Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 27
🕑 Added 2022-01-14 08:17:45 +0000 UTCUsually, if someone said something like ‘Heroism is a lie,’ we would be forgiven to assume the line-spouter is wearing a black cape, gigantic pauldrons, and probably sipping red wine like a pair of homoerotic mass-murderers (one of whom says actual Mass). It is a line that expresses contempt for high ideals, that sets one against the very heroes they decry, and that will probably get you punched in the mouth by a kid who yells ‘Plus ultra’ and behaves as if amphetamines are too tame of a supplement.
It is, of course, a true line.
Because what lies at the heart of heroism?
Is it altruism? Courage? The willingness to go above and beyond? Overpowered cheats?
No! It is… the secret identity!
From people with colorful pajamas to girls wearing fetishized school uniforms, the most renowned heroes across the whole of fiction engage in a subterfuge designed to have them go through boring high school scenes—I mean, to protect their loved ones. That is, the loved ones who are only plot-relevant when kidnapped by the week’s villain, because, after a while, every single relevant member of the cast will have one power or another. So, the secret identity is a tool for the hero to lie to those he allegedly loves but doesn’t consider worthy of joining the party to level up.
It is a constant lie, a deception that, no matter how much one strives to believe in the alleged good intentions motivating it, will cause a schism between those in the know and those who don’t. It is an act of constant, petty cruelty, a barely disguised sneer at those deemed unworthy of carrying the secret. Heck, it may even be morally catastrophic when one identity of the hero is dating someone who doesn’t have romantic feelings for the other identity—it may even be as despicable as an 80’s romantic comedy!
And it is an act those we admire the most, those who are written to be aspirational figures, ideals to strive for, engage in constantly!
So, if the supermen and short-skirted women of fiction, those who are usually beyond reproach, engage in this frankly monstrous practice, why should I, a mere mortal, be held to a higher standard?
‘Nice speech. Now come up with something she may actually buy.’
Yuiga—Yuiis staring at me like she knows I’m hiding a treat in my breast pocket but also knows I don’t plan on giving it to her. I don’t think there’s a lot I could say that would dissuade her from her path.
‘I mean, I’m pretty sure—’
That would dissuade her and not get me into further trouble.
“Are you going to keep stalling until the end of recess rings, or are you going to start talking? Because only one of those means I don’t drag Yukinon in here to—”
“Yui, as much as I’m sure you’re already used to dragging Yukino around to wherever you please by now, I would appreciate it if you didn’t use your finisher right off the bat. Let me build up my power meter for a bit, will you?”
“I’m just asking how your date went!”
“Shush!” With composure envied by the likes of Ryouga Hibiki trying to make romantic overtures, I look around me as calmly and methodically as someone who is about to have a heart attack. At least Yui cooperates by being silent—
Oh.
I mean, yes, I’m covering her mouth with my hands, and her face has reddened up to the tip of her ears, but no one can blame me! It was a practical, decisive move that possibly saved both our lives!
‘Say “El Psy Congroo.”’
El Psy Congroo!
‘Good. Now say: “Zaimokuza is the best writer I’ve ever—”
Brain-chan, you’ve gone too far.
Also, it looks like staring in frozen horror at Yui after a few seconds of making sure no one had overheard us in this little corner a few meters away from the tennis courts is no longer a viable tactic, because she just grabbed my wrists and is taking my hands off her mouth.
She must be pissed: she hasn’t even licked them.
“Hikki, there’s no one around here. Stop panicking so much,” she says, as calmly as…
Uh. It looks like she’s actually calm.
I mean, aside from the fact her face is, at the moment, a bit redder than her hair.
Orange hair.
…
All right, her red face is redder than orange, which is a good thing, because if her face was orange, I would worry she was thinking about getting into politics.
Yes. Everything’s good.
“Are you going to tell me, or do I really need to drag Yukinon in here?”
Maybe not thatgood.
“What have I ever done to you to deserve such treatment, Yui?”
She arches an eyebrow.
The other one is twitching.
… I guess that’s fair.
“Fine!” It, as usual, isn’t. “It went… I guess, on average, it went well?”
“Average?”
“It means that when you add every value and divide by—”
“I know what average means!”
“Oh, I guess Yukino’s tutoring is paying off?”
“Hikki, I got into this school, you know?”
“Komachi also has.”
“Are you… Are you saying your sister is dumb?”
“She keeps asking questions that make me think so.”
“… Like?”
“Like how my date went last night—ouch.”
Yui retrieves her pointed finger from its resting place about an inch into my side and looks at me with a radiant smile that I’ve learned to fear over the past few days.
Since Monday.
And this is Friday.
Oh, how time flies.
“Right. So, I am at least as smart as your sister, and I’m asking you how your date with Iroha went. Are you going to tell me, Hikki?”
On the one hand…
“Are you going to get mad?” I finally ask. Because what has dignity ever done for me? May as well behave like a contrite kid afraid to face his parents after deciding to artistically express his creativity all over the walls of the living room.
“… Seriously?” Yui asks in turn. Mostly because she must be checking whether this is still the same reality she woke up in this morning, which would be a dire concern for her, in case she landed in one where she still had to mind break Yukino all over again.
“Look, it’s just… There’s this whole unsaid thing hanging around us, and—”
“You mean that we are in love but not together?”
…
“Uh?”
‘Uh?’
Brain-chan, that isn’t helpful!
‘And you’re surprised because? Also, never mind! What the fuck! That wasn’t in the script! She wasn’t supposed to say that! Not before ten years had passed, and we were all getting drunk at a party, remembering how dumb we used to be, and then we would say something sappy, and she would say how she used to have this huge crush on us, but she’s so happy we managed to steer Yukino and her together, and we would look into her eyes and sigh with relief before getting one last drink and walking home, the winter air making our breath drift away in white puffs until we opened the door and Shizu greeted us, asking how it went, and we would smile and say, “Just as planned,” and she would laugh and—”
You… seem to have given this a lot of thought.
‘What the Hell do you think I did when we couldn’t sleep all through last week?!’
Think about Shizu’s—
‘Aside from that!’
“Hikky?” Yui asks with a soft voice that manages to cut through my increasingly frantic inner dialogue.
She’s… fidgeting. Her blush is now pink, and she has a slight pout, looking at the concrete slab beneath our feet.
… Right. I made sure someone took care of Yukino, but I never…
Carefully, as if petting a skittish animal that I don’t expect to wag its tail at me, I lay a hand on her shoulder and wait for her to look at me, her warm eyes uncertain as they meet mine.
“I love you,” I say, the words no easier to say even with how much practice I’ve recently had.
She keeps looking at me, her expression unchanging, still that mix of fear and apprehension.
Then she steps forward and lies her head on my chest, burying it on my shirt till I can no longer see her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I take a deep breath and hug Yui like we are in another world, another time, and she doesn’t have another girl I love to take care of, and I don’t have two girlfriends and one enigma.
“No. No, Yui, thank you.”
Her arms wrap around me and tighten.
And I wait till none of us breathe shakily.
***
We are sitting on the steps between the school and the yard, in that spot I discovered long ago that was reserved for a loner like me to learn how the wind blows so thoroughly I could bet a tennis match on it.
Which is a bit ridiculous, now that I think about it. Didn’t I have anything better to do? Like fantasizing about how to get Miura to grovel at my feet—
‘Stop. That’s how you end up with a harem.’
Do you mean I don’t—
‘Everyone has a distinct personality, reciprocal feelings, and you aren’t brain-damaged. No. It’s not a harem.’
I could argue the last point.
‘I could start visualizing what Sagami and Zaimokuza do when—’
Brain-chan, you are the foremost example of a healthy brain I’ve ever come across. Nothing you do is flawed in any way, and even your threats display a supreme knowledge of—
“I wasn’t sure you’d admit it,” Yui says.
‘Fuck. All right, save the groveling for later. This needs actual focus.’
I’m scared you are actually able to even think such a thought.
“I… I didn’t think it was fair of me to do it, but… you deserve the truth,” I tell her.
She keeps looking straight ahead, letting me see how beautiful—how much I’ve missed by not looking directly at her.
“The truth?”
“That… That I love you. And Yukino. And, in another world, another—”
“Don’t say that. Please. Just talk about this one. The one we’re in.” Her voice is soft. Pleading.
Heart-breaking.
I swallow back something bitter and nod. She still isn’t looking at me.
“Sorry. I… I am a mess. I didn’t even know I could fall in love like this, much less with so many women at once, but… I know Yukino and you. I know how… how hurt she is—”
“No, you don’t.” And now she looks at me with a burning intensity that would make me take a step back if we were standing.
“You are right; I apologize: I suspect how hurt she is. How she’s unable to understand that people love her—”
“Was,” she says with a quiet determination that…
“Thank you.” It’s the only answer I can give her.
“It’s what you asked me to do,” she says, still not smiling.
And I sigh.
“That… wasn’t fair of me.”
I look at the sky, at the clouds lazily drifting through winter blue, and I can’t help but remember ice shattering after I slapped Yukino—
“It wasn’t,” Yui interrupts. “So… why did you do it?”
“Because… I promised. I promised Haruno that if Yukino cried, there would be someone to take care of her. I promised Komachi that I would take care of you—”
“You haven’t.”
“Haven’t I?” I look back at her, and I allow a slight smirk to surface.
It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t irritate the women I love.
“… Not really.”
“Yukino. On a silver plate.”
“That’s not taking care of me! That’s making me responsible for the girl you—damn it, Hikki.”
I pat her head. Mostly because I’m reasonably sure she’s in an awkward position to bite me.
Komachi has taught me well.
“Even if… Even if that was true… Was it only because—” she hesitates to ask, and I don’t want to let her.
“I made the promise, Yui—I. It wasn’t what Haruno asked me to do, but what I was willing to offer her.”
“And Komachi—”
“She said, ‘Promise you will also take care of Yui?’”
She swallows and closes her eyes.
“And you said…?” Her voice is tiny, and I pat her hair.
“I said… ‘That was always the plan, Komachi.’”
She remains silent, breathing slowly as I caress her hair, as sunlight keeps glinting off moving strands.
She really is beautiful.
Even with her Yuigahamas covered by her arms.
“And you took care of me… by making me take care of Yukinon.”
I keep looking at her, at a face that keeps fighting to remain tense.
“Not… quite. I—I hoped it would work like that, that you two would finally be together without me making a mess of things, but…”
Her eyes open.
I forget what I was going to say.
Because this is one of my two first loves. The girl I let go of. The one I couldn’t have as I kept walking the path I found myself in.
And I don’t regret it, not at all.
Not when I remember Shizu’s quivering smile when she finally allowed herself to be with me. Not when I remember hugging a sobbing Iroha this morning.
But.
But a part of me, even if it treasures what I have…
A part of me wonders.
About a world where the three of us met, and there was nobody else. A world where we could’ve made Yukino understand that she was loved and valued by the two of us, where there was no need to frame things to have one person exclusively devoted to the task of making the regal, slender, gorgeous mess of a human being learn that she could be… That we all could…
It’s a petty part, but I’ve always valued pettiness, you know?
“I never knew what love was until I met the two of you,” I finally say.
She straightens and turns to face me.
Her arms raise.
Her fingers tangle through my air.
She pulls me to her, and I let her move me.
“Hikki…”
Her eyes tremble as much as her voice, and her breath washes over my lips. She’s near, too near, and her scent, that scent I never caught more than a slight whiff of, drowns me with sweetness, warmth, and a hint of something like cinnamon and pine smoke.
My heart thunders in my ears, and I stop breathing.
“Hikki, I…”
She leans forward. Just a bit, just a tiny bit.
And right as I think to stop her, to lean away…
She kisses my cheek.
And then we hug once more, ragged breaths escaping us as if we had just run another school marathon with Hayama being an idiot to the girl I think he likes.
“Friends?” I ask.
“I… we already said that.”
“We did. Before this. So, Yui… Are we friends? Can we be friends? Please?”
She pauses, her breath softening.
“Not if you keep trying to hide things from me.”
…
“You know, I’m pretty sure Batman has dated a few women who didn’t know he was—”
“I willcall Yukinon, Hikki.”
“… Fine. Fine, what do you want to know?”
She smiles a tiny bit. Not her usual exuberance, not even close, but… there’s a spark of it. Something that could grow if we let it, if we nurture it.
And I so desperately want to do just that.
Then she takes a step back, her fingertips dragged along with the movement, lingering on my cheeks for just a brief, aching moment.
Her touch leaves me, her scent fades, and the smile grows even as the spark doesn’t.
“How did it go? With Iroha, yesterday?”
I sigh and, for once, allow myself to smile something that’s just a tiny bit fake.
Fake it till you make it, isn’t it?
“It started as an unmitigated disaster.”
“… How did you even manage that?”
“I brought her to Destinyland.”
And then I see something that will make the annals of history, an unprecedented event that will forever puzzle future scholars, something that may shake the very foundations of the world as we know it.
Yui Yuigahama facepalms at me.
“How could you be so—so stupid?! You’re the smart one! The one with the weird, twisted plans that always work! How could you do that to the poor girl?!”
“It worked! It just… took a while.”
“What the Hell do you mean it ‘took a while?!’”
“I… Confessed while the parade was going.”
“… What.”
Yui’s hand finally drops from her face, and I can see her dull eyes staring at me in a very familiar—oh. Komachi.
So, there’s a universal indicator of sanity loss. Good to know.
“I…” Come on, this is a matter of survival! “I told her that I started falling for her at that very moment, when I saw how strong she was, how much she risked… And she told me she had asked me to take responsibility for making her do that, for making her look for something genuine—”
“She spied on that?!”
“Uh, Yui, if you get mad at Iroha for spying on things, I’m afraid you’ll keep getting angry for… quite a while.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?!”
I look at Yui as I remember a yukata-clad girl prostrating herself in front of me, pledging herself to me.
My cheeks are burning.
“… Nothing,” I say with a voice that may as well be gravel with the way it makes my throat feel.
“Hikki, you just promised not to keep secrets from—”
“She fantasizes about being a kunoichi!”
“What.”
Yui looks at me with sheer—
Uh. She’s not looking at me.
In fact, she’s looking a bit… behind me.
“Seeenpai? Is there something you want to tell me?”
Oh Heavens above, she gets skills through kinky roleplay!
‘I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s going on, but I would suggest doing a little cooking test before and after a naked apron if you survive—’
“Yui is emotionally blackmailing me into telling her all my secrets or she won’t be my friend!”
That’s it: when in doubt, throw someone else under the bus.
“Your secrets are not my secrets, Senpai.”
“I’m pretty sure we share some secrets.”
“And those are mine, Senpai. It says so on the prenup.”
“The what?!”I’m not panicking. Mostly, because I think panicking would be quite a pleasant, relaxing to do right about now.
“You really shouldn’t fall asleep with so many easily signable documents nearby—”
Due to my shock, horror, and absolute believability of her claims, I, ignoring everything Greek mythology has taught me, turn around.
Iroha is smiling.
It… kind of has an edge.
“… Are you limping?” Yui asks.
The edge shatters as Iroha blushes, fidgets, looks at me, away from me, pokes her fingers, bites her lip, and basically emotes in absolutely every way that could make my heart beat a little faster.
As far as assassination techniques go, this one is quite nuanced. Great aesthetics, and being personally suited to the target really adds some extra flair. Full points.
‘She didn’t say “You are already dead.”’
Don’t be nitpicky, Brain-chan.
‘… Oh gods, just how bad do you have it?’
“Just a bit… sore…” Iroha manages to answer Yui’s question. Barely.
I turn back just in time to see my friend’s face about to burst into flames.
“I… Really? That big?”
Iroha hesitates. Then nods a tiny bit.
… Is this a stroke? Am I having a stroke?
‘I’m pretty sure I would notice that.’
Shut up, Brain-chan. You’re unreliable while you’re having a stroke.
“And—” Yui keeps asking, once again proving that, after the first time, people get weirdly fixated on keeping up with their sanity loss.
“I’m leaving,” I interrupt. Because, apparently, I’m not like most regular people.
‘Oh, that’sa surprise.’
Praise me more.
“Wha—” Yui starts.
“No, you don’t,” Iroha follows.
“If you’re going to gossip about my sexual—my sexual something, I’m leaving you to do it in peace where I don’t feel like coming up with ways to commit suicide via auto asphyxiation—”
“Is that a fetish you—” Iroha begins.
“Not even remotely interested in trying to find out. I must have some limits.”
“I’m not quite so sure about that, Senpai—”
“Right. Leaving. Right now.” I stand up and start walking away. My survival instincts working this well is a very fortunate fluke, and I should take advantage of it while it lasts.
“Hikki, don’t you—”
I whirl around to face Yui, proving, once again, that Self-Preservation-kun is still quite a ways from returning to the land of the living. He must be on that weird dragon road with all the yellow clouds.
Ganbare, Self-Preservation-kun, I’m sure the cockroach god will help you surpass your limits. They weren’t that great to begin with.
“What?” I finally ask the girl with the face set in a rictus of shock, though in a gentler way than the abrupt monosyllabic would suggest.
Yui hesitates, her eyes going from me to the weirdly pleased Iroha.
“Talk to you later?” she finally asks, that spark from before steadier, a bit brighter.
Without even realizing it, I smile at her.
No longer fake.
Because we may have made it.
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.”
Then I turn around and leave my girlfriend talking to my girl friend about how she gave me her virginity last night.
I’m… pretty sure Iroha is about to learn a lot more about Yukino than Yui’s about me, though.
… No, I’m not jealous. That’s what spies are for: to gather intel.
Comments
Agrippa
Thanks! Everything is Yui's fault: she ambushed me with the confession.
Astralogical
No hikki this is the opposite of not building a harem. Love this chapter it is hilarious.
