Once Upon A December
Chapter 6: A Little Prideful Lie
A/N: I am SOOOO sorry I am updating so late! School has been one thing after another!! Especially English and Into to Pre-Cal and Canadian History—I can't believe my teachers are so awful this year! (And by awful, I just don't mean homework!) And in my three major subjects, too!
Anyways, it might be about 2-2 ½ weeks until I update this again! I have SOOO many tests (that I should be studying for NOW!)
If you're bored or whatever, check out my other on-going fic "Rules of Popularity" I update "Rules of Popularity" about a 5-7 days before I do "Once Upon A December".
Attention. Train 690 non-stop from Paris, will be arriving in Wing A, Port 5 within the next ten minutes. Thank you.>
Eriol shook his head to shake away all the fuzziness he had from the last three bottles he has downed—if it wasn't for the waiters fast thinking to water the liquor down, he would for sure have been as drunk as hell.
And, as a tip, Eriol left the man a good fifteen dollars. Facing Tomoyo Daidoji drunk is worse than facing Tomoyo Daidoji sober.
Even though he was mighty tempted to never remember anything.
Slowly, he made his way towards Port 5.
"Miss Li. Miss Li? Oh, come now Miss Li. You have to wake up. We will be arriving soon, you know." Tomoyo gently shook her friends shoulder. After the last little argument they had, Meiling had fallen asleep within ten minutes.
Tomoyo gathered her skirts and perched herself back onto the bench opposite her friend. "Miss Meiling Li, you wake up this instant and pull yourself together!," she lightly scolded.
Meiling groggily sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What time it is it...?"
"Time to tidy up that dreadful appearance."
Meiling's eyes widened. "So, we're almost there, then?" She slid over towards the small window and noticed the winter scenery going by.
Tomoyo nodded, taking a brush out of her bag. "Yes—now, pull your hair back up and place the hat on again. Your leggings are there in the corner, by your shoes. And, my those dresses," Tomoyo sighed, "we will have to cover up the missing starch some how—I know. I can quickly make tucks in the waist of the top layer, so the looseness looks right. It'll only take five minutes to make a few of them."
Meiling rolled her eyes as she handed the top layer of her dress over. "You really are going to make some man very happy—you'll groom his children to perfection!"
Tomoyo smiled. She was used to people telling these things.
Meiling's eyes softened. "But, before that, you'll become world famous for all your designs. Tomoyo, why, didn't you go to the University of Paris for fashion design? It's not like you're married—even if you were, you could still go I suppose; though it really wouldn't be considered appropriate, being you're royal."
Tomoyo sighed as she finished the first pleat. "It's not a matter of if I am married, Miss Li, but a matter of duty."
Meiling began pinning up her hair. "Duty? To whom?"
Tomoyo eyeballed five inches and began making a tuck in the fabric. "To my family, Meiling. To my heritage. To my birth."
Meiling nodded slowly, watching as Tomoyo's rapid hand movements formed a straight line for thread across the red material. She watched as Tomoyo's eyes filled up with a light that she only ever saw while her best friend was sowing, creating a new design. Why was it that providence plagued this young women into a family that expected her to be a tool for more wealth? Why did she get stuck here, when so many ungrateful commoners would gladly trade their freedom for her position? And, yet, Tomoyo remained faithful to her birth; tucked away her hidden passion for fashion design, disguising it under years worth of perfected royal manor.
Meiling shook her head. This is why she protested every minute of her life; to gain some sort of freedom—freedom Tomoyo would never have. For as long as Meiling had know Tomoyo, she would thank the gods everyday she wasn't born royal and important; only rich and important. "We are all faced with choosing duty over affection," she murmmered loud enough for her friend to hear, "but no matter how much we try and convince ourselves we want duty, it a split second our heart would always chose affection."
And, the strange thing was, Meiling thought she saw tears in Daidoji's eyes as she watched the needle go through the fabric—leaving her wondering just how deeply Daidoji had convinced herself that she wanted her birth over designing.
Sarah watched the winter scenes go by; how much longer was the ride to Moscow? This is taking FOREVER! She sighed and thought back to her little run in with Syaoran at the train station...
---
Sarah shook her head. She had already came to a decision right then and there. "No, Syaoran, I'm sorry. I can't go on with this little adventure anymore. I'm no princess, Syaoran. Thank you, though, for sticking with me through this. Tell Eriol bye for me, alright?," Sarah began to walk away, but Syaoran caught her arm.
"Sarah! You are the first girl I have ever known to be the princess. I can't explain why, or how, but I have a feeling that you are Sakura Kinomoto. I know this might sound crazy, but you act just like her! You gave me a pendant that said three words: strength, endurance, hope. I have that now, Sarah, because of you. But I also have faith that you are her. And trust me, when I say I have faith, so do a lot of other people. Like Eriol, the Daidoji's...there're all counting on seeing you in Paris. Please, Sarah? You gave me faith, so can you let me give you some, now, too?"
Sarah looked at the train as the conductor yelled "all aboard". She glanced at Syaoran's pleading eyes, back at the train, then finally back at Syaoran.
"Syaoran, I need this think this over."
"You have no time!"
Sarah smiled gently. "Yes, I do. This train makes a detour stop in Moscow. Can you meet me there?"
"Of course...."
---
"Who knew that the pendant I bought Syaoran would mean that much to him?," Sarah wondered out loud. The window outside slowly began to show a more urbanized atmosphere. It wouldn't be long before she reached the train station.
"You look lovely, Miss Li," Tomoyo complimented. Her friend was just touching up her lipstick as the train began to slow down. "And just in the nick of time, too!"
Meiling rubbed her lips together, looked her face over in her compact mirror, and placed the rest of the vanity contents in her purse. "Excited, Tomoyo?"
Tomoyo felt a light blush. "About?"
Meiling leaned back with a knowing smile. "Why, Eriol, of course!"
Tomoyo looked at her folded hands that rested on her lap. "It will be nice to see a childhood friend, again, I suppose."
Meiling cocked an eyebrow. "Childhood friend, huh?"
Tomoyo remained silent
Meiling sighed. "Now, Tomoyo, I know how much you loved Eriol. And he wasn't that poor either!"
Tomoyo shut her lowered eyes tightly. "It wasn't about the money, Meiling!"
Meiling wined, guilty. Rarely did Tomoyo, the proper thing that she was, ever use only her first name.
Tomoyo squeezed a couple of tears out. "It was, so much more, Meiling. So much more..." Tomoyo's voice got lost as the train whistled and a knock sounded at their compartment door, signaling they had arrived.
Tomoyo dried her cheeks, took her purse and gestured for Meiling to follow her out the door. "Come on, Miss Li. We should not keep Mr. Hirrawagaza and Mr. Li waiting."
Meiling bit her lip as she followed her life long friend out the door. Even though Tomoyo never showed it, she had more insecurities than most people in this world.
Syaoran Li flattened his body against the back of a big crate on the back of a truck. Why the hell hadn't he thought over getting to Moscow by train before his grand plan to hitch a ride of a grain truck came to mind? His arms ached because of the way he was holding on to the edge of the crate—it wasn't that he was going to fall over onto the road, no, it wasn't that.
It was the fact that if he leaned any farther forward, the buggy cover wouldn't shelter him as he molded himself to the side of a crate. And, if anyone saw him, he would end up in a police office. Then, identified as Syaoran Li, and shipped away to a trail or court hearing—whatever was deemed necessary.
To hell and back if it means I can talk things over with Sarah. Syaoran allowed himself to smile a little at the thought of Sarah; not only was she the brattiest girl in the world, as if she was raised in a palace, but he couldn't help but feel a bit differently about her. He cared more about her than he did most people.
Take Eriol, of instance. Where the hell was he?
Enough time wasted on Eriol. I only live once, might as well think about something worthwhile.
And, as Syaoran jumped off the back of the stopped truck and began running towards the train station, he couldn't help but smile just a bit more...
Sarah got off the train and wandered around the train station aimlessly. Great. How was she going to find Syaoran? Was he even getting here by train? What was she going to do until—if she ever did—find Syaoran?
Grabbing her torn bag that much closer to her body, she collapsed into a near by chair and let the past weeks' stress escape her tired body. Sit now, worry then.
She slowly made her way through the different wings of the large brown building, hoping to blend in.
It was time to start worrying.
Tomoyo stepped off the train, Meiling close by. The crowed brown building has high ceilings to create the illusion of space, but no matter what they tried, a train station was a train station.
And train stations were crowed.
"Tomoyo, how are we going to find Eriol? DO you even remember what he looks like? You haven't seen him in...three, four years?"
Tomoyo shrugged, back to her normal self. "Miss Li, don't concern yourself with such a though. Eriol is Eriol; he will never change."
Meiling nodded yes and began scanning the crowds for a blue haired man, ruffly about 5'11. She clasped onto her friends arm as she began to feel herself dragged towards the right.
She marveled at the feel of her newly-pleated skirt. It was a heck of a lot easier to move in. She swished them around a bit, and saw a few people pointing towards her; they, too, liked the idea of a non-starched skirt that still looked good.
"Excuse me, Miss, may I ask why where you bought that skirt? My daughter is seven, and she always out wears the starch of her skirt," a lady in a heavy french accent asked. Nothing Meiling wasn't used to; all people in Paris were rich. And so were all the people on this above first-class train.
Meiling tugged at Tomoyo to stop and smiled at the young mother. A few other people crowed around her, also saying they wanted to know where she bought it.
"Well," she began. "It's a new design from...Paris...and, actually, the designer isn't very...uh, national, yet. This is only her...first..ummmm....soft-pleated non-starched skirt." Meiling watched Tomoyo blush as the crowd wanted to know who designed the skirt; which gave Meiling a spur of the moment idea. "Actually, she's right here. May I present to you Miss Tomoyo Daidoji."
Tomoyo cringed at the sound of her name as Meiling pushed her towards the people. "Um—" was all she got out before she was drowned in questions.
"Where is your store?"
"Can I order one?"
"How much?"
Meiling butt in. "Ladies and gentleman, there's going to be a grand premiere in a couple of months, so Miss Daidoji cannot release any information until then."
Tomoyo nodded as she backed away from the crowd, pulling Meiling close enough so she could whisper. "What was that! You know I'm not a designer, nor will I have a premier, I'm, oh—" Tomoyo crashed into a man behind her. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't—"
The man smiled. "Completely my fault, Tomoyo."
Syaoran entered the train station and immediately began to to dodge police officers. He hadn't realized how much the bounty over his, or Eriol's, head was. Was Yamazacki that determined to find them?
Where ever Eriol is, I hope he's safe. "Not that I care or anything," he added under his breath.
He quickly made a sharp right turn towards a corridor that lead towards the public washrooms, narrowly avoiding a collision with a officer. Damn, I need to be more focused.
He walked into the lobby before the washrooms, alert for any signs of danger. He stopped himself short as he saw Yamazacki and a captain examining brown haired males in the far corner. Making another quick decision, he ducked into the nearest male washroom.
And then it hit him: he was trapped.
And then, just as fast as the first realization happened so did another one; he kept his eyes locked on a wealthy man's bag.
"E-Eriol?"
"Miss Daidoji," Eriol said as he swept down and kissed Tomoyo's hand, "it is so good to see you again."
Tomoyo, not trusting her voice, just nodded. "You, too. Your hair is darker, though."
Eriol smiled. "Yes, I dyed it." He turned towards Meiling. "And, Miss Li, I have not had the privilege to make you acquaintance in many years."
Meiling arched an eyebrow. "Mr. Hirracazawa, if anyone else but you addressed me so, I should have to inquire if they were drunk." She let out a smile, pulling him into a hug. "But, I have missed you, Eriol."
Eriol patted her back. "And I've missed you." He stepped back to admire the two ladies before him. "Now, what's this about Miss Daidoji designing her own line? And a grand premier in a few months!"
Tomoyo paled a bit. She was hoping he didn't hear any of that. As much as she cared for Eriol, and was here to help him, and here to scold him for his foolishness in person, she felt old emotions rise to the surface. The only thing that would be worse than saying it was true is saying it wasn't. I shall not show any weakness in front of the man I almost got engaged too. "Yes, it is true, but of course it is postponed a lot because of...me being here instead of in Paris."
Eriol smiled. "I always knew that you would have your own line. What did you call it?"
Tomoyo didn't know why she was lying. She always felt that she had to be better than him. Always. It was pride thing. When they first met, it was a memorable moment. Not only because it was when the four of them—Syaoran, Meiling, Eriol and herself—first became best friends, but it was the first time Tomoyo ever felt any sort of un-Catholic prideful feeling towards anyone in her life. And, yes, even though she loved Eriol—used to sort of love Eriol—she would always feel as if they in a never ending battle. Which is probably why they never got engaged in the end. And the fact he never proposed.
Or was it because she was too proud to let a noble turned commoner as himself capture her heart like he did?
No, of course it's not that. It's because no matter how best of friends we are, we will always have to be better than the other. But, Tomoyo cared about her friends, so that is why she was here today. Eriol and Syaoran were her friends so she would always come to their aid. Even if, despite the proud feeling she hadn't felt in a long time, she would blush at the mention of Eriol's name....
They would never know the true Tomoyo. Nobody ever has, and nobody ever will
"Well, basically I called it Plum Blossoms by Tomoyo Daidoji but I'm planning on having many lines, of course. Where is Mr. Li?"
Eriol half smiled. "Well, you see—"
"ERIOL!"
Eriol turned around. "Sarah?"
"Sarah!"
Sarah looked to her left to see where that voice had come from. "Syaoran!"
Syaoran caught up to Sarah, smart, expensive, stolen suit dressed his body. "Eriol? Tomoyo?! Meiling?!"
Meiling scrunched up her nose. "Syaoran?"
Tomoyo smiled. "Syaoran."
Eriol looked towards Sarah's left. "Syaoran."
Syaoran nodded. "Eriol."
Meiling raised her arms. "Shut up! I cannot process all of this."
Syaroran smirked. "You'll never change, Meiling. And what, may I add, the hell are you doing here?"
Meiling kicked her cousin. "I feel the love, cousin." She sighed. "So, you all mean to tell me that none of us meant to meet up here? This is some crazy fluke? And who the hell are you? Are you sleeping with my cousin?" she asked, referring to Sarah.
Syaoran's and Sarah's mouth dropped and Tomoyo nudged Meiling. Eriol stepped forward. Time to get the two new girls caught up.
Especially Meiling.
"Shall we talk enroute to Ukraine?"
