Love Hina Fan Fiction ❯ Legacy ❯ Chapter 36

Keitaro stretched his arms, having just finished lunch. While not even close to Shinobu's level of perfection, the food that Kanako had prepared had been good - if relatively simple. It's easy to get spoiled by Shinobu-chan's cooking, he thought, glancing at the clock. Haruka was working on some matters pertaining to the tea shop, and Kanako was in the office of the Hinata, taking care of some administrative stuff he had been meaning to do for a while, but hadn't gotten around to.

 

“Good thing, too,” he recalled. He had forgotten to file some annual legal documents before his last trip, and if not for his kid sister, the dorm would be facing a fine for late filing. He had, she had told him, also failed to pay the property taxes on the building. She had followed that comment up by telling him that she had already dealt with the problem and they were all squared away. Kanako is so much better than me at that kind of thing, he thought, smiling.

 

With a couple of hours before the girls who were in school would start arriving back, he debated what project to tackle next. After a moment, he decided to replace the worn, cracked and bowed boards on the rear deck. Shinobu-chan should like that; she hangs the laundry there and some of the worst boards are near the clothesline, he mused, grinning. And the Aoyama sisters do their morning exercises there as well, remembered the landlord.

 

He knew the boards had arrived, and the screws were waiting in the small storage room behind the fence that surrounded the hot spring, so all he needed was a saw and the drill, and he was ready. Swiftly gathering the necessary tools, he made his way to the deck, where the replacement boards were neatly stacked out of the way, ready to go. Laying out the tools, he began to work, starting on the ones farthest from the door. It was simple enough to remove the old screws, put the original board beside a new one, mark and cut, then place and secure the new board.

 

As he steadily closed in on completing the job, he heard someone open the door to the deck. Glancing over, he wondered who it would be. To his surprise, Tsuruko was there, still wearing the casual outfit she had worn when she left to run Granny's errand in town. “Hi, Tsuruko,” he said, turning back to his saw work. “Did everything go ok with your errand?” he wondered.

 

“Yes, it did,” she said, approaching him. “May I assist you, Keitaro?” she asked him.

 

“Well, I am almost done,” he began, before freezing as he heard the sound of a sword being drawn.

 

“I will be happy to cut the boards for you,” offered Tsuruko, holding her sword ready.

 

“I…um…” Keitaro nervously licked his lips. Tsuruko - barefoot - used her toes to hold a new board steady.

 

“Honestly, Keitaro, it is my pleasure!” she smiled, focusing and swinging. The new board parted as cleanly as if it had been cut with a miter saw. Other than a small gust of wind over the deck, nothing bad happened. Keitaro sighed in relief. Tsuruko offered him the longer part of the board, smiling softly. “Try this one,” she suggested.

 

Keitaro did so, finding the new board was cut to the correct length, ready to be laid. “Wow, Tsuruko! How did you know where to cut it?” he wondered, impressed.

 

“You have seen our family art practiced by Motoko, of course,” Tsuruko began, “but part of the art we hold develops the eye. A samurai must be able to accurately judge the distance to an enemy, as well as the length of the enemy's reach, in an instant. Our arts have given those of us who are masters of it a very keen eye for such things,” she said, her tone not bragging, but holding some pride. “Naturally, control and focus are also key to our family art,” concluded the woman.

 

“Amazing!” breathed Keitaro. Motoko-chan is good, but Tsuruko seems to still hold the advantage over her, he thought. Tsuruko bowed her head at his complimentary tone. Her cheeks felt warm, too.

 

“Thank you,” she replied modestly. “I would be happy to discuss this more, if you want?” she suggested. Keitaro secured the current board, debating with himself before deciding. Turning to face the elder sister, he took a breath.

 

“Um, maybe some other time,” he said. “Right now, I have something else I want to talk with you about,” he said. Tsuruko gave him an inquisitive look. Looking around, he chose his spot. “Let's talk on the roof,” he said, carefully climbing up onto the tile roof. Tsuruko easily hopped up after him. Leading her to the far end of the roof, which faced the Annex and had no occupied rooms below it, he settled down on the warm tiles, a cool breeze blowing along to keep the heat under control. Tsuruko settled next to him, her long hair tied back, her mid-thigh-length pleated mini-skirt riding up as she absently tucked it under her. Together with the thin, sleeveless turtleneck blouse, it made her look as young as her sister.

 

“So, what did you wish to speak with me about?” she asked him, setting her family sword down carefully.

 

“I wanted to talk with you about the scroll, sort of,” he said, finding it difficult to talk to her about what he had been thinking about since his talk with Motoko.

 

“Very well,” Tsuruko replied, calm and collected.

 

“When I…I mean,” he corrected himself, “if I were to chose you, what would happen?” he asked her.

 

“I am not sure what you are asking, Keitaro,” admitted the woman. “I would be honored, naturally, and would do all I could to be a good wife for you,” she answered him.

 

“I thought as much,” Keitaro said. “But, I was thinking about your family, actually,” he said.

 

“My…family?”

 

“You - or whichever girl I choose - would be taking my name, wouldn't they?” he asked. Tsuruko nodded.

 

“Correct,” she confirmed.

 

“And as I understand it, your family removes the names of those who marry outside the clan, so does that mean that you or Motoko would be removed from the family register if I chose to marry you?” he asked her. Tsuruko nodded.

 

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Especially in this case, we will cease to be Aoyama when we take the family name Urashima.”

 

“Does that mean that you will no longer be allowed to practice the Shinmei-ryu art?” he asked. Tsuruko frowned.

 

“We would still be allowed to identify ourselves as Shinmei-ryu masters, since we have already proven ourselves, but we would not be allowed to teach the style, nor to use the highest forms of it,” she said.

 

“Would…you be able to teach our - your! - children the art?” he wondered. Tsuruko considered that.

 

“Honestly, I do not know for sure, Keitaro,” she replied. “My initial thought is that the elders of the clan will not allow it, as it would be teaching the Aoyama arts to Urashimas.”

 

“But, they would be your children, wouldn't they?” insisted Keitaro. Tsuruko looked at him.

 

“Yes, they would be,” she said. “But once more, we would cease to be Aoyama when we took our vows,” reminded the woman. Keitaro was silent, a small frown on his face.

 

“Motoko-chan said that you two are the only pure-line Aoyama left,” he said after several minutes of silence. “Is that true?”

 

“Yes, only we two sisters have unbroken lineage within our family,” she confirmed.

 

“Any cousins?” asked Keitaro. Tsuruko shook her head.

 

“None of blood, and almost none by marriage,” she answered.

 

“So, I would be removing half the surviving Aoyama line by choosing one of you,” he breathed to himself. Tsuruko caught it, though.

 

“That is not something you need worry about, Keitaro,” she said firmly. “Our family is prepared for what may come, so do not allow irrelevant issues to burden your choice,” urged the woman.

 

“It's not irrelevant,” said Keitaro softly, “not to me, anyway,” he qualified. Tsuruko was silent. “You were married before, weren't you?” he asked, seeing her nod. “But, no children.”

 

“That is correct, Keitaro,” she said. “It is likely the curse in action,” she added.

 

“Then pretty much the Aoyama will cease to be if I choose either one of you,” he mused. “And yet, if I don't chose one of you, your family will remain disgraced.” Not to mention that the other girls are unlikely to accept a change in plans at this point, a part of him reflected. Tsuruko was unsure what to say to that.

 

“I…am humbled that you care so deeply about what fate could befall our family, given the history we share,” she managed at last. He truly is an amazing person, she thought. No wonder Motoko fell for him in spite of her dislike of men.

 

“I don't really care what happened so long ago between our families,” Keitaro said. “But I do care about Motoko and the other girls here,” he added. Tsuruko waited. “I want to do what I can to clear your family's honor, Tsuruko, but I also want to try and see if I can keep from destroying it, too.”

 

“What happens, happens,” said Tsuruko softly. Keitaro was silent for a moment.

 

“If I were to choose Motoko, you would take over the school, right?” he asked her. Tsuruko nodded. “And that would mean that you couldn't get married, wouldn't it? Because then your name would be dropped from the family registery?”

 

“When I married the first time,” she said slowly, “my clan insisted that he change his name to Aoyama - as is our usual custom - so that I would remain on the family register. It is possible that I might be able to marry again.”

 

“But, would you be able to have children from that marriage?” pressed Keitaro.

 

“The odds are extremely long against it, though if the curse breaks fast enough, it could happen,” Tsuruko replied.

 

“Mutsumi said that it could take a while for the curses to break,” Keitaro shared with her. “Maybe even…generations before they completely dissolve,” he added slowly.

 

“Then, you would propose to wed me?” Tsuruko guessed. Keitaro looked away from her for a moment.

 

“That could be the answer,” he said, introspectively. “But, that would force Motoko to assume the duties of the head of the family art. Being that, she would almost certainly have to return to Kyoto, and I don't think she would be happy if that happened.”

 

“Likely not,” nodded Tsuruko. “She has made a life for herself here in Tokyo, with the other residents of the Hinata.”

 

“I…don't want to see Motoko leave,” Keitaro murmured. Especially after what we did! a part of him thought happily.

 

“I am willing to listen to any ideas you may have, Keitaro,” Tsuruko said. Keitaro slowly took a deep breath, then turned to look her in the eyes.

 

“Tsuruko, if I were to chose Motoko as my wife, would you - and your family - be ok with you being my concubine?”

 

-

 

Motoko lightly hurried up the steps, smiling happily. It felt good to be back home, after all. Waving to Shippu, who was on the ridge of the roof, she stepped through the door, slipping off her shoes before moving into the living areas of the house. “I'm back,” she called out habitually. Not hearing an answer, she mentally shrugged and headed upstairs toward her room.

 

Sliding her door open, she stepped through, shrugging out of her blouse as she stepped free of her miniskirt. Dipping gracefully, she picked up the miniskirt, hanging it and the blouse she had worn up before pausing to evaluate her choices. Usually, she would bind her chest, grab her hakamas and gi and be done, but of late, she had found herself wearing her traditional clothes less frequently. And she only bound her breasts when she was actually going to be practicing her family style.

 

She silently shook her head ever so slightly as she caught sight of her reflection in her mirror. Turning herself from side to side as she shifted her hips, she found herself happy with what she saw. Instead of chest bindings and plain, almost austere, white cotton panties, she wore a lace and satin bra that was so thin it was nearly not there and her panties were low-rise bikini style, pastel blue stripes on the rose material. The cut at the front left the entire folds where her hips and thighs joined exposed, while the back was narrow to the point of being only a little short of a thong.

 

Giggling softly to herself, she turned her attention back what she should wear. Deciding to take a cue from her housemates, she grabbed a pair of close-fitting shorts and stepped into them, buttoning the waistband as she pulled a soft, comfortable tee shirt from her dresser. Pulling it over her head, she discovered that it was a bit tighter on her than she recalled. “Not that that is a bad thing,” purred the girl, using her hands to pull her twin ponytails from under her shirt. Looking at herself in the mirror again, she saw that her nipples were hard - and visible through her whisper-thin bra and snug shirt. Keitaro should like that, thought the girl happily.

 

It wasn't until she was turning to exit her room that she noticed something in the mirror. Blinking, she turned to see her sister sitting next to her window, the family sword across her lap, clearly lost in thought. Frowning a little, she moved closer to her older sister. “Tsuruko?” she called softly. Not getting a reaction, she carefully reach out and touched her sister's shoulder. “Sister?”

 

Tsuruko twitched, her eyes focusing on her younger sister, who had knelt by her side. “Oh, Motoko,” she said, “welcome back.”

 

“Is something wrong?” worried Motoko. “You were staring out the window, lost in thought, and have the family sword in your lap, so…”

 

“No, nothing is wrong,” Tsuruko said. “I have just been considering something that Keitaro asked me, that is all,” the elder sister explained.

 

“What did he ask you?” Motoko asked, all too aware of how delicate things were right now. Though, they seem to have stabilized a lot since he came back and we… she had to force that thought aside before she soaked her panties.

 

“Hmm,” hummed Motoko's sister, gathering her thoughts. “First, do you think that Keitaro might be taking advantage of this situation? It would be very understandable for a man to indulge himself when presented with this kind of opportunity.”

 

“Absolutely not!” came the immediate - and indignant - retort from Motoko. “How could you accuse him of that, sister?!” she demanded. “Keitaro would never do that!”

 

“He is a man,” pointed out Tsuruko.

 

“No,” said Motoko firmly, “he is Keitaro,” she repeated. “All he has ever done has been done with honor, and for the good of us under his care; no matter how undeserving we might have been of such consideration,” she added quietly, glancing at the tatami mats for a moment.

 

Tsuruko sighed. “I know,” she quietly admitted. “But that is what makes this question of his so difficult to face; and so critical, as well,” the older Aoyama shared wryly.

 

“What did he ask, sister?” Motoko repeated. A small part of her knew worry. Did he ask her to be his bride? Has he decided on Tsuruko instead of me? Sister has more experience with pleasuring him, and is better versed in the duties of a wife, so… she forcefully pushed that line of thought aside. If he chose her, I will have to accept his decision and be happy for him and sister. Hopefully, the plan will still work even if it is Tsuruko instead of me, she hoped.

 

“He asked something that I would not have expected from him,” Tsuruko said. “He mentioned that you and he had talked of our family's situation,” she continued, though the topic seemed to shift slightly. “What exactly did you say to him, sister?” she asked.

 

Motoko recalled the conversation that the two had shared. “Nothing of particular importance,” she said slowly. “We talked about the…issue we have with maintaining our bloodline, and we talked about our family customs for marriage. What did he ask you?” Motoko asked again, her curiosity getting the better of her.

 

“He asked me if I would consider being his concubine if he chose you as his wife,” Tsuruko said. “Well, I and our family,” she clarified. Motoko blinked.

 

“That was certainly…brave of him,” she replied, at a loss for words.

 

Tsuruko smiled. “It caught me off guard, to be sure,” she agreed. “A few moments after he asked me, he seemed to reconsider, as he began to explain why he had asked,” she elaborated, smiling a bit more.

 

“What did he say?” wondered the curious Motoko. She had felt a tingle shoot through her body when Tsuruko had said that Keitaro just came right out and asked her to be his concubine. That tingle had lodged in her groin, and wasn't dying down any.

 

“He made a somewhat coherent case for his request, actually,” Tsuruko said. “He told me that if he wed you, your name would be removed from the Aoyama family register - as is our tradition - and that would leave me as the sole pure-blood Aoyama. With the curse, it could mean that I would never have children from any marriage, and that would end the line, as there would be no more Aoyama heirs,” she related his hasty explanation.

 

“That is true, we did discuss that that day,” Motoko nodded.

 

“He reasoned that if he married you, the stain on our family name would be erased, but what would be the point if the Aoyama would die out as a result? Apparently, Mutsumi told him that the curse might not lift fully for a couple of generations, but that would likely only affect those not of Urashima blood. From this, he somehow concluded that if I were to be his concubine, he could allow any children of our union to retain our family name, and thus, our line would continue.”

 

Motoko hummed in surprise. “You know, sister, that thought is not completely without merit,” she proposed.

 

“I know,” sighed Tsuruko. “However, aside from the fact that concubines have fallen out of public taste long ago, I am certain of one thing: great uncle Daizaburo will certainly object; and likely most of the elders along with him.” Motoko frowned.

 

“Why would they object?” wondered the younger sister. “We would be cleansing our past mistakes and insuring our line's survival in one stroke,” pointed out the heir to the family arts.

 

“Because our great uncle will see this as the Urashima taking both of us,” Tsuruko explained. “He could accept one of us being given to the Urashima, but for one of us to marry into the Urashima clan, and the other to be the concubine of the Urashima? When we are the only two full-blood Aoyama left? He will not be able to swallow that, I'm afraid.”

 

“But, why not?”

 

“Because he's a stubborn old fool who is good at holding a grudge,” came Granny Hina's voice from the doorway. “Excuse my intrusion,” she went on, grinning as the two jerked in surprise, “but I came looking for you two, and couldn't help but overhear.”

 

“Not at all, Hina-sama,” Tsuruko said, bowing her head. “Do you know why great uncle Daizaburo holds such a grudge?” asked the elder sister. Hina cackled.

 

“I'm afraid that that is more or less my fault,” Hina said, easily kneeling next to the pair.