Misconceptions

Chapter Six: What's in a Name?

-- Sakura Kinomoto Version--

There's a slight flurry of leaves as I turn back. I can barely make out the blur against the rain spray and forest green at first, but a few steps later it's…Syaoran Li!

I try to call out to him, but to my utter astonishment he brings out his blade like a greeting. I turn back to check if there is the cliché something-behind-you situation here, but there is none. Then how could you explain…

I hear him recite the words in a peculiarly slurred voice. I wonder why - could it be that Syaoran of all people got drunk?

He points the sword towards me. Before any further thoughts a flash erupts and I sidestep at the last moment to dodge. Why is he attacking me!

Lightning comes from the sky and I am suddenly engulfed in a painful brilliance. It feels hotter than fire…it hurts!

"Syaoran…" I say through small cries, hoping he would recognize me. What's wrong? Does that mean that it really was him back there at the abr?

He repeats his incantation, and to my dismay I can sense the magic building up. I try to get out of the way as he says them but countless bolts strike me.

But it doesn't hurt. No…all that exists now is an enveloping emptiness…concealing all except a terrible coldness I've never experienced before…yet even as the world seems to darken and slip away I attempt to do what I think is my final move.

I smiled.

And said in the sweetest way I could muster-

"Syaoran."

So I assumed he would be the last thing on my mind. His name the ultimate one on my lips. Syaoran Li.

The final.

-- Syaoran Li --

"Sakura!"

All of a sudden my drowsiness went down the nearest city drain. I'm sure I'm being truthful to myself now: it was Sakura.

I sight I'm greeted by isn't pretty: she's half-curled up on her side, scratchy burns all over her. Once auburn hair is now an ashen sienna (not very far from the hue of mine, I notice uncomfortably) and the clothes Tomoyo probably designed and made are fluttered, torn.

But the most unbelievable of all is deeply, darkly exquisite:

…though she wasn't moving…

…a smile was on her face…

She is a person I don't know at all. Heaven's most precious yet forgotten of figurines, intended to live forever forsaken despite the delicate grin upon her features. An ethereal show of to-be inappropriate happiness meant for just a few moments of adoration, yet attempting ever so much to keep that painful mask upon her otherwise sorrowful face…

No, I know her very well.

She is Sakura. Sakura, the cherry blossom…the most beloved…

…my most beloved…