Author's Note: Someone suggested that I do some follow-ups on the story I wrote titled A Second Chance for Love, so I did. I don't own Love Hina, I make no profit. Just read and have fun. I've decided that I'd rather write in short bursts so I've made this story more like a series of short stories. Think of it as short glimpses of Motoko and Keitaro's world rather than a protracted story line. For those of you who may be dismayed by this - my bad, but I don't have the time or patience to do more. As always, reviews are always welcome. Fuel for the ego you know.
Love Grows
The legacy of the Urashima family, as Keitaro was told growing up, was not found in land or treasure, but in the ones that we love. "Protect them Keitaro, and see to their happiness – this is the greatest gift we can give to the generation to come," Keisuke Urashima told his little grandson. A young Keitaro gleefully replied, "I understand grandpappy." Keisuke could only smile and ruffle the adorable boy's hair in response. "You'll grow up to a fine young man – no doubt about it – but if you're anything like me, you'll have terrible luck with the ladies," Keisuke added, before bursting out into laughter at the memories of his own awkward youth.
Keitaro could only respond with a puzzled look. "Luck with the ladies?" he wondered, "What does grandpappy mean?"
A year later, Keisuke died from cancer. Wearing a black miniature suit, Keitaro stood in the rain, hoping that this was all a joke and that his grandpappy would come out from his hiding spot so they could play like they use to. But there was no surprise in store for Keitaro, just the ominous dark clouds above.
His tears mixed with the rain, his cries muffled by the howl of the wind. Keitaro was baffled. "How could he die? He was the strongest man ever?" Keitaro sobbed, demanding God to answer him. A voice spoke out, "You're asking the wrong question my grandson?" Keitaro spun around and saw his grandmother underneath an umbrella. Granny Hina, the matriarch of the Urashima Clan, was dressed in her white mourning garb. She stood only a few inches taller than Keitaro, giving her the appearance of a child – only her wrinkles and graying hair revealed her true age.
"Do you remember what your grandfather told you about the Urashima legacy?" she asked him. Keitaro could only nod his head in the affirmative, his voice lost from the pain. Granny Hina continued, "He lived Keitaro to protect his family and friends. I miss him terribly, but when I think about how happy he was in life to see his family grow strong and happy, it comforts me some."
"Love grows," Keitaro whispered, repeating the final words his grandfather gave to him before he died. As Granny Hina approached the young boy, Keitaro leapt into her arms and embraced her emphatically. "I'll protect everyone," he cried out, "just like grandpappy." Granny Hina, though grieving for the loss of her husband and friend, could not help but smile. Cradling the young boy's head, she replied, "I know you will Keitaro, I know you will."
Motoko Aoyoma, swordmistress of the Shinmeiryu School of Martial Arts, was on the verge of tears after hearing of Keitaro's words. She had come to Haruka's tea shop, hoping to put in context the emerging feelings she had for the new manager. Though she knew that she was in love, Motoko felt compelled to question it – it was simply her nature.
"Haruka, could you tell me why he will not reply in kind when attacked or accused of being something he is not by the tenants?" Motoko asked. For several weeks, Motoko watched as Keitaro had been attacked, vilified, and made a fool of by her fellow residents. Each time, she wanted to step in and intervene, but something about Keitaro gave her pause. He was strong, stronger than the other girls could see. They attributed his non-confrontational behavior as a sign of weakness, but Motoko realized that it was the opposite. Only a man possessing incredible fortitude could endure so much and still live happily as his gentle smile indicated. She was sure that he could stop it, he had the power, but he chose not to. Motoko felt some guilt in the matter, as she was sure if it had not been for the mysterious note, she too would have been one of his tormentors.
Haruka, puzzled of Motoko's interest in her nephew, decided to answer honestly. "He was always very protective of the ones he cared for," she replied, "even as a child, he would do everything he could to make other people happy. I remember once he spent a whole day in the woods back there, looking for a bracelet I dropped. He must have been out there for at least ten hours, but he wouldn't give up until he found it for me."
A warm feeling began to take hold of Haruka as the nostalgia seeped in. She spoke of times when they were young, playing in and around the Hinata Sou. "Yes, he was as kind as his grandfather," Haruka remarked, losing herself to the memories. There were moments of hilarity, times of sadness, but always there was happiness. Motoko, sitting silent, listened intently as Haruka recounted the days with Keitaro, their grandfather, and the funeral.
Seeing the pained expression in Motoko's face, Haruka explained, "He finds his happiness in the happiness of others. It's why he won't raise a hand against anyone. Love grows, he likes to say, and with that, so does he. Keitaro wants to become the man his grandfather was, but I think he's already there."
Motoko could only smile. "Thank you Haurka, this has been most informative," she said, bowing to her senior in respect. Motoko left the tea house, leaving behind a very confused Haruka. "What was that about," she wondered.
As Motoko climbed the stone stairs that led to the Hinata Estate, she could hear screaming in the distance. "Help me!" Keitaro shouted, trying to evade the swarm of missiles closing in on him. As Keitaro ran screaming through the halls of the Hinata Sou, a part of his mind thought it strange that he was being chased by missiles. "Who gets chased by missiles?" inner Keitaro wondered. Stranger still was the source of these very advanced weapons. "Should not such advanced and costly weapons be in the possession of a military force and not a 13 year old girl?" his inner self further queried.
The only response Keitaro received was the cackle of his tormenter, the evil genius girl Koalla Su. Inner Keitaro, sitting comfortably in the deep recesses of the mind continued his monologue. "What a strange situation that I find myself in," he mused, "I left home to seek refuge here at the Hinata Sou so that I could continue to pursue my dream of attending Tokyo University, but now I find myself running for my life, because it is being threatened by the most improbable of causes." Meanwhile, the conscious, panicking Keitaro was running erratically, bouncing from one wall to another. Keitaro, spying a chance for escape in the deep woods just beyond the back door entrance way, bolted in that direction.
Motoko continued to watch from her vantage point, her eyes following the bluish blur that was Keitaro as several projectiles streaked through the sky in pursuit. She smiled, content in the knowledge that he was happy, even being chased by missiles, because he had people to protect – to love. She watched the explosions in the green woods beyond when suddenly images of a world similar to her own, but not, ran through her mind. She saw her friends, happy and smiling, living their lives with their new manager. But as the images cascaded past her frame of view, she noticed that Keitaro was drifting further away – towards a distant figure. Shinobu and Su were running, trying to catch him before it was too late, but they could not run fast enough.
Their smiles turned to tears as he slipped away. Kitsune, her drink in hand, merely watched despondently as their hearts began to break. Snapping from her daydream, Motoko could feel the tears welling in her eyes. "Am I really crying?" she sniffled, confused by what had just transpired.
Motoko looked towards the heavens and breathed, "A second chance?"
The memory of that morning began to ease into her consciousness. They had fallen asleep in the same bed together, sharing only a gentle touch of the fingers, but the effect was something more than she could describe.
"Happiness," a lone voice popped into her head.
She watched him as he slept, trying to find her answers in the contours of his gentle expression. Motoko had hated men for most of her life – the only honorable man being her deceased father. Men were the enemy and not to be trusted. But as she gazed upon the sleeping Keitaro in front of her, Motoko found that she could not convince herself the obviousness of her beliefs.
"How is it that you can make me feel this way Keitaro?" wondered Motoko as her fingers reached out towards his lips, pressing against them gently.
In response, Keitaro's eyes began fluttering with life, eventually exposing the dark brown irises that had captured her imagination. Panic filled his eyes as he recognized the person lying next to him. "No need to panic, you've stolen my heart," she thought as she spoke to placate his fears.
But that had been three weeks ago and still Motoko could not shake the lingering doubts that clouded her feelings. She loved him, but how does one act in love? She knew nothing of romance or men for that matter. Stewing in her own ignorance, she avoided him at first, he doing the same. But Motoko was always near him, always a step behind – watching, observing, and deep down, always asking, "Could he love me?" Neither could understand the other or the emotions that they were experiencing. Keitaro had never known affection from a girl that was not related to him – though his adopted sister did harbor feelings that he thought were "creepy" at times.
But living in the same house meant that chance encounters were bound to happen, and much to their surprise – brief moments of happiness ensued. "Oh, hey Motoko," Keitaro would laugh nervously, trying not to seem overly foolish, but failing miserably. "Hello Urashima," she would reply, trying madly to hide her blush without giving away her warrior demeanor. Then the two would part in opposite direction, glad that they had escaped with their dignities intact, but almost giddy with feelings so alien to them.
Life had changed and they both knew this to be true – they just didn't understand what had changed.
Still smoldering from the explosion, Keitaro stood up in the crater left behind from the attack and dusted the soot and debris from his shoulders. "That Su goes too far sometimes," he whined, "Why does she always have to play so rough?" Inner Keitaro ended his ramblings with a final thought: "How is it that I'm still alive after being struck by three live missiles?" It was a question that Keitaro never asked himself – not on a conscious level anyway. After surviving the first of his near death experiences at the Hinata Sou, not dying had become a habit.
After all, in the three weeks that he had lived at the Hinata Sou, Keitaro had been attacked a total of 34 times by the residents. Koalla Su, the evil genius, had come in at a whopping 20 near fatal attacks, mostly from her bedeviled machines and runaway science experiments. Naru Narusegawa, the beautiful Tokyo U. aspirant, clocked in at number two with 10 brutal assaults or as she affectionately called it – her Naru punch of justice. Even the timid mouse girl, Shinobu Maehera, had struck Keitaro once with a frying pan.
Keitaro, however, lived through it all without feeling any ill will towards his tenants. His plight had not gone unnoticed by Heaven. "Good God," said St. Peter, "that boy just takes a licking and keeps on ticking, now don't he." Thumbing through the book of life, he concluded, "Yep, that boy gets a free pass – no sense putting him through purgatory after all that he's gone through."
Getting back to the earthly plane, the only really surprising thing about Keitaro's situation was not that he was attacked a lot, but that he wasn't being attacked by the tenant who was the most likely to attack him. Motoko had not lashed out once after that particular morning.
And she had wanted to. Keitaro was clumsy; there was no doubt about that. Often, he would trip and fall, landing on one of the girls, his hand always finding curious places to rest upon. Motoko wanted to beat him senseless, but resisted the urge. She did not want to hurt the man she loved – but mostly, it was because she didn't want to act out of jealousy – something unbecoming for a warrior.
Pleased with the morning's development, Motoko decided that a bath was in order. After retrieving her change of wardrobe and bathing supplies from her room, Motoko made her way to the hot springs.
In the changing room, Motoko began to disrobe, her every action measured and articulate. She had been raised in the samurai tradition, in which every act, even bathing, had an appropriate course of action. Catching sight of her near nude form in the wall mirror, Motoko stood still, examining her frame. She had never paid much attention to her figure before, believing it to be a sign of vanity, and a waste of time, since she had never considered herself beautiful.
"Bah," Motoko huffed again, looking away from the mirror, "only weak minds would care for such trivialities." Feeling the anger within her stir, Motoko hastily finished disrobing and began to wrap a towel around her body when she heard him say…
"You're beautiful."
The words penetrated her heart with the speed and force of an arrow shot. She looked around the room, but there was no trace of him. Motoko began to feel flushed and light headed. "Now I'm imagining him," she sighed, a hint of a smile left on her face, "why can't I get you out of my mind Keitaro?" With the words still lingering in the air, Motoko opened the door to the hot springs. "Did he really mean it?" she wondered out loud. But before she could entertain the thought further, her mind went into a screeching halt.
Motoko's brow furrowed deep as her eyes fell on the figures below. There, sprawled across the smooth stone surface of the floor lay Keitaro, in the arms of her friend and mentor – Naru Narusegawa. Her left eye began to twitch as she heard Keitaro, his head nestled in Naru's ample bosom, cooing as if he was a newborn ready for mother's milk.
"Urashima, prepare to die!" screamed an enraged Motoko. Before Keitaro could respond, he was struck with a tremendous force and sent flying into the atmosphere. Naru's eyes widened with shock and horror at what she had just witnessed. "Motoko, what have you done?" cried out Naru. Motoko turned her steely gaze towards the vixen. Naru, feeling the seething rage within her friend, flinched at the sight of Motoko's expression. Motoko was angry and that was never a good thing. Naru was unnerved, she was afraid
"Calm down Motoko," Naru stuttered, "it was just an accident." The words deflated Motoko's anger as quickly as they were uttered. She felt the blood rushing to her face, her embarrassment nearly complete. Fate, ever the joker, stepped in. The wind picked up, catching Motoko's towel in an iron grip and with almost comedic grace – the towel flew off her body. Standing naked in front of the stunned Naru, Motoko could only say, "I'm sorry," before making a mad dash back to her room.
"What the hell just happened?" thought Naru. One minute, she was about to pound Keitaro for landing on top of her when she slid into him, the next, he was flying into orbit. Though she knew that she was the one that had slipped on the wet stone floor, Naru still felt compelled to knock the hapless manager around. It was only Motoko's timely interruption that had prevented that outcome. But what had followed was unexpected. "Was Motoko crying?" a beleaguered Naru pondered.
Realizing that she could do no more for the situation, Naru shuffled off to her room for more studying. As soon as Naru left, Kitsune snuck down from her hiding spot in the ceiling. A serious look had replaced the normally mischievous visage of the fox lady. "Darn that girl," Kitsune grimaced, speaking of her best friend. She had hoped to catch Keitaro and Motoko together to confirm her suspicions, but Naru had unknowingly interfered in her investigation.
A week earlier, Kitsune had hid in the same spot, hoping to catch Keitaro in a compromising position – something to blackmail him with for next month's rent. She had it all planned out. Kitsune, though a slacker, was a tireless schemer and conjurer of mischief.
Her plan was simple. She knew Motoko's bathing schedule by heart and believed that she would make the perfect bait. After all, Keitaro would pay an arm and a leg to make sure the sword-wielding samurai girl never found out about the transgression that Kitsune had planned to orchestrate. Since Keitaro had arrived, there had been several instances when he would enter the bathing area while a tenant was already in there – causing all sorts of hilarity that tickled Kitsune's fancy.
A system had now been set in place to prevent such accidents. Each girl would simply put up a sign when they were bathing to let Keitaro know not to enter. On that day, Kitsune had other plans. After Motoko had entered the bath, Kitsune took away the sign and proceeded to place two holes – eye level – into the rice paper doors. She then placed a sign that read, "Please take this sign down."
She proceeded with the next phase of her plan. After finding Keitaro studying in his room, she reminded him that he needed to clean the bath that day. Once that was accomplished, she snuck back into her hiding spot, waiting for her unsuspecting prey. She planned to catch Keitaro tearing down her sign, accuse him of peeping on Motoko, and blackmail him for all his worth.
"I'm a genius," declared Kitsune.
Minutes later, she heard Keitaro enter the changing room. She was near silly with giddiness. "This is going to be great," Kitsune snickered with anticipation.
Her shifty eyes fell on Motoko and widened in shock as Keitaro began calling out: "Is anyone there?" "Damn, didn't expect that," cursed the fox. Kitsune then looked towards Motoko, hoping that she hadn't heard him. From her expression, it was obvious that Motoko had heard Keitaro, but instead of responding, she simply sat and watched her reflection in the pool. "What is that girl doing?" wondered a perplexed Kitsune.
What happened next almost made Kitsune faint. Just as Keitaro was about to come into view, Motoko, her eyes still transfixed on her reflection, unraveled the towel that had covered her body, allowing it to drop to the floor.
Seconds later, Keitaro appeared. But before he could see Motoko, Su had called out, "Keitaro, where are you? I found your girly magazines!" Keitaro's jaw dropped to the floor. A second later, he ran out of the bathing area, screaming, "Give those back Su, they're not for kids!"
Kitsune's gaze never wavered from Motoko. She watched as Motoko sighed and covered herself up with the towel. Kitsune mulled over the events closely, trying to gleam as much information from her memory as she could. She knew that Naru was starting to develop feelings for the bumbling manager, but for Motoko to express any sort of feelings for a man was just simply unbelievable – and to be so forward. Motoko was a man-hater, a self professed stoic warrior who despised romantic interludes as weakness. "Could Motoko be in…no…impossible," Kitsune mumbled, trying to unravel the mystery before her.
During the week, Kitsune had tried to confirm her conclusions, but the two seemed to be ignoring each other. "What's going on here," Kitsune murmured. Unable to contain herself, Kitsune walked off to find her best friend – she needed allies if she was to discover the truth. When she opened the door to Naru's room, Kitsune found her friend studying hard. Naru was bearing all her concentration on the formulas before her and did not notice her friend's entry.
Suddenly, Naru felt two hands caressing the outer rim of her ample bosoms. She shrieked in response, ripping the hands away from her breasts. "Get your hands off me Kitsune," Naru yelled, her glasses masking the irritation in her eyes. "C'mon Naru, I just wanted to see how your boobs were growing, that's all," Kitsune giggled in response.
"God, you're such a child Kitsune, what do you want?" yelped Naru, her voice teetering on the edge of anger. Though they had only known each other for a couple of years, Naru loved Kitsune as a sister – a really annoying sister that she really wanted to punch in the face sometimes. Now being one of those times.
"Don't be angry Naru," Kitsune replied, her voice reflecting a more concerned tone, "I came to talk about Motoko." The change in Kitsune's tone was enough to catch Naru's attention. Her friend was by nature an irreverent, almost lackadaisical, character. For her to adopt a tone that was remotely serious meant something truly important needed to be discussed.
"What about Motoko?" Naru asked, remembering her own concerns with the young girl after the morning's bathing incident. Kitsune, staring right into her eyes, replied, "I think Motoko is in love with Keitaro." Naru blinked, trying to process the words that Kitsune had just spoken. Naru wanted to break out laughing, but the look in Kitsune's eyes gave her pause.
Motoko noticed a slight change in Keitaro's countenance, and felt the first pangs of doubt. It was the soulful gaze that had blunted her rage. Though his face continued to portray feelings of fear and anxiety, his eyes told a different story. Somewhere in those opal pools, she found herself losing grip on the steel edge that she considered her resolve.
"What are you looking at?" demanded Motoko. Snapping out of his reverie, Keitaro felt his courage rise and walked over to her. He spoke, "I love you Motoko and I want to be with you forever." The conviction in his voice surprised them both.
With a sudden motion, Keitaro embraced her, cementing their bodies together. She could feel his heart beating in his chest, the smell of his fragrance filling her nostrils. "I love you, now and forever," whispered Keitaro into her ear, his hot wet breath caressing her flesh, causing her to quiver. Slowly, Keitaro began to lift her face to his with a gentle touch until they were looking into each another's eyes. He then tilted his head, closed his eyes, and began to approach her lips with his own. Motoko, her cheeks glowing, could only whimper in the arms of her love. She wanted to scream out words of passion, but nothing materialized.
She simply gave in to his touch and waited for the kiss that she had longed for. The moment her lips pressed against his, an image of bananas and curry popped into her mind. Perturbed by the odd sensation, Motoko broke the kiss and found the world melting away "Hey, whatchya doing," Su squealed out, startling the waking Motoko, "kissing somebody in your dream." Motoko, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, refused to give in to the embarrassment. "Do not be ridiculous, I was just sleeping," she said flippantly, conveying the irritation that she felt from the rude awakening, "So what do you want Su?" Su, completely oblivious, jumped from her perch on Motoko's shoulders and landed on top of the dresser.
"Haruka wants you to come downstairs and meet our new roomie," Su giggled as she dashed out of Motoko's room, leaving behind the lingering scent of banana and curry. "A new roomie," Motoko repeated, feeling a chill travel up her spine. Though she could not explain it, Motoko felt something sinister afoot. Rising effortless from her futon, Motoko reached for her blade, and sped to the common area.
Her heart began to beat thunderously as each step brought her closer to someone that she had never met before, but still felt threatened by. The only thought that ran through her mind was, "why do I feel so nervous?"
Entering the room, Motoko first saw Shinobu, smiling and laughing. From her vantage point, Motoko could tell that she was sitting next to someone having a conversation. Moments later, that person came into view – it was Naru. Slowing her pace so as not reveal her alarm, Motoko entered the common area. There she saw her friends sitting in a semi-circle with Haruka and a young American woman.
Motoko was stunned by her exotic appearance. The young woman's hair was red and curly, bouncing to the rhythm of her hearty laugh. The slight trace of freckles decorated the high sharp cheek bones of the young woman, which highlighted the deep red hue of her plush lips.
She was beautiful, it could not be denied, and yet possessed features that Motoko had always attributed to demons. Even her height suggested demonic origins, as she stood a full inch taller than the sword maiden, who was considered tall for a Japanese person.
Haruka, sensing some trepidation, broke the moment of silence,"Ah, Motoko, I'd like for you to meet our guest, Jennifer Macleoud. She'll be staying with us for a few days."
Motoko blinked. Haruka had spoken in English, a language she did not know. Hearing the fluid and crisp sounds that were devoid of the nuances of the Japanese language had informed Motoko that Haruka also spoke it fluently. Noticing the surprise, Haruka again spoke, this time in Japanese, "Oh, sorry about that Motoko, it's hard for me to switch it on and off sometimes. She doesn't really speak Japanese well, so to make her feel at home, I was talking with her in English."
Nodding her head in understanding, Motoko turned to the foreigner and bowed. Jennifer, ever the mirthful character, stood from her chair and embraced Motoko as she was rising.
The room froze. No one had ever seen Motoko caught off guard before, let alone be so intimately embraced by anyone other than Su. The only person unfazed by the incident was Su, who was rummaging through Jennifer's things.
Noticing the awkwardness in the room, Jennifer stepped back and apologized. "I'm sorry," she said to Haruka, "I forgot that it was rude to be so informal during an introduction in your country, could you please inform Motoko that I meant no disrespect."
Catching the gist of the foreigner's meaning, Motoko interjected and said with the limited knowledge of English that she had learned from TV, "no problem." Smiling her affable smile, Jennifer beamed at hearing the mangled pronunciation. She replied in kind with her garbled Japanese, "Domo Origato gaizamasu."
Haruka, chiming in, motioned Motoko to have a seat, while she explained Jennifer's situation. "Jennifer lived in Japan a few years ago with her family. They live in the United States now, but there is a family matter that she has to attend to here in Hinata Springs, which is why she'll be here with us for a few days."
Jennifer's expression mellowed as Haruka reminded her of why she had returned to the Hinata Sou. "Do you think Keitaro would be glad to see me?" she asked, her eyes downcast. "You shouldn't worry about Keitaro," Haruka replied in English, but added in Japanese, "he's a real push over for the pretty ladies, as you can well see here," which caused several of the residents to blush. Jennifer with her limited knowledge of Japanese managed to catch the bulk of Haruka's joke and laughed accordingly, which was the complete opposite reaction of Naru Narusegawa, who could not let such an implied statement stand unchallenged.
"What are you trying to infer by that Haruka," Naru stood up, her fist clenched. Haruka's facial expression remained as apathetic as ever, but her eyes demonstrated a power that instantly cowed the young lioness to be. Knowing that angering the mistress of the Urashima clan was both foolish and suicidal, Naru quickly returned to her seat, allowing the matter to end peacefully.
Haruka, turning her attention back to the other residents, spoke with a hint of foreboding, "there is something that all of you should be aware of in this situation. There's a slight chance that Keitaro may not welcome Jennifer. If that's the case, I would like all of you to be respectful of that and allow me to handle it."
Naru retorted, "He'll probably get all perverted on her like he does us." Motoko bit her lip at the comment, but made no effort to correct her. Haruka turned her attention to the window as if she was peering back into the past, and replied, "I hope so."
The girls felt uneasy at Haruka's comment. Silently, they all wondered what had happened in Keitaro's past that could cause her to worry so.
As if fate had heard their question, Keitaro walked in carrying several bags of groceries, which hid his face from view. "Hey could someone give me a hand," he cried out, trying to keep from spilling the contents of his bags onto the floor. Shinobu and Naru went to his aid, each grabbing hold of a bag. It was when Naru had cleared his field of vision was he able to see the young American sitting next to Haruka.
A strange look came over him, which had not escaped the girls' attention, their curiosity piqued by Haruka's bizarre behavior. They grew concerned, perhaps even frightened, by the change in his expression. They had only known the easy going, frantic Keitaro, not the somber man they saw before them.
"Can this be the same man that I know?" Motoko asked herself, feeling flushed from the sheer intensity of Keitaro's aura. Breaking the silence, he uttered a single word – a name – "Katherine?" Haruka, taking the initiative, reached out to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She quietly spoke, "She's Jennifer, not Katherine, and she'll be staying here with us for a few days." Keitaro's brow furrowed, lines etched into the sides of his eyes. He turned his gaze from the young red head to Haruka's gentle eyes. She read his pain and anguish, the inner turmoil that had been dormant for so many years beginning to stir.
Keitaro dropped the bags that he was holding and walked off, leaving behind a very confused bunch of people with only Jennifer and Haruka knowing the full truth of the matter.
Shinobu sped from her chair, but stopped as she neared the hallway that Keitaro had ran through. She wanted to go and chase after him, but she was cowed by her insecurities and feelings of inadequacy. "Someone should go after him," she meekly whimpered, tending to the fallen groceries.
Naru, not knowing why, was about to stand up to volunteer, when Motoko interjected. "I will go," she said, "we cannot have a manager act so rude to a tenant." Naru, stunned that Motoko would show so much concern for Keitaro suddenly remembered the conversation she had with Kitsune. Inside, Naru felt her heart tighten. "What was that?" she asked herself as she watched Motoko leave to find the wayward Keitaro.
Also confused by the turn of events was the ever observant Kitsune. She looked over to Haruka and saw a look of concern on her face. "What made her so spook," the fox lady wondered. Haruka, sensing the ever watchful gaze of her friend, placed a cigarette between her lips.
Jennifer could only sit anxiously after Keitaro walked out of the room. It had been years since she last saw him. She had hoped that their reunion would be more joyous, but tragedies, especially the one they suffered, had a way of gumming things up.
His eyes were so intense that she felt them penetrate deep into her soul, leaving her bare with no defense against him. She felt so vulnerable and yet, defying all reason, assured and safe in that state. "Can you not even bear to be in the same room with me," Jennifer uttered with only Haruka understanding the implication.
"Who's Katherine?" Su piped up, not attuned to the emotional whirlwind sweeping through the room. All eyes honed in on her, causing Su to blink back in response – "What?" she countered. Kitsune chimed in, "She must be very important to Keitaro for him to act that way." Naru, sensing the direction of the conversation, interjected, "It couldn't be. Keitaro would have told us if there was someone in his life that was that important to him. Wouldn't he?" Shinobu, wanting so desperately to say more, but could only eek out, "Maybe something happened between them?"
Then all was silence as Shinobu's question seemed to reverberate throughout the room. Jennifer strained to decipher the language that her housemates were speaking, but she could not keep up. The young girl in the corner, however, spoke slowly enough for Jennifer to understand. Wanting to allay everyone's fears, Jennifer was about to speak when Haruka interrupted her.
"My nephew once had a friend named Katherine. She's gone now. If you want to know the rest, you'll just have to wait until he's ready to tell you – got that," Haruka declared, speaking deliberately and steady to allow Jennifer to catch up. The girls in the room capitulated in silence, a show of deference to their former den mother.
The memory of his face as he first laid eyes on that foreign girl was burned into her brain. She could see his happiness and misery colliding as he dropped the bags of groceries. "What happened to you Keitaro?" Motoko wondered.
But before she could contemplate further, Motoko stopped in the courtyard where she lost his trail. "Damn, where could he be?" she huffed. Looking in all directions, Motoko tried to pick out his whereabouts, but none was found. "Did you come looking for me?" a voice from above sounded.
Motoko looked up and saw Keitaro sitting on the roof. Puzzled at how he got up there without a ladder, Motoko replied, "I could not let you get away with being so rude to our guest." Keitaro did not reply. Instead, he stared out into the distance towards the ocean. Motoko could see the deep hurt that was eating him up inside. Deciding to take the initiative, Motoko leaped onto a nearby tree branch, using it as stepping stone to the roof.
Years of rigorous training had given Motoko the ability to perform feats that most people were unable to accomplish. Scaling a twenty feet wall was what Motoko considered simple practice. The difficult task that she had no training in or knowledge of was healing a wounded soul.
"Would you like to talk about it," Motoko asked as she sat down next to him. Keitaro's gaze remained transfixed onto the horizon. In the little time that he had lived with them, Keitaro had never shown any of the darker emotions of his persona. He had always been either the bumbling buffoon or the gentle soul that had befriended all the girls of the Hinata Sou. The Keitaro that was sitting next to her was somber and contemplative – something Motoko found quite attractive.
She blushed. "Oh god, I hope he hasn't noticed," she prayed. "Are you blushing?" Keitaro asked as he finally turned to meet her gaze. Motoko stood with her mouth gaping. Usually, he would be too blunt to correctly interpret such a thing, but he had hit the mark just then.
Before she could articulate a response, Keitaro expressed a thought that had entered his mind.
"Do you think the dead can ever forgive the living…" he asked her, "for surviving?" Motoko was floored by the question, her heart aching from the pain that resonated with each of his words. Keitaro, becoming oblivious to the world around him, continued, "When I was young, I had a very dear friend whom I cared for a great deal. But she passed away. I know it's silly, but the girl downstairs was her sister and they look very much alike. I know I was rude back there, but I just couldn't stand to be in that room."
Motoko hung onto every word that he uttered, trying to absorb the sheer enormity of the emotions that had been attached to them. She could feel his torment as it filled the air. Most startling for Motoko were the tears that were threatening to break free from her eyes. She could feel his loss and wanted so desperately to help him fill the void in his soul.
Keitaro continued unabated, "I came up her hoping to shed some tears for my friend, but I don't have any tears left in me. I promised her that I would never forget her, but as the years went on – I just thought of her less and less. It hurt so much thinking of her, I think that's why I just wanted to forget. Does that make me a bad person Motoko?"
Motoko could not speak; her throat had lost its power. She could only reach out her hand and place it over his, trying to describe to him that he was still a good man and that his friend would say the same if she was still alive. Keitaro simply took her hand and clenched his eyes shut, trying to shed a final tear, which would not come.
"I'm sorry Katherine," he whispered, holding tight Motoko's hand, "I'm sorry." Motoko, placing her hand under his chin, gently raised his head. Keitaro, stunned by the sudden sensation, opened his eyes and was shocked to see Motoko with tears trickling down her face. "It's okay," Motoko said quietly, finding the strength to speak, "I'm sure Katherine won't mind if I shed those tears for you – just this one time."
The dam that had held back his emotions burst opened, allowing Keitaro to weep for his friend. Embracing Motoko, he let out his suffering for the first time in years, pouring forth all his pain and anguish onto the shoulders of his young tenant.
Motoko's heart filled with joy as Keitaro bore his soul to her. She had never known such intimacy before, but this was an intimacy borne, not from passion, but from the soul. Keitaro, in this one instance, had left himself vulnerable and open. He had allowed her to see the depth of his misery and in truth – the man within. All doubts about her feelings were gone now, dispelled by this single act. As her heart began to grow in love, her pain became more evident. She could feel the terrible burden that he had carried for so long. "Maybe one day," Motoko prayed, "I can take some of that burden from you Keitaro."
The next day, Motoko awoke to the sight of Keitaro lying next to her. They had not moved from the roof. From the blankets, she knew that the others had discovered them, but allowed them to be.
"So the secret's out," she surmised, realizing that the girls must have had deciphered the true meaning behind her recent strange behavior towards the manager. Feeling at ease with the new situation, Motoko patiently waited for the sun to rise above the distant horizon.
"It's twice now that I woke up next to you," Keitaro said breezily, as he sat up from his perch. With any other girl, he would have been panicking, fearing that he may have committed a terrible transgression – but with Motoko – he felt strangely comfortable with the situation. Being a man, Keitaro had not the sensitivity to realize that his heart was slowly opening to someone other than his promise girl.
Motoko smiled at his comment, but made no other reply. She did not want to shatter the dream with an errant word. Instead, she continued to sit and enjoy the moment with him, even if he still remained ignorant of her feelings. "In time," Motoko whispered, reminding herself that there was no need to rush things.
Keitaro continued to gaze at the young girl before him, allowing his mind to drift in thought. With her poise and demeanor, Motoko seemed much older than sixteen. "And let us not forget her breathtaking beauty," a voice spoke out in his mind, "What man could resist such a woman? "Baka," he chided himself, "she's only a teenager, so no funny ideas!"
Still, she was more than just an object of desire and Keitaro was slowly becoming aware of this. She had shed tears for him, something he couldn't possibly image her ever doing before. For a warrior, crying was a sign of weakness – a stain on her honor. "Why would you do this for me?" he wondered.
As if hearing his question, she calmly answered, "It's because you are dear to me."