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Tug-of-War	By : thewriterwhocameinfromthecold Category: +G to L > Love Hina Views: 57788 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina or it's associated characters. I am not profiting off this work in any way.

Chapter List
- 11
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- 13
It was exam results day. The sun was high in a sky of deep azure, the cherry blossoms were floating through the air, and birds were singing. Keitaro couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day as he walked towards the result board with Naru on one arm and Kitsune on the other. Soon he would know once and for all if he had finally achieved his dream of making it into Tokyo University. He just had to find his number: 110346. He scanned the board: 110330, 110339, 110342, 110346! Keitaro leapt into the air with a giant whoop, he had made it at last. He had been accepted!
“Kei, is that you?”
Keitaro turned to his right to see a girl in a high school uniform, her face obscured by her long brown bangs.
“Do I know you?” Keitaro asked.
The girl’s mouth formed a frown. “Don’t you remember me, Kei? We used to play together at Hinata. We made a promise to get into Toyko U together.”
“What?” Keitaro ran up to the girl determined to see her face, but the closer he got, the harder it was to see her face. “That little girl was you?”
The girl gave him a beatific smile. “Yes. Oh Kei, I’ve waited so long to meet you. Now we can finally be together.”
Keitaro felt tears stream down his cheeks as his face split in an enormous grin. “Yes, just like we always planned!”
The girl peered over his shoulder. “Kei, who are they?”
“Who are who?” Keitaro turned around and let out a yelp to find Kitsune and Naru still behind him with predatory smiles.
“You haven’t forgotten about us, have you Keitaro?” Naru asked.
“Yeah.” Kitsune leered. “You can’t just leave the girls who made a man out of you.”
Pictures of Naru and Kitsune naked and writhing beneath him flashed across the sky. Keitaro turned in horror to the girl of his dreams. Even though he couldn’t see her eyes, he could feel the angry hurt radiating through her bangs as her mouth worked and twisted.
“Kei…You and these hussies?”
“All night long!” Naru yelled as if on the verge of orgasm.
“Every night!” Kitsune screamed in the throes of pleasure.
A pain lanced through Keitaro’s heart and he fell to his knees.
“I’m sorry!” He lunged forward to grab at his promise girl's ankle, to beg her to forgive him, but she just stepped out of his reach, staring down at him with contempt.
“You betrayed our promise. You betrayed everything we meant to each other.”
Then she faded away into nothing. Kitsune and Naru dove on top of him, and Keitaro awoke with a scream.
He lay on his futon clutching his chest, trying to catch his breath. He brushed at his eyes and his fingers came away wet. The tears had been real. Keitaro pushed himself upright with a groan, and shuffled to the bathroom. It had been a little while since he’d thought about his promised girl, he realised as he washed the sleep and tears from his eyes. Where did she fit into things now that he was living here? He ran a towel over his face. Would he still be living here? Could he? The knowledge that Naru and Kitsune had approached him on a bet confused him even more than it hurt. Why had they done it? If one of them had won the bet, why did the other sleep with him, and why did they keep trying to seduce him? Keitaro had no practical experience, but he understood theory well enough to know that this was as far from a normal relationship as he could get.
He pushed the questions to one side, deciding that he needed some hard work to take his mind off things. It was his day on the schedule to clean out the hot spring, and for the first time, he was looking forward to a nice long chore so that he could get himself in order before he faced the girls across the breakfast table. So he pulled on his work clothes and took the back stairs down to the supply closet where he grabbed soap, a bucket, and a mop. Then he made his way to the hot spring, and posted a sign indicating he was working and the hot spring would be closed.
He’d start with walkway, he decided as he walked through the change room. That would be easiest. Then he’d have to drain the spring and give it good scrubbing. So resolved, he slid open the change room door and walked into the steam, relishing the feel of it against his skin. He turned to his right, intent on shutting off the water, and that was when he noticed that he wasn’t alone.
A girl, with jet black hair tied up behind her head, sat in the hot spring with her eyes closed. Her skin was as white and unblemished as the fallen snow, and the classical features of her face were composed in an expression of relaxed serenity. Sitting in the spring, set against the backdrop of the inn, she looked like she belonged in a woodblock print. Keitaro felt sure that he was still dreaming as he watched the steam waft out of the hot spring and encircle the girl like a veil.
“Beautiful,” he exhaled.
The moment was shattered. The girl’s eyes shot open and zeroed in on him in an instant. The sharp brown eyes narrowed in comprehension; and then it was as if a rocket had ignited beneath her, for she launched out of the hot spring twenty feet into the air. Something in her hand flashed in the early morning sun, and he realised it was a sword. He barely had time to inhale as she flew towards him and let out a horrifying battle cry. Then he was in the air, and sailed across the hot spring into the wall with a wail of pain.
He lay on the ground sucking in air until he felt something cold and sharp against his neck, and opened his eyes to see the girl wrapped in a dripping towel holding a katana to his throat.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes ablaze with a constrained fury.
Keitaro gawked at her, his mind searching for an escape but finding none.
“Answer, pervert.”
Belief that death was imminent made him cry out, “I live here! Who are you?”
“Liar! No men live here!”
There was a sound of wood scraping together, and both Keitaro and girl turned their heads. Standing in the change room doorway were Naru and Kitsune with Shinobu cowering behind them, all of their faces were contorted in terror.
“Don’t hurt him, Motoko,” Naru called, springing towards them with her hands out in supplication.
Motoko was unmoved. “This man broke into our sanctuary intent upon spying on us while we bathed. He must pay the penalty.”
“He’s our manager,” Kitsune cried.
At the word ‘manager’ Motoko dropped her sword.
“Is this true?” she asked, her shocked eyes darting between Naru and Kitsune.
The moment the blade left his neck, Keitaro rolled away from his assailant, climbed to his feet, and leapt over the hot spring seeking distance if not safety from his executioner. By unspoken agreement, Kitsune and Naru ran around Motoko, creating a human barrier between Keitaro and her.
Shinobu clutched at the doorframe for support with trembling hands. “Who…who is that?” she asked with shaky voice.
Her question went unheard as Motoko gauged the body language of Naru and Kitsune. Their fear was apparent in their uncertain stance, but they made a determined barrier and looked ready to dive upon her if she made a false move. With one last glare at Keitaro hiding behind a shrub, Motoko retrieved her sheath from its place against the wall, and sheathed her blade. The absence of the sword did little to assuage Keitaro. Though unarmed, the girl radiated an air of menace that was palpable even on the other side of the spring; and despite her placid face, behind her eyes a struggle ensued as rage was subjugated by cold displeasure. She bowed to Naru and Kitsune (Keitaro could never be foolish enough to believe the gesture was for his sake). Straightening up, she maintained a regal iciness that suited court robes and Yamamoto suits rather than a towel.
“I believe,” she said in impeccable, precise, and clipped Japanese, “that I require an explanation.
“So that’s how it is,” Naru summed up. “Hina hired him to work here. So until she gets back, he stays.”
Motoko leapt from her seat at the kitchen table, startling Shinobu as she laid down fresh mugs of tea.
“You can’t be serious. A man, here? In charge?” She slammed a fist down on the table, frightening Shinobu further. “This can’t be acceptable. There must be something in the tenancy agreement about this.”
Naru shrugged, producing a copy of the agreement. “Actually there isn’t. While tenants are allowed to air grievances against management, there’s nothing in the agreement that says that complaints based on discrimination against gender constitute an acceptable grievance.” She dropped the document on the table with a ghost of smile. “Read it yourself, if you don’t believe me. Even if it were an acceptable grievance, managers can only be dismissed if a vote is carried out by the household resulting in a two thirds majority.”
Kitsune leaned back in her chair with an air of satisfaction. “We can hold a vote if you like.”
“What about the children?” Motoko asked, gesturing to Shinobu clutching her tea cup and Su fiddling with a ball of what looked like silly putty. “Surely we can’t trust them to the whims of a man we do not know.”
Kitsune leaned forward in her seat. Paranoid though the statement was, there was a good point underneath. “Let’s ask,” she said, and turned to Shinobu. “You’re new here of course, but you’ve known Keitaro about as long as anyone else. What do you think of him?”
Shinobu shrank away from the sudden attention as every pair of eyes in the room turned to her. “Well,” she said, twiddling her thumbs, “he seems very nice, and devoted to his studies, and I don’t think he’d do anything to hurt me.”
Kitsune nodded. “Su, what about you?”
Su looked up from her work. “Keitaro’s great fun! I want him to stay.”
Motoko felt her case draining away, and cast a pleading look at Naru, who only shook her head.
“I think he’s perfect for the job.”
Kitsune took a sip of her tea. “The vote stands four to one in favour of Keitaro. Sorry, Motoko.”
Su jumped up from her seat. “I’m gonna tell him the good news!” And she bounded out of the room.
Motoko slammed her fist down again. “But I don’t want him here!”
Kitsune rocked back in her chair, waving her arms. “Whoa, calm down. Look, can’t we just make peace?”
Naru looked Motoko over. She felt as if she were seeing the depths of Motoko’s hatred for men. She knew that it had always been more than a casual dislike, but never had it been this vehement. Then again, Motoko had never had to face the threat of a man living down the hall. Still, what was it about men that Motoko hated so much?
“Let’s wash away our troubles in the hot spring, huh?” Kitsune suggested. “Besides you haven’t been introduced to our other new resident yet.”
Another battle was fought behind Motoko’s eyes, and then it was as if by magic the last five minutes had not occurred. Motoko’s face relaxed and her lips curled into what was almost a smile. She turned to Shinobu.
“Of course,” she said. “We have not been formally introduced.” She bowed. “I am Motoko Aoyama. If you require anything, do not hesitate to seek out my help.”
Shinobu gave a stiff bow of her own. “I am Shinobu Maehara. I’ll be staying at Hinata as chef and-” She was cut off when Motoko’s hand shot out to pinch her cheek.
“So cute,” Motoko said to herself. She dropped her hand to her side, her face a mask of confused embarrassment. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
Naru giggled. “She has that effect. By the way, aren’t you back early? We weren’t expecting you until this evening.”
“I decided to take a night train back rather than wait until morning,” Motoko replied. “The house was dark, so I thought it best just to enter quietly and announce myself in the morning. Of course, I wasn’t expecting a man…”
“Anyway,” Kitsune said, determined to stave off another rant or argument, “let’s have a soak, shall we? Then you can tell us all about the trip.”
After the incident in the hot spring, Keitaro decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and decided to spend his Sunday at one movie after another until the evening. He had been so shocked by what had happened that he had nearly forgotten all about his concerns regarding Naru and Kitsune. Even hours later, such considerations were pushed back; of tertiary importance when compared with the primary concern of how the hell he was going to survive living with a man-hating swordswoman. When he returned, the household had just finished dinner. When he called out his return, Naru and Kitsune were the first to greet him.
“Where were you?” Naru asked, taking his coat.
“Yeah,” Kitsune said, brushing at his shoulders. “We were getting worried about you.”
Keitaro gave them a weak smile. “Sorry. I should have called.” He leaned forward to whisper. “What about her?”
“She is right here,” Motoko said as she walked in, arms crossed.
Keitaro made a note never to tempt fate when Motoko was in the house, and took a cautious step back. He’d had all day to think about what he ought to do, so he followed his plan and decided to appeal to her obvious formality.
“My name is Keitaro Urashima,” he said, bowing nearly to his waist, wanting to give as much respect as possible without insulting her. “I will be the manager here from this point onward. I hope we can work well together.”
When he straightened, Motoko deigned to give him only the slightest inclination of her head. “I am Motoko Aoyama. While we are living together, I intend to see that the peace of this household is not disturbed.” She drummed her fingers against the hilt of her sword.
“There, now doesn’t it feel better to be friends?” Kitsune asked as if the exchange had effusive and friendly rather than the fearful icy thing that it was.
“I have studying to do,” Keitaro said, giving Motoko a wide berth as he made his way towards the stairs. Naru followed him up, surprised since they had agreed that they would take Sunday off so as not to overextend themselves.
“She hates me,” Keitaro said to her at the top of the stairs, wonder in his voice. “I’ve never met anyone who hated me this much.”
Naru patted him on the shoulder as they walked to his room, feeling regret that her boy would have to spend the night alone. With Motoko only just back, sharing his bed would be too big a risk.
At the bottom of the stairs, Kitsune let out a groan of realisation that her hopes of a ‘Welcome Home’ party had been quashed.
“Excuse me,” Motoko said, taking no notice of Kitsune’s disappointment. “I have to make a call.”
She walked to the dinning room where house phone sat on buffet between the dinning room and kitchen. Casting a look over her shoulder, Motoko lifted the receiver and dialled a number she knew well.
“Sister? Yes…I have a problem sister…No, nothing like that…No, it’s this: a man has come to stay at my dorm…Yes, and I’ve only got a few days supply.” She bit her lip. "Sister, I'm afraid...You will? How soon?" She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sister. Say hello to mother for me. Goodbye.”
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Tug-of-War