Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina or any of its characters. This is just a random fic that is loosely based off both the manga and anime.
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Chapter 20: A Feminine Rivalry
"I don't think I've inside here before," Mutsumi murmured. "Was this always a teahouse?"
Her awed expression was enough to make Keitaro have a look around himself. The old run down teahouse which had once been had disappeared; though if he tried hard enough, he could still find faint remnants here and there.
The renovations had come along quite nicely: fancy, well furnished booths wooden bordered along the walls, a nice sleek bar adorned the corner, and in the center of it all was a square shaped lounge with plush, velvet sofas bordering its sides. Even the staircase had been reworked and widened, hinting at the unseen possibilities of the marvelous changes which had might have taken place on the top floors. It looked like an interior decorator had gone through it.
He nodded approvingly.
Out with the old, in with the new.
Honestly, Keitaro found himself surprised that Haruka of all people was business savvy enough to understand that, but he supposed that even his non-ambitious Aunt was inclined to take advantage of such an opportunity.
"I'm actually not so sure, Mutsumi," Keitaro replied. "But I think I remember that it used to be the office where the guests registered back when Hinata Sou used to be an inn."
"It was."
Naru, Keitaro, and even Mutsumi glanced back quizzically. Ayame had barely whispered it, but it still felt like it had echoed. Keitaro had almost forgotten that she was with them.
"Good afternoon to you all! A party of four?" Kentaro approached them, a far too wide to be natural smile plastered on his face.
"I…suppose so…" Keitaro replied uncertainly, and was whisked away by an overzealous Kentaro to a booth on the side. As they seated themselves, Kentaro laid out cups for each of them.
"Here's your tea, compliments of our most wonderful and gracious owner," Kentaro's voice seemed strained and his hand was visibly trembling even as he tried to pour it into the cup, only to spill it. "Sorry…I'm so sorry sir; I'll get you another one right away."
Keitaro glanced up, getting a better look and saw that Kentaro looked positively fatigued. "Hey are you okay?"
But Kentaro was wiping the spill with almost fanatic fervor. With still quaking hands, he expertly poured the tea for Keitaro, and then Mutsumi, Ayame, and finally Naru, all the while giving a twitchy smile that came off as almost eerie.
Sitting beside Keitaro, Naru squirmed uncomfortably, biting her lip in indecision. She lifted a finger, opening her mouth as if to say something, and faltered. Her jaw clenched, and she tried again, but her mouth simply hung open aimlessly. Kentaro remained oblivious to anything except his task, not even acknowledging that he had recognized her, and hurried away to another table. Naru's face fell slightly, but she seemed to relax a bit as well. She was off the hook.
Just then, Haruka appeared and propped up a chair at the side of the booth. She casually half nodded in greeting, but suddenly jerked her head, her questioning gaze lingered on Mutsumi, who started to blush slightly.
"So you're the Otohime girl," she tapped her cigarette into an ashtray. "And who's this?" she nodded to Ayame.
Ayame did not respond, tucking her arms between her thighs, and shrinking back.
"This is Ryouzaki Ayame," Mutsumi answered for her.
Haruka arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay…"
"So, how does this work?" Keitaro asked. "You're reopening the sections of the teahouse as they're rebuilt? What about just doing a grand opening?"
Haruka smirked. "We'll have that too."
He looked around the teahouse and took in the loud atmosphere. "It's surprising how you're still getting so many customers."
Haruka snubbed her cigarette in an ashtray and took a sip of her tea. "That accident with Kentaro created quite a buzz about this place. All that free publicity and attracted a lot of attention, and you're seeing the results of that now."
"Well, it's an…original way to advertise," Keitaro drawled. "I guess you should actually be grateful to Kentaro, huh?"
"I liked the small quaint feel a lot better, it was more homely," Haruka exhaled a thin white cloud, and gave them all a once over. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you didn't just stop by to chat."
Mutsumi explained what happened, at the end of which a nonplussed Haruka simply said, "Whoa, you certainly did a number there."
"So now," Mutsumi took a tentative sip of her tea. "We're homeless."
Immediately, Haruka shot a look at Keitaro, who only smiled back sheepishly. Already it was apparent that Haruka had deciphered exactly what he had been thinking, but she seemed determined not to say anything and instead casually lounged back in her seat. A silence had fallen, and Haruka waited; Keitaro was certain she was testing to see how he would proceed with his civic duty as landlord.
"We do have an extra room left at Hinata Sou…" Keitaro slowly started.
"Can I take that?" Ayame burst out, and then grew silent, glowing bright red.
Mutsumi smiled gracefully, "That would be great for you Ayame!"
Keitaro felt a small pang. "But Mutsumi, where are you---?"
"I've got plenty of extra room here at the teahouse, your welcome to stay here if you want, Mutsumi," Haruka suggested offhandedly.
"Really?" Mutsumi asked. "Thank you Haruka-san---that will work out just fine."
Keitaro eyed Ayane warily, annoyance grazing him. Once again, Mutsumi had selflessly stepped aside and allowed someone to reap the benefits. Keitaro would have gladly vouched for her over Ayame, but since Mutsumi already seemed content with Haruka's offer, he decided to let the matter drop.
They sat quietly, sipping on their tea, and Haruka hailed down Kentaro for some snacks. Not realizing up until now that he was starving, Keitaro shoveled a handful of crackers onto his tray.
"How were the mock exams for you, Keitaro, good, bad, decent?" Haruka asked.
Keitaro's back suddenly stiffened and he nearly choked, gulping down a mouthful of tea to help him swallow the unruly crackers. He set the empty cup on the table a little too forcefully then he had intended too.
"They were good," he replied vaguely.
Haruka stared at him blankly. Naru, Mutsumi, and even Ayame were all watching him eagerly now. Under sudden scrutiny, Keitaro decided to divert the attention away from him.
"Well, how did you two do?"
"I got 87," Mutsumi clapped her hands together, grinning blissfully.
"I got a 93," Naru said curtly with slight agitation.
"Wow, that's really…" Keitaro bit onto another cracker for nothing else except for sake of keeping himself occupied. "That's…that's great…"
He was not all that surprised, they had come a long way from the beginning, and Mutsumi and Naru had always been near the top of their game to begin with, it was him that had sprung out of nowhere.
"And that's not all," Mutsumi added her eyes shimmering in admiration. "Naru-san scored the second highest in the nation."
Naru scowled at nothing in particular. She looked like she wanted to strangle whoever it was that had managed to trump her on something she had worked her middle school and high school career for.
"Is that so?" Keitaro croaked. Why was he feeling so nervous all of a sudden?
In a futile effort at escape, he had subconsciously inched toward the wall until his entire side was pressed up against it. Once again, everyone turned to him expectantly, waiting. Keitaro hesitated. For some reason, a part of him had become convinced that revealing his score would somehow not make it real anymore. It was for him, and for him to know alone.
How much more selfish could he get?
It was because of both Mutsumi and Naru that he had gotten as far as he had, that he had even found the will to break out from his frozen panic and take the mock exam. He could trust them. He could tell them. He owed it to them.
"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Haruka said.
Keitaro winced, feeling more and more like a jerk for being so obvious. "No, no it's not that…"
He was ready, there was the just the question of Ayame now, but Keitaro decided to let it go. It was not like she knew anything about him; what did it matter?
Still, he felt a bit paranoid about saying it out loud. "Here," he pulled out the envelope which he always made sure to have on him and unfolded it onto the table. "Look…" he whispered, wary that somebody else would overhear.
Haruka was first to look through it, gave an approving nod and then passed it on to Mutsumi, who congratulated him while Ayame leaned over her shoulder to peer at it. The red haired girl's went wide as saucers and she seemed to almost gasp.
"Can I see that---please?" Naru persisted, and practically snatched the paper from Mutsumi's gentle grasp. She squinted, tracing the words with her fingers. Apparently not being able to believe what she was seeing, she straightened the paper. "One second…" She shuffled in her seat, bumping up against Keitaro, and dipped her hands into her pocket. Her face reddened, and she seemed to be straining, bumping into Keitaro again. "Err…" was all the apology she stammered out.
Keitaro scooted away and watched, confused.
Finally, Naru pulled out a slim case, and unlatched it, propping her obscenely thick coke bottle glasses onto her nose. "Now lets see here…" Her lips moved silently as she read through it, and then her jaw slacked in astonishment. She turned to Keitaro, the disbelief etched in her magnified. She seemed to search his face, as though she did not recognize him. Keitaro could almost see the unspoken question at the tip of her lips.
"It's not a misprint, believe me, I checked," he said softly, unable to keep the begrudging out of his tone.
Naru reddened, apparently embarrassed that her disbelief was so obvious. "Oh…no, I wasn't---that wasn't…" Naru awkwardly handed it back to him.
Keitaro noticed that the paper had crumpled where Naru had gripped it.
"I…I have to go---" Averting her eyes, Naru slipped out of the booth.
Haruka grabbed her arm. "Hey Naru, since you're heading out, go show Ayame and Mutsumi into Hinata Sou, would you?"
"Y-yeah, sure," Naru replied hesitantly.
Haruka hardly noticed Naru trying to tug her arm away, and continued. "Let the others know what's going on. Oh, and Mutsumi, stop by in the evening, I'll have your room set up for you."
Mutsumi thanked Haruka and stood up, but Ayame seemed reluctant to move, her eyes flitting towards Keitaro for a moment. Haruka's dismissal was clear though, she wanted to talk to Keitaro in private, and Ayame quietly followed Naru and Mutsumi out, glancing behind her shoulders once more before disappearing through the front door.
"Odd…" Haruka remarked squinting.
Keitaro took a sip of his tea. "Who? Narusegawa, or the near-mute Ryouzaki?"
"Neither, I'm talking about the Otohime girl…"
Keitaro's pulse quickened. "What about her?" he asked cautiously.
"She looks…she looks just like her mother," Haruka's somber expression melted into an amused smile, and before Keitaro could ask her to elaborate, she said, "Your scores though…that's pretty damn impressive, Keitaro. At the rate you're going, Hinata Sou will be yours in no time. You still plan on turning it into an all guys dorm?" Her smile dropped and she raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Keitaro, did you hear me?"
Keitaro did not answer right away, lost in thought. In the recent days, he had been contemplating more and more about his eventual inheritance of Hinata Sou. The more he thought about it, the more he began questioning the fact if he was even able to be a sufficient landlord and manage it correctly. It had started off simple enough, but now, especially as of late, Keitaro was seriously beginning to question his ability about being a landlord.
So much responsibility on his shoulders, and he did not even own the place yet. For now, at least there was still Granny Hina to deal with property taxes and all the legal issues.
Keitaro frowned. What made him think that he would be ready to own Hinata Sou? Did he even want it to begin with? Being a landlord was more of a distraction than anything…so was it even worth it?
"Why didn't Granny Hina leave Hinata Sou to you Haruka…or even my father?"
"Simple, I got the teahouse, your father got the bakery and you get Hinata Sou," Haruka puffed for emphasis, as though that explained everything.
"Yeah okay, I get that…but why didn't Granny give you or father Hinata Sou?"
"She's willed for it to be passed down to you since your birth, Keitaro. But as to why she chose you over me and your father, maybe its because…you're her grandchild so she sees you as her legacy?" Haruka shrugged. "I don't know, maybe you're her favorite, she always did have a soft spot for your ambitious nature, considering how me and my brother really didn't do much…either way, it doesn't bother me. I never wanted it anyway."
"Didn't my father want it?"
Haruka shook her head. "Though your mother wasn't to happy about him not getting it."
Keitaro frowned. The thought of his mother possessing Hinata Sou bothered him a lot more than he expected, and surprisingly, it was more due to what his mother would do to the tenants, then to the actual house itself.
"Hey, Haruka, did you by any chance…" Keitaro hesitated, but gathered himself when Haruka crossed her legs, waiting expectantly. "When I was little, did you call me Kei-kun?" The vision of the younger Haruka vividly flashed in his mind.
She pursed her lips and thought about it. "No…no I don't think I ever did. Everyone else seemed to though, Granny christened you with it from the day you were born. She wasn't too keen on the 'taro' suffix that you were dubbed. That had been on your mother's insistence---she thought it'd be cute, naming you after a legend."
Keitaro could only sigh. Leave it to his mother and her fascination with grandeur. He supposed it had never occurred to his mother that he would be teased all the way through high school because of the name. The constant comparisons---mostly of how he would never live up to the legend he was named after---had made quite a few dents on his self perception. Still, it was his name, his identity. It suited him in some bizarre mixed up way, and Keitaro could not imagine himself being named anything else.
"Haruka, is it possible…" He swallowed, and tried again. "Is it possible for you…could you check to see if Mutsumi stayed during…"
"You mean fifteen years ago?"
"Yeah…" A great surge of dread and anticipation welled up in Keitaro.
What had happened at the sandbox just barely an hour earlier had really shaken him and he severely doubted that he would forget about it anytime soon…if ever.
The promised girl…Mutsumi could be…
But part of him still refused to be convinced yet. He needed to be absolutely one hundred percent sure, no uncertainties whatsoever. If her name appeared in the guest records, then there would be no denying it as a coincidence any longer, he had indeed found the…promised girl…
It seemed more than anything that he was stalling, using this as another excuse. It was so weird that not even he fully understood how he felt. A part of him wished that Haruka never decided to look for the records, but there also seemed to be a deep-rooted desire that insisted---that obsessively demanded---to get this matter settled once and for all. To finally discover the truth…
And where would he go from there? Maybe…
"About that," Haruka looked apologetic. "I remember I said I'd check before, but I've been so busy---"
"That's okay, but could you check soon…it's kind of important."
Haruka smiled, clearly sensing that something was troubling him, but gave him his space. That's what Keitaro liked about Haruka, she always seemed to have this sixth sense of knowing when something was bothering him, but knew exactly when to prod him about it, and when to leave it alone.
"Sure Keitaro…I'll look into it."
Keitaro took a deep breath. He sincerely hoped Haruka didn't find Mutsumi's name.
He gulped the last of the tea and stood up to leave when another pressing issue suddenly occurred to him. "By the way Haruka, there's something else---another favor I have to ask of you. You see, should it so happen that Aoyama can no longer financially cover herself…" He glanced suspiciously to his side, wary of any potential eavesdroppers.
His voice had dropped down to barely a whisper and Haruka had to lean in to listen carefully.
When he was done, she pulled away. She pulled out another cigarette and contemplated. "Are you sure?" she asked finally.
Keitaro folded his hands and a strange glint reflected off of his glasses, obscuring his eyes. "Positive."
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It was a rarity this late in the year, but the late morning sun's rays shone shining brightly through the windows, warming the kitchen where the Hinata Sou residents were quietly finishing breakfast. Shinobu was at the stove, already dutifully preparing for lunch.
Meanwhile, the rest of the tenants sat around the table, the only sound being the clatter and clinking of their utensils against the plate. Ayame was with them too now, and although she was occupied the same table as them, she seemed to project such a solitary aura that it was as if she were isolated in her own personal corner, distanced from everybody else.
As he took another bite, Keitaro noticed how Kitsune's cheeks seemed to be peculiarly flushed...and he had gut feeling that it was not natural either. Every so often she would take a gulp from the small gourd. Now that he thought about it, he recalled how she had been carrying that thing everywhere with her. But he had never really bothered to pay much attention to it---that is until now.
"What're you drinking Konno-san?"
Kitsune slowly took the gourd away from her lips, her cheeks still full. She swished the unidentified liquid, and then slowly gulped it down.
"Does it matter?"
Keitaro's suspicion rose. "Yes, as a matter of fact it does. That wouldn't happen to contain alcohol…would it?"
"Relax, it's in an unmarked container, it's not as though I'm openly displaying anything to the children here."
"So it is sake then."
"I never said it was…" she smiled slyly. "But then, I never said it wasn't."
By now, everyone had grown quiet and in unison turned their head back and forth as each of them talked.
"Can I see it?"
"No, you can't, it's my property, you have no right to…"
"But if your deliberately breaking the rules---" He blinked in surprise when Kitsune went from bold to audacious and took another purposely drawn out. At first, Keitaro thought that Kitsune's drink must have gone sour because of the way she stiffened in surprise. Her eyes were wide open, staring directly in front of her. Keitaro followed her line of sight and then stopped cold.
The very essence of tranquility, there was Motoko quietly eating her breakfast, dressed in her school uniform despite the fact that it was the weekend.
Everyone stared at her with very confused and somewhat anxious expressions, still not comprehending what it was they were seeing.
Somehow, Motoko had managed to slip into the kitchen, pull out a chair for herself, and even lay out a plate for herself---all of that, completely undetected by everyone. And she was almost done with her breakfast by the looks of it.
Su was the first to break the silence. "Motoko…are… are you okay?"
"I'm doing fine, thank you for asking, Su," Motoko calmly replied, taking in another spoonful.
Keitaro's ankles curled around the wooden legs of his chair, his calves flexing involuntarily.
Naru traded an uneasy look with Kitsune, and then leaned in, whispering, "Guess you were right… who have thought all she needed was some space and a little time to herse---"
A spoon clanged loudly onto the ground as Motoko suddenly jumped up, knocking her chair back slamming and her palms on the table. "Is there any way that I can supplement doing chores around the house as to pay my keep at Hinata Sou---?!"
Keitaro could only blink, leaning back on his chair, aghast. Even though she was practically at the other end of the table, Motoko's outburst was equivalent to a grenade going off.
"So Tsuruko-san isn't paying for you anymore?" Shinobu nervously chirped, and unwittingly shot not so subtle glance toward Keitaro.
Keitaro looked around the table. By now, everyone else had their eyes on him. Unable to stomach the unwavering focus of Motoko's intense pleading eyes, Keitaro uncomfortably rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was like he was passing some sort of judgment. Someone had to make the decision, and the tenants had made it obvious that it was his to make. Well, at the very least, he had the consolation of knowing they finally acknowledged his authority openly...somewhat, there was still the matter of Kitsune, but that was something best put off for later.
"The chores assigned here are part of your duties as tenants. You don't get monetary compensation for doing them."
Motoko's hopeful expression instantly fell. "I understand," she whispered, her shoulders visibly hunched as she stood.
"Hey, hold on a second," Keitaro demanded. "I wasn't finished yet. If you're really serious about working, go down to the teahouse, I'm sure Haruka will have something for you there, she's been looking for help."
He'd barely finished speaking and Motoko had already bounded through the lobby and out the front door at an astonishing speed.
"I guess that means Tsuruko really did disown Motoko," Kitsune murmured.
"She's better now…right?" Su asked, sounding strangely unsure of herself. When no one could answer, she did not try asking again.
The unusually upbeat atmosphere from the sun filled, well prepared breakfast had withered away. Even the sky outside was beginning to turn gray, the golden rays no longer filtering through the windows. A slight chill settled in.
The dreary mood was interrupted by a high pitched yowl from an unknown origin. The sound came again. Everyone's eyes met and when no one took responsibility, they immediately began searching.
Keitaro dipped to his side to look under the table and caught sight of a black cat climbing its way up Ayame's chair.
"Ah, Kuro-chan, where did you disappear off for all this time?" Ayame whispered softly, showing no surprise upon the furry little creature's random and sudden appearance. The cat let out a purr as Ayame scratched it lightly behind the ears. It then curled on Ayame's lap, falling asleep.
"You mean, that's yours?" Sarah asked, standing on her chair to see easier.
"Aww, it's so---so cute!" Shinobu squealed.
"Definitely too cute to eat!" Su agreed.
Even Kitsune and Naru were looking at it curiously.
Keitaro frowned. For some reason, something about that cat was gnawing at him. Pointy long ears…bells wrapped around pointy long ears…black fur…
He finally made the connection. A vague and forgotten memory gradually bubbled its way to the surface. An angry cat hissing at him as he stared at it, sprawled out at the bottom of a staircase. Gradually, the event rewound itself to the beginning.
It had happened after one of the study sessions at Mutsumi's apartment. Disappointed at a practice test, he was storming out, and had carelessly swung open. Ayame's surprised face was suddenly emblazoned in his mind.
That was it! That was her! That was where he had recognized Ayame from!
And it was her cat that I tripped over…
Keitaro sat upright again and regarded the Hinata Sou's newest tenant with a somewhat cautious puzzlement.
Ayame was now surrounded by the others, and looked like a frightened deer as she awkwardly twisted her head left and right, timidly answering what seemed to be a never ending onslaught of questions. Where did she get it? How long had she had it? Did it like treats? (Shinobu of course). Was it a boy a girl?
As Keitaro watched on, he realized that a major step had just been taken into integrating Ayame with the other residents. She had been accepted. And for some reason, Keitaro felt a small sense of fulfillment.
From the moment she had set foot into the house, Ayame had a radiated a very…aloof presence about herself. At first, all the tenants had tried to reach out to her, chalking it up to shyness and recalling how Shinobu had been very quiet at the beginning too. But even after all of their combined efforts (they had even thrown her a party), Ayame did not open to any of them, and instead kept to herself, locked up in her room which no one had been inside ever since the day she had moved in. But according to Kitsune who had managed to sneak a peak, Ayame possessed a massive wardrobe, ranging from bubblegum pop to chain-spiked gothic.
This of course led to a flood of rumors, yet all in all, Ayame seemed perfectly content with only herself as company and after a while everyone just gave up. Even the overtly prying Hinata Sou residents had their limits.
But it seemed now that finally the ice was broken. All because of something as simple as a pet cat.
Keitaro almost jumped back when Su and Sarah popped up right in his face. "Can we keep it, can we, can we..." they began chanting in a merciless unison.
Keitaro winced, motioning for them to calm down. As he took in the scene, he could not help but see the drastic change that such a simple thing had brought. The younger ones---Shinobu, Su and Sarah---their faces had lit up.
"Ryouzaki-san, since it technically is your cat, its your responsibility. There are really no rules against animals at Hinata Sou, so as long as you make sure to look after it, and it doesn't damage anything, then it's fine."
Ayame nodded, blushing as she met Keitaro's gaze.
By now, Keitaro had learned to simply shrug off her unrelenting reaction every time she looked at him. He took his plate over to the sink when a sudden notion occurred to him. Just how did the cat get in to Hinata Sou?
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Motoko pushed open the newly installed heavy oak doors and stepped into the empty teahouse, barely sparing a second glance to her surroundings and strode to the counter.
"Haruka-san," Motoko began urgently and then halted. She needed to choose her words carefully. "I was wondering if…if you would take it upon yourself to hire me for a part time position…?" Instinctively, Motoko found herself bowing. "I have many different types of qualifications. You know that I am diligent and hardworking and I am sure that you will find my work satisfactory---"
Haruka pushed passed Motoko, completely ignoring her. Motoko stood upright and pursued Haruka anxiously, stuck in an almost painful suspense. Clipboard in hand, Haruka seemed incredibly busy, systematically inspecting every chair, every table, and occasionally marked something down. "Head to the back, we're actually training our newest hire today too, so you haven't missed anything yet. And here, put this on."
Staring incredulously at the hideous white cloth, Motoko wordlessly slung the apron over her head, tying it as she walked into the now deluxe, industrial sized kitchen. Her eyes bulged at the two people she saw.
"Sakata Kentaro, and…Mutsumi-san?"
Mutsumi folded her hands in front of her apron. "Your working here too Motoko-san? That's so great! I just got hired yesterday!"
"Yes…great," Motoko said half-heartedly, slightly annoyed at Mutsumi's suffocating cheerfulness. "But what's he doing here?!" she demanded, pointing angrily at Kentaro.
"What am I doing here? I'm the trainer," Kentaro replied, miffed.
Motoko opened her mouth in protest, but then forced herself to keep her mouth shut. Remember the vow… she reminded herself.
Motoko could hardly bring herself to believe that this was really happening. She dully followed as Kentaro gave them the grand tour of the restaurant, pointing out various things and providing them with the background information. They started at the kitchen and were given a brief overview, though Kentaro claimed that the majority their tasks would take place directly with the patrons. They stopped at the forefront of the restaurant.
"Alright," Kentaro declared, clapping his hands together. "Now the first thing on our agenda is to get this place in shipshape for tomorrow's grand opening. You two are going to set the tables…I'll do an example for you, and then I expect you to do the rest…so listen carefully, the napkin dispensers go at the side, the salt and pepper and placed next to it, the soy sauce goes in front, and the small vase with the flower goes in the middle as a decorative piece---so did you get all that?"
"The salt and pepper go in the napkin dispenser, the soy sauce goes in the vase and is placed as a decorative piece," Mutsumi quietly muttered to herself, and beamed, "Got it!"
Motoko sweat dropped, having overheard and gave Mutsumi a sideways glance. "Err…yes, I understand as well."
"Good---the boxes with each assorted item has been laid out, see you when your done," he said hastily and went off to the second floor.
Motoko gave Mutsumi a plastic smile, cursing at the fact that their work would most likely be doubled due to the girl's mix up, but to Motoko's utter surprise, once they got started, Mutsumi breezed by each table with ease, and it was perfect. Not only that, she did it all while chanting the garbled version of how the table was supposed to be arranged.
Once they were done, Haruka dismissed them, and Motoko returned to Hinata Sou for the night, hardly sleeping a wink, but this time because of anticipation instead of depression. She tossed and turned endlessly, imagining all sorts of things she might encounter the next day. Tomorrow, she began life anew.
She reported to the teahouse early the next morning, ready to get started with whatever they through at her, ready for everything except…
"We have to take their orders?" Motoko demanded in disbelief as Kentaro handed her a small pad. He gave a solemn nod. She looked at Mutsumi, who seemed not at all rattled by this revelation.
"Haruka-sama and I will handle the second floor, the bar, and the first section on the first floor, Mutsumi you handle the second section and Motoko you handle the third section." Kentaro offhandedly surveyed the area, apprehensively standing to attention when Haruka strode by. "We'll be opening in a few moments, prepare yourselves," he warned. "The morning is always the worse---and today's the grand opening."
"Waitress---me?" Motoko muttered to herself. Could she do that? A job could not get much more feminine than that right? Well, technically, Kentaro was a waiter too…
Haruka beckoned to them.
Kentaro tried to sound reassuring. "This is it, come on!"
Motoko nervously walked alongside an otherwise cheerful Mutsumi. Once they all got in their positions, they put on the biggest smiles they could, and Motoko braced herself for what was to come. Haruka walked up to the front doors, releasing the latch, and swung them open. In Motoko's fearful eyes, literally an ocean of people stood at the threshold.
"Say it now," Kentaro whispered.
"Welcome to the grand opening of the Hinata Tea Palace!" Motoko, Mutsumi, Kentaro, and even Haruka exclaimed in unison.
Taking that as an open invitation, the crowd all poured in at once, and Motoko just barely saved Mutsumi from being trampled, pulling her to the side at the last moment. Kentaro, however, was not so lucky, and was left eyes swirling, until he was propped up told to get back to work by an unsympathetic Haruka who had somehow managed to stay clear of all the mayhem.
The people were all seating themselves, and Mutsumi smiled at Motoko. "Looks like its time to get to work, are you ready?"
Motoko swallowed hard. "Of course." And as she approached her first table, Motoko whispered to herself, "Smile, and engage in pleasant conversation."
She was just a little nervous, but Haruka had said that was normal. Things would not be so bad.
Motoko could not have been more wrong in her life.
The customers were infuriating, ungrateful, demanding, and completely hypocritical. Whatever went wrong was always her fault. Even though Motoko kept a closely organized set and never mixed up orders once, she was repeatedly chastised for forgetting something or mixing something up. And all the while Motoko ran herself ragged, zipping through her tables, she noticed how Mutsumi constantly made it her life's purpose to learn about everyone's story; she could constantly hear the Mutsumi's light airy laughter across the restaurant, filling the air.
Haruka did not seem to mind at all, but Motoko took it upon herself to pick up the slack and finish with the tables that Mutsumi was not getting to. There was no efficiency in Mutsumi's methods. Needless to say, even as busy as Motoko was balancing all her tasks, the afternoon progressed dreadfully slowly.
Picking up what might have been her millionth order, Motoko turned to the side, pushing herself through the kitchen doors all the while gracefully balancing a tray with three orders at her fingertips. She stretched her arm, holding the tray toward the ceiling so that she could squeeze her way through a tight space.
"Here you are," she said, bending down as she placed the tray on the table of a family. Suddenly, every muscle fiber on Motoko tensed. Her eyes grew dangerously wide. Something had nudged against her rear side. With an almost audible snap, she slowly turned to see a man busily drinking his soup.
Motoko no longer heard anything else except the blood viciously pumping through her ears.
The offending appendage was his arm---his elbow to be more specific---purposely sticking out in the aisle. As the man leaned in toward his spoon, his elbow once again nudged against her in the same exact place. This time, he seemed to notice it himself, and looked up in puzzlement, his mouth dropping in fear as Motoko ominously loomed over him. While she no longer had her precious sword, it was no excuse for men to think they could get away with acting perverted around her. She was anything but a helpless woman.
A few seconds later, the front doors of the tea palace were thrown open and the hapless soup-drinker was punted out of the teahouse. Satisfied, Motoko dusted her hands off, and walked back inside, her piercing gaze daring any other man to act so brash. After such a swift display, of course there were no repeat incidents.
Closing time eventually came, signaling what should have been the end of a disastrous day, but then Haruka called them to the back. Motoko finished wiping down the last of the tables and went over to Haruka, lining herself up beside Mutsumi and Kentaro.
"Here's your tips for the day," Haruka said, handing both her and Mutsumi envelopes. A big smile adorned Kentaro's face as Haruka handed him an envelope, only to go crestfallen as Haruka immediately snatched it from his grasp. "I believe that's mine," she said in a dull monotone.
"So much," Mutsumi whispered, holding a rather sizable stack of bills. "People are so generous here..."
Motoko excitedly tore through her envelope as well, and stared in bewilderment. She held a single coin in her hand. "I don't understand…"
Haruka shrugged. "I kept a precise tally of each of your tables; I'm sorry Motoko, that's all you got."
Motoko held the coin between her thumb and forefinger, squinting at it. That same oppressive feeling which she had been trying so hard to overcome and avoid was starting to build itself up again.
"Please take some of mine Motoko-san," Mutsumi said. "I saw how many tables you went through, you deserve this much more than me."
Motoko suddenly found herself trying to swallow a huge lump in her throat. "Mutsumi-san, I…I can't…" Motoko pivoted and bolted from the restaurant before they could see her eyes glisten. For the life of her she did not understand. It made no sense. She had done everything perfect. And worst of all was Mutsumi, rather than rub in her face like she should have, instead she…
Motoko shook her head, confused and disheartened.
What did I do wrong?
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Despite how much she wanted not to, Motoko forced herself back to the teahouse the next morning. It was more or less the repeat of the day before, and so was the day after.
The days passed by at a drearily sluggish pace, the midday shifts wearing down on Motoko. She could spend hours upon hours with her kendo training, and it would all pass by in the blink of an eye, but working at the teahouse seemed to make time drag so much. Well, at least she was making enough to be able to pay for the month's rent; Haruka had assured her of that. She even made a decent amount of extra money to spend on herself, which she put away for safe keeping. Just in case.
After a while, things did turn for the better as Motoko became more and more accustomed to her new surroundings. Eventually, save for a few exceptions here and there, everything settled into a routine. She even got used to Kentaro.
At precisely one o'clock everyday, Haruka would give them their lunch breaks. Now Motoko would have preferred to enjoy these in silent contemplation as she ate her healthy organic food, but of course, regardless of how many times she changed her spot, Mutsumi always somehow managed to find her. Motoko, of course, was too polite to tell her to leave and was subjected to having her ears talked off.
At first it was nearly unbearable, yet strangely enough, Motoko eventually found herself listening to Mutsumi with more and more interest than what she expected of herself. Her anecdotes were very entertaining, even though Mutsumi seemed to unintentionally exaggerate many things. As much as she wanted to resent Mutsumi, and there were plenty of reasons for her to do so, Motoko always found her heart melt at her kind (if not awkward) gestures.
Contrary to her fragile appearance, Mutsumi was an unstoppable bundle of energy, always bursting to share a new story about someone she had just met and was now suddenly her newest best friend---that is until they paid for their food and left. And while Motoko hardly ever spoke, the conversations were one-sided coming from Mutsumi, Motoko could did not even realize that she had developed a sort of a bond with her. Nothing big, just that she became accustomed to her presence…Mutsumi just kind of grew on her.
As the weeks now sped on by, Motoko saw just how dedicated Mutsumi was to making sure that everyone around her was happy. That laughter which had so grated on her nerves from before, she now realized set a peaceful, easygoing mood; their customers always seemed to be more relaxed.
But there were times though that Mutsumi's complacency became too much, and people became too familiar, or too comfortable with the Okinawawan. A line would had to be drawn eventually, Motoko realized, and that came much sooner than she expected.
Motoko had just finished taking an order when she overheard a few customers loudly talking to Mutsumi.
A few of the customers were appeared to be exceptionally rowdy and were giving Mutsumi a rather hard time with the order. One of the men brought out his hand to grab Mutsumi and that was all it took.
Before she knew it, Motoko had twisted the man's arm behind his back, getting a yelp out of him as she pulled it even further.
"Just what is it that you think your doing?"
The man let out a pained grunt.
"You're going to leave, and your going to do it now," Motoko whispered, just barely keeping herself from tearing the man's arm off.
The man's face contorted in agony and he quickly nodded. The second Motoko released her grip, he made a break for the door.
Motoko
"But..!" Motoko sputtered. "I was only trying to protect you…"
"Really, I'm okay," Mutsumi insisted in a soft, but firm voice. "Please, Motoko-san. Contrary to what you and everyone else might think, I'm not some fragile little flower that always needs looking after. I'm capable of handling myself and I expect you to respect that."
Motoko's mind went reeling. She struggled to come to grips with what was happening, Mutsumi was actually defending him?! Just how ungrateful could she be? A more rational part of her mind tried to tell her that Mutsumi was only trying to assert her own independence and had not so much as mentioned the man, but Motoko no longer paid any heed to it. Rather than a boiling anger, instead Motoko was left with an icy cold indifference.
Motoko got level with her. "I understand then. If you're going to willingly subject yourself to such treatment, then that is your own business," Motoko said coolly and briskly strode away. As of now, she was officially done with Otohime Mutsumi. Motoko's first impression of the woman had been right after all. Mutsumi was the very paradigm of a woman, through and through. Men would take advantage of her, an she would allow them to do so. A stupid choice, but if that was the way that Mutsumi insisted on having it, then it was fine with Motoko, she did not care anymore…she should have never cared in the first place.
However, as abundantly clear as Motoko tried to make it that she and Mutsumi were no longer acquaintances (if they ever had been that much at all), Mutsumi seemed to be cheerfully oblivious to it all. Motoko did not understand it. Nothing seemed to bog this girl down at all. She always carried on with everything in such stride, always a smile on her face.
Still, Motoko refused to have any part of it anymore, and during lunch the next day when Mutsumi excitedly sat down across from Motoko, the swordswoman coolly stood up and without a word left the Okinawan sitting alone at the table. It was harsh, but Mutsumi finally got the point.
After that, the only time they spoke to each other was if it was related to work. Empty words that ended in tense silences.
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Loud as Mutsumi sometimes seemed to get with some of the more talkative customers, it was ten times worse when someone she knew walked in. And while Mutsumi was prone to distraction, at times it became downright ridiculous. Today's familiar faces were two bespectacled men who had apparently attended classes with Mutsumi. They seemed to be laughing way too loudly at what was apparently an inside joke.
Fortunately, things were slow at the moment, so there were no complaints. Motoko was wiping down the tables and had just reached the one beside them. A most 'unfortunate' side effect to this is that she was listening in on anything they said now.
As Mutsumi walked away, Haitani sighed. "Just look at Mutsumi, she's so gorgeous…just look at the bounce in her step."
"Somehow, I don't think the bounce your referring to is in her step at all," Shirai said warily.
"Man if she wasn't with Keitaro, I'd totally---"
"She's not with Keitaro, remember? He even said so himself."
Haitani rolled his eyes. "He's in such total denial. I'll bet you anything if he saw me flirting with Mutsumi he'd totally fly off his handle."
Despiter herself, Motoko could not help but zero in on this and idly began reassembling the condiments on the table. She was not really eavesdropping; she just had to make sure the table was clean was all…
"Wow, and just look at Haruka's legs. Now if only those were fishnet stockings…you've got to love the way she just man handle's everyone, I'm actually kind of jealous of that Kentaro guy," Haitani swooned. "I wish she'd handle me like that, you know what I'm sayin'," he smiled slyly, nudging Shirai in the ribs.
Shirai groaned. "Do we have to go through this every time you're here? She's like old enough to---"
A mild twitch had formed on Motoko's brow, and as much as she denied---especially to herself---it was not so much the comment about Haruka that had stung her, but the one involving Mutsumi and Keitaro. She slammed the tray down on their table. "Excuse me, but this kind of lecherous talk will not be tolerated at this establishment, I'm going to have to ask you leave right away!"
Haitani looked defiant. "You can't do that, we're paying customers here!"
"Indecent behavior is unacceptable. I will not allow you to speak of such…lewd things about the staff here!"
Shirai helplessly put his hand up in a peacemaking gesture. "There's no need to get hostile here Miss---"
But Motoko had already snatched both of their collars and dragged them out the front door. She shoved them out, and the two of them staggered to their feet.
"If you come back again, I'll be forced to use," she futilely glanced at the emptiness on her hip. "…force!"
A hand clamped on her shoulder. "Motoko, what are you doing?"
"Those two were being extremely repulsive, Haruka, you should have heard the perverted things they were saying about you and Mutsumi."
"Motoko, they weren't hurting anyone, were they? And if they did do something that warranted such brash action, you come to me first, I'm in charge here, understand?"
Motoko's shoulders slumped. "Yes Haruka-san."
"I've actually received more than a few complaints Motoko, so shape up. You don't seem to be much of a people person. How about you try your hand at being a cook instead?"
A few minutes later, Motoko was standing in the kitchen, staring warily at the unfamiliar high-tech chrome stove.
"Here, wear a hairnet," Haruka said. "We can't have any hair getting into the food."
Motoko forced all of her hair betweem the met and got started on the first order. The cooking seemed simple enough. The recipes were very objective and straightforward: unlike people who were inherently unpredictable, this Motoko could handle with ease. As she set off to cooking, Motoko found some of the ingredients a tad unhealthy in her opinion and elected to make her own subtle renditions to the recipes. Surely they would thank her for going the extra mile, right? Motoko leaned in, scooping a spoonful of her soup. She let out a pleased hum.
Mmmm…perfect…
Despite what she had overheard the other residents say about her cooking, Motoko was sure that the customers would love it. Who knew? Maybe it was a cook that she was cut out to be after all. Cooking was definitely a feminine thing, right?
The first batch had just barely gone out when Haruka strode into the kitchen.
"Motoko, we've been getting a few complaints. The food doesn't seem to have any taste. You need to use some spices, add some flavor. Follow the recipes, no exceptions."
Frowning furiously, Motoko set back to work. Nothing she did was ever appreciated around here! She was throwing her heart and soul into everything, and nothing positive was resulting from it. Angry and frustrated, a sudden diabolical though occurred in Motoko's mind. Everyone seemed to be complaining that her food had to taste, right? Well if it was taste that they wanted, then it was taste that she would give them!
Grabbing some red pepper from the shelf, and salt from another, Motoko poured them into the boiling pot, mixing it all vigorously.
So her food was too bland was it? This would show them! She'd make something that would definitely leave their taste buds with something memorable. At this point, Motoko no longer cared about the ramifications, if Haruka decided to fire her then so be it. She had had it with this place anyway.
With a somewhat malicious sense of satisfaction, Motoko watched in anticipation as she wordlessly handed the dish to Mutsumi who took the dish out to the unsuspecting public. Surely, this would be what would end it all. At least she would go out with a bang.
Ten minutes later, the door slammed open.
"What did you put in that dish Motoko?!" Haruka demanded.
Despite her earlier intentions, immediately, Motoko began regretting her vengeful 'additions', especially under the withering glare that Haruka was giving her. "I…I…" she stammered.
"They send their compliments to the chef," Haruka winked. "Keep up the good work."
Motoko, who was already in the process of bowing apologetically, snapped up in puzzlement. "Good work?"
"Yeah…" Haruka said, already walking out. "Good work."
Confused out of her mind, Motoko repeated her same recipe for the next dish, and once again the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Before the end of the day, her dish became a hit. Everyone wanted what became dubbed as 'The Samurai Special'.
By the end of the day, Motoko was feeling unusually uplifted, that is until Haruka asked them to meet her upstairs.
"The first three weeks have passed, and its time for your performance evaluations," Haruka said. "Mutsumi, you're up first."
Smiling, Mutsumi nodded and followed Haruka into her office: a room which Motoko had never been inside before and had been installed during the reconstruction of the teahouse.
Motoko paced apprehensively until finally, Mutsumi reappeared. The gentle smile on her face was more than enough to convince Motoko of how things had went.
"She wants you to go in next, Motoko-san."
Motoko found herself hesitating to walk into the office. Suddenly, she found herself enveloped in an embrace, by Mutsumi nonetheless. If that was not enough, the next thing that happened truly made Motoko's jaw drop. Mutsumi kissed Motoko on the cheek, whispering, "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do fine."
"Mu…Mutsumi-san," was all a bewildered Motoko could choke out before she was gently pushed through the door.
Haruka's chair was turned in the other direction. "Take a seat, Motoko, tell me what's on your mind."
Motoko sat down on the seat across from a sleek, glass-top table.
"What's there to say, Haruka-san?"
"You tell me. What have you thought of your experience here so far?"
Motoko folded her hands in her lap, staring at the wall. "It was…very inspiring. A new discipline that required a new set of skills that still complemented my own…" Staring at the wall, Motoko drawled on, waiting for Haruka to give her approval and cut her off. But when Haruka said nothing for nearly five minutes, Motoko finally faced forward and was surprised to see that Haruka was now facing her, a skeptical look on her face.
"Cut the crap. What's been going on with you lately?"
Motoko's eyes narrowed. "How can you say that?" she asked sharply. "You know very well what my sister---"
"I'm talking about here, at work."
Motoko fell back in her chair, knowing exactly what it was, but dreading to say it. Haruka just waited.
"It's Mutsumi!" Motoko blurted out, only half realizing what she was saying. "She's so clumsy, always falling over people, she always makes mistakes…and yet everyone adores her. I haven't dropped a tray once, I move flawlessly through the crowed and deliver my orders, I..." Motoko trailed off, her eyes widening at the slandering campaign that she had just held. What was wrong with her? How could she say such harsh things about Mutsumi? But they were all true weren't they? Every bit of it was true.
Haruka sighed. "That's just her personality. Mutsumi's very approachable. Her presence puts people at ease. And despite all the obvious faults that you mentioned, people like being around that kind of person."
"Why aren't I like that?!" Motoko practically shouted. "Why don't people like me?"
Haruka's voice never rose. "Why are you asking me that?"
"I…" Motoko stopped short.
"How do you act around others Motoko?"
Now Motoko began thinking of all the small incidences that had happened during the course of the passed few weeks. So many of them needlessly escalating over next to nothing. The sudden arguments breaking out. Her talking back to customers that complained. Her kicking customers out---with a embarrassedly recalled the man who had so innocently been drinking his soup.
So how do I come off to others? Motoko almost fearfully asked herself. The answers almost immediately began popping into her head and most of them were none to pleasant.
"Mutsumi is not some definition of femininity Motoko," Haruka sighed. "You can't keep comparing yourself to her."
"Then to what? I keep asking myself why I dislike Mutsumi-san so much. She's one of the sweetest people I've met. And that gets me thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
"I've always considered men weak and despised them, but do I despise women as well? Why do I seem to dislike doing anything feminine, anything that has to do with femininity? At first I hated the concept of being a woman because I always associated it with submission---submission to a man. But now I think it's because I know that accepting femininity means accepting being attracted to a male, and I refuse to let myself be vulnerable like that!"
"Being a woman has nothing to do with frilly dresses or trying to act womanly. There's a distinct difference between a girl and a woman, and it has nothing to do with what you think it does," she hastily added sternly at Motoko's offended look.
Motoko's head fell, her face hidden behind her long black bangs. "There are so many changes happening, I always felt like I'm falling behind everyone. Su was beginning to grow up, no longer as childish as she once was. She no longer needs me to sleep beside her at night…everything is changing. Everything started changing, ever since---ever since he became the landlord."
"You know what I think is wrong, its not that everyone else is changing…it's that you're changing. You've been changing ever since Keitaro came here."
Motoko let out a slight gasp at hearing that. Her heart was starting to beat faster and faster.
"Swordsmanship isn't your only talent, I'm sure you've noticed a few other hidden ones while you here. Like cooking for example?"
Motoko smiled weakly. "I'd like to hope so."
Haruka gave her a smile, and for some reason, Motoko found herself feeling comfortable: reassured so to speak. It was a confirmation to her abilities; Motoko had not realized just how much she needed that. Talking like this with Haruka, it almost reminded her of the long treasured talks she used to share with her elder sister.
"There's nothing wrong with trying other things, you'll never know what you'll find."
Taking that as her cue to leave, Motoko stood up and had almost passed the threshold when Harukas spoke up again.
"You know, it's a good thing that you had someone watching your back."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Let's just say there was someone who suggested that I give you some extra consideration."
"I see." Motoko easily read between the lines, but her face never changed expression as she departed.
-------------------------------
"It's so hard waiting for food!" Su complained, fidgeting alongside with Sarah who was mimicking her movements. The two of them perked up when Shinobu emerged from the kitchen, however, the blue-haired girl only bared bad news.
"Motoko told me to wait here," she said, sulking. "She wants it to be a surprise."
Keitaro impatiently tapped at the table, wishing he had at least brought his book downstairs to study with.
An excited Motoko had practically begged to prepare a grand feast for everyone at Hinata Sou. Haruka had reluctantly given her the day off, but had sternly told her to return later on to help out with the closing. Proudly donning the Hinata Tea Palace apron, Motoko ushered everyone out into the den to wait and had fervently set to work in the kitchen.
Keitaro was practically stunned that he had even been invited, but Motoko had actually approached him specifically and told him to come; she seemed to be very anxious during her request, but nonetheless insistent that he come.
Everyone was now sitting cross legged at a low table which had been laid out in the den… 'patiently' waiting for their cook to finish whatever extravagant meal it was she was preparing. Eventually, even the light conversation which was being carried across the table ceased and everyone fell into an edgy silence, all ears perked at the faint sounds of the clinging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. Suddenly, the noise stopped and everyone looked back, anticipating the announcement of their meal finally being ready.
There was the distinct sound of shattering, accompanied by a series of sickeningly piercing scrapes and a final clang.
A dense silence settled as everyone tried to sift through their bafflement and the next moment, they were all rushing to the kitchen. The sight which lay before them sent ice running through Keitaro's veins.
By the looks of things, he could have sworn that a violent hurricane had just passed through. Sharp pieces of china from the dishes crackled beneath his feet as he walked in, the others following close behind. Metal pots were strewn across the counter just below a sizable dent on the cabinet above, the food inside leaking out and dripping onto the floor. There were a few indistinguishable stains smeared against the wall and as Keitaro approached them to get a better look, his heart almost stopped.
"Is that…blood?" Kitsune whispered her face dangerously close to his as she peered at it beside him. Boldly, she reached out to run her finger against the fresh crimson stain. "Oh my God, it is!" she exclaimed in horror, rushing to the sink to wash it off.
A faraway stomping could be heard from the common room.
"I think she's heading for her room!" Naru said urgently.
A split second later, all of them were sprinting up the stairs, one after the other. Without giving any warning, Keitaro forcefully slid open the door to her room. His eyes scanned anxiously, but no one was there.
"She's gone, how can she be gone?" Su wailed, and Naru had to grab hold of the distraught blonde. So caught up in what was going on, nobody seemed to notice Ayame discreetly slip away from the group, her cat silently perched upon her shoulder.
Surprisingly, it was a rather composed Shinobu that pushed passed Keitaro, heading straight toward Motoko's armor. Once impeccably set and polished, the heirloom was now scattered in pieces, as though it had been carelessly torn apart. Shinobu kneeled and rummaged through each piece, checking behind all of them.
"It's gone," Shinobu whispered simply, staring at nothing.
Kitsune kneeled next to her, taking a sip from her flask. "Are you talking about…" she trailed off, motioning secretively with her hands.
Shinobu fearfully nodded.
Already springing for his next move, Keitaro had already ducked out of the room, Naru in tow. Apparently, the same exact thought had crossed their minds. In a matter of minutes, the two them were tore through the Tea Palace, pushing passed the customers.
"Haruka!" Naru began breathlessly. "Motoko, she's…she's…"
"She's gone!" Keitaro finished.
Haruka immediately seemed to catch on to the gravity of the situation by the sound of his voice.
"Is she here?" Keitaro demanded.
"No she's not."
Both he and Naru pushed their way toward the exit, but Haruka appeared in front of the doors just before Keitaro could reach out to grab the handle.
"Leave her be all of you---Keitaro," Haruka said specifically, sensing his defiance. "Trust me; she needs to do this alone---I mean it." The look on her face was lethal. "And besides, even if you go looking for her, I can guarantee you that by now, you can look anywhere and still won't find her in the entire city."
Keitaro still remained unmoving, and Naru seemed to synch in with his behavior, stepping beside him and unwaveringly meeting Haruka's piercing eyes.
This time, Haruka decided that words were not enough. She pushed her clipboard onto a baffled Kentaro who had just come up to ask about something, and laced a painfully grip hold of both Naru's and Keitaro's arm. "The two of you are coming with me until you can cool down."
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Listening to the rhythmic rainfall outside, Keitaro wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, and carefully read through the problem. His concentration had improved a lot but he still moved really slowly through the questions. He had to be quick, skimming through, but still retaining and properly comprehending all the important pieces of information. Accuracy combined with speed: that was the key.
There was the occasional roaring of thunder, but Keitaro drowned it out as background noise. A part of him wondered if Motoko was wandering around outside, alone in such cold and blistering weather. But he quickly shook it off, remembering what Haruka had said (more like mercilessly drilled) into both his and Naru, and then eventually all the other residents' skulls. And even when her ruthless threats seemed to lose their hold, he remembered the promise she had made to him, and that was more than kept him at bay.
His stomach tightened uneasily. Tomorrow, he would know for sure…
"The answer to that is…C."
Keitaro scribbled it down, but instead of checking to see if it was correct, he moved on to the next one, wanting to finish through the section before he self-corrected.
Unfortunately, his sleeping habits hadn't improved at all, not even after his discovery of how the insomnia was affecting him. Keitaro had lost almost all of his will to sleep ever since that bizarre vision of the promised girl at the sandbox. He was dealing with rather unconventional nightmares, being plagued by a little girl, rather than the usual instructors from hell, or demons and monsters.
But when he finally did sleep, it was always the same. He was sinking, always sinking, and he couldn't escape from the sandbox, no matter what.
Keitaro let out a satisfied sigh and let his pencil drop on the desk, checking the clock. It was a little passed one. So that took me about thirty-nine minutes, give or take, I still have six minutes to spare.
He grinned. Well that wasn't so bad, but he could still do better.
Keitaro was going through the history section when he heard a slight knocking on his door. "Keitaro…?" There was a knock again, more urgent this time. "Keitaro are you awake…?" The door slid open and a groggy-looking Sarah tugged at her messy hair and walked in, dragging her blanket behind her.
Keitaro knelt in front of her as she sleepily rubbed her eyes. "Sarah…do you know what time it is? What's going on?"
"It's just that I…well…it's not a big deal or anything," she huffed. "But---" A faint light passed the room when another flash of lightening cracked, and Sarah flinched, gasping slightly. "I really hate these stupid thunderstorms." She stared at her feet, the dim lamp on Keitaro's desk on her face revealing a frustrated blush on her cheeks. "I figured that you might hate them too…?" She looked up at him expectantly.
Keitaro, his mind still mentally calculating the last problem he had been doing on the test, only half-heard what Sarah had said. He gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm not especially fond of them, but I don't get where you're…"
"Can I sleep in your room for tonight?" Sarah blurted out at all at once, and then flinched again as the clouds rumbled.
"Oh---oh!" Keitaro finally understood now. Poor kid. "Sure, just grab my futon and set it up."
Sarah shuffled to the other corner of the room, timidly glanced over to where Keitaro's desk was, and scooted the futon all the way over until it was right next him. Doing her best to look prim, proper, and under control, she wordlessly lay down and pulled the blanket over her.
Keitaro forced down a smirk. "My light isn't bothering you, is it?"
"No…" Sarah murmured sleepily, turning to the side. "Hey, Keitaro?"
"Yeah?" Keitaro asked distractedly, pleasantly surprised that he had gotten another question right; a differential equation at that.
"You remember that night when Motoko's sister came and that one other lady showed up?"
This caught Keitaro's attention, but he kept writing. "What about that night? Do you know anything---"
"That woman we saw, I think it was Su."
Keitaro found himself relaxing. "Sarah…that's impossible."
"No, seriously," Sarah exclaimed loudly, suddenly sitting up on the futon. "That rocket launcher she had, I saw it in her room this one time I was there. The exact version. Its Su's…and….and she's also been working on some blueprints for this sort of rifle-looking thing too."
"Well, as long as she doesn't actually bring that into the house, it doesn't matter, she can draw it if she wants." Keitaro said distractedly, confidently checking through the numbers, pleased that the majority of his answers from the last practice set were all right…so far.
"Keitaro, it really was her."
Sarah's constant need to argue was really starting to wear him down. "Sarah, this is getting ridiculous. Think about it what you're saying. That woman was about a head taller than Kaolla. Besides, even though none of us got a good look at her, it's obvious that she had…her…she was much more developed…she looked older, with more---womanly features."
He could feel his face heating up. He never would have imagined that it would be so nerve-racking talking to a child.
"Womanly features?" Sarah wondered, confused for a moment. And then her face lit up. "You mean like her boobs?"
Keitaro unnaturally coughed into his fist. He almost envied how blunt children could be at times. "Err…yes, those count as…features. I can see how you might get confused seeing as how Kaolla shares such a strong resemblance to the woman. But that's why I think it might have been a relative---a sister perhaps…" Keitaro suddenly had a thought. Hadn't there been something in her profile about older siblings? He could not recall at the top of his head.
Apparently realizing that she was not convincing him, she huffed and fell back to her bed, angrily pulling the covers over her. "I'm telling you Keitaro, it was Su."
"And just how is it that she could have grown up so much overnight and than somehow changed back to normal the next day?" Keitaro asked. He could not resist one last tease. "You think it might have been magic?"
"Yes!" Sarah replied loudly, determined to get the last word.
Keitaro shook his head in bemusement. Kids and their wild imaginations. Transforming overnight…it sounded like something out of a fairytale. I've gone through all the logical possibilities, Keitaro reassured himself. There's nothing that I didn't consider…
He returned to the answer key and checked the last answer. If he got this one right, it'd be a perfect score…
He sighed in frustration and ran his hands tiredly across his face, pushing his glasses up to his forehead as he rubbed his aching temples.
Of course it had A, its just so damnably obvious that I had overlook it…I swear these test-makers do this crap on purpose, only a child would pick such an obvious answer…
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Wearing her air-force styled jacket and a wide black umbrella draped over her to shield her from the heavy downpour, Haruka made her way through an open and rather rural landscape. Deftly avoiding the puddles of mud, she trekked down a wide grassy hill, approaching a small rundown building which looked like it had been forgotten about and deserted for years. Its heavy rotting wooden doors were bolted shut and covered with thick metal chains, bounded by an enormous brass lock.
"I should've just waited until tomorrow," Haruka grumbled. And she would have been more than willing to put it off had it not been for the damned promise she had made with him.
"I know you don't understand why I'm not letting you go after Motoko, but if you trust my judgment on this and convince the girls too, then I'll personally hand deliver those records you've been pestering me about first thing tomorrow morning…so do we have a deal?"
Haruka fiddled with the key, twisting it harshly to get the rusted pins moving.
The door loudly creaked open and Haruka stepped into the foyer, the musty air swooping onto her face. She turned on her flashlight and walked toward the stairs. Large networks of cobwebs dangled from the ceilings and the entire interior appeared gray and fuzzy, hidden under caked dust which had accumulated over the years. Undeterred, Haruka took care to be extra careful with her step since most of the wooden floorboards were rotting. She stepped onto the second floor and headed passed another door, entering a pitch dark room. She flashed her portable light source and spotted the switch, flipping. A weak light bulb blinked on, casting a dim light and exposing stacks of old documents and books.
"Let's see, according to what Keitaro said, she came about fifteen years ago," Haruka tossed the ancient books aside, each one descending down a year until she came across the one she was looking for. Blowing away a film of dust, she carefully opened the book, hearing the binding tear slightly as she did, and flipped through the tattered yellow pages, mouthing the names as she scrolled down the columns.
She was about three-quarters of the way through when her eyes lit up.
"Here we are, Otohime Natsumi and Otohime Mutsumi did check in, and it looks like the resided her for a few months."
Satisfied with the finding, she was about to shut the book when an icy shiver climbed up her spine, ending with a prickle at the base of her neck. The light bulb went out and everything became enveloped in a dense darkness.
In one fluid motion, Haruka jumped and swerved, pointing her flashlight forward.
"Who's there?" She asked, expertly sweeping her flashlight across the dull walls. She caught sight of a shadow, but it darted out of sight just as the light shone upon it. Then suddenly, the door slammed shut and Haruka heard a solid thud against the door.
Trying to lock me in, huh?
Scowling, Haruka tucked the old guestbook under her arm and charged. Her foot connected with the door, and its hinges snapped off as she kicked it down. An old dresser which had been placed in front to hold the door closed slid away, flipping onto its side.
In an angry pursuit, Haruka jumped off the staircase, and just as she made it to the corridor which led to the main entrance, she caught sight of the perpetrator making a run for it. Exerting the speed she had used much more in her younger days, Haruka closed the distance between her and the figure and reached out.
She managed to grab onto the figure's hair, but as tight as her hand was clenched, the strands slipped right through her fingers and the figure darted out into the horrendous storm. Haruka stopped just at the threshold and flashed her light. A dense sheet of rain made it impossible for the funnel of light to penetrate very far.
She then flashed her light at the single strand of hair that lay on her palm.
"Black…?"
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A/N: I extend my sincerest apologies for such an extended hiatus on this story and I do believe that brief explanation is in order, especially after the strong response I received earlier on. In short, I recently moved to Europe and am studying abroad. Due to the dramatic shift in environment and dealing with all the changes and added responsibilities and heavy workload from classes, it was and has been almost impossible for me to get any writing done at all. Still, I did continue writing little by little and finally managed to scrape this monstrous chapter together: the longest one yet, but I feel that it is my way for making up for such a long absence.
As for the previous chapters being deleted: that was due to a very small mistake on my part when I accidentally threw off the chronology of the chapters when editing and was forced to delete the chapters so as to not having a randomly missing chapter in between. However, I did not want to replace them right away as I know that alerts are sent when this happens and I didn't want to put up a 'false update' so to speak. So sorry if that inconvenienced anyone at all.
Finally, I'd like to address that I do know exactly where it is I want to go with this story and have a distinct ending planned and I am diligently working on the events that will bring the story there. There is no need to worry about any plot threads being left hanging. I made sure to go back and keep track of all of them and come up with a resolution for each of them as well. While I will continue to stick by my promise that this story will eventually be finished, I unfortunately can't make a guarantee on when the next update will be.
Moving onto the subject of Chapter 20: How did it turn out? I must admit that it's been far too long since I was in writing mode so I'm not sure how it turned out in quality, but that's not an excuse for it to dwindle. All comments and criticisms are always welcome and appreciated, both regarding the plotline as well as the style of my writing.
Thanks for reading!
Necromonger