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.
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Chapter 12: In Writing...
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So that's why the eyes were identical. The painting was of Sakura's mother.
"This..." Syaoran's voice seemed weak with surprise. "Is your mother?"
"Yeah," said Sakura. "Do you-"
"Who painted it?" he asked abruptly. Syaoran held his breath now. There was only one person he knew who painted those kind of eyes...
"Er, um," said Sakura, startled. "Clow Reed, of course. He's my father's favorite painter. He's got tons of his paintings down in the basement."
"Really?" said Syaoran, his eyes nearly popping out of his face.
"Yeah," said Sakura, unnerved by his enthusiasm. "You want to see them?"
"YES!!" Syaoran nearly yelled.
Sakura led him down into the basement. They were tucked into a corner, and gathering dust. Their cheerful subjects smiled out of the canvas, their eyes glittering in that special way only Reed could produce. None of the paintings had frames.
"So," said Sakura, watching Syaoran's eyes rove over the stacks of canvas as if they were presents at Christmas. "Why so interested in Clow Reed's paintings?"
"I forgot to tell you," he said. "I found Mizuki's book with the help of a painting. It was hanging above Eriol's fireplace, and the person in the painting was staring right at it."
"Staring right at it?"
"Yeah," said Syaoran. "And the painting was done by Clow Reed."
"Did you investigate Clow Reed then?" she asked.
Syaoran felt his face burn. "Er, no..."
The girl tutted at him. "How do you expect to find the Fountain of Youth if you're not going to follow every measly lead?"
"Eriol's got one other Clow Reed painting," Syaoran changed the subject. "It's a strange one. There's black paint all over it. He said someone vandalized it-"
But that couldn't be right. Syaoran stopped short. Eriol owned two copies of that painting: the one in London, and the one here in Tomoeda. Both of them were covered in black paint. Both of them couldn't have been vandalized, could they? Not unless the vandal was-
He was interrupted by a gasp from Sakura. "A vandalized painting?!" The next thing he knew, she was shoving paintings out of the way.
"It was an accident," she said. "We were painting the basement, and I tripped..."
Behind her was a blank canvas. Or, at least, Syaoran had thought it was blank. When he was able to inspect it closer, he could see colors peeking through in places, and little odd blobs where the white stuff (paint, he realized) was too thick. And, of course, those eyes. Intact. Clear. Hypnotizing.
Someone had thrown a bucket of paint all over the painting.
"The strange thing is," Sakura whispered into his ear, "Yuki came out of it."
"What? " Syaoran breathed, grabbing hold of a canvas to keep himself steady. Too much information, too fast!
"Yeah," said Sakura, talking at a normal volume again. "And so did Kero."
"Kero?"
"He's a stuffed bear," said Sakura. "He's very lazy; he mostly hangs out in my room."
Syaoran practically shivered. "Eriol," he said. "Eriol has a housekeeper. And a stuffed cat. And a painting like this."
"Really?" said Sakura, excited. "That's so cool!"
"I guess," Syaoran replied, and he wondered where Eriol had gotten the painting. Things were becoming too strange. He needed to leave; breathe a little bit. It was happening way too fast.
"These must be painting servants," he said.
"Painting servants?"
"I've only heard of them," said Syaoran. "My mom says we used to have a lot of them back home, but I never could tell. They looked like people to me. Of course, she said painting servants could look like anything: people, things with wings, little stuffed animals. They can do anything you want them to do: do the dishes, other household chore stuff; I've heard of some who can even do magic."
He tapped the white gunk thoughtfully. "You paint your painting servants, and you cast spells on the canvas, and the paint I suppose, so that they can do whatever you want when you need them. And when you need them, you just ruin the painting." He traced a circle around an eye. "The eyes stay clear because that's where the servants come out."
Suddenly, Yuki's voice echoed loudly from upstairs.
"Hello, Touya," the housekeeper was saying, amiably. "You're early today."
"Oh shoot," said Sakura. "We've gotta go." She glanced the room over in search of a window. Finding one tucked behind the paintings, she began to shove canvas out of the way, in hopes of reaching it.
"Sakura's here, isn't she?" said an unfamiliar voice. Touya's. His shoes thudded hard above them.
"Too late!" Syaoran hissed, as she fiddled with the latch. It wouldn't open.
"Hide then!" Sakura squeaked. She scrambled between the canvases. Syaoran squeezed in after her.
And not a moment too soon. With a bang, the door shot open, and the thuds descended into the basement. Syaoran didn't dare breathe; he prayed that they wouldn't be found.
But it was for nothing. Without hesitation, the thuds neared the paintings, and tossed the canvas they'd been hiding behind.
The scene that met Kinomoto Touya probably wasn't much to his liking. Jammed into a tiny space, Syaoran was sitting between Sakura's legs, his head resting next to her chest. He picked himself up right away, and offered a hand to Sakura. They dusted themselves off under his angry gaze.
"Hiya, Touya," Sakura said bravely, when she couldn't find anymore invisible dust to pat off. "This is Li Syaoran. He's my math tutor."
"Uh," said Syaoran. "Hello." So this was her brother. He didn't look incredibly impressive, though he was fairly tall. And angry looking.
Sakura's brother didn't waste time. "What," he boomed, "are you doing down here?"
Sakura lamely shook Kaho Mizuki's essay. "Reading."
"Reading? Under Dad's priceless paintings?"
"Oh, that-"
"We were hiding from you," Syaoran said bluntly.
Touya shot him with his glare. "I haven't allowed you to speak yet."
"So?" the boy shot back. He fought to keep his temper down. "We're not doing anything illegal. Or forbidden. We're just reading, like she said."
Touya opened his mouth to retort, but Yuki's voice interrupted him.
"Touya," he called, and the housekeeper appeared in the doorway. "What's going on down there?"
"This idiot's messing with Sakura." He jerked his head at Syaoran's defiant face.
"Syaoran?" said Yuki, and he settled his gaze on the boy in question. "Oh, not Syaoran. They're just reading Mizuki's essay."
"Then how come I found them under my dad's paintings?"
Yuki looked at the teenagers questioningly.
"We," said Sakura, and she swallowed, regaining her confidence. This was the perfect time to leave. Yukito was good at distracting at her older brother. "We were hiding." She pointed at her brother accusingly. "From this monster here." She squeezed her voice in a mockery of all damsels in distress. "Help me Yuki, he's scaring me!" Before her brother could stop her, she hopped up the steps, and into daylight, Syaoran a step behind her. "Bye!"
"Phew!" Sakura breathed, once they'd gone into the garden. "We were lucky, this time. I'll be paying for that later, though."
Syaoran laughed, and he screwed up his voice to match Sakura's. "' Help me Yuki! He's scaring me!'"
"Hey!" she slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "I got us out, didn't I?"
"Yeah, yeah," said Syaoran. He was thinking about how green her eyes were.
Sakura, oblivious to his thoughts, held the essay out to him. "Well," she said, "here you go. I can't make heads or tails of it. All I can see is Mizuki's name at the bottom. I don't think the rest of it's in Japanese. If you figure it out though, tell me tomorrow." She glanced behind her shoulder into the house. "Calling here might just get you killed."
"All right," agreed Syaoran. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Oh!" remembered Sakura. "One last thing. Ask Eriol about Clow Reed."
"I will," said Syaoran. "See you tomorrow." And without warning, he pecked her on the cheek.
Then he ran away, embarrassed. He only slowed down two streets over, cursing himself for being so bold. She probably hated him now. He stopped himself from replaying the moment over and over again by reading the essay.
But it wasn't an essay. And it certainly wasn't in Japanese. His eyes grew as the first few words registered. He ran the rest of the way to Eriol's house.
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The door blasted open to allow Syaoran in. Dressed in a lively maid's outfit, Nakuru was serving Eriol tea.
"You're right on time," said Eriol, and he indicated the seat next to him.
"There's no time for that!" Syaoran shouted between deep breaths. Oh for joy! His mom would be so happy. "I- HAVE FOUND- THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH!"
Nakuru dropped the sugar bowl in her hands. Eriol hastily replaced his teacup.
"Are you sure?" he asked speedily. He stared into Syaoran's eyes intensely.
"Yes," said Syaoran. He waved the paper around. "It's not a fountain at all. It's a spell."
His cousin, and his housekeeper breathed a sigh of relief. Nakuru grabbed the dustpan, and began to clear away the spilt powder.
"Well?" said Syaoran, expectantly. "I thought you'd be a bit more excited than this."
"The Fountain of Youth isn't a spell," said Eriol. "Read a little more carefully Syaoran; that's just a measly strengthening spell."
"Hey!" the boy exclaimed, and he poked a finger at the heading. "I know my ancient Chinese is rusty, and I still need the help of other books to read, but it says it's the Fountain of Youth, right here."
"It's just a strengthening spell," repeated Eriol with a sip of his tea. "It's named that way to get fools like you excited about it. Otherwise, it's very tricky. You need a good amount of magic, and a lot of concentration. Then, you need a flawless ancient Chinese accent; otherwise you'd garble half the words. And even if you could do that, you also have to be able to hold your breath for a long period of time. There's a moment after the first words where it seems like all the breath's been sucked out of you. Supposedly, it's very painful. If you read the paper properly, everything's in there: all the requirements, all the warnings. Everything."
Syaoran ran his eyes over the rest of the paper, and realized, sadly, that his cousin was right. His arm drooped at the thought of it.
Ding dong! Nakuru bustled off to answer the doorbell.
"How... how would you know?" asked Syaoran.
"I've read it before," said Eriol. "Part of my studies." He sipped his tea.
"There's really only one thing special about that spell," he continued, almost as if he hadn't drunken tea in between blurbs. "That spell has the potential of being like the Fountain of Youth."
"Huh?"
"I explained to you that the Fountain of Youth gives strength," said Eriol, and he leveled his bespectacled gaze on his younger cousin. "If enough magic is used towards creating strength from that spell, it can make you young again. But you need enough magic. Otherwise, it doesn't matter if one person does it, or eight hundred."
"How much magic are we talking about?" asked Syaoran. He dreaded the answer.
"You're not fit to do this spell alone, if that's what you're wondering," said Eriol. "In your current state, you could never do it. Not even if you studied magic for the rest of your lifetime."
Syaoran made a funny noise as his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor. The rest of his life?
"Eriol," said Nakuru, returning with an envelope in her hand. "It's from Tomoyo."
"Oh, the invitation for the art show," Eriol said, and he accepted the letter. He gazed at the addresses for awhile before turning back to his writhing cousin on the ground.
"It's almost over," he said. "After tomorrow, we can return to England if you want."
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Author's Notes: You heard Eriol... it's almost over...
Thanks goes out to Crystal Tearz, White-Destiny-Pure-Snow (Glad to hear from you again!), Serenity's Blaim (chuckles That's good!), and fae (Wow! You're really reviewing all of them! Thank you so much!).