Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 23
🕑 Added 2021-12-17 10:09:34 +0000 UTCFor decades upon decades, romance manga has revolved around a single question: will they or won’t they?
It’s faintly ridiculous, seeing as, more often than not, said question revolves around the lead and the first person with a compatible sexual orientation they meet, who, just because of said chronological advantage, will be far more developed than any subsequent character who may try to challenge them for romance supremacy.
Yes, it is almost a law, and not even an unwritten one, that ‘first girl wins,’ but so does first boy, first shikigami, first alien, or even first cursed animal (I think, I never finished Fruits Basket). Therefore, their subsequent adventures and misadventures always feel somewhat disingenuous, geared toward a resolution that very rarely strays from the tried and true formula. In this regard, romance is fairly akin to shounen, and thus it is no exaggeration to say that shounen is the true romance of men.
Of very manly men who may prefer other rather manly men, if Jojo is any indication.
But flamboyant, well-muscled, prone to copious amounts of violence men (and one girl) aside, the problem with the formula is, for those of us who absorb fiction in such amounts as to being able to claim that it is a part of our lives as significant or more so than quite a few others more socially accepted (such as, for instance, academic pursuits and the relationships one is expected to foster through them)… the problem is… Well…
That they always end shortly after the damn confession.
Oh, sure, we have followed the damn indecisive couple through at least four baseball tournaments that always climax with someone shedding frustrated tears because they won’t reach the Koshien, we have seen them overcome whatever politics separate their races in a Romeo and Juliet transparent ploy, we have seen them struggle to make the last cultural festival truly special and a fitting farewell to their years spent together while they tried to pretend they wouldn’t like to tear each other’s clothes off… And then one of them finds the courage to ask the question, the other says yes… And that’s it.
And we are supposed not to rage at the sheer inconclusiveness of it all.
Admittedly, most otakus won’t ever reach that stage, never mind whatever comes after, but shouldn’t the industry we have entrusted our social development to give us at least a couple of hints? I don’t know, is there an Afterstory I can buy if I pretend I’m legally an adult? Some sort of OVA that only circulates through the shadiest parts of Comiket? How the Hell am I supposed to proceed after the girl says yes?!
“Breathe, Hachi,” Shizu says from my side, her long hair streaming with the erratic wind that rushes through the roof of the school at noon, one can of something that should be alcoholic to complete the image in her hand.
“I… Uh, I mean, it’s not like I’m nervous or anything…” Great. Fantastic performance. I should add a few stuttering ‘bakas’ in there for good measure.
‘You in blonde twintails is something that I will never be able to erase from our dark history.’
It hasn’t even happened!
‘The mere notion is traumatic enough to qualify.’
Shizu snorts, and, for a terrible moment, I’m half-convinced she just figured out what I’m thinking.
“Were you this much of a wreck before our date?” she asks, in part assuaging my fears, but mostly because she just replaced them with some new, terrible ones.
“I…”
“Is that a yes?”
“… Komachi may have been there to help me pick out my clothes.”
“Your… Your sister knows?” Oi, what’s with that slight flush? That’s dangerous, you know? You can’t pull out something like that in public. I won’t be responsible for anything that happens.
‘So, like usual?’
Certainly. Eluding responsibility is one of the key skills needed to prosper in corporate culture. The other is avoiding corporate culture.
‘There’s very little I can add that won’t result in you saying “praise me more,” is there?’
“Hachi, I asked a question.”
“Sorry, I was distracted by how tempting your thin blush is and how it just makes me want to reach out and—”
And I have a hand covering my mouth and a somewhat more reddish Christmas Cake staring at me with wide eyes.
Let’s see… Yep, my throat feels like I’ve been trying to imitate that guy who acts like you can dress up like a super sentai villain and not only be a good guy, but broody and respectable.
Also, a bat.
Heh. Westerners.
“You need to learn how not to do that while in public,” she admonishes me between short breaths.
‘You need to learn that physical contact with a beautiful woman is not quite the best way to curb my urges,’ I try to reply through expressive eyebrow movements.
The fact she blushes even more makes me think that either my eyebrows are far more expressive than I thought or that I’m really sending the wrong message. Well, it may not be quite the wrong message…
But the important thing, the actual point of the communication, is that she takes her hand away before I grab her wrist, kiss her palm, lick between her fingers—
“S—stop looking at me like that.”
“Stop being so goddamn adorable, erotic, cute, and beautiful all the time.”
And she kisses me.
All right, it’s just a peck on my cheek, but I’m still kind of giddy about it.
“You really are the worst…” she says with a smile that twitches whenever she tries to suppress it.
“Of course I am; how else would I have dared to reach so far above my station?” And, well, my voice may be a tad deep. Like, you know, the Mariana Trench or some other puddle.
“We are at school…”
“That didn’t stop you last time.”
Oh, now she’s overheating! Great, it seems I’ve actually managed to find a way to avoid having a conver—
Shizu clears her throat loudly, covering her mouth with the fist that isn’t clenching a can of coffee until the aluminum creases and looks at me seriously.
“So. Your sister.”
Damn it.
I lean my back against the railing, my elbows over it, and I look upward to the sky in a gesture that I’m pretty sure I haven’t copied from Shizu but that I may as well have.
I may need to ask Zaimokuza to lend me his trench coat.
And about twenty pounds of chuuni.
“She asked. I tried not to tell her, and then she played dirty.”
“Dirty?”
“She was hurt by me keeping secrets from her.”
Shizu looks at me from the side, her left elbow quite near to mine as she leans sideways on that same railing.
Then she chuckles.
“Only you would say that was playing dirty.”
“It worked when I didn’t want it to. Thus, it’s dirty.”
Then she leans over me and kisses my forehead, leaving me slightly more confused than giddy.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Just a ‘you’ thing.”
“I have never been quite clear on the difference.”
“No. But we are.”
And now mycheeks are burning. Ah, karma, you truly are as spiteful as I always thought. Don’t you have some magical girls to traumatize or something?
“Which kind of brings me back to my question…” I try to recover and hopefully distract her from my reaction.
Given the way she smiles, a mix of soft and coy, I don’t quite manage.
“You just dangled relationship gossip about me to your sister, Hachi. It’s going to take a bit more than that to make me let it go.”
“Oh? Well, I guess I could—”
“A bit more, not that much more. Now, spill.”
I sigh and look back up at the drifting clouds, mostly trying to see whether their cognitive enhancement effects are as dramatic as some ninjas may have you believe.
“I told her everything.” Apparently not.
“… And?”
I sigh yet again, mostly because there’s a limited repertoire of expressive breathing patterns that fit the current situation, and I don’t feel like hyperventilating.
“She… was worried.”
She pauses, considering.
“In which way?”
And I pause, not considering, because that’s something I’ve already done plenty of times.
“She thought it may be too complicated for me, that it’s my first relationship, and everything about it is far more than a socially maladjusted teenager should be able to easily deal with.”
“And—”
“And she’s right, of course. Because I’m not dealing with it: we are. You, Iroha, me. That’s the trick, isn’t it? We cover for each other. It’s not something I have to solve. Not anymore.”
Arms still embarrassingly stronger than mine surround me and pull me against her, tight enough that I can feel her body yield even through her anti-NTR barrier.
“You never had to,” she whispers.
“I know. Now I know. And I owe it to you.”
My breath doesn’t quite hitch throughout the line, but it’s a near thing.
And when she kisses my lips and absolves me from speaking any longer, I feel as loved and grateful as relieved.
***
“You can’t be serious,” Yukinoshita says with a tone that implies more hope than statement of fact.
“I tried to ask Shizu, but we got sidetracked…” I reply, rubbing the back of my head in regretful, somewhat bashful, anime character pose number five.
Yui is resting her face on her folded arms. Over the table. Moaning like she’s trying to audition for a remake of The Ring.
“Hikigaya—”
“Call me Hachiman.”
“I’ll call you trash, and you’ll be happy to hear it.”
“Yukino, I shouldn’t have to remind you so often that I’m not an M. No matter how much events may suggest otherwise.”
“That’s a relief, then I can call you a disgusting pig in human form without fearing you sexually harassing me in return.”
“I feel that repaying harassment with more harassment is only fair.”
“If society was ever to adopt your idea of fairness—”
“Would you two stop flirting? If you want to cheat on me, at least do it when I’m not around,” Yui sulkily adds as she lifts her head so it’s her chin that rests on her arms.
…
I’m not even sure she’s joking.
Going by Yukino’s blush, she isn’t either.
“Uh… Morality aside, I’m afraid I already have my hands full with a single Yukinoshita scion.”
“Tell me about it…” the ‘not quite as upbeat as she should be’ girl has the gall to drawl.
And Yukino seems to be choking on… air? Is that a thing? It must be, because that color on her face can’t be something a humanoid with a functioning respiratory system should be able to manifest.
‘Just say she’s blushing and gaping like a fish.’
But that’s boooring…
“How’s Haruno, by the way?” Yui asks, still pretending her girlfriend isn’t struggling between life and death by her side.
“Oh, you know, subverting the very laws of rationality, mocking the foundations of polite society, possibly entertaining a blind god with mad pipes. Same old, same old.”
“… Does making me feel dumb feel like flirting to you? I think it may be, now that I have some perspective.”
“Wha—I’ve never done that!”
She tilts her head to the side, and her sleeves don’t let me read her face well enough.
“Hikky… I know you think what you just said is true. And that worries me.”
“Uh… I… I apologize?”
She stills, and Yukinoshita seems to regain some of her autonomous functions.
“For what?” she inquires, the casual edge to her tone as genuine as a main character’s death before the final arc.
Gods damn it.
“Do I really have to do this right now?” I plead with her.
“We are friends, aren’t we?” she condemns me.
I clench my teeth, close my eyes, and pinch the bridge of my nose.
This is what I get for coming to the Service Club with an urgent request…
The fact that it was about a date with Iroha is totally unrelated and doesn’t reflect on my judgment at all.
“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel anything but welcome and cared for. You are one of my best friends, one of the persons I value most in the whole world. Yukino and I may share some common ground through interests you don’t have, but… It was always you, Yui. It was always you and the way you understood emotions like we didn’t. The three of us… we wouldn’t have lasted without you, your efforts, your empathy, your heart. And, when I say I love you, it is not hyperbole, because that’s the only word that can fit even a single part of what you made me feel since the day I met you and you tried to be sneaky about your damn charcoal cookies that you managed to turn into—”
There’s a sobbing girl hugging me.
This shouldn’t be something I’m used to.
“You always talk too much,” she mutters against my chest.
“You asked for it. Literally,” I answer, patting her back.
Then Yukino, hesitatingly, almost trembling, lays a hand on our shoulders.
“I… I’m sorry too. And what he just said… I don’t deserve—”
So quickly I start to wonder if Iroha has a more veteran practitioner to look up to, Yui turns around and drags Yukino into our shared hug.
“You do. You deserve everything I can give you. And I won’t let go until you believe it. I promise,” the girl everyone underestimates fiercely whispers.
I look down at the two girls between my arms, at a future that never was…
And I smile.
Really, what else did I expect to happen?
***
“Hachiman! Has thou come to ask your liege for the support only the wisdom of the—”
“Hanging up.”
“Whyyyyy—”
“Tone it down, chuuni,” Sagami tells him.
And Zaimokuza, miraculously, heeds her words—damn it.
“Of course. Do forgive my exuberance, I’m still getting used to this whole ‘indoor voice’ notion. Such a bewildering concept…”
I look at Zaimokuza holding his chin, his head at a carefully rehearsed angle that makes the sun glint off his glasses.
And at a redhead who seems to have developed a taste for the kind of jewelry one would see in mangas with people with long black coats and blacker wings since the last time we spoke.
Looking at him fondly.
As he sketches a complicit smile that lets me know just how much of what just happened is an in-joke between two people who definitely spend far too much time with each other.
‘I’m scared. Hold me.’
I’m trying, Brain-chan, but my skull isn’t cooperating.
“… What just happened?” I, against every instinct in my body that lies buried in an unmarked, shallow grave that nonetheless still has room in it for me (Self-Preservation-kun, you were too kind for this world), ask as I try to relax the fingers digging into my scalp.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sagami replies, her tone as frosty as an aspiring Yukinoshita.
I look helplessly at Zaimokuza, hoping against hope that he will provide some modicum of sanity—
I avert my eyes before it’s too late.
‘Ah, so you can learn.’
“Anyway, I… Gods damn it. I need advice.”
“Of course! How could the wisdom of this humble servant of the Lord of Battle, Harems, and Battle Harems serve you, my liege?”
“Wha—battle harems? I don’t have a battle harem!”
‘MMA Shizu, aikidoka Haruno, kunoichi Iroha—’
That last one is mere speculation!
‘Oh, please.’
“You don’t? How would you define your relationship with the demon Yukinoshita—”
“Very close enemies.”
“The hound Yuigahama—”
“More like a puppy.”
“And the assassin Hiratsuka?”
“No comment.”
Sagami, stop looking at me like that. You should know by now all of this is no more than a flight of fancy from your chuuni buddy. You know how he is. Completely out of touch with reality. Really, me, gathering a harem? Preposterous.
‘You’re sweating.’
I’ve noticed.
“Also, Shizu—Mrs. Hiratsuka may get upset if you go around insinuating she’s some kind of yakuza princess. She’s kind of sensitive about it.”
“Sensitive how?” Sagami asks.
“I think some ex-boyfriend—”
“You’re awfully informed about your teacher’s love life.”
…
Shit.
Right, right, this is salvageable. Just turn this awkward pause into the kind of dragged-out silence you would make when someone says something glaringly stupid.
“… I dare you to find someone who has spent more than twenty minutes with her and doesn’t know at least one traumatic story about a bastard ex of hers.”
That should do. Also, ouch. Sorry, Shizu.
“… Yeah, I guess that’s true. The woman has no filter.”
I look from her to Zaimokuza.
Then from Zaimokuza to her.
Then I repeat the cycle, to some confused looks from both of them.
“Really?” I finally say.
At which Sagami seems to get what I have very explicitly insinuated, looks at her mountain of a—I’m going with boyfriend, but only because I don’t want to delve into more esoteric vocabulary—and flushes.
I hope that with embarrassment.
My mind is not ready for any other possibility.
“Right. Right…” she mutters.
… I’m feeling a certain sense of kinship with the insufferable girl.
“Yes. Certainly. Now, I apologize for intruding on your sketch rehearsal or whatever the Hell it is you’re doing, but… if I could borrow Zaimokuza for a second?”
“Why?” she asks with as much distrust as is reasonable to direct at me.
How refreshing. I kinda missed this.
“It’s… somewhat personal.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then looks at the wide smile on Zaimokuza’s face (wider than usual, I mean), and nods.
“Sure. Just make it quick.”
“I’ll try to make my personal life inconvenience you as little as possible.”
“That will be appreciated. By someone.”
And, before I can reply to that, she turns her back on me and struts into the distance.
… I feel there’s a lot going on here, and I’m not sure I want to know what.
“So! My oldest comrade, my soul companion, my patron—”
“You can say ‘friend,’ Zaimokuza.”
Oh, shit.
I said it.
You see, there’s a reason why I rarely show the chuuni open affection, asides from it being gross, inconvenient, and a good way for people to lump me in with the likes of him—
‘Tsundere.’
Fuck off.
“My kinsmaaaaaaan!” Zaimokuza Zaimokuzas as he lifts me off the ground with a bear hug.
This is mortifying.
“Let. Go.”
“Ah! To have one such as you so openly proclaim the bonds that tie us from beyond the—”
“I will bite you.”
‘He may be contagious.’
I thought that had already been thoroughly documented.
“Such fierceness—”
Right, I won’t bite him.
I will, instead, poke him right below his ribs.
With a sharp hiss, Zaimokuza lets go and begins rubbing his side.
Which, seeing as my fingertip kind of hurts…
“How the Hell are you this hard?”
“That’s what she—”
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Nope. Forget I asked; I’ll strive to do so for the rest of my life.”
“Ah, such an enviable dominion of thine own mind! Truly, only a warrior among warriors—”
“Zaimokuza, I will bite you.”
He stands across from me, the wind rustling his trench coat, his fingerless gloves… doing absolutely nothing, but they are still worth remarking upon.
“Very well, state your terms, Hachiman, that I may render assistance upon—”
“I have a date,” I burst out.
And he freezes.
Before a grin that wouldn’t be out of place on a cat-themed monstergirl splits his face.
“Ah! Tell me, is it the demon Yukinoshita—”
“Don’t even joke about that. Yui’s scary when she wants to be. Anyway, I need to get something ready, and I don’t know what to do. It’s kind of urgent.”
“Urgent? What is the timeframe for this mission?”
“Uh… A couple hours—”
“What the fuck?!”
That isn’t Zaimokuza.
No, it’s a stomping redhead charging right at me who looks a bit… Livid.
It… kinda matches her earrings? Is that a thing people do? Match jewelry to their temper? Oi, Sagami, why—
Why are you grabbing my tie?!
“You didn’t prepare anything for a date that’s almost about to start?! Do you know how that girl will react after spending days thinking how—”
“I asked her yesterday!”
“Do you know how that girl felt after being pressured on such short notice?! A single day to prepare?! What kind of moron—”
“Ah, my Lady Minami, I fear Hachiman may have just acted rashly and decisively, as befits a God of War when confronted by a prize—”
“If you imply girls are a prize to be earned one more time, we’re gonna have words.”
“I assume on Zaimokuza’s part those will mostly consist of ‘no,’ ‘no, please, stop,’ ‘have mercy,’ and other things that wouldn’t be amiss in a Nana to Kaoru live adaptation?”
Sagami turns slowly from her punching bag to me, eyes smoldering rather than flashing.
It’s… Maybe an improvement?
“I’m gonna give you a pass for the reference, but if you ever even try to guess at what the chuuni and I may get up to behind closed doors again—”
“Nah, nah, nah! Can’t hear you! I’m preserving my remaining sanity at the top of my lungs!”
And she stomps on my foot.
“Motherf—!” I eloquently express my feelings regarding her display of physical affection as I jump up and down on my remaining, working foot.
Zaimokuza, stop looking at her in awe. The girl’s a menace.
“Now, listen here, you little, dead-eyed punk. You’re going to give that anonymous, deluded, clearly mentally ill girl a good time that makes up for the terrible fate karma has saddled her with, or my name isn’t Minami Sagami—”
“What the Lady Minami wishes to convey is that she’s grateful for the advice you gave me for our first date, and she intends to return the favor.”
“That is not what I wish to convey.”
“She also would like to offer her heartfelt apologies for inadvertently overhearing our private conversation.”
“… Fine,” the hellion mutters.
I look from the overly jovial Zaimokuza to the almost pouting mutilator.
Zaimokuza beams, Sagami sulks.
…
I think I need an adult.
***
It’s fifteen minutes before the agreed-upon meeting time, and I’m sitting on a circular bench surrounding a tree in front of the station’s exit.
The sun has already set, the month being what it is, and only the throng of people walking by keeps me from complaining about a cold wind reddening the tip of my nose so that I, instead, am forced to complain about the throng of people being noisy and intrusive. It’s a heavy burden I shall bear with the dignity afforded my station as—
Damn it, Zaimokuza!
I mean, I’m just letting the time pass idly by as I…
Follow Sagami’s instructions.
That, honestly, aren’t that different from the instructions I gave Zaimokuza what feels like ages ago, but I guess it’s easier to see things clearly from an outsider’s perspective.
Also, my foot no longer feels that sore, so that may contribute to my increased mental focus.
I’m tempted to take out my phone and fiddle with it, but sudden flashbacks of Sagami and her lecture about being attentive and focused on my date even if the girl in question isn’t (to my knowledge) already there—
I should elevate a prayer for Zaimokuza’s wellbeing. To his patron deity? Myself? How does that even work?
Oh, Hachiman, thou who looks down on pretty much everyone, allow your wayward vassal to safely traverse the battlefield of love that is war—
Right. My cheeks are burning too intensely for this to be healthy. Either I have incurred divine wrath, or I shouldn’t ever poke at my dark history ever again.
Like any healthy Japanese youth, I should strive to bury my trauma and pretend it doesn’t exist.
Like the world.
That suddenly disappears as something fluffy and warm covers my eyes.
“Guess who, Senpai?”
I swallow, my heart suddenly accelerating at the warm, velvet voice caressing my left ear.
“It’s not like I know too many kunoichis, you know?”
Iroha’s gloves slide away (white wool, soft and fuzzy like a teddy bear that hasn’t had the misfortune of being handled by a child), and I’m confronted by honey eyes and pink lips set in a slight pout.
“You could’ve tried to play along, you know?”
And I see her.
She’s wearing a cable-knit, beige sweater that reaches down to her knees, clinched to her waist by a braided strip of leather. Her open coat is a tan color with a white furry collar, and…
She’s wearing dark leggings and calf-high brown leather boots.
It’s… It’s not the overblown display that Shizu wore for our date, but I can see the traces of a careful hand applying very subtle makeup, the way streetlights seem to dance over her glossy lips, the expectation—
Right. Right, I better say this before Sagami manifests from the ether to beat me up.
“You look beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Iroha’s smile widens, and a bit of a natural flush shines through her foundation.
And I just want to hold her and never let go.
Comments
Agrippa
I really, really like the idea. Yui grew a lot o me during her own episode. Let's see if I'm able to top it before the weekend is over!
aj0413
First: I feel I must mention that I find the rants cathartic. I've said it before, but it's amazingly refreshing to read someone else having issues with romance tropes in LNs, Anime, and Manga. Second: Someone needs to commission an AU where Yui works up the courage to make a an aggressive grab for Hachi and Yukinon. I *love* this version of her. It'd be pretty amazing to imagine what would have happened if she'd just reached out to pin both of them down without needing Hachi to give that initial push. Would probably have made the current situation non-tenable for Shizu and co, but reading about Yui basically dealing with her own harem shenanigans (with her as the MC instead of Hachi) would've been enjoyable too
Crimson Grave
This... this was everything I wanted. No. This was everything I didn't know I NEEDED and MORE! This was so fucking beautiful. It also makes me REALLY yearn for the second chapter of Yuri's Garden-I mean Gaiden, yeah..., Yui's Gaiden, to find out just what the fuck has been happening to the poor girl for her to have evolved this far this quickly already!?!? Also, oh god, Yoshi and Minami! They were too fucking adorable! It was embarrassingly lovely! The affirmation of bonds hard forged through treacherous waters and hellish fields of battle! Truly, they are main characters of their stories! I have this sudden urge to pick up a giant sword that would be impractical to someone without kickass shades and drink alcohol from a ceramic vase... I will just blame Zaimokuza and move on. Also yes, Hachi, you do in fact have a Battle Harem. Not just a Harem.
