andthepetalsfall

[andthepetalsfall]

disappointment, a lump swallowed with each bite

Summary: Syaoran’s relationship with Yelan is complicated.

A/N: I had a friend post this a while back on AO3 as an orphaned fic (she came up with the title), mostly because I felt I might have revealed too much about myself. But I feel there’s so much about Syaoran’s Cantonese heritage left unexplored, both by fandom and CLAMP, that I want to tap into it myself. Writing this felt a little raw, but it meant a lot that this resonated so much with Canto readers I thought I’d share it here. I hope you enjoy.

[AO3]

Syaoran’s life has been a series of disappointments, one after the other.

Disappointment is the first memory his mother shares with him over dinner. “When I married, I moved to Hong Kong to be with your father’s family,” she explains.

He nods as he ravenously shovels roast pork into his mouth and his eldest sister reminds him to chew slowly.

“But I was originally from Shanghai. I tried to teach you Shanghainese when you were very small, but you never used it.”

“You used to cry, ‘I want to talk to Mama!’ because she doesn’t understand Shanghainese,” the second eldest suddenly remembers with a bright smile.

“Yes, and she would tell me, ‘You married into a Cantonese family, let the boy speak what he wants. You have to teach him Mandarin and Japanese later on anyway.’ You were so resistant, your Mama asked what the point was of teaching you Shanghainese when your sisters spoke it but never used it.”

His mother reaches for more gailan. Although his mother and grandmother had shown nothing but respect for each other, he’d always noticed a cold air between them. “I remember I was very...”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Syaoran doesn’t say anything and picks up the pork more delicately.

…

It’s the third Qing Ming Jie since his father’s death and he can’t relate to any of the stories his sisters and mother laugh over as they lay out the food and incense.

“Didi, you remember?” his Ga Jeh asks. “All our cousins were playing with each other, but you stayed in the corner practicing your magic by yourself. You were two.”

“You always wanted to be alone, even back then,” the second sister adds.

“Baba was laughing at you and called you his little lone wolf,” the fourth sister says.

“Oh, is that where ‘Syaoran’ comes from?” His family never used his real name, it was baobei to his mother and didi to his sisters. On occasion they called him Syaoran or Siu Long, dialect chosen on a whim.

But when he frowns, they see he doesn’t remember any of it, so they silently reach for the incense and pray. He looks at the red name etched on the tombstone and the emptiness he feels hits him like a train. How must Baba feel knowing his only son doesn’t remember him?

He already knows the answer and as he takes the incense, all he can think is, I’m sorry.

…

“Again.”

For the thirty-fourth time in a row (he’s been keeping track in his head), he strikes his sword into the ground and in a split second the faintest trace of a magic circle glows beneath him. Then, just as suddenly, it fades.

His mother rubs her temples and Syaoran braces himself for the lecture coming to him.

“How many times have we tried this and you still don’t understand it?”

He doesn’t protest that he’s trying, because she’ll only counter that he’s not trying hard enough.

“Your mind is off somewhere else and you’re not focusing properly. Do you not understand how vital it is that you get this right? Don’t you know what it means to be a descendant of Clow Reed? The only magic child of this family, no less!”

He doesn’t say that technically, they’re descendants of his mother’s family, and that Syaoran’s own mother wasn’t related to him either, just married in.

Still, his mother somehow senses what’s on his mind and says, “I know it is not my bloodline. But when I married your father, his family became my family. You think your Mama just let any random outsider marry her only son? No, it didn’t matter that I had magic in my veins. It took me ten years to perfect my magic and even be considered worthy of the prestige of the Lei clan! And now you have a chance to be Master of the Clow because it is your birthright! What did I work so hard for if all you want to do is throw it away?”

Syaoran bites his lip and feels hot shame welling up inside him. He fixes his stare at the ground so his mother doesn’t see his wet eyes.

“Don’t look at the floor. Look at me.”

He complies and sniffles.

“Do you want to be Master or not? Answer me.”

“I do,” he whispers, unable to control the shakiness in his voice. All he wants is to be like any other second-grader and go play at the park or something.

“Masters of the Clow don’t cry. Go again.”

The thirty-fifth time isn’t much better than the last, and he can slowly feel his mother giving up.

…

As he holds the results of his Japanese exam, his hands tremble. He’s not worried about his other scores, but he’ll need to work twice as hard in this area if he wants to keep up with his Japanese classmates next year.

That semester had been a flurry of sleepless nights, cramming and studying over and over to perfect his language skills. It had been one of the few times in his life when his mother relaxed her strict exterior, quietly bringing a bowl of sweet pears to his room and placing it on his desk.

“Study hard, baobei.”

He sharply inhales as he opens up his results, and exhales when he sees the red 100 on his kanji scores. His eyes scale down to keigo.

96.

Four points. He was only four points away.

He’s far, far from the bottom of his class, but it’s not enough. The endless complaints from his classmates, none of whom he’s ever played with or been friends with, saying, “My mom always asks why you can’t be like your classmate Lei!” or praise from his teachers, “Let’s all follow Lei tung hok’s example,” are never enough for the Lei clan.

He neatly folds the exam and slides it into his backpack.

…

When he submits his papers to Tomoeda elementary he gives them his real name. It sounds foreign even to him.

“Rei—” the office lady frowns. “Sorry, how do you pronounce that?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have started off with Cantonese. And then he has the craziest idea. “Ah—never mind,” he says, furiously scribbling out his name. “Use this one.”

She purses her lips into a tight line. “Ookami?”

“It’s, ah, a traditional name,” he lies through his teeth, hoping his accent isn’t too heavy. “Li Syaoran.”

“The Chinese use such interesting kanji,” she murmurs, scribbling down some notes. He doesn’t remind her that kanji came from China first.

“Well, you’ll be in Terada-sensei’s room, Li-san. It’s down that way.”

It all fits, in a way. When has he ever been worthy of his own name?

…

“He speaks kinda funny.”

“Chiharu-chan, he’s from Hong Kong. You can’t expect him to speak perfectly on his first day,” the quiet girl with chestnut colored hair reminds her.

“I heard Terada-sensei saying if he needed help he could talk to Tomoyo-chan,” the one with glasses interjects. “The way he repeated her name was sooooo cute. Daaai-daaau-jiii.”

It’s not malicious, the way they’re giggling. But he keeps his expression stony and vows not to say any other name.

...

His face is burning as he runs. He’s failed to retrieve the cards on his first day, and the boy…

The boy was beautiful.

He thinks of his mother’s warning. “Don’t play around with girls.” She’d wrinkled her nose. “Especially Japanese girls. You remember what they did to our country?”

She’d never thought to warn him about boys. It would never cross her mind he would tell her something like that.

He prays, prays, prays he’ll never need to.

...

The ocean wind is icy and pinches at his skin, but he’ll never show weakness like the girl beside him. How was this whimpering thing, who was never raised with a quarter of the discipline he has, deemed more worthy to be Master than he was?

But the more she talks, the more he realizes he has never known a night like this. A night of no training, no studying. Just the crashing of ocean waves and a light conversation under the moonlight.

He’s not thinking when he says, “Well, I feel that way about him too, but…”

He freezes as he realizes and holds his gaze at her, anxiously waiting for her response. What will she say? Will she tell people? What if, Heaven forbid, it gets back to his family?

But she carries on like it’s nothing. He’s brave enough to press her further about her infatuation, and she asks him the same.

“Both you and I are so much younger than Yukito-san, but we can’t help it,” she says. “We just… like him.”

When she smiles, it’s genuine. It’s serene. There is no judgment in her jade eyes.

When his form reappears in the cave, she doesn’t reprimand him for not having the strength to fight off the card. She thanks him.

It’s a foreign feeling.

…

“They call me a different name, Ma.”

Even though she’s only on the phone, he knows she’s frowning. “Oh? And what’s wrong with the name we gave you?”

“They can’t pronounce it. It has nothing to do with you.” With the safety of distance, he can be a little bolder.

“And this new girl? How does she have the cards?”

“Cerberus chose her. There’s really nothing I can do about it, especially a Guardian made by Clow himself.”

“Hm. Are they treating you well?”

He thinks of those jade green eyes. “The people in Japan are very nice, Ma.”

“I see.”

An awkward silence hangs between them.

“Baobei?”

“Mm?”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes,” he lies, eyeing the sword he’s been practicing with all night.

“Never forget to eat, Baobei. You need your strength.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ma.”

...

She’s shocked when he tells her he lives alone.

“Then you have to do all the laundry and cleaning and cooking all on your own?”

Okay, maybe it’s a little odd for a ten-year-old to live alone in an apartment, but it’s not like she doesn’t do housework either.

“Well… yeah.”

“That’s so cool!”

There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in her voice, which flusters him.

“But… don’t you get lonely?”

Lonely?

He’s never been asked that before. He thinks of the phone call with his mother the night previously, where she instructed him to keep an eye on “the new girl” and reminded him to dress warmly.

“Not really.”

“So cool!” the girl gushes.

It’s such a trivial thing, housework. Maybe she’ll praise anything, but she’s never commented on his shortcomings.

Before he can say anything, her stomach grumbles. It makes the corner of his lips twitch.

…

His hands are trembling as he tells his mother the news. No, he won’t be Master of the Clow.

Sakura is.

He has a million counterarguments backed up in his head—no, he didn’t just give up. (Okay, maybe he did.) Yue deigned it. He was not about to go against two Guardians of Clow’s own creation. Clow predicted this would happen, anyway.

But she doesn’t yell. She doesn’t scold.

“Good,” she sighs. “I’m glad you were able to help this Kinomoto girl achieve her birthright.”

“Her birthright?” Syaoran asks, half surprised and half amused.

“Aiyooh, if Clow wanted it, who are we to go against him? He ought to have left some hints, though!”

He almost laughs.

“You did your best, baobei. And you helped the new Master. For that I’m grateful.”

Syaoran doesn’t know what to say, but maybe no words need to be said.

“Now, this Kinomoto—you certainly talk about her a lot.”

“What are you saying, Ma?”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“MA!”

“Aiyah, don’t be like that, I’m your mother! You have to tell me everything!”

[andthepetalsfall]

Moonlight Flower

Summary: Kagami worries about her new friendship with Marinette and receives a little reassurance from a certain superhero.

A/N: Felt like trying my hand at a (vaguely) Kaganette fic. (whispers) It’s what they deserve.

No eating in your room is probably one of the strictest rules in the Tsurugi household, because you’ll drop crumbs and we’ll have an ant infestation, Kagami, but Kagami Tsurugi does just that anyway. When she wolfs down her cheese bun, crumbs do indeed scatter all over, but she’ll clean it up later. Her mother can’t see them, of course, but the longer the scent of hot cheese lingers, the more likely her mother will smell it. Then she’d really be in trouble.

Kagami mulls over the rebellious streak she’s had all day as she sweeps the crumbs out onto the balcony. Defying her mother to play a phone game, making friends with Marinette, becoming a superhero… and now eating cheese buns in her room. Would her ancestors be rolling in their graves?

She laughs at that last thought as she leans on the balcony railing, because now she’s funny too. She did manage to make Marinette laugh over orange juice, after all. (Or maybe she was laughing at her and not with her.)

...

The shopkeeper had noted the two looked alike—(they did not, in her opinion)—and asked if they were sisters. Kagami, in turn, asked if the woman next to him was his sister, which prompted Marinette to burst into laughter.

“That is my wife,” the shopkeeper grunted, which did nothing to abate her pigtailed friend’s outburst.

As they sat under the sun, Kagami learned Marinette was chatty, probably the chattiest person she’d had ever met, but that was fine with her. She enjoyd her orange juice, and her new friend stopped every once in a while to ask about Kagami’s interests, something no one had ever done before.

“What’s your favorite color?” Marinette pressed, blue eyes twinkling. “Mine’s pink! It’s so light and cheery and brings such a happy vibe to everything, it makes me feel like I’m floating!”

“Red,” Kagami answered primly. “Because of its intensity and association with ferocity and passion.”

“Well, you are a pretty intense girl. But that’s a good thing, because you’re so focused and talented at everything, and that makes you so cool!”

Kagami cleared her throat to cover up her embarrassment. “It’s also a Chinese lucky color.”

“No kidding! I’m half Chinese!”

She nodded. “Your name is Dupain-Cheng.”

“Yep, Cheng is my mom. You should meet her sometime, she’s really nice and she runs the bakery with my dad. What are your p—”

She stopped herself and fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair, perhaps remembering the earlier events of the day.

“Um, my mother likes to garden,” Kagami offered to ease the tension. “She can’t see the flowers, of course, but she likes the fragrance. She says it’s more natural than perfume.”

Marinette smiled sheepishly. “What’s your favorite flower, Kagami?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like flowers much, to be honest.”

Marinette pouted. “Really? I love flowers. They’re so beautiful!”

“They’re so fragile. And they make terrible gifts. Your money wilts with it.”

“Well, do you know what tanhua is?”

Kagami shook her head.

“Oh, it’s beautiful. My mother took me to China once, when I was little, because my grandmother had one in her garden. They only bloom at night time, and my family stayed up to watch them, and it was so pretty—”

“Oh. I know those. Gekka bijin.”

“Gecko-what?”

“Gekka bijin. That’s what we call it.”

“Oh. That’s a pretty name.” Marinette sipped her juice. “It really is a beautiful flower. But it’s so fleeting, it blooms once and then the next moment it’s gone and you never know when you’ll have the chance to see that again.”

“I’d very much like to see this flower.”

The pigtailed girl smiles. “Maybe next time you can take a trip with us to China and we’ll watch it at my Popo’s house!”

...

Kagami chuckles over the memory, then she sighs. She may not get away with defying her mother next time, and what if Marinette stops being her friend because she can’t go out? They don’t attend the same school either.

“Why so glum, girl?”

Kagami nearly falls over the railing. When she turns back in a panic, a girl with dark hair and a red and black spotted suit is reaching out for her.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” Ladybug squeals.

“I-it’s nothing!” Kagami reassures her, though her heart is pulsing like mad because Ladybug is on her balcony. “I just—I didn’t—”

“—expect me to be here?” Ladybug finishes, smiling. “I know. I don’t usually do this.”

Embarrassed, Kagami avoids her gaze. “Then why…?”

She smiles serenely. “Because you just looked so… sad.” She walks over and leans over the balcony too. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

Ladybug. Asking her to just talk. It’s surreal.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Kagami protests.

Gently, Ladybug places a hand on her shoulder and smiles. “No bother at all. It’ll be a nice distraction from my own problems, if that makes you feel any better.”

What problems could Ladybug possibly have? Kagami decides that’s a stupid question, because she now knows from experience saving Paris is not simple work, so she indulges her.

“I made a new friend today,” she explains.

Ladybug listens intently.

“She’s a little chatty, I suppose. Probably the most talkative person I’ve ever met. She never stops.”

“Er—is that the problem?”

“No, I love hearing her talk. I’m not very good at it, and I like learning about her. She’s a wonderful friend.”

“You sound like a wonderful friend yourself.”

A warmth blossoms in Kagami’s cheeks. “Well—anyway, her name is Marinette, and I like her very much. Only…” Her grip on the railing tightens. “Only… my mother doesn’t really approve of me having friends. She let me have orange juice with her today, but I worry she’ll say friends will distract me from my studies. And she won’t let me go out with them more if my grades slip, just a little bit. Or I lose focus during training.”

“Would your mother really do that?” Ladybug asks. Her concern is genuine, and it makes Kagami smile.

“I would hope not. But I’ve never… I’ve never had to navigate this problem before. I don’t want to be locked in my room all day like my friend Adrien.”

“Yes. I... completely understand.”

“But I like Marinette so much, Ladybug. She has so many friends who like her too, and if I see her less and less, we won’t be friends anymore.”

“I would never—I mean, I’m sure Marinette would never do that to you!” Ladybug exclaims suddenly. “Kagami, you’re a sweet and smart and brave person and anybody would be lucky to have a friend like you.”

Ladybug is complimenting her.

“T-thank you, Ladybug.”

She can’t believe it.

The pigtailed hero nods. “I’m sure no matter what your mother does, your friend will do whatever she can to see you. I have a feeling you’re very important to her, too.”

Ladybug.

Ladybug with the twinkling blue eyes.

The superhero smiles serenely, and Kagami has this craziest urge—

“Do you know about the epiphyllum oxypetalum?”

Ladybug’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”

“In Chinese, they call it tanhua.”

She shifts her gaze toward the sky. “I might have.”

“It’s a flower that only blooms at night. Fleeting, but beautiful.”

“Have you ever seen one before?”

Kagami shakes her head. “But I’d like to. Just once.”

“Just once, hm?”

“Yes. Because even if I never see it again, I at least had the chance to see it. And it’ll be a memory I can treasure forever.”

The two girls exchange a glance and say nothing more.