Disclaimer: Love Hina not mine. I'd have to be much richer, smarter, and cooler for that to be true. Oh well.
All right! Time to get to work on chapter... wow, only chapter 5? Feels so much longer thus far. Amazing. Of course, that damn hiatus can't be helping with the feeling of length this story has... sorry about that, again. I really wasn't anticipating all the crap senior year was going to hit me with. Now I'm set, though. I know where I'm going for college, I've got all my service hours done, all that's left is to pull off B's in my harder classes, A's in my blowoffs, and practice for my last two concerts in piano and oboe. In other words, I'm now free to spend several class periods a day brainstorming story ideas, and writing them out when I get home! As I said, some unforseen crap may cause sporadic updates for a while, but the story will be finished! It's a yakusoku. : )
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Chapter 5: Darkness on the Horizon
Hinatasou, Spring, 7:20 A.M.
The sound of wood upon wood cracked out over the rooftops of the Hinata House, echoing far off into the surrounding forest in the still, morning air. As the sun rose happily to the challenge of crossing the sky once more, it was greeted by the sight of three figures on the deck of the building below, two clearly sparring, a third watching. As the first rays of dawn shone down onto the shafts of the two staves currently in action, bathing them in liquid light, the more slender of the two figures struck the other's staff away and ducked inside its guard, jabbing the other figure roughly on the chest with the slender one's own staff.
"Onii-chan, you've been forgetting what we've told you about defense again!" cried an exasperated Kanako as she stepped back from her step-brother, looking cross and flushed in the face. Then her face broke into a rare smile, and she put her hands on her hips, saying, "you really have gotten better, though, I'll give you that."
Behind her, Motoko, who had been watching the whole match from the other side of the deck, her specialty lying more in bladed weapons, chimed in. "True, he hasn't been knocked unconscious in over a week!" she said with a smile on her lips as she uncrossed her arms and walked towards the two. Seeing the look Keitaro was giving her while rubbing his sore chest, she pointed out, "look, it was your own idea to start right off the bat with full sparring. I told you it would be rough, and you decided to go on ahead anyways. If not for your bizarre immortality, you'd have been hospitalized a dozen times by now!"
Keitaro winced, recognizing that she was right. "I guess it is my own fault," he admitted. "I just... I dunno. There are times when I just times when I wish this time of training would go on forever..." he trailed off, leaving the sentence finished, but his thoughts incomplete. For the briefest of moments, his face went blank, followed quickly by a rictus of agony and a flare of rage, respectively. Then, these impressions having passed so quickly that neither girl was certain they had really seen them, he lifted his head and smiled his big, warm, full-hearted smile at them. "Come on," he said, "let's go see what Shinobu is cooking for breakfast." He turned and walked off toward the stairs.
Motoko and Kanako looked at one another for a moment, both having been more disturbed by Keitaro's words than he, in his classic denseness, was capable of realizing. Then they, too, turned and headed down into the house proper.
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Hinatasou, The Same Day, 9:14 A.M.
Walking through the house on her way to clean the outdoor bath, a task she considered one of her sworn duties as kanrinrin, Kanako thought hard about the person that had occupied her thoughts constantly since he came back.
Her first thoughts, of course, were of the young Keitaro that had shown her kindness when she had thought she was alone in the world. Smiling fondly, she felt a warm sensation rising in her breast as she thought of the day they had promised to one day take care of Hinatasou together. It was a promise that kept her going for those years after he left, drove her to perfectionism in all that she did so she could be with him when the time came. She had learned the martial arts from Granny Hina, developing the skills to defend herself and Keitaro should the need arise. She studied the duties and skills required of the kanrinrin of an inn, and later, of a girl's dormitory.
As she thought about the Keitaro of long ago, she smiled, thinking the weapon type he had chosen was perfect for him. A staff, designed to wound, to defeat, to stop an enemy, but not to kill, not to damage permanently. A guardian's weapon. True, it could certainly be used for killing - a solid, wooden pole of about four feet in length could do some hefty damage if wielded with that intent - but in truth its origins were as a non-lethal weapon, and it was only made for incapacitation, not actual elimination. Though Kanako might have preferred for him to choose a slightly more damaging weapon since he would be using it in deadly earnest, it rested so comfortably in Keitaro's hands that she could picture him using nothing else.
It was around the time that Keitaro had left that she had found Kuro, her flying, talking cat. It was he that kept her company all those times when the memory of the promise wasn't enough. Now, of course, she was able to deal with her loneliness, and couldn't leave the dormitory, so her dear friend had taken a trip on his own to find others of his kind. Since he couldn't write, of course, she hadn't seen or heard from him in some time. However, she was sure he was doing well, certain that she would know if anything happened to him.
Knocking and calling out first to see if anyone was in the spring bathing (which they weren't), she entered the spring, took up the bucket and brush that was kept for cleaning, and got to work. Ironically enough, the work reminded her of when she first came here.
She had been terrified and thrilled at the prospect of seeing her onii-chan again, and was glad she had Kuro with her to reassure her. However, when she arrived and saw how Keitaro was living, surrounded by all of these unworthy females, she quickly took control of both herself and the situation. Smiling, she remembered the day she arrived and the havoc she caused with her brilliant disguises. Suddenly, her smile disappeared as she remembered the one with the strongest claim on her brother.
Naru.
Anger, mixed with regret washed over Kanako as she thought back to Narusegawa Naru, the "promise girl" that had stolen her brother's heart with another promise, even after he had promised Kanako that they would run the Hinatasou together one day. Though Kanako eventually gave in to Naru, wishing for Keitaro's happiness, she had never really given up completely. Now that her brother's love had died, though... Kanako found herself torn. She wanted to hate Naru... did hate her, for loving her brother, for taking her dream away, for making her think it was over and have to keep on going. But now that Naru had died, she felt no satisfaction. Instead, she felt sorrow for her brother and, in a way, sadness for Naru. In the years after losing Keitaro to her, she had thought about Naru and how she must have felt, confronted with all the competitors for Keitaro's affection. In the end, Kanako felt a kind of kinship with her, almost a friendly enmity. This left her able to remain civil with Naru when she and Keitaro visited, but now Naru was dead, and Kanako had lost... well, lost a dear enemy.
Working furiously now, scrubbing away the grime coating the bathing area, her bare feet slapping against the natural stone, Kanako thought about when Keitaro had come home this last time. How furious she had been at something she assumed had been Naru's fault, and then how quickly she had shifted that anger to these unknown entities that had killed Naru and put Keitaro, for all his invincibility, into the hospital. How she had been determined to let him rest, to get over his pain, but how Motoko had been the one to find him in his time of need and bring him to the hospital.
Now there's a thought... the dark girl said to herself, as her pace suddenly slackened off. She thought how Motoko had always seemed to be around when Keitaro was suffering. She had found him when he tore open his wound, brought him to the hospital, had been the only one there when he woke up... the incidents kept piling up in Kanako's head as she pondered this sudden connection between the two that seemed to have formed when she was too focused on her brother to see the larger picture.
I will have to test this... she thought, as she walked back to the door to the baths and put away the brush and bucket. I have to see if once more I am required to fight for Onii-chan's love...
Because I will not let anyone else hurt him again.
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Hinatasou, Same Day, 3:43 P.M.
The sun, enjoying its ride on the downward curve of its daily arc, shone brightly down on the twin figures of Motoko and Keitaro as they went out for an afternoon run. Standing at a window on the second floor of the house, Kanako watched them leave, and then turned and marched through the empty house to Motoko's room. She had begged off from the run, saying that she had some chores to catch up on around the Hinatasou, and so she was able to remain behind while everyone else was out of the house. At the doorway to Motoko's room, she paused. Motoko was a warrior at heart, after all. Would her room be so easy to enter unharmed? Carefully, she turned the knob, allowing the door to crack open just a little.
Nothing happened.
Letting her courage rise, Kanako pushed the door open a bit farther, trusting that her finely honed instincts as a martial artist would protect her from any surprises hidden behind it.
Poisoned darts and spinning blades completely failed to assault her.
Laughing out loud to herself, Kanako threw the door open and strode into the room, chiding herself for being afraid that someone might set a trap in her own inn. No, she corrected herself, mine and Onii-chan's... Crossing to the middle of the floor, she paused a moment, wondering where to look for a diary or other item that might show Motoko's feelings for Keitaro. Standing there, directly in front of the suit of samurai armor, surrounded by scrolls of calligraphy, she heard a faint but, to her, all too loud sound.
"Click."
Flinging herself forward and slightly to the side, Kanako felt a breeze rush past and stir her hair as she narrowly avoided the small cloud of darts that shot out from various fixtures and converged where she had been standing less than half a second before. Springing to her feet, Kanako paused and listened for more noises. Dusting herself off, she calmly walked about the room, picking up the darts and following their trajectories back to their sources so she could reload the devices and avoid suspicion. As she did so, she inwardly berated herself for having been overconfident. It seems I forget all too often that this woman is my equal as a warrior, Kanako thought. I must keep sharp when dealing with her.
More cautiously, avoiding the center of the room, Kanako continued to search for some kind of a journal. Eventually, after half an hour, she had to accept that there was nothing in the room that might betray anything about Motoko other than the fact that she was very good at maintaining a strict, neat environment about herself. Of course, there was evidence of Motoko's true, untidy habits that seemed to surface from time to time when she allowed herself a break from discipline - small clutter-zones carefully hidden in the closet, untidy lower layers in drawers covered by a neat surface layer of folded clothing, and a trash bag also concealed in the closet half-full with junk food wrappers - but generally, the aura of the room was that of a clean, sterile, tidy area in the larger chaos of Hinatasou.
As Kanako left, she might have been surprised to know that Motoko did in fact keep a journal, but that it resided in a secret pocket of one of her identical gi's, and that she took it with her whenever possible. Kanako also might have been a touch surprised at the contents, but since she was unable to locate it, there was no way she could know what she was dealing with.
As she closed the door behind her, Kanako thought, I suppose I will have to proceed with plan two... A smirk slowly spread across her face as she thought about it. I was kind of hoping it would come to this. With those last thoughts, she walked downstairs just in time to welcome the two runners back.
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Hinatasou, 8:41 P.M.
In the years since she had first arrived at Hinatasou, Kanako had become more and more intelligent about people in general. At first, she was so generally alienated and alone that she was unable to feel what others felt and think the way others thought. Though she was a fairly good judge when it came to detachedly viewing the lives of others, she was never able to take all the variables into account. (As for the "love" scores she came up with in those early days, she was remarkably close on every member of the household except Motoko... and of course, the scores had all changed since then) Over the years, though, as Kanako lived in Hinatasou among the others, even going so far as to form bonds with the tenants, the doors to her heart, which until then had only opened a tiny crack towards Keitaro, gradually swung wide, allowing her to experience and understand the full range of emotion that other human beings lived with.
Not that this made her any less cynical, of course.
Making sure her door was locked behind her, Kanako turned to the small doors that belied the vastness of the space within her closet. Throwing them wide, she began to go through the tools of her trade. As she pored over her collection of wigs, she thought to herself about what she was trying to accomplish.
Someone Motoko doesn't have a whole lot of history with... she thought to herself. That shouldn't be too difficult, since Motoko had few truly good friends besides Naru, Su, and Keitaro, none of which she intended to impersonate. Naru was gone, Su would be... difficult to imitate, and Keitaro... Kanako flushed suddenly as she thought about her one other attempt at disguising someone as Keitaro.
Well, it would certainly let me figure out how she feels... she considered. She suddenly shook her head violently as though to dislodge the thought from its grasp on her head. No! Onii-chan's body is sacred. It belongs to him alone! She paused a moment after this last thought, then reconsidered. Well, soon to me as well, of course. Pleasantly warmed by this thought, Kanako turned once more to the racks of false hair and suddenly arrived at a decision. It was a matter of minutes to gather the other necessary bits of wardrobe, and then another fifteen or so minutes to apply the necessary makeup and practice the voice and facial expressions (none of her speed had left her, since she still used her skills on occasion).
With a satisfied smile on her face at a job well done, Konno Mitsune walked out of Kanako's room.
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Stealthily making her way through the secret passages in the house (to which she had made sure there were no entrances or exits into her own room), Kanako congratulated herself on a good choice of disguise. Motoko had never been the closest of friends with the irresponsible party girl, and it had been so many years since she'd seen the fox-girl that she had few recent memories that might make for an awkward conversation. Finally, in the years since she had taken up proprietorship of the teahouse, Kitsune had quickly become a source of comfort, wisdom, and guidance to the younger tenants. Kanako still puzzled a little at this, but decided that having to actually work for a living combined with being one of the oldest residents must have inspired a sort of motherly instinct in the ex-drunk.
At any rate, she said to herself as she climbed a hidden staircase and emerged into Kitsune's room, the timing is perfect. Right now is when she usually closes shop, but she's going into town tonight, allegedly to get some things that were forgotten on the grocery list, but I suspect she's really going out with that man she met in the tea shop a few weeks back.Anyways, that should give me a few hours to do what I must. Smiling once more, confident in her disguise, Kanako stepped out of Kitsune's room...
And directly into Keitaro.
Horrified, Kanako tried finding a way to escape, seeing no possible routes as Keitaro turned around and looked at her. Angrily, she berated herself even as she resigned herself to the reality of having been caught in the act.
Damn, the one person that always manages to see through my disguises and I walk right into-
"Oh, hello Kitsune. Sorry about standing right here, I suppose I was lost in thought. Aren't you supposed to be out right now getting those groceries?" he asked, smiling, but seeming genuinely convinced that he was speaking with Kitsune. Lost for words, Kanako nodded dumbly and held up her wallet.
"Oh, forgot your money," Keitaro said. Then, laughing, "that's unlike you! Ordinarily you could hardly be expected to forget a penny! Oh well. I'll let you get going then. Bye!" With a wave of his hand, he walked off down the hall, leaving behind a very confused little sister who waited until he was gone and then reentered Kitsune's room.
Strange, she thought, that was the first time one of my disguises ever actually managed to fool him! She pondered this for a bit, then started as she remembered her original purpose for the disguise. Forgetting about Keitaro's strange behavior, she slipped out of the room and sought out Motoko.
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She found her a short while later, just walking back to her room to collect her bathing things. Moving quickly, Kanako intercepted the swordswoman in the hall.
"Hey, Motoko?" she asked, her voice falling easily into Kitsune's unique accent, "do you think we could talk?"
Puzzled, her hand on her door, Motoko turned and looked at her. "Why, certainly, Kitsune. What is it?"
Nudging her into the room, Kanako replied, "not out here, let's get some privacy first." Still looking confused, a bit of worry creeping into her features, Motoko complied.
Once in the room, the two sat down at Motoko's old study table. The kendoist was the first to speak.
"What is it you want to talk about, Kitsune?" she queried, looking Kanako full in the face. "Also, aren't you supposed to be out getting groceries?" she added.
"Oh, the groceries. Well, I figured they could wait until the next big shopping trip, you know. They weren't that important," answered Kanako, getting the easy question out of the way to reassure Motoko and get her relaxed for the interrogation ahead.
A smug smile appeared on the swordswoman's face as she nodded. "Got cancelled on, did we?" she asked amusedly.
Kanako facefaulted, then looked back up into Motoko's satisfied face. How the Hell did she guess that? I thought I was the only one who knew that much about the tenants! Maybe this wasn't such a good idea... Shaking herself, she decided to play it through as best she could. She put on a grudging smile, and said back, "I didn't think it was that obvious."
Motoko's smile grew even wider, as she said, "my sister did the same a lot when she was younger. I was too small to recognize the signs, but now that I think back, it was pretty clear. I'm just surprised my parents didn't spot it until she told them. Or perhaps they did. They were always good at hiding their knowledge from us." She paused, thinking back on these fond memories, and then turned her focus back to Kanako. "But that wasn't what you wanted to talk about, was it?" she asked.
Kanako shook her head. "Actually," she admitted, "I wanted to talk about you. How are you doing? How's your writing going?" She said this last with a glance over to the undiminished pile of paper and writing utensils that rested on a shelf. Motoko followed her gaze and blushed guiltily.
Turning back, she said, "well, I've been rather busy helping Keitaro train... and I suppose it's just been difficult to focus on writing, what with everything that's been going on around here." Before she could say anything else, Kanako cut her off.
"How has training with him been? He seems to be doing a lot better, in many respects," she pointed out, steering the conversation to suit her needs as her confidence once more rose.
"He definitely seems mostly back to normal," Motoko responded, "as I'm sure you've noticed as well. There are times when I feel his ki isn't what it once was, but..." she broke off, smiling and shaking her head. "It's foolish to expect his spirit to all bounce back at once after a tragedy such as he has experienced," she said decidedly.
Then Kanako struck. "Oh, I don't know," she said, despite having sensed the same thing herself. "I think he seems to be doing well. He seems especially bright when you're around..." she trailed off suggestively, leaving Motoko to realize what she was alluding to. The kendoist went rigid, and her eyes widened as a flush rose to her cheeks.
"W-what are you suggesting, Konno-san?" she asked, slipping back to the honorific in her shock. "H-he's still grieving! Naru's death-"
"Naru's death happened almost a year ago, now." Kanako said sharply, a little too sharply for her assumed persona. Still, Motoko's surprise prevented her from noticing. "True, it was a terrible tragedy. True, Keitaro was hit hard by it, but don't you think he should be getting over it now? Especially with all our support." Suddenly, an all too real wave of anger rose in her, causing her to almost spit the words, "are you trying to heal his heart by taking her place?" This proved to be too much, as Motoko's face snapped into an expression to match the fury in Kanako's voice. Her eyes narrowed, and she responded, her voice icing over, filling the room with a chill air.
"I am glad for your concern over Keitaro's emotional state, but there is nothing between us in that respect. I care about him greatly, as do we all, but I am not trying to take his dead wife's place. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to go take my bath." Picking up the things she had originally come for, she swept angrily out of the room, marching down the hall.
Sitting alone in the room, Kanako thought a moment about what had just passed between them, then stood up and left.
Well, that could have gone better, she decided. Still, at least it doesn't look like I will have to fight with her over Onii-chan's heart. Of course, this also means there's no reason to wait... Striding off towards her room to remove the disguise before anyone else could see it, she hadn't the faintest idea as to how wrong she was.
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Soaking in the bath, Motoko stared up at the night sky as she thought about her recent conversation with what she believed to be Kitsune. Sitting in one of the darker corners of the bath, the faint light from the nearby electric bulbs and the moonlight blended curiously as the two glistened on her wet skin and shone darkly off her long hair as she lay back and sought a way through her confusion.
Why would she ask such a thing? she pondered, calm enough now to think about the exchanged words objectively. She of all people should understand how deeply Naru's death must have cut him... There's no way he could be recovered enough now to even think about something like that... Her thoughts trailed off as she thought of how good it was to see him smile again, how much she enjoyed training with him. All of a sudden, she snapped back to herself, shaking her head fiercely.
There's no way he's truly recovered that quickly. He's surely just putting on a brave face to reassure us. Besides, even if he was, I could... never... Her thoughts gave way much faster than before, this time to images of Keitaro smiling at her, of their sparring matches together, of the playfulness that had marked their recent closeness since his hospitalization. She thought of some of times when, during their mock battles, they had come close, pressed against one another, both working hard to remain still. She could feel the warmth of his exertion radiating out from him, see the tiny droplets of sweat that accumulated at his nose, and his chin, that dampened his hair and shone on his bare arms. She could hear his harsh breathing so near to her, feel his eyes on her, feel him smile suddenly...
Again, she jolted back to herself, realizing what she had been thinking. I can't possibly be considering this! she reminded herself. He's still grieving! Even if he seems all right outwardly, his spirit is still wounded...
Is that honor speaking? quipped another voice from somewhere deep inside her, Is it compassion? Or is it fear? Fear that he'd still be too hung up on Naru? The fear that held you from ever making your own attempts on his heart all those years back?
Damnit, conscience! she mentally screamed, you aren't supposed to guilt trip me about lying to myself! Only when I lie to other people!
Well excuse me, she could hear her conscience muttering, I'll just get out of your way then. Think about what you're doing, though. With this, it shot her a final little mental image, one of her sitting at Keitaro's bedside in the hospital. She could see his weary face, so peaceful in sleep with his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and falling. Only this time, instead of just watching, she walked to his side, bent low over his sleeping form, brought her face down to his...
"GAAAAHHH!" the tortured young woman screamed, thrashing about in the water in an attempt to rid her mind of the images even as her cheeks filled with blood and she thought how nice it would be...
Finally, she calmed herself down, stood up, and left the bathing area. As she was toweling herself off, she accepted that she might have some feelings for Keitaro, but that now was not the time to express them.
I shall wait till I deem him ready, she decided, choosing to bide her time rather than risk touching on his wounds too early, hurting both herself and him.
When is ready, though? her conscience interjected, breaking its vow of silence. Are we talking next week? Or next year, perhaps?
Oh, just shut up! she thought, exasperated though she knew her conscience might be right. Ready is when I decide he's ready. With that answer, her conscience finally quieted itself and she left for her room, there to toss and turn as she fought to come to grips with what she had just realized.
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Hinatasou, 11:22 P.M.
As he slept, tossing and turning in a way that belied his outward recovery, Keitaro found himself caught in the throes of nocturnal pain which, blessedly, he no longer remembered come morning. It might not strike every night any more, and the agony of his dreams might be mitigated by the presence of everyone else in the house, but his nights were still the loneliest times in his life, where he floundered in the seas of his subconscious and fought each morning to return to the warm day and warmer comfort of those around him.
So tormented was he this particular night that even his fine-tuned martial artist senses didn't pick up on the secret passage in the corner of his room opening up and admitting a single, slim, dark figure to the location of his nightly battles. He had no idea anyone was there until, through the fog of misery that pervaded his dreams, he felt a warmth coming through and melting away the agony. Rolling over, rising partially from the depths of his mental prison, levering himself up on one elbow, he half-opened his eyes to see a dark-haired girl smiling sweetly at him even as they embraced one another. Puzzlement crossed his face as his sleep-fogged brain tried to keep up with events.
"Kana...ko?" he mumbled, clearly confused and concerned. But though he fought to wake up and better understand what was going on, her warmth tugged at him all the while, pulling him down into the comfort of her embrace, whispering the seductive promise of a night without dreams.
"Hush, Onii-chan," she whispered. "I'm here to soothe what remain of your wounds. Just rest now..." she breathed, pulling him closer into her embrace and burying her face in the pocket between his neck and shoulder.
Keitaro's poor, tormented brain gave up then, letting him slip back into sleep even as he laid himself back down onto the futon and slipped further into the arms of his sister.
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And I think that might be a good place to end the fifth chapter of my little story. But, before I sign off and post this thing, let me just say a few things:
First, I would like to mention that this fic is really starting to take itself out of my hands. Originally, I kept it on a pretty tight leash, letting it stray a little, but generally forcing it to stay within a certain distance of my original path. Now, however, the story seems to have managed to get the leash wrapped around a bit of sharp metal of some kind and is even as we speak bouncing off joyously into the forest, while I frantically give chase and hope to at least figure out where it's going before it gets there. At first, I was dead set on the Keitaro X Motoko pairing, as I'm sure you can see in the first three chapters. But as I've been writing this, that firm resolve has become shaken somewhat. I think this might have a little to do with my recent viewing of Kimi Ga Nozomu Eien (which a friend of mine downloaded before the fansub ban and allowed me to watch), and I now feel that my sense of romance and tension, especially romantic tension, has changed in big ways. Anyways, I'm just trying to let you guys know that, as confused as you're all probably feeling right now, don't try and second-guess me because I honestly have no idea either.
Second, thanks to all who have reviewed thus far. Keep the support coming! As one of the most pathetically insecure human beings on the face of the planet, your words really do help me keep going with all of this, and it's always good to see that one's work is appreciated. I'm actually feeling pretty good about this story, it's one of those rare pieces that feels as though you're just sort of writing down something you've seen happen somewhere, that it's all set and you just need to keep writing it out to the end. But despite that, I still need a good stream of reviews to keep my morale up, so don't stop!
Right, I guess that's about it. Cheers, all! I'll get right to work on the next chapter. I'm not sure how long this frantic rate of updates is going to last, but I'll keep my momentum going while I've got it.