Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2021-10-15 04:39:15 +0000 UTCWhen asked what features life lacks that fiction has, most morons—I mean, regular people, answer with the most inane of things: true love, superpowers, hentai physics (which are just a subset of the previous answer), or fair promotions based on demonstrable competence.
They are missing the crux of the issue, what really sets fiction apart from reality: scene transitions.
For instance, let’s say our heroes are rushing out of a planet while exchanging exciting laser noises with the villains hot on their heels, and they reach their spaceship just in time to get out of there and race the enemy to the rebel base under siege or to the time-limited sale on original merch from the first trilogy (a futuristic sword without any narrative purpose, as an idle, not at all pertinent, example). Fine, everything is as it should be. Unless you are in reality, and you then have to stomach three days of people dully staring at led displays that make no sense, going to a very uncomfortable bathroom, and making laser noises with their mouths.
In fiction? Scene transition. Bam, you are right in the thick of things once again. Even if the thick of things is a tavern with a bartender with a thing for people in furry suits.
Of course, scene transitions would be wonderful not only for teenage girls with short-skirted uniforms who don’t want to remember every detail of what happens every morning in the subway with all those men with black bars covering their eyes, but to maintain a consistent tone. Nobody wants to go from celebrating their birthday to miserably walking the dog under heavy rain just because the urinating machine has less sense than a common housecat.
Yes, cats are superior. No, that doesn’t have anything to do with white-haired, big-chested cat-eared girls who go ‘nyaa’ at the slightest provocation.
Or, in a slightly more applicable case, nobody wants to deal with letting go of the first two girls he loved beyond a mere immature crush only to end up with… this.
“Soooo?” Haruno’s drawn-out question is as much of an irritant as her sing-song tone or her wide grin. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, given that all three of those factors have certainly been calibrated for maximum effect by the same person. Or elder god disguised as a person. At this point, I’m not about to discard any reasonable hypothesis.
“Haruno… Give him a break,” Shizu tries to mediate. I don’t know how she manages to show half as much aplomb as she’s doing when she knows this particular Yukinoshita is certain to have a recording of her orgasming face on her phone.
Note to self: learn to hack phones. It is quickly reaching the point where it counts as basic self-defense.
“Really? I think he has more than enough stamina, from what I’ve seen from him.” Shizu blushes up to her hair roots, I try not to choke on my spit (again), and Haruno smiles cheekily (that is, in one of her default settings).
“Senpai! Just how many women do you intend to drag into your harem?!” And Iroha’s reaction just tops all of us off.
Seriously, Iroha? Do you need to always take the spotlight? Couldn’t you learn some discretion from your ninja clan or something?
“Uh… Why are you both facepalming? Senpai? Shizuka?”
“Because, my dear Watson—I mean, Isshiki—while I certainly suspected what you three had going on after your adored Senpai’s lapsus back there—” Haruno points, completely unnecessarily yet dramatically enough, to the vague direction of the clubroom—more or less below us, seeing as we are on the roof, once again abusing Shizu’s staff privileges. Oi, Shizu, aren’t you ashamed of the poor example you are setting for me? What will you do if I grow up all twisted and corrupted, unsuited to find lawful employment? How will you take responsibility?
“Lapsus?” Iroha interjects, proving once and for all that she has a true talent for the Watson role, and thus sparing me from a lifetime of being heterosexual (?) life-partners with Haruno. Fight on, Iroha; your sacrifice will be fondly remembered. And thoroughly documented, knowing you both.
“When he slipped and almost called you both by your first names. And those suspicions were further clarified when both you and dear Shizuka tried to murder my cute little Hachiman here with your synchronized glaring after you thought he was about to ask something untoward of my dearest sister.”
“You are enjoying this far too much,” I, unwisely, interject.
“I let you have your own ‘Summation Gathering,’ the least you can do is to return the favor to your Detective Mistress.”
Don’t think about Haruno with a deerstalker cap, a corset, stiletto heels, smoking a pipe, and—dammit!
And, going by her smirk and her empirically proven quasi-telepathy, she knows.
Great. I didn’t know what to do with all this spare dignity. Glad to see it taken off my hands.
“As I was saying before I was so… enthusiastically interrupted,” Haruno. Haruno, stop. Please. And don’t lick your lips—oh, come on! “Back there, there were enough clues to supply a billiard’s club for the next ten years, but my dear Isshiki, you getting indignant about Hachiman adding someone elseto his harem? That doesn’t leave much wiggle room, you know?”
“Oh. I just thought you already knew,” Iroha looks confused, and not even in her ‘head tilted down, knuckle dragging her bottom lip barely open’ way. It’s… Bizarre.
“What?” Not as bizarre as Haruno slowly blinking, but it gets close.
No. That’s a lie. This day should be treasured and remembered. Quick, Iroha: do the thing!
“Well, you are Shizuka’s friend, and obviously Hachi trusts you enough to give you that letter that he would likely commit suicide over before he let anyone else read aside from the people who were back there. Why wouldn’t they have told you?”
“That’s… a good question.” And now Haruno is giving both Shizu and me the stink eye. This is likely to have repercussions.
Or, as Westerners obsessed with dialog-deprived undead would put it: ‘Haruno will remember that.’
“I wasn’t going to intrude on your friendship by spilling things before she’s ready to.” There, nice and apparently reasonable. There’s no way Shizu could manage to get mad and resentful over me throwing her to the wolves for this. Not even if the wolf in question is an attractive woman far too smart and witty for her own good.
I miss Spice and Wolf…
“Oh, you bastard…” Shizu, I just monologed an explanation about why you can’t do what you just did. Bad Shizu. Bad.
“No, no, when he’s right, he’s right. Care to elaborate, Miss Hiratsuka?” Ouch. Apparently, the Yukinoshita bloodline can be activated or hidden at will by its most experienced users. Yet another reason why the Sharingan is inferior.
“I…” Shizu looks at me, her eyes widen, and she blushes. Then she looks at Iroha, her eyes widen even further, drop down to her own chest, and she reddens darker. Shizu… You just did a perfect example of what you shouldn’t do in front of a super-detective, you know? Thank the Heavens your yakuza days are behind you.
I mean, the long coat, dramatic smoking, sports car, and overall manliness don’t leave much doubt as to your previous occupation. The martial arts don’t even come into it.
“Well, that settles it. I am getting my favor repaid right now, Hachiman.”
And suddenly, I am yet again shoved against the wall by Haruno, her hands doing that weird thing that immobilizes my arms and presses my shoulders against unyielding concrete.
And, once again, she kisses me.
Just… Not on my cheek.
Her lips are as soft as I could’ve expected, full and wet against my own as she presses forward so I open my mouth. Her tongue rushes in, tracing not only my own, but having her pointed end softly drag across my palate until I’m moaning in a way that I should be forcing out of Iroha, and I only notice my hands are free when hers reach up and tangle my hair, tilting my head just the right amount to get better access, to play with—
And she lets go.
Her eyes are lidded in something that is not only her usual mischievousness, a hint of something hidden and barely peeking out, glinting before—
“Oi.” Shizu’s tone is flat and definitive as her hand drops on Haruno’s shoulder with a meaty thud.
Her face is devoid of expression, but her other hand is clenched in a fist so tight I could swear I heard it creak.
And what was in Haruno’s eyes hides once again as she turns back with a radiant smile that would make me want to punch her, so Shizu may be—
“That your payment?” she asks, and there’s a rumbling drawl there I haven’t heard before.
“Oh, no. That’s my ticket.” Haruno almost bounces, apparently uncaring of the genuine rage barely held in check.
“A ticket, is it?”
“Of course.”
Shizu’s fingers tighten over Haruno’s shoulder, the tips digging into toned flesh.
“What for?” My girlfriend finally asks.
“A fight. With you. What else?”
And suddenly, Shizu’s grin is as wide as Haruno’s. And about as friendly.
“Oh, sweetheart, you only had to ask.”
… I would say I feel used, but first I will need to deal with a very confused penis that doesn’t quite know how to react to this whole sequence of events.
Also, Iroha, stop recording with your phone, for fuck’s sake.
***
On a windswept roof, with the reddening rays of a low sun casting everything in ochre and autumn, two fated rivals stand in front of one another, silently measuring each other, their duel already started before even the first movement has been made. They are both experts of their field, experience showing in their bearing in a way that a novice may mistake for casual, even careless, disregard.
“Senpai, you are enjoying this too much.”
Shut up, Iroha, this is a battle that will decide the fate of the winner and condemn the loser to wander the Wasteland with an artful scar, damned to repeat their catch-phrase for eternity.
Yes. I am the damsel in here. If Shizu ends up being Kenshiro, I may not even care.
“You do realize your girlfriend is about to get into a serious fight, don’t you?”
“Don’t exaggerate. I am sure they both are mature enough to—”
“So. Till knockout?” Shizu says with a cool disregard that makes me shiver before she looks around her, her hands still in her pants’ pockets. “Out of bounds may be a bit too much.”
Out of bounds. We are on the roof, of course out of bounds is ‘a bit too much!’
“Naturally, the boxer would ask for a knockout. How barbaric of you.” Haruno is still grinning, and only now do I realize that, today of all days, she decided to wear loose pants rather than her skirt. Of course this was premeditated. Likely had something to do with when she realized Shizu and I were waiting to consummate until—
Dammit.
“Not my fault you practice choreography rather than something actually useful.” Shizu all but spits.
“Oh, don’t be sour just because I can fight and look good doing it. Let’s split the difference: knockout or submission. Loser listens to one request from the winner.”
And Shizu gets into what my thorough knowledge of boxing easily recognizes as a hitman-style stance.
… Yes, I only know because of Hajime no Ippo. Not actually important right now.
“Hey, this may be more serious than I am comfortable with,” I try to interject before it’s too late.
“Of course it is, Hachiman. You should know how serious I always am by now.” Haruno, if that’s your way to try to induce an aneurysm on an unsuspecting victim, I must praise your efforts, ineffective as they may have actually been.
Do I smell burned toast?
“The brat’s been asking for it for far too long, Hikigaya.” What happened to those needy ‘Hachis,’ Shizu? And should I remind you right before your fated rival takes advantage of the opening for extra dramatic tension?
Never mind. This is ridiculous. I start walking to get in between them—
Shizu rushes forward, her arm cutting the wind nearly at the same instant the sleeve of her white shirt snaps with a sharp noise as Haruno tilts her head to the side so my teacher’s fist almost brushes her ear.
And suddenly I feel like a pitiful human whose strenuous training barely allows him to follow the movements of those leagues beyond his actual reach. At least I will always have baseball.
“Oi. Seriously, you two, stop.”
Haruno twists to the side, her whole weight pivoting around the tip of her forward foot, and her shoulder slams against the outside of Shizu’s extended elbow, pulling her out of her stable stance right as Haruno’s left foot steps forward and her left arm goes around Shizu’s neck.
“See? There’s something to learn from tradition, after all, my dear teacher.”
Shizu’s lip curls back in a snarl.
“Aikido is newer than boxing, brat.”
“Oh? I guess you should know.” Haruno’s grin turns even sharper as Shizu’s eyes narrow, and I know, just know, that they are somewhere my voice won’t reach them.
So maybe I should stop trying. After all, words are worthless, aren’t they?
Shizu pivots from within Haruno’s grasp and lands an elbow on her side, a liver shot if Haruno hadn’t been quick enough to drop her own elbow so that bone cracks again bone rather than exposed weakness.
“Elbows? What would your trainer say, Shizu?”
“That he’s glad I took his advice and finally learned some Muay Thai.” Haruno’s eyes widen right before Shizu starts doing something with her feet likely too complicated for me to understand and—
I hug them both.
I mean, they were basically hugging each other already; I just join the pile.
“Wha—”
“Oh, Hachiman, how forward of you.”
“Woman, I am this close to filing a sexual harassment suit.”
“You are the one grabbing my body out of nowhere.”
“I never said I would win.”
“Hikigaya, what the Hell do you think—” Shizu tries to act all indignant with me as I hold her back tight against Haruno’s chest. She’s still royally pissed off, and likely to use that sharp elbow of hers.
So I kiss her.
Her eyes widen in shock right as my tongue invades her mouth, and I drag the hard point over her palate until I reach the back of her teeth and she moans.
You see why the Sharingan is useless? Because learning things from your opponents is not a fucking superpower, but a skill.
Right, maybe I shouldn’t go full hubris just because I have my Christmas Cake moaning and writhing between my arms as I press her body against a very excited Haruno who is rubbing an ass I hadn’t been able to fully appreciate until today right over a penis that suddenly isn’t that confused about this whole situation and—
Screw it. Hubris is the natural response. The gods will just have to wait until they run out of popcorn.
“Senpai… Only you, Senpai,” Iroha sighs in resignation. Right out the corner of my eye, I can see her recording the whole thing, so I will add ‘hypocrisy’ to your list of character faults to complain about. Oh, wait, already there.
Truly, my diligence and zeal astonish even me, sometimes.
When Shizu stops squirming in assorted, confused somethings, I finally let go of her lips and look into eyes that are clearly undecided on the merits of just slugging me a right hook.
“What…” She takes a moment to gather herself. Which, really, is all I actually wanted to achieve. “What the Hell are you trying to pull?”
“He’s trying to get you down from an unbalanced mental state so that you can properly calibrate your actions and not act out of a rage that would have made this far too easy a win.” Haruno recites with a dull tone completely at odds with the soft, shapely derriere still pressing against me in a way that makes it a struggle not to bite my lip.
“That. What the overly verbose thinking machine said.”
“That would be easier to believe if you weren’t still trying to make out with the both of us.”
“Shizu, if that’s all I was trying to do, I wouldn’t waste my breath talking. Also, Haruno, stop for just a goddamn minute, will you?”
“Spoilsport…” She grumbles, her hips movements stilling. Yet not moving away.
Damn it, Haruno…
“Look, I don’t know what it is that you both need to work out of your system, but aren’t there safeties? Rules? Something you need to follow so that this won’t end in a hospital room?”
And they both grumble. Like scolded children.
… Great. At least now I know that isn’t one of my fetishes. It looks like I am suited for a teaching position, after all.
The horror.
“Fine. Let’s try this again,” Shizu finally manages and Haruno nods.
Fantastic. I am the voice of reason.
I feel these words should be accompanied by a lightning bolt and the sound of a scared horse. At the bare minimum.
***
Shizu and Haruno stand in front of each other, this time in the proper stances of their respective styles, which I am far too much of a neophyte to properly identify, asides from seeing how Shizu looks like an unarmed fencer and Haruno like someone likely to slap you senseless. So, that clinches it: Aikido is for girls.
“Again: no headshots or strikes to the face. Three minutes and you stop unless one of you surrenders before. And if you make me get in there again, I am going all out on the sexual harassment.”
“Brat, we’re going to have words after this.”
“Yes. And I fully expect some of them to be: ‘thank you, Hachi, for not letting me end either in the hospital or jail.’ Now, begin!”
At my signal, Shizu tenses before relaxing herself into a bouncing rhythm, moving slightly back and forth on her feet, and Haruno seems to settle on waiting for something that will allow her to do whatever it is aikidokas are supposed to do. Choreography, according to Shizu.
At my side, Iroha beams at me with what seems to be pride.
It’s making me feel very weird.
Before I can fully stop processing something I would rather remain unaddressed right now, Shizu dashes forward. Her left fist flashes a few times, but I can at least see that her weight isn’t behind her blows, so it is more of a probing thing, and—
And Haruno catches her forearm on the third strike.
The purple-haired girl smirks as her body shifts back, dragging Shizu’s now far too extended arm with her as she positions her other arm so that—
And Shizu’s foot slides right between Haruno’s legs, so that her own movement trips her up, and they both end up rolling on the ground.
They kick at each other and separate in seconds, Haruno just a bit faster in getting back on her feet, so she dashes forward, and Shizu sways to the side to avoid her stretched hand, but her long hair trails after her, and Haruno grabs it.
The Yukinoshita smirks as she pulls on the black strands, Shizu’s head shooting back as pain—no.
As a smirk of victory flashes on her lips.
Almost faster than I can follow, Shizu’s hands take Haruno’s own, and she turns her body so that her whole weight twists a wrist that’s not up to the task of standing against so much pressure (no, that’s not a jab at your own weight, Shizu—I do not currently feel that suicidal). Haruno’s arm straightens, and Shizu twists it up before pushing forward from behind her, forcing her to take half a step that meets Shizu’s ankle. And Haruno trips as Shizu’s lock guides her to the ground.
The end result?
Haruno is lying on her stomach, her right arm outstretched and held by Shizu as she kneels on her back, a grin on her face to Haruno’s pained grimace.
“So? Anything to say, brat?” Shizu taunts, barely restraining herself from tightening her grasp, if her vicious smirk is anything to go by.
And Haruno looks back over her left shoulder, twisting as much as her abused joints allow her to, and drops everything from her face. The grimace, the discomfort, the smirk, the uncaring amusement, the clinical detachment, the disdain… Until there’s only that something that I almost managed to catch a glimpse of after her lips left my own.
Raw, hurt, desperate. Genuine.
“You were my first kiss.”
The words are barely above a whisper, almost lost in the whistle of the wind, and they are… They hurt. Just hearing them, just hearing that voice that has been dragged from somewhere that has remained hidden for years… Something clenches in my chest.
Shizu looks as if she has just been slapped, recoiling from Haruno in guilt and hurt.
And her grip slips.
And Haruno snatches her sleeve and twists her body, throwing Shizu off her and to the ground.
I don’t even know what happens afterward, only that there’s a whirlwind of focused motion and Shizu is now laying on her back, looking up at Haruno standing astride her, my girlfriend’s hand clasped and twisted between her two in a way that is almost tender for all that it also unyielding and relentless.
Haruno isn’t smiling in triumph. She isn’t proud of a trick she just pulled, mocking in her once again proven superiority. She’s not being Haruno.
She’s… Hurt. In a way I can recognize, her pain a shape I am far too familiar with.
And I almost reach out for her.
“I win.” And those two words have never been so lonely.
“You do.” And Shizu’s eyes don’t leave hers, something buried in there that I…
Haruno lets go of Shizu’s hand, and it drops limply atop her old teacher’s chest before she walks over her and away.
When she reaches the door to the rooftop, she pauses. But doesn’t turn back.
“Next Saturday night. Your house. I want all four of us to be there.”
And she leaves.
Shizu lies back, her gaze lost in the drifting clouds as Iroha decides to finish her recording of the event, and I…
When did I start thinking of Haruno as someone whose pain could hurt me?
Comments
Agrippa
Hachiman really was getting into the shounen vibe, until he realized that, well, those were actually two girls who were really pissed at each other for reasons he didn't quite get. Next chapter will involve some debriefing/decompressing.
aj0413
Welp. Shizu has a deep voiced bastard, confirmed. Also, Shizu just realized she has a harem and Haruno getting pissed about it is hilarious. I mean, at this point, there's no good reason to exclude Haruno? Shizu is out of excuses; not like the other two are gonna say no lol one knows the futility and the other looks up to her Also did Haruno literally just invoke shounen "power of friendship through fists" trope!?!? ....and I just finished the chapter and now I'm both sad and excited for the next one :/
Agrippa
Modified the fighting scene a bit after some helpful feedback on the discord. Nothing major, but hopefully an improvement.
