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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
It was a beautiful service. The mayor had spared no expense; only the best for the aide who had saved his administration. Asuka marvelled at the sunlit stained glass. For all their time together, Hideaki had never told her he’d been a Catholic. Asuka, ever the outsider, hung back as those more familiar with ritual took their places in the pews. The mayor was in the front row, holding hands with Hideaki’s mother whose eyes glistened with tears as she stared straight ahead at the elegant oak coffin which held centre stage before the altar. Asuka’s eyes shied away from the sight, begging not to see it, for it not to be so; but no amount of denial or wishes would change the fact that Hideaki was dead, never to leave that coffin again.
The priest, a young man with glasses and close cropped hair, approached the pulpit.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to honour the life of our fallen brother, Hideaki Kimura, and commend his spirit home.”
Then Asuka broke. The finality of the words forced out all that she’d been holding back in terrible gasping sobs. She heard nothing else of the service as she wept at the back of the church. It was only afterward, once all the others had begun to file out that she dared to approach the coffin. It had been bad enough not being able to look at it, but now they were alone she couldn’t take her eyes off it. It held her gaze all the way up the centre aisle until it was before her. As she came nearer, she decided it was appropriate for him: cool and elegant, with the best parts hidden beneath the surface.
“This isn’t right,” she said, cursing her warbling voice. “We should both be here together, and I should be wearing white. Isn’t that how this is supposed to go?” She swayed on her feet and almost braced herself against the coffin before springing back. She would not, could not touch him like this. “God, I wanted that for us so much.”
Then a door opened and she jumped.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” It was the priest. He stepped into the sanctuary from a side door. “I thought everyone had gone.” He stepped closer and she saw that his eyes were red. “May I help you with anything?”
She was so glad that he hadn’t asked if she was all right: the question all her coworkers had been wondering. No, she was not all right. How could anyone be, in her place?
“No, I was just saying goodbye.” Her breath hitched on the last word.
The priest nodded in understanding. “I saw you at the back, I think. Are you Asuka?” Off her look he added, “I knew most of Hideaki’s friends and family pretty well. He spoke of you.”
“Oh.” Part of her wanted to ask, but the rest was too terrified. So she settled for looking around. “I didn’t know that he…” She trailed off and gestured around the sanctuary.
“Ah, yes,” the priest said, understanding. “Since childhood. We grew up together actually.” He pointed to the back of the church. “We used to play hide and seek right back there. I take it you never discussed it.”
What was that old joke about the Japanese? Born Shinto, married Christian, and buried Buddhist.
“No, we never…I never…”
He smiled. “That’s all right. It’s not compulsory.” He gestured to a pew and they sat down together. “Would you like to know what he said?”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’m not sure. Things were always up in the air with us.” She shook her head. “How do you do it?” She gestured, “Stand in front of all those people when it’s your friend lying there?”
Instead of answering, he removed his glasses, polished them, and put them back on. “He was my friend since the crib. If I had taken an interest in current events and he had possessed my interest in theology, then it might have been him standing over my coffin now. We can never know where life will take us. We can only try to make the right choices. What I know for certain is that he was a good man in a bad situation. He was kind and faithful to me. He did a job that can destroy kindness and faith, and I know that he struggled with that everyday. But in the end, it was these God given qualities that led him to you. And they were why he did the right thing even though he knew he wouldn’t survive it. Whether you believe in God or not, I’d say a man like that deserves remembering.”
Her tears overwhelmed her, and when he opened his arms to her, she fell into them, murmuring thanks over and over. She felt something wet touch her forehead, and realised that he was crying too. So they held each other, two strangers united in grief, until their tears were dry. Later, as they left the church together, Asuka turned to look at the coffin one last time.
“Goodbye Hideaki. I promise I’ll remember you for the rest of my life.”
Motoko’s eyes stung as she dropped the book. It was all wrong. It couldn’t end this way. Hideaki couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be. Motoko leapt her feet and stalked around the room. It wasn’t fair, she fumed, it wasn’t right after all that build up to just kill him off. She wanted to scream, to take her katana and carve the book into little pieces. What the hell kind of ending was that?
Motoko was startled from her mounting rage by a knocking at her door.
“Motoko?” Kitsune called. “Are you okay in there?” Not waiting for a reply, she slid open the door and peered inside. “Are you okay? I thought I heard…” She trailed off as she caught sight of the book at Motoko’s feet.
Motoko scooped up the book like a flash. “A…A friend loaned it to me.”
Kitsune nodded. “Did you enjoy it?” she asked, grinning as Motoko began to fidget.
“Well…I…”
Kitsune decided to put her out of her misery. “If it’s that embarrassing I won’t tell anyone; but honestly, you can’t be the first Aoyama to read a romance.”
Motoko blushed and turned away. “It was…good.”
Kitsune placed a hand on her shoulder. “You know,” she said, taking the book from Motoko, “I have the rest of the author’s books, if you’re interested.”
There were more? Motoko couldn’t fight the gleam in her eye. “Really?” She coughed. “Really?” she asked again, trying to sound nonchalant.
Kitsune took Motoko into the hall.
“When will you receive your exam results?” Motoko asked as they descended the stairs.
“Day after tomorrow, I think.”
“How do you think it went?”
Kitsune thought back to the exam hall. Her nerves had been taut the whole time. She was sure that all the security measures they’d taken were there as much to frighten students as they were to prevent fraud. It had gotten a little better when she opened the book and realised that she actually recognised the questions.
“I don’t know,” she replied as they rounded the corner. “It was all a gamble to begin with. Would be nice, though.”
Motoko, uncertain as she always was around Kitsune, said, “Well, I hope you do well.”
Once they reached Kitsune’s room, the fox girl strode to her bookshelf and, without having to look, plucked a paperback from the top shelf. “If you liked that one, this one should be good too.”
Motoko examined the cover of the book, Naoko Katsuragi’s Love Under the Gun. A woman in a blue police uniform held her gun at the ready as she prepared to round a corner.
“It doesn’t…”
“What was that?” Kitsune asked.
Motoko cleared her throat. “It doesn’t end like the other one, does it?”
Kitsune blinked and glanced down at the copy of Evening’s Promise in her hand. “You didn’t like it?”
Motoko bit her lip, unaccustomed to having such conversations with anyone, much less Kitsune. “It was very…sad,” she said for lack of a better word.
Kitsune smiled a strange smile. “Sometimes, endings are like that. Still” – she pointed to the book in Motoko’s hand – “give that one a try.”
Motoko nodded. “Thank you, Kitsune. Good luck with your exam.”
As Motoko disappeared down the hallway, Kitsune glanced down at the book Motoko had forgotten.
“Sorry, Asuka,” she said. “It broke my heart to do it.”
What would Motoko say if she knew the truth, she wondered. An imp of mischief seized her, and she went to her desk for a pen. She opened up the book to the first page and wrote in elegant script, ‘To my favourite neighbour and fan. Love, Naoko Katsuragi’. She went back to return the book humming a happy tune as her thoughts turned to her latest manuscript.
I hope you like that one too, Motoko, she thought.
Haruka looked up from the piece of paper in her hand up to the man who had given it. “And just why would you want to work here?”
Shirai scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m a hard worker and now that I’ve gotten in to university, I was hoping to make a little money before the school year starts, maybe do some part time work while I study.”
She noted the address at the top of his resume: clear across town.
“You’re the one Motoko had to apologise to, right? The one she launched across the street.”
Shirai flinched at the memory and ran a protective hand over his new jacket. “Yes, that was me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “So, I’ll ask again: why here?”
Shirai looked at his shoes. “Sorry to waste your time,” he said, turning on his heel.
Haruka held up a hand. “Wait. Can you make tea?” she asked when he turned back.
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms. “We’ve got high standards in this teahouse.” She ushered him into the kitchen. “Show me.”
Later, she was poring over a newspaper when Motoko walked in. It occurred to her that Shirai and Motoko might be like gas and a flame if they saw one another, but Motoko had given her word there would be no more troublemaking in her teahouse; and if there was one thing Haruka trusted it was the word of Motoko Aoyama.
“Ah, Motoko, you’re just in time.”
“Time for what?” Motoko asked, taking a seat next to her at the bar.
“Prospective employee trying his hand at tea.” Haruka leaned close. “I could use that exquisite palate of yours.”
Motoko smiled at the compliment. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Nonsense.” Haruka turned her attention to the kitchen. “How’s it coming in there?”
“It’s steeping,” Shirai replied, sticking his head out. “There’s still a few seconds left.” He caught sight of Motoko and gripped the doorframe so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Him?” Motoko looked at Haruka in disbelief.
There was no violence in her expression, but Haruka – ever a believer that an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure – stepped in to make sure that both went to neutral corners before a fight could begin; and directed Motoko to a window seat, giving her a lovely view of the front footpath, and leaving Shirai out of sight.
“Your usual?”
Motoko nodded. “Make sure that…that he does not do anything to it.”
Haruka rolled her eyes as she headed towards the back of the house. As she stepped through the doorway, Shirai was pouring her tea, the spout of the pot rattled against the cup in his shaking hands.
“Now do you want to quit?” Haruka asked.
He stood up to his full height, which wasn’t much, and shook his head.
“Do you know how to make a matcha?” she asked.
When he shook his head, she directed him to the cupboard told him which bag to grab as she retrieved the bowl and whisk she kept near the water heater.
“She always orders the same thing,” Haruka explained as she measured out the powdered tea. “She’s got a very exacting palate. If you can make it her way, she may just forget about your history. So, watch and learn.”
Shirai watched closely as she poured in the water and whisked the tea until the liquid was a uniform green, free of clumps with no powder remaining on the side of the bowl. She handed it to him.
“But you made it.”
“For the sake of peace, I’m giving you this one for free, but you’ll have to make it to her standards from this point forward.”
Then, remembering that she hadn’t completed his test, she picked up the cup he had prepared and took a sip. She gave an appreciative hum. The water was the right temperature and he had gotten to the tea just before it started steeping too long. Anyone could get lucky the first time, but still…
“Okay, you’ll do for now; but we run a tight ship here. If I don’t like what I see, then you can get your part time work at McDonalds.”
He failed to conceal a smile as he turned on his heel and carried the matcha to Motoko’s table. Haruka watched from the doorway as his happiness carried him across the room and gave him strength to lay the cup before Motoko without hesitation. Motoko took up the cup as if it were a troubling lab specimen and brought it to her lips with great caution. As she sipped, her expression remained constant. The only betrayal of enjoyment was her failing to slam the cup down and berate him for his failure. Instead she set the cup down, gave him a regarding look, and returned to her notebook.
“Just put your head between your knees,” Naru told Kitsune, settling into a seat.
Kitsune, a shell of her usual self, complied and tried to calm her breathing. “I…I didn’t think it would matter this much to me.”
Keitaro winced from where he stood. He’d felt the same way the first time he’d taken the train to check his exam results. The waiting had beaten down on him like a baseball bat until his racing heart had begun to ache in his chest. He’d had to convince several people on the ride over that he wasn’t having a heart attack. Now, three tries in, he felt almost resigned to whatever his fate might be. He had done his best, and that was all anyone could do. Only the thought of how long is promised girl had been waiting caused him to feel guilty. That, and how to explain her to Naru and Kitsune, or them to her.
After the exam, his courage – spent entirely on keeping him upright through the test – had deserted him, and he had been unable to keep his promise to himself and explain the whole thing to the girls. Once the first day had passed, it became easier to put off the confession, especially since the girls’ latest stage of competition seemed to involve alternating days. Yesterday, Naru invited him out for lunch, and they had gone to her favourite noodle house in town. It had started off friendly – and the more they talked, the more they seemed to have in common. It was nice to keep building a relationship based on more than sex. Of course, sex had still come up.
Once the bill had arrived, and as he reached over to pay it, she had taken his hand and placed it on her bare thigh where her stockings ended, whispering that the afternoon didn’t have to end there. Neither of them had had money for a love hotel, so they had gone to the same karaoke place that they had gone to that first week. She’d had his belt off the moment the door shut, and, pushing the crotch of her panties out of the way, wrapped her leg around his hips as they fucked up against the wall. Keitaro had felt the same forbidden thrill he’d had the first time as he thrust into her and she moaned into his mouth. Between that and that time in the park with Kitsune, he feared he was developing an exhibitionist side.
If he was, that would have suited Kitsune just fine. The evening before his date with Naru, Kitsune had asked him to join her on a walk after dinner. He’d joined her out back and they’d ventured into the woods out back, enjoying the lingering evening sunlight that heralded the coming of Spring. He’d been semi-hard for most of their conversation, since she’d slid her hand into his back pants pocket the moment they’d gotten out of sight and busied herself with caressing and mapping the contours of his ass. Not even giving him the chance to protest, she’d grabbed his nearest hand and put firmly on her own rear, giving it a reassuring pat before talking to him as if nothing strange was going on. Fifteen minutes later, she was draped around him, asking him what his naughtiest fantasy was. After much prompting, he’d admitted wanting to see what it would be like to do it in the hot spring.
Kitsune asked if the woods were settling too much, he’d said no, and then it was hard to say who had initiated their kiss. Then, she’d lain back against a tree, her dress hiked up to her waist, and clutched him to her, wailing into his shoulder until they were both spent.
Now that it was in the open, at least between the three of them, the girls seemed to have decided to indulge their libidos in full. In addition to exhausted, the whole thing left Keitaro as confused as ever about what to do. There was no way he could decide to date one girl exclusively without hurting the other, and near as he could see, no way he could confess about his promise girl without hurting them both. God, why was he so pathetic? If he were a real man, he’d lay down the law and be with whoever he wanted to be with; but still the fact that neither girl had thrown down the gauntlet and said ‘you’re with me only or not at all’ made it easier to follow the path of least resistance, no matter how certain he was that it would soon blow up in his face.
Still, the path of least resistance had its advantages. His relationship was advancing fast with both girls, and he was learning that both girls had hidden facets, both in the bedroom and out. Before this last week, he’d had no idea that Kitsune loved dancing. Five days ago, it had been Kitsune’s night to do the dishes, and he’d stumbled upon her in the kitchen with the radio on. Swaying seductively to something with a Latin beat. The domesticity of her apron and yellow gloves and the wiggle of her hips had awoken the animal in him, and it was only knowledge that Motoko was seconds away that kept him from kissing her neck. So he’d settled for a polite conversation and emerged with Kitsune’s promise that they’d go dancing soon. Above his protests, of course – he had no illusion about his ability to dance – but she had insisted.
Naru was no less intriguing. It wasn’t until studying was no longer an issue that it became apparent just how many hobbies she had had before she’d devoted herself to exam prep full time. Bowling, singing, ping pong, Naru was fanatical about them all, and it showed. Woe betide him if ever he suggested they do something remotely competitive during their dates, because she’d smoked him every time up to now. Not that he was surprised. Given her devotion to her studies, it was only natural that it would translate into other areas.
The train came to a stop, and Naru and Keitaro crowded around Kitsune to keep from being separated as people shuffled about them.
“Keitaro? Hey, Keitaro!”
At the sound of his name, Keitaro turned to see Haitani wave as he boarded the train. He looked the trio before him and smiled. “You here to check your exam results too?” He peered past Keitaro’s knee and caught sight of Kitsune. “Jesus, is she okay?” When Keitaro explained, he laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I felt the same way the first time. It’ll pass once you get off the train.”
Kitsune gave him a weak smile. She liked Haitani, from the times Keitaro had invited him over. His sense of humour jived with hers and they liked a lot of the same things. It also helped that they were both hoping to get into the same college. She wasn’t a big fan of his long hair, but he was in good shape; and his devil may care attitude struck a chord with her free spirit. He had her respect because, after he’d given up on his cheesy pick up lines, he’d proven to be a real human being underneath all the ridiculous faux charm. Also, he forced himself to look her in the eye even when he was blushing like a mad man at her svelte figure; even when she was using that svelte figure to make him blush – of course, that was only when Keitaro was out of sight.
“Here we are,” he said as the intercom announced their stop. He extended his hand and Kitsune took it. She mumbled something about seeing the others later and the pair ventured out onto the platform.
On the train, Keitaro blinked. This was the first time since meeting her that Kitsune hadn’t parted company with a suggestive one-liner or a smirk. It would have been refreshing if she hadn’t looked so sick.
It proved simple to locate the results board at Tokyo U. All it took was following the crowd of young people wearing expressions of fear and resolve until they reached the main concourse. The air seemed almost saturated by tension as students from all over Japan searched – many in vain – for their numbers, proof that they had been judged worthy. As the boards came in sight, Keitaro and Naru reached for each other’s hands and held on tight. They shouldered their way through the crowds until, at last, they could see the numbers clearly.
Without releasing each other’s hands, they turned in search of their numbers. He checked the slip of paper despite knowing the number by heart. 110346, his eyes flicked across the board as he sought out the 11000 portion of the board. 110300, 110321, 110325; Keitaro’s mouth grew dry; 110333, 110340; his body tingled with nervous sweat, almost there; 110343, 110345…110346! A white joyful light filled Keitaro’s heart and exploded into every part of him until he wanted to sing. He had made it! Finally, at long last, he had made it!
He heard a squeak beside him and turned slowly. Naru had clapped her free hand over her mouth. Tears were welling in her eyes. Fear and trepidation washed the joy from him.
“What?” he demanded.
She turned to him with her mouth still covered until their eyes met and she dropped the hand away revealing a luminescent smile.
“I got in…”
She leapt at him, and he seized her by the shoulders. He spun her around as they kissed until she broke it, laughing for the sheer joy of being alive.
“What should we do now?” he asked, as he lowered her to her feet.
Naru gave him a look that made him feel like a sundae about to be devoured. Before they could seek out a secluded enough place, however, a young woman in front of them swooned. Keitaro lunged to catch her as she fell back.
“Easy now.” He lowered the girl to the ground, and shared a nervous look at Naru.
Naru pointed. “Look.”
Keitaro turned to see the pretty brunette’s lips curl upward in a weak smile. “I got in,” she said before fainting dead away.
Haitani saw Kitsune stumble out of the ladies room, her head a little higher than it had been going in. He fell in step beside her and guided her to a nearby bench.
“Here,” he said, handing her a bottle and can, “Mouthwash and ginger ale.” Kitsune accepted both with a grunt and he sat down. “You know, most people usually get sick before they find out that they got into college, not after.”
Kitsune looked to see that no one was looking before spitting the mouthwash onto the grass. “Shut up…” She took a swig of ginger ale. “What are you giggling about?”
Haitani bit his cheek. “It’s just that it’s finally over. I feel like I could jump over Mount Fuji.” They sat there for a while, then he turned and asked, “Do you want to get a dri…”
“Hmm…?”
“Something to eat,” he amended. “My treat.”
In the face of a free meal, nothing could stop Kitsune, not even nerves or nausea. “If you insist,” she said, giving him a million dollar grin.
They ate lunch at a sushi bar and talked about what came most naturally for people who had just gotten into university: hopes and aspirations. Haitani was studying finance, and hoped to join his uncle working for the Bank of Tokyo.
“And you?” he asked.
“I’m studying literature to help with my writing.”
“Oh you want to become a writer?”
She gave him a conspiratorial glance. “Can you keep a secret?” Off his nod, she leaned in. “I’m already a writer. A real one. I’ve got five books out already.”
“Really?” Haitani whistled. “What books? Anything I’ve heard of?”
She smirked. “Only if your taste extends to books with sentences like ‘She quivered in ecstasy as he lapped at her moistening folds’.”
Haitani coughed, developing renewed interest in his sashimi. Kitsune giggled.
“So,” he said after a long silence, “if you’re already established, why go back to school?”
Kitsune’s expression turned sombre, a reflection of the many nights she’d spent pondering that very question. “Because I want to be better.” She leaned forward to look him in the eye. “I’ve got a good thing going with these books. Naoko Katsuragi pays my rent and then some, but I want more.”
“More?”
“Ever since I was little, I’ve always felt like I have a great story welling up inside me, just waiting for the right time to come out. I’ve always written erotica and romance because that’s what I was good at, but I want to write something that people will talk about, that their grandkids will talk about.” She giggled. “Want to hear my real dream?”
“Sure.”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“I’d never laugh.”
“All right. I want to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. After I win the Akutagawa Prize of course.”
“Oh, of course.” Haitani gave an ironic nod. “You don’t aim low, do you? Can I change my answer?”
Kitsune sipped her milk tea. “Why?”
“Because you just declared your intent to seek the highest book awards ever after I told you that my highest aspiration is to become senior manager of a bank branch.”
“Okay, what would your answer be then?”
Haitani thought for a while. “I want to want to run for office.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I want to run for the House of Representatives.”
“Why?” Kitsune had always been cynical about politicians and politics in general. Few people she knew kept up with current events or talked about them anyway. So this was the first time anyone had expressed wanting to run for office with a straight face.
“How many people do you know have had a hard time getting work? Real work, I mean?”
“Quite a few. Times are tough.”
“I know. I want to change that. I’ve struggled just to hold onto the work I could find. So have my friends. I want to make sure that others don’t have to do the same thing. Everybody deserves a decent job. A job that matters.”
His voice rang with a conviction she had never seen. The stumbling lounge lizard peeled away ever so slightly to reveal something that almost passed for charisma. If he cleaned up a little, he might actually have a chance at catching some people’s attention.
“Very noble.” It was all she could think to say.
He shrugged and returned to his sushi, the moment over. After they finished eating, Kitsune decided that she was feeling well enough for the drink he had almost proposed and they moved the celebration to a nearby pub. Haitani proved to be a more willing drinking partner than Keitaro, and a few beers later, as their smiles turned crooked and their eyes speculative, Kitsune began to think about where the day was heading. If she even hinted at interest, she knew he’d be all over her; and the idea had begun to appeal. He was a nice guy underneath the horny exterior and with the right prompting he might even be a good lover.
Haitani drained the last of his mug and traced his finger through the precipitation on the glass. “So tell me about those books you wrote. You know, the Naoko Katsuragi books.” He listened attentively as she described the plot of Evening’s Promise, and asked where she got her inspiration from.
She shrugged, “Stuff I see or hear about. Stuff that happens to me. All over really.”
“Including…” He paused. “Including the parts that go, ‘She quivered in ecstasy as he lapped at her moistening folds’?”
“Good memory.” She leaned over to press her chest against the table. “What do you think?”
He swallowed. “I think I’d love it if you read it aloud.”
“That’s easy,” she said, getting up to slide into the other side of the booth with him. “I know it all by heart.” She leaned in to whisper, “She slid over until they were flush against one another, their clothes close enough to be a second skin. So close, she was sure that he could feel her heart beating as it roared through her ears. She brought her lips to his and shut her eyes, imagining what they would do later. Her tongue would trace and memorise the curve of his cock as his fingers delved deep inside her dripping womanhood. He would howl her name in awe as she rode him, savagely driving her hips against his, taking her pleasure until the last of his energy drained away. He would die many little deaths until nothing remained in him; not a thought; not a word; nothing except her name, spoken with reverence and lust for the rest of his life.”
Then she got up and slid back into her seat. She sipped at her beer as Haitani stared at her.
“So what did you think of my reading?” she asked, with studied nonchalance.
“Reading?” Haitani was gasping like a fish out of water. “You…Are such a tease!”
Kitsune put on a scandalised look. “Me?”
“Yes, you. And if I weren’t such a gentleman, I’d…”
“Ooh, do tell.”
“I’d like to put you over my knee and spank you.”
Kitsune gave a pleased hum. “Have I been a naughty girl? Maybe you’d like me to make it up to you?” she asked, running her foot up his leg.
Haitani licked his lips. There was passion in his eyes, but fear too, as if he expected it all to be a dream or a trick. “I’d love that,” he said, clearly doing battle with himself. “But only if you want.”
His passivity made her quiver as she nudged his knees apart and brought her bare foot to rest on his crotch. “Oh, I want.”
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