Chapter 55: Platinum

A world yet unseen...
No matter what awaits me there,
even if it’s not the ideal,
I won’t be afraid.

The birds travel on the wind
on a journey from today into tomorrow.

I want to tell you... I want to shout it...
I am but one entity in this world
But like a prayer, like a star,
even a small light wants to be
stronger and stronger someday.

                                                     — Purachina, Card Captor Sakura Opening 3

******

Hong Kong…

Li Syaoran spent many hours reflecting upon the decree of the Elders after his judgment in front of the Inner Council. He had expected and had been ready to accept all punishment for his disloyalty to the Clan. Yet, the result had been unexpected. Instead of more stringent incarceration or perhaps corporal punishment, he had simply been released on probation. The aching of his spine was a reminder of what had happened in there. Why had Leiyun protected him? It was his cousin Leiyun who had brought him back to Hong Kong in the first place. Someone’s trying to play me as the fool there… I won’t stand it. I won’t give up so early on. It’s not over yet. So what if I do not have powers. So what if my right arm is as good amputated in its current condition. So what if I’m back here again? Here I am, back at base one. I’ll just have to work twice as hard and rebuild everything over again. I won’t give in to Uncle Wutai. This is my family. It is my Clan, and I have to set things right.

A sharp nock came on the door. It was his cousin, a doctor at the Li Hospital. She had come to examine his arm.

“Now try bending your arms again, like that,” said Li Jingmei. She assisted Syaoran to bend his right arm. “Try moving your fingers. That’s good. Just slowly.”

“It’s never going to come back, is it?” said Syaoran, staring hard at his bandaged right arm. “I don’t feel it. I don’t feel the ends of my fingers.”

Jingmei pressed down with expert fingers on Syaoran’s vital points. “It’s too early to tell. Keep repeating the exercises—don’t miss a day. Don’t give up. Any sensation, even pain, is a good sign. Try this new balm—it should invigorate your nerves.”

Syaoran nodded.

As Jingmei finished rebandaging Syaoran’s arms, she said, “Fanren has sent you some more clothes—I brought them with me. Your sisters are all worried about you.”

“Tell them not to worry, that I’m doing fine,” said Syaoran.

Jingmei stared at her younger cousin. “You’ve always been a strong boy—I was impressed to see you stand up to Elder Wutai like that the other day, at the General Assembly. No one’s ever defied him like that before. How’s your back? Let me take a look at it—this is in secret. We’re not supposed to lessen punishment blows—but how outdated is that custom?”

“It’s bearable,” replied Syaoran shortly, wincing as Jingmei lifted up his shirt to examine his back.

“Black and blue. Sorry, there’s nothing much I can do about that—this balm with make it less sore though,” said Jingmei, smoothing on his back some minty balm which instantly cooled his shoulder blades. She ran a light finger over a long whitish scar on his back. “What’s this from? Looks like you were whipped or something.”

Syaoran hastily drew his shirt back on. The Whip card—that was when Sakura had first created the Heal. Was it really that long ago?

Jingmei wiped her hands and stated, “Well, that’s it for today. I’m coming to check up next week, so make sure you do the arm exercises.”

As she walked out the door, she caught Jinyu standing outside the hallway. Normally, she would be intimidated by the Clan Protector, whom she barely had exchanged any words with in the past, but this time she couldn’t help asking, “Don’t the Elders have anywhere better to deploy you than to tag along a powerless boy all day long?”

Jinyu merely stared at her through the sheet of black hair covering one eye.

“What did you do to that boy’s arm when you broke it?” asked Jingmei. “There’s something wrong with it—it’s been healing fine physically, but that partial paralysis of his hands concerns me.”

“It’s not Jin’s fault,” remarked Leiyun, who made his way down the hallway to do his routine check up with Syaoran. “There was something wrong with his arm even before then.”

“Right, I saw the scar from being bitten by the Plague, if such a dark force exists,” said Jingmei. “The bones on his right had was fractured from hard impact—I think Syaoran mentioned that he hit glass or something. Stupid thing to do. And of course Jinyu so kindly added to the trauma on that arm with some fancy martial arts move to completely break the ulna bone.”

“Oh, you nonfighters don’t understand the art of fighting,” Leiyun said. “Jinyu executed a perfect move to prevent further injury that could have been incurred by Syaoran fighting back when we were coercing him to return to Hong Kong.”

“You’re right, I’m a doctor and have no training in martial arts,” Jingmei stated. “But what I know is that I’ve done everything to heal that arm, and if it doesn’t return to full function soon, there is some other reason preventing it from healing fully.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is that if Syaoran doesn’t regain control over that arm soon, there is a chance that it might truly be permanently paralyzed?” asked Leiyun, raising a silver eyebrow.

Jingmei nodded. It was disconcerting to have everyone’s favorite cousin to suddenly return after seven years of believing he was dead. The Elders said nothing, but amongst the younger Li’s, there were whispers that this Leiyun was an imposter, that Cousin Leiyun could not possibly be alive. And why did he choose to show up now? But speaking with him briefly reassured her that this was the very same Leiyun that had disappeared when she was still in med school, keen and observant, kind yet shrewd. Yet, why did he choose to return now, six years after his disappearance, just when the Great Elder was ill and there was unrest and growing tension within the very factions of the Clan?

“That would be troublesome since he has lost his powers—all he has left for him is his fighting skills,” remarked Leiyun.

“They’re not going to keep him as Chosen One, are they?” Jingmei asked. “I thought you returned for that position. It seems only suitable.”

“Do you seriously think I can return to being a simple dog of the Clan after a taste of freedom?” Leiyun smiled.

******

Japan…

“Thank goodness Sakura-senpai’s powers returned,” stated Tanaka Miho, who had joined the high schoolers for lunch. They had all laid out their lunches. Miho and Eriol both shared the inedible fried rice that Tanaka Miara had packed them, but Tomoyo and Sakura were generous with sharing their portions.

“This crab croquette is quite delicious!” remarked Eriol to Tomoyo.

“Thank you! I made five different varieties this morning. Try the curry croquette!” stated Tomoyo.

Miho nibbled on the pork croquette and turned back to Sakura. “But I don’t understand it. You use the power of the moon now?” Tomoyo and Eriol both shot her a poisonous glare and Miho’s head drooped. She made a careless slip again! To make up for her guilt, she stuffed her mouth with the rest of the croquette to shut herself up for the rest of the meal.

Sakura continued to Eriol, “Actually, I was confused also. Mizuki-sensei told me back when she first gave the Moon Bell that I had a power of stars, different from the power of the sun, like Clow Reed and Cerberus, or the power of moon, like Mizuki-sensei and Yue. The power of stars would shine in its own way. But why has the power of stars failed me? Why can I not call upon it anymore?”

There was a prolonged pause as Eriol tried to figure out how to explain to Sakura. Slowly, he began, “Well, when you sealed the Plague and used all your powers with the Heal, you must be aware of what detrimental impact it had on your body. You used up too much of your powers, hence your body had to... recuperate.”

“I see. So it found another energy source because I overused the power of stars.” Sakura stared at the Key hanging from her neck. First, it had been the bird-shaped Key of Darkness. It had transformed to the Key of Stars. Now, it was the Key of the Moonstar.

“That makes perfect sense now!” exclaimed Miho. “How fabulous, Card Captor Sakura is back! Tomoyo-senpai can film a whole new arc and enter it as a sequel to the best director’s contest!”

“With Tomoyo-san’s designing talents, I think she should enter her designs into a fashion contest,” remarked Eriol, alluding to all the sketches he had seen of dresses Tomoyo had designed for Sakura. Though he knew little about girl’s fashion, he had been thoroughly impressed. Tomoyo’s ears turned red.

Miho snickered. “Maybe Clow Reed would have been more popular if he had a personal wardrobe consultant instead of wearing the same darn ugly robe every day. Speaking of popularity, do you know rumors spread even to the junior high level of the new golden-combi of Seijou High, the two beauties who single-handedly conquered all the clubs in high school—choir club, fashion club, film club, theater club, gymnastics club, track team, cheerleading club, cooking club, band club and so on… They say you two are the new “Yukitoya!”

“Yukitoya?” Sakura and Tomoyo blinked at each other.

“You never heard it before? That’s what they called Yukito-san and Touya-san,” replied Miho, giggling. “Now, what can we call you two…”

Eriol was relieved that Sakura did not ask for any more explanation. It would have been a problem if Clow’s cute ancestor’s ultimate sacrifice had been revealed. Knowing the Li Clan’s merciless Council, Eriol couldn’t help wondering how Syaoran was faring. In olden days, the Clan would have no qualms about executing traitors, especially traitors with no more use to the Clan.

******

Hong Kong…

After an unsuccessful attempt of finger exercises to stimulate blood circulation in his arm, Syaoran walked over to the round window and gazed outside. His room overlooked the south courtyard. Two sentries were stationed at each entrance of the Main House, except for the south gate, where there was only one guard because the back entrance linked to other parts of the Li estate anyway. Armed guards also patrolled each floor of the mansion, and Syaoran knew by now that there were still at least four extra men stationed on his floor even though he was now on “probation” as opposed to “imprisonment.” Then there was Jinyu, who would have been impossible to get by anyway even if he had the use of both arms. Maybe if he had a sword… No, Jinyu was an excellent swordsman as well and furthermore, used a different school of training than he and Leiyun had been trained under, one he was unfamiliar with. Without his magic, there was no getting past the Black Dragon Jinyu. But how else would he find the Great Elder? He could search just the house for days and not find him. The Great Elder could be kept in any of the numerous Li villas scattered in Hong Kong. There was no way he could be able to search for him alone.    

“Jinyu,” Syaoran called out abruptly. There was only one thing he could do. This was his first attempt to make conversation with his jailer. “Where is the Great Elder being kept?”

There was no response but Syaoran knew that Li Jinyu was there, leaning against the wall outside his open door. Syaoran yanked the door open and faced Jinyu. Jinyu stared at him with marble-like crimson eyes. “As you can see, I’m clearly not going to run away and have no intention or power to tackle the Li guards. You can either tell the Elders that you see no need to follow me around everywhere, or you can at least let me know what’s going around here.” Slowly, Syaoran exhaled. Who was he kidding? Why would Jinyu tell him? Jinyu was with the Elders; he was Syaoran’s prison guard.

To his surprise, Jinyu pressed a finger to his lip and entered Syaoran’s room, shutting the door behind him. In a voice above a bare whisper, he stated, “Li Shulin’s villa.”

“What?”

“Your mother is taking care of him there.”

“How can I—”

“I’m off duty in five minutes. Wei should be here by now—I wonder where he is.” Jinyu looked away. “You have a five minute window to get out of the backdoor.” Then, he nonchalantly walked away from the room.

For a moment, Syaoran stared at the back of Jinyu’s head with his long thin braids, dumbstruck. He had probably heard Jinyu speak the longest sentence to date. It was not time for him to be ruminating Jinyu’s motives though. This was his chance to speak to the Great Elder. Li Shulin’s villa was located deeper in the hills in the furthest outskirts of the Li Clan territory. It was the villa Shulin had built to reside in her later days till the end of her life. The guards at the end of the hallway could not stop him, and he did not look back to even check if they were chasing after him. There was no pretense of using stealth because every gate of the Clan was heavily guarded—his best luck was the south gate. All he could do was run because there was nobody who could run as fast as he could, except perhaps Jinyu.   

******

Japan…

The weather was rapidly warming up now as the end of April approached, and the spring drizzles and warm humidity seemed to add on to Sakura’s ongoing sleepiness. There was something very relaxing about Mizuki-sensei’s mellow voice and the pitter-patter of raindrops on the window.  

In the background, she heard Mizuki-sensei writing on the chalkboard important dates as she lectured about the Spanish colonization and Christopher Columbus. “By the 16^th century, the Spanish Empire was at the peak of their prosperity. Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand looked further westward in order to expand the wealth of their empire and commissioned many Spanish conquistadors to colonize new territories in the New World. Such an example is conquistador Hernando Cortés who conquered the Aztec Empire in 1521. The Aztec Empire was known for their wealth in natural resources, namely gold and silver, which was the Spanish royalties’ main objective…” But the voice continued to drone off into the background. Even though Mizuki-sensei’s history class was Sakura’s favorite class of the day, she could not help feeling her eyelids droop.

Class was over by the time Sakura jolted awake again.

“You can borrow my notes,” sighed Eron, tossing her his notebook.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep during Mizuki-sensei’s class,” stated Sakura aghast. “Did she see me?”

“Yes, we all saw you drooling,” replied Eron. “Now, hurry up and copy my notes before Yamaguchi-sensei comes in.”

Immediately, Sakura began copying out Eron’s notes, neatly organized into headings and numerical bullet points—how could anyone take such detailed notes? There were seven written pages out from an hour-long lecture! She was amused by the notes written in the margins like, “Mizuki-sensei said Treaty of Tordesilla will be in test,” or “Refer to Letters from Mexico by Hernando Cortés.” 

“If you don’t have track practice at six A.M. you wouldn’t fall asleep in class,” remarked Eron.

“It’s only until the end of this month, since Tachibana-senpai can walk around now,” replied Sakura, taking out a highlighter and underlining the headlines.

“Well, if you’re not up till late choreographing cheerleading routines when you’re not even in cheerleading anymore—”

Sakura flipped through her notebook pages proudly—she could ace the midterms studying off of such detailed notes. “But Naoko-chan asked me to give some pointers on a new routine, and since I’ve been doing it since junior high…”

“Pushover,” muttered Eron, rolling his eyes. He had quite soccer precisely because the practices were too time consuming and now that his main rival was gone, there was no point in grueling in the dusty fields anymore.  

“By the way,” Sakura said stiffly. “I guess I should thank you for helping me out the other day with sealing the Decay. But also, I don’t expect you to help out any more in the future. If you’re doing this because of the whole Plague incident, you don’t have to.”

Eron gazed up from his geometry book. “Do you seriously think that I did that just as some sort of repayment to you for saving my life when I was suffering from the Plague?”

“Sakura-chan!” Tomoyo popped her head in between the two from her seat behind them. She and Eriol were deskmates, probably the quietest two in the class since they spent majority of their time listening on other people’s conversations. Even now, Eriol pretended to be busy sharpening Tomoyo’s color pencils. “Sakura-chan, do you want to go shopping with me this weekend for summer clothes? We haven’t really hung out in the city since school started.”

“Hoe, I have a lot of homework,” said Sakura.

Tomoyo blinked her large violet eyes. “Sakura-chan doesn’t want to play with me anymore now that we’re high schoolers? I’m so hurt.”

“All right, let’s go shopping and try out the new berry parfait at Piffle Café,” relented Sakura.

“Hurray! I can finally tape Sakura-chan with short hair!” Tomoyo squealed.

“Definitely a pushover,” muttered Eron.

******

Hong Kong…

Having safely escaped from the Main House, it was no problem for Syaoran to pass through the rest of the estate to find the villa that the Great Elder was residing in, Li Shulin’s private place. Syaoran saw waiting at the front door a tall, stately woman with long black hair held back by a golden pin. “Mother!” Syaoran exclaimed, panting, as he stood at the front gates of the white villa, nowhere near as large as the Main House, but quite spacious and on top of a hill overlooking the entire city. Even though he knew he was still on the Li estate, he felt strangely liberated, being away from the Main House. 

“Syaoran,” said Ielan, hands folded in front of her. “Follow me. The Great Elder is waiting.” 

Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, Syaoran stood at the doorway to the inner chamber. Ielan went forth and pushed back the thin, veil-like curtains draping the large wooden canopy bed, typing it up with cords. She said in a lowered voice, “Uncle, Syaoran’s here.”

Gulping, Syaoran walked forward to the frail person lying in bed. Without looking up, he kneeled down and bowed down low to the ground. “Forgive me, exalted Great Elder.”

“My boy,” said Great Elder Li Renshu. “Lift up your head.”

Syaoran looked up to see the Great Elder, frailer than ever before. He seemed older and thinner in his white silk robes, his long white beard falling to his waist. The Great Elder he remembered was always active, nimbler than any young man in his twenties, never reliant on any cane even in his old age, the strongest and most fearsome man in all of Hong Kong. Ielan helped prop up the Great Elder into a sitting position.

“Ielan, you may leave us for now,” said Renshu. Syaoran’s mother quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Syaoran sat fixated on the ground, knees pressed against the cool tile floor; he could feel the Great Elder’s keen eyes looking over him—when he was younger, he used to be terrified that the Great Elder could read his mind. Only as he grew older did Syaoran realize that the Great Elder’s strict disciplinary measures upon him was because he expected more from Syaoran than anyone else. Yet, the frail man sitting before him was not the Demonic Training Master nor the omniscient Head of the Elders. In a gentler tone than he had ever used before, Li Renshu reached out to put a hand on Syaoran’s trembling shoulder and said, “My poor, poor boy.”

“I have disappointed you, Great Elder,” said Syaoran in a choked voice. What was that look of sympathy in those weary eyes? Why was the Great Elder not angry at him?

“Yes, my boy, it disappointed me very much that you took this long to seek me out,” replied Renshu.

“I’ve been kept in the Main House,” Syaoran said half-heartedly.

“As if any lowly guard can keep my own pupil locked in,” said the Great Elder. “But I will save my reprimanding for later. Well, now, let me see the rashinban,”

Syaoran slipped out the palm-sized compass from his pocket and handed it to the Great Elder.

The Great Elder held it on his palms and chanted, “Imperial king of gods, your divinity watches over the four corners: metal, wood, water fire, earth, thunder, wind, lightening. Whirling blade of light, I summon thee.” Li Renshu’s quietly stared at the released lasin board, the glowing light from it casting a shadow over his lined face.

“You can take it back, Great Elder, because I am no longer able to use it,” said Syaoran.

“Not able to use it? Explain to me what you mean, Syaoran,” Renshu said in a mild tone, not looking up from the board.

“I do not have powers anymore,” replied Syaoran.

“Oh?” Renshu did not look particularly surprised. “How are you dealing with having no powers?”

“It’s difficult. I feel deaf and blind, like I’ve been reborn into a world without light and warmth.”

“And do you regret giving up your powers to the Card Mistress?”

Syaoran did not question how the Great Elder knew he had transferred his powers to Sakura. “No, definitely not. If I hadn’t done so, she would have died. I would have been ready to give up your life for her if it meant that it could save her.”

“When you took your oath to become the Li Clan’s Chosen One, it was an oath declaring that you would sacrifice your own life for the sake of the Clan,” remarked Li Renshu.

“And I would have gladly given up my life for the sake of the Clan,” replied Syaoran.

“You speak in the past tense.”

“I would have gladly given up my life for the sake of the Clan. But if I died, then I could not have protected Sakura.”

“Again, you speak in the past tense, my boy.”

“I have served my purpose—I have done all that I can for Sakura. Now, my life is forfeit to the Clan,” was his solemn reply.

“So, do you believe that your existence for the Card Mistress was in order to retrieve her from her powerless coma state, meaning that you predetermined that the Card Mistress will undergo a situation in which she will lose her star power?” Renshu raised a white eyebrow.

“Rather, I think I sensed that there would be a day when I, and only I, could help Sakura. And thankfully, I was there when it happened.”

At this, the Great Elder piercingly stared at his successor. “You have grown, my boy,” he said at last. “Your father will be proud of you. But you are yet young and still full of life. You have yet many more paths to tread, many more storms to weather. You must not surrender so soon.”

Syaoran couldn’t stop himself from answering wearily, “And fight for what?” He bowed down his head again. “I apologize for my rashness.”

Li Renshu could not help wondering why a boy so young spoke like a man his age—life was just beginning for him, yet he had the expression of one who had already finished living. Was it from being cooped up within the confines of the Clan for two months? Or was it because he really had lost the will to fight back. In all these centuries that the Li Clan dated back, Li Syaoran was the only one to voluntarily give up his title and choose to give up his family name. In some strange way, not as the Great Elder but as a grandfatherly figure, he had been somewhat proud that Syaoran had the backbone to stand up against the Clan. But that was treason. “Years of blood and sweat and labor has tied me to the Clan in an unbreakable chain. The crumbling ideals which I have striven to uphold is the result of my narcissism in refusing to recognize the rotting flesh of the Clan in front of my eyes. Syaoran, I am a failed man.”

“No, there is no other person more venerable like you. All my life, I have striven to become even half the man you are,” protested Syaoran.

“Syaoran, look at me.” Li Renshu gazed at Syaoran with deep blue eyes that only came once in a generation in the Li Clan. “I am an old, old man. I no longer have the strength to fight, the voice to argue. Stripped of all titles, I am just a man weary of the confines of custom and appearance. In my last days, I just want peace and quiet. The person you see in front of you is just a shadow of his former self. Back then, I was a fierce warrior too, as proud and conceited as you please.

“Some thirty years I have been the Great Elder of this Clan. It is a lonely position, being the head of such a factional family. Especially after Yunhua passed away, I was alone. It is wearying, it is toilsome. I became the Chosen One in my early twenties, and I served the Clan for more than twenty years till my youth and stamina gave out. I was indicted into the Council of Elders and eventually served as the Great Elder of the Clan after your grandmother passed away. For the sake of the Clan, I have done deeds blacker than the night that I bury deep in my mind to leave to haunt me when I pass into judgment day. For the sake of the Clan, I have made decisions that sacrificed many others in result. For the sake of the Clan, I told myself, but what is the Clan? The Clan is not an entity, it is a group of people of the same bloodline, it consists of individuals with a mind of their own, with dreams of their own. Even now, I love the Li Clan.

“There was a time when the Li Clan stood as guardians of Hong Kong during the British colonization era. They protected the city and people, and governed it to uphold justice and order. But now, the current Clan is fraught with factionalism and greed, a struggle to increase power for self-benefit. We’ve made deals with the triads, infiltrated the government with corruption and maintain control with underhanded means. For years now, Wutai has been vying for the position of the Great Elder. But I’ve been hanging on longer than he anticipated.” Renshu smiled wryly. “The Great Elder nominates his successor from the Council of Elders, and his nomination is passed by majority vote of the General and Inner Councils. Wutai believes himself to be next in line to be the Great Elder of the Clan.”

“If he’s next in line anyway, why is it necessary for him to through such measures as splitting up the Clan?” asked Syaoran.

“Well, because of some personal disputes in the past, Wutai knows that he is not my chosen contender for Great Elder and never has been. Which is why Wutai finds it necessary to get rid of me before I announce my next contender. If in the case the Great Elder passes away without nominating his successor, then the decision goes to the Council of Elders, which Li Wutai wields control over at the moment.”

“Is that the reason why you are here?” Syaoran asked in sudden realization. “Uncle Wutai is trying to kill you?”

“I have escaped different attempts of assassination over the many years I’ve served as Great Elder. I no longer have the power I once used to have, but I am safe here, as it used to be the Great Li Shulin’s villa in her last days. It is well warded for protection.”

“What can I do for you, Great-Uncle Renshu?” asked Syaoran staidly, reading the Great Elder’s eyes.

“You have already done enough. Syaoran, I can arrange for you to be taken away from Hong Kong. We can send you somewhere far away, Europe or America, somewhere out of reach of the Li Clan. You can continue on to high school and college abroad and carry on a normal life of a boy your age. You can put the Li Clan behind you. Maybe, some day when this storm is over, you can return to Japan and do as you please.” Li Renshu gazed at Syaoran with solemn eyes. He could see the boy’s glazed amber eyes just for a brief second flicker with desperate desire.

The voice that answered the Great Elder was devoid of any emotion. “No Elder, my place is with the Clan. I will not run away from it. I will face the consequences here.”

“Then I hope you know what you’re choice signifies,” said Li Renshu, sitting up straighter from his bed.

“I am yours to command, and will support you with my life, as I vowed to do,” replied Syaoran, head bowed.

“I am glad to hear that. Your other choice, if you choose to remain, is to tied yourself to this Clan in an unbreakable bond. Li Syaoran, I will nominate you as my successor, the next Great Elder of the Li Clan,” declared Renshu, gazing at the young man kneeling before him with keen steel blue eyes that had seen war and celebration, birth and death, fire and storm.

It took a moment for the Great Elder’s words to sink in. “T-that is not possible!” Syaoran protested. “First of all, I’m far too young, and I’m currently powerless, and…”

“Nowhere in the Writs of the Li Clan does it mention any age quota for the Great Elder. It only advises that the candidate be chosen from the Council of Elders. And as the Chosen One, you are automatically a member of the Council of Elders. Thus, you meet all qualifications.”

“I’m no longer the Chosen One, and I was stricken from the Book of Li,” stammered Syaoran.

“Li Wutai single-handedly decided to strip you of your title and disown you. But technically, only the Great Elder has the authority to do so. Since I never agreed to any of those actions, by the Writ of the Li Clan, you are still officially a Li and the Chosen One of the Li Clan until the next Chosen One candidate passes the Test to succeed you,” declared Renshu.

“There are many other more suitable candidates—”

“Who—the corrupt Elders bribed by Wutai with promises of greater wealth and prosperity of the Clan? I admit, I would not have burdened you with this task until much later on, when you are a seasoned man with years of training under my guidance to prepare you for the task. We all expected Ryuuren to become the next Great Elders, so that I could spend my days in peace with my wife and take her to see the world. But they are all gone now, and we are the ones still left,” Renshu replied. “My health is failing fast, and there is no longer time to stall and deliberate.”

“How about Leiyun—“

“He is not a member of the Council of Elders. Procedures are procedures. Should he pass the Test of the Chosen One, I could then consider him as a candidate. But at the moment, there is only one person who has the interest of the Clan at heart who can restore Li Shulin’s visions to this crumbling debacle the Clan has been reduced to. And that is you, our Chosen One, Li Syaoran.”

“I said I would serve you in any way I can, Great-Uncle Renshu. But in my current state…” Syaoran’s head was lowered.

“I’m not going to die tomorrow—I am ill, but I still have some time left to train my successor. You do not have powers left, but you have good brains, top reflexes and a brave heart. It’s not enough though. Syaoran, do you not want your powers back?”

“When I gave it away, I braced myself with the consequence of living the rest of my life without it,” replied Syaoran.

“What if I tell you, there is a slight chance that it can return to you?” Renshu asked. “There was less than 10% chance that your power transfer to the Card Mistress would be successful. But it worked out fine. So, there is also less than a 10% chance that your powers may return to you. Probability is slim, perhaps impossible, but as long as there is 1% of chance left, there is hope.”

Do not tempt me when I have given up all hope. If there is even 1% chance that I can get my powers back… Then I can return to her. Then I don’t have to hide from her… Then I can fight with her again… No, don’t tempt me. Don’t goad me with impossibilities. I have already chosen this road.

“The simplest way would be if the Card Mistress is killed. When the power transferee’s lifeline expires prematurely, the powers by default return to the transferor,” said Renshu with a grim smile.

“Never!” exclaimed Syaoran. “Something like that should never happen.” He shuddered.

“I said that is one possibility of your powers returning. There should be other options yet. Another method is a power transfer. Like you did for the Card Mistress, another person may be able to transfer their powers into you. However, that is highly unadvisable because chance of rejection of power and backlash on both parties is quite high. It is quite surprising you were able to successfully transfer your powers to the Card Mistress in the first place. The Amamiya and the Li energy force should not be very compatible. Well, that shows that powers change and are reshaped by the environment.” The Great Elder paused, giving Syaoran just enough a moment to digest these words. “Of course, there is a tiny chance that the power will just return one day—”

“That’s impossible. Eriol—Clow Reed’s reincarnation mentioned that once you give up your powers completely, they won’t return,” said Syaoran.

“Then, you may have to find another energy force all together,” replied Renshu. “I am not saying that your powers will return to you overnight, and you might somehow have to learn to live without them. What I am doing is giving you an opportunity to consider your future possibilities. Give it some thought, Syaoran. You may give me your answer later.” 

******

Japan…

In an attempt to distract Sakura, Tomoyo dragged Sakura out to the shopping district on Sunday, after another grueling week of track meets, gymnastic practice and choir fill-in. Sakura was at first reluctant to go out, since she would much rather sleep in for the day, but who could turn down an over-enthusiastic Tomoyo? Of course, “shopping” with Tomoyo consisted mainly of Sakura being forced to try on different outfits while Tomoyo filmed everything. It was after lunch that Sakura realized something.

“Tomoyo-chan, there’s someone strange following us around” whispered Sakura to her best friend.

Tomoyo peeped over her shoulder to see a strange man wearing a straw hat, flannel shirt and Bermuda shorts. “A stalker?”

“Let’s run!” said Sakura, taking her friends hand and sprinting forward. To her dismay, the strange man started chasing after them.

“Wait! Sakura-chan!” the man called out.

Sakura turned to Tomoyo. “He knows my name.” Halting, she turned around to face the sketchy person.

He panted, taking off his hat and revealing golden curls and a comically smiling face.

“Mike-san!” Sakura and Tomoyo exclaimed simultaneously. “The wacky photographer!”

“Well, it’s been a long time. I haven’t seen you two since… Oh I remember, the Star-Crossed performance,” said Mike Kant.

“Were you in Japan the whole time since then?” asked Sakura.

Mike ran a hand over his mussed hair sheepishly. “No—I went back to New York, then went to Munich for a photo shoot, stopped by Shanghai, and now I’m back in Tokyo to photograph Akagi Arima for her new Vogue Japan photo shoot.”

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” remarked Tomoyo.

“Well, that’s always been my lifestyle,” said Mike smugly. “Anyway, Sakura-chan, thank goodness I bumped into you. You’re going to have to get me out of this pinch.”

“What’s the matter?” Sakura asked skeptically, not liking the glint in Mike’s eyes.

“Well, the model shooting with Akagi Arima has quit at the last moment, and we need someone to stand in for her. The shoot is in two hours,” said Mike.

Sakura blinked.

“And it would be great if you can do it.”

“Hoe—no way. Not again,” said Sakura, shaking her head furiously. “There must be so many models in line to get in a photo shoot with Arima-nee-san.”

“Well, it’s impossible to get someone this last minute that actually also will compliment Arima-chan,” countered Mike.

Sakura stared at her feet. Her first model shoot was in New York City, with Him. They had been tricked into it last time by Mike also. “I really don’t want too…”

“Please, Sakura-chan—it won’t be that bad. Arima-chan’s the primary model, and you just need to pose with her a little. Come on—you like Arima-chan, don’t you? She completely adores you and don’t you want to help her out?” Mike cajoled.

“It sounds like a splendid idea!” stated Tomoyo, the old sparkle coming back to her eyes. “And look at poor Mike-san, begging you like this.”

“Fine, kust this once,” Sakura relented.

Mike took Sakura’s hands exuberantly. “Thank you, Sakura-chan! You’re an angel. By the way, I love your new hairstyle. Where did you get it cut?”

“Oh, Yukito-san cut it for me at home…”

“You mean the Snow Bunny?” Mike grinned. “How talented. Anyway, come along. We need to get you ready in less than two hours. So much to do.”

******

Hong Kong…

When Syaoran snuck back into his bedroom in the Main House, he was startled to find Leiyun sitting on his bed, holding up a wrinkled pale blue stationary.

“Welcome back, cousin. How did your talk with the Great Elder go? I trust he is doing well?”

Syaoran realized what Leiyun was holding and lunged forward. “Give that back to me.”

“What this?” Holding up the letter, Leiyun read out loud, “Syaoran, I will wait… How sweet—nothing to be ashamed of. It is natural for boys of your age to have girlfriends.”

Snatching away the sheet of paper, Syaoran crammed it into his pocket.

“So, did the Great Elder propose to nominate you as his successor?” asked Leiyun with a lazy grin.

“H-how did you know?” demanded Syaoran.

“There are no secrets in the Clan,” Leiyun replied. “Why do you think Jinyu let you out, anyway?”

“Are you going to tell Uncle Wutai?”

“Why should I?” Leiyun gazed at Syaoran with penetrating aqua eyes. “My loyalty does not lie with him.”

“He’s the Head of the Clan. And your own father.”

“The father who had his own son sent away to get rid of a potential threat?” Leiyun smiled. “If the Great Elder nominates you as his successor, I support you with all my heart, cousin.”

******

Japan…

“This is such a bad idea,” Sakura said to Tomoyo in a lowered voice as they entered the studio, following photographer Mike Kant. But her best friend was not listening, raptly videotaping everything. They were quickly ushered to the makeup room where actress Akagi Arima, older sister to their classmate Akagi Aki, was sitting with rollers in her hairs.

“Sakura-chan!” Arima glomped Sakura. “Ooh, you cut your hair—how cute. I haven’t seen you since Christmas! Or was it New Year’s? You’re in high school now, aren’t you? I heard you’re in the same class of my worthless little brother again.”

“Arima-chan be careful with your make-up,” scolded the make-up artist.

“Sorry!” Arima said, releasing Sakura. “I’m so excited that you’re going to model with me.”

“Arima-chan threw a fit earlier on and the other model walked out on her,” stated the make-up artist rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you Arima-chan lately. I know that new model did have an attitude, but that doesn’t mean you should have gone off on her like that. You’ve been so tense lately.”

Shrugging, Arima replied, “That girl was getting on my nerves.” She swung around to Sakura and stated, “Ah, don’t let my grumpiness scare you, Sakura-chan. I don’t want to show such a side of me to you.”

The makeup artist seated Sakura and began dabbing primer onto her face. “Right, don’t mind Arima-chan—she’s just peeved because her boyfriend’s not been calling her lately.”

“Asuma-san?” Sakura looked up at Arima.

“He’s away in Australia for the Melbourne Cup,” replied Arima as the hairstylist began tugging at her hair. “Ouch”

Dabbing glittery powder over Sakura’s lids, the makeup artist stated, “Ah, you have very nice bone structure. Now, where have I seen your face before? Which agency are you with?”

“Hoe—I’m actually not a model,” said Sakura.

Arima looked up from her magazine, patiently letting the hairstylist weave in long extensions matching her corn-color hair. “Sakura-chan’s Amamiya Nadeshiko’s daughter.”

“You mean that Amamiya Nadeshiko, Nihon no Tenshi (Japan’s Angel)?” asked the makeup artist, scrutinizing Sakura’s face. “Ah, the eyes are the same. What an honor to work with Amamiya Nadeshiko’s daughter—she was my idol growing up.”

“Was okaa-san that famous?” asked Sakura timidly. Though her father had numerous pictures of her mother at home, she never really got the sense that her mother had been such a public figure. Only in recent years did she begin to have an inkling of her mother’s model side.

“Of course—well, it was many years ago and she was active for only a couple years. But her face graced the covers of all the top fashion magazines. And she inspired a whole generation of photographers,” stated the makeup artist. “How should I put it—she was everyone’s ideal woman.”

“That’s right.” Mike had returned to the makeup room to check with the makeup process. “Actually, my father got his big break as a photographer when he ‘discovered’ Amamiya Nadeshiko, back when she was still in junior high. And he never got over his obsession with photographing her—after she quit modeling, he lost purpose in photography and opened up a modeling agency instead.”

“Don’t tell me your father was the photographer Mark Kant,” stated the hairstylist, clipping golden brown extensions to Sakura’s hair. “I was such a big fan or his works.”

“I want lots of tendrils flowing down and let’s weave in ribbons and daisies into the braids,” directed Mike. “Yup, my father’s that Mark Kant.”

“Didn’t you state before that your father was opposed to you becoming a photographer?” asked Arima.

“Well, that’s the parental instinct, to prevent your child from enduring the same difficulties that you’ve endured. It’s tough work and very difficult to make a breakthrough in this industry,” stated Mike. “I wouldn’t even have gotten this far without my father’s connections.”

“But you’re an excellent photographer, Mike-san!” exclaimed Sakura in earnest.

“You think so?” Mike grinned. “Thank you. Hey, do you want to see your mother’s first photo shoot?”

“Yes please!” Sakura stated. Most of the pictures that her father had were the modeling pictures that her mother had taken after marrying him.

Fumbling in his bag, Mike took out a vintage magazine wrapped in a plastic bag. “I always carry the magazine around for inspiration.” He flipped the pages gently and handed it to Sakura.

Carefully, Sakura took the magazine and stared at the spread of fifteen year old Amamiya Nadeshiko in a simple white dress, standing in the midst of a shower of cherry blossom petals. Her long violet curls caught a gentle breeze that one could almost feel just from staring at the picture, and her eyes stared off into the distance in a dreamy jade gaze. It was only a couple seconds later that Sakura could take her eyes of her mother, her mother who was younger than she was in this picture, and follow her eyes to the out of focus figure down the path covered with cherry blossoms, a young man with dark hair. Even though his figure was blurred, she could see that his eyes were a deep azure. She gasped and quickly turned to the next page. There he was again, this time in focus. Tousled brown-black hair and eyes a deeper blue than the sky. He was leaning against a tree, staring straight into the camera, holding Nadeshiko wispy frame against him. She was so slight that it seemed as if she would evaporate in his hands. Unlike her later pictures which exuded maturity and poise, there was an air of timidity around her, like a leaf petal quivering on a branch.

“The shoot was her first, so it’s probably not as refined as her later pictures. But I love the natural expression and the subtle chemistry she has with that male model,” remarked Mike, looking over Sakura’s shoulder.

“Wait this is…” Sakura looked up at Mike questioningly.

“He wanted his name to be anonymous. And outo-san never found him again even though he wanted to photograph him.” Mike squinted his eyes. “But without a doubt, it’s Ryuuren-san of the Shing’s Angel and Warrior Collection. Now that I think of it, I never noticed before how much he rather resembles your friend, Syaoran. What’s he up to these days, anyway?”

“He’s… no longer in Japan,” said Sakura stiffly.

“Oh? That’s too bad. I wanted to do a photo shoot with him for Comme de Garcon men’s casual wear.” Mike sighed.

Sakura stared at the last photo of Nadeshiko smiling ever so gently with lowered lashes at Ryuuren, whose head lay rested on her lap. If she squinted her eyes enough, she could almost see Syaoran’s face in Ryuuren’s, especially with his eyes closed like that. So, her mother’s modeling breakthrough was with Li Ryuuren.

The photo shoot theme was “elven, fairy-like and ethereal,” quoting Mike’s words, on a Grecian ruin-like set covered with artificial ivy. Following the elven theme, their attire consisted of a long, draping dress in pale green for Sakura and lavender for Arima. Their curled tendrils of hair was gathered into a loose braid woven in with fresh flowers and ribbons over one shoulder, reaching clear past their waists. Since they were show casing Tasaki jewelry, the accessories consultant fastened an elaborate aquamarine and diamond lace necklace around Arima’s long, white neck with matching drop earrings. Sakura was provided a simpler gold and peridot ensemble shaped like leaves curling around her throat. For a final touch, the makeup artist dusted shimmery powder over Arima and Sakura’s cheeks and bare arms.

As Sakura was pushed onto the blinding light of the set, she gulped hard.

“Ganbare, Sakura-chan!” called out Tomoyo from the sidelines.