exist.
Then Tomoyo opened her eyes, and saw him.
"Syaoran!" she called out, and Eriol let go of her. "Hey! How was the tutoring session?"
They weren't even embarrassed about it! As if it was perfectly normal to be covered in paint and a inch away from Eriol's face. He wanted nothing but to disappear. This was a bad time to come home.
"Syaoran?"
"Uh, yeah," Syaoran managed. "It was okay."
"Wanna come here and see my project?" Tomoyo enthusiastically invited him.
Despite the frozen feeling in his legs, Syaoran found himself stepping forward, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Really, Tomoyo, do you have to show that to him?" moaned Eriol.
Tomoyo giggled and dabbed more paint on his cheek. "He's embarrassed because I decided to paint him instead of myself," she told Syaoran.
He finally stood directly in front of the painting. A face stuck its tongue out at him, glasses askew, long black hair flailing about. The person looked like he should wear a straitjacket.
"Isn't it brilliant?" Tomoyo sighed. "My little masterpiece."
"Eriol is going to look like he should be in a mental institution?" Syaoran squeaked.
Eriol bonked him on the head. "You shouldn't be saying things like that in front of the person you're talking about."
"That I did just to make him angry," Tomoyo confided in him. Then she added, so that Eriol could hear: "Besides; there's always been a thin line between genius and insanity, right Eriol?"
"Still," Eriol said, staring at his likeness, and making a face not unlike the one in the painting. "Did it have to feature the more insane side of my genius?"
"Of course!" exclaimed Tomoyo. She didn't notice Eriol sneak behind her, wrap around his arms around her waist and tickle her till she sent the birds flying with her laughter.
Syaoran wished he was one of the fleeing birds, but his feet seemed glued to the floor.
"Well," said Tomoyo, when Eriol had desisted. She put the brushes on her easel, a smile still sitting calmly on her face. "I've got to go. My mother's expecting me for dinner."
"Already?" Eriol checked his watch. "You can always eat dinner here, if you want."
"No, that's all right, thanks," she said. Tomoyo headed for the door, but paused in the frame. "There's a very big art show coming up at the museum, Eriol. I'm going to try to get us tickets, all right? Oh! Syaoran, if you want-"
"No," said Syaoran, struck by the display of emotion. He really didn't want to see more. "You guys just go by yourselves, and have fun! Yeah, tons of fun..."
The girl gave him an appreciative smile before she left.
88888888
Author's Notes: Many thanks Midi Tenshi, h2omelonnqa, and ChibiYuffie 1 for reviewing. Thanks also to Kari Hiiragizawa for reading. I'd say more but I'm running out of time! See you next chapter!