Repercussions Chapter 6, a love hina fanfic

Hi there, Nodoka here.

I guess it's time for another chapter.

Saying anything more is a waste of space, so on with the fic.

Thank you to all those who reviewed, they really do make my day.

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Repercussions - Chapter 6

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The weather was warm, and the sun strong on the back of her off-white kimono as Motoko strode easily through the grounds of her family's home. The apprehension that would have poisoned her mood in years past was almost gone – the young heir of the Shinmei-ryu was feeling more and more comfortable with the title she would one day inherit. Her main fears of years gone by, of inadequacy and inferiority, had slowly dissolved. Endless practice, combined with the regular opportunity to use her more difficult techniques on an apparently immortal subject, had given the girl confidence in her abilities.

The only thing that prevented her from striding up to her elder sister at this very moment and declaring her intent to take over the school was the knowledge of what she would be leaving behind. The support and love of her housemates, her surrogate sisters, had made just as big an impact as her dedicated training. They, along with that perverted Kanrinin of hers, had given her self-belief, self-respect.

The Kendoist turned to gaze out across a tranquil pond, surface barely disturbed by the movement of the Koi within. The perverted Kanrinin…..much as Motoko wished to ignore it, he had been crucial as anyone to her newfound belief. From trying to cheer her up when she was at the nadir of her existence, to fighting alongside her despite the odds and his injuries, to supporting her choices no matter what they were. Motoko could honestly say that she felt a distinct fondness for Keitaro. She had even stated this fact to him during that crazy pursuit to catch Naru only months ago.

But he had clearly chosen Naru, and Naru seemed to have accepted him. This fact still made her stomach feel like it was being gnawed at by a small but determined rodent, one with very sharp teeth. The rejection drove the girl back towards her old feelings – it became easier to once again assume that the man was like 'all' males. A pervert. A creature below her notice. The numerous compromising positions and 'accidents' that still occurred almost daily were nothing but confirmation of this; they helped the girl to believe her denial.

But still, a tiny, nagging voice sat deep in her conscience whispered that it was easier to say an easy lie than admit a difficult truth. That it was easier to discount Keitaro as unworthy than come to terms with the fact she was more than just fond of the Kanrinin, a man in love with someone else. It was tough at times, living with the new couple. The same old destruction took place, some of which was down to Motoko letting out her frustrations on the most readily available target. But the moments in between, the genuine fondness in the smiles, the shared looks when they thought no-one was watching…..

Motoko shook herself with an annoyed growl, despising the hint of bile at the back of her throat. Trying to clear her mind, the elegant young lady took a long, heavy breath whilst scanning the sculpted gardens. The trees perfect as ever, yet looking oddly bare. Come spring, cherry blossoms would adorn both their branches and the stone pathways which wove their labyrinthine way between lawns, through copses and over crystal streams. Feeling the bitterness ease, Motoko managed a half-smile at the scene. This was where she had first learnt of true peace, where she wished to search for it once again.

"Motoko-san." Came a serene voice from behind her. The raven-haired girl turned slowly until her elder sister came into view, looking beautiful and poised as ever.

"Tsuruko-san." Motoko replied evenly, bowing respectfully at the waist. As she straightened, the younger woman noted her sister eyeing her with a touch of amusement. Puzzled, she regarded Tsuruko in puzzlement. Puzzlement that turned to surprise as her usually precise and deliberate sister swiftly smothered her in a joyous hug.

"Ah, oneechan. You always have been traditional to the end." Stepping to one side and leaving an arm slung across the slightly unnerved girl's shoulders, Tsuruko began guiding her towards the main entrance to the family home. "Come, now. There is much that has happened, and I don't doubt that mother will be keen to see you also….."

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The greetings went on for much of the afternoon, and Motoko was quite happy to escape to one of the numerous dojos that were dotted around the complex. There was an odd buzz about the family, an excitement that was bubbling just below the surface. About what, the heir did not know. With a mental shrug the swords woman decided she would know soon enough, and began performing some light stretches in preparation for a period of meditation.

Her danger sense alerted her just in time.

Flipping backwards Motoko caught a flash of silver scything through the spot she had occupied milliseconds earlier. Landing deftly, the girl brought the Hina blade up in time to parry the next blow, one that would have removed her left arm at the shoulder. Silver ground against silver for a moment, and the girl gritted her teeth as she pushed against the overwhelming force threatening to snap her in half. The pressure ceased suddenly as it began, and the young swords woman barely managed to keep her balance at the unexpected shift. In an instant her poise had recovered, and she scanned her surroundings for her assailant.

"It is good to see that your skills have not dimmed, Motoko-chan." Tsuruko's melodic voice sounded from her left, and the kendoist turned warily to regard her sister. The elegant lady was stood only feet away, appearing utterly at ease, katana sheathed. Motoko wasn't fooled. Her sister was always keen to test her progress, and today would be no different.

"I am glad you think so, Tsuruko-san." Keeping her guard up, the younger woman eyed her opponent speculatively. "But to attack someone unprepared? That is most unlike you, oneesan. If it were someone other than I, I do not doubt that the blow would have been at the very least crippling."

"It is not pleasant to be attacked when you lack the ability to defend yourself, is it oneechan?" Tsuruko said with a small smile. "I wished to see if your senses were sharp as ever, I would have no intention of doing such a thing to one I was unsure could evade my strike." Her smile growing, the school master drew her katana with blood-chilling confidence. "Now come, I wish to examine your skills. Do not hold back, Motoko-chan, for I will surely not…..

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Motoko studied herself in the mirror, wincing at a few of the bruises she carried in various places. Tsuruko certainly hadn't been joking when she promised a thorough examination; the red marks across her torso and a streak of purple marring her jaw were testament to that. Thankfully her sister had switched to a blunted training sword after the initial assault. No point in bringing deadly weapons to bear for a mere exercise.

The girl allowed a brief moment of self-congratulation. She had, in fact, slipped a blow through Tsuruko's defences, catching her in the ribs. That had proven to be a mistake, as it turned out. Soon as the shot landed, a demon seemed to erupt in her opponent, one that had relentlessly hounded Motoko with an intensity she had never seen before until she had been forced to yield. The fact she had forced her normally implacable and controlled elder sister to abandon her ethereal persona and go all-out gave the young woman cause for celebration. All the same, she hadn't anticipated such a fierce response to a single successful attack.

Slipping her robe from slim shoulders, Motoko's thoughts turned to the comments at the end of their bout. She had yielded at the point of her sister's sword, a submission that was met with a warm smile and an offered hand. As she'd dusted herself down, Tsuruko had taken a step back with a thoughtful expression, before giving her opinion.

"It seems you progress day by day, oneechan." She had said, with no little pride. "You are not ready yet for the position of house leader, however."

"And why is that, oneesan?" Her elder sister had given a dry chuckle, sheathing her dulled blade.

"Two reasons. One, you do not yet fight to win, you fight to survive." She held up a hand, forestalling Motoko's reply. "I know, you do not believe yourself my equal. You are closer than you anticipate, Motoko-chan. Much closer. The day you are ready to take the position as head of house, you will fight me with only one aim – to emerge victorious." At her acceptance of the fact, her older sister's face had darkened and her tone dropped.

"The second reason is…..you lack insight, Motoko-chan." This statement had caused much confusion on the part of the younger girl.

"What do you mean, Tsuruko-san? I understand what you meant perfectly." A slow shake of the head was the response.

"You do not, Motoko-chan. If you understood what I meant, you would not have just disagreed." At this ambiguous statement, her older sister had turned to exit, mentioning that she would be taking a bath in half an hour.

Motoko still puzzled over what Tsuruko had meant by her last words. She knew what her sister meant perfectly. She didn't fight to win because, in all honesty, she didn't really want to win as of yet. Her life away from the house of Aoyama was very enjoyable, and not one she wished to leave any time soon. If she knew and accepted this fact, how could she lack insight?

Sighing in frustration, the svelte woman regarded her nude form in the mirror. Normally flawless skin bearing several ugly purple and red streaks, strewn haphazardly across her chest and abdomen, standing out like bloodstained snow upon her pale complexion. Most of these would be hidden beneath clothing, however the face injury would need dealing with. It was the way of the Aoyama clan to always appear pristine and flawless no matter how grievous the injury. Tracing a particularly nasty bruise, running from just below her left breast down towards her right hip, Motoko once again found herself wondering about the intensity of her sister's attack. The ferocity was undeniable, but she could have sworn she saw a trace of…..fear?

With a shrug the girl donned a bathrobe and picked up her towels and left her room, happily anticipating her upcoming bath. The outdoor springs rivalled those at the Hinata-sou, and she had spent many pleasurable hours in it as a child, often easing her aches after an intensive training session. Much like today, in fact.

Disregarding the 'occupied' sign on the door, Motoko entered the outer chamber and hung her gown on an empty hook before scrubbing herself thoroughly, erasing the dirt and sweat accumulated by her earlier sparring. Feeling refreshed, the swords woman scooped up her towels and slid the inner door open.

And found herself meeting the gaze of a handsome, brown-haired man sitting in the waist-deep water.

Her hand reached for her sword before she even realised it wasn't there.

Plan B then.

"Pervert!" The cry echoed through the evening air, and she launched herself towards the intruder, intent on emulating Naru's oft-used technique.

She came to a shuddering stop as a hand caught her fist mid-swing.

"The last time I checked, these baths were not gender specific. I see nothing wrong with inviting my husband to share the water with me, Motoko." The hold was released, and Motoko hurriedly stepped back, quailing at the furious glare upon Tsuruko's face. "However, I do feel something is incorrect when my younger sister attempts to injure an unarmed man, a family member no less, for no more a crime than enjoying a peaceful evening in the hot springs."

"B-but, he's a perv-"

"The occupied sign is on display, is it not? You intruded on him, did you not?" Tsuruko paused in her withering assault, and folded her arms firmly. "So, the question must be posed – who is truly at fault?"

"A-ah, uhm, well….." Motoko looked desperately from Tsuruko to her husband (who was studiously examining his fingernails) and back again. Suddenly, her normal frame of reference was shaken. Her fault? How could it be her fault? She had been seen naked by the lecherous eyes of a male, and it was her that was culpable for blame?

"Think on this Motoko, and think well. Does intrusion without intent necessitate such an accusation? Does mere oversight warrant the use of swift and deadly force? Does it?!" Panicked and upset in equal measure, Motoko did the only thing she could.

Ran.

As the door slammed and footsteps echoed down the hall, Tsuruko stared at the empty spot for a moment until a warm male voice came from behind her.

"Are you sure you're not being too hard on her." The slender woman shook her head slowly, before replying in a low tone.

"No. It has to be this way." Tsuruko looked down to the floor, coal-black hair obscuring her face. "I won't have my sister making the mistakes that have been made in the past. I will not let her!" The tension radiating through her toned form evaporated the instant a pair of warm arms wrapped around her abdomen.

"She won't. She has you to guide her to the correct path." The eyes threatening tears cleared like the sky after a storm has passed, and the elder Aoyama sister turned to fully enjoy her beloved's embrace.

"I do not like this. I do not, but done it must be."

"I know." One masculine arm dropped down to her knees, and suddenly Tsuruko found herself being carried bridal-style back towards the hot water.

"If you ever do this in front of anyone else, you will experience pain the likes of which few have ever known." The man chuckled at the frosty admonishment, stepping down into the wet warmth.

"Don't pretend you don't like it." The young lady returned the laugh, relaxing into his clutches.

"Oh, I never said that……"

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Motoko shook herself out of her reverie. Her humiliation, to not put too fine a point on it, in the hot baths was only the first of many over the next few weeks. Not a day seemed to go by when she didn't trip over something that didn't seem to even exist a split-second before, and land in a compromising position. Or walk in on someone else, usually male, taking a bath. Or see someone in an improper state of dress, which usually led to accusation of voyeurism. It took little intelligence to surmise who was behind it.

The kendoist sighed at the memory. What did actually take intelligence, or to be more specific insight was to see what her sister was actually getting at. Who would have thought someone in the Hinata Sou was actually trading correspondence with her sister. More than one person, in fact. Not who she might have expected, either. However, this was just a fraction of the whole story. She would learn the real impetus behind her sister's actions almost a month later…..

"Ah, Motoko-san!" Shinobu smiled, carrying a teapot out to the table. "I was about to call you, would you mind gathering the others together? Things are almost ready." With that the petite chef almost skipped back into the kitchen. Motoko couldn't help but chuckle. Shinobu was transparent as the night air.

"As you wish." With that the young woman made an about-turn, deciding to collect Su first. The Molmolian was more than happy to announce the presence of food to the entire world, something that made her job a lot quicker……

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Lunch had gone down very well, although two of those at the table seemed to have little in the way of appetite. One of the two in question had retired to her room minutes ago, and the second of the two was staring at the stairs with something between determination and dread. Of the rest, one was inevitably washing up, and another (equally inevitably) had wandered off, probably to either study form guides or get hammered. Motoko had announced her intention to meditate, and Su…..

…..Best not to even guess. In any case, the last pair found themselves face-to-face near the door. Something that pleased Haruka quite a lot.

"So, Mutsumi-chan." The older woman struck a match and lit up. "It has been eventful, ne?"

"Yes, that is a good summary of the situation Haruka-san." Two innocent brown orbs peered back at the cigarette smoker, and for a moment Haruka felt that her hunch had to be completely wrong. Mutsumi couldn't possibly have orchestrated things, could she?

"One thing I am interested in……" Taking a deep drag on her worst habit, Haruka decided to come out with it straight. "…..Was what you did that night."

"Ara, what night are we referring to, Haruka-san?" Something in the response spiked the smoker's interest straight away. Mutsumi wasn't stupid - there was only one night she could be referring to. The Okinawan had obviously decided to play the clueless card, which might have worked.

But she had jumped the gun.

And Haruka already had her answer.

"I think you know which one, Mutsumi-chan. Night before last. Ring any bells?" Mutsumi posed 'thinking' with finger on chin, causing Haruka to grin around her cigarette. The Okinawan was a terrible, terrible actress.

"Ara, the night before last…..that one! Oh, yes." The busty brunette smiled gently at Keitaro's 'aunt'. "What is it you are so interested about?"

"As I said, what you did that night. As in the five minutes before Naru first tried to take Kei's head off." The smile became even more blank, and Mutsumi once again moved into 'thinking' position.

"Oh, if I remember rightly I had been talking to Kitsune-chan. She was telling me it had been years since she had 'gotten off' as she put it, and really needed a 'nice piece of man-meat' to 'get her teeth into'." The Okinawan had the good grace to blush. "I informed her that I couldn't really help her, but that there was a man present. She mumbled something about being embarrassed, so I offered to ask him to dance for her. He was happy to oblige."

"Right." Haruka was unconvinced. Her neph- no, relative had been spun into the fox's arms without any hint of a warning, or even a word passed. "And then as for asking Naru if she wanted a drink?"

"Ara, she seemed to have had too many. I was going to offer her some water." Mutsumi offered blandly. "On second thoughts, it may have been bad timing." The woman stood in front of her exhaled a plume of smoke into the air.

"So why was it you were filling her glass with sake?" The gentle-faced girl froze, and brown eyes met brown eyes. They both knew the last fact had signed and sealed the deal.

For a moment one set of eyes begged the other to drop the line of questioning, but the only reply was stony refusal. Eventually the contact was broken, and Mutsumi took a shuddering breath.

"Okay, okay. I'll admit it, I wanted Kitsune to hang all over Keitaro. I wanted Naru to see it." Haruka didn't say a word, she didn't need to. Mutsumi never could hold on to a lie, it just wasn't in her to do so. "I was just so tired of the way things went round and round and round. I gave up on him, gave him to her. And she abused it, Haruka-san. She adored the way he would come crawling back, time after time, no matter what." Mutsumi sniffled a little, reaching for a handkerchief in her skirt pocket. "She loves him, I have no doubt. But what she really loves is the adoration, the loyalty. Kei was being used, and I couldn't do anything to make him see it. I wouldn't allow myself to do anything." The Okinawan finished bitterly, staring at the varnished floor.

"So you decided to nudge Naru out of the way….."

"NO!" Haruka was shocked. Mutsumi never, ever shouted at anyone. And whilst this wasn't quite a shout, it was close. "No, that's not it, Haruka-san." The mahogany-haired girl continued in a more subdued tone. "I didn't push anyone aside; I would never, ever do such a thing!" She dabbed at her eyes gingerly, sniffling again. "I just wanted to…..bring things to a head. I couldn't stand to watch any more."

"You know, I was thinking exactly the same thing myself." Murmured Haruka, taking a reflective puff on her cigarette. "I'm really fed up with the way they endlessly danced around each other. Thought it was about time they put up or shut up. Mind you, I wouldn't have gone out of my way to light the fuse."

"Ara, perhaps it was presumptuous of me. I hoped that if I pushed the right buttons, well…..." The two women noticed movement from the dining room, and turned just in time to see Keitaro walk up the stairs, shoulders squared.

"Keitaro told me he was going to talk with Naru. Looks like your plan worked perfectly." Haruka stared at the now empty staircase for a few seconds, until an odd noise drew her attention back to the woman stood beside her. It was obvious what the odd noise was as soon as she set eyes on Mutsumi. The normally cheerful girl was hiccupping quietly, wringing her hanky in white-knuckled hands. Haruka was completely taken aback, it took a few seconds for her arm to snake out and wrap itself around Mutsumi's shoulders.

"I-I'm sorry, Haruka-san. It's just…..I feel so awful….." The girl moaned, looking utterly wretched. "I know I'm going to lose either way."

"What do you mean, Mutsumi-chan?" Murmured Haruka, rifling through her memories for any similar occurrences in the past, and coming up blank. This was truly out of the ordinary.

"If they make up, I lose my chance at Kei-kun, maybe forever. But if they don't, I'm going to spend my life wondering if it was because of me……" Mutsumi choked, before accepting the embrace that was offered to her.

"I suppose this is why you shouldn't interfere with other people's business." Haruka said quietly, only to find herself staring at close range into a pair of wet brown eyes, eyes that carried a heavy burden.

"It was for Kei-kun, only for him. I would do anything for Kei, even if it means having to carry it for the rest of my days. Please believe me, Haruka-san, it's for him, for them to finally make up their minds….." With that the dam broke and Mutsumi buried her face in the older woman's shoulder, sobbing quietly. Haruka stood stock still, mind awhirl, uncaring that her cigarette had gone out.

At long last things would come to a head. She believed Mutsumi without a doubt, the girl was utterly incapable of deception, and had obviously been suffocating beneath a blanket of guilt. Haruka was proud of her in all honesty - the Okinawan had dared to do what she hadn't.

Now all there was to do was wait.

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Mitsune slunk into Keitaro's room, after cautiously spying him taking a turn onto the staircase to the third floor. The fox didn't plan on being caught in his room, but had the usual excuses stored up in readiness. Leading off with seeking sake money, with the fall back option of direct flirting if needs be.

Although painful, Motoko's lesson had not endured on the ever-curious woman's memory. Hence her return, seeking clues. Anything, anything at all that might suggest what on earth the Kanrinin was really up to. Something in her mind questioned why she should be so interested in the personal affairs of the only man she could call 'friend', but it was shushed by the side of her that wrote it off as her natural curiosity.

The fox had to know what was going on in her territory after all.

After a few moments rifling, Mitsune had to admit it was all a little on the disappointing side. Underwear drawers contained only underwear, dull stuff at that. Futon clean and pristine, wardrobe annoyingly innocent. Not even a porno mag, for goodness sake. Was the guy even human? Hell, she had more pictures of naked women than Keitaro, and she was a woman for god's sake.

An open minded one, yes, but a woman all the same.

Feeling thoroughly grumpy, the silver-haired girl gave the room another sweep with her glance. It had never struck her how bare the room really was, it was as if Keitaro was reluctant to put any kind of mark on it. Like it was only being occupied, not lived in. The only minor adornment was the small stool sat beside the table, something the fox had never noticed before. The cushion looked plush, the solid wooden frame it sat upon ornately carved in a style that she didn't recognise. Compared to the rest of the room it seemed a little out of place, not something she would expect her Kanrinin to own.

Something she might expect Motoko to own…..

In a flash the fox was carefully examining the stool, curiosity piqued. This may have been the present Motoko had alluded to, but she had never seen. Come to think of it, it was too high to be of use for the floor-level table, but not really high enough to be used as a foot stool. Also, come to think of it, stools weren't usually solid – this looked more like a box with a cushion on top.

A box.

The maroon cushion proved tricky to remove, but once Mitsune found the catch on one side it lifted off on well oiled hinges. Then the fox was faced with……bare wood. With a 'humph' of annoyance, the grey-eyed girl almost flipped the cushion back in disgust. But her sixth sense tapped her on the shoulder and reminded her that someone had surely put the hinge there for a reason. A few more seconds of investigation and – there it was. A tiny groove, just big enough to slide a fingertip into. Mitsune needed no invitation. A moment of levering, and a thin square of wood lifted off easily.

The 'party girl' set it to one side carefully, and allowed herself a few seconds of self-congratulation. Nothing was too devious for the fox to decipher! Eager to finally uncover the closely guarded secret, the girl dropped to her knees, and peered into the carefully concealed compartment.

What she saw was not exactly what she was expecting. What she was expecting exactly she couldn't say, but this wasn't on the list. The fox carefully rummaged around the box, checking for any more concealed compartments.

Nothing.

So this was the sum total of what Motoko and Keitaro had been getting up to. And she had suspected something perverted, or at least odd. This was odd, but not in the way she had been anticipating.

A soft knocking made Mitsune spring up in shock and spin around, half expecting to see Motoko ready to perform divine, or at least very painful, punishment. The doorway was empty.

"Come in." Naru's voice came from above her, followed by the sound of a door sliding open.

"Naru-san." Keitaro's voice, quite stiff.

"Keitaro-san." Naru's reply, equally stiff. Mitsune grimaced gently – it looked to her like the fall-out was about to really begin.

"Mind if I sit?" The fox wanted to leave, she really did. It was just her damn feet wouldn't let her. They rooted her to the floor, intent on having her listen.

It would be interesting to see how this played out.

The fox wasn't truly sure which way she wanted things to end……

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Naru examined her room carefully. Everything in its place, everything just so. Good.

She'd show that ex-ronin for what he was suggesting.

The girl fiddled carelessly with her bandaged hand, still more concerned than she'd admit about what might have gone on whilst she was out of her head. There was more to the story than Mutsumi had told her, that was for sure.

A quiet knocking drew her attention to the door, and she took a deep breath she didn't know she needed to take.

"Come in." It slid open, revealing her Kanrinin, and at present, boyfriend.

"Naru-san." Said Keitaro quietly, giving her an even look.

"Keitaro-san." She replied equally levelly, trying to gauge the man's mood. She may as well be reading Dutch – she was getting nothing.

"Mind if I sit?" Keitaro asked politely, indicating the table she was primly seated at. She replied with a nod, and the Kanrinin strode towards her.

It was at this point everything went to hell. All thanks to a loose shoelace.

A loose shoelace on the Kanrinin's left shoe, which was stepped on by the man's right when he was approximately glomping distance from Naru. The result, a full-length face-first fall, right towards his temperamental girlfriend. Naru scrambled backwards as Keitaro twisted mid-fall, landing with his head barely a foot from her lap in what was undoubtedly a very painful face plant.

Naru's face began to turn red, and metaphorical steam began pouring from her ears as she got slowly to her feet, venomously regarding the prone form of her boyfriend lain groggily on the floor.

Damn him! Naru fumed, ire growing by the second. I do everything he asks of me, and then he still tries to get a free feel!

Sensing the room temperature increasing by several degrees every second, Keitaro peeled his bleeding face from the floor and looked up at the enraged girl towering over him. The ronin knew what was coming, and inwardly sighed in resignation. Best to at least keep up appearances, then.

"Naru-san, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-" Whatever followed was only heard by passing birds, as a patented Naru-punch blew the Kanrinin through the window and out into the sunlit sky.

Naru huffed for a second, feeling her ire recede. It was at this point reality caught up to her, and her honey eyes slammed open in shock. Two facts had suddenly flashed into her mind, both agonising in totally different ways.

One, Keitaro had missed. Missed. As in fell, but didn't land on her. Twisted out of the way, in fact. She had moved back enough to prevent a full-scale glomp, but still would have ended up with a lapful of Kanrinin. He had avoided her, and probably landed a broken nose in the process. It did look like a simple trip, one that could have happened anywhere.

She had jumped to conclusions. That in falling towards her, he must have been trying to steal a grope.

And she'd sent him flying across Tokyo.

The brown-haired girl bit back a sob as the realisation of what she'd just done hit her harder than one of her own punches. She'd made the same mistake yet again.

She wasn't sure she would get another chance to make the mistake.

"Naru, what-" Mitsune sprung in through the door in time to see her friend sink to the ground clutching her hand, this time failing to hold in the sob that slipped through her lips.

The second fact Naru was learning was that someone with a broken hand should never, ever punch someone with enough force to send them into low earth orbit.

Shit, it hurt.

"Mitsune, call a doctor. I think I've smashed my hand to bits." The silver fox hurriedly complied with her friend's hissed. Whatever had happened could wait until later.

Somehow, Mitsune doubted it was good.

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Mitsune had indeed called for the doctor, who had simply told her to take the injured girl direct to hospital. Deciding not to involve Haruka, Mitsune had taken a gamble and called Seta. The ever scruffy man was happy to pick her up, although his tone was slightly less cheerful than usual – the fox assumed that he wasn't overly happy with the situation either.

One of the most telling moments was Mitsune helping Naru out of the Hinata-sou; of all the other residents, only Haruka stepped in to offer assistance. Mutsumi was oddly absent, Su subdued on Motoko's shoulders, who was watching proceedings with an air of cool irritation. Shinobu barely peeked out of the kitchen, and Mitsune noted nothing more than annoyance before she was gone again. Not quite the outpouring of support and comfort that might have been expecting.

Obviously, the balance of guilt had shifted within the house more than Mitsune or Naru had known.

Then came a hair-raising van journey with a curious Sarah McDougal, who continually asked the honey-eyed if she had 'nailed the dork good'. Continually, that is, until Naru spontaneously burst into tears, something that confused the blonde preteen no end. Seta in the end rescued the situation, asking his surrogate daughter to instead keep an eye out for police and speed cameras.

The next step was a seemingly eternal wait at one of Tokyo's hospitals. One that was indeterminable and uncomfortable, and this was not only down to the orange plastic seats and numerous wailing children that seemed to be flooding the emergency department. It was the atmosphere between the two waiting together. Their impromptu escort had vanished with orders to call him when they were done, leaving the fox and the student to their own devices. Naru didn't want to talk, whilst Mitsune had, for the first time, no idea what to say to her. Even if she should say anything, given what had passed between them.

So on they waited. And waited.

Eventually they were called. The doctor took one look and asked her if she had punched something, a question Naru hesitantly confirmed. Thankfully, no more enquiries were made as to what she had actually hit, and the lady requested X-rays which had only served to confirm the suspicions.

The good news was no further damage had been done by the second punch.

The bad news was that it was a nasty break. And whilst it wasn't going to need surgery, it would take six weeks in plaster at least to heal. Something that made both girls heads droop in dismay – Naru's at the long wait, and Mitsune at the possibility she might be partly responsible.

The van ride back was subdued. Partially as Sarah was tucked up in bed (translation: watching what she shouldn't and eating ice cream until papa came back) and partially because no-one really seemed inclined to say anything. Even Seta seemed content to just brood and smoke languidly.

When the two actually got back to the Hinata-sou, all the lights were out and the house silent. As if the house itself had turned it's back on the two, refusing to acknowledge their existence. Naru had made her solitary way to her room, and had slumped down onto her futon without turning her lamp on. Which was where she lay ten minutes later, in a muddled haze.

The girl held her plastered arm up in front of her, and stared at it blankly. Now she was finally back home, back here, she could think. About what had happened, and what it meant.

Sure, the two of them had not gotten off on the right foot. To be honest, they got off on as wrong a foot as was humanly possible. And things hadn't been pleasant between them for quite some time. She had seen him as a pervert, a man out to see what he could get from a house full of nubile and innocent girls. Well, mostly nubile and innocent, anyways.

Slowly, with time, she had become fond of the multiple-times-ronin. She wasn't sure exactly when it happened, but all the same it was there. Fondness grew to affection, then affection grew to…..

…..To love.

There. Truth admitted. She loved Keitaro. Loved his silly mannerisms, loved his awkward grin. Loved his seemingly endless, undying devotion and love for her.

She didn't like the 'accidents'. The times he 'fell' into interesting positions, the 'mistakes' that led to the opportunity to feed his male desire for female flesh. Every fall had become an attempt to see her, every mistake was an attempt to deny her feminine modesty, to reveal what she wasn't ready to reveal.

She had seen it all before, hell, she had experienced it all before. In all honesty, her assumptions couldn't be that wrong, could they?

It seemed they could.

Looking back, she had seen Mitsune removing 'in use' signs from the springs. She had seen one of Su's inventions blow the Kanrinin through Shinobu's door while she was changing. She had spotted something the Kanrinin couldn't see with an armful of laundry moments before the inevitable trip and fall-into-compromising-position.

She had seen him stand on his own shoelace, and then avoid falling on top of her.

What she hadn't done was give him the benefit of the doubt, or even see any doubt there to give the benefit of.

The girl cursed some of the people she used to know, cursed the very reasons she had moved to the Hinata-sou and met Keitaro in the first place. Damn her knee-jerk reactions.

Knee-jerk reactions or not, she still had to apologise. Galling as it was, Naru accepted that she held at least part of the blame. She loved her Kanrinin, her boyfriend, too much to pretend nothing was wrong. She had to admit it, admit that she was afraid of being touched by a man. Then ask him for his patience, and his forgiveness. Nodding in resolution, the honey-eyed girl shuffled over to Liddo-kun and carefully placed him aside before gazing at the sheet of wood still in place.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out. Now or never.

Naru grasped the wood, and slid it back. And stared blankly downwards. In a single beat, her heart seemed to shatter like broken glass.

Slowly, the girl rocked back from her haunches, into a sitting position. Equally slowly, she lay back onto the polished floor, hands reaching for her face.

Seconds later, a soft weeping began to permeate the peaceful night air.

Liddo-kun watched on, smiling as ever.

He wouldn't be needed to stand guard any more.

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Keitaro felt his eyes filling up as muffled sobs crept through his ceiling, now complete and solid.

It had been hard, very hard boarding it up. He was drawing a line under his dream, and allowing it to drift away to wherever dreams go when they die.

But he couldn't take any more. He had given up. Naru-chan was now Naru-san, and his promised girl was no more.

As the soft hiccupping of the girl above him flowed river-like, bubbling and endless, into his devastated mind, the Kanrinin wished he could close his ears. To shut out the echoing of the decision he had made, to ignore the reflection of his own agony pouring from the one who felt it just the same.

But he couldn't.

So the night was spent mopping his own face free of its moisture until, at long long last, the river of anguish slowed to a trickle, and finally stopped.

Keitaro suddenly realised how empty his room sounded without the vague sighing of breathing in slumber, a sound he had grown to love, one that had been deafened by his choice.

But all the same, it had to be this way.

"I'm sorry, Naru….." The man whispered to no-one, before curling up to wait for the sleep he was sure would never come.

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I think I'll end things there.

Please leave a review, if you enjoyed my writing.

Until Next time.

Nodoka Miyazawa.