Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognize

A.N. Hey everyone! This here was just an idea that popped into my head while listening to Unforgiven by Metallica. For now it will stay as a one-shot, but if enough people want me to turn it into an actual story I will. If I do the pairing will be my favorite, Keitaro x Kitsune! R&R! On with the story!

The Unforgiven

Konno Mitsune, fondly referred to as Kitsune, let out a sigh as she walked up the stairs from another unsuccessful day of betting. Her luck had really gone downhill lately, not a single bet had been won! Now she was flat out broke, and the rent would be due soon. A grin made its way to her face as her next thought popped into her head.

'Guess it's time to visit the manager.'

It wasn't that she didn't like the man, quite the opposite. She cared for him quite a bit, but seeing his reactions to the girls, and their reactions to him, whenever she tricked him into something, was too good to stop. He always bounced back from the blows with great cheer anyway. Give him enough time, she thought, and he can bounce back from anything.

She reached the door to his bedroom she put on a grin that said, 'sexy and confident.' She knocked on the door and received no answer. She knocked again, more forcefully. Silence was her only answer. She did not want to shout and wake the others, who had already gone to bed, so she opened the door and stepped inside.

"Keit-…"

The name stopped as she took in the room. The first thing she noticed was the metallic scent of blood. Worry and panic began to set in and she reached for the light switch. The scene that met her eyes would haunt her to the end of her days.

Keitaro was sitting against the wall with his arms to the side and his head hanging. She could see the cuts in his wrists and the knife gleaming in his left hand. His sketchbook lay next to him, opened to a page that was splattered with blood. Blood, there was so much blood around him that it looked like he was floating on a lake of it.

Snapping out of her daze she ran to him and collapsed at his side. Her fingers searched for a pulse, she could barely feel it. Without thought she ran into the bathroom and grabbed the medical kit. Racing back, she began to clean and bandage his wounds. Special ointments were applied to help stem the flow of blood and speed up the healing process, and bandages were wrapped tight around his wrists.

After she had finished she felt again for his pulse. It was still there and slightly stronger than before. Looking at the state of her manager and his room she realized how terrible they looked. She was confident that he would live, but she knew that the other girls could not learn of this, especially the younger ones.

Stripping Keitaro of his clothes, she dragged him to the male onsen and proceeded to wash the blood from him. Redressing him, she laid him in his futon and placed his blanket on top of him. As she began to clean the blood off the floor, she realized that it was beyond saving and covered it with the area rug from her room until she could have the floor replaced without suspicion.

When she finished with her cleaning, her mind turned to the most important question on her mind.

Why?

Why would he have done this? Were the girls really that bad, to have driven him to this? Did she have a hand in it? Was this really the only option he thought he had? Did he realize that some people cared for him? Was he aware of the pain he would have caused with his death? He had been acting somewhat strangely the past few weeks, and he gained a far-away look in his eyes on occasion.

She turned and picked up his sketchbook, seeking some answer to her questions. The page was splattered with blood, but writing was clearly visible. With a slight shock she realized that he had written this in his own blood! And the words were no comfort to her.

(Insert lyrics, The Unforgiven by Metallica)

As she finished reading, she noticed that tears were streaming down her face. Was this how you really felt Keitaro? How did you manage to hide this from us? Are we truly unforgiven? The questions were numerous, the answers were not.

Didn't you know we cared for you? Me, Haruka, Su, Shinobu, Granny Hina, even Naru and Motoko in their own way. Couldn't you see? Or were you as blind to our care as we were to your sorrow?

She flipped through the rest of the pages of the skethchbook, noting the progression from the bikini-clad girls he normally drew into the bloody deaths of those same girls. Lyrics depicting sadness and greif were scattered throughout the later drawings. The last picture was of himself surrounded by white flowers that were stained with his blood as he bled out. He looked peaceful there.

Her tears dripped onto his face as she kneeled next to him. He looked so angelic as he lay there, and that's what he was. An angel. He would have to be for putting up with all of the girls and still letting them stay.

'He shouldn't have to go through this.'

No one as kind and caring as Keitaro deserved the kind of pain he received. No human should ever have to experience what he had. The tears came en masse as she watched over him for the rest of the night.

'We truly deserve this.'

'We deserve to be unforgiven.'

A.N. Well that's that. Hopefully you enjoyed it, and will want me to continue. For those who are interested, I may pursue my old stories again when I overcome my writer's block. Happy New Years to all!

Ja ne