Disclaimer: So a guy walks into a bar, and he says, "Ow."

I don't own that joke, and I don't own Love Hina. I do own just about everybody when playing Halo 3. So…don't play against me, or I'll own you, too. Onward, before I sprain my funny bone…

Chapter 7: Desire, Remorse, Empathy, Angst, Maladroit, Succor

Perhaps he had forgotten to be afraid. Or had he forgotten fear itself?

He knew he should be terrified, but wasn't terrified; there was danger, no danger now, no idea what the danger was, where it was.

Where was he? He was supposed to be here, knew where here was, but didn't know where he was, couldn't see, didn't need to see.

His fingers were sticky, didn't feel sticky; there was blood on his hands, not his blood, not by his hands. Who was in his arms? He knew her, didn't know who she was, couldn't see her. She was alive and not well, had a bleeding wound; would she bleed to death? It was not severe, but bled severely. He knew all this, but didn't know what it was, or where or why or how. Just knew that he did.

He had a chance, a small chance. He wanted to try, didn't know what; he had to try. Was there another way? There was none; he wished there was.

A hand was on her wound. His hand, not his hand. Her mouth opened, screaming—

"Gyeeeah!" Keitaro woke with a start and a cry, covered in his own sweat. Morning light nearly blinded him.

A dream? He'd been dreaming. Where was he? He tried to get his bearings. The light poured through the window of an unfamiliar room over his bed. He blinked; not unfamiliar, just not his own. Of course; he was in a guest room. What was the time? He couldn't find a clock. He checked his watch: it was nearly ten a.m. already.

The dream he'd had came back to him. It disturbed him; it had been…real, yet unreal. He'd felt like he was in it, yet not in himself entirely; it was like he was seeing himself through his own eyes, but could only sense what he was feeling in an abstract way. Every time he tried to remember anything beyond the immediate, nothing came up in explanation.

He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs of sleepiness. 'Too strange to even think about right now,' he stomach growled; he was hungry. Thoughts of breakfast quickly drove the dream from his mind entirely.

Standing up and stretching, he took stock of how he felt. 'After all,'he reasoned to himself, 'I'd be pretty negligent to ignore the main reason I'm supposed to be here.' So far, the trip seemed to be doing him some good already: he ached in far fewer places than he had the day previous, felt a hundred times more awake (aside from feeling the need for a cup of coffee), and wasn't nearly as tense as he'd felt for the past week, if not the past few months. He still felt a bit stiff, but he figured that was mostly due to the long ride and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed.

In short, he felt pretty good. Maybe not great, but a hell of a lot better.

Satisfied, he next realized his urge to answer nature's call. He left the bedroom, intent on finding out if one of the building's previous owners had upgraded to indoor plumbing anytime in the last century. Unexpectedly, he felt his body tense as though to react to an incoming threat; when none came, he realized suddenly that he was instinctually preparing for the impact of Kaolla Su's foot, which had regularly flown at his head almost every morning that year. But he wasn't in the Hina-Sou right now; the only thing in the usual direction of Su's daily ambush was a wall. He sighed in relief, confounded once more by just how long and how much he'd been on edge just living there. He was oddly glad that his only worry this morning was whether the porcelain was set up indoors or out!

Five minutes and a flush later, he felt quite relieved to not have to worry about that, either.

Padding down the hallway, Keitaro's mind quickly returned to food; like moths to a flame, his feet took him in the direction of what could be loosely considered a kitchen and a dining room. The former was little more than a room with an ancient fire pit equipped with equally old cooking pots of unusually large size, designed for making large stews and cooking large game more than anything; the surrounding areas were fitted with a minimum of more modern appliances and surfaces, most notably a refrigerator, small stove, sink, and a coffee maker. Like much of the rest of the building, it made for an almost absurd contrast that somehow still worked. The latter room, on the other hand, was much closer in its furnishing to what he imagined had been the original layout. Set up like a small meeting chamber, the table was set barely inches off the ground, and what sparse furnishings there were looked like they predated much of what he'd seen in museums.

Here, the only bit of modern flair he could find was currently lying sideways, casually propped up on one elbow and wearing short nightwear that (just barely) fit the terms of modesty. A partially eaten breakfast and cup of hot coffee was set before her still-sleepy face.

"Morning, Kei-kun!" she brightened up and greeted him when she saw him come in. "How ya feelin'?"

"A bit stiff, and like I need a cup of coffee, but otherwise a lot better," he said with a bit of a chuckle. "Although, come to think of it, I wish I'd packed something a bit warmer than I did. It's kind of chilly around here for this time of year!"

She looked up at him with a grin. "I noticed! But that's great to hear, Kei. You look a lot better this morning, too," she added, regarding his appearance. Indeed, the kanrinin looked significantly less weary; the circles under his eyes were starting to fade, and his skin seemed a little less pale than it had. More importantly, the warm smile he had only occasionally worn on his face was now becoming something of a more permanent feature in his expression.

One thing quite literally stood out of place, however. It stood out in about six or seven different directions at once. An impish smirk grew on her face. "Hmmm…you know, though, I never realized the cold could make your hair stand on end that much."

A confused expression crossed his face, and his hand reached up to scratch his own head. As it did, it stopped when it encountered first one clump of hair poking in an odd direction, then another. She struggled to keep a straight face, though his expression wasn't making it very easy on her at all! Suddenly, he frowned, one hand slapping his face in dramatic exasperation as his shoulders slumped. "Dangit! I knew there was something missing in my pack!" he exclaimed.

"Huh? What's that?" she asked, surprised both by the abrupt shift in his expression and by the implication of his statement.

"My comb! I forgot that I left it in my other suitcase!" he moaned, a note of dejected despair in his voice matching his expression.

"What??" she said in disbelief, glancing away in growing confusion. "That's impossible! I could've sworn I saw you pack one with your toothbrush and shaving—"

Something in her mind stopped her. 'What other suitcase? I though he didn't have a—'

She looked at his face again. Sure enough, a grin was slowly growing on his lips.

"Are you…you're pulling my leg, aren't you! Heck, scratch that," she said, beginning to actually laugh in surprise and even a little joy, "you were kidding me! You! Of all people, you were actually kidding me for a change!" she proclaimed aloud to no one in particular but the two of them and the invisible record of precedents, sounding as surprised as she felt that such a thing had actually occurred in her lifetime.

He blinked, as if suddenly realizing what he'd been doing himself. "I guess I was, wasn't I?" he said with a laugh, only half believing it himself. Frowning, he noted, "Guess I'm either dead already or have a death wish, but…it's kind of fun to do that once in a while."

She snickered, and grinned evilly. "It is, isn't it? But be warned, Kei-kun: he who teases a Fox must be prepared for a Fox to tease him back!"

He sighed. "Figures. I guess I'd better eat some breakfast, then. Wouldn't want to play with fire on an empty stomach, right?"

She smiled at him. "Fires need fuel, and I've got mine already. Grab your cereal and java before I start pulling your leg, ya goof-ass!"

As he left for the kitchen once again, Mitsune couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Sleepy or not, he already looked a thousand times better than he had the day before; hell, he even sounded better to her. The difference of one, full peaceful night's sleep without threat of labor and injury on his entire being had been profound. She doubted he was fully up to snuff just yet, but by the looks of things he'd get there sooner than she'd thought he would.

Observing him as his condition improved before her eyes was astounding as well. She was already beginning to see an playful, impish streak in his demeanor coming out, a facet of his personality long restrained and buried (probably for his own safety, she thought). It was strange; every day, she learned something about him that she hadn't realized before, that none of them had really thought to look for. Piece by piece, they added something to who he was to her mind's eye; as they did, they made her realize all the more how much of himself he'd had to hold back, to conceal, or to let go of in order to survive in the company of his tenants.

Another part of her mind was quickly adding up just how much she liked about what she was discovering about him. She'd liked him before, of course, but the extent of her feelings had grown far more than she had imagined in the past five days. Now, a part of her mind was beginning to imagine what they might be able to get up to, practically on their own out in the middle of nowhere, with plenty of time on their hands to work with…and plenty of time to work with their hands…

"Kitsune?" she heard Keitaro asking her, startling her out of her daydream. "You okay there?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly, trying not to flush. "Just…spacing out a bit."

"Ah, okay," he said, taking his seat next to her with his breakfast. Whatever else he was, Mitsune realized, Keitaro was still as oblivious as ever about certain things. Luckily.

Drawing herself into a more upright seated position, she scooted subtly closer to him and returned her focus on her breakfast. They ate in silence for a few minutes, both a little lost in their own thoughts, until Keitaro's head cocked to one side. "I wonder where Seta is?" he pondered aloud.

"Uhh, I think he got up earlier than I did," Mitsune replied. "He's around here somewhere; I saw him about half an hour ago, I think. You slept later than I did, and I sleep in pretty late normally, so…" She shrugged.

"Figures," Keitaro sighed and chuckled. "I guess I'm not used to sleeping in late normally."

"Or very much at all, for that matter," Mitsune giggled to herself and nuzzled against him gently. "I know what you mean, Kei. But then, if you did sleep in later normally, we'd probably never have gotten such a great excuse to sneak off to parts unknown together, now could we?"

He chuckled, a bit bashfully. "I can see your point, there."

As they continued to work on their breakfast, Kitsune noticed a cloud over his expression, like he was thinking (or more accurately worrying) over something. 'Oh, no you don't!' she thought to herself, 'you're not gonna worry about something on my watch and get away with it!' "Something bugging you?" she probed.

"What?" he responded distractedly.

"You had a look on your face like you were rolling something around between your ears."

"Eh, just puzzling over a weird dream I had before I woke up." he admitted.

"What sort of dream?" she prompted him to speak further.

He hesitated, not sure how to describe the experience. "I'm not…really all that sure. The dream itself was...dark. I mean, physically and thematically. I couldn't see much of where I was or what I was doing, but I knew I had someone in my arms that was badly hurt, bleeding even. It was pretty vivid in a lot of ways, and I kept having thoughts and feelings about the situation that made no sense. Every time I tried to think of what was going on, or who I was holding, or what either of us were doing there, I couldn't physically come up with anything, not even a supposition. It was like I wasn't in control of what I was thinking, but I could still feel the thoughts as they came to me. It was like I was watching myself think, rather than thinking myself.

Mitsune blinked. "That's weird. Any idea who it was? Male or female, even?"

Keitaro frowned. "Female, I think. Can't say who it was, though. I couldn't see, and wasn't thinking of any names at the time. All I know is that whatever had happened, I could do something about it. As to what…I don't know. I woke up right afterwards."

If Mitsune had been superstitious, she supposed it might have made her uneasy to hear a strange rendition like that; as it was, however, she wasn't about to let it get to her, or get to him. "Sounds pretty weird, Keitaro. But dreams are usually like that, you know. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Yeah, I know…I guess it's just my brain's response to what's been happening lately, like it's trying to unscramble itself and figure out how the heck I ended up running off into the middle of nowhere in the willing company of a gorgeous girl."

She grinned, then whispered in his ear, "Maybe it's trying to tell you that you need to stick with her more, and maybe…keep her company at night?"

Surprised, he stammered, "U-um, well…maybe, I mean, I guess I never thought of it like that…I mean, I'd like that, but…umm…"

She grinned at him. "You are now, though, aren't you?" she told him, and his face went scarlet. She burst out giggling. "Oh Kei, you are just soooo easy to tease! I love it!" She gave him a sideways hug, still snickering. Before he could get upset, she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "You know, if some handsome, big-hearted young gentleman you and I know were to offer me some company, I wouldn't turn him down."

She watched the process of his thinking play out on his face up close: slight confusion, then relief, followed by even more embarrassed surprise, ending with a new, deeper shade of red than before. She grinned even wider, and proceeded to kiss him before he could respond.

A minute later, when they'd finally broken contact again, she said, "Think about it, and let me know." Gathering the remains of her breakfast, she went toward the kitchen, Keitaro's stunned expression following her as she went. When she had moved out of sight, she fist-pumped to herself. 'Oh, yeah! Got it in spades and then some! Score one for the Fox!' she thought to herself. Truthfully, she had wanted to make that offer last night, after enjoying his company during their ride to…wherever this place was. She'd let him think about it, though; she enjoyed their closeness, but she wasn't about to push him too hard if she could help it. She'd take a step back, and wait for him to follow if he was willing, and ready, to do so.

She had a distinct feeling he wouldn't refuse, either.

**********

After breakfast, Keitaro dressed himself and went in search of their host. He soon found Seta in his armory examining and lightly polishing the blade of a relatively ornate-looking katana with great care. Without even looking up from his work, the man greeted him cheerfully. "Good morning, Keitaro-san! Feeling better today, I hope?"

"Yes, very much so, thank you," Keitaro replied in kind with a respectful nod. His attention was drawn to the contents of the room, much of which might have interested Motoko: samurai armor, swords, spears, and other weaponry filled the room on displays every bit as old as the equipment itself. Some looked to be of foreign origin, though most was clearly Japanese. "This is quite a collection," he noted aloud. "I never knew you were this into old swords and such, Seta."

Seta grinned, and replied offhandedly, "Ah, but then you never thought to ask, eh?"

"Heh, I guess not."

Seta scratched his chin. "Weapons and armor like these give a great deal of insight into the times in which they were made. A sword such as this could take months to create from start to finish, sometimes years, and it isn't the finest example of the art even then. Yet unlike so much that has long crumbled into rust and ruin from so long ago, it remains today much as it did when it was first made, in pristine condition and still very, very sharp."

Keitaro examined the blade more closely. The handle and sheath were well-preserved, the wood stained a deep, blood-red color and bound with intricately woven silk rope. A number of intricate designs were etched into the sheath, colored in deep black ink and spelling out the work of a fine hand. The blade itself was flawless, its surface polished and reflective; near the curved edge ran a unique design outlined by the two-toned silver-white coloration of the metal itself.

"I've always been curious: how they make the pattern along the blade like that?" he asked, pointing to the tonal boundary line on the surface.

"The swordsmith designs the pattern, and forms it in the blade itself at the same time that he sets the blade's curvature. You see, to make one of these blades properly you need two pieces of iron. One piece forms the outer edge; it is made of a high-carbon steel that has been folded and re-folded onto itself many times. The second piece is a low-carbon steel, and forms the core around which the first is eventually wrapped. The difference between the two is what gives the blade its characteristic strength and sharpness: the outer layer, the hard steel, holds a far better edge, but without the softer, more flexible steel at the core to absorb impacts against the blade it would soon break. The combination of the two draws on the strengths of both, and eliminates the weaknesses by design. Toward the final stages of its forging, the blade is cooled completely, and the surface is coated with a protective mixture of clays and other materials in a pattern that will appear on the final blade. When the blade is reheated, and then cooled quickly, the metal changes its crystalline molecular arrangement differently in each of the two pieces of steel. The curve results from the core contracting faster than the edge on cooling, which bends the overall shape like a bow being strung. At the same time, the design on the edge heats and cools at a slightly different temperature due to the coating on the surface, and thus forms a permanent, visible difference seen on the surface."

"Huh. I never knew it was that complicated."

"It is! But the product is well worth every detail of the process. Even as late as World War II, officers would often carry and use such blades effectively, as they could cleanly slice through the metal barrel of a rifle and keep going, effectively giving them a great advantage in close quarters."

"You mean…straight through the metal part?"

"Without stopping, yes."

"Wow."

Seta laughed. "Granted, there aren't all that many of the swords that are that well made, but both the blades themselves and the art of making them survive to this day."

"How do they tell the good ones apart?"

Seta sighed. "Well, they used to do it by the number of bodies the blade could cut through in one swing. The best could go through five in a single arc, if not more."

Keitaro made a face. "Isn't that kind of gruesome?"

"Oh, very much so. But remember, the samurai class was effectively the ruling class of the time. They enforced the law, so to speak. A new blade, for instance, would often be tested first by executing a criminal. And war was far more common back then than it is now as well."

"I guess so." Keitaro looked at the design more closely, noting the intricacies of the shapes running the length of the blade. "You know, I've always kind of liked swords myself, but other than learning how to use them I never really got the chance to learn much about them, aside from how sharp the business ends can be." He winced slightly; indeed, he'd had far too much experience along those lines from Shisui alone, and he knew enough to realize it wasn't the best of its class even then.

Seta looked up at him curiously. "You know, I've actually been meaning to ask you a bit about that myself. Haruka tells me you've had quite a bit of training in the martial arts, and have learned more besides."

Keitaro looked surprised for a moment, then relaxed. "Uh, yeah, some. Honestly, I was a lot more into it when I was a kid than I am now. I can fight, but unless there's a very good reason I try to avoid fighting like the plague. I was doing pretty well, at least up until a few days ago. But then, when someone you care about is in danger a lot goes out the window, know what I mean?"

"Indeed I do, Keitaro-san. For all the experience I've had with battle and self defense in my work, I have never enjoyed being forced to fight, however necessary it sometimes becomes."

Keitaro nodded. "I guess poking around ancient secrets and ruins ruffles some feathers once in a while, huh?"

Seta laughed heartily. "Yeah, you could say that! And quite a lot more often than you'd think, given that so much of what I work on is supposed to be either lost, forgotten, or otherwise untouched in centuries! Still, I've found from hard experience that if one person becomes interested in something enough to search for it, there is usually someone else looking for it as well, and you never get to know who that someone is, why they seek the same thing, or how far they will go to get it until you meet them in the search."

"I guess so. I guess some are less willing to share than others?"

"To put it mildly, yes. Anyway, I'd be curious to know what sort of skills you've managed to pick up in your own experiences. From Mitsune's descriptions, it would seem that you know quite a few styles to some degree."

Keitaro paused a moment, considering. "I know a bit of a lot of different stuff, though most of the bits are only partial understandings at best: a few moves and principles, mostly basic elements. The only style I've learned to any great degree of skill would be aikido, and that's primarily because it fits my outlook on life."

"How so?" Seta asked.

"Well…it's almost entirely a defensive art, and in a lot of ways its both a lot gentler and a lot more effective than others. Basically, pretty much all you do is redirect and neutralize an enemy's attack, be it a punch, kick, grab, weapon, one person or several, all without harming yourself, them, or anyone nearby in the process. At least, that's the end goal; actually achieving as much takes a lot of skill and practice to pull off effectively, but I have yet to see a martial art that can truly overcome it in practice."

Seta nodded. "I have heard of the art many times. Very noble in its aim, but difficult to achieve without mastery in the art. I've actually wanted to learn it, but I've never really had enough time to spare, I'm afraid. What else have you learned?"

"Let's see…" Keitaro thought a moment before continuing. "I've learned some Jeet Kune Do like you have, though probably not nearly as much; a little bit of kendo formally, and a bit morefrom watching Motoko; I've had a small amount of experience with kung fu, but I don't use it as much; I've read and practised a bit about ninjutsu, but that was only to get a bit better at making scarce of myself when I needed to. Other than that, I've had a fair degree of training with various types of weapons, mostly basics but enough to actually do something with most types. I could probably use whatever is in this room if I had to, come to think of it. Oh, and I had some firearms training, believe it or not. Never got into it much at all, though: I mean, it was actually pretty easy for me, but I'm not really one for guns at all if I can help it. At least with other weapons you have to have some level of real skill to do anything." He scratched the back of his head. "Anything else is probably stuff I've seen one place or another. I can pick up on stuff like that pretty quick for some reason."

Seta whistled. "That's a fair amount of background for someone that doesn't fight much, you know."

Keitaro shrugged. "It's one of the few things I'm actually good at, really. I add to it and keep it up to speed when I can. I just…don't like using it unless I really have to, and I'd really hate to be in a spot where I end up having to kill someone with it for lack of a means to defeat them without taking their life in the process. The more I know, the less likely I am to resort to that if the time comes."

Seta nodded understandingly. "That's good to hear; too many people get into the martial arts for the power and skill, and don't think twice about who might lose their life in the process." He scratched his chin again. "Like a few of your tenants, for example."

Keitaro laughed humorlessly. "Don't I know it! But, you know? Even when they do end up hurting me badly, I don't want to hold it against them. I'm still their kanrinin, and moreover they're my friends. I'd sooner die than let them get hurt, least of all by me." He sighed. "Then again, I guess that's why I ended up here, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, in order to keep it from being the end of me. I don't know; you think there's such a thing as caring too much?"

Seta shook his head. "No, but there is a such thing as not caring enough. Great things have happened because an individual cared enough for others to go through pain and suffering on their behalf. At the same time, the carelessness of others has been the root cause of all too many of the world's greatest ills. Painful or no, I think caring 'too much' is a far better option than caring too little."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Keitaro fell into thought.

Straightening up and sheathing his sword once more, Seta decided to change the subject to something more pleasant. "Anyway, now's not the time to be dwelling on such things, even so recently removed from their midst as we currently are! I'm afraid I have little to offer for enjoyment's sake indoors, but I do believe it is shaping up to be a much nicer day outside than yesterday. While you're here, you might like to go explore some of the scenery around here!"

Keitaro brightened up slightly. "That doesn't sound like such a bad idea, actually."

"Excellent! In fact," Seta said, snapping his fingers, "that actually gives me an idea, if you're interested. If you go out back, there should be a short path leading down toward the water; I know for a fact that there is a shaded spot next to the waterfall where fishing is quite productive. If I'm not mistaken, I have a few old poles and some tackle in a closet here you could use, if you're interested."

"Fishing, huh?" Keitaro pondered aloud. "Can't say I've fished in a while, but…yeah, why not? Maybe I could talk Mitsune into coming with me, too."

Seta grinned. "Now you're thinking. Tell you what: there should be a basket in there as well. Make a picnic out of it and spend as much time as you want. If you need bait, there should be worms under the rocks nearby that spot; there might be a few things you could use with the tackle as well."

"Cool! Thank you again, Seta-san!" Keitaro said, and turned to leave. Before he did, he asked, "Will you be joining us?"

Seta waved him off. "Nah, there's some stuff I need to do today while we're here. Just bring up anything you catch that looks edible, and I'll cook it up for dinner. You shouldn't have too much trouble catching enough for the three of us, I think; there are plenty of fish in there, and believe me, the fresher they are, the better they taste. It's an experience, trust me."

"Alright, I will. Which closet, by the way?"

"Down the hall, on the right, second door from the end."

After he'd left, Seta thought to himself, 'That should give the both of them something to do, and give them a bit more privacy to do it. Good luck to the both of you, I say. More importantly for me, though, it gives me a chance to get things ready while they focus on each other.'

He sighed, mentally assessing what he knew was coming; getting things fully ready before tonight would be the easy part. Getting Keitaro ready for what was coming would be more difficult, but doable, and hopefully could wait at least a little while longer.

Getting everyone through what came next, alive and in one piece, was going to be the real challenge by far. He looked toward the secret cabinet, the one that held two keys to their survival, to everyone's survival. He'd start by getting that unpacked and ready.

When the time came, the faster it was ready to go, the better.

**********

Two fishing poles, already hooked and ready to be baited.

One picnic basket, packed with bread, fruit, the fixings for sandwiches, paper plates and cups, plastic cutlery, a large piece of folded cloth, and a few small snacks, some cans of soda.

One bottle of sake.

Keitaro raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Did you pack that?"

"Yup! It's one of mine. I figured Seta wouldn't be bringing any for the trip, and I was right," Kitsune replied cheerfully. "There's plenty enough in there for both of us to share."

Oddly enough, convincing Kitsune to come with him on a picnic fishing trip had been much easier than he'd thought it would be. She was, after all, not very into exploring the great outdoors; it simply required too much physical effort for her tastes. However, the trip to the fishing hole Seta had told Keitaro about was short and relatively easy; coupled with the low level of effort the fishing itself required, she found no reason to object and every reason to agree.

Keitaro, meanwhile, could not help but feel peaceful. The sound of water tumbling down slowly over the many levels of rock stepping down to the wide stream below was like gentle music to his ears; the cool, flat ground beneath their feet was both table and seat, from which they could slowly and casually enjoy their lunch together. For the first time in ages, he felt truly relaxed and free. How long had it been, since he'd done something like this? He couldn't remember; it had been too long. It was a significant and strangely different state of being for him; on a regular day, he'd be knee-deep in chores by now, or struggling with repairs, or occupied by a number of other tasks. Quite possibly, he'd be dealing with the aftereffects of stepping on one of his tenant's toes (or more accurately stumbling into them at precisely the wrong moments), but right now…

Now he was bobbing a fishing line in a pool next to a waterfall, leisurely eating his lunch and drinking rice wine with a woman that wasn't sending him through walls or over long distances for getting too close to her, a woman that actively encouraged him to get as close as he could. They were practically alone in the midst of nature, with nothing more urgent to deal with than reeling in the occasional fish. He was able to relax, enjoy the calm beauty of his surroundings and the radiant beauty of his girlfriend, with whom he talked freely, flirted with (almost) fearlessly, and cuddled openly, unhindered and uninhibited by anyone or anything.

For one full afternoon, Keitaro knew peace.

He frequently wondered if he was dreaming. He pinched himself a few times to be sure, and the light pain on the flesh of his arm reassured him he wasn't. They willingly spent the whole day where they were, long after they'd caught half a dozen fish and given up on catching more. They ate, and drank, and relaxed in each other's arms, and kissed, until the sun began falling behind the trees in the far distance. They were slightly drunk by then, having all but polished off the bottle Kitsune had brought between them, but neither really noticed, or cared. They had each other; that was really all they needed.

As the darkness of dusk began to settle around them, they finally decided to return and call it a day. The trip back was much slower; with six decent-sized fish on a string to carry and less-than-stable legs to carry them on, they were leaning into and holding each other around the shoulders to stay stable and standing as it was. Even then, their movement was anything but straight. Fortunately, the path was lined by rock on either side; if it hadn't been, they might have fallen off several times.

Halfway back up the path, in the midst of a sway, Mitsune stumbled, causing both to roll sideways together into a giggling heap, their gear dropped and scattered in the process. When they came to a stop, Mitsune was lying underneath Keitaro, their faces no more than a few inches apart. In spite of their day together, their removal from the perils of being witnessed like this, Keitaro could still feel his raw instincts screaming inside to get off quickly, to apologize, to prepare for an incoming assault. They fought with his newer state of mind for control, bringing him to a complete standstill. Mitsune could see the battle by the sudden flash of startled fear in his eyes. In a moment, she knew, he could lose the battle with his instincts entirely; she, on the other hand, had no intention of letting that happen.

Before he could get up, she grabbed hold of him. Before he could apologize, she kissed him passionately and unapologetically.

Keitaro's mind had gone on hold after landing on top of her; now, though, it had officially gone blank. Fear alone couldn't take control of his body or move it away now; here, in the midst of the dirt and the weeds and the rocks, Mitsune was telling him wordlessly what fear could not hope to compete with, speaking a language of arms and lips and soft moans what words could not adequately express.

For a five minute eternity, he told her in the same language how much he understood.

It was only after they'd paused to catch their breaths, flushed and sweating in each other's arms, that the light scent of burning wood and charcoal reached them. At first, it confused them; the memory that they were not entirely alone out in the middle of nowhere, apparently, was slow to return to their minds, as was much of their awareness of the world around them. When Keitaro spotted their discarded gear and the line of freshly caught fish again, he finally understood.

"Come on, I think dinner's being cooked and we still have the main course!"

As they reached the end of the path, holding each other even closer than before, they quickly discovered the source of the burning odors: a small outdoor fire pit, freshly lit and in use by Seta. His back was turned to them as he tended the glowing embers; a slew of cooking utensils, platters, and pots were arranged in an ordered chaos on a modern table next to the more ancient cooking pit; on his head was an oversized chef's hat, neatly set over his ears to convey an air of confidence and control over the roasting embers and equipment like a great culinary condom. He turned as they approached a grin on his face. "Ah, there you two are! Catch anything?"

**********

As they had the previous night, the three ate and conversed cheerfully together until it began to get too dark to see clearly. The freshness of the fish indeed contributed tremendously to the texture and flavor, making the meal an experience unto itself. Clearing up the remaining mess from dinner, they helped bring it all inside. As they cleaned the remaining dishes, Seta began to note the subtle changes in the way the Fox and the kanrinin were interacting with each other since he'd last seen them together. Though he could clearly tell they were both still a little drunk (he shrewdly guessed Mitsune had something to do with that, but said nothing about it), there was a certain level of newfound ease between them that they hadn't shown earlier. Granted, Keitaro might still turn several shades of red when Seta teased them directly (and, to a lesser extent, so would Mitsune), but both were becoming much more open in showing their closeness to one another even then. Their newfound closeness was having a tremendously positive effect on both of them.

Unfortunately, he knew that they would only have so long before their peaceful chance at togetherness would come to an end, at least for a time. Though he sincerely hoped they might get more chances later on, their time together would soon be anything but peaceful for quite some time.

Within a day or two, they would run out of time completely. Until then, he could only hope it would be time enough, especially for the young Urashima. Though Seta had spent the better part of the last decade rousing and settling as much trouble as he had finding artifacts, all his work, his research, his efforts, and his life would practically be for naught if Keitaro wasn't physically and mentally prepared to face what Seta knew was coming. The more his state improved, the less time they would have.

He would have to tell him soon. Maybe not tonight; they still had a little time left for rest, and come hell or high water he was going to give it to them if he could. But even now, he knew their time here was growing short. He would tell him soon, tomorrow, even, if it could be arranged. But not tonight. The days ahead would be hard enough as it was; Keitaro was certainly doing better, but Seta could tell that he'd need another night's rest to be truly ready. Hell, Seta could do with another night's rest himself.

And so, soon after he noted aloud that they looked tired and suggested they get an early night's rest, he took his leave of them to do the same. It was still early, but the more rest they had, the better off they'd be.

Keitaro still felt slightly woozy, though his system had managed to process through most of the sake by the time he'd changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth. He suddenly found himself wishing he'd packed slightly warmer nightwear than he had; whether because of the raised elevation of the landscape, the close proximity of the stream, or some other quirk of the isolated natural surroundings, the nights were a lot chillier than he was used to this time of year. He wasn't necessarily cold, granted, but the bite in the air didn't make him very comfortable, either. Calling on a trick he'd learned years ago, he willed a small part of his ki into raising his own bodily temperature slightly, and felt significantly more comfortable for doing it.

As he was returning toward his room, he saw Mitsune leaning on his doorway, waiting for him with a lazy smile.

"Heya, Kei-kun!" she greeted him.

"Hiya," he said in return, leaning in to give her a quick kiss.

"Umm, before we go to bed," she said, looking at him now earnestly, "I wanted you to know…I really had a good time today, with you. You know…as far as first dates go, that was pretty special."

He blinked in surprise. Of course, he knew they were now "going out" together, as a couple; he knew that eventually, that would entail dating as well. However, until just now, the thought that they essentially just had gone out on a date hadn't crossed his mind.

"A…wait, that was a…date?" he asked, mystified.

"Of course!" she affirmed. "Think about it: You took me to a great place, spent lots of time with me, and even treated me to an excellent dinner afterwards. Heck, we even had fine wine together!" She ticked off her fingers as she spoke.

"Yeah, well…to be fair, a lot of it was Seta's idea," he replied, scratching the back of his head and looking humble for the praise he was getting.

"But you were willing to go through with it, were you not?" she pointed out. "If I recall, you were the one that asked me to come with you, right?" He agreed with a nod. "Then that's all that really matters, in the end, isn't it?"

Something about the way she stood, eyes half-lidded but shining with a combination of playful mischief and soft kindness, both comforted Keitaro and encouraged him to do more than just kiss her goodnight. Unbidden, a memory from earlier in the day surfaced in his tired but content mind, one that was now showing him that maybe, just maybe, there was more to what she was saying now than was being said. He had two choices of the right move to make at that point, both of which could end up either being the right ones to make or absolutely dead wrong, depending on how he read her intentions. The old part of him, the part that had been conditioned by long, hard experience not to take a step out of line toward any of his tenants (and by correlation any girl in general), told him to end the day now and sleep in his own bed. Yet now, after the day they'd had, there was a new part of his mind growing in strength and sway, one that urged him to take the day just one step further and take all of what she had been and was telling him to heart. He could, he knew, severely damage their budding relationship if he chose wrong at this point, for both options could not be right together.

He was now faced with making his choice: make the bold move, or take the safe way. In the end, he knew he'd never be able to live with himself if he shied away now.

"Umm…Kitsune, I've been wondering…"

"Hmmm?"

"Is…is that offer you were talking about earlier…still open?"

She grinned, and kissed him deeply. "Does that answer your question?" she asked him with a wink when she finished.

"Yeah…I guess it does," he replied in a halfway bewildered tone.

"Good! I was afraid you'd never ask!" She took him by the hand and led him to her room. He followed willingly, but sheepishly.

Shutting the door behind them, Mitsune could see at a glance he still had a bit of fear in his eyes. 'Oh, hell, Kei, it's not like I'm going to bite ya!' she thought to herself. She could understand his nervousness, though; at the inn, if he was in any of the other's rooms for longer than about a minute, invited or not, his risk of attack went up to the point of a virtual guarantee. If he was in Naru's room (or she in his) for half as long, he would have been dropped on his head through the floor or sent through the ceiling sooner or later almost every time, regardless of circumstances. Even in Mitsune's room, he'd rarely been lucky enough to escape without either Naru or Motoko discovering him there and moving in for the proverbial kill. Mitsune bit her lip; every time she thought about it now, she either felt guilt for her own actions or rage at theirs, or both. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy his company freely while she still could, and moreover for him to enjoy hers without fear. He'd been brave enough to come this far; she didn't want to scare him away now.

As she looked at his expression again, she noticed something else that surprised her slightly: the square frames normally bespectacling his face weren't there! "Hey, what happened to your glasses?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh, I took them off. They're in with my stuff," he explained, his mind grateful for a moment's distraction. "I didn't want them to get broken or lost, and there aren't any tables in the other room to put them on when I go to sleep."

"Oh, I see. Sorry, just not used to seeing you without them on." She tilted her head and considered how he looked without them. His face looked a little older somehow, slightly better defined; then again, there was a youthful innocence in it that only seemed to strengthen in character with time. "You know…I think you'd look pretty good with a different set of frames. I think those square things don't really do your handsome mug any justice."

He looked, and felt, kind of surprised by her reaction. "Huh…I never really thought it would make any difference." His eyebrows scrunched slightly in thought. "I mean, I've gotten new glasses over the years, but…I never really much considered how they looked from the outside, so long as they worked." He scratched his head with his free hand as he considered his appearance; truth be told, it was not something he often did in much detail.

When she saw how the conversation was distracting him from his previous thoughts, she got an idea. "What can you see without them?" she asked.

"Uhh…if its about three or four feet away, I can see just fine. Past that, things become more blurry. I can see them well enough, but…without my glasses, I can't see any details. Like the writing on a sign, for example: I can see that there's a sign, that it's written on, but unless the print is really big I won't be able to read it even from ten feet away."

"Huh. What about other people? Can you tell faces apart, or is it just a blur?"

"Depends on if I know them or not! I might be able to spot someone I know in a crowd, but unless they're standing pretty close I have trouble distinguishing anything in great detail; I can see their faces, but not a lot of their facial expressions. Maybe the general gist, but not the fine stuff. Like, right now I can see you smiling because we're only about a foot apart, but if I was standing over th…" Keitaro blinked. "Huh!? How'd we get…"

In the process of talking, Keitaro's mind was distracted from the nagging fears and lingering terrors running through it, and his body was free to move beyond their grip; this had allowed Kitsune to casually guide him toward the bed before his mind registered what was happening. She drew back the sheets and crawled in first; as she was still lightly holding his hand, her downward motion into and across the low mattress made him automatically begin to follow suit without thinking. By the time he realized what was happening, he was already sitting in her bed, halfway under the sheets! He looked at her in surprise, then at their position, then at his position, then at her again. Her smile got a little wider. "You can show me tomorrow. Right now, you might want to get your other leg under the sheets!"

To his surprise, the leg automatically obeyed before he could think about moving it. A second later, the sheets were pulled back up over them, and her light went off. The part of him that had been screaming to run, to save himself from imminent rejection or bodily harm, was suddenly and completely silenced altogether.

The newer, bolder part of his mind rejoiced.

Under the sheets, he felt her snuggle against him. They faced one another, lying on their sides and pressed fairly closely together. It was only then that could feel how well his self-warming technique had worked; while his skin was warm to the touch, hers was quite cool, at least for a moment. He'd never really noted that his idea of a "normal" comfortable body temperature was in fact significantly warmer than that of many other people under the same conditions naturally. Now, as he felt her front pressed against his through the thin material of their nightwear, he could feel two examples of how great a difference it was pressing into him pointedly, and had to mentally fight to prevent the influx of significant heat in at least one of his extremities!

Mitsune, meanwhile, was relishing the sensation of holding on to what felt to her like a human furnace under her sheets. In the dark, she could just make out the features of his face in front of her, and found his lips with hers. "G'night, Kei-kun," she whispered to him.

"G'night, Kitsu-chan," he replied, stroking her cheek with his hand and nuzzling her forehead with his.

It was a difficult trial for the both of them to not begin engaging one another even further physically, but in the end the combination of sleepiness and a growing sense of comfort caused both to drift off to a peaceful sleep in each other's arms.

A.N.: Holy fucking crafaka, that was a long one. The next few won't be as long, but I felt this one had to cover the whole day. The title is a loose reference to Marathon: Infinity, and it would probably take a while to explain exactly how. Just trust me on that one.

Next chapter, the level of epic will be raised a notch or two, Seta's package will be revealed (the one in the compartment, not the one you're thinking about), and all hell will begin breaking loose. After that, we'll revisit Haruka and find out what's going on back at the home front. Expect a combination of a large motorized propeller and a large quantity of foul-smelling organic waste to get to know one another much more closely after that.

Next update will be either before or after Christmas, not on it. Just saying that now.

Merry Christmas.