Akamatsuverse The Silent Bard
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I just had a thought: How will Motoko, who is the only one in the Hinata Sou outside of the Urashima's to be knowledgeable in all things Magical, react to Keitaro?
Based on what I've seen in a lot of fan fiction and the Motoko/Tsuruko story arc in the Manga, Motoko is aware of magic. How will she take the idea of a male with a magical voice? Will she watch him suspiciously, believing he's some sort of uber-pervert waiting for the right chance to "seduce" all of the tenants? Will she not notice at all, since the craziness of his introduction to the Inn will drive all thought of inspecting Keitaro back as she focuses on removing the "perverted male" from the house? Will she not care, thinking Keitaro's voice to be non-threatening?
Other than that, I find this story to be very entertaining. The Urashima family background is really cool, and it makes me wonder if Haruka inherited anything cool from the family line too.
Based on what I've seen in a lot of fan fiction and the Motoko/Tsuruko story arc in the Manga, Motoko is aware of magic. How will she take the idea of a male with a magical voice? Will she watch him suspiciously, believing he's some sort of uber-pervert waiting for the right chance to "seduce" all of the tenants? Will she not notice at all, since the craziness of his introduction to the Inn will drive all thought of inspecting Keitaro back as she focuses on removing the "perverted male" from the house? Will she not care, thinking Keitaro's voice to be non-threatening?
Other than that, I find this story to be very entertaining. The Urashima family background is really cool, and it makes me wonder if Haruka inherited anything cool from the family line too.
Looking back over the start it seemed to lack a bit of flow, so I re wrote it and added a bit more,
Our story begins like a lot of interesting and amusing stories, in a pub, and like a lot of interesting tales with the phrase ôI bet you canÆtàö drawled semi-coherently by someone who has obviously imbibed far to much of the local intoxicant. There are plenty of things one should never mix with alcohol; medicine, drugs, traffic cones and bets about snorting sherbet being a few, however it must be said that magic is probably the most irresponsible one especially when the person using magic under the influence of an intoxicating substance is not the most controlled magical practitioner under normal circumstances anyway .
Errol the Almost Terminally Erratic was drunk or as he preferred to put it, significantly sloshed bordering on plastered, on the whole it had been a good day, heÆd got a gig helping some adventurers clear out some zombies that had escaped from Cyril the Slightly SillyÆs All Night Zombie Laundromat and Ironing Service, again, something about better pay and conditions for the life impaired. It had gone well, most of the spells had gone mostly to plan although one could never really tell what was going to happen when playing around with wild magic, having everyone buy you drinks for turning the village bully into a chicken headed octopus was good too.
So it was in this state when the phrase ôI bet you canÆt flip up that barmaidÆs skirt from hereö was uttered, now normally magic requires a decent amount of concentration and an even clearer mind was needed to mould the chaotic forces unleashed by wild magic into the desired magical effect. As it took Errol more time to figure out how to make his bar stool turn without falling off than to come up with a spell, everyone still sober had found something solid to hide under. Due to this no one who was in a normal state of mind was quite sure what exactly happened to the young green-eyed bard conducting the singing with his stein. Although that was hardly surprising as only someone not in a normal state of mind could describe coherently the visual sight of someone being twisted into eighteen dimensions and disappearing into an Astral rift while singing about pink elephants (on a side note the revised spell did actually manage to flip up said barmaids skirt but unfortunately it had other unforseen effects besides aforementioned astral rift, namely temporarily raising the strength of said barmaid so that her returning slap lodged Errol the Almost Terminally Erratic in the roof of the tavern).
Normally anything sucked into an unguided accidentally summoned astral rift has the survival chance of a turtle on a twelve lane motorway. So it was indeed statistically freakish when said Astral rift shot our young bard into an almost unvisited part of the multiverse, neatly avoiding all those planes which would have seen him disfigured, soul rent from his body by demonic entities, eaten by tentacled things from the dungeon dimensions, enslaved as the last male on the planet by a race of succubi like women, revered as the next incarnation of a major god or otherwise just plain dead and instead dropped him unconscious into seriously hot water, or as we know it , an occupied outdoor womenÆs bath somewhere in Japan sometime in the late 11th century.
He, of course had all kinds of interesting and highly improbable adventures and eventually settled down and had a family (although interestingly enough, the aforementioned adventures seemed to focus on which of the young ladies who witnessed his entrance into this reality would, for want of a better phrase, bag the lovably oblivious fool).
The part of the story that interest us begins with a tune, it was a simple, innocuous, cheerful tune whistled by a green eyed, brown haired young man as he dragged his luggage behind him. It seemed to declare to the world that even though you were leaving home and striking it out on your own, the world was still a wonderful place full of promise and hope, and that you may as well stop to the smell the roses before you gave it all a go.
Its effect could be seen in the brooding overworked office worker who decided not to go on a shooting spree through upper management and chose instead to visit a relaxing cafÚ, (where he incidentally met a charming young waitress who accepted his suggestion of a date) or the arguing couple screaming at each other who calmed down and sobbingly decided to give each other one more chance (although the screaming did start up again soon after, it was for a completely different and decidedly happier reason).
All through Hinata city a wave of good cheer and optimistic hope seemed to weave through the streets as people set aside their worries and gave things a chance, although if one could have mapped out the time and location of each event it would have correlated strangely with the confused wanderings of a lost young man who was only now gazing at the imposing steps to what he knew to be Hinata-sou.
Gazing silently up the hill, Keitaro Urashima age 19 took in the majesty of the setting as clouds drifted by under the warm afternoon sun, his green eyes soaking in the idyllic scene.
æI donÆt remember this many stepsÆ Keitaro thought to himself, huffing as he carefully lifting his bags so he wouldnÆt knock it on any steps as he carried it up, æbut it canÆt be helpedæ his most precious possessions were in that bag and he had never felt comfortable letting someone else cart them around. Humming to himself he slowly climbed the stairs, the pleasant childhood memories attached to them flooding back.
Memories of playing with his promise girl and the sandpit where the precious promise to get into Todai had been made.
His first instrument and music lesson, the old heirloom family harp that his great-grandfather had taught him how to play,
Learning how to bake pastries and cook from his parents.
Watching his uncles get together, talk, get drunk and then play and sing bawdy songs till his red-faced aunts scolded and called them in.
His school music teachers and the four way brawl that had erupted when they realised that he could only play one instrument in the school band.
The disturbing memory of Ito-sensei wrapping her flute around Kobe senseiÆs throat as he knocked out Saito-sensei with a tuba and the looks of panic as wizened old Suzuki sensei hefted a piano over his head.
Playing Piano concertos that year.
æHappy timesÆ thought Keitaro as he reached the top of the stairs, æNow I wonder what Granny called me here for?Æ
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Nostalgia is a wonderful thing, bringing back fond memories of times past, except for when it clouds observation of important information in the present, like for instance a sign saying Girls only Dormitory, so with out this very important piece of information an extremely complicated and highly improbable course of events was finally set into motion as Keitaro stepped inside the halls of the Hinata-sou.
Keitaro let out a whistle, the two crisp notes ringing like a door bell through the empty halls, æthatÆs funny no one seems to be hereÆ thought Keitaro.
The last time he had visited and announced his presence in such a way, Granny express-freight-train Hina had barrelled straight through his parents and scooped both Kanako and himself into a hug before almost drowning them in wet sloppy kisses. Considering he was upright and dry she mustnÆt be here.
æOh well I may as well bring my stuff in, IÆll leave it in grandmaÆs room for safe keepingÆ mused Keitaro as he walked up the stairs and towards where he remembered his grandmaÆs room was. Finding the room and flopping down on the tatami mats he let his mind wander to what possible reasons his grandma might have for calling him here.
Keitaro stared at the ceiling as he took stock of his life in an effort to come up with a reason why he had been sent for out of the blue. He was still trying to get into that Todai / Education/Music degree after two attempts already, his parents even understood that it wasnÆt really his fault he hadnÆt got in.
He thought back to his first attempt, he had decided to do classical guitar as his audition instrument, the initial theory exam had been easy, music had always made so much sense to him, and the scales and first audition piece had gone fine.
It was the second piece that had caused problems, his fill in examiner had been Aizawa-san a homely if severely dressed lady in her late 20Æs, who had lately been finding the life of a single, highly talented violinist to be a lonely one. All the men she met were either intimidated by her skill or were after the prestige of dating a minor celebrity in the classical music arena.
So when Keitaro began his second audition piece things started to get a bit strange, why you ask, Keitaro played a Spanish Flamenco ballard. Full of passion and emotion, coupled with its exotic mix of cultural influences it began to have a profound effect on Miss Yuki Aizawa. She began to feel strangely warm and tingly, suddenly the highly professional business jacket, long dress and high button blouse felt strangely restrictive, she began to wonder why she always wore her hair in a bun.
Keitaro immersed in the joy of making music had no idea what was going on until Aizawa-san called a stop to the audition. Confused he had opened his eyes and wondered æHow come Aizawa-san is red and out of breath, I hope sheÆs not falling illÆ and as she walked towards him æI wonder why she just pulled her hair out of its bunÆ and then æWhat the hell!Æ as, Yuki Aizawa took the guitar from him, tackled him to the floor and attempted a to reach his tonsils with her tongue.
The commotion had drawn the attention of the other examiners and auditioners outside but they only managed to pry Aizawa-san off when Keitaro had fainted from lack of air and shock. She had then kiss tackled her fellow examiner and long time unrequited crush before recovering her senses and blushing red to her roots.
Needless to say Keitaro hadnÆt made it that year, without the audition pass there wasnÆt even a reason to go to the Todai entrance exam, although he did get an invite to play dinner jazz at the wedding reception a few months later, where he got a peck on the cheek from the blushing bride and his arm nearly shaken off by the happy groom as he was thanked for whatever it was he had done that had led to this day.
His second attempt the year after hadnÆt gone much better, in an attempt to stem any such reoccurrence he had chosen the flute solo pieces, Grand Polonaise in D major by Boehm a demanding, virtuostic work and BachÆs Partita in A minor a masterpiece in the Baroque style, there shouldnÆt have been any reason for anything to happen.
The examiner that year had been a cantankerous German professor with the build of a bear and a beard you could hide a wolf in, renowned for being miserable, demanding and universally hard to please, indeed Professor Koertig was known to have sent prospective students away in tears from auditions. Again Keitaro had done well in the theory exam and the scales, all seemed well in the first piece as the difficult and demanding work by Boehm had seemingly impressed the normally abrasive German professor, again however it was the second work that caused problems.
As Keitaro played the deeply religious BachÆs Partita in A minor, Professor Koertig, proud and antagonistic atheist that he was had a religious experience. Was he really happy with where he was now, bitter, lonely, wantonly malicious?
Why did he derive so much joy by crushing the hopes of so many young musicians, where had he gone wrong all those years ago, he had been such a happy and helpful child the brothers at the old monastery school in his hometown had always said. His mother had always said how proud she was of her gentlemanly son, what would she say looking at him now?
Keitaro played on oblivious to the deep soul searching and life revaluation going on beside him until a teary professor Koertig had stopped the audition, given him a hug that would have given a polar bear a run for its money and sent him on his way with such uncharacteristically glowing audition comments, the university had investigated him to make sure bribery wasnÆt involved.
The investigation was never completed though, as he had heard second hand that Professor Koertig had resigned and returned to his home town where he had joined the old monastery school as a lay brother and now taught music to the orphans and village children there. (He and his metal bound bible were now also the symbol of terror for all miscreants and vagabonds in his hometown, indeed the phrase ôThe word of the Lord correctsö was often the last thing criminals heard before waking up in jail with concussion and cross shaped contusions)
No wrong doing was found but the university was always overly cautious, so Keitaro hadnÆt made it in that year either.
Sitting up Keitaro resolved, this year he would make it, æI mean how bad could my luck beÆ before deciding æIÆll take a bath, that will take my mind off thingsÆ
This of course would later prove just how unlucky he could be.
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The Hinata ûsou Onsen was a u-shaped pool with a large rock formation at its centre with rock features defining three interconnected pools while partially obscuring view from one pool to another. Keitaro slipped into the side he remembered to be the menÆs side of the pool, after all he wasnÆt a pervert to hide in the womenÆs side and it wasnÆt polite to bathe in the mixed section with strangers. Letting the warm waters soak away the aches and pains accumulated from walking around lost for an hour and half, and climbing a long flight of stairs with luggage, Keitaro allowed his mind to turn back to the matter at hand.
He had decent grades not amazing but heÆd been good at anything to do with music or language even if the higher maths and sciences had completely escaped him. HeÆd had a good childhood, true he hadnÆt been popular, ever, but then he hadnÆt really been made fun of much beyond what was to be expected by being a quiet dork(this being partly attributed to four of KeitaroÆs cousins who convinced the local punk gang that delinquency was a most unhealthy life choice).
At school most of the guys were friendly enough to say hi and he had a few close friends who had been willing to learn sign language to talk with him. Although the girls always seemed to be wary of him for some reason, when ever he had waved and smiled he always seemed to get the same strained nervous smile and anxious half hearted wave before they excused themselves, at least from the nice ones anyway.
His family had made up for it though, the Urashima Clan had always been close knit, Keitaro had fond memories of those family reunions, they had filled the inn, and the children had run riot with the family pets while the Aunts gossiped and the Uncles drank and sang in the onsen. It had been years since such a reunion though, as the kids had grown up everyone was too busy to get together again as a clan, although they had tried to make up for it by visiting each other often.
Caught in the nostalgia, his mind drifted through his memories remembering treasure hunts and games of tag, swings and playgrounds, when like an iceberg in a shipping lane he hit æthatÆ memory. Keitaro mentally kicked himself, why did he always remind himself of that, the self loathing welled up in him as the sounds of the truck skidding, the sickening thud of flesh bouncing off steel and the look of fear directed at him played through his mind again. His great-grandfather had said that if you had enough good memories they would gang up and drown out the bad, but somehow Keitaro doubted he would ever forget that day. Sighing heavily, Keitaro carefully picked up the wooden container that held his bathing supplies, emptied it out and smacked himself in the head, ÆIÆm not some manga character, I refuse to be emoÆ.
Setting down the container, his senses alerted him to the sound of a screen door opening and closing, æthatÆs odd there didnÆt seem to be any guestsÆ, putting his glasses on he turned to greet the newcomer, when the sight being delivered caused his brain to stall.
Indeed he sat in the water, jaw dangling like a stunned mullet as the beautiful naked brunette slipped into the water next to him and rearranged her towel a bit.
Naru Narusegewa, age 17, settled into the onsen next to the blurry shape she thought was her friend Mitsune Konno or ÆKitsuneÆ as she was affectionately called.
ôAh, this hot spring is greatö, raising her arms above her head she stretched out the knots in her shoulders letting the warm water do its work, ôBathing at noon is the best, itÆs so relaxingö
KeitaroÆs brain was letting him down like a classroom of pubescent boys discovering that the new internet connection was very fast, had no filter, and that yes, despite all disbelief and debate those two were real. Indeed the only neurons still at their post and not crowding around Visual inputÆs console were Facial Expressions, who was sitting next to Visual and didnÆt have to move but was absentmindedly flicking the jaw switch up and down and Central Cognition who knew what was most likely to happen next and intended to make sure when the punch arrived it wouldnÆt interrupt long term memory storage so that he could enjoy the playback later.
Naru moved closesr to the blur she thought was Kitsune, she seemed oddly quiet today, Naru grinned, today she would bait the fox, öHey what do you think?ö as she cupped her breasts ôDonÆt you think my breasts have gotten bigger recently, Take a look.ö
At this any of KeitaroÆs useful brain activity ground to a halt as visual input took the opportunity to zoom in, he was so stunned in fact that when Naru made a grab for his hands with a cry of ôIÆll let you touch themö, Central Cognition unthinkingly mashed his input controls and hit apologise.
Keitaro reflexively brought his hands up and was beginning to sign that it might not be appropriate for him to cop a feel from someone youÆve just met even if youÆve been invited, when Naru grabbed something else entirely which promptly restalled useful brain activity as everyone stampeded to TouchÆs console.
Naru was beginning to feel some inklings of confusion, Kitsune hadnÆt said a word since she had entered the onsen and KitsuneÆs wrist wasnÆt this thick and why was it getting bigger. Taking a step back she reached for her glasses and raising them to her face squinted at the blur in front of her. She looked down at what she was holding, looked up again and dropped the glasses at which point she took a deep breath and prepared to scream her lungs out except that, at least for her, things blacked out for a minute.
It has been noted that the prospect of death or at least severe injury can contract the mind wonderfully and for Keitaro the split second Naru had used to draw breath had been enough. All neurons were at battle stations, Endocrine had hit the emergency adrenaline switch as Central Cognition looked at the long term memory upload timer and paled, if he was going to enjoy the play back from Visual and Touch input he had to keep from getting smashed in the face for another 2 mins, there was nothing for it he pushed the big red button. Like a nuclear submarine captain about to start WWIII, three sets of keys were turned simultaneously, a whole new board of consoles opened and Oral output pushed one of many big red buttons.
Keitaro without knowing how or why sang a single quiet, complicated and confusing note, the harmonics were strange, unnatural and echoed oddly, and for some reason the girl in front of him took a great breath and stopped, which seemed to be the perfect opportunity to get the hell out of there.
Keitaro bolted for the change rooms put some underwear on and rewrapped his towel as quickly as he could before grabbing his clothes, notebook and pen, making sure the coast was clear in the corridor, he mused, what was it his uncle Ryosuke had said about getting out of trouble, ôThere is an art to running away, you have to get the timing right, until then walk, calmly, nonchalantly and above all quicklyö.
Calming his adrenaline filled body Keitaro walked as quickly and nonchalantly to his grandmaÆs room as he could, giving a nod and smile to a preoccupied young lady with short blond hair wrapped in a towel with the form guide walking past on her way to the onsen.
Kitsune was deep in thought, she needed a big win soon or else she would have to pick up part time work again, now indeed the dilemma arose, Mudan rose in race 4 or Like a Coward in race 7, returning the greeting of the young man walking past with a nod and a grunt she turned into the changing area to pick up her bathing supplies and upon entering the onsen was rewarded with the curious sight of Naru standing with her eyes screwed up and breath drawn like she was about to scream something, which three and half seconds later she did.
At the foot of the stairs, Keitaro heard the cry of ôEEEEEEEEKKK PERVERT, SOMEONE HELP, PERVERTö , æAbout nowÆ thought Keitaro as he abandoned subtlety and made a mad dash for his grandmaÆs room.
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There was only one thought going through KeitaroÆs mind as he hid under a kontatsu listening to the sounds of the pervert hunt going on throughout the inn, æIÆm going to die.Æ
ôWHERE IS THAT PERVERT, IöLL KILL HIMö
æA horrible, horrible deathÆ
ôDonÆt worry Naru, my heartbeat sensor will find himö
ôSu are you sure it will workö
ôSure, look these dots are us, but thereÆs an extra one thereö
æoh shitÆ
Keitaro braced himself for whatever was about to happen and barely avoided the flying door that knocked the Kontatsu that he was hiding under out the window. He turned to see two girls, one holding a boken doing a very good impression of the deities of female fury.
ôAny last words, before Motoko finishes you off, Pervert?ö
KeitaroÆs fingers flashed frantically, and if Naru or Motoko had known sign language they would have been hard pressed to keep with the frantic explanations, as they didnÆt there really was no reason for Motoko not to let go off the strike she had been itching to deliver.
Indeed it took all of KeitaroÆs rather pathetic athletic ability to avoid the kendo strike that splintered the floor where he was sure his groin had just been, scurring backwards he felt his back hit the wall and his hopes failed. æThatÆs it IÆm dead, with luck IÆll die manhood intact.Æ Pressing his back into the wall wishing it would swallow him up, Keitaro was quite surprised when it did just that, the section of wall behind a decorative wall scroll swinging away and dropping him into a hitherto unknown passage.
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ôAAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!ö
Two screams of frustration and fury rent the air around the Hinata - sou as the two thwarted beauties let their feelings be known. Haruka Urashima, proud patron of the Hinata tea shop arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the commotion, at the three closest tables no less than eight lonely single lovesick junior executives sighed heavily at the action by the elegant and enigmatic Tea shop owner. Haruka turned quickly to hide the slight smile forming on her lips, she was going to have do something about those guys before the OLÆs that were sitting at the next table glaring at her gave up on them and she was stuck with them mooning over her for good. Still it did a girl no harm to know she still had it, looking through the open window and up at the Hinata-sou she wondered though, what in the world was going on to cause that racket. She was interrupted in her musings by the sound of fax coming through in the back room, leaving her assistant to cover the tea shop she inspected the fax as it came through the machine. It only took the first half of the first page to come through for HarukaÆs slight grin to turn into a full blown smile, ôKeitaroÆs coming backô she whispered to herself as she took a lingering look at an old photograph on the wall before slipping out the back door and heading towards the steps
ôKABOOOOMö
æalthough from the sounds of that he may have arrived earlier than expectedÆ Haruka thought as she started up the steps to find her favourite cousin.
Our story begins like a lot of interesting and amusing stories, in a pub, and like a lot of interesting tales with the phrase ôI bet you canÆtàö drawled semi-coherently by someone who has obviously imbibed far to much of the local intoxicant. There are plenty of things one should never mix with alcohol; medicine, drugs, traffic cones and bets about snorting sherbet being a few, however it must be said that magic is probably the most irresponsible one especially when the person using magic under the influence of an intoxicating substance is not the most controlled magical practitioner under normal circumstances anyway .
Errol the Almost Terminally Erratic was drunk or as he preferred to put it, significantly sloshed bordering on plastered, on the whole it had been a good day, heÆd got a gig helping some adventurers clear out some zombies that had escaped from Cyril the Slightly SillyÆs All Night Zombie Laundromat and Ironing Service, again, something about better pay and conditions for the life impaired. It had gone well, most of the spells had gone mostly to plan although one could never really tell what was going to happen when playing around with wild magic, having everyone buy you drinks for turning the village bully into a chicken headed octopus was good too.
So it was in this state when the phrase ôI bet you canÆt flip up that barmaidÆs skirt from hereö was uttered, now normally magic requires a decent amount of concentration and an even clearer mind was needed to mould the chaotic forces unleashed by wild magic into the desired magical effect. As it took Errol more time to figure out how to make his bar stool turn without falling off than to come up with a spell, everyone still sober had found something solid to hide under. Due to this no one who was in a normal state of mind was quite sure what exactly happened to the young green-eyed bard conducting the singing with his stein. Although that was hardly surprising as only someone not in a normal state of mind could describe coherently the visual sight of someone being twisted into eighteen dimensions and disappearing into an Astral rift while singing about pink elephants (on a side note the revised spell did actually manage to flip up said barmaids skirt but unfortunately it had other unforseen effects besides aforementioned astral rift, namely temporarily raising the strength of said barmaid so that her returning slap lodged Errol the Almost Terminally Erratic in the roof of the tavern).
Normally anything sucked into an unguided accidentally summoned astral rift has the survival chance of a turtle on a twelve lane motorway. So it was indeed statistically freakish when said Astral rift shot our young bard into an almost unvisited part of the multiverse, neatly avoiding all those planes which would have seen him disfigured, soul rent from his body by demonic entities, eaten by tentacled things from the dungeon dimensions, enslaved as the last male on the planet by a race of succubi like women, revered as the next incarnation of a major god or otherwise just plain dead and instead dropped him unconscious into seriously hot water, or as we know it , an occupied outdoor womenÆs bath somewhere in Japan sometime in the late 11th century.
He, of course had all kinds of interesting and highly improbable adventures and eventually settled down and had a family (although interestingly enough, the aforementioned adventures seemed to focus on which of the young ladies who witnessed his entrance into this reality would, for want of a better phrase, bag the lovably oblivious fool).
The part of the story that interest us begins with a tune, it was a simple, innocuous, cheerful tune whistled by a green eyed, brown haired young man as he dragged his luggage behind him. It seemed to declare to the world that even though you were leaving home and striking it out on your own, the world was still a wonderful place full of promise and hope, and that you may as well stop to the smell the roses before you gave it all a go.
Its effect could be seen in the brooding overworked office worker who decided not to go on a shooting spree through upper management and chose instead to visit a relaxing cafÚ, (where he incidentally met a charming young waitress who accepted his suggestion of a date) or the arguing couple screaming at each other who calmed down and sobbingly decided to give each other one more chance (although the screaming did start up again soon after, it was for a completely different and decidedly happier reason).
All through Hinata city a wave of good cheer and optimistic hope seemed to weave through the streets as people set aside their worries and gave things a chance, although if one could have mapped out the time and location of each event it would have correlated strangely with the confused wanderings of a lost young man who was only now gazing at the imposing steps to what he knew to be Hinata-sou.
Gazing silently up the hill, Keitaro Urashima age 19 took in the majesty of the setting as clouds drifted by under the warm afternoon sun, his green eyes soaking in the idyllic scene.
æI donÆt remember this many stepsÆ Keitaro thought to himself, huffing as he carefully lifting his bags so he wouldnÆt knock it on any steps as he carried it up, æbut it canÆt be helpedæ his most precious possessions were in that bag and he had never felt comfortable letting someone else cart them around. Humming to himself he slowly climbed the stairs, the pleasant childhood memories attached to them flooding back.
Memories of playing with his promise girl and the sandpit where the precious promise to get into Todai had been made.
His first instrument and music lesson, the old heirloom family harp that his great-grandfather had taught him how to play,
Learning how to bake pastries and cook from his parents.
Watching his uncles get together, talk, get drunk and then play and sing bawdy songs till his red-faced aunts scolded and called them in.
His school music teachers and the four way brawl that had erupted when they realised that he could only play one instrument in the school band.
The disturbing memory of Ito-sensei wrapping her flute around Kobe senseiÆs throat as he knocked out Saito-sensei with a tuba and the looks of panic as wizened old Suzuki sensei hefted a piano over his head.
Playing Piano concertos that year.
æHappy timesÆ thought Keitaro as he reached the top of the stairs, æNow I wonder what Granny called me here for?Æ
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Nostalgia is a wonderful thing, bringing back fond memories of times past, except for when it clouds observation of important information in the present, like for instance a sign saying Girls only Dormitory, so with out this very important piece of information an extremely complicated and highly improbable course of events was finally set into motion as Keitaro stepped inside the halls of the Hinata-sou.
Keitaro let out a whistle, the two crisp notes ringing like a door bell through the empty halls, æthatÆs funny no one seems to be hereÆ thought Keitaro.
The last time he had visited and announced his presence in such a way, Granny express-freight-train Hina had barrelled straight through his parents and scooped both Kanako and himself into a hug before almost drowning them in wet sloppy kisses. Considering he was upright and dry she mustnÆt be here.
æOh well I may as well bring my stuff in, IÆll leave it in grandmaÆs room for safe keepingÆ mused Keitaro as he walked up the stairs and towards where he remembered his grandmaÆs room was. Finding the room and flopping down on the tatami mats he let his mind wander to what possible reasons his grandma might have for calling him here.
Keitaro stared at the ceiling as he took stock of his life in an effort to come up with a reason why he had been sent for out of the blue. He was still trying to get into that Todai / Education/Music degree after two attempts already, his parents even understood that it wasnÆt really his fault he hadnÆt got in.
He thought back to his first attempt, he had decided to do classical guitar as his audition instrument, the initial theory exam had been easy, music had always made so much sense to him, and the scales and first audition piece had gone fine.
It was the second piece that had caused problems, his fill in examiner had been Aizawa-san a homely if severely dressed lady in her late 20Æs, who had lately been finding the life of a single, highly talented violinist to be a lonely one. All the men she met were either intimidated by her skill or were after the prestige of dating a minor celebrity in the classical music arena.
So when Keitaro began his second audition piece things started to get a bit strange, why you ask, Keitaro played a Spanish Flamenco ballard. Full of passion and emotion, coupled with its exotic mix of cultural influences it began to have a profound effect on Miss Yuki Aizawa. She began to feel strangely warm and tingly, suddenly the highly professional business jacket, long dress and high button blouse felt strangely restrictive, she began to wonder why she always wore her hair in a bun.
Keitaro immersed in the joy of making music had no idea what was going on until Aizawa-san called a stop to the audition. Confused he had opened his eyes and wondered æHow come Aizawa-san is red and out of breath, I hope sheÆs not falling illÆ and as she walked towards him æI wonder why she just pulled her hair out of its bunÆ and then æWhat the hell!Æ as, Yuki Aizawa took the guitar from him, tackled him to the floor and attempted a to reach his tonsils with her tongue.
The commotion had drawn the attention of the other examiners and auditioners outside but they only managed to pry Aizawa-san off when Keitaro had fainted from lack of air and shock. She had then kiss tackled her fellow examiner and long time unrequited crush before recovering her senses and blushing red to her roots.
Needless to say Keitaro hadnÆt made it that year, without the audition pass there wasnÆt even a reason to go to the Todai entrance exam, although he did get an invite to play dinner jazz at the wedding reception a few months later, where he got a peck on the cheek from the blushing bride and his arm nearly shaken off by the happy groom as he was thanked for whatever it was he had done that had led to this day.
His second attempt the year after hadnÆt gone much better, in an attempt to stem any such reoccurrence he had chosen the flute solo pieces, Grand Polonaise in D major by Boehm a demanding, virtuostic work and BachÆs Partita in A minor a masterpiece in the Baroque style, there shouldnÆt have been any reason for anything to happen.
The examiner that year had been a cantankerous German professor with the build of a bear and a beard you could hide a wolf in, renowned for being miserable, demanding and universally hard to please, indeed Professor Koertig was known to have sent prospective students away in tears from auditions. Again Keitaro had done well in the theory exam and the scales, all seemed well in the first piece as the difficult and demanding work by Boehm had seemingly impressed the normally abrasive German professor, again however it was the second work that caused problems.
As Keitaro played the deeply religious BachÆs Partita in A minor, Professor Koertig, proud and antagonistic atheist that he was had a religious experience. Was he really happy with where he was now, bitter, lonely, wantonly malicious?
Why did he derive so much joy by crushing the hopes of so many young musicians, where had he gone wrong all those years ago, he had been such a happy and helpful child the brothers at the old monastery school in his hometown had always said. His mother had always said how proud she was of her gentlemanly son, what would she say looking at him now?
Keitaro played on oblivious to the deep soul searching and life revaluation going on beside him until a teary professor Koertig had stopped the audition, given him a hug that would have given a polar bear a run for its money and sent him on his way with such uncharacteristically glowing audition comments, the university had investigated him to make sure bribery wasnÆt involved.
The investigation was never completed though, as he had heard second hand that Professor Koertig had resigned and returned to his home town where he had joined the old monastery school as a lay brother and now taught music to the orphans and village children there. (He and his metal bound bible were now also the symbol of terror for all miscreants and vagabonds in his hometown, indeed the phrase ôThe word of the Lord correctsö was often the last thing criminals heard before waking up in jail with concussion and cross shaped contusions)
No wrong doing was found but the university was always overly cautious, so Keitaro hadnÆt made it in that year either.
Sitting up Keitaro resolved, this year he would make it, æI mean how bad could my luck beÆ before deciding æIÆll take a bath, that will take my mind off thingsÆ
This of course would later prove just how unlucky he could be.
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The Hinata ûsou Onsen was a u-shaped pool with a large rock formation at its centre with rock features defining three interconnected pools while partially obscuring view from one pool to another. Keitaro slipped into the side he remembered to be the menÆs side of the pool, after all he wasnÆt a pervert to hide in the womenÆs side and it wasnÆt polite to bathe in the mixed section with strangers. Letting the warm waters soak away the aches and pains accumulated from walking around lost for an hour and half, and climbing a long flight of stairs with luggage, Keitaro allowed his mind to turn back to the matter at hand.
He had decent grades not amazing but heÆd been good at anything to do with music or language even if the higher maths and sciences had completely escaped him. HeÆd had a good childhood, true he hadnÆt been popular, ever, but then he hadnÆt really been made fun of much beyond what was to be expected by being a quiet dork(this being partly attributed to four of KeitaroÆs cousins who convinced the local punk gang that delinquency was a most unhealthy life choice).
At school most of the guys were friendly enough to say hi and he had a few close friends who had been willing to learn sign language to talk with him. Although the girls always seemed to be wary of him for some reason, when ever he had waved and smiled he always seemed to get the same strained nervous smile and anxious half hearted wave before they excused themselves, at least from the nice ones anyway.
His family had made up for it though, the Urashima Clan had always been close knit, Keitaro had fond memories of those family reunions, they had filled the inn, and the children had run riot with the family pets while the Aunts gossiped and the Uncles drank and sang in the onsen. It had been years since such a reunion though, as the kids had grown up everyone was too busy to get together again as a clan, although they had tried to make up for it by visiting each other often.
Caught in the nostalgia, his mind drifted through his memories remembering treasure hunts and games of tag, swings and playgrounds, when like an iceberg in a shipping lane he hit æthatÆ memory. Keitaro mentally kicked himself, why did he always remind himself of that, the self loathing welled up in him as the sounds of the truck skidding, the sickening thud of flesh bouncing off steel and the look of fear directed at him played through his mind again. His great-grandfather had said that if you had enough good memories they would gang up and drown out the bad, but somehow Keitaro doubted he would ever forget that day. Sighing heavily, Keitaro carefully picked up the wooden container that held his bathing supplies, emptied it out and smacked himself in the head, ÆIÆm not some manga character, I refuse to be emoÆ.
Setting down the container, his senses alerted him to the sound of a screen door opening and closing, æthatÆs odd there didnÆt seem to be any guestsÆ, putting his glasses on he turned to greet the newcomer, when the sight being delivered caused his brain to stall.
Indeed he sat in the water, jaw dangling like a stunned mullet as the beautiful naked brunette slipped into the water next to him and rearranged her towel a bit.
Naru Narusegewa, age 17, settled into the onsen next to the blurry shape she thought was her friend Mitsune Konno or ÆKitsuneÆ as she was affectionately called.
ôAh, this hot spring is greatö, raising her arms above her head she stretched out the knots in her shoulders letting the warm water do its work, ôBathing at noon is the best, itÆs so relaxingö
KeitaroÆs brain was letting him down like a classroom of pubescent boys discovering that the new internet connection was very fast, had no filter, and that yes, despite all disbelief and debate those two were real. Indeed the only neurons still at their post and not crowding around Visual inputÆs console were Facial Expressions, who was sitting next to Visual and didnÆt have to move but was absentmindedly flicking the jaw switch up and down and Central Cognition who knew what was most likely to happen next and intended to make sure when the punch arrived it wouldnÆt interrupt long term memory storage so that he could enjoy the playback later.
Naru moved closesr to the blur she thought was Kitsune, she seemed oddly quiet today, Naru grinned, today she would bait the fox, öHey what do you think?ö as she cupped her breasts ôDonÆt you think my breasts have gotten bigger recently, Take a look.ö
At this any of KeitaroÆs useful brain activity ground to a halt as visual input took the opportunity to zoom in, he was so stunned in fact that when Naru made a grab for his hands with a cry of ôIÆll let you touch themö, Central Cognition unthinkingly mashed his input controls and hit apologise.
Keitaro reflexively brought his hands up and was beginning to sign that it might not be appropriate for him to cop a feel from someone youÆve just met even if youÆve been invited, when Naru grabbed something else entirely which promptly restalled useful brain activity as everyone stampeded to TouchÆs console.
Naru was beginning to feel some inklings of confusion, Kitsune hadnÆt said a word since she had entered the onsen and KitsuneÆs wrist wasnÆt this thick and why was it getting bigger. Taking a step back she reached for her glasses and raising them to her face squinted at the blur in front of her. She looked down at what she was holding, looked up again and dropped the glasses at which point she took a deep breath and prepared to scream her lungs out except that, at least for her, things blacked out for a minute.
It has been noted that the prospect of death or at least severe injury can contract the mind wonderfully and for Keitaro the split second Naru had used to draw breath had been enough. All neurons were at battle stations, Endocrine had hit the emergency adrenaline switch as Central Cognition looked at the long term memory upload timer and paled, if he was going to enjoy the play back from Visual and Touch input he had to keep from getting smashed in the face for another 2 mins, there was nothing for it he pushed the big red button. Like a nuclear submarine captain about to start WWIII, three sets of keys were turned simultaneously, a whole new board of consoles opened and Oral output pushed one of many big red buttons.
Keitaro without knowing how or why sang a single quiet, complicated and confusing note, the harmonics were strange, unnatural and echoed oddly, and for some reason the girl in front of him took a great breath and stopped, which seemed to be the perfect opportunity to get the hell out of there.
Keitaro bolted for the change rooms put some underwear on and rewrapped his towel as quickly as he could before grabbing his clothes, notebook and pen, making sure the coast was clear in the corridor, he mused, what was it his uncle Ryosuke had said about getting out of trouble, ôThere is an art to running away, you have to get the timing right, until then walk, calmly, nonchalantly and above all quicklyö.
Calming his adrenaline filled body Keitaro walked as quickly and nonchalantly to his grandmaÆs room as he could, giving a nod and smile to a preoccupied young lady with short blond hair wrapped in a towel with the form guide walking past on her way to the onsen.
Kitsune was deep in thought, she needed a big win soon or else she would have to pick up part time work again, now indeed the dilemma arose, Mudan rose in race 4 or Like a Coward in race 7, returning the greeting of the young man walking past with a nod and a grunt she turned into the changing area to pick up her bathing supplies and upon entering the onsen was rewarded with the curious sight of Naru standing with her eyes screwed up and breath drawn like she was about to scream something, which three and half seconds later she did.
At the foot of the stairs, Keitaro heard the cry of ôEEEEEEEEKKK PERVERT, SOMEONE HELP, PERVERTö , æAbout nowÆ thought Keitaro as he abandoned subtlety and made a mad dash for his grandmaÆs room.
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There was only one thought going through KeitaroÆs mind as he hid under a kontatsu listening to the sounds of the pervert hunt going on throughout the inn, æIÆm going to die.Æ
ôWHERE IS THAT PERVERT, IöLL KILL HIMö
æA horrible, horrible deathÆ
ôDonÆt worry Naru, my heartbeat sensor will find himö
ôSu are you sure it will workö
ôSure, look these dots are us, but thereÆs an extra one thereö
æoh shitÆ
Keitaro braced himself for whatever was about to happen and barely avoided the flying door that knocked the Kontatsu that he was hiding under out the window. He turned to see two girls, one holding a boken doing a very good impression of the deities of female fury.
ôAny last words, before Motoko finishes you off, Pervert?ö
KeitaroÆs fingers flashed frantically, and if Naru or Motoko had known sign language they would have been hard pressed to keep with the frantic explanations, as they didnÆt there really was no reason for Motoko not to let go off the strike she had been itching to deliver.
Indeed it took all of KeitaroÆs rather pathetic athletic ability to avoid the kendo strike that splintered the floor where he was sure his groin had just been, scurring backwards he felt his back hit the wall and his hopes failed. æThatÆs it IÆm dead, with luck IÆll die manhood intact.Æ Pressing his back into the wall wishing it would swallow him up, Keitaro was quite surprised when it did just that, the section of wall behind a decorative wall scroll swinging away and dropping him into a hitherto unknown passage.
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ôAAAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!ö
Two screams of frustration and fury rent the air around the Hinata - sou as the two thwarted beauties let their feelings be known. Haruka Urashima, proud patron of the Hinata tea shop arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the commotion, at the three closest tables no less than eight lonely single lovesick junior executives sighed heavily at the action by the elegant and enigmatic Tea shop owner. Haruka turned quickly to hide the slight smile forming on her lips, she was going to have do something about those guys before the OLÆs that were sitting at the next table glaring at her gave up on them and she was stuck with them mooning over her for good. Still it did a girl no harm to know she still had it, looking through the open window and up at the Hinata-sou she wondered though, what in the world was going on to cause that racket. She was interrupted in her musings by the sound of fax coming through in the back room, leaving her assistant to cover the tea shop she inspected the fax as it came through the machine. It only took the first half of the first page to come through for HarukaÆs slight grin to turn into a full blown smile, ôKeitaroÆs coming backô she whispered to herself as she took a lingering look at an old photograph on the wall before slipping out the back door and heading towards the steps
ôKABOOOOMö
æalthough from the sounds of that he may have arrived earlier than expectedÆ Haruka thought as she started up the steps to find her favourite cousin.
*Rubs eyes*
Am I seeing things? :blink:
*Rubs eyes again*
No, its not an illusion. Its more of The Silent Bard :rip1:
But seriously, nice to see you working on this again wolf359.
I see that you re-did the entire thing again....hmmm. Well, this version defiantly has a lot more information and descriptions. The beginning is an improvement, though I laughed just as hard at the other two. The scenes seem to flow a bit better, and the added stuff fits well.
Haruka seems to have inherited a bit of the bard gene as well, though she can talk, or at least whisper. Not as strong in her.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed of the small amount of actual new material, but since it has been a while since I read this, your added parts to the old scenes made it seem new.
Hope to see more of the Bard soon.
Am I seeing things? :blink:
*Rubs eyes again*
No, its not an illusion. Its more of The Silent Bard :rip1:
But seriously, nice to see you working on this again wolf359.
I see that you re-did the entire thing again....hmmm. Well, this version defiantly has a lot more information and descriptions. The beginning is an improvement, though I laughed just as hard at the other two. The scenes seem to flow a bit better, and the added stuff fits well.
Haruka seems to have inherited a bit of the bard gene as well, though she can talk, or at least whisper. Not as strong in her.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed of the small amount of actual new material, but since it has been a while since I read this, your added parts to the old scenes made it seem new.
Hope to see more of the Bard soon.
Yay! The story still lives! 
I like the small changes that have been made. They really make the story easier to read. Although the whole "Catch that pervert!" routine did disappoint a bit. I'm just so bored of that scenario, and I'm sure a couple of musical notes - or a written note he would have written while hiding - would have stopped them (or at least slowed them down).
I like the small changes that have been made. They really make the story easier to read. Although the whole "Catch that pervert!" routine did disappoint a bit. I'm just so bored of that scenario, and I'm sure a couple of musical notes - or a written note he would have written while hiding - would have stopped them (or at least slowed them down).
Interesting premise, though I do have to mention one potential angle that nobody seemed to suggest. Simply, it would be highly amusing that Kitsune's lifestyle is because no one had any need for a Sign Language Instructor/Interpreter. I could see some sort of discount being made for Kitsune's services in this field.
From a musical standpoint, I will admit that Keitaro would have to avoid using folk music for one of his pieces. Since even written versions of various folk songs have multiple arrangements, most evaluators deem folk music impossible to accurately judge. It's a shame though. Would have been amazing for Keitaro to go in with a violin, only for him to pull out fiddle tunes.
From a musical standpoint, I will admit that Keitaro would have to avoid using folk music for one of his pieces. Since even written versions of various folk songs have multiple arrangements, most evaluators deem folk music impossible to accurately judge. It's a shame though. Would have been amazing for Keitaro to go in with a violin, only for him to pull out fiddle tunes.
This seems to be the case for any classical stringed instrument. Cellists, violist, violinists, and bassists do get more favorable attention from the ladies. In some ways, it's because the music we play is more or less made to woo women. Then there's the stereotype that we have to be exceptionally good with our fingers if we can play those instruments.
Singers (real ones, not the robots you'll find on TV) also get this attention. Some women go more for baritone/bass singers, but there are quite a few who are very appreciative of the tenor. Bass/baritone voices get a lot of cool rep anyhow because of Issac Hayes and Barry White. Those dudes knew how to sing their way into a woman's bed like it was nobody's business. There aren't really any tenors that do stuff like that, mostly because of the rarity of even a low tenor voice. Doesn't help that the only tenor role models were a trio of rotund troubadours. Not really inspiring, now is it?
Singers (real ones, not the robots you'll find on TV) also get this attention. Some women go more for baritone/bass singers, but there are quite a few who are very appreciative of the tenor. Bass/baritone voices get a lot of cool rep anyhow because of Issac Hayes and Barry White. Those dudes knew how to sing their way into a woman's bed like it was nobody's business. There aren't really any tenors that do stuff like that, mostly because of the rarity of even a low tenor voice. Doesn't help that the only tenor role models were a trio of rotund troubadours. Not really inspiring, now is it?