Dear Sakura by Amazoness Duo and G.P. amazonessduo@hotmail.com pearsong1954@yahoo.com I. Sakura felt the tickling caress of little wavelets as she plowed through the gentle waters of the bay. Glancing at a wetly glistening Tomoyo, she was met with azure eyes that regarded her with affectionate trust. With her odd costumes and curious remarks, the dark-haired girl kindled a half-blush, half-heartache that thrilled and confused the Mistress of the Cards. But there was no confusion now, only a sunny glow that lit Sakura's entire being as she held the soft, supple presence of her friend so delightfully close. Gazing into the deep water, she was amazed by the strange, colorful fish darting about. With mild surprise she scanned the horizon, and realized the shore was lost to view. But it didn't seem to matter; nothing mattered but being here with Tomoyo. She closed her eyes and pulled through the water with slow, leisurely strokes. I could swim like this forever, she thought languidly. Her friend’s lustrously dark hair was streaming in the water as they swam, and the girl’s pale skin sparkled in the dazzling sunlight. Sakura felt a sweet, overwhelming longing for the delicate girl by her side, and hugged her tightly, entranced by her delightful nearness. Her gaze caught the horizon, the seam between sea and sky that sparkled in the far distance. Staring at that razor's edge where blue met blue, Sakura felt love as she never had before. Yet somehow these feelings had always been with her, ever since she had been a child too young to know that such love can be. Perplexed by this tangle of emotions, she turned to ask her friend to explain this puzzling contradiction. But Tomoyo was gone. Blinking in disbelief, Sakura circled in the water, expecting the girl to be bobbing on the shimmering surface nearby. But there was nothing, only sea and sky brilliantly lit by the tropical sun. Suddenly Sakura remembered, and her heart tightened and froze, "She can't swim". She thrashed in the water as panic swept her. But there was nothing save the disturbance of her wild swimming on the ocean’s placid film. Filling her lungs with air, Sakura dove deep into the water. The fish scattered as she swam, leaving her alone as she surged forward. The salty brine stung her eyes as she strained to see. But there was only water: empty, endless, and vast. Her lungs ached as each stroke pulled her deeper. The sea was now cold and dark as she left the dappled sunlight extinguished and plunged into a black nothingness. Completely disoriented, she lost all sense of direction and dimension. As the seconds swept by her heart, starved for oxygen, beat wildly out of control. Finally, her body panicked and sucked in lungfuls of burning seawater. The darkness spread from her vision to her mind as consciousness faded. When she died, the pain and panic gave way to a whispering sadness. Her final thoughts were of Tomoyo, and how she had failed to save her from drowning. Sakura lurched out of bed as her lungs desperately gasped for air. Her heart hammered in her chest as she slowly came to, eyes discerning the dim outlines of her room in the pale starlight. With a hand held tightly to her breast, she remembered the dream that started so beautifully, and ended so horrifically. Still shaken, she slipped out of bed, opened the door, and stood in the hallway. Slumping to the floor, she pulled herself into a little ball and sat deep in thought. Part of her wanted to forget the awful dream. Surely it was nothing more than that; a night terror that dissipated with the coming of day. But Kero-chan once said that the dreams of a Cardcaptor were often prophetic, and thus important. The very idea that this dream held any glint of the future brought a shiver of fear. Sakura closed her eyes and forced herself to think. The dream had seemed so real. Worse than her own death was failing to save Tomoyo. Ever since that night in the garden, the pain in her best friend’s eyes had haunted Sakura. Somehow it seemed her fault that the dark-haired woman was suffering so. Never did the pale woman utter a single reproach, or even a plea for help. But those beautiful lavender eyes had betrayed her, and now Sakura knew that something was terribly wrong. Sakura also sensed that her friend was faithfully waiting for help. Tomoyo's trust was touching, but it frightened her. Helping her friend wasn't a matter of capturing cards or fighting with magical forces. All that seemed simple compared to the problem of Tomoyo's heart. The person her friend loved she could not have, and despite efforts to conceal it, loneliness was a burden that bore heavily upon her. Tomoyo would not say who this special someone was, and Sakura felt a brief flash of anger. The least they could do is be aware of such a wonderful love, and to gently thank Tomoyo for it, even if they were unable to return her precious feelings. But then, what if they did know? Would that really help her, if they knew of her love but did not love her? Frustrated, Sakura rose and walked down the hall. She had to do something, anything. She had to help. But how? This was like fighting with shadows, dim outlines that she could barely perceive. In order to help, she needed to know. Sakura had to know who Tomoyo's special someone was. At this, she blushed and stopped pacing. Part of her asked mockingly, "And just why do you want to know? Are you jealous?" She shook her head, frustrated and disturbed by the confused feelings that gripped her. She knew she shouldn't feel bad that Tomoyo had her own true love. She knew in her heart that she desired Tomoyo’s happiness. But somehow, it hurt not to be that special someone. Tomoyo's affection was something she had grown up with, as much a part of her life as breathing. That this affection now caressed someone else was bittersweet, for while she was glad that love lit Tomoyo's gentle heart, it saddened her that she was not the one. This realization brought a new storm of frustration, and Sakura threw on a skirt and blouse, slipped on a pair of sandals, and walked out of the house. The auburn-haired girl followed the road for a while, and then left it for the trail that led to the top of Victoria Peak. The air was cool on her face, and it felt good to walk the steep, snaking pathway. Through the trees she caught a glimpse of the city below, brightly lit and no doubt raucous even now in the early morning. She was glad the weekend was approaching, for she needed time. Surely this frustrating ignorance was worse than finally discovering who Tomoyo's love was. But part of her resisted, as if unwilling to know. In fact, part of her simply didn't want Tomoyo to be in love with someone else. This brought a blush, and a reprimand as Sakura scolded herself for such selfishness. But it was true, and she knew it. She had finally realized, during Tomoyo’s trip to Hong Kong, that she wanted Tomoyo's love for herself. To be the focus of Tomoyo's attention was an ecstasy beyond words. She remembered Tomoyo filming in the Matsukaya, remembered twirling and dancing for her friend's delight. This brought another blush, for those memories were intensely sweet and stirring. Sakura walked far along the pathway in this blissful state before her wandering mind returned to the task at hand. It occurred to her that her own feelings were part of the problem. They clouded her understanding, her ability to solve the riddle of Tomoyo's special someone. Until she first understood her own feelings, she would never understand Tomoyo’s. This was all so complicated, and made the capturing of the Cards seem almost easy. The Cards were really no more than puzzles to be solved. As time went by, she had grown to love them. But at first, they were things to be captured, a job to be done. Tomoyo wasn't like that at all. Sakura cared deeply for her, and ironically this made it more difficult to help. Had she loved the Cards then as she did now, capturing and binding them would have been more difficult. She was so tangled in her emotions for Tomoyo that she nearly felt overwhelmed. And overwhelmed people, as her brother once remarked, are not very useful. Somehow, she had to understand her own feelings for the girl before she could help her. Sakura suddenly realized she was nearly at the top of the peak. And there, just outside the heavy foliage flanking the trail, was the spot they had watched the moonrise together. Sakura walked on the soft grass, dew tickling her sandal-clad little feet. She sat down and gazed at the islands of the bay shrouded in the dark night. She stretched out on her back, hands behind her head, and stared up into the sky. The crescent moon was a tiny boat in a sea of stars, the vast emptiness illumined by thousands of brightly burning hearts. Sometimes she felt their power, her power, the power of the stars. When the Cards were all transformed, and Eriol’s final challenge overcome, she had never wondered what was next. Her love for Syaoran bloomed, thanks to the tender care of her friends. Sakura now realized that Tomoyo had helped her friend have a happy marriage that she would never have. That would be just like her, Sakura thought with a trace of sadness. She remembered the look in her eyes as they watched the parade of wedding dresses at the department store. "She must have felt that pain for a long time, but she hid it from me. Why? Why would she hide something like that? Because she didn't want me to feel bad. I was so happy to be married, and she didn't want to spoil my happiness with her feelings. I just ignored her all those years. It's like I didn't care at all." Sakura sat up, damp from the dew and fighting back tears. She stared at the hands folded on her lap and whispered miserably, "I'm so sorry, Tomoyo-chan. I didn't know. I should have, but I just didn't know". She clenched her fists angrily. That was no excuse then, and it was no excuse now. Tomoyo was suffering, and needed her. Somehow, she had to help. She had to find Tomoyo's special someone and tell them. At least then Tomoyo's love would be appreciated, even if this person could not be with her. But would this really be any consolation? Poor Tomoyo would love this person with all her heart, but she would have nobody to love her. It all seemed so wrong and unfair. Tomoyo's love was like nothing Sakura had ever experienced. Even as just a friend, the joy and bliss of being loved by this wonderful girl was staggering. Through the years Sakura had been unaware of how luminous Tomoyo’s love was. "Only when I moved to Hong Kong," she thought, "did I really know what it would mean to be away from her". She tried to explain this to Tomoyo when they danced the night before she left for Japan, but words failed her as surely as she had failed Tomoyo. She stumblingly groped for words because she herself did not fully understand. Even now, all she really knew was that she missed Tomoyo desperately and longed to be with her. And if she did not know her own feelings, how could she possibly hope to help Tomoyo? Sakura stood up and hugged herself as a chill breeze swept the grassy swale. The sky had turned a pale gray. Dawn. Sakura smiled, for if resolution would not absolve her of the hurt she had caused, it would at least set her guilt aside until she finished this important task. She would help Tomoyo, but to do so she must first know her own feelings. Until then, it would be impossible to find her way. Her feelings were inextricably bound with the beautiful dark-haired girl, but once they were unraveled she would see her way more clearly. But how could she know her own heart? She faced that riddle when Syaoran was leaving for Hong Kong. Then she was lucky, for friends told her what her heart desired. But now she was frighteningly alone, and did not know where to go for help. The one person she could trust ultimately was far away in Japan Besides, Sakura thought, even if she were at my side I couldn't ask her about this. The thought of the pale girl again at her side was a pleasant one, and brought back memories in a flood. Here they snuggled together, Tomoyo resting her head on Sakura’s shoulder while the moon sailed a velvet sky. Sakura longed to have those moments back, to live them again and again for all eternity. But sweet memories would not heal the hurts she had caused, and the Mistress of the Cards purged them from her mind. Clenching her fists, Sakura looked out at the dawn with determined eyes. Her voice was firm as she said out loud, "I'll ask Dark-sama and Light-sama about my feelings. I'll make them tell me." And for the instant these words were uttered, she looked like what she truly was: the most powerful being on earth. And her countenance was terrible to behold. II. All through the day that followed that dawn, Sakura thought about the task ahead. At dinner Ieran-sama asked if she felt all right, "You are unusually quiet tonight, Sakura." Sakura looked slightly surprised and bowed, "I'm fine, Ieran-sama. Thank you for your concern." Fanren chirped in with a giggly voice, "Quiet, hmm? Maybe you've been around Syaoran-chan too long. Next thing you'll be all dour and grumpy, too." Syaoran scowled and poked at his rice. But that only brought a fresh storm of teasing from Fanren, eager to see her little brother stalk off in a huff. Ieran-sama ended the game when she ordered the dishes cleared, and after helping to clean up Sakura worked on papers from school. After kissing Syaoran goodnight, she waited until the house was silent, and stole into the guest room. Or, as she now called it, Tomoyo’s room. She took the Cards from the drawer of the old colonial desk, and decided Shield would seal her off from the rest of the household. Looking at her skirt and blouse, she wished they were not quite so plain. Kero always said the Cards preferred a proper looking Mistress, and Tomoyo's creations had seemingly charmed and impressed them. Certainly Kero had approved, Sakura thought ruefully, especially when he got to share in the sartorial splendor. Well, what she now wore would have to do. She pulled the chain around her neck from her blouse and spoke the chant of power. In a blinding flash Shield came to life, barring the doors and windows with golden chains. Holding her staff in one hand, Sakura picked up The Dark and The Light and flicked them into the air. With a twirl and a flourish she awakened them amid a gale of shadow and blaze. They stood before her shimmering with power, beautiful and majestic. Instinctively she bowed, and they returned her bow with graceful solemnity. Light smiled cheerfully and spoke while Dark waited pensively, “Konbanwa, Sakura-chan. How are you this lovely evening”? Despite her earnestness, Sakura smiled in sheer delight. The beauty of the two was always such a joy to behold. They stood together, affectionately holding hands, long, lustrous hair floating as if they were underwater. They were a perfect contrast, yet a perfect pair, and Sakura’s heart ached to see them together. She was always careful to place the two cards next to one another, for which Light had laughingly thanked her, but said it was unnecessary, “We have always been together, and ever shall be.” But Sakura now tried to look serious, for she knew the two could be cryptic, playfully hiding the knowledge she desired. In a commanding voice, edged with the power of the Mistress of the Cards, Sakura spoke, “Thank you, Light-sama. I am well. But there is something I need from you.” The response was so different from the young woman’s normal tone that Light-sama was taken aback and did not reply. Dark-sama spoke in a voice like rustlings in the shadows, “Speak, Mistress, for all we have is yours to ask for”. Uncomfortable with such a formal reply, Sakura shifted her stance. She was never like this with the Cards, and it all seemed very out of place. But she had to find out for Tomoyo’s sake, so again she spoke up firmly, “I need to know my feelings for Tomoyo-chan”. Sakura thought she detected the briefest hint of a smile on Dark- sama’s normally impassive face. But it was Light-sama that answered back in a ringing, almost angry, challenge, “We cannot do what you ask”. Sakura looked down at the floor, wishing she had one of Tomoyo’s impressive costumes to make her feel more imperious than she felt. Suddenly a flash of anger energized her, and in a stern voice that shook the room she shot back, “I can command you to answer”. Light-sama looked surprised, and a nearly imperceptible trace of fear darkened the light that glowed all around her. She quickly recovered, fixing Sakura with a haughty stare. She began to reply, but Dark-sama gently touched her shoulder, calming her at a glance with dark, gentle eyes. The shadowy figure then turned to Sakura and stepped forward. She knelt down and bowed low, forehead touching the floor, black hair forming a darkly radiant pool on the floor. Her feathery voice was mild and meek, “It is your right as Mistress of the Cards. You may command us, if that is truly your wish.” Sakura’s heart sank. It felt so awful, as if she were forcing them to do her bidding like servants, or even slaves. She knew that was how Clow Reed had dealt with them; even Yue and Kereberous never dared address him as other than “Master”. But Sakura loved her Cards, not as their Master but as their friend, and it hurt her to see Dark- sama bowing like this. Trembling, she realized she could never force them against their will, even if she did have the right. Her shoulders slumped and she lowered the staff, defeated by the gentle submission of Dark-sama. Verging on tears she answered haltingly, “Gomenesai, Dark-sama, Light-sama. I don’t want to be like that with you. I can’t.” She looked up, her emerald eyes wet with tears. Light- sama again stared in surprise, but this time with pity, not defiance. Dark-sama smiled as she rose gracefully from her bow, then leaned over and placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders. Her tranquil voice was melodious and calming, “That is why the Cards love you so, Sakura-chan. We would do anything for you, because you do not command us. But we cannot tell you your feelings for Tomoyo. We cannot tell you, because only you can know what is in your heart.” Sakura again remembered agonizing over Syaoran’s departure to Hong Kong. How would she have known what was in her own heart if her friends had not helped her, nudged her, and all but told her that Syaoran was her true love? As if reading her thoughts, Light-sama spoke up brightly, “Others cannot know such things, and though they mean to help they bring confusion, not light. Sakura-chan, you have never really known your own heart, or these feelings would not be a mystery to you. You must do this yourself if you would know the truth”. Sakura looked hesitant and uncertain. She was confident in many things, but not this. Not knowing her own feelings. They had always been baffling, an emotional web that frustrated and bound her. She had been so thankful when everyone had helped her before. But if this was something she must do alone, then she would try her hardest. For Tomoyo’s sake she could not fail. Sakura felt a surge of strength that steeled her determination. She bowed low to the wise and beautiful women. Her smile was bright and confident as she spoke with an enthusiastic but steady voice, “Thank you so very much, Dark-sama and Light-sama. I promise I will try my best.” The two women shimmered before her, smiles filling her with peace and strength. She resisted the urge to hug them, and instead bowed again and returned Shield to its card form. As Sakura turned to go, Light-sama approached her. Breathless, she saw the glowing figure lean over her, golden hair waving in the air like seaweed in an ocean swell. She met Sakura’s forehead with a tender kiss and the words, “To help light your way, Mistress”. Sakura felt a surge of warmth and hope, and smiled radiantly as she bowed her thanks. With that the young woman was gone, leaving Dark and Light to linger awhile, content in the eloquent silence of each other’s company. III. Sakura stirred her coffee with absent-minded detachment. The quaint little café overlooked the Bay, offering a scenic vista of ferryboats and seagulls. But Sakura’s attention was far away, in another time and place altogether. She had wandered the landscape of childhood all day long, and like an explorer returning home came bearing strange and exotic memories. She realized now that her time as a child had been like the nursery-rhyme song so dimly remembered: “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream”. It was as if she had dreamt away her years in Tomoeda, and now awakened to the marvels that filled her pleasant slumber. Above all else was the extraordinary love of her best friend, Tomoyo. This love had been sweetly present all through her life. As she meandered through memory she saw it in places unsuspected and unlooked for. Love was there in all the girl did and all that she was. Love was sewn into the elaborate costumes Sakura had worn in capturing the Cards. At the time, their excess of kawaii had caused the Cardcaptor no end of embarrassment. Yet Tomoyo sewed them with meticulous care, and if they were playful and carefree, they also marked Sakura in a singular way as the new Cardcaptor. But most of all they reflected the glowing love that Tomoyo held for her. The girl was ecstatic when her friend wore them, and that crazy, innocent delight was something Sakura painfully missed. No longer embarrassed, she longed once again be the focus of the rapturous love. Tomoyo’s love embraced her in a comforting cocoon of blissful contentment, yet it also tossed her into the sky, deliriously free to soar beyond limits she would never have dared on her own. Tomoyo’s love was vast and deep, a mysterious ocean that gently rocked and swayed Sakura’s heart. Tomoyo gave her strength and hope, help and solace, and the delightful charm of her shinning presence. “And what did I give her?” Sakura thought in a hot flash of shame. “I took all my problems to her, and she helped me every time. But I didn’t help her. I didn’t even know about her special love. She did so much for me, and I never even let her know. I didn’t even know myself.” This last thought seemed particularly bitter. Sakura realized that Tomoyo had paid a dear price for her friend’s denseness. “She supported me, and I ignored her. I took her for granted, like she would always be there, just for me. How could I have been so selfish?” So powerful and ever-present was Tomoyo’s love that Sakura simply grew used to it. It pained her to think so, but it could not be denied. Like air and water, Tomoyo’s love was something Sakura needed, and unconsciously came to expect. She had taken her marvelous friend for granted. She knew this now because Tomoyo was far away, and that love and affection were no longer a part of Sakura’s daily life. This knowledge made the memories of her time in school with Syaoran especially hard to face. When Syaoran returned from Hong Kong, she had flown to his arms, losing herself in the Chinese magician. Enamored by his stoic strength and charmed by his stingily given attentions, she had been oblivious to all else. She remembered the time they sat in swings at the park while she spoke about her feelings for Yukito. She was deeply moved as he silently listened to her, but now she wondered if his silence was more a lack of interest than concern. But how many times had Tomoyo listened to her problems and worries, really listened with all her heart and spirit? She was always there, sympathetic and caring, listening to confessions and sobs until dawn chased the stars away. Even now it was Tomoyo she went to with all of her problems, as well as her delights and joys. But Sakura had hardly given Tomoyo’s fragile heart a second thought. She always assumed the girl was happy, for the dark- haired girl never spoke of the pain and hurt that Sakura had seen so recently in her eyes. Was this pain new? Had her friend sailed blithely through childhood without worry or care? It was comforting to think, but Sakura sensed it was not so. No, Tomoyo must have had some sadness and disappointment throughout the years they were together. But she had never said a word, and Sakura had never asked. She kept whatever troubled her to herself, but why? The answer, Sakura thought as she sipped her cold coffee, was stark and obvious: for me. Not only was Tomoyo always there for her, but she carefully kept her own problems from Sakura as well. The toll these years of sacrifice must have cost her friend seemed staggering. On the brink of tears, Sakura thought to herself, “She was always there for me, and happy for me, and silent for me. And I never even knew”. Hurriedly leaving money on the table, she began headed into the center of the busy city. Walking usually eased her heart, but not today. She thought of those last years in High School where her world revolved around Syaoran. Sometimes he was all she could think about. When he was in Japan they were always together, and when he was absent she talked and thought and dreamed about him, and little else. Never did she ask about Tomoyo’s crushes, or dates, or cherished hopes. There weren’t any, of course; only a hopeless love from afar that left her lonely, a shattered heart her only confidante. Ever since Tomoyo explained the reason for not buying a teddy bear for her special someone, Sakura had assumed her odd friend was content with unrequited love. She thought of her reply at the time, “I know Tomoyo’s special person must be very happy”. Now it sounded shallow and ridiculous, and the memory of her remark made her physically ill. “Baka.” Sakura felt a rare anger welling up inside, an anger that accused her of a cruel disregard, “It’s a wonder she can stand to be around me.” Yet this was one of the many miracles of her dearest friend. Never once, in any way, did Tomoyo betray a trace of anger or reproach. Not a word, or a gesture, or a sign did she give of the wrong that Sakura had done her through a carefree and foolish neglect. She hid her pain, and all those years Sakura did not see. But what she did see, despite the hurt done her, was Tomoyo’s astonishing love. That was no mask. Her love had sweetly shaken Sakura’s heart, and was as real as the warmth of the sun. With Tomoyo gone that love was now distant, and for four months Sakura felt the ache of loneliness. Slowly she realized what it meant when that love was absent from her everyday life. Sakura felt on the edge of collapse before Tomoyo came to Hong Kong, and it was this finally opened her eyes to what the dark-haired woman meant to her. But poor Tomoyo had endured years of such desolation, alone, without even the hope of being with her true love. “She should hate me,” Sakura thought as she sobbed, “but she still loves me.” Oblivious to the curious stares and embarrassed glances from people passing buy, Sakura cried her way to the bus stop that would take her to Silver Strand Beach. When the bus boarded the ferry, Sakura stepped out and stood on the bow of the little boat chuffing over the water. The sea breeze eased her distress, and the salt spray cleansed and refreshed her. Gulls circled and dipped in the late morning sun, greedy for scraps and tidbits from the tiny humans below. They set up a noisy chorus when a young boy and his mother hurled pieces of sandwich high into the air. As the birds pirouted and swooped, snatching the bread in mid-flight, Sakura remembered flying, remembered the dizzy, dancing joy of cleaving the air with magical wings. In the air you were free, but that was a different sort of freedom than what she embraced in Hong Kong. Here she had her new life, free from the family and friends of her old life. She was free, but miserable. Now, far away from Tomoyo’s affection, she felt a leaden burden that weighed heavier upon her with each passing day. Worse, by flying away to a life with the man she loved, she forgot her obligations to her dearest friend. Sakura remembered a tearful confession in one of her letters, an apology for not knowing sooner how hard it was for Tomoyo to be without her true love. The woman replied in soothing tones; you didn’t now, it’s all right. But she should have known, and it wasn’t all right at all. Unaware of Tomoyo’s needs, Sakura had proven a selfish and insensitive friend. She burned with shame at the very thought of her neglect But all this would change, and it would change now. She would discover Tomoyo’s special person, and talk to them. She would tell them of Tomoyo’s precious feelings. And then, she thought excitedly as she again boarded the bus, Tomoyo would have her happy ending. Unless, of course, that special person did not love Tomoyo. What then? Sakura slumped in her seat as the bus left the ferry and wound it’s way up the east coast to the beach. What if this mysterious person did not share Tomoyo’s feelings, or was already with someone else? Tomoyo had said as much in her letters, pleading with Sakura to let things be. Sakura’s hesitation was brief. Her resolution to make up for past failings drove her forward with staunch determination. She would help heal the sadness reflected in Tomoyo’s hauntingly beautiful eyes. There would never be any chance for Tomoyo if this true love never knew her feelings. And if they did not love her? This seemed inconceiveable, so Sakura decided to worry about it if it happened. It felt good, finally knowing what to do. Her mind made up, Sakura sensed something like contentment as she turned to the difficult question that had to be answered before she could begin: just what were her feelings for Tomoyo? When the bus let off the passengers at the beach, Sakura was relieved to see that there were relatively few people enjoying the water. She had a towel to lay on, but no swimsuit. She simply wanted to be here, where they had shared part of an all too brief day together. Slipping off her sandals, Sakura felt the hot sand beneath her bare feet. Walking to the water’s edge, she traced the line between sea and shore, warm water tickling her feet, delightedly digging her toe into the dark, wet sand. Finally, she found a spot and laid out the colorful towel, then sat and watched the other beachgoers. A boy run up to the oncoming waves, squeeled, and then run back laughing to his mother. The sun was bright and reflected off the water with a glare, so Sakura closed her eyes and began to try and understand her feelings for Tomoyo. Tomoyo was her best friend, and had been ever since the gift of a little eraser in third grade. Sakura remembered that first day in class surprisingly well. Daidouji Tomoyo had been introduced as a transfer student, bowing shyly as all eyes in the class appraised her. She was given the seat next to Sakura, and as the new girl unpacked her books, the brunette gazed at her in wonder. Dressed in a brand new uniform, lustrous lavender hair covering her back and shoulders, she was the prettiest girl Sakura had ever seen. When the Daidouji girl glanced her way, the genki girl flashed a radiant smile. This brought a crimson blush that graced the new girl’s strikingly pale skin. Later in the day she saw a distressed Tomoyo frantically looking in her book bag. Sakura cheerfully gave her an eraser to correct her mistake, a gift the girl accepted with surprise and delight. Later they sat together for lunch, talking about family and food and all the little things so important to children. Sakura liked her from the very first, and they quickly became best friends. They were inseparable, sharing moments and memories while the years passed by like a slow, melodious song. Everything a best friend should be the pale, kindly girl had been. She was kind and caring, always there with love and support. Sakura now wondered if she could ever have gone through the trials of childhood and adolescence without her. All through the capturing of the Cards, their transformation, and the final battle with Eriol, Tomoyo had been by her side. The dark-haired girl filled her with a confidence she often lacked, and made it possible to meet challenges that would otherwise have been overwhelming. Tomoyo meant a shoulder to cry on, a reassuring hug, and words of sympathy and solace. She adored her friend, and Sakura basked in that glowing adoration. It was odd to think of it like this, but it was almost as if she were Tomoyo’s special someone. Tomoyo affection for her best friend made Sakura feel unique, exceptional, and loved. In turn, she loved Tomoyo as her best friend. There was a quiet contentment in her presence. Sometimes they would just sit together, watching a sunset, or leaves blown in the wind. There was no need for words. Their friendship found comfort in the intimate silence they shared. Just to be with her made Sakura’s heart glad. Sakura carried the knowledge that Tomoyo would always be there for her. She could always rely on Tomoyo her help, advice, and insight. Sakura passed through childhood virtually free of fear or anxiety, save for ghosts, of course, There was no place for fear with Tomoyo as her friend. Sakura opened her eyes and squinted against the brilliant sunlight. She scanned the horizon and saw a small fleet of junks bobbing in the water, nets hauling in a sparkling catch of fish that glittered like silver. She loved to eat fish, but was happy not to have to catch them. The thought of the poor things thrashing helplessly about as they were hauled out of the water reminded her of last night’s dream, and she shivered despite the heat. Like the fish, this is how she felt living in Hong Kong: stunned, disoriented, and desperate. Struggling to cope with this distress, she slowly discerned its cause. It was because she missed Tomoyo. She missed the constant, sparkling presence of the tender girl in far-away Tomoeda. Slowly Sakura began to fathom the depths of her feelings for her best friend. She had always liked her, more than any of her other many friends. But it was more than just liking her that she felt. It was love. Sakura knew she was terribly dense about human feelings. It was so very hard to understand her emotions, let alone those of others. This ignorance caused pain and embarrassment, and even now was the reason for her curious odyssey. Being away from Tomoyo had thrown her into an emotional storm, yet all the agony it caused her eyes were finally opened. She missed Tomoyo so terribly because she loved her. Of course, She missed her other friends, like Naoko, and Chisato, and Rika. But not like this, not like Tomoyo. Being away from the azure-eyed girl left her lonely and frantic, teetering on a despair that should have had no place in her happy married life. So powerful were her feelings that it no longer made sense to think she simply “liked” her best friend. She experienced emotions somewhat like this with Syaoran and Yukito, but nowhere near as deep and intense. In the time away from Tomoyo, she finally came to understand that she loved her best friend. But just what did this love mean? At first, she decided it was the love of friendship. She remembered a moving story of the ancient Greeks. It told of a man condemned to death, but given his freedom to attend a sister’s wedding on the condition that should he fail to return at the appointed time, his best friend would die in his place. The man fought through incredible hazards and hardships, but in the end returned and faced death for the love of his friend. Sakura cried when she read this tale, and for the first time understood that love bound friends as surely as it did lovers. She even wrote about this in a letter to Tomoyo, asking if someone could be more than a best friend, could be a “special friend”. But listening now to waves crashing on the beach, and random cries of children playing, Sakura knew the love she bore Tomoyo lay beyond the bounds of friendship. She heard the playful screech of a little girl who was tagged, and now ran after her former persuer to make them “it”. The sun was lowering towards the western horizon, bathing the hills of the New Territories in a fiery orange glow. She suddenly realized she had forgotten to put suntan lotion on her face and arms. Gingerly the young woman touched her skin, hoping the burn would not be too severe. This triggered memories of Tomoyo stretched out on the towel, Sakura rubbing the cool lotion into her creamy, alabaster skin. The woman on the beach caught her breath and felt a crimson flush spread over her neck and cheeks. Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the question of just how she loved Tomoyo. There was an intimacy between the two, more like sisters than best friends. Sakura recalled frantically phoning Tomoyo late one night when she was barely thirteen. Suspended between mortified embarrassment and utter terror, she was sure she had been stricken with some dread disease, but could not bring herself to ask her brother or father for help. Only Tomoyo would do. After calming the panicky girl with her soft, melodious voice, Tomoyo spoke with her mother and quickly returned a diagnosis was as old as girls and women themselves. In minutes Tomoyo arrived at the Kinomoto residence to comfort and be with her friend. Of all the people Sakura had ever known, there was no one she felt safer with in sharing her most private thoughts and secrets. There was that special trust of family between them, though without the irritation she so often felt with her brother. The bond between the two girls felt deep and ancient, as indeed it was. Sakura wondered sometimes about the blood ties between them. Their Mothers had been cousins, and grew up together in cherished intimacy. It seemed that Sonomi had loved Nadeshiko, and the two were inseparable until Fujitaka came between them. It was funny that their mothers had been so close, just like their daughters. But Marriage tore them apart, and Sakura now grieved for Sonomi. She was sad, and even a bit guilty, for if Nadeshiko had blossomed in her marriage, Sonomi had never quite recovered from her lost love. Tomoyo hinted in a letter that Sonomi was a bit like Sakura’s sensei friend, and this comparison cut like a razor. She had seen Jun-sama’s suffering first hand, and the thought that the kind and beautiful Sonomi shared this pain was unbearable. Yet as Tomoyo had once laughingly observed, things were curiously mixed up. While the daughters were, like their mothers, somehow connected, it was as if Sakura and Tomoyo had been switched at birth. Each looked and acted much like the other’s mother. Like Sonomi, Sakura was athletic, hot-tempered, and determined to succeed in all she did. Tomoyo, like Nadeshiko, was quiet, quirky, and brimming with love. In an odd way, physical and psychological aspects of the Amamiya cousins had been blended together in their children. But no matter how she considered her relationship to Tomoyo, Sakura realized there was a deeper connection between them than mere friendship. Although unaware of each other for eight years, the two girls fell instantly fell together like long lost siblings. For Sakura, Tomoyo felt like a lost part of her very being. This special affinity for the dark-haired girl had almost sisterly quality to it. Yet there was still more to their relationship than that. Even if they had been sisters, how to explain that awful parting at the airport? As Tomoyo boarded her plane, Sakura was swept by a despair she never thought possible. It dredged up horrific memories from long ago, memories the shattered woman did not even know existed. When Tomoyo left, it was as if her Mother had died all over again. But this time, Sakura did not see with the eyes of an innocent three year old, a child who could be told that mommy was in a beautiful place in the sky. This time, she knew Tomoyo was gone, and could not shake the irrational fear that they might never be together again. Her mother’s early death did not seem to affect her much in large part because of Fujitaka. Her father devoted his life to filling the gaping hole left by the tragic absence of Nadeshiko. Sakura sometimes heard tales of other fathers from her friends in school. Many fathers were often absent , seemingly indifferent to their own families. They spent long hours at grinding jobs, and were too exhausted to take part in family affairs when they did return. Busy with overtime and obligatory drinking bouts with the boys, these were the fathers that forgot birthdays and teacher’s names, who never went to school plays, fairs or parent’s days. Their sole purpose of winning the bread left little time to enjoy it. Sometimes Sakura wondered if this was the sort of father her own husband would prove to be, and this troubled her greatly. Her father was so very different from all the others. He was gentle, encouraging, and loved with a mother’s unconditional love. He had mastered the domestic arts that ironically escaped Nadeshiko herself: cooking, cleaning, sewing, and the myriad little details that make a household run properly. But for all his dedicated effort, the loss of a mother might still have affected Sakura more had it not been for Tomoyo. Growing up, Sakura loved Tomoyo as the mother she never had. The very fact she looked like the pictures of Nadeshiko may have reinforced the girl’s imperceptible feelings. The Daidouji girl’s nature was very much as Fujitaka had described his wife: sweet, gentle, placid, and loving. He once remarked that in all their years together, he had never seen even a trace of anger on her luminous face. Tomoyo was exactly the same: ever smiling, kind, and caring. With maternal affection, Tomoyo had nurtured Sakura through the trials of childhood and adolescence. She was there to ease the hurts and soothe the pains of growing up. She encouraged the first, tentative steps towards love with Yukito-san and Li-kun. Sakura often found herself crying in the arms of Tomoyo, who hugged her back with in a motherly embrace. In the arms of its mother, a child always feels that everything will be all right. Even as they whirled together on the dance floor, when Sakura burst into tears at the harrowing prospect of Tomoyo’s imminent return to Japan, the dark- haired woman enfolded her in her arms and brought soothing reassurance with nothing more than her gentle presence. Yukito might have said this parental affection was the key to Sakura’s love for Tomoyo, as it had been for him. Years ago, he told Sakura she loved him because he was like her beloved father. She agreed, but not because she believed he was right. She knew her that Touya loved him, so she said yes, and stepped aside. But if her feelings for Yukito were not quite true love, they were still more than a schoolgirl crush. It was painful to let the gentle boy go, but she did. And Sakura now knew that her love for Tomoyo was no more easily explained this way than her feelings for Yukito. She had loved Yukito more than a father figure, and loved Tomoyo more than the mother she never knew. The kiss in the garden had shattered that explanation for Sakura’s love. For all her maternal kindness, Tomoyo stirred up passionate feelings in Sakura that no daughter ever had for her mother. Watching a slender, gorgeous, woman preparing to leave the beach reminded Sakura of Tomoyo slipping out of her white sundress. This memory summoned a fiery longing that gripped her heart, and the feverish desire that haunted her recent dreams. She trembled in remembrance of braiding the long, lavender tresses, the silken feel of pale skin, the sweet, flowery scent that wafted like a heavenly little cloud. Tomoyo’s visit awakened a sensuous craving for this achingly beautiful woman, a desire that previously hovered only on the rim of Sakura’s awareness. Tomoyo always seemed to her the prettiest of girls. There was a delicate loveliness about her that Sakura found irresistible. As childhood passed into adolescence, her feelings changed with her body, imperceptibly at first, but in the end irrevocably. So captivated by Syaoran was she that this change in her feelings almost went unnoticed. Only little hints were left, odd moments that puzzled her when they happened, and were quickly forgotten as meaningless puzzles. But now, in the grip of memory, these puzzles seemed more like keys to resolving the sweet confusion that played havoc with her heart. Most vivid was a memory from the 8th grade, in a gym class where Tomoyo gamely struggled with a difficult floor exercise. The other students left for home, but Sakura stayed to help her friend master the complicated pattern. She spotted for Tomoyo, holding her closely, guiding her with a sure, firm touch. Slowly at first, the dark-haired girl caught the rhythm of the movements, and her natural grace and charm moved Sakura’s heart. For some reason her very nearness flustered Sakura, distracting her from the lesson she was trying to impart. Sakura blushed fiercely while Tomoyo, still as a fawn, daintily arched her supple body and gazed up with trusting eyes. Breathing raggedly, Sakura stood by her, their faces nearly touching, utterly enraptured by the wan beauty of the delicate girl. From nowhere she felt a mad desire to embrace her, caress her, and shower her with kisses. The brunette leaned closer, heart hammering as their lips nearly touched. Suddenly she blushed crimson and pulled quickly away. Tomoyo seemed pleasantly baffled, and then worried as her friend turned her back and trembled. Sakura stammered out something about a pulled muscle, and struggled to calm her racing heart. Had Tomoyo come to her then, with a kindly touch or a concerned hug, Sakura was unsure just what might have happened. But the odd little whirlwind passed quickly, and Tomoyo returned to being just a best friend. Yet this was not the only time that some unseen passion had seized Sakura’s heart. Tomoyo’s presence had sometimes captivated and enthralled her in ways she could not fathom. Confused, even frightened, part of Sakura had succeeded in forgetting these strange, overpowering little moments. But delving into the depths of her feelings, Sakura found that these hidden memories now came flooding back. And these feelings she remembered were the identical to those in the garden, where she was swept away by an overwhelming love for Tomoyo. Sakura stood up and stretched, drained but oddly exhilarated. As day gave way to night, she gathered her things and walked to board the approaching bus. She was tantalizingly close now, sensing a revelation that would make her feelings clear at last. Though she appeared charmingly normal at first glance, the genki young woman was unusual in many ways, not least in her utter honesty. Most people shy away from such ruthless examinations of their inner feelings. As the saying goes, they prefer not to stir muddy waters and cause difficulties. Or, they cling to comfortable illusions, rejecting thorny and painful realities. As Fanren observed, Sakura was in many ways a simple girl. She wanted to know what was true, and could not abide to live a life that was false. Her desire to know had inexorably driven her to gather the Cards, and then transform them. In doing so she jeopardized not only her life, but also those most precious to her. Now she was on a journey to know her true feelings for Tomoyo, and after that the identity of her best friend’s true love. Where this journey led, or how it was resolved, did not concern her at all. Indeed, she was frighteningly innocent of the havoc and pain such discoveries might unleash. But had she known, she would have plunged forward regardless, for her determination to understand was implacable. After a long ride over the ferry and into the City, she boarded the last electric tram up Victoria Peak. When she exited the tram and began walking, the exhausted little P.E. teacher caught a second wind, and raced up the hill to the mansion. Preparing for bed in her room, Ieran-sama saw her daughter-in-law dashing into the house, and wondered what she was doing out running at such an hour. Tip-toeing into her room, Sakura retrieved the Cards from their resting place. For a moment she stood over the sleeping Syaoran, smiling. Then she slipped away, latched the door, and walked down the hall to Tomoyo's room. She sat on a chair by the window and gazed at the garden, dark and silent in the still of night. What happened in that garden changed everything forever. Never had her love for Tomoyo felt so strong and all-encompassing. Never had she felt so deliriously close to another human being. Oddly, it all started with Tomoyo's wrenching pain. Sakura had seen little slivers of her secret hurt before, in letters and during the trip to the Matsukaya. But sitting in the garden, Tomoyo was unwilling or unable to conceal the torment of life without her special someone. She broke down, sobbing in Sakura's arms. Sakura's heart was riven as she hugged her tightly, wishing with all her power that Tomoyo would be all right. Miraculously, she was. While embraced by Sakura, the pale girl seemed healed of her terrible hurt. In this blinding moment Sakura realized the agony of loneliness that her best friend lived with everyday. But the Mistress of the Cards also saw that in her arms, Tomoyo's pain was assuaged. She said that with Sakura she was happy, and the full truth of this at last opened her emerald eyes. Here was yet another revelation, for Tomoyo needed her as surely as she needed Tomoyo. She longed to hold and comfort her pale friend, to take away the pain forever. If indeed she had such power, Sakura vowed now to use it, regardless of cost or consequence. That night in the garden, Sakura and Tomoyo were like two castaways washed up on a foreign shore, gazing on a world and each other made marvelous and new. It was as if Sakura saw Tomoyo, the girl she grew up with, for the very first time: fragile, vulnerable, and breathtakingly beautiful. When that enchanting woman came so enticingly close, a surge of desire swept Sakura’s body and shook her heart. In that magical kiss, two souls met for the very first time. Sakura touched her cheek as a sweet warmth enfolded her. The memory of that kiss lingered still, echoing in her heart, tingling through every cell of her body. She loved Tomoyo as a friend, a sister, and a mother. But after they kissed, she knew her love was unimaginably vast and unbounded, a door to infinite space, a precipice on the edge of forever. If she had hesitated to step over that awesome threshold, it was only because the luscious shock of that kiss had left her utterly enchanted. But now, following her road to the very end, she was awakening. The meaning of her love for Tomoyo was finally clear. Sitting quietly in the shimmering night, a gentle rain of tears falling on her folded hands, Sakura at last understood her feelings. Perhaps deep within a part of her had suspected or known, all along. But now the splendid truth resounded throughout her entire being. Sakura could sing, or cry, or shout this truth, but her steady heartbeat bore a more eloquent testimony. In her heart nestled a precious knowledge, a knowledge gained through pain, joy, and time. And what her heart knew would change her forever. Daidouji Tomoyo was her one, True Love.