A/N: I haven't touched the CCS fandom in a long while, not since I first tried my hand at fanfiction waaaay back in high school. A chance remark from a friend brought about this story idea, and once I began planning it out, the characters really lent themselves to the story. So, let me know what you think, your likes and dislikes.

Warnings: This is an alternate universe to the original story. The characters have been re-interpreted to match the environment and time given. No fears, though, you will not be seeing any crazy OOC-ness. Just imagine, if you will, what CLAMP might have given us had our favorite magic girl simply been a normal woman, looking for something exciting to come her way. . .

Disclaimer: It's all CLAMP's. Plainly.

TSU.RAI.KU

. . .falling, jumping- either way, you eventually land on the ground. . .

by: carpetfibers

Prologue

"KINOMOTO-SAN, I knew I could count on you. 'Kinomoto-san is a hard worker', I was telling Honda-san and so this project should go to you."

"Endo-san is very generous but this weekend is the company weekend trip. We won't be back until Monday. I'm sorry, Endo-san." Sakura smiled regretfully, although a large part of her brain was thanking the powers that be for the annual event.

Her manager gave a short wave of his hand. "All taken care of Kinomoto-san; I will go in your place-" He beamed at her, cutting her objections short. "So please place all of your attention on the project. We're counting on you."

Sakura wilted under the smile and nodded meekly. "I'll work hard. . ."

Her manager nodded, satisfied, and then returned to his office, leaving Sakura blinking at her computer screen and thinking once again of quitting her job. Being an editor had once been a thing of great joy to the woman, but four years later and she longed for change. Not necessarily excitement, but change. . . maybe she should consider signing up for a cooking class again? She shook her head and pushed away the concerns. The project needed her attention.

It was a bakery this time, whose owner wanted to renovate and work-over the image. Thankfully, the designers had been thorough in their preparation. There were several different themes to consider, all of which had received the bakery owner's approval. Surveys done by frequent customers showed that the most popular items in the bakery were the cakes and pastries, and so she focused her energies in that direction. There was choosing the new furniture, the new layout, wall decorations, starting menu, opening day special. . .

When she answered her ringing mobile some fifteen odd hours later, she was greeted with scolding.

"Sa-ku-ra-chan! You're still at work, aren't you?"

She winced into the phone. "Tomoyo-chan. . ."

Her best friend's voice continued its remonstrations. "It's past midnight. You let Endo-san stick you with his work again- and don't make excuses, I heard all about it at the goukon."

"Goukon? Again?" Unconsciously, Sakura started going through the motions to leave. The office had long since cleaned out, her station one of the few spots of light left on her floor.

She heard the sound of laughter in the background. "A very successful one this time, too. We had three couples leave together for drinks. Now it's just me, Rika-chan and Takashi-san."

There was a brief scuffle of sound and then a new voice came on the line. "Sakurin? Sakurin!"

Sakura smiled, balancing the mobile between her shoulder and ear while she punched in the correct floor in the elevator. "Takashi, how was the goukon?"

Depression emanated from the phone almost instantly. "Sakurin, not a single girl believed me. It was all 'Takashi-kun is a liar' and 'Takashi-kun is an idiot.' I think she has been sabotaging my efforts."

"Well, Chiharu is upset with you right now." The saga of Takashi and Chiharu had started nearly fifteen years earlier, when the two were still in elementary school. Their pattern of breaking up and making up was more dependable than the lunar cycle.

"Sakurin, Sasaki-san wants to talk to you now. Bye-bye."

Sakura pulled the phone away from her ear as a brief spurt of feedback radiated. It was almost immediately replaced by the soft, welcoming tones of her former co-worker and high school friend. "Sakura? Are you hungry?"

"Rika." She smiled, feeling almost instantly soothed. "A little, but I'm tired, too. I think I'll just warm something up once I get home."

"Hmn. We're going out for drinks on Sunday. Sakura should come."

The tell-tale sounds of separation were plain in Rika's voice. It probably meant that guy was gone again. "Have you heard from Terada-sensei yet?"

"Hmn! He called me this morning, after his plane landed."

Sakura fell into the empty bus stop bench gratefully, regretting her decision to have worn heels that morning. "When does he come back?"

"Wednesday night. This should be the last trip for a little while. His company is going to announce the decision for the promotion on Friday. That should remove some of the pressure."

"I'm sorry, Rika. I wish we could help."

Sakura could easily picture her friend shaking her head. Rika and Terada-sensei had been another love story with continuous ups and downs. Terada-sensei had been their elementary school teacher and then later their home room teacher in their last year of high school. He had given up teaching when the two became engaged, thinking that the salary of a teacher was not enough to support a wife and future family. The fact that Rika didn't need that sort of thing still hadn't been resolved. Terada-sensei's position as a salaryman kept him out for long hours and frequently gone on business trips.

A sudden crash echoed from the background on the line and distantly, she heard a brief yell. "Rika? Is everything okay?"

"Sorry, Sakura, but Yamazaki-san has been drinking too much, I think. Tomoyo-san needs my help. Call me tomorrow? I found a really cute stationary store that I want to show you."

Sakura nodded, climbing onto an almost empty bus. "I promise. Tell Tomoyo-chan and Takashi good-night for me, okay?"

The sounds of more crashing and breaking struggled through as Rika closed the line. Sakura stared at her mobile screen for a moment, thanking, briefly, that at the very least she still had good friends in her life. During the first year in her job, she had often joined Tomoyo, Rika, and the others when they went out. Tomoyo was forever playing matchmaker despite her nearly permanent single status, arranging goukons and compas, and Sakura always enjoyed the events, even though only two had resulted in second dates. But then she was transferred into the design department and Jiro Endo became her team manager. Her work days grew longer first by a few minutes and then a few hours, and then finally to extra days at a time. She almost always ended up going to the office on Saturdays, and after three years of it, she considered herself lucky if she was able to see her friends twice a month.

She sighed, watching as beyond the bus window the scenery grew increasingly familiar. She really had no one to blame but herself for the current conditions. She could easily request a transfer or refuse Endo-san when he threw extra work on her desk. She had been so looking forward to this weekend as well, having missed last year's company trip due to the flu. She needed to change- change jobs or personality or something- anything, if only to get out of the monotony of all work and very rarely play.

"Ojou-san, this is the last stop."

Sakura thanked the driver, grabbed her purse, and stepped off from the bus. Despite the late hour, the convenience store outside of her building was still open. She hadn't been completely honest with Rika when she excused her hunger. Her fridge was nearly empty, except for a few third filled take-out containers. She bought a few containers of ramen, some eggs, and two packages of melon bread. The store clerk looked on with obvious pity in her eyes, and Sakura couldn't help but hang her head. It really was too depressing. . .

She stumbled into her flat an hour later, her heels cast aside with exigent relish. "I'm home," she called to the empty room and then sighed.

"Welcome back," she replied to herself. Too depressing, indeed.

The water boiled quickly; she added the seasoning for her noodles, cracked an egg, and threw in some chopped onions. Her brightly colored blouse, skirt and hose were quickly traded in for a t-shirt and track pants. The neat office hair style was yanked free, and with open and weary satisfaction, she set to her meal.

"I will receive," and receive she did. Even instant noodles tasted good after a day of hard work.

It didn't seem to matter that her meal was finished in ten minutes and that the clock showed it was almost three in the morning; Sakura had a set schedule that she followed, regardless of the hour. After dinner, the dishes are washed and dried; clothes that day are quickly scrubbed and thrown into the spinner and then hung beyond the main window to dry. Then it's time for a quick shower. All this is done to reach the final step before bedtime.

Her flat was slightly larger than most 1dk, coming to 23 jo. She could have afforded a larger or newer place on her salary, but the flat offered her something newer ones didn't: concrete walls. Sure they were covered with additional tatami mats for aesthetics, but absolutely no sound got past them. She never heard her neighbors, and they never heard her- which was a very good thing because of the piano. It was an upright, and once upon a time, it had been her mother's. The one main room of the flat had its typical storage closets on the left, and to the right was her piano and in a glass case next to it, a delicate violin.

The violin was her brother's, and until he returned to claim it, it was her most prized possession. When she had been younger, she and her brother would play duets, the music chosen from dozens of song sheets their mother had collected before she died. Sakura loved to play her piano, enjoyed the freeing feel of the keys beneath her fingers, the notes arriving due to her energy and emotions. She never took formalized lessons, and much of what she played was learned from ear rather than sight.

The short time spent playing her piano after work had very easily become the most precious time in day.

Sleep hit her far sooner than it should have, and reluctantly, she withdrew from her piano, and stretched out her futon. Once the light was off, she realized that the window was still open.

"Good night. . ."

It was only an hour later that she woke up, the morning still dark beyond the window. She didn't stir from her position on the floor, only her eyes flew open. In the dimness of the room, she realized almost instantly that she was not alone. There was a figure only a few feet to her right, in front of the glass case that held her brother's violin. If she stretched far enough, she could just touch the figure's feet.

"I know you're awake."

She gasped, instinctively drawing away. The figure continued speaking.

"You really should have stayed asleep." The words were spoken with an annoyed regret, and Sakura tried to make sense of the situation. An male invader had only two possible objectives: either he wanted to hurt her or he was trying to steal something.

"Wh-what do you want?" she asked, frightened, drawing her blanket close to her chest as if to shield herself.

"What to do now. . ."

A stray piece of heat lightning lit up the flat for a brief second and she saw his leanness, unkempt brown hair, and dark eyes. But what grabbed her was the violin in his hands- her brother's precious violin. She dropped her blanket and rose up without thought. "You can't- not that!" she cried.

"No choice, it's what I'm-"

She cut him off. "You always have a choice. You don't have to do anything." She shocked herself by the bravery in her words; something in the darkness of the room had given her an anonymous courage. "Please, take something else. I have money in my purse- you can take my savings booklet. I have almost three million yen in there- you can have it all. I won't tell anyone."

The sky lit up again, and she saw an expression of surprise across the thief's features. Darkness overtook it a second later. "Listen, I don't care if you have eighty million yen piled up in your bank; the job is to take this violin. I can't go back on my word, can I?"

"Of course you can!" Sakura couldn't believe she was daring to argue with him. Who knew what he might to do to her? He could be more than a thief, he could be a murderer or worse. "Please, put the violin back."

The darker patch of shadow that was his body began to move, swiftly, toward her window. With a muffled cry, she threw herself at him heedlessly, tackling around the knees, and with a louder crash, they both fell back onto her futon. She knew he was stronger and that her attack was fruitless, but this was her brother's violin, his precious violin- and she had promised to keep it for him until- until, someday, he would return.

The thief quickly overpowered her, pinning her hands behind her back. She managed to get two good kicks in before her legs, too, were trapped beneath his. She closed her eyes, convinced that he would withdraw a knife at this point and that would be the end of it. After nearly a minute of listening to his breathing mixing into her own, she opened her eyes and realized that while she was trapped, so was he. If he let go, she was free to attack again. His face was purposely turned away from hers, his thin lips tightly held. With purpose, she started moving again, using her pinned hands to brace against the floor for leverage.

"Stop struggling!" he yelled at her, his breathing heavy. "You don't even play the thing; what do you care if I take it?"

She stopped moving, surprised by his words. "How would you know that- oh!" In the darkness, she flushed, understanding what he meant. He had been watching her for who knew how long. She began to fight again, this time with more fervor. She managed to free one leg and twisted to jab him in the stomach. He groaned, but didn't release her. Instead, he pulled her hands together more tightly, pinning her wrists with one hand and with the other pressed it against her throat. Within seconds, the pressure increased and black spots started dancing at the edges of her vision.

"Please, please. . .don't take that violin. It is the only thing I have of my brother- it's his most precious violin. Please, even you must have a good person inside you-" And then it was complete darkness despite the opening of dawn beyond the window.

The thief left moments later, and it was not until late in the afternoon that Sakura woke up, hoarse, bruised, and sore. She started bawling the moment she saw that in the midst of the flat's disarray there rested, with deliberate care, her brother's violin. The thief had left it behind.

Prologue End

TSU.RAI.KU

. . .falling, jumping- either way, you eventually land on the ground. . .

A/N: Phrases or terms you may have been curious about:

Goukon: group date experience; organized by an associated male and female who each invite the same number of their same gender, and the group goes out with the intent to learn about each other and find a potential date. In many ways, a much nicer alternative to the agonizing blind date. Compas are slightly more informal.

1dk: one room apartment with space for a kitchen and dining area; in Sakura's case, the size is about 23 jo.

Jo: unit of measurement for tatami mats which is how most Japanese apartments are measured. Approximately, one jo is equal to 190cm x 90cm, or about 17.5 square feet. Sakura's 1dk is, roughly, 400 square feet.

Yen: One million is going to equal just a little less than ten thousand US dollars.