Behind the Clow Cards: Tomoyo Daidouji's Secret Filming Diary - The Filming Room at Dusk — An Eraser and a Small Shadow

The last of the sunset light slipped through a narrow gap in the heavy blackout curtains, a single thin blade of it. Dust motes drifted slowly through the air, glowing where the beam caught them. Daidouji Tomoyo watched the light absently for a while, then turned her eyes back to the editing monitor. On the screen, her best friend Kinomoto Sakura was dashing about, full of energy. This was footage she'd shot just that afternoon after school, in the woods of Tomoeda Park. Sakura had the Sealing Wand in hand and was chasing down a Clow Card spirit. Her white-and-pink battle costume fluttered and spun between the green trees. It was Tomoyo's favorite of the outfits she'd sewn for her — she'd stayed up all night finishing it for this very day. "Hanyaaan! Wait uuuup!" On-screen, Sakura tripped and fell. Tomoyo's lips curved, just slightly. She'd watched this scene dozens of times already, filming it as it happened. Sakura bounced right back up and took off running as if nothing had happened. The sight of it was so dear to her that Tomoyo pressed pause. "...This is the moment," Tomoyo studied the expression on Sakura's face at the instant she fell. Her brows were drawn together in frustration, but her eyes absolutely refused to give up. This was the look Tomoyo had been waiting for. She played it back in slow motion, piecing together the ideal cut in her head. Not a single second of Sakura's gallant figure would escape her. That was the one thing she — with no magic of her own — could do. Tomoyo's private filming room on the second floor of the Daidouji mansion was a quiet space with perfect soundproofing and blackout fittings. Three professional video cameras, two editing computers, and a wall of shelves lined with recording media. This was Tomoyo's castle. In all the sprawling Daidouji estate — one of the grandest houses in Tomoeda — it was where she spent the most time. Outside the window, the setting sun was dyeing Tomoeda's sloping streets orange. The town sat on the outskirts of Tokyo, with a population of about thirty thousand. It was full of hills, and from almost anywhere you could get a good view of the sunset. Tomoyo let her gaze drift outside. In the distance she could see the clock tower of Tomoeda Elementary. More than a year had passed since she first met Sakura. Her mother, Sonomi, was away on another overseas business trip. As the president of a major toy company, she was always flying somewhere around the world. Even when Tomoyo shut herself up in the filming room like this, no one disturbed her. No — it was precisely because no one was there that she could do this at all. A vast mansion, and only herself and a handful of servants. When dinnertime came, she sat alone at a dining table far too large for one. Sometimes she found it just a little lonely, how accustomed she'd grown to that silence. Tomoyo reached for a desk drawer. Top tier, right-hand corner. A small drawstring pouch sat there. What she took from it was a half-used eraser. One corner of the little white rectangle had gone slightly dark. It was the day Sakura transferred in, back in third grade. "Um... I forgot my eraser." When Tomoyo said that, Sakura — in the seat next to hers — smiled brightly and held out her own eraser. "Sure, use mine! Here!" That smile was so utterly direct. Tomoyo felt something warm tighten deep in her chest. Until then, the people around Tomoyo had been either adults who treated her with the careful courtesy owed to the Daidouji heiress, or classmates who kept their distance and watched from afar. But Sakura was different. She reached out her hand straight to her — just "Tomoyo-chan." "Here, this is my thank-you!" Sakura pressed her own eraser into Tomoyo's hands just like that. Even when Tomoyo protested — "Oh, but you really shouldn't" — Sakura shook her head and laughed. "Because it'd make me happy if you used it, Tomoyo-chan." Tomoyo still remembered Sakura's face at that moment, clear as day. In that instant, she had thought: I want to protect this girl. I have no power of my own, but still — I want to do something, anything, so that this girl's smile never clouds over. Tomoyo tucked the eraser gently into her pocket. It was proof that she — with no magic — was truly connected to Sakura. She couldn't lend her strength to Sakura as she fought on as Cardcaptor. But as a camerawoman, as her best friend, she could stay at Sakura's side. She turned back to the monitor and pressed play. The scene of Sakura sealing the card began to play. She raised the Sealing Wand and chanted the spell. Light overflowed, and the card settled into Sakura's hand. Tomoyo had rewatched the beauty of this moment more times than she could count. Today, too, she thought she'd captured a perfect shot. And then it happened. Tomoyo's finger pressed the pause button without her meaning to. At the edge of the frame — in the shadow of the trees behind Sakura. Something had been caught there. "...Oh my?" Tomoyo advanced the footage frame by frame. Sakura finished the sealing, and Kerberos called out, "You did it, Sakura!" Shaoran stood with his arms crossed. And beyond the two of them — in the darkness of the green woods — there was a small shadow. It was about the size of a cat. But it wasn't a cat. Its outline was blurred; its shape wouldn't resolve. It wasn't darting about like Kerberos, nor was it shaped like a paper talisman the way Shaoran's summoned guardian was. It simply stared — fixedly, it seemed — toward Sakura. Tomoyo felt something cold run down her spine. The hand gripping the camera trembled faintly. Was this shadow something that had appeared only in today's footage? Or had it been there far longer—? Before she knew it, Tomoyo was playing back one recording after another. Last week's card sealing. The battle the week before that. And the week before that. In every clip, the same shadow was there. Always in the background of the moment Sakura sealed a card. Every time, from the same kind of position, watching Sakura the same way. She sensed no hostility. What came through the footage was, if anything, a quiet gaze — like an observer's. And that was exactly what made it so unsettling. Tomoyo reached to delete the footage, then stopped her finger. (I mustn't erase it.) Her inner voice said so. This footage might become evidence of something. And besides — if anything happened to Sakura, it wouldn't do to have no record. Tomoyo let out a deep breath and set the camera down on the desk. Outside the window, it had grown dark without her noticing. She checked the clock: past nine at night. Dinnertime had come and gone long ago. Tomoyo realized she wasn't feeling hungry at all. That was how absorbed she'd been in the footage. Fatigue came rushing over her all at once. Tomoyo slumped forward onto the desk. The cool surface of it felt good against her flushed cheek. Her eyelids were heavy. Just a little while, like this—. Her consciousness sank slowly away. When she came to, Tomoyo was standing in a dark space. There was nothing around her. Her sense of up and down was vague; her feet felt like they were floating. She knew it was a dream. And yet she couldn't wake up. "...You who move in Sakura's shadow." A low voice came from somewhere. Tomoyo tried to turn toward it. But her body wouldn't move. She couldn't turn her head, couldn't move a finger. "A secret is hidden within the footage you have captured." The voice seemed to come from just behind her. Or perhaps it was whispering at her ear. At the edge of her vision, something like black cloth swayed. A robe. A black robe that covered the whole body. She couldn't see a face. Deep within the hood was darkness itself. "Who are you...?" She tried to speak. But her throat stuck fast and wouldn't move. Even when she opened her mouth, no sound came. "If you wish to know, watch the footage again. You have already noticed it." The figure in the black robe slowly raised a hand. Its fingertip touched Tomoyo's forehead. The finger was cold as ice. "Do not look away. Your eyes are catching hold of the truth." —She gasped and bolted upright. Her heart was pounding violently. Sweat stood on her forehead. The fluorescent light of the filming room stung her eyes. "...It was a dream," Still breathing hard, Tomoyo looked around the room. The monitor was still on, the footage frozen on pause. The window curtains swayed faintly. But the window was closed. Perhaps it was the air conditioning. Tomoyo stood and went to the window. She drew the curtain aside and looked out. The garden, lit by moonlight, floated up pale blue. Now and then a carp in the pond broke the surface. No one was there. Nothing was there. "...It was just my imagination. Wasn't it," And yet that voice lingered in her ears, far too clearly. A secret is hidden within the footage you have captured. That low voice repeated itself in her head. Tomoyo returned to the monitor. To confirm the words from her dream, there was nothing to do but watch the footage again. She played back every last bit of her past recordings, one after another. The footage she'd accumulated from the day Sakura began fighting as Cardcaptor up to today amounted to hundreds of hours. Tomoyo took her time and checked every recording. She let them run on fast-forward, searching only for the moments the shadow appeared. The work went on late into the night. Her eyes grew tired; she blinked again and again. But she couldn't afford to stop. And at last, Tomoyo arrived at a conclusion. The shadow appeared by the same rule every time. Just after Sakura sealed a card, it was always caught from a certain angle. The distance was always the same. The position, too, was nearly identical. It was as if it were making fixed-point observations of the instant Sakura sealed a card. There was something even stranger. The shadow showed no sign of draining Sakura's magic. If anything, its movements seemed to be recording Sakura's very existence. When Sakura moved, the shadow's orientation shifted slightly. When Sakura laughed, the shadow quivered faintly. It resembled the way a camera lens follows its subject. "...It's as if someone is filming Sakura." Tomoyo caught her breath at her own words. Filming. That shadow was filming Sakura. Just as she did, it was recording Sakura's gallant figure. (But who? And for what?) The pounding in her chest wouldn't stop. She was afraid. But more than that, she wanted to know. What was happening to Sakura? Was this shadow an enemy — or something else—? Tomoyo took the eraser from her pocket and closed her hand around it. Small and soft. A precious treasure, given to her by Sakura. "I don't want to worry Sakura," Tomoyo murmured softly. Right now Sakura was doing her utmost to fulfill her mission as Cardcaptor. She must be troubled, too — by Eriol's trials, by her relationship with Shaoran. She couldn't let Sakura carry any more anxiety than she already did. "But I can't simply overlook it, either." Tomoyo stared hard at the shadow on the monitor. She didn't know whether this shadow meant Sakura harm. But she couldn't leave alone a presence that watched Sakura's battles every single time. She had no magic. She couldn't fight. She had no power to seal cards, no ability to sense the aura of magic. But she could film. She could record. She could keep capturing Sakura's gallant figure without missing a single second. "If the only way I can protect her is by filming—" Tomoyo picked up the camera. Its solid weight settled into her palm. This was her weapon. In place of magic, the one weapon she had to protect Sakura. "—then I'll keep filming." Tomoyo's voice permeated the quiet filming room. The trembling had already stopped. There was no hesitation left, either. She checked the clock: past two in the morning. Tomoyo set the camera back on the desk and stretched hugely. Her body ached. Her eyes were tired, too. And yet her heart was stra

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Name: Behind the Clow Cards: Tomoyo Daidouji's Secret Filming Diary
Author: Novelia

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