claire_writing

In Prep for Nanowrimo...

2007-09-29T15:11:27Z

I wrote a CCS semidrabble today. (It's 150 words.)

Meiling, like a bird, liked to roost in high places. Tomoyo had often seen the girl on the school’s roof, fingers entwined in the chain link fence, gazing down at the world as it went on without her. Was it hard to be Meiling? Tomoyo wondered to herself. A girl without magic, powerless in a family of magicians.
She was a little surprised that Syaoran hadn’t caught on to this tendency. Meiling was his cousin and supposed fiancee. But he jumped when she suddenly called out to him in passing.
“Meiling! Are you even allowed up there?” he spluttered, collecting his dropped schoolwork and checking to make sure his carefully printed figures were still legible despite their abrupt besmirchment.
“Of course!” Meiling crossed her arms. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be up here! Come up! There’s a really nice breeze!”
“We have class in a few minutes.”
“Syaaooraann!”
“Yes, Meiling.”
Tomoyo walked on.

WIP: The Audition

2007-04-24T16:59:16Z

I think you guys would enjoy seeing works in progress as well as my completed works (which I do need to get around to posting xP argh). Here's what I've got so far for this story about a girl waiting for her flute audition.

Her name was Tabitha Longley, and she was a flautist. Fifteen years of age, partially Irish and partially Asian and partially she-didn't-know-what-else, Tabitha had a small nose, high cheekbones, almond eyes, and long flowing hair. And she played flute.
Yes, she was a flautist. Tabitha glanced down at her fingers lined up nearly on the flute like soldiers. She twitched them up and down, listening to the hollow clicking popping thud that the keys made as they slammed down and sprang back up. She breathed deeply. How she regretted her decision six years before to pick this instrument up.
Today, in fact, in one single solitary hour, she would audition to the local youth orchestra. Oh, how nonchalantly had she filled all the forms out, gotten her mother's jovial signature, confirmed today the 16th as her audition date. Oh, how wanton was her selection of repertoire, how lightly she had gone over it all!
The flute, a solid silver one, her grandmother's heirloom, was warming in her clammy, trembling hands. She raised it to her lips, thought about playing, and set it back down. Mmm. The thought of playing made her sick. She couldn't believe she signed up to put herself through this! Oh, how much she had talked about it! What a fool she would be trying to pretend she had a clue how to perform Mozart! Oh, how much she had talked about it! Oh, how horrifically hilarious the judges would find her playing, how gladly they would stamp a great red "REJECTED" on her form! They would talk about her later too, "Remember that one flautist? Wasn't that HORRIBLE? Oh my god, what is music today coming to? I can't believe people like that are allowed to play the flute! She made the rest of the kids sound like professionals!!"
Tabitha screwed up her petite face and set the flute back in her lap. The other kids. It felt like there were hundreds of flutes in here with her. It was an audition day for all wind instruments, but she saw nothing but flute. Flute, flute, flute, flute. They all sounded beautiful. One sparkled up and down an A major scale (Tabitha could tell, with perfect pitch). Another one trilled her way through a selection of Mozart (a different one than she chose, thank god). They all sounded marvelous. They all sounded amazing. They all sounded like they locked themselves in a room all day and did nothing but practice. Tabitha had a life, Tabitha had friends and a family, Tabitha couldn't do that!
"Aren't you going to warm up, Tabby dear?" her mother asked, peacefully flipping through The Inquirer.
Tabitha nodded mutely and reluctantly blew. A hollow, empty tone resounded. Her flute, the one that shone and even had seemed to breathe like a living being in the practice room, now seemed flat and dead.
She pushed her headjoint in a few millimeters. At least now it was just dead and not flat.
Her mother nodded in approval of the sound, but seemed not to pay enough attention to notice that Tabitha had stopped.
Tabitha Longley was alone in this matter. Utterly, completely alone. It was going to be just her facing the judgment of the orchestral admissions committee. And she had no way to escape it.
“Mom, I’m not feeling well,” she whispered.
Her mother glanced up. “Well, we’ll go right home after your audition.” She glanced back down.
Tabitha groaned. All that had served to do was cancel her ice cream trek after this.
“Mary Sue Bates!” the woman at the door of the audition room called. Tabitha watched stonily as a beautiful flautist with shining blonde hair and perfectly manicured nails strutted to the front of the room, popping a piece of gum and trailing a sickly sweet scent of strong perfume in her wake.
“And where is your music, dear?” the woman asked, eying her strangely.
“I have it all memorized,” Mary Sue gave the rest of the musicians in the room a condescending smile. Her teeth were bright white, even moreso than her ivory skin.
Her eyes seemed to rest on Tabitha, and the smile changed to nearly a sneer. She spun around and followed the woman through the door.
As Mary Sue disappeared, Tabitha got up. “I have to use the bathroom,” she mumbled to her mother. Tabitha slunk through the door, completely curious. She also wanted to pull her mind out of the panicked paralysis of the hold room. She could use her bathroom search as an excuse if she got in trouble for eavesdropping on her fellow flautist. The woman and Mary Sue were in the hallway conversing. Tabitha flattened herself ninjalike behind a pillar.
“Did you see someone?” Mary Sue’s voice was piercing.
“No, please go in here,” said the woman. The door creaked and shut. Tabitha then heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She slid around the pillar more towards the wall. She went unheeded. The door to the hold room shut. With a sigh of relief, Tabitha pulled away from the pillar and peeked both ways down the hallway. The sound of flute music floated from the room Mary Sue must have gone into. Tabitha tiptoed down the hallway and pressed her ear against the door.
“Thank you,” a voice sounded from inside. Over already? The doorknob turned. With a fearful gasp, Tabitha fled down the hallway and didn’t stop until the hall looped back around to the hold room. Tabitha snatched up her flute and dropped herself back into her seat.
“Was the bathroom that bad?” her mother chuckled.
Tabitha laughed along in between her gasps of breath, but she was silently ruing herself. Now she really did have to go. She looked towards the door but no one called for her.
Attempting to distract herself, she began to warm up. Her flute was responding the same as always, but she was having trouble coordinating her fingers or adding just the proper amount of vibrato. Oh, her audition was going to be an absolute nightmare! She would sound like she had only just picked up flute.
“Are you next?”

An Untitled English Project

2007-04-10T04:24:30Z

We were assigned in ninth grade to write a horror story in the style of Edgar Allen Poe. I wrote about murdering Eriol. ^_^

Love—hate—whatever—it wasn’t my fault what happened on Valentine’s Day. You may all think I’m a madman. And indeed maybe I am. I am a female madman. It makes perfect sense. It’s why my Biology teacher always stares at me every other sentence in lectures. But it wasn’t because of this that what happened did. It was because of him--it was his fault—not mine!!
Yes, I shall explain it to you—all of you, each and every single one—why exactly I rid the world of Eriol Hiiragizawa last Saturday. I think it was his last name. Yes—yes—his last name was what made me do it! What sort of moron lets himself be born into a family with such a silly last name? You know what—I bet that he deliberately made his name Hiiragizawa--he made it so that I said it over and over and over again in my mind every day—Hiiragizawa, Hiiragizawa—for evenings on end I could lay in bed—lay there repeating it. It haunted me. It planted itself into my mind—dug its claws deep into my subconscious—taunting me from a corner in the back of my mind all the time! Mercy it had none. Lenience it had none. All the time—“Hiiragizawa, ha ha, isn’t that an odd name? Hiiragizawa… weird… Hiiragizawa… you’d have to live with that the rest of your life if you got marr—”
I think he may have actually liked me. He stuck notes into my locker. They were all signed anonymous—but I know—I know he was behind it. “Anonymous” has five syllables, and “Hiiragizawa” has six—therefore, it’s obvious that he was behind it. Don’t you agree? Don’t you?
Of course you don’t—no one agrees with a madman. No one! Don’t try to disagree with me about agreeability—no one agrees with a madman. Finally, one day, I decided that the only way to exorcise this “Hiiragizawa” demon—to get the word out of my head—out of my mind—out of my private, solitary mind—nothing’s allowed in there that doesn’t belong—was to kill him.
It was easy enough to bring a gun into school—slip it into my backpack—or my contrabassoon case—you could fit all of Luxembourg’s contraband material into my contrabassoon case—or even a knife. Yes, a knife would have worked fine. I could have even slipped it into my pocket. My pocket—I would have a lethal weapon in my pocket—and no one would know! Not until it was too late. But neither of these did I bring to school. In fact, I was going to—but then my sister came into the kitchen just as I was about to reach for one or the other. I couldn’t let her in on it—not yet—she would get the parents on me.
Actually—I am a coward—a slimy yellow coward—I couldn’t do anything until Saturday. Not until Saturday could I sneak into his home—of course I knew where it was—if an odd last name gets emblazoned into my mind, I know where the owner’s house is—I snuck in with a handkerchief. How innocent is a handkerchief?! A sweet, little yellow handkerchief—as yellow as I am a coward—I had it in my hand. I snuck into his room—his room—how many high school girls can sneak into a guy’s room—right through the window. It squeaked as I opened it. It grated like fingernails down a chalkboard. I reveled in the squeak—and yet I qualmed at the same time—it was the sound of my victory so near—but what if the world heard it before I did what I had to do?
However, in a moment—an agonizing, horrifying moment—I was in. I was in his room. And there he was—sleeping away like it was 1:26 in the morning on Valentine’s Day—although it was—I do EVERYTHING at 1:26 in the morning. I could see by the pale light of the moon—I could see his glasses with the headlight frames—laying folded on the nightstand. Those glasses would never grace themselves on that Hiiragizawa nose again!! I picked them up and put them on my own. It was a part of my victory—my triumph—my riddance of the name!
And then—without further adue—I, I did it. I asphyxiated him with the handkerchief—wrapped it around his throat—slowly squeezed it shut!—watched his face turn as blue as his dark eyes—watched through the strange magnification of his glasses. Watched until I was definitely sure he was gone from this world! Watched until I knew that no one would have to hear “Hiiragizawa” hastily pronounced on a role sheet ever again! And then I ran! Out the window and down the driveway. I was gone—there was no one to see—my secret deed was done! I no longer had to worry about that horrid, hateful Hiiragizawa!!!
Happy Valentine’s Day.

Whatever the heck I titled the Mei-ling flutey fic

2007-04-10T04:20:51Z

(It's late)
For Cardcaptorgifts, for Rhap-chan I think... can't remember. For everyone.

Mei-ling stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. The fan up there puttered on futilely, attempting to circulate the stagnant, humid air. She felt the slight breeze against her face covered with warm sweat and tears, but it did absolutely nothing to cool her.

She had not moved from the position for hours. And would not move from it. The square of sunlight from the window moved unheeded from her head to her torso to the floor. It might as well be raining, or night. Time might as well stop altogether. As far as she was concerned, it had, right when she had discovered Syaoran, her Syaoran, no, Syaoran harbored warm feelings for another girl.

All of her former activities were now pointless. Running for a one-two finish with Syaoran? Martial arts to fight with Syaoran side-by-side? Teaching herself Japanese to talk with Syaoran even when he was in Japan on family business? Learning to cook to provide meals for him every day when they were married? No longer. Her raison d’etre was gone. And frankly, she didn’t know WHAT to do with herself.

The sharp nasality of her mother’s voice punctuated the still air. She was on the phone. “Are you out of your MIND, Yelan? What happened to TRADITION?” Much like the fan, she was futilely attempting to reconcile the relationship. “The matchmaker had given Syaoran and Mei-ling her blessing!! And you’re going to let him just break off this match we’ve planned for FIVE YEARS for this upstart little she-devil sorceress from Japan?! Syaoran is much too young to make a responsible intelligent decision about this matter! Are you out of your MIND?” She circled much like it, too.

Mei-ling wished her mother would move out of the hallway so she no longer had to listen. Each time around her mother got more insistent. “Do you understand what this means?! No other sorcerer in a thousand centuries would take a nonmagical wife! And you know what will happen if Mei-ling marries a nonmagical man? None of my descendants will have any sort of strong magic!! We need to preserve the magic in our bloodline, sister!!”

In a few moments, “HOW DARE YOU!! MY DAUGHTER WOULD NOT ‘THIN OUT’ THE MAGIC IN OUR BLOODLINE! YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE SYAORAN’S GOING TO HAVE A WEAK WIFE WHO CAN CAST A FEW CUTE TRICKS BUT WON’T BE ABLE TO RUN THE HOUSE AND YOU DON’T HAVE THE POWER OVER HIM TO PREVENT IT!” and her mother slammed the phone into the floor. It burst through to the first story. Mei-ling could hear her father come running, but it would take him a while to get up here.

“I’M GOING TO CURSE HER!!” her mother screamed. “I’LL CURSE HER AND HER FAMILY!”

“That would mean you too, calm down, calm down…” Mei-ling could hear her father say in soothing tones. The muffled yelps and the sound of fists pounding into an unrelenting back definitely told her that her father had picked her mother up to keep her from doing anything brash again. The fire last time had taken two weeks to put out after all.

She turned at last to her side and muffled her parents’ voices with her pillow. So what was she going to do? She needed to start a new life, find some new hobby, get going again. Or else Tomoyo would be disappointed. She remembered the last lavendar-scented letter, dropped to the floor. Find something to bury yourself in, Tomoyo urged. Soon you’ll think of it so much that the bad things will stay out of your mind.

Mei-ling stood up suddenly, letting the blood rush to her head. Something new to do. That’s right. She ran out of her room and shimmied her way up into the attic. The storage. She had always loved to play hide-and-seek here with Syao… she loved playing up here when she was younger. There was an endless amount of things to look through and try on or play with somehow, whether it was her great-grandmother’s dresses, old diaries, antique chess sets, or what. The musty smell greeted her and a new onslaught of dark, ovenlike heat.

Mei-ling loved the heat even if she complained of it when it was too excessive. It was MUCH better than being so cold you couldn’t move. Her father would affectionately call her the little lizard when she opened the windowshades to let the sunlight in and promptly curled back into bed under the rays. Even now, moving around in it, she felt a little better than she had just lying around.

She pulled a hairband out of her pocket and pulled up her long black hair into a bun. She hadn’t had any energy to put it up lately but now it was pestering her. And promptly Mei-ling attacked the first pile of things that attracted her eye.

An album of Syaoran’s 7th birthday party. She set that aside painfully. Some of her baby clothes. Maybe she could take up sewing? No, it would be too hot under all that fabric. And she might prick her finger. She frowned, recalling the play she had been in with...

She shook her head and thrust her arm deep into the pile. Knocking old Legos down with a crash, she withdrew something random. A long, thin black case.

Mei-ling furrowed her brow, puzzled. Would her family have anything like this…? She undid the clasps and opened it up.

A flash of silver fell out. She had opened the case upside down. She squawked in indignation and hurriedly caught the longest of the three tubes in there. The other two fell into her lap.

“A flute?”

This was indeed what she had found. Surprisingly, the case did not smell and the silver was untarnished. Delicately, she returned the three pieces to the case and shut it.

She looked up. The fallen Legos had unearthed a pile of music books.

“A flute…” Mei-ling smiled thoughtfully.
~~

“Mother, Father, I’m going out!” Mei-ling called, shouldering her backpack and slipping on her shoes.

They were busy quarreling in the kitchen. Mei-ling sighed and scribbled a quick note. Then she made her escape.

The bright sun met her on the other side of the door. She stood for a moment shielding her eyes from it. As they finally adjusted, she turned and ran up a familiar path until she found her secret place.

Here. She was out of earshot of anyone.

She turned the case this way and that, and finally figured she should open it so the writing saying “Yamaha Allegro” was on the top. Gingerly she snapped the clasps and cracked it open.

The flute stayed put inside. She had opened it properly!! Now, it was time to put the thing together…

~~

Twenty minutes later, she held up the assembled flute. That looked right…

Without another thought, she blew into it.

No sound besides a low hiss.

…

This was going to be a long day.

~~

Mei-ling slunk into her home, exasperated. She had finally been able to make some weird screeches, but that was it. Was flute playing really supposed to be that hard? She sunk into bed, kicking off her slippers.

“I see you found my flute,” a tremulous voice at her doorway made her snap straight up to see who it was.

“Wei?? Oh, I’m sorry! I hope I didn’t break it…” Mei-ling fished it guiltily out of her backpack. She looked at the little case in her arms sadly. She liked the flute, even if it hadn’t made any nice sounds.

“Oh, no, not at all! I don’t think it could have fallen into better hands,” Wei smiled. “Would you like me to teach you? To learn music well is a long journey, but an extremely fulfilling one.”

“But don’t you need your flute back…?”

“Not at all,” Wei smiled. “Here, put it together and we’ll have your first lesson now!”

A smile spread onto Mei-ling’s face too, the first one for a very long time.

~~

Yes, Mei-ling thought as she was called in for her audition a few months later. This is what makes me happy now…

She raised her flute to her mouth and began her piece. It was a short little ditty, but it was her favorite and the one she felt she played best. She played every day and often now. It was her way of cheering herself and it occupied her time when she used to just stare listlessly at the ceiling.

A stream of notes flew out, happy and light, like springtime birds. She reflected that she rarely thought about Syaoran or Sakura anymore except if they sent letters. Tomoyo she was good friends with, but Tomoyo still had not deemed it safe to broach the subject, so her letters and phone calls were full of other things like how she missed seeing Mei-ling and how lovely the weather was in Japan and other miscellaneous things. She was happy for Tomoyo’s friendship…

She maybe should have focused on the music a little more because at that moment she made a series of mistakes. Shaking her head, she straightened it out and made it to the end.

“Um… thank you,” the judge said. Mei-ling went home, content that she had expressed her happiness, even if she had made a few mistakes. She had gotten good right away, she had an unusual talent for someone starting so old, according to Wei. So maybe she would get into this orchestra!! It would be a difficult commitment to keep on top of all of her school, but she wanted to try. She wanted to be told how good she was.

~~

“Mei-ling! Letter for you!!”

”Yes!” Mei-ling thundered down the stairs, flute in hand, and accepted the envelope from her mother. Hong Kong Youth Orchestra!! She ripped the letter open.

“Dear Ms. Li Mei-ling,
We of the Hong Kong Youth Orchestra admissions panel unfortunately cannot offer you a position in the orchestra at this point in time. Thank you very much for your interest in our organization.”

Mei-ling’s face colored.

“What is it?” Mei-ling’s mother glanced at her from over her embroidery.

“WHY!!??” and with that screech, she slammed the flute into the floor and ran into her bedroom crying. It wasn’t so much that she had wanted into that orchestra in particular, but that she wanted the validation that she was good at something, something she had started all on her own and not because she wanted to be with Syaoran. And she hadn’t even been good enough to prove it and get into the orchestra.

After a while her mother came in with the broken flute and started yelling at her about how much it cost to fix one of those things and how ungrateful she was to Wei and how immature she was acting and so on. Mei-ling stopped listening after a while. Her mother often shouted at her.

After a while, her mother left, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t even care. And Sakura, Syaoran and Tomoyo were even coming to visit for her birthday tomorrow. How was she going to face them after talking about playing the flute so much and then having broke it?

She spent the night sleepless.

~~

”Happy birthday Mei-ling!!” the chorus of friends greeted her as she walked downstairs, hair unkempt and rings under her eyes.

“Thanks,” she sighed, plopping into a chair.

Sakura and Syaoran looked concerned, but Tomoyo seemed to know what to do. She picked up the one present the three had brought.

“We all chipped in some money and got this for you,” she held the long, thin box out. Mei-ling accepted it and ripped it open half-heartedly. She opened the box and gasped.

A beautiful bamboo flute cushioned in fabric was inside.

“We thought that suited you much better than the silver flute! Please give it a try, Mei-ling-chan!!” Tomoyo said. Sakura looked hopeful. Mei-ling didn’t want to look over at Syaoran and see what he was looking like.

Mei-ling blew into the flute.

A very natural, beautiful note sounded. Mei-ling opened her eyes wide. This was so much… well, not easier, but…! It fit her so much more!

She played the song she had attempted for the audition. It flew out as easily as the most rudimentary martial arts techniques she learned when she was five.

All three clapped. “Wow, Mei-ling-chan!! And you’ve only played for a couple of months!!! You’re so much better at music than I am!!” Sakura cried.

Syaoran smiled his approval, but Mei-ling realized for the first time that she didn’t really care anymore. “Thank you so much!” she bowed to all of them deeply, and came up smiling.

“Now!” Tomoyo clapped her hands, setting her camera onto her tripod and pulling out a game. “Let’s play Twister!”

Mei-ling smiled. “Yeah!!”

A Question

2007-04-10T04:19:20Z

For cardcaptorgifts, for Sheila-chan
(Uploading my three most recent works, the birthday fics for CCG.)

“Hiiragizawa-kun, I have a question,” Tomoyo’s delicate voice floated in over Eriol’s thoughts, making him glance up from his book. He had sought shade under one of the more powerful trees on the campus grounds. Its aura thrummed, loud enough for even nonmagical sorts to hear it. Of course, they would mistake it for the sounds of the nearby school power generator.

“Yes, Daidouji-san?” He had not picked that tree in particular, it just struck him to sit under it. Hitsuzen again. Eriol would not be able to express how tired he was of the word.

At his invitation, Tomoyo joined him underneath the tree. She furrowed her brow and glanced briefly up at its branches. Eriol smiled faintly.

“About today,” she said politely, folding her ivory hands in her lap. Her posture was prim and proper. Even Eriol had taken today to slump slightly against the tree trunk. He turned a page in acknowledgement of her having spoken, waiting for the question. “It’s your birthday, right?”

“Yes,” curiosity began to unfurl its perilous tendrils; it slowly took root in the depths of Eriol’s mind. He regarded Tomoyo with interest. Whatever could possibly intrigue her about his birthday?

He was startled to find her observing him as closely as he was her, perhaps even more intensely. Finding himself a little unnerved, he consoled himself with the thought that it was the same trick of the direct gaze that he used to unnerve others (namely Syaoran), and that he would not be taken by it. He gazed straight back, but Tomoyo’s eyes were already glinting. She had won control.

“But Hiiragizawa-kun was not born normally,” she mused, leaning towards him slightly. “Is today the day Clow-san…?”

“No,” Eriol replied, tilting his head back slightly and shutting his eyes. “I don’t know the exact date. In his later years, Clow stopped keeping track of the flow of years and dates.” Tomoyo did not speak, continuing to watch him. “But Daidouji-san gives her plush toys birthdays, and neither were they born in an organic manner,” he said at last, mimicking her usage of third person.

“Is Hiiragizawa-kun nothing more than a plush toy?”

Eriol was at a loss to respond to her. Rather than trying to stutter out some awkward answer, he waited patiently for Tomoyo to continue with her point. The tree shuddered in the breeze and one of the very first of the cherry blossoms fell.

It settled on the ground and still neither spoke. The side of Eriol’s mouth twitched. She wanted his response to her unspoken question. Why…?

“Having a birthday gives me something positive to dream about…” he said softly.

It was true. He looked away, hoping she would not interrogate him about loneliness, depression, selfishness, or his former premonitions. All of them had a factor, but he did not like to discuss darker emotions. Acknowledging them only fortified them.

Tomoyo smiled, allowing satisfaction to bubble onto her face, which had thinned with time. “So, so!” she stood up and pulled him up by his hand in that entreating, fragile way. Could she read his thoughts? “Please come this way!” she giggled and let go, gliding over to the cafeteria entrance, pulling the door open and beckoning. Eriol had little choice but to follow her.

As he approached the dark threshold, he hesitated. With a sudden movement, Tomoyo pushed him in. She shut the door behind them. Beginning to cackle in her most innocent way, she covered her mouth slightly. “Ohohoho!”

The lights snapped on. Kero and Suppi showered Eriol in confetti. “Happy birthday!!!” The two guardians, Sakura, Tomoyo, Nakuru, and (with significantly less enthusiasm) Syaoran and Yue chorused, popping party favors.

Eriol was frozen with a puzzled expression on his face and confetti stuck in his hair. His eyes swept the room. A “Happy birthday, Eriol!” banner was strung across the ceiling, and there were presents on several of the tables, and games set up, and the doors evidently had been blocked off with the Lock.

“Were you surprised?” Sakura asked, jumping in front of him with a smile.

After a moment, Eriol smiled. “Yes! Thank you very much!”

“Don’t thank me, it was Tomoyo-chan’s idea!” Sakura ran off and began to put music on.

Tomoyo smiled, leaning against the door they had just entered by. “Everyone deserves to have a wonderful birthday, no matter how they were born or what is going on in their lives,” she said. In her arms she held the first present, the one that was largest and most ostentatiously wrapped. It was clear Daidouji Toy Company spared no expense for anyone Tomoyo favored.

“Thank you,” Eriol repeated to her, and this time it was more heartfelt.

“Of course!”

The Rose Did Caper

2007-04-07T16:49:47Z

For cardcaptorgifts, for Rhap_chan
Sakura birthday fanfic.

Sakura was astonished at the array of decorations Tomoyo had set out for her birthday party. Not only did she have a new Victorian dress for Sakura to wear, she had completely redecorated her house to celebrate Sakura’s day. “You’re amazing, Tomoyo-chan!”
The bell rang.
“Could you get the door, please, Sakura-chan??” Tomoyo’s high voice floated in from the kitchen, where she was putting icing on a five layer cake.
“Yeah!!” Sakura sprinted to the door with all of her youthful enthusiasm, her skirt flying behind her. Curtains fluttered after her in the wake she left. She pulled the door open giddily. “Hiii, welcome to Tomo…yo’s..!! H…!” she panted desperately, but her corset forbade her from grabbing a breath large enough to make up for that dash. The edges of her vision faded to black. She swooned, fell forward onto the guest, and knew no more.

“Are you okay, Sakura-chan? Sakura-chan!!” Sakura opened her eyes to find Tomoyo anxiously dabbing at her forehead with a moist handkerchief.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sakura sat up, rubbing an eye. “What’s wrong?”
“You collapsed onto Hiiragizawa-kun, and I think it’s because of the dress I put you in.” Tomoyo said, folding and unfolding the handkerchief in her slender, ivory fingers. They were completely unscathed, a clear highlight of her skill as a seamstress. The nails were long and unbroken. Sakura found herself watching them fidget as Tomoyo talked. “I loosened it for you, your form is really adorable enough without being squeezed uncomfortably… I’m incredibly, totally sorry…”
Sakura noticed she was indeed able to breathe easier. She broke into a smile. “It’s okay, Tomoyo-chan! And thank you so much, Eriol-kun!”
Eriol looked over from the corner. He had been preoccupying himself with getting a cup of punch, pretending it required all of his attention to fill it to exactly the correct level, all the while casting an anxious eye over to the couch Sakura was reclined upon. He turned and bowed deeply. “Oh, I don’t need any thanks, Sakura-san, I’m just thankful I was able to catch you before it was too late! It would be horrible to celebrate your birthday in the emergency room…”
Sakura giggled a little and wondered what it had been like in his arms. Her questioning gaze met his. Eriol broke it off quickly.
“I would make that emergency room the most lively and colorful emergency room on the planet if it needed to be the place we celebrated dear Sakura-chan’s birthday in,” Tomoyo said. An oven timer went off in the background, and a maid went to attend to the baking. “No, please!! I want to make the entire compliment of sweets!!” Tomoyo got up, brushed her skirt off, and took Sakura’s hand. “Please rest until you feel comfortable, and if you need anything, our maids will be pleased to help you.” With that, Tomoyo dashed off to the kitchen.
A flood of other guests approached Sakura and started inquiring after her health. Eriol hung in the corner, his face still tinged with vestiges of fluster. Holding Sakura had been like carrying a delicate wilting flower in his arms, and he could not help but replay it in his memory again and again. The excitement in her face to see him at the door, the suddenness with which her face had turned ashen gray, the limpness as she sprawled into his arms, how he had caught her and then gently scooped up her knees, getting his arm tangled in the full skirt, Tomoyo rushing in with alarm and tearing at incomprehensible ribbons in the contraption Sakura was dressed in, until at last something gave and the color started returning to Sakura’s face. The warmth of her body in his arms, but how horribly soon he had relinquished it to Tomoyo’s couch…!
Eriol sipped at his punch, wanting champagne but fully aware he was at a children’s party. Likewise, he was fully aware that to hold the small blossom was someone else’s privilege. In fact, he was surprised that a certain descendent of his hadn’t come roaring into the scene, flaring his nostrils in anger and guarding Sakura’s place of rest until she regained consciousness a few moments later.
“Li-kun has called out sick today,” Tomoyo said from behind Eriol. “He would have come, but unfortunately he is unable to escape the cruel clutches of his bedspread.”
“You have an uncanny method of reading people’s thoughts, Daidouji-san,” Eriol said, turning around with a suave, applied smile.
“You should ask Sakura-chan to dance when the string quartet comes, you’re the only proper gentleman here,” Tomoyo said, looking over to her camera, roosting on its tripod, its eagle eye focused on Sakura’s couch. “I want Sakura-chan to have a matching Victorian-style partner in this shoot!”
Eriol glanced down at his clothing. He had hung up his suit jacket when Tomoyo’s maids had asked for it, but he was still in a vest and a ruffled blouse, which he personally felt comfortable in. A quaint sense of style, perhaps? To Tomoyo, he must seem to have stepped directly out of one of those nineteenth century portraits.
…he was going to dance with Sakura!?
“O-okay,” he nearly stumbled over his words, something he had not done in nearly half a century.
Tomoyo giggled as the doorbell rang. “Oh, that must be the quartet now!” she clapped her hands together in delight and pulled the double doors open to better accommodate the cellist.
The first violinist began speaking to Tomoyo about requests as the second violin, the viola, and the cello began to set up in the indicated corner and tune.
“I have a whole collection of waltzes,” Tomoyo said happily and audibly, pulling out an enormous book and plopping it into the violinist’s hands. “Please play the ones I’ve bookmarked first!” He nearly buckled under its unexpected weight, but nodded politely to Tomoyo and brought the tome to his companions.
“Eriol-kun, he looks like you,” Sakura giggled. “Violinist-san.” She had gotten off the couch and had glided over to him. Moving at a slow enough pace, he could not see her feet, so it was well enough to describe it as gliding.
“Oh, but I play the piano,” Eriol said, swallowing his discomfiture and putting on his normal façade of gentle happiness.
“I remember!” Sakura giggled and Eriol tried not to color. How brilliant, he chided himself. ‘I play the piano.’ He had TAUGHT Sakura piano!
“Shall we dance to the first they play?” he offered, holding his hand out to her.
Sakura grinned. “Yes!!” Could Eriol see a hint of red in her happy cheeks?
“THEY WANT ME TO SIGHT READ THAT!?” the cellist cried, and both stopped to look at her.
“Beth, please, this is a well-paying gig,” the second violin hissed.
“Of course, as a professional cellist, you can sight read anything, correct?” the first grinned slyly. The cellist grumbled.
“Let’s hurry and start before we get in trouble,” the violist said hesitantly, opening the first page.
“I think that’s our cue,” Eriol said to Sakura, who giggled, perhaps a little nervously? The crowd gravitated to the corners of the room, unnoticed.
The waltz began. Sakura’s steps were unsure and mirroring Eriol’s, so he took charge.
Sakura found dancing with Eriol easy, though she couldn’t fathom why. She giggled and spun when he lifted her arm and invited her to do so. They made their way back and forth across the room. After a few more moments, Yamazaki pulled Chiharu into the center and began to dance with her too, much to Chiharu’s chagrin. The crowd took their cue, however, and soon everyone was out moving to the rhythm of the bouncy waltz Tomoyo had picked. No one but maybe Eriol noticed that the cellist was simplifying her part.
“This is so wonderful,” Tomoyo sighed happily, adjusting settings on her camera. “Sakura-chan looks so happy!”
As the song ended, Eriol smiled down at Sakura, the girl who inherited his past life’s creation. “Happy birthday, Sakura-san,” he said softly.
“Thank you Eriol-kun, that was so fun!!” Sakura hugged him suddenly and tightly. Eriol inhaled sharply, not having anticipated that, but he hugged her back gently, smiling warmly.
Sakura looked up at Eriol, her face inches from his. Eriol wondered what she was thinking.
“Can we dance to the next one too??”
“O-of course.”