Chapter Six: Dreaming Sakura

When he next opens his eyes, once again, he's lying under a sakura tree in the dark, in the night, tucked among its roots, staring up the expanse of its large, rippling trunk. For some reason, he is being held fast, and perfectly still. He does not fight the feeling.

The highest branches of the tree rustle and jostle. Even on the ground, he feels a small, gentle breeze pass over his face. A slight form jumps from the crotch of one of the thicker tree limbs, and floats to the ground. Her outfit flares like wings behind her, and the bangles around her wrists jangle like bells. She has light reddish hair. Sakura.

She pivots on her heel to face him, and he can see that her eyes are filled with dismay. "What are you doing here? Go back!" says, upset.

"This is the land of dreams again," Watanuki murmurs. "I don't know how I got here. I can't..."

"Yes," says Sakura, coming closer.

Watanuki lets his eyes flutter shut, open.

"The tree is feeding on your body," Sakura whispers.

Watanuki tries to draw breath and he gasps, and the sound rips out, torn. Now he can feel it. The root that has attached itself to his spine, and spread throughout his torso, so he cannot move. As long as he does not move, there is no pain. He could be attached like this and still live for a long time—death would be painfully slow.

"Come, we must go. This is the dream of the Sakurazukamori," Sakura explains. "The assassin... It is near the heart of dreams. It is a nightmare dream that never ends, and it was formed long, long ago, and it is more self-aware than most. Surely you know of him."

Watanuki nods, tired. "Yes, I do. Know of him...I have never met him, however. So much has happened in Tokyo..."

"You must leave. If you attract the assassin's attention, he will hunt you down to end your pain, and you will never be free of him. He is young, this one. You must beware. He hasn't yet found his quarry—"

"I am not his victim." Watanuki coughs wetly.

"No, but your body is weak and you are vulnerable, and so you were drawn here," says Sakura. She kneels, bends down to him, and takes both of Watanuki's hands in hers. "It is wise not to tempt fate. If you die here, you will die for real. You know this. You ended up here because you lost control of your dreams." Her tone, slightly rushed and urgent and breathless, says this is very important. "Watanuki, I want you to concentrate for me."

He closes his eyes. "Anything, Sakura."

"Good... I want you to imagine a place where you can lie down in safety. A warm, safe place, where you are at peace."

"Yes," Watanuki croaks, and he feels lighter, feels as if he is just about to slip away and disappear—to anywhere—to slip into another place. Suddenly, it clicks.

"Dream it!" she orders, and almost despite himself, Watanuki's dream slips and slides off to the side, as if sheared by a knife— and it morphs—

He's lying in the Doumeki pond, face up and floating. He can move. He glances to the sides, raises his arms experimentally, and starts to sink. His head ducks under the water; he blinks, watches the play of light from below, and then reality returns, and he begins to thrash: his head needs to be above the water—

But this is not a drowning dream, and the pond is not that deep. Sakura, who was next to him the whole time, siezes his wrist and tows him to the shore, where she sits out of the water. Watanuki gives up and moving and simply floats, with her hand gripping his wrist for ballast, just in case he slips again. It was just a little scare. It's not long before he gets his breath back.

"If that was the Sakurazukamori's dream, why were you there?" Watanuki asks curiously.

"It's because of my name. The association is strong, so I always begin there when I journey through dreams...I always have. It is not always a nightmare tree. When it flourishes in its life aspect, it is really quite lovely. But death is another outcome, and in times of ill omen, it reflects that," explains Sakura. "You were trying to find me..."

"I don't know," says Watanuki.

"It was not intentional, then. Your soul led you there, to me; your circumstances were the catalyst that infected the dream. If that was so, then I am forced to conclude that all is not well with you."

"Sakura..."

"Oh, Watanuki, listen! You gave me advice in a dream once—let me do what I can for you. Anyway, you are in much more need of it." She squeezes his wrist slightly and smiles at him. "Are you sure you don't want to sit beside me?"

Watanuki shakes his head. "No." He smiles back. He feels strangely relaxed.

Sakura does not press him. She looks out over the quiet, clear pond. "The water here is strangely pure," Sakura ventures, after a time. "Maybe it is good for you. But I thought I told you to go somewhere warm."

"It is, sort of," Watanuki says. "My skin is used to it. Here, my heart is warm...I did what you said, but actually I am not sure why I came here. This pond belongs...belonged to a friend of mine."

"He must a good friend then," says Sakura. "If this is his place...are you sure he's not around here somewhere?"

"I don't know. He died." The surface of the pond shivers. Watanuki rides the slight ripple, feeling uneasy. He can't say for sure, and that ambiguity troubles him.

"I see." Sakura doesn't reply for a some time while she thinks. "Everything means something in dreams," she tells him finally.

"Everything?" Watanuki says.

"Yes."

"Then...what about this?"

"You came to his pond because you miss him," Sakura says slowly. "He made you feel safe and at peace, just like I feelingse I told you to search for. Even though he's not here, you wanted the reminder of his presence. Just like how I'm holding your wrist...he was your anchor. You don't have one anymore. You don't want another one—you want him. That's why you won't sit here with me. You have to float on your own. That makes you afraid. Now that everything is uncertain, you have lost the courage to move on your own." She stops.

"Yes," says Watanuki.

"I'm sorry," says Sakura. "I wasn't of much help."

"It's fine," says Watanuki, and he floats. "I think...I think I loved him."

"I'm sorry," says Sakura, even more softly.

"I don't know if I want to go forward," says Watanuki.

She tightens her grip on his wrist. "You must."

"I don't want to be alone."

"You aren't," she says. "We are always thinking of you. Talk to us! Please try."

"I know. I will," Watanuki promises, suddenly wan and tired. "I know, and I've already decided. I just..."

He doesn't have much time left here. In a burst of inspiration, she raises his hand from the water and kisses it. "Thank you." If she treats it like a promise, maybe he will come to see it as one.

"I feel heavy..." Watanuki's eyelids slide shut.

"Your body is calling you," she murmurs. "Don't struggle."

His face scrunches as he struggles to say, "I just have to move forward, and—"

"Watanuki!" she shouts, and

—he's gone.

Sakura touches the water as its rushes to fill the space that he left it—it slaps her hand, with force. Substance. If nothing else, Watanuki is convinced he is still alive. She climbs out of the pond, closes her eyes and summons her power. When her eyelids lift again, she is home with Syaoran, sitting on her throne.

There are tears on her cheeks.

Syaoran touches them and says, "How is he?"

Sakura turns her eyes to him and embraces him around the neck. "I don't know, my love. I don't know."

"Will he get through it?"

"He says he will."

"Then he'll make it," says Syaoran, and he kisses her.

But as close as they are, Watanuki's brand of determination isn't anything like Syaoran's bleak and obsessive single-mindedness. Syaoran does not know anything of Watanuki is suffering: he would never think to suspect. Would Watanuki even tell him? Sakura wonders. "We should call him soon," she says, when they break apart. "He needs us—"

"I will," Syaoran promises her, serious.

"Thank you," she sighs. "I worry."

"You usually have a reason," says Syaoran, looking unconcerned. "It'll work out."

Sakura forces herself to laugh. Wistfully, she confides, "I wish I had your faith."

"It's not faith," says Syaoran slowly. "Not trust. It's expectation. Because I cannot bear the thought of any other outcome—" he breaks away from her abruptly, and leaves her and the throne room. She lets him go, almost wishing that she hadn't pushed him. These days, Syaoran needs a lot of time to think for himself.

She knows what he's thinking about: all the times he pushed forward, not knowing the outcome, refusing to think about any other outcome awaiting him in his future than basic success. Refusing to think too deeply on the price to strive towards what he must, yet taking responsibility and bearing the guilt for his selfishness anyway. It is a kind of denial. At times when she was at stake, times when they were all trapped together, with no way out, times when they sacrificed time, people, worlds and possibilities to get to the future they have now. He does care. Too much, sometimes; she knows that, too.