Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2021-12-24 05:36:31 +0000 UTCA mirrored situation is one of the most ham-fisted, direct ways for an author to establish that a moment is about to highlight a change in circumstances for the characters involved. Let’s say a shounen hero shrugs on the uniform left behind by his martial arts master who was murdered by a time-traveling cyborg (yes, this is still about martial marts, no I don’t know how), the next sequence will be guaranteed to involve the following: a two-page wide stretched panel of the master facing his assassin, taking his signature stance while the villain in question makes the kind of face that makes people ask you to leave the playground before the police gets involved, and, below that, there will be basically that same panel, but this time it will be the protagonist taking the stance. While his master had a resigned expression, sometimes highlighted by a treasonous drop of sweat, the disciple will instead showcase either cool confidence or righteous rage, depending on whether said mentor was the parental substitute figure or the sadistic bastard whose training methods would land most of his students in the ICU.
That last one will also be avenged, because it’s part of the protocol, but it’s quite clearly implied in the subtext that the main cast spent a whole week celebrating his demise, and most of the shounen power-up comes from the hellish trials involved in overcoming their hangovers.
… Does Shizu get a lot of zenkai boosts from that? Is that why Haruno was caught off-guard?
Also, why is there such an insistent tugging on my coat’s sleeve?
Ah, right, because Iroha is looking away from me, the red of her cheeks peeking just above the scarf she’s tugging up to inefficiently cover them. The scarf and gesture combination, though, are paradoxically terrifyingly effective at making my own cheeks burn.
“Here?” she finally asks, her voice a bit lower than usual.
I look up at the ominous pillars in front me, at the steel clawing at the very Heavens as if to tear them down, the glint of moonlight silver spiraling to the darkness above.
At the very gates of Destiny itself.
Or, well, Destinyland.
Yes, it’s an amusement park. You don’t know the horrors this place holds for a loner like me. So many school trips where I was forced to sit alone in a ride for two, and… And…
‘Yeah, I can’t come up with anything other than that.’
Still, it should suffice to claim the place has left an indelible wound upon my very soul that flares up at its mere proximity?
‘… Note to self: don’t converse for extended periods of time with Zaimokuza right before going on a date.’
Or at all?
‘Or at all.’
The tugging on my sleeve remains insistent, so maybe I should cut this short, enjoyable as it’s been, Brain-chan.
‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere.’
Thank the Gods for that.
“Yes,” I finally answer. “Here.”
Iroha turns her head just the bare amount to look at me askance.
“I’m not paying for my ticket—”
I flash her my phone, where an incriminating video—I mean, where a QR code for two entrances to the park is shown.
She sighs.
“Fine.”
I guess that’s the best I am going to get.
***
To be honest, this wasn’t, at all, what Sagami ended up suggesting. She wanted me to do something simple, not to stress Iroha or push my expectations on her, to focus on making her feel relaxed and at ease. She definitely didn’t want me to make a grand gesture like she already knows I’m far too prone to.
So, it is with the added pleasure of completely ignoring well-meaning, sensible advice that I step into Destinyland with a sleeve-clutching Iroha by my side.
“So… Panda Attack?” I say, trying to break the ice.
“Yukino’s favorite ride?” she replies, invoking the ice maiden herself to rebuild it ASAP.
“… Right. Any suggestions?”
She turns around, presumably taking in the whole place. We are at a concrete plaza right by the entrance that allows us to see not only the far too dense packs of riajuus going about their strange mating rituals, but also the most prominent rides this place has to offer. The roller coaster where one shoots oddly misshapen pandas, the roller coaster where one falls down a waterfall, the rollercoaster where one gets on a roller coaster…
There are quite a few roller coasters, is what I’m saying.
And Iroha doesn’t seem like she’s quite enthused by the idea of getting in one of them.
“How about the Ferris wheel? I know it’s a traditional ender, bonus points if there are fireworks or the car gets stuck, but it should let us better see if there’s anything interesting going on,” I finally suggest.
Because, apparently, it’s my duty to take the initiative and make sure my date is comfortable and doesn’t feel pressured, and I should have planned for this, and—shut up, Inner Sagami. Don’t you have a chuuni to get bothered with?
‘Don’t you mean—’
I know what I said. Even if the mental image hurts me so.
“The Ferris wheel sounds… fine? There isn’t much of a queue,” she says right before she starts pulling on my sleeve to the aforementioned ride.
Which… All right, it’s adorable, and it’s triggering far too many instincts that, at their worst, may end up with me dragging her away while squealing ‘moe.’ So, let’s not do that.
Instead, let’s wait awkwardly and without too much conversation going on until a woman dressed in a red vest that is not up to Shizu’s standards ushers us into a lone car.
She sits in front of me.
Not by my side.
… Have I already screwed up so badly?
‘If you need to ask…’
“So… Why here?” Iroha asks as she looks through the window and pointlessly shows me her breathtaking profile highlighted by—down.
“I… It was kind of short notice? And the only romantic location I could come up with through my limited experience on the subject in any medium that doesn’t involve people whose eyeballs could be used as flotation devices?”
She snorts. Victory. Self-deprecation has proved its usefulness yet again.
“Maybe next time don’t make it so short notice?” ‘Next time.’ Right, that’s a relief. Time to stop being so contrite.
“Ever heard of the foot in the door technique? Keep the pressure up and don’t let them even think about how faulty the product you’re offering is.”
“Right, that’s not what the foot in the door technique is—”
“I’m talking in practice, not theory—”
“And even if it was, do you think I’m the kind of girl who would hesitate to slam the door on your foot if I felt like it, Senpai?”
… Right. Back to being contrite.
“The last thing I’d want is for you to feel like you have to—”
“I know. I know, you… you don’t have to tell me. I asked you… about that… because you made me feel safe, didn’t I?” she says, hugging her pointlessly big handbag to her chest.
… All right, the first order of business is to stop using the word ‘pointlessly,’ the second is to stop getting entranced by Iroha’s mastery of the cute anime girl body language. One of these tasks will be swiftly accomplished without any undue complications.
Mindful of not moving too fast (physically; as far as ‘emotionally’ goes, that ship has already sailed), I stand up and crouch down in front of her, the car swaying gently when I do so. Then, I pull my ace in the hole move, the ‘gently grab her chin and tilt her head up to make her look into my eyes’ technique that has been barred in all but the most ruthless underground tournaments in Bangkok, and wait a moment while she swallows in sudden nervousness.
Also, to try and think what it is that I’m going to say.
…
‘Don’t look at me; I’ve got nothing.’
I was hoping your feminine insight into this particular issue—
‘First: I am thou, and thou art I. Second: selfcest is a trash fetish.’
Agreed.
‘Hey!’
“Iroha,” I start before the fight with Brain-chan gets bloody. Also, to see if I can come up with something when I hit the ground running. “I am… I am honored you trusted me like that, even if part of me will always suspect it was a pointlessly—” Damn it! “A pointlessly elaborate plot to gather more videographic material for your personal library. But… It’s… We are far past that point. It’s not just about trust, no matter how much I’ll always value that from you, it’s about me being… Ah, damn it all…”
“Senpai?” she asks, her chin still held, her eyes never straying even as they seem to quiver, and her lips open the tiniest amount to let out the breathy word.
“You are too moe! You are adorable, and I want to pick you up and cuddle you and squeal in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice! You make me want to act like a creep, because you are just that cute! How the hell do you expect me to manage a serious confession when you keep looking at me like that?!”
…
‘… I’ve got good news.’
Yes?
‘We are high enough the jump should be immediately lethal.’
Ah, good news indeed.
Also, there’s an unexpected lack of violence or foot-stomping, given the current situation.
And Iroha’s… giggling?
“Senpai… Hachi… I… I can’t! I just can’t!” she tries to speak, but she keeps cutting herself off as the giggles become something a bit louder and less dignified.
… Well, as far as the last thing one sees before their demise, Iroha holding her belly as she tries not to laugh her head off is pretty good. Much better than Yukino with a hacksaw, or my father deciding he wants Komachi to officially be an only child, for instance.
“Hachi…” Ah, she seems to be calming down. I guess that’s the cold rage after the hysteria has passed. “Your confession to me involved kissing and making me kiss another woman—”
“Making you kiss Shizu?”
She has the grace to look embarrassed.
“It was implied—”
“The Hell it was. You grabbed her and pushed your tongue into her mouth like—”
“Would you let me finish? Right. Thank you. As I was saying, your confession to me involved you kissing another woman right before my first kiss. We are already past the point of a ‘serious confession,’ whatever you think that is.”
“Ideally, something without one of us dying right before confronting the final boss.”
“… You better not think the final boss is Haruno.”
“Well, if the black cape with impractical pauldrons fits…”
“I don’t even know what I was expecting…”
“To look to your left and get your breath stolen by the romantic, gorgeous view of Chiba by night?”
She looks to her left, where moving lines of cars turn the streets of my city into a dance of fireflies and the sea by night becomes a darkness always hinting at unseen motion. The night sky is clear, the moon an elegant crescent, and Orion is bright enough to shine even above the bonfire of glass buildings beneath it.
Or, at least, that’s what I think she’s seeing right now, because I can’t take my eyes away from her face, from the way her rueful amusement turns into soft wonder and appreciation, from the slight turn of her lips, the languid fall of her eyelashes. From Iroha.
I love her. I know that. I knew that.
It’s still… It’s still somewhat new that I’m in love with her.
***
Something about our awkward, stuttering conversation in the Ferris wheel seems to have improved her mood, because the rest of the date goes far more like I envisioned: Iroha drags me by my sleeve, her energy far more effusive than mine, and we visit every colorful stand she lays her eyes on.
“I’m notbuying you a Pan-San plushie,” I try to put my foot down at one of the said stalls.
“Why? You bought one for Yukino!”
“Precisely,”
“Oh? Is my Senpai denying his current girlfriend something he did for his old flame? How is that fair, Senpai? Why does she get special treatment?”
“She’s currently Yui’s girlfriend. I suspect every day is special treatment day.”
“Lucky her…”
Iroha cuts herself off and looks at me. I, as a properly educated Japanese man, look at her with all the poise that line needs to be faced with.
“You… Yuigahama? Lilies?” Hey, at least my nose isn’t bleeding.
I mean, all that blood is currently very confused, trying to decide to which of my heads it should rush.
“She’s… eye-catching.”
“Did you… You know, before Shizu and you?”
And she clears her throat, obviously uncomfortable with me asking such an intimate and intrusive question in such a place. The ‘she’ in question, though, is not Iroha, but the currently half-blushing, half-glaring daggers at me clerk of the stall.
Also, maybe the mother of the kid looking at me in awe who was standing behind us.
So I grab Iroha’s sleeve for once and drag her out of there.
We stop when we reach a place that should be safe from line-of-sight attacks, what with the trees providing cover and the bench looking quite sturdy. Something that is proven when Iroha slumps bonelessly on top of it to once again hug her handbag, only adding burying her face in her hands as a variation to her idle animation.
“Only you, Senpai, can get me so embarrassed without even meaning to,” she says.
“You’ll fit right in with my family.”
She shoots me a look through her fingers at that.
“I think we are going to need a few days to unpack all that you just implied, and I don’t feel like starting in the middle of our first date.”
“I think your optimism is inspiring.”
“Senpai… We really need to teach you how to do this whole thing, if you’re going to be taking three different girls out.”
“Experience is the best teacher?”
“Right. So we need to get you to the point where you can get a date to last long enough that you get experience out of it.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“Is that your way of telling me you really would like me to stomp on your foot?”
“Why do people keep assuming I’m an M?”
“Gee, I wonder why…”
And the cheeky, strongest junior looks up at me, her mocking exasperation just giving way to a burst of laughter I share in.
It… feels good.
So I guess that’s why I cut it short by sitting next to her and laying a (hopefully) comforting hand on her shoulder.
“So… You and Yui?”
“… We really need to get you to learn how to handle delicate subjects.”
“By attacking the weak point for massive damage?”
“Oh gods, that’s what you’ve been doing… And it’s been working.”
“Why would I do it otherwise?”
“Because you like committing social suicide?”
“You know me so well…” I say, fluttering my eyelashes dreamily.
And she jabs me with her fingers.
“I do. I certainly do.” Oi, is there any hidden meaning behind the way you associate knowing me with inflicting treasonous violence upon me?
“Right,” I mutter instead. “So… Yui is eye-catching.”
“I’ve been in a room with you both. I know you agree.”
“Oh, I’m not arguing about that, just… When did you realize this?”
“I…” Iroha fidgets, her arm bumping into mine as she tries to find either the words or the courage. “I don’t really know. I mean, girls have always been… I couldn’t like them. Not with the way they treated me just for standing out a bit, while boys were always trying to be kind and useful, so… It wasn’t until you three that I managed to get some girl friends. And then you got me an actual girlfriend, and… I started noticing, but maybe it wasn’t that I noticed, but I… acknowledged? And maybe it’s not so much that I now like girls or that I finally realize I do, but that it’s just that some people are special enough for me to… you know. Notice? Does that make any sense?”
“It does. And even if it didn’t, as long as it did for you, that would be all that mattered.”
“Will you stop trying to get me teary-eyed with every damn conversation? It’s getting kinda stale.”
“Will you stop pouting so cutely whenever you try to berate me? It sends some really mixed messages.”
“Not a chance. I like mixed messages.”
“I’d noticed…”
She laughs once again, and she stops hunching over her handbag and lies back, relaxing against the bench’s backrest before sliding to the side and resting her head on my, suddenly quite warm, shoulder.
“But… It’s not… I thought I would panic, or something, you know, the first time we went to Shizu’s home to ‘practice?’ But I… It was so natural, and it felt just right to have her there, beside me, after she tried to guide me, help me… I think that’s when I gave myself permission to like girls. I could’ve done it before, with Yui or Yukino, but…”
“But our teacher has a knack for corrupting her students,” I finish her sentence in the only way that makes sense and will allow her to escape Shizu’s wrath when she slyly points out it was me who said the incriminating words.
Then I slide my left arm around her shoulders. Because I’ve watched too many movies.
Iroha burrows herself against my side, letting out a pleased sigh, and lays her left hand on my chest in a way that makes what is beneath her fingers beat that much faster.
We remain like this, in this private corner of this very much public place, seeing the occasional couple walk past this dark recess away from the main road. I remember a time when I would’ve bitterly envied them and cynically pointed out how their shallow enjoyment of youth wasn’t…
I don’t even know how I would’ve continued. Just that it didn’t make any sense back then, and it certainly doesn’t now that I have this gorgeous, witty, foxy girl cuddling next to me.
“… I don’t think I like girls, after all,” she murmurs after I brush an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“You don’t?” I ask, only to keep he talking.
“No. No, I think I like people. I think I like Shizu, and you, and maybe I could learn to like somebody else. But… It’s who they are, not…”
“Not what they are.”
She nods, her chin digging into my chest.
“Is… Is it like this for you, Senpai?”
And… I think about it. I think about it while I hold a pretty girl’s shoulders and caress her hair, mindful not to ruin her no doubt strategically and meticulously prepared style that I’m unable to discern from her regular, already attractive bob.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I… I like pretty girls, but… If I try to think about kissing someone I’m not… I don’t know, connected with? If I try to fantasize about someone like Miura it just… doesn’t work? It’s one thing if it’s fiction, because then I insert myself into the existing relationship, but with a regular person—”
“Senpai, I wasn’t asking you about how you masturbate…”
“Uh… Right. Sorry about that.”
The silence this time is a bit less comfortable. Also, I don’t pet her hair. Just in case she bites.
“So, did you?” she asks after I try to think of a way to escape this situation.
“Did I what?” I ask in turn. Because, apparently, we have yet to find the dragon balls that will allow us to bring Self-Preservation-kun back to life.
“Masturbate… thinking about me?”
…
Once again, the strongest junior manages to hit me by surprise. Which isn’t a surprise at all. Yet somehow is.
So I take a deep breath and look down at expectant, honey-colored eyes that always seem to glow in low light.
“Like I was about to lose access to the internet,” I finally say, because what else can I tell the girl who trusted me before loving me?
And she smiles her foxy smile and raises up to leave a barely chaste peck on my cheek before whispering in my ear.
“Me too.”
And I decide this bench is very comfortable indeed, and we are in no hurry at all to leave.
At least until a certain something goes down.
***
We manage to ride a few assorted roller coasters, and Iroha gets me to buy the photos at the exit of each of them, no doubt lamenting not having had the chance to install her own, superior, surveillance system before our visit. She’s having fun, and I’m having fun, two circumstances that manage to surprise me by themselves, never mind in conjunction, but…
Well, it’s soon time.
Because I did have a plan before coming here. One that made Sagami’s eyes sparkle and Zaimokuza boisterously chuckle (a combination of words that is fundamentally Zaimokuza if ever there was). So I am pretty sure it’s a terrible plan already.
When has that stopped me?
So I have, according to the plan, discreetly maneuvered our path so that, at this very moment…
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Destiny Parade will begin in five minutes!” the announcer’s cheerful voice informs those of us who hadn’t been waiting for just such a line.
At my side, clutching my sleeve, Iroha freezes.
She’s hunched over, protecting herself from a memory. From the last time she was here.
From the last time she came with me… and quite a few other people.
Among them, the boy who rejected her confession when she slyly maneuvered them to be alone during this very parade.
That was the day that I stayed with her on the train, the two of us alone as she cried her heart out, lamenting the loss of her first love, lamenting how I’d convinced her to look for something genuine, only to be refused the chance to discover it.
And I could hate Hayama. I could.
But… It wouldn’t have been genuine if he’d accepted, would it? And it would be the height of hypocrisy to hate someone for adhering to my ideals.
‘So, we despise him, don’t we?’
Like American Godzilla.
‘Good.’
“Senpai, I—”
I hug her to my chest, and she shuts up.
And the Destiny Parade starts marching down the road, a spectacle of music, colorful costumes, carriages, and fireworks.
That doesn’t hold even an iota of my attention.
“I was on the other side of the parade, with Yukino and the others, that day,” I tell her, low enough that I hope my words will only reach her.
Iroha buries her face on my chest, her hand clutching my sleeve with far more strength than she usually does when she cutely demands my attention.
“I saw you. I couldn’t hear the words, couldn’t know what you were saying, but I saw you.” I take a deep breath, Iroha’s head moving with my chest. “And you were incredible.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did. You were so brave, so… beautiful, as you laid your heart out, as you showed your feelings.”
“He didn’t care—”
“He did. I… Hayama and I aren’t friends. Probably never will be. But we understand each other. I know how hard it was for him to reject you. He cared. A lot.”
“Then… Then why…”
I grasp her chin and make her look up at me. Her eyes aren’t wet, but her face tells me it’s only a matter of time, and I hate myself a bit more for having planned to make her go through this.
I just… I just hope it will be worth it.
“Because he wasn’t in love with you. And… That’s something you can’t force. Something you either feel or don’t. You can come to care for someone, learn to love them, but that is not the same as…” I swallow, tempted to lose myself in luminous honey that looks at me as if I’m about to hand her the answer to a question that has tortured her for too long.
I really hope I am.
“The same as what I feel for you. And I think I started falling for you that very day, that moment I saw your courage, your strength, your—”
“I cried my eyes out right after that. You had to comfort me—” her voice trembles, a hint of self-deprecation that I cannot abide in it.
So I don’t.
“And that’s what I loved the most. That you were strong enough to risk so much, to be hurt this much. That you… That you decided to keep going, to keep being you, Iroha, the one who—”
“I asked you to take responsibility…” Her voice wavers.
And I, looking at trembling eyes, at parted lips, swallow and try to steady my own.
“And I will. Always.”
Then I raise my arm and grab her hand so she lets go of my sleeve, and, as her eyes turn incredulous but right before they turn to hurt, I grab her freed hand, our fingers interlaced.
Then I lean down and, with fireworks going off in the distance that cannot distract me from what is right in front of me, I lean down and kiss my girlfriend right where she was rejected for the first time.
And with my whole body, my whole soul, I try to tell her she won’t be rejected ever again.
She kisses me back.
With how thorough she is, I think she gets the message.
