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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
- 18
- 19
- 20
Keitaro awoke in the early hours to the ringing of a far off phone, with a pain in his back. He tried to sit up, something held him back. The ringing stopped. Why did his bed feel so hard? He reached down to feel his futon only to come into contact with tatami. Oh, right. He’d pulled an all-nighter with Kitsune and Naru the previous evening. He must have fallen asleep at the Kotatsu. Why hadn’t Naru woken him up? He craned his neck and found his answer. Naru’s head lay on his chest, her arm slung around his stomach. Kitsune occupied the other side of his chest, her hand resting upon his belt buckle. Keitaro tried to shift out of their grasp, but Naru gave a moan of protest and snuggled tighter. There was no way to get up without waking them up too. He smiled to himself, and decided to savour the moment. The last couple of months had been difficult. It took a lot of strength to keep to the study schedule Naru and he maintained, and resist the temptation Kitsune and she represented every single day. Still he’d stuck to his promise. No dating until the exam. Of course, cuddling was a different matter…
Kitsune shifted in her sleep, letting out a happy purr as she burrowed deeper into his chest. She had surprised him and Naru when she had knocked on Naru’s door months ago with a study guide in hand. She had said that she had no intention of letting Naru have him to herself; evidently this was her way of making sure. To everyone’s surprise, Kitsune included, she had fared rather well. She wouldn’t get into Tokyo U, nor was that her goal; but if she didn’t grow bored with the whole thing and actually took an entrance exam, then she had a decent chance. Better than her test results in high school at any rate; but that was likely due to the fact that, as she’d confided to Keitaro, she’d skipped half of them.
Wait, what was that?
Kitsune’s hand was ghosting its way south, lightly skimming over his denim. Keitaro let out an aroused groan as his anatomy did what it did best and Kitsune’s hand came to rest on it. Keitaro bit his lip as by some reflex or another, Kitsune’s hand closed to cup his burgeoning erection. Oh Christ, it would be so easy…
Just then, Naru’s hand shot out to swat Kitsune’s hand away. “I can see you grinning,” she said.
Kitsune pouted. “Caught me.”
“You were awake?” Keitaro asked.
“Yep, thought I might have a little fun…”
“Hey,” Naru replied. “If I don’t get any, you don’t get any.”
“Ah, but that’s no fun. Say, what if we were to share him?”
“Share?” Keitaro wheezed.
“Not on your life.”
“Why? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Kitsune! Don’t tell him that!” Naru snapped.
Okay, that was all he could take.
As he wriggled out of both girls’ grasp, Kitsune asked, “Where are you going?” in a childlike voice that didn’t at all match the grin on her face.
To take a very cold shower.
As he passed the stairs on the way to the bathroom, he collided with Motoko as she climbed up.
“Watch it,” she growled, shoving him back against the wall.
“I’m sorry, I…I thought I heard the phone ringing.”
Motoko gave him a weary look. Had she not slept well? “It was for me.”
“Oh. Who?”
Motoko glowered at him and he felt sure that little bit of prying would shatter their brittle truce. But instead she just said, “None of your business, Urashima” and stomped off to her room.
Keitaro scratched his head. No matter how long he lived with her, he was sure that he’d never figure her out. As he resumed his journey to the shower, Motoko bit back frustrated tears as she prepared her medicine and sat down to write:
Sakura readied her blade for the duel of her life as she ran down the castle hallway. Ahead lay the main audience chamber of the Lady No, where she would surely find the quarry that had eluded her these many months. Beyond the ornately carved door she would finally be reunited with her true love. A swing of her blade was enough to knock the door off its hinges and she charged with a battle cry into the audience chamber.
“Lady No,” she called, “Show yourself!”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” a man’s voice called. She followed it through the silken curtains that covered the main throne. A man stepped through the transparent curtain. He was tall and scruffy in appearance, with a sword strapped to his side.
“Who are you?” Sakura demanded.
“A man in service to Lady No.” He gave a sarcastic shrug. “For the right price, anyway.”
Sakura scowled. “A mercenary. Where is Lady No, and what has she done with Matsuo?”
“You refer to Matsuo the Brave, he whom my employer kidnapped?”
“You know I do.” What an annoying man.
He smiled. “Well, there I cannot help you.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “You don’t know where they are?”
He smirked. “Of course, I know where they are. But I have no intention of telling you where. Mercenary/Client Privilege.”
She tightened her grip on her sword. “Then I’ll just have to make you tell me.”
He laughed, leaping from the elevated throne. “I’d love to see you try,” he said, drawing his sword.
Sakura loosed her battle cry and swung overhand, only to be met by his blade. She disengaged and, using the secret technique of the Floating Shadow, appeared suddenly at his side and swung for his ribs. His surprise was just short enough to save him as he blocked using the Granite Cliff technique.
“Impressive,” he said. “I’ve envisioned this fight for many months, and you don’t disappoint at all.” He launched her back using the Sonic Wave, but she braced herself against the wall with Iron Legs and landed on her feet unharmed.
“Months?” she asked. “Just to fight me?”
“Oh yes,” he said, eyes wild with the thrill of battle. “I was hired especially for you, though I would have happily fought you for free.” He lunged forward and caught her off guard. She leapt back to avoid his sword swings.
“Just for the thrill of fighting a true warrior?” she asked, blocking a mighty overhead swing.
He scoffed. “True and untrue warriors are measured only by the number of people they have slain. I’ve fought plenty of both. No, I wanted you. And now I shall have my revenge.” With an enraged growl, he prepared his secret Death Strike, but his rage had the better of him. Sakura saw the movements of his wrist and countered with a Buddha’s Will strike, knocking his sword out of his hands and he off his feet. He stared up at her with eyes of stone; neither asking mercy nor expecting it. “Shall we get on with it, then?” he asked.
She placed her blade against his throat. “Where are they?”
“You make a good argument, but there’s that pesky privilege again, sorry.”
She frowned. “What manner of mercenary is prepared to die to protect his employer’s secrets?”
He gave her a look that said he knew he had her. “Oh, trust me, if it was anyone else holding that blade, I might be prepared to tell. But you?” His expression turned vicious. “I’d rather die than tell you anything.”
“Why do you despise me so?” she asked with genuine curiosity.
“What do you care?” he asked with a sneer. “What is one more body to you? Come on. Send me on to my brother that I may apologise to him.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes.” He was almost leaning into her blade now as he stared up in defiance. Another millimetre and his throat would be cut. “I am Kensuke of the House of Shimano. You slew my brother Taro in the street like an animal.”
Red anger tinged Sakura’s vision as she recalled the leering drunk that bore that name. “He was acting like an animal.”
“I care not for your lies!” he spat. “At least I will have the satisfaction of knowing you will never find Lady No or Matsuo either. They are far from here and very well hidden.” He smiled a perverse smile. “Such a wild woman is Lady No. I wonder what she’s doing to your precious Matsuo.”
“Stop it,” she growled.
“I bet he even likes it.”
“Stop it!”
“That’s it!” he crowed at her pain. “Now I can go to Hell!” He thrust his throat upon her sword. His laughing eyes mocked her as his life bled away.
Motoko growled in frustration and hurled the pages across the room. Sister had said that this would help, but it wasn’t helping at all. It only made her rehash her pain, what was out of reach. She looked at the clock by her bed. It was time to leave for school. She stuffed the unhelpful pages into her desk and went to her closet to change.
After breakfast, everyone got ready to leave for school. Su and Shinobu were first as usual, already out the door by the time Motoko had found her book bag. Naru and Keitaro were just putting on their shoes when she entered the foyer.
When he saw her coming, Keitaro stood up. “I’d like to talk to you,” he said.
“I am not aware that there is anything we need to discuss,” Motoko replied, removing her school shoes from their cubby.
He resisted rolling his eyes. “Still, can we walk and talk?”
“We should get going,” Naru said.
“I know, but I want to speak to Motoko in private. Do you mind going on ahead?”
If Naru was displeased she made no sign save for a backward glance at Motoko as she stepped through the door.
“What is it? Motoko asked as she travelled the path with her manager.
Keitaro scratched the back of his neck. “I wanted to apologise for this morning,” he said. “It wasn’t my place to pry into your personal business.”
Motoko said nothing. The last thing she had been expecting was an apology for something so inconsequential that she had already forgotten about it. She looked over at him and read the reticence in his eyes. He really was terrified of her. She gave an internal shrug. If that kept him on his best behaviour, then fine. Still, in view of his sincerity, she decided to take pity on him this once.
“You are forgiven Urashima.” She stepped ahead of him to indicate that the conversation was at an end.
Behind her, Keitaro sighed in relief. If it kept the peace, he was prepared to kowtow until the cows came home. When they arrived at the train station, Naru was nowhere in sight. Keitaro groaned, they must have just missed it. Motoko said nothing. There were always other trains. They stood apart together, neither looking at the other nor saying anything; he for fear of offending, she for lack of interest. When the train pulled into the station, Keitaro hung back to let her enter first. She did so without acknowledgement. The train was nearly full. They stood near the door, ignoring each other until they were halfway to Motoko’s stop.
Motoko had been considering the day’s class schedule when she felt something brush against her skirt. She looked at Keitaro, but he was staring out the window. Another passenger must have brushed up against her, no matter. She continued considering her schedule until she felt the same brush, only it lingered longer. When she started to turn, the feeling disappeared. She looked around but nothing seemed amiss. No one was acting like they’d seen anything. Motoko pushed past a couple people, deciding to stand elsewhere just to be safe. Like most girls, she’d heard stories about men who groped girls on trains. Girls in school uniforms were especially at risk because it was thought that they’d be too meek or unsure to resist. Motoko had no doubts as to her ability to handle such perverts, though it wouldn’t do for her to unleash her school’s techniques on a public train. Nor would it do to strike out indiscriminately without proof. Punishing Urashima was one thing, attacking strangers in public without a clear view of the target was quite another.
Then she felt it again: a hand, it was definitely a hand, on her butt; and this time it wasn’t stopping. Motoko felt rage billow up inside her like a geyser at the thought of the impertinent animal, the depraved creature that had the nerve to touch her. She looked around for her assailant, determined to chop his hand off; but the crush of people around her made it impossible to distinguish who it was. The hand stroked her cheek and squeezed. That was it. She was killing him, whoever he was, regardless of how many were around. But just then, Keitaro was at her side. He had noticed that he couldn’t see Motoko, even though he knew they were nearing her stop. Then he felt prickles on the back of his neck as instinct told him Motoko was about to go nuclear. He craned his neck to Motoko reaching for her bokken and wondered what could have enraged her so.
Then he saw her skirt bunched at the back and realised. The groper was wearing a blue suit and tie as non-descript as his expression. He looked as innocent and as unaware as everyone else as they stared off into space – if Keitaro hadn’t been looking for Motoko, he’d have probably missed it too – but there was no mistaking the way the man’s arm was bent. Anger boiled in Keitaro’s stomach as he pushed past other people, heedless as he nudged shoulders and stepped on toes. When he came in range of Motoko the groper was still looking out the window, wearing his innocent expression. Keitaro nudged his way over towards them and stomped hard on the man’s foot – a fraction of what he deserved, Keitaro thought – as he put his arm around Motoko’s shoulder, forgetting for the moment that to touch Motoko in normal circumstances was to invite death.
“This is our stop,” he said, playing the boyfriend as he flashed a murderous glare the man wincing in pain.
He pulled, but she didn’t budge. Her rage still demanded vengeance as she stared at her molester as he hissed air through his teeth. She took in the thin weak face memorising the features. If she ever saw him again, he was dead. For now, a memento of the encounter would suffice. Quick as a flash, her hand shot out to strike just below his ribs, activating a pressure point she knew would temporarily paralyse his vocal cords before she grabbed the hand that had violated her and, in one smooth motion, broke the man’s wrist. He doubled over, his mouth wide with silent screams. Keitaro winced, almost (almost!) feeling sorry for the man as he led Motoko off the train and onto the platform.
The moment they were on the platform, Motoko threw off Keitaro’s arm. “I could have handled the pervert.”
“I know,” he said, doing nothing as she walked over to the wall to lean against it, “I just saw it happening and I acted on instinct.”
“Instinct!” She rounded on him. “Your instinct told you to act because you thought I was weak?” If that were so, she’d make sure he never thought of her as weak again. Wait, hadn’t he been helping her?
Keitaro looked at her like she was crazy. “Weak? You’ve launched me across a soccer field with the flick of your wrist. I assume that you can handle some groper on a train.”
Motoko blinked. “Then why?”
“Because,” Keitaro’s face became a mask of rage and revulsion, “guys like that make me sick. They prey on young girls because they think their too timid or weak to fight back.” He looked at her with an intensity that almost made her back up. “When I saw him doing that to you, I just wanted to grind him into the dirt. You’re my tenant and nobody does that to people I care about!”
Motoko’s heart skipped a beat as she saw that there was indeed a lion underneath that sheep’s clothing. She felt a twinge in her stomach at his righteous anger: a symptom, or something else? She shook herself. “I must go to class.”
The anger drained from Keitaro. “You’re sure you’re all right? Do you want me to get someone? Your friends…”
“No!” The word came out higher than she’d intended; but if anyone else knew what had happened she felt she’d die. “I mean,” she forced a more conciliatory tone – he had been helping her, after all – “I mean, no thank you. I’ll be all right on my own.” She started for the stairs only to realise that she was alone. “You’re not coming Urashima?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “My stop is actually not for a while yet. I’ll see you later.”
“Are you all right, Ms. Motoko?” Emi asked at lunch.
Motoko’s chopsticks paused an inch from her mouth. “What makes you say that?”
Emi shrugged, searching for the right words. “You seem…well, not quiet. You’re always quiet, but…”
“It’s a different kind of quiet,” Sachiyo took over.
“I think what they’re trying to say is that you seem preoccupied,” Kikuko said, her concern evident.
Motoko’s face betrayed nothing, but inside there was a twinge of panic. Could they read the day’s events in her face? It was true that the incident on the train was still on her mind, and of course there was that other matter.
“I supposed I have some things on my mind today,” she said, hoping that would assuage her entourage. Of course, it didn’t.
“What?” Kikuko asked, placing a hand over Motoko’s. “You know you can tell us anything,” she said with an ingratiating smile. “We’re your friends.”
Friends, yes she supposed they were. Perhaps it was all right to confide in them.
“There was an incident on the train today. One of the passengers began harassing me. I dealt with him swiftly, of course,” she added when the other girls’ faces grew frightened. “A…A man came to my aid and that gave me the time I needed to dispatch the other one.”
This unleashed a torrent of sympathy, especially from Kikuko who had had a fire in her eyes from the moment the word ‘harass’ had been uttered. “I’m just surprised a pig like that could get so close to you,” she said a moment later. “You’re usually so careful.”
“Hey, that’s right,” Sachiyo said. “Remember when we made that wrong turn a couple months ago and had to pass that gross looking bar? Ms. Motoko launched the first guy thirty feet the moment he tried to come at us from behind.”
“Did something distract you?” Emi asked in the manner of a mother asking a child how she had scraped her knee.
Motoko shrank away from this chorus of investigation. It was true, had she been at the top of her game, odds were that someone with malevolent intentions wouldn’t have come near her without her instincts registering it. Perhaps that phone call was bothering her more than she realised.
“Perhaps. I received a phone call this morning. My…” she took a deep breath. It was hard enough to think it, let alone say it. The finality of it all hurt so much. “My sister is pregnant.” Again, there was an explosion from the others as unwanted congratulations were heaped upon her.
“Why would that bother you?” Kikuko, always the most perceptive, asked.
Motoko did not lie as a rule, but to admit the whole truth now would be embarrassing and painful. “I suppose I am unprepared to become an aunt.” That much was true.
“But you’d make such a good one,” Emi insisted. “You could teach her all about how to protect herself from the perverts.”
“What if it’s a boy?” Sachiyo asked, kicking off a debate about what an aunt’s duties were to a boy.
Motoko was grateful for the distraction that allowed her to eat her food free from interrogation from without and within; that was until Emi, who didn’t always know when to move on, brought them back to the original subject.
“I guess it was a good thing that that man on the train saw what was happening.” She paused. “Not that I’m saying you can’t handle yourself. It’s just good that someone decided to help while you were preoccupied.”
“Who was he, anyway?” Sachiyo asked.
Kikuko leaned forward at this question in possessive interest.
“Just a man on the train,” Motoko replied, trying to appear natural. Again, this was true, if not the whole truth.
It was Sachiyo who took up the thread. “Wow, that’s kind of cool. That he’d just step in like that.”
Emi developed a half smile. “I guess not all guys are cowards.”
This was too much for Kikuko. “Haven’t you been listening? Are you really going to get misty-eyed over some man when it was a man who did this to Ms. Motoko in the first place?”
“But if someone was willing to help, surely that has to count for something,” Emi said, surprised by her friends anger.
“That doesn’t mean they can be trusted either. No man is above suspicion.”
Motoko dropped her chopsticks and looked between her friends. Kikuko looked like she was restraining an urge to yell, while Emi and Sachiyo looked very uncomfortable.
“You can’t possibly mean that,” Emi said with a brittle smile.
Kikuko crossed her arms. “I do. Just look at what living with a man has done to Ms. Motoko. A man could never have gotten near her on that train if she hadn’t been distracted by that landlord.”
Motoko bristled at this criticism. “Actually, Urashima was the man who came to my aid.” Why had she said that? Why did she just defend her landlord to her friend?
“Maybe we need to take a step back,” said Sachiyo. The worry in her eyes caused Motoko to forget her own anger. How was it that she could read a battlefield with ease, but map of a conversation was so mysterious?
“See,” Emi said, her voice held a slight warble. “Maybe that manager isn’t so bad after all. Maybe all men aren’t the same.”
Kikuko snorted in disgust. “For now, but what about later? When are you going to realise that all men are the same. You can never know what they’ll do, when their appetites will take over.”
Emi pushed back from the table and walked away without word.
“Oh, no.” Sachiyo whispered as she got up to follow. Motoko and Kikuko gave chase, following their friend out of the cafeteria. They caught up with Emi and Sachiyo outside the girls’ washroom. Sachiyo had her arm around Emi who stared at Kikuko with a barely restrained anger.
Kikuko didn’t take the hint. “What did you run away for? All I did was tell the truth.”
“Please stop,” Emi whispered.
Sachiyo held up a supplicating hand to Kikuko. “I think you should take it easy, Kiki.”
Kikuko scoffed. “Why is everyone getting upset? We’ve always acknowledged men are perverts before. Why is Emi suddenly afraid of the truth?”
“It’s not the truth,” Emi said. “I won’t believe it.”
“What is the problem?” Kikuko asked. “The sooner she learns that men will only hurt her, the…” She never got the rest out, because at that moment Emi lashed out and slapped her across the face.
“Stop talking about Toshio that way!” she screamed and ran off again.
Sachiyo called after her. Motoko stood in place, looking between Emi’s retreating back and Kikuko’s stunned face. Together, with Sachiyo she took Kikuko to the nurse’s office to get the bruise examined. As they waited outside, Motoko felt troubled. As much as the three girls were her friends, she realised that she didn’t know much about them. She’d accepted their adulation with a quiet reluctance, but had never sought to know them better, but now her concern would not let her ignore the situation.
“Sachiyo, you know both Kikuko and Emi better than I. Do you know what that was about?”
Sachiyo nodded. “This happens sometimes.”
Uncertain how to proceed, Motoko asked the only thing she could think of. “Who is Toshio?”
“Emi’s brother,” Sachiyo replied. “She idolises him. I think it bothers her when Kikuko goes on her rants.”
“She does seem a bit…” Motoko searched for the right word. “Insistent. Why is that?”
Sachiyo gave Motoko an uncomfortable grimace. “I don’t know if it’s my story to tell. But I do know that when Kikuko starts saying that all men are scum, Emi gets upset because of how much she loves her brother.”
That was a fair point. “But Emi is as bothered by men as you or I,” Motoko said, trying to dissect where the divide lay. It was the first time she had ever had cause to examine her suspicion or that of others.
Sachiyo hopped from one foot to the other, trying to find the right words. “She’s bothered by guys who act like creeps or idiots around her, but she doesn’t hate men. Especially Toshio. It’s the same for me. I love my Dad more than anything and I may fight with my brother, but I don’t hate him.” She bit her lip and looked at Motoko to see if this was making sense. It was plain that she was unused to having to explain herself so directly. “I mean, there must be men in your life that you care about. Who you don’t think are out to get you.”
The only men who had been in Motoko’s life with any regularity were her father and Shinosuke. Just the name made her heart beat faster.
“Yes, there are. You think it’s different for Kikuko?”
At this Sachiyo laughed: a bitter sound. “I know it is.”
Before Motoko could ask her what she meant, the bell rang. The two girls promised to speak later and parted ways. When Motoko finished school, none of the other girls were waiting for her at the gate. She decided that it was for the best, considering the events of the day. All the way home, she wondered about the situation. If she had paid more attention to the other girls, could she have stopped this fight? Why did Kikuko act the way she did? The girl’s words forced Motoko to take a good look at her own thoughts. In her time, she had encountered men who had treated women badly, today included; and no matter how she looked at the situation, she was certain that she was right that it was inappropriate for a man to be in a position of authority while living with impressionable young girls. But Shinosuke wasn’t a bad man, and Urashima had acted well on the train. His words did him credit. She shook her head as she walked up the steps to Hinata House. It was all so confusing. She decided that she would train on the roof. That would clear her head.
On the way to the stairs, she ran into Urashima as he emerged from the kitchen towelling off his hands.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “Did everything go all right at school?”
“Yes, Urashima.” Then she thought better of the brusque response and added, “Thank you for asking. Urashima?”
“Yes?” Keitaro looked at her in surprise. This was the first time he could recall Motoko asking him about anything.
Motoko took a deep breath. Even when it was necessary, talking like this was difficult for her. “I did not say so earlier because I was preoccupied with what happened, but,” she looked around to make sure no one could hear, “you acted in a most befitting manner this morning Urashima. You have my thanks.”
“No problem,” he said, feeling like hell had just frozen over.
Not wanting to draw the situation out, she took her leave and went upstairs to her room to change. When she arrived, she saw the corner of one of her pages peaking out through the drawer of her desk. She removed the papers from her desk and read what she had written that morning. She still didn’t like them. They were getting awfully bloody. If Sakura kept up her pace, there would be nothing left of the House of Shimano in a few pages. The urge pulled at her and she decided to sit down and pull out her pen. Training could wait a few minutes, and these revisions wouldn’t take long.
He stared up at her with eyes of stone; neither asking mercy nor expecting it. “Shall we get on with it, then?” he asked.
She sheathed her blade. “No. I do not kill men such as you. Now tell me where Lady No and Matsuo are.”
He gave her a wry smile. “You know, you forfeit your advantage when you make it clear you’re not going to kill me. Besides, I owe Lady No and her gold a little more loyalty than that.”
She growled. “If you will not tell me, then I will leave. I made it this far on my own and I will find him the same way.” She left without another word. As she rode through the night, trying to plan her next move she became aware of another horse behind her. “Show yourself!” she ordered, coming about.
Kensuke held up his hands. “Tis only I.”
“Have you come for a rematch?” she asked, reaching for her sword hilt.
He gave her that same maddening smile. “No.”
“Then why are you here? I have no time for games.”
“I just thought I might follow you a bit,” he said.
“Why, to report my movements to Lady No?”
He laughed. “Of course not. She has far less skilled underlings already doing that.”
“Then why would you follow me?”
“Because it amuses me,” he said with a shrug. “I’m wondering how far you’ll go.”
“Doesn’t this put you in conflict with your loyalty to you employer?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he said with a wave of his hand. “The terms of my agreement were that I make sure that you don’t interfere with Lady No’s wedding plans. I can do that any old time. The way I see it, gallivanting around the countryside with you is much more entertaining that sitting around some stuffy castle waiting to collect my fee.”
“And if I refuse?” She placed her hand on the sword hilt once more.
He reached into his pocket. “Well before you decide that, you might want to DUCK!”
She ducked in the saddle and heard a whistling pass over her head. Then there was a groan from behind her. She turned to see a man fall from the trees and onto the road, a long steel dart sticking in his neck.
“Lady No’s?” she asked as Kensuke dismounted and walked over to retrieve his weapon.
He shook his head. “Just a passing thief I imagine. Now do you see? I have my uses.”
She considered. “What you say is true. If I let you come along, will you tell me where they’re hiding.”
He wagged a finger. “Mercenary/Client privilege, remember?”
She clenched her fists. “Am I on the right road at least?”
“What? And miss all the fun of watching you try to figure it out for yourself?”
Part of her wanted to run him through, but she knew that two eyes were better than one; and he had saved her life when he could have just let her die.
“Very well, but stay out of my way.”
Motoko put the cap back on her pen. There, that felt much better. Kensuke was a strange character. He almost infuriated her as much as he did Sakura, but she discovered that it was easier to write the story when her main character had someone to talk to.
She got up to change and leave for the roof.
For the first time since she had started writing, she found she was looking forward to finding out what happened next.
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