A/N: Slightly edited version. I'm dropping honorifics for now. I haven't seen a non-translated version of the manga (my primary basis for "canon") and it's been long enough since I've seen the anime that I can't put –sans and –chans in the right places for the girls talking to each other. I can handle Keitaroanyone conversations, but the girls talking to each other is my difficulty (old friends generally don't follow the regular rules). I will stick with using last names in place of first names for more formalized relationships (ie, Motoko to Keitaro). I feel that this course of action is preferable to having it done badly, even though I don't love it this way and it looks a little weird sometimes.
The Rebound Effect: Again!
Chapter 3: Reiteration
Disclaimer: Characters and setting copyright Ken Akamatsu. Spoilers, those that might appear, would be from the end of the manga series (vol 14). Negima spoilers will be minor in terms of plot. "How magic works" will be at whatever point I've seen to (currently a chapter in the high 50s).
Again, thoughts are in the style /thought/ much like how "spoken" works.
The fiery orb of Sol had barely touched the horizon as Keitaro made his way from the secluded spot in the grounds surrounding the Hinatasou back to the dormitory itself. His memory of the exact order of events from his youth was hazy, at best, but he could recall his grandmother sending a fax within the first few days to cement his role as the building manager.
It was from here that he had managed to gain entry to Toudai. He'd lied about being in Toudai when first he had come here, as well. /It's funny how history repeats itself,/ he mused as he walked down the path. He'd been caught up in the Toudai lie again, though this time he felt that there would be no need for a third year as a ronin if he were to take the exam again.
The course of action that he was going to take occupied his thoughts like an elephant in a Print Club booth and he didn't have any answers. If this was, indeed, time travel, then changing anything could prove disastrous. He had never heard of successful time travel, but even if this were it, he could think of no reason why he would be an ancient mind in a young body. Something just didn't make sense.
A falling leaf drifted across his path and his eyes followed it for a second before his hand leapt out, one finger extended to skewer it. Instead of hitting the leaf, his fingertip brushed the stem and caused it to pinwheel away with the breeze. /I should have gotten that,/ he noted to himself in a detached manner. /I should have at least hit the center, even if I didn't pierce it./ His body was definitely that of his nineteen year old self.
Though in later life it became apparent that he had always had a lot of potential with both martial arts and magic, when he was nineteen, he'd possessed all of the training and ability of an unripe watermelon. He knew that regaining some semblance of ability wouldn't be difficult, but it would require a lot of repetitive work.
/Do I have time?/ he wondered once more. Whatever had caused him to regress in time might snap him back in an instant, or it might leave him to languish forever, as far as he knew. /Would that be so bad?/ he asked himself, but had no answers to that question, either. This was no longer the world he was used to; nor was it the world where he had been happy in his youth. To return to that world would require events to unfold as they had the first time.
By the time he had reached the Hinatasou once more, he had reached a conclusion of sorts. He decided that he would not make any blatant attempts to change anything about this time. The girls here might have been the same girls he'd loved and, in most cases, lost, but they didn't know him or care for him as he knew and cared for them. Getting too close to them would only make being here harder. If he got sucked back into his own time, he didn't know if he could handle losing them twice.
No, he had decided. If he was going to change anything, it would have to be done gently. /She always said that if she were stronger, that day would never have happened... Maybe that is the answer. If I can't directly change anything, then maybe I can change her./
He nodded to himself, satisfied with that course of action. It wouldn't matter if he destroyed his own future, if it meant saving their lives. The love that had grown after that fateful night meant a lot to him, but looking at the tragedy and the misery the three of them had carried for six hundred years, he couldn't choose that course for them twice. Giving that up seemed a steep price, but holding on to it and letting the horrors occur again seemed an impossible one.
Again and again, the blade descended. Each arc of the sword was identical to the one before it, and the clarity and truth of the action allowed her mind to feel the flow and the now. Each cycle of the blade was another blow in the battle between the flesh and the spirit; another erosion of the past and present and a reinforcement of the "now". /The warrior does not think of the future or dwell on the past. With the blade in hand, there is only the "moment". To grasp the moment is to grasp.../
Her train of thought was interrupted by something that she could not place and she opened her eyes. Seated on the railing, not five meters away, was the Toudai student. She hadn't heard him come up to the roof where she was practicing, but she had been far into her meditative state. "Urashima," she said very curtly. Her opinion on allowing a male to stay in the dormitory was relatively neutral, unlike Naru's, but that did not mean she was any less suspicious of him. The fact that he was now watching her very intently while she practiced was disconcerting.
When she acknowledged his presence, he offered her a polite smile. "'To cut off past and future thoughts, and not to live within the everyday mind. Then the Great Way is right before your eyes,' yes?" he asked her.
"Urashima," she repeated, her voice very calm and even. She managed to keep her dislike for him and the surprise she felt at his quotation from showing. "You are perceptive... Are you a student of the sword as well as of Toudai?"
"A little, I guess. It's one of those things that you just kind of pick up along the way." He stretched and hopped from his perch, apparently oblivious to the hard look she was giving him.
"Would you care to have a little match with these things that you 'just kind of picked up,' then?" she asked as levelly as she could, though her annoyance at his cavalier attitude about swordsmanship bled through.
He offered her a grin. "Sure, just go easy on me, okay?"
She nodded to him and went to fetch a pair of bokken from her room. Within a few moments, she returned and passed one to him. "The way of the sword is a very serious one, Urashima-san. It is a path which requires dedication and does not allow for deviance."
He cocked his head slightly while replying to her. It felt like she was being studied. "Do you enjoy your practice with the sword, Aoyama-san?"
/So, he turns it around on me,/ she noted. "Swordsmanship is not to be enjoyed; it is to be followed with dedication and purpose."
He held the wooden sword awkwardly, as though he had never touched one before, and she started to think his demeanor was simply bluster. She offered him a cold smile. Besting men who thought they were better than her was one of her favorite activities. He did a few practice swings in the air and his grip shifted.
"If you cannot find enjoyment in the sword, then why would you follow it?" he asked as he fell into a stance that seemed vaguely familiar to her and showed that he hadn't been lying about knowing at least a little swordsmanship.
She grunted and assumed her own stance. /Why is he telling me these things? He does not understand the way of the warrior, at all./ Suddenly, something occurred to her. "Urashima-san, would you care for some padding? I do not wish for you to become injured." /Much,/ she added to herself.
He shook his head. "I think I'll be okay. I've got thick skin."
He made no move at her and, after a few seconds, she grew impatient and shifted her leading foot as she prepared to strike. Her bokken came up and around only to be met by the wooden sword Keitaro held. He struck back, but she blocked it with little effort. A few more passes followed, but the result remained the same.
After several seconds of sparring, it became obvious that neither had a clear advantage in skill. They broke apart and Motoko's eyes scanned her opponent, appraising him. She felt flushed, though her breathing did not come quickly. Keitaro, on the other hand, was flushed and breathing harder than he had been. /He is right about knowing a few things, but he has not trained himself diligently and now he fades. His strength does not match mine,/ she realized. They clashed again, but this time Keitaro was slower and she sent his bokken rattling across the roof.
"If you were to give yourself over to the path of the sword, Urashima, you might one day make an acceptable warrior," she said, though the fact that he was not currently a warrior was implicit in her compliment.
"You are correct, Aoyama, my body is not properly conditioned to this activity," he said as he bowed in a gesture of submission, though his grin was returning. His breathing slowed to normal, but Motoko's flush did not fade. "I thank you for the chance to cross swords with someone so skillful."
Motoko could not tell whether he was sincere or if she was being mocked. Before she had a chance to pursue it further, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment. Motoko broke eye contact with Keitaro and stood back, feeling vaguely embarrassed, though she didn't quite know why.
"My, my, Motoko, claiming Keitaro for yourself already?" Mitsune asked from the top of the stairs. "A Toudai student is a good catch, but you must be really serious to go easy on him like that."
Motoko felt a blush rising, though she wasn't quite sure why. "It's not like that, Kitsune!" she growled, a little more forcefully than she had intended.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, you could do worse than a Toudai student if you're going to give up the swordswoman thing. I mean, he's not too attractive, but-" Mitsune droned on with an expression half way between a leer and a smile.
"Kitsune!" She exclaimed as she fought down her embarrassment.
"Umm... I'll just be going now," Keitaro stammered out and headed for the stairs.
Flustered, Motoko walked toward him, intent on apologizing for Mitsune's vulgarity. As fortune had it, however, Keitaro tripped over the bokken which had been wielding during the fight and skated straight into Mitsune, knocking her down with him on top.
"I'm so sorry, Konno," he mumbled as raised himself up. "Are you okay... oh... umm... sorry?" he asked as it rapidly became apparent that the handhold he had raised himself up with was, in fact, Mitsune's right breast."Urashima," Motoko growled, her eye twitching and her face flushing with anger. "Zanganken!" she exclaimed as she brought her bokken around sent Keitaro flying though the air and off the roof.
Kitsune watched Keitaro go flying with a shocked expression but recovered as she got up and dusted herself off. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I hope you didn't kill him..."
Nostalgia is possibly the oddest emotion to feel while flying bodily through the air, but it is what Keitaro experienced as he sailed in a long, lazy arc over Hinata. /I guess I miss the view from up here,/ he thought to himself as the world whizzed past. His personal shield had saved him from most of the trauma of Motoko's blow, leaving him to enjoy the view before it came time to land.
"That did not end in a way I would have liked," he mused, as he had a few seconds to wonder what had gone wrong. He'd always been a klutz, but he'd been able to tame it as he grew older. Mostly. Right now, he seemed to be suffering from it full force, however.
"No help for it," he decided as he twisted in mid air with the ground fast approaching. "Mol Guri Suri Ma!" he chanted as he concentrated. The approach of the ground slowed but did not stop. Twisting again, he got his feet under him and ran with the landing, dissipating the force of his impact over several long strides instead of one dead impact. The only thing left to do was walk back. /At least that didn't go as badly as it did the first time around,/ he decided. /Mostly, anyway./
A/N: "Mol Guri Suri Ma" has no meaning, it's just some nonsense I worked up for Keitaro's key phrase. I was going to write about twice this much for this chapter, but I decided to go ahead and release it at this point since it's on par with previous chapters.