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May/December	By : thewriterwhocameinfromthecold Category: +G to L > Love Hina Views: 14880 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina or its associated characters. I am not profiting from this in any way.

Chapter List
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“I can’t wait any longer,” Keitaro whined. “Let’s just look already.”
“We decided we’d check our answers when we got home,” Naru said, “and that’s what we’re going to do. Besides we’re only one stop away from town anyway.”
Keitaro leaned forward in his seat to scratch compulsively at his pant legs. “The tension’s killing me. I’ve got to know.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
Was that a smirk? She was enjoying his squirming, he’d swear to it.
“Easy for you to say; you’re number one in the nation. You screw up you’ve still got a chance. I screw up and it’s another year as a ronin.”
“You think it’s that easy?”
Uh oh, she sounded mad. He made the unwilling turn to face her glare.
“You think its easy being on top?” She leaned right into his face. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be perfect all the time, to hear people talk about how hard a worker you are, and know that you haven’t had a hobby in years; haven’t spoken to your friends in months? Don’t talk to me about easy.” She got up from her seat and stood in front of the door.
Keitaro knew better than to close the gap. Guilt hung on his shoulders the whole walk home as he maintained the requisite five paces behind. He should have known better than to feel sorry for himself in front of her. Naru was a decent teacher, but she expected reciprocity. If she could make it through all of this without complaining, she expected the same of him. Then again, she didn’t know the humiliation of failing twice already. He could complain if he wanted.
Sometimes, he wondered if being punched less was a curse rather than blessing. Anger and fists were easier to deal with than hurt feelings; and there were days where he’d have welcomed a trip to the moon over cold glares like the one she’d given him a moment ago. How long would it take to fix this one?
Deciding that there was no time like the present, he called, “I’m sorry.”
Naru said nothing, but kept on walking. After a while he wondered if she’d even heard him, but then she turned her head and called out, “Hurry up already. If we’re checking these together, I’m not waiting all day for you.”
Recognising an olive branch when he saw it, Keitaro jogged the distance between them.
“You really haven’t spoken to your friends in that long?” he dared ask.
She shook her head. He remained silent the rest of the way home. What could he say to that?
“What are Naru and Mr. Manager doing?” Su asked, peaking at them through the kitchen door.
“They’re adding up their centre test scores,” Kitsune said, pulling the gregarious foreigner away. “It’s to determine whether or not they’ve achieved the scores that’ll allow them to take the Tokyo U exam in a few months.”
“Then what is Motoko doing?” Su pointed out the window towards Motoko in the robes of a Miko, waving an Onusa wand over a ritual fire.
“Trying to help…?” Kitsune guessed. Deciding this was far more interesting than watching the others grade their tests, Kitsune ventured outside with Shinobu and Su in tow.
“Pretty,” Shinobu exhaled.
As Kitsune watched, she could do naught but nod. Motoko looked as though she belonged before that fire in the snow white gi and red hakama. Perspiration glistened on her face as she swung the wand with all her might uttering fervent chants of invocation that the Gods pause in their business and deign to hear the plaintive words of their servants. Kitsune (ordinarily too earthy for spiritual concerns) almost felt as though she were intruding. For her, this was a new side to Motoko; a side without a sword at the ready. What had brought it out?
When Motoko finished her ritual with a clap, the others followed suit.
‘Please,’ Kitsune thought, but the thought ended there. No specific request, just one please to cover all sorts: please let me get published, please let me pick winning horses, please help me drink less, please let me find love, please help me forgive. She let the thought go and gave Motoko an appreciative look.
“Where did you get that uniform?”
“I volunteer at a shrine in town.”
One well placed word about how she looked would be enough to send the kendo girl into paroxysms of embarrassment. Dry remarks crowded Kitsune’s clever brain like ants on a sugar cube, but the moment begged her silence; and so all she said was, “It suits you.” Then after a pause, she asked, “What made you decide to perform the ritual?”
Motoko wiped the sweat from her brow. “I cannot do much, but I thought it might bring them fortune.”
Kitsune was about to comment on Motoko’s use of the plural, when a joyous shout came from inside the house. They raced into the kitchen to find Keitaro and Naru cheering, their fists raised in triumph.
“I did it!” Keitaro cried, staring down at his test as if it held the secret of the world. “With scores like these, I might actually make into to Tokyo U!”
“Me too!” Naru said. “This thing’s in the bag!”
Keitaro seized Naru and spun her around the room. “Thank you, Naru! I owe you everything!”
Kitsune cringed, certain that another launch was due at Cape Hinata, but it never came. Naru was too caught up in her own celebration, laughing out loud. Then Keitaro let her down, their eyes met and they sprang apart.
“Well…” Keitaro coughed, looking down at his shoes. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Don’t mention it,” Naru replied, playing with a strand of hair as she subjected the kitchen cabinets to studious examination.
“You know what this means?” Kitsune asked, biting back a snicker. “Party time! Let’s celebrate!”
Kitsune stumbled, her hands shooting out to brush the paving stones. “One more round!” she called.
Keitaro and Naru shared a look, both glad they’d had the foresight to ask Motoko to take the younger girls home early. They rushed forward to brace Kitsune as she wobbled on the curb.
Kitsune laughed as both propped themselves under her. “Don’t worry. I can hold it.”
“Is…” Keitaro, a few pints further along than he himself had intended, tried to shake the fog loose. “She seems a little…”
Naru giggled. “You don’t say.”
“No I suppose I don’t.”
The three friends giggled as they staggered down the moonlit street.
“Ah, this is what the night is for!” Kitsune proclaimed. “Hey, who wants to do karaoke?”
“Maybe next time,” Naru said. “Right now, I think we should go to bed.”
Kitsune cackled. “Wow Naru, I never knew you were that kind of girl. You’ll soil our dear manager’s virgin ears.”
Between virgin ears and Naru’s sputtering denials, Keitaro began to giggle, until Kitsune turned her sights on him.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Manager,” Kitsune slurred, her head lolling against his. “If you want, I’ll take your V card for you.”
“Kitsune!” Naru shot her friend a scandalised look, which only made her laugh harder.
Keitaro bit his cheek. He wouldn’t react, not this time. If he said anything, Naru would kill him and Kitsune would hold it over him for a week.
“What are you getting all bent out of shape about?” Kitsune asked. “You’re the one who wanted to fu…fu…have a threeway with him.”
Keitaro stifled a groan as he imagined Naru and Kitsune lying on top of each other, shrieking in ecstasy as he pounded into both in turn.
“I do not!” Naru shouted.
“Why not?” Kitsune leaned into Naru. “Aren’t I cute enough for you? Or is it our manager?”
Naru cracked her knuckles. Keitaro didn’t blame her, Kitsune was straining her credit.
Kitsune snorted. “More for me, then. What say you, Mr. Manager? Ready to become a man?”
‘Steady,’ Keitaro told himself. ‘Get home, jerk off, and go to bed: simple.’
“If it’s all the same,” he said, “I think I’ll just take a quick bath and then turn in.”
“Bath? Good idea.” She leaned in and asked in a stage whisper, “Want me to scrub your back?”
The words were out before he could stop them: “Only if I can scrub your front.”
In the end, Keitaro decided as he reached escape velocity, it was worth it to see Kitsune sport such a pretty blush all the way down to her neck.
Ritsuko gestured. “Come in.”
Keitaro blinked. No kiss, no hello, not even a smile. Something was wrong. He slipped off his shoes and walked into the living room. He waited for her to sit him down, offer him something, or break the ice in some way; but she said nothing, just walked into the kitchen with her back to him, busying herself with something in the sink. She was wearing a grey sweater and a pair of jeans that seemed to be a shield to Keitaro. Perhaps she wasn’t in the mood tonight. He shrugged, determined to make the most of it and maybe get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
“How are things?” he ventured.
“Fine.”
‘Fine’, the stony lie known to men everywhere as a signal of immediate and unknown danger; Keitaro included. He shifted from one foot from the other, hoping she would add something to that response.
When she didn’t, he said, “I got my Centre Test results back. I might actually have what it takes to make it into Tokyo U, this year.”
Ritsuko’s hands stilled. “Congratulations.”
That didn’t sound very convincing. God, he wished she’d look at him.
“Yeah,” he went on for the sake of talking, “Naru’s been a lifesaver these last few months. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have had a hope of passing that exam.”
“Oh, really?” If possible, Ritsuko’s voice turned even frostier. “A ‘lifesaver’, huh?”
Keitaro flinched. Okay, don’t mention Naru. “Uh, yeah. Anyway, I…” He searched for another topic, but nothing came to him. He wrapped his arms around himself. Why did it feel like something was about to come crashing down on him? “Ritsuko? Are you sure…”
“I said I’m fine!” Ritsuko shouted, rounding on him.
Hurt lanced through Keitaro as she stalked towards him and ripped off her sweater.
“Might as well get to it,” she said gesturing to her bra. “It’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Well, come on!”
Keitaro’s mouth worked as he stared frozen in place. “Why are you acting this way? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Now are we going to do this or not?” She laughed bitter as gall. “I mean that’s what this is about, isn’t it? What? Not in the mood?” She growled. “What good are you, then?” She turned from him with an angry dismissive flick of the wrist. “Just forget it.”
Keitaro felt his eyes begin to sting with the film of tears. How the hell had they gotten here? “Ritsuko, whatever I’ve done…”
“Just get out!”
Keitaro’s hands shook as he adjusted his glasses, the damned stinging was making it hard to see. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll go.” and did without another word or backward glance.
She caught up to him at the train station. He didn’t know how, but once he walked through the station doors, he saw her standing there, eyes trained on the front door looking for him. Figuring there was no way he could get past her, he walked up to her, forcing his face to remain neutral. Shamefaced, she avoided his eyes as he stood there waiting. All around them, evening commuters milled about from gate to gate, but he saw only her. He wanted to yell, to scream at her for her what she’d said, but she looked so pathetic that his heart went out to her.
“Come on,” he told her. “I’ll take you back.”
They said nothing on the cab ride back to her apartment, nothing until they were inside. Once the door was shut and they were away from the world, she hugged him to her, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Thank God I found you.”
“Shush,” he soothed, patting her on the back. “It’s all right.”
“I’m sorry. I just…It’s so quiet here, and then you come, and then you go, and I…” She clutched him tighter. “You shouldn’t even be with an old slut like me.”
Indignation exploded within, gnashed his teeth, clenched his fists. “Don’t…” He seized her shoulders. “Don’t ever say that!” he shouted right in her face. “Not ever!”
“Keitaro, please, you’re hurting me.”
The rage drained away as he saw the fear in her eyes and realised how tight his grip was. “I’m sorry,” he said, letting her go. “It’s just what you said.”
She smiled at him. “You’re sweet,” she said and kissed him.
Keitaro groaned as she coaxed his tongue into her mouth and sucked on it.
All too soon, she released his lips and leaned up to whisper, “Make me feel good. Please?”
Without letting go of her, Keitaro led her to the couch, sat her down and knelt before her.
“Here?”
He nodded reaching up to undo her jeans. He slid them down her legs along with her panties and leaned in to give her pussy a kiss. He thrust his fingers into her until his hand was soaking and her mouth was opening and closing with silent screams. He undid his pants and pulled her on top of him. They held each other’s gaze the entire time she rode him, staring deep into each other until he came with her name on his lips.
Keitaro, like most of the perpetually single, came to his hatred of Valentines Day naturally. One could only endure so many years of being forced to watch from a lonely perch the scenes played out annually at high schools across the world by moonstruck couples before resentment became a well-known and regarded companion. On the fateful day, he dragged himself from his futon and went through his usual morning rituals with a grim determination to get through the day in as quick and stoic a manner as possible. If necessary, he’d resort to his tried and true trick of making Valentines Day chocolate for himself to throw people off the scent. Having confectioners for parents had its advantages. He pulled on a grey sweater and black pants: bland, funereal colours that would allow him to disappear for the rest of the day and hide away from the couples clinging to each other. If only Ritsuko were available today. Perhaps, he ought to send some flowers to her on White Day. She might like that.
Keitaro considered the problem as he made his way downstairs to breakfast. What did one get for…What were they? He wasn’t in love with Ritsuko and he had no illusions about her being in love with him. He couldn’t bring himself to call it dating either: a few shared dinners were not enough to take away from the fact that their main connection lay in their mutual desire for each other’s bodies. No, it was more than that, he was sure. There was more elegance to it than two people rutting like animals, the need was less of the body if no less basic; it was of the spirit: two lonely people finding joy in the arms of someone who understood what it was to face the nights alone and the days in a crowd but always apart. That was what they were: two people who understood each other.
“How is everyone this morning?” he asked as he sat down at the table.
“Great!” Su shouted between bites. She leapt from her seat and ran across the table to hand him a banana. “Happy Valentines Day!”
Keitaro stared at the banana. “What’s this?”
“Your gift,” Su replied, thrusting it into his hands. She did a back flip, landed square in her seat, and resumed eating.
Keitaro was touched. For the first time in his life, someone had remembered him on Valentines Day. It wasn’t chocolate, but still.
Kitsune shrugged. “Well, since Su’s got the ball rolling.” She got up from her seat, revealing a small red package, which she handed to Keitaro with a smile. “Happy Valentines Day, Mr. Manager.”
Chocolate? From Kitsune? Keitaro felt as if the world were tilting off its access as he goggled at the first thing Kitsune had ever given him other than trouble. The only thing stranger than getting chocolate from her was getting it from Motoko.
“Here, Urashima.”
It was official, the end of the world was coming. That was the only explanation for the small package of chocolate in Motoko’s hand.
“You’re staring, Urashima,” Motoko placed the chocolate on table in front of him and took her seat after a quick bow.
“Thank you,” he stammered. He looked at Motoko as if seeing her for the first time. Could it be that she saw him as more than a cockroach? It was only giri choco, but no one bought it for people they hated outright.
Naru went next, handing him a package identical to Kitsune’s. They had probably purchased them together. She wished him a happy Valentines and sat down without another word. That just left…
Keitaro’s teeth were on edge when Shinobu got up, looking ready to bolt. Why did she have to look so serious? Whenever he saw anguish in those blue eyes, he saw Ritsuko and felt his dormant shame grow anew. She shuffled towards his seat.
“Please accept my feelings,” she said in such a hush he had to strain to hear it.
He looked at the simple box. There was no label. He opened up the box and looked at the simple chocolates inside.
“Are,” he looked at her in shocked wonder, “Are these homemade?”
Shinobu nodded without looking at him.
“Yeah,” Naru said. “She worked on them while we were studying so you wouldn’t find out. Hey, are you all right?”
“I…” Keitaro bit his knuckle. “I’m fine.” He risked Naru and Motoko’s ire by taking Shinobu’s hand. “Thank you,” he said, meaning every word, “I’ll treasure them.” Then, he got up from the table amidst Shinobu’s stammering, and walked to his room as fast as dignity would allow before he burst into tears. Later on, while rooting through his bag, he will find a catalogue covered in post-it notes: cheeky White Day gift suggestions from Kitsune. When he sees it, he will burst out laughing right in the middle of his cram school lecture and bite his cheeks to keep the giggles at bay while he endures a five minute tongue lashing from his instructor. But that morning, he would go on crying silent sobs until Naru knocked on his door to remind him they have to leave. Not out of shame, but because he finally realised that Christmas was not an anomaly. For the first time in a long time, perhaps the first time in his life, he realised that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to be lonely.
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