This is the first thing I've ever written so be gentle, please. Comments and critiques are welcome as well as suggestions, how far I'm going to take this, if at all will be decided. I wrote this in one go, if it becomes popular (yeah, right o.O) I'll go back and redo this chapter. I wouldn't mind a beta either, if anyone wants to waste their time and sanity going over my ramblings.
As with all these things, if I owned it, it certainly wouldn't be for free on FF(dot)net, so copyrights to whomever they may go to. Lucky bastards. :)
This was inspired by another story I read on ff or aff or mediaminer, it seems that I read all over the place, just not in books. Sorry that I can't remember your alias, if you feel that this story seems familiar, pm me and I'll be happy to properly credit you.
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The mind is an incredibly versatile and adaptive thing. Do one thing often enough and the mind comes to accept and anticipate it. In this case, it was the crack travelling from the far left top corner of the room to the center of the ceiling. Urashima Keitaro had awoken underneath this particular crack every morning for the past 379 days. It had come to act as a source of comfort for him, something that had been there for him through thick and thin, hard fist and cold steel.
Keitaro awoke this particular morning and lay in bed a half hour longer than usual. The night before had been particularly rough. He had decided to sneak a use of the resident hot springs at two in the morning, and had ambushed Motoko on her way out from a bath. While it was an uncommon treat for Keitaro to be out on the town on a Saturday night, a bird's eye view of Tokyo's night life was not something he particularly enjoyed.
The journey back to Hinata Sou was even more trying than the trip to Tokyo Tower. He spent the better part of the next three hours ducking into alleys and hiding behind dumpsters in his towel. It took another hour in his personal bath after he arrived at the dormitory to clean all the blood off his person. His cuts had healed on the way, and he thanked whatever little good luck that remained with him that no police had found him.
He awoke at his customary seven am, the dormitory was not about to clean itself after all, however, he found it much harder to drag his body out of the comfort of his futon that morning. The safety of his futon was another thing he had grown accustomed to.
"Keitaro, shouldn't you be up already? The stair's still creaking and Shinobu has breakfast re-"
Fuck.
Double fuck.
Double fuck with a heap of shit on top.
In his tired, drowsy state, Keitaro had gone to sleep naked, not having bothered to put on his customary boxers and oversized t-shirt. He eyed his dresser across the room and wondered if he would be able to get to them before Naru left his door and got to him.
Keitaro snuck a peak at Naru's expression out of the corner of one weary eye.
Un-fucking-likely.
"What th- Keitaro! You perv- HENTAI!"
It would appear that Keitaro had used all his good luck in invading the police the night before, and all that was left to him was a healthy ass kicking. It took Naru two and a half steps reach the futon, another half a step to propel her foot into Keitaro's side, and yet another to follow through on her attack. Keitaro took a moment to admire her form; she usually neglected to swing her arms across her body in her follow through. Not today judging from the unusual force with which he hit the wall.
It's amazing the things that the mind can become accustomed to. Beatings and flights of pain were something Keitaro had adapted to early on and his walls were reinforced. As his body made contact with the floors of his room, he noted the sound of his door sliding shut.
He picked himself off the floor and grabbed a handful of tissues from the Kleenex box on the dresser; he kept them on almost every surface in his room, and wiped the blood from his mouth. Without looking, he tossed them over his shoulder into his corner wastebasket. Muscle memory was an awesome thing.
Breakfast was a quiet affair that morning. Even if the other residents had managed to miss Naru's cry of outrage, the resounding impact of Keitaro hitting the wall was an all too familiar sound. Naru refused to meet Keitaro's eyes, although she did not refrain from shooting him dirty looks. Motoko seemed not yet ready to forgive for last night's transgression and was feeding off of Naru's anger. Su and Sara were as ignorant to his plight as ever, although he really couldn't hold it against them; Shinobu's cooking was to die for at the worst of times. There were times he could have sworn he heard the chorus of hallelujah in the background, it was one of the extremely few reliable pleasures he could expect in his life as manager of Hinata Sou. Keitaro looked around the table at the remaining residents; Mitsune was nursing her perpetual hangover and Shinobu was pushing her food around her plate.
Keitaro decided that the only thing he could do to relieve the tension would be to leave, he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, grabbing his plate.
"Thanks Shinobu, breakfast was wonderful as usual. I have some things to do around the dorm, I may skip lunch today."
At this, Naru mumbled something into her plate.
Suddenly, Keitaro decided that he had enough. Perhaps some things you just don't get used to.
"Did you say something, Naru?"
He noted the look of surprise on Mitsune's face at his calling Naru out, as well as Motoko's startled fury.
No doubt from my daring to talk back. Well, we all gotta grow a pair sometime.
Su and Sarah continued eating. The food was good. All was well with the world.
"I-" Naru hesitated for a moment, before she steeled herself and rose from her seat. She waited until she was standing right in front of Keitaro before she spoke.
"I said 'the pervet's probably going to set up camera's in the hot springs.' Was I clear enough that time?"
Something inside of Keitaro broke. A year of beatings, of bleeding, of crying and of teasing broke through the barriers he had set up and wound through his hands. He was barely aware of backhanding Naru to the floor. He didn't notice his left foot kicking Motoko into the doorframe when she lunged at him. He couldn't feel his hands tightening on Naru's neck. In the end, it was Shinobu's frightened weeping that broke through.
He let Naru's bruised throat slip through his fingers and he took a step back. His anger had gone, and in its place, was an overwhelming sense of disgust and self loathing. With one last look at Shinobu he ran from the kitchen.
For a moment, no one moved. Finally, Shinobu moved over to where Naru lay gasping on the floor and helped her up. On the other side of the room, Mitsune went to help Su and Sarah deal with a dazed Motoko. Shinobu rubbed her hands across Naru's back and hugged her, trying to calm her ragged breathing. Naru's hands unconsciously rubbed against the bruises already forming on her neck as she replayed the past minute in her head.
In her mind's eye, all she could see, all she could hear and feel, was Keitaro's crying and his tears falling onto her face.
It was well into the afternoon before Naru dared to ventur to Keitaro's door. None of the residents had dared to go upstairs and Keitaro had not come down since the incident. She paused outside his door, afraid. She found that following the shock of Keitaro -KEITARO- slapping her, her mind was amazingly open and free. As she saw his tears and the hurt flowing from his face, she wondered how she had ever missed his eyes. Behind the lens of the glasses he always wore she saw an overwhelming torrent of feeling.
She saw his compassion, his love, his hurt and the tortured look of betrayal that ate away at his soul, and for the first time she wondered; What have we done to you Keitaro?
She decided that they needed to talk, that she needed to apologize and to let him know that there were those that wanted him; that needed him.
She crept closer to his door, and her hand had gripped the handle when she finally noticed it. Keitaro was talking to himself in his room.
"-sorry, oh god I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone, all I wanted- all I ever wanted was to love. I loved you Naru, I need you to know that. I've loved you ever since I first saw you and I know that you will be incredible in taking care of everyone. I never wanted to hurt any of you. You are all my special people. Shinobu, never let anyone tell you otherwise. You are so special to all of us, you are a brilliant cook and an amazing person, I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't been there for me all those time when I needed someone. Motoko … I don't even know where to start. I have never witnessed such determination and strength and beauty and grace and-"
Naru had stopped listening. Something was wrong; this was not how one speaks to themselves. It sounded much more like a-
"will."
Naru had barely whispered the word before she stormed the room, only to find Keitaro slumped over his desk, an open bottle of pills in his left hand, an overturned bottle of Mitsune's cheap sake seeping into the floor and a tape recorder in his right, still playing his last words.
"-care of yourself Mitsune, I worry about you. There are horrible people in this world, and I would hope that you are never in a position to be taken advantage of. You have so much going for you, you're smart, you're a … brilliant strategist … and-"
"KEITARO!"
fin