Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction ❯ Black Wings ❯ Chapter 13 ( Chapter 13 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Black Wings

By: Aisaki Sumi

Chapter Thirteen

The walk to her house was spent in pure silence and Syaoran took the time to scrutinize her back--the fine silken strands of her auburn hair, and her small, almost frail form. A part of him wondered how such dainty and delicate cherry blossom could be so sturdy and rigid at the same time.

Lost in his own contemplation and fascination, he almost forgot about the sharp pain shooting up his arm and the blood that was soaking the white handkerchief she gave him wet and the constant dripping of small red puddles along the sidewalk.

He was almost thankful that many had decided to stay in on that chilly and windy Sunday. Otherwise, he would be the center of attention in the neighborhood right now.

Syaoran felt himself squinting his eyes as he watched her honey colored hair caught a flicker of the pale sunlight, tinting it just slightly golden for that brief moment where the sunlight actually reached the earth before dissipating into the nothingness.

A strong desire tugged at his heart, causing his chest to tighten slightly as his hand itched, longed to ran his longer tapered fingers through those golden threads of the finest silk.

Clenching his hand into a small fist, he fought back the temptation to touch her hair and inhale in those wisps of faint cherry blossom scent that lingered still in the air.

They halted into a stop before a plain looking house, and Syaoran looked up, remembering the first time he had seen this particular house. A small grin played on his lips as he silently laughed at the irony of the situation. The last time he had been here, his role was the hero, the savoir. And now it was the other way around.

She turned over slightly to gesture him to follow her. He nodded in response and did what he was told to. He watched her from the behind and saw her talented fingers picking out the right key to unlock the door held all those secrets of hers behind. A light squeak was heard as the door opened, revealing a dimly lit entrance and a staircase on the side.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he took off his shoes and changed into the green slippers provided by her. The house was enveloped by a ghastly silence that rang in his ears in a highly disturbing way. Child-like inquisition was evident in those amber eyes as he surveyed the surrounding.

“This way.” She instructed quietly, pointing at the living room which was only a small distance away. Caught off guard, he glanced at her way with slightly widened eyes and realized he was doing. Dipping his head a bit lower, he followed her silently as she led him into the vacant living room.

It was quite small actually, he noticed. It wasn't as extravagant or luxurious as his mansion, but it gave away the impression of a somewhat cozy house.

The walls were covered in a simple greenish petals pattern and various pictures—mostly painted portraits of people he had never seen before, all aligned perfectly in a straight line on the wall.

There was a small TV a few meters away, situated right in front of the beige colored couch. Well-polished redwood was laid across the room and the center of the living room was covered by a layer of fuzzy white carpet.

The glass slides of the bookshelves beside the large window that panned an entire wall flickered spontaneously as it caught reflection of the pale light filtered through the closed curtains.

“Sit.” The silence was broken by her soft word which sounded exceptionally loud in the vacant house. He was snapped out of his thoughts and slanted his head to meet her eyes unintentionally.

“Stay here while I go get my father's first aid kit.” She cast him a brief glance before exiting the living room.

Syaoran was left alone in the empty room with his other companion: silence.

Swallowing hard, his dry throat itched at the abrupt contact of his own saliva. Gaze sweeping across the room again, his ear picked up the indistinctive dripping sound.

A part of his mind pondered if Sakura's house's water pipe was leaking at first, but as some more of his senses returned to his numbed body, he realized that it was him who was causing the dripping noises.

He lowered his gaze to the floor and blinked blankly at the bright color of the white carpet. Eyes widening almost immediately as he jumped off the couch and held his arm high up into the air to prevent further dripping.

His heartbeat escalated, beating frantically against his ribcage as he searched frenziedly for some kind of rug or paper towel he could use to clean up the mess he had just made.

This was his first time at a girl's house and he was already making a big fool out of himself. A bundle of guilty feelings exploded in him as he desperately tried to wipe away the newly formed pool of scarlet liquid on the white carpet, but he ended up messing it up even more.

Cursing silently in his mind and occasionally under his breathe at his own stupidity and obliviousness, he could only watch more blood trickle down his hand and onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” A demand from the door way caused him to look up, and there, he saw Sakura holding a medical kit in her hand and looking at him disapprovingly. “I thought I told you to sit still and don't move around.” Her mildly toned voice had an implicit of reprimand.

Syaoran grinned at her sheepishly and sat down hastily. She crossed the room within a few steps and placed the first aid kit onto the TV table before kneeling down.

Syaoran bit his lips as his eyes caught a glimpse of the dripping blood and reluctantly pondered on what she was thinking at that moment since her facial expression remained the same as a few moments ago.

A part of him wondered how she could be so calm and almost oblivious to the fact that he had just ruined her perfectly white carpet. The blood stain might be permanent. Most girls, he assumed, would be chiding him for staining their carpets, or at least that was what his sisters and mother would do anyway.

But she didn't. Rather than lecturing him, she said absolutely nothing.

Her pale hand grabbed his bloody one and peeled off the piece of cloth that was plastered against his wound with extra care. Syaoran winced at the pain but fought off the grunt that was threatening to escape his throat. Regardless of how painful it was, he was determined to show the minimal amount of pain as possible.

After exposing his entire wound to the crispy air, she took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured some of the clear liquid onto a piece of cloth she found in the kit. She let the cloth absorb the liquid before rubbing it along the side of his wound and Syaoran's breath hitched at the freezing and piercing contact.

To say that it was somewhat painful would be the greatest understatement of the year. To say that it hurt like bloody hell would be a better description of what he was feeling at the moment.

The chemical was used to clean his wound and eliminate all bacteria around the reddened area to prevent an infection. But the process was surely painful. And he thought rubbing alcohol was bad.

In order to distract himself from it and the temptation to wince like a weakling, he decided to occupy his mind with something else more interesting. His eyes brightened slightly as they spotted the sight of those oil paintings that stirred the artistic side of him. Maybe hanging out with Sakura in art class for too long was really a bad idea.

Each of the paintings hung on the wall was different he noticed. They gave off a different feeling and emotion. Like a snapshot of people's lives, he saw different mirror images of different sides of life in those pictures.

There was a large one painting occupying the middle space of the wall. Syaoran stared at it for a few seconds before deciding that it was a family portrait of some sort.

The poised man with short honey auburn haired was smiling gently, the alikeness of his and Sakura's features lead Syaoran to the conclusion that he must be Sakura's father.

There was a beautiful woman with tumbling raven curls cascaded over her shoulder like the midnight waterfall sitting beside him. Her dark gray eyes held a degree of mysteriousness and her composure was absolutely elegant. He had never seen anyone so beautiful before.

As his eyes traveled downward, he saw a young boy sitting on Sakura's father's lap. His eyes were round and child-like, yet he seemed to be scowling at the camera with obvious indignation as if it had done something extremely offensive. Syaoran almost laughed out loud when he saw the pout on his lips. He was probably Sakura's brother.

And then, as his gaze shifted to the last member of the Kinomoto family, his eyes widened with surprise. The young girl in the painting was nothing like the Sakura he met.

Bright emerald green eyes contained a soft flicker of child-like innocence. The cheerful smile on her face could light up the entire room. He saw so much more life in the painting Sakura than the real her.

All he could ask himself at the moment was: what had caused such dramatic change in a bright young girl's life that shaped the way she was now.

“What are you looking at?” The sudden query caused him to jerk his head backward and turn around to face the puzzled Sakura by his side.

He blinked a few times before lowering his gaze and saw a thick layer of bandage wrapped around his entire arm. The disturbing sight of his wound could no longer be seen.

Instead of covering his actions with a simple and quick “nothing”, the words themselves suddenly chose to ignore his brain's command and slipped out of his mouth.

“Your family portrait.” He regretfully burst out the words and cursed his own tongue as soon as the words rolled off the tip of his tongue.

She whipped her head around to take a look at the portrait that she had stopped herself from seeing and stared at it with widened eyes.

There was a quick flash of sorrow and painful recollection in her eyes but she quickly masked it by hiding it behind her long thick lashes. She didn't remember how long it had been since her grandfather had painted that picture.

The image of happiness was vague and unclear in her mind. She didn't remember when was the last time she had wore that kind of content smile on her face. It felt awkward and strange to study herself again, the one whom had already faded into the darkness.

She had changed. Nothing could ever stay the same in this constantly changing world. Even the most precious memories could fade away and slowly become forgotten as time battered on.

“Your mother is beautiful.” The sudden compliment from him caused her to shift her gaze to the graceful face of Nadeshiko. The beautiful smile seemed so delusive to Sakura now, just like a façade that she hid herself from. The painting gave away the impression of a perfect family, but she knew it was far from being perfect.

But the painting was gorgeous nonetheless and one could argue that such infinite beauty was brought out by a flaws and imperfection.

“Was,” she corrected him, unable to look at the image any longer. Perplexity was evident in his eyes as he cocked his head to the side, a questioning look reflecting on those pools of amber.

“She was beautiful.” Sakura clarified as she started to pack up the things she took out from the first aid kit. “My mother's dead.” She announced, her soft voice resonating in the house almost hauntingly.

Amber eyes flickered wide open, momentarily filled with surprise as the words registered in his mind. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.” Syaoran mumbled an apology, feeling ashamed for reminding her of the painful memories that she'd rather forget.

He wasn't great with words. In fact, he was never the comforting people type.

Gnawing at the corner of his mouth, he took a quick peak at her but saw her looking down at the bloody carpet. Just then he caught a glimpse of something sparkling in her eyes, but it never rolled down her cheeks.

Feeling the weight of guilt crushing down upon his shoulder, he suddenly found it hard to breathe. Suspense and silence washed over them as he listened to the ticking of the clock. He cleared his throat, an obvious prompt for something to begin, yet he did not speak. Demanding something yet asking nothing.

The awkwardness lingered still between them, unable to deal with the torture any longer, Syaoran abruptly declared as he jolted out of his seat. “I better get going now. Thanks for helping me.” He expected her to say something, but only received a small nod and a quiet “don't worry about it”.

The sudden sight of a scarlet handkerchief caught his eyes as he avoided direct eye contact with her.

“I'll wash this and replace your carpet with a new one.” He hastily grabbed the handkerchief and held it tightly in his hand, giving it a small squeeze. It was the least he could do anyway.

“It's okay. I can just wash it with some soap and baking soda.” She turned down his offer, for she didn't see the need to taking advantage of this sitation.

She was just returning a favor, she told herself. He had helped her when she needed it and now it was her turn to help him. It wasn't even out of generosity, just returning someone a favor.

Syaoran fell silent for a moment and Sakura kept her eyes on her lap, refusing to lift her gaze from her thin wrist. “Well…I'll get you a new one anyway and it will be up to you to take it or not.” He said with finality. “And I'll keep the handkerchief for now and return it to you on Monday.”

Sakura let out a small sigh but did not dispute anything. She had a long tiring day and the lack of sleep she had in these days was catching up with her. His movements were somewhat uncertain and reluctant. He paused for a long moment before walking away from her while bidding her an uncomfortable goodbye.

She mumbled a quiet “ja ne (see ya)” in return as he made his way to the door way. But just before he opened it and stepped out of her house, he bumped into someone and fell backward but his quick reflexes kicked in and prevented an unnecessary fall.

Syaoran cursed himself for being so easily distracted when he was with her as he regained his balance. The person muttered a soft “gomen nasai (sorry), daijoubu ka? (are you okay)” to him. The deepness and steadiness of the person's masculine voice sounded like it was rumbling out from his core.

Syaoran tilted his head upward and found himself staring into a familiar pair of hazel eyes. They were gentle and fatherly, just like the ones he saw in the painting.

Syaoran soon realized who the person was. His heart skipped a beat as he stammered out. “K-kinomoto-san?”

The man scrutinized him, perplexed and shocked and Syaoran gulped.

It was none other than Kinomoto Fujitaka, Sakura's father.

A/N: Cliffie. I almost felt sorry for Syaoran XD, meeting the father of his future girlfriend -evil laugh-. This is probably the last update for this story in a while. I'll be gone this following week on Tuesday and for the entire week for the F.I.R.S.T. Robotics (world) Championship at Atlanta. Yesh, it will be a long ride lolz. It's actually my first International-leveled competition and the competition itself will be aired by NASA so watch out for some stupid girl jumping up and down and screaming “I'm on TV!” XD lolz. And we're hoping to be the first Canadian team to ever win something at the Championship round (hey even the loser award will count as something X3). :P Wish me luck ne? XD lolz

Reviews appreciated. Flames ignored.