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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 28
🕑 Added 2022-01-21 03:31:54 +0000 UTCAll Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 28
There comes a point of no return in any serialized story that makes the author look at the flashbacks, filler episodes, beach episodes, hot springs episodes and think they no longer cut it. No, the plot has taken on a life of its own, an unstoppable momentum, and the end is approaching fast enough that even the most anti-Zaimokuzarial editor cannot complain. The end is nigh, the tension growing, the character arcs cresting like a wave about to crash down on the totality of the unaware cast.
Readers know things are about to change forever. They keep turning the pages as frantically as the author himself wrote them.
And then comes the only thing that could come. The only conclusion that will satisfy absolutely everyone without any kind of dissent. Not even a little flame war to keep the cold away in the cruelest of winters. No, everybody knew at an instinctual level that it was coming, and so, the realization can’t be anything other than fulfilling.
Yes, it’s the point where the plot grinds to a halt.
It’s the Ninja World War, Namek about to blow up, the fucking Tournament of Power taking 48 never-ending minutes—I mean, the examples are plentiful, and none of them carry any kind of negative connotation.
All right. Fine. The audience may get a bit pissed off, but who cares about them?! Does nobody think of the characters?! Does nobody think about the poor harem lead being finally forced to decide in the most unsatisfactory, anticlimactic way possible that will not surprise anyone who has kept count of the screentime of the haremettes? Why should the poor, saintly guy be forced to resolve a situation that could be stretched for about two seasons worth of material in the hands of the Kishimotos of the world? Why make him go through such anguish, such stress-inducing deadlines that would make any non-Bakuman trained mangaka cough blood like a sick anime girl suffering from Generic Malady Number Two?
(Generic Malady Number One is, of course, being a mysterious albino wearing artful bandages and having a shower scene, of course. Yes, that’s two ‘of courses,’ but really, of course the conclusion should’ve been obvious. Of course.)
“Brother… Are you really sure you should be drinking coffee?”
“It calms me down.”
“It’s your fourth can.”
“It calms me down in increasingly diminishing returns.”
“You… Have you seenwhat you did to the other cans?” Komachi’s tone holds a hint of alarm. Just enough that I look down at the kitchen table.
… Is that origami? Aluminumorigami?
‘I can only say that making a thousand cranes out of Max Coffee cans would be far too expensive for your current savings. Especially after spending a whole night at a place that charges by the hour.’
Right. A project for another time.
“Are you…” Komachi starts.
She stops when my head snaps toward her with all the alacrity that the power of milk, sugar, and unhealthy amounts of caffeine rushing through my veins grant me.
Yes, the Ultra Instinct Theme is playing in the background.
Also, I just heard the sound of my hair snapping after the movement. Truly, I’ve finally mastered shunpo.
‘You’re mixing your references.’
As usual.
‘… I’m not so sure.’
“Are you… all right?” Komachi finally asks, apparently finally accepting my rapidly increasing abilities and completely sensical and justified power-ups.
“I’m secretly dating both my teacher and the Student Council president, who were unavailable today, and all three of us have a meeting scheduled tomorrow with Haruno to decide how the Hell we will handle our relationship going forward. Both Shizu and Iroha have told me I can do whatever I want, and I haven’t been able to have a discussion with either of them about it because I keep getting sidetracked by relationship stuff and sex, and I took Iroha’s virginity yesterday, and oh gods, she bet she could convince me to get her pregnant before we finish college, and I’m pretty sure that was as much of a joke as when I swear I’ll murder Zaimokuza if he dares call me the Lord of Battle, Harems, and Battle Harems aloud ever again and—”
There’s a palm covering my mouth. For a brief moment filled with terrible clarity, I contemplate biting it.
Then I remember I may be contagious and that the world isn’t ready for a werehachiman Komachi.
Also, those fangs of hers promise immediate and painful retribution.
“You are forbidden from drinking any more coffee until you meet Haruno,” she says, about as calmly as can be expected, given the circumstances. “Also, you did what?!”
I raise my eyebrows and pointedly look at the biological gag silencing me like I’m a mage in a Final Fantasy game and I could have had the chance to be useful.
She, grudgingly, removes her hand.
And wipes it on her pants.
Oi, dear sister of mine, are you implying anything?
“She… Iroha… After the date we…”
“No. Details.”
“Weren’t you asking about it the other—”
She looks at me with eyes that have seen not only too much, but also too often and without censor bars. These are eyes that think Bible Black is charmingly old school, eyes that don’t even blink at the NTR tag, eyes that would make Yuno Gasai blush.
Wisely, I shut up.
“Self-Preservation-kun?! Is that you?!”
“Can’t I at least finish my can of—”
‘Ah. Never mind.’
“Brother, you’re vibrating.”
“That’s what she—”
“I’ll bite you.”
Apparently, coffee gives me precognition.
With a dejected sigh, I allow Komachi to take away the last can of my life-infusing beverage, my mana potion, my elixir, my tincture, my—
Is she drinking it?!
“Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink something so sweet—”
“Take that back! You take back any disrespect toward the best product that the land of Chiba can offer its tired masses of—”
In hindsight, I maybe shouldn’t have wagged an imperious finger in front of my little sister’s face while yelling like a maniac.
Because she bites me.
Ouch.
“Did that shock you out of it?” she asks, her voice calm on the surface.
Of the Moon. Or maybe Jupiter, but certainly not on the surface of this planet.
“Maybe? I at least realize I would like it very much if you didn’t develop a taste for human flesh.” Wait, can she turn into a werehachiman if she’s the one that bites me? Or will that make me into a werekomachi? And would that be overpowered enough to get me my own isekai series?
What am I saying? Of course it would. The harem wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Right… So, basically, you are about to need urgent medical intervention because the consequences of your actions are about to catch up with you, and tomorrow is… whatever you call a meeting between a guy, his girlfriend, his secret lover, and the girl nobody knows what label to put on.”
“I’m impressed, Komachi. That was masterfully done exposition. Have you thought about getting a job as the girl who starts the conversation by saying ‘as you all already know?’”
“Have you thought about trying not to annoy the only person who’s currently willing to put up with your impending anxiety attack?”
“No. Currently my brain is set on repeating over and over again ‘oh gods, what the fuck am I going to do.’”
‘Hey! That’s not true; I’m also coming up with snarky asides!’
That doesn’t help!
‘It doesn’t help you.”
Ah. Certainly. Carry on, then, Brain-chan.
Also, why is there a hand on my shoulder? Should I be scared?
“Brother, how about we… go play some game? Something brainless and with flashing colors?”
I look into Komachi’s eyes. They are filled with both worry and a barely suppressed urge to strangle me.
It’s a familiar look.
“Right. Thank you.” I nod and get up, my chair scratching against the tiled floor before I remember to lift it.
“Don’t mention it. Just… Don’t pick Kirby.”
“Hovering is a perfectly valid strategy!”
“If you don’t want to play! Spending half the game out of reach of any opponent shouldn’t be an option!”
And then we fall into the familiar argument. How she should at least don’t try to pretend she isn’t always picking Link because she likes men in skirts, how I’ll never, everagain play her with no items on Zero Destination, no matter how much she complains, and…
All right, it’s a bit relaxing, even if the impending date is still weighing heavily on my mind. Because… I don’t know.
I just kinda wish I had more time. To prepare, to think, to talk… Just… Time.
Even if it was because of a fucking flashback.
Still, at least I’ve got a loving, kind sister that is willing to provide me with some breathing room and a way for me to forget about the weight of the world on my shoulders for a little while.
I know I’m not the best at showing it, at telling her, but… I’m really grateful. Not just for this, but for her existing, for all the times I came back here and had someone to take care of, to make me feel like I did something of value, something worthwhile. For being my little sister.
And so, I sit down on the couch beside her and boot up a game that’s old enough we may be able to sell it for more than it cost us when we pooled our Christmas money together.
And then I pick Kirby.
It’s worth the bite.
***
Shizu’s Side: First Love
“Come on, I see the way he looks at you,” Miki nudges me with her elbow, playing once again to her tomboy persona.
Seriously! She has the freckles over her nose, the slight tan, the bob cut… The works.
She even wears spats beneath her skirt!
Also, she’s looking at me like… Ah, right.
Ken.
“I think you’re just seeing what you want to see, Miki.”
She rolls her eyes. No, really, she even laces her fingers behind her neck and looks at the sky while she does it, her schoolbag hanging off her wrist. She could only be more thorough if she was munching on a stalk of wheat.
I surreptitiously look around, but apparently, the street is maintained enough that no vegetation has broken through the asphalt.
Drats.
“Yeah, sure. Because that’s just what I want to see: a guy drooling over your boobs.”
I’m not blushing.
Also, I’m not hugging my chest protectively.
And I’m definitely not glaring at my best friend for, once again, indirectly complaining that the boob fairy hasn’t yet visited her.
“You’ve got spectacular legs. Stop fixating on these; they make boxing veryawkward.”
“Oh, sure, it’s boxingthat I think about when you keep your rack bouncing all over the place.” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Well, it’s definitely boxing that I think about when you keep sexually harassing me.”
“Ever told you you’ve got a one-track mind, Tsuka?”
“Just about once per day.”
“Well, consistency is important. That’s what your trainer always says!”
I grumble a bit at her, once again, quoting Mr. Tanaka’s advice at me in a way that proves that I definitely should get a few more hobbies, if only as a smokescreen.
And she, of course, grins at me over her small victory.
At least that will get her to stop talking about Ken’s fixation on my… chest.
***
I look up from the thing on my tray the school’s cafeteria tries to pass off as food.
In front of me, Ken nervously waggles his fingers. At his side, Miki’s smirk threatens to split her face in two.
I’m very tempted to help it.
“Hi there… Ken.” Right. At least I didn’t stutter.
The brown-haired bookworm with square-framed glasses fiddles with his ponytail self-consciously and sends me a small smile.
… Miki, I dare you to mouth ‘doki doki’ at me once again. I double dare you.
I don’t care that you’re the star of the track team; I can catch you.
“So, Ken here says he’s been reading Berserk lately—”
“Have you finished the Golden Age arc?!”
… Miki, stop laughing. Ken, don’t run away.
Please.
“Uh… Not yet? I think? Is that what the flashback is called?”
“Right. Yes. The flashback. That made up about the totality of the anime.”
“There’s an anime?”
… I’m starting to think Ken may not be as much of an otaku as I was led to believe.
“Kind of a classic, though the animation budget was nothing compared to what we see nowadays. But the dramatic use of stills to compensate—” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking—
“She really gets into these kinds of things. If you want to interrupt her, just tell her boxing is not a real martial art.”
“It so is! Come on, like Mike Tyson wouldn’t beat up about every karateka you’ve ever known! They even put him in Street Fighter!”
“See?” Miki says. And Ken chuckles.
… I’m not blushing.
“So, you are into games too?” he asks.
“I mean… mostly arcade stuff. And a few JRPGs. And DDR, but that also counts as arcade stuff, because I’m not getting one of those into my room anytime soon…”
He chuckles. Again.
… Am I doing something right or wrong? Because I don’t feel like I’m doing anything right.
Miki’s smirk isn’t helping.
“Hey, that sounds like a lot of fun! Why don’t we all go to the arcade after class?” she says.
“Oh, that, uh… Yes! That sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?” Ken asks. And looks straight at me.
And I eep.
Then I remember to breathe and nod.
… Stop. Laughing. Miki.
***
I stare at my phone in sheer disbelief.
“Miki says she can’t come. Club stuff.” There’s also a wink emoji, but I’m not about to read that part out loud.
Ken scratches the back of his neck nervously and finally makes eye contact.
He has… Fine, they are brown eyes. Normal brown eyes.
Except they are this dark tone, like aged wood, and have an almost reddish tint that makes them stand out, and—
Gah! Right. Breathe and look cute.
… How the fuck am I supposed to do that?!
“I mean, if you want to do this another day, I understand it could be awkward without Miki—” he starts to say, his eyes never leaving mine.
“No! No, I mean, if anything, it’s Miki: she would make things awkward. And laugh about it. A lot.”
“Heh. Sounds about right,” he smiles, and…
It’s a normalsmile, Shizu. Breathing should still be on the schedule.
“Yeah…”
The word trails off, and we just stand there in silence for a while until a pissed-off kid pushes me aside to get to the Virtua Fighter machine.
And we laugh.
The rest of the… date? Is it a date if we were both tricked into it?
Right. It is. Because I say so.
The rest of the date goes well enough. We spend more money than we should, and I sweat a lot more than I should’ve had while on a date (yes, it counts) by playing maybe a few rounds too many of DDR, but I wanted to show off, and, well, it looks like Ken certainly has some difficulty not looking at my… bounciness.
Uh. These may be more useful than I thought.
Anyway, the point is that my first date goes well enough, and I don’t stutter too much, nor get caught looking at his butt while he takes his own turn at jumping around with the DRR thing, and…
It’s… Nice.
Really nice.
So, the next time Miki ‘tricks’ us into going to get some ramen, I let myself accept.
And so does he when Miki decides the three of us should go to the pool. For a very particular definition of ‘three.’
It is at the pool that I realize two very important things.
One: the boobs are definitelyan advantage.
Two: for a bookworm, Ken has a very nice body.
It’s not like he has a hidden cache of muscles to deploy, but the clearly defined line straight down the middle of his belly keeps catching my eye, and the way his skin glistens with the water…
Right. Hormones. They are a thing.
Which I guess it’s one of the reasons for me to kiss him right before I jump into the train back home.
On his cheek! His cheek!
My heart keeps beating like a drum all the way back home, my face burning whenever I so much as raise my eyes from my lap, and it’s only after I get back to my room that I have the courage to take my phone and check my messages.
‘I had fun today. Thank you. I can’t wait to see you again.’
I squee so hard my mom gets into the room to ask me not to watch horror movies during the day.
It may be the most embarrassing way for her to learn that I have a boyfriend.
***
I don’t have a boyfriend.
“Hey, these things happen,” Miki says, sounding perhaps a bit sad, embarrassed, and guilty.
That is, completely unlike Miki.
“It’s just… I don’t know. I liked him. A lot. And I thought he liked me.” I gesture around, not sure what to point at in the park we are cutting through. Maybe at the falling leaves. Autumn really came sooner than I expected.
“He does. Did. Whatever. I’ve known the guy since we were kids, and he couldn’t shut up about you, Tsuka, I swear.” Her voice is almost pleading.
“Then… Then why?” And I’m not crying. Not really, but my eyes itch a bit, and I wish it was spring so I could blame the pollen.
Maybe the dust from the path? Nah, it rained yesterday. Still not dry enough.
“I… I don’t know. I know why he liked you—I mean, you are you, but… maybe he realized you two weren’t that compatible, after all?”
“But how? How do people know they are or aren’t? How do you decide if he’s the one or just someone who looks like it, and is there even a way to, to—”
Miki grabs my shoulders and spins me around so I face her.
“If I knew? I wouldn’t have set you up with the moron who—damn it, Tsuka, you’re smart, gorgeous, and have incredible boobs. If I was a guy, I would be pinning you to a tree and making out with you until the cops came to arrest us.”
“I… I don’t think they can arrest you for making out—”
“The way I’d do it? Oh, yes.”
And now I’m blushing.
A lot.
“Miki, I…”
She looks at me. Just looks at me, at my lips barely open, at me licking them, at—
She lets me go.
“We’re going to be late,” she mutters.
I nod.
And we go to school.
And my heart keeps beating far too hard until I remember Ken broke up with me.
