Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

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
- 24
- 25
- 26
At first time seemed to stand still as Naru and Keitaro stared down at the girl who had fainted right in front of her. The sheer unreality of the situation ground their minds to a halt until they looked at each other. The eye contact was enough to snap Naru out of her stupor.
“Someone call an ambulance!”
“No…” The word was so soft that it almost went unheard. The girl held up an entreating hand. “I’m all right.”
“You’re not all right,” Naru said, coming to the girl’s side. “You’ve fainted.”
“Could you help me up?” the girl asked them, ignoring Naru’s protests as she struggled to sit up.
Despite extreme misgivings, Naru and Keitaro braced the girl and carried her to a nearby bench. As they moved together, the girl began to explain. Her voice was breathy, high, and lilting, giving it a wondering quality and the listener the sense that she was speaking from far away.
“I’ve always had bad health. Anemia. I guess when I saw my number, I got a little overexcited.”
The girl’s blasé attitude rankled Naru. “You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head. What if no one had been nearby?”
“Easy,” Keitaro said as they lowered her onto the bench. “She’s not hurt now, and that’s what counts, right?”
The girl gave him a woozy smile. “Na Na’s always been a worrywart, haven’t you, Na Na?” Her head lolled back as she fainted again.
“Is she all right? Check her pulse.”
Keitaro felt around the girl’s wrist, trying to recall what he’d learned in health class. He checked hers and just to be sure he checked his own. “Seems okay,” he said, knowing that it was guesswork at best. “Why did she call you Na Na?”
Naru looked at the girl. There was something about her, something that scratched at the back of her mind, like the beginning of a song heard years ago, or the face of a person met once on the bus. “I don’t know.”
They sat with the mysterious girl until she came back to the land of the living. When her eyes fluttered open, she actually stretched and yawned.
“That was a good nap.”
Naru clenched her fists. “Nap? You fainted again!”
“Oh?” the girl gave them both a quizzical glance. “Did I?”
Naru gnashed her teeth. Keitaro snorted into his fist. The girl was as impervious to reality as Su.
“Yes, and then you called me Na Na.”
The girl blinked. “Of course I called you Na Na. Why would I ever call you anything else?”
The certainty threw both Naru and Keitaro off.
“Do we know each other?”
“Of course we do.” She was alert now; her voice, still breathy, resonated with a chipper certainty. She giggled. “It’s been so long Na Na. No wonder you don’t remember.” She turned to Keitaro, and, as if the previous conversation had never happened, said, “You’re cute. Are you eighteen yet?”
Something tells me that this is going to be a long day, Keitaro thought.
“I’m over twenty! I just got into Tokyo U.”
She smiled a lopsided smile. “That’s so nice. Isn’t that nice Na Na? Is he your boyfriend?”
“Yes.” Naru looped a possessive arm around Keitaro’s elbow. “Now how do you know me?”
“Hey, do you remember that Liddo doll we used to play with?”
Keitaro blinked. “Liddo? Hey Naru, isn’t that that doll you’ve got up in your room? Naru?”
But Naru was beyond a response. Thoughts coalesced together like tumblers in a lock until at last the door sprang open and her mind travelled all the way back to Hinata, back to her room where her doll lay and she could see what was written on the underside.
“Sumi?”
The girl’s face was split by a grin. “You remember.”
“Oh, Sumi!” Naru sank onto the bench and seized the girl by the shoulders. “Sumi, is it really you?”
Keitaro watched in shock as girls who he had thought of as strangers hugged, and laughed, and exchanged smiles.
Naru held the girl tight. “I missed you so much. I was so sad when we had to leave. We tried sending letters, but they sent them back telling us that you had moved away.”
Keitaro cleared throat, feeling like a third wheel.
Naru turned to him. “Keitaro, this is…” – she gave the girl a chagrined look – “I’m sorry. It’s been so long. I only remember you as Sumi.”
“It’s all right.” The girl bowed to Keitaro. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Mutsumi Otohime. Na Na and I used to play together as children.”
“Yes,” Naru added. “I used to get terrible asthma, so my family thought living in the country would help. They took me to an inn and…Wait a minute.” She turned. “Sumi, do you remember the name of the inn?”
“Of course I do. It was the Hinata Inn just outside Toyko. My mother used to work there.” She looked at her companions shocked expressions. “What?”
“My grandmother owned that inn. I used to visit there all the time.” Keitaro scratched his head. “How come I don’t remember you if your family worked there?”
Mutsumi cocked her head. “Your grandmother was Hina?”
“Yes.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Then you can only be Kei Kei!” Keitaro yelped as she snatched his glasses off his face and leaned in to scrutinise him. “It is you, Kei Kei! I didn’t recognise you with your glasses.”
Naru looked between them both. “Kei Kei? Keitaro, how does…?”
Mutsumi swatted Naru on the arm. “Oh, Na Na, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Kei Kei. You used to follow him around like a puppy. Don’t you remember, there was a boy that we always played with? He was the boy we both made a promise with.”
At the word ‘promise’, Keitaro felt an electric jolt. On the other side, Naru was staring hard at him as if she’d never seen him before.
“What promise?” He had to be sure.
For the first time, Mutsumi looked stricken. “You don’t remember the promise? How can you not remember when you’re here? We all promised that we’d get here and live happily ever after.”
“To Tokyo U?” Naru’s brow furrowed. “When did we…Keitaro, what’s wrong? You look so pale.”
“It’s nothing,” the ashen-faced Keitaro replied. He staggered forward to rest his hand on the bench. “Just need to lie down,” he said, and fainted dead away.
Motoko caught sight of her friends just as they left the station. She’d been hoping to arrive early and pass the time with some reading, but so be it. She waved Emi, Sachiyo, and Kikuko down. They looked so different out of their uniforms. All three were wearing sweaters to fight off the last lingering traces of winter before spring’s dominion was assured. Emi and Sachiyo wore black stockings and skirts, while Kikuko wore elegantly tapered pants. Ordinarily, Motoko would not have even noticed any of this, but today she felt out of place before her friends. Not plain, and yet…
Kikuko took the lead. “Ms. Motoko, we’re so glad you took time out of your weekend to have tea with us.” The others echoed the sentiment.
Motoko accepted this with a modest bow. “It is good to get together,” she said and meant it. “Shall we get going?”
They headed down the street together. Emi and Sachiyo darted back and forth, peering in shop windows, oohing and ahing at the glamorous outfits. Kikuko and Motoko hung back, Kikuko trying with great success to emulate her idol’s mature grace as they walked together with heads high, surveying everything with a cool eye.
“You should this,” Emi shouted.
Motoko turned her head. “Hmm?”
Emi pointed to a sleeveless sundress in the window. It was red with a white floral pattern. The fabric was fine and the shaping svelte, but all Motoko could see as she asked, “Me?” in an uncharacteristic squeak was the shortness of the skirt and how much cleavage the top showed.
“Of course you,” replied Sachiyo who saw a dress that was cute rather than daring. Not waiting for a reply, she and Emi charged ahead and held the door open.
Kikuko rolled her eyes. “Just humour them,” she said under her breath as she passed Motoko to step inside.
Abandoned on all sides, Motoko had no choice but to acquiesce for the sake of group harmony. As she stepped into the bright and cheerful chamber, she tried amid the blaring J-Pop to remember the last time she had worn anything other than her gi or her school uniform. These two outfits made up the bulk of her wardrobe with little variation on the theme. Motoko chose her clothes for functionality and until recently the idea of buying them for any other purpose seemed strange and frivolous. Oh well, might as well get it over with. With her entourage broadcasting encouraging stares, she approached a sales clerk.
Her tongue felt heavy as she said, “Excuse me.”
The girl, a few years older than Motoko, with jet black hair in a pixie cut, turned. “How may I help you?”
Motoko licked her lips. “There was something that I was hoping to try on.”
“Oh?” The girl’s eyes lit up. “What would that be?” When Motoko pointed, the girl looked Motoko up and down with a speculative eye. “Mmm…Yes…”
Motoko, who had faced down kendo champions, would-be harassers, and muggers with aplomb, shied away from the girl’s probing gaze.
The salesgirl snapped her fingers. “Yes, a good choice. Do you know your size?”
Motoko named her measurements and the girl led her to the fitting room. Motoko removed her gi and hakama and slipped on the dress.
“Pardon me, Miss,” she said, “Are you sure that this is the right size?”
“This is what you asked for,” the girl’s voice wafted over the change room door. “Is something wrong?”
“It is…” – Motoko tugged at the top – “a little loose.”
“Really? May I come in?”
Motoko let in the girl who diagnosed the problem on sight.
“Ah, perhaps if you removed your…” – she waved a vague finger at Motoko’s sarashi – “your whatchamacallits. This sort of dress wasn’t meant to be worn that way.”
“Oh.” Motoko gave her bindings an innocent look. “Would you help me remove them, then? Tying and untying is a slow process.”
The salesgirl was only too happy to help and unravelled the slips of fabric until they fell away.
Motoko covered her chest out of reflex, and the cold. “Is something wrong?” she asked. The salesgirl’s expression had turned strange.
“Nothing. Try the dress now.”
Motoko slipped the garment over her head. The looseness was gone. She turned to the mirror. It seemed to fit well, but she knew little of this sort of thing. She turned back to her assistant.
The girl cleared her throat. “Do you always wrap yourself that way?”
Motoko shrugged. “Of course, why?”
The girl’s expression chilled. “Your friends are waiting to see the result,” she said, and left muttering something about people not appreciating what the Gods had given them. When Motoko stepped outside the change room, her waiting entourage let out a squeal. Motoko took a defensive step back as all three girls stared at her wide-eyed.
“Is it all right?”
“All right?” Emi and Sachiyo lunged forward, seizing either arm. “You look so pretty!” Emi enthused.
Sachiyo nodded in agreement. “You have to buy it.”
Kikuko settled for a look of quiet admiration.
Do I really look that good? she wondered, turning to look at herself in the full length mirror. Between her training regimen and the nature of her condition, she’d had little use for something so overtly feminine. Even now, as she surveyed with ignorance the way the skirt drew attention to her long pale legs and gave tasteful accentuation to her figure and chest, there was a part of her that could only worry.
“You do not think that my” – she faltered – “that my muscles are too visible, do you?” She was proud of her strength, it was her very heart; but in an outfit like this, the muscles were all she could see.
“Of course not.” The other girls all shook their heads. Emi – as anxious to move on as she had been about the detour in the first place – suggested that Motoko wear the dress out and keep her clothes in a bag.
Motoko demurred. “I’ve no shoes to wear with it, and besides it’s too cold.” So she changed, paid for the dress, and they returned to the street. As they walked and decided where to go next, Motoko was pleased to note the lack of tension between Kikuko and the rest. The animosity of months gone by seemed to have faded. Still, since her unfinished talk with Sachiyo, Motoko had been keeping a closer eye on Kikuko.
Sachiyo had been right: Kikuko’s dislike of men seemed to run deeper than casual. At first, Motoko felt sympathetic. Her own condition made her wary of any prolonged contact with men. It was why she chose to live in a girls’ dorm and go to an all-girls school. In public, around men taking no overt notice of her and arousing none from her in return, the condition flared only on occasion and was made manageable by the medicinal tea – even if their ambient presence was like a needle scraping over her skin. Kikuko’s problem, she had soon realised, was different.
One time about a month ago, they had been stopped by a man from out of town looking to orient himself to his map. He had appealed to Kikuko first as the nearest to him, but she had ignored him save for a distasteful quirk of her mouth and left him for Emi and Sachiyo to sort out. There had been other incidents as well. A few weeks after that, they had been sitting in a restaurant that Emi had read about. The waiter had been a man and decided to turn on the charm in the name of a greater tip. He had seemed to take great delight in his little comments that made Emi giggle and Sachiyo fidget. Motoko, secure from her symptoms having taken her medicine before meeting her friends, had felt irritated by the attention; but she reminded herself that they were in public and gave him nothing more than polite but impersonal answers.
When he had turned to Kikuko, she fixed him with a glare so malevolent that he retreated the instant she was done growling her order. He made no other appearances save to deliver their food, and evaporated from sight until it came time to deliver the bill, which he had done by walking to the other side of the restaurant just so he could hand it to Emi without having to look at Kikuko. Motoko had felt so embarrassed by the incident that she had felt compelled to tell her friends she would catch up and then ventured to the back of the restaurant to bow and apologise to the poor man.
Major incidents like these were coupled with many smaller ones; things Motoko would never have noticed had she continued to keep her entourage at arms length: things like moving to place one of the others between her and men who were approaching, and refusing to speak to men unless absolutely necessary. Sachiyo had sworn that it had not always been like this, but, when asked why it was happening, would only say, “It’s not my story to tell.” Certainly, at school or when it was just the four of them, Kikuko seemed to be perfectly normal, a joy to be around, in fact. Men were the only common denominator. Before, Motoko would have thought that Kikuko’s wariness of men was the same as her own, but never had she been more wrong: she was merely distrustful of men; Kikuko hated them outright.
Just as they were deciding on where to go next, a gi and hakama caught Motoko’s eye from across the street. She looked up to see the man wearing it. It can’t be, she thought as she caught sight of his relaxed smile. What could he possibly be doing here? Without thinking, she ran into the street. Horns blared at her as she darted around cars, heedless of the calls of her friends. She leapt over the roof of a Honda sedan and landed square at the man’s feet.
She took a deep breath to calm her beating heart. “Shinosuke, what are you doing here?”
“Motoko?” Shinosuke Aoyama regarded his sister in law with naked surprise.
What had she been thinking? Just being near him made the symptoms worse. Her skin tingled as his shocked eyes raked over her.
“Is Sister with you?” she asked trying to distract herself from the way her body called out to him.
“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture, completely unlike him. “Actually, she doesn’t know I’m here.”
Motoko blinked, taking a step back in hopes that distance would calm her heart and the prickles on her skin. “What do you mean?”
Shinosuke laughed. “It’s difficult to explain, but basically, she thinks I’m fishing in Okinawa right now, and I’d prefer it if she weren’t disabused of that belief.”
Lies? Why? Suspicion and anger bubbled forth. “You have deceived her? How dare you? Have you come to betray her, then? With whom? Tell me that I may scratch her eyes out!” She had left her bokken at home, but no matter. If it came to defending her sister’s honour she had no need of a weapon, even in a street fight.
Shinosuke seized her by the shoulders. “Come with me,” he said, dragging her towards a nearby alley with more strength than she had known he possessed. Once they were out of sight he looked her, eyes burning with fury.
“Why have you betrayed Sister?” she demanded a second time. More invective bubbled up, but never saw daylight as he struck her across the face.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded as she clutched at her stinging cheek. “I know you despise me, but I thought at long last you knew me better than that. I love Tsuruko with all my heart, whether you believe it or not. We are joined by fate, and you know that better than anyone else. So stop mouthing off about what you can’t understand.”
He was leaning in so close with his eyes ablaze. Her symptoms and her own latent lust formed maelstrom within her that she fought to keep down. For one terrible moment, she wished she were the woman she had accused him of going to meet. She wondered what Asuka would do. Asuka would take what she wanted, and to hell with the consequences. But she wasn’t Asuka and she never would be. Life wasn’t some sort of storybook. There were no fairytale endings for girls who betrayed their sisters.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I accused you unfairly.”
He released his grip on her and leaned back, the distance allowing her enough equilibrium to force the symptoms under control.
I am sorry Sister, she thought. I am sorry Shinosuke. If only I had been old enough to do the ritual with you, things would have been so different.
“Ms. Motoko!”
Motoko turned at the sound of her name to see her friends standing at the entrance to the alley. Kikuko stood in front, looking ready to kill while the others stood behind her, looking frightened.
“Get away from her!” Kikuko ordered.
Shinosuke regarded the girl with the bemusement of a Rottweiler beset upon by a Cairn Terrier before turning to hold out an assuaging hand. “I’m sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding. I am Shinosuke Aoyama, Motoko’s brother in law. We were just getting caught up.” He looked at Motoko for confirmation.
Kikuko crossed her arms. “You were arguing.”
“It was nothing,” Motoko said with a studied shrug as she turned to keep her reddened cheek out of sight. “May I present my sister’s husband.” She introduced each girl in turn.
Kikuko remained stone-faced; but Sachiyo and Emi, in the face of a man with such chiselled features, forgot their customary irritation with boys, and looked up at him with coy expressions.
Motoko’s shame, which would haunt her for many nights, forced her to say what came next. “As apology for earlier, we would be honoured if you would join us for tea.”
Shinosuke’s lips formed a doubtful line as he looked from Motoko to Kikuko who looked ready for a fight.
Upon realising that the handsome man might be staying, Sachiyo and Emi forgot to be shy. “Please? It would be an honour to have tea with someone from Ms. Motoko’s family.”
Shinosuke looked past the two girls to see the sincerity in Motoko’s eyes. He sighed. It was the first friendly overture she had shown him in years.
“Lead the way,” he said, and they ventured forth in search of a new teahouse that Motoko had heard of from Haruka.
The table at the teahouse was round, but from Shinosuke’s perspective it seemed like he was on one end and all the other girls were on the other. Whatever initial shyness Emi and Sachiyo had possessed vanished utterly as they peppered him with questions about his life as an instructor and whether or not he was as strong as Motoko.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” he said, careful not to look Motoko’s way. “We’ve never faced each other so I can’t say. Certainly Tsuruko is a strong enough opponent for me.”
And that had never been truer. When he’d said it was difficult to explain why he’d come to Tokyo without telling his wife, it was because he couldn’t fathom a way of explaining to Motoko that he was hiding out because he was unable to keep up with her sister’s raging libido. He thought back to the worried look Tsuruko’s father had given him when her pregnancy had been announced. The look had confused him until the morning sickness period passed. Aoyama husbands always spoke about their wives’ sexual appetites with fearful and reverent tones, but it had never occurred to him that Tsuruko’s passion – already a daily and welcome companion – would increase tenfold once she was with child. At first he had been delighted. Who wouldn’t want a wife so demonstrative in her affection? Then the frequency increased until finally he was being woken up at three o’clock in the morning by his wife trying to suck him to hardness when they had made love only four hours prior (And that had been four hours after the previous time). So certain of his impending demise was he that he had gone to the trouble of making preparations for a trip to Okinawa – hotel, boat, and fishing gear all reserved – and then left for Tokyo just in case she decided to follow him. Even if she found out, smoothing out the hurt feelings would be worth it if it meant he could have his first night of uninterrupted sleep in two months.
“Tsuruko is the most implacable opponent I have ever faced,” he said.
Unaware, Motoko accepted the comment with a graceful nod. “My sister is a warrior of venerable skill.”
“I think Ms. Motoko must be stronger,” Kikuko said, her first words since confronting Shinosuke in the alley.
“Oh?” Shinosuke gave the girl a curious smile. “How so?”
Kikuko returned his smile with an implacable glare. “Because she is strong on her own.”
The atmosphere shifted. Motoko noted the nervousness of Emi and Sachiyo, but could think of nothing to say.
Shinosuke leaned his chin against his palm. “And Tsuruko is not strong on her own?”
“Ms. Motoko is unmarried, yet she is an accomplished warrior.”
Shinosuke’s smile remained in place, but the warmth began to flee from his eyes. “The implication being that Tsuruko is made weaker by having married?”
Others might have backpedalled, but not Kikuko. “Ms. Motoko has made it clear that she needs no man in her life. She is stronger alone.”
Shinosuke snorted. “No one is stronger alone.”
“Not true. Without a man’s support, Ms. Motoko has attained mastery of her art and of herself. She is a source of inspiration.”
To her horror, Motoko began to blush under the weight of Kikuko’s praise.
But Shinosuke just shook his head. “That’s strength? To be alone?”
Kikuko bristled at the challenge. “Self-sufficiency is something we all should strive for.”
“That’s not self-sufficiency. It’s a denial of what we are. There is a reason why we seek others out: companionship, love.” On the word ‘love’, Shinosuke seemed to hit his stride. “These form the very basis of our society. Without companionship what are we but self-interested monsters? Without love how could we ever show self-sacrifice, or kindness, or joy? We’re nothing without it.”
Kikuko’s voice was granite. “Love is weakness.”
“Nonsense!” He winced at his own outburst and flashed an apologetic look to the other girls. “Absolute nonsense,” he repeated. “Anyone can make themselves harder. In this cold world, there are any number of tragedies to make you harden your heart just so you don’t have to feel them. It is appallingly easy to refuse to feel, to not let anyone in, and say ‘I live only by and for myself’. The one with true courage is the one who embraces the possibility of pain and says ‘I will let people in. I will show who I truly am to them. I will bear their pain with them’. The truly strong person is the one who shows their love. They are the only people brave enough to do it.” His speech over, he came back to himself and, realising that he – a man in his late twenties – was arguing the validity of love with a teenager, said in a quiet voice, “Here endeth the lesson. Ah, this is fine tea, isn’t it?”
Motoko had never loved him so much as in this moment. Her heart had been in her throat for every word, and now that he finished she longed to spring across the table and bury her face in his chest. Love me, she thought. Love me. Please make love to me!
But Kikuko was not finished. “Love never gets you anything but pain. We’re better off without it.”
Shinosuke said nothing for a long time, but shook his head and gave her a look that was worse than anger, worse than hatred or disgust. It was sympathy. “I feel so sorry for you,” he said with heartrending sincerity. “You must be so lonely.” He rose from the table and bowed to the group. “Thank you for the tea and a pleasant afternoon.”
Motoko rose from her seat and offered to walk him out. As they left together, she chanced a look back and saw Emi and Sachiyo trying to talk to Kikuko who wasn’t saying anything. She had no idea what significance the remark held for Kikuko, but it was plain to see that Shinosuke’s words had struck home.
“Won’t your friends be upset?” Shinosuke asked, later as they walked to his hotel.
Motoko shook her head as they turned the corner. “It was getting late anyway.” After seeing Shinosuke to the door she had returned to her table to find Kikuko starting to leave. She would hear no pleas from Emi and Sachiyo to stay, but put on her jacket, dropped some coins on the table and left. With Kikuko gone, Motoko decided to say goodbye to the other girls, doubled back and caught up with Shinosuke. She worried about the coming damage control that might be necessary, but she could not fault Shinosuke for his stirring defence. Even now, she longed to wrap her arm around his and lean against his shoulder as a lover might; but she forced herself to keep in her place.
“I was surprised,” he said. “You’ve never wanted to spend any time with me before.” He gave her a wary look, as if preparing for an attack.
If only he knew.
Her reply was brisk. “You are a guest here. It is my duty to see to you as my sister’s husband.” It sounded cold even to her ears, and she added, “Also, your words earlier were…quite…” She couldn’t complete the thought.
“I meant every word of them,” he replied, looking ahead. “Your friend seems troubled.”
Motoko didn’t want to discuss others’ private affairs, but if anyone could be trusted it was him. “Yes, I see what you mean. She was not always this way. I do not know why.”
They said nothing for a while as Shinosuke led them back to his hotel by memory, and Motoko’s mind began to wander back to his words about love and courage. Were they true? Was the truly strong person the one who showed their love? Was that why she had felt so good defending Shinobu and Akkiko out of affection for them rather than the usual sense of duty? No, the feeling went deeper than that. She recalled a leap of joy within her when Naru and Kitsune asked for her help. She had been so happy just to be included for a change, even if it was just to act as muscle. Then afterwards – how they had laughed together – the sense of fulfillment had been so incredible. But then it was over. Naru, Kitsune and she had retreated to their neutral corners: women who shared a house, but not a life. And now they were all going to university. How much time would they spend away from the house now? Was she to be all alone inside the house as well as outside it?
“So the hotel is just around the corner, here. Motoko? Motoko, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up into his damned concerned eyes.
“You’re crying,” he said in disbelief.
“Am I?” She reached up to touch her cheek and felt the tears. The realisation destroyed any will to conceal, and she let out a sob.
“Hey, now.” He turned her to face him. “What’s wrong?”
She collapsed against a shop window. “I don’t know.” She clapped her hands over her face. “Oh, God, I don’t know.”
When she’d agreed to go back to Haitani’s place, it hadn’t occurred to Kitsune that they’d have to take the train to do it. Her heart was pounding with excitement as the nearly empty train shot over the tracks. This sucked. If only she’d had money for a hotel, she wouldn’t have to wait. Hell, if she’d known how far they’d have had to go, she’d have taken them to the nearest park. That would have been fun, she thought with a lusty giggle. That park had a shed by the lake where they kept rowboats. It didn’t win an A for comfort but it was better than getting dirty knees outside. Also, it was far enough away from the main drag that at night she could be as loud as she wanted.
Next to her Haitani alternated between looking out the window and casting boyish glances her way. It had been endearing at the start, but now she wished he were a little braver. She’d all but sat on the table, spread her legs, and said, “Fuck me”. Just because they were in public didn’t mean he couldn’t touch her. She huffed. The train was taking too long. He let out a startled squeak as she reached over to grab his hand and hitched up her skirt with the other. She hadn’t been expecting this when her day started, so her panties were ordinary white cotton.
“Go on,” she whispered in his ear even as she drove his hand lower. “Go ahead.”
Haitani’s eyes darted about the car. “People will see.”
“Not if we keep an eye out.” She sighed as she felt his hand through the cotton and ground herself against in, urging him on. “Come on. You’ve been dying for this all day, right?” She punctuated the question by sucking his earlobe.
His hand began small tentative movements on its own. His face was tense enough to look painful as he searched for any sign of discovery.
She whispered encouragement, “That’s right, lover, get it nice and wet. You know what I want? I want to feel your fingers fucking me right here on this train. I want you to make me come all over your hand, and then I want to lick it all off for you. Would you like that?”
Haitani emitted something between a whine and a growl as he slipped his hand under her waistband and felt around. His inexperienced fingers groped around her folds as he felt up a woman for the first time, without even the benefit of sight.
“That’s right.” She tried to direct him. “A little higher, feel that bump? Oh!” She muffled a moan into her sleeve as his middle finger pressed hard into her clit. “Yes, keep touching it.”
He obeyed, grinding his finger against the little bud. Kitsune clamped her lips together, her pleasure coming out in breathy squeaks through her nose. Her legs began to quiver as she looked around the car at all the people listening to walkmans, reading newspapers, without the slightest clue. Being one loud moan away from discovery made her even hotter, and she thrust against his fingers as one dipped inside her by accident.
“Fuck me.”
But then the train rolled into a station. The doors opened and he tried to pull his hand away. She clamped down on it with her thighs and grabbed his arm with both hands.
“Don’t you dare.”
“They’ll see.” He shrank back as people began filing onboard the train, almost looking ready to cut his hand off in the name of deniability.
“No, they won’t.” She turned sideways and leaned until she was almost flush against him, his hand out of view. She wrapped her arm around his and rested her head on his shoulder, looking for all the world to be asleep and using her boyfriend as a pillow. “Keep going and keep an eye out.”
When his hand wouldn’t move, she ground herself against him until he gave in. She hissed against his shoulder as he thrust two fingers inside her and his thumb made haphazard circles around her clit.
“Mmm, good. Make me come and you’ll get a reward,” she promised, giving his neck a lick.
Enthralled now, he redoubled his efforts, exploring her clenching walls with his fingers, searching for new pleasures to drive her over the edge. She cast a glance around the car, almost hoping someone could see her this way. She bit into her palm as his insistent fingers built up a fire within that grew and grew until he thrust as deep as he could and ground her clit with his palm. Kitsune keened into his shoulder as her pussy clenched around his fingers.
“Did I do good?” he asked, once she had stopped panting.
She shuddered as she looked up at him with glassy eyes. “So good.”
He looked around as he withdrew his hand and readjusted her sodden panties; not one person was looking at them. She pushed herself up, took his hand and brought it to her lips. Casting a cautious glance around the room, she stuck out her tongue licked her juices off his palm. He groaned in delight as she stuck each of his fingers in her mouth and licked them clean one by one.
“How was that, lover?”
Haitani looked at her with awe. After a long time his breath returned and his lips formed the word, “Wild.”
She gave him a feral smile. “Mmm, I like that. Do you like wild girls?”
Whatever Haitani might have said never came out as the loudspeaker announced his stop and he stood up.
Kitsune linked her arm with his as they made their way off the train and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Just wait till you get that reward.”
Motoko prayed to die, for an end to her shame as her tears marred her in front of the last person she’d allow to see her vulnerable. Vulnerability in front of Shinosuke was worse than death: it was exposure; everything she had ever tried to hide – from him, from Tsuruko, from everyone – coming to light. She took deep breaths, tried to swallow it and beat it down; but once the emotions sprang free and filled her with that cold sorrowful burning, they proved nearly impossible to put back.
Shinosuke put a hesitating and awkward hand on Motoko’s shoulder and led her through into his hotel, he cut a swift path to the elevator and soon they were in his room. “There now,” he said, “no one’s seen you. You’ll be all right.”
She shook her head. This was even worse. How was she supposed to keep her composure here of all places?
He sat her down on the bed. “Just stay here and take some deep breaths. Maybe some tea? They’ve some in here.”
Being in a hotel room alone with him was like a dream come true. Already the symptoms and every primal part of her howled and roared.
He switched on the electric kettle. “I can’t vouch for the quality of the tea, but beggars can’t be choosers. Are you all right?”
“Why are you being so kind to me?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
He blinked. “Pardon?”
She looked at her feet. “How can you be,” she went on, biting her lip, “when I have never shown you any reason to offer it?”
“Because we’re family,” he replied, as if it should be obvious.
Her heart lurched. Damn him for his kindness. She wanted to run, knew she ought to before what remained of her resistance died, but something rooted her to the spot.
“Do you remember the day we first met?” she asked at last.
He scratched his head. “The day we met? That day Tsuruko invited me to dinner at your parents’ estate?”
She shook her head. “No, it was before then. She had invited you over after you had both placed first in the Prefectural tournament.”
He snapped his fingers. “Right, the university kendo team. You seem to remember the day better than me.”
Indeed she did. Every moment was engraved in her memory from the moment he had appeared at the door. With his tall, muscular frame and piercing brown eyes, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen; was still, five years later.
“It is not surprising that you don’t remember,” she said. “With Sister at your side, how could you be expected to notice?”
“What does that mean?” he asked, switching off the kettle.
She could not look at him. “Nothing.”
He sighed and poured water into two cups. They sat for a long time, she on the bed and he in an armchair, neither speaking. He got up to check on the tea and handed her a mug.
“I know you’ve always disliked me,” he said, causing her heart to constrict further. “But I wish you’d tell what this is all about. Tsuruko would never forgive me if I left you in pain. Hell, I’d never forgive myself.”
“I could never dislike you.”
The words were too soft for him to hear. “Pardon?”
She tensed, knowing she ought to shut up, shut it away like always, but she was too exhausted to pretend anymore.
“I said I don’t dislike you.”
He looked at her as if she had gone mad. It was the only explanation his mind might accept in light of the years of cold shoulders, biting remarks, and snubbed invitations. “You have a funny way of showing it,” he said after a while.
Her heart was in her throat, her stomach a writhing pit of snakes. This was wrong, the worst thing she had ever thought of doing; but if she wasn’t honest now, she never would be. But what could she say? She knew no art for this; and felt the paucity of her words like an atrophied muscle. What could she do? What would Asuka say?
“I have a request,” she said, forcing herself to look up at him. If she was going to choose damnation, she would meet its gaze.
Breeding and wariness warred across Shinosuke’s face as he asked what it was.
“Could…?” She clenched her fists and inhaled deeply, trying to draw strength from the air, from his presence. “Could you hold me awhile?”
He looked at her as one might a wounded animal, searching for danger. Then he shook his head in disgust. “All right.”
“If it embarrasses you…”
“No, I said it’s all right.” He sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
She sighed and leaned into him until her head was resting against his chest. She felt herself grow damp as she inhaled the smell of his cologne. I am sorry, Sister, she thought. She turned to wrap her arms around him, placing a hand on the opening of his gi. She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Shinosuke stiffen as she nuzzled against him and her hand slipped inside his shirt. She felt an ecstatic shudder as she caressed his muscular chest.
I am so sorry, Sister.
“Motoko, what are you doing?”
She leaned over to place a kiss on his shoulder. “Oh, how I love you.”
I so am sorry, but I cannot resist any longer.
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Tug-of-War