Tomoyo and the Visitor

 A Tomoyo and Sakura Story

 By G. P.

 Please send comments to: treeandleaf2002@yahoo.com

 

 Note: all names and characters are property of CLAMP. This story is

 in no way meant to infringe on their intellectual property rights.

 

 I.

 Tomoyo first heard it while reading in the garden: a faint shuffling

 noise by the big beech tree. She rose and walked over, looking for

 the source of the sound. Then it moved, a small feathery body

 flopping in the short grass. Leaning over, she saw a little orange-

 brown bird with black wings, not quite a fledgling, cheeping in

 fright. She looked up into the leafy branches of the tree, shading

 her lavender eyes from the midday sun, but could see no nest.

 Kneeling, Tomoyo undid the blue ribbon of her straw bonnet and used

 it to deftly scoop up the tiny creature. It was noisy, active, and

 did not seem to be hurt. Gazing at the lost little bird, she felt an

 odd kinship. Smiling, she whispered,

 

 “You almost look ready to fly. I’ll ask Mother if you can stay until

 you’re ready.”

 

 Cradling the bonnet, she walked to the house and opened the massive

 front door. Her footsteps echoed as she walked the long hallway to

 the stairs. Bounding into her room, she placed bird and bonnet on her

 dresser and pulled up a chair. As she contemplated the tiny creature,

 it regarded at her with large, watchful eyes. Then it began to chirp,

 moving about in the bonnet, eyes fixed on Tomoyo, who said to herself,

 

 “You’re hungry, aren’t you? First let me see just what you are, and

 then we’ll see what you want to eat”.

 

 With a smile she rushed downstairs to the library, and rushed back

 clutching her Firudo Gaido Nihon no Yacho, A Field Guide to the Birds

 of Japan. Looking at the bird, half expecting it to be gone, she

 scanned the colored plates to try and identify it

 

 "It's a hawfinch, cocothraustes cocothraustes, of the Fringillidae

 family". Tomoyo carefully sounded out the difficult Latin words.

 "Your name is bigger than you are", Tomoyo giggled to herself. She

 read on, "‘they are shy birds, spending most of their time hidden in

 the treetops eating seeds and caterpillars'. I guess grubs would be

 OK for you. I'll be right back!" She flew downstairs, to beg one of

 the guards to take her to the pet shop. Already, she was in love with

 it.

 

 II.

 The next day Tomoyo, practically beaming, asked Sakura during lunch,

 "Would you like to come to my house after school? There's something I

 wanted to show you". 

 

 Sakura, intrigued, nodded her head and replied, "Sure. Let me call

 my Father to see if it's OK. I don't have any chores today".

 

 After homeroom was dismissed, Sakura walked out with her friend and

 saw a single, darkly garbed bodyguard standing by the black Cadillac.

 The guard opened the back door, bowing low, her long, brown hair

 hanging straight down. When Sakura clambered in, she was surprised by

 the roominess of the car's interior. As the car sped away, she turned

 to Tomoyo and said,

 

 "What did you want to show me?"

 

 Tomoyo smiled broadly, "You'll see"

 

 Tomoyo glanced at her friend, delighted by her intense curiosity.

 Tomoyo loved surprises, and the sweet anticipation they caused. She

 snuggled into the plush seat, thought about Sakura, and the hawfinch,

 and felt a wonderful glow.

 

 

 III.

 Sakura gazed at the little bird, hopping merrily in its large,

 silver cage. Her eyes widened as she exclaimed,

 

 "Kawaii! Tomoyo-chan, it is sooooo cute!"

 

 Tomoyo tilted her head and smiled brightly as Sakura asked, "Did you

 give it a name yet?"

 

 Tomoyo shook her head no, and in a conspiratorial whisper, as if the

 young bird would be embarrassed to hear such a thing, answered, 

 

 "I don't know if it's a boy or a girl".

 

 Puzzled, Sakura blurted out, 

 

 "How can you tell?"

 

 Tomoyo blushed and looked at the floor, whispering,

 

 "I...I don't really know"

 

 Sakura, realizing what she was asking, blushed, hid the nervous

 giggle behind her hand and whispered,

 

 "S..sorry"

 

 Tomoyo looked up, all smiles, took her hand, and asked.

 

 "Would you like some tea?"

 

 And the two girls raced down together to the massive kitchen.

 

 

 IV.

 

 Over the next week, Tomoyo spent hours with the little bird. She

 sketched it, painted it, carefully weighed and measured it's food,

 cleaned the cage, and overall attended it with more care than the

 most doting of mothers. Most of all, she loved to just sit and watch

 as the hawfinch explored it's cage, played with the little golden

 bell she bought, and gamely tested its wings in a flurry of flapping.

 She knew it would be ready to fly soon, and though she would miss her

 companion, she grew excited at the thought of the fledging soaring

 into the vast, open sky. After a nearly-rushed dinner, she excused

 herself to go to bed, ran upstairs, and burst through the bedroom

 door. There, she found the bird dead.

 

 At first, she thought it asleep, though in an odd, twisted posture.

 But looking closely, she realized it had suddenly, inexplicably died.

 Staring, she put her hand to her heart and felt her legs weakening.

 It couldn't be...it had been gaily hopping and chirping just before

 dinner. With a shaking hand she opened the door to the cage and, with

 a slender finger, lightly nudged the warm, stiff lump, which slid

 slightly on the bottom of the cage. She turned away, stunned,

 sickened, her eyesight graying on the periphery, as she felt queasy

 and faint. Just then, the phone rang.

 

 She reeled backwards, mechanically reaching for the pink cell phone

 and holding it to her ear.

 

 Sakura stood puzzled when the phone was picked up with no greeting.

 

 "Hello? Tomoyo-chan?"

 

 Silence.

 

 "Tomoyo-chan, are you there? Are you all right?"

 

 Trembling, Tomoyo exclaimed in a rush,

 

 "Sakura-chan it's dead I...I… oh Sakura-chan I'm sorry it's all

 right don't worry it's all right it's..."

 Tomoyo broke off in a fit of sobbing.

 

 "Tomoyo-chan, what's the matter, are you all right?" Sakura shouted

 out as the phone went dead.

 

 Tomoyo sat on her bed; fists clenched into tight little balls,

 weeping hysterically. It was so young, just ready to fly. Why? Why

 did it die now? Why, with a whole life ahead of it, why did it have

 to die? Before it could even fly it was dead. The overwhelming

 unfairness of it all staggered her. She sat crying, unheard in the

 vast, empty house. Unable to move or see through her tears, she only

 barely heard the frantic pounding on her window. Turning, she saw

 Sakura perched on the ledge outside her room, wings disappearing from

 her staff as she prepared to break through the glass. The sight of

 the auburn-haired girl threw Tomoyo into a blind panic. She rushed to

 the window and opened it carefully, taking Sakura by the hand as she

 stepped into the room. By habit she smiled brightly, but the words

 wouldn't come, and the tears wouldn't stop.

 

 Sakura beheld her friend in fear and wonder. Never, ever had she

 seen Tomoyo like this. Always cheerful, always composed and never,

 ever sad, the dark-haired girl looked shattered as her smile

 dissolved in a renewed flood of tears. She turned away from Sakura,

 arms flailing as if to ward her off. Hysterically she begged,

 

 "Sakura-chan go away please go away I'm sorry please please please!"

 

 Tomoyo shut her eyes tightly as a tempest of emotions raged inside

 her. The sudden death of the little bird still tore at her in a raw,

 uncontrollable grief. But for Sakura to see her like this was even

 worse. Never, ever had she allowed Sakura even a glimpse of her

 private sorrow, or of the passionate love that lay unrequited for so

 long. She had dedicated herself to her beautiful friend, and vowed

 never to burden her beloved with her own sadness or longing. And if

 most of the time her joy at just being with Sakura was genuine, it

 was sometimes a mask to hide her own hurt, and protect the precious

 happiness of her one, true love. But now, she had hurt Sakura through

 her grief for the bird. Struggle as she might, the little creature's

 death was a pain she could not still, a bitter cup that overflowed

 and spilled over. Her mask shattered, she felt naked and ashamed and

 alone. Better she were dead than this.

 

 Sakura stood with her arms at her side, utterly helpless as Tomoyo

 huddled in the corner. The sight was wrenching, and Sakura was at a

 loss. Glancing about the room, she saw the door of the silver

 birdcage open, and the motionless, feathered form within. Looking at

 her still sobbing friend she understood, and felt her own heart break

 for Tomoyo's loss. And if she did not comprehend all of Tomoyo's

 grief, or it's secret cause (which was Sakura herself), she knew

 enough to run to her love and enfold her in her arms.

 

 "I'm so sorry, Tomoyo-chan. I'm so sorry it had to die."

 

 Tomoyo felt the warm presence wrapped around her, melting the icy

 pain in a passionate, loving hug. On her cheek the warm wet of her

 tears mingled with Sakura's own as her friend held her tightly.

 Sakura's love cut through the haze of guilt and shame like a fiery

 sword. Tomoyo turned and shifted, laying her head on Sakura's

 shoulder, hugging her tightly. How strange it was that she felt such

 comfort here in the arms of her love, when seconds ago the mere

 presence of the girl had thrown her into a horrified frenzy. Her iron

 guard for once lowered, she gave herself up to the sadness, and

 softly wept for the little bird. As the shadows of night covered them

 they lay in a bittersweet embrace, hearts beating together till sleep

 stole their pain away.

 

 Tomoyo awoke to the twittering of birds, and bright sunlight

 streaming through the open window. She smiled to find Sakura in her

 arms, still asleep. She remembered the hurt of the bird's death, and

 felt the echo of grief deep inside. But Sakura's magic was not only

 in the Cards, for she had blessed Tomoyo with the solace of her love.

 As the dark lashes fluttered, Tomoyo kissed her tenderly on the

 forehead. Waking, she smiled, and then looked at Tomoyo with sudden

 concern. But Tomoyo smiled back and whispered,

 

 "I'm OK now. Thank you, Sakura-chan. Thank you so much."

 

 Sakura gazed into the deep blue eyes and then smiled again. Slowly

 the two rose, slightly stiff from sleeping on the floor. Sakura

 looked at the window, and the sun, and froze.

 

 "Hoeee, what if oniichan goes to wake me up for breakfast?"

 

 Tomoyo giggled, and whispered, "You’d better go."

 

 Sakura looked at her uncertainly.

 

 "Smiling, Tomoyo said, "I'm all right, really. It's still a little

 sad, but I'm all right."

 

 Sakura looked wistfully at her friend and hugged her tightly. She

 looked out the window and saw a bank of low clouds that would hide

 her flight home. With another hug they parted, and Sakura flew

 through the window as Tomoyo watched in awe. Then, turning with a

 sigh, she looked at the cage, and wondered what to do.

 

 Her Mother, home for a rare weekend without work, sensibly placed

 the hawfinch in a plastic bag and put it in the refrigerator. Tomoyo

 made the preparations, starting with a small pouch. She was unsteady

 in needlepoint, but her Mother helped with the more complex stitches.

 She talked on the phone with Sakura several times that day,

 reassuring her that things were fine. As they worked, Tomoyo asked

 her mother in an anguished voice why something so sweet and innocent

 had to die before it had even flown. For a long time, Sonomi sat

 silent as she worked the needle and thread. Finally, she looked up

 and said,

 

 " I asked that when Nadesico was dying. I asked her. Through all the

 pain she smiled at me and said,

 

 'But Sonomi-chan, we're just visitors here. We can't stay forever' “

 

 The two sat in silence while Sonomi cut and tied the last thread and

 held up the finished work.

 

 "There, all done." 

 

 At sunset, Tomoyo gently took the little bird from the bag and

 wrapped it in a white silk scarf. Placing the cold, enshrouded body

 in the pouch, she took a small shovel from the tool shed and dug a

 little hole under the tree. Kneeling, she carefully laid the pouch in

 the warm earth and looked one last time at the design, a needlepoint

 hawfinch soaring through a cloudless sky. Then she patted the dirt

 down and stood with lowered head and folded hands. With eyes closed,

 she thanked the little visitor, and begged it to find peace here

 under the beech tree. Turning, the little girl left the gathering

 dark to go find her mother, and to cry.