The Gemini Movement

Chapter 9: Single Routine

The next several days were pretty normal, and not just by Hinata-sou standards. Motoko gave Keitaro a week off of training to recover from the break-in, and she herself had taken some time to relax. Motoko had taken a liking to walking around the expansive grounds behind the Inn, and could be seen from the roof if you were looking for her.

Kitsune had seemingly taken quit of the bottle, save for a small glass at dinnertime, and had thrown herself into her writing career, doing short stories of a certain klutzy ronin's antics as the manager of a woman's dorm which quickly became popular. She was also starting a novel starring a very charming modern-day warrior who terrorized the criminal underground, and and his girlfriend – slash – sidekick. When asked about her novel, though, Kitsune would always blush and ask what novel you were talking about.

Shinobu was probably the most unchanged. She continued on like she always did, wake up, breakfast, laundry, lunch, free time, dinner, bath, and bed.

Naru and Keitaro kept to their studies, though Keitaro was doing much better than before his lessons with Motoko, leading to a very confused and frustrated Naru when Keitaro would finish some of the most difficult problems, not only without Naru's help, but before her too!

Mutsumi and Sara were given rooms on the second and first floor, respectively. Mutsumi wove seamlessly into the fabric of Hinata-sou, being the eternally smiling face that could keep a person going through the day. The brunette also had the strange habit of supplying watermelons whenever they were requested, and several times when they weren't. They did, however, discover one thing that, in retrospect, made perfect sense. Tama-chan had an appetite for watermelons that put Su's hunger for bananas to shame.

Speaking of Su, she had found a reason to put the whatever – the – hell – it – was in her room to the side in her best friend and dorm mate, Sara. Though Sara only came chest – high to Su, she had an eye for mischief that turned her size into a weapon. Somehow or another, it was easy for her to disguise her waist length blonde hair at will, meaning that any shadow made a perfect hiding spot for the little ninja. At least that's what most of the dormer's thought. Motoko, Keitaro, Su, and Sara all knew of the network of tunnels weaving through every available space in the inn's structure. Of course, the warriors and the blondes never told each other what they knew, and as far as Su and Sara knew, they were the only ones who knew of it.

...

Three days after the attack, Keitaro was sitting on the roof, at the same spot grown – up Su had found him. He was laying on his back, basking in the midday sun. Though his body was relaxed, his mind was jumbled. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened, about what he did. I could really use a break from thinking, he thought.

"Oi, Keitaro!"

That was convenient. "What is it, Kitsune?" he yelled, standing up from his spot.

Kitsune was standing by the stairs, wearing a green tank top and khaki shorts that flattered her already stunning frame, and holding a purse that Keitaro never recalled seeing her carry before. "Get over here," she yelled, "you're coming with me!"

Keitaro walked up to her and replied conversationally, "Are you sure we can time it that well?"

For Kitsune, talking clearly while blushing head to toe had long since became an art form, so it was a Kitsune that was as red as her namesake that simply smiled and said, "Follow me."

…

Motoko was meditating on a stone jutting out of the top of a hill behind the Hinata-sou. She had found the stone on one of her outings, and had found it to be perfect for meditation. The stone was smooth, and curved like a bowl slightly. It seemed that she was not the first to discover this comfortable perch.

What caused that burst of flame? Keitaro only exhibited the ability to create those black quills before, but that fire attack was flawless, if overkill. Also, he chose to dispatch some of the men with the jagged side of the sword. Motoko shuddered at the memories of the torn bodies. As soon as they went for me, his anger escalated. Could he perhaps-?

Motoko couldn't tell, but she was blushing furiously, and would likely need to spend a few moments regaining composure before she could return to meditation.

…

A heroic figure stepped from behind the curtain. Billowing around the man's lean – muscled frame was a black long-coat that fell to his ankles. It was open, but buckled at the waist. The black jeans that showed off the muscles in his legs were tucked into the black leather boots, and belted with a silver-tone chain. The gray shirt provided contrast, and only buttoned up to the last four buttons, which were conspicuously missing, but they showed off his chest. His left had was clad in a leather glove, while his right wore a biking glove, and it was not difficult to imagine the sword dangling from his hand. The spiked hairdo and ultra-thin glasses completed the look, giving the figure a serious look of badassery.

"Kitsune, I feel strange in these clothes!" Keitaro's voice whined from underneath the picture of awesome before the fox.

"New clothes always feel like that!" Kitsune stared. Actually, she hadn't stopped staring since she had first seen Keitaro after he went to change. Mind you, that was before he actually left the changing booth, but after he got some pants on. "Here, look at yourself in a mirror!" she pulled him over to the nearest mirror, glaring at the female attendants who were looking a little too long.

"I look like a video game character!" Keitaro's eyes bugged out.

"Yes, and? It looks awesome on you, Keitaro! And the best part," she pushed him hard, "is that it's functional, too!"

Kitsune had dragged him out for a run around Tokyo, specifically the fashion district. Her income from the stories was enough that she wanted to spend some on her inspiration. His hair was now shorter and spiked, and he had the means to spike it at home. He now had new glasses that looked less geeky than his old pair, and hung on to his face more. And now he was in a trendy clothing store, getting clothes that looked like they belonged to an anime character, in which-

-Keitaro rolled, jumped, and landed on his feet, and looked toward Kitsune, who flashed a V at him and smiled, "See? Fashionable and functional!"

"I think I could get used to these," Keitaro mused, impressed.

"Good, cause I have these, too!" Kitsune was holding what looked like fifty shopping bags, and was grinning ear to ear.

Keitaro, knowing better than to argue, grabbed the first bag and returned to the changing room.

…

Kitsune was skipping along happily toward Hinata-sou, while Keitaro was hauling along the bags from their shopping trip (Hey, what did you expect?). He was back in the clothes he was in when they left the inn. All things said, though, they were both happy with the purchases. Keitaro had a whole new wardrobe, including: the long-coat outfit, a red sleeveless shirt with leather pants, a robe-like raincoat, a leather jacket, various belts, several gloves, prescription sunglasses, a silver pocket watch, and a black wide – brimmed fedora (Think of The Exorcist).

Kitsune was now hopping up the stairs, light as air, while Keitaro was trying not to drop anything, or drop himself... After what felt like hours of climbing, Kitsune held out a hand to stop Keitaro, almost toppling him. They were outside the tea house.

"Hey Keitaro, go change into one of your new outfits!" Kitsune whispered covertly.

"Huh? Here?" Keitaro's eyes widened slightly.

"Hehe, only if you want to," Kitsune teased. Keitaro and her always managed to start these little debates, but it never was serious, something which caught Naru and Shinobu off guard more than once.

What she didn't expect was for Keitaro to start taking off his shirt.

…

"That damned fool!" the Lord looked from his keep's walls at the inferno below him. In the middle of it was the King, his finery restored to it's gleaming glory, dancing in the flames he had ignited. "He's destroyed the entire place for nothing but a dance!"

The Lord fell to his knees at the depravity of his rival.

The King sensed this and laughed. What is a kingdom if it doesn't serve its King? No one was in the buildings that cindered and collapsed even now around him. There was no guilt, no pain.

No regret.

…

Sickening.

Hellish.

Thief.

Demonic.