Chapter 28:
Keitaro felt a cool breeze sweep across his face. He touched his chest, but was surprised to find no wound, the memory of his death still vivid in his mind. He sat up and gasped at what he was seeing. Lying before him was a field of chrysanthemums, majestic in its beauty and splendor. The bright colors of the perennial flowers ran far into the distance, beyond the reach of his eyes. He looked up and saw an endless blue sky.
"Is this heaven?" he wondered aloud. "Nope," a tiny voice squeaked from behind. Keitaro, surprised, spun around. There standing in front of him was a young girl, no older than five. "Hey mister," she giggled, "where's your clothes?" Keitaro confused at first, look down and saw his nakedness.
But there was no embarrassment or panic in his thoughts, only the realization that he was indeed naked. "I guess you're right," he replied, looking away, his eyes tracing the contours of the landscape.
"That's okay, we all come here naked, like the day we were born. All you have to do is think about clothes, and you'll be wearing them," said the young girl, settling down next to him.
The girl reminded him of a special suit that he had bought for his entrance ceremony to Tokyo University. He never got the chance to put it on.
Suddenly, Keitaro felt the cool, crisp feel of linen pressed against his skin. He looked down and saw the checkered red silk tie that his sister Kanako had picked out for him. Keitaro stood up and examined himself. He was surprised to see the navy blue jacket unsoiled by grass or dirt stains, his slacks and glossy black shoes being just as clean.
"Silly," the girl chuckled, "there's no real grass or dirt here. It's all in your imagination." Keitaro could only smile in response. "Of course," he thought, "I knew that too." Straightening his tie, he cleared his throat and asked the young girl if she wanted to dance as if he was a fine English gentleman.
The young girl nodded, and suddenly the lush fields of flowers gave way to a grand ballroom, the ornate chandelier hanging high above, raining down its light. Keitaro was surprised to see the little girl was no longer there. In her place was a woman of remarkable beauty, dressed in a Cinderella dress, with glass slippers and all. "I would love to dance with you Keitaro," she spoke, her accent slightly British.
Keitaro recovered from his initial shock, smiled and took her hand. The room filled with the sound of violins, followed by the piano accompaniment. He took her in his arms and led her around the room, their steps light and fast. Around they went in merriment, enjoying the music as it permeated their beings.
"You seem so familiar," said Keitaro, "may I ask you for your name?" The young girl parted her lips and kissed him on the cheeks. Keitaro blushed, but maintained his composure. "Is it a secret?" he teased. "Yes," she replied demurely.
Suddenly, Keitaro felt an incredible pain well up near his heart. He looked down and saw blood gushing from a bullet wound in his chest. He looked up and saw his wife, agony etched into her expression. He could hear her screaming, her voice cracking from the strain. He wanted to comfort her, but the words were lost in the blood filling his throat. He tried to move his arms, to hold her, but they were powerless.
He was unbearably cold, as if he had been plunged into the deepest part of the ocean. The young girl appeared above him, hovering over his wife. "What's happening?" he thought. "You're dying," she replied, her expression conveying no hint or remorse.
"It hurts."
"It always does."
"Will it end?"
"Yes"
"What's going to happen to Motoko?"
"She'll live."
"Will I see her again?"
Again, the world changed. Keitaro stood on the precipice of the abyss, devoid of all color, sensation, or form. But to his back, he saw a wondrous light that seemed to shine everywhere – a world without shadow.
"Hey kiddo, welcome to the end of things," Haruka called out. Keitaro turned to the voice of his aunt and smiled. In this world, he felt calm and relaxed. Hearing his dead aunt was not a surprising thing, especially since Keitaro knew that he was also dead.
"I guess that means the whole gang is here, well, the dead ones at least," he joked. "Yep," Su rang out, leaping onto his shoulders, did you miss me?" Taking her into his arms, he smiled back, "of course, where would I be without my Koalla Su?" Keitaro felt a hard slap against his shoulders. Looking back, he saw his friends Haitani and Shirai, smiling and having a good laugh. "Wow Kei, I can't believe you married Motoko. She's so hot," Haitani grinned. "What's up Keitaro, did you hear about me and your aunt?" Shirai chimed in.
"Hey, can't forget me in this little reunion," Sarah yelled out, pouncing on her beloved manager. "Never," Keitaro laughed, bouncing Sarah into the air, and then catching her as she fell.
Amalla stood next to Haruka and called out, "Nice seeing you again Keitaro." Keitaro rushed to her and planted a kiss on her lips. After holding it for a minute, he released, "I've wanted to do that for – years – apparently." Amalla, still dazed from the kiss, could only stutter, "anytime sugha."
Keitaro felt happy. He was with his friends again, seeing faces that he hadn't seen since his days back at the Hinata Sou. There was one face, however, he did not see. "Where's Kanako?" he asked Haruka.
The rest of the girls continued to gab, unaware of the darker things that had been brought to the world between life and death. Only Haruka could understand who Keitaro was talking about.
"She's not here," Haruka said hesitantly, not wanting to burden her nephew anymore. "Where is she Haruka?" Keitaro asked, feeling his heart grow heavier. Slowly, the chatter he heard began to fade, the images beginning to blur, until only Haruka remained visible.
"What's happening?" Keitaro questioned, perturbed by the loss of his friends. "You're heart is bringing you back to the precipice, away from those already on their way to wherever we go after death," Haruka answered. Keitaro spun around, his eyes scanning the surrounding territory. True enough, he stood only a few feet away from the edge of pure bright light, into a void that seemed to have no dimension.
Haruka, standing before the precipice, visibly shivered as she peered over the sides. "The abyss is looking for you Keitaro. It knows what you're after, you can't let it consume you," she whispered, trying to mask the fear in her voice.
"Is Kanako down there?" he asked, dreading the answer. She was nodding her head in silence. Taking her by the shoulders, Keitaro demanded to know how his sister ended up in the darkness that lay before them.
"She jumped," Haruka replied, her voice barely audible. "What do you mean she jumped?" Keitaro yelled out, tightening his grip. Haruka, with a rapid uppercut to his chin, sent Keitaro wheeling back. "Do not forget who I am Keitaro Urashima," Haruka belted out. Wiping the blood from his lips, Keitaro picked himself up. He then stared at his hand, examining the red blotches carefully. "Why am I bleeding?" he thought aloud.
Haruka could only reply with a pained impression. She walked up to Keitaro and gently took him into her arms. She informed that in this world, our emotions define the path we take. Those who can feel love and joy drift towards the light. Those who hung on to the pain and misery of life, drift towards the abyss. The blood you see and feel is the sadness you're keeping alive in this world. Please let go Keitaro, or you'll end up like your sister. Haruka was near tears at this point, her voice quivering with emotions.
A voice in Keitaro's mind told him that Haruka was in danger – her emotions threatening to entomb her in silent agony. Realizing the threat he was posing to his aunt, Keitaro closed his eyes and began meditating – a technique he learned from his wife.
Haruka could feel a warmth wash over her, evaporating her sadness. Su and Sarah were still playing tag around them, while Shirai stood behind her, his arms draped across her shoulders.
"What am I doing back here?" asked Haruka. "He sent you back here," Shirai replied, bringing her closer to him, "back to me." Haruka, taking comfort in the arms of her love, purred in response. "Thank you Keitaro," she whispered, before the light took them home.
Standing alone at the precipice, Keitaro watched as Haruka and Shirai faded into the distance, Su and Haitani following close behind. Sarah was the only one to remain. She walked over to Keitaro, growing older as she neared him. She stopped, inches away from him. Keitaro could not believe how much Sarah had changed. She stood only a few inches shorter than him, her head reaching the tip of his nose, her eyes, hidden behind her golden bangs.
"Keitaro," she spoke, "I never got a chance to say thank you for everything." Her words had been mixed with tears. Keitaro instinctively took her into a brotherly embrace and replied, "There's no thanks needed with family."
Sarah tightened her embrace. Talking into his chest, she spoke of how lonely she had felt before and that it was only when she lived with him and the others that she truly felt like she had a home to call her own.
She confessed, "I love you Keitaro." Keitaro was surprised to hear Sarah's admission. He had known of Sarah's crush since he discovered her web journal several months after he had awaken from his coma. But to hear her say the words was still unnerving.
What does a man say to a child confessing her love?
Apparently, nothing.
He did not have the chance. Sarah broke from his embrace and rushed him, tackling Keitaro to the ground. Catching him off guard, Sarah took the initiative and pressed her lips against his, pouring all her feelings into her kiss.
Keitaro could feel the sweet emotions, the passion of a young girl's dream, compressed into the sensation he felt across his mouth.
A moment later, Sarah was standing up, smiling – more like a devilish grin. "I just wish I had a chance to do that in life," she smirked, "but I have to go now Keitaro and you have someone to save." With a final wink, Sarah ran off towards the distant light, yelling out, "I love you Keitaro. Don't forget."
Keitaro could only watch in bemusement as the golden-haired girl hopped her away into eternity. "I love you to Sarah," Keitaro whispered. When she was gon, his mind returned to the task at hand.
The girl from before appeared next to him, dressed in a kimono. "I know who you are," Keitaro spoke, breaking the silence, "you're the dragon that Seta was talking about before I died. You were the one who gave me that incredible power." Suddenly, the girl had transformed into the dragon, but gone was the armored hide and leathery wings that had blocked out the stars.
The dragon that had appeared before him was covered in soft red fur, her wings replaced with arms, strong and firm. "Please tell me your story dragon?" Keitaro asked, placing his hand on her yellow mane.
"You know my story Keitaro," she replied, her serpentine body moving in rhythm to her words, "I have been with you since the beginning." A door opened in Keitaro's mind, freeing the memories that had been locked away.
He saw himself as a child, falling into a deep chasm, nearly dying. He laid there, his body broken. He could feel death taking hold of him, the cold seeping into his soul. He cried out for help, but no mortal answered, only the dragon. She appeared before him, curious to see who was making so much noise. He looked up and felt no fear. He asked the dragon, "Please devour me so that my parents will not have to see me like this."
The dragon replied, "Do you wish to die child?" The child began to cry. After a few minutes, he answered back, "No, but I do not wish to make my parents sad. They would cry if they saw me broken like I am."
The dragon only nodded. It opened its massive maw and roared, enveloping the child in its breath. The boy was not afraid for it trusted the dragon – a child's trust. But the boy was surprised that he was still alive. "Get up," the dragon commanded and the boy arose. He looked at his arms and legs and saw that they were healed. "Thank you," the boy squealed in delight.
The dragon smiled and replied, "Now go, boy, your family waits for you." The boy could only smile and laugh. He then ran up to the front leg of the dragon and embraced it. "We're family now," the boy chuckled, before dashing off to home.
Keitaro blinked. "Those are not my memories," he whispered. The dragon changed form again, but this time to a young woman, the same woman whom he had danced with in the ballroom.
"It is my memory of the time that I met your ancestor, the first of the Urashima bloodline," she replied, cradling her arms across her chest. "I went to visit him after that in the form of the child that you first encountered. I became his friend and decided to stay with him as a human. The years passed, and he grew to be a good man – the man I fell in love with. We were married and lived happily together. Those were good years Keitaro. We had many children and raised them all to be good people. It was a good life, but then he died."
As she spoke, Keitaro began to relive her memories. He saw her as a child, playing with his ancestor. They were always laughing and living adventures. She had once pushed him into a coy pond. She laughed when he resurfaced, spouting out a gold fish that he had nearly swallowed. As teenagers, she was discovering that the boy she knew was changing and so were her feelings for him. He was there when he first kissed her, under the falling leaves of the cherry blossom. Keitaro stood in the middle of their wedding procession, the sound of the ceremonial gong still ringing in the air. He bore witness to the birth of their first son. And on it went, a cascade of memories of a life lived centuries before he was even born.
Keitaro was amazed by it all. He was talking to the progenitor of his line, the first matriarch of one of the oldest clans in Japan. The young woman then looked away, her eyes glistening with tears. She continued, "I was so filled with misery and sadness at the loss of my husband that it grew into rage. I abandoned my human form and tried to hide away in the mountains, far from the provinces of men. But greedy kings heard that dragon blood held the secret to immortality, so they raised an army to kill me. I gladly fought them, killing every one of those soldiers. It was only after the battle had been fought and my rage spent did I find my youngest son amongst the slaughtered."
Keitaro could see the battlefield. On the mountain top, he could see the dragon, billowing fire from its nostrils. At the foot of the mountain, thousands of men, clad in armor and beating their chests with their weapons, stood in wait. He watched as the dragon descended upon them, unleashing torrents of flame and corrosive ash. In response, the army fired thousands of spears and arrows at the dragon, a blanket of death that was soaring through the sky. The dragon's armor, however, proved too thick and the projectiles shattered as they impacted her skin. The soldiers were not so fortunate. Though standing miles away, Keitaro could hear their screams as it reverberated throughout the mountain passages.
An hour later, the carnage was over and where there was once an army laid a field of the dead. He could hear the groans and wails of soldiers dying, the cawing of birds reveling in their abundant meals. He saw the dragon walking among the fallen, consuming the flesh of the wounded. The dragon, seeing her enemy defeated, roared in triumph. But then her eyes caught sight of a fallen solider, his hand clutching a piece of jewelry. The dragon approached it, focusing her eyes on the glinting metal until they went wide with panic. Transforming back into her human form, the woman ran, howling in pain.
The pendent that the man was holding belonged to her son, a keepsake created by her husband. It bore the ancient symbol of the dragon and the Urashima crest. "It binds us together," said her husband as he gave it to his son before they parted ways. Years had past since she last saw her child, the youngest of her brood.
He was a man of 22 years of age when he left them, wanting to travel and explore the great world beyond their village. At first, she was apprehensive, not wanting her son to leave, but it was her husband that had persuaded her to let go. "Boys need to grow into their own. All we can do is love them and let them go when the time comes, "her husband whispered, embracing her as she cried into his chest.
The body was disfigured, charred beyond recognition, but she knew that the dead soldier before her was her child. She had murdered her son. No sound had ever been made that could equal the howl of a dragon in mourning; she was heard throughout all the lands of Japan and the people could feel sadness seep into their hearts.
The young lady began to cry, her tears flowing unabated. Keitaro wanted to comfort her, but had no words that could relieve such grief. Talking through the tears, she went on, "He still wore the pendent that his father had made for him. I killed my son. I wanted to die, but how could I go see my husband in the after-world when I had the blood of his child on my hands. So to atone for my sin, I sacrificed my soul so he could live, but something went wrong. His darker impulses came to light and with my power; he wreaked terrible havoc on the people. In the end, I caused him to become a monster. His only son was forced to slay him to end the carnage."
The young woman fell to her knees and began to sob uncontrollably. Keitaro, sitting next to her with his feet dangling over the precipice, began to speak. "Now I know why I seem to be so invulnerable. It was you protecting me all those years, healing me after every accident. It was also you that gave me those incredible powers back when Shinobu nearly drown in the hot springs. Thank you lady, if it wasn't for you, she may not be alive today." The young woman looked up, her mouth gaping. She had just confessed to being the murderer of her child and still he thanked her. "Don't thank me Keitaro," she sobbed, "Seta was right, my power has been used to take the lives of so many innocents over the years. Can't you see that I'm just a monster." Surprising the young woman, Keitaro took her hand and held it in his own. He squeezed gently, looking into her eyes.
"When I was hurt, Motoko tried to kill herself. I was so angry with myself for putting her through all that suffering. When I heard about how Naru gave up on her dreams to go to Tokyo University, I began to hate myself even more for allowing it to happen. Shinobu, Haruka, Kanako, Su, Sarah, Seta, all of them suffered because of me. I wanted so much to be forgiven for hurting them, but looking into my wife's eyes, I saw a different path. I could spend a lifetime trying to atone, to suffer for my crimes, but if I did that, could I make others happy? I wanted to live so that I could make them happy again. I figure, if a person is willing to say that, to live to make people happy, and then whatever they have done, doesn't matter for the person they can become."
Keitaro stood up, wiping the dust from his hand. He continued, "Living with Motoko, I learned that when we hurt the ones we love, we become so convinced in our own wretchedness that we become blind to all other things. We become so consumed by this need to atone or be forgiven that we forget why we seek forgiveness in the first place, so we can live on with the ones we love. I think people just forget that they have to forgive themselves too. If Motoko could only forgive herself, she wouldn't be in so much pain. If Haruka had only forgiven herself, there would be no need to lie to the ones she loved, and Naru wouldn't have to abandon her dreams."
It was at this moment that Keitaro lifted the young girl from off the ground. He embraced her and said, "Turn around." The young girl did as she was told and there before her stood a little boy with a tall man, a man who resembled Keitaro in many ways, especially his affable smile.
The young woman began choking on her tears, her hands cupping her mouth. "Go to them," he whispered into her ears. "But how can I, after all I did," she whimpered back. Taking her hand again, he replied, "All you have to do is forgive yourself, Haruna." She spun around, in shock that Keitaro knew of her human name. Keitaro answered, "It's because your Kenji told me. He's been talking to me since we met at the meadow. He told me about how his mother was so consumed with grief that she couldn't hear them calling her home. Haruna, the only forgiveness you need is from yourself, so please, for them, let go of the pain that's keeping you from them."
Haruna felt a slight tug from her kimono sleeve. She looked down and could see her son, looking up at her with a smile that could soothe even the most savage of hearts. She bent down and lifted him up, smothering him in kisses. Koji, her husband, embraced the two from behind. Haruna wept, but this time, with tears of joy. Her hand joined with his and their lips met.
Keitaro smiled and walked away, happy that he could help family. But before he got too far, Keitaro felt someone tapping his shoulder. He turned around and saw the boy, but he looked older, perhaps sixteen. "My name is Keitaro too," he spoke, "thank you for helping my mother find her way back home. Please, take this, it'll help you." The boy placed a small pendent in Keitaro's palm, before running back to his waiting parents. Keitaro smiled as they faded into the light. He then turned to the abyss and yelled out, "I'm coming for you Kanako!" There was only silence.
"Well, if you're not coming out, I guess I have to go in," he replied. Before the abyss had a chance to respond, Keitaro leapt over the precipice, and plummeted towards the nothingness.
Keitaro was surrounded by darkness. Though his mind recognized nothing in the pitch black, Keitaro could still feel the corrosion of his soul. He yelled out, but no sound could be heard. He thrashed his arms wildly, but nothing could be felt. He wanted to panic, but a voice told him to remain calm. Suddenly, he felt a warm sensation purifying his body, dissolving the tar that had seeped into his pores. Looking down, Keitaro saw the pendent give off an incandescent glow. He felt power back in his voice and cried out, "Kanako!"
His ears twitched as he caught a sound from the distance. Keitaro reached out his hand plunging it into the darkness, until he felt something warm. He reached out with his other hand and pulled it closer to him.
Suddenly, the darkness receded as the world filled with light once more. "How can they forgive me Keitaro," Kanako cried out, struggling to break free from his grip. Annoyed by the tantrum, Kanako flicked his finger at her nose, causing her to yelp. "Whyda do dat," she said, the nasal sound of her voice causing him to laugh.
"How can you still be so caught up in your misery?" he chided her, unaware that they were standing on top of the precipice, his pendent still in hand. "I killed them," she spat back, wanting so desperately to run from the light, but Keitaro maintained his grip on her. Keitaro, with force, pulled his sister towards him, causing her to slam into his chest. He enveloped her into his arms and whispered, "You silly girl, does any of that really matter here. Let's just go home Kanako."
Haruka walked up and smiled gently over them. "C'mon you guys, we've been waiting," she said, taking Kanako's hand. Kanako wanted to pull away, but Keitaro was there to nudge her forward. "There's nothing to worry about Kanako, there's no grudge on this side, only the one you bring with you," Haruka assured her. Su plopped on the young Urashima's shoulders and started playing with her face, stretching out her lips to create an exaggerated smile. "Let's play," Su exclaimed, giggling at how funny Kanako looked.
Kanako, so moved by their compassion, could only nod in agreement. "Another crisis averted," Keitaro declared, showing off his muscles to the laughing crowd gathering around them. "Oh look at the mighty Keitaro," Haitani laughed, "saving the souls of the departed." Haitani turned to his friend and companion to get some tag team action, when he was hit with the scene of a very nubile Haruka locked in a tender kiss with Shirai.
"Even when I'm dead, I can't seem to get a break," Haitani sighed. Amalla nudged him with her elbow and whispered something in his ears before walking away with a wink. Keitaro couldn't hear what she told him, but the blood flowing profusely from his friend's nose told him everything.
"Hey guys," Keitaro called out, "isn't it about time we leave?" Haruka, breaking from her kiss, replied, "We came back for Kanako, not for you Keitaro." Before Keitaro could respond, the pendent began to glow again. He could feel the pain in his chest reappear, the breath leaving him.
"Good bye Keitaro," Haruka shouted, waiving as she began to fade, along with the rest of her friends. Only Kanako remained. She sat down next to Keitaro, who had collapsed from the pain. "Thank you Keitaro, you saved me again," said Kanako as she gently massaged his scalp. "What's happening to me Kanako?" he gasped, struggling to force air into his shredded lungs.
"Haruna's last gift to you is a choice Keitaro. If you wish to return to the living world, just keeping holding onto the pendent, but if you wish to stay, all you have to do is let it go," Kanako replied, her eyes never leaving his gaze.
Keitaro's hand began to tremble. He wanted to stay. He had seen so much pain and misery in life and was glad to let it all go, but the thoughts of his wife and son fought to remain in his heart. Kanako just stood in silence, not wanting to interfere. She looked on as he struggled to come to terms with his decision.
Should he leave paradise for love?
"I don't want to leave Kanako, but I need to see her again," he gasped, gently clutching the pendent to his chest. "Paradise will be waiting for you Keitaro," Kanako smiled, "and so will I." The pain overwhelmed him.
He could feel the warmth leached from his flesh. A miserable sound roared in his ears. He could taste blood. Suddenly, Keitaro felt the world around him, the sensations of the cold air stinging his exposed, burnt flesh.
He could hear his wife wailing inconsolably, her hair covering his eyes. He was hurting, but the pain he was experiencing came from watching his wife mourn him. Keitaro never wanted to see such suffering, especially from the one he loved most in this life. He tried to touch her, but his arm refused to move. He screamed in his mind, "Move!" Through sheer will, Keitaro overcame the limitation of the flesh, and raised his arm, his hand landing gently on Motoko's shoulder.
Motoko felt the hand on her shoulder, but could not form the coherent thought needed to recognize what was happening. By chance, she had opened her eyes, and saw the dark luscious brown of his irises, staring back at her. There was life in those eyes. "Keitaro?" she gasped, daring not to hope for a miracle. "Wife," Keitaro managed to cough out, causing Motoko to scream out in joy. She embraced him, near throttling the little life that he had managed to hold onto.
Seta, shocked to see his friend survive, called out, "careful Motoko, he shouldn't be treated so roughly." Motoko, realizing what she was doing, gently placed him on the ground, pressing down on his wound. "I love you," she kept chanting, hoping to keep him alive.
"Sakura," Motoko screamed, "get help!" Sakura was overjoyed that Keitaro hadn't died. Without a second thought, she ran to get help, yelling out, "I need a doctor!" Keitaro wanted to sleep, his body so indescribably exhausted, but he could not tear his gaze away from the beautiful woman looking down on him.
She wasn't his promise girl, but it didn't matter. Motoko was the love of his life, the girl he was destined to be with, he knew that now. "I love you Motoko," he mouthed, too exhausted to speak. "I love you too, Keitaro," she replied, the tears washing away the blood on his face.
Keitaro awoke to the strange sounds of machines. His vision was blurry, but eventually he could make out shapes. He was reminded of the time that he had first awaked from his coma. Keitaro began to examine the room and noticed another bed lying next to his. He strained his eyes until his vision came to focus.
What he saw made him want to cry out in joy.
Shinobu was sitting on her bed, smiling at him. She wore a hospital gown that could not hide how beautifully she had developed since their days back at the Hinata Sou. "Hello Keitaro Sempai," Shinobu cried out, her eyes beginning to water. "Hello Shinobu," he replied, "I've missed you." Shinobu, unable to hold back any longer, leapt from her bed and ran to him. She flung her small frame on top of his and buried her head in his chest.
"I can't believe you're here," she said, her voice muffled by the blanket. Keitaro noticed Motoko standing at the doorway, a gentle smile lighting her face. Keitaro smiled back at her, before returning his attention back towards the young girl crying in his arms. He ruffled her hair. She started to tell him about her life after he had gone away, her troubles and her joys. Keitaro listened, his attention focused only on his friend. Shinobu was bearing her soul to the man she had loved since the day they had met on the riverbank.
"Do you remember that day Keitaro, the day we met," she asked him with bated breath. "Of course," Keitaro replied, "I was so scared that you thought I was one of those perverts for drawing a picture of you." Shinobu sat up and began rummaging through the bag that Naru had left behind before leaving for Japan. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. Keitaro, his curiosity piqued, asked, "Hey, what do you have there?" Shinobu, unable to face him from the embarrassment, handed over the paper to him. Keitaro, taking it, was surprised to see his drawing from that day, the image of a young Shinobu smiling. "You were crying," Keitaro reminisced but was interrupted by the soft flesh that he tasted on his lips. He was shocked to find Shinobu kissing him, but did not break from it. He wanted to let Shinobu have her moment. "Motoko would understand," he thought, imagining the blade swinging precariously close to his nether regions.
Shinobu broke from the kiss and ran off, yelling, "Thank you Keitaro." Keitaro could only blink in response, not knowing how to react. Moments later, Motoko appeared next to him, scaring Keitaro. "How did you," he tried to ask, but his wife was already upon him, shoving her tongue into his mouth. Keitaro, caught off guard, gladly accepted his wife's lips, and began kissing back, pouring his passion into it.
Motoko broke from the kiss, but did not run off. Instead, she looked him in the eyes and said, "I just wanted to remind you that you're married to me buster." Keitaro could only grin in response. "You shouldn't be jealous of Shinobu, though she did grow up to be a fine looking woman," he jested, tempting fate once again. Motoko poked him in his ribs, causing him to wince in pain. "Ow, hey, I got shot remember," he yelped. Motoko showed no remorse. "You deserved it," she said matter of factly, but proceeded to plant light kisses across his abdomen, soothing the pain. She eventually laid her head to rest on his chest, listening for his heart beat.
Keitaro felt the warmth emanating from her body and was comforted by it. "Keitaro," Motoko uttered, "do you know why she did it?" Keitaro stiffened at the question. He knew that Kitsune had shot him, nearly killing him, and she was killed for it. "I don't know why she did it, but it doesn't matter anymore. She's gone and we're still here. All I care about is living this life with you and our son, which reminds me, we should really give him a name," he replied.
"I already gave him a name," remarked Motoko, "his name is Jonathan." Keitaro recognized the name of the doctor who had saved the lives of his wife and son, the man killed by his sister. "Jonathan is a good name," said Keitaro, cuddling his wife. Motoko shifted her weight so that she could look into her husband's face, and asked, "What's going to happen to us now?" Keitaro could see the fear lingering in her eyes, the pain of losing so many friends had left its mark.
Though he did not remember what had happened after his death, Keitaro still clung onto the feeling that there was nothing to fear of the inevitable. It left him knowing that life should be lived to be happy with the ones you love. Without any trace of doubt or hesitation, he answered, "We live. We love, and we build the future together, Motoko, my beautiful wife."
Motoko's eyes began to water, but she held in her tears. She had already cried too much, her warrior sensibilities beginning to take root. Instead, she nestled her face back into the chest of her husband and breathed in his scent. He was real, not a dream. Keitaro had chosen her, even after he was given the chance to be with his promised girl.
She would live for him and their baby. She would love them, protect them, and yes, build a future for them so that they could live happily together.
A year later…
"There sure are a lot of steps," Keitaro whined, struggling to keep pace with his wife. "My, you are out of shape, perhaps we should put you on a strict training regiment," his wife quipped, carrying along their son in her arms.
Keitaro could only sigh as he held the Hina blade. After a few minutes, they had arrived at their destination. Motoko stood in the courtyard and felt lost in her nostalgia. She remembered the days spent on these grounds. In the far corner lay a barren stone where her father would often sit and watch his children play.
He had died long ago to disease – hardly a fitting end for one so skilled in combat, but that was life. Motoko wished that he and her mother could have lived just a little longer so that they could see their grandson, a boy who would grow up to be a man as a good and strong as his father.
Keitaro watched his wife. She had always been taller, but today, her height seemed regal. She wore a form fitting silk dress, the one he bought while in Shanghai visiting Sakura at her new tea house. It was red with green and white floral prints. He was amazed how stunning she looked.
"Motoko, is that you!" a voice called out. Keitaro and Motoko turned and found Tsuroko standing in front of the massive wooden gates that protected the grounds of the Aoyoma estate. Keitaro had never seen Motoko's sister before. She stood tall and proud in her traditional red and white garb, her luxurious ebony hair hung freely, shrouding her in its sheen.
Motoko approached her, carrying a gentle smile. "Hello sister, I came to apologize for making you worry, but as you can see, I am better now," said Motoko. Then raising her son into the air, Motoko asked, "Would you like to meet your nephew?" Tsuroko was near tears. Tsuroko had not dared hope to be reunited with her sister. She had blamed herself for Motoko's misery and anguish. For years, she wanted to go and find her, but fear kept her at bay. After all, how could a failed sister ever be forgiven?
But Motoko was standing before her, seemingly please to see her. Tears began emerging from both the sisters' eyes. "Of course," Tsuroko replied, trying to keep from sobbing. Motoko gently laid her son in Tsuroko's ever attentive arms. "He's so beautiful Motoko, what is his name?" Tsuroko cooed, playing with the mirthful child. Motoko replied, "Jonathan."
Keitaro decided to make his introductions. He approached them and bowed to his sister-in-law. "This is my husband, Keitaro," Motoko added, pleased that her sister seemed receptive to them.
Tsuroko gave an appraising glance to the man before her and saw only good in him. "So, you are the one who has caused us so much trouble," she gently chided him. Keitaro, blushing, replied with a nervous laugh, "Sorry for all the trouble Tsuroko, but I just want you to know that I'm happy to finally meet you. Motoko told me so many wonderful things about you."
Tsuroko was taken back by his words. Motoko could see the doubt in her eyes, the feeling of remorse bubbling up. She interjected, "It's true sister, I have told my husband that it was your love and guidance that saw me through the dark times."
"Come," uttered Tsuroko, unable to hold back her tears, "let us go inside and talk Motoko. I want to know everything." Motoko, crying as well, replied, "Yes, there's so much I want to tell you."
Hours later, Motoko found Keitaro battling several of the Shinmeiryu students. The powers that had only manifested during desperate times seemed to be under his control now. He dodged the powerful ki attacks from the senior students with a deftness that impressed Motoko, herself a prodigy in the martial arts world. One by one, Keitaro managed to tap the young disciples on their respective foreheads, ending their participation in the melee.
The only one left was a young girl no older than Motoko when she had first met her husband. "Her name is Haruna," spoke Tsuroko, appearing behind the sanguine Motoko. Keitaro could only grin at hearing of his opponent's name. Haruna had shown exceptional skills and had the potential to surpass Tsuroko's battle prowess one day. But on that day, it was Keitaro would be the better of the two.
Haruna launched a devastating wave of condensed ki, the signature technique of the Shinmeiryu school, at Keitaro. Instantly, Keitaro side-stepped the attack and launched his own. Haruna tried to evade, but the man was too fast. Before she could counter, Haruna felt the warm tip of his finger pressing against his forehead.
She slumped her shoulders and conceded the match as had been agreed upon before the fight. "Hey you!" she had called out to him when they first met an hour ago. Haruna was the senior student in her class. She was leading a warm up exercise when Keitaro stumbled upon them. At first, Haruna thought he was a thief and demanded him to confess to his supposed crime. It was only Tsuroko's timely intervention that prevented a massacre. "Why don't you train with them," she asked Keitaro, who had no desire to do such a thing.
It was Haruna's attitude that had changed his mind. "A male has no place in combat," she scoffed, looking at him with disdain. She reminded him of Motoko back at that age. "Sure," he replied, "why not?" It wasn't even a contest.
"I wish to apologize Mr. Urashima for my behavior earlier," Haruna mumbled, her voice brimming with anguish, "you truly are a gifted warrior." Keitaro, his hand already rubbing the back of his neck, began to laugh, "There's no need for that Haruna. You are quite talented. You remind me of my wife at your age. She too shared your sentiment of men. I can only hope that you will never meet a man who will prove you right." Haruna looked up and was pleasantly surprised to hear him be so noble about his victory. He had neither gloated nor mistreated her in anyway.
"I see that I might have another rival for your affection husband," Motoko commented from behind, noticing Haruna's slight blush. The young girl's face faulted, her mouth gaping. She sputtered, "Sensei, I assure that that is not the case."
"She's just teasing you," Keitaro explained, "Now if you excuse me Haruna, I believe my wife wants to discuss something with me." Haruna, overjoyed that she given a means of escaping her humiliation, quickly bowed and ran off.
"Is it time?" he asked.
"It is," she replied.
"Time for what," Tsuroko inquired, still holding young Jonathan in her arms. Motoko turned towards her sister. She looked different to Tsuroko. Gone was the gentle expression that she bore when they first had arrived, replaced by a stern, perhaps even grim look of determination.
Tsuroko could feel her heartbeat quicken. "Could it be?" she thought, but was interrupted by Keitaro, who was taking Jonathan from her. "Can't have him get in the way between sisters, now, can we?" he mused.
Before Tsuroko could react, Motoko lifted her sheathed sword and held it parallel to the ground, as it had been their custom since the founding of the school when presenting a challenge for honorable combat.
"I challenge you sister to a match of skills."
Tsuroko felt the happiness explode within her, her heart bathing in joy. She wanted so much for Motoko to come back to her as a warrior, but there was no time for tears or warm embraces. She was being challenged, and she would not disappoint her younger sister.
"Welcome home," Tsuroko grinned, accepting her challenge.
Keitaro and his son watched from a safe distance as the sisters engaged in battle, the clanging of swords echoing across the compound. He whispered to his son, "Look at how strong mommy is, someday, you'll be as strong as her."
Though engrossed in battle, Motoko's mind drifted into her past. She had committed terrible deeds and tormented herself for it. She would have died long ago if it were not for the man holding their child in the distance. How strange life has turned out for us she thought to herself.
For so long, she had sought an answer to her question. How could she obtain the forgiveness and atonement that she was searching for? It took the love of her husband for Motoko to realize the truth. The answer his love gave to her was simple.
Forgive yourself and then live to make those for whom you love happy.
Motoko had found her absolution.
The End.
Author: Well folks, I think I'm done with this story. I'll be adding an epilogue, but not for some time. I left some glaring gaps in the sub plots, but that was done intentionally. I was lazy, and plus, I like to leave some of the mystery in there. This story was an exploration of complex human emotions. Some said that the body count was too high, some said it was too low. To me, those were incidentals. I just wanted to explore this thing we call forgivness. How does it motivate us, how does it guide our decisions. Well enough of the introspective crap. I hope you enjoyed reading this story and thank you again for your reviews. I found them quite enjoyable as an artist/writer.