Repercussions Chapter 16, a love hina fanfic

Only two weeks this time, an improvement I suppose.

Things seem to have settled down now, which hopefully means I can make the updates more regular again. I'm not going to speculate how many more chapters there will be – looking back I estimated about half a dozen chapters from chapter 10. Wrong. Very wrong. I'm just going to keep following the plot and see where it leads.

Thanks again for all the reviews, I really appreciate them.

On with the story.

Repercussions Chapter 16

Shinobu winced as the sound of retching – productive retching – seeped through the toilet door and down the corridor. It seemed Mitsune had been a little too enthusiastic at the breakfast table that morning, and that three bowls of rice in five minutes was not a fantastic choice after several days of a sake only diet.

While Mitsune embarked on another spell of porcelain plastering the girl stood outside waiting to use the facilities focussed her thoughts on the business of the day, mostly to ignore the quite remarkable noises the grey fox was making. Why was it that hearing someone being vigorously sick made everyone else in earshot want to vomit in sympathy? If it wasn't for the fact her desire to use the smallest room was really quite pressing, Shinobu would have walked away and left Mitsune to it for as long as she desired. Besides, who knew what kind of state the toilet was going to be in once her under-the-weather friend was done.

A twinge from her lower abdomen reminded the diminutive chef that coming back later wasn't a viable option.

Crossing her legs and silently cursing god for creating her female with a…….limited capacity, Shinobu knocked on the door with a little more urgency.

"Mitsune-san, could you hurry up in there? If you don't there's going to be an incident, one that means you doing your own washing for the rest of the month." Make that the rest of the year the girl amended mentally as another twinge made life even more unpleasant. "Seriously, move it! Now!"

"Chill out kiddo, I won't be……" Whatever Mitsune wasn't going to be was drowned out by a further bout of heaving, one that had Shinobu gagging in agreement. The girl wasn't sure what was a less appealing prospect – giving up the battle and finding somewhere private to await the inevitable, or staying at her post and parting ways with her own breakfast.

"Please, Mitsune-san!"

"Yargh. Oh, that's better." Mitsune muttered, before a sound that was delightful and agonising in equal measure came from within the room. A toilet being flushed.

"Oh gawd….." Biting her lip, Shinobu found herself trying to name all the different types of cooking utensil at her disposal in a desperate bid to ignore the din that was flowing water, reaching spatula by the time the door slid open. A bedraggled and sallow-skinned female was ejected, and subsequently almost bounced off her feet as the smaller girl shoved past her and slammed the door shut in one frantic motion.

"Sheez. My head." Resting her head and shoulders against the solid surface behind her, Mitsune allowed herself to slowly slide down it until her backside hit the floor. "Shinobu's gotta learn that shoutin' and shovin' do not a happy hangover make." The grey-eyed girl had found that the last remaining dregs of cheer in her system had lasted until about ten minutes after breakfast, or to be precise, until the last mouthful of rice decided to make an unwanted reappearance. At that moment a headache sent special delivery from hell had decided to make its appearance, and the slightly wonky way the world tilted stopped being amusing and became nauseating.

In her time, the career layabout had experienced hangovers from the mild to the murderous. But this one was trumping anything she'd ever experienced hands down. It wasn't so much the way her head throbbed, or her hands shook. It was this slightly odd, echoing sensation that the world was…..unreal. An odd detachment, a ship within sight of shore yet still adrift.

It was a little unnerving.

The sound of hands being washed and a window sliding open passed beneath the drowsy fox's notice, and it was only when she found herself flat on her back in the bathroom and staring up at a puzzled violet-framed face that Mitsune realised Shinobu was finished.

"Mitsune-san, why were you sat against the door?" The young chef asked, slightly unnerved that the aforementioned woman was lain flat out on a tile floor with no obvious intent to move.

"Ah, I dunno sugar. Guess it was what was behind me at the time." Managing a slightly sickly grin, the grey-haired figure lifted a hand out towards Shinobu. "Afraid I'm not too steady on me pins right now, y'know? Mind you, ya could've knocked a chargin' bull for six the way ya dived in here."

"Sorry about that. It was a bit of an emergency……" Watching the other girl flounder somewhere between embarrassment and bashfulness, Mitsune croaked a chuckle. Shinobu might have grown up a great deal, and boy had she turned into someone not to be trifled with. But find a subject that you might call 'taboo', and she reverted instantly back to the rosy-cheeked sweetheart that had joined the Hinata-sou almost half a decade ago. Deciding to let the girl off, the prone fox waved her still proffered hand in Shinobu's general direction.

"When yer done goin' red, there's someone here who could do with a hand up." Reaching out with her right Mitsune grasped the towel rail firmly while her stuttering companion took hold of the left. Between her own mal-coordinated efforts and inexpert assistance from someone more used to lifting dishes than inebriated women, Shinobu nearly shared the floor with the fox several times before the rescue attempt could be considered successful. Transferring her left hand to the sink and therefore allowing Shinobu use of both arms, the pale-faced woman grew even paler faced as another wave of nausea broke over her. It took every ounce of self-control she had to fight down whatever was left in her stomach, while the violet-eyed girl looked on with understandable concern.

"I think you should sit down, Mitsune-san." The fox closed her eyes tightly and let her head hang down, trying to fight off the impression she was riding the world's fastest merry-go-round.

"Nah, I just….gotta get ta bed. If I sit down, doubt I'll get up again." Swiping at the sweat beading upon her clammy brow, Mitsune let go of her temporary crutch and instantly realised doing so was a bad idea as the world tilted upon its axis. Grasping tightly again at the white porcelain until she knew up from down, she muttered darkly under her breath. "How I'm gonna do that's another question……"

"Need help?" Shinobu's earnest question earned another dry chuckle.

"Oh, all I can get….."

"Come on then." Slipping underneath one of Mitsune's arms and lacing one of her own around her friend, Shinobu was stunned to find that she could almost carry the fox single-handed. Which was quite a surprise, as in her own mind the only member of the Hinata-sou who would be……bulkier than the fox was Mutsumi.

"Ta, Shinobu-chan." With considerable effort and a few hairy moments, the pair meandered their way towards Mitsune's temporary abode. Wisely ignoring the door marked '205', Shinobu almost carried her unsteady passenger the last few yards until the portal to what used to be Keitaro's room appeared before them. A quick pause for breath, a quick piece of footwork from someone used to opening doors with her hands full, and the pair crossed the threshold. It was a good thing that Mitsune had temporarily regained some of her footing by this point, as otherwise Shinobu would have simply dropped her.

The state of the place……Shinobu knew that as the resident home-maker she was a little neurotic at the sight of mess, but this took things to a whole new level. The first assault was to the sense of smell - her delicate nose wrinkled slightly at the scent of a room which badly needed airing. It wasn't just the mist of alcohol hanging malignantly wherever the nose went; it was the slightly acrid odour at the edge of perception that drew a grimace from the teenage girl. The smell of sweat, of sickness, of dubious personal hygiene…..deciding to breathe through her mouth, Shinobu managed to take stock of the sight meeting her eyes.

It wasn't much better than the smell.

'Room' didn't quite describe what she was seeing correctly. 'Landfill site' might have been better terminology.

Barely a square inch of floor was visible, clothes, bottles and paper strewn about without a thought to their location. Each and every surface cluttered by more of the same, shiny glass and machine-safe polyester living in careless disharmony. One particular corner of the room seemed to be dedicated to lots and lots of tiny shreds of white paper, all bearing that suspicious small print which only exists on letters bearing bad news. Aware of sleepy grey eyes watching her from the corner of the room but unable to help herself nonetheless, the diminutive girl picked her way across the room and selected an intact sample – presumably from the 'to be shredded' pile – and unfolded it. The amount printed wasn't vast, but it was ordained with 'final demand' in big red letters. Add to that the number of similar letters, and it was obvious the fox was in more trouble than she'd anticipated.

It was when she turned to look back at Mitsune that Shinobu couldn't help but let a gasp escape her mouth. Her eyes espied the skyline of bottles lined identity-parade style along the left wall, probably enough to pay off at least the bill in her hands if taken to a bottle bank.

Each and every one of them was empty.

Spinning on her heel, the violet haired girl picked up the nearest discarded receptacle from the floor and upended it.

Nothing.

Scanning the rest of the glassware on view, Shinobu came to the conclusion that every single one of them was equally bereft of liquid.

The girl was no expert on the subject of drinking, but she was no fool either. Concerned, she turned her attention back onto the fox who was curled up on the stained and crumpled futon shoved into the darkest corner of the room. And fast asleep, whilst emitting a noise Shinobu had only ever heard from nature programs entitled 'Love on the Serengeti'. Relieved but still curious, she carefully shuffled over to the sleeping figure and (after shoving some of the detritus to one side) knelt down. A few gentle prods didn't even produce a change in snoring rhythm, so the young lady decided to forego subtlety and simply shook the fox awake.

"Mmmmmmf?"

"Mitsune-san. Did you drink all of this?" Drowsy eyes blinked with the puzzlement of someone playing pairs while missing half of the deck.

"All what?" Sighing in frustration, Shinobu spoke slowly and clearly as she could manage.

"All of the sake. Did you drink it all?" Evidently Mitsune found a few cards down the back of a sofa somewhere, as she managed to mumble a legible response.

"Nah. Tipped some away. To sleep can I go back now please?" The sleepy woman didn't bother waiting for a response, something a fresh outburst of snoring attested to.

Releasing the now comatose girl carefully and allowing her to rest back onto the futon, Shinobu regarded Mitsune with considerable unease. Yes, she had seen the 'party animal' the worse for wear many times, sometimes in places she shouldn't be, sometimes doing something she shouldn't. On one memorable occasion sat on the lavatory with her forehead resting on the sink (how she'd managed to fall asleep in that position the innocent home-maker had no idea). This, on the other hand, seemed to be a whole new level of hangover.

Ah, no problem the young girl reasoned. A hangover was a hangover after all. In her time Shinobu had helped to ease both family members and Mitsune through enough of them to know what to do. A quick trip to the kitchen later, the recumbent girl was furnished with a cold flannel, a jug of water and a large red plastic bowl (with many potential uses, most of which won't be mentioned at this point). This was followed by some pillow fluffing and blanket arranging, and then as far as Shinobu was concerned, her work was done.

Standing up with a satisfied smile, the girl stepped back and placed an unknowing foot on one of the stray bottles behind her. A loud crash and a sore posterior later, the purple-eyed chef glared at the treacherous terrain with the look of someone who has just received a declaration of war. Making a resolution to come back with a fleet of black bags when her regular chores were complete, Shinobu edged over to the doorway and slipped through, nudging the door shut behind her before deciding that washing the sheets was first on her list for the afternoon. It was a task she had grown to enjoy significantly when it occurred to her teenage mind that each set carried the scent of their owner.

Needless to say Shinobu liked washing one particular set more than others. If any of her housemates were to see what the 'innocent' girl did when locked in the privacy of her washroom with the aforementioned sheets, no-one would have looked at her in quite the same way again.

However, some stories are best left untold.

Humming a cheery tune and twirling a violet strand between her fingers, the girl almost skipped off down the hallway towards the living room and her target, which would still be stacked in a messy heap on the biggest sofa. While growing up was proving to be hard work, Shinobu couldn't deny that it had its perks.

Inside the room, Mitsune snored on, oblivious.

At the tea-house, Naru felt her neck resting on the block for the second time in as many hours. Her executioner sat directly opposite, very deliberately smoking a cigarette. The requisite cup of coffee sat off to one side, no longer steaming as it had when she had first arrived.

When she had first arrived…..Naru was eternally grateful Seta had been sat at the table. Otherwise, she probably would have ended up buried underneath the nearest available patio. Haruka didn't honestly seem to know what form of assault to begin with – verbal, psychological or physical. While the older woman had swelled to the point of eruption and appeared set to both metaphorically and literally rip her head off, the unshaven archaeologist had strolled across the room and laid a single hand on her shoulder. A few murmured placations later Haruka had given the contrite girl a glare that could singe the eyebrows from her face before storming off into the shop, which thankfully at that moment was closed for lunch.

Once the slightly irate Urashima was out of sight, Seta had asked her inside and offered her both a seat and a drink. She'd accepted a cup of tea and her one-time crush had set a pot of coffee to brew before taking the place to her left. Where he proceeded to light up in typically laconic fashion, and exhale a smoke ring towards the single oil lamp currently bathing the room in comfortable, warm tones. Naru meanwhile sipped the drink before her, slightly relieved that Seta had come to her rescue but chilled by the certainty that Haruka would be back. And out for blood.

"You know, Haruka's not quite so mad at you as you think." Not expecting conversation, Naru's honey eyes widened slightly as they landed on the tall man beside her, who was relaxed back and examining the ceiling as if it were the daily newspaper. "Sure, she's cranky. I can't blame her, either. When part-timer came to me asking for help, I was a little disappointed when I discovered the source of the trouble."

The young lady couldn't help but wince. It was mild, and spoken as if discussing the weather, but that was as close to a rebuke as she'd ever known the absent-minded professor to come.

"Yeah, I know now. There's no way I'd have done it again if I'd known, honestly." Naru gazed down at her cup, rested upon the white-clad arm in her lap.

"I believe you." The sound of another relaxed exhalation punctuated the silence that followed, before Seta continued. "I think Haruka will too. All the same, she's got every right to chew you out to her heart's content before admitting it." A chair creaked briefly, and footsteps followed. "What's really bothering her is that, between you and your sliver-blonde friend, things between her and part-timer aren't too hot right now."

"Seta, I'd rather deliver my side of the story myself….." Looking up in surprise, the sweater-clad girl nearly spilt her tea as she caught sight of the returning Haruka. Who seemed to have recovered some of her poise, but still displayed a total absence of good humour. Pulling up the seat opposite Naru, the café owner silently accepted the hot coffee that arrived with flawless timing and fished into the breast pocket of her charcoal-grey blouse casually. When slim fingers emerged with the obligatory tobacco stick it was placed between thinned lips with minimal ceremony, and a flame flared into life precisely on cue for Haruka to lean forwards and ignite the very tip. As the intimidating figure opposite took a deep drag on her fresh cigarette and Seta silently pocketed his lighter, Naru couldn't help but wonder if the pair rehearsed the whole charade.

"Uh, Haruka-san….."

"Hold that sentence, Naru-san." Cool contralto tones stopped the younger girl dead in her tracks. Swallowing down a lump of anxiety, Naru watched with the eyes of the hunted while Haruka deliberately exhaled a lungful of smoke, tapping the spent tobacco into a Molmolian relic which magically appeared beside her. Only then did the older woman fix her with a stare. One that the honey-eyed girl was sure Medusa could learn from.

"Okay, Naru-san. This is what is going to happen. I am going to talk. You are going to listen. And once I'm done, you're going to tell me why exactly I shouldn't escort you to the bottom of the steps by the most direct route. You know, the one that you've employed with Keitaro for the last four years." Taking a further dose of her worst habit, Haruka favoured the girl before her with a smile that was all teeth and no happiness. "Pin your ears back, Naru-san. I have plenty to say……"

That had been twenty minutes ago. Eighteen of the interceding twenty had been occupied by one of the most frightening monologues Naru had ever experienced. Worse than Shakespeare, even. The other two minutes contained a stilted and hesitant testimony, one that would make any defence lawyer break down and weep before the court. However, revealing the extent of her background did seem to have mollified Haruka slightly. That is to say the glare had been downgraded to merely a frown.

Hence, Naru sat like a naughty schoolgirl before the headmistress, awaiting the verdict but hoping against hope it wasn't expulsion.

Thankfully, Haruka took pity on her and got to the point with typical brevity.

"I'm not going to say you're forgiven. I'm not going to say I want you to stay, either." As the girl opposite gasped quietly, Haruka took a mouthful of liquid from the cup, grimacing as almost cold coffee washed over her tongue. Gagging slightly and setting the mug aside, the slim woman shrugged. "But I've given everyone else a chance. And, much as I wish it wasn't true, you deserve one too." Naru almost shot out of her seat in delight, the largest smile she'd worn for weeks breaking across her face.

"Thank you Haruka-san, you won't-"

"But I'm warning you, Naru-san." Haruka broke in, pointing a stiff finger straight at the younger girl's nose. "One step out of line, and…..let's say Keitaro doesn't have any more rooms to give up."

"Yeah, I get it." On this occasion, Naru couldn't keep a hint of annoyance out of her tone.

Haruka's eyes narrowed.

"Careful. I told you you're not forgiven yet." Frustrated, Naru placed her palm on the table and leaned forward.

"I know, okay? I know I'm responsible for more than I imagined I could be. I know I've been stupid, I've been a bitch. I know!" Blinking back errant water glistening in her honey eyes, the girl continued in a low voice. "I know too well. You think this is easy for me? To find out I've been inflicting GBH to someone I loved because I was too anal to notice?" Gritting her teeth, Naru looked down at the constant reminder she carried, willing herself to stay strong before Haruka's non-committal stare. "I don't care if you hate me right now, Haruka-san. It's not a patch on what I think about myself."

The gaze of the woman before her softened just a fraction.

"You know Naru-san, if you'd said this twelve months ago we'd never have needed this conversation." Standing slowly from her seat, Haruka stretched her arms towards the ceiling with a satisfied groan. "Just remember my warning. Now, I have to open the shop for the afternoon. If you would excuse me….." Recognising a dismissal for what it was, the sweater-clad girl got up from her own position and paced slowly towards the exit.

Pausing a few feet from the door, Naru turned to face the elder Urashima and bowed respectfully at the waist. "I know you won't accept it Haruka-san, but thank you all the same." Barely receiving a grunt in reply (no more or less than she expected) she turned once more and opened the door; until Haruka's calm voice halted her.

"A word of caution, Naru-san. Urashimas may forgive, but we never, ever forget." Nodding once to demonstrate she heard the girl continued on her way, slipping the door closed as she left.

Inside the tea shop, Seta placed a calloused palm on Haruka's shoulder while his other hand proffered the lighter, an offer his wife gratefully accepted. After a few steadying puffs, the lady shook her dark-haired head and sighed.

"Sheez. I thought my headaches were over."

"Not while the Hinata-sou exists." Seta grinned around a cigarette of his own. Haruka rolled her eyes, poking the unshaven man roughly in the shoulder.

"You're enjoying all this waaaay too much."

"It does make times interesting. Although 'interesting times' is often considered a curse….." Shrugging, the archaeologist casually tapped the end of his tobacco stick on a priceless relic. "So, shall we open up for the afternoon?"

"Yeah, why not."

Motoko glared at the phone, willing it with every fibre of her being to cease existing.

The girl had spent a good part of the afternoon building up her courage to make the call. It had taken several hours and considerable cajoling from Keitaro, but eventually she had drawn up the necessary bravery to contact her sister and inform her of her decision.

At least she thought she had.

Things had started out so well. The first digit of the phone number was pressed with conviction, the second with determination. However, by the time she arrived at the penultimate number her index finger was trembling, and the handset landed on the receiver before the final button could be pressed. Deciding that she would rather consider her decision for a while longer, perhaps another five or ten years, Motoko had turned to leave the room. Only to find Keitaro had followed her, and was looking at her with a single eyebrow raised. Six months ago the ex-swordsmistress would have simply swept past imperiously, not caring an ounce what the man thought of her.

On this occasion, she swallowed nervously and turned back to the telephone. Hence her present position, glaring at the blue plastic communications device as if it had personally insulted her honour.

The second attempt was better - the full number was entered before the handset clattered back into its resting place. On this occasion Keitaro had to stretch out an arm to stop the half-hearted escape attempt. A silent glance, this time with both eyebrows raised, was enough to convince the young lady to try again.

Third time turned out to be lucky, as Motoko actually managed to dial the entire number and listen to the sound of ringing from the earpiece. Four rings, five, six – maybe there's no-one home – seven, ei….

"Hello?" At the sound of a familiar voice the handset was abruptly slammed down.

"Motoko……"

"I can't do it, Keitaro." The fearful girl gasped, pupils dilating as old anxieties resurfaced. "I just can't….."

"What was it, three weeks ago? Four? I said exactly the same thing." Keitaro said quietly, gaze cast down at his bare feet. "I thought it was an impossible step to take. If I remember rightly, someone held me at blade-point to remind me the price of giving up. And now, I thank my lucky stars she did." Raising his chocolate irises to meet olive ones the Kanrinin continued in the same tone that, while peaceful, contained a hint of steel Motoko didn't know he possessed. "I don't have a katana. I can't hold sharp steel to your neck. But I can remind you the price of always going back is never moving forward."

The silence which followed contained an odd combination of shock and embarrassment.

"Uhhhh, sorry. Don't know where that came from. Talk about corny….." Scratching his mousy brown mop, Keitaro felt like finding a nice, quiet, dark corner – perhaps under the stairs – and waiting for the memory of his last statement to disperse.

"Well, yes." Motoko couldn't keep a hint of amusement from her tone. "But right all the same." Taking a calming breath, the younger Aoyama reached tentative fingers for the phone again.

Both of those present nearly sustained concussion from the ceiling when it started ringing of its own accord. Eyes met again, this time sharing thoughts along the lines of 'surely not…..'

When she picked up the phone, Motoko learned that Tsuruko knew of the 'ring-back' system and had proceeded to implement it.

The conversation proved to be slightly one-sided, as it took the younger sister several minutes to get her jaw and tongue working in any kind of synchrony. Eventually, she had squeaked out that she wished to 'discuss' something with Tsuruko, something better talked about in person. While unwilling (or unable) to explain precisely what, Motoko had suggested that some time in the next few weeks would be fine.

However, in typical style, her older sister detected the indecision and announced that she was sick of 'hanging around the house' and the way she was being treated 'like a china vase'.

The result?

The Hinata-sou was going to be receiving another guest the very next day.

Hence Motoko's trepidation as she hung up the receiver. Looking to Keitaro, who had heard enough to understand the necessity to clean out the last spare room, the slim lady sighed and shrugged. "Well, I think I had better set to writing."

"Writing what?"

"Oh, only my last will and testament." Motoko laughed shortly, stopping as Keitaro failed to join in.

"I don't think it's that funny." The man stated, looking anxious while subconsciously tracing the left side of his jaw.

"Do not worry, Keitaro. Violence will play no part, neither of us wish a physical confrontation. Myself as I have chosen to no longer bare arms, my sister as she is close to becoming a mother." Running fingers through her arrow-straight locks, the Tokyo-U hopeful frowned gently. "The very worst that could happen is for myself to be made ronin, and cast from the family. While I would be crushed by such an action, I have chosen to follow my own path and do not require their support to do so. I wish for it, but could do with out so long as……." The look Keitaro received was as close to beseeching as he ever imagined the normally impervious woman could be.

His response was a warm smile. "We're not going anywhere, Motoko. I'm not going anywhere. We're here for as long as you need us."

"Thank you, Keitaro." If the man was surprised by Motoko's willingness to forsake her family, he was downright astonished at what happened next.

If it had been Mutsumi, or Shinobu, a long and warm hug accompanied by a peck on the cheek could be considered par for the course. However, for the olive-eyed maiden to physically glomp him……if it weren't for the fact the grip was tight and the lips warm Keitaro would have considered pinching himself. Motoko for her part had abandoned conscious thought, and was enjoying the blissful sensation of intimate contact. The pair stood in silence until a petite cough sounded from behind them.

Mutsumi smiled blandly as the pair sprung apart, each of them developing a rich flush upon their face. "Sorry to interrupt, but I believe Shinobu wanted you for something, Kei. She's in the washroom right now….."

"Oh, uhm, okay. I'll have to let her know about our impending visitor. Not like we're busy enough clearing one spare room for Naru to move back in….." Glancing up at Motoko Keitaro gulped nervously, suddenly realising the compromising position he had just been seen in. "I'll catch up with you later, Motoko. Thanks, Mutsumi!" With a brief 'see you' the man strode to the stairway and ascended it two at a time, until disappearing from sight.

Leaving the two women looking at one another.

For one of the first times in her life, Motoko found herself bereft of anything to say.

"Uh, Mutsumi-san……it was, that was……"

"It's okay, Motoko-san. I don't need to know what it was or wasn't, it's not any of my business anyway." The Okinawan replied, her voice mirroring her expression – pleasant but utterly empty. "Just to let you know, dinner will be late tonight. Shinobu's been washing sheets all day, and it's taken her longer than she expected."

The ex-swordsmistress simply watched as Mutsumi turned and walked away, trying to fathom what exactly she had just done. A passionate embrace, with Keitaro no less! On the very same day Naru returned, and before the eyes of Mutsumi……Motoko knew she should be feeling guilty for a multitude of reasons, not least fraternising in public with a man. However, the part of Motoko's mind which urged caution and restraint had been escorted from the premises soon as Keitaro had admitted his undying loyalty. Being cast from the Aoyama roll didn't truly scare the young woman, but the thought of being alone did.

The Kanrinin had promised he'd stand by her.

In what role, she didn't know. But she intended to find out, and she had one in mind……

Something was wrong.

She could feel it intrinsically, in her very bones.

The sensation of impending doom, the increasingly muddled way the world appeared through her tired eyes.

Keitaro's room ceased being comforting, and was becoming a prison. The fox was sure she could hear whispering from the shadowy corners, the unsettling sensation that she was being watched by unseen eyes.

Feeling her stomach churn and the walls slowly but surely approaching her prone form, Mitsune decided she had to get out before whatever was about to happen actually did.

Hauling herself to her feet she almost toppled over, the throbbing headache which was her permanent companion escalating to blinding proportions. Bile welled up in her throat, and at the back of her tongue the girl tasted bitter acid. Swallowing forcefully, the bedraggled girl staggered to the door while inside her a tumultuous storm raged. Feeling panic drifting into the edge of consciousness, Mitsune hauled the door open in a desperate attempt to escape the penetrating stares of the eyes unseen, eyes which were judging her, weighing her very soul and finding it wanting.

Finally locating the exit the girl threw it open, and almost screamed as the bright corridor light assaulted her fragile senses. Clutching her face and suddenly very aware of her heart thudding thousands of times a minute in her chest, she stumbled into the opposite wall and rested against it, drawing frantic breaths which never seemed to quench her thirst for air.

"Mitsune-san?" A familiar voice, oddly echoing and distant, flitted into the fox's consciousness. Squinting slightly, the girl made out an off-purple blur before her. Opening her mouth to ask for assistance, Mitsune was surprised when all that emerged was the contents of her stomach.

Her surprise was short lived, as a moment later the fox ceased to feel anything at all.

It was bound to happen. It had been far too long, this being the Hinata-sou.

Indeed, Keitaro had been beginning to wonder whether there was some kind of curse on the building which had mysteriously been lifted when Naru had left for a spot of soul-searching. Several weeks without a slip, grope, exposure or any other kind of unintended 'perversion'. (Shinobu's and Mitsune's episodes didn't count, since there was nothing unintended about them.) For such a long time to pass without some form of accident which would have resulted in a trip through the stratosphere was unheard of.

Of course, it was only when the Kanrinin allowed himself to even consider such things that the inevitable happened. This particular piece of inevitable involved a basket of laundry, an ajar doorway to the springs changing room and a stray banana peel courtesy of Kaolla Su. The sequence of events doesn't even need replaying; suffice to say the result was lots of flailing, destruction of a screen door and an unwanted dip in the hot water.

'Fate needs no temptation.' Keitaro reminded himself as he raised his face out of the bath, minus glasses. This was a matter of choice - whenever he found himself unexpectedly in the springs' warm water, he usually found himself in seriously hot water shortly afterwards. Losing the glasses prevented any clear focus, which in turn prevented his nose bleeding – he had long ago learned any nasal eruption was taken as evidence by the prosecution.

It was only when he heard no reaction whatsoever that he dared to dip a hand back into the depths and pluck his spectacles from the floor of the bath, safe in the knowledge that he had gotten away with it on this occasion. Even with an armistice in place, the man knew better than to push his luck.

Brushing wet hair from his face, Keitaro perched his eyewear back in its rightful place with a sigh. That would be the inner screen door to replace, and a whole basket of sheets to pick up and fold on top of preparing two rooms. Oh, and a full change of clothes into the bargain. Sincerely wishing he hadn't counted his chickens, the man turned to exit.

And saw Mutsumi sat towel-clad in the water, looking at him with surprised mahogany eyes.

Suddenly, Keitaro sincerely wished he'd left his glasses below the waterline. Much as he tried to keep his gaze somewhere innocuous, he couldn't stop his mind wandering. At present it was considering what would happen if Mutsumi ever developed a chest infection, given how much chest there was to infect…….

The Okinawan looked on with concern as the unwitting interloper sank slowly below the surface and began making odd bubbling noises, while the surrounding waters turned a worrying shade of crimson. Deciding that she had better not take any chances, the buxom lady eased across the spring until she was able to reach down and grasp one of the immersed Kanrinin's shoulders.

"Ara, ara. Kei, are you alright?" Pulling the man's head above the water, Mutsumi blinked slowly as the eyes which mirrored her own slowly opened. The sequence of emotions which followed were obvious as ink on paper – first dazed confusion followed rapidly by awakening realisation. This was followed by widened eyes and blind panic before memory switched on, and reminded the man of the current amnesty. Eventually realisation dawned along with a hot blush as Keitaro surmised he was still, in fact, in the hot spring with a scantily clad Mutsumi who wasn't about to fly him to the moon via NaruAir.

"Uhm, sorry about that Mutsumi." The thoroughly sodden man scratched the back of his head with customary nervousness, while a tiny trickle of red fluid continued to seep from one nostril. A fact not lost on Mutsumi.

"Ara Kei, you're bleeding." Leaning forwards, the Okinawan frowned ever so slightly. "You didn't hit it when you fell in, did you?"

"Uh, no….."

"Well, we need to mop that up. I'm sure I can come up with something." Mutsumi stated blandly, her hand straying to the top of her towel and working at the knot.

The result was a significant surge in blood flow and Keitaro bonelessly flopping backwards into the hot waters.

"Here it is." The mahogany-eyed Okinawan withdrew a white handkerchief from somewhere normally off-limits with a flourish, before realising her target was nowhere to be seen. "Ara?" Glancing around, the girl noted a further reddening of the waters before her. Blinking in puzzlement, she moved to rescue her Kanrinin again before a conversation shared at the table only days ago flickered into life. On the subject of spontaneous nosebleeds and the reasons behind them…..

After a few seconds Mutsumi resumed the rescue, albeit much more red-faced than before.

Once Keitaro had finished coughing up a small ponds-worth of water and Mutsumi had regained her typical distant expression and placid smile (albeit a little wider than usual) the pair regarded each other in a slightly-less-comfortable-than-usual silence. Something that unnerved Keitaro slightly, as the one girl he'd always been at ease with was the Okinawan. Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke quietly.

"Anyway, sorry for disturbing you Mutsumi." Sloshing his way towards the exit, the Kanrinin waved over his shoulder, trying his best to sound casual. "I've got washing to put away, so I'll see you-"

"Stay." The word was spoken so softly that Keitaro almost missed it.

"What?"

"Please stay." Turning around slowly, the bespectacled man saw Mutsumi staring up at him with a pleading look on her normally serene face. "I'd like to you to join me, if you're not too busy that is….." The words trailed off into silence, spoken more in hope than expectation.

For several long seconds Keitaro considered his options. On one side, this was Mutsumi, someone he would love to spend hours in the steaming waters with. On the other hand, he had a packed schedule that evening, and although there was little chance of significant pain from staying doing so might be pushing his luck just a little.

"Well, uh……"

"Please, Kei?" Whatever excuses the man was about to make died instantly, as the delicate sound of droplets striking water crept into the edge of hearing. Staring at Mitsune's downturned head Keitaro could feel his breath catch, and had to force his knees not to buckle at what was to his eyes a horrifying sight.

Suddenly, leaving was not an option.

"I'll be right back." He muttered quickly, before stepping into the outer chamber. Proving he had learned some lessons during his tenure as Hinata-sou manager, the man carefully closed the outer door before stepping behind the remaining inner screen door to change into a towel.

Mutsumi brushed her hand across her face as Keitaro stepped out of sight, wondering where on earth the unexpected water had come from. The thought of yet again being second best – having the focus of her affections choose to do something as menial as chores ahead of spending even a minute with her – was far more painful than she could have believed. Determined as she was to keep 'Mutsumi' firmly in place, the Okinawan had found herself simply overwhelmed.

While the sounds of moving fabric whispered across the still waters, Mutsumi tried with all she had to reassume her facade but found her facial muscles fatigued and unresponsive. Eventually the young lady gave in, and allowed tired sadness to settle there instead. After seeing what he had just seen, Keitaro wouldn't be fooled by a plastic smile anyway.

After a few minutes Keitaro emerged wearing a full-length bath sheet, with the logic that the less of him that was on show the better. Stepping into the steaming depths and settling against a smooth white stone a few feet to Mutsumi's side, the man pushed a few straggling brown hairs from his eyes and allowed himself to rest back. Peering up into the darkness, he permitted himself a few seconds of luxuriating in the rich warmth before speaking.

"Sorry, Mutsumi." The man removed his glasses and set them atop the stone behind him, before splashing a handful of water into his face. "I guess I'm still a little cautious. Even though Naru's promised, it'll take me time to really trust her again……" Staring with myopic eyes into the night sky, Keitaro missed the look of shock which passed across the young lady's face.

"Ara, I understand Kei. They always say 'once bitten, twice shy'."

"All the same, I should have known better. Besides, you've been a real friend to me." Keitaro laughed gently, unaware of a wince from his bath-mate. "It's a shame I'm not so good at returning the favour. I appreciate it, more than you might realise." Something in the way the man said it, something she couldn't quite define but made her heart skip a beat, made Mutsumi's mind up.

"Kei, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure." Reaching around behind her, Mutsumi nervously fiddled with her dark brown locks, fingers working at the bands which held her waist-long hair in place.

"Well, it might sound odd, but where do you see yourself in ten years time?" At the tentative question Keitaro initially replied with a 'hmmmmm', finger perched on his chin while he considered his answer.

"I think I'd like to be here. A professor of archaeology in Tokyo-U would be nice, or at least Seta's understudy."

"So who else would be here?" The young lady asked gently, easing the dark coloured bands from her hair and smoothing her hands through the loose braids to release them.

"Everyone!" Came the emphatic reply. "Myself, Motoko, Shinobu, Su, Naru, Haruka, you….."

"Kei, do you think that can happen? That everyone here will be happy living as they are now?" The words came out softly, yet with an edge Keitaro didn't know Mutsumi's voice could hold.

"Well um. I-I don't know. I'd like to think so, but nothing lasts forever." Out of the corner of her eye Mutsumi saw the Kanrinin shrug, for the first time gaze moving from the stars above and onto her. "What's brought this on, Mutsumi?"

"I…..I'm tired of things being as they are." Sighing gently, the normally cheery lady eased the last of the braids from her hair, allowing it to trail straight down her back and into the water. "I need things to change, one way or another. It's killing me, Kei, this endless carousel." Frowning in concern, Keitaro slipped closer to the girl at his side.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Laying a careful hand on Mutsumi's bare shoulder, his concern doubled at the tension gathered beneath his fingers.

Mutsumi took a deep breath.

"What I'm trying to say Kei, is I-"

"Heads up!" A soprano yell was immediately followed by a thunderous splash, one that had Keitaro and Mutsumi wiping water out of their eyes. As vision cleared, they took in the sight of Koalla Su peering at them with undisguised curiosity. Suddenly remembering their proximity and state of undress the pair flew apart to a respectable distance, Keitaro blushing and Mutsumi's oblivious face dropping neatly back into place.

"Ara, Su-chan. Please remember that the door is there for a reason." She chastised the tan princess gently, although the look in her mahogany eyes was as close to murderous as the Okinawan could ever come. Something Su either failed to notice or ignored with typical irreverence.

"But where's the fun in that?!" Swinging around, the young foreigner scouted the presence of the Kanrinin who was trying to make as rapid and unobtrusive an exit as possible. "Heyas Keitaro! Don't go, we're gonna have fun!"

"Um, Su, I don't think I should….." It was difficult for Keitaro to decide what was worse – being glomped by Su who had bypassed the changing room in coming direct to the hot spring, or the fact that Motoko had just stepped through the door only wearing a towel while holding another in her arms.

"Su-chan, how many times have I told you it is courteous to wear something….." The Tokyo-U aspirant froze as the scene before her played out in typical Hinata-sou style. Part of her wanted to blush, turn tail and run, while a tiny fraction of the old Motoko which still existed wanted to smite the pervert down. It was the sight of Mutsumi in the spring with a slightly fixed smile that made her mind up.

"Ah, Motoko! It's not how it appears, I swear….."

"Su-chan." Ignoring the man's pleading tones Motoko flung the towel at the exuberant Molmolian, tone exuding calm. "Please put that on. If Keitaro is to stay here with us, we should at least ensure we are appropriately attired." While Su cheerfully complied, the Kanrinin was stood doing his best impression of a guppy fish.

"S-stay?" Motoko gave a tiny smile, although the heat in her face couldn't entirely be attributed to the steaming waters she slipped easily into.

"Far be it for me to disturb your bath. If I am accepting of your presence, then the only question is can you accept mine?" If listened to carefully, the merest hint of teasing could be discerned from the elegant woman's tone.

Keitaro missed it completely.

"O-of course Motoko." Placing himself back against his rock, the man tried his best to ignore the fact he now had two very attractive women (and Su, who didn't really count as a woman just yet) dressed only in towels in his presence.

He was eternally grateful he hadn't replaced his glasses just yet.

"Hey dork!" Keitaro's stargazing was disrupted as a blonde-framed face came into view, complete with traditional smirk. "If ya haven't noticed, the cute girls are down here, not up there." As the Kanrinin continued to stare upwards with the concentration of someone very aware of the fact, Sara put her hands to her hips and sighed. "Sheez, are you even straight? Whatever dork, catch you later." With that the inevitable game of 'tag' commenced, and the man once again had his view of the heavens undisturbed.

"You are allowed to look at us, Kei." Mutsumi's mellow voice floated through the still evening air, although lacking its normal melodic quality.

"Just to check. Naru isn't coming in is she?" Keitaro asked carefully, still carefully looking at no-one.

"I believe she is busy arranging her new room. She stated she would not be done for a few hours yet." Reassured Motoko, who had settled at a position opposite the dark-eyed pair.

"Well, that's a relief." Allowing his head to tilt back to neutral, Keitaro glanced sideways at Mutsumi who had sunk deep into the still waters with a blissful expression on her face.

The message was clear. Now was not the time.

"So, any plans for the evening?" Motoko asked, examining her nails.

"Not really, mostly planning to prepare Tsuruko's room……" Keitaro stopped dead as a soprano shriek rent the air, one that emanated from within the Hinata-sou.

The Kanrinin reached the spring door barely half a pace behind Motoko.

"Keitaro! Motoko! Naru!" Hurtling into the corridor, the pair nearly collided with Shinobu who was calling every name she could think of at the top of her voice while sprinting quickly as her legs would carry her.

"Shinobu! What's wrong?" The towel-clad man grasped the anxious girl by her shoulders, and it was testimony to Shinobu's anxiety that she didn't notice.

"It's Mitsune!"

"What about Mitsune?" Motoko asked, gazing up the passage the violet-eyed girl had emerged from.

"She's collapsed, I can't wake her….."

That's all for now.

I'm going to go and take cover. My friend has already stoned me for this chapter, and I'm expecting more of the same...

'Til next time.

Nodoka Miyazawa.