Author's Notes: I swear, I did not intend to start another story with such an important one (to me, anyway) still active, but the shear implausibility of this scenario drew me like a moth to a flame. It all began with a short one-shot story by an author on this site called 'protorb.' His only requirement for someone rewriting the story was that his original story be mentioned, and so I gladly give him credit here. I've kept the story name the same for continuity purposes. I intended for this to be a one-shot as well, but the story just cut itself off way before I intended, so I'm forced to call this a prologue. I'll continue it as time allows...

Just a quick note, I'm following the manga, and this takes place during the chapter following Naru's confession, which means it's been about a month (by Motoko's estimation) since she accepted the ring.

Promise Breaker

Prologue -- Shattered Dreams

Two figures sat in the semi-dark room, tears running down their faces. They knelt in the traditional Japanese way of sitting, facing each other. One was male, the Manager of Hinata-Sou, the all-girls-dormitory in which the two of them currently resided, and the other was female, one of the tenants of the dormitory. Between the two of them sat the object that bound them together, and yet at the same time separated them as surely as a stone wall.

The object was a simple golden ring. It was unadorned, and was obviously not the most expensive ring one could buy, but it served its purpose. It represented the love one person had for another, and in this case it embodied almost the full balance of the savings account of its giver.

Neither of them could speak, for each knew surely that whatever was said would only be misinterpreted, and yet each was braced for the other's words. These two people were far different from the young man and woman when they had first met. Were those two sitting here, the meeting would have already devolved into blows, and one or both of them would have already fled, not wanting to face the other.

In some ways it might have been better for the old versions of the two to have been there, for one of them would have much more readily forgiven the other, and the other might have forgotten after giving the one a good pounding for something that was not his fault. Such a resolution would be nothing but a salve, though, so perhaps it would not be so good after all. Fate, in her wisdom, had brought about the inevitable at such a time when the two of them would be able to face each other without running or blowing up.

They both shifted slightly, he to swipe the sleeve of his shirt across his damp face, she to brush aside a loose strand of hair. Their eyes met, each guessing that the other had been about to speak, even though that had not been the case. She was the one who broke contact, looking down and closing her eyes in sorrow at the pain in her heart, and on his face. Eventually he too looked down, fresh tears wetting his face, and hers. Neither of them reacted when the door to the room slid aside quietly. Framed in the light from the hallway was the tall graceful form of Motoko Aoyama, female Kendoist, her traditional gi-and-hakama outfit billowing as she moved.

"Naru-sempai, I was wondering if you could..." the question died on her lips as she took in the room and its two inhabitants. The pain and sorrow radiating from the two of them bombarded her aural vision, staggering her, and her hand unconsciously gripped the sheath of her katana. She had seen her friend in similar pain before, and it had almost always had something to do with the young man before her, either some clumsy mistake he had made, or some slip of the tongue.

Two things and two things alone kept her from blindly striking him down. One, over the past months she had come to respect his ceaseless dedication. The boy had been accepted into his dream university, and had confessed his love (ring and all) to the woman he had long wooed. Whatever faults he possessed, he had grown considerably more dependable since the time she had first met him. And two, he was in just as much pain as Naru.

She had seen many things from him – love (for Naru), sorrow (whenever he embarrassed others by being his usual clumsy self, or made some slip of the tongue), his emotions ran the gamut of a normal human being, but she had never seen him in such pain. The young man was always so quick to forgive, even when he was not at fault. Motoko had at first despised the boy for it, seeing it as weakness, but over the years she had come to know better. It was his greatest strength, and was probably what drew Naru to him despite all his other faults. Whatever had happened here was apparently so unforgivable that even he was at a loss, and yet his need to forgive her was still there, and thus he sat, in pain, and unable to cope with it.

She knew at once that it would do no good to ask what was wrong, as neither of them were in any condition to speak. Then she saw the ring between them, and pain gripped her.

"I swear to the both of you, no one will enter," was all she said. She turned, sliding the door shut and seating herself, laying her katana across her lap as she closed her eyes. Time was what the two needed, and she would keep a vigil as long as required.

Flashback

Keitaro practically skipped up the chipped stone stairs leading to Hinata-Sou, his heart soaring despite the cloudy sky that promised rain. He had just come from Tokyo-U after registering for second-term classes. Despite the fact that he was one term behind Naru, he had somehow managed to convince the resident language professor to allow him to take an advanced placement test to make up for the missed term. He was still deciding what he wanted to study, but he was tentatively leaning towards archeology, which meant the study of languages was important. Fortunately for him, languages were one of his strong points, and he had passed the test by the skin of his teeth. The man had grudgingly signed the waiver passing him to enroll in the advanced class.

Atleast in this one area, Narusegawa and I will have classes together!

He entered Hinata-Sou without greeting, knowing there would be no one there besides his girlfriend. Shinobu was on an extended field trip with her class, Koalla Suu had somehow tagged along using a fake ID, and Motoko had taken a few days off of her studies to go out training in the wild as she sometimes did. As for Mitsune, she had gone out in her role of Investigative Reporter, money for her apparently having gotten tight. She would likely not be back for atleast a week, and then it would be nothing but parties until she needed money again.

The first drops of rain began to patter against the window of his darkening room as he dropped the college text-books on his futon, slipping off his shoes and climbing up onto the chair beneath the ragged hole that allowed access between his room and Naru's. His fiancee would not be expecting him home, for he had mentioned that he would be taking the weekend to study with his two friends Shirai and Haitani. He had not truly expected to pass the advanced placement test, and when he had, he immediately purchased the books for the class and changed his plans.

Fiancee... I can hardly believe it.

It had been like a dream come true when Naru had finally accepted the ring and professed her feelings for him. Their relationship up to this point had been a tumultuous one, but he treasured every moment of it.

Now that she accepted the ring, and I passed this test, everything is perfect.

Tears of happiness glittered at the corners of his eyes as he pushed up on the piece of plywood covering the hole between their rooms.

"Narusegawa, I passed the test!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "We're in the same language class now! Do you want to study a little this afternoon? Naru-se... gawa..." Her room was dark, and dead silent, though he thought he had heard a quiet gasp just as he had spoken. Liddo-kun, her stuffed plushie doll rolled off the tilted plywood he held above his head, coming to rest on its side, fixing him with a blank gaze. "Huh, she must be gone."

He was about to replace the plywood over the hole when he tilted it just far enough for the small object that had been placed under Liddo-kun to lose traction. It slid to the edge of the plywood, falling with a clunk to the floor in front of his nose.

"Her ring," he murmured, reaching out and picking it up. The plywood slipped from his hands to the floor behind him, but he did not notice. He turned the ring over in his hands, wondering what it could mean.

Why isn't she wearing it?

He was about to drop back to his own room when he heard the soft whisper of sheets moving against each other, and then silence.

"N-Narusegawa?" he hesitantly called. I shouldn't be here, she'll kill me if I catch her half-dressed...

Despite the mental warnings screaming inside him, something pushed him to climb into the room. He stood up, the ring in his hand, to see Naru tangled up in the sheets of her futon, her silky hair splayed out in all directions. She was in the arms of another young man, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at her fiancee open-mouthed. As the moment stretched out to infinity, something deep inside Keitaro died.

"Per... pervert...!" she jerkily pulled a corner of the sheet over her naked body, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle out of her partner's embrace as Keitaro slowly turned around, his eyes as blank as Liddo-kun's. "...I, no!" she stretched out a hand towards Keitaro's retreating form. "...wait! Please...!" Her hand dropped to the bed as he dropped through the hole. "I can explain," she said softly. Uselessly.

End Flashback

Naru waited, wondering what his question would be, having resolved not to just run out on him.

Why? How, maybe?

She had gone over the circumstances in her head so many times looking for some plausible trail of logic that might exonerate her, atleast in the eyes of the only person who mattered.

This... this is Keitaro, right? If there's anybody who will forgive me, it's him...

Right?

Right...?

She squeezed her eyes shut, clinching her fists tightly.

"Na-Naru?"

Her eyes snapped open, and for a moment it looked like there was a halo of light around Keitaro's head, as she looked at him through the tears blurring her vision.

"I... can't stop loving you, no matter what you do."

Her heart leapt at his words, though she felt a twinge of sadness. The young man smiled wanly.

"I won't ask you why... I don't want you to feel bad. Just... please try to be more discrete if you do this in the future, won't you...?"

It was like a dream come true, and the moment seemed frozen as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. "...s-sure, Keitaro, I promise..." she murmured. Wait, did he just give me permission to keep doing this? Confusion switched to anger. Hold on, he's assuming I'd do it again?!

"What did I do wrong?" the soft question punctured the pleasant dream world she had been fabricating, but the confusion and anger stayed with her.

What did he do wrong?

The question echoed through her mind, stunning her beyond belief. It was the last thing she expected to hear from him, and yet in retrospect the question was thoroughly Keitaro. For a short moment her defenses were breached, and she spoke the truth of what she was feeling.

"Why... couldn't you have acted more like a man..."

Keitaro slowly looked up. "What?"

Something in his eyes made her shiver, and her defenses came back up. "No! I didn't mean it like that..."

"You didn't mean it like..." His voice was dull as he slowly repeated what she had said, trying to make some sense of the conversation.

"...in a perverted way," she finished, cringing at how that had sounded.

His eyes flashed momentarily. "You're accusing me of being perverted?"

"What? I..."

He waved her off, "No, I apologize, that was... I spoke out of anger."

She fell helplessly silent, wishing she knew what to say. In one pristine moment of clarity, she saw, and accepted, that she didn't deserve the young man sitting across from her, and she could do no more than look down as fresh tears slid down her face.

He closed his eyes against the sight, and with a monumental effort he managed to speak.

"You're right, Narusegawa, I should be more like a man."

"Wh-what?" she mumbled.

"I... forgive you."

"You... what? Of... course, you do." She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. Is this really happening?

"I won't ask why you did it. I..."

"I... I swear I won't do it again," the words tumbled out of her automatically. It's... it's like a dream. I don't deserve this... Her pride reasserted itself. "No, wait Keitaro, you don't have to..."

"What are you talking about, Narusegawa?" his shoulders were less slumped now, as if a burden had been lifted. He reached forward, picking up the ring. "You can do whatever you want, it's not like I'm your parent or something..." a ghost of a smile passed over his lips, and her insides froze.

"...but, I want you," she breathed.

He have her an incredulous look, and then shook his head sadly. "I... don't understand you. I wish I did..."

She reached out a trembling hand, taking his. He didn't resist, even when she opened it, and fingered the ring in his palm. There was no point, she was stronger than him.

"That's... not yours, anymore."

"But..."

"Narusegawa... You're the one who took it off, not me...!"

"You... you idiot!" she yelled as she grabbed his collar, her other hand still holding his. "It's... your fault, somehow. It's got to be..." her voice shook, and the sliding door slammed open, Motoko's anxious face was framed by the light from the hallway.

He sighed. "I apologize, Narusegawa, I spoke in anger again. But it was the truth."

Motoko stood in the doorway, brought to a stop by the startling realization that she did not know who to strike. She watched the manager get to his feet and calmly walk away from the girl of his promise. He stumbled slightly when he reached the kendoist, not even noticing she had been there.

"...s-sorry," he mumbled.

"Urashima..." she whispered, unconsciously stepping back, almost pushed away by the intense grief she sensed from him. She looked back to where Naru sat. The ring was gone, and the pieces of broken conversation she had overheard only added to her confusion.

This can't be... It's always Urashima who makes the mistakes, not her! But what could she have done to cause this...?

Naru's anger had again dwindled, and her head drooped, tears dripping from her chin to the wood floor. To Motoko's aural vision, the girl's grief and pain were like a massive open wound that was bleeding out. She looked back at Keitaro's retreating form, and her eyes widened. The boy's own grief had contracted in on itself, forming a hard, tight ball of darkness. She had seen such spiritual wounds before, and knew that without the proper care, they could transform a person into someone completely different. Glancing at her friend once more, she resigned herself to the painful fact that the girl's wounds were beyond her. Only Naru herself would be able to do something about them.

Kami-sama, I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought as she ran from the room after her manager, the only one for whom there was hope.

She caught up to him in the hallway and slowed, preparing herself as she tentatively reached a hand out to his shoulder.

I've... never even done such techniques with a male before...

The realization almost stayed her hand, but she closed her eyes, taking another look at his wounded aura.

I can't just leave him like this.

With a sigh she released the slight distaste she felt, knowing she would have to be completely neutral if there was to be any hope at all. After another moment's hesitation, she touched his shoulder, and he stopped moving, tensing slightly. She opened her eyes, which had dilated almost completely as she entered a half-trance. Reaching inside him with an ethereal hand, she began to unravel the hard knot in the center of his being. This technique was one of the closest secrets of the Shinmei-Ryu, and was only used as a last resort to prevent a fellow member from committing wrongful Seppukku. It was painfully slow work, but after several minutes his shoulders began to shake beneath her hand. Finally her pupils returned to their normal size, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She doubted she could have accomplished the task on her own. The boy's desperate wish to forgive Naru was the only reason she had accomplished what she had. Despite his previous words, he had not truly been able to forgive her, and Motoko now knew the lie would have eventually eaten away his soul if it had been allowed to fester. She gasped as the boy suddenly turned and threw his arms around her, sobbing frantically.

"Na-Naru, why?!" he choked. "Please, just tell me why...?"

She stumbled backwards, falling heavily to the ground as his tears soaked into her gi-top. If it had been even one year earlier, she would have sent him through the wall for such an invasion of privacy, but her mind flashed back to when she had similarly collapsed against him. He had just been accepted into Tokyo-U, and had subsequently broken his leg trying to fulfill his promise to Naru.

Flashback

Motoko sat on the futon, her eyes downcast. Tsuroko had broken her sword, stripped her of her title, and left her. She was nothing, now. The fact that she was being cared for by a man with a broken leg only added to her suffering.

"Urashima, I haven't noticed before now..." she swallowed past the lump in her throat, but forced herself to speak. "...even though I call you a weakling and an idiot... the idiot and the weakling is really me."

"Don't... don't say that...!" Keitaro exclaimed. It hurt him to see the strong Motoko he had always known in such straights. "You..."

"Please, don't patronize me..." she murmured, her eyes hard. "Whether it's being a kendoist, or even being a girl, I just can't..."

He laid a hand on her head and smiled. "Motoko, forcing yourself too much isn't good either. You're fine just the way you are." The compassion she saw in his eyes sent her over the edge, and tears ran from her eyes.

"...wh-why are you so nice to me?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"Huh?" a look of bewilderment crossed his face as she threw herself against him, shaking with barely repressed grief. She felt his arms surround her, and the gentle touch only served to open the floodgates of her emotions. She did not feel him jerk his arms away a few seconds later. When she finally released her hold on him, she found that he had stuck clothespins all over his face in an attempt to divert himself from the feel of a woman in his arms.

End Flashback

She smiled at the bittersweet memory. He had stayed true to Naru even at that time, when she had still been actively denying that they even had a relationship. She sighed, considering her position.

A warrior never forgets her debts.

She closed her eyes as she slowly put her arm around the sobbing boy.

As you helped me back then, I swear to you Urashima, I will get to the bottom of this.