Hope's Pure Light

Chapter 2: To be Free
The door slowly creaked open as Tomoyo stole back into the shared dorm room. The smile from her excitement quickly faded as she saw Sakura sprawled over the bed, eyeliner staining her cheeks. Her face fell, as she was pulled into the sad reality that her best friend lived in. Though Sakura had been withdrawn and solitary throughout high school and college, Tomoyo had kept friends since elementary school and had made plenty of new ones daily. She had watched as Sakura and other friends went through boyfriends and lovers, but never seemed interested in the offers that were made to her. While Sakura had barely hung on after her first semester in college, Tomoyo was flourishing, taking Honors classes and a full load.
Seeing what Sakura had become had filled Tomoyo with a dull ache that she had never known. She had done everything she could think of to bring Syaoran back to Sakura. Contacting either him or MeiLin had proved impossible, as did attempting to convince Sakura that “it would be okay for sure”. Trying and failing time and time again had forced Tomoyo to give up in some small way. Though she still held hope for a miracle, as the years passed, it became less and less likely that Syaoran would return, or that the light Sakura had once possessed would be rekindled.
Tomoyo heavily sat on her bed, almost unable to draw her eyes from Sakura’s near-lifeless body. The memory of Sakura’s smile was only barely able to be recalled. The Sakura cards and the story they had written were preserved now only in the recordings that Tomoyo had taken. She often had pulled a disc off her shelf, treasuring the life she had before she had lost her best friend. Though these small glimpses into the past were cherished, the pain they brought was no longer welcome to Tomoyo. The hope inside Tomoyo never diminished, but slowly it had become a faint star that always seemed just out of reach.

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He breathed in, the sharp, cold air almost stinging his lungs. Exhausted, he released, his warm breath floating on the breeze in foggy, white swirls. Though it was spring, the last frost of winter held bitterly onto the morning air, icing over the landscape with a thin layer of frost. The trees around him swayed slightly in the breeze, the morning sunlight dancing on the tips of their branches. His back rested against the rough bark of a willowy tree, his feet lying a few feet from a perfectly still pond.
Closing his eyes, he focused inward, finding his inner peace and power. His mind became quieter than his surroundings, his heartbeat steadily controlling his body. Following the sturdy sound of the constant rhythm of his body, he fell completely into himself, losing consciousness of the world around him. Deep inside him, a white fire burned steadily: his own magick. He reached for it, playing with the flames and drawing upon them for strength. As he opened his eyes, a small, brilliant fire hovered above his palm. As he released his breath, the fire diminished, returning to his body. The side of his mouth lifted in a small smile: he was ready.
For years, or what he had assumed to be years, he had been training at the monastery. Though initially he had fought wildly against it, wishing to return to the girl he loved, eventually opposition turned into approval and appreciation. When he had returned to China after leaving Sakura, his mother had thrown him into this completely different and severe training schedule which had completely taken over his life. As he had entered the monastery, he prayed to be there for only a year, as his mother had promised. He had written to Sakura, asking and begging her to wait for him and explaining that the demand of his mother could not be avoided. Syaoran had assured her of his enduring admiration, and that his return was imminent. He felt certain that his request of her would be granted and that when he was free to leave, she would be there, at the gates, welcoming him with open arms and an open heart. Little did he know, his mother had prevented the letter from reaching her, and Sakura gained no knowledge of Syaoran’s location.
Years had come and gone, bleeding together into a mass of memories. Calendars were forbidden at the temple to teach and appreciate the patience that is needed with great power. He had originally tried to count the seasons as they passed, but it seemed that so many had gone by that he could barely remember exactly how many winters and summers he had seen. After the first four seasons of his first year had passed, Syaoran had tried to leave, feeling as if he desperately needed to reassure Sakura that he would come. Every time he had approached the gates or the end of the grounds, the end would become the beginning, never allowing for the hope of escape. He had written many letters, which his Masters had stopped. Contact with the outside world was not permitted; it was distracting to students who needed to focus on honing their skills.
After his discovery of his inability to leave, he quickly realized that he would have to complete his training to return to Japan. Since this epiphany, he had doubled his efforts, surpassing his fellow students quickly and becoming one of the best pupils the Masters had seen in a long time. His strength and power had grown uncontrollably, and Syaoran seemed to count down the moments until he would complete his training and be free to leave. He knew that he was prepared to face the Masters, and that departure was imminent.
He raised his coffee-colored eyes to the sunrise that had just begun to come in stripes and rays over the treetops, glad with the knowledge that Sakura was just over the horizon.
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Sakura battled with her eyes as she tried to break through the smeared mascara that had sewn them shut. Finally fluttering them open, she squinted as the light from the rising sun shone in golden beams through her shutters and into her room. The birds outside sang in jubilance to welcome the sun and its warmth with the hope that spring would melt the final chill that clung to the air. Though a perfect day such as this one would have once been welcomed by Sakura, the day of endless possibilities was not what inspired her to get out of bed. Her stomach rumbled demandingly, forcing her to leave the comfort and safety of her own sheets. Still wearing a simple pair of tight blue jeans and a black t-shirt, she floated towards her mirror. She apathetically washed her face, applied a fresh mask to hide the stained tears, and grabbed her black coat. Sakura threw her keys into her navy blue purse and walked out the door.
The walk to the Union was not overly long, but the rows of beautiful cherry blossoms slowed Sakura’s step. She couldn’t help but stare at their lively branches, full of delicate silky blossoms of the palest pink. They would fall away, leaving branches bare and alone. These beautiful flowers would return however, Sakura realized, unlike the passion for life she once had. The trees whispered of hope, trying to convince Sakura with gusts of blossoms full of magnificent beauty. Their cries fell upon deaf ears and blinded eyes.
The winters in Tomoeda had lasted longer each year since Syaoran had left. The snow had fallen in greater quantity and far more often. The icy chill in the wind would last almost until summer, fighting its way into the bones of those caught in the wind. Regardless of the holiday season, the frigid weather seemed to suck the joy out of every breath and every laugh.
Sakura proceeded through the lifeless University grounds, finally reaching the heavy, grey doors of the Union. The cold hadn’t touched her, and neither did the blast of heat from the furnace. Her skin repelled whatever feeling she may have, insisting on numbing the entirety of her body. After a short wait in line, she sat down with her blueberry muffin and hot chocolate. She ate and drank in silence, barely noticing the friendly smiles and faces of those who walked by. Her mind wandered restlessly, wondering what was to become of her. It was clear even to her that life could not continue this way. Regardless of how hard she tried, every breakdown brought her back to this plateau of emptiness. Part of her hoped that this darkness would end and that she could return to the light…a larger part of her felt that the despair she had fallen into had given her more clarity than she had ever thought possible.