Chapter One

Dark for Foreboding
Disclaimers: This story sprouted from the ideas of the prolific science- fiction novel Ender's Game and all those likewise in its menagerie, but does not precisely follow all the requisite characters and situations. As a matter of fact, there is little mention of Ender at all or of any of the events that followed after the finish of Ender's Game, as the future world(s) created by O. S. Card serves only as the background for what is mostly a character development storyline. I do not own Card Captor Sakura or Ender's Game. A knowledge of either story is not necessary, as all is self-explanatory or perhaps occasionally insidiously explained, and this is merely a fanfiction piece that uses the characters of Card Captors and the settings of Ender's Game.
He was returning.

He was taking his six month leave in May and would finally be returned to her. But of course, it was quite possible that he had been changed beyond recognizing, by the war and by the Battle School. And she had not seen him for nearly eight years. Yes, people did change. And this young soldier on a leave was not simply any soldier.

She looked upon his return with a foreboding heart as she sat huddled in a little gazebo surrounded by cherry blossoms and green things swaying softly in a gentle breeze. There was a marble throne of sorts in the center of the pavilion, and she had ordered it draped with amethyst colored drapery, fringed in silver. She was clad in silver too, silver and black. Today was the day when the entire human race was clad in black, in mourning for the banishment of Ender, who had saved humanity but was decreed to never be allowed back to the earth.

She was in shimmering black silk tafetta that rustled as autumn leaves, and a silver choker covered her tall slim neck with black pearls and black sapphires. Silver lace edged her multitude of black silk petticoats, peeking from the hemline. Black briolette cut sapphires hung from her ears, too, and a string of silver and pearls woven through her hair held it up in a most elegant coiffure. A plain, slender silver ring decorated each of her fingers and each of her toes as an unusual, piquant adornment. Black for mourning, she thought, though Ender is not dead. And black for mourning for Eriol, too, whose childhood was stolen away in war and death. But black for me, too, she thought, for this terrible dark dreading.

His face with eleven others had been splashed throughout the media networks of the entire world and human extraterrestrial colonies, the squadron leaders who had fought with him and the brilliant commander who had been ultimately the salvation of mankind. The alien race had been defeated and humanity had gone on to colonize their former worlds. Yes, it was a glorious victory.

And now he would come back. Come back to her, to Japan, to Earth. His commander, Ender, had not been so lucky. A leading political theorist had suggested that the shifting factions of nations would launch themselves into the war that had been simmering yet delayed by the more immediate war against the aliens, the Formics. Yet now that war was won and the feuding blocs of allied states would vie for Ender, the most brilliant general in military history, to fight for them. And that desire for his military genius would bring evermore conflict, so thus was it decreed that he must never return to earth.

Tomoyo had asked a shinto priestess to bless Eriol, who was to return in two weeks, and to bless Ender, who would never be able to return to the earth. They had paid a terrible price to save them all.