Disclaimer: see part 1

Sister, Sister

Part 2 – A Walk in the Park

By Random1377

Keitaro groaned, throwing his arms over the back of the park bench and letting his chin rest limply against his chest. How he had escaped the madness at the Hinata Sou unnoticed he was still unsure. All he knew was that Motoko's crackpot sister had shown up, tried to kill him, then started bowing and babbling about messengers and servants.

In the ensuing, mostly Naru-led argument, Keitaro had made a break for it, exiting the Hinata Sou at roughly the speed of sound as the girls on the roof shouted at one another over – of all things – him. From what he had heard, which wasn't much considering how fast he was running, Tsuruko wanted to live at the Hinata to be close to Kietaro, and Naru – predictably – had some issues with the idea.

But why? Keitaro thought, letting out a deep, gusty sigh as the calm and quiet of the park began to ease his frayed nerves. And what the hell was she talking about? Shito? Me…? All that sword swinging must have jarred her brain loose or something – and Motoko was kneeling right there beside her! I swear…

He sighed again, shaking his head ruefully as he wondered just what he should do next.

"Is it really that bad?"

Keitaro yelped at the softly asked question, whipping his head around to find that in his confusion he had failed to notice the arrival of a second party to the park bench.

"The way you sigh," the woman observed, "suggests that you are at the end of your rope. A young man as cute as yourself certainly has no call to be that unhappy."

"Well," Keitaro admitted reluctantly, "I do have a few… wait, do I know you?"

The woman sitting next to him – rather closely next to him, now that he was paying enough attention to notice – wore a light cloak with a deep hood, so he could not see her face, but there was something… familiar about her voice.

"Oh, we've never met," the woman assured him, reaching up to pull her hood back. "But I have heard a lot about you. You could say your reputation precedes you… Mister Urashima."

Keitaro stared blankly at the woman for a long minute, trying to place her, but having never seen her before it was rather tricky. She had long white hair, deeply blue eyes, and caramel-hued skin, as if her homeland was perpetually sunny.

Like Su, he thought suddenly.

The recognition must have shown on his face, because the woman smiled and said, "It's the cheekbones, isn't it? We all have the same cheekbones."

"You're… Kaolla's sister?" Keitaro asked hesitantly.

Sticking out her hand, the woman's smile grew larger. "Amalla Su," she said warmly. "I'm pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Mister Urashima. My sister has told our family quite a lot about you in her letters."

Keitaro nodded, feeling surreal somehow to be having such a normal conversation when less than twenty minutes before he was running for his life from a crazy sword wielding woman whose grip on sanity had become tenuous at best.

As he shook her hand, Keitaro noticed several things about Amalla Su. First, that she was a very, very attractive woman. He guessed that she was in her mid to late twenties, and in addition to the aforementioned caramel skin and mesmerizing eyes, she had a thin waist, smooth, well rounded hips, and breasts on par with Mutsumi or Naru's – and it was easy for Keitaro to see all of this as, under the cloak that was now thrown back, Amalla was wearing an outfit similar to the one Kaolla wore when she 'became an adult' under the red moon.

That is to say – it looked like she was wearing a pair of short shorts and a halter top.

The second thing he noticed was that her voice, unlike Kaolla's, was low and husky – the kind of voice one normally associated with sultry lounge singers or longtime smokers. The kind of voice that sent pleasant shivers up and down a man's spine, much as shivers were running up and down Keitaro's at that very moment.

Lastly, he noticed that in the course of their conversation… Amalla had been discretely invading his personal space, until – by the time he actually recognized it – she was nearly in his lap, and it seemed that she was in no hurry to release his hand now that she had it.

All of these observations collided in Keitaro's mind, drawing the eloquent comment of, "Fleghen!" from his mouth as he tried to pull away, only to realize that Amalla had neatly cornered him against the back of the park bench.

"You're cuter than I thought," she whispered, abruptly swinging one leg over Keitaro's lap and pinning him to the bench. "Kaoalla's drawings do you no justice, Mister Urashima. You are definitely… all that I hoped you would be."

Had this happened to Keitaro when he first came to the Hinata, he probably would have fainted from sheer happiness. As it was, three years in the company of attractive women – attractive women who were almost always being exposed to him in some way or another – had given Keitaro the tiniest bit of resistance to their charms.

And then there was the fact that he was as clumsy as a camel in roller-skates.

As Amalla leaned closer, Keitaro tried to put up his hands to push her away. Considering their positioning, he ended up (perhaps predictably) with two palms full of Amalla, drawing a squeal of delight from the woman.

"My!" she breathed, throwing her arms around his neck as he tried to pull away. "You are bold! Take me, Urashima – my body and soul are yours for the asking."

"B-body and s-soul?"

Amalla grinned. "That's right, Urashima… body and soul. Be one with me… right here… right now. Make me yours."

"Huh?"

The laws of fate and comedy decreed that this would be an excellent time for one of the Hinata Sou's residents to happen by.

"Brother!"

Keitaro's eyes bugged out of his head at his adopted sister's gasp of shock. "This… this isn't what it looks like!" he stammered, reminding himself belatedly to pull his hands away from Amalla's chest.

"Who are you?" Kanako demanded, dropping the bag of groceries in her hand and leveling a finger at the intruder. "And what are you doing in my brother's lap?"

"I didn't hear him complaining," Amalla pointed out wickedly. "As for who I am – my name is Amalla Su… soon to be Amalla Urashima."

"What the hell does that mean?" Kanako shouted, advancing on the bench with a rather evil glare on her face. "Do you think my brother would choose a harlot like you over his own, sweet, innocent little sister?"

"Well I do have this letter."

Kanako halted as Amalla reached down the front of her shirt and pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper. Flipping it open, she cleared her throat and read it aloud.

"Dear Miss Su, I thought it might interest you to know that your sister is currently living with a shito named Urashima Keitaro. I would strongly suggest that you look into this."

"Give me that," Kanako growled, snatching the letter from Amalla and scanning it, her lips moving as she read the simple message. "I fail to see," she said calmly, "how this is an invitation to molest my brother."

Amalla smiled. "Molmol needs a prince," said simply. "Mister Urashima is unattached. I can make it very…" Amalla pressed herself closer to Keitaro, "agreeable for him – in every way – to marry into the family. He would never want for money, companionship, or sexual gratifi-"

"I don't care – you can't have him!"

"Ooo feisty!" Amalla said approvingly. "Well, I did come prepared to stake my claim by any means necessary, so…"

Before Keitaro could blink, Amalla leaned forward and kissed the end of his nose.

"Don't move, lover," she said sweetly, "this will only take a moment."

So saying, she planted her feet on the park bench and kicked off, flipping backwards to land in front of Kanako with her cloak billowing out behind her like a hero in an old time movie.

"Amalla Su," she announced, bringing her fists up to eye level. "Lightening fist style, fifth circle. Prepare yourself."

Kanako bared her teeth. "Kanako Urashima," she spat, "Intruding hussy beat-down style, first degree. Get ready to start hurting!"

As the two launched themselves at one another, Keitaro took the opportunity to slip into the trees and vanish, executing the patented 'Urashima fade' to get the hell out of dodge.

Had he been a bit more perceptive, he may have noticed another observer to the exchange, scowling from the shadows on the far side of the clearing as carefully laid plans were rent asunder.

( 0 0 0 )

"Damn it!" Naru cried, dropping the sofa cushion she had been looking under. "This is your fault, you idiot!"

Tsuruko, clearly unused to being addressed in this way, bristled. "Excuse me?" she said coolly. "I fail to see how this is my fault. I simply wanted to assure myself that he was, in fact, a shito, so-"

"And if you were wrong and accidentally ran him through?" Naru interrupted. "Then what?"

Waving a hand to dismiss the idea, Tsuruko replied, "Oh, it wouldn't have come to that."

"Right," Naru said acidly, "if that can hadn't been there, you wouldn't have been able to keep from gutting him. God you're a psycho!"

"He was never in danger," Tsuruko said serenely, "because he is a shito."

"You keep saying that," Naru pointed out, "but you've never said why you think that."

Motoko, who had been looking in the kitchen for any sign of the missing manager, reappeared in the living room in time to hear this last comment. "I was wondering that myself," she admitted. "Sister, I know he seems invulnerable, but why, exactly do you think that Urashima is a shito?"

Silently, Tsuruko reached into her gi and pulled out a folded letter, handing it to Naru, who read it aloud with a growing sense of surrealism.

"Dear Misses Aoyama, Keitaro Urashima, the manager of the dorm your younger sister lives in, is a shito. I thought you might like to know."

"Now just that alone wouldn't be enough to get me to come here," Tsuruko said evenly. "But there is, of course, the evidence supporting it – this was just the last piece of the puzzle. If I hadn't gotten this, I never would have acted."

"What evidence?" Naru asked, glancing at the clock.

The others will be back soon, she thought, we need to figure this out fast.

"Well," the elder Aoyama said carefully, "there is the obvious immortality… and based on the few letters my sister has written outlining the feelings of the other residents for him – as well as her current infatuation, of course – there is his seemingly innate ability to alter the moods of those around him."

Naru blinked. "Come again?"

Folded her arms and assessed Naru for a long moment before murmuring, "Consider this: when Motoko arrived here, she had no goal other than to enhance her kendo skills. Similarly, your young friends Miss Mahera and Miss Su both wanted only to spend time away from their turbulent home lives." She met Naru's eyes. "What are their goals now – each and every one of them?"

It was Motoko who replied, her eyes wide as she slowly breathed, "To test into Todai."

"And for what reason?"

Motoko blushed and averted her eyes, forcing Naru to step into the conversation. "You can't be serious," she said flatly. "You're telling me that because he's a shito, everyone around him wants to get into the same school as him just to be close to him? What a crock."

But Tsuruko was quite serious. "Urashima broke his leg when he was trying to enter Todai with you for the first time, correct?" she said coolly, waiting for Naru to nod before turning to Motoko. "Up until then, what was your opinion of your chances with him?"

Considering it for a moment, Motoko slowly said, "I was sure that once he went into Todai with Naru, he would be hers forever."

"And when they didn't go in together?"

Motoko's face went a brilliant shade of crimson as she stammered, "I… I thought I might h-have a chance…"

Naru slapped herself in the forehead.

"Doesn't it hurt when you do that?"

"Look," Naru said, leveling an accusing finger at Tsuruko, "even if he is, what's your interest in him? He's my boyfriend, ok?"

Tsuruko looked affronted at the very implication. "I beg your pardon," she said archly. "What are you trying to say? Did you think I'd get him drunk and take advantage of him or something? I'm a married woman!"

"Oh it happens all the time," Naru said, waving a hand dismissively. "Tell me, clearly, why you're here, so I won't have to watch every damn move you make."

The swordswoman shrugged, heading out into the warm afternoon as she mumbled, "I would think it would be obvious. Our school is the God's Cry school of kendo." She shrugged as if this answered everything. "If there is a shito staying with the successor to the school, then it is favorable to everyone involved if he is kept happy."

"So you really mean to serve him," Naru said, shaking her head in amazement as she followed Tsuruko out of the Hinata Sou. "You're nuts."

Tsuruko smiled indulgently. "The wise always appear unbalanced to the uneducated," she said serenely, leaning down to scoop up a bag of marshmallows. "Here, your manager friend must have dropped these when he was coming in."

Naru snatched the back and tossed it over her shoulder, muttering, "Maybe you can line his bed with them to make sure nothing happens to him in the middle of the night."

Behind her, Motoko caught the bag, squeezing them thoughtfully for a moment before murmuring, "Well, they are soft."

She hastily dropped the bag as Naru glared over her shoulder, and together, the three went out into the town of Hinata to find the missing manager.

Continued…

Next chapter: "Can you take your hand out of my pants?" "No, really, it tastes just like candy!" "Wow, she's flexible." "Yeah, but I didn't bite him!" "Aren't you a little old for teddy bears?"

Hawker-748 pre-read this and kept me from getting TOO out of hand… so just imagine what the first draft was like.