Love Hina Fan Fiction ❯ Wild Strawberries ❯ Blight ( Chapter 6 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: hawker_748 
Anime/Manga: Love Hina Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.10.2013 | Pages: 7 | Words: 9.2K | Visits: 1.4K | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Love Hina Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.10.2013 | Pages: 7 | Words: 9.2K | Visits: 1.4K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Lemon Content Warning: This fic contains graphic depictions of sex. Reader discretion is advised.
“*” Spoken
`*' Thoughts
Love Hina:
Wild Strawberries.
Chapter Six: Blight
Shinobu lifted the dish to her lips and took a taste of the soup that was bubbling on the stove. ‘Needs salt,’ she decided, reaching for the shaker. After seasoning she took another sip, she set down the sampling dish, nodded in approval at the improvement and turned down the burner, covering the pot and allowing it to simmer for a few minutes. She placed some bowls on the table, getting everything ready for dinner, and making sure that no one was attempting to sneak a quick bite before dinner. She smiled at Keitaro when he walked in, a frown forcing it off her face when Kitsune followed closely behind him.
The fox eyed girl was asking Keitaro out, yet again, and he was politely turning her down, just like he had every other time. ‘Why won’t she leave him alone?’ Shinobu wondered. ‘He isn’t interested in her. Or Motoko. Or me. Or anyone else apparently…’ The landlord seemed to be immune to the charms of all the residents, but the little chef didn’t put much faith in Kitsune’s declarations that he had to be gay. ‘For someone she says is like that, she’s still throwing herself at him…’ Or maybe she thought she could switch him back. Shinobu didn’t know which of the ideas was stupider. Her musings were cut off when the telephone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Keitaro called out.
“I’m closer,” Shinobu told him as she lifted the receiver. “Hello? This is Hinata House… Yes, one moment please. Motoko, it’s for you.”
“Who is it?” the kendoka asked as she walked into the kitchen.
Shinobu shook her head. “They didn’t say.”
Motoko took the offered phone and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
Shinobu would always remember the sudden, stricken look that came over the older girl, and the way she went ghostly pale.
“W-when…?” Motoko whispered softly into the phone, slumping against the counter, drawing every eye in the kitchen.
“Motoko?” Keitaro murmured.
“I-I understand…” Motoko choked out, her eyes brimming with imminent tears. “I will. I’ll see you then…” With a shaking hand it took her three tries to hang up the phone.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Shinobu asked, scared that Motoko looked like she was about to collapse.
“What is it?” Keitaro asked as he approached her, concern written on his face.
When she lifted her head and met Keitaro’s eyes, her lower lip was quivering and there were tears rolling down her cheeks. “It-it’s my father,” Motoko managed to choke out. “He-he had a heart attack, he-he’s gone…” At that point Motoko lost all her self-control and latched onto Keitaro, sobbing loudly, her shoulders shaking as grief overtook her.
The other residents were around her in a heartbeat, offering condolences and sympathy to their surrogate sister, all feeling a little uncomfortable at Motoko’s public display of mourning. Keitaro held her securely, letting her cry onto his shoulder, her tears already making a damp spot on his shirt. He’d seen Motoko weeping once before and it wasn’t any easier this time, albeit for different reasons.
‘Oh no… Chiharu…’ Keitaro thought as he was stabbed by guilt. He’d always felt bad in the back of his mind over his relationship with Motoko’s mother, but now her father had died, and that seemed to move their affair from ‘improper’ to ‘irredeemable.’ He also felt ashamed when he realized that his first thought hadn’t been about how Motoko was feeling, but had been about his illicit lover. Trying to appear supportive, Keitaro continued to make soothing noises and rub the sobbing Motoko’s back, wishing he didn’t feel like the world’s biggest bastard.
By now the other residents all had tears in their eyes as they witnessed the kendoka grieving. Keitaro’s tears were spawned by much more complex reasons.
XXX
“T-thank you, all of you, for doing this,” Motoko murmured yet again as the group approached the Aoyama home the following morning.
“It’s nothing,” Naru replied softly. “You’re our friend, we’ll be there for you…”
“Yes, exactly,” Keitaro added after a beat. In truth, he’d been thinking about this with a strange mixture of dread and anticipation. Meeting with Chiharu in these circumstances was the last thing on earth he wanted, but at the same time he was hoping that he could be there for her somehow. He paused in his musings to take a quick glance at Kenichi; Naru’s boyfriend seemed even less eager to be there than he did, but he was gamely putting on a brave face for her. ‘It must really be serious,’ Keitaro decided. ‘Going with your girlfriend to a funeral for a man you never met’s a helluva gesture…’
Keitaro found himself feeling happy for that at least; that Naru had found herself someone special, even though he and Kenichi had never gotten over the whole awkward phase. It didn’t help that the younger man was in a place Keitaro had once coveted, and even going farther than he ever had in his relationship with Naru. She’d never actually told him that she and Kenichi were sleeping together, but it wasn’t all that hard to figure out. The way her eyes lit up when she saw him, the casual intimacy in their body language, even the faint lingering odor that no amount of air freshener could completely expunge from the brunette’s room.
Keitaro was a little jealous. Not of Kenichi, but the fact they could have a relationship without a high level of secrecy. This latest reminder made his mind go back to thinking about what he should do upon reaching the Aoyama home. As much as he longed to, he couldn’t just take Chiharu in his arms and let her weep into his shoulder the way Motoko had. In fact, he couldn’t do anything really to comfort her aside from murmuring platitudes about how sorry he was, and the other expected comments.
‘She might not want to even see me,’ he considered, flinching inwardly in shame that he was still thinking about her like that. ‘I’m a bastard,’ he thought not for the first time. ‘She loved Isamu, she told me so, and I’m still wondering what she’ll think of me? Pathetic…’ Keitaro let out a small sigh and continued to march towards Motoko’s home, momentarily thankful for the small favor that all the residents hadn’t come along on this trip. As the only ones who’d ever met Isamu Aoyama, Keitaro and Naru were the natural choices, and while he wanted to support the grieving kendoka, the fact he’d been having an affair with the deceased’s widow made the whole experience uncomfortable as hell.
“Is that the place?” Kenichi spoke up for the first time, breaking Keitaro’s internal debate.
“Yes,” Motoko replied softly.
Keitaro looked up and saw all the usual trappings of a Japanese funeral, and the large number of people who were milling about outside the gates made it apparent that Isamu Aoyama had been well liked in the community.
“Half of Kyoto must be here,” Naru murmured, her thoughts mirroring Keitaro’s.
Motoko gave her friend a sad smile. “Father was never active in the family business, but he did other things. He-he had many friends,” she managed to force out before she had to struggle to regain her composure.
‘And I’m the asshole who was sleeping with his wife,’ Keitaro reminded himself unnecessarily, hating himself more and more every minute.
The four of them approached the open gate, Keitaro not recognizing any of the people gathered there with the exception of Motoko’s sister Tsuruko and her husband. When Chiharu came into view Keitaro had to stifle a shocked gasp; she looked old, far older than she had when he’d seen her two weeks earlier. There was noticeably more grey in her hair and the lines on her face had deepened dramatically. In all the time he’d known her it was the first time she’d ever looked old, frail, or tired, but she still radiated dignity, trying to show that she was strong and would endure this.
At that moment Keitaro would have made a deal with the devil to be able to go to her and hold her protectively.
All that he could do though was watch Motoko embrace her grieving mother while he tried to keep his face from betraying his true thoughts. He saw Chiharu give Naru a brief hug and she returned a formal bow from Kenichi, who looked about as uncomfortable as Keitaro felt. Keitaro’s respect and admiration for the man went up a few notches at the way he soldiered on through what had to be a difficult situation with such grace. Then Chiharu turned towards him and Keitaro felt his heart skip a beat; despite all that she’d been through, and the fact she’d aged years in a short period of time, she was still heartbreakingly beautiful in his eyes. Reminding himself to be distant, his soul dying by inches because of it, he bowed formally before her. “My condolences on your loss, Mrs. Aoyama.”
“Thank you Urashima,” Chiharu intoned as she returned the gesture.
For one altogether too brief moment their eye met, and the sadness and grief Keitaro saw there made him want to weep. She was in such pain that it hurt him to see it, made even worse by the fact he couldn’t do anything to bring comfort to his beloved. Grateful for the fact that tears wouldn’t seem out of place, Keitaro wiped his eyes and passed through the gate, wishing he could tell himself that he wasn’t responsible for her pain and know it wasn’t a lie.
XXX
Keitaro hated funerals. Even more than was socially acceptable.
He’d had to attend a few for some distant relatives when he was younger, and even as a boy he’d come to loathe the somber, depressed air that radiated from them. It was normal, even to be expected, but the miasma of the ceremonies was almost too much for Keitaro to bear, and this had been for barely known relatives. Isamu had been an unknowing member of a love triangle with his wife and Keitaro, and he couldn’t stop wondering if the affair had somehow played a part in the heart attack that killed him.
Trying not to draw attention to himself, Keitaro had let Motoko lead him through the mourners, allowing himself to be introduced to everyone and making an effort to be polite and respectful, even though he wanted to do nothing more than flee. He was a little troubled that Motoko seemed to be using him as an emotional crutch, never once leaving his side; Keitaro didn’t mind being there for her when she needed him, but he was worried that once the funeral was over she wouldn’t let go. Eventually he managed to excuse himself when the time came for the viewing of the body, but this didn’t make him feel any better.
Family tradition called for everyone to pass by the casket and have some last words with the deceased, and Keitaro was stricken to learn that he was expected to do this as well. His stomach did flip flops and he constantly wiped his sweaty palms on his pants until his turn came up. Approaching the coffin like it was an unexploded bomb, Keitaro could hear his heart racing in his ears as the form of Isamu Aoyama came into view; he looked much more peaceful to Keitaro this time, the only meeting before this had been when Isamu was in ‘protective father’ mode, so he wasn’t glaring at him. But as far as the young man was concerned it was worse, he was face to face with a man whose wife he’d been involved with.
‘He was handsome,’ Keitaro noticed in a detached way. ‘Better man than I could ever be, why would I have interested her?’ he wondered before he could stop himself. Pushing aside those inappropriate thoughts Keitaro looked at the now serene man for some time, sending off silent prayers that he’d never known about his beloved wife’s transgressions. Swallowing and licking his suddenly dry lips, Keitaro leaned forward. “I-I’m sorry… I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered.
Keitaro had been dreading the entire funeral since Motoko had asked him to come with her. So when Isamu didn’t open his eyes, reach up and try to throttle him, Keitaro felt a peculiar sense of disappointment. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.
He wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.
Leaving the side of the coffin as fast as he could without discarding his dignity, Keitaro made his way outside, his heart racing and breathing deep to supply the oxygen his body was screaming for. Not wanting to return to the oppressive atmosphere of the Aoyama ancestral home Keitaro decided he’d walk along the path behind the house for a while; when he suddenly realized that it was the same path where the affair had started he had to fight down an urge to bolt, telling himself that some fresh air and solitude would do him a world of good.
Keitaro meandered down the path, barely taking notice of anything, though he did find himself pausing briefly when he realized that he’d found the tree he’d been leaning on the first time Chiharu kissed him. Shaking his head to chase away these not entirely unwelcome memories, Keitaro continued on, sitting down on a stone bench after walking for who knew how far. He stared off into space, his head down and his elbows on his knees, trying to empty his thoughts until a familiar voice crashed into his consciousness.
“K-Keitaro…?”
He nearly twisted his neck when he whipped his head around. “Chiharu?” he squeaked. “W-what are you-”
“I could ask the same,” she replied softly.
Keitaro found his eyes running over her of her own accord; she looked weary, her eyes red from shed tears, and a sad look on her face that seemed to have been carved there. He still thought she radiated dignity, and he’d always think she was beautiful, but she looked closer to her real age than he’d ever seen. “H-how are you doing?” Keitaro murmured, more to break the silence than anything else.
“How do you think?” she replied, slowly walking over and taking a seat on the bench, though she kept distance between them. “Why are you here?”
“Motoko asked me to come with her.”
“No, I meant why are you out here?” Chiharu clarified.
“I-I was… uncomfortable, I just wanted some air… What about you?”
Chiharu gave him a sad look. “You think it’s easy losing someone? Having everyone say they’re sorry?”
“No. No I don’t.”
“I just wanted to be alone for a while.”
“I’ll leave then.” Keitaro stood up to walk away until Chiharu shook her head.
“Don’t. We… We should talk…”
Keitaro had been expecting this, but the words still sent a chill down his spine. Sitting back down, and briefly wondering if she’d notice him starting to sweat, he whispered, “Go ahead…”
“Do you know how Isamu and I first met?”
Keitaro blinked in surprise; out of all the things he’d expected Chiharu to say, this wasn’t one of them. “No.”
“Our parents set up an omiai,” she told him. “It was tradition in our family. I never considered not accepting whom my family chose for me. Isamu and I were only children when we met, and we didn’t see each other again until we were married when I was twenty.” A ghost of a smile came over Chiharu as a far off look entered her eyes as she recalled the past. “I was fortunate, I suppose. I fell in love with him a few months after we were married, and it worked out well for both of us. He gave me two beautiful daughters and I never would have done anything to hurt him.”
Chiharu slumped forward suddenly, burying her face in her hands. “Until the day you entered my life…”
Keitaro winced. Chiharu’s tone was sharp enough to cut diamond, and it was aimed right between his eyes. But there was nothing he could say or do to defend himself, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to, so he sat there stoically, letting the woman he loved say whatever she wished.
“I loved Isamu, I still do, we were together for over thirty years, and he never did anything to hurt me. And how did I thank him? By seducing someone who should have been courting my daughter…” Chiharu raised her head and there were fresh tears running down her cheeks. “You know how I honored his love Keitaro, you were there too. And if he hadn’t died, you and I’d be fucking in some hotel room today. Don’t try to tell me you forgot about that.” The obscenity was doubly shocking for its rarity.
Keitaro lowered his head in shame, not able to meet her gaze. He had been thinking about that in the back of his mind, but having Chiharu call him out on it made his guilt and shame increase a thousand fold. He could see that tears were running down her face and that she looked to be on the verge of completely breaking down. His heart cried out for him to take hold of her, let her weep on his shoulder, but he knew he couldn’t.
And that was infinitely more painful than anything she could ever say to him.
“I-I need some time alone, Keitaro. Without you. I need to think about what I’ve done, if I can ever forgive myself…”
Keitaro managed to choke off the sob that threatened to erupt from his throat. “I-I understand. Goodbye Chiharu… And, take care…” He stood up and bowed to her, wincing when she didn’t even acknowledge the gesture, his heart breaking as he headed back towards the home. When he reached a bend in the trail he paused and looked back, silently begging for Chiharu to look back at him, a glance, anything, but she never even moved. Devastated he walked back to the house, having wiped the tears away to at least look presentable and locked away his sorrow so he could function. He saw Naru talking quietly with Tsuruko and made his way towards her.
“Hey Keitaro, where were you?” the brunette asked. “You kinda disappeared for a bit.”
“I just needed to clear my head. I hate funerals,” he murmured.
Naru nodded sadly. “They aren’t much fun…”
“Where’s Kenichi? And Motoko?”
“My sister is in her room,” Tsuruko told him. “Naru’s boyfriend had to use the bathroom.”
“Why do you ask?” Naru wondered.
“Do you think they’d mind if I went home alone? I-I just need to leave…”
“Motoko said she’d stay here a few days,” Tsuruko related. “The rest of you can go when you wish. We thank you for coming, it’s nice to see you all again.”
“Yeah. I just wish it was for another reason…”
“So do I…”
“Go if you want,” Naru said to him. “Kenichi and I might spend a night in Kyoto. We’ll call and let you know.”
“Thanks.” Keitaro gave her a weak smile.
“Take care of yourself Keitaro.” Naru gave him a brief hug and then he was headed for the door in a daze, somehow making it to the train station without losing his composure.
When he boarded the train he took a window seat and spent the entire trip facing it so no one could see the tears flowing down his cheeks.
XXX
Motoko had ended up spending three days at her home before returning to the sou, and when she did she tried to put on a brave face, that everything was all right with her, but she was obviously still hurting. She would still train, but she didn’t put the same effort into it, sometimes quitting in only half the time that she would usually take. Everyone did their best to support her, even Kitsune, who had abruptly stopped attempting to ask Keitaro out, and he was silently thankful for that.
Motoko would occasionally go for a long walk to clear her mind, Naru or Kitsune tagging along to keep her company. It had never been spoken aloud, but they also wanted to make sure that the grieving kendoka didn’t do something rash while she was alone. Keitaro had considered going with her but he decided it might look too much like a date, and it was better to be seen as neutral by the others. He also figured it wouldn’t be fair to the young woman if she saw him with her as a sign of affection when he was still hurting over his situation with her mother.
Keitaro had honored Chiharu’s wish, not making any attempt to call her; he usually hadn’t called her before unless he was going to be delayed, but now he wouldn’t make any attempt to reach her. He’d thought about it a lot, laying on his futon thinking about her, missing the sound of her voice and the silken touch of her hand. Many times he’d dialed her number, wanting nothing more than to comfort her, but he’d never been able to press the ‘SEND’ button, knowing that if she wanted to talk to him she’d make the first move.
Weeks went by without any word from her, and it broke Keitaro’s heart to think that he’d never see her again. When after four weeks Motoko tentatively invited him to coffee, he almost accepted after seeing the almost desperate look in her eyes, but he decided to decline. He tried to tell himself that it was so it wouldn’t look like a pity date, but deep down he was still hoping to be with Chiharu again.
Of course, as soon as Kitsune heard of Motoko’s attempt she resumed her considerable efforts to win his heart. This prompted Motoko to match her rival, and for two weeks Keitaro found himself avoiding the two women rather than make up reasons why he couldn’t spend time with either of them. Just at the point he was considering accepting an offer from one or both of them, his phone rang one afternoon when he was in his room studying.
He picked it up absently, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the number that was displayed. Making sure he couldn’t hear anyone in the hallway and keeping the phone close to his mouth, Keitaro swallowed once and hit the SEND button. “Chiharu…?” He was pleased that it didn’t sound too eager.
“Hello Keitaro,” Chiharu’s soft voice made his spirits leap. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it…?”
“Just a bit,” he murmured. “How-how are you?”
“Surviving,” she replied. “How about you?”
“I’m okay. I’m glad you’re doing better.”
There was a long awkward silence before Chiharu let out a deep breath. “I should get to the point,” she told him. “There’s something I need to talk to you about. Are you free?”
‘For you, anytime,’ he thought. “Yes, I am. Where are you?” She told him. “You’re in Hinata?”
“Yes. This isn’t something that should be said over a phone. Can I see you?”
“O-okay,” Keitaro answered, now feeling a cold ball in the pit of his stomach. “Thirty minutes?”
“That’s fine.” Chiharu then hung up before he could say a word.
Keitaro stared at his now silent phone for a few seconds before rising to his feet, putting on a clean shirt and making his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, combing his hair and deciding this was the best he could do on short notice. He didn’t know what Chiharu had planned but he wouldn’t let her see him looking disreputable. Heading for the front door he almost collided with Shinobu, who’d come around the corner with a basketful of laundry. “Excuse me.”
“It’s okay sempai,” she assured him, before she noticed he’d cleaned up. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah, I’m going out for a while,” he explained. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Don’t hold up dinner for me.”
“Is something wrong?”
“…I’m not sure…” he admitted. “But it’s probably nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?”
Keitaro gave the chef a gentle smile. “I’ll be okay. If I’m not back, just save me a plate.”
Shinobu beamed. “Okay sempai. Take care.”
“Always.” Keitaro took his leave and walked out the door, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he headed for his meeting with his clandestine lover. She’d told him she was in a love hotel but he figured that could be just because she didn’t want anyone to see them meeting. And she probably believed it would be kinder to tell him she wanted to end their relationship in private. Keitaro found himself mentally playing this scenario as he made his way to her, reminding himself to keep looking over his shoulder. They’d never met in Hinata before, precisely because they were both concerned about someone seeing them together.
‘She’s a widow now,’ Keitaro thought. ‘But it would still look bad for us to be seen like this…’
Quicker than he expected, Keitaro found himself in front of the hotel Chiharu had mentioned. Absently wiping his palms on his slacks and steeling himself for what he feared might happen, Keitaro took one last look to make sure he didn’t recognize anyone and entered the building. Eschewing the elevator and using the stairs to burn off some nervous energy he went up the five stories and paused in front of room 505. Letting out a shuddering breath and willing his hand to be steady he knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Chiharu called out.
Keitaro entered the room and locked the door behind him, taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket before walking in, noticing Chiharu sitting in one of the chairs. She looked better than she had at the funeral; she still looked a little older, but she appeared to have gotten some of her confidence and energy back, and she still looked lovely to Keitaro. He wanted to rush over and embrace her, but he knew he couldn’t do that. “Y-you’re looking well,” he murmured.
“You look about the same,” she replied. “Then again, you weren’t the one who had to deal with a loss…”
Keitaro just kept himself from flinching, nodding sadly as he accepted her unspoken invitation to sit down, taking pains to give her as much space as he could. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked just over a whisper.
“Have you ever lost someone Keitaro? Someone who meant everything to you?”
Keitaro wasn’t about to insult Chiharu’s intelligence by lying. “No…”
“It hurts,” she told him. “It really hurts. More than you ever think it could…”
Keitaro simply nodded, knowing he wasn’t supposed to say anything.
“Isamu and I were together for over thirty years, including the time you and I were seeing each other. Having someone with you for so long, and then one day he’s gone? It’s not easy,” Chiharu lamented sadly before she looked Keitaro in the eyes. “Would you be surprised if I said I was angry at you when he died?”
“No.”
“I was. I wanted to blame someone, be angry, anything to distract from the pain. You were the obvious target,” Chiharu reminded him. “The foolish young man who lead me astray… Except it wasn’t like that, was it…?”
“I-I don’t know-”
“I seduced you,” Chiharu interrupted. “If I hadn’t, you never would have done anything with me, right?”
Feeling ashamed, Keitaro nodded sadly. “Yes,” he whispered.
“And you stuck with me, even when I said you shouldn’t, and that means I have to know… How do you feel about me Keitaro?” she asked. “I need the honest truth.”
“I-I love you,” Keitaro murmured after a seconds contemplation. She wanted the truth, so he gave it to her.
“Are you sure?” Chiharu pressed.
“Yes. I-I’ve never lied to you about that, why do you keep asking?”
“Because I’ve had to reconcile some of my own feelings,” she admitted. “But before I can do that I need to know whether you really loved me, that you just weren’t just saying that because you liked the sex.”
“I didn’t fall for you because of sex.” Keitaro insisted.
Chiharu looked into Keitaro’s eyes for over a minute in silence. “You’re telling the truth,” she finally said.
“I was,” Keitaro assured her. “Why-why was that important?”
“Because I realized that you became more than just something on the side,” Chiharu confessed. “Not sure when it happened, but it did. I was in love with Isamu -and I still am- but I’ve come to care for you too…”
Keitaro felt his heart stop. Not skip a beat, simply cease functioning for few seconds, before it kicked into overdrive. He’d longed to hear words like that from Chiharu, his darkest, most secret wish, but now that it was happening it seemed too good to be true. “You-you care for me…?”
“Apparently,” Chiharu admitted. “Which is why Isamu’s death hurt so much, I felt I’d betrayed him again… I still don’t know if he’ll forgive me when we meet again, but-but I can’t be dishonest with you either.”
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Keitaro stammered. “I-I never expected this…”
“Are you sure you want to be with an old woman like me?”
“I never thought you were old…”
“I’ve learned how it feels to lose someone Keitaro,” Chiharu reminded him. “Losing someone important hurts. I’m much older than you, you’ll probably outlive me, are you sure you want to face that chance?”
“I’d do anything to be with you,” Keitaro assured her. “I love you.”
Chiharu smiled sadly at him. “I-I can’t say that to you now Keitaro. It’s too soon, too painful, I’m still mourning Isamu. But-but I think I could, some day.”
“I’ll wait. For as long as it takes…”
A solitary tear traced its way down Chiharu’s cheek. “K-Keitaro, can-can you hold me? Please?”
Keitaro got up and stepped towards her, taking Chiharu in his arms and embracing her securely, a wave of happiness more intense than he’d ever experienced washing over him, the way she felt in his arms blasting away all the sadness and doubt he’d been carrying since the funeral. He rubbed her back and nuzzled her hair, making soothing noises as she cried softly on his shoulder, his own eyes moist with tears as well.
“I’ve missed you Keitaro,” Chiharu whispered. “Even when I was mad at you… So much it hurt.”
“All I wanted was to comfort you…”
“Keitaro, make love to me, make the hurt go away…”
Keitaro lifted her chin and wiped away the damp trails from Chiharu’s tears and kissed her gently, his lips just brushing against hers. He broke off the kiss and moved his lips to trail soft kisses down her cheek, tracing the path that the tears had taken. Letting his left hand gently trail along her lower back Keitaro slipped his right hand behind Chiharu’s head, his fingers working their way into her silken hair, holding her head as he pressed his lips back against hers, opening his mouth and easing his tongue into her mouth, letting it brush up against hers.
Chiharu let out a contented hum and went limp against Keitaro, letting him support her completely, willing to allow her younger lover to do as he wished. He broke the kiss and swept her up off her feet, making her let out a surprised squeak as he carried her over to the bed and carefully, almost reverently, set her down. He then laid down beside her and resumed the kiss, his right hand running over the curves of her body, gently squeezing and caressing as he went. Chiharu took hold of Keitaro’s shoulders and rolled onto her back, pulling him so that he was laying on top of her, and he pulled his head back.
“If I’m too heavy-”
“You’re not,” Chiharu whispered. “I don’t mind. Kiss me Keitaro… Leave hickeys if you want, mark me… I don’t care…”
Keitaro lowered his head, brushing his lips against the side of her neck, letting the tip of his tongue drag over her warm skin before he placed his lips against her and sucked, reflexively flinching at the sound of her flesh snapping back. He pulled back his head and looked at his handiwork; he’d done it, left a mark, something he’d never even considered doing before. For a second a flash of fear passed over him, but it faded quickly when he realized that he could do that now. Dropping his head back down to her neck Keitaro began to kiss, lick, suckle, and even gently bite Chiharu’s throat, feeling her fingers playing with his hair as he did, her gentle cries echoing in his ears.
Chiharu could feel Keitaro’s hard on rubbing up against her even through their clothing and she began to move her hips to increase the contact, smiling when he groaned in response. Reaching down with her left hand she took hold of the hem of Keitaro’s shirt, pulling it up until he had to break off his kissing to push himself up to remove it. He tossed it carelessly aside and then deftly began to unbutton her blouse, helping her up and watching in rapt attention when she allowed the garment to whisper down her shoulders.
Keitaro eased Chiharu back down and rested his head between her breasts, nuzzling and kissing the ample mounds, squeezing them through her bra, her nipples hardening through the fabric and pressing into the palms of his hands.
“You really love me?” Chiharu asked softly.
“More than life itself,” Keitaro murmured in between kisses. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation of Chiharu tracing his shoulders with her long cool fingers. Letting go of her left breast Keitaro slid his hand under Chiharu and managed to undo her bra one handed, helping her slip the straps down her arms and off of her, then taking her right nipple into his mouth and sucking deeply on it.
“Ohhh!”
Chiharu cried out when Keitaro suckled her breast like a newborn baby, still being gentle with her even though she wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d been more forceful. Removing her hands from Keitaro’s shoulders she reached for the button and zipper on her skirt, undoing them and then pushing it and her panties down her legs, no easy task with Keitaro grinding against her. He eventually ceased rubbing her and pushed himself up on his knees, pulling her skirt and underwear the rest of the way down her legs and tossing them onto an armchair.
Taking a second to let his eyes trace Chiharu’s naked form, Keitaro then roughly shoved his pants and boxer shorts down his legs, not caring where they ended up, his prick springing up, twitching in time with his heart-beat, a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip. “Are-are you ready?” he asked, feeling foolish when he realized that she was so wet he could see it.
“Yes,” Chiharu said huskily. “Make me feel alive again…”
Keitaro lowered himself on top of Chiharu, supporting himself with his hands, his hard on brushing against her dripping lower lips. He hissed when he felt her take hold of him and place his head against her fragrant cleft, pulling down on his ass and allowing him to push into her. He slowly fed inch after inch of his hardness into Chiharu until she had completely enveloped him in warmth and tightness. Bending his elbows Keitaro lowered his lips to hers and kissed her tenderly before raising his head so that their faces were an inch apart. “I love you,” he whispered as he pulled back his hips and began slowly thrusting.
“Ahhh!”
Chiharu gripped Keitaro by his shoulders and held on tight, looking up into his eyes as he pushed into her with incredible delicateness, as gentle as the breaths that washed over her face as he moved. But the combination of love and adoration she saw on his face, coupled with the wonderful slippery friction when he moved were indescribable, softly easing her towards her peak.
Keitaro gritted his teeth as he looked down onto the face of the woman he loved, the dreamy look she wore and the gentle cries she made touching his heart. He resisted the urge to speed up, deciding to be as tender as he could, wanting the both of them to last as long as possible. When Chiharu put her hands out he placed his own on top of them, their fingers intertwining as he kissed the side of her neck, her gasps tickling his ear.
Chiharu began to push her hips up to meet Keitaro’s slow thrusts, his prick sliding deeper and deeper into her, her slick inner walls gripping the warm pillar of flesh, every bump and vein sending sparks up her spine. She opened her mouth when Keitaro kissed her again, pushing her tongue into his mouth, muffled moans coming from the back of his throat as he increased the pace of his thrusting, his grip on her hands tightening as he neared the end of his endurance. She gripped his hands tighter in response, her body tense with anticipation of her imminent orgasm, and Keitaro’s heat when he climaxed.
Keitaro was by now pistoning his cock into Chiharu, nearly frantic with a need to finish. It was almost unbearable agony straining to hold himself off, but the pain was annihilated when all the tension in his body was released in an instant, a cry tearing from his lips as he came, a stream of fire flooding through him. Keitaro went rigid as he launched a gigantic volley of his seed deep into Chiharu, a virtual torrent of his sperm, so much that he found himself wondering if he’d ever be able to do that again, that he’d exhausted his lifetime supply.
Chiharu arched her back and cried out, Keitaro’s molten heat forcing her over the abyss, a rush of endorphins coursing through her, making her vision go grey at the edges. She felt Keitaro slump against her, his body going limp after his climax, his weight a comfortable burden on her. Chiharu heard him panting against her ear as he tried to get his wind back, his prick going flaccid and slipping out of her, an enormous puddle of his sperm and her moisture pooling out on the bed sheets.
Eventually they both regained their breath and they stayed in a close embrace, Keitaro resting his head on Chiharu’s breasts as she ran her fingers through his hair, both of them enjoying the afterglow in silence, until Keitaro broke it after about ten minutes. “So-so what happens now?” he asked timidly.
“You do know, we can’t just start seeing each other openly…”
Keitaro lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “I understand… It’s too soon.”
“More than that, do you want people to know we had an affair?”
“No…”
“Me neither,” Chiharu agreed. “So we’ll have to try something else.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’m still mourning Isamu, right? For a year or so, we’ll have to keep seeing each other secretly.”
“A year…” Keitaro slumped.
“It’s not that I don’t care about you, I do,” Chiharu insisted. “But we can’t let anyone know right now.”
“And after a year?” Keitaro wondered.
Chiharu smiled at Keitaro and caressed his cheek. “Suppose I came to Hinata, to visit Motoko of course, but we happened to meet on the street? I might ask you to coffee, as a friendly gesture.”
Keitaro felt his own lips curl up in a hint of a smile. “Just coffee…?”
“We’ll talk, of course, and maybe we’ll decide to do it again a few days later…”
“Of course,” Keitaro agreed. “We might decide we enjoy each other’s company.”
“Exactly,” Chiharu concluded with a smile, before her expression became serious again. “Even in a year you and I starting something won’t be easy…”
“I know…”
“I don’t think Motoko will like it,” Chiharu admitted. “Or Isamu’s friends… Are you willing to put up with some resistance?”
Keitaro returned the caress. “I’d go through hell to be with you. I never want to be away from you.”
“That almost sounded like a proposal,” Chiharu chuckled.
“Maybe it was.”
Chiharu smiled indulgently. “What should I wear on the wedding night?”
Keitaro didn’t miss a beat. “A kimono.”
“Isn’t that too plain?”
“I want to kneel before you, for as long as you want me to.”
“To pray?” Chiharu asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Not pray. Worship.”
Chiharu felt her cheeks going red. “That doesn’t sound like going through hell,” she murmured.
“It won’t be…” The two of them kissed again, then made their way to the shower to get cleaned up, both of them thinking about being able to be with the other without having to sneak around.
XXX
Motoko let out a sigh as she continued to walk through Hinata, the need to clear her mind as she tried to deal with the death of her father causing her to roam once more. As she passed a storefront window she caught a glimpse of the reflections of Naru and Kitsune, who had followed her out of the residence when she’d gone out for her walk. She found herself smiling faintly at that; the other residents had all been moral support since her father’s death, even Kitsune, despite the fact that they thought of each other as rivals for Keitaro’s affections. “You two don’t have to be here,” she called out over her shoulder. “I appreciate it, really, but I’ll be okay.”
“It’s nothing,” Naru replied without hesitation.
“I could use the exercise anyway,” Kitsune added.
Motoko could only shake her head in amusement. Tailing her all over Hinata had to be a nuisance, but her friends never hesitated. “I’m okay now, let’s go home…”
“Good, cuz my feet are killing me,” Kitsune told her, relief written all over her face.
Motoko decided on a whim to have a little fun at the grey haired girls’ expense. “If you’d cut down on the booze and exercise more, you’d feel better…”
Kitsune smiled warmly. “If you weren’t looking so hard for a guy, you wouldn’t have walked this far.”
“I just needed some air.”
“You didn’t have to come here,” Kitsune remarked. “Or did you come to the love hotel district cuz you like the scenery?”
Motoko blushed, as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. “I… I didn’t notice,” she murmured. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
Naru chuckled. “You think she was looking for someone Kitsune?” she mused. “Only if she was expecting Keitaro to walk out of-” Naru broke off and her eyes suddenly went wide.
Kitsune and Motoko followed her surprised gaze and froze when they saw what she was staring at. Someone who looked a lot like Keitaro had just walked out of one of the love hotels, holding the door open for someone still inside. “No way…” Kitsune murmured.
“No, that can’t be Keitaro,” Naru told everyone. “It’s gotta be someone who looks like him…”
“It’s him!” Kitsune insisted. “See? That’s his jacket! I knew it,” she stated when she was sure of herself. “It’s him! But who’s that woman?” she asked, seeing the woman step out into the light.
“M-mother…?”
Kitsune and Naru stared at the suddenly pale kendoka, the brunette looking hard at the woman with Keitaro and realizing that she’d seen her at the funeral over a month earlier. Then a wave of denial swamped her. “No, this can’t be what it looks like, this is Keitaro remember? She probably came to visit you, met up with him and felt ill and needed to lay down. Keitaro probably just helped her-” Naru gasped in shock when Keitaro killed that thought when he gave the older woman a passionate kiss.
“Keitaro… M-mother…” Motoko murmured numbly as she walked towards the couple.
It was hard to say who went whiter; the two of them separated as if they were like magnetic poles, the blood draining from both their faces, as identical horrified looks appeared. Both of them tried to speak but no sounds came from either.
“W-what are you two doing?” Motoko whispered, looking at both of them, waiting, hoping to hear a rational explanation. ‘Say something!’ she raged internally. ‘Give me an excuse, tell me something, lie to me if you have to, but please, say something!’
“M-Motoko… Honey…” Her mother stammered, her eyes flicking about as if looking for a way to escape.
“I-I can explain… Y-you see…” Keitaro swallowed audibly, sweat appearing on his forehead, but the promised explanation never appeared.
Motoko’s eyes dropped down and went wide when she saw that her mother and Keitaro were still holding hands.
And with an almost audible ‘click,’ it became clear.
Keitaro’s mysterious ‘friend,’ whom no one had ever seen. The distant, wistful look Keitaro wore before he went off to meet him, and the improvement in his spirits when he returned. His gradual separation from Naru, without the expected depression. His seeming disinterest in her, Kitsune, and the collection of girls Naru had tried to match up with him. Even the tale he’d told them upon his return from Guam. Motoko had laughed, but she’d wondered about the sincerity he’d radiated while telling it.
And now she knew. She had no enflagrante delecto proof, but she KNEW.
And she could tell that Keitaro and her mother knew that she knew too…
Motoko could feel tears forming in her eyes. “H-how could you…?” she rasped out, her heart breaking. She looked at her mother. “How could you betray father?” she implored, her cheeks wet, her body starting to be wracked with sobs. “Or ME…?” Her olive green eyes locked onto Keitaro’s brown and he flinched.
Keitaro would have given anything to be elsewhere at that moment. “I… I…” He couldn’t face the crushed young woman, her sadness hitting him like a slap. Then Motoko closed her eyes and he gasped in horror when they opened again, the sadness having been replaced by rage; fury greater than he’d ever seen, and it lasered into him, filling him with dread. Almost quicker than he could follow she rushed him, a flash of steel catching his eye, and he held up his hands in an attempt to protect himself.
…and in detached horror, he saw the blade pierce his left hand without resistance and lance into his chest, sliding right between his ribs on his left side.
Keitaro let out a pained gasp. He could feel the blade piercing his heart, every desperate beat only making his injury worse. His legs turned to water and he tried to collapse, but the blade held him upright. His eyes traveled the length of the sword, seeing his blood flow down its polished surface, meeting Motoko’s eyes, pure hatred in those stormy green orbs, and a hint of satisfaction. Then she viciously yanked the blade out and he collapsed; only Chiharu grabbing him kept him from landing on his face, and he ended up looking up at her with his head in her lap.
‘No. NO! This isn’t fair!’ Keitaro screamed internally, tasting blood in his mouth. He grabbed at his chest and his hand came away red and sticky; glancing up he saw the horror in Chiharu’s eyes and he knew it was mirroring his own.
And in a moment of awful clarity Keitaro realized he was going to die.
He made himself tune out Kitsune and Naru’s screaming and focused his rapidly fading strength on Chiharu. “I-I l… love you…” Keitaro had to force the words out, spitting blood with each syllable. He could feel his heart beating erratically and weakly, his vision starting to fail. Summoning his final reserves of strength and will he tried to reach up and touch Chiharu’s face, tears filling his eyes when he realized he wouldn’t be able to reach her.
Chiharu took his almost limp hand in her own and brought it to her face, ignoring the blood that coated it and kissed it tenderly. Meeting Keitaro’s eyes even as the life began to fade out of them she whispered, “I love you…”
Keitaro never heard her, but her touch managed to register in his fading consciousness, and despite the cold that gripped him like an iron fist, Keitaro felt a flash of warmth and happiness as his vision failed. He felt something patter onto face and he thought he could taste strawberries. The drops triggered a final memory and Keitaro’s last thought was an image of Chiharu at the waterfall in Saipan, an orchid in her hair.
And then… nothing.
XXX
“I love you, I love you, I love you…”
Chiharu Aoyama cradled Keitaro’s lifeless body in her arms, his open and empty eyes looking up at her, not reacting when her tears dropped onto his eyes. She was unaware of anything around her, not Naru and Kitsune’s crying openly, nor her daughter slumping down to her knees, staring ahead catatonically, her bloody sword slipping from her nerveless hands.
“I love you, I love you, I love you…”
A crowd had gathered around, drawn by the violence and misery, and many, many people took pictures of the scene before the police were able to get them behind barricades. But even as Motoko was taken timidly away in handcuffs, and the coroner zipped shut the black body bag Keitaro had been placed in, Chiharu could still be heard murmuring the same three words over and over and over.
“I love you, I love you, I love you…”
End of Wild Strawberries.
Author’s Notes:
Another fic I haven’t worked on in a long time.
I’d actually written this a few years back, but dis-satisfaction with the first effort, a resultant shelving of the chapter, and a subsequent computer crash without a backup almost made this disappear forever. Fortunately, Rx7 still had the first draft, and I was able to rework that into something better.
If you’re wondering, Keitaro’s death was planned right from the start. I’ve already written a fic where he got off easy for adultery. But that wasn’t happening here…
Thanks again to Rx7 for the pre-read, and still having a copy years later.
Lemon Content Warning: This fic contains graphic depictions of sex. Reader discretion is advised.
“*” Spoken
`*' Thoughts
Love Hina:
Wild Strawberries.
Chapter Six: Blight
Shinobu lifted the dish to her lips and took a taste of the soup that was bubbling on the stove. ‘Needs salt,’ she decided, reaching for the shaker. After seasoning she took another sip, she set down the sampling dish, nodded in approval at the improvement and turned down the burner, covering the pot and allowing it to simmer for a few minutes. She placed some bowls on the table, getting everything ready for dinner, and making sure that no one was attempting to sneak a quick bite before dinner. She smiled at Keitaro when he walked in, a frown forcing it off her face when Kitsune followed closely behind him.
The fox eyed girl was asking Keitaro out, yet again, and he was politely turning her down, just like he had every other time. ‘Why won’t she leave him alone?’ Shinobu wondered. ‘He isn’t interested in her. Or Motoko. Or me. Or anyone else apparently…’ The landlord seemed to be immune to the charms of all the residents, but the little chef didn’t put much faith in Kitsune’s declarations that he had to be gay. ‘For someone she says is like that, she’s still throwing herself at him…’ Or maybe she thought she could switch him back. Shinobu didn’t know which of the ideas was stupider. Her musings were cut off when the telephone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Keitaro called out.
“I’m closer,” Shinobu told him as she lifted the receiver. “Hello? This is Hinata House… Yes, one moment please. Motoko, it’s for you.”
“Who is it?” the kendoka asked as she walked into the kitchen.
Shinobu shook her head. “They didn’t say.”
Motoko took the offered phone and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
Shinobu would always remember the sudden, stricken look that came over the older girl, and the way she went ghostly pale.
“W-when…?” Motoko whispered softly into the phone, slumping against the counter, drawing every eye in the kitchen.
“Motoko?” Keitaro murmured.
“I-I understand…” Motoko choked out, her eyes brimming with imminent tears. “I will. I’ll see you then…” With a shaking hand it took her three tries to hang up the phone.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Shinobu asked, scared that Motoko looked like she was about to collapse.
“What is it?” Keitaro asked as he approached her, concern written on his face.
When she lifted her head and met Keitaro’s eyes, her lower lip was quivering and there were tears rolling down her cheeks. “It-it’s my father,” Motoko managed to choke out. “He-he had a heart attack, he-he’s gone…” At that point Motoko lost all her self-control and latched onto Keitaro, sobbing loudly, her shoulders shaking as grief overtook her.
The other residents were around her in a heartbeat, offering condolences and sympathy to their surrogate sister, all feeling a little uncomfortable at Motoko’s public display of mourning. Keitaro held her securely, letting her cry onto his shoulder, her tears already making a damp spot on his shirt. He’d seen Motoko weeping once before and it wasn’t any easier this time, albeit for different reasons.
‘Oh no… Chiharu…’ Keitaro thought as he was stabbed by guilt. He’d always felt bad in the back of his mind over his relationship with Motoko’s mother, but now her father had died, and that seemed to move their affair from ‘improper’ to ‘irredeemable.’ He also felt ashamed when he realized that his first thought hadn’t been about how Motoko was feeling, but had been about his illicit lover. Trying to appear supportive, Keitaro continued to make soothing noises and rub the sobbing Motoko’s back, wishing he didn’t feel like the world’s biggest bastard.
By now the other residents all had tears in their eyes as they witnessed the kendoka grieving. Keitaro’s tears were spawned by much more complex reasons.
XXX
“T-thank you, all of you, for doing this,” Motoko murmured yet again as the group approached the Aoyama home the following morning.
“It’s nothing,” Naru replied softly. “You’re our friend, we’ll be there for you…”
“Yes, exactly,” Keitaro added after a beat. In truth, he’d been thinking about this with a strange mixture of dread and anticipation. Meeting with Chiharu in these circumstances was the last thing on earth he wanted, but at the same time he was hoping that he could be there for her somehow. He paused in his musings to take a quick glance at Kenichi; Naru’s boyfriend seemed even less eager to be there than he did, but he was gamely putting on a brave face for her. ‘It must really be serious,’ Keitaro decided. ‘Going with your girlfriend to a funeral for a man you never met’s a helluva gesture…’
Keitaro found himself feeling happy for that at least; that Naru had found herself someone special, even though he and Kenichi had never gotten over the whole awkward phase. It didn’t help that the younger man was in a place Keitaro had once coveted, and even going farther than he ever had in his relationship with Naru. She’d never actually told him that she and Kenichi were sleeping together, but it wasn’t all that hard to figure out. The way her eyes lit up when she saw him, the casual intimacy in their body language, even the faint lingering odor that no amount of air freshener could completely expunge from the brunette’s room.
Keitaro was a little jealous. Not of Kenichi, but the fact they could have a relationship without a high level of secrecy. This latest reminder made his mind go back to thinking about what he should do upon reaching the Aoyama home. As much as he longed to, he couldn’t just take Chiharu in his arms and let her weep into his shoulder the way Motoko had. In fact, he couldn’t do anything really to comfort her aside from murmuring platitudes about how sorry he was, and the other expected comments.
‘She might not want to even see me,’ he considered, flinching inwardly in shame that he was still thinking about her like that. ‘I’m a bastard,’ he thought not for the first time. ‘She loved Isamu, she told me so, and I’m still wondering what she’ll think of me? Pathetic…’ Keitaro let out a small sigh and continued to march towards Motoko’s home, momentarily thankful for the small favor that all the residents hadn’t come along on this trip. As the only ones who’d ever met Isamu Aoyama, Keitaro and Naru were the natural choices, and while he wanted to support the grieving kendoka, the fact he’d been having an affair with the deceased’s widow made the whole experience uncomfortable as hell.
“Is that the place?” Kenichi spoke up for the first time, breaking Keitaro’s internal debate.
“Yes,” Motoko replied softly.
Keitaro looked up and saw all the usual trappings of a Japanese funeral, and the large number of people who were milling about outside the gates made it apparent that Isamu Aoyama had been well liked in the community.
“Half of Kyoto must be here,” Naru murmured, her thoughts mirroring Keitaro’s.
Motoko gave her friend a sad smile. “Father was never active in the family business, but he did other things. He-he had many friends,” she managed to force out before she had to struggle to regain her composure.
‘And I’m the asshole who was sleeping with his wife,’ Keitaro reminded himself unnecessarily, hating himself more and more every minute.
The four of them approached the open gate, Keitaro not recognizing any of the people gathered there with the exception of Motoko’s sister Tsuruko and her husband. When Chiharu came into view Keitaro had to stifle a shocked gasp; she looked old, far older than she had when he’d seen her two weeks earlier. There was noticeably more grey in her hair and the lines on her face had deepened dramatically. In all the time he’d known her it was the first time she’d ever looked old, frail, or tired, but she still radiated dignity, trying to show that she was strong and would endure this.
At that moment Keitaro would have made a deal with the devil to be able to go to her and hold her protectively.
All that he could do though was watch Motoko embrace her grieving mother while he tried to keep his face from betraying his true thoughts. He saw Chiharu give Naru a brief hug and she returned a formal bow from Kenichi, who looked about as uncomfortable as Keitaro felt. Keitaro’s respect and admiration for the man went up a few notches at the way he soldiered on through what had to be a difficult situation with such grace. Then Chiharu turned towards him and Keitaro felt his heart skip a beat; despite all that she’d been through, and the fact she’d aged years in a short period of time, she was still heartbreakingly beautiful in his eyes. Reminding himself to be distant, his soul dying by inches because of it, he bowed formally before her. “My condolences on your loss, Mrs. Aoyama.”
“Thank you Urashima,” Chiharu intoned as she returned the gesture.
For one altogether too brief moment their eye met, and the sadness and grief Keitaro saw there made him want to weep. She was in such pain that it hurt him to see it, made even worse by the fact he couldn’t do anything to bring comfort to his beloved. Grateful for the fact that tears wouldn’t seem out of place, Keitaro wiped his eyes and passed through the gate, wishing he could tell himself that he wasn’t responsible for her pain and know it wasn’t a lie.
XXX
Keitaro hated funerals. Even more than was socially acceptable.
He’d had to attend a few for some distant relatives when he was younger, and even as a boy he’d come to loathe the somber, depressed air that radiated from them. It was normal, even to be expected, but the miasma of the ceremonies was almost too much for Keitaro to bear, and this had been for barely known relatives. Isamu had been an unknowing member of a love triangle with his wife and Keitaro, and he couldn’t stop wondering if the affair had somehow played a part in the heart attack that killed him.
Trying not to draw attention to himself, Keitaro had let Motoko lead him through the mourners, allowing himself to be introduced to everyone and making an effort to be polite and respectful, even though he wanted to do nothing more than flee. He was a little troubled that Motoko seemed to be using him as an emotional crutch, never once leaving his side; Keitaro didn’t mind being there for her when she needed him, but he was worried that once the funeral was over she wouldn’t let go. Eventually he managed to excuse himself when the time came for the viewing of the body, but this didn’t make him feel any better.
Family tradition called for everyone to pass by the casket and have some last words with the deceased, and Keitaro was stricken to learn that he was expected to do this as well. His stomach did flip flops and he constantly wiped his sweaty palms on his pants until his turn came up. Approaching the coffin like it was an unexploded bomb, Keitaro could hear his heart racing in his ears as the form of Isamu Aoyama came into view; he looked much more peaceful to Keitaro this time, the only meeting before this had been when Isamu was in ‘protective father’ mode, so he wasn’t glaring at him. But as far as the young man was concerned it was worse, he was face to face with a man whose wife he’d been involved with.
‘He was handsome,’ Keitaro noticed in a detached way. ‘Better man than I could ever be, why would I have interested her?’ he wondered before he could stop himself. Pushing aside those inappropriate thoughts Keitaro looked at the now serene man for some time, sending off silent prayers that he’d never known about his beloved wife’s transgressions. Swallowing and licking his suddenly dry lips, Keitaro leaned forward. “I-I’m sorry… I hope you can forgive me,” he whispered.
Keitaro had been dreading the entire funeral since Motoko had asked him to come with her. So when Isamu didn’t open his eyes, reach up and try to throttle him, Keitaro felt a peculiar sense of disappointment. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.
He wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.
Leaving the side of the coffin as fast as he could without discarding his dignity, Keitaro made his way outside, his heart racing and breathing deep to supply the oxygen his body was screaming for. Not wanting to return to the oppressive atmosphere of the Aoyama ancestral home Keitaro decided he’d walk along the path behind the house for a while; when he suddenly realized that it was the same path where the affair had started he had to fight down an urge to bolt, telling himself that some fresh air and solitude would do him a world of good.
Keitaro meandered down the path, barely taking notice of anything, though he did find himself pausing briefly when he realized that he’d found the tree he’d been leaning on the first time Chiharu kissed him. Shaking his head to chase away these not entirely unwelcome memories, Keitaro continued on, sitting down on a stone bench after walking for who knew how far. He stared off into space, his head down and his elbows on his knees, trying to empty his thoughts until a familiar voice crashed into his consciousness.
“K-Keitaro…?”
He nearly twisted his neck when he whipped his head around. “Chiharu?” he squeaked. “W-what are you-”
“I could ask the same,” she replied softly.
Keitaro found his eyes running over her of her own accord; she looked weary, her eyes red from shed tears, and a sad look on her face that seemed to have been carved there. He still thought she radiated dignity, and he’d always think she was beautiful, but she looked closer to her real age than he’d ever seen. “H-how are you doing?” Keitaro murmured, more to break the silence than anything else.
“How do you think?” she replied, slowly walking over and taking a seat on the bench, though she kept distance between them. “Why are you here?”
“Motoko asked me to come with her.”
“No, I meant why are you out here?” Chiharu clarified.
“I-I was… uncomfortable, I just wanted some air… What about you?”
Chiharu gave him a sad look. “You think it’s easy losing someone? Having everyone say they’re sorry?”
“No. No I don’t.”
“I just wanted to be alone for a while.”
“I’ll leave then.” Keitaro stood up to walk away until Chiharu shook her head.
“Don’t. We… We should talk…”
Keitaro had been expecting this, but the words still sent a chill down his spine. Sitting back down, and briefly wondering if she’d notice him starting to sweat, he whispered, “Go ahead…”
“Do you know how Isamu and I first met?”
Keitaro blinked in surprise; out of all the things he’d expected Chiharu to say, this wasn’t one of them. “No.”
“Our parents set up an omiai,” she told him. “It was tradition in our family. I never considered not accepting whom my family chose for me. Isamu and I were only children when we met, and we didn’t see each other again until we were married when I was twenty.” A ghost of a smile came over Chiharu as a far off look entered her eyes as she recalled the past. “I was fortunate, I suppose. I fell in love with him a few months after we were married, and it worked out well for both of us. He gave me two beautiful daughters and I never would have done anything to hurt him.”
Chiharu slumped forward suddenly, burying her face in her hands. “Until the day you entered my life…”
Keitaro winced. Chiharu’s tone was sharp enough to cut diamond, and it was aimed right between his eyes. But there was nothing he could say or do to defend himself, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to, so he sat there stoically, letting the woman he loved say whatever she wished.
“I loved Isamu, I still do, we were together for over thirty years, and he never did anything to hurt me. And how did I thank him? By seducing someone who should have been courting my daughter…” Chiharu raised her head and there were fresh tears running down her cheeks. “You know how I honored his love Keitaro, you were there too. And if he hadn’t died, you and I’d be fucking in some hotel room today. Don’t try to tell me you forgot about that.” The obscenity was doubly shocking for its rarity.
Keitaro lowered his head in shame, not able to meet her gaze. He had been thinking about that in the back of his mind, but having Chiharu call him out on it made his guilt and shame increase a thousand fold. He could see that tears were running down her face and that she looked to be on the verge of completely breaking down. His heart cried out for him to take hold of her, let her weep on his shoulder, but he knew he couldn’t.
And that was infinitely more painful than anything she could ever say to him.
“I-I need some time alone, Keitaro. Without you. I need to think about what I’ve done, if I can ever forgive myself…”
Keitaro managed to choke off the sob that threatened to erupt from his throat. “I-I understand. Goodbye Chiharu… And, take care…” He stood up and bowed to her, wincing when she didn’t even acknowledge the gesture, his heart breaking as he headed back towards the home. When he reached a bend in the trail he paused and looked back, silently begging for Chiharu to look back at him, a glance, anything, but she never even moved. Devastated he walked back to the house, having wiped the tears away to at least look presentable and locked away his sorrow so he could function. He saw Naru talking quietly with Tsuruko and made his way towards her.
“Hey Keitaro, where were you?” the brunette asked. “You kinda disappeared for a bit.”
“I just needed to clear my head. I hate funerals,” he murmured.
Naru nodded sadly. “They aren’t much fun…”
“Where’s Kenichi? And Motoko?”
“My sister is in her room,” Tsuruko told him. “Naru’s boyfriend had to use the bathroom.”
“Why do you ask?” Naru wondered.
“Do you think they’d mind if I went home alone? I-I just need to leave…”
“Motoko said she’d stay here a few days,” Tsuruko related. “The rest of you can go when you wish. We thank you for coming, it’s nice to see you all again.”
“Yeah. I just wish it was for another reason…”
“So do I…”
“Go if you want,” Naru said to him. “Kenichi and I might spend a night in Kyoto. We’ll call and let you know.”
“Thanks.” Keitaro gave her a weak smile.
“Take care of yourself Keitaro.” Naru gave him a brief hug and then he was headed for the door in a daze, somehow making it to the train station without losing his composure.
When he boarded the train he took a window seat and spent the entire trip facing it so no one could see the tears flowing down his cheeks.
XXX
Motoko had ended up spending three days at her home before returning to the sou, and when she did she tried to put on a brave face, that everything was all right with her, but she was obviously still hurting. She would still train, but she didn’t put the same effort into it, sometimes quitting in only half the time that she would usually take. Everyone did their best to support her, even Kitsune, who had abruptly stopped attempting to ask Keitaro out, and he was silently thankful for that.
Motoko would occasionally go for a long walk to clear her mind, Naru or Kitsune tagging along to keep her company. It had never been spoken aloud, but they also wanted to make sure that the grieving kendoka didn’t do something rash while she was alone. Keitaro had considered going with her but he decided it might look too much like a date, and it was better to be seen as neutral by the others. He also figured it wouldn’t be fair to the young woman if she saw him with her as a sign of affection when he was still hurting over his situation with her mother.
Keitaro had honored Chiharu’s wish, not making any attempt to call her; he usually hadn’t called her before unless he was going to be delayed, but now he wouldn’t make any attempt to reach her. He’d thought about it a lot, laying on his futon thinking about her, missing the sound of her voice and the silken touch of her hand. Many times he’d dialed her number, wanting nothing more than to comfort her, but he’d never been able to press the ‘SEND’ button, knowing that if she wanted to talk to him she’d make the first move.
Weeks went by without any word from her, and it broke Keitaro’s heart to think that he’d never see her again. When after four weeks Motoko tentatively invited him to coffee, he almost accepted after seeing the almost desperate look in her eyes, but he decided to decline. He tried to tell himself that it was so it wouldn’t look like a pity date, but deep down he was still hoping to be with Chiharu again.
Of course, as soon as Kitsune heard of Motoko’s attempt she resumed her considerable efforts to win his heart. This prompted Motoko to match her rival, and for two weeks Keitaro found himself avoiding the two women rather than make up reasons why he couldn’t spend time with either of them. Just at the point he was considering accepting an offer from one or both of them, his phone rang one afternoon when he was in his room studying.
He picked it up absently, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the number that was displayed. Making sure he couldn’t hear anyone in the hallway and keeping the phone close to his mouth, Keitaro swallowed once and hit the SEND button. “Chiharu…?” He was pleased that it didn’t sound too eager.
“Hello Keitaro,” Chiharu’s soft voice made his spirits leap. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it…?”
“Just a bit,” he murmured. “How-how are you?”
“Surviving,” she replied. “How about you?”
“I’m okay. I’m glad you’re doing better.”
There was a long awkward silence before Chiharu let out a deep breath. “I should get to the point,” she told him. “There’s something I need to talk to you about. Are you free?”
‘For you, anytime,’ he thought. “Yes, I am. Where are you?” She told him. “You’re in Hinata?”
“Yes. This isn’t something that should be said over a phone. Can I see you?”
“O-okay,” Keitaro answered, now feeling a cold ball in the pit of his stomach. “Thirty minutes?”
“That’s fine.” Chiharu then hung up before he could say a word.
Keitaro stared at his now silent phone for a few seconds before rising to his feet, putting on a clean shirt and making his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, combing his hair and deciding this was the best he could do on short notice. He didn’t know what Chiharu had planned but he wouldn’t let her see him looking disreputable. Heading for the front door he almost collided with Shinobu, who’d come around the corner with a basketful of laundry. “Excuse me.”
“It’s okay sempai,” she assured him, before she noticed he’d cleaned up. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah, I’m going out for a while,” he explained. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Don’t hold up dinner for me.”
“Is something wrong?”
“…I’m not sure…” he admitted. “But it’s probably nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?”
Keitaro gave the chef a gentle smile. “I’ll be okay. If I’m not back, just save me a plate.”
Shinobu beamed. “Okay sempai. Take care.”
“Always.” Keitaro took his leave and walked out the door, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he headed for his meeting with his clandestine lover. She’d told him she was in a love hotel but he figured that could be just because she didn’t want anyone to see them meeting. And she probably believed it would be kinder to tell him she wanted to end their relationship in private. Keitaro found himself mentally playing this scenario as he made his way to her, reminding himself to keep looking over his shoulder. They’d never met in Hinata before, precisely because they were both concerned about someone seeing them together.
‘She’s a widow now,’ Keitaro thought. ‘But it would still look bad for us to be seen like this…’
Quicker than he expected, Keitaro found himself in front of the hotel Chiharu had mentioned. Absently wiping his palms on his slacks and steeling himself for what he feared might happen, Keitaro took one last look to make sure he didn’t recognize anyone and entered the building. Eschewing the elevator and using the stairs to burn off some nervous energy he went up the five stories and paused in front of room 505. Letting out a shuddering breath and willing his hand to be steady he knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Chiharu called out.
Keitaro entered the room and locked the door behind him, taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket before walking in, noticing Chiharu sitting in one of the chairs. She looked better than she had at the funeral; she still looked a little older, but she appeared to have gotten some of her confidence and energy back, and she still looked lovely to Keitaro. He wanted to rush over and embrace her, but he knew he couldn’t do that. “Y-you’re looking well,” he murmured.
“You look about the same,” she replied. “Then again, you weren’t the one who had to deal with a loss…”
Keitaro just kept himself from flinching, nodding sadly as he accepted her unspoken invitation to sit down, taking pains to give her as much space as he could. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked just over a whisper.
“Have you ever lost someone Keitaro? Someone who meant everything to you?”
Keitaro wasn’t about to insult Chiharu’s intelligence by lying. “No…”
“It hurts,” she told him. “It really hurts. More than you ever think it could…”
Keitaro simply nodded, knowing he wasn’t supposed to say anything.
“Isamu and I were together for over thirty years, including the time you and I were seeing each other. Having someone with you for so long, and then one day he’s gone? It’s not easy,” Chiharu lamented sadly before she looked Keitaro in the eyes. “Would you be surprised if I said I was angry at you when he died?”
“No.”
“I was. I wanted to blame someone, be angry, anything to distract from the pain. You were the obvious target,” Chiharu reminded him. “The foolish young man who lead me astray… Except it wasn’t like that, was it…?”
“I-I don’t know-”
“I seduced you,” Chiharu interrupted. “If I hadn’t, you never would have done anything with me, right?”
Feeling ashamed, Keitaro nodded sadly. “Yes,” he whispered.
“And you stuck with me, even when I said you shouldn’t, and that means I have to know… How do you feel about me Keitaro?” she asked. “I need the honest truth.”
“I-I love you,” Keitaro murmured after a seconds contemplation. She wanted the truth, so he gave it to her.
“Are you sure?” Chiharu pressed.
“Yes. I-I’ve never lied to you about that, why do you keep asking?”
“Because I’ve had to reconcile some of my own feelings,” she admitted. “But before I can do that I need to know whether you really loved me, that you just weren’t just saying that because you liked the sex.”
“I didn’t fall for you because of sex.” Keitaro insisted.
Chiharu looked into Keitaro’s eyes for over a minute in silence. “You’re telling the truth,” she finally said.
“I was,” Keitaro assured her. “Why-why was that important?”
“Because I realized that you became more than just something on the side,” Chiharu confessed. “Not sure when it happened, but it did. I was in love with Isamu -and I still am- but I’ve come to care for you too…”
Keitaro felt his heart stop. Not skip a beat, simply cease functioning for few seconds, before it kicked into overdrive. He’d longed to hear words like that from Chiharu, his darkest, most secret wish, but now that it was happening it seemed too good to be true. “You-you care for me…?”
“Apparently,” Chiharu admitted. “Which is why Isamu’s death hurt so much, I felt I’d betrayed him again… I still don’t know if he’ll forgive me when we meet again, but-but I can’t be dishonest with you either.”
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Keitaro stammered. “I-I never expected this…”
“Are you sure you want to be with an old woman like me?”
“I never thought you were old…”
“I’ve learned how it feels to lose someone Keitaro,” Chiharu reminded him. “Losing someone important hurts. I’m much older than you, you’ll probably outlive me, are you sure you want to face that chance?”
“I’d do anything to be with you,” Keitaro assured her. “I love you.”
Chiharu smiled sadly at him. “I-I can’t say that to you now Keitaro. It’s too soon, too painful, I’m still mourning Isamu. But-but I think I could, some day.”
“I’ll wait. For as long as it takes…”
A solitary tear traced its way down Chiharu’s cheek. “K-Keitaro, can-can you hold me? Please?”
Keitaro got up and stepped towards her, taking Chiharu in his arms and embracing her securely, a wave of happiness more intense than he’d ever experienced washing over him, the way she felt in his arms blasting away all the sadness and doubt he’d been carrying since the funeral. He rubbed her back and nuzzled her hair, making soothing noises as she cried softly on his shoulder, his own eyes moist with tears as well.
“I’ve missed you Keitaro,” Chiharu whispered. “Even when I was mad at you… So much it hurt.”
“All I wanted was to comfort you…”
“Keitaro, make love to me, make the hurt go away…”
Keitaro lifted her chin and wiped away the damp trails from Chiharu’s tears and kissed her gently, his lips just brushing against hers. He broke off the kiss and moved his lips to trail soft kisses down her cheek, tracing the path that the tears had taken. Letting his left hand gently trail along her lower back Keitaro slipped his right hand behind Chiharu’s head, his fingers working their way into her silken hair, holding her head as he pressed his lips back against hers, opening his mouth and easing his tongue into her mouth, letting it brush up against hers.
Chiharu let out a contented hum and went limp against Keitaro, letting him support her completely, willing to allow her younger lover to do as he wished. He broke the kiss and swept her up off her feet, making her let out a surprised squeak as he carried her over to the bed and carefully, almost reverently, set her down. He then laid down beside her and resumed the kiss, his right hand running over the curves of her body, gently squeezing and caressing as he went. Chiharu took hold of Keitaro’s shoulders and rolled onto her back, pulling him so that he was laying on top of her, and he pulled his head back.
“If I’m too heavy-”
“You’re not,” Chiharu whispered. “I don’t mind. Kiss me Keitaro… Leave hickeys if you want, mark me… I don’t care…”
Keitaro lowered his head, brushing his lips against the side of her neck, letting the tip of his tongue drag over her warm skin before he placed his lips against her and sucked, reflexively flinching at the sound of her flesh snapping back. He pulled back his head and looked at his handiwork; he’d done it, left a mark, something he’d never even considered doing before. For a second a flash of fear passed over him, but it faded quickly when he realized that he could do that now. Dropping his head back down to her neck Keitaro began to kiss, lick, suckle, and even gently bite Chiharu’s throat, feeling her fingers playing with his hair as he did, her gentle cries echoing in his ears.
Chiharu could feel Keitaro’s hard on rubbing up against her even through their clothing and she began to move her hips to increase the contact, smiling when he groaned in response. Reaching down with her left hand she took hold of the hem of Keitaro’s shirt, pulling it up until he had to break off his kissing to push himself up to remove it. He tossed it carelessly aside and then deftly began to unbutton her blouse, helping her up and watching in rapt attention when she allowed the garment to whisper down her shoulders.
Keitaro eased Chiharu back down and rested his head between her breasts, nuzzling and kissing the ample mounds, squeezing them through her bra, her nipples hardening through the fabric and pressing into the palms of his hands.
“You really love me?” Chiharu asked softly.
“More than life itself,” Keitaro murmured in between kisses. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation of Chiharu tracing his shoulders with her long cool fingers. Letting go of her left breast Keitaro slid his hand under Chiharu and managed to undo her bra one handed, helping her slip the straps down her arms and off of her, then taking her right nipple into his mouth and sucking deeply on it.
“Ohhh!”
Chiharu cried out when Keitaro suckled her breast like a newborn baby, still being gentle with her even though she wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d been more forceful. Removing her hands from Keitaro’s shoulders she reached for the button and zipper on her skirt, undoing them and then pushing it and her panties down her legs, no easy task with Keitaro grinding against her. He eventually ceased rubbing her and pushed himself up on his knees, pulling her skirt and underwear the rest of the way down her legs and tossing them onto an armchair.
Taking a second to let his eyes trace Chiharu’s naked form, Keitaro then roughly shoved his pants and boxer shorts down his legs, not caring where they ended up, his prick springing up, twitching in time with his heart-beat, a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip. “Are-are you ready?” he asked, feeling foolish when he realized that she was so wet he could see it.
“Yes,” Chiharu said huskily. “Make me feel alive again…”
Keitaro lowered himself on top of Chiharu, supporting himself with his hands, his hard on brushing against her dripping lower lips. He hissed when he felt her take hold of him and place his head against her fragrant cleft, pulling down on his ass and allowing him to push into her. He slowly fed inch after inch of his hardness into Chiharu until she had completely enveloped him in warmth and tightness. Bending his elbows Keitaro lowered his lips to hers and kissed her tenderly before raising his head so that their faces were an inch apart. “I love you,” he whispered as he pulled back his hips and began slowly thrusting.
“Ahhh!”
Chiharu gripped Keitaro by his shoulders and held on tight, looking up into his eyes as he pushed into her with incredible delicateness, as gentle as the breaths that washed over her face as he moved. But the combination of love and adoration she saw on his face, coupled with the wonderful slippery friction when he moved were indescribable, softly easing her towards her peak.
Keitaro gritted his teeth as he looked down onto the face of the woman he loved, the dreamy look she wore and the gentle cries she made touching his heart. He resisted the urge to speed up, deciding to be as tender as he could, wanting the both of them to last as long as possible. When Chiharu put her hands out he placed his own on top of them, their fingers intertwining as he kissed the side of her neck, her gasps tickling his ear.
Chiharu began to push her hips up to meet Keitaro’s slow thrusts, his prick sliding deeper and deeper into her, her slick inner walls gripping the warm pillar of flesh, every bump and vein sending sparks up her spine. She opened her mouth when Keitaro kissed her again, pushing her tongue into his mouth, muffled moans coming from the back of his throat as he increased the pace of his thrusting, his grip on her hands tightening as he neared the end of his endurance. She gripped his hands tighter in response, her body tense with anticipation of her imminent orgasm, and Keitaro’s heat when he climaxed.
Keitaro was by now pistoning his cock into Chiharu, nearly frantic with a need to finish. It was almost unbearable agony straining to hold himself off, but the pain was annihilated when all the tension in his body was released in an instant, a cry tearing from his lips as he came, a stream of fire flooding through him. Keitaro went rigid as he launched a gigantic volley of his seed deep into Chiharu, a virtual torrent of his sperm, so much that he found himself wondering if he’d ever be able to do that again, that he’d exhausted his lifetime supply.
Chiharu arched her back and cried out, Keitaro’s molten heat forcing her over the abyss, a rush of endorphins coursing through her, making her vision go grey at the edges. She felt Keitaro slump against her, his body going limp after his climax, his weight a comfortable burden on her. Chiharu heard him panting against her ear as he tried to get his wind back, his prick going flaccid and slipping out of her, an enormous puddle of his sperm and her moisture pooling out on the bed sheets.
Eventually they both regained their breath and they stayed in a close embrace, Keitaro resting his head on Chiharu’s breasts as she ran her fingers through his hair, both of them enjoying the afterglow in silence, until Keitaro broke it after about ten minutes. “So-so what happens now?” he asked timidly.
“You do know, we can’t just start seeing each other openly…”
Keitaro lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “I understand… It’s too soon.”
“More than that, do you want people to know we had an affair?”
“No…”
“Me neither,” Chiharu agreed. “So we’ll have to try something else.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’m still mourning Isamu, right? For a year or so, we’ll have to keep seeing each other secretly.”
“A year…” Keitaro slumped.
“It’s not that I don’t care about you, I do,” Chiharu insisted. “But we can’t let anyone know right now.”
“And after a year?” Keitaro wondered.
Chiharu smiled at Keitaro and caressed his cheek. “Suppose I came to Hinata, to visit Motoko of course, but we happened to meet on the street? I might ask you to coffee, as a friendly gesture.”
Keitaro felt his own lips curl up in a hint of a smile. “Just coffee…?”
“We’ll talk, of course, and maybe we’ll decide to do it again a few days later…”
“Of course,” Keitaro agreed. “We might decide we enjoy each other’s company.”
“Exactly,” Chiharu concluded with a smile, before her expression became serious again. “Even in a year you and I starting something won’t be easy…”
“I know…”
“I don’t think Motoko will like it,” Chiharu admitted. “Or Isamu’s friends… Are you willing to put up with some resistance?”
Keitaro returned the caress. “I’d go through hell to be with you. I never want to be away from you.”
“That almost sounded like a proposal,” Chiharu chuckled.
“Maybe it was.”
Chiharu smiled indulgently. “What should I wear on the wedding night?”
Keitaro didn’t miss a beat. “A kimono.”
“Isn’t that too plain?”
“I want to kneel before you, for as long as you want me to.”
“To pray?” Chiharu asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Not pray. Worship.”
Chiharu felt her cheeks going red. “That doesn’t sound like going through hell,” she murmured.
“It won’t be…” The two of them kissed again, then made their way to the shower to get cleaned up, both of them thinking about being able to be with the other without having to sneak around.
XXX
Motoko let out a sigh as she continued to walk through Hinata, the need to clear her mind as she tried to deal with the death of her father causing her to roam once more. As she passed a storefront window she caught a glimpse of the reflections of Naru and Kitsune, who had followed her out of the residence when she’d gone out for her walk. She found herself smiling faintly at that; the other residents had all been moral support since her father’s death, even Kitsune, despite the fact that they thought of each other as rivals for Keitaro’s affections. “You two don’t have to be here,” she called out over her shoulder. “I appreciate it, really, but I’ll be okay.”
“It’s nothing,” Naru replied without hesitation.
“I could use the exercise anyway,” Kitsune added.
Motoko could only shake her head in amusement. Tailing her all over Hinata had to be a nuisance, but her friends never hesitated. “I’m okay now, let’s go home…”
“Good, cuz my feet are killing me,” Kitsune told her, relief written all over her face.
Motoko decided on a whim to have a little fun at the grey haired girls’ expense. “If you’d cut down on the booze and exercise more, you’d feel better…”
Kitsune smiled warmly. “If you weren’t looking so hard for a guy, you wouldn’t have walked this far.”
“I just needed some air.”
“You didn’t have to come here,” Kitsune remarked. “Or did you come to the love hotel district cuz you like the scenery?”
Motoko blushed, as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. “I… I didn’t notice,” she murmured. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
Naru chuckled. “You think she was looking for someone Kitsune?” she mused. “Only if she was expecting Keitaro to walk out of-” Naru broke off and her eyes suddenly went wide.
Kitsune and Motoko followed her surprised gaze and froze when they saw what she was staring at. Someone who looked a lot like Keitaro had just walked out of one of the love hotels, holding the door open for someone still inside. “No way…” Kitsune murmured.
“No, that can’t be Keitaro,” Naru told everyone. “It’s gotta be someone who looks like him…”
“It’s him!” Kitsune insisted. “See? That’s his jacket! I knew it,” she stated when she was sure of herself. “It’s him! But who’s that woman?” she asked, seeing the woman step out into the light.
“M-mother…?”
Kitsune and Naru stared at the suddenly pale kendoka, the brunette looking hard at the woman with Keitaro and realizing that she’d seen her at the funeral over a month earlier. Then a wave of denial swamped her. “No, this can’t be what it looks like, this is Keitaro remember? She probably came to visit you, met up with him and felt ill and needed to lay down. Keitaro probably just helped her-” Naru gasped in shock when Keitaro killed that thought when he gave the older woman a passionate kiss.
“Keitaro… M-mother…” Motoko murmured numbly as she walked towards the couple.
It was hard to say who went whiter; the two of them separated as if they were like magnetic poles, the blood draining from both their faces, as identical horrified looks appeared. Both of them tried to speak but no sounds came from either.
“W-what are you two doing?” Motoko whispered, looking at both of them, waiting, hoping to hear a rational explanation. ‘Say something!’ she raged internally. ‘Give me an excuse, tell me something, lie to me if you have to, but please, say something!’
“M-Motoko… Honey…” Her mother stammered, her eyes flicking about as if looking for a way to escape.
“I-I can explain… Y-you see…” Keitaro swallowed audibly, sweat appearing on his forehead, but the promised explanation never appeared.
Motoko’s eyes dropped down and went wide when she saw that her mother and Keitaro were still holding hands.
And with an almost audible ‘click,’ it became clear.
Keitaro’s mysterious ‘friend,’ whom no one had ever seen. The distant, wistful look Keitaro wore before he went off to meet him, and the improvement in his spirits when he returned. His gradual separation from Naru, without the expected depression. His seeming disinterest in her, Kitsune, and the collection of girls Naru had tried to match up with him. Even the tale he’d told them upon his return from Guam. Motoko had laughed, but she’d wondered about the sincerity he’d radiated while telling it.
And now she knew. She had no enflagrante delecto proof, but she KNEW.
And she could tell that Keitaro and her mother knew that she knew too…
Motoko could feel tears forming in her eyes. “H-how could you…?” she rasped out, her heart breaking. She looked at her mother. “How could you betray father?” she implored, her cheeks wet, her body starting to be wracked with sobs. “Or ME…?” Her olive green eyes locked onto Keitaro’s brown and he flinched.
Keitaro would have given anything to be elsewhere at that moment. “I… I…” He couldn’t face the crushed young woman, her sadness hitting him like a slap. Then Motoko closed her eyes and he gasped in horror when they opened again, the sadness having been replaced by rage; fury greater than he’d ever seen, and it lasered into him, filling him with dread. Almost quicker than he could follow she rushed him, a flash of steel catching his eye, and he held up his hands in an attempt to protect himself.
…and in detached horror, he saw the blade pierce his left hand without resistance and lance into his chest, sliding right between his ribs on his left side.
Keitaro let out a pained gasp. He could feel the blade piercing his heart, every desperate beat only making his injury worse. His legs turned to water and he tried to collapse, but the blade held him upright. His eyes traveled the length of the sword, seeing his blood flow down its polished surface, meeting Motoko’s eyes, pure hatred in those stormy green orbs, and a hint of satisfaction. Then she viciously yanked the blade out and he collapsed; only Chiharu grabbing him kept him from landing on his face, and he ended up looking up at her with his head in her lap.
‘No. NO! This isn’t fair!’ Keitaro screamed internally, tasting blood in his mouth. He grabbed at his chest and his hand came away red and sticky; glancing up he saw the horror in Chiharu’s eyes and he knew it was mirroring his own.
And in a moment of awful clarity Keitaro realized he was going to die.
He made himself tune out Kitsune and Naru’s screaming and focused his rapidly fading strength on Chiharu. “I-I l… love you…” Keitaro had to force the words out, spitting blood with each syllable. He could feel his heart beating erratically and weakly, his vision starting to fail. Summoning his final reserves of strength and will he tried to reach up and touch Chiharu’s face, tears filling his eyes when he realized he wouldn’t be able to reach her.
Chiharu took his almost limp hand in her own and brought it to her face, ignoring the blood that coated it and kissed it tenderly. Meeting Keitaro’s eyes even as the life began to fade out of them she whispered, “I love you…”
Keitaro never heard her, but her touch managed to register in his fading consciousness, and despite the cold that gripped him like an iron fist, Keitaro felt a flash of warmth and happiness as his vision failed. He felt something patter onto face and he thought he could taste strawberries. The drops triggered a final memory and Keitaro’s last thought was an image of Chiharu at the waterfall in Saipan, an orchid in her hair.
And then… nothing.
XXX
“I love you, I love you, I love you…”
Chiharu Aoyama cradled Keitaro’s lifeless body in her arms, his open and empty eyes looking up at her, not reacting when her tears dropped onto his eyes. She was unaware of anything around her, not Naru and Kitsune’s crying openly, nor her daughter slumping down to her knees, staring ahead catatonically, her bloody sword slipping from her nerveless hands.
“I love you, I love you, I love you…”
A crowd had gathered around, drawn by the violence and misery, and many, many people took pictures of the scene before the police were able to get them behind barricades. But even as Motoko was taken timidly away in handcuffs, and the coroner zipped shut the black body bag Keitaro had been placed in, Chiharu could still be heard murmuring the same three words over and over and over.
“I love you, I love you, I love you…”
End of Wild Strawberries.
Author’s Notes:
Another fic I haven’t worked on in a long time.
I’d actually written this a few years back, but dis-satisfaction with the first effort, a resultant shelving of the chapter, and a subsequent computer crash without a backup almost made this disappear forever. Fortunately, Rx7 still had the first draft, and I was able to rework that into something better.
If you’re wondering, Keitaro’s death was planned right from the start. I’ve already written a fic where he got off easy for adultery. But that wasn’t happening here…
Thanks again to Rx7 for the pre-read, and still having a copy years later.