Location: City streets
Time frame: Evening
Point of view: Syaoran

It was twenty five to six; the five o'clock bustle was still clearly present as pedestrians, motor vehicles, and cycles lined the streets. Dinner was near, work had ended and people were out going in their own shopping business. I had been searching for half an hour or so for the ingredients needed for tonight's dinner, having ran out before the week ended. Normally, going out once a week for food would last an entire week, but examinations during this week had depleted the pantry of supplies.

The footpath I was on at the moment was narrow, but the moderate traffic made walking on it bearable. One would find the block of stores on this path to be an adolescent's choice to spend their leisure time on: a couple of toy stores, an ice-cream parlour, confectionery stores, arcades, and several other hangouts. There was, however, one store that disrupted this theme and it was the one that I frequently entered into when needing to obtain Chinese foodstuffs—Kobayashi's Chinese convenience store—a store named after the store owner; one who had a mixed heritage of Chinese and Japanese.

His father, a man who had a great passion for Chinese cooking, spent a good decade in Hong Kong studying Cantonese cooking. The store's owner had told me that it was during this period in Hong Kong his father met his Chinese wife: his mother.

Although Mr. Kobayashi himself did not choose to follow his father's footsteps in becoming a chef, the man was a bit of an avid Chinese cook himself. He had told me one trip to the store that he enjoyed making authentic Chinese dishes; and with the culinary background he had gained from his father, one could not fault him in wanting the best, and only the best, of ingredients in his cooking. He had said that the task of finding all the necessary ingredients to put in his dishes was a difficult task. It was for this reason he had chosen to open this Chinese convenience store of his.

"Ah, hello, Li," the good-natured, middle-aged, store owner greeted me in Chinese upon my entrance. He had halted his activity of restocking baskets that were placed adjacent the service counter; a few bars of candy were found in hand.

"Hello, Mr. Kobayashi. How are you?" I returned.

"I'm very good. Has work been busy today?" the man asked, now returning to his native tongue.

"It's been not too bad, thank you—how about you?"

"Ah, not bad as well," the man replied before smiling; then bowed his head—a sign that the brief conversation between us had finished. I politely bowed the head also; the store owner returned to the activity he had preoccupied himself with prior to my entrance, leaving me to freely explore this spacious, well-lit, and well-stocked convenience store of his.

I headed into an isle of canned, bottled, and boxed goods of various heights and sizes, neatly displayed, and arranged in a way that allowed easy finding. I was always amazed at the variety of products this store had; it, most likely, was the store with the biggest and best selection of Chinese sauces in town—some I have not even seen or heard of.

I made my way towards the end of the isle where an assortment of sauces situated. Scanning for a brief moment, I found what I was looking for; I grabbed a glass container with the label, Hoisin sauce, before exiting the aisle in search of some Chinese produce.

After going around the store for several minutes looking for the foods I needed, I paid the store owner for the goods, thanked the kind man before moving onto the next store for other grocery items that could not be bought here.

Only a few steps out of the store did I hear a soft, feminine voice call my name from behind. I turned around; a violet-haired girl greeted me with a smile and a wave of the hand.

"Daidouji Tomoyo."

Looking across to the right was her friend—one that I recognised; appearing to be preoccupied with a red-pink-coloured frozen beverage which was placed in front of her mouth. I motioned to greet her and said:

"Kinomoto Sakura."

"Hi," she simply said—neutrality found in her tone.

"Are you shopping for dinner? I see you have some bags of vegetables," Daidouji observed, noticing the couple of bags by my side.

"Uh."

"Are you in a hurry?" she continued.

"Not particularly."

"Care to join us for a bit, then?" she suddenly invited.

My eyes momentarily looked to Kinomoto: I had expected a sign of objection, but one was not present; she only supported a slight puzzled look. I decided it'd be best to decline, but before I was able to respond, Daidouji insisted further by bringing me to take a seat at their table. Lively in her disposition she began again:

"I noticed that you have signed up for the Junior Camp trips, have you prepared for it? Are you looking forward to it on Monday as much as I am, Li?"

"Uh—" replying to both her questions, "what about you—have you prepared?" I asked, directing the question to neither of the two in particular. Daidouji replied:

"I still have to decide what I should bring; I have so many clothes and other things that I'm having trouble fitting them into one case."

"The bare necessities should suffice."

"Eriol told me the same thing too; but that's the problem!—the bare necessities are what I'm having trouble fitting into one case."

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips; for I found the thought of what possible definition Daidouji had for the bare necessities somewhat amusing.

I turned my attention to Kinomoto. Reading her thoughts on my being here at their table was difficult: she neither supported the familiar temperament of the popular-girl-Kinomoto that I regularly encountered within the grounds of high school nor was she particularly friendly or hostile; her attention had been divided between the conversation, the street traffic and the odd passerby. She contributed not a word, only sipping her beverage every so often.

"How's the drink?" I asked, attempting to bring Kinomoto into the conversation. She was slow to respond, but she did reply:

"It's refreshing."

"What's the drink?" I asked, trying once more.

"It's a strawberry frappe."

One response to one question; it was neither cold nor inviting, just disinterest. It was futile carrying on. Internally, I nodded: it was time for me to leave. Bags in my hands, I prepared to depart:

"I should head off; I have a couple of things left to get before the shops close."

"Okay then," Daidouji replied, "We'll see you on Monday, Li. Enjoy your weekend."

"You too," I answered her. I looked to Kinomoto: she gave me an almost imperceptible nod; her green eyes avoided mine; she uttered in an aloof manner:

"Yeah, see you Monday".

You are a hard girl to get to know, Kinomoto Sakura.

Location: Li Residence
Time frame: Evening
Point of View: Syaoran

After going around town for another twenty minutes or thereabouts, I had come home hungry and tired; walking up the building's stairs and greeting those that passed me had been more strenuous than other days. When I finally got into my apartment, I took a moment's rest on the sofa, checked my mail, before finally starting on dinner.

At the moment, dinner was still cooking but it was only a few minutes away from being ready: the loud sound of the lid clanging against the metal rim of the rice cooker was decreasing to a gentle clatter, and the urgent sound of the sizzle of vegetables in oil pleaded to be attended to.

I yielded to its call, uncovering the wok. A cloud of hot steam greeted me; my head evaded its line. Once cleared, my nose welcomed the pleasant aroma of Chinese sauces coming from the stir-fry. I reached for a bowl with the final ingredients and wok chuan sitting on the countertop before adding the ingredients to the stir-fry.

Suddenly, consecutive high-pitched chirps alerted my ears. My attention moved towards the centre of the room; to the laptop sitting on the coffee table. I suspected Meiling was the one behind that alert.

Leaving the washing till later, I scooped the rice and food into a bowl and plate respectively before taking it across the kitchen to the lounge. I seated myself in front of the laptop; reached for the computer mouse; and then opened my inbox. Indeed, the alert had belonged to Meiling. Judging from previous letters received and phone calls from Meiling, it would not be pleasant. I reluctantly read the email:

Syaoran,

You seem to take longer than usual to reply to my mail. Do you have a lot of assignments and tests that they have made you to become a lot busier? Don't work yourself too hard, Syaoran!

Anyway, I will keep this kind of short. Jinwei and her family were invited over for Auntie's get-together the other day. Did you know Jinwei is actually a very good cook?—almost as good as me?! I saw her in the kitchen helping Auntie cook, and she made this really delicious dish alongside Auntie, which everyone complimented on afterwards. Anyway, it looks like Aunty and Jinwei are getting on better and better day by day.

A dejected sigh escaped me. I put the bowl of rice that was in my grasp down as I read on unenthusiastically:

I've also been talking to her a bit more these days. We've spent several lunch times together and I've found that she is actually a nice person. Although you have objected to this since the beginning, I think you could give Jinwei a chance!

Your most favourite cousin in the world,

Meiling.

P.S. Remember that I will be coming over soon to visit you during the long weekend we have coming up, so dust up that apartment and make room for me before I come, okay, Syaoran?

Mother continues to persist in this matter. My recent talk with her about this appears to not have one bit affected her ways. I had requested to come to Japan for this reason. Studying in Japan allowed me to get away from all of that and have some time to do the things I wanted to do; the things I liked to do without her judgement. I was shocked when Mother had easily agreed to allowing me to attend my high school years here. Normally it would have taken a long process before granting any of my requests, if at all. However, this freedom was dampened; it seemed that even being several thousand kilometres away from home it did not prevent Mother from imposing her preferences onto me.

I will have to deal with this later. I made a quick entry in my electronic calendar of Meiling's request before leaving this for another day, shutting the laptop down.

Background noise of the television set and the dim lighting that lit the apartment calmed me as I continued eating. The evening had turned into a rather windy night as I heard the windows to the apartment and a few other things outside rattle against the wind's howl.

It was a small apartment, not particularly spacious, but it had everything I needed for more than a comfortable living for one person: a two-bedroom apartment with an open-plan dining, kitchen, and living, making it easy to move between the areas; the view was agreeable: the apartment was on the third floor looking out onto the streets; furniture was included; and the main attraction of this apartment was that it was situated in a quiet neighbourhood that was close to the shops, my school, and my after school job at the petrol station. This meant transport was never a problem for me as I could go anywhere I needed to within fifteen to thirty minutes by foot.

Suddenly, a small cartoon character in my peripheral jumped out onto the television screen; few brain cells were rattled as its high-pitched voice announced a new product: the cartoon character was an imitation of an ice-cream cone; it appeared on a colourful background with glittering stars, introducing a new ice cream flavour that could be ordered across their full range of frozen treats. One of those announced was the one I saw Kinomoto sipping on—

"...or maybe the eccentric chocolate-banana twist; how about trying this sweet, seductive strawberry-raspberry frappe..."

The advertisement then ended with the character becoming inanimate, off to one side as the logo of the ice-cream brand occupied the rest of the space on the television screen.

That advertisement must have been the one that convinced Kinomoto to buy that frozen beverage. Although the advertisement caught my attention, I could not see the appeal of neither that particular flavour of which attracted Kinomoto to buy or the colour of the beverage—then again, the bold red-pink hue was quite arresting...

Suddenly, yet another alarming sound took me from my thoughts: the phone. I moved to a table behind the couch; I looked to the caller display: an overseas call. I picked up the handset and my body stiffened as the voice on the other end was familiar; filled with sternness and authority:

"Hello, Syaoran," my mother began, "How are you?"

"I'm doing well, Mother. How about you?"

" Yes, I'm well." Mother paused before she delivered the reason behind the call, catching me off guard with it: "I want to let you know that I and the Wang's have organised for Jinwei to visit Japan during your school vacation. She said she'd love to see Japan for herself. I've discussed it with Meiling and she's agreed to accompany her."

Mother, once again, made a decision without conferring with me. I sought to excuse myself from this obligation—

"I don't have room, Mother."

" I'm sure you can make room," her tone low and commanding.

Silence on my end: there was little I could do when she used that tone.

" It's settled then. Keep warm Syaoran," she finished.

I hung the phone up with a heavy sigh. Since becoming the chief executive officer of my late father's architectural firm, she had become even more experienced in expressing her authority. Yet again, she had managed to curb my opposition with little interjection from me.

Location: Camp site
Timeframe: Monday
Point of View: Sakura

The weekends had passed quietly. I was suppose to work those two days, but the boss had relieved me from working upon hearing that I was going to go to the hills to supervise the juniors on their camp trip this week. I had informed the boss that it was alright—I didn't need the couple of days off work, but the boss insisted that I did. Having had nothing planned for the weekends, it was an extremely uneventful one; I stayed at home most of the time, going out only once with Tomoyo. We had spent Saturday evening going to the movies before hanging out at Tomoyo's place, chatting about school, life, guys—the usual things.

It was Monday now and we had travelled for five hours by train to the hills where the juniors were going to camp for four nights. The train ride was comfortable—so comfortable that some forty-five minutes into the trip I had dozed off for maybe an hour or so. That nice short nap had supplied me with the energy that I lacked in the morning; now I was wide awake, energised for the first day of camp—although—the first day of camp was usually a relaxed one. I and the group of camp leaders and juniors were now at the camp site waiting for instructions from our superiors.

There were five of us who led the groups of students: there was Tomoyo, Eriol, Natsumi, Li, and me. We were chosen out of a list of around ten who signed up for this great leadership role; and one could say that it was luck that the camp organisers had chosen to accept the three people that had signed up with me to go on this camp trip. It felt like an early term break and this was our vacation trip into the wilderness!

Coming back down from that thought, the scenery surrounding us came to my attention: it was a large property—probably around the size of five sports fields; one cabin situated a few metres in front of me: it was the main cabin; on the side and behind this cabin were two smaller cabins—I believe they were the ones we were going to sleep in; beyond the cabins and around the vicinity were green foliage of various types and sizes—they, acting as the property's fences; stone and gravel formed the paths; and large, towering mountains overlooked the wooden cabins. Off in the distance, sounds of bell birds could be heard. These were the scenes and sounds of nature. Life out here was slower and simpler. This was what the juniors were to learn about and appreciate.

Mr. Hisamatsu, our homeroom teacher presently appeared through the doors of the larger cabin of the three. Three others had followed behind; I assumed they were the hosts. They were seemingly in the midst of a conversation before Mr. Hisamatsu's attention addressed us:

"Okay everyone. These are the hosts of the cabin: Kanedo Makoto, Shindo Hanako, and Yanagisawa Akira," Mr. Hisamatsu introduced. "They have kindly allowed us to stay on their beautiful property, so please treat it with respect and courtesy."

"Yes," the students chorused.

"In a short while, we will have an early afternoon tea in the mess hall before our kind hosts will show you to your cabins. You may walk around—get familiar with the place. Just remember not to wander off into somewhere that you are not suppose to be; ask your camp leaders for permission to go anywhere beyond the immediate vicinity.

"Yes."

"Alright, by that time, it should be dinner time, so we will meet back in the mess hall for dinner. Alright: let's get to it."

After the afternoon of play and leisure, the students had the pleasure of enjoying a dinner prepared for them by the hosts—a welcome dinner one would say it was. Normally, dinner was prepared by the students themselves. The hosts had cooked a delicious meal: chicken cordon bleu with pasta and salad was the main dish; more servings of salad, tofu, and a vegetable dish were on offer for those who had informed their camp leaders to be vegetarians; freshly-squeezed orange juice and water were also available; and for dessert: a creamy chocolate ice-cream with fruit. Everyone was now resting their appetites, stomachs filled as they leisurely conversed with one another.

Sitting next to Tomoyo, I was able to hear her conversation with Eriol about a mishap with one of his students.

"The kid got a little too adventurous, walking too close to the edge and he fell into the small bank below," Eriol told.

"The drop to the bank is quite a significant fall—he didn't injure himself too badly, did he?" Tomoyo asked.

"He's all good—just a few bruises and soaked clothes."

"Well that's a relief," Tomoyo replied.

My ears directed me to look behind me as I heard busy laughter: several girls from Natsumi's group had surrounded the Loner. Sitting at the seat directly behind him, I was able to hear playful chatter. Most of the questions asked were of a personal nature. I turned my head back towards my table, thinking that if I had stayed looking that way much longer, someone would find it a bit odd.

"Is Miss Kojima Natsumi your girlfriend?" I heard from the table.

"Kojima?—She's my classmate."

The young female inquisitor had surprise in her voice as I heard her say: "Huh?—She's not? But she's pretty! Li should ask her out! I think Li and Kojima would be great as boyfriend and girlfriend."

Because I had my back towards his, I couldn't tell if he had any sort of expression for these rather forward questions and observations; neither did I hear a response. Another voice entered into the conversation; she followed with yet another question on this extremely personal topic, persisting on what the other girl had started—

"Then do you like anyone at school?"

This time, he avoided the question as he directed the question back towards the group after a breath of a chuckle: "There must be that one guy in your year you all find that stands out. So, I want to know: who's that guy?"

A chorus of moans of dissatisfaction came from the girls. "Aww, Li doesn't want to tell!" then they bounced back as a girl named that 'guy'. Cleverly she said:

"Li's that guy!"

"Yeah! Li!" They all chorused in agreement before hysterical giggles reverberated throughout the mess hall.

This was perplexing: sure, I understood that this type of behaviour was typical of young teenage girls, for I remember myself at a time as being like that, but the guy they had chosen to impose their behaviour upon seemed misplaced. He was not the popular type, yet these girls looked up to him like fan-girls.

The noise from that table had settled. It was at this point that I realised I was thirsty. I grabbed my glass, then stood up and turned to make my way to get a glass of water. It was at this time also that the Loner had decided to stand.

His stature towered over me. I had not realised before, but—

He's tall...

"Sorry," he apologised, sliding away to the left.

My eyes followed him to see him exit the room through the main doors; then I continued in my way for that glass of water.

For the remainder of the night, it had been spent roasting marshmallows at the campfire that had been set up in an open area outside. I spent it getting to know the students in my group as well as other students. There was also the bet on how many marshmallows I would get through by the end of the night; with the number of times I refilled my roasting stick with the soft delights, I guess after some time some began to wonder when I would stop. As for Tomoyo and Eriol, those two spent most of it around each other; and the Loner was accompanied by Natsumi: maybe this was where the group of girls had gotten the idea that they were going out; for I noticed that Natsumi and the Loner were, more often than not, in each other's company since we arrived. On the train ride to the camp site, I had also noticed that those two shared a seat too.

By around 9:00 P.M. the night ended. Everyone headed back to their cabins to prepare for bed. The next day's camp activities were going to require a good night's sleep.