A very important A/N to note: I forgot that Japanese people don't celebrate Christmas. I'm so very sorry : D so just pretend that I meant Chinese New Year, all right? Thanks a bunch! And I meant 'pleading', not 'pleads'. I've changed the first huge mistake but I left the 'pleads' there.

Thanks to: a nadeshiko blossom, dbzgtfan2004, 1-2-3-sakura-3-2-1, DeadlyBlossoms, (um, and Debbie?), Hououza, tianyi, feifiefofum, Insanity Team! (A.k.a. Violet), VampirePeaches, and x-SarahxJane-x for reviewing my first crappy chappie, even though this story seriously sucks. And thank you for pointing out my mistakes. My grammar's not that good. In fact it sucks more than this story. Debbie's is way better. Seriously, this was meant as a practice for my common test. Also thanks to Olivia, my friend and ex-senior, for commenting on this chapter. And thanks to everyone who stumbles upon this and reads it!

OMG I forgot the disclaimer! Ahem… I don't own Card Captor Sakura and its characters, but I own this plot! Aha! Done.

I almost didn't want to wake up that morning. Even though the blankets didn't provide near enough warmth for me, it was just a tiny bit warmer in here than getting out of bed. I had a sweet dream; I dreamt that I had become a pop star. Okay, maybe I didn't know what a proper pop star looked like, but I remembered clearly I had lots and lots of stars surrounding my head, as if taunting me to sing in front of everybody. I giggled at the crazily fantastic dream, wishing I wouldn't have to wake up... "Oh, daddy!" I suddenly remembered. "Tomorrow's New Year's Eve and we have to save up for Mummy's… Mummy's…" I felt a great lump in my throat, and I couldn't speak anymore. I loved my mother, really I did, but she just left us like that… And Brother, Brother left home for so long without even coming to visit us… Oh…

Sinking into my pillow, I could hear my father's footsteps, and certainly he was creeping along our narrow hallway to urge me for breakfast. I ran straight into our shared bathroom, slammed the door hard (which, by my action, almost called for a door repair) and locked myself in, extreme animosity with the world welling up inside me. I wasn't one to feel this way, but why would this kind of thing happen to no one else… but me?

A horrid thought rose within me as sudden as a tidal wave. I swept a glance around for sharp objects, like a razor knife or some other thing. But as my eyes fell onto an unknown object, the horrid thought faded away to make way for curiosity.

"Daddy, is this coat yours? Did you earn enough money to buy a new coat? Goody! Then we'll have enough for Mummy's thing!" half of that was faked cheeriness, but half of it, surprisingly, was genuine.

"No, sweetie, I don't own a coat. Besides, you carried that costly coat in yourself yesterday!" by now, my dad would have been outside the bathroom. The door squeaked as it swung slowly open, and I found myself staring face-to-face at my father.

"No, daddy, I don't remember." I might sound like a child, but I knew I was twelve and I was supposed to behave like a grown-up kid and I didn't want to do that. It would be admitting that I've become matured and people would tell me "hey girl, you're twelve and you're supposed to accept the fact that your darling mummy is gone" and that sort of thing. And I hated that. All I wanted for the world was to look at me as a pathetic little girl who simply loved her mother too much and had lost her head and was just behaving like a child, not a girl too childish for her own good to even take in and start to accept life as it was and just be content with the fact she had her father. I was getting tired of this false pretense and really wished my brother was back here, chatting with me, bathing ourselves in the warm spring sunlight, comforting me and telling me tales about the city and his college, his girlfriend, even. But no, that was impossible. Totally absolutely definitely frustratingly irritatingly crazily highly impossible.

I shivered as a gust of wind blew in through the hole in the closed window and realized I hadn't changed into something slightly warmer. The bitter winter wind blew everything away; my mother, my brother, my sunshine… and my life. The happy, carefree life I used to have. One that was complete with my mother, my brother, and no financial problems, nothing wrong at all. Everything had to change.

I HATE CHANGES!

"Sweetie, everyone does, but you have to come eat your breakfast, and that won't change." My father's voice pulled me back and made me blush when I realized I had said that out loud. I had to allow myself a small grin, just a tiny one, so tiny that if you blinked you would have missed it.

"Tatty tho I shtill haf tho go shell paper shtars?" I asked with my mouth full of bread after a while and my dad stared at me disapprovingly.

"Cupcake, would you please stop speaking with your mouth full? It's very rude, you know. And yes, you have to. I'm sorry, but it's for the whole family. Your brother doesn't earn nearly enough and before I publish my book we'll have to make you do this. I'm really really sorry."

Wondering when my brother had gotten himself a job and not wanting to see my father feeling sorry for me, I changed the subject. "When did Onii-chan get a job, Daddy? You said he doesn't earn enough, which means he has a job."

Dad was completely shocked for a moment, then began to stutter nonsensical phrases. Finally, he said, "Actually, I… I meant your brother's summer job. Ah, yes, his summer job. You do know, sweetheart, summer jobs don't give you much salary."

"But it's winter!" my dad was definitely keeping something from me.

"Cupcake, you should know I meant 'winter job'. I'm getting old and my memory's failing me…" his voice trailed off as he forced a smile and patted his head. I shrugged, forced a grin on myself, put on two sweaters, my socks and shoes, and took the mysterious coat along. In my pocket there were some paper stars I folded last night. Then I remembered something.

"Hey daddy, I'm going to sell paper stars and this coat! I think it will last us for a month. And, don't call me 'sweetie' and 'sweetheart' and 'cupcake' anymore! They sound mushy and disgusting!" here I allowed myself a stupid giggle. "Call me by my name – Hey, what is my name?"

But before I could get an answer my dad waved and walked back into his room, his forehead full of wrinkles. I shrugged again, musing about how I could forget my own name and why my dad appeared so worried when I asked him that question. I was just totally forgetful like him, right?

I slowly made my way to a street corner with less people. I knew I should do the exact opposite, but I wanted space. A quiet, private space where I could think, chuck everything out from my mind and put them in, one by one, sorting my thoughts out, erasing them away. I squatted down, lay the paper stars in front of me and held the coat for warmth, then began drifting, my thoughts floating around like endless ethereal bubbles… and in my fantasy world, nothing was quite impossible…

"OI!" a teenager stood in front of me, waving his hands about madly.

"Hey mister, do you want to buy -" I was halfway through my sentence when he cut in impatiently.

"Cut the crap, little girl. You're holding on to my coat which I lent you yesterday out of pure kindness and yet you're pretending you didn't hear me and you don't know me?"

My brain whirled as I tried to remember yesterday. Yesterday… I thought yesterday was just a normal day! Did I really forget about bringing the coat home? Even Daddy said it didn't belong to him. When did I become so darned forgetful?

I giggled apologetically and felt heat rushing to my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I might have mistaken. My memory's failing me like don't know what these days." I hated to speak so formally, but that's the case when it comes to people you don't know.

"Yea, yea, whatever. Just return me my coat, unless you desperately want to see me dead by tomorrow." The boy tapped his foot impatiently, holding his palm out, ready to grab the coat and go.

Then a thought hit me. "Hey, mister, how would I know if I really know you? Are you trying to lie to me or something? I think I picked this up from the ground yesterday, you know. It's really expensive and once sold, it'll last my family for at least a month! What if you're trying to cheat me?"

"What IS the damned problem with you? I think YOU'RE trying to cheat ME!" his facial expressions and body language clearly showed extreme irritation and when people are like this, you touch them one more time and they explode. Right onto you.

"Now listen, girl. You'd better remember me before I get SERIOUSLY impatient! I'm not supposed to even talk to you, you know!"

"Yesterday, I walked past this alley, THIS current street corner you're now standing on, and saw you looking so damned pitiful, so I offered to lend you my coat, and even G-I-V-E you my gloves and scarf. You were screaming something about not wanting to accept stuff from strangers; you wet the sleeve of my coat and almost suffocated me, howling like a drunkard. If you tell me you don't believe me then you really are lying unless you suffer from short term memory loss!" he said all that in one breath, like some soldier rushing off to the battlefield.

There was absolute silence as we waited for each other to speak first. The world seemingly melted away before me, leaving only the boy and me, together, feeling awkward in each other's presence. I couldn't remember anything, really I couldn't. Maybe I really did suffer from short term memory loss. To break the building ice, I said…

"Hey mister, do you want to buy any paper stars?"

He groaned loudly, grabbed the coat and stomped away. All I could do was to stare as his departing shadow and wonder: do I really know you?

STUPID GIRL! How dare she pretend not to know me when I was showing so much kindness toward her! Idiot! Baka! I stomped my foot in anger and jumped up, howling in pain. "WHAT THE H –" I was just about to explode when I realized that someone was behind me all the while. I slowly turned around, nervous about what I might see. I froze and listened to the slow calm breathing of the creature behind me…

And he turned out to be some crappy teenager my age. I heaved an inward sigh of relief when I noticed the boy curving the corners of his mouth slightly upwards in amusement, probably at my stupidity. A sudden rage of fire rose within me and I shouted, "What do you think you're doing, huh? Following me like that? Do you have less to do with your brain than others? Have some basic manners for others, if not for yourself!"

He merely smirked and replied softly, in total contrary to what I did: "By shouting like this, don't you think you should learn some manners?"

I couldn't argue any further at this point in time, so I decided to change the subject and save myself some face. The boy was wearing glasses with dark blue frames that matched his navy eyes and midnight-blue hair beautifully. I had to admit, he looked more polite than I did, and I felt sick. Somehow he made me tell the difference between 'angry' and 'nervous' for the first time in my life.

Somehow knowing he would follow, I walked away, hearing soft footsteps behind me, almost like they were echoing my own. I walked straight into a secluded part of the park and turned around. And I spoke in mock calmness.

"Now let's stop the lecture about politeness for a bit, shall we? Just get straight to the point and TELL ME why you were FOLLOWING ME."

Was it just me, or did his eyes twinkle with mischief? "Me? I'm just another person; you can choose to ignore me. I'm fine with my advices not being heeded, you know. I just wanted to warn you about your tough time ahead; take extra notice of a girl, and if you can, try to fall in love with her and show concern. She would be very glad, and would be absolutely happy to take the name you give her, and she would make you feel extremely mad and irritated. That's all I have to say, pal, and I'm glad we met. Aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes. He smirked. He walked away. Then he stopped and turned to me. "And don't forget to enroll in an anger management course!"

He walked off briskly, like he already could tell I wouldn't bother to follow. I walked at a pace just enough to let me sink into my memory world without crashing into anything, and if I was about to, I would realize before I get a bruise on my forehead.

And so, I sank. Lower and lower into the world of bubble-like thoughts drifting about aimlessly.

A teenager warning me about Meiling? What right did he have to do so? Yeah, so what if I didn't love her? And, of course, I had to admit he was right about the irritating part… But to show her concern was nearly out of the question. 'Take the name you give her' definitely meant marrying her. And I would never ever do that. She was my cousin, a good friend and confidant, but I wouldn't even dream of a marriage with her. Meiling… would always be just another cousin, just another good friend.

Oh my God, why was I even putting so much thought into what a stupid guy said to me that didn't even make much sense? Okay, it did, but still! I curled my fist subconsciously into a ball and stuck it in front of me-

"OW!"

"Hai, Touya, this is Dad speaking… I'm sorry we have to make you stay out there with your wife… Yes, yes I know how much you love each other and how glad you are to stay together, but I still feel guilty about this, you know? We can't afford to hurt your little sister, even though she would forget all about it by tomorrow... Her thirteenth birthday has long passed and yet she's still behaving like a spoilt child… Oh, you're sending Yukito-san to come visit her for you tomorrow? Good! Yukito's your good friend, is he not? Good, good. We can at least cheer our darling girl up a little; she seemed so fond of Yukito-san the other time he came, even though she would have long forgotten about it… Oh, Kaho's calling? Okay, okay, love you son, and help me say hi to your wife. Hmm, okay, bye."

Kinomoto Fujitaka heard the phone on the other line click before he put down his own receiver, and heaved a great sigh. He was in a telephone booth near his house as he had sold practically everything during the period when disaster struck, and it was all for the sake of his precious daughter. His son could not live with him entirely for the sake of his daughter. And his daughter was in this state because of her mother, his wife who had passed away a few years ago. He walked out slowly from the telephone booth, shivering a little due to the bitter cold which cut through every tiny hole in his clothing, right down to the bone. He rubbed his palms together, hoping to create some heat out of friction.

He was a well-known author who wrote in the history and archaeology category, giving vast information about lost cities' forbidden past and had even been allowed access to some digging sites for practical research as well, and now he ended up with not even a telephone in his house.

Then he remembered. He hadn't bought dinner for his daughter and himself. He reached into his left pocket, and heard a few coins jingle; then the right, and all that was left was some used tissues, some pieces of paper torn from old and tattered notebooks, and a pen. Sudden inspiration hit him like a wave. He fished out the pen, a single, pathetic piece of yellowish paper and started writing. He was in the middle of a book going to be published and if it was successful, he wouldn't have to worry about meals for about another half a year and might even be able to install a new telephone and a radio for entertainment. Those slivers of papers and that pen were their life; or rather, their hope for a better life, at least for now.

Damn. The pen had run out of ink. He wasn't one who cursed, but given the current situation, even Kinomoto Fujitaka, the renowned author and professor, would say The Four Letter Word. Out loud.

He had no choice but to count the coins. One thousand and six hundred yen. That was enough for a meal for both of them, two pens, or a meal for his daughter and a pen. He had to make a decision, fast. Should he sacrifice a meal and starve for a pen, or should he sacrifice his career for a while longer? Well, he could always get a pen from Touya, but inspiration runs out fast… As he continued walking along an almost empty pavement he tried to decide –

"OW!" "OW!" two voices, one deep and mature and the other still full of a childlike tone, erupted at the same time. Fujitaka found himself nose-to-fist with a teenager around fifteen, who had, for some reason, stuck out his fist while walking around and hit him on the nose. Hard.

He stared and took the boy in through those observant eyes. The boy had scruffy chestnut brown hair, and a short fringe that framed his amber eyes perfectly. He looked rich and smart enough. His coat looked expensive, and so did everything else from his gloves to his shoes. He folded his arms in a way that wasn't arrogant but made him look dismayed, like he wasn't used to talking to poor people. He also noticed that the coat looked similar, almost identical, to the one his darling took home the other day.

But what he didn't realize was that the boy was also taking him in, in a way that was more careful and more observant than his, piercing those eyes, so nicely hidden by the fringe, right through him.

"Shouldn't you say sorry?" the boy said in a tone that made Fujitaka examine his outfit, but the author immediately regained his posture.

"Um, I don't mean any offence, but I think you were the one who hit my nose, and not vice-versa." Fujitaka said politely.

An incredibly tiny hint of crimson spread across the boy's cheeks before it disappeared and the boy muttered a very soft apology. Then he asked, using the same tone, "Where do you think you're going, huh, rushing like that? Well I'm rushing home for dinner, and if you don't explain to me right now, I'm going to be late."

"Oh… me?" Fujitaka tried to stick as close to truth as possible, at the same time not letting the boy know exactly how poor he was. "I was just debating between if I should buy a meal or a pen."

"Why would anyone do that?" the boy's voice rose higher suspiciously, as if doubting the ex-professor's words. "I mean, they both cost equally cheap and even I could afford both at the same time. Oh, you mean you didn't bring enough money out to buy stationery for your kids, and you're starving too? Then you're in luck, because I have money to spare and I'm in a giving mood, but I NEVER said I was in a good mood, so beware." He promptly fetched a costly wallet from one of his pockets, seized some spare change, and put them on his palm in a giving manner.

Fujitaka felt upset upon seeing this gesture. "I never accept ANY money from anybody, young man. I'm not a beggar. I don't take money for no good reason, and I teach my kids to do the same." He tried speaking courteously. "So, thank you, but no thank you."

The boy's expression changed from impatience to surprise for a brief moment, then quickly stuffed the coins into Fujitaka's hands and ran away. Fujitaka sighed at the behaviour of the boy, then thanked his lucky stars; the "spare change" was actually five thousand yen. Now he could buy tonight's and tomorrow's meals for two people, three pens and a proper notebook, for once.

But to why the boy did that, Fujitaka was still feeling very puzzled, so he let out a very loud…

"WHAT THE HECK?"