Ronin and Heart, Part 3
"Can I get you another round, miss?"
Kitsune raised her head from the bar and looked at the short guy in the apron, then waved him away without a word. So this was where she'd ended up, she thought, and couldn't find it in herself to be surprised that she was at a bar.
She'd gone back to Hinata House right after Motoko had run off, thinking that'd be the first place her lover would go. Sure, it was something of a tradition around the dorm for people to run off right after they'd taken the Tokyo U exam, but Kitsune thought that Motoko was level-headed enough to not do anything like that. She'd been wrong. None of the others had seen Motoko come back, which meant she'd gone somewhere else entirely.
It hadn't rained while Kitsune frantically searched Hinata and the nearby towns for Motoko, but it might as well have for how she felt. Nobody had seen her, no one had heard of someone like her being around. When Kitsune pulled herself back to Hinata House that evening, slumped over nearly to the ground, she'd hardly been able to get herself to eat or talk. All she'd wanted to do was crawl into bed and wake up to find that it'd all been a really, really bad dream.
She'd gotten drunk first, of course, as that was pretty much a trained reaction by now, and the splitting headache from her hangover the next morning had made her realize the bleak truth of it all.
"I have to go after her," she'd told Naru the next morning while she packed. "You went after Keitaro when he skipped out, I can't do less for her."
Naru had looked concerned, but she said that she understood. Shinobu packed Kitsune some food for the road, and Su had given her another of her odd inventions - a Motoko-finder, she called it, saying it was based off of the same one she'd used to find Tama-chan that one time.
Kitsune sighed as the barkeep took her empty glass away. She almost wished that Tama-chan had come along with her; a little company would have made the trip more bearable, even if it was just the turtle. Then again, she thought, it was better that she did this alone. This was between she and Motoko. It had started with just the two of them, and it would end that way. She shuddered at the thought of things between them ending, then pulled herself up straight. It was time to get on with it.
She paid her bar tab and pulled on the trench coat she'd dug out for the trip - something seemed oddly appropriate about wearing it, she thought; there was just something about going out to look for your girl dressed like an old movie star. She shrugged. As amusing as that might be, she was still on a mission. Kitsune pulled up the coat's collar and stepped out of the bar into the city.
Into Kyoto.
Kyoto . . . the place that had nearly torn them apart, the place where they'd fought for each other, the place where she'd come to know that she did love Motoko. Su's bizarre device had led her here, and as far as she could tell, Motoko was back with her sister at the Gods' Cry School. She wasn't really sure why Motoko would run to Tsuruko, but it was better than if she'd just been wandering. Tsuruko might be able to help, and if Motoko was in a place where she felt comfortable. . . .
"Damn," Kitsune said to herself as she kept thinking. If Motoko was comfortable at the school, it'd be harder to get her to leave. She might have already resigned herself to just being a warrior, and not being. . . . "Not being a woman," Kitsune said quietly. "Not being with me."
She took a deep breath, then managed a smile. "Can't have that."
The sun was close to setting, and there were clouds gathering in the distance, but it wasn't far to the Gods' Cry School. Kitsune started walking.
"The way of the sword is the way of the warrior."
Motoko stood in one of the advanced stances of the Gods' Cry School, bokken in hand, and swept her way through the first seven steps of the kata. She hardly even had to think about her motions; it was nothing but practice and instinct, as natural to her as breathing.
The practice rooms here were as familiar as her own room, and she'd spent enough hours in them to know the little nuances of each one. The one she was in now had a slight draft from the door that led outside, but it kept the room pleasantly cool in the summers. Now, in the early days of spring, the room was slightly chilled, but Motoko knew she wouldn't get sick. She was working too hard to grow cold.
"The sword is the warrior's life, her life depends on the sword."
She closed her eyes as she repeated the litany, then spun her wooden blade through slashes that hit in all directions, working her way through the kata. Had anyone been threatening her, she would have dispatched them easily by now, no matter where they stood.
"When everything else fails, there must be nothing but the sword, for that is all a warrior can truly rely on."
The end of the kata was a series of quick forward strikes, followed by sweeps to both sides and a final spin, made to eliminate any opponents who remained. The ways of battling more than one opponent had often been Motoko's favorites, though she hadn't had much reason to practice them in her former life. It was a change that had to be made, she thought.
"The sword does not fail the warrior, the warrior fails . . . the sword. . . ."
She let out her breath all at once and fell into a kneeling position, then carefully placed her bokken on the floor before her.
"And if the warrior fails the sword," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice from breaking, "then there is nothing left."
Motoko bowed her head and undid the band that held her hair back, letting it sweep forward around her face, hiding the tears as they started to fall. That was it, she thought. She had failed as a woman, had failed both herself and the one she loved, so there was nothing left for her but the sword. There could be nothing else; she was not worthy of anything else. She would remain here at the school, she would teach others the way of the sword. Perhaps, she thought, she would watch them learn that there was more to life, and perhaps she would see them succeed at whatever their other paths were.
But those paths were not hers, they never could be again. All that was left for her was to be the warrior.
She sighed heavily, then stood and bound her hair again. "There's no time for this," she said to herself. "There's much to do, and Tsuruko will want my help to keep the school running as it should. It has been . . . a while, but I'm sure I can still handle it. In time, things will be just as they used to be."
"Very true, Motoko-chan."
Motoko whipped her head around, and saw her sister standing in the dojo doorway. It was rare that Tsuruko didn't look at least a little amused, but there was no sign of a smile on her face today. "Now, simply keep telling yourself that, and perhaps in time, you'll believe it."
Motoko started to say something, then closed her mouth and let her face grow hard. She stood straight, and turned to face her sister. "Do you doubt my dedication to the school, oneesan?"
She watched Tsuruko as she waited for the other woman to speak, not moving a muscle, never taking her eyes away from her sister's face. Tsuruko hadn't exactly made a challenge, but Motoko knew she had to be prepared for such things if she was going to take over the school someday. As she watched, she saw Tsuruko smile sadly, and couldn't help frowning. That was not what she'd expected.
"I haven't a worry about your dedication, Motoko-chan," Tsuruko said. "What I worry about is your heart."
Motoko paused, then looked away. She'd known that this conversation was coming, though she'd hoped it would have been more than two days until Tsuruko broached the subject. "I told you what happened," she said curtly. "I'd think that would be enough."
"Enough for you, perhaps," Tsuruko said, and shrugged casually. "Or enough for you to think that you're doing what you must." She started to walk toward Motoko. "But I think you're giving up too much, Motoko-chan, and you're giving it up too easily." She stood in front of her sister now, and put a hand on her shoulder. "This is the place where you fought to prove your love," Tsuruko said quietly, "and I doubt you've forgotten that. Do you really think you can live here, and see these places every day, and not think about what happened here?"
"I can handle it," Motoko said, holding herself straight. "I've dealt with worse, and in time . . . in time, I'll. . . ."
Motoko tried to say it, but the words wouldn't come out. No matter how many katas she went through, no matter how many students she ended up teaching, no matter how many times she swore herself to the sword, she knew. . . .
"I'll have to," she whispered, fighting back tears. "I'll have to forget her, because I failed her, and I failed myself."
To Motoko's surprise, Tsuruko moved forward and hugged her, holding her close in a sisterly embrace. "I'm sorry, Motoko-chan," she said, and Motoko could hear a touch of the humor she was used to in her sister's voice, "but I don't think you'll be able to do that."
"Why?" Motoko asked, puzzled.
"Because she's waiting for you in the front room."
Motoko froze.
"She doesn't want to see you."
Kitsune blinked at Tsuruko, then asked, "She what?"
The two of them stood in the front room of the God's Cry School, where Kitsune had ben waiting while Tsuruko brought news of her arrival to Motoko. Kitsune had spent most of the time since then pacing, unable to keep herself from being nervous. Sure, it had only been two days, but now that she was this close, she wanted to see Motoko, now! She sighed, frustrated, and started pacing again.
"I'm sorry, Konno-san," Tsuruko said, "but I suppose being stubborn runs in the family." She was wearing a small smile, though Kitsune didn't see what could be funny about this.
"Well, that doesn't help," she said, trying to keep from sounding upset. "She's been here for two days?"
"Since the day you both went to see the exam results," Tsuruko said with a nod. "She came to me, crying, and at first all I could get out of her was that she'd failed. What, I wasn't sure, but she eventually told me." She walked over to Kitsune, looking not at all worried. "Thank you, Konno-san, for standing by her during these difficult times."
Kitsune gave Tsuruko a strange look. Obviously, Motoko hadn't told her the whole story, otherwise Tsuruko might not be so happy to see her. Kitsune knew that her drunken rantings were probably why Motoko had failed the Tokyo U exam. Maybe, she thought, maybe that was another part of why she'd come here - she wanted to apologize to Motoko. It might not do much good, but it'd be a start, and besides, wasn't the whole forgiveness thing part of love?
"Konno-san?"
Kitsune blinked again, then managed to smile at Tsuruko. "Sorry, just zoned out there for a second. Hey, where is she?"
"In one of the practice rooms," Tsuruko said calmly. "But she told me she doesn't want to see you."
"Oh, that's never stopped me before," Kitsune said with a smirk. "So, where's the room?"
Tsuruko nodded over her shoulder, back the way she had come. "Down that hallway, then take a left. It'll be the third door on your right."
"Gotcha," Kitsune said, heading for the door. "Thanks, Tsuruko."
"You're very welcome," Tsuruko said, still smiling like she knew something Kitsune didn't. "Oh, and Konno-san?"
Kitsune paused just before she reached the door. "Yeah?"
"Motoko-chan's taken up in her old room while she's been here, should you need a place to stay."
Kitsune grinned, then slid the door open. "Thanks."
Motoko turned at the sound of the practice room's door sliding open, falling into a defensive stance as she did so. If Tsuruko was going to try something-
Her eyes opened wide, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw who was standing there. She felt her face go pale. That wasn't Tsuruko.
"Hey," Kitsune said casually, walking in and closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door frame, then said, "Missed you."
"Kitsune," Motoko said quietly, bowing her head. How could she have come, Motoko thought. She wasn't worthy of her, she was hardly even a woman anymore, only a warrior. Motoko turned away, and lowered her bokken. "This is a surprise," she said quietly.
"Really?" Kitsune's footsteps were loud on the tatami mats; Motoko could hear the other woman walking closer. She tensed herself, trying to keep still. "Did you really think," Kitsune asked, "I'd just let you go?"
"You should have," Motoko whispered, then turned away from her. "How can you be here after what happened?"
Kitsune laughed at that, and Motoko straightened in surprise. "Oh, come on," Kitsune said. Motoko could hear that she was right behind her, but she didn't move. "You think that failing the exam once is going to change everything?" She paused, and Motoko felt her hand on her shoulder. "You think that means I'm not going to love you anymore?"
"I don't deserve your love," Motoko said, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. The door outside was right in front of her, she told herself. She could run, and eventually reach a place where Kitsune couldn't find her. "After everything that happened," she said quietly, "after my studies helped pull us apart, I'm just not worthy of being with you."
"Motoko . . . look," Kitsune said, squeezing Motoko's shoulder. "You screwed up, I screwed up, it's not just your fault. I'm . . . I'm sorry about going off on you when you had the exam the next day. I know that must have messed it up for you."
Motoko felt Kitsune starting to move closer. She bolted, throwing open the door and dashing into the forest outside.
Tears streamed down Motoko's face as she ran through the forest, which was growing dark with the coming night. She leaped and dodged around trees, and pine needles slapped against her face and arms, but she didn't care. All that mattered was getting away. How could Kitsune come back to her saying that it was her own fault? How could she take the blame? How, Motoko thought, could she say she still loved her after she'd done everything she could to keep things going and all Motoko had done was tear them apart?
"Motoko!"
She nearly stumbled at hearing her name called. Kitsune was following her, and she knew that her white top would be easy to spot in the twilight. Motoko kept running. She could outdistance Kitsune, she was sure of it. It was all she could do, it was what she had to do.
It was suddenly futile when she reached the tree line and found herself at the edge of a cliff.
She skidded to a halt, breathing hard, more from worry than exertion. She should have known better than to come here, she'd spent enough time in this forest as a child . . . but she'd been running too fast, and crying too much, to notice where she was going. This couldn't be happening, she thought. Something like this should happen to Naru or . . . or almost anyone else. She was a warrior, wasn't she?
And if that was the case, she couldn't help but think, then shouldn't she turn and fight instead of running?
She glanced toward the sky. Clouds were covering what little of the sky was still lit, and she could feel it growing colder - it would rain soon. Maybe, she thought, Kitsune wouldn't find her. She doubted it, and as she heard footsteps growing nearer for the second time that day, she knew that she had to face her. Motoko took a deep breath as Kitsune reached the edge of the forest.
"Y'know," Kitsune said, breathing heavily, "I've really missed our workouts, but this wasn't how I was thinking about getting back to them." She winked, and Motoko felt a lump grow in her throat. She'd missed that. . . .
Motoko took a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a moment. She could do this, she told herself. Opening her eyes again, she looked at Kitsune, and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't . . . be with you. After what I've done, I don't deserve you."
"How can you say that?" Kitsune said, looking confused and holding her hands out in front of herself. "Okay, yeah, you said 'I don't deserve this' before, but you meant it differently!"
"I put myself ahead of us," Motoko said. She was trying to sound strong, but her voice started to quiver, and she couldn't do anything to stop it. "I - I was selfish, and I suffered for it. We both suffered--"
"We still are!" Kitsune yelled. Rain started to fall, pattering against the pine needle-covered ground. "You can't tell me you're happy like this! I miss you, I've missed you ever since you came back from the exams and started acting like you'd taken a vow of silence!"
Motoko held her ground as Kitsune started walking toward her. There was nowhere to run, she thought, but she didn't want to do that. She watched Kitsune, with the rain in her hair and a determined look on her face, and prepared herself. It would only take one strike.
She looked Kitsune in the eye, then felt her knees go weak. One strike, she thought, trying to stay steady. "I hurt both of us," she whispered, tasting rain on her lips, "I should be alone."
"I did the same thing," Kitsune said quietly. She stopped right in front of Motoko, then tossed her wet bangs out of her face. "But I love you, dammit. I forgive you, so . . . can you forgive me?"
She forgave her. After everything she'd done, Motoko thought, Kitsune still forgave her. "Kitsune. . . ." Motoko held herself upright for one second more, then collapsed into Kitsune's arms, crying and telling her she loved her.
"It's all right."
Kitsune lay on Motoko's futon, holding the kendo girl in her arms, stroking her long black hair as Motoko rested her head on her chest. There was a time, she thought, when she'd have come up with all kinds of lewd comments about that, and she still might. But this was different. Maybe it meant she was growing up, maybe it meant they were growing closer, but for now, all she wanted to do was hold her lover close.
"I'm sorry, Kitsune," Motoko said for what Kitsune was sure was about the twentieth time. "All I could think of was what I'd done and how it was tearing us apart, and--"
Kitsune gently put a finger over Motoko's lips, quieting her. "Hey," she said, "I told you, it's all right. I forgave you a long time ago, y'know?"
Motoko raised her head and looked up at Kitsune. She was still crying, Kitsune thought, and she hoped those were the good kind of tears by now. After all they'd been through, she'd hate to think that her lover could still be sad. It might take some time before they were all right again, but that was the way love was, and she was sure that they'd be okay.
The way love was. . . . Kitsune looked down at Motoko, and smiled wistfully. Yeah, it was love. This kind of thing was what love was all about.
"I have to say," Motoko whispered, "that I almost don't understand. How could you come for me after everything that happened?"
"How could I not?" Kitsune asked, laughing a little. "You can't get rid of me that easily. I love you, you're stuck with me."
Motoko blinked, then laughed like she couldn't help it. "I suppose you're right," she said quietly, then pulled Kitsune closer, leaning into her again. "I wouldn't want it any other way, though."
Kitsune sighed happily at that, and buried her face in Motoko's hair. This, she thought, was just what she'd missed. Everything that came with loving Motoko, everything that she'd learned and all the fun they'd had . . . it was hard to think about life any other way. Two weeks without her had been hell, she couldn't imagine going any longer.
They lay there holding each other for a long time before saying anything else. Maybe that was all right, Kitsune thought; sometimes, they really didn't need to say anything. There was still one question she had to ask, though.
"Hey," she said, looking down as Motoko raised her eyes, "you're going to try for Tokyo U again next year, right?" When Motoko didn't answer, Kitsune winked at her. "I'd hate to think you wouldn't give it another shot after I screwed up your test this year."
"I don't think that was entirely the case," Motoko said, looking away for a moment. "I . . . . On the second day of the test, I knew that I wasn't ready as soon as I started looking through the exam book. Just the thought that my studying had been for nothing, and that it had driven us apart. . . ." She paused, and cleared her throat. "That was enough. There was nothing I could do, once I'd realized that."
Kitsune reached over and cupped the side of Motoko's face in her hand, then gave her cheek a little pinch. "You're not very cute when you're feeling sorry for yourself, y'know?" She grinned as Motoko glowered at her. "Besides, you throw yourself at something until you beat it all the time. I kinda thought this would be the same thing."
Motoko slowly started to smile. "Perhaps you're right," she said. "Will you still love me if I end up a third-year ronin like Urashima?"
"I'll still love you if you don't get into Tokyo U until you're an old grey-haired woman," Kitsune said with a wink.
"That's. . . ." Motoko paused for a moment. "That's oddly comforting, but it's not something I'd like to see happen."
"Oh, don't worry about that," Kitsune said. She slid her hand down Motoko's hair again, then rested her hands around her waist. "You'll still be my sexy little kendo girl, even when this-" She patted Motoko's ass, still grinning. "-starts to sag."
"Kitsune," Motoko said, but Kitsune could tell she wasn't as mad as she was pretending to be. "That's not going to happen."
Kitsune chuckled. "C'mon, it happens to everyone, you've seen Grandma Hinata--"
"That's not what I mean and you know it," Motoko said, giving Kitsune a pointed look. She pulled back, then sat up, and looked off into what Kitsune guessed was supposed to be the distance, though it was more like the far wall. "I will try again," she said, softly but with pride in her voice, "and I'll get into Tokyo U." She looked back down at Kitsune, smiling warmly. "I'll make you proud of me."
Kitsune had to grin at that. Some things never changed, she thought, and with Motoko, she really didn't want them to. "I already am, y'know? It took Naru a lot longer than that to say she was going to try again, and hey, she got in. You'll kick ass, I know it." She reached over and tugged on the hem of Motoko's top, trying to pull it open. Motoko frowned at her, but Kitsune could see that she was blushing. "Now get back down here, it's been two weeks and I've missed you."
The next morning, they woke up wrapped around each other, and Kitsune didn't move even after she was sure that Motoko was awake. Sure, there were things to do, and they'd have to get back to Hinata House eventually. But for now, she felt satisfied, warm and happy, and content to just lay there with the woman she loved. For now, and for as long as she could see, this was all she needed.