Welcome all to chapter 12! I'm just telling you, the reviewers have got me addicted to updating this fic. It's been waay too long before 10 anyway.

I hope you don't mind my OCs. They aren't really important or in on the S+S, E+T things I have going. .

Enjoy!

My life goes on in endless song
above earth's lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing,
it sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth it liveth.
And though the darkness 'round me close,
songs in the night it giveth.

Chapter 12 – Into the Glass Ball

Sakura was surprised to have Eriol show up at her nicely polished front door with a doleful expression. She arched a delicate brow in question, as if to say: "What happened to you that got you like this?"

The blue haired man fell to his knees and exclaimed quite melodramatically, "I was fired from my spectacular job. Oh the woe."

A pained look crossed his face. His neighbor and best friend blinked before fully opening the door to give him entrance to the warm little apartment. It was fairly clean for something that belonged to Sakura. But then again someone had just moved in with her.

Tomoyo was out with some clients getting a late lunch. Eriol put the back of his hands to his forehead, letting out a huffy breath. "Daidouji's gone during the most important part of her boyfriend's pitiful life! She must be cheating, I knew it!"

Sakura laughed at his words of hilarity, "She would so kill you right about now, if she were here, you know."

The ex-taxi driver looked curious. "Oh?"

She smirked knowingly, "One for calling her your girlfriend, of course. You said it like you owned her or something, too."

He grinned.

"Two for calling her disloyal. Her heart couldn't take that sort of opinion." They shared another laugh.

"So what's the story, hm? How'd you get fired?"

Eriol put on a miserable façade. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it?"

Sakura cocked her head.

"Daidouji was my customer this morning."

(oOo)

"What occupation should I now take?"

"Well, you are Eriol. Your job should, no, must be…..unique, yeah? Special. Totally Eriol Hirigizawa."

"Are you calling me strange?"

Nod.

"Oh, alright then, I feel pretty."

(oOo)

Mr. Hirigizawa strolled down the block in the fluffiest coat he owned, a big blue thing that gave him the impression of a dark blue, soft puffer fish. A few people laughed at this on the streets, pointing or waving at him. Of course they recognize him, you'd remember Eriol if you'd ever met him, too.

He was Eriol.

Anyway, he glanced around at all of the "Help Wanted" signs but they were all at McDonalds or Diners. He loved New York, naturally, but the job offers were particularly horrible in the part of town he lived in.

Downtown, duh.

His azure eyes suddenly drifted to a sign above all other signs, a sign over a shop. The sign read:

-PSYCHIC: Will read fortunes, tarot cards and future love interests' names. Second floor, room 212. We promise you a complete vision for just 7 dollars!

IN NEED OF HELP, CURRENTLY.

(We also sell potions and such for a range of prices)-

The letters we dark blue and in italics with a silver board, colors chosen nicely. In the right corner there was a drawing of a gypsy looking into a crystal ball, her long, bony fingers barely touching the cool material. Tiny gold and purple stars were scattered about along with some glitter across the sign.

A wide grin was stretching across Eriol face. Oh this would be fun.

Wait until Daidouji heard, Eriol a psychic.

(oOo)

An old woman with a hood over most of her face answered the door. She had fingers like the gypsy in the picture he had viewed earlier. The room behind her was dark, lit with candles here and there.

Pretending to be blind, the woman clutched the door, nails raking against it and asked, "Vhat is it joo vill be needing me boy? A tarot readzing? Zome rove potions for joor newest inteerest? A girl joo've vallen for..or maybe even zee boy."

Eriol just smiled calmly. "No. Thank you, though, I might buy one some day. I am here for the job offer you had out front."

The woman swept him in like a son-in-law come to have dinner. "Get in then!"

She closed the door tightly shut behind them, leaning against it and taking her hood off. Underneath was a pale face, light brown hair wavy and bouncy around it. Funny, she didn't look French despite the accent she'd had earlier, nor old.

Actually, she looked fairly young. She shut her eyes and let out a long sigh. "Can't have the people 'round this apartment building knowing I'm a fake, eh? Not that I'm really a fake," She gestured with her hands. "People just believe you a whole hell of a lot more when you look like some old gypsy woman, you know?"

Eriol nodded, taking in the room around him for the first time. Candles lit every corner of it so you could make everything out clearly. Comfortable bean-bag chairs lined the walls and surrounded a few tables.

There were rows and rows of magical looking books off to one side of the room and shelves of potions and wines to the other. The walls were painted a deep purple with all sorts of designs flooding on them. It gave the place an air of mystery, contrasting with the periwinkles in vases at every table or so.

Hooded people sat at the tables, bent over sheets of paper with scrunched up faces and pens in their hands. They all seemed strange and alike in a way.

He turned to face the girl who held the door for him again.

She smiled softly, "I'm Caralyn and this is my-our humble abode." Caralyn started to walk over to one bookcase, pulling out a dusty, metal book. "You see we, um, aren't really crazy about being psychics or anything like that. We're just young writers who couldn't find a place to work and be inspired and such. Setting up a little pastry shop was out idea at first, then Andria, the woman who owns this place, suggested it also be a place where people could have their fortunes told. We all agreed it was a good idea."

Facing him, again she ran a hand through her hair. "So if you're looking for a job you could sell the pastries at the counter over there." She pointed toward a neat looking piece of furniture that could store food, apparently. "Do you write? Because really, that's what we are all here for. It helps us pay for our food and college and all that, these jobs but really we're all just lost, writing souls." A grin flittered across her face.

The boys and girls sitting around tables and chatting quietly with excited looks on their faces just lit something up inside Eriol. "Yes, Caralyn, I do write. And I think this place will be perfect for an occupation." He went to check out the pastry counter.

Caralyn took a seat at a nearby table. "He seems cool enough."

(oOo)

Sakura decided to take her leave a little while after Eriol. After all, it was pretty boring to sit around and watch T.V. for hours and hours with a bowl of yogurt in front of you. Not the best plan for a Saturday, at least. On Monday she would have to start work again. Ugh.

She turned down an avenue, crossing the street and smiling at the people who passed by, brightly. Tonight would be a fun night to go out to a Broadway show. But Tomoyo wasn't going to be back for a while and you just never knew with Eriol.

With a bit of a frown, she sat on the sidewalk, staring down at the dirty streets and her tan-ish hands. She stared on for a while until she felt someone sit beside her. "Thinking about something or someone?"

Sakura turned to face the object of her current affections. He was giving her a lopsided smile, one hand holding up his face. She blushed a little, trying to think of what to say.

"I was just thinking how great it would be to go and see a Broad way show tonight. But neither of my friends are able to, I think. They're almost never able to do..anything. I positively hate seeing movies or shows alone."

'How opposite of me,' Syaoran thought bitterly. But on the outside he smiled even wider. "Well then, Sakura, how would you like me to come with you?"

Sakura gaped for a bit, "R-really? I mean- THANK YOU!" She leaned over and hugged him, flush against his body and now it was Syaoran's turn to blush bright red. "I would love to." She finished, pulling back.

He forced a grin and squeaked. "Great."

(End chapter 12)

No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth,
how can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble in their fear
and hear their death knell ringing,
when friends rejoice both far and near
how can I keep from singing?

In prison cell and dungeon vile
our thoughts to them are winging,
when friends by shame are undefiled
how can I keep from singing?

Leave me a review, darlings! 3 YAR ENYA!