Kitsune and Steve reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hallway. A green lambency could be seen flickering from behind and under the shouji dividing room 205 from the hallway. The polished wood of the floor reflected the strange light, adding an ethereal quality to every step forward. She could smell ozone.

"Does the Hina House rent to a lot of overnighters? I mean…" Steve chuckled, "travelers and folks on business trips?"

Kitsune forced a grin. She really wanted to brain him with the bottle of sake. "Steve, shhhhh." She placed a finger to her lips and raised her eyebrows. "Remember, Naru is sleeping."

His face flushed. "Jesus." He said softly in English. He continued in Japanese. "I'm sorry."

She smiled and nodded. Abashed, contrite, off- balance and ready to spill… pushin' buttons. She stopped at the sliding door outside of the room and for a moment watched the strange lightshow. Above the door was a lacquered section of stump with "Naru and Keitaro Urashima. Landlords" written in hiragana. She leaned her back against the door and pressed her ear to it. Through the panel she could make out Keitaro's voice speaking in low tones, so she brought her hand up and softly knocked. There was no answer.

She looked at Steve, shrugged and knocked again, a little louder. Again, no answer. He raised his eyebrows and gestured with his head. She nodded, and slid the door open wide enough to admit her head. She saw that Keitaro was in his virtual simulator. Cool. Let's throw Steve "I've- got- a- secret" Seyama a curve! She grinned snarkily to herself. Heh. She slid the door the rest of the way open and gestured for him to follow her.

They stepped up onto the tatami mats in the room and Steve stopped short, mouth agape. Half of the apartment was dominated by a car- sized wire- frame ball, constructed of a whitish material that Kitsune knew was an industrial strength construction product but which looked like aged ivory. Small three – eyed nodes within the construct projected pictures and text onto slim, mist- filled plastic rectangles that ringed the interior circumference. These projections were the cause of the pervasive greenish glow. The ball was surrounded by a number of box – shaped electronic components and connected to a thick sheath of cabling that circled the periphery of the room before riding a metal pole up through the "pervert hole" in the middle of the ceiling into what used to be Naru's room. The atmosphere had the weight and scent of the air before a particularly bad summer lightning storm, emphasized by a continuous and low thrumming sound she could feel through her feet.

Suspended several feet above the floor in the cavity at the middle of the construct by a harness, clad in a t- shirt, shorts and white socks, was a thin human figure. It had a metallic oversized head and three eyes and was performing what looked like drunken sign language, colored wires dangling from its moving fingers.

Steve's eyebrows came down and he squinted at the figure. He tilted his head to Kitsune, motioned toward the contraption with an extended thumb, opened his mouth to speak… and then shook his head and squinted across the room some more.

"Yep," Kitsune jerked her chin at the figure, "that's the landlord. He's wearing a special VR helmet designed by Kaolla that, according to what she says, gives him a 360 degree view of what his little robot sees." She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Whatever hand movements he makes somehow direct how the robot moves where it is in, I think, Venezuela."

"That, " Steve said finally, frowning at the hanging figure, "looks really uncomfortable. That big – ass can on his head, I mean." After a pause, his lips rose. "The rest, well… it has some potential." He gave her a sidelong glance and wiggled his eyebrows.

As if! Back off, pal, I'm still pissed at you! "We all tried it and … stop it, we tried the helmet! You know what I mean." She gave him a basilisk glare. "You can see it leaves the nose and mouth clear so you can breathe and talk. It's padded and, even thought it's got some fans inside there, it gets very hot." She began to step over data and power cables to approach Keitaro.

"Kitsune!" Steve said in a loud whisper.

"What?"

He pointed to her hand, and she realized she was still carrying the sweating bottle of sake. She pivoted, took a step and handed it to him. She turned and resumed her navigation of the clutter until she had picked her way to within a few feet of the occupant.

"Keitaro?" She said. She could see his mouth was moving in a continuous mutter. She stepped closer, mindful of the advice she had given to Steve earlier about loud noises. "Keitaro?" He was strapping himself into this thing after we ate breakfast this morning… Shit, he must be beat!

The head jerked up and Keitaro muzzily asked, "Kitsune?" The helmet began to turn as he tried to identify the source angle of her voice. The blind gaze of the glowing three – eyed emblem on the mask slid away from her and towards Steve where he stood, drinking sake out of the mouth of the bottle. "Now, that's a damned big heat plume." Keitaro whispered, still dazed. Steve, noticing the attention, froze with the bottle at his lips. He shrugged.

She stifled a laugh behind her hand. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Keitaro, I need…"

"Kitsune," he interrupted, "Shouldn't you be at work?" The helmet began to descend and Keitaro's fingers twitched slightly in reaction to some transmitted stimuli from the Western Hemisphere. "I still think that that Chaco pottery was used in the Etzalcualiztli bathing ceremony, Professor Vasquez…" he said under his breath.

Etzal – what? He's so totally out of it. "I closed the Café down over two hours ago, Keitaro."

"Que?" he replied, suddenly distracted. "Oh, that's why you're here, it was closing time…"

His wired hands began to motion again inside their zone of curdled light, continuing for nearly a minute. She tapped her foot, counting seconds. Then, Keitaro's hands stopped and the helmet jerked upright. "Closing time?" He asked, unsteadily.

His head moved from side to side within the confines of the helmet. "But it says right here in my HUD that it's… HOLY CRAP, THAT'S NOT A CLOCK?"

"I'm a dead man!" Keitaro choked in a horrified voice. His hands scrabbled towards the harness, but were unable to grip it due to the sensors on his fingertips. Losing composure, he began to kick his legs, suspended above the floor.

"Naru's going to kill me… got to get down!" He stretched his legs and toes towards the floor, but encountered resistance from the springy fabric of the harness straps. His efforts caused him to bounce in place, a slight up- and- down dip that grew rapidly into a major pogo. "What the hell?" He wailed, metal head turning left and right in exasperation. The bobbing continued despite his best efforts at braking. "What the HELL!"

"You've got to release the harness… Keitaro, calm down a second and I'll…get you…" Kitsune attempted to lean in and grab the straps. No good. Keitaro's motion was going to require a pretty drastic effort on her part to provide help. "Keitaro, stop bouncing!" She grasped a portion of the strut at her side and forced herself forward, one foot rising from the floor in the process.

"Meigetsu-in Temple…" he said as he rose and fell, his hands pulled up and down by the fingertip wires, his head tilting. "Evening hydrangea tour… beautiful dragonfly day…Naru and baby… colors of sunset…"

"You're… uff… babbling. Almost got… it…" She wiggled forward, stretched a bit farther and got one hand around the harness release. She realized at that moment that her posture, with one leg up in the air for a counterbalance to her body lean, gave Steve a straight look up her skirt.

"Shit!" she said, flushing as her hands instinctively clenched. The pressure of her fingers triggered the release and Keitaro was dropped to the floor several feet below. Three noises occurred simultaneously: a startled, impact- interrupted scream, the dull clang of his helmet striking the floor mat, and the heavy thud of the rest of his body.

She winced. "Eww! Sorry, Keitaro..!"

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Steve was crouching, red- faced and wracked with laughter. So I mooned him… what the hell is my problem? She turned on her heel and purposefully high- stepped her way around the boxes and cables. "You!" She hissed as she approached him. "You son of a bitch! You could give me a hand, you know!"

"Your expression…" He pointed at her, a broad grin on his face. "Oh, oh my… " Tears were starting to show at the corner of his eyes as he doubled up with laughter. "And, and him… oh, the poor bastard, oh God…" Steve looked like he was going to eat the palm of his hand, it was so deep in his mouth in his attempt to stifle his laughter. "Erk! Bwerk! Hk – Hk – Hk!" To Kitsune it sounded like Seta's van turning over. "Oh, man, Bones..!" He coughed, shaking his head.

Bones? A motion caught her eye and caused her to turn. Steve craned his neck around her to look. Keitaro, on unsteady legs, walked past, hands at his chin and fumbling for the helmet strap. Oh, no! " Keitaro, watch…!"

Her warning was too late as, going in the wrong direction, he walked into the virtual simulator headfirst and staggered back. "Shit!" He squeaked desperately. He made an unsteady about- face and began walking away from the ball, mouth set in a tight line. His fingers finally made headway on the helmet strap and the velcro began to rip open.

"Keitaro, the wire…!" Again, her warning was too late. The cable connecting the helmet to instruments in the interior of the wire- frame construct stretched taut in mid- step and whipped him backwards towards the ground. With a pop the helmet ripped free of his head and shot towards the ball, then deflected off one of the structural members and ricocheted into the air back towards him. In a heap on the floor, he opened his eyes just as the helmet slammed down inches from his head. The three helmet eyes glowed red for an instant and went dark.

Kitsune looked back at Steve and saw that he had a hand over his face. Two fingers were split wide, revealing one eye. That eye rolled towards her and then back to the disjointed movements Keitaro was making from where he lay on his back.

"That was effed up." Steve said, muffled voice tinged with awe. "I mean, 10 on the Three Stooges scale."

"You have no idea." Kitsune bent over, grabbed the bottle from the floor and took a long slug. She handed it to him without looking and he did the same.

Keitaro, sweating, eyes crossed and glasses askew, began crawling across the floor towards the bedroom door panel. "Reset… reset." He was mumbling. "Hydrangea aztec robot turtle." He stopped, shook his head woozily and took several deep breaths. He attempted to rise and, with Kitsune's help, stood. He lurched forward.

Kitsune, concerned, trailed behind him. She watched as he managed to slide the door open and make his way inside the bedroom. The antique lamp on the mahogany table in the corner filled the room with a warm amber light, a vivid contrast to the cyan illumination next door. The only sound audible here was the deep and steady breathing of the shape beneath the blanket. Sleeping for two…

Keitaro paused at a book – laden kotatsu in the corner, and sank to his knees. He turned back to her in the doorway. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his face marked by his misadventure, but he seemed to be tracking. "Kitsune," he whispered, then yawned hugely. "Kitsune, you're at the Café tomorrow?"

"Um? Yeah. Yes I am." Why…?

" 'Kay. I've got a…" (yawn, eye rub) "…friend who should be stopping by. Could you keep an eye out…" The rest of the sentence devolved into an unintelligible mumble as his head sank to his chest. He shook his head again and placed his glasses atop a textbook on the low table. He crawled to the futon and gingerly rolled his length next to his wife, sighing deeply. Kitsune watched the two lying there, husband and wife, while memories of their extended and bruising courtship streamed past her mind's eye. She blinked and started to close the door.

Keitaro's head came up. "…America…" he said, clearly, sleep- drool collected at the corner of his mouth. His head sank back down.

WHAT? She thrust her head into the room. "Keitaro…!" A grunt. "Keitaro!" He didn't respond.

"Keitaro?" Naru mumbled and turned to her husband, hands together at her breasts, forehead nearly touching his.

CRAP! Can't wake Naru! Kitsune bit her lower lip in frustration, growling deep in her throat. Softly.

Kitsune could see light reflected from under Keitaro's nearly- closed lids. His hand slowly reached up and touched his wife's cheek. "Sleep…." he murmured gently. "…love." His hand came down and covered hers.

"MMMmmmmmmkay." Naru answered. She wiggled her head deeper into the pillow and was still. The curve of her belly was visible even underneath the blanket as she was.

Kitsune listened for a few additional moments. She slid the panel shut and stepped back, her head down. Does that mean that Keitaro knows Steve? If so, what's Steve's game… why wouldn't he have mentioned it? She tapped her chin, one eyebrow raised. But, Keitaro was so out of it… he could mean 'South America,' talking about work. Hell, it could mean anything!

Her emotions continued to roil. Frustration keyed on Steve, both for what he avoided saying earlier and for a possible lie of omission about knowing Keitaro. She also was awkwardly bothered by the intimacy of the married couple. What am I feeling? Envy? Jealousy…? That's not like me… like freaking out over showing some ass. I mean, this is ME. A thought occurred to her and she covered her mouth in horror. Shit, is this what you feel like when you hit 30? Is this early stage thirty- pause? She looked beseechingly at the ceiling. Haruka, where are you when I need you!

"Everything okay?" The rumble of Steve's voice close by her ear startled her. She took half a step away, her eyes wide, afraid the story of her thoughts was written on her face.

"Look," she said, "Steve…" Then stopped. Her eyes searched his face and then focused at eye- level on the cliff of his chest beneath the stained gray t- shirt.

He looked confused at her reaction. "What? He said I can't have a room?"

She snorted a laugh and grinned. "No, no, we'll improvise something. Come with me." She put her hand on his forearm and led him out of the room. "I need a cigarette." Let's go have a little discussion, big boy, where no one will bother us.