Cardcaptor Sakura: The New Trials (Wish-luv)

Chapter 70: Eye of the Dragon

Part I: A Midnight Toll

When [she] shall die,
Take [her] and cut [her] out in little stars,
Ands [she] will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.

– Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

******

It had been less than 24 hours since Kinomoto Sakura died.

Daidouji Tomoyo sat in a musty room with 19th century brocade curtains drawn over the long lattice windows, stroking the black hair of the girl seated on the floor who occasionally sobbed into her lap. An empty Kleenex box was discarded next to Meilin, who simply wiped away any tears that dripped down her cheek with the back of her hands. A soggy tissue was clenched into a ball in Tomoyo's other hand, but she had no more tears left to cry, just a numbing dullness that came in the face of travesty after panic then stupor.

She closed her aching eyes. Yes, maybe when she woke up all this would just be a bad nightmare. Better yet, Sakura would walk in through the doors with a sheepish smile and say this was just a terrible joke.

After the initial chaos of the events that had happened the previous day, the remaining people in the room, her closest friends, were oddly subdued.

Mizuki Kaho had her arms around Tanka Miho, and the younger girl's eyes were red and puffy. Miho's older brother, Mizuki Kai, sat on a windowsill on the far end of the room, staring out into the pitch black sky outside. At his feet, Cerberus was slumped against the wall in a daze. Even Hiiragizawa Eriol, de facto leader of the group now that Sakura was gone, sat with his elbows propped on his big oak desk, forehead pressed into his folded fingers.

Nobody there could ever forget the events of that fateful day on April 1st.

It had been a rare sight to see that many people gathered at the clearing behind King Penguin Park, strangely abandoned over the weekend. It was late in the afternoon as the deep orange sun washed the park a garish rusty hue. On one end was a group of mostly middle-aged men, clad in Chinese robes with identical emblems of three white marks on a black circle on their backs. In their middle stood a tall man with silver-streaked black hair and a harsh, square jawline, known as Li Wutai, head of the Li Clan. Facing them off was an eclectic bunch of 12 humans and non-humans, members of Sakura's Alliance of the Stars.

At the center of the crowd was Li Syaoran, in his deep green battle costume, sword unsheathed. He charged at the golden-brown haired girl in a fluttering white chiffon dress full speed, red tassel streaking behind him like a banner, gleaming blade point aimed at her heart. Sakura blocked, barely, with her pink star-moon staff. Everybody had watched terrified but fixated, as if they were watching a scene from a horror movie.

One minute, Syaoran's grip had been uncharacteristically wavering, his sword blade pointed at Sakura's chest. The next second, the tip of the sword pierced straight through her bosom and emerged through her shoulder blades streaked in glistening scarlet.

Tomoyo watched aghast from the sidelines as a vivid crimson sprouted out from the wound across Sakura's white bodice like a rose in boom, and suddenly Syaoran had dropped his sword on the ground and was cradling her body to his chest, letting out a bone-shuddering howl.

His hands and sleeves were soaked in her blood, and he repeated brokenly, "Sakura—no—Sakura," clutching her body, limp like a doll, in his arms.