Repercussions Chapter 14, a love hina fanfic

It's been a bit of time, but the next chapter is here at last.

I'm not going to make many comments, just thanks to all those who reviewed and especially those who PM'd me with their support.

I've kept everyone long enough, so on with the show.

Repercussions – Chapter 14

Keitaro stepped into his room, glancing around at the change in décor with mild irritation. Instead of plain wooden walls, only accompanied by the occasional plain teak furniture item which jutted out around the room, there was already an occasional anime-influenced wall scroll stuck to the wall with blu-tack or sticky tape. Upon the chest of drawers sat an array of bottles – empty or full, the man was both unsure and uncaring. His normal study table and maroon-cushioned stool were shoved into a corner, the books which had been sat upon them stacked sloppily to one side.

Even the window looked scruffy.

In any other room in the Hinata-sou, it wouldn't even be called a mess. But in Keitaro's comparatively sparse abode, it was as if a hurricane had hit it.

The worst part was the floor. A black suitcase sat wide open in the middle of it, filled to the brim with red, white and black lacy items that would cause potentially fatal light-headedness in the right situation. Various garments were also showered randomly around the room, as if the suitcase had detonated thanks to the pressure of an entire catalogue collection of lingerie. As Keitaro unhooked what appeared to be a pair of triangles connected by string from the door handle, the irritation changed to foreboding.

Obviously, when he'd told Mitsune to 'make herself at home' she hadn't taken his words with even a grain of salt, let alone a pinch.

Speaking of which, where was she?

Keitaro almost called out her name, but felt stupid at even having the idea. She had to be in the room somewhere, and it wasn't as if you could get lost in a room, right?

Excepting Su's, obviously. Or your name happened to be Ryouga.

Instead, the man took a couple of steps into the room and slid the door shut behind him, before running an exasperated hand through his mousy brown hair. Sure, he'd expected Mitsune to make some kind of impression on what was now her space as well as his, but she'd pretty much turned the place into a duplicate of her own abode. Well, her ex-abode. Sweeping his eyes to the left, Keitaro grimaced as his sight landed on a sheaf of crumpled and disorganised papers which would undoubtedly become a surrogate carpet within minutes. The grimace descended into a frown as he eyed another array of bottles clustered in the only spare corner left, most of which were obviously full.

It seemed that Mitsune perhaps wasn't learning her lesson quite as he'd hoped…..

"Sheez, it's dark in here!" A muffled voice to his right attracted Keitaro's attention, and his brown eyes fell upon a very shapely behind clad in very tight jeans that was protruding slightly from the bottom of his closet. At any other time he might have taken the opportunity for a bit of guilty enjoyment at the view, but the Kanrinin was just not in the mood. Something that, when Mitsune popped her head out of the closet only seconds later, she managed to completely miss.

"Kei-kun!" The silver-haired girl paused for a moment, assessing the relative positions of the two, before breaking out in a slightly odd grin. "Hmmmm, like what you see, sugar?"

"Kitsune-san….." The fox, either through blind delight or blind drunkenness, managed to completely miss the warning in the tone.

"'Cause if you do, there's plenty more where that came from. Lots and lots more….." Mitsune hauled herself to her feet, staggering slightly as she did so. Once up, the pair looked at one another with very different expressions. The tipsy girl gazed upon the man before her with a combination of lust and infatuation, appearing less a twenty-something lady than a starry-eyed teen meeting her idol for the very first time. The grin upon her face was far too big for the mouth which bore it, and her irises tingled with a hint of madness.

Keitaro looked back with a face carved from ice.

"Y'know Kei, don't mind if I call ya that do ya, but ya really saved my bacon down there." The fox purred, advancing half a step. "An' I reckon I owe ya big time. Trust me on this one sugar, its one debt I plan on payin' in full. With bonuses an' all." The lack of response didn't dissuade the girl, whose fingers worked their way to the hem of her figure-hugging black top, before gripping it and hoisting it over her head without even the tiniest hesitation. Mitsune took another step towards Keitaro, applying one of her most seductive smiles and unsubtly thrusting her chest in the brown-haired man's direction.

"Mitsune-san, what's all this?" Was the only response she got, accompanied by a slow gesture that took in the whole of the room.

"Just makin' myself at home, like you said." She drawled, trembling fingers reaching for and fiddling with the waistband of her jeans.

"And what about those?" Keitaro added quietly, this time pointing straight at the assortment of bottles sat in the corner of the room. The silken rustling of disrobing didn't seem to affect the man in the least. Completely undeterred, Mitsune continued her slow advance, eyes narrowing as she fixed on the prize.

"Ah, a girl can't just abandon her stash y'know. We'd sure be lonely without each other….." A tiny 'click' that would normally cause the resident Kanrinin to faint echoed through the room with dangerous finality. Whilst Keitaro uncaringly stared at the sake stash Mitsune, with a complete absence of grace, removed and stepped out of her last item of clothing. Moving right into Keitaro's personal space, the grey fox draped a lazy arm around his shoulders and pressed against him. "So, Kei. You want to call in some o' that debt? 'Cause I sure am ready and willin' to pay it back….."

"…..Have you even listened to a word anyone has said, Mitsune-san?" The chilly tone finally penetrated Mitsune's happy bubble, and a hint of puzzlement began to emerge in the girl's grey eyes.

"O' course I have, sugar. Tha's why I'm here with you, right?" A tiny shake of the head was the response, followed by a resigned sigh.

"You haven't taken anything in, have you?" The silver-haired girl pondered the statement for a few seconds, before shrugging mentally. If there was a point around, she was certainly missing it. Well, no bother, if it was important she would certainly find out sooner or later.

"Ah, enough of the talkin' Kei. Now c'mon, won't ya join me?" When she began tugging Keitaro towards the futon, Mitsune had expected at the most token resistance. What she wasn't prepared for was to be spun around so she was face to face with the mahogany-eyed man. Who, for the first time that she could remember, looked genuinely scary.

"Why? Do you think that'll make everything all right? You think that's all I defended you for?" The man grasped Mitsune's pale and skinny arm tightly as she tried to retreat, her expression the definition of surprise. "Damn it Mitsune, what do you think you're doing?! You just got thrown out of your room, and nearly the house because of this shit!" Keitaro jerked a thumb at the bottles huddled accusingly in the corner. "Drinking!" The thumb was retracted, and a stiff finger pointed at her. "Throwing yourself around like a shameless slut!" For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, the narrow-eyed girl felt a hint of shame at her brazen behaviour.

"But Kei……"

"But nothing! I gave you a second chance, Mitsune-san. And now…..I'm beginning to regret it." Keitaro finished coldly, trying to conceal how much the words hurt to say. Judging by the way the girl still in his grasp sagged down to her knees, the feeling was mutual for the one hearing them.

"Ya mean…..I'm gonna be kicked out after all?" Came the question in a tiny voice, barely more than a whimper.

"No….." The bespectacled man dropped the ensnared wrist, and paced quietly over to the still-made futon. A few moments later Mitsune felt a pile of fabric drop into her lap, and looked up to see Keitaro holding the other end of the blanket, eyes carefully averted. "Cover yourself up. We're going to have a little chat." With that he rested his back against the wall, before sliding down it slowly into a sitting position. Mitsune hurriedly wrapped herself in the warm and slightly scented bundle, suddenly realising how cold being naked in the depths of winter could actually be.

The pair rested in silence for a moment, Mitsune swathed in maroon linen and peering at Keitaro, who was sat with his head tilted back and eyes closed. Just when the lodger was about to speak, her manager beat her to it.

"Mitsune-san, do you get a kick out of all this?"

"All this what, Kei?"

"That's Keitaro-san for now, Mitsune-san." Keitaro replied sharply, before continuing in a much calmer tone. "I mean drinking enough for a whole hen night on your lonesome. Flaunting yourself to try and get what you want. Making promises you don't intend to keep, taking loans you don't plan to repay." Whilst Mitsune sputtered impotently, caught between denial and grief, the man allowed his deep brown eyes to open and look up at the ceiling. "Tell me, Mitsune-san. When I stepped in to keep you here, why do you think I did it?"

"Um….." Potential answers ran though her head, but even with the intoxication still on board the grey fox could still see that none of them were good ones. 'Because you're too nice' was nothing short of simpering, whilst 'because you like me' seemed to be just plain fantasy. In the end Keitaro answered the question for her.

"It was because we're all you have left." The lightly-built man got slowly to his feet and began pacing back and forth before Mitsune, all the while talking in a slightly-too-quiet voice. "I know you have nowhere to go. And I don't want you to leave either, because despite it all…..I……you're one of my best friends. I can't imagine life without you." The man paused, the footfalls upon the bare wooden floor halting for a few short seconds.

"Kei-kun….." Mitsune breathed, forgetting the earlier admonishment as hope began to blossom in her chest.

"But then….." Hope that withered again as Keitaro's tone became chilly once again. "…..Then, I come into my room to find out it's not mine any more. To find that you're fully intending to go back to the cell you've been rotting in. To find that you're throwing yourself at the once almost-fiancé of your best friend, in the belief that it'll make everything right. Well I'm sorry Mitsune-san. Things are a long, long way from right. And a couple of sweaty trysts aren't going to change anything, except make us both even guiltier."

"But…..I do want it. I didn't mean it as just a bit of fun or as payment, not really. I want you, Kei-kun….." Mitsune felt water welling up in her eyes as Keitaro, still staring resolutely at the ceiling, shook his head slowly.

"I can't pretend you're not attractive, Mitsune-san. But keep doing what you're doing and I'll just end up looking like a fool. I won't even say how it'll make you look, because I'm sure you know." At the blunt comment the grey-haired girl let out a gasp that turned into a sob, before casting her gaze down to the floor. As she watched, a small pair of feet came to a stop before her, and there was a moment of quiet before Keitaro's voice came again, softer than ever.

"This isn't Kitsune-chan kneeling in the middle of my room. It's someone else, someone who's taken the fun party-girl away and replaced her with a stranger. Someone who lies, steals, drinks and prostitutes herself purely because she can." The voice hitched for a moment, before continuing with still deeper emotion. "I liked the old Kitsune-chan a lot. The person that's here with me now…..I can't even look at. And I won't, not until the old Kitsune comes back." With that the feet stepped around her, and paced over to the closet. The rustling of blankets followed, before the sound of footfalls began again, this time heading towards the door. Panicking, Mitsune called out as loudly as she could, determined to stop the man leaving.

"Kei-kun, please, don't go….." The feet paused at the choked plea, before a rough male voice replied.

"You can have the futon, Mitsune-san. I'll take the sofa." A door slid open, a barely audible 'goodnight' drifted into the fox's ears, and the door slid shut again.

Alone in the room, Mitsune peered blurrily at her surroundings. She had to bite back a sob as she took in the now abandoned futon, but couldn't stop her eyes from overflowing once they rested upon a photograph album that sat idly on Keitaro's chest of drawers. On a whim the girl picked it up and leafed through the reams of photo-booth pictures, until her wet grey orbs rested on one in particular. One that she couldn't remember being taken, but one that stirred old feelings.

A picture of herself and Keitaro, both wearing cheesy grins, staring happily at the camera.

Gazing at it fondly, Mitsune couldn't help but wonder how things had come to this. The only thing the grey fox was certain of was that she couldn't see things ever being the same again.

So she held the picture to her chest, and waited for sleep that never seemed to come.

"I don't know. I didn't want to snap at her, but I couldn't see what else to do." Keitaro trailed off, eyes still staring blankly at the screen before him. For several long seconds Mutsumi looked at him, tucking her skirt-clad legs beneath her carefully and adjusting her position on the sofa to one that was more comfortable. The man beside her was beginning to concern her – his expression was relatively calm, but on Keitaro's face calmness looked foreign. He had never, ever been good at concealing emotions. Scars yes, but not emotions.

The Okinawan knew the man inside and out, and knew that being too calm was never a good sign. The only occasion she could remember it happening before was during the whole mess with Naru.

And look at how that turned out.

Deciding not to press for details, Mutsumi turned to regard the television again, noting that at some point the news had finished and a distinctly unfunny sitcom had appeared on the screen. At that moment in time, one of the actors was thwacked by another holding a harisen whilst canned laughter echoed ineffectually through the television's speakers.

Mutsumi decided she didn't find it remotely amusing.

The show continued in much the same vein for what seemed like hours, but in truth could have been nothing more than twenty minutes. Not a word was passed, or eye contact made. The brown-haired pair simply watched the dire slapstick with faces that didn't even threaten to crack a smile, let alone laugh. Eventually, as the credits rolled the identities of the guilty parties across the screen, a quiet voice broke the silence.

"I think you did the right thing, Kei."

"Hmmmm?" Keitaro replied intelligently, mind clearly elsewhere.

"I don't think you could have done anything else." Mutsumi continued, dark eyes still fixed resolutely on the television. "I would have been terrible to throw Kitsune out in this, and I'm still having a hard time believing that Haruka was serious. But all the same, she needed to be told that enough was enough. And she needed to be told by someone that she would actually listen to." The girl could sense Keitaro turning to face her, but didn't react. As she didn't want to look him in the eye when she answered the inevitable question.

Which arrived right on cue.

"Why would Kitsune listen to me?"

"Because she likes you, Kei. And yes, I do mean like in that way." Mutsumi tried to ignore the burning in her chest, one she had felt too many times before. The one that made her want to scream that the world wasn't fair, that she shouldn't have to stand by and watch.

But Mutsumi being Mutsumi, she sat stoically and let things take their course.

"She…..does?" Came a thoughtful voice, one that sounded only slightly surprised. "Maybe that's why she's been so, well, aggressive lately……" The Okinawan remained impassive, still gazing intently at the screen. If you had asked her what was on it she wouldn't have been able to say, but it was better than the other option.

"Maybe." She replied vaguely. For several long seconds, the pair sat in thoughtful silence.

Mutsumi almost jumped when she felt something warm touch her hand. Finally turning to face the man beside her she couldn't help but smile as she saw a slightly larger hand perched atop hers.

"Thanks, Mutsumi." Keitaro murmured, a small grin upon his lips. "I knew I could rely on you. You're a good friend to me, and I appreciate it." With that the man pushed himself up from his seat, the sofa sighing audibly in relief as he did so, before heading for the stairs. The brown-haired lady barely registered his stated intention to take a bath, being too fixated on his previous words.

'You're a good friend to me…..'

Mutsumi sighed gently before shifting her legs from beneath her and rising slowly to her feet, ignoring the pins and needles that ran up and down them like electric currents.

'You're a good friend to me…..'

Stretching out the muscles that were complaining at her inactivity the mahogany-eyed girl pondered how on earth it had come to pass that, despite the constantly shifting currents that ran through the Hinata-sou, she seemingly remained the one island of calm.

How she wished, day after day, that it wasn't the case.

Sighing once more, Mutsumi eased over to the stairs, deciding to spend the evening studying. However, deep down she knew it was futile. Only one thing would be occupying her mind that night.

And it wouldn't be work.

Kanako Urashima was a worried woman.

This was unusual. Normally, her resolve was so strong it could be used to build tanks. But the last few days had seen a hint of rust begin to eat away at her iron will.

Mitsune may have been caustic, but she had managed to point out several things that the youngest Urashima had been trying with all her might to ignore. Such as the fact that never, in all the time she could remember, had her half-brother displayed even the merest hint of interest at her advances. The more the black-haired girl had looked back at things, the more obvious it became that Keitaro had not the slightest idea what exactly she was getting at.

And the last visit…..

The last visit had been the worst. No longer was there a lack of response. Instead, the feedback Kanako had received was all negative. From the moment she had sat down next to her oniisan, she could feel the apprehension rolling off the man in waves. When she had actually tried to advance her affections, the apprehension changed to straightforward revulsion.

At the time the girl had either been far too desperate or blind to see it. Hindsight, however, was always flawless.

Kanako shifted uneasily, holding her black umbrella stiffly above her head. Whilst rain pattered relentlessly onto it and then down into the puddles at her feet, the girl gazed unblinkingly at the front door of the Hinata-sou.

It was early, dawn barely lightening the overcast sky to the south-east. Kanako sincerely doubted that anyone was awake, even she wouldn't be if it weren't for her mission. When grandma Hina had announced her intention to leave for China, the dark-eyed Urashima had had her mind made up. She would have to go her oniisan and pin him down, and actually find out one way or another.

But her seemingly endless courage had failed her. Hence she was stood motionless at the top of the waterfall that was the Hinata-sou staircase, trying to summon it once again.

Without success. Because deep down she knew it was utterly pointless.

All the answers the young lady needed were already there. If she was being completely honest with herself she had known for some time, even before her latest return. She had just wanted to be wrong, wanted to be wrong really badly. All the while understanding on some level that what the fox had said to her only days ago was the honest truth.

And could she ever undo the past they shared?

No.

Keitaro was her brother, first and foremost. And she was his sister. That fact would never vanish, and why should it? If it wasn't the truth, she would never have known the man. There were far too many memories she didn't want to lose.

Pulling her purple coat tight around her shoulders, the youngest Urashima let out a deep breath that had been trapped inside her for years. Time to move on.

Casting one last look at the Hinata-sou, drinking in its familiar face for memories' sake, the girl slowly turned towards the seemingly endless staircase. Taking one step towards it, Kanako halted as a voice called from behind her.

"Urashima-san….." Frowning slightly, the girl craned her neck around to view the speaker.

"Yes, Aoyama-san?" She said frostily, not hiding her dislike.

"Ah, I feel I deserve that." The raven-haired swords mistress stood empty-handed in the porch of the dormitory, dressed simply in a plain white robe and slippers, looking solemn. "I have not come to fight, or argue. I have come, instead, to apologise." Kanako, curious, turned to face Motoko fully.

"Apologise?"

"Yes. I do not know why Hina-sama chose to punish only you, but it was clear that I was at least equally to blame."

"Equally?" Came the sardonic reply, accompanied by a raised eyebrow. Motoko visibly winced, but didn't lose eye contact.

"Very well. I was primarily to blame. And I offer my most sincere apologies to you." The two black-haired women gazed at one another for several moments, before Kanako shrugged.

"Ah, forget it. Hina-obasan only arrived half-way through the argument. She didn't hear you make the first threat." The youngest Urashima drew her black gloves more snugly onto her hands, looking totally unconcerned. "I didn't see the point in correcting her; it wouldn't make an ounce of difference."

"I see." For what seemed like an age, the only noise audible was that of water being extremely active. Eventually, Motoko cleared her throat. "I would also like to thank you."

"What?" This time, Kanako couldn't keep a hint of incredulity out of her tone. "Now you're starting to worry me, Aoyama-san." Or sarcasm, for that matter.

"You have helped me make a decision that I have been troubled by for many years, one that I now feel I have come to terms with. For that, I thank you Urashima-san." The heir to the Shinmei-ryu looked so earnest in her statement that the girl before her couldn't help but accept the words.

"I don't know what it is I'm supposed to have done, but your thanks are accepted all the same." The pair looked at one another for a moment longer, this time with a hint of respect.

"I am grateful, Urashima-san." Motoko paused for a moment, gazing up into the heavy and brooding sky. "So, in return…..is there a message you wish me to pass on to Keitaro?" Kanako herself glanced up at the leaden clouds, wishing that there was some kind of profound statement that could sum things up in one fell swoop.

Real life is rarely so simple.

"Just say that I popped by, but he was still asleep. And tell him…..I'll see him again sometime soon." The girl eventually stated, before twirling on the spot and beginning a quick descent of the staircase. All the while cursing the rain which, despite her umbrella, still found its way to her face.

Motoko watched the disappearing back without emotion, before turning and slipping through the door silently to avoid disturbing the slumbering Kanrinin who was snoring upon the settee. Noting his unconsciousness the slim lady took the chance to let her olive eyes wander, taking in ruffled mousy brown hair, a marked and scarred face and day-old stubble adorning the upper lip and chin of the sleeping man. And once again found herself wondering what it was that drew everyone to him, like moths to a flame.

It certainly wasn't his manly physique, the swordswoman mused. It wasn't his choice in fashion either, she mentally added, eyeing the bright red socks poking out of the far end of the blanket with distaste. So what was it?

"Oh, good morning Motoko." A drowsy voice alerted her that the man she was inspecting was now awake, and also quite aware of the fact. Being caught mid-look was not something she had been expecting, as the rapid reddening of her face attested to.

"M-morning Keitaro." Motoko stuttered, embarrassed. Glancing up, the young lady felt something jump in her chest as she caught sight of the sleepy smile Keitaro was favouring her with.

That was what it was. That indecipherable thing which drew her to him. She couldn't put a name on it, but it was there.

Caught up in her thoughts, Motoko didn't even notice that at some point Keitaro had drifted back off to sleep and had resumed his rhythmic snoring. Giving him one last look, the young lady had to fight the urge to do something very un-Motoko-like right then and there. Instead, she settled for running her slim fingers through the mop of brown hair adorning the sleeping man's head before turning on her heel and striding towards the wooden staircase.

Might as well get some studying done before breakfast.

The next few days passed relatively peacefully.

That is to say Keitaro had only two near-death experiences, both involving a variety of Su's contraptions. One resulted in an extension to his prescribed period of ointment application, and the second proved that not only did the wishy-washy series not like water, but it was also prone to overheating and exploding into flames if the room temperature reached thirty degrees. Su had taken the failure with her typical cheerful acceptance, and proceeded to vanish into her room along with Sara and the charred remains of her latest project. Later the same day the fridge also mysteriously vanished, much to Shinobu's consternation.

The other residents managed to retrieve the rather useful kitchen appliance the next day and restore it to its rightful place, but given that it had spent a night in Su's room everyone was now too scared to open it.

Shinobu was focussing on her studies, although she was finding it difficult to concentrate. While the girl hadn't given up completely on Keitaro, she still found things a little too fresh in her mind to go seeking his assistance on difficult problems. There was also quite a lot of staring into space and pen chewing going on, resulting in a mouth that matched her hair colour.

Mitsune no-one had heard a word from. It seemed that she had holed herself up in her adopted room and had set to demolishing the remainder of her sake collection, in the view that there was nothing else to do. No-one had been into the room since that night, and as far as anyone knew the fox hadn't left. Everyone who had tried to make contact had at best received silence or snores, and at worst…..well, Sara was severely reprimanded by Motoko for using her newly expanded vocabulary over dinner one evening.

The youngest Aoyama had spent most of the time honing her knowledge, although Mutsumi had commented that she didn't think it was possible for her to actually get better. To which the raven-haired lady had replied that number two in the nation meant there was still room for improvement.

It's difficult to argue with that kind of logic.

Additionally, there was something slightly wrong with the heir to the Shinmei-ryu. Well, not wrong really, just something…..not quite right. Out of place, perhaps. While it had nagged at all of the residents over the previous few days, no-one had been able to put their finger on it.

Until Shinobu did during dinner, three days after Mitsune's eviction and subsequent reprieve.

"Motoko-san, I've been meaning to ask. Where's your sword?" Mutsumi and Keitaro performed a double-take as they realised that the violet-haired girl was correct. Motoko was unarmed, her katana conspicuously absent.

"I have left it with Haruka." The svelte young lady primly swept a stray strand of ebony hair behind her ear, seemingly more interested in her rice than the conversation. "Given the events of the recent past, I felt it prudent to emphasise my desire to do no further harm. Whilst Mitsune-san's downfall was inevitable, I do not believe Haruka would have any patience with anyone who dares to cross the line after this point."

The bland statement was followed by silence as those present considered the words carefully (or in Sara and Su's case as they scoffed their dinner) before Mutsumi spoke up.

"Ara, so how do you plan on continuing your training, Motoko-san?" The curvaceous Okinawan asked, puzzlement visible on her honest face.

"I don't." This time, Sara and Su stopped chewing and several pairs of chopsticks clattered on the tan wooden surface of the table. For the longest time everyone just stared at the white-gowned girl, who was doing her best to appear bored by what was an earth-shaking statement.

Then, Keitaro gave a nervous chuckle.

"Oh come on Motoko. That'd be like me standing in the springs with one of you and not getting sent into low earth orbit……" The bespectacled man trailed off as he realised that, in the last few weeks, it had happened several times.

All of a sudden, no-one was laughing.

"I do not lie, Keitaro. I left my blade in the care of Haruka-san, and have no intention of wielding it again." Motoko stated blandly, olive eyes failing to meet anyone else's. Rain hummed in the background as those sat at the table tried to somehow get their heads around the sudden seismic shift. Eventually it was Shinobu who broke the silence with a tiny cough, eyes cast down as her hands smoothed creases from her long apron.

"If you don't mind me asking Motoko-san, who does that leave to take over the Shinmei-ryu? After all, your sister is only holding the title in your place at the moment." The violet-haired girl missed a momentary twitch of Motoko's mouth, one that could only be described as a grimace.

"That is a matter for another time, Shinobu-san." She replied, still managing to sound utterly nonchalant.

No-one around the table was really fooled.

"This is very sudden, Motoko-san. Why the sudden change of heart?" Mutsumi asked gently, knowing Motoko well enough to realise that an interrogation was not a good idea but unable to resist all the same.

"There is nothing sudden about it. If you recall my previous encounters with my elder sister, I have for many years failed to come to terms with my intended role in life."

"I thought you had worked things out, though….." The Okinawan replied, obviously puzzled.

Motoko sighed quietly, finally showing signs of distress.

"I thought I had, I really did. But as time goes on, I see less and less place for the way of the martial arts in modern society." She began quietly, still carefully gazing as the space between Keitaro and Sara. "I see many more potential pathways through instead pursuing my dream to follow some of you into Tokyo University. I do not wish to part ways with my art completely, but to follow it as a way of life seems…..empty." For the first time after her announcement the now-ronin met the eyes of another at the table.

Specifically a pair of deep brown eyes, belonging to the ex-ronin sat opposite.

"Also, I feel that Haruka's words have reminded me once more of an important fact. Weapons are created for one purpose, and one alone." The olive gaze swept over the numerous marks on Keitaro's face, taking in each one. "After seeing what they have done and fully understanding what they can do, I cannot allow myself to bear arms any longer. I do not wish to add any further scars to anyone, nor have the means to."

"Ara….." Mutsumi breathed, stunned by the proclamation.

"That is my decision. And I stand by it." Motoko finished, tone sedate, her expression anything but. Letting her head tilt towards the floor the girl stared at her lap and the pale hands tightly folded across it. And waited for the explosion.

"Then I do to." A tenor voice intoned from across the table. Motoko's eyes travelled slowly up again until she was peering through her raven bangs at Keitaro. Who simply grinned.

"I'm all for it." Shinobu said, nodding happily.

"If it's what you want Motoko-san, I'm right behind you." Mutsumi concurred, her own features shaping into a smile. The now ex-swordswoman then felt someone glomp her from behind as a tanned cheek pressed against her own.

"Thanks..." Motoko ground out, before hurriedly excusing herself from the table before the lump in her throat could swell any further.

"I guess pigs can fly….." Sara muttered, picking up her utensils and attacking what was left of her food despite it's less than ideal temperature. She caught a frown from Shinobu and shrugged casually. "What?"

"A life without a sword-wielding Motoko." Mutsumi mused. "Who'd have thought it?"

"Motoko wants to follow Keitaros!" Su chirruped, twirling her chopsticks with the finesse of a maestro. "'Least that's what she says when she's sleepin'. That and something about 'yes, there, right there, mmmmm, oooooh, oh my, please, not before we're married'. She says that quite a lot." With that Su began demolishing the remnants of her own dinner whilst the other four residents glanced at one another with bright red faces.

"I'm sure I could have gotten by without knowing that." Sara choked out, having inhaled half a mouthful of rice at the Molmolian's last comment.

"Ara, the worst thing is that I'm not sure if she's joking or not." Mutsumi said, a cute blush blossoming on her cheeks.

"Auuuuuuu….." Shinobu's face was simply tomato-esque as her mind processed the possibilities, many of which she'd never really considered before.

"I think I'm happier not knowing." Keitaro muttered, unsure what to make of the image that had materialised in his head but certain a nosebleed was imminent. And he would have been right, had Shinobu not suddenly sprung up from the table clutching her own nose with a muffled squeak.

"Sorry, gotta go!" She spluttered before sprinting for the stairs, crimson liquid seeping between her fingers and spattering on the wooden floor as she fled the room.

"Ara, ara." The Okinawan murmured, eyeing the droplets with curiosity. "Why does that keep happening around here?"

"You mean you don't know?" Keitaro blurted, unaware that doing so was an idea worse than blow-drying your hair whilst still sat in the bath.

"No, I don't Kei." Mutsumi replied with angelic honesty. "It happens to you a lot, maybe you can tell me why?" It was at this point the brown-haired Kanrinin realised that he had just walked into the thunderstorm brandishing a lightning rod.

"Uhm….." As his fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, his chances of the latter option were significantly reduced as Sara latched onto his right arm.

"Yeah dork! I've been trying to work this one out since like forever!" And they died completely as his left side was glomped by Su.

"Go on Keitaros! I wanna know too!" Panicking, the Tokyo-U student found the matching eyes of his fellow ex-ronin and silently begged for help.

He may as well have been asking Mitsune for a loan. The girl merely gazed back with almost tangible curiosity. Perhaps a little too much…..

At that moment in time, Keitaro could only see three possibilities.

Run – not likely with sixty kilograms of girl hanging onto him.

Faint – for once, his body hadn't seen fit to play its normal get-out card, so that was out.

Tell them – not the desirable option, but the only one remaining.

Taking a deep breath and giving fate the metaphorical finger, Keitaro set to trying to explain to a pubescent girl, an eternally naïve teenager and a very attractive woman the truth behind spontaneous nosebleeds without appearing perverted or dying of embarrassment.

Needless to say, he failed.

Mitsune tipped her head back and let the last of the liquor trickle through the bottle neck and between her dry lips. The girl blinked slowly as she regarded the now empty vessel with narrowed eyes before angrily flinging it to the floor. Thankfully it landed with a hollow 'clunk' rather than smashing into a hundred pieces, but by now the fox was beyond caring.

She wasn't sure exactly why she was angry. Yes, it was because the bottle was empty, but was she furious because there was nothing left to drink or because she had drunk it in the first place?

Every bottle she'd consumed in the last few days had been sworn to be the last. And she had meant it. But then life caught up with her, and she had found another open in her hands before she was even aware of its existence.

It had become her barrier to the world, the way to ignore all the questions she couldn't answer.

The grey fox stared at the detritus of a bender that had lasted for heaven knows how long surrounding her, and felt a deep chill settle in her stomach. How was she even alive? A Manhattan skyline of bottles lined up against the wall, as if awaiting the firing squad. A dozen different shades of glass, numerous brands from the budget to the finest and all those in between. Reaching out a pale hand Mitsune grasped a particularly ornate specimen from the collection and raised it up to the lamplight. And wondered why on earth she had thought any of this to be a good idea.

'The person who's with me now……I don't even want to look at.'

Sad words echoed in the bedraggled girl's head, and she almost found herself bringing the empty bottle to her lips in reflex. Grimacing in disgust, she let it instead slip between her fingers and clatter to the ground. How on earth had it come to this? It used to be a habit, a bad one, but nothing more than that. Just a way to pass an empty evening with a little more pleasure. Then it had extended to a way to pass an empty afternoon, and then an empty morning…..

And given that every single hour of every single day seemed to be empty……

The result?

Addiction.

Mitsune's mind reeled as the damning word whispered into her mind. She'd seen so many people during her life, people sat out on benches or in bars, people who were cradling glasses or bottles in brown paper bags like they were the holy grail of their existence. And she'd ignored them or scoffed at them, confident in the knowledge that they had brought their misfortune on themselves. Satisfied she was above their station and could never, ever sink so low.

Now she was one of them. Without a certain kind-hearted kanrinin, she would be outside right now in the wintry night, trying to find shelter. Probably clutching a cheap bottle of sake in the vain hope it would make the cold that little bit warmer. Blearily, the lank-haired figure looked down at her arms and saw goose pimples forming on her skin at only the thought.

Yet, in her heart of hearts, Mitsune couldn't say she wouldn't have deserved it. She'd had her warnings, loud and clear. Then to steal so much money without a thought…..

As if awaiting the moment, her mind began to play through her memories of the last month. Squeezing the fractured hand of a teary-eyed and wasted Naru whilst feeding the honey-haired girl her own bitterness. Spying on Keitaro and confronting him, only to find out the cost of her mischief. Taking money from the man without the intention of giving it back. When desperation set in stealing the rest of the money, only to blow it on sake. Attempting to accost Keitaro……

Mitsune's grey eyes slid over to a pile of paper heaped messily in the corner of the room, teeth worrying her lower lip. Buried in the pile were several letters, many of which were entitled 'urgent' or 'final demand'. One or two had even threatened court action, although thankfully none had followed through as yet. But all the same, the message was clear. She was in deep, deep financial trouble. Too many strikes on the ponies, too many days of sake and sun. Not enough work. Paper really had become her prison, in more ways than one. As the letters became more threatening the fox had become increasingly desperate, until she had made a plan she now regretted whole-heartedly.

A plan to seduce Keitaro. In the muddy mind of the fox, working her way into the heart of her Kanrinin would ensure he came to her aid when she needed him.

Stupid. So, so stupid.

For one, as proven a few days previously, Keitaro needed no excuse to help a friend. For two, it had made her feel cheap, wanton and had probably sullied any chance she had with the man. And for three, it would set her up against Naru, Shinobu and Mutsumi for certain, probably Motoko and possibly even Su. None of them would be remotely happy with her behaviour, and if they ever found out her motivation……

When she had stolen the rest of Keitaro's stash, she had intended to use some of it to pay off the more pressing debts. But between the moment of the crime and leaving the Hinata-sou, something had made her forget.

Mitsune eyed the row of bottles, their glass gleaming in the lamplight, with growing fury. One thing was in common among all the bad things that had happened in the last month. Naru's broken bones grinding in her hands. Plotting to seduce Keitaro. Stealing the money. Blowing the money. Losing the will to do anything. Being made homeless. Every single event had particular element in common.

In a sudden moment of clarity, the first in what seemed like months, the fox made a decision.

Standing uneasily the girl pulled her grubby white nightshirt straight, trying to ignore the stains which littered its surface. She was nauseous enough already.

Turning to the chest of drawers, a trembling hand reached out and traced the outline of a top quality bottle of sake. The liquid within almost seemed to climb up the inside of the glass, begging her to release the lid and enjoy the pleasure contained within. Slowly, the fingers closed around the bottle neck and hoisted it up to eye level, letting an unfocussed eye examine the label. Seemingly satisfied, Mitsune slowly nodded her scraggly head before turning and wobbling towards the balcony. Throwing the doors open wide, the shirt-clad figure stumbled out into the night air, feeling the chill instantly work its way through her threadbare clothing.

Shaking, unsure whether through the cold or alcohol, the young woman peered up at the sky and was surprised to see stars. From a sky adorned by a few drifting clouds a half-moon shone, illuminating the Hinata-sou and its surroundings in an ethereal glow. Staring at the moon, her grey hair taking on a hint of its old silver tint in the moonlight, a memory drifted into mind as if carried by the night breeze. Of sitting in the springs, talking to Naru beneath the very same sky. Mitsune doubted honestly that things could ever be quite the way they were.

That didn't mean they had to stay the way they are, either.

Tremulous fingers gripped the bottle top and wrenched it firmly, allowing the seal to come loose from the top with a satisfying crunch. The digits worked quickly to spin the cap free, and then discarded the offending item over the edge of the balcony without a second thought. Slowly, almost reverentially, the shirt-clad young woman raised the bottle, eyes closed as if in prayer. With its open mouth beneath her nose, Mitsune inhaled deeply and smiled a genuine smile, one that felt alien yet comfortable on her lips. As if swooning at the sensation, she leaned back, allowing her arm to drop behind her……

And with a grunt of effort, fling the bottle as far into the darkness as possible. For what seemed like an age, there was only silence.

Then came a loud 'smash', followed by a staccato outburst of distant barking.

Then silence again.

Then the unpleasant sound of violent retching, accompanied a split-second later with the spattering of indescribable fluids on the ground below.

After several seconds of emesis Mitsune decided it was safe to move, and gradually eased up from her position bent double over the banister. Even doing that caused distinct rumblings from somewhere that obviously didn't want to be disturbed.

"Right. No more rapid movements. I get it." The girl mumbled to her stomach, hoping to avoid any repeat. Her hands, now moving without hesitation, grasped another full bottle and released its lid before inverting the vessel and emptying its contents out onto the ground below. Shaking the last few drops out Mitsune turned and headed back into the room, depositing the now empty bottle on the floor and scooping up one of its brethren to repeat the exercise.

After much pouring and more than a few tears Mitsune picked up the last occupied bottle before strolling out onto the balcony. Meeting the chill outside air once again, the girl shuddered gently before holding her arm stiff out in front of her. As her wrist twisted to allow the translucent liquid to fall from its container, the silver fox felt a hint of dread creeping into her mind as she watched her crutch splintering before her. Calling on resolve she didn't know she had, the girl kept the bottle neck pointing towards the ground until the last drops of her liquid blindfold trickled from it and spattered on the ground below. Only then did she right the bottle, and bring it down to her side.

The girl took a deep breath in, and one out. Suddenly the night seemed a lot colder, yet at the same time somehow more……sensual. Feeling her hairs stand on end and the light shirt flowing over the sensitive skin of her chest, watching her breath misting into vapour and almost instantly vanishing, the silver fox briefly recalled what life could be before the sabotage she'd unconsciously performed. Something that blew away the clouds of doubt, even if only temporarily.

Mitsune knew that, at some point, she would want more. That she didn't have any more, and that she had no means to buy any more. And that life would probably get more difficult before it got easier.

But at that moment, she was happy. She may not have made the easy choice, but it was the right one. The world would still be there tomorrow, and she was going to allow herself the night off.

Turning to step into the dimly lit room and pulling the balcony doors shut behind her, the girl wasted no time in laying on the futon and drawing blankets tightly around her, bathing in the warmth she rapidly generated. In her dazed and still drunken state she slipped into the blissful land of sleep within moments, a tiny smile upon her face.

The pale winter sun shone from the south east, barely holding its golden head above the horizon. All the same, it was the sun, at present a rarely-seen and hence very welcome sight. Beneath it a figure ascended the steps of the Hinata-sou, casting a long shadow before her. Near the top of the stairway the figure paused and carefully walked around something whilst muttering furious oaths about 'teenage vandals' and 'drunken yobs'.

Reaching the top of the stairs the figure dropped her bag paused for breath, before adjusting the long red coat which repelled the winter chill. Tipping the hood back and revealing honey-coloured hair complete with two 'antennae', the young lady took in the sight before her with an air of trepidation. Naru was unsure exactly what awaited her in the Hinata-sou. She hoped it was welcoming, but didn't expect it. She wasn't really sure what to expect. A lot could happen in a couple of weeks, after all.

The most difficult thing, Naru decided, would seeing a certain face again. And trying to figure out exactly what it meant to her.

She didn't know quite how right she was.

"Well, no time like the present." The girl huffed, picking up her bag and visibly steeling herself. A hesitant left foot paced a few inches forward, followed by a slightly more aggressive right foot, until Naru was almost running towards the front door. Knocking loudly with her still cast-clad right hand, the honey-eyed girl clutched the door handle with her left and pushed the door inwards.

"I'm home!"

That's all for now. Chapter 15 is already in progress, which is good.

Until next time.

Nodoka Myazawa.