Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2021-10-22 03:27:41 +0000 UTCThere comes a point where one should stop stating the obvious. Harem trash is directed at male audiences. Action scenes are cool only as long as the animation budget can keep up. Fanservice is inherently gross when taken out of context and analyzed too deeply.
Or, as is slightly more pertinent, men like fast cars.
I mean, it’s not like there’s a cinematic franchise that amounts to about half the yearly Hollywood budget solely devoted to this concept. There’s also something about ‘Fury’ in the title, but I’m sure that refers to frustrated girlfriends trying to drag their paramours to watch the much more creatively written romcom only scant meters away.
And if men like fast cars, with the feeling of surging adrenalin at taking a curve at a speed that’s just a hair away from a guaranteed one-way ticket to the place where all extreme sports enthusiasts end up going to sooner or later, mixing said cars with beautiful women is a sure hit. Anime has famously displayed such scenes on more than one occasion, but maybe the more iconic one would be the one where the quasi-mother figure with a scandalous neckline and Daisy Dukes takes a traumatized kid out of a train station and outraces a giant kaiju with a series of driving stunts that are only slightly less dangerous than laser beams with a religious chorus.
But there’s a disconnect there: the audience is thrilled by what’s going on, the mix of danger and sexual appeal activating all sorts of brain things too complicated for me to memorize (because foreigners love to use words with far too many consonants as a deliberate and targeted slight against us, the more sensible Japanese), yet the character that’s being used as a bland self-insert with barely enough characterization to make the fanservice more than a slide-show is shown as utterly terrified at seeing his life flash before his eyes, a life that’s at the beginning of the series and thus doesn’t include walking in on his albino coworker in the buff after a shower (yes, there are two albino coworkers, one male, and one female; pick your poison) so the impromptu recap is far less engaging than it would’ve been a few episodes down the line.
To summarize? I’m currently feeling a deeper kinship with Shinji Ikari than I ever expected to feel when not in the presence of a passed-out redhead.
No, Yui, this isn’t about you. Really.
“Aren’t you going—” the wheels of Shizu’s car skid on the pavement as she takes a left turn as if she wants to get a bonus for artistic impression, “a bit too fast?” I finish asking as I notice that clutching the grab handle with a death grip for five minutes straight is doing wonders for my muscle definition. There are even a few veins popping out.
In the rear-view mirror, Iroha shoots me a look of gratitude before she starts frantically nodding, a movement that she abruptly interrupts when her face goes a bit greener and she covers her mouth with her hand.
Oi, Iroha, if you do that here there won’t be cutesy rainbows coming out. The censors in this series have been demonstrably lax so far.
Also, shouldn’t you already be inured to motion sickness? That seems like a weird weakness for a ninja to have. Oh, wait, maybe it’s one of your charm points: the bad-ass kunoichi who pulls off a series of acrobatic stunts only to end up dizzy and leaning against the male lead.
As if you needed any more—damn it.
“Seriously, Shizu—” she accelerates that tad bit more, and I feel my body sink against the backrest as she manages to cross the street right as orange switches to red.
I feel like this is the moment where I should do something dramatic, like grabbing the steering wheel. Except that, as my knowledge of driving only goes as far as knowing that I hate blue shells, the result would likely be far more dramatic than intended.
This may not be the time to overshoot my goals, much as current events have conditioned me to do precisely that at every turn.
Right as I’m pondering what last words to send to Komachi with my phone (it starts with ‘it would be a very nice gesture if you kept your chastity ever after as a memento of your brother, who, against any and all signs to the contrary, also managed to die a virgin’), the wheels screech and the safety belt (whose name seems slightly ironic presently, as it has become more of a ‘don’t jump away to safety’ belt) digs against my chest. I think about complaining, but Iroha’s pained grimace convinces me I am not the one who has endured the worst of it for once, and should then restrain my very sober and thought-out critiques.
I am such a considerate person.
“So, finally decided not to commit triple suicide?” That doesn’t count. It’s not a complaint; it’s legitimate curiosity.
Shizu, rather than answering, leans her forehead against the steering wheel for just a moment before getting out of the car.
And then she walks to the railing of the promenade and just stands there. Her coat and long hair sway in the winter’s breeze, and, in front of her, a sea for which night has already dawned extends in deep, rippling darkness toward a horizon that falls below the line where the sky is still blue. At our back, the sun is setting between tall crystal towers that only sporadically show us lit windows.
And then she takes out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a long drag that sets the tip cherry red before letting slow, lazy whorls of purple smoke dissolve in the air around her. And the image is complete.
This is Shizu in her natural habitat: a frame out of a movie with rough men and rougher whisky where, if someone talks about romance, it’s only to cry about loss and regret. It’s so beautiful and powerful that I should not be able to do anything but sit here, in the co-pilot seat, and look at her until the cigarette turns completely to ash.
I should, but it’s been long established that I don’t care overly much for what I should do, so I release the belt and open the door, stepping out of the car to walk to her before something happens that makes the image far more real than it should be.
And then I walk back to the car and get Iroha, whose legs are slightly shaky. Really, Shizu, contain yourself; I still haven’t managed to make my foxy junior unable to walk straight.
Oi, Deep-voiced Bastard, not the time.
But I’m taking notes.
Also, it may not be the time to be overly conscious of her body heat seeping into me as I support her with an arm around her waist.
So, after a false start and with one extra passenger, I arrive next to Shizu in time to see her pull another deep drag of fascinating smoke that curls out of the corners of her lips.
I mean, the things taste like something Komachi would have tried to feed me when she was still learning how to cook, but I can’t deny the visual appeal.
The beautiful, melancholy woman doesn’t hurt either.
Oh, shit, am I turning into one of those freaks who likes to look at sad girls in the snow? If I was going to fall so far, I shouldn’t have let go of Yukinoshita.
Too soon, Brain?
Yeah. Yeah, too soon.
Also, if that room smells like lilies tomorrow morning, I won’t be surprised at all. Yuigahama, please air the place after ravishing the Yuki-onna who doesn’t have an oral fixation with lollipops.
(And thank the Heavens for that—my willpower only goes so far, as Shizu can already attest to.)
Speaking of which…
“So… planning to ignore us much longer?”
“I told you I needed to think, didn’t I?” she almost bites out.
“Yeah. That’s why we got into the car before you could start it. I feel I shouldn’t be explaining such easily understood concepts.” Iroha, don’t elbow me just for stating the obvious. It’s not like I’ve told you that men like fast cars.
“We need to have a talk about boundaries.”
“As long as we’re talking.”
“Brat, you really like to get in my face, don’t you?”
“Can you blame me? I have such lovely memories associated with doing precisely that. To both your faces.”
And now the both of them are blushing, even as Iroha buries her face in my side. Fine, I’ll give you this one, Deep-voiced Bastard.
“You are impossible…” she says with an exasperated sigh.
So I grab her chin and, without letting go of the unsteady Iroha, pull Shizu to me.
“I thought I had already taught you better. Not impossible: inevitable,” I whisper against lips set in a thin line before I take them.
Like I did right at the start of all of this, what seems like ages go even if it was just last Wednesday.
Gently.
Probingly.
Lovingly.
Until the thin line blossoms into full lips that press back against my own as her hand tangles with my hair once again. Her breathing deepens, and I don’t even mind that much the almost perfumed aftertaste of her tobacco, and her breathing comes in sharp pants that aren’t muffled by—
Uh… Right, that second breathing is not Shizu.
I open my eyes to see Iroha looking right at us, her blush having taken a different shade and shape, something that just highlights her open eyes and barely separated lips that shine in the almost amber cast of the streetlights turning on around us.
I let go gently of Shizu and look into her eyes, steel mellowed into something… Not yielding. Not quite, but definitely less cutting than a moment ago.
And the arm surrounding Iroha shifts until my hand grabs the hair behind her head, and I pull her up to us.
Iroha’s light, nearly luminous honey almost ripples as she looks quickly between the two of us, and I keep staring at Shizu until she gives me a small nod and a barely-there, yet still playful, smile.
So I turn to my side and…
Iroha, unlike what one would have expected from her constant attempts to be seen as more mature than she already is, tastes of cherry lip gloss.
Is this my type? Am I attracted to women who use makeup far too juvenile for their image? Is this something I should be wary of if Komachi starts wearing—
And Iroha jumps up against me, and I can think no more about any stupid things that may distract me from her.
We hold her up between us, Shizu’s and my arms enough to bring her to my level as she turns her head and enthusiastically drives her tongue into my mouth, her own arms embracing my neck until she’s pulling herself up and her legs surround my waist, Shizu’s help now only required to make sure I don’t fall to the ground due to the inherent danger of having a girl simultaneously use me as a climbing pole and, going by her moans and energetic movements, a release for years of pent-up lust.
Oi, Iroha, this is your first kiss. Shouldn’t this be a tender and emotional moment?
‘You already plastered my face with what felt like a shower of your semen, then had me prepare your other woman for a date in which I am pretty sure you did something far lewder than that. Be thankful I’m not dry-humping you.’
Oh, right. Sorry, Inner Iroha. Also, shouldn’t this have been a perfect opportunity for one of your ‘I’m sorry, but that’s impossible’ speeches?
‘You want me to come up with a clever, cute, and foxy speech while my brain is swimming in enough chemicals to make it a supervillain breeding ground? I’m sorry, but that’s impossible, Senpai. If you want me to be able to focus enough to come up with something witty and clever, you’re first going to help me deal with this frustrated mess I’ve been brewing since you made me cum with your foot after I sucked your cock straight out of another woman’s gorgeous breasts. Now, shut up and kiss me silly, you bastard.’
Right. Sorry once again.
‘Less apologies, more tongue.’
Well, when Inner Iroha is right, she’s right.
I switch my arms so I’m helping support Iroha’s weight by the very practical and not at all lewd method of grasping her ass under her skirt, the soft flesh not as toned and shapely as Shizu’s, but soft in way that makes me squeeze her until her moans turn deeper and she starts grinding herself against my pants. Her hands claw against my nape and back, and I can feel Shizu shift us so she’s embracing both of us and sandwiching Iroha between our bodies. Iroha’s chest is flattened against my own, and I decide to finally go on the counteroffensive as my own tongue invades her mouth, and I do to her the palate trick I just learned from Haruno, her fingers twitching when I reach the spot right behind her teeth.
And then our tongues finally entangle, rubbing against one another as our lips pressure shifts and makes us glide, and rub, and caress.
I am holding Iroha as much as she’s clinging to me, and her body is as much as I ever fantasized when I felt too weak to resist the temptation of imagining what it would be like to have the cheeky girl under my own body. And now I’m no longer ashamed of those moments of weakness because…
They were so inadequate.
Because yes, her body feels as good as I envisioned, her tongue as nimble and agile, her perfume just the right note that I had already noticed all those times she stuck uncomfortably close to me after cutely pulling on my sleeve.
Her body is marvelous: soft and yielding, delicate and full, the curves that draw the eye every bit as enticing to the hand.
But that’s her body. And Iroha is so much more.
Energy only slightly leashed by the traces of hesitance she always pushes herself to ignore. Enthusiasm that should no longer be there after having been rejected by her first crush, yet is every bit as burning as I ever saw her display when chasing a man who has such awful taste he may enjoy American Godzilla. And…
Not something inherent to her, but… In a way…
Because I told her, didn’t I? That each person offers something unique, that what I have with Shizu can not be equated to what I would’ve had with Yui or Yukino. And so, what I have with Iroha is ours and uniquely so. Something I can only have with her and she with me.
And… It’s effervescent, enthusiastic in a way that makes its shape hard to grasp, but…
The warmth, the joy, the tenderness, the acceptance, the need…
This is…
I shouldn’t feel so bashful at thinking it. I really, really shouldn’t after everything else.
So, there it goes:
This is Iroha’s and mine…
Damn it, Hikigaya, get a hold of yourself.
This is… our love.
And it’s so much better than any fantasy I ever came up with about finally managing to shut her up.
I finally let her go, my open eyes catching Shizu’s tender expression right before I see Iroha’s eyes widely open, a smile that is neither sly nor fake, a joy that I feel mirrors my own, because it’s that much greater at being shared.
But that only lasts for another moment before she turns her head back and kisses Shizu.
My mind shortcircuits at the display of Iroha’s exposed neck and Shizu’s wide-open eyes. Our teacher shifts, and I—
Deep-voiced Bastard, I think this is your time to shine.
My hands (regretfully) abandon Iroha’s bouncy derriere as my arms surround the both of them in a mirror of Shizu’s. And then I grab her nape and push her against Iroha to a muffled sound that could be a protest, but I really don’t think it is, as my other hand grabs Shizu’s own ass (as marvelously toned as I remember) and press her hips forward, pushing Iroha and I closer together.
Then… Well, it seems obvious that Iroha just pushed her tongue past Shizu’s lips, going by the way her eyebrows just shot up to meet her black hair as her eyes went cross before she closed them.
And I have two moaning women in my arms, one of whom is still rubbing herself against the front of my pants.
Can’t let Komachi do the laundry. I mustn’t feed her yandere tendencies.
Then Iroha opens her eyes and leans back, a soft smile gracing her lips.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
And Shizu look at her, still dazed.
“You are welcome.”
***
The three of us are leaning on the handrail, our forearms resting on the painted metal that is not only cold, but wet with sea breeze.
“So, I feel like I should say something…” I finally break the silence.
“Of course you do,” Shizu says with what I hope is fond exasperation.
“Go ahead, Hachi, not like I could ever stop you.” And Iroha shoots me an impertinent smile from Shizu’s other side.
Right. She’sthe one who couldn’t stop me. Of course.
I think this is grounds for a defamation suit.
Instead, I will just take a far more drastic measure.
So I walk around Shizu and take Iroha’s shoulder, making her spin to face me even as I keep her pinned against the handrail. From the corner of my eye, I catch Shizu’s amused smirk as I keep Iroha’s eyes nailed to my own with the intensity of my expression (or make her wonder whether I’m finally going to push her to the sea below, one of those).
“I love you,” I tell her.
“Wh—what?” she lucidly replies.
I kiss her with no hesitation, pressing my body against her with every bit as much intensity as she did to mine a minute ago, and her right thigh rises to encircle my waist as a moan vibrates against my chest.
I lean back, her breathing quick and shallow, and look into eyes lidded with something that still has a bit of confusion and disorientation.
“I love you,” I repeat.
“Sen—Hachi, I—”
And I kiss her.
My tongue invades her mouth and traces every spot, taking a page out of Yui’s book as I keep my eyes open to check any and all reactions as Iroha’s hands clutch my shirt under my open coat and her body undulates under mine, her small size allowing me to engulf her, to take up her whole world.
My lips barely leave her own, ragged gasps warming my wet chin as her eyes open enough for me to stare into them with so much intensity that she tries to shy away even as a flush raises up from her neck.
“I love you,” I whisper the words as if setting kindling on fire.
“You better give her the answer he wants to hear, Iroha, or he’s going to keep escalating.” Shizu’s tone carries a hint of laughter with it.
“That… doesn’t sound that bad.” Iroha’s trembles.
“No. No, it doesn’t.”
So, under the watchful eyes of my first lover and the anxious ones of my second, I lean back down and devour Iroha until her knees give up and I have to hold her upright for the second time of the day.
It looks like I won’t be needing to keep those notes after all, Deep-voiced Bastard.
***
The cold is not that bad, but it’s intense enough that we are now sitting inside Shizu’s car with the heating turned up. We still have a good view of the inky sea, and this has the added advantage of stopping me from reducing Iroha to a mewling mess. Again.
Basically, Shizu ended up dragging me to the car before the Deep-voiced Bastard could deliver the coup de grace.
No, I don’t know what he would’ve done, but it would more than likely have ended up in a public indecency sentence.
Iroha is still a flustered, flushed, stuttering mess.
I consider it one of my best attempts at a confession.
“Were you deliberately trying to break her?” Shizu asks me, and Iroha eeps.
“Just trying to clear the air.”
“That’s what they are calling it nowadays, uh?”
… There’s no way to answer that quip without getting myself into far more trouble than it’s worth.
“Uh-hu.”
Shizu throws a weird look at me until she realizes my conundrum and smiles reassuringly. And clenches the steering wheel hard enough to make the leather squeak.
“Why?” Iroha whispers, and I could kiss her just for that lifeline.
Aside from all the other, completely pure and chaste, motivations for such an act.
So I turn around, avoiding Shizu’s eyes like her hair has become a herpetologist’s wet dream, and nail Iroha down with my gaze once again.
“Because it’s true. Because we have been skirting around the issue for quite a while under an excuse that could’ve gotten you hurt if it went on for much longer. And because we need to make some serious decisions.”
“I—”
“Also… I want to hear you say it.” And now I’m the one who’s blushing and almost stuttered. Great.
I would say I need more practice, but, quite frankly, I don’t think practice of all things is my current issue.
And Iroha looks stunned, her eyes searching mine for something before her smile blooms once again, something warm, and honest, and—
And now it’s back to the usual sly smirk.
Damn it, I know where this is going.
“I’m sorry, Senpai, are you trying to hit on me? Just because you have forcefully taken my first kiss and then got carried away, left me breathless, my knees shaking, do you think I would readily accept your insistent confession?” She shakes her head slowly enough that the gesture comes across as theatrical and condescending. “I’m sorry, Senpai, but just because we are engaged in carnal relations doesn't mean that I’m ready to give my heart away to you just like that.”
Just what the Hell did I expect from—and there’s a small hand grabbing the front of my shirt from the backseat.
I twist around, and Iroha’s face is almost touching mine.
“So, I hope this will be the last time I’ll have to reject you, Senpai.” Her eyes almost glow inside the poorly lit car. “Because…” She kisses me. Softly, tenderly, probing, like a first kiss between lovers should be. “I love you. Hachi.”
…
“You are lucky I promised Shizu my first time because I’m just this close to coming back there and—”
And a hand chops my head.
“Oi, brat, hold it in your pants. I’m not about to clean you out of leather seats.”
“We could always catch it in—”
“No. No, Iroha, we aren’t going to—when the Hell did this become my life? I shouldn’t be talking two teenagers out of—”
“One of those teenagers has promised his virginity to you; you don’t have the high ground here, Shizuka.”
“Ah, that was, I—I didn’t—”
“I still have the panties you gave me, you know?”
“Hachi! That was private!”
And Iroha leans forward, her arms circling Shizu’s neck as she bites the older woman’s ear.
“Oh? Keeping secrets from your girlfriend?” I don’t think I have ever appreciated her foxy tone as much as I’m doing right now.
“My what?”
“We both made a man cum together, and we just kissed. Do you have a better word?”
“I, uh, maybe, I—what?” Oh, broken Shizu may have her own appeal. Especially with Temptress Edition Iroha clinging to her as she tries to get back the ability to speak like a coherent human being.
“I’ll be taking that as a no. So, you are my girlfriend, Shizuka, and that means you don’t get to act like I’m the horny, our of control teenager when I know for a fact how much you enjoy—”
“That was private!”
What? What was? Is this another lily garden? Am I going to have to study botany?
“Well, I don’t like keeping secrets from my boyfriend, so… Unless, of course, I would be keeping a secret for my girlfriend.”
And Shizu looks panicked between the two of us before she sinks into a sulk, her hands lifeless on the steering wheel.
“You two are both awful brats who enjoy too much playing with a maiden’s heart.”
“You shouldn’t badmouth your boyfriend and girlfriend, Shizuka,” Iroha singsongs.
And Shizu grumbles.
“Fine. You are my boyfriend and girlfriend. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic!”
“Does that mean you’ve finally given up on your dumb plan to act as an intermediary to get Iroha and I together so you could slink out of the picture?” I finally interject.
And my two girlfriends slowly turn to look at me in a way that would make owls take notes. After learning to write just so they could take notes.
“What?” Iroha asks in a dull tone.
“How?” Shizu asks in a shaky one that makes Iroha turn sharply toward her.
And I sigh. Really, do I need to explain everything around here? At times like this, I miss having Haruno around.
Which is, of course, part of the problem.
“Iroha, you just had the misfortune to get involved with two people who take great delight in sacrificing themselves and their happiness at the altar of a greater good. I’m sorry to tell you after you’ve already invested yourself in us, but we are deeply broken and flawed, and will take advantage of you to hopefully keep us healthily selfish. So, please, when you notice Shizu about to do a dumb thing like, I don’t know, get the man she fell in love with to have sexual relations with a younger girl after having explicitly told him that he shouldn’t go out with her and should, instead, date a younger girl, well…”
“Hachi, that’s not what I—”
“Not deliberately. Of course. Now tell me—and Iroha—that you didn’t think that would be for the best if it were to naturally happen.”
There’s a flash of hurt in Iroha’s eyes, but she knows me. Far better than Yui ever did, and, in some ways, better than Yukino.
She has seen that part of me, understood it, accepted it.
And, despite what one would expect from the foxiest, strongest junior, never taken advantage of it.
So I trust her. Not because trust is a part of love, but because it’s the first thing that was born between the two of us.
So, when the hurt gives way to determination, I know I’ve made the right choice.
“Listen here,” she twists Shizu’s head back until their eyes meet, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shizu so hesitating with someone other than me. “No more dumb things. We three are together. That was Hachi’s rule, I’ve accepted it, and youdefinitely will. If any of you come up with another idiotic, self-sacrificing stunt, I want to be informed—and I have veto power. Are we understood?” And the question is meant for the both of us, her sharp eyes making it clear enough she means every word.
I may have been wrong. This wasn’t the right choice: it was no choice at all.
Now, to see whether Haruno could choose.
Comments
Agrippa
I'm happy you like the Cake-verse well enough to support me just based on it! Still, can't I entice you with some Homura-centered PMMM emotional trainwreck? I promise the protecc should be on point! (If I am not terribly misunderstanding the meme...)
Pope Yoda I
I have no words. Your fic, and especially this chapter, successfully hit every degenerate bar a lifetime of Japanese media has cultivated in my soul. Iroha in particular personifies the probably criminal 'must protecc' instincts, and, er, you hit every note. This is not to say that I don't love what you've done with Shizuka and Haruno, as they fill out the triumvirate. I admit that this is the only fic of yours that I'm reading (well, this and the other fics in this universe) but I'm more than satisfied with the quality. Three thumbs up!
