Violation of the Sixth Commandment
by Varon
Chapter Nine

Sometimes I wonder if I really should just have stayed in Makai.

Being with Keiko... I can always say I can push the guilt out of my head, but in reality I can never deny that somehow, things just aren't the same -- simply because they aren't right.

Bur I just look into her warm, loving eyes, and the world just stops... then all I can think of is how much I love her.

And again I see the exact reason why I'm here, why I'm a player in a very risky game.

I can't believe I'm running late, Keiko told herself. Me! Of all people!

It was nine thirty-five on a Thursday morning, and Keiko was in a mad rush. Understandably, since she overslept -- a phenomenon that almost NEVER happened, especially if it's Yukimura Keiko you're talking about. Well, you can thank Urameshi Yusuke for that. He's not a healthy habit. But Keiko in a mad rush was a sight you definitely did not want to see.

The refectory was the lucky room chosen to accomodate the latest disaster. A half-eaten bowl of cereal sat in front of the woman, who at the same time was applying pale blue eyeshadow on her right eyelid. Makeup was strewn over the mahogany furnishing, and a steaming cup of coffee was in the middle of the mess. Bobby pins, hairbrushes, and CFC-free hairspray were on Keiko's left elbow, which would have fallen over the edge had she been less careful in fixing her hair.

What a mess! She inwardly groaned. And I'm a mess too! I'll never make it into school on time... Keiko thought as she caught her reflection in the shining silver pan hanging over the counter. Her hair was sticking on end, there were bits of powder on her cereal, and she had eyebags. Eyebags! Well, they weren't too obvious, but though she's not vain, Keiko was a perfectionist, as you could imagine. Having eyebags was not part of good grooming. What would her students say?

"Maybe I should just phone in sick today," Keiko thought out loud. She dropped the tube of lipstick she was holding and stared at the disarray in front of her. I'm not usually like this, she realized in disdain. "The children would truly be happy that their long test in Math would be postponed for another day." She smiled wryly at the thought.

"Good, then call the school," a male voice said behind her and she nearly jumped. Hands were crossed over her shoulders, embracing her from behind, and soon she was staring at the intruder's face. "Then you could spend the day with me."

She laughed and kissed him briefly. "You know, Yusuke," Keiko said happily, "this might be the first time you'd convinced me to stay out of school."

It was tempereature-controlled in the conference room, but Ben Howard was perspiring in his seat. Needless to say, he was very uncomfortable.

All around him were computer analysts, marketing assistants, and company executives like himself -- all self-professed experts in the information technology industry -- in their second week (more like halfway toward their third and final week) of the Twenty-seventh Annual Executive and Administrative Implementation in Computer Technology Seminar. They mainly discussed issues relevant to the industry, and they proposed tentative (mostly ideal) solutions to the problems raised. They learned valuable tips on how to turn a small software firm into a success, how to properly handle unexpected situtations, how to treat your employees so as they wouldn't even think of leaving your association. The delgates of the said seminar spent the past two weeks chronicling every single word that the speakers had imparted to them. But it was after each session that the real competition comes alive. In cocktail parties, in dinner dates with the most influential people who also happened to be there, there the hopeful young entrepreneurs sidled up to their prospective business partners. Just like Ben Howard, most of the men and women in the conference had one mindset: To hell with the tips, I'll endure these three weeks in hell if it meant sucking up to a rich and experienced associate.

Heck, they were all just a bunch of ass-kissers, getting their ticket to a more satisfying future the easier way.

And Ben, for the long time that he was here, was very, very nervous because...

...Today might be the day when he will reap the seeds of his hard work.

Russell Kipling, President of Hotware Companies, Inc. and one of the lecturers to whom Ben's friend referred him, had been hinting that he might be interested in making Ben a shareholder in the old man's funds. In turn, Ben would have to agree that his software company would be under Hotware Companies -- which was way fine by him, considering that he would still be allowed to run his business under his own rules and under his name.

But as early as now, Ben was beset with anticipation.

Relax, he told himself. Everything's going to be just fine.

He wished Keiko were there to tell him those words.

Keiko... how he'd missed his wife! With her beautiful brown eyes and silky mane of auburn hair, and the morning cheer she is so eager to spread... he sighed to himself as he conjured up an image of her in his mind. He couldn't wait to go home in her arms...

Another talk was about to begin. Today, it would be about professionalism. As the speaker made her way to the front of the room, the delegates turned on their laptops or adjusted their palmtops, and for the old-fashioned, clicked their signature pens and took out their leatherbound organizers.

"Good morning," the woman said, her long golden hair swept up in a Frech twist, her light green eyes looking more catlike and startling than ever with her thick eyeliner, proving her reputation as a tough corporate woman. "I'm Margaret Hawke, CEO of Truman Marketing Corporation," she spoke in a distinct accent, in strong, throaty tones. She gave the slightest of smiles as she continued. "Our company has been in business for more than fifteen years, with the thought of providing quality products and services to firms who are only starting out. That was the only capital we had almost twenty years ago, and it still is our top priority." Ms. Hawke bent over to her left and turned on the projector. "But we couldn't have reached such a status in the industry, if not for our subordinates' loyalty which we earned over time. Just how we did that, I am pleased and very much honored to tell you." Turning to the white background and the flowchart, she began her talk. "It leads to only one thing: professionalism."

Keiko... only a few more days, Ben thought as he tried to listen intently to what Ms. Hawke was saying.

The poor mattress. It was getting just a little more than it could possibly take.

The bed was bouncing on a speed much faster than usual. A little more force and the futon might give.

Its occupiers didn't know about, and most certainly didn't care for, the inanimate object's fate. After all, that's what a bed it for, right? They didn't slow down, didn't break their constant up-and-down rhythm.

Keiko had her eyes closed, her pretty features masked in a look of sheer pleasure. Sweat trickled down her neck, down to her chest, where Yusuke's head was. Her breasts, which were as round and as big as young coconuts, swelled even more as her lover brought them into his hungry mouth, one at a time. Her hands on Yusuke's shoulders, her back arched, Keiko initiated the pumping motions, running down her opening on Yusuke's hard and erect thruster. His hands were firmly placed on her hips, guiding them down to him as he raised his midsection to meet her. Her pelvis buckled, and her leg muscles cramped, Keiko continued to push her buttocks up and out, then down and in, her vagina closing on his penis.

Yusuke's mouth found its way up Keiko's shoulder, up her jawline, until it reached her ear, leaving small, sensual kisses in its trail. "Aww, Keiko," he said as he nibbled on her earlobe, his voice barely a ragged whisper, "you're hot. You're so, oh, hot." His lips were on her mouth as she continued to "ram" down into him. "Oh, baby, give it to me -- you've got to give it to me. Hmm," he breathed as he kissed her neck, "you're all I ever want... you're everything I need... oh baby..."

Keiko kept her pace, moaning in delight as she did so. "Yusuke..."

"You're beautiful," Yusuke cajoled. "You're so fucking beautiful, you're perfect."

As Keiko moaned and sighed some more, saying his name and letting his ears indulge in sounds of bliss from her, Yusuke was prompted to release more of his secretions, the liquid spraying all over her legs.

Ten more minutes, and her pussy was getting sore. Not wanting to stop, she reluctantly climbed off his rod and rested on top of him, her head nestled on the crook of his neck. He ran his hands in her hair, both of them still catching their breath. Their legs were a tangled mess of limbs under the sheets, as Yusuke stroke her smooth, curvaceous calf with his foot. Their genitalia were only several inches apart -- Keiko's was on Yusuke's abdomen -- but it was enough to trigger an erection. He was able to hold off, somehow, and pressed his cheek against Keiko's mass of long brown locks, deeply inhaling her scent, as if committing it to memory.

"I want to memorize you," Yusuke whispered.

Keiko lifted her head to face him, her eyes a bit tired yet sparkling. "Go right ahead," and they mashed their mouths together once more.

But then, the phone rang, ruining the moment.

They pulled away. "Shouldn't you get that?" Yusuke asked.

Keiko drew closer again. "The machine will pick it up," she murmured on his lips.

But the phone rang persistently, and after seven rings, Keiko was forced to break off their embrace. "Guess I didn't turn on the machine," she conceded. An eighth ring followed; gripping the handset before lifting it, she warned Yusuke, "Don't make too much noise."

He made a zipping motion with his finger over his lips. "Not a word."

She put the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" Keiko said into the mouthpiece.

The color at once drained from her face.

"Hi, Honey, it's me."

It was Ben.

Ben Howard.

You know, your husband?

Not now, Keiko pleaded. I can't deal with you now, when I'm naked beside another man in our bed!

Glancing briefly at Yusuke, she faked some cheer. "H-hi!" She said perkily, hoping he wouldn't notice her little slip. "Hi, Honey, how are you?" She realized that was the most appropriate question to ask, since she had been putting him off for more than two weeks already.

She pulled the sheets up to her chest, as she sat at the edge of the bed, very well aware that Yusuke's eyes were trained on her. "What took you so long to answer? And why haven't you been taking any of my calls?" Ben demanded, and Keiko inadvertently winced.

"I, um, was downstairs, getting a, uh, glass of water, and I thought I left the machine on," she explained, going with the half-truth. "And I was NOT hiding from you, if that's what you're implying!" Her cheeks flamed. "You know I'm always out, the only reason why 'I'm not taking any of your calls'. But all the same, I'm sorry."

That one sentence was very, very heartfelt.

"Oh, OK," Ben said. "I was just joking. I didn't imply any of those! And I was glad I caught you home. What's the matter? Are you sick?"

"N-no, I'm fine... I just wasn't feeling good when I woke up, so I called in sick. But I'm a lot better now," she added quickly.

"That's good." A pause. "Hey, why are you out of breath?" he inquired curiously.

"What?" Keiko was now as red as a tomato. "Oh, well, I had to rush upstairs."

"Isn't there a cordless phone extension downstairs?"

"Ben!" she complained, and to him it's sounding exasperated. "Well, because, I... had to get my sweater; I was going out again to buy groceries. And then I realized the machine wasn't on when I got to our bedroom, so I picked it up here."

"Oh," Ben said again. "For a while there I thought you were with another man!"

Keiko nearly slid off the bed. She laughed nervously. "Why, that's not going to happen, Ben!" she lied, giving Yusuke the briefest of "Help me?" looks. Changing the topic, she asked instead, "So how's the seminar going?"

"Pretty good," Ben answered. "But it's going to take a little more buttering up to my future partner! He's a rather tough man, that Russell Kipling."

"Well, if you're referring to him as a 'future partner', then things must be going really well." She smiled, truly happy for Ben.

"Yeah, I guess so." Keiko could hear Ben shifting his position. "Ah, that's better," she knew he was mumbling to himself. "Hey, I just called to tell you I missed you --"

"I... missed you too," Keiko gulped, cutting in quickly. This two-minute phone call is the longest one I ever took!

"-- and that I love you."

This time she hesitated. "Yes, I know. I -- I mean, I... I love you too." NOT!, she added mentally.

She gazed at Yusuke and mouthed "Not true!", but he just looked away and stood up. He's got a really great butt, she thought absentmindedly. She turned away from him again, and caught the last words of what Ben was saying. "...home by Tuesday. Until then, Honey. Take care."

"You take care too, Ben. See you soon."

Keiko cradled the handset. For a few seconds she was quiet, just sitting there, clutching the cloth to her chest, her heart heavy at having to say such personal things to Ben in front of Yusuke. Words that were meaningless, as they were very much untrue.

Yusuke. Keiko turned back to him, and saw him pulling his shirt above his head. "Yusuke? Where are you going?"

He made sure the shirt fell in the right way that flatters his muscular frame, then turned to Keiko and grinned. "Uh, nowhere. Just... picking up some things."

Keiko sadly noted that the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Yusuke -- I'm sorry..."

"Oh, c'mon, Keiko, it's not your fault he called." Yusuke walked over to her and kissed her cheek. "I'll even shop for you if you want, buy some groceries for you."

"That won't be necessary, thank you." She held his hand. "Yusuke, please understand... I had to say those things; I'm married to him --"

"Keiko," he said, somewhat impatiently, "I totally understand. Really." The smile of reassurance that crossed his face would have fooled anyone, but not Yukimura Keiko. She was bristling a little inside, and a great feeling of perplexity came over her. Tears prickled behind her eyelids.

Yusuke straightened up. "I'll be back in, say, two hours?"

Keiko just nodded. "OK."

She didn't stare after him as he closed the door, and heard him let himself out of her house. She laid back on the soft mattress, trying to overcome the disconcertment that settled in her intestines like an insoluble fiber.

Yusuke kicked a pebble in his path, as if doing so would suck of the steam out of him. He was still boiling inside after twenty minutes, and it was more frustrating for him because he's not SUPPOSED to be mad at anyone, most especially Keiko. It was just that a stupid, wrong-timing phone call irked him a little.

OK, OK, irked him a lot.

He took a breath of fresh air, and tried to calm his nerves. Stop it, he scolded himself. It's not Keiko's fault. He took some more deep breaths, and those helped him clear his mind.

It's not her fault, and you know it.

Her worried face was still fresh in his mind, and Yusuke knew that she sensed he wasn't totally fine with things. He knew she would be thinkig these things over and over, until she convinced herself she was at fault. Yusuke shook his head. Keiko was just too kind for her own good. And he felt more and more like a dweeb for giving her some ideas she shouldn't waste her time thinking about.

He paused in front of the grocery store, then checked his jeans pocket to see if he brought enough cash. Satisfied after counting the bills, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was going to forget that little incident, and he was going to make up to her for being such a jerk. He owed her that much.

Later that day, the back door swung open, startling Keiko who was chopping up some onions. The blade of the knife missed her finger by two centimeters. "Jeez, don't do that," she was about to scold Yusuke but abruptly changed her tone to one of surprise, recalling the tension between them earlier. After several hours by herself she had sorted out her thoughts and knew that she should not have taken Ben's call in front of Yusuke. She should have known he was more sensitive than that, and though Keiko knew he would understand eventually, she should have been more concerned about his feelings.

She searched his face, wondering if he was still irritated, and was about to launch into a short apology speech she prepared. But Yusuke was smiling -- genuinely, not the forced one he put on two hours ago -- and Keiko noticed that he was carrying something that looked like a handbag behind him.

"Uh, Yusuke?" she asked tentatively, although she was a little relieved inside that he wasn't bothered anymore. "Are you, um, feeling better now?" Her face showed some signs of anxiety, but her lover grinned even more widely.

"Of course," Yusuke answered, and placed whatever he as holding onto the dining table. His hands now free, he pulled her close to him and kissed her slowly.

She pulled away a minute later. "That's -- that's good!" Keiko was apparently cheered.

"Keiko, it's a stupid issue to fight over in the first place," Yusuke said softly, his eyes not leaving hers. "And I'm sorry. I should have been more understanding."

The woman shook her head. "No, please... as you said, it's not your fault. Let's just... forget it, OK?"

He smiled again. "OK."

She pecked him again on the lips and made some motions to go on with her cooking, but Yusuke didn't release his hold. "No, don't prepare lunch anymore." He playfully tongued the contours of her right ear.

"But Yusuke," she protested, "I'm getting hungry! Two minutes more and my stomach might explode. It's rumbling like Mt. Fuji would if it wasn't dormant." She tried to push him off lightly. "Let's do this later, after lunch --"

He chuckled, still playing with her ear. "No, I meant you shouldn't prepare lunch because I brought you some," he explicated.

An eyebrow was cocked. "You did?" Her gaze trained on the bundle on the table. "Is that what you brought?"

He tore away his lips from her tasty ear and faced her. Nodding solemnly, he took her left hand and kissed her fingers one by one. Keiko felt tingly all over. "I raided the delicatessen, the pastry shop, and the local cellar for the finest dining we will ever have."

Keiko's smile grew broader. "I can't wait."

Slipping an arm around her slight waist, the other hand grabbing the wicker basket on their way out. "We're having a picnic on the beach -- just the two of us."

The shore bordering Genkai's temple had always been a deserted, thus quiet, place; it was a sanctuary for the old woman who recently passed away, basking in the easy silence with only nature's soothing sounds adding to the tranquility. Seagulls flew above them, and if one would look up the sky it would seem to have come straight out of a postcard. The soft crashing of waves against the sandy coast was melodic, the same one that psychiatrists recommend as listening therapy to their stressed-out patients. The weather was just right; though it was well after one in the afternoon it wasn't as hot as Keiko expected. It wasn't too sunny, but not too cloudy either.

Keiko laid out a blanket for them to sit on, and Yusuke set the basket down almost immediately. "I'm starved," he proclaimed, unpacking the contents. He produced a salmon patte, roll of French bread, some sandwiches, a blueberry pie, a bottle of corked red wine, and two champagne glasses.

"I didn't know you appreciated fine dining, Yusuke," Keiko teased good-naturedly. She reached into the basket and pulled out a knife and a box of Swiss chesse. "Maybe we could start with some slices of cheese and wine, would you say? Followed by that luscious-looking salmon patte."

"Yeah, whatever," Yusuke said indifferently. "But the perfect appetizer," he stole another kiss from her slightly open mouth, "is this."

She smiled fondly at him. "When did you get to be so romantic?"

He grinned back. "Six years can really change a man, would you say?" he asked rhetorically, mimicking her. At that she swatted his hand.

"Actually, I did forget something," Yusuke admitted hesitantly. "Er, I didn't bring a radio cassette player."

Keiko shrugged. "That's all right. We can make do without music."

After devouring on the dairy product and tasting a little of the French delicacy, drowned by three glasses of wine, Yusuke unwrapped the huge sandwiches and bit into them. Keiko was almost full (and close to being sloshed), and just managed to chew her way to half of the French bread with tuna filling.

"Ready for desert?" Yusuke asked, after finishing off two and a half sandwiches, the other half being Keiko's. Keiko just shook her head. "I think I'll just be having a bite," she said, and leaned back on her elbows. "I'm so full!"

"You'll change your mind," he insisted. Taking the plastic wrap off the pie, he dug his fork into it eagerly, feeling the fruit melt in his mouth. "Hm-mmm, good," he said, satisfied. He took another humongous bite.

"How can men have such bottomless stomachs?" Keiko wondered, pretending to be befuddled.

"Here, have some." Yusuke bent over and held out his fork to her. Looking as if she might be sick, Keiko grudgingly took a small bite.

And she practically swooned at the taste. "Oh my, it's great!" Yusuke smirked at her, the I-told-you-so look clearly imprinted on his features.

"Don't give me that," Keiko warned, mockingly narrowing her eyes.

He raised his hands, palms up, as if in surrender. "Fine, fine. Have some more," he coaxed, gently placing the pie-filled fork between her lips. Keiko refused after five more bites.

"So much for my diet," she grumbled, lying prone on the sand. She closed her eyes, and felt the breeze tickle her skin. She relaxed, keeping her insides tame as they digested the meal she had just consumed. As she listened to the swishing sound the swaying leaves produced, she allowed herself to go back to the few times she'd been here, on this beach. She envisioned a familiar scene: The entire gang would be here, unwinding after a mission, on weekends when all of them happened to be free. She pictured Kurama breaking up a fight that ensued between Kuwabara and Hiei, as the two continued to withdraw derogatory remarks from their bank of insults and shoot them at each other. Botan would be watching amusedly, Shizuru would be shaking her head at her brother's immaturity, Yukina would be overly concerned. As for Yusuke and me, well, he'd be egging them on, and I'd be chiding him for such juvenile behavior.

A plaintive smile played on Keiko's lips. She'd missed those days. How she'd give anything to bring them back!

"What's so funny?"

She opened one eye and looked at Yusuke, who had lain down beside her before observing her intently.

"Nothing," she replied, both eyes now open. "I was just... thinking about the old gang." She stared into the horizon. "Don't you miss their wackiness, the brawls, the fun we had? You know, just being young and being together, it was such a great feeling."

"I know what you mean," Yusuke said. He placed his hands behind his head. "Yeah, you're right; I do miss them. We were notable as a team, but we were even more remarkable as friends." He sighed. "It had been so simple then -- back when we didn't have affairs with Makai, when I still didn't know about my youkai heritage... It had been less complicated, just going on random detective assignments and training with Genkai-obasaan."

Keiko's attention was drawn to Yusuke's pink-haired trainer, with the light, confident way that she carried herself, her unbelievable strength, her eyes that seemed to bore straight into your soul. Her words which one wouldn't grasp right away, said at the most inappropriate moments, making them seem more ambiguous...

"Take care of Yusuke," Genkai had told her during the short respite before the final stages of the Ankoku Bujuutsukai took place. It was said ever so personally, and Keiko admitted that she really didn't know what the heck the old woman was telling her. Inexplicably, Keiko's heart was gripped with fear.

Turned out, it wasn't so irrational at all, like xenophobia.

A day later, Yusuke found her battling it all out with the younger Toguro, and he was too late to stop it...

His sensei died in his arms.

Yusuke was filled with grief for the next couple of days, and no one could comfort him. But he was even more determined than ever during the finals, and actually succeeded in defeating the bigger, but not more powerful, man-turned-demon. However, Yusuke didn't return to his usual self until Genkai-san was resurrected. That was one time Keiko had seen her best friend's face etched with pure joy, and she knew nothing in the world could ever match the happiness brought by his Master's return.

"Hey," she softly asked him, "don't you wish your mentor were here?"

Her companion exhaled loudly. " 'Course I do. She's, like, the mother I never had." He was quiet for a while, as if thinking back to when Genkai-san was still alive. "But I couldn't do anything about it now, could I? She has reached her time, and I'm just happy at the thought that at one time I had done something for her; that in defeating that bastard Toguro I somehow assured her that her powers -- her death -- weren't useless."

"And it was through your wish that she had a second chance at life," Keiko pointed out. "That's one more thing you should be proud of."

Yusuke smiled at that. "Yeah, maybe."

Companionable silence befell them moments after, absorbed in their own thoughts about their teenage days.

"Hey," Yusuke suddenly asked, propping himself up and twisting in his position to look at her, grinning like an idiot, "are you over that bloated feeling now?"

Keiko stuck out her tongue at him. "I never said I was bloated!"

"Good," he said, leaning closer, "because I want to pick up from where we left off earlier. Are you in the mood right now?"

Keiko smiled back. "With you, Yusuke, I'm always in the mood."

"Fantastic," he whispered, giving her a long kiss. Then he stood up, brushed the sand off his clothes, and took her hand as they walked to Genkai's temple, where he carried her up in his arms and slid the door shut behind him with his foot, and laid her down on the futon as he took off her clothes and made love to her.

They had totally forgotten about the picnic basket down by the beach.

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