DISCLAIMER: I do not own Love Hina or Kenny Loggins. Nobody owns Kenny Loggins, a spirit like that can't be caged.
AN: Well, here we go. This is the first time I've written something that wasn't required by a teacher, well, ever. And let me tell you, it's been a damn long time since I had teachers. I've always had an intense fascination with fanfiction, spending hours and hours reading it. Now I've found myself in a situation where there's not much I can do but lay around and I figured "Hey, why not give this a shot?" So here is my first attempt.
As for why I chose Love Hina? It actually got me into fanfiction in the first place. Reading stories by the legends like Random1377 and hawker-748 opened up my eyes to what this medium could be. I know this section is pretty dead, save for authors like PhishTahkoh and their amazing Shinobu fics, but to be honest, thats ok with me. This is just a fandom I think is really fun and has a lot of potential.
1 Year from now
His vision was blurry, the man in front of him an indistinct blob of color; his shape refusing to take focus as its edges pulsated on his approach. Keitaro squinted his right eye in desperation, the left being useless, swollen and covered in a crimson mask of his own blood. Straining with effort and doing his best to ignore the incessant throbbing pain pounding his skull in merciless waves, he barely had time to register the glint of light flashing off the katana as it cut through the air. Agony ripped through his body as instinct brought his arm up, his own blade meeting it with a mighty CLANG!
The force of the blow sent shockwaves down his right arm, already feeling like jelly from the frenzied battle. All Keitaro could do was sink to a knee; muscles straining, bulging against his flesh, as he was forced down.
'Having two arms sure would be handy right now.'
Gritting his teeth, he spared an errant thought for his shattered left. It hung limply, bruised and bloody, his sheath tied around his wrist anchoring it down. The odd angle of the elbow confirmed what the searing fire shooting up his nerves suggested.
'Broke. Beats not being attached I guess... Still about as useless though.'
With a grunt, Keitaro threw himself backwards into a roll, breaking the clash and narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp edge of the steel that cleaved down, a gleaming blur. Before he could force himself up right, the bastard pressed the attack. Thrusting forward, a wicked grin stretched across his face, Hayate let out a shrill laugh. "What's wrong boy? Where did all that fire go?!"
Forcing his battered body into action, Keitaro spun, deflecting the charge across the surface of his sword. Using the momentum, he hopped up and brought the edge down, but Hayate easily blocked the blow; lazily spinning his Katana back to catch the attempt. The grin on his face had become demonic, nearly foaming at the mouth and his eyes turned unsettlingly sharp as he lashed out, his blade relentlessly slicing arcs through the air. "Come now Keitaro! You wanted this, you demanded this! You insolent little shit!" Still in the air, Keitaro desperately exchanged a series of lightning-fast strikes as he went flying back.
'Dang it, I've taken too much damage... I can't keep up with his speed! Plus, this jerk is still swinging just as hard as when we started this... well, at least my plan of –make him angry- seems to have totally worked.' Keitaro allowed himself a rueful chuckle as he slid backwards on hands and knees, a trail of dust clouds and blood marking his path.
'Maybe not my best plan, hah... still...' Gazing at the approaching hysterical and furious douchebag, a jolt of recognition shot through him. His good eye locked onto Hayate's blade.
Or rather, the haphazard way he carried it.
Hung low, grip loose, blade swaying.
Undisciplined.
Despite the pain, despite the blood loss and despite the odds, Keitaro allowed himself a small grin.
'There's a chance.'
As his would be executioner grew closer, the ronin took stock of his condition. 'Arms' broken, so are some ribs. That blow to my skull definitely cracked it, most likely concussed as well. Left eye is worthless, right hand is numb. More cuts than I can count. Heck, if I wasn't, well, me I probably would've already bled out. Also, my underwear is riding up uncomfortably high. All in all, pretty much what I expected.'
Keitaro found it rather easy to make himself look weak, not having to fake a single bit of his struggle to pull himself up into a kneeling position, his tachi falling to the ground. He allowed his eye to glance to the edge of the grounds, sweeping over the crowd.
Students were wide eyed, the horrors of a real battle stripping away the romanticism of their craft, as the older masters looked on with grim stoicism. Kenji stood isolated from the rest, a nasty smirk etched onto his face. 'Hah! I'll admit the boy took me by surprise but Hayate has this well in hand. Besides...' He spared a furtive glance to his niece, her rage boiling over, barley being contained by the council and her own mother. He felt his grin widen. 'One way or another, today those bitches fall and I claim my rightful place.'
The girls were a collection of disbelieving horror. Shinobu buried her face into Kitsune, shaking shoulders giving away her despair. The fox's own face was ashen, and tears trailed down her cheeks. Kaolla's normal exuberance had vanished, her tiny body shaking as she stared helplessly. Mutsumi had braced herself onto the railing, terror possibly the only thing keeping her from fainting. Naru's emotions were a mix of fury and quaking sadness as she alternated between threatening to disembowel Hayate and begging Keitaro to stand up. Even Motoko's warrior calm had broken as she bellowed at her brother-in-law, promising him a brutal death if he did not stop.
Haruka was poised to jump the barrier, her usually emotionless mask thrown aside. She snarled and clenched her fists, ready to end the bastard that dared hurt her family. Keitaro gave a silent prayer of thanks that Kanako was forced to stay behind with Granny Hina. A combo of his sister and Aunt had the potential to make things... messy. All that kept her in check were the arms wrapped around her waist, struggling to hold her in place. Even as his body language told of his intense uncertainty, Ren's face was oddly calm in contrast to those around him. His eyes held a sense of understanding mixed with worry.
His Aunt wasn't the only person having to be restrained. Keitaro felt his heart beat a little faster, even now in this situation, as he locked eyes with Tsuruko. Still hauntingly beautiful, even as she was screaming and sobbing. If not for her mother, the council and an entire group of trained warriors, holding her back, she would have already jumped into the battle. 'Probably would've ended it in the seconds it took her to reach me too.' Keitaro quietly snickered as he imagined being carried off into the sunset princess style, safe in the arms of his super powered savior. Regardless of the distance and in defiance of the cacophony of noise around him and his own heart thundering in his ears, he could still hear her wails. Her pleas to stop. Her offers of giving up anything, offering all she had or was. Any and everything to save him. To save her Keitaro.
'Sorry Tsu-chan but today... today I'm the hero.'
As the shadow fell over him, Keitaro glared up defiantly. Hayate met his glare, his eyes tiny pinpricks burning with rage. His rictus grin belied the hatful tone he spewed, the utter contempt he felt apparent. "Well-well, seems that the would-be hero has reached his limit then? Such a shame really, after your little speech I had hoped for more. Still, you did manage to make it..." Touching gash on his cheek, Hayate sneered. "Interesting."
"I do live to please." Keitaro wasn't sure if it was what he said or the shit eating grin that did it but the fist smashing into his face clued him into that he might have gotten under the bastard's skin.
"Enough! Enough of this! Enough of you!" Each statement was punctuated by a blow, viciously smashing down. Keitaro, however would not fall back, weathering the assault. Forcing command over his body, mastering his pain. His fear. Waiting.
'Focus. Control.'
Loathing fueled Hayate, his voice rising to a howl. "You, who dares to challenge me!" The fist splattered blood over them both. "You insult me in my home! You dare to make a mockery of my art! You pathetic, weak little worm! You think you can take from me? You think you can take HER from me?!"
The students scrambled in a desperate attempt to support their masters, it seemed that the guests were done watching, rules and promises be damned. Through the red haze, Keitaro saw one poor man who made the mistake of being in Narus swinging range flying through the air.
'Remember... why... have a promise... to keep'
SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!
He knew he was running out of time. For one, he was barely holding onto consciousness, even his legendary durability was reaching its limit. More pressing, however, was the waves of Ki flowing through the arena. Motoko's aura, as fierce a tempest it was, had been dwarfed by her sister. Regardless of lacking any talent whatsoever for the more esoteric side of battle, even Keitaro could see, feel, taste the power pouring off Tsuruko. He figured he had a few moments at best before she broke free and although watching her tear apart Hayate limb from limb would be immensely satisfying, it would kinda ruin the whole purpose of the duel in the first place.
'No more time...' Resolved, Keitaro played his final gambit.
"Hay...ate... wait..." It came out choked and weak, his swollen jaw and blood making it difficult to speak. Still, the broken whisper had the desired effect, and stopped Hayate cold. The surprise on his face was quickly replaced by malevolent glee. "Oh my, has our dear hero finally seen sense? Understand your place now you pathetic worm? Come now, speak up, say the words. Let them know, let HER know, that you are nothing compared to me!" Finally, this farce had reached its end, and just as it was always destined to be, Hayate had emerged victorious. He would relish the torment of his wife as he finished breaking this nobody. He would show her and her precious family their place. He would finally assume his rightful place. He would-
"What's it like...?"
"What?"
It was cold, barked out. Confusion marred Hayate's face as he was brought out of his reverie. What was this? Did this fool not know that this was his moment of triumph?
Spitting out blood to clear his mouth, Keitaro willed himself to clarity, battling back the fog threatening to envelope him. What he said next needed to be clear, needed to be heard.
"What's it like knowing that your wife loves me... even more than she hates you?"
Rage.
Pure, agonizing, unadulterated rage poured through Hayate. Outrage contorted his visage, the acid of hate flowing in his veins puppeteering his body as it moved without conscious thought. A chilling shriek of "DIE!" ripped from his gnashing maw; the sword raised up high as he could and then in a blink, he brought it screaming down.
It would be a deadly strike, aimed right for his head. Powered by the intensity of Hayate's black swirling resentment, the cut was blindingly fast. More powerful than any over his previous blows. Not focused or founded in the Shinmei-ryu arts, it was a monstrous cleave.
It was an attack meant to only do one thing.
Kill.
'This is it. It's all or nothing.'
As death approached at blinding speed, Keitaro cleared his mind of everything. No pain. No fear. No wants. There was only now. This exact moment. This is where he belonged. This is where his kind thrived. The edge of death. The last shot at victory.
Focusing his entire being onto one focal point, the ronin let out a whispered breath.
"Kenny Loggins."