Love Hina Fan Fiction ❯ Absolution ❯ chapter 10-13 ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter 10: Oaths unfulfilled

 

A shiver ran up Haruka's spine as she left the backroom of her teashop. She strained her senses to detect any intruders in her place of business, but registered nothing. “What the hell was that feeling just now,” Haruka mumbled to herself.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a piercing cry that silenced the chattering customers in front.

 

“I'm not leaving,” Motoko screamed. Her impudence was met with a vicious blow from Tsuroko's scabbard, launching her out the back door. She landed hard against several trash bins, spraying their contents all across Haruka's backyard.

 

Motoko groaned from the pain. Her mind commanded her body to move, but to no avail. Her limbs were exhausted from the day's onslaught. Tsuroko approached with an eerie calm, masking the incredible destructive power lying just underneath the surface begging for release. She looked down at her sister and lowered her eyes for a moment.

 

“What has become of you, my darling sister,” Tsuroko thought, “What has happened to your warrior spirit?” Turning her head away, Tsuroko offered her hand to Motoko, but it was slapped away. The grave insult surprised Tsuroko. Her eyes met with Motoko's. Tsuroko's chest tightened as Motoko's fierce eyes met her gaze. She saw an indescribable rage in her eyes - it was the look of murder.

 

“You would look upon your own sister with such intent,” asked Tsuroko. There was no reply from Motoko, only a grim determination that seemed to be festering in hate. Suddenly, the oppressive silence that hung in the air was torn down by a very angry Urishima.

 

“What the hell is going on back here,” roared the lioness. Tsuroko turned to see Haruka, her right hand balled up into a fist that oozed with power. “I apologize for the mess Haruka-san, I meant no disrespect. I will make amends, but first I must bring my sister home, for she is not well,” Tsuroko said calmly.

 

“I am not going anywhere Tsuroko,” bellowed the raging Motoko. Tsuroko swung her blade into action, but it was blocked by a lead pipe that Motoko had conveniently found in the rubble. “So that's where I put my anti-pervert device,” Haruka interjected, hoping to deflate the increasingly tense situation.

 

Tsuroko would have none of it. “If it is a fight you want sister, than I shall oblige you,” Tsuroko declared, before launching another attack. Her speed was beyond human, almost demonic, as she nearly landed a vertical slash across Motoko's chest. Haruka pulled out a cigarette from a pack she hid in her pocket. “Crap,” she uttered as she lit her cancer stick.

 

Motoko managed to avoid the blow, but her foot work had suffered after two years of inactivity. Her stamina had suffered as well. Only a few seconds into the fight, Motoko was panting heavily, stumbling as fatigue began claiming her legs.

 

Motoko summoned the last reserve of her strength and launched her attack with amazing speed. She feinted to the right, shifted her momentum, and with a sudden spasm of her upper arms, flew her weapon straight for Tsuroko's heart.

 

It was effortlessly blocked and countered, sending Motoko crashing to the earth once more. Tsuroko's eyes began to blaze with fury. “Is this all that is left of you,” Tsuroko spoke with rigid coldness. From seemingly out of nowhere, Motoko's blade appeared in Tsuroko's hand. She tossed the weapon to Motoko, and said, “If you wish to defeat me, than use your sword Motoko!”

 

“I will never pick up a sword again,” Motoko replied, her voice hindered by her panting. Tsuroko, angered by her refusal, launched a ki attack that exploded Motoko against the Tea House wall. Motoko cried out in pain from the impact, before dropping to the floor with a sickening “thunk.”

 

“You will pick up that sword and regain your honor, dear sister. You will not bury 13 generations worth of tradition and history over some school girl crush,” Tsuroko shouted as two years of anguish and pain of seeing her sister in such a wretched state began to surface.

 

Tsuroko's words were sharper than her blade, cutting deep into Motoko's soul. A lone tear began to slide down her face, her stare into Tsuroko's eyes unflinching. In a barely audible voice, Motoko spoke, “My feelings for Keitaro are irrelevant Tsuroko, only my vow to him matters.”

 

Tsuroko, stunned at Motoko's words, yelled back, “Your vow to him? Have you forgotten your vow to us - to your clan? You swore an oath Motoko to the Shinmei School. You swore to defend its teaching, to pass on its traditions to the generation to come. You have an oath to the school and to your family! Now pick up your sword!”

 

The elder swordswoman was near tears as she spoke those final words. She prayed silently to the gods that her sister would come to her senses, and hoped that somehow everything would work out in the end. Hope began to stir in Tsuroko's heart as she saw Motoko reached out for the sword, and drew out the blade.

 

Her hope was soon to be shattered.

 

Motoko held her blade, remembering the blood that had once been spilt by it. It had been a gift to her, a legacy passed down through generations of the Aoyama family. Her sword was once her most valued possession, but now served only as a reminder for her sins. She whispered to her blade, “I am sorry.” Tsuroko heard her sister's confession, confused at its meaning. It was the change in Motoko's stance that alerted her to its true meaning. In one swift motion, she stabbed the earth with the blade, sinking it in halfway. With the remainder of her strength, she let out a tortured cry and snapped the blade in half.

 

Tsuroko's mind could not comprehend what she was seeing. “What have you done,” Tsuroko asked, half pleading.

 

“What needed to be done, sister,” Motoko replied with a distant voice, “Today, I renounce the Shinmei School and my family's legacy.” Then without hesitation, Motoko plunged her broken sword deep into her right arm just above the elbow, slashing through the tendon.

 

“Motoko,” both Haruka and Tsuroko cried out. Stifling the scream back into her throat, she simply smiled as the blood flowed down her arm. Tsuroko stood speechless, aghast at the events that had just unfolded. “I am sorry sister,” Motoko said with a weary and hushed voice, “but there is no turning back for me now. I have destroyed my own abilities. My life with the sword is at an end.”

 

It was Haruka who rushed to Motoko's side, carrying with her a first aid kit. “Goddamn it girl, what the hell were you thinking,” Haruka asked as she examined the blade, which was still situated in Motoko's arm. “Crap, this is gonna hurt,” she warned the young Aoyama. Motoko only nodded her head and then returned her gaze into Tsuroko's eyes. With a sharp yank, Haruka dislodged the sword from her arm, causing blood to spurt out, staining her once clean apron. The pain was immense, but Motoko's eyes did not flinch.

 

She wanted Tsuroko to understand the truth of her feelings, the depth of her commitment to her vow. Then she feinted from the blood loss.

 

Haruka yelled out to Sakura, who was standing at the backdoor, gaping at the unconscious Motoko, “Sakura, get my car, the keys are under the counter, Go!” Snapping out of her stupor, Sakura ran back into the tea house to fetch the keys. Haruka bandaged Motoko's wound, using the torn remnants of her apron. Sakura pulled up in Haruka's car a minute later, and helped her carry Motoko into the passenger's seat.

 

Haruka then leapt over the car with amazing grace and jumped into the driver's seat. She yelled to the still stunned woman, “Tsuroko, are you coming or not?” There was no response. “Dammit, I don't have time for this,” Haruka cursed under her breath. She then yelled back, “We're going to Hinata General, Sakura knows where it's at.”

 

Tsuroko could hear the car speed away, but could do nothing else.

 

Tears began streaming down the sides of her face. The once proud demeanor was gone. All that was left was a woman broken, worn down by guilt and sorrow. She collapsed onto the ground, her arms wrapping around her shoulders.

 

Sakura just stood there, not knowing what to do. She wanted to reach out, but she was too afraid of the once imposing swordswoman - too afraid that she would only make the elder Aoyama feel worst.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11: the world changed while you were away

 

The smell of miso filled the house, reminding Keitaro of a home that no longer existed. He looked over to see Motoko, hovering above the stove, tasting to see if the soup needed any more seasoning. “Shinobu,” he thought to himself. Seeing Motoko cook had reminded him of his life back at the Hinata apartments. To him, it seemed only like yesterday that he was enjoying Shinobu's home cooking, but five years have passed and the world did not wait for Keitaro Urishima. Three days have passed since his “awakening” and he had learned how the world had moved on without him. The first two days, he read through online news articles and watched television to catch up on current events with Motoko always by his side.

 

On the first day, he learned that Japan had co-sponsored the World Cup with Korea, which he thought was a ridiculous concept. He was even more surprised to learn that his beloved soccer team had lost to Korea. Motoko just replied, “They had a strong team.” He also learned of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. “Why are the Americans so angry,” Keitaro asked. Motoko, dreading the coming conversation, could only reply, “9-11.” Keitaro just looked at her with perplexed eyes.

 

“Keitaro, I have something to tell you, but it will not be easy,” Motoko told him, while holding his hand. Keitaro, no longer startled by her physical touch, replied, “Tell me Motoko, what happened?” He was unprepared for what Motoko was about to tell him.

 

“Someone really knocked down the World Trade Center,” Keitaro said in disbelief. “Yes, the world has changed much and not for the better I hate to say,” Motoko replied. He replayed the footage of the 9/11 attacks on Motoko's computer. Keitaro rubbed his eyes, figuring the images he saw were a trick of lighting or Hollywood special effects - it wasn't.

 

His eyes began to water. “And you said Haitani and Shirai were on that flight,” Keitaro said barely above a whisper, his gaze never leaving the monitor. “Yes,” Motoko replied, “they were going to visit a few of the American cities for vacation when it happened.”

 

His friends were gone, killed by madmen. Worst yet, he could see how they died, images forever ingrained in digital format. He could imagine their terror as the men, armed with box cutters, took over the plane. He felt their fear as they experienced the sudden downward acceleration of the plane, speeding towards the towers. His body shivered at the images of the plane colliding into the building. He imagined the explosive shock consuming his flesh, the sounds of screaming suddenly cut short. The bile filled his throat. Motoko, seeing him in distress, brought out the waste basket for him. The sound of him retching drowned out the voice of Peter Jennings as he described the horror of that day. Motoko rubbed his back as he sat hunched over with his head over the basket.

 

He could remember the first day he met the two. It was during his first day of middle school. Even back then, they seemed inseparable. Hitani had asked if he could borrow some milk money. Keitaro of course said yes and that was how their friendship was sealed. His mind drifted to a cold rainy day, when the trio first met Motoko. Hitani, ever the ladies man, attempted to ask out Motoko and her friends. Her reply was quick and commanding - a vicious ki attack.

 

“I never even got to say goodbye,” he whispered through his tears. Motoko's chest tightened. She hated to see him in so much pain, she felt powerless. Her despair was quickly interrupted when she felt her dress tighten around her midsection. She looked down to see Keitaro grabbing onto a piece of her dress, balling it up in his tightly clenched hand. She moved to embrace him, her arms blanketing over his figure. Keitaro reached around her waist, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. They both wept in silence for old friends long departed.

 

Chapter 12: memories rehashed over soup

 

The shock of learning of his friends' deaths had killed whatever appetite he had, but Motoko was insistent. “Your body needs nourishment,” Motoko implored, “have some soup, it will make you feel better.” Keitaro relented, not wanting to upset Motoko.

 

They ate dinner in silence.

 

When they had finished, Motoko set out to clean the dishes. As she was about to collect his plate, Keitaro spoke out, “Here, let me help you.” “No need, Keitaro, I can take care of it, “Motoko responded. “Nonsense, you cooked such a wonderful meal, the least I can do is help clean up,” Keitaro said with a note of finality in his voice. Motoko blushed at his complement. “Okay, how about I soap and you rinse,” Keitaro added. She nodded her head in agreement.

 

After the dishes were done, they retired to the living room. It was time for them to talk about the past. As Motoko made herself comfortable on the couch, Keitaro spoke first, “Hey Motoko, I was wondering, is your arm okay?” The question took her by surprise. “It is fine Keitaro, why do you ask,” Motoko responded. “Well, I first noticed it when you held me the first time I woke up, your right seemed a little weaker than the left,” Keitaro explained. Embarrassed by the memory, Motoko looked away.

 

Keitaro saw this and stuttered, “I'm sorry Motoko, I didn't mean to say anything hurtful.” Then there was silence.

 

These past few days had been an emotional rollercoaster for the both of them with no promise of an end to it in sight. Motoko had returned to her meditations, trying to strengthen her inner will to deal with the vicissitudes of the coming days. She was prepared to tell him everything. With a silent pause, Motoko spoke, “You said nothing hurtful Keitaro, but the answer you seek is difficult to speak of. I am going to tell you something Keitaro, but I do not want you to blame yourself. Please, promise me you will not blame yourself.”

 

Her eyes were pleading with him, the earnestness in her voice made him nervous. He replied, “Okay Motoko.” That's when Motoko began her story about her visit with Kanako and Haruka, her battle with Tsuroko, and how she hurt her right arm, crippling her ability to wield a sword. Keitaro trembled at her words. He desperately tried to understand the depth of her suffering, but his limited experience with such feelings hindered him.

 

What struck him hardest was the way Motoko was acting as she recited her story. Her voice remained clam and even, her facial expression gave no hint of emotion. There was no sign of sadness or regret, just the cold retelling of history. Motoko saw this and explained, “It was a long time ago Keitaro, and the memories of those days no longer carry the same weight as it once did, so do not worry.”

 

Keitaro was ill at ease with her response, but seeing that he could do nothing else, he let the subject drop. Motoko's mind continued to hum with thoughts. It was time to tell him what he had been so desperate to find out, it was time to tell him about Naru.

 

“Keitaro, can I ask you a question,” Motoko asked. Keitaro was surprised by the question. “Sure,” he replied. “Why have you not…why have you not attempted to contact the girls,” she asked. Keitaro knew this question was bound to come up, but failed to find an answer on his own. He looked to Motoko, wondering what he was going to say to her. After taking a minute to reflect on his feelings, Keitaro spoke, “I don't know Motoko. I guess, I guess it's because, I was afraid of what was going to happen. So much has changed. When I first woke up and saw you, I didn't even recognize you. The more I thought about it, the more talking with the girls, Naru, frightened me. Does that make any sense?”

 

Motoko sat there quietly, hanging on to every word he uttered. When he finished, Motoko replied, “I understand Keitaro. So much has changed, it would be hard on anybody.” Then she looked at him, trying to find the courage to continue, and then she added, “Keitaro, I have to tell you about Naru.”

 

Keitaro's eyes widen at these words. He wanted to know, but at the same time, dreaded to be told the truth. Seeing his indecision, Motoko reached out for his hand, which he gladly accepted. He took a deep breath and then looked into her eyes, telling her to continue.

 

“Naru,” Motoko started out, “Naru never left your side.”

 

Chapter 13: my heart breaking

 

The paramedics came crashing onto the stone patio. A squat, heavy-set fellow took in the scene and told his junior to look after the young girl lying unconscious on the floor. He knelt beside Keitaro, feeling for his pulse. It was feint and sporadic. “Dammit, he's screwed,” he whispered. Naru heard him. She began to feel the strength returning to her body. She lifted herself up off the ground, the image of Keitaro falling to the ground still reverberating through her mind.

 

The paramedic started to bandage his wounds to stop the bleeding. He looked over to his junior and called out, “how is she?” The young man finished his cursory examination and replied, “I think she'll be fine, no sign of brain damage.” The heavy-set man plunged a syringe into Keitaro's chest, pumping his heart with adrenaline. “Good, then get the stretcher over here fast, we need to transport him stat,” said the older paramedic. Haruka and Kitsune were also on the stone patio, too shocked to move. Mutsumi could hear the paramedics yelling technical jargon from the changing room. She wanted to go out there and see what was going on, but Haruka had asked her to look after Sarah and Su, who held onto her with tenacious grip.

 

She heard one of them say, “He's lost too much blood.” “He…,” she thought, “does that man mean Keitaro, oh god, what happened to Keitaro?”

 

Naru slowly tried to walk over to Keitaro, but Haruka reached out and held her back. “Let me go,” Naru shrieked, trying to slap Haruka out of the way. She dodged Naru's attack and countered, locking her arms in with her own. Naru struggled to break free, but Haruka's strength was too much for her. She screamed, “I have to help Keitaro, let me go!” Haruka was trying to fight back the tears, her normally cold demeanor shattered at the sight of her fallen nephew. She then said in a booming voice, “Calm down Naru, you can't do anything for him now. Let the paramedics do their job, don't interfere.” Naru felt like she was punched in the gut again.

 

The paramedics were loading Keitaro on the stretcher, when Motoko finally came out of her fugue state. The sight of blood on her hands reminded her that this was no dream. She looked up and saw Keitaro disappearing into the house, being whisked away by the paramedics. She then saw Naru, hurdled in Haruka's arms. She was crying, screaming into her Haruka's chest, “Why,” over and over again.

 

The young paramedic came back out a few seconds later. There was no time to bring up the second stretcher, so the young man picked up the unconscious Shinobu into his arm and started for the door. He stopped in front of Haruka and Naru, but before he could say anything, Naru yelled out, “Keitaro?” The young man, his facial gesture reflecting the deep sadness within him, spoke with great urgency, “there's no time for specifics. We need to get both of them to the hospital. One of you can ride with us to the hospital, family preferable, but we need information, so anyone knowledgeable will be fine. The rest of you can meet us there; we're heading for Hinata General.” Haruka replied, “I'll go, I'm Keitaro's aunt.” She then looked to Kitsune and ordered, “Kitsune, call Shinbu's parents and tell them what's going on. Then drive the rest of the girls over to the hospital. Understand?” Kitsune just nodded her head. Haruka was about to run off when she stopped. Without turning her head, she said with a cold, almost malicious voice, “Bring Motoko with you,” then she left.

 

Hearing Motoko's name mentioned sent Naru into a blind fury. She ran to Motoko and struck her with all her might, sending her to the ground. Naru then climbed on top of Motoko and began to pummeling the young samurai with her fists, screaming, “It was you! You killed him!” Kitsune was bewildered by what was happening. Shinobu had drowned, but Keitaro saved her. Keitaro was dying, seemingly at the hands of Motoko. Now, Naru was thrashing about wildly on top of Motoko. None of it was right. Then she saw Motoko, lying on the ground with her arms covering her face. Kitsune lunged towards Naru, capturing her flailing arms. Naru was trying to fight her off, yelling, “It's all her fault! She killed him! She killed him for saving Shinobu!”

 

Kitsune felt her chin lit up in pain as Naru's head came bashing into it. With a strained voice, Kitsune yelled out, “Stop Naru! Keitaro's still alive and he needs us right now, get a hold of yourself!” Naru paused at her words. Kitsune, sensing some semblance of thought returning to her best friend, continued, “We have to go to the hospital right now, but you have to get a hold of yourself, okay. Keitaro is going to need all of us to pull through this - all of us. It's what he would want.”

 

Naru sat there, still on top of Motoko, her eyes hidden by her bangs. Her only movement was the clenching and unclenching of her fist. “No more hysterics,” she commanded herself, “I won't make the same mistake twice.”

 

Speaking through her teeth, Naru spoke out,” Let's go Kitsune. I'll call Shinobu's parents on the way.” She then got up and walked towards the door. Before leaving, she turned to Motoko, glaring at her with blazing eyes, “Keitaro would want you there, but you can walk. I don't want to see you, understand?” Motoko could only nod in response. Kitsune wanted to say something, but found the words had left her. She just stared at Motoko for a few seconds and sighed, then followed Naru back into the house, leaving the young samurai to fend off her own demons - alone.