Chapter 11 - Finding Solace
Keitaro looked on in wonderment as silent tears sleeked down her cheek. He had never, never thought that Naru would sink that low. Sometimes he wondered what he saw in her that no one else did. Time seemed to slow down as he saw Kitsune smash a bottle of Sake and, taking a shard, prepare to cut her wrists. He ran, and caught her and before it drew blood. He muttered one word, "Don't."
Kitsune looked up with tear stained eyes and saw Keitaro's warm face smiling at her. "Don't do it. She's not worth the pain." He repeated. Keitaro slowly applied pressure on the wrist and forced her to drop the glass shard. {A/N - This is going to take every fiber in my body to survive, but here goes} He reached behind her and pulled her away from the littered mini-bar. He gently laid her on one of the beds and closed the door. He lay on the other bed, only occasionally staring at Kitsune, who had not moved at all.
He pulled out 2 drawing pads and a couple of pencils. He gave her one and said, "It always helped me." She stared at the pad and turned away. "I don't draw." Keitaro sighed. "I've seen you Kitsune. Despite what people might think, I know that something else goes on in your room other than drinking. You sketch, I've seen you. You're a good artist. Now c'mon, just try." He urged, hoping that she would accept the offer. He smiled when her hand reached over and took the pad and pencil. He then walked back to his own bed and lay down and started sketching for a while.
This went on for a while before he finally spoke. "So that's why you do it?" "Do what?" she asked, not even looking up. "Drink. You drink to deal with the pain." "Yeah." "It's weird how you never realize it at first. But then you see it, little signs that practically scream 'something's wrong.' You know?" "Yeah I do. So tell me, Mr Urashima, what's the glue that holds your mask together?" "What do you mean?" "Don't give me that clueless expression. You know exactly what I mean."
Keitaro sighed and rolled of his bed and walked onto the balcony. He sat gazing at the stars for a while, questioning his entire base existence. Was it all just one big cloud of confusion and chaos surrounding a solemn promise. Was it just that simple, that empty? "Fifteen years ago, I made a promise to a small girl. It was in the sandbox, in the playground not too far from Hinata Sou. I used to think that my entire life was centered around it. But I guess that I just haven't moved on yet. I haven't really lived a day in my life. When I think about it, I never really wanted to go to Toudai, or even an Ivy League school. No, I wanted to go to an arts school, follow my dream of becoming a manga artist or something like that."
Kitsune was listening patiently, not even having stopped drawing. She would never have thought that the resident 'pervert' was so . deep. A while ago, the idea of Keitaro being deep would have sent her to the ground in hysterics, but now it seemed like an awful thing to do. When he paused and went to answer the ringing doorbell, signifying the arrival of an array of food and what not's, she remembered the first time he had been to Hinata Sou. He had accidentally peeped on Naru, who had panicked slightly, and started running around screaming. Motoko and her blade tried to do him 'justice', but had failed. And even through all the Naru-punches, through all the secret arts succession moves from Motoko, and even through the barrage of missiles and robot Su sent his way, he kept standing and bouncing back and smiling.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a jade green notebook. Recognizing it from all the times she had snuck into his room, she pulled out the photo print book. Opening it she found a picture of him and Naru. It had been the one from Kyoto. She could feel her heart start to crack at the smiles. She couldn't help but fell angry at her friend for not appreciating him. She turned from the page, only to come face to face with a barrage of solitary pictures of Keitaro, that same smile pasted on, making him look cuter with every strip. She stopped, snapped out of her reverie when Keitaro called from the living room. "THE FOOD'S HERE!" She clambered off the bed and wadded towards the living room, pasting on another smile.
Keitaro looked on in wonderment as silent tears sleeked down her cheek. He had never, never thought that Naru would sink that low. Sometimes he wondered what he saw in her that no one else did. Time seemed to slow down as he saw Kitsune smash a bottle of Sake and, taking a shard, prepare to cut her wrists. He ran, and caught her and before it drew blood. He muttered one word, "Don't."
Kitsune looked up with tear stained eyes and saw Keitaro's warm face smiling at her. "Don't do it. She's not worth the pain." He repeated. Keitaro slowly applied pressure on the wrist and forced her to drop the glass shard. {A/N - This is going to take every fiber in my body to survive, but here goes} He reached behind her and pulled her away from the littered mini-bar. He gently laid her on one of the beds and closed the door. He lay on the other bed, only occasionally staring at Kitsune, who had not moved at all.
He pulled out 2 drawing pads and a couple of pencils. He gave her one and said, "It always helped me." She stared at the pad and turned away. "I don't draw." Keitaro sighed. "I've seen you Kitsune. Despite what people might think, I know that something else goes on in your room other than drinking. You sketch, I've seen you. You're a good artist. Now c'mon, just try." He urged, hoping that she would accept the offer. He smiled when her hand reached over and took the pad and pencil. He then walked back to his own bed and lay down and started sketching for a while.
This went on for a while before he finally spoke. "So that's why you do it?" "Do what?" she asked, not even looking up. "Drink. You drink to deal with the pain." "Yeah." "It's weird how you never realize it at first. But then you see it, little signs that practically scream 'something's wrong.' You know?" "Yeah I do. So tell me, Mr Urashima, what's the glue that holds your mask together?" "What do you mean?" "Don't give me that clueless expression. You know exactly what I mean."
Keitaro sighed and rolled of his bed and walked onto the balcony. He sat gazing at the stars for a while, questioning his entire base existence. Was it all just one big cloud of confusion and chaos surrounding a solemn promise. Was it just that simple, that empty? "Fifteen years ago, I made a promise to a small girl. It was in the sandbox, in the playground not too far from Hinata Sou. I used to think that my entire life was centered around it. But I guess that I just haven't moved on yet. I haven't really lived a day in my life. When I think about it, I never really wanted to go to Toudai, or even an Ivy League school. No, I wanted to go to an arts school, follow my dream of becoming a manga artist or something like that."
Kitsune was listening patiently, not even having stopped drawing. She would never have thought that the resident 'pervert' was so . deep. A while ago, the idea of Keitaro being deep would have sent her to the ground in hysterics, but now it seemed like an awful thing to do. When he paused and went to answer the ringing doorbell, signifying the arrival of an array of food and what not's, she remembered the first time he had been to Hinata Sou. He had accidentally peeped on Naru, who had panicked slightly, and started running around screaming. Motoko and her blade tried to do him 'justice', but had failed. And even through all the Naru-punches, through all the secret arts succession moves from Motoko, and even through the barrage of missiles and robot Su sent his way, he kept standing and bouncing back and smiling.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a jade green notebook. Recognizing it from all the times she had snuck into his room, she pulled out the photo print book. Opening it she found a picture of him and Naru. It had been the one from Kyoto. She could feel her heart start to crack at the smiles. She couldn't help but fell angry at her friend for not appreciating him. She turned from the page, only to come face to face with a barrage of solitary pictures of Keitaro, that same smile pasted on, making him look cuter with every strip. She stopped, snapped out of her reverie when Keitaro called from the living room. "THE FOOD'S HERE!" She clambered off the bed and wadded towards the living room, pasting on another smile.
