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12.93% All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! [Oregairu, Poly] / Chapter 15: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 14

Chapter 15: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 14

When 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 [else] to 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?

==================

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 83 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!


Chapter 16: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 15

There 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's] the 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 [you] definitely 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.

==================

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 83 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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