Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

May/December	By : thewriterwhocameinfromthecold Category: +G to L > Love Hina Views: 14884 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Part 2: Sachiko
He who learns must suffer
And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget
Falls drop by drop upon the heart,
And in our own despite, against our will,
Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.
- Aeschylus
He spent the night at Haruka’s. It took her one look at his red-eyed, rain-soaked form to know what had happened.
“I’m so sorry,” she told him, clutching him to her even as his dampness soaked into her too. “I wanted it for you so badly.”
Keitaro had no tears left. “So did I,” he said in a rasping voice. “So did I.”
Then she ran him a bath and took a walk up to Hinata House. The house was dark, save for a light left on in front. Haruka used her key to let herself in and went to the Manager’s room. She threw a couple sets of clothes in a bag and went back to the teahouse. He was still in the tub when she returned, so she knocked, let him know that there were fresh clothes outside, and went down to make some tea.
“What’s this?” he asked when he came down, looking a little closer to human.
“Camomile,” she said, pouring two cups. “It’ll help you sleep.” He took the cup, and after a few minutes, she told him to lean forward before placing her hands on his shoulders.
Keitaro groaned as her nimble fingers dug away at years’ worth of tension. “That feels good.”
“I can’t do much,” Haruka replied, “but I’m still your aunt, and you’re still my nephew.” She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him.
He nestled deeper into her embrace, and absorbed her warmth. “I thought this was the year.”
“I know, Kei. I know.” She placed a kiss on his wet hair. “Just drink that, and try to get some sleep. Things will feel better then, I promise.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I guess not, but you’re exhausted, and things always look worse when you haven’t slept.”
“I don’t know if I can.” He turned to look at her with the wide-eyed look of a child woken from a nightmare. “Will you stay with me?”
Haruka bit back a whimper at the lost look in his eyes. “Anything you want, Kei. Anything.”
Over breakfast the next morning, Haruka convinced Keitaro that he needed a vacation. He’d devoted almost the entirety of the last three years to studying with little room in his life for anything else.
“Just go to the train station, look at the departure board, and pick a place you’ve never been before,” she told him. “You need to look at something besides the same four walls.”
“Why?” he asked, thinking of Naru. “My troubles will just be waiting for me when I get back.”
“But you’ll be stronger. Think about where you were a year ago.”
A year ago, Keitaro had been almost as low as he was now. No job, no money, no chance at university, and his promise girl as far out of reach as she’d ever been. He’d spent three weeks between his bedroom and the arcade, trying anything he could to avoid facing the world.
“What do you mean?” he asked Haruka.
“What do you have now that you didn’t have then?”
Keitaro shook his head. Haruka sighed.
“Just take some time and you’ll figure it out.”
“I’d have to go to Hinata and pack.”
“No need.” She handed him the duffel bag she’d retrieved from the house the night before. “I thought you might need this. Go on. I’ll straighten things at Hinata House.”
He stared at the bag in his hands and looked at her. “Where can I go?”
“Wherever your heart tells you.”
Haruka had been right, he realised as he stood in front of the departure board. For three years he’d gone only where he felt he had to go. For the first time, he was faced with the intimidating and awesome choice of being free to go where he wished. All around him people milled about from ticket booth to platform; platform to exit. He felt submerged in a stream surrounded by fish fighting currents to return to their spawning ground. One false step and he’d be swallowed up by the surrounding eddies. Yet one of these maelstroms would take him where he needed to go, where Haruka believed he’d find the answer to his questions.
But where?
His eyes alighted upon the words Kyoto, leaving in twenty minutes. It seemed as good an idea as any. He had never seen Kyoto before. Yes, the more he thought on it, the better an idea it seemed. All those shrines, castles, hot springs; it was perfect. He shouldered his way through the crowd to purchase a ticket. He was lucky to get one of few remaining tickets. He made it onto train with just five minutes to spare. He looked at the ticket for his seat.
“Car 13, seat 14E. Let’s see.”
He walked down the aisle reading the numbers above the seats. Row 20; just a little further. He’d have to get a guide book, figure out what he wanted to see. He shook his head. He’d have to get a hotel first. This whole thing was being done on a whim. Hopefully he could find a place in price range. Row 14, made it.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Keitaro looked down from the row number to see Naru of all people sitting in the window seat next to his. Of all the trains, he had picked hers. Naru scowled up at him like he was the guest no one wanted at the party. She looked, well, frailer. Behind the glasses and beneath the makeup, he could see marks under her eyes like she hadn’t slept all night. He might have felt sympathy for her, but yesterday’s words hurt just as much today.
“Don’t bother,” he said when she opened her mouth to speak, and stomped down the aisle without another word.
Should he get off the train? No, the ticket had been expensive. He wasn’t about to blow all that money just because she was there. Kyoto was a big city.
“Excuse me,” he said to a young woman at the far end of the car.
The mousy looking woman in the pink blouse looked up at him.
“I was wondering if I could persuade you to change seats. I just checked my ticket,” he said when her look turned suspicious, “and of all people, my seatmate turns out to be my brother’s ex-girlfriend. I’m really not looking forward to hearing her badmouth him all the way to Kyoto, but she probably won’t bother you.”
The woman shrugged. One seat was the same as another so long as her seatmate didn’t bother her. Keitaro settled into his new seat next to the middle-aged man reading a translated copy of the Economist, and let the motion of the train lull him to sleep.
He stirred when the train pulled in Kyoto Station, and glanced out the window. It was his first time seeing the futuristic looking structure, but he’d heard a lot about it. Only a few years old, the building and its architecture had been a source of controversy from the beginning. Kyoto, arguably one of the single greatest cultural capitals of Japan, had always traded on its classical buildings. Such a modern structure was seen by some as a betrayal of that ideal, Keitaro’s father included. Love of tradition seemed to run in the Urashima blood.
“Disgraceful,” he’d fume over the evening newspaper. “Turning a beautiful place like that into another glass and steel nightmare.”
“At least it gives people work,” his mother, always the more pragmatic of the two would point out. “You know how difficult the economy is.”
Standing there now, Keitaro didn’t know what to think. Whether it belonged in Kyoto or not, it was impressive. To his right, he could see Naru getting off the train, so he turned away and sought refuge in the migrating crowd. On the way out, he stopped at a newsstand to pick up a map and a guide book. He’d flip through it, he decided, after he got something to eat. So decided, he walked a few blocks from the station until he found cheap noodle house. As he reached for the door handle he stopped. He was on vacation. He might as well do it up right. So he left the noodle house behind and stopped at a conveyor sushi restaurant.
Later, over sashimi, he flipped through the guidebook, reading up on sights and hotels. The hotel would take care of itself, he decided. If push came to shove, he could just stay in a hostel somewhere. Besides, if he couldn’t be less practical on vacation, when could he? After a couple beers, he decided that he’d start with Kiyomizu temple. Everything he’d ever heard about said that it wasn’t to be missed. Maybe he’d be able to get a decent sketch from the veranda. The beer made him feel lighter as he doubled back to the station and caught a bus. He smiled to himself as he watched the centuries old buildings fly by. The nostalgic part of him – the part that could quote Throne of Blood and knew all the words to Kanagawa – let out a delighted laugh as the temple walls came in sight.
He got off the bus and walked up the sloping steps of the Kiyomizu-zaka, filled with wide-eyed tourists, cafes, and souvenir shops. It felt a lot like being back in Hinata. On a whim, he stopped at a nearby shop to pick up some cream puffs and chewed happily on the light creamy desert all the way to the Deva Gate. Once inside, he shuffled along with the many tourists, stopping near the main hall to marvel at the cherry trees in the gardens near the main hall. Spring had come to Kyoto in all its glory. The many branches were covered in blossoms; ensconced by explosions of white, and pink, and fuchsia. He reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchbook. Then he sat upon a stone and listened to the rippling and splashing of a nearby pond as he sought to capture some small measure of the beauty in front of him. He’d left most of his drawing pencils in Hinata, so the effect wasn’t nearly as polished as he would have liked. Still, by the time he returned his pencil to his bag, he felt pleased.
He made his way to the main hall and onto the main veranda. It was everything he had been told and more. Far off, beyond endless green leaved trees, the city could be seen. Maybe it was the view, or being surrounded by strangers, or perhaps just the stress of the last day; but at that moment, he became filled by an aching loneliness. He stood before the extravagant view upon ground trodden for centuries by some of the greatest figures in Japanese history; but all he could think of were Naru and Ritsuko. And the more he thought of them, the harder it was to purge the big empty hole that was expanding out from his chest. All around him people were smiling, laughing, and taking pictures; but he felt like he was in colour and the rest of the world in black and white. Ritsuko had been right. Crowds could be even lonelier than being alone. What was he doing here, so far from home? Did he really think that he could find his heart’s desire or his destiny just by hopping on a train? When he got back, he would still be a ronin, Ritsuko would still be gone, and Naru – he swallowed – Naru would still hate him with all her heart.
“I hope you’re not planning to jump.”
Keitaro started. Jump? God, no! The idea so terrified him that he pushed back from the railing as if it were aflame. He turned to see who had spoken. The woman before him wore a spring kimono of black silk with a red floral pattern that made a circuitous path from the bottom of the garment to the top. Her svelte form was topped by ebon hair that he imagined must have been quite long given the way it was tied back and pinned up in an elaborate braid. Her elegant classical features suggested a familiarity that the colour of her eyes confirmed.
“Motoko?”
The woman smiled in amusement. “Most often,” she said in the Kansai accent of a Kyoto native, “People tell me that I look like Tsuruko. Or rather, that she looks like me.” She cocked an eyebrow. “This is the first time someone has mistaken me for my second youngest. I suppose I should be flattered.”
“Motoko’s mother?” Now that the shock had cleared and he could see the minute laugh lines around her eyes, the slight tinge of grey in the hair, and the more generous curve of the hips, it seemed obvious. He wondered for a second if comparing her to Motoko might not be doing her a disservice, for it suggested a decline that did not exist. Rather, the woman in front of him filled him with hope at the suggestion that Motoko would only grow more beautiful as she aged.
“Yes,” she said. “I am Sachiko Aoyama. You have me at a disadvantage, mister…?”
Keitaro introduced himself with a bow.
“Motoko’s landlord, indeed?” She returned his bow with a deeper one. “I thank you for the care that you have given my daughter, sir. Have you been in Kyoto long?”
Given Motoko’s initial reaction to him, these impeccable manners were the last thing he had been expecting. It seemed, however, that the Aoyama women were more multi-faceted than he had first believed; and he found himself hoping that he would live to see Motoko smile at him in her mother’s way of quiet regard.
“No, I just arrived this morning.”
“And you decided to come to Kiyomizu first,” Sachiko observed as she passed him to lean upon the railing and look upon the view. “It is a treasure indeed. Hardly the only one in Kyoto’s possession, but a wonder nevertheless.”
“It is beautiful,” Keitaro agreed, wondering how a woman who seemed to favour such poetic descriptions could have birthed a Spartan daughter who spoke only to be understood. Then he remembered something. “Why did you ask if I was going to jump?”
“According to legend,” she said without turning, “if someone jumps from this veranda and lives, they will be granted a wish.” She turned towards him with a look of sympathy. “You appeared to have a wish in mind.”
Keitaro looked over the railing to the forest floor far below. The distance wasn’t automatically enough to kill him, but any fall would guarantee a long stay in the hospital. “People believe that?” he asked.
Sachiko concealed a snort behind her hand. “The Gods test us in many ways, Mr. Urashima, but I doubt that they are so capricious to demand that one leap from a cliff to earn their favour.”
“It feels that way sometimes,” he said without meaning to.
She said nothing for a time as she looked out at the view, and then asked, “How long will you be staying in Kyoto?”
To his surprise, Keitaro realised that he had no idea. He had gotten on a train at random, had no plans at all. He hadn’t even booked a hotel. When he explained this to Sachiko, she clucked her tongue.
“That won’t do at all. You must allow us to put you up.” At this suggestion he began to stammer, but she waved away his objections. “I insist. We owe you a great debt, Mr. Urashima, and I wish to make this small gesture in beginning to repay it.” Then she bowed to him, and his embarrassment reached an apex. Recognising from his childhood the Japanese art of politeness as a weapon, he knew he was outmatched. Whether in battle or at court, the Aoyama women were warriors to be feared. When he accepted, she clapped her hands, an almost girlish gesture. “Wonderful. Do you have anymore of the temple that you would like to see? I have some business to complete here before we leave.”
He said he did and they agreed to meet at the main gate in twenty minutes. He decided to walk along the many paths through the temple grounds and gain an appreciation for the buildings. As he turned a corner, he saw Sachiko in line for the main shrine. She stood out in her kimono, surrounded by tourists. Around her people gazed with wonder and chattered to one another, while she stood alone, with her eyes radiating a single-minded purpose. It was an expression he had often seen on Motoko’s face as she trained. He realised, as she advanced in line, that he had started watching her without intending it; but, of course, he couldn’t help it. It was natural to be curious about the mother of a tenant, especially a tenant who was herself an enigma to him.
As she made her offering and pulled the bell cord, Keitaro found herself wondering what she could be praying for at a shrine for the Gods of Love and Mercy. Deciding such speculation was fruitless; he left her to her prayers and wandered about the grounds. When he arrived at the gate at the appointed time, he saw her making her way over with lightness in her step.
Naru got up to use the phone not long after the train left the station. After three rings, Kitsune answered.
“It’s me,” Naru said.
“Hey, Naru, where’d you disappear to? You were gone so late you missed your own victory party.”
Naru swallowed. “Well you’ll have to stow the party decorations until next year.”
“Say what?”
“Yeah.” She was clenching the phone cord in her fist. “I didn’t make it.”
“Oh, honey…” Kitsune sounded like she wanted to cry. “Where are you? We’ll get breakfast, go shopping, and forget all about this.”
“Actually,” Naru interrupted, relieved to be coming to the heart of the matter, “I’m on a train to Kyoto.”
“Come again?”
“Well, I just decided that I needed a change of scenery for a few days. So I hopped on the first train I saw.”
“Really? When are you coming back?”
Naru paused. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “A week, I guess. Can you explain things to the others for me?”
“Explain that the girl that they look up to and admire failed her test, freaked out-”
“I didn’t freak out!”
“Freaked out, and grabbed a one way ticket to Kyoto without any plan, yeah that’ll be easy to explain.”
“Look, I just…I need this Kitsune. I feel like the ground is sinking beneath my feet. I can’t…I can’t even think about it without crying.”
“I’m sorry,” Kitsune said after a long silence. “Hold on.” She must have been talking to someone on the other end, because Naru heard her making muffled replies to some unknown question. “Hey, listen,” she said, coming back on the line, “Motoko would like to talk to you.”
A few seconds after Naru’s verbal shrug, Motoko answered. “My deepest apologies on your exam results.”
“Thank you. What did you want to talk about?” Naru asked, longing to move on.
“Kitsune mentioned that you had suddenly decided to go to Kyoto. Have you booked a hotel?”
“No.”
“Well, then may I make a suggestion?”
“Please.”
“My family owns a small inn in town. If you wish I shall call ahead.”
That sounded fine to Naru, who had been too desperate to get away to think of the practical side of travel. She said her goodbyes and hung up the phone, making her way back to her seat. At the end of the aisle, she imagined she could see the back of Keitaro’s head as she shuffled past her unexpected seatmate and sat down.
“Man trouble, huh?” said the young woman next to her.
Naru blinked. “Who told you that?”
“He did.” The young woman pointed. “The guy who I traded seats with.”
“Oh, did he?” Clever trick, Keitaro. Naru wondered just what he had told this woman. She was perhaps a few years younger than Haruka, with brown hair that came down to her shoulders. Her face contained classical features similar to Motoko, but where Motoko contained stoicism and severity, this woman had a shy smile. Naru wished she’d thought to bring a book to hide herself in; but as it was, there was nothing to protect her from someone making conversation. “It’s a bit more complicated than just that,” she replied.
“Isn’t it always?” the woman asked, bitterness curling her lip for a moment.
That sounded like it had baggage behind it.
“In any case, I just decided to take a vacation in Kyoto,” Naru continued after concluding awkward conversation with a stranger was preferable to riding to Kyoto with nothing but the accusing voices in her head for company.
“Vacation?” The young woman’s smile turned dreamy. “Lucky. I’m heading there on business. I won’t have any chance to see the sights at all. I’m Yumi by the way.”
Naru introduced herself and the two of them lapsed into easy conversation about the city they were heading for. It was just what Naru needed: pleasant, impersonal, and completely unrelated to her latest greatest tragedy. By the time the train pulled into the station, she was almost feeling distracted. That was, of course, until she caught sight of Keitaro’s receding back. Not a word to her, even though they were staying in the same city? Fine, two could play at that game.
“Where are you staying?” Yumi asked. When Naru told her, she gave an envious sigh. “I hear that place is beautiful. I wish I were there, but” – her expression turned wry – “the finance guys would never allow it.” The two of them consulted a tourist map to find each other’s hotels, and discovered that their hotels were within the same neighbourhood.
“Let’s walk down together,” Yumi suggested. “It’s too nice a day for a cab or a bus.”
Naru agreed. Why not? Yumi seemed harmless enough. They kept talking about sights to see in Tokyo, but Naru’s mind was still back at the station fixated upon Keitaro’s back. When they parted ways at the gates of Motoko’s family inn, the best Naru could manage was a distracted goodbye to Yumi as she went inside. Had she been in a better frame of mind, she’d have thought the centuries old wood framed building completely appropriate for someone like Motoko; but was a sullen and unobservant Naru who slid the door open and kicked off her shoes, her mind still too close to yesterday for anything as irrelevant to her as architectural beauty. She identified herself to the front desk and was led to her room, a small room not unlike her own back at Hinata House. Naru thanked the guest attendant and shut the door behind her, collapsing upon the futon. Sunlight streamed down upon her face through the veranda doors, and she could hear the chirping of nesting birds in the nearby Sakura trees.
Everyday sights and sounds, but to the lonely girl in the darkened room they were sweet as honey; a distraction from the pain in her heart left there by her failed test and the angry bitter look on Keitaro’s face that morning.
As the birds sang love songs to one another, she gave into her exhaustion and dreamed of the last time she had seen him smile.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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

May/December