Love Hina Fan Fiction ❯ Legacy ❯ Chapter 62

Shinobu opened her eyes, yawning as she blinked the last traces of sleep from her eyes. Sitting up, she glanced at her clock, frowning when she realized that it wasn't where it was supposed to be. It took her another few seconds to realize she was in a futon, not in her western-style bed. What…? she wondered, trying to get her mind into gear. A soft sound from beside her and the feel of an arm tightening around her waist brought back her memories of the night before.

 

After Akiko had finally gone home - having spent more than three hours talking with Shinobu and Naru about her dilemma - Shinobu had spent another hour talking to Naru and Mutsumi. When she left their room, she had found Kitsune waiting by her door, and the two had had another, shorter, talk. That talk had ended up with Kitsune making out with her for a solid ten minutes before bidding the girl good night. Shinobu had actually returned to her room and started stripping before she recalled that Kanako wanted to speak with her after the others were asleep.

 

She had considered for only a moment before finishing undressing, picking up her thin, short robe and heading for Keitaro's room. Reaching the door, she had scratched lightly, hearing Kanako bid her to enter. Slipping into Keitaro's room, she had found Kanako sitting at the small desk Keitaro kept, some ledgers open in front of her, and a laptop to her right. Even as Shinobu entered, Kanako was swiftly closing down whatever project she had been working on, and by the time that Shinobu had sank down at the table, Keitaro's little sister was putting the laptop aside, the table empty.

 

Kanako had started at Shinobu for several seconds, making the shy domestic squirm under her cool, assessing gaze before speaking to her. What she had to tell her - and what she then suggested to Shinobu - had caught the girl completely off guard. Still, Shinobu did find her proposition interesting. And it would help protect all of our happiness, too, she had mused at the time. Truth be told, she was seeing a lot of pluses to what Kanako had suggested, and not a single real negative.

 

When the two were done talking, it was past midnight, and Shinobu was admittedly feeling tired. She wasn't surprised when Kanako had moved around the table to hug her, nor was she surprised when the older girl's lips had found her own. Gently holding Kanako's sides in her hands, she had returned the kiss. It never ceased to surprise her how firm and toned Kanako was. Her body was sleek, toned and athletic without being muscular or un-feminine.

 

Before she knew it, she was naked, her robe discarded on the tatami mats, and Kanako was holding her comfortably in Keitaro's futon. Yawning in the dark room, she had drifted off to sleep, Kanako's suggestion endlessly looping in her head. At some point in the night, she had come sort-of awake, feeling a soft hand cupping her sex, and a gentle, comfortable sucking sensation on her breast. She had drifted off to sleep again as Kanako had leisurely caressed her body.

 

Now, in the darkness just before sunrise, Shinobu felt great. She has also decided that she would pursue the course of action suggested by Kanako. Organizing her thoughts, she carefully removed Kanako's arm from around her waist, easing out of the futon before tucking the sheets back around the still-sleeping Kanako. Hesitating for a moment, Shinobu slowly leaned down and over, her lips touching Kanako's cheek before the domestic quietly felt around for her robe, slipping it on as she eased out of the room, headed for the kitchen.

 

The door had barely been closed behind Shinobu for ten seconds before a patch of darker blackness moved, two bright, glowing yellow eyes flickered in the faint light as the small shadow dropped from the bookshelf to the floor of the room. “Well, meow?” wondered Kuro. Kanako sat up in the futon.

 

“I think she will choose to follow our plan,” Kanako said softly, rising smoothly and stretching before swiftly folding the futon neatly. She didn't need any light.

 

“You liked being with her, meow,” her familiar feline noted, Kanako absently stroking the long, large ears of her cat as she placed the futon in the corner.

 

“Yes, I did,” Kanako agreed calmly. “She is enjoyable; in many ways,” added the girl, her tone thoughtful.

 

“Shinobu-chan is nothing like you, meow. Maybe that is why you are attracted to her, meow?” Kanako considered that.

 

“Actually, Kuro,” Kanako said nearly a minute later, “I think Shinobu might be more like me than I had previously believed.”

 

-

 

Keitaro shifted, slowly opening his eyes. Moaning a little, he managed to find his glasses as he sat up in bed. Hearing a soft sound from beside him, he looked down to find that Tsuruko was still beside him, one of her arms over his hips, a soft smile on her face. Turning, he saw that the spot Motoko had occupied was empty. Where's my Mo-chan? he wondered.

 

Feeling the pressure on his groin, he realized the most obvious answer was likely also the correct answer. Ever so carefully, he slowly moved out from under Tsuruko's arm. No matter how much I want to stay, I'm about to burst my bladder, he thought regretfully. Tsuruko moaned again as he managed to slip out from under her arm, gently laying the sheet back over her. Just as he was about to stand, he heard her voice.

 

“Keitaro-sama?”

 

“Uh, yeah, Tsu-chan?” he said, glancing at her. She was sitting up, the sheets at her waist, leaving her naked chest exposed to his view. His morning wood twitched, though his bladder still held priority.

 

“Where are you off to so early?” asked Tsuruko, stretching languidly. Her eyes spotted his morning wood. “Are you sure I can't have that?” she asked, licking her lips.

 

“Um, it's not like that,” he said slowly. Tsuruko giggled.

 

“Oh, I see,” she said, standing. “I believe I share that concern,” she said, slipping into a simple robe. Not seeing her younger sister, she gestured to the door. “What say we do something about that?” invited the concubine.

 

“Sure,” Keitaro agreed gratefully. Together, the two slipped down hall to the bathroom. Once they were both done, they made their way back to their room. Opening their door, they didn't see Motoko there. “Where is Mo-chan?” wondered Keitaro. Tsuruko considered that. Looking at the clock, she glanced at the side of the futon Motoko had been on. The Hinata blade was still there. Looking to the corner of the room, she saw that the bokken Motoko favored was gone. It took her another moment to realize something else was missing.

 

“I suspect she is doing some laundry,” smiled Tsuruko. “After all, we made a bit of a mess last night,” purred the elder sister, hugging her lord. Keitaro felt relieved. Accepting a kiss from his concubine, he reached for her cheek, but found a patch of clumped hair instead. Oh, right! I came on their hair, recalled the young man. For some reason, recalling how his cum had looked, covering the black hair of his women as they smiled down at him made his dick stir.

 

“Maybe a shower is in order, hmm?” purred Tsuruko in his ear.

 

“Yeah, I think so,” he agreed. In mere moments, the two were on their way to the bathing area. Discreetly tucked under her robe's belt, Tsuruko's bokken accompanied them. Entering the bathing area, they had barely begun to remove their robes when Motoko entered the bathing area. Spotting her sister and husband, she smiled.

 

“I see we have the same idea,” noted Motoko, swiftly removing her robe as well. Together, the three entered the bathing area, washing off before soaking in the small hot spring. Tsuruko and Motoko washed their hair before joining Keitaro in the spring.

 

“Did you see any of our students, Motoko?” asked Tsuruko, sitting on the edge of the spring after a couple of minutes soaking in the warm water.

 

“A few were up,” she said. “I'm pretty sure that I saw Tojima speaking with a few of his cronies when I stopped by the laundry room.”

 

“He's feeling chipper after the day he had yesterday,” Tsuruko noted sardonically. Motoko shrugged, her breasts jiggling enticingly in the water. “Anyone else of note?” asked the elder sister. Motoko considered it for a moment. “Kumi said that Gojira and Kamatsu were on gate duty,” she relayed.

 

“Under instructors on gate duty?” Tsuruko asked, surprised. Motoko hummed. “Interesting. Anything else you happened to have learned?”

 

“No, not really,” Motoko replied, reviewing her morning trip. “I did notice that no one was doing drills yet,” recalled Motoko. Tsuruko glanced at the clock mounted over the door to the bathing area.

 

“It is a little late, but I did tell them to assemble in the courtyard again this morning,” mused Tsuruko. “No sign of uncle?” Motoko shook her head. “I see,” dismissed Tsuruko. For the next twenty minutes, the three of them talked of other things - most notably of their lovers at the Hinata.

 

Exiting the bath, they had returned to their room, finding that fresh clothes had been put out for them. Both sisters bound their chests once more, dressing in the uniform of their school before making their way to the dining room with Keitaro. Shortly after they arrived, Daizaburo entered, joining them at the head table. “Good morning, Uncle,” Motoko said pleasantly.

 

“Daizaburo,” Tsuruko added.

 

“Tsuruko-san,” he replied civilly. “Are we to have another day like yesterday?” asked the old man quietly as he picked up his chopsticks. Tsuruko hummed noncommittally.

 

“That depends on them,” she answered. The dining hall fell quiet as the group ate. Just as Keitaro was finishing up his meal - and missing Shinobu's cooking even more than he had the day before - one of the household staff had entered the room. Swiftly, the woman knelt behind Tsuruko, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. Even as Tsuruko put her chopsticks down, Keitaro became aware of a voice from the courtyard.

 

“Aoyama Tsuruko!”

 

Motoko placed her chopstick down as well. Together the two rose, bokken in hand. Keitaro picked up on the odd feeling from the two. “Everything ok?” he worried. Tsuruko gave him a smiled.

 

“No, but things are well in hand, Keitaro-sama,” she assured him. Daizaburo stood as well.

 

“What is it?” he asked. He could feel the sisters' mood clearly; and it frightened him. The last time I felt such intensity, that bitch Hina maimed me in the street before the Hinata, he thought uneasily.

 

The others eating in the room picked up on the sudden mood shift. As Tsuruko and Motoko exited the room, bokken in hand, the others hurried after. Reaching the courtyard, they found Tojima standing in front of a block of Shinmei-ryu students. Seeing the two sisters, Tojima's lips curled slightly. “So, here she is, Aoyama Tsuruko,” he said.

 

“Indeed,” Tsuruko replied calmly. “I heard a thief was loose in my house, and what do I find but you?”

 

“Thief?” wondered Keitaro.

 

“It is not stealing to claim that which is rightfully yours,” Tojima said.

 

“What is he talking about, Tsuruko-san?” asked Daizaburo.

 

“Ask him,” suggested Tsuruko. Turning to look at the man, Daizaburo spotted something that shouldn't have been there.

 

“What are you doing with that, Tojima?” he demanded. Keitaro didn't see whatever it was that Daizaburo saw; until the former head of the council raised his arm, a familiar wooden-sheath katana in his hand. “That is not yours,” Daizaburo hissed.

 

“It is mine,” disagreed Tojima. “I am the rightful head of the Shinmei-ryu school, and thus, this sword belong to me, instead of that puppet of the Urashima,” he accused.

 

“Puppet?” wondered Keitaro. Tsuruko and Motoko are certainly not puppets of mine, he thought, feeling irritated at that slur.

 

“For being so consumed with tradition and propriety, those two are certainly quick to spread their legs for the enemies of our school!” Tojima shouted.

 

“Watch your tongue,” warned Motoko. How dare he say such a thing?!

 

“I will speak as I choose,” sneered Tojima. “You said that our swords would speak for us, did you not?” he said. “Very well, I challenge your right to be a practitioner of the Shinmei-ryu style!” he said, drawing the Aoyama family sword. “My sword is ready to speak for me,” he smirked.

 

Tsuruko didn't change her expression as she stepped forward, bokken in hand. “As is mine,” said the elder sister, gesturing with her bokken.

 

“Sister,” Motoko said, stepping in front of Tsuruko. “I will do this,” she said, glaring at Tojima. “You should not take chances,” murmured Motoko, glancing down significantly at her sister's stomach.

 

“I will be fine,” Tsuruko said. “Some things, I have to do myself,” she added.

 

“But…!” murmured Motoko.

 

“Hiding behind your traitorous sister again?” taunted Tojima. Motoko's lips peeled back from her teeth, the younger sister turning to stare at Tojima.

 

“Say that again, worm!” warned Motoko, her knuckles white on her bokken. Keitaro could feel that odd, almost-electric feeling he was so familiar with. It always happened just before he departed Japan on the Air Motoko Frequent Flier program.

 

“H…hey, can't we talk about this?” he tried to break up the gathering storm.

 

“Be silent, you idiot,” one of the men behind Tojima said.

 

“Idiot?” wondered Keitaro. That's kind of a juvenile thing to say to someone, he thought fleetingly.

 

“Tojima, you have insulted a guest in my house, dishonored our school, and broken your oaths,” Tsuruko said, brushing past Motoko. “For these crimes, you are stripped of your standing, and will never be able to hold a sword again,” pronounced the elder sister. “All those who stand with you here are likewise judged, though I might spare them the use of their hands,” she said, her bokken coming up.

 

“We will see who is left with the use of their hands,” Tojima said, raising the sword.

 

“Motoko, do something!” implored Keitaro. He could almost see the Ki bleeding off Tsuruko.

 

“I cannot,” Motoko said through clenched teeth.

 

“But, why not?” wondered Keitaro. Doesn't she know that Tsu-chan will kill these people?!

 

“She can't because she doesn't have this!” one of the men called, holding up the Hinata blade.

 

“Gah! What are you doing with that?!” gasped Keitaro. “Don't you know how dangerous that thing is?”

 

“Oh, we know! That's why it will be a trophy of the Shinmei-ryu school from today onward!” laughed the man.

 

“But there's a demon in that blade!” Keitaro tried to warn him. “If you draw it, the demon will take possession of you…!”

 

“A demon?” scoffed the man. “There is no such thing as a demon!”

 

Further debate on such things as demons was disrupted by Tsuruko and Tojima suddenly engaging each other. Tsuruko moved with the same fluid grace and slick power that she always had, her wooden sword engaging her family katana fearlessly. Tojima was no slouch, and the sword in his hands had a little longer reach than Tsuruko's bokken did. Three, four, five times the two exchanged blows.

 

On the sixth exchange, Tsuruko turned her shoulder as she turned a slashing attack aside, pivoting on the ball of her foot and striking like a rattle snake. Tojima flew back, near tornado-strength wind tearing through the assembled swordsmen and the courtyard. “Spring blossom wind, second form,” Tsuruko said, easily falling into her ready stance. Tojima picked himself up from where he had been tangled with some of his supporters.

 

“Damn you,” he hissed, raising the steel sword in his hand. Why hasn't her bokken broken yet? he wondered. She had caught two of his strongest blows with her wooden sword, and yet, there didn't seem to be any damage to the wooden sword in her hands. Tsuruko's eyes were steady and cold as he raised the sword once more. I can use those kind of tricks, too, he thought, focusing.

 

Behind Tsuruko, Motoko's eyes were ablaze, her aura burning so hot that Daizaburo and the other Shinmei-ryu had unconsciously backed away from her. Keitaro, though, didn't seem to notice, standing stock still next to his wife, watching with both fascination and horror as his concubine engaged in a fight that seemed entirely too dangerous to him. He could only hope that nothing happened to Tsuruko.

 

Tojima roared a war cry, rushing Tsuruko. The eldest pure-line Aoyama stood motionless as he charged. “You understand nothing,” she murmured, taking a breath; and a half-step forward, her wooden sword snapping downward from her high guard.

 

Tojima felt as though he had slammed his arms against a solid rock wall. He couldn't feel anything lower than his shoulders, and the pins-and-needles numbness was spreading through his body. It wasn't until he pitched forward, face-first, into the grass that he realized that he couldn't stand. The group of men behind him stared, shocked, at their leader. Tsuruko calmly picked up the family sword.

 

“None of you will ever set foot in this place again,” she said. “If I or any other Shinmei-ryu practitioner hears of you claiming to be of our style, you will be dealt with more harshly than this one. Do not give us cause to remember that you exist, and you can live a quiet, long life. But,” she paused, staring at each in turn, “should you ever touch a sword again, or claim to be of our style, and my generosity will be forgotten. I spare your lives this time - but only this time. Take this trash, and get out,” she finished, her tone ice cold at the end.

 

“Wow, Tsuruko,” Keitaro breathed, hurrying to her side, “that was amazing!” he enthused. Tsuruko turned to smile at him.

 

“It was not as amazing as might have seemed, Keitaro-sama,” she demurred. Motoko was approaching her sister, face tight. Tsuruko knew that look. It would seem Motoko would have words with me, she thought, silently sighing.

 

“How could you endanger your child that way, sister?!” snarled Motoko.

 

“I told you, Motoko,” began Tsuruko, patiently, turning to look directly at Motoko. Keitaro was beside Tsuruko, one hand absently touching the small of her back.

 

“You fucking bitch!” screamed a man from behind them. Keitaro whipped his head around just in time to see the man who had the Hinata blade jerk it free of its sheath and spring at Tsuruko.

 

“No!” yelled Keitaro, throwing himself between the man and Tsuruko, hugging himself to Tsuruko's back in an effort to shield her from the attack.

 

“Keitaro, don't…!” Tsuruko said, trying to turn to meet the attack, but being hampered by her lord holding her tight to his chest from behind. I won't make it in time, she thought.

 

“Divine blade of heaven third form!” thundered a voice as a blur passed Tsuruko and Keitaro, accompanied by a wave of Ki the likes of which no one there had seen in more than a generation. Tiles were blown from the roof, several shrubs and even two of the trees in the courtyard were uprooted in the hurricane-force blow. Doors and windows in the house in front of Motoko were shredded, and the block of men who had supported Tojima were flung about like chaff.

 

Motoko stood before Keitaro and Tsuruko, teeth bared, bokken pointed at where the men had once stood. She was growling softly in her throat, her hair drifting in the dying breeze. For several moments, no sound was heard. Finally, though, the silence was broken. “My Kami, that was Yayoi-nee's most powerful attack,” breathed Daizaburo. “To see it again after so long…” he trailed off. Keitaro blinked at the carnage behind him.

 

“Mo-chan,” he murmured, awed. Why didn't she ever use that on me? he wondered. He was, however, grateful she had never used that attack on him - it would have done a lot of damage to the Hinata. Motoko slowly straightened. Glancing at Keitaro and Tsuruko, she exhaled harshly.

 

“Too close, sister,” she said before turning back toward the tumbled mass of men. Marching forward, she kicked one solidly in the side, flipping his limp body over. Stooping, she plucked the Hinata blade from his limp hand. “That is my sword,” she bit out.

 

Gradually, the students who had not been with Tojima began to regain their senses. Tsuruko clapped her hands, gaining their attention. “Strip these cowards of their swords and crests. The swords are to be burned, and the crests are to be buried upside down beneath the steps of the dojo. I want them outside my walls within ten minutes,” ordered the older sister.

 

“Y…yes, Tsuruko-dono!” stammered the students nearest to her. As they passed Motoko, they bowed deeply to the younger sister.

 

“Motoko-sama,” they politely greeted her. She nodded her head. Fixing her sister with a steady look, Motoko finally just shook her head in silence. Daizaburo was staring at the two sisters in a kind of daze.

 

“Uncle,” Tsuruko said, jarring him from whatever was going through his mind.

 

“Yes, Tsuruko-sama?” he managed. Tsuruko tossed her head toward the courtyard.

 

“See to it that those are dealt with, will you?” she tasked him. He bowed to her.

 

“Of course,” he confirmed.

 

“When that is done, assemble the school in the dojo. I will have some things to tell them,” she directed. He bowed to her. Together, the two sisters led Keitaro into the house, past dead-silent house staff members. Spotting one, Tsuruko stopped. “You are not going with your father?” she asked the girl. Mutely, the girl shook her head.

 

When she looked at Tsuruko and Motoko, her eyes practically had stars in them. “Tsuruko-sama, Motoko-sama, please allow me to train under you!” she begged them eagerly. “I want to be as cool and powerful as you two!” gushed the girl, clearly fixated on them. Tsuruko sighed softly, glancing at Motoko, who had a kind of uneasy look on her face.

 

“Very well,” Tsuruko said. “I suppose it is ironic justice that his daughter chose our art over him. Just remember what you have seen here,” warned Tsuruko. “Our way is not easy, and our standards are high.”