Dear Sakura

 The Banquet

 by G.P. and Amazoness Duo

 pearsong1954@yahoo.com

 amazonessduo@hotmail.com

 

 

 Sakura’s Feathery wings ached as she struggled to stay aloft in the

 howling wind. Buffeted by a frigid gust, she grimaced and tried to

 steady herself on the unsteady currents. Scanning the nightscape of

 the great city, she spied Tokyo Tower alight, a blazing beacon in the

 dark, moonless night. Squinting to focus, she made out a familiar

 figure, long hair tossed about by the fierce wind. The girl’s flowing

 dress fluttered crazily as she teetered unsteadily on the edge of a

 platform high above the ground. Standing with arms folded, hands

 against her chest, she clutched something tightly to her breast. In

 horror, Sakura realized who it was and screamed her name,

 

 "Tomoyo-chan!!"

 

 She woke with a start and stared out at the gray-blue garden, dimly

 lit by the early dawn. With a cold shiver she realized it was that

 dream again. But this time, she knew who the figure on the Tower was.

 But what was she doing there, and why was it Tomoyo-chan? Realizing

 she was still entwined with Tomoyo, Sakura released a little sigh of

 relief. She snuggled against the sleeping woman, taking comfort in

 her warm presence. Gazing at the pale face, so peaceful and calm,

 Sakura felt the fear in her heart vanish. Fingers playing with a lock

 of lustrous lavender hair, she watched the woman cradled in her arms

 breathe softly in a gentle slumber.

 

 Sakura felt an ocean of love welling within, buoying her heart like

 a little cork. Yesterday was a dream of moonlight and mountains,

 gardens and fountains, and a magical kiss that swept her soul up into

 the velvety night. She blushed at the memory of that kiss, but more

 out of passionate remembrance than embarrassment. Never had anything

 affected her like this. The treacly-hot sweetness lingered still, the

 scent and taste and touch of Tomoyo flooding back as she closed her

 eyes. Her body shivered and her heart thudded with an aching longing.

 She wanted to cry and laugh and hug the beautiful, still form

 drowsing in her arms. On the edge of tears she whispered hoarsely,

 

 “Tomoyo-chan, I love you.”

 

 It was true. This visit had stirred up feelings that Sakura only

 dimly suspected. At first, Tomoyo’s absence had been masked by the

 excitement of married life in Hong Kong. But over the weeks, being

 away from her constant companion had begun to erode her confidence,

 her happiness, and her very soul. Sakura’s bright world was slowly

 spinning out of balance, becoming dark and shrouded in shadows. When

 Tomoyo called and said she was coming to visit, Sakura felt a rush of

 sheer joy. And now, after just two days together, she felt utterly

 reborn. But why? Tomoyo was her best friend, but the love that

 gripped Sakura now was like nothing she had ever felt. Wasn’t this

 how she was supposed to feel with her True Love? Then why didn’t she

 feel like this with Syaoran? Of course she loved him dearly- but not

 like this. But why not? He was her husband, her special someone. He

 had risked his life and given her the power to fight against the

 darkness unleashed by Eriol. Without his help, those shadows might

 have engulfed the world in a pall of forgetting. Everyone knew they

 were fated to be together; in fact, Sakura was one of the last to

 know. She smiled, remembering the time she ran after Syaoran’s bus

 with her little teddy bear. But for all the kisses they had shared as

 newlyweds, there had never been one like last night. Why?

 

 Syaoran’s kisses were strong and demanding, blunt and forceful like

 the man himself. Sometimes she felt delightfully swept away when he

 took her in his arms like some imperious warrior. But Tomoyo’s kiss

 was tender, tantalizing, sensuous, and oh-so-slow. While Syaoran was

 always in a hurry to get somewhere, Tomoyo seemed to be lingering,

 delighted to share those intimate seconds together. Remembering the

 moment, Sakura blushed deeply, lightly holding her fingers to her

 lips. But it was more than that. Syaoran kissed as if to prove his

 love. When Tomoyo kissed, it was Love itself that poured from her

 heart and filled Sakura’s being. Nobody had ever loved her like

 Tomoyo-chan. Everything she did flowed from the depths of her love:

 the costumes, the quirky comments, and now the kiss. Sakura marveled

 at this, for if she loved her best friend so, then what was Tomoyo’s

 love for her special someone like? It seemed awful that they did not

 know of her love, for if they did surely they would feel it as the

 greatest of blessings. Surely they would rescue her from the

 loneliness that haunted her. And after seeing the pain etched on her

 face last night, Sakura was determined that her friend must not live

 a life in cruel isolation. 

 

 But Tomoyo's effusive love was not the only thing that made the kiss

 special, for Sakura's intense reaction when their lips first touched

 had set them both soaring. Her entire being inflamed with fire and

 light, she returned Tomoyo’s ardent passion with her own. And this

 brought her back to the original puzzle: Why was her love for the

 woman in her arms so deep and powerful , more so even than for her

 husband? Sakura's face mirrored her confusion as she grappled for an

 answer that would not come. "Hoeeee", she thought, "this would be so

 much easier if I could do something. But I just don't know what to

 do." At that moment, a light tap on her shoulder freed her from her

 confusion. She glanced up and saw Syaoran standing by her, dressed

 for work. She smiled brightly and whispered,

 

 "Can you help me get Tomoyo-chan to her room?"

 

 He rolled his eyes and returned the smile, then carefully took the

 woman from his wife's arms and carried her to the guest room. She was

 surprisingly light, and he gently eased her onto the futon, still

 asleep. Sakura, who had followed along, knelt beside the sleeping

 girl and tucked her in with all the care and concern of a loving

 mother. Leaning over, she brushed the dark hair from her pretty face,

 and kissed the pale cheek. Tomoyo smiled in response, as if all the

 beautiful dreams in the world were hers. The husband and wife tiptoed

 out of the room, and Sakura carefully latched shut the great mahogany

 door.   

 

 Tomoyo slowly awoke in the plush comfort of a silken quilt. She

 rolled onto her side, breathing in the sweet scent of cut lilies that

 Sakura had placed in her room the day before. The light from the

 garden shone brightly, as if the sun had already reached its zenith.

 Propping herself up on one elbow, she stared at the clock and was

 startled to see the hands approaching noon. Still awakening, she

 remembered the garden from last night, illumined not by the noisy

 yellow sun as it was now, but bathed in moonlight. Swiftly the jumble

 of recollections fell into place: breaking down in front of Sakura,

 sobbing uncontrollably, the woman clasping her tightly. And then, she

 blushingly remembered the kiss.

 

 Suddenly sitting up, she held a hand to her breast and felt her

 heart beat wildly. Never had she felt such bliss. Her body trembled

 as she remembered how their lips lightly touched, how they embraced,

 how her tongue slipped delicately into Sakura’s honey-sweet mouth.

 Wide-eyed, she shivered as the lingering passion gripped her slender

 frame. Holding herself tightly, she closed her eyes, begged her heart

 be still, and tried to think.

 

 Her first thought came on a little ripple of fear, “What did I do?

 She saw me cry, she saw me lonely and in pain. Now I’ve hurt her. Oh,

 I’ve hurt my Sakura-chan.” In all their time together, Tomoyo had

 labored to hide her secret agony from Sakura’s sparkling eyes, lest

 she tarnish that bright, genki spirit. Why had she broken down now,

 why had the carefully contrived masks fractured in her hands?

 Frantically she tried to remember what she had said and done. All she

 could recall was Sakura’s unceasing worry about Tomoyo’s loneliness,

 about the special person she could never have, or even tell of her

 love. She had felt trapped like an animal, unable to say that her

 special person was right there with her, in front of her, as she

 always had been. With nothing to say and nowhere to run, her heart

 shattered, the jagged shards rending her soul. And then her tears, so

 long held back, were unleashed in an uncontrollable torrent. Yet what

 happened next was utterly astonishing.  

 

 When Sakura pulled her close and embraced her, Tomoyo’s pain was

 washed away. She remembered with awe the warmth and love that poured

 into her, healed her, and made her whole again. Here was something

 far beyond the Cards, which made their powers seem mere tricks and

 trifles. In the blink of an eye, Tomoyo had gone from a bitter grief

 that would welcome death to joy and peace enough for all eternity.

 Pain and woe and fear had no home when she was in her arms. And

 Sakura’s own spirit, rather than being dimmed by Tomoyo’s pain,

 blazed forth and brought comfort and elation to them both. Here was a

 mystery, for Sakura had actually seemed glad to know of Tomoyo’s

 distress, as if knowing brought her more solace than not knowing.

 Almost like a Doctor-sensei who exults in her capacity to heal the

 hurts of others. Shaking off this thought, Tomoyo resolved never to

 let it happen again, lest Sakura be burdened with a pain she could

 not mend. As for her own pain, it was beyond the reach of all

 healing, save for being with her one, true love. And that, of course,

 was impossible.

 

 Sakura had found her true love in Li-kun, and Tomoyo could not, must

 not, sully that happiness. To sacrifice her happiness for that of her

 loved one seemed a small price, indeed. But the kiss she had shared

 with her beautiful friend bewildered her, for the love she had felt

 from Sakura matched her own unrestrained ardor. Sakura did not return

 the kiss out of surprise or pity, but with a stunning passion, as if

 she craved a love long denied her. Tomoyo had resolved on her flight

 to Hong Kong to bottle up her feelings, lest it burden her friend, or

 damage their wonderful relationship. But in that garden she was

 enraptured by the scent of tropical flowers, hypnotized by the beauty

 and voice of the radiant brunette, and bewitched by the luminous

 moonlight. Her love slipped the iron chains she had forged, and flew

 to freedom, flew to her. She remembered slowly leaning into the kiss,

 and Sakura reaching out like a plant welcoming the sun. And this was

 what baffled her. Sakura should have reacted with embarrassment,

 should have laughed nervously or made light of what was happening.

 But her love was as strong and compelling as Tomoyo's own. 

 

 Tomoyo sat in bed, fingers distractedly caressing a little crease in

 her cyan nightgown. She smiled and thought, it was as if we were

 really lovers. I’ve been granted a vision of life together, both of

 us madly in love, with only ourselves in the whole, wide world.

 Tomoyo closed her eyes and thanked the spirits of the garden who had

 brought her these wondrous moments. Arigato gozaimasu, she thought,

 I'll treasure them forever. Opening her eyes she noticed a single

 braid entwined with green ribbons, and remembered Sakura doing her

 hair in this very bed. She put her hand to her cheek and felt a hot

 crimson flush creeping up her neck and shoulders. Such a marvelous

 day and night it had been! She could bear anything for memories like

 these. But even in the tender glow of felicity she gently chided

 herself. She had now been given something unhoped for, a pearl of

 great price to hold in her heart forever. But she must not distress

 her friend with her own private longings. Sakura’s fragile feelings

 were precious, and Tomoyo would not let anything harm them. From now

 on, she would be more careful. She would bind Love with adamantine

 chains and keep her feelings under control. But when the smiling face

 of the delightful brunette came to her, her heart fluttered

 helplessly in response. It was as if Love playfully rattled those

 adamantine chains, sweetly mocking Tomoyo’s futile efforts to bind

 her. 

  

 

 The dark-haired girl arose, and stretched languidly. Today is the

 banquet, she thought with a start. I have to get ready. They may need

 me to help. And with that, she rushed to the cedar chest to get

 dressed, and to see Sakura.

 

 But Sakura had already left for work, leaving a little note on

 stationary bordered with lilacs that she had to attend a meeting at

 school, and would be back in the early afternoon to help prepare the

 night's banquet. Tucking away the kawaii little note, Tomoyo wandered

 the great house, looking for the kitchen. Finally, by the dinning

 hall she found it, and entered in through the double doors. There she

 saw six chefs and numerous assistants, busy with preparations. Ieran-

 sama stood among them like a general, calm and assured amidst the

 chaos of the battlefield. The woman saw her approach, and Tomoyo

 bowed low and held her bow until it was returned, though by a much

 shallower bow as befitted their respective stations. Amid the clatter

 and clang of the busy kitchen Tomoyo had to strain and raise her soft

 voice to be heard,

 

 "Good day, Ieran-sama. May I be of any help to you?"

 

 The woman looked down at her sternly, but Tomoyo noticed the

 slightest smile as she answered,

 

 "A guest does not help with her own banquet, Daidouji Siuje. That

 would be bad fortune." She had used Siuje, the Chinese form for Miss.

 Tomoyo sensed she had been accorded a singular honor, and bowed

 slightly in recognition. Ieran-sama smiled again, and turned to the

 men in the kitchen, issuing a series of rapid orders in Cantonese.

 She then asked,

 

 "Would you care for some tea?"

 

 Tomoyo nodded and followed her out of the kitchen and into the

 dinning room. The older woman scanned the area, and then said matter-

 of-factly,

 

 "It's such a lovely day. Would you like to have tea in the garden?"

 Ieran-sama watched her intently.

 

 "Yes, thank you, that would be very nice," Tomoyo replied, her face

 a mask.

 

 Ieran-sama led the way down the dark halls, nodding to a servant as

 she walked. They sat at a table under a mimosa tree dotted with soft,

 puffy, pink blossoms. The table was made of a pale gray stone, old

 and weather-stained. Presently a servant arrived with two small red

 cups and a little red and green pot. Ieran-sama nodded her away, and

 poured the young woman a steaming cup of strong, black tea. Tomoyo

 thanked her, and sipped the hot, pungent liquid.

 

 "Delicious," she smiled. The older woman gazed at her, carefully

 studying her face. Sipping from her own cup, Ieran-sama sighed,

 

 "You know, if I had your beauty there would be no need of magic."

 

 Tomoyo blushed at the compliment, and the steady eyes that beheld

 her. Closing her eyes, Ieran-sama asked,

 

 "Are you enjoying Hong Kong?"

 

 "Yes, very much so. It's really a beautiful city. I'm seeing so much

 more than the last time I was here."

 

 "Beautiful, but old, though they seem to delight in tearing down

 everything they can," She grimaced slightly as she spoke. "But I am

 happy you are finding your stay pleasant."

 

 They chatted about the city, shopping in the Causeway, and the view

 from Victoria Peak. Finally, Ieran-sama asked,

 

 "Daidouji Siuje, you care very much for Sakura-san, don't you?"

 

 Again Tomoyo felt the penetrating gaze fall upon her. She put down

 her cup and nodded.

 

 "You could have had her for yourself; you have the power. But you

 encouraged Syaoran instead. Why?"

 

 Tomoyo paused, and drew a deep breath. There was no sense in trying

 to hide or conceal anything from her. She saw too much. Smiling, the

 young woman replied, 

 

 "I wanted her to be happy. That was most important. I didn't think I

 could make her happy, but I think Li-kun can."

 

 The woman was silent, her dark eyes locked with Tomoyo's. Finally

 she looked away and spoke in a cold, aloof tone,

 

 "Daidouji Siuje, you are perceptive for your years, but have much to

 learn about human hearts. When next you play matchmaker, be certain

 before you act."

 

 Ieran-sama rose and fixed Tomoyo with a hard stare. But then her

 face softened, as if bright memories of girlhood called to her with a

 giggle. She smiled a sad, wistful smile and spoke in a whispery,

 feminine lilt,

 

 "Daidouji Siuje, I know you would do anything for her. Anything. But

 this time, please be sure of what you do. Some things done fly far

 beyond recall."

 

 She turned and walked away, leaving a pensive Tomoyo behind. Ieran-

 sama felt a shadow of fear as she strode down the halls to the

 kitchen.  Something about Tomoyo troubled her. There was a sense of

 brittle strength, a terrible fragility under that calm and placid

 surface. She closed her eyes and spoke a silent blessing, a spell of

 watchful protection on the troubling girl. It bothered her that she

 liked Tomoyo, for such feelings could prove a distraction. The girl

 was more than useful; she was somehow vital to the House of Li. And

 that, Ieran-sama thought to herself, is more important than my

 trifling human emotions.

 

 Sakura hurried down the street that led to the Li residence. Having

 to go for a teacher's meeting was exasperating, but it was her duty

 to go, so she went. Besides, Tomoyo needed to sleep, though hopefully

 she was up now. Sakura was visibly excited at the prospect of seeing

 her again. She wanted to see and be with Tomoyo as much as possible

 while she was still here. Her heart caught in her throat at this

 thought, realizing the woman would soon leave for Japan. Sakura

 practically ran up the hill, the house soon looming into view.

 Standing outside was Tomoyo, scanning the street as if looking for

 her. Sakura shouted out her name and waved, and as the dark-haired

 woman caught sight of her she waved back. Running breathlessly,

 Sakura charged up the walkway and threw herself into Tomoyo’s arms,

 nearly toppling her over. 

 

 Tomoyo gasped in surprise and delight as she felt the reassuring

 warmth of her beloved friend. She thought to herself, Sakura-chan’s

 away for a few hours and I can’t stand it. How can I possibly leave

 her? She fought back the tears and held on tightly. Finally,

 reluctantly, the two parted, though Sakura took the pale woman’s

 hands in hers as she spoke,

 

 “Tomoyo-chan, I’m so sorry I had to go. I really missed you, isn’t

 that silly? I was only gone a little bit, but I missed you so much.

 How are you feeling? Did you get enough sleep? You must have been

 awfully tired.” 

 

 Tomoyo basked in the sparkling glow of Sakura’s smile and replied

 cheerfully,

 

 “Sakura-chan doesn’t have to worry about me. I had a lovely sleep,

 and beautiful dreams of my best friend, and I’ve even had tea and a

 conversation with Ieran-sama. But I’m very glad to see you again. I

 missed you, too.”

 

 Sakura hugged her tightly again and half-whispered,

 

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone.” 

 

 Tomoyo’s body stiffened at the words. She thought, I don’t know what

 I’m going to do, either, Sakura-chan. I just don’t know. But calming

 her thudding heart, she gently pulled away and smiled,

 

 “All the more reason to enjoy the time we still have together. I

 think Ieran-sama has work for you in the kitchen. She won’t let me

 help, because she said it wouldn’t be good luck for the guest to work

 for her own banquet. But maybe if you ask her you could do some of

 the preparations in the dinning room, where we could talk?”

 

 Sakura nodded, and the two walked hand-in-and through the house

 before Sakura disappeared into the kitchen. She emerged shortly

 thereafter, carrying a large pot full of vegetables. She set things

 up on a table, and carefully began slicing radishes and carrots,

 greens and bell peppers. Though not particularly fond of the peppers,

 Tomoyo politely ignored their presence. When Sakura began to weep

 cutting the onions, Tomoyo found a black lacquer bowl and filled it

 with water. She placed it by the little chef, saying her Mother swore

 it helped when cutting onions. The two talked away the afternoon as

 Sakura chopped and sliced while an entranced Tomoyo simply watched.

 Finally, Ieran-sama found them, and asked Tomoyo if she would like to

 prepare herself for the banquet. Later Sakura too was dismissed from

 her culinary chores, and went to her room to dress.

 

 Syaoran was already in the bedroom getting ready. Sakura greeted him

 with a kiss and began looking through her closet, She settled on a

 black silk cheongsam, a birthday present from her husband. Typical of

 the style, it had a fairly high collar and fastened diagonally along

 the right front. The front, collar, and sleeves had a colorful floral

 border trimmed in gold. The long hem was also trimmed, but only in

 gold. The skirt was slit slightly above the knee, and Sakura decided

 to wear black stockings and heels. Standing in front of the mirror,

 she turned left, then right, waiting expectantly for a comment from

 Syaoran. But he was too busy with his tie to notice, so Sakura sat

 down at the vanity. Thinking about how to do her hair, she was

 reminded of the night before, when she had brushed and braided

 Tomoyo's beautiful, black-gray tresses. She closed her eyes as the

 sensations echoed in her mind: the soft, silken feel of the lustrous

 hair, the flowery-sweet scent, the way it caught the light and

 shimmered darkly. Breathless, she opened her eyes and swallowed,

 feeling a hot flash over her shivering body. As she picked up the

 brush, her hand trembled. Nervously she glanced behind her, but

 Syaoran was preoccupied and didn’t notice. She brushed in quick,

 short strokes, trying to calm down. 

 

 As the brush shooshed through her short, auburn hair, Sakura again

 tried to understand her volatile feelings for Tomoyo. The only thing

 remotely close to this was Yukito-san, but that had been different.

 She loved him, but gave it up because despite his affectionate

 nature, she knew he did not love her in the same way. She knew he

 loved her brother, and that Touga loved him. She had always been glad

 of their happiness, despite her pain at the time.  Yet for all the

 intensity she felt for him, it was different than her feelings for

 her best friend. It had been more than a crush, but was still just

 the love of a young girl. Her feelings for Tomoyo were stronger,

 deeper, and more compelling. But why was she wracked by these

 feelings all of a sudden? Why had she never felt this way before?

 Because I’ve never been away from her, she thought. We were always

 together; I can’t think of a day we didn’t see each other, or talk on

 the phone. Things haven’t felt right since I’ve arrived in Hong Kong.

 Until now. Now that she is with me. I was away from Syaoran for

 almost two years, and missed him terribly. But I’ve only been apart

 from Tomoyo for three months, and it’s an eternity of heartbreak. I

 don’t think I can live without her. I don’t know if I want to live

 without her. But she’s my friend. Why do I feel like this for my

 friend? Confused and frustrated, Sakura turned in her chair and

 blurted out,

 

 “Syaoran-chan, was Meiling-chan your best friend when you were young?”

 

 Syaoran regarded her with a surprised look, and then replied slowly,

 

 “I don’t know. I guess so. I never had many friends.”

 

 “Did you like her?” Sakura’s voice sounded nervous and agitated.

 

 Syaoran rolled his eyes and answered impatiently, “I guess I did. I

 mean, she was a pain, sometimes, but I suppose she was all right.”

 

 “Did you love her? Do you still love her?” Sakura asked, wide-eyed

 and breathless.

 

 Syaoran frowned and looked away as he mumbled his response, “Why are

 you asking me that? Are you jealous or something? We didn’t have to

 invite her tonight, you know.”

 

 Sakura shook her head wildly and sputtered, “No, I didn’t mean it

 like that. I’m not jealous at all. But I just wondered if, if best

 friends could love each other.”

 

 Syaoran snorted derisively as he slipped on his jacket, “Are you

 about ready? The guests will be arriving soon, and I don’t want to be

 late.”

 

 Sakura smiled sheepishly, “You go on ahead. I’m almost done; I’ll be

 there in a minute.”

 

 Syaoran nodded and slipped out the door, leaving Sakura feeling

 somehow foolish. With a little sigh she opened her jewelry box and

 chanced upon the little flower hair pin Yukito-san had given her on

 their trip to Hong Kong so many years ago. She picked it up and

 smiled, remembering. Then she fixed it in her hair and tilted her

 head in contemplation.

 

 “Mmm,” she murmured approvingly, then stood and walked through the

 door to meet the guests and find Tomoyo-chan.

 

 Tomoyo heard the buzz of conversation through the large wooden door.

 Feeling nervous, she remembered the techniques she had used in public

 performance with the choir. She closed her eyes and slowed her

 breathing, allowing her body to gradually relax. Tomoyo felt a hand

 gently touch her shoulder, and looked up to see Fanren at her side.

 With her fluency in Japanese, Ieran-sama had selected Fanren to

 escort Tomoyo through the complexities of the banquet. Her eyes

 sparkled as she spoke excitedly to the young Japanese woman,

 

 “Aiyaaaaa, Tomoyo-san, you look gorgeous! I’d give you a kiss for

 good luck but I don’t want to muss you up.  I *knew* that cheongsam

 would be a perfect fit.” She stood back and gazed admiringly. The

 long, red silk dress was embroidered in golden thread with two

 lovebirds snuggling together. The high collar and tight fit

 accentuated Tomoyo’s willowy figure, giving her the look of a goddess

 who deigned to dally awhile with mortals before ascending back to the

 heavens. And if Tomoyo’s natural beauty made such a look possible,

 several hours of meticulous work had gone into its perfection.

 

 The four Li sisters had argued bitterly over who would get to dress

 the Japanese beauty for her banquet. Finally they decided on a

 division of labor that would give them all a chance to show their

 skills. Fanren would select the clothing, Fuutie would do the make-

 up, and both Feimei and Shiefa would work on the hair, as that would

 be the most complex task of all. Fuutie sulked that Tomoyo’s beauty

 made her job all too easy.  Studying the woman’s flawless alabaster

 skin, she shook her head in amazement. With a deft touch the Chinese

 woman used a powdery crimson blush to highlight her cheeks, and a

 plum colored eye shadow that complimented Tomoyo’s remarkable

 amethyst eyes. She finished with a delicate pink lipstick, and smiled

 as the other sisters gasped in delight. Fuutie giggled,

 

 “Who needs a banquet? She looks delicious enough to eat!” The women

 laughed as Tomoyo’s blush complimented Fuutie’s handiwork.

 

 Before the makeup, Feimei and Shiefa had begun preparations on

 Tomoyo’s hair. They protectively wrapped their work-in-progress with

 white silk, waiting until Fuutie had finished before applying their

 finishing touches. Huddled with an array of jewelry, flowers, and

 accessories they worked with nimble fingers and a sharp eye for

 beauty. When they had finally finished, Tomoyo looked in the gilded

 mirror they held before her and stared in wonder. The hairstyle was a

 genuine work of art, adroitly combining a traditional Chinese

 coiffure with more modern styling. Her lavender hair was spun into

 delicate locks and ringlets with two long, curling tresses in the

 front that tumbled freely to her waist. The hair was entwined with

 ornate red and gold jewelry that tinkled prettily as she walked, or

 bowed, or turned her head. Finally, three snow-white gardenias

 provided a fragrant contrast with the dark, shimmering hair. Tomoyo

 stood and bowed deeply, thanking the women for their labors.  The

 sisters giggled and returned the bow as Shiefei replied,

 

 “It was our pleasure. The doll designer herself makes a most

 wonderful doll to play with.”

 

 Now Fanren looked at Tomoyo and whispered, “Remember, if you get

 stuck or aren’t sure what to say or do, press my hand twice and just

 follow my lead. Ready?” Tomoyo smiled and nodded, and the two entered

 arm in arm into the crowded reception room. They were met with a wall

 of sound as the guests chatted loudly and enthusiastically. But when

 the pair entered a hush quickly swept the crowd, followed by excited

 whispers and astonished, occasionally envious, looks. Fanren

 carefully navigated her charge through the innumerable Li’s and

 assorted guests, starting with the most revered and prestigious,

 calculating her bows and words with practiced precision. As if

 choreographed, Tomoyo followed Fanren and listened as the Chinese

 woman translated,

 

 “The most honorable Coordinator of Clinical Services at the Prince

 of Wales Hospital, Dr. C. Y. Li, offers his humble greetings to the

 friend of his kinsman’s wife, Kinomoto Sakura. He wishes the

 exquisite Daidouji Tomoyo to know that her presence at this banquet

 brings great honor to the House of Li, and that her consummate beauty

 must make the Lady Moon weep with helpless frustration for being so

 outshone.”

 

 Tomoyo answered with graceful solemnity,

 

 “Please inform the most honorable Coordinator of Clinical Services

 at the Prince of Wales Hospital, Dr. C. Y. Li, that I am sadly

 unworthy of the sumptuous magnanimity of the august House of Li, and

 that I thank him for his kind generosity in receiving me with a

 veneration for which I am utterly undeserving.”

 

  And so it went, from guest to honored guest. Tomoyo quickly

 realized that she was the center of interest, and found herself

 blushing as many of the younger men, and not a few women, proved

 particularly attentive. Fanren was the perfect escort, explaining who

 was who and what was said, fixing a loose golden bell in her hair

 that was dangling on her forehead, and even slipping her a refreshing

 watermelon juice drink. Tomoyo was sipping the cool, pink liquid when

 she heard Fanren intone,

 

 “The most honorable first son of the House of Li, Li Syaoran, and

 his wife, who hails from the land of the Rising Sun, Kinomoto Sakura,

 present their greetings and felicitations…”

 

 Tomoyo whirled about, nearly dropping her drink in surprise. With a

 hasty bow, she smiled joyfully and gazed adoringly at Sakura. The

 cinnamon-haired woman stood as if in shock. With her mouth open and a

 hand on her breast, Sakura stared in breathless astonishment.

 Coloring visibly, she blurted out when Fanren had finished,

 

 “Tomoyo-chan, you look so beautiful!”

 

 Syaoran rolled his eyes and Fanren giggled behind her hand as Tomoyo

 bowed and answered in Japanese,

 

 “I thank the devoted wife of the admirable Li Syaoran of the

 esteemed House of Li for her kindness, hospitality, and gracious

 indulgence of so unworthy a guest as myself. Furthermore, I assure

 her that if there is anything pleasing about my humble appearance it

 is due solely to the magnificent skills of the resourceful women of

 the august House of Li. Yet I am saddened that all of their diligent

 work shall be for naught, for the eyes of all the worthy guests who

 attend this sumptuous banquet will see only the radiant splendor of

 Kinomoto Sakura, and that all hearts will be forevermore hers.”

 

 Suppressing a smile, Fanren then introduced Tomoyo to her

 approaching host. Elegantly attired in traditional Chinese dress,

 Ieran-sama glowed with a magical beauty. Utterly enchanted, Tomoyo

 bowed and exchanged greetings, and then arm in arm accompanied her

 host to the doors that led to the dinning room. Ieran-sama indicated

 that she should enter, but Tomoyo hesitated and began the ritual that

 Fanren had carefully outlined. As the guest, she was honored with

 being the first to enter. But custom dictated that to do so without

 lengthy remonstrance would be the worst of manners, implying an

 intolerable arrogance. For several minutes the two women gently

 besought the other to enter first, as the guests listened

 approvingly, if a bit hungrily. Finally, Tomoyo graciously consented

 and entered, and the others followed in a pre-arranged hierarchy of

 importance and prestige.

    

 With high ceilings and picture windows that overlooked the gaudily

 illuminated city below, the dinning room gave an appearance of

 spacious grandeur. Decorations were tastefully few, so as not to

 detract from the real attraction: the food. Set in the center of the

 room were five round tables of darkly polished and ornately carved

 mahogany. Ieran indicated the seat of honor for Tomoyo, and again the

 two enacted a minuet of humility and praise before finally sitting.

 Ieran took the seat directly across form her, the chair closest to

 the kitchen doors from whence the servers would bring the various

 dishes of the feast. This was also a calculated gesture, for such a

 seat was considered the lowliest of all, and demonstrated the host’s

 high regard for all the other guests. Tomoyo’s heart soared as she

 saw Sakura and Syaoran sitting at the same table, as well as the Li

 sisters, Fanren as always by her side. She glanced at the table, set

 with priceless porcelain bowls, plates, and spoons, beautifully

 decorated in delicately wrought patterns of blue, white, and gold.

 She marveled at the ivory chopsticks set with golden filigree, and

 the elaborately engraved golden cups. Seeing that all were seated and

 everything was in readiness, Ieran gave two sharp claps and the

 kitchen doors instantly swung open. At long last, the banquet was

 ready to begin.

 

 Bursting out from the door were several uniformed servers, dressed

 in bright red and yellow silks, carrying large trays of multi-colored

 delicacies. Fanren explained that these were the cold dishes to begin

 the meal. Great silver platters were swiftly arranged on every table,

 as Ieran-sama moved gracefully through the hall, apologizing for the

 meager fare, her guests in turn delightedly protesting that they were

 unworthy of such an abundance of delicacies. When she returned to the

 table, she served Tomoyo with elegant ease before finally sitting

 down. A second wave of servers then appeared, displaying aged and

 dusty earthenware urns, which brought gasps of surprise from the

 guests, and a joyous buzz that swept the room. Fanren leaned and

 whispered into Tomoyo’s ear, 

 

 “It’s Shao Xing rice wine, well over 50 years old. I hope you come

 back here more often,” she giggled.

 

 As the seals were broken a powerful aroma wafted over the entire

 room. Servers filled the small golden cups with the dark amber

 liquid. Ieran arose, and the other guests quickly followed. The woman

 held her glass high as her eyes surveyed the audience, finally

 settling intently upon Tomoyo. In a musical voice that carried

 strongly over the hall, Ieran made her opening toast,

 

 “To all who have come I offer a thousand thanks and ten thousand

 blessings, for you honor the House of Li with your presence. To

 Daidouji Tomoyo, honored guest from across the waters, I wish you

 life as long as the Yangtze River, as full of happiness as the

 springtime flood of the Pearl River Delta, and pray that Love may

 come to you as swiftly as the rapids of the mountain born Nan-p’an.

 Gan Bei!”

 

 At this, the guests drained their cups, savoring the heady scent of

 the priceless wine. The first toast done, all turned their attention

 to the bounteous feast before them. The cold dishes were colorful and

 varied, carefully arrayed on the large, heavy silver platters. Fanren

 identified the various little dishes, and pointed out her favorites,

 

 “That’s Boiled Pork Tongue, that’s Century Egg with Peppers, though

 it’s really only a few months old, so don’t worry. This is Sichuan

 Cucumber with Dried Prawn over on the left, and the red one is Five-

 Spice Yellow River Carp, a very lucky dish!”

 

 Tomoyo sampled and nibbled, mindful of Fanren’s advice to eat

 lightly lest she be full before the main courses arrived. The flavors

 were cold and crisp, designed to sharpen the palate for the hot

 dishes to come. Somewhat to her surprise, Ieran-sama served the food

 at the table, and assisted the servers at the other tables. Despite

 the alluring repast, Tomoyo kept stealing little glances at Sakura,

 who reacted with delight to each and every dish. She saw Tomoyo and

 grinned, giving a cute little wave. Tomoyo felt her heart race at the

 sight of her beautiful friend, but this private reverie was

 interrupted when the next wave of servers swept into the noisy

 dinning hall. 

 

 These were the first of the hot dishes, exquisitely prepared,

 steaming aromatically as they covered the massive tables. Again

 Fanren was her guide through this culinary odyssey as Tomoyo gazed in

 wonder at the mosaic of colors and scents. There was Stir-Fried

 Triple-Winter, a savory mix of autumnal vegetables. The Shredded Duck

 with Mango was piquant and breezily tropical. The Stir-Fried Liver

 with Cloud Ears was surprisingly smooth, the tender liver contrasting

 with the crunchy, earthy flavor of the Cloud Ear fungus.  The Hot and

 Sour Cabbage was simple, but perfectly done, and went well with the

 Spicy Tea Eggs that had the appearance of rich marble. Fanren touched

 her sleeve lightly and whispered, “Remember, these are only the

 appetizers. It is said that you must guard your appetite well against

 these skirmishers that precede the main battle line!” Tomoyo nodded,

 and wondered how she could possibly keep up. As the dishes were taken

 away, she saw Ieran nudging Syaoran, who rose, blushing, to make the

 next round of toasts. Standing unsteadily, almost cringing from the

 eyes upon him, Syaoran stumbled through his pre-written piece.

 Finally, he looked at Tomoyo and smiled genuinely as he finished,

 

 “It is said by the sages that those who play the game do not see it

 as clearly as those who watch. To the most watchful and perceptive

 person I know, the honorable and esteemed Daidouji Tomoyo. Gan bei!”

 

 Before the drinks were drained, more of the red-clad servers

 appeared, hoisting huge, meticulously carved winter melons. The one

 at Tomoyo’s table was carved in the fantastic shape of a dragon

 chasing a crescent moon. The top was removed, and the steamy scent of

 winter melon and expensive Kinka ham soup drifted over the table.

 Fanren whispered that the melon was very yin, and served to clear and

 cleanse the palate for the meaty, yang courses to come. And in short

 order they did, plates and bowls beyond counting, with a wild variety

 of colors and flavors. At the center of every table was Peking Roast

 Duck, specially prepared by a Master Chef of Hong Kong who did

 nothing but this classic, who had served Kings and Presidents

 throughout the world. Fanren described several of the dishes, but her

 hungry eyes moved Tomoyo to beg her to eat and talk later. Tomoyo

 winced at the sharp tang of Crystal Boiled Pork with Garlic Sauce,

 and smiled at the sweet Fujian Lychee Pork. The Sweet-As-Honey

 Venison was just as the Emperor Qian Long had described the recipe

 200 years ago. So tender was the Chicken and Red Date Stew that Ieran-

 sama pulled the soft flesh from the bird with just her chops\ticks.

 But most sublime was the duck. Glistening reddish-brown in it’s

 coating of malt sugar, the crispy-sweet skin held the meltingly

 flavorful meat within. The skin and meat were eaten in delicate

 little pancakes, with a Tian Mian Jiang sauce made from a jealously

 guarded, secret Imperial recipe. Fanren whispered to Tomoyo, who

 leaned over to hear,

 

 “They say the in the 1930’s a chef was tortured to death by a

 warlord rather than divulge the secret recipe.”

 

 Tomoyo looked at the sauce with great respect, and gravely spoke a

 silent little prayer of thanks to the brave chef. Finally the tables

 were cleared and hot towels distributed as the toasts began again,

 this time with 70 year-old wine. Tomoyo sipped carefully, worried

 that she might grow silly with too much of the potent drink. She

 noticed several male guests playing guessing games with fingers, the

 loser draining a cup that was instantly refilled. Again the doors

 burst open, and now bowls of soup were displayed, with the legendary

 Braised Shark’s Fin soup holding center stage. The soup glittered and

 sparkled, a liquid treasure of incomparable worth. Yet the other

 soups were hardly outshone, forming a rainbow of glimmering colors

 and flavors. After sampling the soups (and the Braised Shark Fin

 twice), Fanren smiled and nudged Tomoyo, indicating Ieran-sama, who

 was standing at the table and waiting while the bowls were cleared

 away. Suddenly through the doors came enormous oval platters, so huge

 they were carried by two straining men at each end. The platters were

 laid at each table, and as was customary,  the one at Tomoyo’s was

 placed with the head pointing to the guest of honor. All she could do

 was stare incredulously at the sight. 

 

 Upon each platter was a giant fish, seared crisply, laid upon a bed

 of mossy green seaweed and delicately cut scallions that looked for

 all the world like the waves of the sea. But what fixated Tomoyo’s

 attention was a singular movement, which gave the impression of the

 tremendous fish swimming in the rolling ocean waves. And what made

 this possible, Tomoyo realized with a creeping horror, was that the

 fish was still alive. It’s eyes looked about in confused terror, and

 it’s mouth gasped for the water that it would never breathe again. It

 took all of Tomoyo’s years of practice with Sakura to wear a smiling

 mask, as if she were enchanted by the piteous spectacle. And poor

 Sakura, she noticed, was woozy and looked as if she might pass out as

 Syaoran vigorously shook her arm. Tomoyo then saw Ieran-sama take two

 large silver knives from a bowing server who presented them in a red-

 velvet lined wooden box. Standing by her pale guest, she lifted them

 high above her head and took a deep breath. Swift as lightning she

 struck, wielding the knives like short-swords. In an instant the two

 cheeks of the mighty fish had been neatly carved and placed perfectly

 on Tomoyo’s plate. The hall roared and clapped its approval, and

 Tomoyo bowed deeply in thanks for these choicest portions of the

 opulent offering. With that, the other servers attacked the fish at

 their tables and served the excited guests. Tomoyo silently

 apologized to the poor fish that had suffered so for her sake, and

 courteously ate the delicacy, though the exquisite flavor gave her

 little pleasure.

 

  The other fish and seafood dishes were delicious, though happily

 less dramatic. The Chao Zhou Zheng Chang Yu was a delicately steamed

 pomfret fish, subtly accented with slivers of celery, salt plum, and

 tomato. The Crispy Fried Mandarin fish and the enormous Stir-Fried

 Lobster with Chicken in Hot Sauce provided a spicy, crunchy contrast.

 The Baby Slipper Lobsters and Fujian Fried Chili Crabs were balanced

 nicely by the squid with bamboo shoots, the squid sliced and scored

 to look like some delicate flowers from a lost kingdom of the sea.

 Tomoyo barely managed to nibble one of the tasty Shrimp-stuffed

 Lychees when she turned to Fanren and whispered in a worried tone,

 

 “Fanren-san, gomenesai, but I don’t know how much more I can eat.

 It’s wonderfully delicious, but I am so very full.”  

 

 Fanren giggled and whispered back,

 

 “Aiyaaa, for someone so charmingly petite you’ve done very well,

 Tomoyo-chan. Don’t worry, the cai foods are done, now all that’s left

 are the fan courses: grains, noodles, and rice. And it would be

 insulting to at the rice, as that would mean there wasn’t enough food

 to fill you up!”

 

 At this Tomoyo looked relieved, especially as the next round of

 toasts ended and numerous noodle dishes were spread over the table.

 Tomoyo noticed that, despite the inviting aroma and magnificent

 presentation, most of the guests merely picked and nibbled.  Much to

 the surprise and delight of the Li family, Tomoyo ate a goodly

 portion of the Fried Noodles Xiamen and the curiously named, “Wealth

 and Good Deeds” with Yi noodles, which Fanren explained was made of a

 rare hair moss that grew only in the northernmost reaches of the

 country. Tomoyo asked Fanren to provide a translation for something

 she whispered, which the Chinese woman laughingly gave, Then the

 honored guest spoke haltingly to the table in Cantonese,

 

 “I am very fond of noodles.”   

 

 This brought laughter all around as everyone regarded the beautiful

 woman with warmth and affection. Tomoyo realized that conversation at

 the banquet was sparse, yet there existed a glowing sense of

 communion among all the guests. She remembered Fanren saying before

 the banquet that food in China was a form of communication that

 rendered mere words unnecessary. She thought about this now, as the

 dishes were cleared away yet again.  She fondly remembered school

 lunches with Sakura, where the girl’s silent presence was more than

 enough to fill her heart. She gazed at her now, a beautiful, married

 woman, terra-cotta hair catching the light of the chandeliers above.

 For all the joyous opulence of the banquet, she yearned most of all

 for a quiet moment with her beautiful friend. Memories of the night

 before in the moonlit garden suddenly filled her heart. With a sweet

 shiver she thought, my Sakura-chan is a dream come to life. How lucky

 I have been to be with her. Finally, Tomoyo noticed the nudging of

 Fanren, who pointed to the little wine cup before her. With a look of

 recognition, Tomoyo smiled and rose to give her toast.

 

 The guests were stunned at the wine that was now presented, for it

 was of Imperial vintage, still bearing the seal of the Great Dowager

 Empress from over a hundred years ago. As the priceless liquid was

 poured, all eyes turned to Tomoyo, who rose and held her cup prettily

 with one hand on the side and one on the bottom. She then began the

 speech she and Fanren had prepared the night before.

 

 In imperfect but earnest Cantonese, Tomoyo thanked all who had come

 to honor her with this splendid banquet. She protested her

 unworthiness for so great an homage, and her great fortune in

 experiencing a feast whose memories would bring her joy all the years

 of her life. She wished happiness and long life to all, especially

 the esteemed members of the House of Li that had so graciously

 extended their incomparable hospitality. Finally, she bowed deeply to

 Ieran-sama, and thanked her host for the beauty, bounty, and

 brilliance of an unforgettable evening. 

 

 “Gan bei,” Tomoyo spoke out in her musical voice as all present

 downed their drinks, utterly enchanted by the charming, pale beauty

 from Japan. With that, the symbolic bowls of rice were placed and

 quickly removed with not a grain consumed. Finally, a dizzying array

 of luscious desserts was placed before the protesting guests, as well

 as Iron Goddess of Mercy tea, brewed from the uppermost bud and twin

 leaves of the finest plants from Fujian. When the final cup of tea

 had been drained, Ieran-sama rose and thanked the guests profusely,

 signaling the end of the banquet. Effusive appreciation was showered

 on the Li family by the departing company, who protested Ieran-sama’s

 humble apologies by declaring the banquet as the most memorable in

 years. Some left tipsy, most left stuffed, but all left happy to have

 been a part of so memorable an occasion. In the dark of the nearly

 empty reception room, Fanren stood before Tomoyo and gently took her

 by the hand.

 

 Tomoyo’s azure eyes sparkled as she spoke,

 

 “Fanren-san, thank you so very much for helping me with my dress,

 and my toast, and serving as my escort. I don’t know how I would have

 made it through without you. I’m ever in your debt.”

 

 The woman smiled, and lightly rested her palm on Tomoyo’s soft, pale

 cheek. Her voice betrayed the emotion that welled up inside her,

 

 “I am the one thankful for sharing this magical evening with such an

 enchanting princess. I know by your eyes where your heart’s desire

 lies. But if ever your precious heart should find room for another,

 forget me not, Diadouji Tomoyo-chan, whose beauty in truth outshines

 Lady Moon.”

 

 With a final caress of her delicate hand, Fanren leaned over, and

 lightly kissed the blushing cheek of the honored guest. With that she

 was gone, leaving Tomoyo breathless, but smiling.