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Sakura Kinimoto was not, by nature, a patient person. At eleven years old, she had already mastered the art of tapping her foot impatiently during math quizzes, sighing dramatically when her older brother took too long in the bathroom, and of course had become the new master of the Clow Cards. Today, though, she sat perfectly still on the sun-warmed bench at the park, her knees pressed together and her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Next to her, her boyfriend: Syaoron Li chewed his afternoon dinner with deliberate slowness, as if each bite required deep philosophical consideration. The two were having another of their regular weekly dates together. Being eleven, the two had little money; so just spending time alone in the park had to do for them. Sakura watched Syoaorn out of the corner of her eye, her stomach twisting into knots. They’d been dating for over a year—a lifetime, by the standards of the young—and yet this conversation felt heavier than any they’d had before. She took a deep breath.
“Syaron,” she said, plucking at the hem of her skirt. “Do you think… we should?”
Syaoron looked confused as he asked, “Should what?”
Sakura exhaled sharply through her nose, fingers tightening around the fabric of her skirt. "You *know* what," she muttered, cheeks flushing pinker than the cherry blossoms painted on her lunchbox.
Syaoron's sandwich hovered halfway to his mouth, his eyebrows knitting together in that way they always did when he was mentally rearranging a complicated problem into neat, solvable steps. He set the sandwich down carefully on its wax paper wrapper, then wiped his hands on his uniform pants—twice. "You mean..." He said calmly. "Like... *that* thing?"
Sakura nodded her head, and said, "Yes. Syaoron... will... will you make love to me?"
A group of young children walked past laughing, their voices bouncing off the brick walls, and Sakura waited until they were out of earshot before nodding so vigorously her bangs bounced. "I know we're both going to be together forever," Syaoron whispered calmly. "But we don't have to do it yet. I mean, we are eleven."
Sakura tried to speak in a natural voice as she whispered, "Well, Rika-chan said she first did it with her secret older lover when she was ten."
Syaoron exhaled sharply through his nose, before he gave a single, stiff nod. "Okay," he said quietly and calmly. "But... we should wait until Sunday. When your dad and brother are at their activities."
***
That Sunday, the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked louder than Sakura had ever noticed before, each second stretching like taffy as she stood by the front door, twisting the hem of her sundress between damp fingers. When Syaoron finally appeared—three minutes early, his bangs sticking to his forehead from the summer humidity—they exchanged a wordless nod that somehow managed to be both solemn and giddy.
They soon both undressed with the careful precision of archaeologists handling fragile artifacts—Syaoron folding his polo shirt into a perfect rectangle on a desk chair, Sakura stepping out of her underwear like it might dissolve if she moved too fast. The late afternoon sunlight striped across Syaoron's bare young penis in golden bars, and when Sakura caught sight of it—she giggled uncontrollably until he started laughing too, acting like the innocent children they were.
"Should we—" Sakura's voice came out half an octave higher than usual. She cleared her throat. "Would you like tea first?" The question hung between them like a life raft. Syaoron's shoulders visibly relaxed as he nodded, his ears still pink where they peeked through his messy hair.
The kettle whistled just as Sakura's fingers brushed the handle—a sharp, insistent sound that made her jump. She poured the water with exaggerated care, watching the steam curl up between them like a shy question mark. Nearby, Syaoron entered the room. He took a moment to just take in the image of Sakura's bare backside, including her young beautiful buttocks, before he cleared his throat.
"Um," Syaoron said, toeing at the linoleum. "Where should we... you know. Do it?" The phrase sounded absurd in his mouth, too big for his usual vocabulary of precise calculations and carefully measured reactions.
Sakura's hands shook as she dropped two chamomile teabags into the cups. "Rika-chan said—" She bit her lip hard enough to taste the phantom tang of peach-scented eraser. "She said her first time was in the shower with that older secret lover of hers." The words tumbled out in a rush, landing between them with a splash louder than the tea she was pouring.
Syaoron's eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly disappeared into his bangs. "The shower?" His voice cracked on the second syllable. They both turned in unison to stare down the hallway at the bathroom door, its frosted glass gleaming like the entrance to some forbidden temple.
The frosted glass door swung shut behind them with a click that sounded unnaturally loud in the tiled space. Sakura twisted the shower knob with both hands—her fingers slipping once on the chrome—before water erupted from the showerhead in a sudden, gasping rush. Steam billowed up between them like a living thing, curling around Syaoron’s shoulders as he stood frozen in place, his arms stiff at his sides like a soldier awaiting orders. A droplet of water landed on Sakura’s collarbone and traced a slow, warm path down between her small breasts before she shivered and reached for the shampoo bottle—not because they needed shampoo, but because holding something familiar made her fingers stop trembling.
Syaoron opened his mouth to say something just as the front door slammed downstairs. Their heads snapped toward the sound in perfect unison, two startled deer caught in headlights. Footsteps pounded up the staircase—familiar, heavy ones—and Sakura’s entire body went rigid. "Sakura?" Her father’s voice boomed through the bathroom door, making the shampoo bottle slip from her grip and clatter into the tub. "Why are you showering at four in the afternoon?"
She swallowed hard. "S-sweaty!" Sakura squeaked, her voice jumping an octave higher than usual. She grabbed Syaoron’s wrist and yanked him behind the shower curtain so fast he nearly tripped over the tub’s edge. "From gardening! With Tomoyo-chan!" The lie tumbled out in a breathless rush while Syaoron pressed himself flat against the tile wall, his chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked bursts. Water sluiced down between them, flattening Syaoron’s bangs against his forehead in dark spikes.
A pause. Then her father’s sigh leaked through the door like steam under a threshold. "I just came back for some tax forms. Remember the Miyamotos are in Okinawa until next week, and the Hatanakas left for their hot springs trip yesterday." The doorknob jiggled slightly—just testing—and Syaoron’s eyes widened to saucer-size. "Just be extra careful, okay?"
The bathroom door creaked shut as her father's footsteps retreated downstairs. Sakura released the breath she'd been holding in a shaky exhale.
For several agonizing minutes, Sakura and Syaoron stood ackwardly frozen, unsure of what to do in the steam-filled shower, listening to the distant sounds of drawers opening and closing downstairs by Sakura's rather.
A bead of sweat—or maybe just shower water—trickled down Syaoron's temple as they waited, their bare shoulders brushing with each nervous shift of their weight. Finally, they heard the front door close, and Sakura's father leave.
Then Sakura's eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. She leaned in so close her lips brushed Syaoron's ear as she whispered, "The backyard tree." Her breath hitched with barely-contained excitement. "All the neighbors are gone until next week—no one will see." Syaoron's mouth fell open slightly, his gaze darting to the small bathroom window where sunlight filtered through the leaves of the ancient oak that shaded the Kinimoto's garden.
They moved with the silent urgency of thieves, grabbing towels to hastily dry themselves before slipping out the back door. The summer grass tickled Sakura's bare feet as they darted across the lawn, their youthful bodies gleaming pale in the dappled sunlight. The tree's rough bark scraped tender skin as they climbed, Sakura scrambling up first with Syaoron close behind, their hands occasionally brushing against each other's thighs or hips as they found purchase on familiar knots and branches.
The broad limb they settled on had borne their weight countless times before—during picnics, during stargazing—but never like this. The two eventually began to kiss with clumsy enthusiasm. Then Sakura straddled Syaoron's narrow hips as he lay back against the sun-warmed bark. She could feel his erection pressing insistently against her inner thigh, the heat of it making her breath catch. When she lifted her hips slightly, aligning herself above him, the first brush of his penis against her vulva sent a jolt through them both—Syaoron gasped sharply, his fingers digging into her waist as Sakura bit her lip hard enough to leave crescent marks.
Slowly, trembling with nervous anticipation, Sakura lowered herself onto him. The stretch burned at first—a bright, startling sensation that made her freeze momentarily—but then she sank down further, and further still, until their bodies were flush together. For a moment they simply breathed, foreheads touching, adjusting to the unfamiliar intimacy. Then Sakura experimentally rocked her hips, and Syaoron made a sound halfway between a whimper and a prayer.
Their movements grew bolder as instinct took over—Sakura rising and falling with increasing confidence, Syaoron thrusting upward to meet her in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure radiating through them both. Leaves rustled around them as the tree swayed slightly with their motion, sunlight dancing across their sweat-slicked skin. When Sakura's breath began coming in short, sharp gasps, Syaoron reached between their bodies to brush his thumb against her clitoris—just once—and it was enough to send her tumbling over the edge with a muffled cry against his shoulder. The sudden tightness of her body around his pushed Syaoron into his own climax moments later, his entire body arching up off the branch as he clutched at Sakura's hips with desperate strength.
Afterward, they clung to each other in breathless silence, hearts pounding against each other's chests as the breeze cooled their overheated skin. The climb down was awkward—their limbs shaky with afterglow—but they made it to the grass without incident. Sakura chewed her bottom lip as she turned to face Syaoron, her fingers twisting together nervously. "Did you... was it...?" she began, unable to voice the question fully.
Syaoron's smile was brighter than the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves above them. "The most wonderful," he breathed, reaching out to tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear with fingers that still trembled slightly. "The most wonderful experience of my life."
Sakura's answering grin could have powered the entire city as she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead against his. They stood like that for a long moment—barefoot in the grass, naked and unashamed.
They raced across the lawn like two sprites unleashed—giggling, stumbling, fingers interlaced—their bare feet kicking up dew that hadn't yet burned off in the late afternoon sun.; and when Syaoron squeezed Sakura's hand three times—their secret code for *I love you*—she squeezed back three times. It was a beautiful first time sexual experience for two young people completely in love.
Then the image of Sakura and Syaron moving across the back yard froze. Then the screen rewinded back to an earlier shot: grass-level footage of two familiar legs swinging from the oak tree, followed by the unmistakable sound of Sakura's giggle echoing tinny through the tiny speaker. The camera had been set up perfectly—zoomed in just enough to capture the dappled sunlight moving across their joined bodies, yet discreetly angled to preserve their modesty with artful foliage. Sakura made a strangled noise halfway between a gasp and a whimper, her hands flying up to cover her burning cheeks.
In her bedroom, Sakura sat blushing and nervous as she watched the playback of her having sex with Syoaorn from a week earlier on the camcorder screen that was sitting before her on her desk. Meanwhile, Sakura's best friend Tomoyo stood next to her, her mouth curled into a slow, knowing, smile. "The lighting was perfect," she proudly said. "Golden hour really does wonders for skin tones." Sakura's cheeks were blushing even harder now as Tomoyo adjusted the volume—just enough to hear Syaoron's breathless "you're so beautiful" before Sakura lunged across the sleeping bags to snatch the camcorder.
They tussled in a tangle of limbs and giggles, the camera bouncing harmlessly on Sakura's comforter as Tomoyo pinned her down with surprising strength. "Wait!" Sakura wheezed between breaths, "you—you *weren't* supposed to—" Tomoyo's Cheshire cat grin widened as she leaned in close enough that Sakura could see her own horrified reflection in her best friend's glasses.
"I *always* record all things magical that happens to you," Tomoyo whispered conspiratorially, her breath tickling Sakura's ear. "Did you really think I'd miss the *most* magical moment of your life?"
THE END!
