Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina.
The Twist
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Chapter 1
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The evening sun fell on the small town, welcoming the awakening night. In the streets, children began dashing for their homes, laughing and smiling their young hearts as they prepared for the end of a good day's effort; the women ceased their amiable chatter and tread towards home, eager for the faces of their families to welcome them; the men swayed and swayed as they danced in amusement around one another in release, returning from another day's worth of hard work and camaraderie to be ready for another rise the next day. The small town itself began to pull the covers for slumber... while a little tea house's chimney began to smoke.
'That's some good coffee,' came the sniffing voice of a young man, eagerly breathing in the scent of Mexican ground, 'smells great.'
Sitting on the counter, a hot mug in his hands, he looked nothing short of unremarkable, clad in blue shirt and wrinkled tie, along with a slightly worn pair of pants that looked as though they had been taken right out of a survivor camp's wardrobe. He smoothed his clear glasses (steam had begun to accumulate on his lenses), wiping at them with the smooth fabric of his tie. His brown hair looked as unimpressive as he did, forcefully combed and sticking out in strange angles, as though threatening to break into a fuzz. His youthful visage told a different story from his way of dress; he looked positively fresh, ready for a brand new day.
'No crowds today, though?' he enquired, lifting the mug to his lips before setting it back down, licking them: too hot for the moment.
From beneath the counter a woman emerged, in sweater and apron, wiping the sweat from her brow. In her hands was a crate of empty beer bottles. Dead-set eyes and hair in bun, she looked as though she belonged in the middle of a disciplinary committee of a delinquent school, either with a pile of broken bodies underneath her heel or crushed within her fist. Her tall figure showed off more authority than anyone would have known she had, along with her slender yet obviously wirey frame. A huff was heard escaping her lips, and the young man rushed a hand to the crate, only to earn a scowl from the aforementioned woman.
'It's only Thursday,' the young man hurriedly removed his hand from the object, catching her scowl, 'rush hour's not 'til nine.' was the stoic reply, as though automated. She set the crate of bottles on the counter, counting them one by one, 'Speaking of rush hours...'
She threw a glance at the only present male, who was childishly blowing his coffee in hurried repetitions, hoping for it to cool down faster than it could. The brown-haired man nervously met her eyes; it wasn't so much that she was that intimidating; She was far from the most ominous presence he knew, but the short-haired woman could throw a look that could set the Arctic Circle on fire or freeze the Savannah when she wanted to. Years of dealing with bullies and yellow-bellied cowards with the tea house had given back more than enough. The young man stopped the puffing on his beverage, adjusting the slightly-used-looking tie around his collar.
'E û Eh? What's with that look?' he stammered, causing some of his coffee to drip onto the board of the table, 'I û It's fine; Granny said she'd be here at about seven, I have all the time I need, see? It's only five thirty.' she seemed satisfied with the answer, as she continued to work behind the counter, bringing out more bottles from underneath the counter, some filled with liquid, most empty, 'I wonder what she wants to see me for, though?' he took a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly as it burned the tip of his tongue.
'It's probably nothing important,' she deligently lifted a box of tea leaves from the shelves, setting them down onto the cold floor. The young man looked marveled watching her do her tasks so tirelessly, feeling slightly guilty of his own lack of physical power, 'Hina's probably just here to check up on you.' her eyes remained focused on the bottles, counting them one by one, 'It's been eight months since she's seen you. It'd only make sense for a grandparent to want to see their grandchild, won't it, you think?' she finished.
The glasses-wearing youth sheepishly leaned back in his stool in response to her words, clearly more than a bit embarrassed for himself. His eyes went around the tea house, almost whistling impressively at the changes that had been done. Top to bottom, refurbishment was the name of the game. New cushions, leather seats, paint, to name but a few upgrades his eyes took in. He hadn't noticed it much from before, but the place had admittedly been worked on for quite some time. Even the stools were brand new. He could literally feel the effort that had been put in the place; there had been a lot of work done around it; the place was terrific now.
'I never noticed before...' he caught her attention as she cleaned a large tea cup made of clay, 'you've really made the place look great.'
'Thanks,' that was all she said in reply, diligently sorting the items that lay on the counter, promptly arranging them into groups.
His lips tasted the heat of the coffee cup, feeling the slight drop in temperature of his drink; while still hot, it didn't scald his tongue this time. The dark-haired woman lifted a can from the shelves, reading off the label from the tin (Containing imported tomato extract) before trailing to the seated young man, who was sipping his refreshment as a cat would milk, tongue darting in and out.
'How's the inn?' she asked, causing the young man to raise his head, surprised by the question, 'Everything smooth over there?'
He hesistated for a moment, thinking of an answer to her question: she had never asked something as casually as that often.
'You could say that.' he started, his eyes darting upwards, thinking further, 'The water heater's back in good working order, thankfully. I don't think any of them would be happy with an ice cold shower.' he laughed slightly, prompting the woman to lightly smile, 'I might have to re-shingle the roof sometime soon, though.' he thought back to the gaping hole in the southern part of the inn (which had been patched up hastily by some planks and plywood), 'Not the best of impressions a manager would have, eh?'
'No,' she allowed herself a little smile, a silent snicker; setting down another glass onto the surface, 'Definitely not.'
As the atmosphere grew less tense than it previously was, the rumble of thunder shook them from their pleasant line of conversation. The light pitter patter of droplets from the sky was enough of a hint; the dark-haired male rose from his seat, pushing it back in quietly with a smile, taking a step back as he did so. Lifting the umbrella, well-hidden underneath his chair. His arm swung over to accommodate the item, making sure it wouldn't mistakenly poke people out of random changes in direction.
In particular, the woman behind the counter. Hell hath no wrath like a lady scorned. He could vouch for that personally.
He made a quick stride towards the door, intent on reaching his destination before the rain became any more a bother.
'Oi, you gonna speed off without saying anything?' came the irate voice of the aforementioned female, 'Manners, please.'
A small shiver went up the small of his back as the young man smiled nervously and turned on his heel to come face-to-face with a rather annoyed, ironically performing the act he had sought not to execute. His smile only seemed to make it worse, though; the dark-haired lady pivoted over the counter, sauntering her way towards him. A small gulp later she was less than a foot in his proximity, emanating what could only be described as wrath incarnate, ready to smite those that had wronged her. He pathetically took a step back, feeling imposed by her slightly shorter figure. She rose her hands...
And straightened his tie.
'You're hopeless, you know that?' the ever-present toothpick made itself known to him, almost jabbing his left cheek (she was very close), 'Isn't this that tie you got from graduation?' he nodded quietly, intent on keeping him from wrangling him with the accessory, 'Can't believe you still keep this thing, you didn't strike me as the nostalgic type.' he half-shrugged, 'Well, to each their own, huh?'
She lightly pushed on him, pushing his body a third of a step back; she had quite the physical strength (Then again, knowing the females on his side of the family, this was quite possibly some sort of upgrade they received). Focusing her eyes on a job well done, she then directed her left hand to the door beside them, sliding it open to reveal that rain had, indeed, begun to pour down all-around.
'It's still light, by the looks of things,' she 1ooked back at him, 'you'll be able to manage without getting too wet.'
'Ah, um,' he struggled for an instant, straightening his shoulders almost reflexively, 'Thanks.' me managed, catching her attention.
'Leaves and cream,' she suddenly said, making him blink, 'from Hina. She said she'd bring me some better flavours for my tea.'
'Ah,' she nodded in response to his understanding before turning, 'So, I guess... I'll be going now.' she gave another nod, 'See ya.'
An honest-to-goodness grin later, he ran out into the lightly falling droplets of water, not even bothering to open his bright green umbrella to shield himself from them. The toothpick-chewing woman silently watched as he disappeared around a bend going uphill.
And with that Urashima Keitaro was gone.
She retreated into the quiet abode of her teashop, taking in the all-too-familiar scent of coffee beans and tobacco, now without the once-present mix of his cologne. She approached the counter, her vision now focused on the masterless cup of coffee, sighing.
Urashima Haruka dropped her hand into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a small ring. It was unremarkable in itself, nothing more than a simple gold band. A treasure to her and her alone, she gently slipped it onto her finger.
Along with all the wonderful memories it brought her...
I'll make you the happiest girl ever!
With a smile.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
The people who wondered of Grandma Hina of the Hinata Sou had ideas on if there were indeed two of her instead. On one hand, there was the adventurous sky-diving, rock-climbing, kendo-whacking, thunder-roaring daredevil of a retiree; never afraid of new challenges, never ever backing down when her pride could afford it. On the other, there was the strict, demure and calculated Hina; who could freeze an aggression in its tracks; who could literally draw the room in such a fashion it looked as though a high-ranking officer of the military had commanded her troops to attention. One way or the other, both of these perceptions had common ground.
Both always meant business.
So here she was, a wrinkly old woman, short and grey, seated upon the tatami silently, sipping a cup of earl grey. The room around her was well-maintained at the very least. Her well-meaning oaf of a grandson had kept the Hinata Sou in enough of a shape that she could not help but feel the least bit satisfied. Before her, stood the previously-mentioned grandson, looking as though he was going through a police interrogation from one of those American crime shows, madly suppressing his adrenaline-pumped self.
For all intents and purposes, he might as well have been. Granny Hina's presence in itself was intimidating enough.
'I see that you've taken care of yourself rather well, Grandson.' she kept a hint of ice in her tone; no reason to leave forty-eight years of practice to waste. To her slight amusement, Keitaro did not answer, only nodding comically, 'You've done your task well.'
'Th û Thank you, Grandma.' Keitaro bowed his head over and over again seven times, before nervously sitting in place stiffly. Keitaro rose his head, begging for the light bulb above not to flicker, 'S û So, ah... why the sudden return to the inn? I thought you w û ?'
'Yes, I am still travelling,' she flapped open a fan after cutting him off, prompting Keitaro to mentally kick himself to turn on the air-conditioning. Hina, however, rose a hand to stop him in mid-motion, 'No need to worry, dear; I'm fine.' she began to move the fan back and forth, 'I'm actually due to meet up with my crew in Johannesburg in a few days. I just came over to settle a û a small amount of business.' she hesitated slightly at the last portion of her sentence, before slapping her fan close, 'Of the urgent nature.'
His heart rose up to his throat, wondering just what could possibly garner such an amount of attention from his grandmother. Grandma Hina's exploits were legendary within the family; some were retold as bedtime stories; others, scary campfire tales.
'It involves, Haruka.'
'Aunt Haruka?'
Keitaro could have sworn he heard a snicker, but perhaps it was just his imagination. Grandma Hina's face was as stern as ever.
'Wh û What about Aunt Haruka?' he felt that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, as though it was doing triple somersaults over and over again. Hina only lifted the cup of tea to her lips, silently sipping, 'Is it bad?' she only continued to drink, 'Grandma?'
She set down the tea.
'Keitaro,' Hina let out a small sigh, as if she had just done a dozen pull-ups (For a normal person; it would have been about three hikes above the clouds on Everest for her). The young man, very worried, leaned in closer, intent on digesting every word that would leave his small-statured grandmother's lips, her eyes lined with a tinge of... regret, perhaps even a tiny smidgen of sadness, 'it may come as a small shock to you, but it's time you knew, Keitaro... Haruka is not really my daughter.'
Keitaro blinked slowly, processing the sentence that had just entered his thoughts, before raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
'Th û That's it?' he felt his jaw go slack at the revelation, feeling as anti-climactic as the end of the latest cinema epic.
'I'm glad you're taking it so well.' Hina managed with a smile, taking another sip of her drink, 'I didn't think you'd cope.'
'U û Um, it is quite a bit of news.' he scratched the back of his head, 'But really, to be honest, I might have û kind of suspected it for a bit. I mean... you both look nothing a û !' at the behest of the sudden drop in room temperature, Keitaro stopped mid-sentence. Silence reigned for a moment as the young man shifted in his position, 'So, ah, um, is she actually... adopted?' he offered.
'No,' Hina let out a serene sigh, setting down her glass once more; the cup was empty. It was his signal to refill the cup, and he did so absently, still hanging on his grandmother's every word, 'not at all; Haruka wasn't adopted, she married into the family.'
His grip went loose; the ceramic teapot would have shattered on the floor had it not been so close to the tatami in the first place. Miraculously, as a follow up, the tea did not spill. Managing to regain his bearings, Keitaro sheepishly put the light green piece down, unwilling to risk gaining his grandmother's ire anymore than he probably already did. Much to his surprise, the old woman didn't chastise him, instead reaching out for the teapot and pouring the tea herself, her visage as calm as ever.
She took a sip of her tea, smiling in content soon after.
In his brain, he wracked for answers at just who Aunt Haruka had possibly married. Other than his own mother, Hina had three other children. Two uncles and another aunt; but to his knowledge all of them were married, living happy lives with their respective families in Kanagawa. Perhaps Haruka was his the ex-wife of one his uncles? Perhaps to nurse the broken heart that was, Hina took her in as her own? That had made the most sense, after all. Then again, the theory was rather far-fetched, even with some sense.
All-in-all, it was quite the bombshell.
'Grandma?' he finally sounded.
'Yes, Keitaro?'
Looking straight into her eyes, Keitaro leaned forward, displaying an interest he never thought he would have had before. Then again, his grandmother had just dropped a rather hard brick on his back; Keitaro was never quite the type to left the spoilers for last.
'You said... Aunt Haruka married into the family, right?
'Yes,' Hina took a light sip, her wrinkled old face displayed that her eyes were shut in satisfaction.
'To whom?'
She set down her cup.
And smiled.
'To you.'
The Twist
/-/-/
Chapter 1
/-/-/
The evening sun fell on the small town, welcoming the awakening night. In the streets, children began dashing for their homes, laughing and smiling their young hearts as they prepared for the end of a good day's effort; the women ceased their amiable chatter and tread towards home, eager for the faces of their families to welcome them; the men swayed and swayed as they danced in amusement around one another in release, returning from another day's worth of hard work and camaraderie to be ready for another rise the next day. The small town itself began to pull the covers for slumber... while a little tea house's chimney began to smoke.
'That's some good coffee,' came the sniffing voice of a young man, eagerly breathing in the scent of Mexican ground, 'smells great.'
Sitting on the counter, a hot mug in his hands, he looked nothing short of unremarkable, clad in blue shirt and wrinkled tie, along with a slightly worn pair of pants that looked as though they had been taken right out of a survivor camp's wardrobe. He smoothed his clear glasses (steam had begun to accumulate on his lenses), wiping at them with the smooth fabric of his tie. His brown hair looked as unimpressive as he did, forcefully combed and sticking out in strange angles, as though threatening to break into a fuzz. His youthful visage told a different story from his way of dress; he looked positively fresh, ready for a brand new day.
'No crowds today, though?' he enquired, lifting the mug to his lips before setting it back down, licking them: too hot for the moment.
From beneath the counter a woman emerged, in sweater and apron, wiping the sweat from her brow. In her hands was a crate of empty beer bottles. Dead-set eyes and hair in bun, she looked as though she belonged in the middle of a disciplinary committee of a delinquent school, either with a pile of broken bodies underneath her heel or crushed within her fist. Her tall figure showed off more authority than anyone would have known she had, along with her slender yet obviously wirey frame. A huff was heard escaping her lips, and the young man rushed a hand to the crate, only to earn a scowl from the aforementioned woman.
'It's only Thursday,' the young man hurriedly removed his hand from the object, catching her scowl, 'rush hour's not 'til nine.' was the stoic reply, as though automated. She set the crate of bottles on the counter, counting them one by one, 'Speaking of rush hours...'
She threw a glance at the only present male, who was childishly blowing his coffee in hurried repetitions, hoping for it to cool down faster than it could. The brown-haired man nervously met her eyes; it wasn't so much that she was that intimidating; She was far from the most ominous presence he knew, but the short-haired woman could throw a look that could set the Arctic Circle on fire or freeze the Savannah when she wanted to. Years of dealing with bullies and yellow-bellied cowards with the tea house had given back more than enough. The young man stopped the puffing on his beverage, adjusting the slightly-used-looking tie around his collar.
'E û Eh? What's with that look?' he stammered, causing some of his coffee to drip onto the board of the table, 'I û It's fine; Granny said she'd be here at about seven, I have all the time I need, see? It's only five thirty.' she seemed satisfied with the answer, as she continued to work behind the counter, bringing out more bottles from underneath the counter, some filled with liquid, most empty, 'I wonder what she wants to see me for, though?' he took a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly as it burned the tip of his tongue.
'It's probably nothing important,' she deligently lifted a box of tea leaves from the shelves, setting them down onto the cold floor. The young man looked marveled watching her do her tasks so tirelessly, feeling slightly guilty of his own lack of physical power, 'Hina's probably just here to check up on you.' her eyes remained focused on the bottles, counting them one by one, 'It's been eight months since she's seen you. It'd only make sense for a grandparent to want to see their grandchild, won't it, you think?' she finished.
The glasses-wearing youth sheepishly leaned back in his stool in response to her words, clearly more than a bit embarrassed for himself. His eyes went around the tea house, almost whistling impressively at the changes that had been done. Top to bottom, refurbishment was the name of the game. New cushions, leather seats, paint, to name but a few upgrades his eyes took in. He hadn't noticed it much from before, but the place had admittedly been worked on for quite some time. Even the stools were brand new. He could literally feel the effort that had been put in the place; there had been a lot of work done around it; the place was terrific now.
'I never noticed before...' he caught her attention as she cleaned a large tea cup made of clay, 'you've really made the place look great.'
'Thanks,' that was all she said in reply, diligently sorting the items that lay on the counter, promptly arranging them into groups.
His lips tasted the heat of the coffee cup, feeling the slight drop in temperature of his drink; while still hot, it didn't scald his tongue this time. The dark-haired woman lifted a can from the shelves, reading off the label from the tin (Containing imported tomato extract) before trailing to the seated young man, who was sipping his refreshment as a cat would milk, tongue darting in and out.
'How's the inn?' she asked, causing the young man to raise his head, surprised by the question, 'Everything smooth over there?'
He hesistated for a moment, thinking of an answer to her question: she had never asked something as casually as that often.
'You could say that.' he started, his eyes darting upwards, thinking further, 'The water heater's back in good working order, thankfully. I don't think any of them would be happy with an ice cold shower.' he laughed slightly, prompting the woman to lightly smile, 'I might have to re-shingle the roof sometime soon, though.' he thought back to the gaping hole in the southern part of the inn (which had been patched up hastily by some planks and plywood), 'Not the best of impressions a manager would have, eh?'
'No,' she allowed herself a little smile, a silent snicker; setting down another glass onto the surface, 'Definitely not.'
As the atmosphere grew less tense than it previously was, the rumble of thunder shook them from their pleasant line of conversation. The light pitter patter of droplets from the sky was enough of a hint; the dark-haired male rose from his seat, pushing it back in quietly with a smile, taking a step back as he did so. Lifting the umbrella, well-hidden underneath his chair. His arm swung over to accommodate the item, making sure it wouldn't mistakenly poke people out of random changes in direction.
In particular, the woman behind the counter. Hell hath no wrath like a lady scorned. He could vouch for that personally.
He made a quick stride towards the door, intent on reaching his destination before the rain became any more a bother.
'Oi, you gonna speed off without saying anything?' came the irate voice of the aforementioned female, 'Manners, please.'
A small shiver went up the small of his back as the young man smiled nervously and turned on his heel to come face-to-face with a rather annoyed, ironically performing the act he had sought not to execute. His smile only seemed to make it worse, though; the dark-haired lady pivoted over the counter, sauntering her way towards him. A small gulp later she was less than a foot in his proximity, emanating what could only be described as wrath incarnate, ready to smite those that had wronged her. He pathetically took a step back, feeling imposed by her slightly shorter figure. She rose her hands...
And straightened his tie.
'You're hopeless, you know that?' the ever-present toothpick made itself known to him, almost jabbing his left cheek (she was very close), 'Isn't this that tie you got from graduation?' he nodded quietly, intent on keeping him from wrangling him with the accessory, 'Can't believe you still keep this thing, you didn't strike me as the nostalgic type.' he half-shrugged, 'Well, to each their own, huh?'
She lightly pushed on him, pushing his body a third of a step back; she had quite the physical strength (Then again, knowing the females on his side of the family, this was quite possibly some sort of upgrade they received). Focusing her eyes on a job well done, she then directed her left hand to the door beside them, sliding it open to reveal that rain had, indeed, begun to pour down all-around.
'It's still light, by the looks of things,' she 1ooked back at him, 'you'll be able to manage without getting too wet.'
'Ah, um,' he struggled for an instant, straightening his shoulders almost reflexively, 'Thanks.' me managed, catching her attention.
'Leaves and cream,' she suddenly said, making him blink, 'from Hina. She said she'd bring me some better flavours for my tea.'
'Ah,' she nodded in response to his understanding before turning, 'So, I guess... I'll be going now.' she gave another nod, 'See ya.'
An honest-to-goodness grin later, he ran out into the lightly falling droplets of water, not even bothering to open his bright green umbrella to shield himself from them. The toothpick-chewing woman silently watched as he disappeared around a bend going uphill.
And with that Urashima Keitaro was gone.
She retreated into the quiet abode of her teashop, taking in the all-too-familiar scent of coffee beans and tobacco, now without the once-present mix of his cologne. She approached the counter, her vision now focused on the masterless cup of coffee, sighing.
Urashima Haruka dropped her hand into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a small ring. It was unremarkable in itself, nothing more than a simple gold band. A treasure to her and her alone, she gently slipped it onto her finger.
Along with all the wonderful memories it brought her...
I'll make you the happiest girl ever!
With a smile.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
The people who wondered of Grandma Hina of the Hinata Sou had ideas on if there were indeed two of her instead. On one hand, there was the adventurous sky-diving, rock-climbing, kendo-whacking, thunder-roaring daredevil of a retiree; never afraid of new challenges, never ever backing down when her pride could afford it. On the other, there was the strict, demure and calculated Hina; who could freeze an aggression in its tracks; who could literally draw the room in such a fashion it looked as though a high-ranking officer of the military had commanded her troops to attention. One way or the other, both of these perceptions had common ground.
Both always meant business.
So here she was, a wrinkly old woman, short and grey, seated upon the tatami silently, sipping a cup of earl grey. The room around her was well-maintained at the very least. Her well-meaning oaf of a grandson had kept the Hinata Sou in enough of a shape that she could not help but feel the least bit satisfied. Before her, stood the previously-mentioned grandson, looking as though he was going through a police interrogation from one of those American crime shows, madly suppressing his adrenaline-pumped self.
For all intents and purposes, he might as well have been. Granny Hina's presence in itself was intimidating enough.
'I see that you've taken care of yourself rather well, Grandson.' she kept a hint of ice in her tone; no reason to leave forty-eight years of practice to waste. To her slight amusement, Keitaro did not answer, only nodding comically, 'You've done your task well.'
'Th û Thank you, Grandma.' Keitaro bowed his head over and over again seven times, before nervously sitting in place stiffly. Keitaro rose his head, begging for the light bulb above not to flicker, 'S û So, ah... why the sudden return to the inn? I thought you w û ?'
'Yes, I am still travelling,' she flapped open a fan after cutting him off, prompting Keitaro to mentally kick himself to turn on the air-conditioning. Hina, however, rose a hand to stop him in mid-motion, 'No need to worry, dear; I'm fine.' she began to move the fan back and forth, 'I'm actually due to meet up with my crew in Johannesburg in a few days. I just came over to settle a û a small amount of business.' she hesitated slightly at the last portion of her sentence, before slapping her fan close, 'Of the urgent nature.'
His heart rose up to his throat, wondering just what could possibly garner such an amount of attention from his grandmother. Grandma Hina's exploits were legendary within the family; some were retold as bedtime stories; others, scary campfire tales.
'It involves, Haruka.'
'Aunt Haruka?'
Keitaro could have sworn he heard a snicker, but perhaps it was just his imagination. Grandma Hina's face was as stern as ever.
'Wh û What about Aunt Haruka?' he felt that uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, as though it was doing triple somersaults over and over again. Hina only lifted the cup of tea to her lips, silently sipping, 'Is it bad?' she only continued to drink, 'Grandma?'
She set down the tea.
'Keitaro,' Hina let out a small sigh, as if she had just done a dozen pull-ups (For a normal person; it would have been about three hikes above the clouds on Everest for her). The young man, very worried, leaned in closer, intent on digesting every word that would leave his small-statured grandmother's lips, her eyes lined with a tinge of... regret, perhaps even a tiny smidgen of sadness, 'it may come as a small shock to you, but it's time you knew, Keitaro... Haruka is not really my daughter.'
Keitaro blinked slowly, processing the sentence that had just entered his thoughts, before raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
'Th û That's it?' he felt his jaw go slack at the revelation, feeling as anti-climactic as the end of the latest cinema epic.
'I'm glad you're taking it so well.' Hina managed with a smile, taking another sip of her drink, 'I didn't think you'd cope.'
'U û Um, it is quite a bit of news.' he scratched the back of his head, 'But really, to be honest, I might have û kind of suspected it for a bit. I mean... you both look nothing a û !' at the behest of the sudden drop in room temperature, Keitaro stopped mid-sentence. Silence reigned for a moment as the young man shifted in his position, 'So, ah, um, is she actually... adopted?' he offered.
'No,' Hina let out a serene sigh, setting down her glass once more; the cup was empty. It was his signal to refill the cup, and he did so absently, still hanging on his grandmother's every word, 'not at all; Haruka wasn't adopted, she married into the family.'
His grip went loose; the ceramic teapot would have shattered on the floor had it not been so close to the tatami in the first place. Miraculously, as a follow up, the tea did not spill. Managing to regain his bearings, Keitaro sheepishly put the light green piece down, unwilling to risk gaining his grandmother's ire anymore than he probably already did. Much to his surprise, the old woman didn't chastise him, instead reaching out for the teapot and pouring the tea herself, her visage as calm as ever.
She took a sip of her tea, smiling in content soon after.
In his brain, he wracked for answers at just who Aunt Haruka had possibly married. Other than his own mother, Hina had three other children. Two uncles and another aunt; but to his knowledge all of them were married, living happy lives with their respective families in Kanagawa. Perhaps Haruka was his the ex-wife of one his uncles? Perhaps to nurse the broken heart that was, Hina took her in as her own? That had made the most sense, after all. Then again, the theory was rather far-fetched, even with some sense.
All-in-all, it was quite the bombshell.
'Grandma?' he finally sounded.
'Yes, Keitaro?'
Looking straight into her eyes, Keitaro leaned forward, displaying an interest he never thought he would have had before. Then again, his grandmother had just dropped a rather hard brick on his back; Keitaro was never quite the type to left the spoilers for last.
'You said... Aunt Haruka married into the family, right?
'Yes,' Hina took a light sip, her wrinkled old face displayed that her eyes were shut in satisfaction.
'To whom?'
She set down her cup.
And smiled.
'To you.'
