Sakura Kisses
Chapter Five: One Out, One In
Motoko was sat on the washing deck of Hinata Sou, leant against the railings with her katana placed harmlessly aside in it's sheath. She wiped a stray bead or two of sweat off her forehead with a spare towel, taking a brief break from her strict morning regime of katas. She looked up into the early morning sky, her sharpened senses and instincts told her that this day would be an ideal one for training. While she would much rather be back at her ancestral home in Kyoto - be it training alone out in the tranquility and comforting serenity of the nearby fields, or in the training halls with all the other Shinmei Ryu students in an environment she would feel very comfortable and familiar in - she figured that Hinata Sou was an adequate enough place. She could practice without distraction in the early morning, and she was around those she deemed close to her.
Every day, for as long as she could remember, she had been training like this. The same time every morning, afternoon and evening, without fail; not even so much as a minute or second after. She was more than willing to sacrifice everything she had in order to become a master swordswoman and emulate the feats that her elder sister, Tsuruko, had managed to achieve, if not do better. To some, it would seem that it was just a shame she couldn't put the same amount of effort into her education that she did into her swordsmanship. As far as Motoko was concerned, however, school was only a trivial matter that she needn't concern herself with; the only reason she ever bothered to turn up, be it on time or late, was because education was a strict legal requirement, and it would not look too good on her apparent unblemished record if she never bothered turning up at all. Her grades were average at best in all subjects except for History and Literature, where she seemed to be excelling. None of this mattered in the least to her, however; kendo was not a past-time hobby. School ended soon, whereas her lifestyle wouldn't. She had been raised by the way of the sword, raised as a warrior - why would she need to bother herself by socialising with classmates, keeping up with the latest fashion trends, or dating with similarly aged males and basically having a good time in general?
Males. Men.
Both of these words Motoko spoke with such hatred and venom. The only men she considered to be even the least bit honourable were dead and buried a long time ago, and were raised the same way as she was. The young swordswoman could never imagine herself finding someone who could even be compared to those she read about as part of her family's history; the modern day man, as far as she was concerned, was perverted, ill-mannered, and had nothing in mind except to ravage and corrupt the innocent body and mind of a defenceless young maiden, then boast about his conquests afterwards to his equally perverted friends, who would listen with the most rapt of attention. What would be the worth in seeking such disgusting, loathsome creatures like them?
But as much as she tried convincing herself that was the case, she found her mind gradually filling with doubt, her heart telling her that Keitaro was the exception to her rule; a rule which people of a regular upbringing - particularly men - would find to be illogical and flawed on all accounts. But why would he, of all people, be no different to any other man she'd ever encountered? It was scandalous that her heart even dared suggest this! Even wild dogs had more redeeming qualities and standards about their beings than that pathetic excuse of a man did; at least they didn't go around looking for excuses for why they had their hands or heads where they shouldn't be, namely on Naru's breasts or up Shinobu's skirt. Yes, he was a Toudaisei, she could give him praise for that - but it took him three years before that to get in, so he couldn't have been that bright in the first place! What Mutsumi could ever see in that fool of a hentai was highly questionable; if there was something there, then either the Okinawan woman was blind, deluded, or she could see deeper within Keitaro than the rest of the tenants.
How typical of you, her subconscious cut in, ending her mental diatribe about the kanrinin's bad points. You spend so much time thinking about his bad points - half of which aren't even his fault - that you completely fail to remember what he did for you and everyone else.
'What he did for me and everyone else'? Name one single thing that pervert has done for us ever since he came here that was any good, her mind shot back, fiercely, as she began to carry on with her katas where she left off.
(SWISH)
Really, now. Is that the way to reward the fact that Keitaro was the only person who stood by you when you were issued the challenge by Tsuruko that time? Had it not been for his help, you would have been stuck in the lifestyle of a normal woman - a lifestyle which would not have suited you in the slightest, . Admit it, he is nowhere near as perverted or stupid as you and Naru claim he is.
(SWISH)
Well, yes, I am most grateful for Urashima standing by my side when nobody else did. But nonetheless, my opinion of him as a pervert has not changed in the slightest; you claim he is not a pervert, but how do you explain his actions? Him constantly peeking on us in the hot springs to satisfy his perverted urges, not to mention groping either myself, Naru-sempai or the other tenants. His presence has been nothing but a curse on the once pure and innocent aura that once surrounded his place; this aura is now tainted. The sooner he leaves, the better - good riddance I say!
(SWISH)
My explanation for his actions? Easy. He is not exactly the most co-ordinated person in the world; don't forget, you are nimble and well co-ordinated due to your training. You can't expect everyone to be as nimble and light-footed as you. He is merely clumsy. You think he likes being that way? How would you like it if you were in his shoes? He ends up in these positions where you and Naru attack him because of his clumsiness, or because of Kitsune tricking him. Have you ever stopped to consider that?
(SWISH)
Well, I must concur that Kitsune's antics do play their role in his transgr --
(SWISH)
Accidents.
(SWISH)
-- accidents. What about him peeking on us in the hot springs, or when we are changing?
(SWISH)
He has a poor sense of timing. Besides, it's not as if he hasn't knocked before. But what about when he's cleaning the hot springs for you all to use? Surely you cannot believe that he is a pervert merely for maintaining the cleanliness of the hot spring area. Face it, girl; he doesn't have an evil bone in his body. He doesn't have the heart to do so much as a quarter of the things you and Naru like to accuse him of.
(SWISH)
Urashima is a male. Simple as.
(SWISH)
And that means what? Come on, surely you are not so shallow that you believe all men deserve to be tarred with the same brush. The evil men in this world are only in the minority; the majority are not perverted, but are merely seeking a partner to spend the rest of their life with, or are happily married family men who want nothing more than the best for their spouse and children. Keitaro certainly does not fall under the minority. Mutsumi can see that, as can Shinobu and Kitsune. Naru is beginning to open her eyes to this fact - and it's about time you did too, so why can't you?
Motoko sighed in resignation and sheathed her katana, sliding down the railings back into a seated position on the washing deck, the mental argument between her subconscious and her mind having rendered her unable to concentrate on anything. If only she could stop thinking about him. If only he would just pack up and leave, never to bother the tenants anymore.
If only he and Mutsumi never became a couple. This last thought in particular sent shivers down the young swordswoman's spine, as well as making her face flush a slight shade of red. These feelings... Motoko thought, placing a hand on her heart as it started beating faster. Is this... jealousy, that I am feeling? Am I really jealous of Mutsumi-san? She shook her head vigorously, cursing herself for ever believing that. Her? Jealous? Of Mutsumi? For being all lovey dovey with that low-life? Impossible! She was Motoko Aoyama, heiress to the Shinmei Ryu school of kendo; the day she ever became jealous of the Okinawan for being the boyfriend of the resident pervert would be the day she willingly surrender her livelihood as a swordswoman and become a nun.
On second thought, becoming a nun didn't sound half bad to her... at least then, she thought, she wouldn't have to put up with his antics and violations of her privacy.
But the more she dwelled on the matter of Keitaro being an exception to her rule, the more it seemed to hit her in the face; the more it seemed to be true. It wasn't as if he meant to be in the wrong places at the wrong times, nor did Kitsune, Su or Sara seem to help with their constant trickery. What with his bad luck and poor sense of timing, she wouldn't be too surprised to hear that it had all been the work of a foul, inhuman spirit who had cursed him since the day he was born. Yep, that sounded logical. She also had to admit that he was noble spirited, no matter how much she tried to convince herself she was nothing but trouble. After all, what other normal person would accept the blame for all the things he was accused of, and do nothing to stop the barrage of punches, kicks and slashes? At least he had a sense of morality, that much could be said.
Motoko growled in frustration at her ever-contradictory thoughts and feelings about the kanrinin, and stood up briskly, picking up her katana as she did so. At this rate, she would never get any more practice done. As she made her way through the door and down the steps to her room, one last thought was running through her head.
Even in my thoughts you haunt me so, Urashima.
-----
In the kanrinin's room, Mutsumi was slowly beginning to rouse herself from her peaceful sleep. Her eyes gently fluttered open. Seeing the serene look on her boyfriend's face, she smiled gently, experiencing the same feelings that she had when she woke up in the Urashima man's arms every morning; peace, security, comfort, closeness, love and relief - relieved at the fact that she was not just dreaming that she was lying in his bed every night in his arms, as well as the fact that he actually chose her over Naru. While she knew this seemed to be a very shallow thought since they were both good friends, she was not about to let herself surrender Keitaro back to the auburn-haired girl; not now, not after she had found all of the things she wanted to experience with him. It was Naru's loss, not Keitaro's.
Regaining most of her bearings, she noticed that her face was only a matter of inches away from Keitaro's. Those soft, warm, tender lips, looking more inviting than anything. A light flush adorned her face as she realised that she could feel his warm breath on her own lips, making her spine chill slightly. She also noticed the position the two were in; his right arm around her waist, and her left arm around his. Her long, flowing, silky-soft strands of hair were sprawled out in no particular direction, a few of these strands resting on the side of Keitaro's face.
The beautiful Okinawan woman was snapped out of her thoughts by the sight of Keitaro gently stirring in his sleep before opening his eyes, grimacing as the early morning sunlight spilled into the room and into his eyes through the window. She could not help but stare into his warm, chocolate-brown orbs as he woke up; those orbs that filled her with the most overwhelming sense of security whenever she would look into them. Both of them stared at each other for seconds that seemed to drag on like hours, their heart rates and pulses beginning to go a bit faster. Neither of them looked like they wanted to move away from this impromptu embrace, not wanting to spoil the moment they were both sharing.
"G-Good morning... Mutsumi," Keitaro finally spoke, a blush spreading across his face as he noticed how close in proximity their faces were to one another. While this was a regular occurrence ever since they both made their relationship official, it was still nonetheless enough to make him go as red as a beetroot.
"Ara... good morning, Keitaro," Mutsumi replied, her voice nothing more than a hushed whisper.
Several more moments had passed by before the Urashima man spoke up again, noticing the time. "We'd best be getting cleaned up. Shinobu-chan will have breakfast ready soon."
"Hai." Reluctantly, the two began to slip out of their embrace, Mutsumi standing up slowly and making her way towards the bathroom, not bothering to put on anything to conceal her modesty. Keitaro couldn't help but stare at the Okinawan beauty; his eyes wandering all over her slim and highly desireable physique, drinking in and admiring her milky white, flawless skin, body and slender legs. Staring at her like this made him think just how lucky he was to have her as a girlfriend.
...he also felt a certain part of his anatomy rise up in agreement with the sight before him.
Whoa, down boy! He mentally yelled at his anatomy, who seemed to take no notice whatsoever, even after Mutsumi walked out of the room. Damn. I think a cold shower is in order after seeing that... He rose from his futon, rolling it up and putting it in his wardrobe for later, trying vainly to conceal his current state of excitement. He then walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the top draw to pull out some clothes. After pulling out a pair of jeans, he noticed something small and metallic, glimmering in the light. His curiosity piqued, he picked it up, revealing it to be a heart-shaped locket. Hmm. Must be Mutsumi's. His assumption was proven right, as he noticed the initials "M.O." carved in a very fancy, expensive-looking style of writing on the front of the locket. Opening it up with care, he saw two pictures of him in there; one of him from when they both first met in Okinawa, and the other which looked fairly recent. He felt a light blush reappear on his cheeks as he saw these pictures, smiling fondly. Closing the locket back up, he made sure to put it back where he found it, picking out a plain, non-descript shirt.
I love you, Mutsumi.
At that moment, the said woman walked back into the room, still having done nothing to solve the issue her current state of undress; this sight made Keitaro divebomb towards the box of tissues, feeling all the blood in his head suddenly rush to his nose as he saw Mutsumi's bosom and 'lower half'. He turned away, not only to stop himself from provoking a sudden eruption of the maroon liquid, but also to help preserve the slightly older woman's modesty. "M-M-M-Mutsumi! Gomen! I didn't know you were still... still..." The Urashima man's face went redder than humanly possible as he found himself unable to finish that sentence.
Mutsumi giggled mirthfully, her mouth held up to her mouth. "Don't be silly, Keitaro; I told you before, I do not mind you seeing me like this at all." Her mouth curved upwards into a cute, disarming smile. "Would you like to join me in the bath for a quick wash, just before we go to breakfast?"
Keitaro tried frantically to prevent the impending eruption of his nostrils as the images of him and Mutsumi in the open-air bath, both nude, flooded his mind like the bursting of a dam. "W-Where? My tub or t-the open-air bath?"
"Wherever; your choice."
"My tub," Keitaro replied, without a second thought. He really could not do with the girls wandering in on him and Mutsumi while they were both having a bath, and inevitably being knocked into orbit by either Naru or Motoko. With that thought, it wasn't himself he was concerned about, rather the grilling and questioning Mutsumi would receive afterwards. Not that he'd have any reason to worry about that; time and time again in the past, she has handled herself in those questions quite adeptly, answering questions honestly, albeit sometimes subconsciously enough to give people the wrong idea.
"Of course," Mutsumi replied, her smile still present. She held out her hand towards Keitaro after he got a spare towel. "Shall we go?"
Keitaro took the hand offered to him without a word, still blushing as they both walked out to his wooden tub on one of the balconies.
I guess I really should be used to this... Keitaro thought, embarrassedly, so why aren't I? I still nearly faint at the sight of Mutsumi's... boldness... He felt a stirring in his loins again, as the image of Mutsumi standing before him, without a stitch of clothing on her person, made it's presence within the deepest recesses of his mind.
Chapter Five: One Out, One In
Motoko was sat on the washing deck of Hinata Sou, leant against the railings with her katana placed harmlessly aside in it's sheath. She wiped a stray bead or two of sweat off her forehead with a spare towel, taking a brief break from her strict morning regime of katas. She looked up into the early morning sky, her sharpened senses and instincts told her that this day would be an ideal one for training. While she would much rather be back at her ancestral home in Kyoto - be it training alone out in the tranquility and comforting serenity of the nearby fields, or in the training halls with all the other Shinmei Ryu students in an environment she would feel very comfortable and familiar in - she figured that Hinata Sou was an adequate enough place. She could practice without distraction in the early morning, and she was around those she deemed close to her.
Every day, for as long as she could remember, she had been training like this. The same time every morning, afternoon and evening, without fail; not even so much as a minute or second after. She was more than willing to sacrifice everything she had in order to become a master swordswoman and emulate the feats that her elder sister, Tsuruko, had managed to achieve, if not do better. To some, it would seem that it was just a shame she couldn't put the same amount of effort into her education that she did into her swordsmanship. As far as Motoko was concerned, however, school was only a trivial matter that she needn't concern herself with; the only reason she ever bothered to turn up, be it on time or late, was because education was a strict legal requirement, and it would not look too good on her apparent unblemished record if she never bothered turning up at all. Her grades were average at best in all subjects except for History and Literature, where she seemed to be excelling. None of this mattered in the least to her, however; kendo was not a past-time hobby. School ended soon, whereas her lifestyle wouldn't. She had been raised by the way of the sword, raised as a warrior - why would she need to bother herself by socialising with classmates, keeping up with the latest fashion trends, or dating with similarly aged males and basically having a good time in general?
Males. Men.
Both of these words Motoko spoke with such hatred and venom. The only men she considered to be even the least bit honourable were dead and buried a long time ago, and were raised the same way as she was. The young swordswoman could never imagine herself finding someone who could even be compared to those she read about as part of her family's history; the modern day man, as far as she was concerned, was perverted, ill-mannered, and had nothing in mind except to ravage and corrupt the innocent body and mind of a defenceless young maiden, then boast about his conquests afterwards to his equally perverted friends, who would listen with the most rapt of attention. What would be the worth in seeking such disgusting, loathsome creatures like them?
But as much as she tried convincing herself that was the case, she found her mind gradually filling with doubt, her heart telling her that Keitaro was the exception to her rule; a rule which people of a regular upbringing - particularly men - would find to be illogical and flawed on all accounts. But why would he, of all people, be no different to any other man she'd ever encountered? It was scandalous that her heart even dared suggest this! Even wild dogs had more redeeming qualities and standards about their beings than that pathetic excuse of a man did; at least they didn't go around looking for excuses for why they had their hands or heads where they shouldn't be, namely on Naru's breasts or up Shinobu's skirt. Yes, he was a Toudaisei, she could give him praise for that - but it took him three years before that to get in, so he couldn't have been that bright in the first place! What Mutsumi could ever see in that fool of a hentai was highly questionable; if there was something there, then either the Okinawan woman was blind, deluded, or she could see deeper within Keitaro than the rest of the tenants.
How typical of you, her subconscious cut in, ending her mental diatribe about the kanrinin's bad points. You spend so much time thinking about his bad points - half of which aren't even his fault - that you completely fail to remember what he did for you and everyone else.
'What he did for me and everyone else'? Name one single thing that pervert has done for us ever since he came here that was any good, her mind shot back, fiercely, as she began to carry on with her katas where she left off.
(SWISH)
Really, now. Is that the way to reward the fact that Keitaro was the only person who stood by you when you were issued the challenge by Tsuruko that time? Had it not been for his help, you would have been stuck in the lifestyle of a normal woman - a lifestyle which would not have suited you in the slightest, . Admit it, he is nowhere near as perverted or stupid as you and Naru claim he is.
(SWISH)
Well, yes, I am most grateful for Urashima standing by my side when nobody else did. But nonetheless, my opinion of him as a pervert has not changed in the slightest; you claim he is not a pervert, but how do you explain his actions? Him constantly peeking on us in the hot springs to satisfy his perverted urges, not to mention groping either myself, Naru-sempai or the other tenants. His presence has been nothing but a curse on the once pure and innocent aura that once surrounded his place; this aura is now tainted. The sooner he leaves, the better - good riddance I say!
(SWISH)
My explanation for his actions? Easy. He is not exactly the most co-ordinated person in the world; don't forget, you are nimble and well co-ordinated due to your training. You can't expect everyone to be as nimble and light-footed as you. He is merely clumsy. You think he likes being that way? How would you like it if you were in his shoes? He ends up in these positions where you and Naru attack him because of his clumsiness, or because of Kitsune tricking him. Have you ever stopped to consider that?
(SWISH)
Well, I must concur that Kitsune's antics do play their role in his transgr --
(SWISH)
Accidents.
(SWISH)
-- accidents. What about him peeking on us in the hot springs, or when we are changing?
(SWISH)
He has a poor sense of timing. Besides, it's not as if he hasn't knocked before. But what about when he's cleaning the hot springs for you all to use? Surely you cannot believe that he is a pervert merely for maintaining the cleanliness of the hot spring area. Face it, girl; he doesn't have an evil bone in his body. He doesn't have the heart to do so much as a quarter of the things you and Naru like to accuse him of.
(SWISH)
Urashima is a male. Simple as.
(SWISH)
And that means what? Come on, surely you are not so shallow that you believe all men deserve to be tarred with the same brush. The evil men in this world are only in the minority; the majority are not perverted, but are merely seeking a partner to spend the rest of their life with, or are happily married family men who want nothing more than the best for their spouse and children. Keitaro certainly does not fall under the minority. Mutsumi can see that, as can Shinobu and Kitsune. Naru is beginning to open her eyes to this fact - and it's about time you did too, so why can't you?
Motoko sighed in resignation and sheathed her katana, sliding down the railings back into a seated position on the washing deck, the mental argument between her subconscious and her mind having rendered her unable to concentrate on anything. If only she could stop thinking about him. If only he would just pack up and leave, never to bother the tenants anymore.
If only he and Mutsumi never became a couple. This last thought in particular sent shivers down the young swordswoman's spine, as well as making her face flush a slight shade of red. These feelings... Motoko thought, placing a hand on her heart as it started beating faster. Is this... jealousy, that I am feeling? Am I really jealous of Mutsumi-san? She shook her head vigorously, cursing herself for ever believing that. Her? Jealous? Of Mutsumi? For being all lovey dovey with that low-life? Impossible! She was Motoko Aoyama, heiress to the Shinmei Ryu school of kendo; the day she ever became jealous of the Okinawan for being the boyfriend of the resident pervert would be the day she willingly surrender her livelihood as a swordswoman and become a nun.
On second thought, becoming a nun didn't sound half bad to her... at least then, she thought, she wouldn't have to put up with his antics and violations of her privacy.
But the more she dwelled on the matter of Keitaro being an exception to her rule, the more it seemed to hit her in the face; the more it seemed to be true. It wasn't as if he meant to be in the wrong places at the wrong times, nor did Kitsune, Su or Sara seem to help with their constant trickery. What with his bad luck and poor sense of timing, she wouldn't be too surprised to hear that it had all been the work of a foul, inhuman spirit who had cursed him since the day he was born. Yep, that sounded logical. She also had to admit that he was noble spirited, no matter how much she tried to convince herself she was nothing but trouble. After all, what other normal person would accept the blame for all the things he was accused of, and do nothing to stop the barrage of punches, kicks and slashes? At least he had a sense of morality, that much could be said.
Motoko growled in frustration at her ever-contradictory thoughts and feelings about the kanrinin, and stood up briskly, picking up her katana as she did so. At this rate, she would never get any more practice done. As she made her way through the door and down the steps to her room, one last thought was running through her head.
Even in my thoughts you haunt me so, Urashima.
-----
In the kanrinin's room, Mutsumi was slowly beginning to rouse herself from her peaceful sleep. Her eyes gently fluttered open. Seeing the serene look on her boyfriend's face, she smiled gently, experiencing the same feelings that she had when she woke up in the Urashima man's arms every morning; peace, security, comfort, closeness, love and relief - relieved at the fact that she was not just dreaming that she was lying in his bed every night in his arms, as well as the fact that he actually chose her over Naru. While she knew this seemed to be a very shallow thought since they were both good friends, she was not about to let herself surrender Keitaro back to the auburn-haired girl; not now, not after she had found all of the things she wanted to experience with him. It was Naru's loss, not Keitaro's.
Regaining most of her bearings, she noticed that her face was only a matter of inches away from Keitaro's. Those soft, warm, tender lips, looking more inviting than anything. A light flush adorned her face as she realised that she could feel his warm breath on her own lips, making her spine chill slightly. She also noticed the position the two were in; his right arm around her waist, and her left arm around his. Her long, flowing, silky-soft strands of hair were sprawled out in no particular direction, a few of these strands resting on the side of Keitaro's face.
The beautiful Okinawan woman was snapped out of her thoughts by the sight of Keitaro gently stirring in his sleep before opening his eyes, grimacing as the early morning sunlight spilled into the room and into his eyes through the window. She could not help but stare into his warm, chocolate-brown orbs as he woke up; those orbs that filled her with the most overwhelming sense of security whenever she would look into them. Both of them stared at each other for seconds that seemed to drag on like hours, their heart rates and pulses beginning to go a bit faster. Neither of them looked like they wanted to move away from this impromptu embrace, not wanting to spoil the moment they were both sharing.
"G-Good morning... Mutsumi," Keitaro finally spoke, a blush spreading across his face as he noticed how close in proximity their faces were to one another. While this was a regular occurrence ever since they both made their relationship official, it was still nonetheless enough to make him go as red as a beetroot.
"Ara... good morning, Keitaro," Mutsumi replied, her voice nothing more than a hushed whisper.
Several more moments had passed by before the Urashima man spoke up again, noticing the time. "We'd best be getting cleaned up. Shinobu-chan will have breakfast ready soon."
"Hai." Reluctantly, the two began to slip out of their embrace, Mutsumi standing up slowly and making her way towards the bathroom, not bothering to put on anything to conceal her modesty. Keitaro couldn't help but stare at the Okinawan beauty; his eyes wandering all over her slim and highly desireable physique, drinking in and admiring her milky white, flawless skin, body and slender legs. Staring at her like this made him think just how lucky he was to have her as a girlfriend.
...he also felt a certain part of his anatomy rise up in agreement with the sight before him.
Whoa, down boy! He mentally yelled at his anatomy, who seemed to take no notice whatsoever, even after Mutsumi walked out of the room. Damn. I think a cold shower is in order after seeing that... He rose from his futon, rolling it up and putting it in his wardrobe for later, trying vainly to conceal his current state of excitement. He then walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the top draw to pull out some clothes. After pulling out a pair of jeans, he noticed something small and metallic, glimmering in the light. His curiosity piqued, he picked it up, revealing it to be a heart-shaped locket. Hmm. Must be Mutsumi's. His assumption was proven right, as he noticed the initials "M.O." carved in a very fancy, expensive-looking style of writing on the front of the locket. Opening it up with care, he saw two pictures of him in there; one of him from when they both first met in Okinawa, and the other which looked fairly recent. He felt a light blush reappear on his cheeks as he saw these pictures, smiling fondly. Closing the locket back up, he made sure to put it back where he found it, picking out a plain, non-descript shirt.
I love you, Mutsumi.
At that moment, the said woman walked back into the room, still having done nothing to solve the issue her current state of undress; this sight made Keitaro divebomb towards the box of tissues, feeling all the blood in his head suddenly rush to his nose as he saw Mutsumi's bosom and 'lower half'. He turned away, not only to stop himself from provoking a sudden eruption of the maroon liquid, but also to help preserve the slightly older woman's modesty. "M-M-M-Mutsumi! Gomen! I didn't know you were still... still..." The Urashima man's face went redder than humanly possible as he found himself unable to finish that sentence.
Mutsumi giggled mirthfully, her mouth held up to her mouth. "Don't be silly, Keitaro; I told you before, I do not mind you seeing me like this at all." Her mouth curved upwards into a cute, disarming smile. "Would you like to join me in the bath for a quick wash, just before we go to breakfast?"
Keitaro tried frantically to prevent the impending eruption of his nostrils as the images of him and Mutsumi in the open-air bath, both nude, flooded his mind like the bursting of a dam. "W-Where? My tub or t-the open-air bath?"
"Wherever; your choice."
"My tub," Keitaro replied, without a second thought. He really could not do with the girls wandering in on him and Mutsumi while they were both having a bath, and inevitably being knocked into orbit by either Naru or Motoko. With that thought, it wasn't himself he was concerned about, rather the grilling and questioning Mutsumi would receive afterwards. Not that he'd have any reason to worry about that; time and time again in the past, she has handled herself in those questions quite adeptly, answering questions honestly, albeit sometimes subconsciously enough to give people the wrong idea.
"Of course," Mutsumi replied, her smile still present. She held out her hand towards Keitaro after he got a spare towel. "Shall we go?"
Keitaro took the hand offered to him without a word, still blushing as they both walked out to his wooden tub on one of the balconies.
I guess I really should be used to this... Keitaro thought, embarrassedly, so why aren't I? I still nearly faint at the sight of Mutsumi's... boldness... He felt a stirring in his loins again, as the image of Mutsumi standing before him, without a stitch of clothing on her person, made it's presence within the deepest recesses of his mind.
