Love Hina Fan Fiction ❯ K2: A View to a Truth ❯ Chapter 11

--------------------------------------

 

11 - Mirror Image

 

--------------------------------------

 

Keitaro gasped as something cold came down on his face and chest, drenching his hair, sleeping bag and clothes. He sat up, surprised, and suddenly feeling the chill of the sunless morning. He shivered. He cursed silently.

 

Looking at the dark sky on the small window, he judged the time to be about four. His eyes darted back towards the figure of Motoko. Her long flowing hair was moving freely with the air. She was wearing her hakama. On her back was the dark blade he had found for her.

 

He glared at her. She ignored it.

 

“Get up. We shall take up our morning exercises, and then continue with your strokes,” she stated in a rather cold manner. “And if you aren't up and done by 5 minutes, I'm dragging you out in your state.”

 

Cruel woman, Keitaro thought darkly as she left the cabin. He hurriedly went towards his bag, which he made sure that Motoko never touched because other than where he kept a modest collection of clothes, he also kept the marriage contract which he had yet inform her about.

 

It had been three days since he discussed his plan with Motoko in her room late at night. Keitaro had wondered if he had to plan out the training itself, but he was rather pleasantly surprised at that time when he was awoken by Motoko the very next day (in the very early morning) and told him to pack some clothes.

 

He threw most of his flexible clothes in a gym bag along with his boxers and rubber shoes. He was told to be quiet as they sneaked out of the dorm, and went towards Motoko's private training ground. He had read from the diary of Keitaro of this world that Motoko sometimes would be training in an isolated area.

 

When asked what they would do if the tenants would panic at their disappearance, Motoko answered that she left a message which didn't state where they were and just explained why they were gone. And, she added, if they followed, she'd be very angry.

 

Keitaro had guessed it was a rather simple note that was just there to satisfy the question of the curious tenants who would be asking to themselves where they have gone. Motoko might have included the detail about her sister's challenge, and she might have actually put a threatening post-note to keep them at bay. Who knew? Keitaro never read the note to be exactly sure.

 

As Keitaro dressed, he looked around the room. There was his sleeping bag, beside the center which was a hollowed place to burn the coal, which while white and seemed out, was probably still burning underneath. He wanted to stoke them a bit, exposing the burning wood but decided against it. He was going to get really warm soon anyways.

 

The walls where made of aged wood that seemed to have stood the test of time. Two of those walls, facing against each other, had two small square cuts for windows. The other wall was solid, and the one facing it was the door which still worked fine, sliding smoothly, opening and closing.

 

The whole cabin was simplistic and quite bare. There were even no chairs, or drawers. To live here, one had to do with what they have brought. Thankfully, Motoko had taken some sleeping bags (she probably knew that Keitaro never had one to bring) though Keitaro had to make himself a pillow, which was a simple task; he just used some of his clothes.

 

Having dressed, Keitaro looked outside the window. The sun has yet to show, and Motoko was about to return. Not wanting to have a repeat of yesterday's scenario, which consisted of him being dragged out on his boxers (the damn woman looked like she was about to burst laughing), Keitaro hastily checked if his pants were secured before going towards the door.

 

He came face to face at once towards Motoko, who seemed to decided that his ten minutes were up, and was about to drag him out again. Instead, she came very close on bumping at him, both of their hands on the handle of the sliding door. Her cheeks colored a bit with the slight space in between them, but that quickly disappeared.

 

Her eyes looked towards Keitaro's and gave him a serious nod. He nodded back.

 

“We'll be having the usual warm-up, Urashima,” Motoko muttered. “I expect an improvement or at least a repeat of yesterday's decent run. Any decline, I will personally see to it you catch up.”

 

“Yes, sensei,” Keitaro answered automatically. It was settled two days ago that Motoko would be the teacher, and him the student. With that in mind, her orders are to be followed explicitly when it came to the body conditioning.

 

The warm up was a pretty decent 5 mile jog, and in-between miles Motoko and Keitaro would burst out into a dash which pretty much tires out any beginner. But Keitaro was no beginner… even in such a weak body.

 

The body, much to his pleasant surprise, was quite sturdy; its stamina was deceptively hidden in the straw anatomy. Keitaro had guessed that with all the adventures that the old Keitaro had gone through, from being chased by `amorous' (and he used that term lightly) women after stumbling at them in their state of undress, to even the daily chores the body has gone through seemed to have given K2 the slight boost he needed to keep up with Motoko.

 

Keitaro and Motoko ran on the tree-rich outdoors. The sun slowly climbed up during the run, but even before the first ray hit his face, Keitaro knew he was sweating a lot. The coldness had run from his veins, and what was left was the heat of effort which was maintained by the wind as they passed it.

 

After 3 miles, Keitaro was slowly once again losing his breath. He took in air deeply, trying to keep oxygen in his muscles, knowing that once they lose oxygen, he's going to slow down the pace, and if he does, Motoko's going to give him a good one.

 

The run was finally over, and Keitaro keeled over the ground, gasping a bit. Just beside him was Motoko, who after a few seconds of rest didn't even look remotely tired. Her face shone slightly with her own sweat, and her shirt was drenched, revealing the tightly knit cloth she kept wearing over her chest.

 

Why she never used a sports bra, Keitaro thought sardonically, he wouldn't know. He would have enjoyed the view more, that's for sure.

 

“Stand up, Urashima,” Motoko ordered. “Its stroke practice now.”

 

Keitaro didn't bother to reply; his throat still used for taking in more air and was rather useless for speaking. But he did stand up, and walked behind Motoko without drag.

 

After a few minutes of walking (equivalent to a cool down), Keitaro and Motoko once again found themselves in the `fighting arena' as Keitaro learned to dub after a day. It was an open place filled with flattened grass where Keitaro and Motoko would train their sword strokes and spar in the many hours before they would have to go out to the near town and find some food for lunch. Then they'd come back and train again.

 

It was actually no different from Laharl's training, in Keitaro's opinion. Though he was a bit more sadistic, and didn't seem to hold back at times. Motoko, in regards, would spar him to what she would consider him at his level. When they first started she was slow, held back her strength and didn't even use fancy techniques, thinking Keitaro would never have stood a chance.

 

That annoyed him a lot. He got her back by using one of his ninja techniques, which not only caught Motoko off guard and fall on her behind hard, but also damaged a part of her pride. It didn't even help when Keitaro was smirking at her, standing tall.

 

The woman's cheeks flamed so badly, it got to every part of her face, and even her eyes. She gave him one of those patented death stares that took Keitaro back for a minute, wondering if she was going to lash out on him.

 

But she didn't. The girl stood up and gave him a respectful nod. Since then, he couldn't hit her anymore, and she seemed to smirk when she was about to hit him hard on the head. Keitaro suddenly wished he hadn't showed off. She countered almost all his moves (he was still slower in this untrained body) with precision, stripping him of almost any space in which he could recover.

 

Every spar ended with her hitting him in the head… hit after hit, after hit, after hit.

 

“Urashima, keep your mind in the present!” Motoko declared, hitting him gently in the noggin. “Do the strokes again!”

 

Keitaro groaned and growled. He gripped his boken tighter and swung again, starting all over. It was a thousand strokes before sparring until lunch. The run fatigued his legs… now his arms are equalizing. And if he would pause, or even not do them correctly, his head would also feel the pain.

 

In front of him, Motoko smirked as she berated him, and hitting where he needs correcting. He should be straight-backed, tall, determined, and all that bollocks. He wondered briefly if she was enjoying acting like a complete sadist.

 

“Good! Continue!” Motoko called.

 

387 strokes. 613 more to go.

 

--------------------------------------

 

After a few hours, Keitaro found himself thrown down by her sweep, which he tried to jump over, but was too slow to dodge. He grunted as the grass broke his fall somewhat, but the impact and pain was present nonetheless.

 

Motoko smirked slightly in front of him, her wooden blade pointing directly towards his fallen form. Keitaro just stared back with small contempt as he stood up, deflected her weapon with his own, and moved away to get into fighting position.

 

The young man assessed her movements again, trying to discern a pattern of attacks. It was an automatic response since his training with Laharl, but he knew it was rather useless. She was faster than him and his body moved like it was a rusted metal armor… even if he did know where she'd come at him, he couldn't move swiftly or smoothly enough to block. And if he did, she'd suddenly start a new pattern.

 

Sparring with her was like pitting an unaware human against a vampire hunting him. She outclassed and outmatched him. And Keitaro hated that thought very much.

 

Spurned with momentary anger, he charged in at her, surprising her slightly (because he had been going in defensive the whole time), and almost got a hit… or that is what average watchers would say. But those who knew, like Keitaro and Motoko, she didn't almost get hit… she let him come close. With sudden agility, Motoko's boken suddenly crashed down almost perpendicular with Keitaro's incoming weapon, redirecting the force of the blow downwards.

 

He couldn't even respond after that parry as he felt his whole body suddenly trip on itself. His wooden blade was now pointing downwards; his momentum was still pushing him forward. Motoko's body thinned suddenly as she shifted to her side, letting the running man pass her before she brought down her boken to his head.

 

Keitaro growled as he tasted grass yet again.

 

“Reckless,” Motoko muttered with authority. “What have I told you? In battle, there is no second chance. You either win, or you lose, and those two factors depend on how you pace yourself during the fight.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Keitaro muttered annoyingly. “Follow the wind, feel the flow of your momentum, blah-blah-blah…”

 

“I don't think you fully appreciate what I'm trying to tell you, Urashima,” Motoko stated, shaking her head.

 

“Hey, I can see your underwear from this angle.”

 

That sentence suddenly got her to blush pink, and Keitaro moved in for the kill. Taking his boken, he drove its side, slashing towards her direction, his legs getting up for additional force behind his attack. He thought he had her…

 

His teacher back in his world had once told him that every battle is not counted in minutes, but in seconds. Victory or defeat comes in crucial moments in time. She was right. It just took a second to distract Motoko, it took even less for her to recover, grab his wrist, and twirl him to the other side, disarming him, and pinning him down with one knee.

 

He coughed as her knee and the ground drove pressure up his lungs.

 

“Okay, I give…” Keitaro muttered weakly.

 

Motoko herself didn't look that confident. Her cheeks were still flaming, and her eyes darted on the ground, unsure of herself. She mechanically just helped Keitaro up from the ground where she threw him on, and moved away.

 

“Wow… amazing,” Keitaro mumbled. “I will not comment about your underwear if you're just going to throw me like a rag doll.”

 

The joke was largely ignored by the woman, who looked like she wanted to protest. Her moves were purely defensive and instinctive, something she got training under Tsuruko and her school. She didn't mean to do that to Keitaro… but it just happened.

 

Instead of apologizing though, Motoko changed the mood by announcing the next course they will take for today.

 

“Urashima, let's adjourn for lunch.”

 

Keitaro looked at Motoko oddly. “You sure?” he asked. He was certain that lunch wouldn't be for at least another hour.

 

“I am sure. Let's make haste.”

 

Lunch was the only meal that Motoko and Keitaro would take by leaving the sanctuary of their training grounds. Dinner was usually some vegetables made into soup with light seasonings, using a cauldron over the coal fire. Water would be taken from the nearby river, which by the way Motoko drank straight from was clean and drinkable.

 

The vegetables and other ingredients would be gathered by late afternoon. The two would then spend some time on the woods, gathering them with a bit of gusto, making it a game of agility: whoever gets most ingredients that Motoko would list would get a bigger share. Of course, winning the game was pretty pointless because Motoko would always cook for four people. The leftovers would be eaten for breakfast.

 

As they walked back towards the town, Motoko once again started criticizing Keitaro's performance during the spar. While it was normal for a teacher to do this, Keitaro felt she was going a bit overboard with it.

 

“And your speed… how can you try to keep up with me when you are 3 seconds slower?”

 

“And your strikes need more power behind it. Your form seems to be excellent, but you need more passion in your attacks!”

 

“If you cannot even get a slight hit at me at this point, then we've got no hope.”

 

“You are really weak, Urashima.”

 

Okay the last bit was way over the line, Keitaro thought with a slight glare towards his noodles. Weak? He got a hit from her the first time they started training, right? He could actually keep up with her during their morning run, right? He would follow her regime without much complaint and she still has the gall to call him weak?

 

Keitaro's mind seethed as he swallowed the well cooked noodles. He ignored its flavor and began to think of a way to take another go at her pride. Her high and mighty attitude was really beginning to burn him, and the only way to jolt her was to get a hit where she would not expect it.

 

Motoko largely ignored her gut feeling that something was wrong, and continued to talk along the way back to the training grounds. As the concrete walls slowly faded into wood and leaves, Motoko finally stopped lecturing Keitaro, and reminded him that they were going to continue sparring and then work on their synchrony.

 

Their synchrony was the kata sequence that was born out of Keitaro's idea to beat Tsuruko. The idea was that the two of them would work together, switching up from defense to offense, mixing up to confuse the woman. It would allow them to block her incoming attacks, and counter at once, exposing her weakness from changing from offense to defense by suddenly countering as her momentum was stolen. Such synchrony would also allow them to operate in offense without worrying much about defense, as one would cover the other's back.

 

But the problem with such form is that Keitaro was very much the weak link. Motoko was definitely faster and stronger than him, her body much more conditioned. She'd have to keep at his level lest she expose the weaknesses of their forms.

 

This is one of the very reasons of their training. Not only to condition Keitaro's body, but to also help in reading and following each other's lead, acting in synergy. But so far, the only synchrony they had was glaring at each other when their heads, arms, or weapons clash.

 

“We shall spar in 5 minutes. Take your usual preparation, and get your weapon,” Motoko ordered.

 

Keitaro nodded and made his way towards his boken. His mind smiling as he finally formed his plan.

 

Motoko wouldn't know what hit her.

 

--------------------------------------

 

The young woman looked curiously as Keitaro seemed to stand erect in front of her, his form and aura screaming with confidence. She mentally shook her head. The arrogant little man. Well, at least he is taking this seriously.

 

“Motoko…” he called in a clear and crisp voice. She just looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I will get one hit from you now.”

 

She scoffed silently. “Less talk, more action, Urashima.”

 

Before Motoko would move, Keitaro suddenly darted towards her. She knew something was up. From most of the spars that Keitaro would do, he always kept himself in the defensive. And after he got his first hit, she knew why.

 

The young man had his eyes on her forms, studying it, and slowly trying to find its weaknesses. While it seemed preposterous (when was Keitaro actually any good at fighting?) she remembered that the training program she had conceived was primarily born out of Keitaro's idea as he found her sister's weakness.

 

His perception was beyond what a non-practitioner would show, and Motoko herself was very curious on how he developed it. She didn't believe it was some sort of skill he learned for drawing because he seemed to know a lot of close quarter combat to counter most of her forms… but his body condition; lack of flexibility, strength and agility, hurt him to the point that his skills were nothing more than amateur levels.

 

Hence her way of training. In a week, he'd be more efficient, and an asset in battle.

 

But there was nothing sinister about his charge. Motoko thought that he was going to go for a feint, and try again on her right side, her weak side, but no, he was running straight at her, his boken going towards her head.

 

His body spoke clearly towards her. The strike had power, no deception, and no reason. Motoko mentally grinned. She lowered her weapon, hoping to fool him that she was surprised and open for a hit.

 

His weapon came down. Her arms rose suddenly, blocking it. The two wooden weapons clashed, and Motoko shifted her body so she could lock his in her defense. She came close at him, face to face.

 

“Urashima, you're reckless. In battle, you'd be dead,” she stated seriously, slightly mocking.

 

Keitaro smirked. “I know… sensei.”

 

His last word was spoken with a sort of sarcasm, and his left hand suddenly released its grip on the hilt of his weapon going behind his neck. Motoko's eyebrows rose, wondering what was he doing. When his arms came up, her eyes widened.

 

Holding on his left hand was another boken. He must have placed it right behind him before he came at her for the spar. It would explain his straight form; he was hiding the hilt that was sticking out behind his neck… why his strike had no traces of deception; he wasn't trying to feint on his strike… he was feinting with his strike!

 

Motoko moved her body, trying to get away, but it was far too late. His arm was coming down.

A solid thwack was heard as the pain drove to her head, driving her down on the ground in one knee.

 

Silence.

 

Motoko raised her eyes, clutching her sore spot. Standing there, again, was Keitaro, smirking down at her, two bokens, one on each hand.

 

“Well, sensei? You were saying?” he asked patronizingly.

 

She saw red.

 

Keitaro laughed a bit, and smiled a bit. Letting go one of the bokens, he offered his hand to the fallen girl, only for it to be shoved away with a rather painful slap. He winced.

 

The girl helped herself up, and moved away from him. Keitaro wondered for a moment if he had strayed rather too far with her last quip, when she suddenly turned, and looked at him coldly, her eyes blazing. He was taken aback momentarily.

 

“Uh… Motoko… look, if you're mad…”

 

“Mad?” she cut him. “I'm not mad. Brilliant move, Urashima. Never saw it coming. I was wrong in underestimating you.”

 

“Damn right you are,” Keitaro muttered silently.

 

“Since you are seemingly a fast learner, maybe I ought to raise the level,” she declared. “Defend yourself Urashima.”

 

Keitaro was about to ask what she meant by raising the level when she suddenly dashed at him with rather astonishing speed. His eyes widened, and barely raised his weapon to instinctively block the incoming strike.

 

His weapon once again clashed with hers, though the sheer force of her attack vibrated across the wooden blade, shocking Keitaro as his legs automatically moved away before his weapon would break. His mind ran as he tried to figure out how to stop her assault, when she suddenly came to view again, swinging at him.

 

His feet left the ground at yet another impressive show of force. His hand was straining, and if he had continued to try and hold on like this, it'd blister, and bleed.

 

“Motoko! Stop! I'm sorry!” Keitaro cried desperately. Then, suddenly… he froze. And unlike his regular freezing spells, this one had a nasty bite.

 

He yelped as suddenly he felt his chest seemingly burning, yet he couldn't do anything as his body refused to obey him. And to makes matters worse, Motoko didn't seem to notice anything wrong with him, her eyes gleaming with victory as her weapon was raised.

 

Keitaro felt the hit… but was driven almost immediately to unconsciousness, spared of the pain.

 

--------------------------------------

 

Sky blue and clouds. When Keitaro first saw those, he immediately felt for the ground. Nothing.

 

“Oh great… I'm back…” he muttered.

 

There was a slight giggle above his lying head. Without any word, he sat up. As amazing it was at the fact there was no ground to support him, he felt none of its awe. In this place, he knew that physics didn't seem to be involved in anything. This universe had laws of its own. Keitaro would just think it, and he would find himself doing it.

 

“Hello, Kei-kun.”

 

Keitaro faced towards the female figure behind him, smiling slightly. He hadn't seen the woman for quite a while, and he hadn't done so on purpose. He wanted to ask her why it was only now that he would see her again, when he noticed a male figure beside her.

 

Keitaro frowned.

 

The male looked at him with rather nervous smile; his ugly spectacles mired his brown eyes. Keitaro has seen that face before… staring back at him in the mirror. It was the same face he had seen every time he would wash his face back in Hinata-sou.

 

The man looked liked the Keitaro's body K2 was occupying. A mirror image.

 

“Hello,” K2 muttered back at the two, waving slightly. “As much as I am surprised to see you, I'm more in seeing that guy.”

 

K2 walked towards them. The girl, whose name was still amiss to him, just smiled. Finally, he was in arm's length and looked at the old Keitaro closely. He was smiling nervously, scratching behind his head with his hands, eyes closed. What a damn weakling.

 

“Well, you have been rather busy, so I didn't want to distract you,” she stated. She looked towards the other Keitaro. “Of course… I found someone interesting, so I couldn't resist bringing you here when I had the chance.”

 

There was a slight smile in K2's face. “You didn't have to freeze me in order to do that.”

 

“Uh… a-actually… that's my fault,” Keitaro cut in.

 

The slight smile faded into an ugly frown, and K2's eyes stared hard towards his other self with some contempt. Keitaro seemed to have been taken aback, his left foot automatically going behind him, as if ready to run.

 

“You have some bloody good explanation, `Keitaro',” K2 muttered in a low tone.

 

“Now, now, boys, no need for a game of tag,” the woman with blue hair calmly stated, patting both Keitaro and K2 in the shoulders. “Kei-kun, stop glaring at Keitaro. Keitaro, stop fidgeting.”

 

Keitaro and K2 both looked at her oddly.

 

“What? I'll call you,” she pointed towards K2, “Kei-kun. I'll call you,” and this time, she pointed at Keitaro, “Keitaro. Alright?”

 

“I pretty much don't care about that,” K2 muttered. “I want to know why he,” he points towards Keitaro, “is here, and why the hell is he messing with me.”

 

“I… I'm sorry…” he muttered panicky.

 

“Grow a spine, man,” K2 directed another glare towards Keitaro. “I don't need an apology. I need a damn good explanation!”

 

“Hey, Kei-kun, calm down,” the woman squeezed his shoulder hard. “We'll get there. No need to blow a gasket.” She looked towards the other Keitaro. “Don't mind him, he's in his moods again.”

 

Keitaro just grinned nervously.

 

“Alright, so as not to start another glare game,” she shot a look at K2, which wasn't so effective since her eyes were still hidden behind her bangs, “I'll start off. First, Kei-kun, I was pretty much aware of your freezing spells. The source was a vibrating force in your soul.”

 

“My soul?” K2 asked with slight disbelief.

 

“Yes, Kei-kun,” the woman nodded. “I felt the effects myself. You don't want to be here when your soul suddenly erupts to a twitching frenzy. It's like some scale 10 earthquake. The effect on you is, of course, shock, and the body just suddenly freezes on you.

 

“Now, today was probably the worst of the bunch. The whole place was like it was on fire,” she continued. “So, I investigated. And surprise, surprise, I found another lingering soul.” She pointed at Keitaro. “Him. He was where the source of all the shaking and heat were.

 

“Now, I was going to ask what he was doing here, why, where, how, and all the usual questions when you came in,” she finally finished. “Kinda glad, though. Saves me the time to literate to you.”

 

“Well, as impeccable my timing was, it was all thanks to our lingering soul,” K2 looked towards Keitaro, who looked slightly indignant.

 

“Hey, it's not my fault!” he stated. “I was on my way to finally enter Todai… when I just suddenly found myself in a black space!”

 

“Yeah… we kinda did impose you that time,” the woman stated.

 

“Impose?” both Keitaros asked. Then they looked at each other oddly.

 

She just giggled. “Yes, impose. Kei-kun, remember, your soul was taken from your body and transferred to this body… we both imposed our identity towards Keitaro, who was already inhabiting it. In short, we took over his body.”

 

“B…b…body snatchers!?” Keitaro began to panic, stepping back, as if trying to run. K2 ignored him.

 

“Now that you mention it, I remember fighting that goddess when…”

 

The images of a bright light enveloped his memories. K2 didn't know what was going on at that time. All he could think was trying to dodge her stabs as he was pinned on the ground. The next moment, he found himself with Mutsumi in Todai.

 

It seemed the woman also was on the same level as he was. “Yes… well, as the Law of any Universe, any kind of matter cannot occupy the same space at the same time, unless special properties come in,” she explained. “In souls, it's a simple matter of limited space.”

 

“W-would anyone explain this in Japanese?” Keitaro asked. K2 ignored him again.

 

“Limited space?” he asked.

 

“Yes, for example, Keitaro,” she suddenly pointed towards the said young man, who suddenly looked apprehensive. “He was able to occupy a part of your soul that's been damaged instead of being snuffed out of the body completely.”

 

“Damaged?” K2 asked. “My soul is damaged?”

 

“Yes, but not really anything major. It's a bit superficial, actually. Keitaro seemed to squeeze himself in that space,” she looked and smiled towards him. “Right?

 

“Would anyone explain what's going on here?” Keitaro asked. “Who are you people!? Why did you snatch my body!? What are you planning!?”

 

K2 looked towards the woman, and back towards his other self. His mind went over for a moment at the questions Keitaro was spouting out. He deserved an answer. Even if he was a weakling.

 

“She can explain everything to you,” K2 replied, pointing towards the woman, who looked at him with slight surprise. “My name is Urashima Keitaro, agent with the code K2 of the U-Faction, specialized on assassination of supernatural forces.”

 

“Uh…” Keitaro couldn't speak because he found himself feeling faint. Code K2? U-Faction? Assassination!? Supernatural forces!?

 

“Look, I won't have enough time here,” K2 explained. “I was just driven unconscious. I may wake up any moment and disappear. I just wanted to say sorry for occupying your body. She can go answer most of the questions you have, but I need you to stop freezing me.”

 

“Freezing?”

 

“What you were doing earlier,” K2 replied patiently. He needed this Keitaro to know that much is important. He couldn't afford having another freezing spell like that, especially when it came to battle.

 

When Keitaro still looked confused, the woman tried to explain. “He means when you're vibrating the whole place.”

 

“Oh… well it's not my fault that the empty place I found myself would suddenly start heating up!” Keitaro replied with a bit indignantly. “It's painful, you know!”

 

“Heating up?” the woman asked.

 

“Yes!” Keitaro stated. “Earlier was the worst… the whole place was like an oven on fire!”

 

K2 wanted to hear more about this odd incident when he suddenly felt that familiar tug on his stomach. His hands automatically went for the place of sensation. She seemed to notice, and smiled at him.

 

“You're going?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, unfortunately,” K2 looked at her. “Look, sorry for dumping him on you. I'll try to get back here.”

 

“I'll bring you here when you sleep,” she stated with a nod.

 

K2 could feel his consciousness stirring.

 

“Keep him here,” he stated as he felt himself fading. “I don't want another freezing spell like earlier. And bring me back, alright? I still want to talk to him.”

 

Keitaro and the woman watched with interest as K2's body seemingly faded from view. Little by little, like seeds of a dandelion being blown away. When his presence was gone, Keitaro looked towards the woman nervously, who looked at him back with a slight smile.

 

“Want tea, Keitaro?” she asked.

 

“Uh… sure.”

 

“Oh, good,” she nodded. “It's going to be a rather long story.”

 

--------------------------------------

 

The smell of ammonia invaded his senses almost at once. Keitaro's eyes opened, and he prepared to be slightly blinded by the afternoon sun, when all he saw was a wooden roof. He looked to his left, then suddenly closed his eyes as the sun made itself known. He shook his head, sneezing slightly.

 

“Urashima, are you alright?” Motoko's worried voice came on his right, taking away what looked like smelling salts.

 

He shifted his head to face her. He was about to launch a string of obscenities, when he saw her worried look. Her eyes seem to stare back at his with caution, looking torn and forlorn. He sighed.

 

“How long was I out?” he asked.

 

“Twenty minutes.”

 

“Really? Well, we're wasting time,” Keitaro muttered as he tried to stand. “Let's go, sens…” he couldn't finish his sentence as he suddenly felt a splitting burning pain on his head. He groaned.

 

“Don't move Urashima… the last hit you took gave you a mild concussion…”

 

“I know mild, Motoko…” Keitaro muttered. “What I feel isn't mild.”

 

“I would have given you some pain killers… but unfortunately…” she let the sentence linger.

 

“I have some in my bag,” Keitaro muttered. He had packed a few in case he would need some to block the pain and keep himself working. After all, a week can pass fast, and he needed himself in good condition as possible.

 

Motoko nodded, and went towards his bag, while Keitaro's eyes were once again roamed towards the ceiling. He must have been dragged or carried back to the cabin after he froze up, and was hit directly (and hard) on his noggin. He smiled slightly at the memory of her reaction as he gave her a clean hit.

 

He was not going to do that any time soon, though he hoped that Motoko would stop being a high and mighty bitch. He didn't like anyone berating him for doing hard work, especially when he wasn't slacking off. Justified criticism he can take… but not bullying.

 

Keitaro felt something hit him from the side. He looked, and spotted his painkillers (in a medicine bottle) and he gratefully opened it, and took two capsules and swallowed them. He looked towards Motoko who seemed to be looking at him emptily. His eyebrows rose inquisitively.

 

“Motoko?”

 

“Urashima… may I… that is to say…” her labored breathing bothered him.

 

“Spill, Motoko.”

 

There was a slight pause.

 

“What is the meaning of this, Urashima?” she finally asked, raising her hand, revealing she was holding a piece of paper.

 

Keitaro could feel another burst of pain and heat coming to his head. Damn it, how could have he been so stupid? There was a reason why he had not let Motoko get too close to his bag, and she was respectful enough not to pry…

 

In her hand was the marriage certificate… something he had kept a secret about. And now… it's blown wide open.

 

Keitaro could only do what he could. Cursed inwardly.

 

To Be Continued…

 

AN: Another chapter done… sorry it took a while. This chapter finally gives a rather clear answer to where the old Keitaro is and why K2 has freezing spells. Anyways, hope you all enjoy it. Ja ne.