Ephemeral Paradise

Prologue

­Prologue

It was snowing.

Yet the figure slowly walks on, trudging down the thick snow in the teeth-chattering chill of a December night. The deserted street radiated an aura of peril and melancholia, seeming rather treacherous with only the eerie, dim yellow orbs of lamp posts serving as his only light, leaving only shadows and darkness in their midst. Still, he wanders ahead, pulling up his collar and wrapping his coat around tighter around him, never to give even a single returning glance.

Where was he going off to in the midst of the night? Even he himself was uncertain. If he were to look back, he would probably see from afar, the little town of Tomoeda still as busy as ever despite the late night hour. It was of no surprise though. After all, it wasn’t just any other night. It was Christmas eve, and people there of course, were too perked up to celebrate the Christmas season. Everybody seemed rather busy—needing to buy this and that; needing to go to here and there; needing to see their loved ones and give them their warm season’s greetings.

To see his loved one…

Yes, that was probably his purpose from the very start. That must have been his reason as to why he had decided to venture down the lonesome road which led outside the quaint, peaceful town he had always known into the ghostly whispers of the trees which surrounded it. Love was probably what kept him going.

He couldn’t remember though. His mind had been such a blur after hours of going against the cold weather without a certain destination. His head had started to pound, his body had started to shiver; his legs had started to give in and his hands had grown numb. But he didn’t mind. Even if he was about to freeze and die right there, he still wouldn’t mind. Sure enough, facing the harsh, winter winds was hard and painful…

But it was nothing compared to the heaviness he felt inside his chest.

He then looked up.

It was still snowing.

The harsh winds whipped right at his face, quite aged with the years yet still held a youthful charm. Just one glance and anyone could tell that he was once a fine man, now trapped and kept prisoner with the emptiness he felt inside. Crystal flakes landed softly in his unkempt dark brown hair, and his empty amber eyes searched the heavens, wishing, hoping for even the faintest glow of light on the horizon.

Who knows—maybe, just maybe, it would free him from his loneliness; it would release him from the air of depression which wrapped around him. After all, wasn’t Christmas the season of hope? He wanted to see the stars, to gaze at fair Luna in all her beauty. He wanted to watch them glow magnificently, shining their light upon those down below, consuming the dark sky with all their majesty.

But he only saw dark grey clouds. Nothing more.

And so, the flicker of hope which he felt for a fleeting moment slowly died away...

Just as how his deep love for the Christmas season did, a very long time ago.

Christmas?

Tsk…tsk…

Oh, how he hated this time of the year.

Still, he moves on, never to give even a single returning glance, going deeper into the forest, moving further and further away from the lights.

It was only when he passed by the familiar-looking, mournful black iron gates that he had finally realized where his feet was dragging him, and only then had he felt the current situation weigh heavily against him. For the first time ever, ever since he ventured down the frosted grass, he shivered. No, not because of the cold, but because of something else—known to him, and him alone. He shouldn’t be here; there were too many memories. He wasn’t ready to go yet; there was too much of him tethered to this place, and the waves of the sea not far away mourns with him, sharing his sadness, understanding his pain.

A warm hand places itself upon his shoulder.

“Li-kun.”

A friend.

He couldn’t bring himself to turn around and face her. “Dadouji. So you came to visit her as well…”

He hated how she looked at him. With pity.

“I called your name tons of times. But you seem spaced out,” the woman replied.

Syaoran took in the cool air. “Was I? Then I guess…” he stopped abruptly, falling short on what to say.

“I know it’s hard. So just…” a pause. “…just please don’t do anything stupid. See you tomorrow—or at least, I’m hoping to. You still have a novel manuscript to pass. Have you finished it yet?”

“No.”

“Then you better do. Ja, Li-kun.”

Syaoran stood as still as ever as he listened to her footsteps grow fainter with every passing second, until he could hear no more.

He remembered reading through his manuscript that morning, almost done, polished, and edited, then staring at its non-existent end. It was still missing a part.

He chuckled bitterly. “Soon Daidouji. Soon. It’ll all end…soon enough…”

He glanced at his watch.

10: 06 p.m.

Just a few more hours.

Just a few more hours before Christmas.

Just a few more hours before this story finally comes to an end.

He smiled—a genuine smile—that kind of smile which he had never put on for years.

But now he did.

After all, wasn’t Christmas the season of hope?

Finally stopping after his long hours of journey, he looked straight ahead, and in front of him stood a beautiful sakura tree…

.

.

.

A certain sakura tree, which bloomed in the brightest of pink.

“Hey…” he whispered at the peachy pink piece of rectangular marble which sat by the tree’s foot. “…Sakura.”

A heavy wind blew, and for a moment there, he had thought he had felt her warm touch, her comforting arms wrapped around him.

Yet he remained rigid, ignoring the raging wind.

Because that’s all it was.

Wind. 

=.o.=

A tale as old as time, a song as old as rhyme, about two lovers, worlds apart yet heavily intertwined by the strings of love. A deep red in color, as beautiful as that of a rose, yet too, held the same nauseating shade as that of blood. A story of longing, wishes, friendship, love…

…and death.

Everything begins here.

Once upon an unhappy time.