Love Hina: Portal of Joy
(FTW doesn't just stand for "for the win".)
Though the world around him was gray and bleak and cold, the world beyond the portal was green and warm and alive.
Shinobu and Kaolla chased each other through the falling sakura blossoms, overwatched by Motoko—always silent, always stoic, but not quite capable of keeping the beginnings of a smile off her lips.
Kitsune was there too, and she was drinking, but not much. Never too much, not in the world beyond the portal of joy. A sip of sake and maybe a beer and then she was smiling and laughing along with the rest of them.
Even Haruka wore a smile as she accompanied Kanako through the trees. This section of the property was older than the written word, she explained, and her ancestor had built this building before the Japanese nation had been more than a concept.
Tama flew idly through the outstretched branches. Seta taught Haitani and Shirai the intricacies of advanced calculus at a white-clothed table. And Narusegawa… Narusegawa…
In the portal of joy, she sat overseeing the scene with the wind ruffling her hair and a red haze on her cheeks. Her blouse was somewhat sheer, somewhat low-cut, it was true, but she only ever dressed like that around him. Only for him. She stretched a hand out to him, beckoning him to come to her side, where he belonged
At least, that was in the world the portal of joy. In the real world, in the world that actually existed… Shinobu no longer raised her head to greet him. Kaolla's most recent assault left a still-smarting bruise on his chest. Kitsune's most recent blackout had broken a window he still had to repair or else, Motoko swore, he wouldn't see his next birthday.
Haruka hadn't spoken a word to him in a month, nor had Kanako, nor Seta, and he wore a bandage from where he had recently tried to touch Tama. He'd messaged each Haitani and Shirai and although he knew that they had seen his messages, they hadn't responded in… he didn't even know how long.
As for Narusegawa… he wore one token of her esteem across his face, the reddened imprints of her fingers. The other tokens, the other injuries, were less visible, but no less agonizing.
But not in the portal of joy. Never in the portal of joy. Everything was warm and green there and alive, and it was waiting for him—all he had to do was to step forward.
Keitaro felt at the braided edge of the portal of joy, a final sad smile upturning the ends of his lips. Before it could turn into hesitation or fear, he took a deep breath and plunged his face forward, into the world that would never exist, and then took precisely one step—off the edge of the chair.