Love Hina Fan Fiction ❯ Legacy ❯ Chapter 1

Legacy

 

Disclaimer: Not my characters/world/whatever

 

By: AZ

 

-

 

Outside Tokyo proper, on a hill overlooking the city and the bay, stood an old inn turned women's dormitory. It dominated the top of the gentle hill it sat on, with the main building compound and hot spring dead center. On the fringes of the main compound was the old, abandoned annex building. Surrounding it was an old wall, providing privacy - and occasionally containment - for the residents. Against the wall's outside face sat the Hinata tea shop, and spread out below and away from the low building was the town of Hinata, a sleepy hot spring town on the far outskirts of Tokyo.

 

The Hinata Inn had been in the ownership of the Urashima family for hundreds of generations, and had sat on the hill for centuries. During that time, a lot of things had happened, and the result were forgotten passages, lost stories, and secrets from the top of the roof to far, far below the lowermost footings of the buildings.

 

The current roster of residents had discovered some time ago that the entire hill was laced with strange, unknown passages, tunnels, rooms, caverns and just plain unexplainable places. It had become a pass-time of two of the youngest residents to explore these tunnels when bored or avoiding the consequences of some misadventure. Right now, these two were deep inside a small, stone-lined passage that had started off under the corner of the kitchen pantry and was now god-knew-where under the hill. The passage had obviously long been unused, given the dust, cobwebs and detritus choking the small, cramped passage.

 

Cramped passages didn't mean much to the two adventurers, though. Neither was very large. The one in the lead was the youngest resident of the boarding house, a blonde American girl named Sarah. She wasn't a full resident, since she only stayed at the inn when she couldn't find a way to tag along with her adoptive father on his archeological digs all over the world. Just behind her came another blonde though that was about as far as the physical similarities went. Koalla Su was a Molmolese princess, though where Molmol was or how its social structure was organized was still very much a mystery to the residents. Su, as she was most often called, was a certified genius, though it was the sort of insane genius that led to mechanical assault turtles and rocket-powered bunny backpacks.

 

“Any idea where we are now?” wondered Sarah, brushing aside a dusty cobweb as she steadily moved deeper into the passage. Su pulled out a small, back-lit device and studied it.

 

“Nope!” she announced happily. Around her waist was a belt with pouches on it. In those pouches were various Su-made devices and bananas. “We've come about four kilometers so far, though,” she noted eagerly. Sarah considered that.

 

“We should be near the base of the hill then, right?” she guessed. Su shrugged.

 

“Suppose so,” she replied casually. “Do you think this tunnel will dead end like the last one?” wondered the strange princess.

 

“It's hard to say with these,” Sarah replied, trying to sound sage and experienced. Her `father' was an archeologist, after all, so she had a reputation to uphold. Ahead of her, she saw the passage open up. “Looks like a room ahead,” related the American. Su crowded up beside her. Pulling another device out, she pressed a button, and beams of laser light shot out, scanning the area ahead.

 

“Yep! Room,” confirmed the inventive Molmol girl. Sharing a grin, the two hurried forward, finding a room with slanted walls and roof vaguely reminiscent of a burial vault from certain European countries back in the middle ages. Sarah freed a large spot/flood light from where it had been slung on her back and swiftly had it powered up, filling the room with light.

 

Looking around, the two saw that there wasn't much in the room, though some of it looked somewhat interesting. Old weapons, some furniture, a few tattered and damaged pieces of clothing and armor were along the walls, and in the center of the modest-sized room was a simple wooden box. On top of the box sat a half-dozen or so small items. Curious, the two approached the table and looked the items over. Sarah sighed.

 

“Nothing but junk,” she complained, disappointed that it was treasure. There were some damaged paper documents, an old stamp of some sort, a tarnished necklace, two rings and a worn tube. Not seeing anything of interest, Sarah began to look at the walls of the room. “Hey, is that a turtle glyph?” wondered the blonde, seeing a faint impression on the far wall. Su was still examining the items on the table.

 

The rings, necklace and stamp went into her carry belt for later testing - and possible use - while her eyes settled on the tube. Picking it up, she gave it a shake. Hearing something inside, she tried to open the tube, only to find that she couldn't pry the top off. Looking closer, she saw that it had a seal on it. Squinting a little, she blew some dust off the embossed seal. Running a finger over the seal's face, she frowned, trying to place the familiar-feeling seal. “Motoko!” she exclaimed, pleased that she had finally placed the emblem.

 

Sarah returned to the table. “What about her?” wondered Sarah, seeing Su once more trying to open the tube.

 

“This thing has a seal with a crest like the one on her sword,” said Su, banging the tube on the wooden crate. “It won't open,” she complained petulantly. Reaching into a pouch on her belt, she pulled up a strange-looking gun adorned with the three-eyed emblem of her homeland. “This ought to do it!” she cackled eagerly, touching a button and causing an electrical whine and crackle to fill the room as the device charged.

 

“Wait!” Sarah yelled, pushing the gun away from the scroll. “If you use that, we might get blown up,” she pointed out. Su hummed, considering the idea.

 

“I don't think we're at risk,” she disagreed, looking at the device in her hand once more, “but I haven't been able to test this on Keitaro yet, so…” she sighed, touching another button, the device powering down. “I guess I should test it first; it's a prototype atomic vector cannon, after all,” she said happily. Sarah blinked.

 

“Did you say atomic vector cannon?” she asked. Su smiled widely at her, her eyes glowing strangely in the light from the spot/flood light.

 

“Yeah! You see, when a fusion reaction takes place, you can direct the energy release along a specific route by means of…” she began excitedly, waving the odd pistol-like device around as she gestured.

 

“I'll take your word for it,” Sarah waved off the rest of the explanation. She has a fusion reactor in that thing?! And she was going to fire it in here?! Gah!! thought the American. Su was a stone-cold psycho in addition to being a genius. “If it has that mark like Motoko's sword, you think Motoko could open it?” suggested the long-haired girl of her taller friend.

 

“Good idea!” agreed Su, giving the tube one more smack on the wooden crate, which made the crate collapse. “Dang,” sighed the girl, tucking the tube into the back of her belt. “Might as well head back; I'm getting hungry, and Shinobu is making curry tonight!” Su exclaimed happily, swallowing a mouthful of drool. Upon hearing that, Sarah's stomach rumbled as well. Shinobu Maehara was better than the head chef at a five star restaurant, in spite of being the third youngest resident of the house. She and Su attended the same high school, and were in the same class. Hurrying back through the long, twisted passage, the two excitedly talked about their favorite foods, dismissing the room for the moment.

 

-

 

In the kitchen, Shinobu Maehara grunted as she struggled to reach the curry powder jar in the cupboard. The short-haired girl was the second shortest - after Sarah - and had a hard time reaching anything put on the upper two shelves of the cupboard. She was standing on the small stool, and was on tip-toe, but could only just touch the jar she needed. “Motoko-sempai put you up there, didn't she?” muttered the girl, straining to get some sort of purchase on the jar. She could feel it with her fingertip, but not reach it.

 

Her perch was precarious, and her attention completely taken with retrieving the jar of seasoning, so when her slipper-clad toe slipped off the corner of the stool, she couldn't catch herself. Crying out as she fell toward the floor, she braced herself for a painful landing. Instead, arms caught her easily, setting her carefully on her feet, unhurt. Sighing in relief, she turned to thank whoever had happened to be there to save her.

 

Seeing hakama and long, dark hair, she said “Thank you, Motoko-sempai,” while bowing her head.

 

“You are welcome, Shinobu-chan, though I am not Motoko,” came an amused voice. Blinking, Shinobu looked closer.

 

“Tsuruko-san!” gasped the girl, bowing deeper. “My apologies,” she added.

 

“No offense taken, Shinobu-chan,” assured the older sister of Motoko, reaching over Shinobu's head and plucking the seasoning jar out of the cupboard. She handed it to Shinobu before reaching back into the cupboard for the tea. “There is no reason for you to assume that I would be here rather than my sister, is there?” she explained away the mistaken identity.

 

“Are you here to visit Motoko-sempai?” guessed Shinobu, quickly sprinkling seasoning from the jar into the pot without looking or measuring. Tsuruko felt a little jealous of the girl's skills in the kitchen; it was an area where she was lacking in skills, after all, even though she was a married woman and Shinobu was still in high school. Seasoning done, Shinobu put the jar back on a lower shelf and selected some dried peppers to add to the curry. Most of the residents liked their curry hot and with a bite, so she made it a bit stronger than she personally preferred it.

 

With the peppers in the curry sauce, Shinobu hurried to make Tsuruko some tea. The tall, strong woman eased back to give the smaller girl room to work, and bare minutes later, she was sipping a delicious cup of tea. “Yes, I was in the area with my husband on some business, and decided to stop by for a visit, since meetings bore me,” she explained easily.

 

Shinobu nodded. “I see,” she replied, checking the rice before glancing at the clock. “The others should be arriving any minute now; please, make yourself comfortable and enjoy a meal with us,” invited the girl. Tsuruko inclined her head.

 

“I thank you for the offer,” she said graciously. “May I assist you in setting the table?” she asked politely.

 

“Yes, please,” smiled Shinobu. “We will need ten places set, if you don't mind,” she added. Tsuruko quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Ten?” she wondered. Shinobu nodded, stirring the curry sauce.

 

“Kitsune-sempai, Naru-sempai, Mutsumi-sempai, Motoko-sempai, Keitaro, Sarah-chan, Su-chan, Haruka-san and you, in addition to me,” she explained. Tsuruko didn't miss that the man of the house was the only name without an honorific attached to it. Hiding a smile, she swiftly collected the requested number of plates and began to set the table, filling it to capacity.

 

“Mutsumi is here today as well?” she asked Shinobu as she came back for the flatware. While the residents were cosmopolitan about their eating utensils, for curry, they generally preferred western-style forks and spoons to chopsticks.

 

“She came up about an hour ago to enjoy the hot spring, and I asked her to stay for supper. Naru-sempai and Mutsumi-sempai said something about completing an assignment after dinner,” supplied Shinobu.

 

“I see,” Tsuruko replied. “What is Keitaro doing these days?” wondered the elder Aoyama swordswoman. Shinobu smiled in spite of herself.

 

“Keitaro is writing a paper on the ruins he has been working on, so he has spent a lot of time in his room, looking over his site notes,” she said, her heart beating faster. I make sure that he has tea and snacks, and with Naru-sempai attending class at Tokyo University… she tried to calm her heart down.

 

“Has he been helping you with your homework as well?” asked Tsuruko innocently. Even from the other room, she had read the fluctuations of Shinobu's chi as easily as if the girl were standing in front of her. Still madly in love with him, I see, she thought, smiling, though she is also still honorably standing aside for Naru.

 

“Yes!” Shinobu almost squealed in excitement. “I have held the top rank in my year for the last year because of his and Naru-sempai's help!” she shared excitedly. “My teacher is certain that I will have no trouble getting into Todai if I keep my grades up!” boasted the cook.

 

“You have chosen to follow Keitaro and the others into Tokyo University, then?” asked Tsuruko.

 

“Yes! So has Motoko,” shared Shinobu. Tsuruko blinked.

 

“Has she, then?” murmured the eldest sister. Shinobu's sharp ears caught that.

 

“I'm sorry; she didn't tell you?” apologized the younger girl.

 

“I'm sure she is waiting for the right time,” Tsuruko dismissed it. So, she is still chasing him, then, she thought to herself. Keitaro, you certainly live an interesting life, she snickered silently. “How are Naru and Keitaro getting along?” she re-directed the conversation as she placed glasses at each place at the table.

 

“Good,” came the careful reply from the kitchen. “Naru-sempai is busy with classes and club activities, and Keitaro is often busy with repairs around the inn so they aren't spending a lot of time together right now,” Shinobu said. Tsuruko silently shook her head, hearing the undertone of Shinobu's words. A less honorable woman would take such a chance to steal him from her rival, the older woman thought.

 

“Mm! Smells great, Shinobu-chan!” intruded a familiar voice. Kitsune had come down for dinner first, her track book still in hand. Seeing Tsuruko eyeing her, she froze for a second. “Uh, hi, Tsuruko,” she managed.

 

“Mitsune,” Tsuruko inclined her head. “I am somewhat surprised to find you sober so early in the evening,” sniped the swordswoman. Kitsune had been sipping sake, as usual, and much like her younger sister, Tsuruko disapproved of such an undisciplined lifestyle.

 

“How nice of you to share that,” replied Kitsune tightly, biting back a more derisive retort. Tsuruko had proven to be dangerous to provoke; even more so than Motoko. Not going to start something with her I can't finish, Kitsune thought, taking a seat at the table.

 

“Where are the others?” asked Kitsune of Shinobu.

 

“Mutsumi is in the hot spring, and…” began Shinobu, only to have war-cry drown her out, followed by a booming crash, signaling a shinmei-ryu school attack.

 

“Vile reptile!” came Motoko's enraged voice, the sound of running feet drawing nearer. “Get away from me!” demanded Motoko, followed a moment later by another crash.

 

“Never mind, Shinobu-chan,” giggled Kitsune, “I think I can figure the rest out,” she laughed. Tsuruko calmly moved to the door of the dining room, a small smile on her face. In a blur of white and black clothing and a swirl of long, straight midnight-black hair, Motoko flashed past the door to the dining room, a faint `Muy!' chasing her.

 

As the assailant passed the door, Tsuruko reached out, fast as a striking snake, and caught Tama-chan. “Tama-chan,” she said calmly, her voice unnecessarily loud, “why are you chasing my sister around this time?”

 

“Muy!”

 

A moment later, a blushing Motoko came back to the dining room door, her sword still drawn. “Onee-chan,” bowed the younger to the older. “I saw Shippu on the roof while wri…studying, and came to find you, but this…!”

 

“Adorable hot-spring turtle?” supplied Tsuruko pleasantly. Motoko grimaced.

 

“This turtle,” she bit out, “started chasing me,”

 

“You caught her!” interrupted an excited voice. A moment later, Tsuruko was holding Tama out of reach of Su and Sarah, who seemed very interested in getting their hands on the turtle. “It's turtle soup time for you, Tama!” threatened Su gleefully.

 

“There will be no turtle soup,” said Shinobu firmly from the kitchen, where she was loading up the serving dishes with the evening meal.

 

“Ok, Shinobu,” agreed Su easily, “I don't mind grilled turtle,” she compromised.

 

“No,” Shinobu said firmly.

 

“What has Tama done?” asked Tsuruko, still holding the turtle in her raised hand, preventing Su from reaching the animal.

 

“Isn't being a turtle enough?” muttered Motoko sourly, shivering a little. Su gave up trying to reach Tama and jumped on Motoko instead, settling on her back.

 

“Hiya, Motoko!” smiled Su.

 

“Su,” replied Motoko.

 

“Tama stole something we wanted to show you,” explained Sarah. Tsuruko noticed the dirt smudges on the girl's clothing and cobweb in her hair. Looking at Su, she saw the same signs.

 

“And what was this thing you wanted to show me?” asked Motoko. “You two need to get cleaned up for supper, too,” she added.

 

“We found this weird tube with a seal on it like on the base of your sword,” Su explained, absently rubbing her cheek against Motoko's cheek. Motoko frowned, Tsuruko doing likewise.

 

“Are you certain?” asked Motoko, raising her sword. “It was this seal?” she asked, displaying the Aoyama family seal. Su glanced at and nodded.

 

“Yep!” she confirmed.

 

“What was this object you found?” wondered Tsuruko, intrigued. Sarah picked up the tale.

 

“Some old tube thing that rattled. It was in this room at the end of one of the tunnels, but we couldn't open the tube to see what was in it,” explained Sarah.

 

“My Keitaro-Blaster could have opened it!” insisted Su.

 

“And probably killed us along with whatever was rattling,” muttered Sarah.

 

“Keitaro-Blaster?” repeated Kitsune. “Do I even want to know?” she asked rhetorically. Sarah silently shook her head. “Didn't think so,” Kitsune muttered.

 

“Anyway,” picked up Su, “we were looking for you, Motoko, but then Tama swooped in and stole the thing! So we were chasing her, but she got away from us,” pouted Su. “Does anyone else want baked turtle in banana sauce?” she wondered, licking her lips.

 

“Su!” chided Shinobu.

 

“We need to find that thing,” Sarah recalled.

 

“No,” said Motoko firmly, “you two need to get cleaned up, then we will have supper, then we can look into whatever this thing is,” she disagreed.

 

“Hey, what's going on?” came the voice of the lone male in the inn. Keitaro Urashima was the manager of the dorm, enjoying the status of being the favorite (and only) grandson of the owner, Hina Urashima. The old woman was off somewhere doing god-knew-what, god-knew-where, leaving the Hinata House and its residents in his hands. Spotting the tall form of Tsuruko at the center of the commotion, he swallowed nervously. “Hi, Tsuruko-san,” he said. I just now finished paying for all the repairs from your last visit! What now?!

 

“Motoko, were you using attacks inside the house again?” asked Naru, standing beside Keitaro. When Keitaro was off on a dig, she ran the inn; well, she and whichever girl got roped into it as well so she could make her classes and clubs. Usually, that was Shinobu. “The walls at the top of the stairs will have to be re-finished, you know,” she complained.

 

“It's nothing,” Keitaro soothed his girlfriend, “I'll take care of it in the next day or two,” he promised.

 

“Motoko will assist you in repairing the damage she caused, Keitaro,” stated Tsuruko, not even looking at her sister. The younger sister flushed a little.

 

“Yes, I would be happy to assist you, Keitaro,” Motoko meekly complied with her sister's `suggestion'.

 

“Well, once Mutsumi-sempai gets here,” Shinobu cut in smoothly, “we'll all be ready to eat,”

 

“There she is,” said Su casually, pointing. The group turned to see a near-naked Mutsumi moving along the far end of the main room, a towel hap-hazardly wrapped around her still-wet body.

 

“Where are you going dressed like that, sugar?” wondered Kitsune. Mutsumi turned to smile at them.

 

“I seem to have forgotten a change of clothes, so I thought I would go get some from my apartment,” she offered. The others exchanged glances.

 

“You are not going out in public in only a towel and wet hair,” said Naru firmly. “I'm certain we can find some clothes that fit you around here. Besides,” she added, “supper's up.”

 

“I wouldn't want to impose,” Mutsumi said.

 

“It's not,” Naru answered evenly. “Come on; let's get you something to wear,” she said, moving over to the taller, more endowed Okinawan girl. Naru spotted something in Mutsumi's off hand, hidden between her body and the far wall. “What's that you have there?” wondered Naru, plucking the object from Mutsumi's hand.

 

“Hey! The thing!” exclaimed Su, vanishing from Motoko's back and reappearing at Naru's side. She grabbed the thing from Naru's hand and scampered back to Motoko.

 

“Where'd you find it, Mutsumi?” wondered Sarah.

 

“Oh, it fell into the bath,” said the stacked woman.

 

“Tama musta dropped it there,” shrugged Sarah. Su held the seal up to Motoko.

 

“See?!” she said, “just like on your sword!” Motoko studied it.

 

“It certainly appears to be the Aoyama seal,” said Motoko slowly. Tsuruko released Tama, who flew over to land on Mutsumi's head, and examined the object.

 

“This is an ancient message tube,” said the older sister, eyeing the item. “That is the seal of our family, yes, but look at this,” said Tsuruko, indicating a place just above the seal. Motoko peered at it for a moment before suddenly drawing in a sharp breath.

 

“That can't be…!” she whispered. Tsuruko slowly nodded.

 

“And yet, it is,” she stated.

 

“What? What is it?!” Su demanded. Tsuruko smiled at the shorter gaijin.

 

“Nothing to worry about, Su,” said the older sister, gripping the top of the tube.

 

“It won't open; we already tried, remember?” Sarah predicted. Tsuruko hummed, running her finger over the seal.

 

“Motoko,” she said, holding out the tube. Motoko straightened and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. An instant later, she slashed with her sword. The rest of the assembled people didn't immediately see anything happen. Tsuruko calmly opened the tube, which easily opened, the seal cut cleanly along the seam. “Nicely done,” Tsuruko praised her sister's strike. “Your control has improved, as well,” added the older of the two, holding her hand under the tube as a folded length of rice paper came out of the tube. Across the main fold, three seals were affixed, though two of them were broken.

 

“That's a different mark,” observed Su, only mildly interested. “Nothing but paper in there?” she wondered, disappointed. Tsuruko eyed the seal. Motoko moved closer to her sister, catching sight of the seal.

 

“Onee-chan?” she asked, looking to Tsuruko. Her big sister was reverently caressing the paper. A moment later, she slid it back into the tube, closing it. Eying the tube once more, she traced some marks on the worn, aged case. Motoko looked at the scars.

 

“Arrows?” she asked softly of her sister. Tsuruko nodded.

 

“And at least one sword-stroke,” she added, indicating a line along the axis of the tube. As if suddenly remembering that they were in the middle of a group of people, Tsuruko tucked the tube into her gi and smiled at the rest. “It is nothing,” she said calmly. “Just an old dispatch tube from the Aoyama home to a branch dojo of our style. A family heirloom; nothing more.”

 

“Well, we might as well eat then!” came the enthusiastic voice of Su.

 

“Not until we get Mutsumi something to wear,” came the dry voice of Naru. The girl was guiding her friend up the stairs toward her room. “Be back in a minute,” she called over her shoulder.

 

“While they are doing that,” said Motoko, “Su, you and Sarah need to at least wash your hands before eating,” she said sternly. The two blondes groaned, but dashed off as everyone else settled at the table.

 

A few minutes later, Naru came down, Su and Sarah a step behind her, staying that Mutsumi would be down in a moment, there having been a slight problem with finding clothes that fit her properly. God, I know I'm hardly flat, but next to Mutsumi-chan…! Naru thought. Her bras hadn't even come remotely close to Mutsumi's cup size. Not that she seemed bothered by not having a bra to wear, reflected Naru. Mutsumi was more relaxed and confident about such things than Naru could ever hope to be.

 

Upstairs, Mutsumi finished buttoning the last button that she could get fastened on the borrowed top Naru had lent her and picked up her cell phone. Swiftly dialing a number from memory, she waited for the other party to pick up. When it did, she didn't waste any time. “It's me, Mutsumi. The tube was found, and the Aoyamas have it. Yes. Tell the others, and see if the elders can find grandma Hina. Yes, I hope it won't come to that, as well.” From below, she heard Su shouting for her to hurry up so they could eat. “I have to go. I will call you later.”

 

Pocketing the phone, she glanced at herself in the mirror. The blouse was only half-buttoned, but seeing as how Keitaro would be there, it was fine. Smiling to herself, she moved down the stairs to the table, seeing that everyone was waiting for her, including Haruka Urashima. The owner/manager of the Hinata Tea Shop was sitting opposite Tsuruko, her expression blandly pleasant. Taking the free seat one down from Keitaro past Shinobu, Mutsumi smiled at everyone. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, pretending not to notice the looks of the other girls as they took in her half-buttoned blouse and well-displayed charms. “Let's eat!”

 

-

 

“That was an incredible meal, Shinobu-chan,” Tsuruko said, bowing to the small chef of the Hinata House. “I am humbled before your skills in the kitchen,” she added, making Shinobu blush.

 

“I…it was my pleasure, Tsuruko-san,” stammered the girl.

 

“Sadly, I fear that Motoko and I must head to the family home immediately,” said Tsuruko firmly. “It is nothing important, and it shouldn't take more than a day or so, but we must leave immediately,” she made her apologies.

 

“Quite a rush you're in,” observed Haruka.

 

“Didn't you say your husband was here on business?” wondered Shinobu.

 

“He can finish it up without my help,” Tsuruko said easily. “Motoko, we're going,” said the older of the two.

 

“Y…yes, Onee-chan,” blinked Motoko. Bowing to Keitaro, Tsuruko bid him good bye.

 

“Keitaro, thank you for your hospitality.” With that said, she led Motoko out of the Hinata House and toward the front gate. Once the pair had cleared the gate of the Hinata House, Tsuruko picked up the pace to where Motoko almost had to trot to keep up with her.

 

“Sister, what is this all about?!” wondered Motoko. I didn't even get a chance to grab my cell phone, or purse, or anything! All I have is my sword!

 

“You saw the seals,” said Tsuruko. Motoko frowned.

 

“I saw our family seal, the Imperial crest and a third seal. I couldn't place the third one,” she frowned. “It seemed familiar, but I can't place it.”

 

“You should know it,” said Tsuruko. “You pass under it every time you enter or leave the Hinata house,” said the older sister. Motoko blinked.

 

“It's the Urashima crest?” she asked, confused. Tsuruko nodded.

 

“It is,” she confirmed.

 

“Why would…?” wondered Motoko, only to have Tsuruko grab her shoulder and turn her to face herself.

 

“You are to inherit the Shinmei-ryu school, Motoko, but before that, I was the heir. There are things that only the heir can know about, and this appears to be one of them. I will not speak of this matter outside the walls of our home. Is that clear?” she said tightly.

 

“Hai,” Motoko said automatically. She knew her sister well enough to know that Tsuruko was deadly serious about the pronouncement. “What about…your husband?” she recalled Shinobu's question. Tsuruko produced a cell phone and dialed a number.

 

“Yes, husband, it's me. No, everything is fine! I was calling to tell you that an urgent matter has come up, and I must return to Kyoto immediately. No, everything is fine! It is just a family matter with Motoko. Please, don't worry! Come to the family home when you conclude your business, and then we can go home together. Yes, I promise. Thank you. See you then.” Tsuruko ended the call. “Taken care of,” she said crisply. Motoko frowned.

 

She had never liked her brother-in-law due to her perception that he stole her sister from her, and she certainly hadn't warmed to him in the time since the wedding, but she had always thought that her sister loved him. After all, hadn't she chosen him over the sword? What she had just heard sounded more like a business arrangement than love. Or rather, what I think is love, she amended the thought. Tsuruko had been nearly distant and more formal than Motoko was with Keitaro. Is this important enough to make her lie to her husband? worried the younger sister.

 

Motoko was caught up in her thoughts until she found herself boarding the express train for Kyoto. Tsuruko had her cell phone out again, and was speaking softly into it. Focusing on her sister, she caught the tail of the conversation. She is asking the elders to meet us in the center of our house? Why would they do that? wondered Motoko. Tsuruko put her phone away as the train accelerated away from the station.

 

“Sake, please,” asked Tsuruko of the attendant. A few moments later, a small ceramic bottle of the drink was presented, along with two shallow cups. Seeing Tsuruko pour a cup and hand it to her, Motoko looked at her sister questioningly. One look at her expression, and Motoko accepted the drink, carefully swallowing. Tsuruko drained her own cup, refilling both. In silence, the two finished the bottle of sake. Tsuruko didn't order another, though Motoko was certain that she wanted to. The Nozumi train arrived in Kyoto right on schedule two hours twenty minutes later.

 

Exiting the train station, Tsuruko and Motoko were greeted by a car, driven by a retainer of the family. Without fanfare, the sisters were driven to the ancestral home of the Aoyama clan. Tsuruko ushered her sister through the living areas, past the inner garden, and to the secluded room where the family discussed family business in private. Scratching at the door, Tsuruko slid the door open a moment later, obediently kneeling and entering the room, Motoko just behind her.

 

In the room, Motoko saw that the four elders of the Aoyama clan were assembled, along with some senior masters of the family style. Once she shut the door behind herself, Motoko took her place beside her sister, laying her sword beside her. “Tsuruko, Motoko,” said the head of the elders, their great-uncle. “You best have cause for this meeting,” he warned them.

 

“We do, elder,” said Tsuruko firmly, reaching into her hakama and pulling the message tube free. Placing it before her, Tsuruko waited.

 

“Post guards,” said the head elder to one of the masters of the art in the room. “No one is to approach this room while we speak. Those of you who are not Aoyama by blood or marriage will leave now,” he added sternly. Three of the masters of the art rose and departed. After a few minutes, the head elder reluctantly reached forward and picked up the tube. Seeing the seal was broken, he glanced at Tsuruko, who nodded minutely.

 

Opening the tube, the elder carefully withdrew the rice paper inside, once more pausing to look at the seals. “Please, Kami, don't do this,” murmured the man before breaking the Aoyama seal on the paper and opening it. Seeing what was written, his shoulders slumped slightly. Silently, he read the whole thing before handing it to the next senior-most elder. In silence, the other waited their turn. Finally, the papers were handed to Motoko. Reading the archaic Japanese with a little difficulty, she finally lowered the papers and stared at her uncle.

 

“What is this about, elder?” she asked plaintively. She was beyond confused, and the race paper wasn't helping her understanding. Her great-uncle sighed.

 

“It is about our greatest dishonor, Motoko,” he said quietly. Motoko frowned.

 

“I don't know what you are talking about,” she said slowly. “I have never heard of any dishonor on the Aoyama clan,” she insisted.

 

“Of course not,” agreed the elder. “Which is, itself, another dishonor,” he muttered. Fixing his gaze on Motoko he addressed her. “You are to inherit the school, Motoko, so it is time for you to learn of what we have hidden from all for more than five hundred years,” he said. “You cannot speak of this to any not of our clan or of the family of your husband, is that clear?” he warned her.

 

“Husband? What…?” gaped Motoko.

 

“Understand?” repeated the elder.

 

“Hai,” Motoko replied.

 

“You have been told of the founding of our school, and of our charter by the Emperor. What you have not been told is the true story of how that happened,” the elder said. He paused, gathering and organizing his thoughts. “Motoko, this has been passed down within the family for so long that it has always been considered a legend; or a myth. This message proves otherwise. And because of that, I fear we can no longer conceal our dishonor.”

 

Taking in a breath, the elder went on. “During the early part of the Heian period, two families were vying for power and position here in Kyoto, which was the capital. Those families were the Aoyama - a line of great and powerful warriors - and the Urashima, who were known for…other skills. Both families allied themselves with the Emperor's faction, and both were fiercely loyal to the Emperor and his line. As the years passed, the core skills and abilities of the Shinmei-ryu school were crafted by our ancestors, even as the Urashima were developing skills of their own.

 

“By the Kamakura period, the two families were both in court, testament to their loyalty and skills. Late in the period, our family's style was officially patented by the Emperor and granted the charge of ridding the lands of oni and evil spirits. During the same time, the Urashima clan was given administration of most of the land, as well as being acknowledged as wizards, priests and scientists. While both houses zealously supported the Emperor, they grew increasingly contentious between them over power, position, authority and standing.

 

“When the Muromachi period arrived, the court was split into those that supported one or the other house, though even then, both were fierce supporters of the Emperor. Any who opposed the throne were faced with both our houses coming down on them with all our might. This rift in the court was undermining the stability of the land and the position of the Emperor, and I am ashamed to say that our ancestors often fed on that chaos to strengthen their own standing; as did the Urashima.

 

“The feud grew so strong that in the early part of the Edo period, the two families could not be civil to each other even in the presence of the Emperor. This caused the Emperor to remove us both from court for a period. Such action cooled our animosity, but did nothing to heal the rift our dispute was causing. When the Toyotomi clan was annihilated, it all came to a head. Many families and clans felt that the destruction of the Toyotomis was a clear warning of what was to befall all families who found themselves on the wrong side of the politics of the court. We of the Aoyama felt the destruction was just and right, in light of the greater good. The Urashima disagreed. Our families once more gathered those other clans sympathetic to our stance to us, rendering the court's balance meaningless.

 

“The final break came in the early sixteen eighties, when the Emperor summoned the heads of both Aoyama and Urashima before him to order them to put aside our feud. By now, it had gone too far for words to be enough. Swords were drawn in the presence of the Emperor - by both sides! - and our families disgraced ourselves. The Emperor, who still needed the support of both families to retain law and order in his lands, banished us from court and forbid confronting each other until he summoned us once more.

 

“The Urashima had their home on the south side of Kyoto, while we lived here, where we always have, on the north side. Kyoto was a tense place to be for several months while the Emperor decided what to do about the mess he had found himself in. After a few months of council and meditation, he had the solution. He once more summoned us to his court, and told us what our punishment was to be.

 

“Our two families and clans would be forever joined by blood, he decreed. Thus, the feud would have to end, as the two lines would merge and become one. He instructed the elders of the two clans to select from among their blood the candidates for this union, and to submit them to him. He would make the final selection and the two would be joined.

 

“Not all was as it seemed, however, for the Empress felt threatened by this decision, and by nefarious means, she contacted an obscure cult in the hills, and paid to have a curse placed on both our lines, without knowledge of the Emperor. While we fought each other, her own clan was advancing in power and standing at cost of our own. If united, we would be of sufficient strength to challenge the throne; perhaps even name one of us Emperor, if we so choose. She sought to avoid this at any cost.

 

“The Emperor dispatched his messengers to the two houses, and names were given. He chose from the list of names and position, and sent his decree to our two houses by Imperial messenger. We of the Aoyama were to present our eldest heir to the family style to the eldest heir of the Urashima, that the bond be not severed.

 

“Within our clan, a small group of people, obsessed with power, plotted a criminal and dishonorable deed. As the messenger would come first to us - we being closer to the court - we would see who was chosen first. After our seal and hanko were on the document, the dispatch would ride to the Urashimas for their acknowledgement of the edict.

 

“Those within our ranks who plotted ill arranged for a vassal of our clan to attack and slay the messengers just inside Urashima territory. To a man, they were slain from ambush, and the messages they carried destroyed. Unknown to the elder of the Aoyama, this small group made contact with the Empress, and forged an alliance. Upon the appointed day, we of the Aoyama arrived with our candidate, but the Urashima did not show.

 

“Enraged, the Emperor ordered his troops to bring the elders of the Urashima to him to answer for their insult. Fueled by lies and accusations from the Empress and our own lips, the Emperor believed that the Urashima were deliberately dishonoring him and plotting a coup. Those of the family who knew of the plot expected the Urashima to attempt to deflect blame, and thus, they could win supreme standing for themselves.

 

“We lied, Motoko, and framed the Urashima. That is our shame. Were it only that, though, we could have erased it. But the Urashima made that impossible to wash away. The elder of the Urashima came before the Emperor and told him that the messengers had never reached them, but had been slain just inside the territory of the Urashima by unknown attackers. He went on to take complete responsibility for what happened, and announced that he would be taking his own life then and there to atone for it. Furthermore, the Urashima renounced all standing in the government and forever banished themselves from court.

 

“With his tanto held ready to commit seppuku before the Emperor, he had one final thing to say. `You are forgotten forever more,” he said. While we tried to puzzle out what he meant, he took his own life. Before the body was cold, reports came in that fires were seen in the south and in the city. By the next morning, his meaning was all too clear: every last Urashima was gone, their lands, houses, buildings, holdings and possessions burned to the ground.

 

“That move sealed us in place, Motoko,” sighed the elder. “It was days before we found out about the involvement of those among us. We executed them, of course, but it was too late. Our honor was stolen from us, and the Urashima had put recovering it beyond our reach. With no other choice, we threw ourselves into our duties, ridding the lands of countless oni and evil spirits, as well as dealing with renegades. It was during one such mission that we learned of the curses.

 

“The Emperor had learned of a secretive group of peoples calling themselves the `Turtle Clan' living in the hills. He had reason to believe that they were enemies, and we were tasked with killing them. We did so; to a man they were put to the sword. Only after we had done this was it discovered through spies that the Empress had paid for a curse to be placed on us, and that the Turtle Clan was the one that had done it. With them dead, our curse is unbreakable.”

 

“As is the curse on the Urashima,” interjected another elder.

 

“Of the Urashima, little was heard. Over time, we learned that they had come to live in a place removed from Kyoto. That place - in time - became Tokyo. We tried to make peace with them, but they were ever silent about it. They had withdrawn into their own ranks, and nothing would bring them out again. Repeatedly, our family ran into members of their family, and often, it was violent. For a number of generations, we avoided each other; them by choice and we by shame.

 

“Early this century, we finally made a sort of overture to them. Your grandmother was able to make peaceful contact with the youngest of their clan. While I would not call it friendship, a peace of sorts was reached between us. The Urashima woman was Hina Urashima.”

 

“Granny Hina!” breathed Motoko. The elder nodded. “In time, those of our family were able to live peacefully within the holdings of the Urashima, thanks to Hina Urashima. There is little love lost between us, but we now have a chance to wash clean that ancient stain on our honor.” said the elder.

 

“Why not burn this and let it die a quiet death?” asked one of the masters of the style. The elder fixed him with a stare.

 

“We of the Aoyama hold our honor to be of greater value than our lives,” he hissed. “Finally, we have a chance to clean this blemish from our honor, and you would hide that dishonor for convenience?” he snarled.

 

“How does this restore our honor?” challenged the master. “Those who were responsible were dead, and it has been more than five hundred years since then. Do the Urashima even know of this?” he asked, gesturing to the rice paper and in a broader sense, the story that Motoko had just heard. “If they do not remember, then there is no dishonor, as the incident would be no more than a shadow.”

 

“Much as I dislike it, I do agree that if the Urashima do not remember the incident, there is nothing to be gained by reminding them of it,” agreed another of the four elders. “Have they forgotten, our honor is cleansed,” he suggested.

 

“We know of our dishonor,” said Tsuruko tightly. Silently, Motoko nodded her agreement with her sister. “Is that not stain enough?” she asked.

 

“Let us consider this on a practical level,” the second-senior-most elder said. “We of the Aoyama were charged with delivering the eldest heir of our school to the Urashima candidate for marriage. Tsuruko has already wed. Motoko is now heir, but she is the younger sister. I fear we cannot meet our end of the decree,” he said.

 

“Indeed, can the Urashima meet their end? It may well be that neither family is in a position to honor this,” said the fourth elder.

 

“The Urashima have a candidate,” said Tsuruko softly. “He is, in fact, the grandson of Hina Urashima. His name is Keitaro Urashima, and Motoko knows him well,” she said, giving her sister a tiny smile. Motoko blushed a little.

 

“This Keitaro Urashima,” the elder asked, “what sort of man is he?”

 

“Keitaro is fair and honest man,” Motoko said immediately. “He has always behaved with honor and restraint; even when given cause not to,” she added quietly, thinking of all the times she had attacked him without reason.

 

“Then you do not oppose being his bride?” asked the senior elder. Motoko blinked.

 

“Well…no, I suppose not, though Naru would object,” she said slowly.

 

“Who?” asked a master.

 

“Naru Narusegawa,” supplied Tsuruko, “his girlfriend.”

 

“As long as he is not married, there is a chance,” the elder said, dismissing the minor issue.

 

“More to the point, does he have the Urashima hanko? Unless he can seal this decree, our honor remains stained,” reminded the third elder.

 

“Hina Urashima has the seal,” said Tsuruko. “Any agreement will have to go through her,” she warned. “I do not think that she will be unreasonable, however, if what you say about her and grandma Yayoi is correct.”

 

“Then, we must find a way to call Hina Urashima to discuss this matter,” decided the elder.

 

“Motoko can look into that aspect of it for us,” suggested Tsuruko. “There is still the matter of the curse to deal with,” she reminded them. Motoko frowned.

 

“Yes, what is this curse our family has?” she wondered. Tsuruko looked at the elder, who gave a slight nod.

 

“I will speak of it with you in private, sister,” said the elder sibling. “Right now, I could use a good soak in the hot spring. Come,” ordered Tsuruko. “With your permission, Elders?” she asked.

 

Ten minutes later, Tsuruko and Motoko were soaking side-by-side in the hot spring behind the Aoyama home. Motoko found herself wishing she were back in the Hinata House's spring. “Motoko, have you ever wondered why there are only sisters in the Aoyama line?” she asked her younger sibling.

 

“No, not really,” shrugged Motoko. Tsuruko wasn't surprised. “Since that incident, no males have been born into the Aoyama line, Motoko,” she said. “Only daughters. All men come into the family by marriage, not by birth. It has made keeping a line intact very, very hard at times.”

 

“So, that's the curse? Doesn't seem so bad…” mused Motoko. Aside from Keitaro, I don't really like men any more now than I did four years ago, she thought.

 

“That is only part of it,” corrected Tsuruko. “I know you dislike my marriage, but have you not wondered why you have no nieces?” Motoko frowned.

 

“Maybe once or twice,” she admitted. “I suppose I figured that he wasn't…able,” she murmured, coloring. Tsuruko gave her sister a surprised look.

 

“That is uncommonly astute of you, Motoko,” she surprised the younger sister.

 

“What?” wondered Motoko, lost.

 

“The other part of the curse is that men who marry into the Aoyama line nearly always develop…issues related to lineage.” Seeing that she was being too delicate, she spoke more bluntly. “Something about the women of the pure Aoyama line makes nearly all men who marry them impotent. The theory we put forth to our clan and outsiders is that the use of chi in our family style is somehow to blame for the trouble that our husbands develop. That is not the case; or at least, not all there is to it. We who know of the curse suspect it is playing a part in this.”

 

“So, you mean…your husband…?” gaped Motoko. Tsuruko nodded.

 

“I had hoped that it would take a little longer to manifest, but in little more than a year, it became a problem,” she admitted.

 

“I…see,” breathed Motoko. She was both glad and irritated at the news, though she couldn't pin down why she felt those emotions. “What of the curse on the Urashimas?” she asked, dismissing her own situation.

 

“We just don't know,” admitted Tsuruko. “Obviously, we have not spoken with them of it, and they have no cause to speak with us of it.”

 

“Perhaps that is why Keitaro is invulnerable,” mumbled Motoko. Tsuruko shrugged.

 

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” the elder sibling replied. “I am more concerned about the Urashima secret combat style than about their curse,” she said. Motoko frowned, recalling how Kanako had countered her own Shinmei-ryu attacks.

 

“Kanako was a problem,” admitted Motoko.

 

“Kanako is still learning the arts. If you want to test your true mastery of our style, offend Haruka some time, and see if you live to tell of it,” snorted Tsuruko.

 

“Haruka is an adept at the Urashima secret style?” asked Motoko, surprised. “And how do you know she better than Kanako?” she thought to ask. Tsuruko straightened up from where she had been relaxing against the edge of the spring and turned her back to Motoko. Using her other hand, she indicated a thin, silver scar along her shoulder blade.

 

“Haruka did that with her bare hand, using the Urashima arts,” said Tsuruko.

 

“You fought Haruka?” gaped Motoko. The scar looked like a sword scar.

 

“I was young and full of myself, and Haruka was not much better off. We ran into each other one night, and we had both had had too much to drink. We destroyed a park and two ramen stands before we decided not to press any further before one of us ended up dead,” confirmed Tsuruko. Motoko's mind boggled at that.

 

That her feared elder sister, who trashed her with such ease, had been handed a beating by the seemingly-mild-mannered Haruka was just too strange to process. With some unease, she recalled that Haruka had said that she and Kanako didn't get along. What does that say about the relative power of those two? Maybe I should be more careful; and practice more! She knew that the `onii-chan' obsessed sister of Keitaro would be back sooner or later.

 

“Does Keitaro seem to have any issues with…ability?” asked Tsuruko, curious. Motoko shook her thoughts away from Kanako and considered what Tsuruko was asking.

 

“I…couldn't say!” hissed Motoko. “I haven't had any chance to find out something like that!” blurted out the girl before she realized her choice of words were rather poor. Tsuruko giggled.

 

“Any chance, is it?” teased the other sister. “I guess you really don't have any objection to him as a husband, do you, little sister?” purred Tsuruko. Turning more serious, she went on. “In our situation, you can understand that it is important, can't you?” asked Tsuruko. Slowly, Motoko nodded.

 

“This…is a mess, isn't it, onee-chan?” she asked softly.

 

“Yes, it is,” agreed Tsuruko. “But, it could free us of past mistakes, and restore our honor,” she reminded Motoko.

 

“I know, but…” Motoko trailed off. Tsuruko waited. “What about the others? Naru, Shinobu, Kanako…there are a lot of things that are going to work against us. Is it worth wrecking their lives just to salve our own conscience?”

 

“Time will tell, Motoko,” Tsuruko said softly. “Ultimately, Keitaro is the one who will hold our fate in his hands.”

 

For some reason, Motoko felt oddly relieved by that news.

 

-

 

Shinobu awoke early, as she usually did. Rising from her futon, she stretched, feeling the cool pre-dawn air coming in through her window. Covering a yawn with her hand, she rubbed her eyes with the back of her other hand. She had been up later than usual the night before, finishing a school assignment. Naru had swung by and helped her out for a bit, and later, Keitaro had checked on her before going to bed. Smiling at the memory of his visit, Shinobu felt the familiar tingle race down her spine and into her lower belly, where it ignited into hot, tingly warmth.

 

Switching on her small desk lamp, she paused, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. Gone were the pajamas she used to sleep in. The pajamas had been swapped for a tee shirt and loose, comfortable shorts when they grew too tight to be comfortable. Not three months ago, she had swapped the tee shirt and shorts for a silk shirt that Keitaro had bought for her on an impulse. The thin, cool silk had felt so good that she had taken to wearing only the shirt when preparing for bed.

 

Looking at herself in the mirror, she smiled at what she saw. She was still the shortest of the permanent residents of the Hinata, but that didn't bother her anymore. Unbuttoning the deep blue silk shirt, she carefully folded it before setting it on the foot of her futon. Once more, she paused, looking at her nude reflection in the mirror. Twisting side to side slowly, she critically examined herself. Shinobu Maehara liked what she saw.

 

Slim, her body had nevertheless developed noticeable curves in the last year or so, along with a modest, but visible heart-shaped patch of hair just above her sex. Turning edge-on to the mirror, the young girl studied her profile. So I am not as endowed as the other girls, she thought, accepting that she would never have the rack that the other girls enjoyed. They might not be as big, but they are nicely shaped and big enough, she told herself. She recalled that she had been able to wear an honest tie-on bikini without any problems last summer for the first time in her life. And Keitaro said it looked good on me, too! she recalled, the tingle in her pelvis growing hotter. From then on, she had silently promised that she would wear that bikini any time that Keitaro might see her in it.

 

Sighing happily, Shinobu opened her dresser to dress for the day. Looking at the neatly-folded and carefully arranged panties, she reflected on how her clothing had changed as well. Gone were the cotton print panties - except for a couple of favorites - and in their place were satin, silk, lace and flannel panties. The styles had shifted as well, with the simple cut of her cotton panties replaced with high-hip bikini style, a few low-rise examples, some tie-on type, with the majority of them being thongs. Selecting a comfortable pair, Shinobu slipped into them, settling them comfortably while reflecting that her school mates were still mostly wearing the simple cotton type she used to wear, and some were jealous of her choice to wear more adult styles.

 

Not that Shinobu cared. Other than a couple of close friends, she hadn't made any friendships with her high-school peers, being far too busy with matters in the every-hectic Hinata House. She, unlike most of the other students, had a clear, solid goal, and she focused on that goal. While her peers wasted time on fashions and gossip and skipping class, Shinobu concentrated on her studies, eyes on the prize. Closing her panty drawer, she slid open the next one down, revealing her bras. Much like her panties, her bras had changed, though mostly from necessity as her minor - but noticeable - growth spurts had come into effect.

 

Lifting a paper-thin lace bra from the drawer, she slipped into it, closing the fastener between her breasts before reaching for a half-slip. It was another article of clothing that most of her peers at school didn't wear, but she did. A side-effect of living with older girls was that her taste in clothing shifted as well. From Naru and Motoko, she had learned that a slip or half-slip made the school uniforms look better and feel more comfortable. Likewise, she had learned about hose or tights for winter wear from the older girls. More than once, she had been complimented by teachers on her appearance.

 

Slipping into her school uniform, she brushed her hair - still worn short - and took care of last-minute details before moving downstairs to prepare breakfast for her family. And that is what they are, she thought, silently descending the stairs. More than mom or dad, my family is here, at Hinata. Reaching the kitchen, she donned an apron before starting a pot of coffee. Naru would be first on the scene, preparing to dash off to Todai, and she liked to have a cup of coffee first. As the coffee brewed, she filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove, knowing that Motoko would be looking for her morning tea. If she came back, recalled Shinobu. She left the pot of water to boil, though; even if Motoko weren't back yet, Kitsune would need a cup of potent herb tea to help her recover from her latest drinking binge, and Shinobu did her best to keep Su away from coffee.

 

Swiftly preparing the rice cooker while simultaneously preparing the miso, vegetables and fish, Shinobu was on auto-pilot. Her eyes touched the clock as she heard movement near the stairs. Moments later, she heard light footfalls on the stairs, and Naru breezed into the room. “Morning, Shinobu-chan,” said the girl, taking the offered cup of coffee. Sipping it, Naru already knew that the cup was prepared just the way that she liked it. “I have club and lab today, so I won't be back until after supper,” said the taller girl. Shinobu nodded.

 

“Ok,” said the cook. “Is Keitaro up yet?” she asked. Naru shook her head.

 

“Don't think so, but I didn't check,” she said. Seeing Shinobu dishing up a small bowl of rice and vegetables, she sat at the table, two pieces of toast landing next to the bowl a moment later as Naru wolfed the food down. Barely ten minutes later, Naru set her chopsticks down and rose. “Thanks, Shinobu-chan,” she said, affectionately stroking the shorter girl's hair. “Gotta run,” she added, dashing out the door.

 

As soon as she heard the front door close, Shinobu poured a second cup of coffee, added a little cream, and headed toward the landlord's room. Scratching softly, Shinobu waited just a moment before sliding the door open. “Keitaro?” she asked softly, seeing movement on the futon. Setting the cup on the low table that still had papers spread out all over it, Shinobu knelt beside the futon, carefully reaching out and shaking the shoulder of her beloved sempai. “Keitaro?” she repeated.

 

“Mm,” came the garbled response, the form shifting as an arm came around, pulling her onto the futon. A soft gasp was Shinobu's only response as she allowed herself to be pulled into bed with her crush. Feeling Keitaro's arm wrap around her, she sighed softly. Keitaro's hand came to rest on her rear, rubbing it absently as his lips touched her throat, Shinobu tilting her head back to allow him to kiss her throat.

 

“Keitaro,” breathed the girl, enjoying the feeling of this unintentional embrace with her object of desire. Her breathing quickened as she felt his lips move toward her own. Oh, god, this feels so good…! her mind babbled.

 

As his kisses made their way toward her lips, his hand moved up from her rear, along her side, to cup her breasts. Just before his lips met hers, Keitaro froze in place, his hand absently massaging her breast. “Naru-chan?” breathed Keitaro, his mostly-asleep mind registering that something wasn't quite right about how Naru felt. More awake, he didn't need his glasses to identify the girl lying in his arms. “Shinobu-chan?” he breathed.

 

“Keitaro,” she nearly sobbed. So close! mourned the girl silently.

 

“Oh, god! I'm so sorry, Shinobu-chan! I…I thought you were Naru!” he explained, swiftly pulling his hand off her chest.

 

“It's fine!” Shinobu assured him hurriedly. “I don't mind! At all!” she promised. Seeing him trying to find something to break the awkward silence, she helped him out. “And on the bright side, I won't send you flying through the wall,” she giggled softly.

 

“And I appreciate that, Shinobu-chan,” he managed to laugh with her. Such mishaps had become common, after all.

 

“I brought you some coffee,” explained Shinobu, reluctantly rising from Keitaro's futon. “Naru-sempai has already left for Todai, and she won't be back until after dark. Breakfast is ready, if you are hungry,” she added. Keitaro sat up, stretching.

 

“Yeah, thanks, Shinobu-chan,” he said, fumbling for his glasses.

 

“Shinobu!” came the energetic voice of Su, accompanied by the pounding of feet on the hallway upstairs. “What's for breakfast?” yelled Su. Swiftly exiting the room of Keitaro, Shinobu moved toward the kitchen. Another day had arrived in the Hinata.

 

-

 

“Maehara-chan?” came an uncertain male voice from behind her. Turning, Shinobu found a third-year student behind her.

 

“Yes?” she hinted, when he didn't say anything. She had been on her way back home after club, and didn't want to waste time on someone who didn't have anything to say.

 

“Um, I was…that is,” stuttered the young man, his face coloring, “I wanted to tell you something important,” he pushed on. Shinobu waited. There were few students around, but he seemed really nervous, peeking around them. “Can we talk privately?” he nearly begged. Shinobu bit back a sigh.

 

“I suppose so,” she said, turning and heading toward the side entrance. A few yards away from the side entrance was a small row of maple trees, and at that time of day, there shouldn't be anyone there. She didn't bother to look to see if he was following her or not.

 

When she stopped under a tree, she turned and saw him there. “What was it?” she asked him.

 

“I…I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend!” he blurted out. Shinobu frowned.

 

“Your girlfriend?” she repeated slowly. He nodded jerkily.

 

“So, you will?” he asked tensely.

 

“I'm sorry,” said Shinobu a heartbeat later, “but I already have a boyfriend,” she said. No point dragging this out, thought the girl.

 

“What?!” he yowled. “Who?!” he demanded, dismayed.

 

“No one here,” said Shinobu, smiling to herself. “He's a Todai man,” she added, seeing the boy slump.

 

“No!” whined the boy. Shinobu bowed shallowly to him.

 

“My apologies, but I must be going,” she said, turning and moving toward the gate. Behind her, the boy had fallen to his knees, crushed.

 

“That was a waste, Shinobu!” came a chiding voice as the small girl cleared the school grounds. Glancing to the side, she saw that her closest friend, Akiko Taichi, had fallen into step with her.

 

“What was?” wondered the dark-haired girl, not following her friend's thought.

 

“That was Howagai, the captain of the kendo club!” Akiko said, vaguely pointing back toward the young man. “He wanted you to be his girlfriend, Shinobu!” she harped.

 

“That's what he said,” shrugged Shinobu. “I didn't know he was in the kendo club,” she mused. Compared to Motoko-sempai, he doesn't look like a swordsman, she thought, vaguely amused.

 

“You could have become the queen of the school, Shinobu!” pressed her friend. Shinobu shrugged.

 

“You can have him, Akiko,” she said, indifferent to the social implications. Her friend sighed.

 

“He doesn't want someone like me,” she said. “I'm not high-profile enough,” she explained. Shinobu frowned.

 

“What does that mean?” wondered the smaller girl.

 

“You have the highest scores in our year, you are beautiful, and you carry yourself better than any of the other girls. I'm surprised that more guys haven't asked you,” Akiko thought out loud. Shinobu blinked. They think I'm…beautiful? she wondered. I'm pretty, I guess, but compared to my sempais at home… she frowned slightly. Is it because I am basing myself off the girls at home that I am changing like this? she wondered.

 

“Why did you turn him down?” wondered Akiko. “Is it because of Keitaro?” she guessed. Slowly, Shinobu nodded. Her friend had met her crush, as well as the other girls at the Hinata, but hadn't immediately grasped why Shinobu was so in love with him. “You said that he and Naru-san were an item now, didn't you?” wondered the other girl.

 

“They are,” confirmed Shinobu.

 

“Then, why are you still holding on to him?” wondered Akiko.

 

“Because…” said Shinobu. There is always a chance, she thought silently. “How are your grades, Akiko?” she asked her friend. Her friend gulped. “I thought so,” sighed Shinobu. “Midterms are coming up, Akiko, and if you can't keep your grades up, you will be dismissed from school,” she warned. “If that happens, you won't get into a good college.”

 

“I know, but I'm just not as smart as you, Shinobu,” Akiko said. “I barely made it in, and only because you pushed me,” added the girl.

 

“I'm not smart, Akiko,” insisted Shinobu. “I just study and ask for help from my sempais,” she explained. “This Sunday, bring your books and come to the Hinata; I'll help you out,” she said firmly.

 

“Heya, Shinobu-chan!” came a cry, followed by a blonde-haired, tanned blur landing next to her. “What's for supper?” asked Su. Shinobu smiled.

 

“Steaks and salad,” said the girl, feeling Su grab her. A moment later, she found herself aboard a mechanical turtle. “What is…?” she began.

 

“Mecha-Tama Transporter version two point one!” laughed Su, touching a button. Moments later, the mechanical turtle was high over the streets of Tokyo, on a descending trajectory toward Hinata. Shinobu used one hand to hold her skirt down, and another to hold on to the maniacally-laughing Su.