A CHANCE ENCOUNTER
Note: Cardcaptor Sakura is © CLAMP
INTRODUCTION
Cobblestones. Narrow streets, secluded pathways, little niches. A café, tucked into a tiny corner only viewable by walking by. Like a curios store. Hidden treasures, found everywhere. A small town within an enormous city. Yes, that was Paris. City within city. At least in this part of town. And it was here Kinomoto Sakura had a moment with fate.
CHAPTER 1
Autumn. Crisp autumn. Chilly, yet inviting. Nippy. Made everything the patisseries make smell better. Taste better when eaten. Summer couldn't do that. And in winter you were too busy ice skating on a frozen pond. But time had run out…
With the blustery wind blowing her pink taffeta skirt to a full puff, Kinomoto Sakura ran down the cobbled sidewalks of Paris, fiery dried leaves dancing at her ankles and around her boots. She had one hand on her head holding down her felt red beret and as a particularly breezy gust blew her skirt up and while she took her hand off her head and used both hands to push the skirt back down and endured the jeering and hooting of raucous French teenagers, the red beret promptly released itself from her head and sailed back down the road. The wind did not stop blowing as she ran back the way she came, running after her beret which was taunting her, allowing her to almost touch the soft red felt, and then sped up in pace. Finally, it fell to the ground and as Sakura stooped down to pick it up, she bumped her head into an awfully flexible tree.
"Ow…" What kind of tree is planted in the middle of the sidewalk?
Cough Sakura looked up and met the penetrating hazel eyes of a young man. Attractive. Wearing a light umber trench coat. A white scarf. As she picked up her beret, she noticed Gucci black leather shoes. Gucci. A rich man. Boy. Teenager. He seemed her age. He had very nice eyes, and his-
"Ah…mademoiselle… tu..." Sakura looked up and realized that her skirt had flown up and she had exposed quite a bit of skin to the boy. And maybe even her… Sakura's face grew very pink and she quickly stood up.
"I- I- I'm very sorry to bother you I…" Wait. He spoke French. Why was she speaking Japanese to him? "Je… trés…dolour pour…" She didn't know enough French to make a complete sentence.
"That's quite alright. You have pretty sexy legs." What? He spoke French and Japanese? Her legs? What the fuck? Sexy legs? What kind of low person would comment on her legs while she was embarrassed and stammering and trying to apologize?
"… have a nice day sir." She put the beret back on top of her head and ran as fast as she could in the other direction. Stupid. Stupid pervert. Stupid fucking-
"Wait!" He grabbed her arm. "I'm Li Syaoran. Tell me your name, please?" It's Sakura. Kinomoto Sakura. And tell me you'll take me to eat somewhere. You embarrassed me. You deserve to treat me. And tell me I have nice boobs too because I know you looked at them. Oh stupid stupid stupid stu-
"I'm a very busy person. It was nice meeting… and… chatting with you." Sakura felt a jerk on her arm and realized that he was still holding her arm. Lin, or Li or whatever his name was. "Excuse me Li…san. I really must go." And shoving his hand off her arm, she ran away.
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She was attractive. Mmm… very attractive. Japanese girl. With green eyes. Those green eyes… like emeralds. Sparkling, full of life. Very nice lips. What was she doing in Paris? Looked like one of those Japanese tourists except she didn't seem like she was there to buy designer products cheap. She was by herself. With very little knowledge of the French language. A vacation? Studying abroad? When was she leaving?
I hope I meet you again, Sakura-iro mademoiselle. What other name could he give her? Her skirt… her underwear… was the color… of cherry blossoms.
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Sakura pushed open the wrought-iron door and clambered inside. Waiting guests crossed their arms and shivered as the incoming gust of wind blew leaves onto the faded wooden floor and through their clothes. The room was warm, and the coat hanger by the door displayed an array of jackets, from conservative to colorful. She took a deep breath. Mmm… yes, bakery hour was something to look forward to every day. Fresh bread, sugar. She got in line and looked at the display cases, wondering what she would eat as guests all around her chatted in rapid French.
"Excusez-moi? Ah… mademoiselle-" She looked up and saw a middle-aged man, impatient and clicking his tongs, waiting for her order.
"Ah… bonjour. Ano… kore… to kore… to kore… ano… quatre… macaroon… s'il vous plait… monsieur." Terrible. Embarrassing. Little Japanese girl in a big French city and can't string together 5 words in French. But she had her order. As she waited to pay, she saw packaged sugar cubes sitting in a bowl, and inconspicuously slipped some into her pocket. Yes, sugar cubes from Paul were always a delight. Better than regular sugar.
Sakura walked away from Paul glowing, holding the small peach cardboard box out in front of her like a bowl of water. As she leaned on a railing near the store, she put her nose against the box and took a deep breath. That smells so good. She carefully opened a box and took out a pain au chocolat. Mmm… it's still warm. Oishiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Sakura took a gigantic bite out of the croissant and closed the box. Another bite. Gushing out melted chocolate. The last bite. Her happy face. Passersby must have thought she was crazy.
And holding the peachy box in her hands, Sakura made for her hotel.
And a man with penetrating hazel eyes watched her skip down the streets of Paris.
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Note : Paul is a bakery in France. It is quite popular, though not as popular as Ladurée, which is famous for their macaroons.