Lord Cynic: "I'll say this first: Yui Horie and Yuji Ueda rule! Okay, I'm done with that. This is my first Love Hina fanfic, and after watching the entire anime reading up to volume 6 of the manga, it's about time. Don't expect any lovey-dovey stuff, though. This is strictly angst, and contains a heck of a lot of cursing. You've been warned."

Lord Cynic: "I don't own Love Hina. Go stalk Ken Akamatsu instead."

Broken twig

Something just seemed to snap inside him. All the abuse he'd received, all the chances he hadn't been given to avoid punishment, all the consequent, impromptu airtime he'd received because of the beatings. Every time he was on the wrong end of misunderstandings, a fresh batch of pain, physical and emotional, was delivered to him. Usually, even after a brief period of depression, he would usually smile it off and continue his day as if nothing had ever happened. However, this was different. Everything suddenly weighed up to an unavoidable conclusion.

He wanted out, now.

As soon as the spiteful words had been released from Narusegawa's mouth, the world just seemed to freeze in place for one Urashima, Keitaro. All the time the 'study buddies' had spent together, as well as with everyone else in the all-girl's dormitory, suddenly became futile and wasteful. Everything they'd been through, everything he could've possibly done for her (even with little or no reward at all) - did it mean nothing for her now? Just what the fuck was he even doing!

However, he wouldn't make a sense. It just wasn't in him to simply say, "Well, guess what? I'm sick of this! I'm outta here!" No, he was better than that. He knew how to control himself, even if he was as clumsy and (he mentally grimaced) perverted as they jovially liked to claim he was. Well, if that's what they thought of him, then to Hell with him. If they weren't willingly to give him the time of day to redeem himself (as if he was the one who had to, in the first place), then he knew when he'd worn out his stay.

Wait, what was he thinking? It didn't have to come to that. There had to be another way… and there was. He was the manager, after all. The head honcho. Why did he have to compromise with people too ungrateful to appreciate it and evacuate? He could demand that they pick up their things and piss off instead. He was in charge of the Hinata House in spite of everything. He was the boss; he had been for more than a year. If he weren't going to be given the far overdue respect that he deserved, then he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. Not anymore.

Reality finally set in, and he realised that everyone was staring at him. Apparently, they'd been watching his reaction, and if the stunned expressions on their faces said anything, they knew exactly what he was thinking. He was suddenly given the impression that, for once, he was given everyone's fullest attention, and decided to use it. That would make it much easier to dump the news on them, although they rarely gave a shit about what he had to say anyway. After thousands of hopelessly unexplained beatings from the kendo girl and the psycho bookworm, he didn't come to expect much anymore. However, the sudden change in the aforementioned females' expressions from contempt to trepidation was alarming even for him, and he wondered whether, in reality or otherwise, he was actually brandishing a knife, threatening to kill them all.

Half in dread, half in anticipation, he lowered his gaze to his appendages. To his relief (and oddly, disappointment), his hands were empty. Ignoring the perplexed expressions of his audience, he clenched said hands into tight fists, as if threatening to unleash his anger in a violent display of physically very uncharacteristic of him. He heard the gasps of the terrified girls, and despite himself, he got twisted satisfaction from the possibility that they thought he'd unleash his fists on them. He even clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, relishing the startled reactions of the inhabitants of the Hinata House. Sure, it was nasty and despicable, but considering their actions prior to this day, and the recent words Narusegawa had spat at him, frankly, he wouldn't take that sort of shit anymore, no matter what the cost. Not now that his already fragile heart was crushed.

It wasn't a secret that Keitaro had loved Narusegawa, not by a long shot. He'd almost even given up his promise girl (whom he could barely remember anyway) to go after the feisty redhead. Sure, she had a temper to match her long, luxurious, antennae-tipped hair, and she'd send him to space for so much as looking at her the wrong way. Damnit, though, he'd grown to be extremely fond of his fellow Tokyo U hopeful. He'd even gotten high expectations that Narusegawa would see him as more than a lecherous, odious pervert (which he wasn't anyway, damnit). Alas, along with his dream of attending the most prestigious university in Japan with the girl from his memories, his wishes of having his love reciprocated by Narusegawa were shattered. Well, from a romantic perspective at least. Now, they definitely felt the same way about each other, and, as he returned to reality once more, there was only one way to express it.

"Screw you." The words, callous and malicious, erupted in barely a whisper from Keitaro's mouth.

Bewildered gasps escaped most of the girls' lips, but he didn't care. He… just… didn't… fucking… care. Why should he, when, it seemed, no one did about him? All the effort he'd put into trying to be accepted was going down the drain faster than he could fly through the air (provoked), so what did it matter?

He couldn't even look anyone in the face, but without raising his head, he could still read their thoughts. Narusegawa, God bless her (or not), was stunned beyond belief. Never in a thousand years did she ever imagine those words ever coming from Keitaro, never mind the tone of his voice when he said them. Aoyama, a.k.a. "kendo girl", was suitably appalled, and rocking her katana on her lap. Meh, Keitaro had grown to expect nothing less from her. Kitsune, forever the bludger and prankster of the dormitory, was uncharacteristically wide-eyed and speechless, which even surprised Keitaro. Oh well, maybe then she'd think twice about trying to seduce him out of money. Su, the crazy (slight understatement) mechanic and resident foreigner, for once, wasn't grinning and jumping off furniture. Instead, she was noticeably subdued, and simply hanging off Motoko's shoulders without a word. Sarah was the only one who wasn't considerably affected by Keitaro's words. She hated his guts, and now, he hated his. Despite himself, he almost smirked at the ironic mutual resentment they had for each other. Shinobu, the last (and most vulnerable) member of the Hinata House, was notably absent. A pang of guilt struck Keitaro, and he mentally kicked himself, since he knew that she'd never do anything to hurt her sempai. In the end, it seemed, he was the one hurting her. How bitterly ironic.

Eventually, Keitaro realised that, although there was incredulity, there was no apology in their eyes. Nothing at all. They didn't even appear to be opening their mouths to utter a pathetic "sorry," like the ones he'd been forced to throw at them, even if they became useless in less than two seconds. That served to steel his resolve to get the hell out of there, and he lifted himself off his sofa. Without a word, he abandoned the foyer, and the she-demons that inhabited it, and proceeded upstairs. Despite himself, however, he half hoped that someone would try to convince him to stay. Then again,he thought with a malevolent smirk, why should they?

Halfway up the stairs, he paused, briefly, deliberately, listening. After he only heard hushed voices, but no footsteps, he dashed up the rest of the stairs and into the landlord's quarters. Once inside, he got to work stuffing as many possessions as possible into a duffle bag. The sooner he got out, the better. He could start all over again, somewhere else. Somewhere people would understand him and the pain he went through on a regular basis during his stay in Hinata House.

Suddenly, his hand brushed his photo notebook. Muttering disgruntled obscenities under his breath, he picked it up and flicked through it purposefully. Once he found the page he was searching for, he let out a dark, eerie chuckle.

His fingers graced the infamous, single page of photos that included more than just his sorry self. Two photos, taken a year apart, stared back at him. The people, identical in each photo, smiled jovially, despite the awkward situations that lead to them being taken. The first, taken after he was first kicked out of the Hinata House (perhaps a wise decision in hindsight was a humiliating but – at the time – pleasant shock for him. Narusegawa had (for some reason) tracked him down and snuck up on him right before the flash. Of course, once she discovered his photo booth obsession, she had promptly chewed him out about it afterwards. The second, taken on their unofficial 'date' (taken to the horror of the other tenants), was a genuine milestone for Keitaro. Now that he looked at it closely, he realised that Narusegawa was quite taken by surprise. He chuckled, mentally agreeing with himself that, despite everything, those were good times. He sighed. Why did it have to end like this?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he relented and placed the photo book into the duffle bag. He looked around at the sudden barrenness of the room. He did have some grand times, he must've, but for the life of him, he just couldn't remember anymore. It was like the vehemence of his decision had drained his brain of the sweet out of the sweet & sour experiences in the all-girl's dormitory. Either that, or pleasant memories were as scarce as the existence of males. In fact, after he'd leave, to the satisfaction of many, there'd be no males, period.

Keitaro ambled to the open window of his room and stared into the distance. Well, many, but not all. His aunt, Haruka, wouldn't take the news lightly. Sure, she was the one who convinced him to stay in the first place, and on a good day, she never usually showed much emotion, if any. Sure, he was the legal owner, so, as far as Haruka was concerned, whatever he did with the inn-turned-dormitory was his own business. However, since Grandma Hina was absent (Lord knows what that crazy old coot was up to), Keitaro was Haruka's closest relative. Even if he couldn't stand the tenants any longer, he couldn't just up and leave the member of his family who also happened to be the dormitory's former housemother. Then there was the wrinkly, eccentric but loveable former owner of the Hinata House herself. She had entrusted him with her hotel-turned-dormitory, so he owed a lot to her. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he thought about the compromises he'd be making if and when he'd make his departure. Maybe, after all, it wouldn't be prudent to leave everything behind.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and the greatest source of Keitaro's grief stormed into the room abruptly. Unfortunately for the landlord, she didn't seem to notice his desolate spirit before striding in and taking a gander. She observed the room and noticed the emptiness of it, assuming that the "lazy, good-for-nothing pervert" had finally learned to pick up the former pigsty. Speaking of him, why was he standing out the window like he was about to fall out of it?

She suddenly remembered her purpose for arriving at his room, and upon discovering the reflecting male, promptly bashed him upside the head. Keitaro yelped in surprise, then, when he realised his assailant, scowled at her.

"Damnit, Narusegawa!" he yelled, his anger getting the best of him. His subconscious registered the use of her surname, but he didn't care. "Did you come here to fuck with my head again?"

The auburn-haired girl hesitated, taken aback by the ronin's sudden outburst. However, uncertainty never remained long with her, and she fumed with pure venom. Before he could do anything to protect himself, Keitaro was sent crashing into a wall.

"You bastard! I don't want to see your face ever again!"

Narusegawa turned around to march out of the room, incredulous about how that baka had decided to speak to her. However, she was stopped when a detached, hostile voice spoke from the wall. The tone used in the foyer had returned to Keitaro's voice, and despite herself, it sent shivers down Narusegawa's spine.

"You don't have to worry. My feelings are entirely mutual." Keitaro peeled himself off the wall and stood, his legs trembling from the impact with the wall and his left hand gripping his duffle bag. "I'm sorry," he continued softly, but a dark gleam in his eyes told Narusegawa that she was wrong as to what he was apologising for. "I'm sorry I came here and lied. I'm sorry I stayed here and became landlord. I'm sorry I had faith that you and everyone else would accept me. Most of all, I'm sorry that I met you and fell in love with you." His gaze, empty and distant, bore into Narusegawa, who was rooted to the spot. "I will not, however, be sorry to leave this bullshit behind. I was beaten, slashed, punched, kicked, blown up and shot within an inch of my life. I suffered much more than any intelligent fucking human being should even contemplate tolerating. Of course, I have the IQ of a mitochondria, don't I?"

He laughed, but it contained no joy whatsoever.

"Strange, that. I never raised a hand against any of you, even though I had almost every right to. Hell, I even thought about kicking the lot of you out for everything you put me through. But, no, I wouldn't stoop that low. I'm not like that. However, your recent action has just strengthened my resolve, as well as confirmed the bitter truth: That my love and concern for you were based upon the shitty possibility that you would love me back. Well, now it comes out, doesn't it? Nonetheless, I have made up my mind. Now, before I suffer anymore unreasonable physical and emotional harm, I shall bid you sayonara."

Ignoring the horrified reaction from Narusegawa that caused her to freeze where she stood, Keitaro trudged across the room, lugging his duffle bag by his side, to make his departure. However, before sliding the door open, he turned to the girl. A mirthless smile spread his face as his free hand dove into his pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. Without a word, he walked back to the suspicious Narusegawa and placed the paper in her mouth – then his hand on her breast.

"You lecherous pervert!"

Narusegawa reeled back her arm, and then socked Keitaro so savagely that he was catapulted through the open window and into the unknown. She huffed and unclenched her fist, revealing the paper that Keitaro had given her. She unfolded it begrudgingly, and was surprised to find it was a handwritten note. She scanned it briefly, then after a few more reads was physically shaken. She collapsed to her knees, her emotions overwhelming her. Despite her self-proclaimed resentment of the former landlord, a single tear coursed down her cheek.

"Dearest tenants,

By now, I will have gone to some place far away. I do not know where – heck, I might even end up on Okinawa and be staying with Mutsumi-san this very minute. However, even though we parted ways on undesirable terms, I will love you all. During my brief time as the landlord, I came to know and understand everyone just that little bit better. Thanks to each of you, I found more to live life on than just a childhood promise. However, due to circumstances, I found myself unable to remain any longer. You have all inspired me to my decision, perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worst. Regardless of your own feelings, I will remember you and love you all.

Farewell, Urashima Keitaro."

The End