Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2021-10-08 03:27:56 +0000 UTCPop quiz! Let’s say you are confronted by a being of incomprehensible power and values completely alien (when not outright inimical) to your own that tells you ‘Do you want to make a contract?’ with a voice that is most definitely not wondering whether you want to build a snowman. What do you do?
If your answer is ‘Run away screaming at the top of my lungs like a sane person,’ congratulations, you will forever remain unemployed.
Society is built on contracts, on the willing acceptance of conditions inflicted upon those who sign them to the benefit of those who offer them. It is a fact engrained upon the collective unconscious of mankind that they are not to be trusted. Indeed , long before anime became enlightened as to the true horror from beyond the stars that lies at the heart of each and every contract, Westerners had long decreed that Faustian deals were never a thing one should engage in. Faustian is an ancient German word, by the way. I think it means ‘legally binding.’
“I am half-tempted to guess what you are thinking about,” Haruno says, a few papers spread in front of her and a coffee cup partially hiding her sempiternal half-smirk.
Because of course I decided it would be a good idea to do this in public. With witnesses and all that.
“You have read far too much Sherlock Holmes if you think that’s even remotely doable.” She quirks an eyebrow at that.
“A fan of the classics, are you?”
“Of course. Detective Conan, specifically.” And she sniggers at my (half) joking reply.
“Well, if you want to play my Watson… You first looked nervously as I read this letter, then, when I was only halfway through, you looked at me. You didn’t see any gesture of disapproval, so you allowed yourself to relax, which in your case always means retreating into your inner monologue, which is no doubt full of the references you only occasionally let yourself say out loud. In this case, the references should be about… deals? Maybe bargains? How am I doing so far?”
“If all this is a prelude to telling me that we should become roommates who have a vaguely homoerotic relationship, wonderfully. Except for the part where we are different genres.”
She laughs. Of course she does.
“Certainly, that is something we would need to work on. How do you feel about crossdressing?”
“I feel that Ebina is currently wondering why her panties are so suddenly drenched.”
“Stop, stop! My penis can only get so erect!”
…
What.
“Oh, you don’t follow American animation? I need to broaden your horizons, dear Hachiman.”
“I think Japanese animation already has the market of women with erect penises perfectly covered, thank you very—what the Hell are you making me say?!”
Oh. Sorry, Miss Waitress. I assure you we will both stop yelling about women, erections, and women with erections in your fine establishment. It’s classy enough it doesn’t deserve this kind of conversation. I mean, they aren’t even forcing you to wear a maid uniform and cat ears.
Which reminds me, I still need to look at what a set of fox ears would cost…
Also, Haruno, if you could stop laughing before red fades to purple, that would be swell. I need you alive for at least a couple more days, you know?
“You are the only person that can make me go from British literature to crass penis jokes in five sentences. Congratulations, Hachiman, you just took another first from me.”
I don’t know what I am choking on, but it’s trying its best to murder me.
Oh, it looks like my sense of propriety. I wondered where I had put it.
“You are a dangerous woman, Haruno.”
“Hmmm… how is it that you would put it? Ah, yes: ‘praise me more.’”
And I look at her. At lavender eyes narrowed in mirth that sometimes goes beyond the surface, at lips in a sculpted grin that she adopts with far too much ease, at playful fingers tracing the rim of her cup with more grace than some dancers manage in their lives.
“You are a better person than you pretend to be.”
“… Uh?” And, for the first time in my life, I have the almost religious experience of seeing her mask crack in something other than disgust and indignation.
Iroha, where are your photographic ways when I need them the most?
‘You are still clothed, Senpai, give me some time to work!’
Ah, certainly. Excuse me, I didn’t intend to hurry you.
‘Are you apologizing, Senpai? Do you intend to prostrate yourself before me so that you can beg me to magnanimously pardon you while I ponder what punishment would be appropriate to give you? I am sorry, Senpai! My knowledge of BDSM is far too narrow, and I can’t properly punish you at this time! Please, ask me again after I have had time to prepare myself and buy some candles!”
Inner Iroha, I think Outer Iroha has been a bad influence on you.
Also, I should answer Haruno before she stops blinking in what another (naïve and likely to sign contracts) person might call mild surprise.
“You asked me to praise you. I rarely do, so be happy.”
And she leans back on her booth, sinking into the cushions at her back as she covers her face with the hand that isn’t resting on the table.
“How are you still a virgin, Hachiman?”
“Uh, well, you see…”
Her hand drops, her eyes shoot wide open, and she looks straight into my eyes before a disturbingly wide smile settles on her lips. One that makes me think of the Cheshire Cat. If this was the Monster Girl Encyclopedia.
Please, tell me this isn’t the MGE. I already have my hands full with a single kitsune descendant, I don’t need a whole tribe.
‘What? Senpai, are you saying you are so besotted with me you wouldn’t mind making love to a pile of identical clones of my cute self as each one of us ends up on their knees, begging you to cover our faces with rope after rope of cum? I am sorry, Senpai, but that’s impossible! Even if you were able to shoot so much cum in a single session, I would want it all for myself!’
… Dammit, Inner Iroha, I am trying to have a wholesome moment with the woman who is apparently a good enough Holmes cosplayer to manage half-telepathy; I don’t need you messing this up!
Also, that Hyouka ending sequence… Hmmm…
“How interesting.” When an anime character says ‘interesting,’ or ‘amusing’ with that tone? And with that grin? Time to run.
To another world, if possible.
Yes, even to Arifureta. I don’t care.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Deny, deny, deny.
Her eyes go from the papers I offered her, to my reddening cheeks, to the way my body is squirming under her watchful gaze after her question has pushed me off-balance. I see her drawing the lines between the far too sparse dots, my eyes widen, and she nods.
“… Did you just use this as a way to train me in mind reading like a fictional detective? Without a single word?” I don’t know whether I am more awed or terrified.
“I just made it easy for you. Don’t think you are going to start managing it with women who are… more difficult.” Her smile is dripping something. It would likely make a xenomorph flush with envy.
“There’s not a single thing easy about you, Haruno.”
“No, there isn’t! See you tomorrow!” she says as she slaps a few bills on the table and prances out of the booth, papers held in an airy wave.
“Hey! Wait, does that mean—”
“Tomorrow!”
… And that, kids at home, is why you don’t sign contracts.
Also, because they may end up with you having a salary and overtime.
The risk is not worth it.
***
The winter sun sets far too soon, its rays already casting everything in a dramatic red hue while the echoes of the school bell are still echoing. Like a bad writer trying too hard to set a melancholy atmosphere without proper setup, its light languishes through the windows of the Service Club, coloring all of us in tones suitable for a revealing flashback.
Basically, the winter sun is the Zaimokuza of heavenly bodies (it’s even fat enough). Wouldn’t it be more natural to start things off with a more neutral, maybe even cheery atmosphere? What is this garbage with the weather perfectly reflecting the character’s circumstances? Haven’t you watched Full Metal Alchemist, you philistine? ‘No, it’s raining all right’ is a classic for a reason!
And now I have made myself sad. Damn it.
“Why are we here, Hikigaya?” Yukino asks with all her usual cheerfulness. Oi, haven’t you heard about gap moe? How about you try some of that for once? It would lighten the mood.
Yuigahama is fidgeting, the third angle on our far too regular triangle. I don’t know how we manage without marking our assigned spots on the floor, but it’s pretty impressive.
Shizu and Iroha are to my right and behind me, trying not to look as uncomfortable as I am feeling.
“Well, I think the technical term is to do a ‘Summation Gathering.’”
“… What?” Yuigahama does her best confused Yuigahama impression. Ah, it’s so relieving to see there still are pillars of the world that can be relied upon.
“Sorry, Yuigahama, a certain someone has had me thinking about detectives since yesterday—”
“That would be me!” Here is where I should think something like ‘Haruno interrupts me as she enters the room.’ Sadly, the proper phrasing is ‘Haruno Harunoes as she Haruns.’
There are subtle nuances that can’t be inferred without the proper terminology.
Also, Yukinoshita is eyeing the windows of the room as if pondering potential escape routes. Ah, I wish I still was so innocent.
“You were waiting to make a dramatic entrance,” Shizu accuses, if an accusation carried more exasperation and exhaustion than anything else.
“You can’t prove anything,” she replies with a cheerful, dare I say foxy, smile.
No. Iroha, no. No, Iroha. Don’t take notes. Please.
“Well, if there are no further interruptions, I have gathered you all here to—” Oh no, you don’t. This is my scene.
“I have gathered them here. And you. Somehow.”
“I told you I would see you tomorrow. That is, today. You need to press the initiative when you have it, isn’t that right, Shizuka?”
Rather than answer in coherent words, Shizu splutters.
She’s smarter than I am.
“If I have to deal with you, sister, the least you could do is cut to the chase,” Yukinoshita says while trying very hard not to massage her temples.
Which must be quite obvious, because Yuigahama just took a step toward her, turning our triangle into an unseemly isosceles, and is patting her back.
Ah, Yuigahama, your caring, empathic side is as prominent as always. It’s a pity you can’t wag your tail due to the unsuitability of your human vessel.
“Right. That’s going to happen,” I mutter. I will likely pay for this later, but at this point I don’t think my debt will be noticeably larger. “The reason I have gathered you here is to settle our bet. ‘Once and for all, winner takes all,’ remember?”
“… What?” And her tone is suddenly as flat as her hopes and dreams. Also, her chest.
“Shi—Miss Hiratsuka is here to act as a judge, because she started all of this, Ir—Isshiki is here because she is the one who made the request, and she needs to be satisfied with the solution.” Oi, Shizu, stop glaring at me. Can’t blame me for a slip of the tongue after how much tongue I have slipped you. No, Iroha, that isn’t an invitation.
“And my sister is here why, Hikigaya?”
“Because I am a cheating cheater who cheats, Yukinoshita. Try to keep up, this is embarrassing.”
“Hikky! Don’t be rude.” Yuigahama…
Oi, why is everybody looking at her with pity? That is rude, you know? Everything you are implying is rude!
I should know.
“Right. If you would do me the honors, Haruno?” I ask, turning to my left before I, for the first time in my life after sealing my chuuni days, feel legitimate killing intent. This would have been so cool a couple of years ago.
“Haruno?” Uh. Yukinoshita, this is scary. Your cutting glare is far too scary. You shouldn’t threaten people like that, you may get sued. It would be far better if you growled like an angry puppy. You know, like Yuigahama is doing.
Also, Shizu, Iroha, maybe try not to facepalm in synchronicity. You are making it far too obvious that something is going on. You should be as discreet as I am.
Tee-hee.
“The kid earned it. Also, I kind of forced him to call me that, don’t be too hard on him.”
“Why?”
“Because life is hard enough as it is for you, Yukino. Especially without any padding.”
…
Isn’t there a nice trench I can hide in for a couple minutes? I don’t even care if there’s a genderbent salaryman being pragmatical around.
Yuigahama, stop trying to hide your Yuigahamas. The damage is already done.
“Only you could be so vulgar as to even think bust size is an appropriate topic of—”
There’s a loud cough that, somehow, manages to cut off Yukinoshita’s riposte. Shizu, once again, you are far too brave and gallant not to have your own theme song, one that is clearly not!Vangelis. With lots of sax and synthesizer.
Also, maybe you should quit smoking. Just in case.
“If we could get on with things without any further, gratuitous antagonizing, Haruno?” Oi, Shizu, your defense of your pupil is fine and all, but how do you think Yukinoshita will feel when her savior so prominently displays what she has been criticized for lacking? Yours is a cruel kindness, you know?
Without even bothering to drop her grin, Haruno takes out her phone and calls…
Well, kind of obvious, at this point, isn’t it?
“Yes? Yukinoshita household speaking.” The barely familiar voice of Yukinoshita’s mother echoes through the room from the phone which is in Haruno’s hand, in speaker function.
“Mother, it’s me. I am calling about the letter I gave you yesterday.” And the older sister’s tone is suddenly all nice and formal, if slightly frosty. How Yukinoshita of you, Haruno.
“Ah. Certainly.”
“Could you tell me what your decision is?”
There’s a silence in which I should feel suspense. But I don’t. Haruno already drained me of all anticipation yesterday.
“I will withdraw any objections to the prom.” Shizu doesn’t react, Iroha covers her mouth with her hands, Yuigahama gasps, and Yukinoshita… She looks suddenly drained. Aimless. Just as expected. “I presume they are hearing this call?”
“Yes, Mother.” It is far too unnatural to hear Haruno sounding like this. It doesn’t even creep me out; I just dislike it on principle.
“Then, young man… Thank you.” And she hangs up.
“What… What just happened?”
“That, Yuigahama, was me winning.”
Yukinoshita takes a sudden step forward before she stops herself. Just before I am in her reach.
I try not to grimace. That’s always been your problem, hasn’t it, Yukino?
“What did you do?” Her tone is as flat as… as something lifeless. As someone who believed they still had a goal to reach for, only to realize at the last moment it was yet another mirage.
“I just told you—”
“No. No, don’t get clever with me, don’t hide your actions behind quips and self-serving reasoning. You want something genuine, Hikigaya? Then tell me what you did with my mother.”
There’s fire in the words. In their choice, their enunciation, even their meaning. But, in her voice? In the soft melody that could have held me captive with a single whisper not that long ago?
Ice. Snow. Winter.
And then Haruno clears her throat, and I feel a cold sweat run down my back.
“Dear Ms. Yukinoshita.” Oh, no. No, please, don’t.
I turn from the empty eyes of one Yukinoshita to the glimmering ones of another. I don’t know which is worse. Because she’s holding a—
“Didn’t you give it to her?” I ask, knowing it is far too late for me to question reality.
“Of course. After I made a copy.” There’s not a low whine being held back in my throat, and Iroha patting my back is completely unnecessary. That doesn’t mean you can stop, Iroha. “As I was saying… Dear Ms. Yukinoshita.
“I apologize for my presumptuousness. You barely know me as someone you have come across in the street once and in the school’s staff room another time. It would be perfectly understandable if you dismissed this letter from someone who means so little to you.
“I implore you not to do it. Because the one who knows me is your daughter. I am Yukino Yukinoshita’s friend, one of the three she has. Four, if you count her teacher.
“You may wonder how someone as gifted as Yukinoshita, so clever, well-educated, and beautiful, has managed not to have more than three friends after two years in high school. This is actually a new development. A few months ago, she had none.
“Yukinoshita is an extraordinary woman, and she doesn’t lack people who admire her, but always from afar, because she commands respect wherever she goes, but… she’s been hurt in the past.
“I don’t know the specifics, but I know the result. I know she won’t allow people close, for fear of rejection. I know she will work herself sick, for fear of not living up to expectations. I know she won’t allow herself to be any less than perfect, for fear of seeing condemnation in the eyes of those who are close to her. And forgive my impudence, but I think that includes you. I think Yukinoshita is terrified of disappointing you.
“Yukino is not Haruno. Both are extraordinary young women, far more talented than those who would be their peers, but where Haruno defies, Yukino fears. And the only times I have seen her lowering her façade, when she has allowed the ice to melt and show genuine emotion, it has been with Yui Yuigahama and Iroha Isshiki. Her friends. Those who have managed to push past this barrier she has put around her that allows her to go through the world without being touched by it. Yukino’s snow won’t be so easily stained, not even when she needs it.
“Yuigahama has relentlessly pushed forward, never backing down when Yukinoshita tried to evade her, never allowing your daughter to refuse a hug, a pat on the back, a smile and a look of joy. Yuigahama Yui treasures your daughter in a way so forceful, so straightforward, that not even Yukinoshita can fool herself into thinking it’s not genuine. Yuigahama has managed to make your daughter feel and accept physical affection.
“I… I am the closest thing your daughter has to a rival. We banter, play around with words and wit, never stating things outright, never allowing something straightforward to be said when it can be implied and hidden in something so opaque only the two of us can see through it. This very letter is the antithesis of everything your daughter and I are when we are together, and maybe that’s something regrettable, because it’s far too hard for me to write and tell you how much she means to me, and how much I hope I mean to her.
“And Isshiki… She’s the Student Council president. The one who came up with the idea of the prom and then asked Yukinoshita, Yuigahama and me to help her organize it. Because Isshiki is one year younger than us, and we will graduate before her. And she, in her roundabout way that I am sure frustrates Yukinoshita to distraction, wanted to celebrate us, her friends. She wanted to offer us something before we went away. Because Isshiki will trick even Yukinoshita into feeling loved and accepted, and mask it behind a preposterous reason such as being crowned queen of the prom when it is her turn. And she’s the kind of girl who will lie and smile enthusiastically while working hour after hour each and every day on something your daughter won’t realize has been done in her name until we finally tell her and clue her in.
“The prom… It’s not an excuse for teenagers to party unsupervised. It’s not a disreputable thing, something that will mar this school’s prestige. No. The prom is a gift, from Yukinoshita’s friend to Yukinoshita and her friends.
“So, even if it was disreputable, even if it was objectionable, even if it was irresponsible… I would still implore you to allow us to hold it.
“Please, allow your daughter’s friends to celebrate her.
“We love her too much to let her go without saying goodbye.”
I would like to say silence reigns in the club room after Haruno reads the last word of my letter to her mother. Really, I would love to say it.
But the truth is that I don’t know, because blood is roaring in my ears like in my worse social blunders ever.
Answering somebody who was greeting another person? Believing a girl is talking about you being her crush? Having a girl refuse to take her eraser after you pick it up off the ground?
Forget all about that! That is nothing, nothing! That was merely the initiation ceremony into the secret rites of embarrassment that I have finally witnessed with my own eyes! I was blind, but now I see! I have been reborn to the true meaning of mortification!
“Senpai, breathe,” Iroha gently whispers as she keeps patting my back.
Ah, Iroha, you are a saint among women. Truly, your kind heart offers me refuge from the harshness of a world that—
“Is… How dareyou?!”
Never mind. The world has found me. Your heart is useless, Iroha.
Yukino is trembling right in front of me, a single tear trailing down her cheek as her aristocratically pale face finally shows me a smatter of color.
Yui is holding her arm with both hands, almost pulling her back, a doubtful expression on her face. Also blushing.
Oi, the one whose intimate, delicate confession just got mercilessly exposed is me, you know? I am the one who should be blushing like a maiden in love!
Oh, wait, I am. Never mind, then.
“Yukinoshita, calm—”
“No. Not this time, Ms. Hiratsuka. Of all the things you have lied about to get your preposterous plans—”
There’s a loud sound that echoes across the room.
A slap.
Why does my hand sting?
“Hi—Hikky!” Yuigahama is horrified.
“Wha—” Yukinoshita, shocked.
“Finally…” Haruno… Wistful?
…
I would better not think about that.
“I didn’t lie.” My voice is hoarse, as if I am pushing each syllable through some very uncooperative terrain. Gym class, for instance. “Each word in there? I agonized over it. I sweated over it, I cried over it.”
“You—you just—”
“I told her the truth. The genuine truth. We love you, you goddamn brat!”
And now she cries.
Iroha leaves my side and helps Yui hold Yukino up as she bawls her eyes out, shaky hands covering a flushed face as her shoulders tremble in hiccupping, far too shallow breaths.
Haruno elbows me softly and whispers in my ear.
“How long had you wished to do that? Bet you I have been waiting far longer.”
It’s not a bet I am willing to take.
Shizu steps between us, a glance at me showing a soft smile that I very dearly hope isn’t pride at having my tender heart mercilessly exposed right before I lost control and slapped the girl I’ve been crushing after since I laid my eyes on her in the most cliché anime introduction ever. Graceful girl delicately reading a book in an empty classroom while the sun frames her silhouette and her hair gently drifts in the soft breeze? Come on, God, stop being so unoriginal! Or at least copy better material.
Can you do Jojo?
“Yukino,” Shizu holds the girl’s hands away from her face, and I can see her, Yukino Yukinoshita, mask finally shattered, a mess of tears and raw emotion on eyes that are no longer sheets of ice.
She’s still as beautiful as ever.
No. That’s a lie. She’s far more than she ever allowed us to see.
“Yukino,” Shizu repeats, holding her chin in a grasp I know is too gentle for all the strength she carries. “It’s over. Hachiman wins.”
And she smiles down at the distressed girl, more tenderly than I have ever seen her be while still fully clothed, before adding the final words of her verdict.
“It was genuine.”
***
“So,” Yukinoshita’s voice is still unsteady, still raw. “You have won.”
“Finally, acknowledgment,” I say, right before Shizu buries an elbow in my side.
Yukinoshita smiles at that. Whether in petty, proxy vengeance, or in something else, it’s hard to tell.
Still, I am the man who has slapped Yukino Yukinoshita and lived to tell the tale. I shall fear no reprisal!
Oh gods, I am going to die, aren’t I?
Haruno, stop snickering. Let me face the Shinigami with some dignity. With a bit of luck, it will be one of the big-titted, shounen ones, and not the creepy weirdo in fetish gear.
“Your mysterious plan was to write a letter to Yukinon’s mom? Why didn’t you tell me so, Hikky? You made it sound like something more complicated, and you said I would--”
“Ah! I almost forgot something!” Seriously, Yui, ruin the surprise for me, why don’t you?
“Uh? What’s that? This looks pretty wrapped up to me…” A look of confusion suits you far better, yes. Do that rather than ask bothersome questions.
“The prize,” I say, with as much smug pride as I can manage.
Which, given the circumstances—which include a giggling Haruno—may not be up to my usual standards.
“The… prize.” Saying that Yukinoshita is looking at me doubtfully would be like saying Zaimokuza has a slightly unhealthy relationship with his thesaurus. Seriously, fatty, leave the poor book alone before I am forced to put the matter in the hands of the police.
“You must follow one request, remember?”
Immediately, Yukinoshita blushes, Yuigahama does the same yet with more flair, and Shizu and Iroha throw me two very sharp glances. Ugh.
At least Haruno… Ah, no.
Still giggling.
“And what, pray tell, would that request be?” Seriously, Yukinoshita, I don’t know what you are thinking, but going by your blush, I believe you should give back all those doujins to Iroha.
“Not much, just…” I glance between the two of them. The two girls I so naively thought I was in a love triangle with, when the reality has proven to be much more… geometrical.
“Hikky?” Yuigahama asks, unsure after seeing me hesitate so long. And that tender look, that naked affection in eyes that are never guarded enough, is… Just what I don’t need right now.
But… It was never about me. Not this.
Even if we thought it could be.
“Yukinoshita, my demand is simple,” I clear my throat, and it’s not an affectation, “try to kiss Yuigahama.”
Silence follows my declaration.
Actually, that’s a lie: Haruno is laughing her ass off.
“Would you care to repeat that, Hikigaya?” A Yukinoshita who not only has embraced the ice, but started wearing thigh-high boots and dying her hair blue as she hunts down rebels asks me.
“Hikky! Gross! Hikky-levels gross!” Oi, Komachi, what have you been teaching our puppy?
“Senpai, if you want to see two girls—” Iroha is swiftly silenced by Shizu’s hand. Thanks, Shizu. Also, stop glaring at me like that; my poor heart can only take so much.
“Try! I told you to try!”
The ice goes from ‘mass murderer in the military’ to, maybe, ‘far too angsty teenage hero with daddy issues.’ I mean, I am still about to get my ass kicked, but one of those two is more likely to leave witnesses alive.
“You want me to see me try to kiss Yuigahama, who is under no obligation to follow the whims of your over-active libido because she never was part of this bet?”
“Yes.”
“Is this some kind of humiliation play? Are you going to record this?” I try very hard not to look at Iroha when she asks that. Still, no, I am not going to record it, so…
“Just… Think of this as a prank, if you need to. Try to kiss Yuigahama on the lips,” Yui, stop blushing, for fuck’s sake! “And, if you really try, I will consider the debt settled.”
“… And that will be the end of it.” There’s something buried in there, but I can’t afford to dig for it, even when I know she’s counting on me to do it.
“That will be the end of our bet. Nothing more, nothing less.” Take it, Yukino. Please.
And she squares her shoulders, and, with an air of resignation that could mean far too many things, turns to her right to face Yui, who looks at me in sheer panic.
Yukinoshita takes a step forward, Yui’s eyes widen. I nod.
Another step, and I smile, encouragingly, just before Yui turns to face her friend.
Yukinoshita pauses, her face melting from resigned indignity to vulnerable surprise.
She takes the last step. They are almost touching, Yui’s eyes no longer seeking mine. Yukino’s lips tremble.
Hesitatingly, unbelieving, Yukino leans forward.
And Yui—wonderful, soft, caring Yui, the only one who could have stepped between two aggressively anti-social loners and turned us into something that could be mistaken for a love triangle, the only one who could hold us together as we thrashed, and clashed, and tried to drift apart…
Yui doesn’t move.
Wonder in her eyes, a smatter of pink on her cheeks, the beginnings of a smile on shiny lips, Yui, like she has always done, accepts Yukino.
And their lips meet like they should have ages ago.
It’s... tender, wondering, both of them still have their eyes wide open, marveling at the other not backing down, not fleeing from this.
Yukino, unable to believe she could be loved by her friend, much less in this way.
Yui, marveling at her friend finally letting her in, much less in this way.
It takes a lifetime of about five seconds before Yukino backs away, cheeks burning, tears once again brimming in her eyes, two fingers rising up to brush lips that I know will still linger of Yuigahama.
“Wha—why—”
And Yui steps forward.
Her arms fly around Yukino so fast she even begins to struggle, but she is held, and Yui’s lips are the ones that push against her. It’s no longer so gentle, because it’s an overflow of feelings held back for far too long, for the sake of someone she believed too guarded to accept them.
But now, now that Yui knows her affections are reciprocated and welcome…
Well, she has always been the pushiest of us.
As is clearly shown by how their open mouths are pressed so hard against one another, and by the way there’s movement under Yukino’s cheek that indicates…
And now Yukinoshita’s moaning.
Uh. May have to take notes.
As I start to feel as if I am intruding and turn away toward the door to allow them their privacy, Yui’s eyes, never closed and attentive to Yukino’s each and every reaction even as the slight girl has almost fallen limp between her arms… Yui’s eyes meet mine.
There’s a question there, an invitation, as her arm starts leaving Yukino’s back in an open gesture toward me that—
I shake my head, swallowing back something I would rather not name.
And there’s hurt in her eyes, but then she turns them toward the girl in her arms, and what’s there is so much greater than any pain she could ever feel on my behalf, that I—
I leave the room, and Shizu, Iroha, and Haruno follow me.
Goodbye.
I love you.
Comments
Agrippa
Spoilers~
Pope Yoda I
I very much hope Shizuka, a pair of handcuffs and a reenactment of the earlier cellphone conversation are in Haruno's (near) future.
Agrippa
Thank you, that means a lot. (Also, I am a crybaby who gets too deep inside his narrators, so...)
I... I don't know what to say. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. Especially the end, I fell like crying.
