Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (Shaoran/Sakura)
Her companions are a help - far, far different from patchy recollections of an overbearing brother and a kind-hearted priest, but comforting nonetheless - an anchor that supports her along an endless string of strange, unfamiliar places. She can make new memories with them, both good and bad. And she does not know them, not really, but she counts them as friends regardless, embracing the soothing sort of quiet contentment their new memories build inside her.
Yet even they cannot fill the void completely, cannot erase the painful certainty that she has forgotten something terribly, terribly important. Only the feathers can do that, and they are slow in returning what she has lost.
When she is asleep, Sakura knows no such emptiness.
She does not travel, lost and confused among countries as numerous and distant as the stars. She is not missing half of herself and wondering who she used to be. Instead she smiles, laughing under clear skies and feeling the warmth of the sun on her upturned face. Her brother sneers and doesn’t mean it, eyes fond and words sly as he stands content beside a smiling Yukito.
And he is there, always, by her side, and her dream-heart soars as they sit, close and comfortable and together on white-sheathed rooftops. He laughs at her jokes and calls her ‘Sakura,’ a smile on his face and love in his eyes. His hand is resting lightly over hers, twining their fingers together, and it is so very, very warm. And she dreams and she smiles in her sleep, quietly, unreservedly happy for the brief time between the wane of the day and the new rise of the sun.
And when she awakens again, Fai-san and Kurogane-san and Syaoran-kun are there, their odd, welcome brand of tenderness dulling the sharp aching loss sliding between her ribs and keeping her treacherous, lonely heart from goading her into wishing to keep her dream life over her waking one.
“Good morning, Sakura-hime!” Syaoran-kun greets her, polite and earnest as ever. “Did you sleep well?”
And Sakura holds her hand to her chest, clinging stubbornly to flimsy wisps of warmth and light and love. “Yes, thank you,” she smile. “I did.”
~owari
Yet even they cannot fill the void completely, cannot erase the painful certainty that she has forgotten something terribly, terribly important. Only the feathers can do that, and they are slow in returning what she has lost.
When she is asleep, Sakura knows no such emptiness.
She does not travel, lost and confused among countries as numerous and distant as the stars. She is not missing half of herself and wondering who she used to be. Instead she smiles, laughing under clear skies and feeling the warmth of the sun on her upturned face. Her brother sneers and doesn’t mean it, eyes fond and words sly as he stands content beside a smiling Yukito.
And he is there, always, by her side, and her dream-heart soars as they sit, close and comfortable and together on white-sheathed rooftops. He laughs at her jokes and calls her ‘Sakura,’ a smile on his face and love in his eyes. His hand is resting lightly over hers, twining their fingers together, and it is so very, very warm. And she dreams and she smiles in her sleep, quietly, unreservedly happy for the brief time between the wane of the day and the new rise of the sun.
And when she awakens again, Fai-san and Kurogane-san and Syaoran-kun are there, their odd, welcome brand of tenderness dulling the sharp aching loss sliding between her ribs and keeping her treacherous, lonely heart from goading her into wishing to keep her dream life over her waking one.
“Good morning, Sakura-hime!” Syaoran-kun greets her, polite and earnest as ever. “Did you sleep well?”
And Sakura holds her hand to her chest, clinging stubbornly to flimsy wisps of warmth and light and love. “Yes, thank you,” she smile. “I did.”
~owari