Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 43
🕑 Added 2022-06-24 21:00:53 +0000 UTCAnime parents are mysterious creatures.
More often than not, their existence is implied rather than stated as, unless the setting has made some disturbing technological advances in how reproduction is handled (that won’t turn, at all, into an I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-hentai plot as soon as the high schooler from the present-day Japan is sent there), it’s natural to believe the parents do, in fact, exist.
Yet how often do we see high schoolers living on their own in circumstances that have the female childhood friend continually barge into the inner sanctum of male puberty to provide him with the food and household chores he’s naturally predisposed against providing for himself? How often do we hear about the parents having gone on a second honeymoon right as the distantly related cousin (or step-sister via the propitiator of said honeymoon) arrives to initiate some I-swear-I-locked-the-bath’s-door incidents? How often do we hear about that mythical ‘working overseas’ thing that obviously requires a full set of adults to leave their underage child to fend for themselves?
Yes, anime parents are elusive, wondrous creatures whose sole purpose is to facilitate either the plot or the ecchi hijinks that often try to masquerade as said plot.
“Well?” my mother asks.
And I kinda, somewhat, to at least a small degree, wish I had anime parents.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I answer as honestly as I can, my elbows resting on my knees as I lean forward on our charcoal grey sofa, a nervous Komachi sitting by my side as, on the other side of the glass coffee table, Mom and Dad sit on black leather and steel armchairs.
Dad’s… He has that squirrely look about him he tends to have when Mom is on the warpath for one thing or another. Really, at times I admire the intelligence and tactical acumen of a man who has avoided so much as raising his voice in my presence throughout his entire life.
At other times, I kinda wish he wasn’t a spineless wimp.
Not that I have anything against spineless wimps! Some of my favorite characters are spineless wimps! Except they then get a training arc, confront their weaknesses, and become worthy of the title of protagonist. Bonus point if that leads them to hook up with the martial arts girl who helped them confront their fears and limitations.
Yeah, I don’t know why I would like that archetype. It’s kind of a mystery.
“Hachiman, you keep spending time out. We just want to know what you’re doing,” he says, throwing an aside look to Mom to see if the wording is what she had in mind.
… I may be slightly bitter at him. Don’t know why. It’s a mystery.
“I’ve just been going out with friends. You always told me I needed to do more of that,” I answer, not at all sulking like a spoiled child rather than maturely confronting them like a man on the verge of adulthood who’s worthy of the affections of the women he loves.
Fuck.
Fuck!
“And we’re to believe you’ve suddenly found so many friendsafter years of avoiding every social interaction like it was something contagious?” Mom asks, delicately dancing around the issue as she alludes to the heart of the matter with her usual subtlety and grace.
‘Calm down. You’re getting worked up before they have the chance to do it for you.’
You’re right, Brain-chan. How wasteful of me. Oreki-sensei, I’ve yet again betrayed your energy-saving ways.
‘Well, I can certainly say you haven’t been saving too much “energy” in the past few days…’
Heh.
“Stop smirking and answer me,” Mom says, and Dad flinches.
I am gonna—
‘Don’t. Breathe.’
Right.
“Mom, I never… I didn’t want to be alone. I just was,” I admit.
Out loud.
Not to them, to myself.
And Komachi grasps my hand and holds it tightly enough it hurts with a soothing, reassuring pain as her arm softly quivers.
Dad’s jaw clenches, Mom’s eyes narrow.
“So. You’re saying that’s not the case anymore,” she says.
And doesn’t even refute me.
Doesn’t even think to claim I wasn’t alone, that I had her to rely on, that I—
Fuck.
“I’ve met people over the past year. And they’ve… They’ve been good to me. Despite my fighting them at every turn, despite me being... me. They… they’ve stayed. So, yes, that’s not the case. Not anymore.”
She looks at me, as if trying to find out whether or not I’m lying to her. Whether or not one of the most painful admittances I’ve ever uttered, one I couldn’t have made without having endured one ‘genuine’ speech too many (and been healed and soothed by soft lips and the lingering scent of tobacco).
I’m being… honest. Brutally so.
To my parents, to Komachi, to myself.
And I don’t think she’s listening.
“Your entrance exams are next year,” she says. As if that is some kind of counterproof against my declaration.
It takes me a moment to understand.
“I’ll do well on them. You don’t need to worry, Mother,” I say. And, for just a moment, I’m reminded of Haruno handling a phone call to her own mother. I remember the dry, formal, un-Haruno tone she used, the careful enunciation.
I remember hating it.
I don’t remember thinking I should imitate her.
“You’re spending the night out. That’s not friendship,” she says after a short pause. And Dad looks like he’s about to add something before looking at her and flinching away.
I don’t know which of them I resent more: the one who doesn’t know what’s the right thing to do, or the one who does and still doesn’t do it.
“I… It’s not the first time I have spent the night at Zaimokuza’s,” I say, now abandoning my sincerity for a moment.
Because…
Because I’m an underage boy going out with another underage girl, a college-aged girl, and a teacher who’s had a formative influence on all of us (even if I think Iroha came out of whatever hentai world she spawned from pretty much already formed, like an uncharacteristically modestly endowed Aphrodite out of some very suspicious waters).
Basically? From an outside perspective, one that doesn’t take into account how I’m pretty sure Shizu basically helped Haruno avoid committing suicide, social or otherwise? How she did the same to me? And how Iroha got herself forcefully involved because, well, Iroha? Things look bad.
Really, really bad.
“Don’t lie to my face, Hachiman,” she says.
And expects me to continue.
All right, all right, how do I salvage this? I should’ve thought about it ahead of time, should’ve come up with better excuses, not let myself get carried away by being surrounded by loving, wonderful, beautiful—not the time. Focus.
They can’t find out about Shizu.
They could find out about Haruno. They may even be happy about me going out with a wealthy heiress. But that brings up too many questions, too many things I should never divulge, and not just because it would put Shizu at risk.
Iroha…
Right. Sorry, Iroha. I hope you can forgive me for this.
“I… got a girlfriend,” I admit through clenched teeth, and Komachi goes still at my side.
Mom shoots her a side glare that, despite being directed at her favorite child, isn’t that much milder than the ones she often directs my way.
“Oh, well, that’s wonderful! How did you two meet?” Dad says in an earnest plea for some de-escalation of the hostilities.
He never learns, does he?
“She’s a junior. We met when she asked my club for help with her candidacy to the student council.”
“Did she win?” Mom asks with an arched eyebrow.
“She did. She’s… very hardworking.” I mean, I’m pretty sure she practices her speeches a lot. “And charming. She basically was guaranteed to win the election.” Well, she was asking for help to losethe election, but I’d rather not introduce too many plot twists in my straightforward teenage rom-com.
‘… Dude.’
Yeah. Yeah, I know…
“And her parents allow her to spend two nights out in the same week?”
“I… I haven’t met them yet. I think they’re quite hands-off with her education.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
“Show me a picture,” Mom demands.
…
‘Nope. Nope, nope, baaaaaaaad idea.’
She’s asking for it!
‘And you’d get at least ninety percent of the trauma!’
At least I would strike back for once!
‘You are her son! Do you really think that left her unscathed?!’
Whose side are you on?!
‘The one that won’t get you to show Iroha’s amateur porn collection!’
Fine! It was just an idea; no need to bite my head off!
‘If Self-Preservation-kun was here, he would’ve done much worse!’
Well then, maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t—
‘Don’t you even dare! He’s—’
A figment of my imagination, and maybe I should tone this down before I end up like Zaimokuza.
‘What? You mean happily married to a redhead, busty tsundere?’
I know you hate me, but maybe you could pretend not to from time to time…
‘As if. Now, about that completely clothed, sperm-free, with just one woman, picture of Iroha?’
You’re really limiting the possibilities, you know?
“I… I’d rather ask her for one, if you don’ mind? I wouldn’t want to violate her privacy.”
‘Among other things.’
Shut. Up.
“Oh, please. By all means,” my mother says as if indulging a delusional child.
… All right, if she doesn’t believe I have a girlfriend, what’s all this about? Does she think I’m doing compensated dating or something?
‘…’
Yeah, I also don’t want to touch the idea of my mother thinking I’m an underage prostitute with too much detail.
‘Then stop describing it!’
I am stalling! I do that by dwelling on trauma, self-inflicted or otherwise!
‘I miss Self-Preservation-kun so much…’
Right, so you keep telling me. Anyway… Let’s see…
‘Hey, sorry to spring this on you, but my parents suddenly got suspicious about my prolonged absences and got a bit too nosy, so, long story short, they want me to show them a picture of my cute, foxy girlfriend.’
And send.
There. It has enough information for her not to pull an ‘Are you asking me for a nude selfie? To display my nubile self for your masturbatory pleasure, so you can touch yourself to my bare breasts and wet, open pussy lips over and over till your wrist cramps and your heavy balls are empty? I’m sorry, Senpai, but that’s impossible! After all, how would I drain your balls with my tight mouth and insistent tongue if you’d already done that to yourself?’
…
I don’t even know if I need to spend less time with Iroha or more.
Ah, a notification ding. How much it resembles the tolling of the bells of a church with a dark secret that will likely involve a version of Christianity not that familiar with that whole ‘vow of celibacy’ thing.
Also, stripper demons.
‘A photo for your parents? I’m sorry, Senpai, but that’s impossible!’ Oh, fuck, no. ‘After all, this photo of your loving, devoted girlfriend is meant for you, and so you alone can choose who to show it to.’
…
‘Doki doki?’
Do you even have to ask?
Especially after looking at the picture of Iroha expertly using her tool of choice to get a selfie with her bright, cheerful, and slightly mischievous smile, wearing a tasteful pink top and her uniform jacket (I guess as proof of identity). A bit of a girlish room is shown in the background, but nothing that can distract from—
“Brother, you’re smiling,” Komachi whispers from her position of, up till now, silent support.
“Ah, sorry, I guess that’s gro—”
“No.” Her hand squeezes mine. “No, it isn’t.”
And she’s… smiling back. Her cute fang showing yet again, but with none of the mischief, just warm affection and acceptance. Happiness on my behalf.
It shouldn’t be such a rare sight.
And then Mom takes my phone off my hands, because, of course, reacting to Iroha left me unaware of my surroundings. Guess that’s how she so easily sneaks up on me.
Iroha, I mean, not my mother.
The mother who’s now looking at my phone’s screen, and thus at Iroha’s picture with a very unimpressed eyebrow that keeps twitching.
And now she’s touching—
“Hey! The messages are private!” I immediately react.
“Oh? Anything to hide, Hachiman?” she says.
Being in a sexual and emotional relationship with three women, having maneuvered my first two loves into a yuri romance, and everything relating to Zaimokuza and Minami.
“I’m a teenage boy with a girlfriend. Of course I’ve got things to hide,” I grumble in what I think is a very convincing way.
That makes Komachi immediately let go of my hand to cover her mouth as she goes suddenly green.
… Oi.
“Right… Right…” Mom says, looking momentarily lost. “I just… Right, I just want to meet her,” she declares with all her previously lost aplomb and making up for it.
“What?” I ask.
***
“What?” Iroha asks.
Which, to be fair, is a perfectly logical reaction to me having grasped her sleeve from behind first thing in the morning as soon as I saw her past the school’s entrance to tell her she’s coming to meet my parents tomorrow.
The paling of her face, widening of eyes, and sheer panic attack are also, in my humble opinion, perfectly natural.
“If you break up with me over this, I’ll perfectly understand,” I tell her.
And then her eyes narrow, she grabs the lapels of my jacket and jumps up to shove her tongue into my throat.
… Sasuga, Iroha-sama. Sasuga.
Comments
Agrippa
I can definitely sympathize.. Also, I'm always elated when a chapter helps anyone :)
aj0413
Lol I needed this chapter. Had an absolutely shit week, but this was great way to kick off weekend
