Take My Hand
. . . fanfiction inspired by Card Captor Sakura. Standard disclaimers apply.
She stood in an open field that seemed to stretch on forever, bleeding green and black into the horizon. The grass tickled her bare feet as she treaded across it. By faint starlight she could see her footsteps had scarcely disturbed them, didn't seem to have any effect at all. She felt the gust of cold night air on her face, her arms, filling her sleeves and sending her hair streaming, leaving behind the scent of honeysuckle.
She saw the laughing girl-child, with hair the colour of ripe wheat fields and eyes that shone like polished emeralds. As she twirled and stepped, she filled the emptiness with life and music and joy.
Then, she saw the man, his long white hair that ended at his feet in a loose horsetail, a fringe that brushed against his amethyst eyes. He wore robes spun with thread drawn from the mist, the same snowy colour as his folded wings. He stood, slightly aloof and distant, watching the girl-child, yet a hint of a smile played on his lips.
The girl stopped in mid-step and turned around. When she saw the man, a wide smile broke on her face. She stretched out her hand, beckoning, and she could hear her, even though she spoke no words.
"Come, dance with me."
And he did.
In the haunting melody of the wind, beyond human ears, under a full moon, they danced. Sometimes slower, sometimes faster, feet never quite touching the ground. Time ran a different course, and after what seemed like forever, it still wasn't light.
At last the notes began to drag on longer, and she knew the song was about to end. The girl-child slowly lifted her head from the man's shoulder, her eyes still sparkling but wistfully sad. Gently, he ran long fingers through her silky hair, to reassure her that there would be a next time. Her wan smile brightened and she set her head back down, to savor the last few moments, imprinting his light touch, the scent of crisp night air in his hair, and the feel of his robes like running water against her cheek firmly in her memory.
As the last bar played, he buried his lips amongst her honey- coloured locks and whispered three words softly into her ear.
And with the girl-child's soft sigh, the field, the sky, the stars, the moon, and the man disappeared as the final note echoed and faded away... ...
Sakura stretched and rubbed her eyes. Morning already?
As she leaned over to reach the switch on her bedside lamp, two thing occurred to her: First, that it was dark. Too dark to be an overcast sky. That left two reasonable explanations: there either was a solar eclipse, or she'd woken up early. Very early, she decided.
Second, that she was blushing furiously.
Pressing her palms to her face, she felt herself burning up. 'Hoee! What's happening to me?' she thought frantically as she kicked the covers back. 'Air. Need fresh air,' she fretted as she drew aside the curtains. It was warm enough to leave the windows open without catching your death of a cold in spring, but winter's breath still lingered, an brisk icy underscore to the scent of new grass and flowers. Sakura inhaled deeply, letting the gust of cold night air sooth her nerves. 'There, much better.'
Peering precariously out of the open window, she noted absently the honeysuckle around her house was in bloom. The blades of grass shone slick with dew, and the flutter of distant wings could be heard.
There was something undoubtly strange about today, a sense of deja vu. Not in an alarming way of course, just... that a lot of common happenings seemed to grab her attention, like little exclamation marks bursting in her mind. Hinting, prompting, reminding her. Of what?
A gust of cold night air, honeysuckle, grass, wings? What was the connection? Could it be a prophecy, another vision? Sakura pursed her lips thoughtfully and tried to recall, but only vague images floated in her mind's eye. Fuzzy, disconnected pictures, in between dreaming and waking. There was a haunting tune, a play of light and shadows that danced and spun, weaved in and out of her grasp, teasingly evading her.
A tune? A song with no words? Yes... and then... shadows on the ground. Shadows... of feet. That danced? Danced... ...?
Danced?
" Sa... kura... ... "Her eyes snapped open. She could have sworn she heard someone calling her name. A breathy, low voice, almost inaudible, but still, calling.
Then, something, deep inside her, stirred. A memory. Of a voice that whispered, softly:
"I love you... ..."