A faint voice. "Eriol-sama."
…
Again. Louder this time. "Eriol-sama."
"Nngh," my grumble could be heard from under the pillows.
"Wake up already, Eriol-sama." That voice could only be Spinel Sun's.
"Nngh?"
It seems as though Spinel could understand my incomprehensible words. (He'd better. We've been living together for the past millennia or so.) Using his tiny paws, he knocked down the pillows and blinded my unshielded eyes with the light of the morning sun.
"You don't want Daidouji-san to be waiting for you." It wasn't a question.
After hearing that, I got up.
Daidouji. A name that could move mountains.
ii. Saturday, morning manual labor
"Looks like the books we've ordered are all here," she says, checking out the piles upon piles of boxes, neatly arranged on the school's entrance steps.
The campus is empty except for the two of us – Tomoyo and I.
Why would I, a person who does not give a damn about the outside world and social involvement of any sort, be here at school on a bright Saturday morning? (I forgot to tell you that I dislike waking up early to bright mornings especially on Saturdays.) It is because I am the Student Council president. What about Tomoyo? Why is she here, too? Because she is the Council's vice-president.
But how did I become the president, you ask, if I didn't want to be one in the first place and I being able to work better behind the scenes? Yes, I am excellent with manipulating people to do things, but I guess I have to tell you that it was her who manipulated me this time. She pushed me and I allowed myself to be pushed. So here we are now on a Saturday morning with boxes of books in front of us.
"Who'd carry them to the library?" she asks, innocently.
Tomoyo is one of those people who want to prove in whatever way how strong and independent they are. She'd probably get one of those boxes and haul it by herself to the library. (Of course, I'll help with the others! I am a gentleman.)
"Okay, then. Bring them all up. I'll be waiting there."
What?
"What are you looking like that at me for?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.
"Aren't you going to give me a hand here? There's just so many," I reason with her. I almost sound pitiful.
"With this crème ensemble? I guess not," she answers in a tone of a snob. "Well, better hurry, Hiiragizawa-kun. We have a lot of work to do."
She walks up the stairs, past the hallways, and I see her disappear into the library.
Am I growling? I could have sworn I heard myself growl back there. That little tyrant.
Everyday Torture
Ch2: Saturday, morning manual labor
Cardcaptor Sakura
published 02-15-07
edited 07-22-11