Love Hina Fan Fiction ❯ K2: A View to a Truth ❯ Chapter 14

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14 - Stolen Kisses

 

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The situation was not exactly what Keitaro would profess to be one of his betters. He was injured, and now covered in blood, holding Motoko Aoyama by the neck as she continued to force herself on him.

 

“No… I'm not…” Keitaro growled. He grabbed her neck. “I'm not yours!”

 

“Keitaro, really…” Motoko stated as she squeezed his shoulder again, earning a shout of pain. His grip on her neck immediately fell. And like earlier, she used her free hand to slap across his face again. “I would have thought you'd enjoy this… my body feeling yours. My tongue with yours. Can you feel my skin, Keitaro? Can you taste my wanting?”

 

“To… hell… with… your… wanting!” Keitaro growled through gritted teeth. “Let go of me this instant, Aoyoma-san!”

 

“No!” she replied strongly. “I'll never let go! You are mine, Keitaro! Mine! Can't you see?” She squeezed his shoulder harder again, and he yelped pain. “I want you Keitaro… and I know you want me too… so, stop your useless resisting--”

 

“I do not want you, Aoyama-san,” he cut her off, his eyes glaring to hers. His harsh eyes seemed to momentarily pause her movements. “I never wanted you.”

 

His words seem to affect her. Her smile seem to wane, getting faker by the moment.

 

“You are lying, Urashima…” she stated.

 

“No. I'm telling the truth,” he grinned at her darkly. “You're nothing more than a selfish spoiled brat who goes around hating men because your older sister got married. You use your sword to deliver your own brand of selfish justice… justice derived from your hate!

 

“You want me!?” he continued, his tone building up. “Stop spouting out bullshit! Even if it's true, who will ever love a woman like you! I hate you! I despise you! You are nothing to me!”

 

Her slap rang painfully on his ears as he felt his blood flow from his already split lips. Her hand came in hard and fast, Keitaro was slapped again and again, each getting stronger to the point her palm wasn't open anymore, and she was using her closed fist. The pain on his shoulder was now ignored, replaced with the soreness of his battered face.

 

Motoko let go of him, standing up tall. Her hand dove towards the dark handle of the blade, and in one swift motion, pulled it from the ground. With a deftly twist, the blade came in contact at once towards his neck. Keitaro could literally feel the cold blade slowly cutting effortlessly his skin as her eyes bore to his once more. Her mouth turned to a large ugly frown.

 

“For a slave, you sure are talkative. And here I was, being easy on you,” Motoko seemed to laugh. “You do not want me, you say? Fine. You hate me, you say? That's fine too.” Her grin turned evil. “So… if I can't have you… no one will.”

 

She raised the blade, and positioned it to her side, and without hesitation, brought it towards Keitaro's neck.

 

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“Here you go, Urashima-san,” one of the waitresses of the restaurant stated with a smile as she handed the ordered bowl of ramen towards Keitaro.

 

He accepted it with a smile, and grabbed a pair of wrapped fused chopsticks from its container in the table he was sitting in. Taking out its plastic shell, he took hold of the two sides, and split them. He rubbed them together to take out splinters, before he dove in towards his meal.

 

It was filling. After he savored the flavor, he spoke.

 

“You know, you called me back here to talk, but you're being quiet,” he muttered quietly. He looked towards Motoko.

 

Her eyes were down towards her own untouched bowl of ramen. Her hands were resting on the still fused wooden chopsticks.

 

When she was still quiet after a few minutes, Keitaro got her attention again.

 

“Oi! Motoko! You awake!?”

 

She blinked, and looked towards Keitaro and then back down. “Oh… yes, sorry, Keitaro-san…” she muttered apologetically. “I am… I'm just troubled.”

 

Keitaro looked at her for a moment before going back to his food. He slurped quietly, grabbing bits of vegetables along the way, and sipped some of the flavored soup. As he chewed on his food silently, he impatiently twirled one of the chopsticks in his hand.

 

“I see you aren't wearing any underwear,” Keitaro commented, staring at Motoko intently.

 

“Uh… what…? Ah, yes… I see…” she replied blankly.

 

Keitaro heard a snap in his head. He looked at her before putting his chopsticks down. “I'm leaving,” he said as he stood up.

 

“No, wait! Wait! I'm sorry!” Motoko's arm came fast, grabbing Keitaro on the shoulder, and let go when he suddenly groaned in pain, and sat down. “I'm sorry!”

 

“AGH, damnit Motoko,” Keitaro growled and cursed silently, holding his injured shoulder tenderly. “Take it easy already!”

 

He was about to say more when he stole a look towards Motoko, and found her head down, and unmistakably, crying. He sighed, and scratched his head before going back to his noodles. When the young woman just sat there, unmoving, he sighed again, and raised his arm, and called in one of the waitresses.

 

“Yes?” the waitress came.

 

“You got any sake?” Keitaro asked. Motoko looked up suddenly.

 

“Yes! Will I bring some here?”

 

“Two bottles. Cold ones. Two chokos too,” he replied.

 

As the waitress left, Motoko stared at Keitaro intently, her mouth twitching as if wanting to say something, but couldn't. When she saw his relaxed face smiling as he took in some of his noodles again, she couldn't hold her tongue anymore.

 

“Keitaro…”

 

“Yes?” he replied, eyes back on her.

 

“What's… what's the sake for?” Motoko asked.

 

“What is it for, Motoko-chan?” he shrugged. “To drink, of course.”

 

“I don't drink…” she muttered.

 

“You should,” he smiled disarmingly. “Helps you loosen up.”

 

“I'm not some loose woman.”

 

“I know you aren't,” Keitaro rolled his eyes. “That's why I'm getting us both a drink. Because if you're just going to sit there quietly after dragging me here in the pretense of having a talk, then you're just spoiling my mood.”

 

Motoko went silent again, and the waitress finally came back with two moderately sized sake bottles, and the respective cups. After Keitaro stated that he would pour his own cup, and the young swordswoman herself didn't reply to the waitress's question, and was automatically poured.

 

Keitaro drank his slowly, letting the taste of the alcohol linger on his taste buds, and slowly swallowed it. He shook his head when he felt a slight buzz, and grimaced, wondering briefly if this body was weak towards alcohol. He was starting to relax slightly.

 

He looked at Motoko again for a sign of movement, and when he got nothing, he sighed. “Your company's so bad, you make sake taste bad.”

 

Silence. He sighed again, and stood up.

 

“Motoko, I'm leaving,” Keitaro muttered.

 

“No…!” she stated, standing up as well. “Wait! I have to -!”

 

“Spit it out then!” Keitaro cut her angrily.

 

“I… I just… I wanted to apologize,” Motoko finally said what was on her mind. “I apologize… and I'm…”

 

When she trailed of silently, Keitaro studied her quietly, patiently. He sat down, and she followed suit as he waited for a moment until she finally gained her momentum.

 

“I will do what I should have done!” she finally finished.

 

“Huh? Do what you should have done?” Keitaro asked. “And what is that?”

 

“I will talk to my sister… and see if I can get you out of this, Urashima,” Motoko replied. She looked down for a moment, grabbing her chopsticks hard. “It was my fault in the first place. I should never have gotten you involved with this dispute. I'll go to Kyoto alone, first thing in the morning and apologize to her.” She took a deep breathe. “It's the least I can do.”

 

Keitaro looked at her for a moment, and he felt himself relaxing again, though this time, not because of the sake. Maybe it was her words, presence, or even her look as she was stating her conviction. It had no resemblance whatsoever with that woman.

 

“I'm kinda glad you aren't like your psychotic sister,” he muttered darkly. “I've already had it up to here dealing with her.”

 

“My sister!?” she gasped. “You… dealing? You mean, you talked to her!? When?”

 

“This morning… no, wait, afternoon,” he replied after some thought. He really couldn't remember well. It must have been noon. It was an awful memory, anyway… good riddance if he couldn't remember.

 

“What did you both talk about!?” Motoko demanded.

 

“Business,” Keitaro replied softly, looking sideways for a moment. He then poured himself some more sake.

 

“What kind of business?”

 

The young man made a slight clicking sound of annoyance as he drank from his cup slowly. Keitaro loved the relaxing sensation of alcohol, but he hated the way the conversation was going. But it was either the alcohol or that annoyance he felt after his conversation with Tsuruko, he wanted an outlet and was being quite generous in giving information.

 

But then again, this was Motoko. She deserved truthful answers after having saved him twice. He felt a whimsical thought enter his head as he remembered that particular detail. He smiled slightly.

 

“I asked for an extension,” he replied after a moment. “Added an extra four days in our training… give you time to recover from that event two days ago. Well… I needed to recover too, so it wasn't only for you, before you get egoistical,” he added in the end.

 

“An extension…?” Motoko took her right hand, and stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Did she agree?”

 

“She did… thankfully,” Keitaro muttered the last part with slight anger.

 

“That's… strange for her,” Motoko shook her head. “She doesn't usually things like extending deadlines unless…” her eyes widened, and looked at Keitaro. “Urashima! What did you give her!?”

 

“Huh?” he mocked surprise. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You gave her something! In exchange for an extension you gave her something!” Motoko stood up. She slapped the table hard that the china bowls shook. “What did you give her Urashima!?”

 

Keitaro scratched his head with annoyance. “Eh… none of your business, Motoko.”

 

“YOU FOOL!” she shouted. “By asking for an extension… even if I go home and fully apologize and accept punishment…”

 

“She won't go for it,” Keitaro finished.

 

“Well obviously since someone had to interfere!” she growled.

 

“No, Motoko, it's not that,” Keitaro stared towards her. “Even if I hadn't `interfered' as you say, she will not agree with your scenario… apologizing to her would just be a waste of time.”

 

“And why would that be?”

 

“She wants me.”

 

There was a moment of silence in which Motoko's angry form suddenly turned to shock as she heard those very words come out of his mouth. Her lips began to twitch as the meaning seemed to kick in her head, and her forehead seemed to crunch together as her right fist wound up to a tight ball.

 

“She… wants you?” she asked slowly. “Pray tell, Urashima… what did you actually mean by that?”

 

“For a supposedly pure unadulterated female, you got a dirty mind,” Keitaro replied with suspicious eyes directed towards Motoko. “It means from day one, she decided to get me for the Aoyamas for some reason.”

 

“You…? But why?” Motoko wondered. “I mean… you're weak.”

 

Keitaro glared at her. That was uncalled for. “Weak is getting hit twice by the weak one, Aoyama…” he muttered darkly. “Besides… if one looks at the big picture… there are three reasons why your sister would do such a thing. One: she saw latent potential in me, and I could give the Aoyama family strong heirs… two: She feels you and I are compatible, and putting us together… and three: She's just a bitch.”

 

Motoko blinked at the third.

 

“Personally, I think it's the third…” Keitaro continued, sipping on his cup. “But the main thing is… she wants me.”

 

Motoko stared at Keitaro for a moment as he continued to eat his ramen and sipping his noodles. Her eyes narrowed.

 

“You're deluding yourself, Urashima,” she muttered. “Under the influence of alcohol, being egoistic… it is so like you.”

 

“Oh? I remember being a man without spine, without confidence… isn't that what you kept saying to me before Motoko?” Keitaro muttered as he remembered the diary of the Keitaro of this world.

 

She steamed. “Nevermind! I shall go back home tomorrow, and apologize to my sister properly and remorsefully.” She paused. “Besides… it's not like we could work it out together.”

 

Keitaro stole a look. “Eh? What do you mean?” he asked.

 

Motoko's head was down, avoiding his eyes. Her still untouched noodles were still, and her hand seemed to let the chopsticks she was holding go.

 

“Urashima… I… I remember that night… rather vividly,” she stated softly. “I…” she clenched her fist again. “It was like a dream where I couldn't control myself… but I was hearing what was said, hearing what I was supposedly saying…I could smell the air… I could smell the blood… and… I remember your feelings towards me…”

 

She closed her eyes, trying to hide her emerging tears uselessly.

 

“Motoko…” Keitaro trailed off when she continued to talk.

 

“And I understand your feelings… after what I tried to do what I did…”

 

The image of her dark smile and ugly frown appeared. The dark blade held by her slender hand, readied to swing towards him.

 

“Who will ever love a woman like you!? I hate you! I despise you! You are nothing to me!”

 

“If I can't have you… no one will.”

 

Keitaro swallowed the last bits of carrots he had been chewing and tilted the bowl and poured the remnants of the soup in his mouth. That done, he put the bowl down and poured his choko with more sake. He sipped some again, and made some impatient clicking sound from his tongue.

 

“Motoko,” he called her again. “I didn't really mean to say those things.”

 

“Urashima, it's too late to comfort me,” she smiled sadly. “I like it better when you are honest. I really do not mind at all.”

 

“You don't listen well, do you?” he muttered, scratching behind his neck. “A bit like your sister… I guess.” He poured his cup again. “Motoko… here…” and he offered his cup.

 

Motoko's eyes widened, surprised. “U… rashima?”

 

“I'm sharing my cup with you, Motoko,” Keitaro stated solidly. “You should know what it means, right?”

 

Motoko's fingers enclosed around the cup, but she didn't dare raise it to her lips, nor made any movements. She just sat there, frozen as a statue, holding the choko, looking at it, and towards its owner, her tongue seemingly trying to find words.

 

“An indirect kiss.”

 

Her frozen state shattered almost immediately as crimson color rose towards her cheeks. Her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open for the world to see.

 

“U-URASHIMA!” she shouted, almost dropping the cup.

 

“Oh, fine, fine, let's take the formal route…” and he cleared his throat. “Aoyama-san…” he muttered in a rather deep tone. “As a sign of friendship…” and he left the sentence hanging, though his hand motioned the cup she was holding.

 

“Urashima…” Motoko could only whisper, looking at Keitaro's eyes. “I… I don't understand. What you are doing contradicts everything you were saying that night!”

 

“That night isn't tonight, right?”

 

“You are not making any sense!” she declared madly.

 

“Why are you so desperate to pin everything on yourself, Motoko?” Keitaro asked.

 

“That night…”

 

“That night,” he cut in suddenly, “you were not yourself.”

 

“How would you know!?” she demanded.

 

“Motoko, I'm not stupid,” he looked at her. “You were possessed that time… by the blade.”

 

Her eyes widened. “H… how…”

 

“Look,” Keitaro sighed, scratching behind his neck yet again. Normally, he would have already left the table, left the conversation because of Motoko's hard-headedness, but it was probably of melancholic aura around her that had him wanting to cheer her up.

 

Of course, it could have been the sake. His head was already all tingly.

 

“Alright… this is Motoko, alright?” and he shook his shoulders, nodded a few moments, and looked towards her with narrow eyes, helped by his two fingers, trying to stretch the skin at the side of his eyes. He also formed a rather exaggerated pout that made him look extremely silly.

 

“Urashima! You fiend!” he suddenly muttered in a fake deep yet feminine voice. “Males are nothing more than perverts. Prepare to suffer Heaven's Wrath!

 

“So, that's normally you…” he went back to his normal expression and voice. Across him, Motoko looked like she had been slapped, and hasn't recovered yet, but he paid her no mind. “And… that night, when you suddenly turned like this…”

 

Keitaro made his eyes have that wild streak, and his lips were smiling darkly. His tongue was hung out, and he seemed to be drooling slightly.

 

“Keitaro!! You are mine!!” and he raised his and put them on his shirt's center, and began to mock pull it apart, acting like he was wearing and removing a hamaka. “Oooh, such bindings aren't needed! I must remove them!” and then he reverted back to his regular expression.

 

“I think it was pretty clear you weren't yourself that night,” he ended, and sipped from the sake bottle as Motoko was still holding on his cup.

 

Motoko was furious. “URASHIMA!” she shouted as she stood up again, her free fist raised.

 

“What?” Keitaro asked calmly, like she didn't look like she was about to kill him.

 

She glared at him hard, her arms shaking, almost spilling the sake in the choko she was still holding, but after a moment, she began to slowly calm down. She lowered her hands, and placed the cup on the table, and sat back down on her chair.

 

“What made you say it was the blade, Urashima?” she asked. “What if it was actually me? What if during that tenure… it was me all along?”

 

“The fact you stopped trying to… uh, make me a head shorter when I got that sheathe in that blade, and you haven't brought it around you anymore clinched it,” he replied easily. He then looked at her seriously. “Motoko… will you accept my gesture?”

 

“I…” she looked towards the cup. “I… I can not… not after that night.”

 

Keitaro stood up. “Aoyama-san, I have been insulted and dishonored,” he muttered in a serious tone. The young swordswoman blinked as he looked down on her. “I challenge you, Aoyama-san.”

 

“Uh… huh?” was her only reply.

 

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Keitaro's back seemed cold and distant to Motoko as he led them towards the woods. Her brain was racked with confusion as she tried to wonder what was going on inside his head. Keitaro had specifically told her harshly where she stood in his eyes, and then, does a gesture of friendship with her? And now he's challenging her for refusing accepting it?

 

“Aoyama-san…” Keitaro called as he stopped. He turned around. “For the insult, I'm challenging you to a duel.”

 

“Urashima… it wasn't an insult…” Motoko muttered before she was cut off again.

 

“Shut up,” he growled. “Use any means to defeat your opponent. Winner is decided by submission, or knockout!”

 

“Urashima… this is silly…”

 

Motoko didn't know what happened… all the sudden, she felt a blow in her abdomen and her senses going wild. She took a step back, and noticed Keitaro in front of her, his fist perturbing from her stomach.

 

“U… Urashima…”

 

“If I were you,” he muttered before throwing another punch, “I'll get serious!”

 

Motoko recovered fast enough, and ducked the incoming punch, and moved back in two quick steps. Keitaro followed through, though, and without pause, unleashed a few punches and kicks that got Motoko off balance. She was surprised. She hadn't expected Keitaro to be this much advanced when it came to hand to hand combat… he always kept himself near her, moving side to side like a boxer and karate practitioner, taking small jumping steps, shifting his power from left to right according to his attacks.

 

Another fist came towards her face as she was thinking, and automatically, she covered her face automatically, only to feel another solid hit on her abdomen. Her eyes widened as she jumped back, realizing that he had feinted with the punch towards her face to hide another fist coming towards her from below.

 

Hybrid Karate and boxing, elements used by Kung Fu practitioners… for the five days she had been training Keitaro, he had never showed her signs of knowing this amount of skill. He kept close, shifting, pivoting, keeping her range of attack limited while he would successfully weave around her, and attack at blind angles in openings of her defense.

 

He was perfectly performing the basics of close quarters combat.

 

Motoko found herself in the air after she was struck by an open palm in the face, and he used her shift of balance to throw her over his shoulder. She landed painfully on the ground.

 

“U… Urashima…” she muttered as she tried to stand.

 

“Is there anything else you can say, Aoyama-san?” his shadowed form stood in front of her, staring down at her.

 

“You think… this will help?” she asked as she stood up completely, sluggishly. “What are you trying to do?”

 

“I hate your face,” he replied coldly. “I will beat you into unrecognizable bloody pulp. Your face sickens me to the core, Aoyama. What is this garbage about us not working out together?”

 

“Ih… It's true!” she exclaimed.

 

“FOOL!” he shouted back. “You are desperately trying to blame yourself for the whole mess! I knew since the time you were forcing your kisses on me that you weren't yourself! Yet, you stubborn little girl, you keep going on yourself like some sort of fucking martyr! I knew it wasn't you! I said those things to wake you!

 

“And if you continue -!”

 

“You don't understand…” she cut him off, bowing her head.

 

“What don't I understand, Aoyama!?” Keitaro demanded.

 

“The… the sword… it wasn't controlling me,” she muttered. “I… I saw my sister. She was right in front of me. Her voice… she tried to do things to you while I watched…”

 

“What are you doing Motoko-chan? If you don't hurry… I'll steal him from you.”

 

“Look at him kissing me so savagely. He wants me… he wants me bad, my little sister… and that is how it's supposed to be. After all, you are nothing but an insignificant little girl.”

 

The moans of her sister vibrated against her head once again as Motoko remembered the vision she saw after everything blacked out. Her sister was making love with Keitaro, and she could do nothing but watch.

 

She made love to him. He made love to her, oblivious to her presence. Motoko could feel her blood boil, as she wanted him to do what he was doing to her. Lust, jealousy, carnage…

 

Tears welled up on her eyes. She shivered. She was truly a monster to have those feelings bottled inside her.

 

“It was maddening… but even then, I knew… no, I realized what I was seeing after I came to my senses…” she muttered. “It reflected my heart, and showed my fears, anxieties… my desires.” She paused. “I can not allow myself to get you involved anymore, Urashima. I… I am not what I put out in front. Deep inside… I'm a monster. What you saw that night… it might have been my true self.”

 

There was another pause before Keitaro's voice rang clearly once again in the air…

 

“Are you this dumb, Motoko?”

 

She blinked, and her eyes went towards his, which was staring at hers with intent.

 

“Are you too stupid to come up with garbage like that?” he asked. “If so… then you're truly a fool. True self? If that was the truth, I wouldn't be here standing Aoyama.

 

“Do you want to know your true self?” he asked. “Ask the woman who from mid-swing, was able to stop, and begged me to kill her!”

 

He dropped his defenses for a moment, but his eyes were still on hers.

 

“You didn't lose yourself completely… you were able to stop yourself from killing me!” he exclaimed. “I remember clearly Motoko… your face threatened to burst into tears as the blade shook a few inches from my neck. You begged me to stop you… to kill you. Remember?”

 

She didn't reply, her face going down.

 

“Do you know why I'm going on this ridiculous journey with you, Motoko?” Keitaro finally asked after a few moments.

 

“No…” she replied.

 

“Because I want to beat the face of your sister in,” he exclaimed instantly and darkly. “And I prefer to go with you. You've been a great help to me, Motoko. I'll stick with you thick and thin… you saved my life, not once, but twice. You are willing to train a weak man, and even though it was mostly for selfish reasons, you took care of me for the past five days. I respect you a lot… sensei.

 

“But…” he growled angrily, “if you're going to turn to a coward in the end because of some stupid bump on the road we are traveling, then quit! I can go on without you. I don't need some coward beside me!”

 

He went back to his fighting position, and was slowly approaching Motoko, who still was in an open form, defenses practically nil. Her eyes were shaking, her mouth trying to reply his vocal onslaught. She could not find a reply.

 

“This is it, sensei,” Keitaro muttered softly, his fists ready. “Thanks for the time you gave me.”

 

Motoko watched helplessly as he approached her, stalking her like a predator. The visions she had, the revelation she had been given… it echoed on her very soul. Why couldn't Urashima understand her? Why she had to do this?

 

“I… I don't want to lose you!” she finally exclaimed. “I don't…!”

 

“Aoyama… you already lost me by being like this…”

 

“What…?”

 

Keitaro charged in, fast. Motoko, in her daze, couldn't follow his movement, and before she knew it, she was hit again, hard, this time by two elbows.

 

As she crumpled slowly towards the ground, Keitaro continued what he was saying.

 

“You lost my respect.”

 

Her knee came down. She was still in a state of shock when he finally concluded himself.

 

“I don't need you anymore. I'm going to face your sister myself. So stay here and wallow on your misery.”

 

Something inside Motoko snapped. She didn't know what exactly it was, but her hand suddenly grabbed onto Keitaro's shirt, pulling her self up. She felt a rush of anger, worry, and another feeling she couldn't quite well describe more than having a tied stomach. She growled, the sound vibrating deep within her throat.

 

“I like how your eyes look, sensei,” the young man muttered neutrally, though if anyone listened closely, they'd have noticed the slight prideful tone. His eyes seemed to smile as he looked into hers.

 

She smirked slightly. “You are going to regret challenging me, Urashima,” she stated straight.

 

“What are you going to do? Punish me?” he asked with a smirk of his own.

 

Her attack came fast and furious, catching Keitaro slightly by surprise. He barely had time to raise his arm to block the open palm coming at him, but at the distance, the power was almost neligable, until Motoko arched her back. With solid footing, and her form, she was able to follow through her attack, and pushed back Keitaro, bypassing his feeble defense completely.

 

He jumped back, almost losing his balance, but not completely able to recover before Motoko dashed towards him. He raised his foot to dodge a low kick, only to realize too late it was just an attack so she could get close on him. Like earlier, she was using the very same tactics he had used on her earlier. She decreased the distance between them, limiting the amount of attacks he could give, and also limiting the amount of places to defend, but unlike Keitaro's punches, she was using open palm attacks to limit his movement, slowly cornering him to his doom.

 

Keitaro wasn't useless, though. He attacked and defended at the same time, and in turn, Motoko did the same. But the longer the battle took it was clear who had the upper hand. Keitaro was taking more hits than giving them, most of them were aimed at his sides and abdomen, decreasing his stamina as his air supply was slowly being diminished. Desperately, he launched a haymaker towards Motoko's right side, but like a flash, he was defeated.

 

He counted three hits… but he was pretty sure she did six. She attacked him before his could hit home by hitting his injured shoulder, and at the same time, punched him at his solar plexus and then an elbow at his stomach, probably an open palm at his chin and a shoulder block, and finally a launching side kick which took him off from the ground.

 

Motoko caught a slight glimpse of Keitaro's smile directed towards her as he was in the air. She smiled in return.

 

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“Keitaro…?”

 

Keitaro moaned softly, turning his back away from the source of the voice. He was rewarded with another painful sensation over his shoulder.

 

“AGH! Damnit, Motoko! That's the third time you're touching it!” he exclaimed angrily, turning towards her.

 

“Sorry…” she apologized. “I was just wondering if you are… fine…”

 

“Not a question you should ask after kicking me all the way here,” Keitaro muttered with mock anger, though his grin gave it away.

 

“Hmph,” she miffed. Her tone turned back to the old Motoko Keitaro knew, though she kept smiling. “Like I would idly stand by as you continue to insult me! You deserved that, Urashima!”

 

“Yes, yes,” he stated. “I apologize sensei.”

 

Motoko helped him to sit up, and he leaned towards one of the trees for support. The pain was now slowly leaving his body, and he could finally fill his lungs with air. Motoko silently slipped beside him, also taking a breather. He stole a look at her, and he couldn't help but smile.

 

Her expression now was much better than her earlier one. He was glad.

 

“What?” she asked, spotting him.

 

“Nothing,” he lied. “Nothing's wrong.”

 

“Well, good. Now that I have your attention, what are our plans?” she asked.

 

“Plans?”

 

“From what you said… we got four extra days… so we have six more days before we face her…” she said. “So… what are our plans?”

 

“Why are you even asking?” Keitaro muttered, looking up. “Train me hard. Work on our plans of attack. And beat your sister's face in.”

 

Motoko looked at Keitaro, her eyes becoming unreadable. For a moment, she was once again silent before she asked, “You're really gunning for my sister… aren't you?”

 

Keitaro blinked. “You know, Motoko… I want to beat your sister… not marry her. So your jealousy's not really cute.”

 

She turned red. “IDIOT! I'm not jealous! I'm just worried, that's all!” she exclaimed angrily. She calmed down, and straightened up, closing her eyes with her index finger pointing up. She was the splitting image of an anime character who's giving advice to a female friend.

 

“Obsession is unhealthy especially when regarding towards your opponent. It was taught to me that you have to know yourself, know your opponent, and lunge fearlessly. But if you obsess with your enemy, you keep yourself looking forward that you will miss the blade that is presently coming towards you,” she said in a lecture tone.

 

Keitaro laughed. “I don't know if you just said that to hide the fact that you are jealous, or if you actually were giving a sound lecture.”

 

“It was an adequate advice, Urashima,” she growled. “There was nothing more to it!”

 

He chuckled. “Well… you needn't worry, Motoko…”

 

“Why is…?”

 

She didn't finish as she felt his lips touch hers gently. It was nothing complicated, nor nothing as bold as the kisses she was giving him when she was under the influence by the dark blade, but a simple, yet quite effective pucker on her lips.

 

Keitaro could feel her blood rushing from every part of her body to her cheeks, emitting heat. His lips smiled but continued to press slightly on hers. He could imagine her being as red as a tomato, but didn't want to ruin the mood. Finally, after a minute, he backed away from her.

 

“That's why,” he smiled.

 

He received an open palm towards his face for his trouble… a hard one that almost broke his nose.

 

“Owch!” he muttered, pinching his nose. “Wat wuz zat for!?”

 

“If you have time to fool around, Keitaro, then I guess you'll be ready for a more grueling training tomorrow, now, wouldn't you?” Motoko growled as she stood up from her position. “Well… it is late. Let us retire.”

 

And without another word, she turned her back towards still suffering Keitaro, who could only say in a muffled tone, “Hey…! Are you leaving me behind?”

 

Without facing him, she replied, “You aren't that injured, Keitaro, and you have proved that to me earlier. Now follow me, unless you want to sleep outside!” and she walked on, leaving him behind.

 

“Oi! OI!” Keitaro called, but it was useless. She never turned back to help him.

 

“Stupid woman…” he muttered, but in the end, smiled. He was sure that Motoko also had a smile on her face.

 

After all… he just stole his kisses back from her with just one fell swoop.

 

To Be Continued…

 

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Next

 

Life is a constant battle… and Tsuruko knows that best. She moves with the sharpness of a blade, without mercy and without hesitation. And this is even before the fray.

 

Tsuruko's Tactics

 

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Author's Notes:

 

I haven't been feeling all that well, so sorry for the delay. I proof-read it, though again, since I'm the one doing it, I may have missed a few things. Anyways… its done! Next is the Battle Arc… :P XD lol. Anyways, until next time!

 

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