Disclaimer: Shin Kimagure Orange Road characters ©Matsumoto Izumi/ Shueisha. This work is not intended for commercial gain or challenge the status of these copyrights.

Author's Note: Set after Shin KOR III, the Orange Road trio visits an old Ayukawa family friend. Danger stalks Kyousuke and Madoka. Hikaru finally learns her Darling's secret. My first fan fiction. Rated R for some adult situations and violence. All the credit must go to Matsumoto-sensei for creating KOR in the first place. All the errors, however, are mine.

HIKARUSTORY: THE ADRIATIC SUMMER

AN OLD FRIEND

Kyousuke Kasuga watched the boarding tube hove into view as the B747 inched forward towards the terminal. Outside the sun was already bright and hot, and he could see heat waves rising from the concrete of Leonardo da Vinci Airport.

He turned to the person sitting beside him. "Well, we're here, Madoka," he said.

Madoka Ayukawa, dressed in a red blazer and white skirt, cool emerald eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, sighed. "Finally." Kyousuke looked at her. "I was starting to get cabin fever," she explained.

They deplaned and were met by a stiff-mannered man wearing a business suit. His thinning gray hair betrayed his advancing years, but his eyes were a steel blue—no hint of age there. He introduced himself as Cardiff, and told them he had been sent by Mr. Andrei Pagott to bring them to their destination. After retrieving their luggage, they found a long black limousine waiting, along with a sour-looking bodyguard who opened the doors for them but stayed aloof.

"This Mr. Pagott must be rich," Kyousuke said.

"Very," Madoka affirmed. She had taken her shades off and was looking outside the window.

The stretch limo brought them to another part of the airport, where they were transferred to a small business jet whose polished bare metal skin shone like a mirror under the bright noonday sun.

"And a jet too," Kyousuke commented when they were seated and the plane was beginning to taxi.

They began to prepare for another long plane ride. "How'd your parents meet this guy again?" he asked Madoka.

"It's a long story. Back during the 60s," she began, "my father and mother were returning home from a concert in France when the plane they were riding on was forced to land in Nigeria due to engine problems. They had just transferred to a smaller plane to catch another flight elsewhere when it was hijacked by rebels from a country named Biafra. There was a civil war going on, you see, and the Biafrans wanted to secede from Nigeria. The leader of the hijackers was a mercenary named Andrei Pagott. Papa pleaded with him to let them go, as Mama was very pregnant and could give birth to me anytime soon. At first it seemed he wasn't going to free them, but the next day he took them out of the country in a small plane. Then he left them and went back to the war. The day after they arrived in Japan Mama gave birth to me."

Kyousuke whistled. "So he saved their… no, your lives."

"Yes."

Kyousuke reflected for a moment on what Madoka had told him. "And they're there already."

"Yes, at the Hotel Adriano."

"How bad is the old man doing?"

"The letter didn't say."

"I'm surprised you agreed to come," Kyousuke commented.

"Papa said it was very important. Besides, it'll be nice to take a vacation, even if it's only a short one."

Kyousuke nodded. "It was kind of your parents to allow me along."

"Hey, why shouldn't they? We're engaged, after all."

"Yeah." he said, smiling. "I can still hardly believe it." He took Madoka's hand in his own and gave it a squeeze.

"Better believe it, Kasuga-kun," Madoka said, loving his gentle smile. She smiled back. Despite her tiredness, she felt happy. "You'd better believe it."

------oOo------

The jet landed at a private airfield and, after a trip through town on another limo, deposited them at a port. From there they took a small boat to the Hotel Adriano, which, as it turned out, was located on an island in the middle of a bay. Dominated it was more correct; the three-story building virtually occupied its entirety, gleaming dusky white in the sun.

The boat stopped and tied up at a jetty at the foot of a low, artificial concrete cliff. A uniformed porter came along and took their luggage, with a message in halting English that Mr. Pagott was waiting for his guests at the top of the stairs.

Madoka stretched and looked skyward. "What a beautiful place!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, it is," Kyousuke agreed. The sky was clear and blue, so brilliant it almost hurt to look at it; the water was a sparkling aquamarine, with white crests here and there as it lapped along the shore; and the distant mainland shone an emerald-like green as it sat atop the sea. "But even more beautiful is the girl I'm standing next to." There was a click and Madoka turned to see him aiming his camera at her.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, dear," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

Kyousuke grinned, then gestured. "I guess he means those stairs." A flight stretched from the boat landing and disappeared among the many folds of rock, leading upward. They started in that direction.

Madoka began climbing the dark gray steps. One, two, three… She caught herself and chuckled softly. Goodness, she thought, was I really doing that? Even here? Kyousuke would laugh if he ever found out… At the top of the stairs was a pair of tall wooden doors which lay open. And just beyond that…

"Papa!"

"My girl!"

They were met by Madoka's mother and father. Madoka dropped her bags and gave them a big hug.

"How are you?" Mrs. Ayukawa asked.

"Fine. A bit tired, though."

The tall, statuesque woman with fine-boned features and a curiously sensual gaze turned to Kyousuke. "And you?"

Kyousuke bowed. "I'm fine, ma'am."

"It's been so long since we saw each other last," said Mr. Ayukawa to his younger daughter. "I hope Kyousuke's been treating you well?"

"Oh, Papa, of course he has."

Kyousuke laughed. "You know, sir, Madoka'd let me know instantly if I was doing anything she didn't like."

Mr. Ayukawa chuckled. "Really?" Madoka's eyes flashed emerald at Kyousuke. "Well, come on, dump your things in your rooms." He gestured for a porter to come and take Madoka's and Kyousuke's luggage.

"Where's Mr. Pagott?" asked Kyousuke. "We were told he'd be waiting here."

A shadow passed momentarily over the world-famous composer and conductor's face. "He's having a hard time breathing, so he retired to his room. You can meet him later."

The young porter took the couple's luggage and escorted them to their rooms on the hotel's second floor.

"What an old-fashioned place this is," Kyousuke remarked, noting the décor and furniture, remnants of a happier, more serene time.

"Yeah," agreed Madoka. "It's more like a big house than a hotel per se. Although it seems much bigger than before."

"You've been here?"

"When I was very small. It was one of the rare times Papa brought me with him on an overseas trip. After that…" She fell silent, obviously not wanting to dwell on the period in her life when she was alone most of the time.

"It's too bad your sister couldn't come," said Kyousuke, wanting to lure her away from her train of thought.

She nodded. "What with her licensure renewal coming up and her baby girl being sick… She did write a letter for Mr. Pagott, I think."

"Is Mr. Pagott that close a family friend?"

The girl with the jet-black hair shook her head. "Only for Mama and Papa. We used to receive cards from him on holidays, however. They stopped when he got sick."

After resting a bit, they changed, Madoka into a red long-sleeved shirt with yellow and white flower prints and light gray slacks, while Kyousuke opted for a short-sleeved plaid shirt and his usual black pants. Back downstairs, they spent some time in conversation with Madoka's parents in the hotel's backyard garden. It was filled to overflowing with many blooms, and a riot of color and profusion of smells pervaded their senses. To Kyousuke, Madoka's blouse seemed rather appropriate.

"This place is beautiful," said Kyousuke. "I should have brought my camera."

"Dear, you can do that later."

"Alright, but you're going to have to come with me. I want to take a picture of you against a backdrop of flowers. Truth is… they don't seem complete without you."

Madoka blushed and her parents smiled.

"Pardon me," came a voice. They turned to see Cardiff standing there in his butler's uniform. "Would it be possible for you to come see Mr. Pagott in his room?"

"Sure," answered Mr. Ayukawa. "Madoka?"

"Okay."

The four were escorted through the garden to the other end of the hotel, where a single large suite on the ground floor, doors opening directly to the outside, served as Andrei Pagott's living quarters. The butler gave three loud knocks and opened the door.

"Sir," he announced, "Mr. Ayukawa and his family are here."

As Madoka stepped into the room, she saw a large bed on the other side. In the bed, propped against the pillows, was an old man with a crown of snow-white hair, wearing a light blue polo shirt and having a cannula stuck in his long, aquiline nose. The cannula was connected to an oxygen tank at his bedside. A chair beside the tank held an overcoat and a discarded red tie. His craggy, careworn features held a look of anticipation. As she neared the bed, Madoka saw the milky-white orbs of his eyes.

"Hello, Andrei," greeted Mr. Ayukawa.

"Sorry about this," the old man said, his voice raspy. "Don't worry, it only happens rarely to me."

"It's okay." Cardiff brought chairs up for the four of them. They sat.

Madoka's father proceeded to introduce them. She shook his hand, noted the dry, firm grip. He said, "It's been so long, Madoka. You were but—what—six years old when you first came here?"

"Yes, Uncle."

"Too bad I'm not as chipper as I used to be then, eh?"

"Uncle…"

"Would you mind if I ran my hands along your face? I have to use them as my eyes, you see." She agreed, leaning closer to him.

She felt a feather-light touch along her cheek as he ran his hands about on her face. He stroked her hair, and then stopped and smiled.

"You have lovely skin. You must have grown up a very beautiful woman. I wish I could see."

"Oh, she has, sir," piped up a voice.

Withdrawing his hands, Andrei smiled and looked sightlessly in the direction of the sound. "And you must be her fiancé."

"Kyousuke Kasuga. Glad to meet you sir." He shook the old man's hand vigorously.

"Are you indeed?" Andrei asked, an ironic tone in his voice. Kyousuke's answer was all earnestness.

"Of course, sir. If it wasn't for you saving her parents, I wouldn't have a Madoka to marry… or to love"—the owner of the name blushed for the second time in ten minutes—"in the first place."

"My, my," she said, "you're getting unusually forward today, Kyousuke."

"It's the truth."

"Why?" interjected Andrei. "Isn't he usually like this?"

Madoka shook her head, forgetting that Andrei was blind. "No, Uncle."

"My boy, that won't do!" The old man shook his head. "You are going to be her husband. Do like us Italians do. Every chance we get, we tell a woman how beautiful she is and how much we love her! Or else she might find someone else to do so!"

It was Kyousuke's turn to color somewhat. "Point well taken, sir," he replied, looking directly at Ayukawa. She was nodding, eyes big in a comical fashion, miming "Tsktsktsk! Shame on you, Kyousuke." He couldn't resist sticking his tongue out at her.

"I still remember when you came here," Mr. Pagott told Madoka. "I could still see then. You were like a little angel."

Kyousuke had a momentary vision of a very young Madoka sprouting wings and running around the hotel at top speed.

"I want your stay here to be pleasant," Mr. Pagott was saying, "so if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to tell the staff."

"This place," Madoka commented, "has become bigger than I remember."

"Well, we added two floors, plus made the island larger. Money talks." He chuckled. "I wonder what my mother would say if she saw it now." For the benefit of the younger couple he added, "It used to be a café and a hangout of air pirates."

"Air pirates?"

"Yes, you know, pirates. They preyed on the shipping and airlines around here and flew planes instead of sailing ships. Then my father took over and had this place converted to the hotel."

"What happened to them?"

"Oh, they died out eventually. It became more difficult for them because of increased coast guard patrols and some turned over a new leaf. In fact, some of the staff here are the descendants of those very pirates." He smiled at the memories. "It was a time when bad guys could still become good guys. Not like today."

Cardiff the butler stepped forward into the little group. "Pardon, sir. A phone call for you."

"Tell them I'm busy," Andrei instructed him, scowling. Atlas being irritated by a fly while carrying the Earth on his back could have looked like he did then.

"It will not wait, I'm afraid, sir. One of your business associates."

"Oh, all right. Help me up," Andrei said as he sat up, removing the cannula from his nose. They group moved aside to make room for Cardiff and the wheelchair he had produced from a walk-in closet near the bed. "Excuse me please. This won't take long." Guided by his butler, the old man stood with a grunt and stepped over to the wheelchair, then sat down and was wheeled to an adjoining room.

They waited for a few minutes for Mr. Pagott to finish the call. In the interval they could hear snatches of his angry voice being raised. When he returned he looked decidedly peeved. A pair of veins stood out on his forehead, forming a V towards his eyes.

"I… I have just received news… of a disaster at one of my factories." He massaged his temples with a hand. "I am afraid we must cut this short, Seiji. I have to leave at once."

"Be careful," said Mr. Ayukawa, "old friend."

"Andrei-san," Mrs. Ayukawa added. "Keep your cool. You're not doing anything except stressing yourself by fuming like that."

The old man took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Thank you, Yoshiko-san. You are right, as usual." He shook his head. "It's a crazy world when a sick man like me still has to get out and fix a problem like this."

"Why don't you delegate it then?"

"Ah. I do have people to do my work for me, but in a situation like this… well, it's just better that I do this. Less headaches afterwards."

After the group had left Andrei in his room, Mr. Ayukawa commented, "He was always like this, running around like he was in a race or something."

"He must have been one intense man," said Kyousuke.

"True," agreed Madoka's mother. "Too true." There was a wistful yet sad look in her eyes as she said this.

"Yoshiko?" There was a questioning look in Mr. Ayukawa's eyes.

"It's nothing, dear. You know that." She gestured towards the other pair. "There are things these two still don't know," she added in a low voice.

Mr. Ayukawa looked thoughtfully at his wife. "Well," he said to Kyousuke and Madoka, "We're going to take the boat back to the mainland, buy a few necessities in the city, do a little sightseeing. Do you want to come?"

Madoka shook her head. "No thanks, Papa. I'd like to rest, if that's okay." She inclined her head towards Kyousuke.

" Me? I think I'll pass. My backside's still aching from all the sitting."

"Okay, then. We'll see you later." The younger couple bowed. Madoka's parents entered the large dining room which dominated the ground floor and headed for the small elevator at the far end.

She tugged at Kyousuke's arm. "Let's go back to the garden, dear. I find it restful there." He nodded. "Sure."

While Kyousuke was content to sit his aching backside on a quaint little green bench, Madoka went exploring. In a far corner she found a white gate in an ivy-covered wall beyond a section filled with roses.

I wonder what's in there, she thought. She walked over and, opening the door, found a small, walled-off portion with more plants and a white gazebo beside a low wall. A small tree stretched its branches over the gazebo, shading it from the Adriatic sun.

"There you are," came a voice behind her. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to." Kyousuke stood beside Madoka and put an arm around her waist.

"Let's sit over there," said Madoka, gesturing to the small structure.

They found the gazebo clean and strangely free of dust. The low wall provided them a magnificent view of the Adriatic Sea. The sea breeze fanned their bodies as they gazed out at the sparkling water.

"Umm, it's beautiful," Madoka said. She was standing by the low stone wall, leaning forward, elbows propped, head in her hands.

Kyousuke nodded. "Yes it is." Looking at his soon-to-be wife, he found her expression distant. She seemed to be looking out to sea, but he could see her gaze was focused inward. Her long black hair fluttered in the gusty breeze.

Kyousuke found himself gazing at her. She's so beautiful it makes my heart ache just to watch her, he thought to himself. I'm the luckiest man on earth, to have her with me.

"And for that," he murmured, "I am thankful for this continuum."

Madoka became aware of him standing beside her. "Eh? You were saying something?"

In response Kyousuke moved behind her and enfolded her in his arms. Madoka, closing her eyes in happiness, took his hands in hers and pressed his arms tighter against her.

"Beloved…" she heard him whisper. Something soft and moist brushed the side of her neck. She turned her head and felt his lips meet hers. The sweetness of his gentle kiss was almost too much for her to bear; her insides surged with a thrill that made her feel her heart was about to burst.

"I think I'm the happiest woman on earth," Madoka declared when their lips parted, her voice husky, her cheeks pink.

"I was just thinking I was the luckiest guy alive," Kyousuke told her, "so I'm just returning the favor."

They fell silent. Brown eyes met green ones, both alight and sparkling, yet deep and full of longing for each other. Their lips met again.

After a minute or two Madoka broke off the kiss. "You're cheating."

"What?" Kyousuke asked, caught off-guard.

"You're using your Power to make me feel so good."

"Of course I'm not! I couldn't kiss you… and use the Power at the same time without you knowing it. It would also ruin my enjoyment." Annoyance passed over Kyousuke's features. "Madoka, that's a cruel thing to say. I'm hurt that you'd even suggest I need the Power to be a good kisser."

The black-haired girl stifled a giggle, then burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. The look on your face…" Kyousuke started to disentangle himself, but Madoka held him fast. "I'm just kidding, Kyousuke! I believe you. I think I'd know if you were using the Power." Kyousuke stopped trying to break free. "You always have that straining expression when you use it…"

"For your information, I don't need the Power to do this…" He turned her head to face him and kissed her. However, in the middle of the kiss she suddenly stiffened, banging her backside into a part of Kyousuke's anatomy that, unfortunately, was rather sensitive at the moment.

"Ow! What's the matter?"

Madoka appeared flushed. "For a moment there it felt like someone was touching my…" her gaze trailed down to her chest.

A slow, evil grin appeared on Kyousuke's face. "See? I told you you'd know if I was using my Power on you…"

"Wha—? You horrible man!" Then she laughed.

"I promise you won't find me doing that again, dear." Kyousuke put her hand on his heart. "After all those escapades when we were growing up…" He kissed her. "I love you too much to do that to you anymore."

"Oh, Kyou-chan." Madoka settled herself against him. "Thank you. I've forgotten how difficult things are for you sometimes, as a Chou-No-Ryoku-Sha."

They reluctantly broke their embrace so they could sit down. Enjoying the gazebo's shade, Kyousuke put an arm around Madoka's waist and pulled her to him. She nestled against his chest, looking out to sea. Her hair draped across his front in a spray of glossy black.

She felt the beating of Kyousuke's heart. "This," she declared, sighing, "is heavenly."

The eldest son of the Kasugas remained silent, absently stroking his beloved's hair, running his hands through it and twining the ends in his fingers. Gradually he started to massage her shoulders and arms, her upper back and temples.

Madoka closed her eyes. "Mmm… that's nice. Please continue."

Kyousuke continued his ministrations for a long while, feeling Madoka's chest rise and fall against his, listening as she breathed, smelling her scent mingled with that of the garden flowers. His eyes greedily traced every outline, every curve and every idea of her—the long, raven hair; the soft lips; the closed eyes with their delicate lashes; the gentle swell of her chest; the long, lithe legs; her creamy skin—and he felt himself grow bolder. Reaching down, he cupped her breasts with his hands. Mewling prettily, she adjusted herself against his grasp. She lazily turned her face and raised a hand to lower his head to hers. A moment later, they were once more liplocked.

A few minutes later Madoka suddenly removed her lips from her fiancé's. "Ah, Kyou-chan," she moaned, nuzzling his neck, "is it suddenly getting warm here or what…"

Encouraged, Kyousuke intensified his amorous assault on her, planting kisses on her lips, her face, her neck, and on the upper part of her chest…

"Ah… Kyou-chan… please stop… cause if we continue we'll be forced to go upstairs… ah…" The warm, tingly sensation, sweet and lovely, was spreading over her again, making her feel light-headed and weak-kneed. She grabbed his head in her hands and turned it to face her. There was a glassy look in his eyes that spelled out his ardent desire for her.

"Please, Kyou-chan." The words came tumbling out of Madoka's mouth. "It's not like I don't want it, it's just that I don't want it right now… ah… later, please? I just want to stay here for a while. I'm so tired I don't think I can make love to you satisfactorily. I swear I'll make it up to you later…" she pleaded.

Kasuga, being a guy, naturally had a harder time reining in his urges, but being the gentleman he was, pulled himself together. "If you say so, love." She smiled in gratitude and closed her eyes again while he, still hyper-aware of her nearness, desperately tried to curb his lust by thinking of unsexy things like telephone bills, his sisters Kurumi and Manami in full feeding frenzy, and his perverted friends (or was it fiends?) Komatsu and Hatta in bathtubs…

Had anyone dropped by afterwards, they would have found the two still in the gazebo, Madoka still leaning against Kyousuke, both lulled to sleep by the song of the waves, the balmy sea breeze, and the warm, heady perfume that permeated the little walled-off part of the garden.

------oOo------

That night, after dinner with Madoka's parents, the couple strolled along the narrow man-made beach that ringed the northwestern edge of the island. Kyousuke carried a torch to light their way, but it was unneeded; there was more than enough light—provided by a full moon—to go about their business. They were gazing at the city on the mainland, its various lights glimmering in the dark, as if to match the stars in the heavens above.

"Your mother was amazing," Kyousuke was saying as they walked, the gravel crunching underfoot, the water lapping at their feet. "I didn't know she could sing as well as play the violin." After dinner, at Andrei Pagott's request, Madoka's mom had made an impromptu performance, with her husband playing the piano, on the large dining room's corner stage.

"That surprised me too," admitted Madoka. She recalled her mother on the stage, a slim, pale figure under the moody yellow lights. "She was forever complaining about her voice being more suited to the bedroom than the concert hall."

"That last song she sung, what was it?"

"I don't know, I don't speak French." She tweaked his nose.

"It seemed to have moved Mr. Pagott a great deal." When they had climbed up the stairs to the hotel owner's private office, which was built above the dining room and overlooked the stage, they had found him sitting in his wheelchair with the tracks of tears on his face. He had smiled forlornly, an old man looking lost and alone amidst all his material wealth. "It reminds me of my mother."

Kyousuke looked at Madoka. "Well, if I'm going to be part of this family I guess I should learn to play an instrument." He sighed. "But what I know about music wouldn't fill a teaspoon!"

"But you can play," she said, reminding him of their short-lived Pikkaru band.

"Not as good as you can. I don't want to look like an ass in front of your mother and father. I mean, the drums? Come on."

"Don't sell yourself short," Madoka admonished him. "It isn't easy to find someone who can carry a consistent rhythm on the drums from a song's start to finish."

"I just wonder, how do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know, compose a song, play the piano, that stuff."

"My dear, it's easy." Emphasizing her point, she sang a verse from a well-known pop song back in Japan:

It's in the heart, my heart, my heart!

"And that's all there is to it. If you love something enough you pour your heart and soul into it." Just like she had when she was writing her songs for him—but she wasn't about to tell him that. She recalled how mortified she had been during a performance of her cousin Shuu's band Swingtop—she had been playing on stage when his girlfriend Yukari had wrapped a red string around her and tossed the other end to Kyousuke, who was standing in the wings. She thought her feelings must have been written on her face then like seventy-two-point headlines in a newspaper. It was pure luck her guitar playing had not faltered under the deluge of embarrassment that had swept over her.

Kyousuke himself thought about all he had gone through before winning Madoka's love. "Yeah, you're right," he mumbled. "Oh well, if all else fails, I can always be your stage act." His face scrunched up. Suddenly a lot of tiny points of multicolored light appeared around Madoka's feet. They slowly rose into the air and formed a vertical circle in front of her. Then they began spinning.

She clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, pretty!"

------oOo------

Offshore, deep in the bowels of a converted fishing boat, two men were sitting before a high-tech instrument panel, busy studying its many displays.

"See, I told you, there it is," said one, a short, pudgy man wearing a set of headphones and a dark blue cap embroidered with the label "BR-97" in front. "Lots of kionic and pro-tachyonic activity on that island."

The other man, a thin, gaunt figure with deep, hollowed cheeks and the dead-fish stare of a killer, nodded at him. "Continue monitoring that," he instructed in a flat voice, "and keep me posted. I will contact our man ashore." But even as he made to leave, his companion announced, "It's gone, sir."

He contemplated the now-dark screens. "Very well." As he left the room, he thought, It seems there is a telekinetic on that island. He would ask their agent to investigate further.

------oOo------

"Whew!" Kyousuke exclaimed.

"Hey, why'd you stop?"

"I don't want to tire myself out for what you promised later," he explained, leering at her. "Besides, heating stones so they glow isn't easy. If I weren't careful some could have exploded and hurt you."

"I should have known you were thinking about that. Hmph. Lecher. I should have known you had sex on your mind." She crossed her arms in front of her.

"So do all the men in the world," he protested, "every ten seconds. I'm not that different from the rest of humanity."

She extended a hand to him. "Come on."

"What? Where are we going?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She arched an eyebrow. "Back to our rooms."

"Now? Why?"

"We still have to walk back to the hotel," Madoka explained, lowering her voice into a contralto. "I wouldn't want you to get tired before what I promised earlier."

------oOo------

Through love-making, Kyousuke had realized long ago, Madoka had learned to express her innermost emotions, her every reaction to the outside world. Normally aloof and taciturn, the tough girl with few friends at Kouryou Gakuen was still a living, breathing human being, and all she felt inside—as a teen growing up practically by herself, and especially as her relationship with Kyousuke blossomed—she had channeled into her love for music, and, before she met Kyousuke, into her excellent fighting skills. When she had first made love with him, she had unconsciously found another outlet for them: sometimes their lovemaking was sweet, slow and gentle, sometimes frenzied and rough; more often than not it led them down the path to sweet slumber; other times, it curiously left them more energized than before. On occasion it seemed furtive and secretive. Once, at his instigation, they had even recklessly done it outdoors. Then there were the times it resembled an elegy, full of sadness and grief. More than once Kyousuke had seen great big tears trickle down the sides of her face as he made love to her. The first time he had been startled and very concerned; it took a gentle rap on the side of the head for her assurance that she was alright, smiling even as the tears flowed, to penetrate his thick skull.

"Silly love," she had whispered, pulling him down to her. "Just keep doing what you do best."

Kyousuke had asked her why she cried, but she never gave him a clear answer. When he pressed her, she would either change the subject, refuse to acknowledge the question, or simply stare him down, curtly intimating that it was a private matter and that he had no right to force an answer from her. Though they had known each other for a long time, he still found her ways puzzling and mysterious.

But this night was, fortunately, nothing like that. Bathed in the light of the bright full moon streaming in from the window, they had made delicious, unhurried love to each other several times, surmounting peak after glorious peak until they at last lay entwined on the bed in Madoka's room, exhausted, their bodies slick with sweat.

"That was great," she groaned. "I'm totally shot."

"That's just fine," Kyousuke answered, panting. "I don't have anything left to give."

"Oh. I think I'll be sore in the morning. Not that I'm complaining." She leaned over and gave Kyousuke a peck on his wet cheek. "Your technique just seems to get better as time goes on." She idly traced the cicatrice of the scar on his abdomen, a relic of a car accident that had once thrown him forward in time.

"Well, you gave me the idea," Kyousuke smirked. "So if you don't like it, you have only yourself to blame."

"Really? Then I must congratulate myself for being so clever. It felt really wonderful…" She blushed in the darkness as she recalled exactly what he did.

Kyousuke paused to admire her body. She boldly turned on her side to display it better. "Darling," he said, "you look so good that if you were a pastry I'd have eaten you up long since."

"Haven't you just done exactly that a while ago?" she asked him with a straight face.

"Wow… I love it when you talk dirty." Sometimes he couldn't bring himself to believe he was having such an interchange with her, when before he could hardly make a comment without worrying she'd take it the wrong way and bite his head off.

Grabbing a towel that had been tossed to the floor because of their exertions, she proceeded to wipe the sweat off his body. "Hmm… garbage… manure…"

"Ha ha ha," said Kyousuke, grimacing. "Thanks a lot, Princess." Madoka laughed, smothering him playfully with the towel.

They stayed together for three hours, feeding each other cheese and fruits that she had previously requested from room service, before getting up and showering. Much as he wanted to, Kyousuke gallantly refrained from seducing her in the bathroom, since he knew she was probably as tired as he was. As if she were aware of this, she gave him a pointed comment as they emerged from the shower.

"Why dear, you've gone shy all of a sudden."

Kyousuke laughed, embarassed. "You noticed, huh? To tell you the truth, angel, I don't think I could survive another round with you tonight."

After they finished dressing, he gave Madoka a final kiss. "I really hate sleeping alone," he told her and walked out the door and back to his room.

After he had left, Madoka lay back on her bed, stretching herself like a contented cat and sighing happily. Wasn't this night just perfect? she asked herself.

There was a sound outside, and a shadow appeared in the thin line of light streaming in from under the door. Madoka waited for the door to open, thinking it was Kyousuke. When it didn't, she got up and went to open it, puzzled.

A tall, fair man with blond hair and in garish attire that shouted "I'm a tourist!" was standing in the middle of the corridor, holding what appeared to be a PDA or cell phone. When she opened the door, he seemed to start, putting the device in his jacket pocket.

"May I help you?" Madoka asked.

"Oh, terribly sorry," said the man. His voice sounded decidedly British. "I must have the wrong room. Sorry to bother you." He nodded apologetically and began to walk away, towards the stairs.

What was that all about? she wondered. Shrugging, she closed the door and went back to bed.

------oOo------

The moment the Japanese girl had closed the door of her room the man brought his device back out. He had been caught off-guard by her sudden appearance and castigated himself for it. Wary of being overheard, he walked to the last room before the little foyer at the top of the stairs, before depressing a button on its side and making his report.

"Control, Horsham here, there's a girl in the room, appears Oriental. I'm going to check the registry…"

Preoccupied, he never saw the door of the last room open and the shadow in black clothes emerge from it.

------oOo------

Arturo, the head cook's sixteen-year-old son, went up to the second floor to retrieve a guest's dinner tray. After picking it up, he made a detour to the first room to the right of the stairs. Opening the door, he called into the darkness, "Everything okay?"

"Yes," a low voice hissed. "Tell them we have one to transport to HQ."

"Okay." The boy closed the door and rubbed his unruly brown hair. He smiled. This cloak-and-dagger stuff was so exciting, he told himself as he skipped back downstairs.