: All I Wanted... :
by
- GlazedAndConfused -
DISCLAIMER
I own neither Love Hina, nor Cracker, nor NGE.
WARNING
This story is rated M for a reason. It will contain graphic language, as well as occasionalethnic slurs and references to violent scenes. If such things offend you, do not read any further. Thank you.
"..." - denotes speech.
"(...)" - denotes whispering.
Italics denote thoughts and Japanese dialogue.
Chapter One : Burying Grandma
It is never easy for a person to come to terms with the loss of a loved one. This is especially true if the deceased person was a much loved and respected member of someone's family.At the present moment in time, thisapplied to Keitaro, who was standing in a traditional Japanese cemetary, having just come out of his grandmother's funeral service. The former kanrinin of Hinata Sou was struggling to hold in his emotions - something he had managed to do throughout all his years at the all-girls' dormitory - as he tried to accept the fact that a pivotal person in his life had been taken slowly and painfully in her last years by an illness that she eventually succumbed to.
The autumn leaves crunched under the young man's feet as he slowly trudged his way through the sacred place; the dull, overcast skies offering him no solace as they perfectly matched the melancholia that plagued his mind. The fact that he had divorced Naru after a series of difficulties proved that their marriage could never have worked out did nothing to ease his sadness. Paying no attention to the rain that was beginning to fall from the grey skies, he was also unaware of the cover of an umbrella appearing over his head. Looking to the source of the said item, he saw the person who was once the love of his life. Beside him was Naru, in her arms the product of their once intense love for one another - a young girl, no more than four or five years of age.
"Will you be alright?" the auburn-haired woman asked, a look of affection she once held for the Toudai graduate glimmering in her eyes for the briefest of moments.
"You're not going, are you?" Keitaro replied, his face crumpling further. "I was... going to ask you to help me clear out Grandma Hina's things..." He looked down, trying to hide his unshed tears from his young daughter. "...I can't do it on my own. Please?"
An awkward pause came between the two.
"Oh... okay then, Keitaro."
Time seemed to pass as slow as it ever had, another awkward silence hanging in the air as the two arrived at the oldest Urashima's last home before her passing away. The quaint little house was dark, with the unopened curtains blocking out any artificial light, making the atmosphere slightly more unnerving than either of them would have liked. Keitaro was stripping the bedding of it's sheets and duvet, preparing the mattress to be thrown away, while Naru was sorting through any old clothing that was left behind and placing them in suitcases. As the auburn-haired woman was trying to move to the other side of the room, Keitaro was coming through with the mattress in his hands; both staring into one another's eyes with unknown, unspoken emotions before reluctantly resuming with their tasks.
Minutes later, the mattress was burning in a bonfire created out in the back garden. The bespectacled young man watched on as the bright, hot orange light danced across the bedding, his eyes giving away traces of emotional emptiness aplenty. His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his ex-wife.
"Keitaro, the taxi's just arrived."
The former Toudaisei slowly responded to Naru's call, finding himself strangely unable to tear his eyes away from the flames.
"What will you do with them all?" Keitaro asked, having just finished placing the last of the suitcases of old clothes into the back of the taxi.
"I'll give them to a charity shop." Naru smiled. As she looked into her divorcé's tender face, she couldn't help but lean in, mesmerised by his brown orbs. Sharing one last kiss - one last moment of mutual love - the two reluctantly tore themselves away from their loving embrace, as the young woman climbed into the back of the taxi.
Keitaro then crouched down, hefting his young daughter up from under her arms, looking into her eyes as he kissed her on the cheek and wrapped his arms around her. "You be good for your mother now, okay Akemi-chan?"
"Okay otousan!" Akemi enthusiastically replied, gaining a thin smile from her father.
"Bye, my darling."
"Bye!"
Keitaro watched on as Akemi climbed alongside her mother into the back of the taxi, the young girl waving at him through the window as the taxi pulled away and drove off into the distance.
"I'll see you soon."
For another week or two, this would be the last time he would see either of them.
"Hello?"
"Ritsuko, it's me."
"Oh, it's you... where are you anyway?"
"Calling from a phone box. Just went for a quick walk a while ag --" The woman's explanation was cut off by the loud chinking of beer glasses, followed by the raucous laughter of a group of men sat in the corner.
"...you're in the bar, aren't you Misato?"
"Well, just for a couple of drinks."
Pause.
"Oh, Ritsu... not the pregnant pause again, please - you know how much I hate that!"
"How long will you be?"
"I'll be home once I've finished this drink."
"You mean once you've gotten completely plastered."
"Would I ever come home pissed out of my head and make a scene?"
A sigh. "Knowing you, yes."
"Okay, good point... anyway, I won't be long."
Another sigh. Ritsuko knew what her violet-haired friend's definition of 'not long' was... coming home completely intoxicated, singing completely out of tune in the early hours of the morning, and making a fool of herself. "Right, well, I guess I'll see you later, then. Bye."
"Yeah, bye!"
And thus began another night of careless drinking for a certain Misato Katsuragi.
As one day ended, another one began. For Keitaro, every day followed the same monotonous routine, as he clocked in for another day of work as a lecturer on archaeology at Toudai. When the bell signifying the end of lessons for lunch break went off, he could not pack up his notes and belongings and get out of the classroom quick enough to go to the canteen.
"Right... two across; 'accept as true; take to be true'... seven letters... third letter is 'L'," spoke one of the older lecturers, seemingly filling out a crossword in the local paper.
"'Believe'," offered the younger lecturer, possibly his protegé, sitting next to him.
"...oh yeah. How d'you spell it?"
"B-E-L-E-I-V-E."
"B-E-L-I-E-V-E," Keitaro corrected dryly. "You got the second E and the I the wrong way around."
"You sure?"
"Yep."
A brief nod was exchanged between the two fellow lecturers on the table behind him, as well as a 'never mind', before moving onto the next part of the crossword. "Right... twelve down; 'vicious dog', ten letters..."
"Hmm..."
Keitaro stood up and walked over to the table, looking at the crossword in front of him. "I told you. It's I before the E, not the other way around."
"It doesn't make any difference, Keitaro," remarked the younger of the two lecturers.
"It's wrong, I'm telling you now..."
"It doesn't affect anything."
Keitaro turned his gaze to the older of the two, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. "You're taking his word as opposed to mine; why's that?"
"Because it makes no difference. That's wh --"
"Because he has a Doctorate and I only have a Bachelor's Degree... that's why, isn't it?"
"Oh, piss off..."
Sensing that the argument had effectively ended there and then, the young man decided to no longer push the issue. As he walked back to the classroom and started his next lecturing session, however, one could tell by looking into his eyes that something was amiss... the flames of motivation and determination that once could be found in his chocolate brown orbs were now extinguished and replaced with a distant gaze. This did not go unnoticed, though.
"Could I talk to you outside please?" one of the senior members of staff asked.
"Sure." Keitaro walked through the door and into the hall.
The senior man sighed. "Urashima-san... I couldn't help but notice that it seems like your mind is not on your lecturing. You seem a little... I don't know... distant. Is something wrong?"
The Urashima man's expression became downcast. "I buried my grandmother yesterday."
"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that."
Once the two walked back in, the lecture continued with nothing else said of the matter.
"Hey, Katsuragi... do you come here often?"
Misato cringed. This was the last voice she wanted to hear, especially since she was right in the middle of a good mood. "What do you want, Ryoji?" She turned and asked, dryly.
The tall, unshaven man with the ponytail feigned offence. "Why, is that a way to talk to somebody who has come to offer you some company?"
"Kaji."
"Hmm?"
"Do me a favour, and get bent. I'd rather not have your company if it means staying in this good mood," the violet-haired woman replied, her voice lacking any semblance of anger or malice towards her former boyfriend; strangely enough, she sounded almost merry and carefree.
"Ahh, I love it when you talk to me like that," Kaji replied, pulling up a stool and sitting next to Misato. "Brings back memories of college. So, fancy a refill?"
"Well, since you're here, you may as well make yourself useful... yeah, I'll have another."
Kaji smirked. "Two beers, please."
Keitaro was finding it hard to keep his eyes open throughout the bus journey back home, as tiredness began to take hold. He was grateful that the day was finally over; it had possibly been one of the longest days ever since he became a part-time lecturer at the university where he made a name for himself with his acumen for archaeology. Lethargically standing up from his seat, the former kanrinin got off the bus with slow, sluggish movements and made his way down the street to one of the local shops to buy a couple of essentials.
"Um... this newspaper, and a packet of those tea leaves."
"430 Yen, please," replied the shopkeeper, a man of Chinese origin who appeared to bein his 50s.
Keitaro searched through his pockets, only to find he was 10 Yen short. "Sorry, I only have 420 Yen... I'll give you the remaining 10."
"Sorry, can't allow that."
"I'll drop it off tomorrow, on my way to work."
"Sorry."
The young man paused. "These two only come to 415 Yen down the road..."
"Go down the road, then."
"He's closed," Keitaro spoke, through gritted teeth.
"Exactly!" the shopkeeper smirked.
Keitaro glared; all this fuss, over a mere 10 Yen. "I'll be back with your 10 Yen... right?" He left the shop, slamming the door behind him as he stalked down the road, his eyebrows knitted together being the only sign of any anger.
Minutes after he got home, the sound of hair clippers rang through the empty house; strand after strand of his brown hair slowly falling to the floor.
"How much?" a hungover Misato Katsuragi enquired as the cab dropped her off outside the flat she shared with Ritsuko.
"1500 Yen, please," spoke the driver dryly."
"1500 Yen?" The violet-haired woman briefly forgot just how much her head felt like it had a thousand pneumatic drills going off inside it - and immediately regretted it. "Ugh... so what did you do, stick the meter on fast forward?" She sarcastically commented after forking out the fee and handing it over.
Misato never was an early morning person. Especially when she was hungover after a good night's boozing session. Especially when she knew she'd have to face her flatmate who would lecture her about it the very next morning; the very thought of which made the violet-haired woman cringe.
Oh well, she thought as she reached the door, best brace myself for the inevitable...
Closing the door behind her, she noticed Ritsuko sitting in the kitchen, calmly sipping at a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper, a cigarette lying in the ashtray beside her.
"Sorry I'm late..." Misato apologised, rubbing at her eyes.
"It's okay," her friend calmly replied, her eyes not leaving the paper. "Have a good night out?"
Misato sighed, disbelieving of Ritsuko's calm demeanour considering the time she had chosen to waltz in. "This isn't going to script, Ritsu... you're supposed to give me an absolute chewing out! Not just sit there calmly while I walk in at... at..." She looked at the clock on the wall. "...nearly quarter-past eight in the morning!"
The bottle blonde shrugged. "I suppose I've gotten used to it by now; it's not as if it's nothing new."
Misato ignored the subtle dig and took a seat next to her best friend. "Any coffee left? I could do with some to help get shot of this damn hangover..."
Ritsuko smirked, her cigarette still in her mouth. "Nope, I've used the last of it - you'll have to go down to the shop and get some yourself."
"...damn."
"And thus, we meet again. Remember me, eh?" Keitaro called, a smile on his face that barely even met his eyes. "Do you remember me, you robbing Shina bastard?" Having just walked back into the shop and closing the door behind him, there was a significant change to his appearance. Gone were the white professor's jacket and the black trousers he was wearing earlier; also gone were his glasses. These were now replaced by a camouflaged combat jacket, white t-shirt, blue denim trousers and what appeared to be a pair of steel-toed boots. His hair was cut to the extent that he looked like a skinhead. In short, he was barely even recognisable; a far cry from his modest attire.
The shopkeeper looked perplexed. "No."
Keitaro walked up to the counter, and threw the change he owed onto the counter. "Here's your 10 Yen... so, do you remember me now?"
"Yes..." the elder Chinese man nodded. "yes I do."
The former kanrinin smirked, despite the anger welling up within him. "Treat people like shit... and they will start acting like shit. You know what I mean? Do you, you robbing Shina bastard?"
"Please don't call me Shina --"
"I'm a Socialist, me... trade unionist and all that... voted the Social Democratic Party all my life... hell, I've even marched at rallys for the likes of you! But you just see me in my clothes... you hear the voice and you assume things. You assume the right to treat the likes of me like a pile of shit you've just scraped off the bottom of your shoe. Well okay then, you thieving Shina... you treated me like scum, so I'm acting like scum!"
"Don't call me Shi --"
"NOW I'M ACTING LIKE SCUM!"
"Criticise what I do, not what I am!"
Keitaro scowled, his eyebrow twitching with every word he spoke. "I'll call you what I fucking well want! I've not come here to listen to you, pal! I earned my poverty, y'know what I mean?"
"If you think I'm robbing you, then fair enough - criticise me for that - but don't call me Shina."
"I work hard for my pay packet... and you think you can rip me off the way you just did? NO! You're a robbing Shina bastard - no more, no less!"
The shopkeeper, having heard enough, walked to the front of the counter so he was face to face with Keitaro. "Get out of my shop now!"
The young Urashima man merely laughed in his face. "I call you a robbing bastard, what happens? You get an Award to Industry because this country is full of robbing bastards... but I call you a robbing Shina bastard... that's really going to hurt, isn't it?" Keitaro grinned, toothily. "That's some weapon I have; that's the only weapon I have..." He paused. "...unless, of course, you count..." he pulled his jacket open and pulled out a bayonet that was concealed within the deep inside pocket. "...this one."
The shopkeeper's eyes widened in horror, as he realised he had nowhere to go, being more or less pinned against the counter by the younger man.
"You see this? Do you see it?" Keitaro growled, his teeth gritted and his face contorted into a visage of sheer anger, the fire in his eyes ablaze once again. Within a second, he had plunged the long, sharp blade into the Chinese man's stomach. The sickening piercing sound of sharp steel meeting fabric and skin rang through the air as the elder person slowly began to slide down the counter, his descent only halted by the blade that was still buried to the hilt inside him, eating away at skin and sinew. "Do you get the point?" the younger of the two continued, his scowl not fading away for a second as he . "Do you get... the point?" As the Chinese man fell to the floor, Keitaro sharply withdrew the now crimson-stained blade, almost snagging it inside his body.
Then there was stillness; an eerie silence looming in the air that remained unbroken. All time appeared to stop the moment the older man landed on the floor, a dark red stain expanding across his shirt a reminder of what the former kanrinin had just done. Keitaro looked down at the body; the sound of the shopkeeper's dying, throaty gurgles and ragged breathing reverberating through his eardrums as his eyes drank in the scene that was before him. Even through the torn fabric from where the blade entered, he wouldn't have needed to be a forensic expert to tell that it wasn't a clean stabbing - he could almost feel the blade making it's way further up the older man's body as he fell.
He knew that the man had died just before he hit the ground.
It was only on his way back home from the scene when the realisation of what he had just done struck him like a gunshot to the head...
: END CHAPTER ONE :
: AUTHOR'S NOTES :
My first fic of 2006. Would have been sooner than this but... college put paid to that idea.
Right, well. Nothing much to say really... but you may have noticed the word "Shina" in this fic; this is a Japanese racial slur aimed towards the Chinese, which tends to be extremely offensive. So if there is anybody of Chinese origin or heritage reading this fic, I apologise whole-heartedlyfor any offence. Also, this fic - if you hadn't read the disclaimer - is a sort-of crossover with NGE and the British TV show, Cracker. It only includes slight elements of the former, since I've already integrated Misato, Kaji and Ritsuko; those three will be integral characters in this fic, so they weren't just one-off appearances merely done for filler purposes.