Agrippa
patreon
All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 32
🕑 Added 2022-02-21 09:38:25 +0000 UTCFighting games are ridiculous.
Aside from plots that make me want to set the language to English and pretend every character is saying something adequately cool, aside from the preposterous gimmicks—and how very few incorporate armor-busting moves that sate a teenage boy’s (or Yui’s) more cultured cravings—there’s the simple fact of… The characters.
Every single one of them needs to be distinctive both in design and moveset (though that last one gets a pass with shotoclones), appealing more to an aesthetic than to being even remotely effective in a fighting tournament that, more often than not, involves the fate of the world or, at the very least, the franchise.
That leads to women throwing high kicks in stilettos, samurai aliens using high-tech katanas as pogo sticks, and a Jojo character rip-off using her scarf as a weapon.
And never mind throwing around fireballs: just managing to wear those costumes without dying of embarrassment already stretches any suspension of disbelief to the combo breaking point.
Yet there’s something to be said about witnessing a character heading into battle with their customary uniform, the battle aura oozing off every pore as their confident stance—
“Hello?” Shizu asks in front of me.
Because she just opened the door to her apartment.
Because I rang the doorbell, not because her danger sense flared up. Duh.
…
“Hachi? Are you all right?” she asks, concern evident in her voice.
In her voice, and her posture, as she shifts nervously, her lab coat swaying with the motion, her vest showing how thin her waist is, how my hands could almost manage to encircle her completely—
I kiss her.
It’s a bit awkward, given that I’m still carrying Iroha’s provisions to weather the incoming world war that Haruno is likely to unleash if she’s displeased by today’s events, so I can’t hug her and draw her to my body, just lean forward, catch her lips with mine, take the chance as she muffles her surprise to invade her mouth with my tongue, and start walking against her, entering her apartment and going forward until her back is literally against the wall and I finally feel her chest pressing against mine as Shizu moans and melts against me.
The door closes behind me, and I can almost hear Iroha’s giddy smile.
Then Shizu remembers she can do something aside from being carried along, and leans back and up, her wide eyes catching my own.
“Wha—what was thatabout?”
“This is what you wore when we first kissed.”
She flushes, squirms, and her body rubs against me in all the right ways.
“This is what I usually wear…”
“Precisely. You don’t know what it takes to hold back during class.”
She looks at me, her cheeks having a rosy tint I always delight in causing.
“Senpai, I think you can let go of those bags now,” Iroha says from right behind me.
Oh, right. I’m expending physical effort unnecessarily.
… Oreki-sensei, I’ve betrayed your teachings once again. Forgive this worthless disciple.
I clear my throat as I step away, and Shizu chuckles.
Which gets promptly interrupted by Iroha slamming bodily into her and shoving her tongue down our teacher’s throat.
…
Hot.
‘Keep it in your pants.’
Really?
‘Look, what is to come will already be awkward enough if the poor girl doesn’t come right in the middle of a threesome.’
I’d argue it’d be much better if she came right in the middle of a threesome. An excellent way to break the ice, in my experience.
‘... All right, that one’s my fault.’
Certainly.
***
After securing our sustenance for the following months in Shizu’s fridge and countertop, then watching Iroha be Iroha for a bit, then distributing some of the victuals secured by her foresight in dishes and bowls to make time, then watching Shizu squirm and slide down the wall while Iroha straddles her, cupping her cheeks with her palms, then adopting Standard Adolescent Male Gait Number Two, then listening to the noises they make until something inside my brain snaps, I decide it may be time to verbally intervene before clothes start flying.
Mostly, because I hate myself. I think.
‘When you’re right, you’re right.’
“So, you think we could finish this before I get the urge to pull an Iroha and start filming?”
Shizu yelps, or, at least, seems to try and do so while Iroha purrs into her mouth as our teacher flails her arms around in confused panic and, or, lust.
… I think it’s time for the spray bottle.
‘Is that a euphemism for bukkake—’
Please, the last thing I need is for you to join in.
‘Right. Right. Can’t blame a girl for getting carried away.’
I most definitely can, thank you very much.
Speaking of which, I grab Iroha by the back of her coat (skin contact is to be avoided) and pull her up and away. She struggles for a moment until she finally lets herself get dragged up with a surly, almost meek look.
“I was just saying hello,” she protests.
“Uh?” Shizu defends her, eyes a bit glassy.
“I would ask how you plan to say goodbye, but I’m afraid of the answer,” I tell her, tone as flat as Yukinoshita’s hopes and dreams.
Sorry, Yui. At least, between the two of you, you average to the national average.
Also, I am a bit worried by that glint in your eye, Iroha.
Scratch that: very worried.
“Oh? Are you saying that you fear being away from me for even a minute, Senpai? That you wish we would never have to say goodbye? That you need a constant reminder of my presence? Senpai, if that’s your way of asking if there’s a way to avoid that and have indelible proof of the bond between us, I’m afraid I must refuse: the pill won’t wear off until—”
“No pregnancy jokes for you after the last scare,” I, for once, manage to interrupt one of her speeches. I would be proud of my progress if Shizu hadn’t just jumped to her feet.
“The last what?!”
Ah. Right. Misunderstandings.
Misunderstanding are one of the core concepts of the romantic comedy genre. A way to stretch the plot after it’s been made obvious that the two main characters would naturally fall in bed together and remain there until the credits rolled if allowed, at all, to talk about their feelings like two rational, somewhat sane, adults. It is the role of the misunderstanding to introduce some artificial conflict into a plot that would, otherwise, go straight from A to B, or not so straight if Yui were at all involved, yet, for all their iconicity—
‘Not. The. Time.’
I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brain-chan.
“Stop running away into one of your dumb monologues and answer the damn question!”
‘That. I meant that.’
Oh. What an impressive display of foresight.
‘Indeed. Now answer the still flushing piece of Christmas Cake before the emotion behind her redness switches from Iroha-induced to still Iroha-induced but not in the fun way.’
You have quite a way with words.
‘Thank you very much. And stop stalling.’
“I… it was my fault?” Iroha says. And, judging by Shizu’s reaction, doesn’t improve the situation at all.
“She means it was a prank! She sent me a pregnancy test after I told her she couldn’t make me freak out!”
And now Shizu’s rubbing the bridge of her nose.
And sighing.
“You two are going to be the death of me…”
“By dehydration?” I curiously inquire.
And she groans.
“Iroha, sweetie, if you ever do something that dumb again, we’re going to have words.”
“If one of those words is ‘spanking,’ I think she may be into it. Wouldn’t recommend it: it’s a perverse incentive.”
Both my girlfriends (riajuus, go explode—from envy) stare at me. One of them in incomprehension, the other…
Flushing and squirming.
No points for guessing who’s who.
“I’ve never thought about it, actually—”
“Not the time. Please. There’s only so much stimulation I can take before tearing your clothes off or my boxers apart.”
Shizu, stop looking there. You. Aren’t. Helping.
‘For a certain definition of “helping” …’
Just whose side are you on?!
‘The one not currently fighting against my chances to see Shizu’s wonderful, pale breasts jump up and down right in front of your eyes?’
… You. Aren’t. Helping.
“Moving on!” I declare to the room at large and the traitorous voice in my head in particular. “Haruno. Thoughts. Non-sexy thoughts.”
Iroha fidgets and looks at the floor guiltily, and Shizu exasperatedly brushes her bangs back in an aborted facepalm as she groans.
“I swear, you two always manage to derail anything I planned on doing…” she mutters.
“Welcome to my life, as not so Simple Plan put it,” I helpfully and not acerbically at all reply.
“… I’m both hopeful that your English grades will improve if you’re listening to American music, and despairing over yet another source of references for you to drop on me.”
“Be glad that’s the only thing I’m about to drop on you.”
She punches my arm.
“Not. That. Voice,” she growls out as pain, agony, and smug satisfaction radiate from the point of impact.
Wait, what voice?
‘Dude, really? There’s only so much I can do to hold back the Deep Voiced Bastard when you keep thrusting us into these situations.’
Be glad that’s the only thing I’m thrusting.
‘… Not. That. Voice.’
Uh. Sorry. I’m too used to self-inflicting mental damage.
Also, Iroha, stop giggling. You’re making it worse. Or better. Which is definitely worse.
“Moving on!” Shizu repeats my earlier words, proving once again both how much we complement each other and that she’s a slow learner. “Have the two of you decided—”
And, right as she gets to the point of this meeting, the doorbell rings.
Because of course.
I guiltily shift somethinginside my pants that better deflate quickly or else as Iroha also guiltily wipes any traces of Shizu off her mouth and Shizu grumbles something possibly not quite charitable.
Then wipes her mouth and opens the door to show us—
Does not compute.
‘… Am I having a stroke? Are you? Both? How would that even work?’
Thank you for the attempt at a distraction, Brain-chan, but…
Haruno is there, hand still raised to the doorbell button. She’s wearing a black cardigan and white blouse with a pleated, green tartan skirt and has her tan coat (far too similar to Shizu’s, now that I think about it) draped on her arm.
And she’s looking bashful and insecure.
Haruno.
Insecure.
“Hello, Haruno. Please, do come in,” Shizu says, her voice polite yet still warm. Caring. Gentle.
And Haruno steps inside, taking her shoes off, and—
Oh, right.
Suppressing (or trying to) a flush at the inadequacy of it all, I finally remove my own shoes just as Iroha furtively does the same.
“I am not late, am I?” The elder—older Yukinoshita asks with a hint of insecurity.
And Shizu hugs her.
“I am sorry,” she says. “You don’t know how much, or for what, but just know that I never meant to hurt you, that I tried to do precisely the opposite. That I loved you, in my way, and never wanted to see you like this.”
And she kisses the younger girl’s brow.
And Haruno breaks down and cries, slumping in my girlfriend’s arms.
… She just stepped into the room, and already my plans are shot. Sasuga, Haruno, sasuga.
***
We are all sitting on Shizu’s suspiciously grey sofa.
Which means I’ll need to air my clothes thoroughly before going home, because the last thing I need is for one of my parents to deduce my increasing interest in physical exercise and lingering tobacco smell means I’ve finally awoken to the delinquent blood flowing through my veins.
… I wonder if dad—
“You can stop that,” Haruno says from where her head currently is.
That is, lying on Shizu’s lap as she gently combs her hair with her fingers.
“Do you want me to?” Shizu answers in what I suspect is her answer to the Deep Voiced Bastard and shall be tentatively named Gentle Voiced Mentor (‘genuine’ flashback intensifies).
Haruno, as her only answer, burrows her face into thighs I know to be very burrowable from personal experience.
… I am not jealous.
Iroha and I exchange glances, because both of us feel like we just skipped quite a few steps in whatever was supposed to go down in here.
This would be the time for us to show our deepening understanding of each other by having a silent conversation only through meaningful glances and gestures. It would probably go somewhat along these lines:
“Senpai. What. The. Fuck.”
“Iroha, how uncharacteristic of you to so brazenly swear like that. I’m about to bend you over my knee and give you a thorough spanking, young lady.”
“Yeah, why am I not surprised your mind is still fixated on that. No, but seriously, what is going on?”
“If I had to guess? Shizu spent the night reflecting on whatever went down on that mysterious first kiss she gave Haruno, reached some epiphany, and now is set on making it up to her.”
“That is a suspiciously specific guess, Senpai.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“Yeah, we could stop looking around like we are in a very uncomfortable stand-off in the subway and actually do something rather than pretend to have a conversation.”
“How bold and brazen of you. Sasuga, Iroha.”
This is the point where the imaginary conversation ends, and Iroha clears her throat.
Given our current arrangement on the sofa means that she’s on the opposite side of Haruno, that has both Shizu and her erstwhile pupil look at her and, necessarily, at me, as I am on the line of fire.
Damn it, Iroha…
“I… Sorry for interrupting, but I feel like we should clarify a couple of things before you keep cuddling my girlfriend,” she says, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“Your what now?” Haruno answers as Shizu’s hand kinda freezes mid-motion through the hair of the girl on her lap.
Shizu looks at me. I shrug.
She glares.
“Uh… It’s… A thing that happened,” Iroha boldly clarifies under Haruno’s demanding gaze.
“When?” Haruno mercilessly presses through Iroha’s crumbling defenses.
“Last Monday?”
Haruno closes her eyes. And sighs.
“Of course it would. Why not? It’s not like I spent years hung up on the damn martyr only for you to sweep in after just a couple of weeks…”
“Hey! I am not a martyr!” Shizu protests.
Three sets of eyes stare her down until she blushes and protests a weak, muttered “… am not.”
It’s delightful. Also, a bonding exercise. Screw trust-building: inflicting shame is where it’s at.
“Shizu’s self-delusion aside… She’s currently going out with Iroha and me. So, I guess we should talk about what the two of you want and expect while keeping in mind that anything romantic will be… complicated.”
Haruno laughs.
To an unwitting bystander, it may even sound like her usual laugh.
An edge of cruelty, of sadistic mirth, papered over with exaggerated cheer.
Except the edge is brittle, cracked, and the cruelty goes inward.
“Just like that, Hachiman? I just come here, pour my heart out, and expect the three of you to work out something ‘complicated?’”
I don’t like her tone.
Because the words are mocking, maybe by sheer habit, but the way they are said…
I stand up before kneeling down, my face over Haruno’s, my hand on Shizu’s.
Her eyes widen, and there’s a little, shocked gasp.
“What else did you expect, Haruno?”
She looks up at me, searching for whatever it is she likes to see in my eyes that she never stops looking for.
“Honestly? A thousand things. A thousand plans. I could come in here and be cruel, vindictive, and tear you three apart. I could inspire pity on the two of you most likely to want to heal a broken bird no matter the expense. I could guilt Shizu into offering me what she denied years ago only to give it to you with barely any hesitation, I could—”
“Thank you,” I say.
Something in her eyes, in the faded purple, melts, and I can finally see the shattered shards beneath.
“Thank you?” she repeats, her tone lost.
“For pushing me. For making me chase after Shizu and not give up. For being there for her after that first day, when she got drunk and cried because I didn’t know to run after her retreating silhouette behind ground glass. Thank you, Haruno. For helping me set Yukino on a path to heal and take care of Yui. For challenging me, making me be more than I thought I could be. Thank you, Haruno. For being you.”
She blinks rapidly, and her eyes shine in that way only unshed, beautiful tears can bring.
“Your first mistake was to have any kind of plan. He always wrecks them,” Iroha whispers.
And then slender fingers thread through my hair, and the Strongest Junior pushes me down, against the lips of the Yukinoshita being a Yukinoshita.
Right. I am the one that wrecks plans. How rich.
Haruno moans her surprise as we meet once again, as I taste her softness.
… Is that cherry lip gloss? Is she copying Shizu?
Iroha gently pulls me back, and I can see tender, confused eyes looking up from me to her.
“Plans?” Haruno whispers, close enough that I can feel her breath on still wet lips.
“Do you know what he did for our first date?” she says from where she’s now sitting, cuddling up to Shizu. Haruno slowly turns her head side to side and Shizu resumes her gentle caress. “He brought me to the place where I confessed to my first crush and got rejected. Destiny Land. Right when the parade went around.”
Haruno blinks and looks at me in what I can only assume is outraged feminine solidarity.
“He was there at the time. Saw me do it.”
Haruno’s gaze narrows.
“And then he spent the whole train ride on the way home being there for me, just… just supporting me. Letting me come undone. I already liked him, but at that moment… He could’ve swooped in, you know? Just shown a bit more kindness, a gentle touch, and I would have given him anything he wanted just so he wouldn’t leave. Just so he would stay at my side and not let me feel that aching hole in my chest… But he didn’t.
“He just… was there. For me. Let me know he would be for as long as I needed without asking for anything, without pushing or making me uncomfortable. He just… I almost fell for him, that day. It didn’t take long after that.”
I don’t know what Haruno’s eyes are telling me, because I’ve closed my own. Because I don’t deserve—
“And then we had our first date, what should’ve been the happiest day of my life, and he brought me… there. And I was shocked, and scared, and afraid. And I kept reliving not that train ride with his warm presence at my side, but Hayato’s eyes as he turned me down, and… It took me quite a bit to start enjoying myself, and I thought the day was ruined, but we could still have a bit of fun, and…”
She pauses to loudly swallow, to steady a tone that’s as brittle as Haruno’s eyes.
“And then he confessed right as the same damn parade started, as the same music that was the background to my rejection sounded, and... And he told me. That it was the day he started falling for me. That he saw me as brave in that moment, that he…”
She shuts up, and I manage to open my eyes enough to see Haruno breathlessly looking at the girl above both of us, but I don’t have the courage to turn away and look at her, at my almost crying girlfriend.
Iroha giggles softly and tenderly.
“Never make plans when it comes to him, Haruno; it doesn’t end well. Or, rather, it ends with me in a love hotel promising him my everything for eternity.”
Shizu shifts around, and gives Iroha the kiss I can’t give her right now.
Advantages of our arrangement, I guess.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Haruno whispers, not even looking twice at the two girls showing their love above us.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time?” I answer with what I believe is a good candidate for the Hikigaya family motto.
“No, it didn’t,” she smirks.
And I’m so relieved I sag.
Because she’s right, and ironic, and just the right kind of mocking.
Because she’s Haruno.
My Haruno.
My fingers interlace with Shizu’s on Haruno’s hair, and I lean down to kiss her brow.
Because I love her, even if I don’t know what that means.
‘I may have some ideas.’
Of course you do, Brain-chan. Of course you do.
Comments
Agrippa
It's an immense relief to read that. Really, I care too much about this story to mess it up right at the current climax.
Walrus
Agrippa you beautiful monster. You can’t just make me feel feelings like that. Beautiful chapter and no you’re not messing up because it’s excellent .
Agrippa
Thank you very much! This is both flattering and relieving, because I was a bit afraid I was messing up on the latest chapters
Primeval Revenant
I binged this whole thing yesterday... And paid for this today... I don't think I've ever gone running for paywalled content this fast, but damn was it worth it.
