Love Hina - Volume 1 - Chapter Pr

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The Preface
Which Might Give the 5tory Away:
Thank you for waiting patiently, Love Hina fans! We are finally able to present to you the novelized version of Love Hina!

I am the scriptwriter for the anime, but this novel is based strictly on the original manga, so please understand that none of the new, original characters that were created solely for the anime will be used in this story.
I tried to stay as true to the original setup of the manga as possible, but nevertheless, I’m sure hardcore fans of Love Hina will find many inconsistencies. But, please understand, writing this was really tough!
Even as I plotted out the novel, the manga series continued on. I had to diligently avoid similar plot points

Love Hina / the novel
and changed settings, particularly regarding making the Hinata House a hot springs inn, and the secret of the inner lawn’s old annex, etc. etc. When things got sticky, I called Akamatsu-sensei to resolve any overlapping issues and timeline inconsistencies.
“Akamatsu-sensei, in the first volume, Haruka refers to Keitaro as her nephew, but isn’t she Grandma Hinata’s granddaughter? Shouldn’t they be cousins?”
And then Akamatsu-sensei would laugh and say, “Well, I’m not sure why she called him her nephew. Ha ha ha!”
We were going around in circles!
With so many unsolved riddles in Love Hina, some of the story elements shifted around, and things got lost in the gray zone. There’s a good chance that certain parts of the novel will differ from the later manga volumes.
The premise I’m operating on now is that all of the characters and settings adhere strictly to the »
original story.
And so, without further ado, it’s show time!

Keitaro URASHIMA

Okay, I have a confession: I don’t get girls.

No, wait—I don’t mean I don’t get girls, even though that’s technically true, it’s not like I’ve ever had one or anything—I mean I don’t understand them. I don’t understand the way they think or feel. I have no clue what they think about me, except maybe that I’m a giant pervert.
Okay, now you’re looking at me funny. Let me explain.
Ever since I was a little kid, I never really talked to girls much. The only woman in my life at that time was my mom. She was the head of the family and she also ran our old, traditional Japanese candy store.

I don’t mean to disrespect her, but she ran that shop like a Marine drill sergeant. (And come to think of it, she kind of looked like one, too.) So, it was extremely difficult to wrap my young mind around the concept of femininity, based solely on her example.

Of course, all the schools I went to were coed, so there were plenty of girls in my classes. But I was way too scared to talk to any of them. And if any of them ever bothered to talk to me, it was to say things like, “Keitaro, go sit over there!” and they’d point to the farthest seat in the cafeteria. Or they’d say, “Keitaro, give us your homework!” usually followed quickly with, “Keitaro, the answers are all wrong!”

Then they’d punch me in the nose.
Well, no, wait . . . that wasn’t the only thing girls ever said and did to me. I mean, if that was the sum total of my experience with females, that would be just too pathetic, right? So, there had to be something nice that a girl said to me, at least once. Right?
Gimme a second . . .
I’m thinking . . .
Er . . . Um . . .

Hey, no pressure, okay?

Nope, I got zip. My only memory of the female sex involves tears, bruises, and the scent of floor wax (due to landing face-first one too many times).

Story of my life, folks.

Hang on—something’s coming to me. It’s real faint, like a flashlight flickering on and off in my mind. There’s a girl. . . she’s crying . . . and there’s a scarf. . .

Ah, yes. It was in third grade, right after winter break. The back of the classroom had these little shelf spaces, aligned in alphabetical order, for each student to put gym clothes, books, and craft tools in. My shelf space was usually empty, but that day I noticed a gift. It was wrapped in Liddo paper. Liddo was a popular television anime character back in the day. I really liked the tenacity of his personality, but my friends always made me pretend to be the professor, because I had glasses. but it didn’t matter. I was a stud muffin. I was the man. Someone seriously dug me.

But who?

By the end of the fourth period, I could feel someone’s eyes boring into the back of my head. It was a little girl. She never really talked to me (just like all the other little girls) but now she was glancing at me a whole bunch. I reasoned that the scarf had to have come from her.

So, you were the one who gave me this present, I thought. I’ll treasure it, and even though I never noticed how cute you were until just now, Til care for you, starting today ...

I looked deeply into her eyes, and it was like I could almost hear her say, Thank you, and please take good care of my heart!
After school, I stayed behind, looking for that little girl. Suddenly, I heard someone cry behind me, “You thief!”

Then, crunch!
A fist whacked me, right in the nose!
I turned around, and saw the little girl had tears glistening in her eyes. For a moment, I thought she was worried about me, but she frowned. She hid behind the boy that had decked me—Urasawa, whose shelf was right next to mine.
Urasawa glared at me. “How do you think she feels?” he barked.
Oh. The riddle was solved. This little girl had put the gift in my box by mistake. Now Urasawa was sticking up for her. It was clear from the way she clung to his coat that she really liked him.
Of course, she could have just said the scarf wasn’t for me, or told me to give it back. Why did she just look at me silently all day? How could I have possibly known what had happened? Was I supposed to be psychic?
Kids, myself included, could be so cruel at times. What Urasawa said sounded so grown-up and totally righteous that I instantly got labeled as the school villain. Other kids in class spread rumors, and from that day on, I was the boy who “didn’t get girls.”
Sometimes even the teachers would nonchalantly comment in classes, “Keitaro, now I heard you don’t get girls. You can’t become popular like that, you know.”
Like they’d know popularity if it bit them on the behind!
After that, I just took it for granted that I didn’t get girls.
But that didn’t stop me from trying! I even took the entrance exams for Todai (Tokyo University) three times (to major in literature) all because of a promise I’d made to a girl before I ever entered kindergarten.
See, once I’d met a beautiful little girl. We played together in the sandbox.
“Did you know?” she asked suddenly. “If two people who love each other very much go to Tokyo University . . .”
“Love?” I interrupted, confused. I gulped.

Love Hina / Hie novel
“They’ll live happily ever after!”
I paused, mulling that over. Happily ever after sounded good. “Hm.”
She smiled at me. “When we grow up, let’s go to Tokyo University together!”
Before I could say anything, she kissed me!
My mind went blank at that very moment, and it stayed that way. I don’t remember anything about that kiss, except the slight sound of lips smooching my cheek. (That was a sound I wouldn’t hear for the next twenty years of my life, you see.)
The idea of Tokyo University was planted in my brain that day, and it took root. Once I figured out that Todai meant Tokyo University and not to-dai, a lighthouse, getting into Tokyo University became my life’s goal. It wasn’t because I’m completely lame and think that all childhood promises should be kept. It’s because I’m too lame to think of anything else to aim for.
I never saw that little girl again. I can’t remember her name, or what her face looked like. She’s probably forgotten all about that promise. But I remember.