Chapter 32: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 30
As sacrilegious as it is to even consider it, I must admit there's something about anime that irks me to no end. An irreconcilable difference with my worldview that feels utterly bewildering, seeing as said worldview can be essentially summed up as 'I read this in Shounen Jump, so I love it, and this other thing sounds like work, so I hate it.' It strains my psyche to try and reconcile this single facet of otaku culture passed down through the generations with my actual experience.
That is, anime says it's bad to talk about someone behind their backs.
Preposterous, right?
I mean, it's like some kind of conspiracy. A single comment taken out of context will inevitably be heard by the person in question at just the precise moment to cause the most drama per syllable. Confiding with your best friend about your relationship woes? Suddenly pegged as a cheating asshole. Pondering how to make sure that your comrade survives long enough to get an overdue power-up? The moron will throw himself into a suicidal charge to prove his strength next chance he gets. Talking about the harem as a whole? Main girl will feel she has a moral obligation to cede her position to worst girl—who may actually not be that bad, seeing as she doesn't have a martyr complex to delicately handle with kid's gloves.
Yes, I'm still proud to be a hypocrite. Why do you ask?
Moving on, if we are to believe the teachings of anime, and especially rom-com, one must never, ever, speak about someone they believe not to be in hearing range. Which is outrageous, because how else is someone going to let out the unhealthy amounts of vitriol that get accumulated through regular human interactions? By not being the kind of person who keeps holding grudges and thinking the worst of others in the first place? Preposterous! May as well aim straight for Nirvana and skip the whole hassle.
I mean, this is healthy, right? Saying out loud the things you cannot tell the other person face to face (if even for the slightly selfish reason of preferring one's face remains unbroken) is a pillar of society! How else would wage-slaves survive through the day if they weren't allowed to collectively plan how to best eradicate their boss's soul from the cycle of reincarnation? By exerting their collective power to make reasonable demands to improve the workplace? Come on, have you actually [read] any manga? We [aspire] to working conditions that lesser cultures would deem crimes against humanity.
I blame the shounen 'go beyond your limits' bullshit. Honestly.
Yes, truly, my arguments are unassailable. Anime, as much as it pains me to say so, is wrong, and I'm right.
["I'm freaking out, Senpai,"] Iroha's latest text blinks on my screen.
["Unlike I, a pillar of serenity only people who eat things that would make goats barf and live on mountaintops can aspire to,"] I send her back in this latest round of definitely not talking about Shizu and Haruno.
["I'm pretty sure I can still make you freak out, Senpai."
"You overestimate your power, apprentice. Go bother some grasshoppers for a while, or punch a wall. One of those should grant you inner peace."]
There's a couple of moments of radio silence that I use to stretch out on my bed and try not to think about how I [never] get up this early on a Saturday.
Though, technically, it's arguable whether I actually am getting up after the night I've had…
Oh, new message from my fellow freak-outer.
It's an image.
Of a pregnancy test.
…
"What the fuck?!" I yell into my phone as soon as Iroha picks up.
"Told you," she singsongs.
"We did it [once]—well, we did it a single day! You said you were on the pill! I can't be a father yet; Komachi would kill me!"
"… Nice to see you've got your priorities straight, Senpai."
"And—and I don't even—do I get a loan? Do I start working? Can we live at Shizu's or would she freak out too? No, no, she probably would let at least you stay, I'm the one who messed up, but I don't know what kind of job I can get right now that would let you have the baby and still go to college, because you [aren't] dropping out, not because of me, and oh gods, can we get married already? I'm not having our son be a bastard—"
"Senpai… That's the first result on Google when you look for a positive pregnancy test."
"What?"
"A joke, Hachi. A. Joke."
"So you aren't pregnant?"
She sighs. Loudly.
"If I tell you you just made me want to have your babies even more, does that make this whole thing worse or better?"
"What."
"Your… your first reaction—after thinking about your sister, which we may have to talk about at some point—was to ask me to marry you."
I lean back on my bed until I rest my head on my pillow, my heart still thundering in my chest, but at least my breathing is somewhat normal. You know, for a steam locomotive.
"I… isn't that normal? Expected?"
"You wanted to get a [job], Senpai."
"Oh gods, I did…"
"… I don't know whether to get mad that you think that's more intimidating than getting married or giddy that I actually know you this well."
I take a deep breath before I manage to think how to answer.
"You'll never joke about being pregnant. Ever again."
There's a silence on the other end of the phone. When it stops, Iroha sounds as shy as I've ever heard her be.
"I…" she pauses, and I can picture her face settling in determination. "I accept, Senpai. Hachi."
"You… accept?"
"I'll marry you."
…
"Are you [trying] to give me a heart attack, woman?!"
"I mean, it would be [romantic—"]
"No! Dying because of a phone call is not romantic! It's just plain moronic! The traffic police keep saying so!"
She laughs, and I can't keep the wry grin off my face.
"Seriously, though, I'll be legal to marry in—"
"Iroha, as much as I love you, could we agree to only have one life-changing conversation per day? Pretty please? Haruno already scheduled for today's slot."
"Fiiiiine. But I'm telling Shizu you proposed to me first."
"… I don't even know how to address this."
"With a ring?"
"… I'm going to hang up."
"Ah, so typical. As soon as you think you've got me in the bag—"
I hang up.
['This will come back to bite you.']
I'm about to rename you to Stating the Obvious-chan.
['Fine, but I'll rename you to 'Not Even Noticing the Obvious-kun.']
… Fair enough.
Also, do you think we could go back to sleep for at least a little bit before the whole—
New message.
Of course.
["Senpai, on second thought, I think I must refuse your proposal. Do you really think I'll be okay with marrying you just because I love you so much I can't even begin to think about what my life would be like if you left? That you've changed me, turned me into a different woman from the girl you first met? That taking my first time and holding me in your arms until I fell asleep, incredulous that I could do so with the way my heart kept beating in utter joy, would be enough to sway me? I'm sorry, but that's impossible, Senpai. I won't accept your proposal. Not until you bend the knee and look me in the eye."]
…
['Your smile looks ridiculous.']
Probably.
['… I'll try to come up with a way to have a multiple wedding.']
Thank you, Brain-chan.
***
[Shizu's Side: First Mistake]
"Really? [Takeda?"] I ask Miki.
"Hey! The poor guy just asked; no need to act like you stepped on something best left unidentified."
With a slow, deliberate gesture, I lower my hand and leave the piece of dried squid on its plate.
"What?" she has the gall to ask, still munching on her roasted green peas.
She kinda looks like a hamster, with her cheeks bulging all cute like—never mind.
"I [was] eating."
She raises an eyebrow.
"No. You were adding some solid to your liquid diet," she says, pointing at my beer.
And at the three empty bottles beside it.
… The waiter isn't being as diligent as he should be while serving two young, stunning ladies, if I say so.
"Same difference. You don't want me to barf my beer before it's gotten a chance to make me want to barf."
She stops munching her peas and glares at me.
"I'm [eating]," she protests.
I beam at her.
And she throws another balled-up napkin at me.
Which [may] account for the waiter mostly leaving us alone when we aren't demanding a refill.
***
I'm [very] drunk.
Miki isn't much better, though we boldly advance through the darkness of Chiba Port Park with our arms around each other's shoulders, boldly defying whatever adversity may come. We will defeat it with the power of friendship!
And being a boxer and a Sports Science student, respectively.
But! Power of friendship!
"Stop yelling, you shounen-obsessed moron," Miki hisses at me.
I turn to the side, and her red face is right in front of mine.
Well, not really. She's a bit below mine.
Fine, she's almost at the level of my breasts, and she may be straining her neck in her attempt to glare me up, but that's an awful description. It's much better if we can glare at each other without any height disparity like equals—no, [wait!] Goku and Vegeta!
"You're very good at the whole 'surly eternal rival who's actually the eternal best friend,'" I tell her, satisfied that she even has the distinctive hairstyle needed for a proper character. I mean, it's mostly her old bob, but she's let the back grow out, and now it's a bob [with] a braid.
I don't know why she keeps wearing it like that when it makes it so much easier for me to grab her by it.
"This is another dumb shounen thing, isn't it? It is [always] another dumb, shounen thing."
"Oh, come on! Rival characters are a classic, you can't tell me you don't like Ranma and Ryouga—"
"Aren't those two… boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Well, yeah. In my head."
"What."
I look at her uncomprehendingly for a moment.
"You… haven't watched Ranma?"
"I mean, it's not a [sports] manga."
I groan.
"Miki… It's a classic! One of the foundations of martial arts and rom-com manga! It invented and classified more tropes than I can list off-hand!"
"Martial arts [and] rom-com?" That sounds violent."
"Oh, you have no idea…"
She looks at me in that weird way she sometimes does when I'm thinking about something she doesn't know too much about. Which means mostly manga.
And boxing.
And… No, I guess that's about it.
But really! She should already be an expert on those two things, given how much I've told her about them! Well, time for Hiratsuka-sensei to give her another lesson.
"Right, you see, Ranma's cursed to turn a girl when wet with cold water, and he goes back to being a man with hot water. Ryouga's this guy who used to go to school with him, but Ranma left on a training trip to China, and Ryouga followed him there to settle a duel they had, and there's where Ranma got cursed, but he accidentally cursed Ryouga too."
"Wait, so the two of them turn into girls? That… seems interesting."
"Oh, no, he turns into the cutest little piglet, and that leads to all sorts of misunderstandings when Ranma's fiancée adopts him as a pet without knowing he's a guy."
"Ranma has a fiancée? Then why do you say he and Ryouga—"
"Ranma has [multiple] fiancées. His father was a scumbag—it's a whole thing. [But!] The thing is that there's a lot of magic in the setting, and the love rivals keep coming up with love potions and the like that always misfire, and never work properly—[until] Ryouga accidentally uses one on Ranma! Who goes utterly ballistic trying to bed him, and switches to his girl form when Ryouga rejects him, and even plans to let him ravage her after teasing him, and they have this antagonistic chemistry that no other character has, and, and… Why are you looking at me like that?"
We have, for reasons that obviously have nothing to do with our current level of intoxication, wandered off the paved path and ended up beneath the trees of the park. The streetlamps barely reach us, and the shadows cast by the sparse canopy play over Miki's face as she stares up at me, her lips barely open—
"Have I ever told you how you look when you get so enthusiastic about a silly, stupid manga about transgender martial artists with a rape fetish?"
"I… Don't think the subject has come up before?"
"Beautiful."
"Wha—"
Miki gets on her tiptoes, her eyes lidded and her head tilted.
The world slows down, and it's not just because of the alcohol.
Her chest presses against mine, her heat reassuring in the night's chill, her hands on my shoulders.
And this is Miki. Miki, who always jokes about sexually harassing me, makes inappropriate comments about my breasts, who's… Always been there.
Miki, who set me up with my first boyfriend and listened as I freaked out after my first time.
Miki, who I love more than anyone else aside from Mom and Dad.
She's wearing lip gloss. It barely has any color; it's just enough to make her lips shine in this light.
She's drunk.
I am drunk.
We… Girls sometimes fool around, don't they?
Her lips reach mine, and something sparks up my spine.
My arms surround her waist as I push her up and against me, as I tilt my head down to feel her more fully, to—
We stumble, and I end up trapping her between my body and a tree.
My eyes drift closed as we move our heads together in a slow, languid motion. My hands travel up her back, and I cradle her neck as I tilt her head back and my mouth opens.
So does hers.
She tastes like beer and snacks. Like I taste.
There's also a hint of… cherry lip gloss.
I lick her lips, moistening them as she moans into my mouth, and our tongues meet for the first time. My mind goes blank, and I know it has very little to do with the alcohol, that this is just the effect Miki has on me now that we have finally done…
Something.
What are we doing?
Miki's hand travels up the front of my body, up my white button-up shirt, and finally gropes those breasts she's always going on about, and she squeezes them [just] right. Not roughly like Hiro did, not too gently like Ken would have. No, she's possessive about them as she applies just enough pressure that my breath catches on my throat, and I bite down on her lip as gently as I can while my eyelids flutter, and my other hand dips from her back to that spectacular ass she has, briefly groping the firm globes before I raise her skirt and go back to doing it without too stiff clothing disguising the warm flesh.
I'm moaning into my best friend's mouth, and she's doing the same.
Then I shift, my leg going between hers, and I feel something warm press into the front of my thigh, and Miki gasps and—
"Sorry!" I say, leaning back even as my body screams at me not to do so, even as I still feel her lips pressed to mine, the ghost of her hand fondling my chest, the faint taste of cherry lip gloss—
"What?" She blinks up at me, something like a haze clinging to her eyes.
"Sorry, I—I got carried away."
She blinks again.
Then laughs.
Miki has always been boisterous, unreserved. Her laugh is the kind that gets some nasty glances from time to time, because she's never cared too much about regulating the volume.
This time… It's loud, yes.
But…
"Hey, don't worry, Tsuka. We are drunk. These things happen. At least I finally got acquainted with the twins, right?"
She's smiling. Broadly. Cheerfully.
And I wish I was sober enough to know why it does feel so wrong.
***
My head's killing me.
'Drink plenty of water before going to bed,' they said. 'Get enough sleep, and it shouldn't be a problem,' they said. 'You'll wish you would die, or, at least, that everybody who wants to get an early start on a Sunday would—preferably quietly,' they didn't say, but most likely were thinking it.
With a groan and a muttered litany of curses directed at Ms. Honda and her obsession with radio exercises (and refusal to get a hearing aid), I get off my bed and drag myself to the bathroom.
Well, my old bed. And my parent's bathroom.
It's so weird not living with them anymore…
Mostly, because my room is still my room, and everything's precisely the same, except for the little things that aren't, such as the toothpaste brand, as I never realized Mom still bought the same orange-flavored one from when I was a little kid just for me, and—
I'm rambling. Internally rambling.
This can't be healthy.
Still, I think I could get used to this minty thing that…
Ugh. Not my thing. Still, if I could get used to [beer—]
Beer. Miki.
Fuck.
I wash my face with cold water until my skin reddens, and I feel halfway alert. Right, I need to deal with this.
Whatever 'this' is.
Thoughts racing through my head, I walk down the stairs, and—
Dad's cooking me breakfast.
"Hey! How's my little champ doing!" he yells as obnoxiously as he can.
Because he knows I went drinking last night.
Jerk.
"You can't do anything to me that Ms. Honda hasn't already done—fried [eggs]? Really?"
"You need the proteins!"
I glare at him.
He chuckles.
And I sigh.
I swear, he's the most infuriating man in the world.
I sit down at the kitchen table just in time for him to hand me a plate with toast, bacon, and eggs.
… What happened to miso soup? Is something light and nutritious no longer allowed?
He also gives me a glass of orange juice.
Freshly squeezed.
… Fine. I love him to pieces.
He still pisses me off.
I take a sip of the juice, which does weird things to my tongue and the aftertaste of the toothpaste, but I manage to get rid of the sensation after the second sip, and my stomach starts settling.
[Maybe] enough for a bit of bacon.
Though I should probably start with the toast.
"What's the matter?" he says from the other side of the table.
"Uh? What do you mean?"
He raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Shizu, you're eating your breakfast properly rather than complain about me being whatever it is you'd want to complain about while hungover. Spill it."
I look at him with all the sad puppy eyes I can muster.
"Do I [have] to?"
He claps a broad hand on top of my head and ruffles my hair.
"Only if it makes you extremely uncomfortable and, or, embarrassed," he says with a grin.
And I kick his chin from beneath the table.
His smile twitches for a moment, but he struggles to keep the damn, infuriating smile in place.
Stupid martial artists and their stupid tolerance to pain…
"Fine," I grumble.
He takes the hand back and looks at me expectantly.
And keeps looking.
And looking.
And—
"Miki kissed me!" I finally blurt out.
"What?! Like, on the cheek or—"
"Lips! And tongue! Far too much tongue!"
"I'm [not] equipped to have this conversation—"
"And, and—I don't even know what it means! Because she said we were drunk, but she had this weird smile, and I think she was hurt, but I apologized for groping her butt and pushing against her—"
"I'm [definitely] not equipped to have this conversation!"
"But maybe she thought I didn't like it! And I don't even know! Because I [liked] it! But she's Miki, and I don't want to screw things up, and I didn't even think I liked girls, so maybe it's just her, or maybe we [were] drunk, and it would be better to pretend nothing happened, and—"
"Your mother is going to owe me [big] for dealing with this—"
"And she was the one who kissed me, and groped my boobs, and—"
"I can't do this while sober—"
"And I don't want to lose my best friend!"
And I start crying.
Dad runs around the table and hugs me to his chest, and I keep hiccupping as I feel so much anxiety and fear running through my veins that I start to shake, and I keep thinking about Miki always being there for me and maybe suddenly not. Maybe being disgusted with me for taking things too far, or being sad that I rejected her when I didn't mean to, or maybe throwing up when she realizes she kissed a girl when she's never told me she liked them, and—
Dad's patting my back. Caressing my hair.
"You won't lose her. Not for this. The two of you are basically sisters, Shizu. It's gonna be all right."
"But… But sisters don't [kiss]."
"If your manga has taught me anything—"
I poke him right beneath his ribs, and he yelps.
"Not. The time."
"Sorry, sorry…"
I let him hug me and cradle me to his chest, his broad hand drawing calming circles on my back.
"You really think it's gonna be all right?" I mutter without leaning away from his (slightly wet) shirt.
"I… I can't promise, Shizu. People… Have I ever told you about Mike?"
"No?"
"Right. He's an old friend of mine. We used to be inseparable, but… one day we just drifted off. We barely keep in touch nowadays."
"Just like that? For no reason?"
"Well… There's the thing about how he used to date your mother…"
And [now] I lean back.
And glare up at him.
He has the gall to nervously rub the back of his neck.
"You stole your friend's girlfriend, and you [still] keep in touch?"
"Well, he, I… we kinda used to also date?"
…
"I can't have this conversation while sober."
"That's what [I] said!" he cheerfully exclaims, daring to even pretend he sympathizes.
So I kick his shin again.
"What the Hell, dad? Were you three… at the same time?!"
"I mean, your mother is very—"
Kick. Kick. Kick. Spin dash.
Ah, wait, that last one isn't real.
"Look, the point is," he says through gritted teeth, "that relationships are [complicated], especially when you mix friendship and sex and whatever else you can throw in. And sometimes things work out, and sometimes they don't, but… there's a chance. Just make sure you know what you want before you talk to her, because you can both hurt each other a lot if you aren't clear on things. If you want a friendship and try for romance… it won't end well, Shizu. So, think about that kiss, about what you felt when Miki—ugh, can't believe I'm even saying this—when Miki [groped] you. Were you… Is that what you want? Not in general, but with her?"
I think about it. About Miki's taste, about her touch, about…
About Miki.
Who's always been there.
And it terrifies me that someday she may not be, but…
But if there was a chance she would? Not only like she's been up to now, but.. but in the way… In…
Soft, braided hair held between my fingers as I take her lips, delicate sighs that turn to moans, her body pressed against mine…
Fuck. I'm blushing.
"I… I think I want to try," I finally admit.
Dad looks down at me, a sad smile on his face and something that feels like pride in his eyes.
"Well, if you're at all like your mother, Miki's going to enjoy—"
"What the Hell are you telling our daughter, [dear?"]
His hands go rigid on my back, and Dad's face pales before he turns around.
And, knowing the two of them far too well, I grab my breakfast and run for cover.
***
I'm about to throw up.
I… I'm early. Far too early. We agreed to meet twenty minutes from now.
Just through text. Said there was something I needed to tell her, that I wanted to do it in person.
I didn't have the nerve to call her, and I'm still beating myself up over it.
Because… Because I really want to look her in the eyes before I commit, before I tell Miki I think I've been in love with her for years, and I never quite realized how much she means to me, but if she's willing to try, we could—
"Tsuka!" a cheerful voice calls out to me from behind, and I turn around to—
She… isn't alone.
She's here with Takeda.
"Man, I'm so glad you agreed to meet up! This guy here's been talking my ear off about how much he would like to get to know you," she continues, still her bubbly, energetic self.
Takeda looks bashful. He's obviously made an effort: he's wearing a nice button-up shirt and slacks rather than his usual cringey shirts with moe trash and jeans. He's shaved, pulled his hair into a ponytail.
He cleans up nicely.
And Miki keeps talking enthusiastically, doing her best to lighten the mood and play matchmaker.
And she doesn't meet my eyes once until the moment she leaves.
==================
This work is a repost of my second oldest fic on QQ (https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/all-right-fine-ill-take-you-oregairu.15676/), where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true)—as an added perk, both those sites have italicized and bolded text. I'll be posting the chapters here twice weekly, on Wednesday and Friday, until we're caught up. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 84 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).
Speaking of Italics, this story's original format relied on conveying Brain-chan's intrusions into Hachiman's inner monologue through the use of italics. I'm using square brackets ([]) to portray that same effect, but the work is more than 300k words at the moment, so I have to resort to the use of macros to make that light edit and the process may not be perfect. My apologies in advance
Also, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: aj0413, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon. If you feel like maybe giving me a hand and help me keep writing snarky, maladjusted teenagers and their cake buffets, consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!
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