Kapitel 63: All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 60
Long have we talked (that means more than once) about the battle-planning scene and how it relates to cooking battles with a twin-tailed tsundere, but what we've rarely touched upon is the battle itself. Certainly, that would seem to be the entire point of the previous scenes, as they have the word 'battle' in their name and anime authors are renowned the world over for their subtlety (that is: their lack of).
But that is a lie!
… Sorry, I just felt the need to say that. Narrator-kun is one of the best waifus in Kaguya-sama. That being said, such words run as true as ever, for we've already explained how the previously studied scenes serve to propel the characterization forward, establish the mechanics at play, do a bit of world-building, and increase the charm points of the tsundere that brought to the masses the true meaning of Absolute Territory. Some may certainly infer from all this that the battle itself is all but an afterthought, and they may not be wrong.
It… depends on the genre, mostly. And how cultured it is.
Because, you see, what the battle planning does, first and foremost, is to set expectations to be shattered. The characters tell the audience what they think will happen, the audience, gullible idiots that they are (for why would they be watching this show otherwise) believe them, and then the writer cackles maniacally as he proceeds to set everything on fire like that weirdo from Durararararara—OK, I lost count a few 'ras' ago, but better safe than sorry.
Particularly with knife-wielding arsonists. No, Haruno, I'm still talking about the guy from Durararararararararara; please don't be a Haruno about it.
Anyway, and back to our current topic, once the battle is joined, the heroes will inevitably find out that not all is as it seems and that their meticulously laid plans are about to—
"Senpai, you said you were going to take me out for lunch."
Yes. That.
"I [am] taking you out," I reassure an Iroha who's looking increasingly miffed that she has gone the extra mile to put on just enough makeup that I notice she has gone the extra mile to put on some makeup. I'm not certain how she's done it, but I'm pretty sure that's the message I should be getting out of it.
Other than, you know, my eyes darting again and again to her lips shining with every mote of light, the eyeliner making her eyes even brighter than luminous honey usually is, the pale rose over her cheeks bringing to mind how she looks so vulnerably open up at me when I pin her against a wall, and—
Aaaand I'm going to stop right now.
Because of reasons.
Standard Adolescent Gait Number Two reasons.
"This is the way to Shizu's apartment," Iroha says after a brief smirk that tells me with not even a hint of ambiguity that she knows precisely why my hands are aggressively shoved down my pants' pockets.
Said smirk isn't making things [better].
['Define "better."']
Not you too…
"As ever, your scouting skills are up to what your liege requires of you, my loyal vassal," I tell Iroha with not an ounce of sarcasm.
Mostly because it would detract from the delightful effect the words have on her when she remembers the one night when we roleplayed this scenario, and even I am capable of holding my snark back if it's for the noble cause of seeing Iroha's lips quiver into a silly, slightly bashful smile as she ducks her head away from me while her eyes keep searching for mine, her natural blush overcoming the one she expertly applied, her glimmering teeth glinting as she bites the corner of her lip, and—
"Senpai? What are—[hmmmm!"]
And now I'm kissing her.
Pushing her against a concrete wall, right beside a doorway I hope won't open while we're still occupied, my cold hands going through her hair as I twist her into the best position for me to take her lips, her tongue, her mouth…
Her everything.
And her arms go between my coat and my sweater, embracing me, clawing at my back, pulling her body against mine, her stocking-clad right leg wrapping around my waist as our tongues do the same around each other.
As we kiss.
Again.
Because I can't help myself. Not since I saw her waiting for me beneath a bare tree in front of the station. Not since I saw her in this short, tan coat that lets just the hem of her knee-length red skirt sway beneath it, the black, shimmering fabric of her opaque stockings promising so much to my touch, the dangling silver earrings daring me to take them between my teeth and gently pull at her earlobe until she gasps…
She's Iroha.
Mine.
And I… And I don't need to hide it. I can tell the world. I can claim her lips in the middle of the street, just shy of claiming everything else, and that's just what two young people in love are supposed to do. Or, well, not supposed to do, but to want to do, and…
And I'm free.
To love her. To be loved by her. To hold her slender body against mine, feel the soft wool of her coat between my chest and her breasts, her slender fingers crawling up my body until she reaches my neck and—
"Gack!" I gasp out as the demon fox makes me shudder when she sticks frigid claws down the collar of my shirt.
"Oh? Senpai, are you saying that my hands are too cold for you to withstand? That my delicate, feminine frame is suffering the chill of winter while I, for some mysterious reason, am not wearing gloves? Are you saying that you wish you had noticed sooner so that you could have gentlemanly offered to hold my hand and share your heat with me?"
Iroha, right in front of me, flushed to the tip of her ears, and making something between a smile and a snarl that keeps wavering between the two extremes, looks at me expectantly.
…
It is [somewhat] against protocol.
"Aren't you…" I trail off.
"Aren't I [what?"]
"You know. Going to do the thing."
"I most certainly don't."
"The thing. When you give the speech a last twist. You know, the 'I'm sorry, but that's impossible…'"
Her lips quiver in a thin line that I'm pretty sure is a suppressed smile.
I hope.
"Senpai, are you asking me if my complaining about my oblivious boyfriend not getting a hint and walking by my side without holding my hand will culminate in yet again giving you a speech about how sappily in love I am with you and just how many orgasms I expect to get before the date is over? I'm sorry, Senpai, but that's impossible! It's not like I have a list of memorized speeches ready for any occasion, after all."
And [now] she grins.
While I try not to groan.
"That is a lie," I state without a hint of uncertainty.
"You can't prove that," she singsongs.
"No. But I can make you confess."
"Oh? And how do you plan to—[hmmph!"]
My lips muffle her retort as I grab her arms and pull them out of my coat, then I grasp her hands, sliding my fingers between hers, the contact almost as intimately thrilling as that of our tangled tongues.
I force myself to open my eyes, to not lose myself to the barrage of sensations and feelings, and watch her.
Just… Watch her.
Leaning back, her body almost limp against the gray wall behind her, the shadowed, matte texture of the stucco only highlighting everything that is smooth and shiny in her hair, her skin, the eyes now hidden from me behind marvelous lids that I haven't kissed enough. But that's not all. That's not even the start of things.
Because Iroha's tongue is gliding over mine, her lips pressed so tightly against my own that her muffled moans are mere vibrations going down to my chest, but what I see…
What I see is those lids being perfectly relaxed.
I see Iroha, the one girl who prides herself in her masks, being…
I gently increase my pressure against her, how much my body leans on hers, how much heat we share.
She lets me.
And there's something in me that… that wants to believe Komachi. That wants to believe Iroha will [always] let me. Will always drop any pretense with me when it's no longer amusing to hold onto. That she will let me see her like this. Utterly open and vulnerable.
Loving.
Trusting.
Because, after all, before there was love between us, there was trust.
And so I should… I should trust her. I should believe her. And that lonely, scared part of me so eager to believe Komachi's words…
I give it permission to.
Then I pull back. Slowly, our contact lessening rather than breaking until our lips barely brush together, and Iroha blinks luminous eyes open, lighting up my whole world.
"I love you," I tell her, something raw in my throat as I say those words without passion or impulsiveness. As I say them with just… trust.
And too many things for me to keep track of go through her before she sets into a teary, bright smile that she hides from me as she buries her face against my blue sweater, letting go of my hands to clutch and stretch at the thin fabric.
"Took you long enough… Hachi," she whispers as she shivers with something I'm pretty sure is not cold.
And so, before the battle I had planned for even started, I have already fallen to Iroha's ambush.
As expected of my cunning, Strongest Junior.
***
"Tell me what you're planning," she says, mulishly childish as she forces me to drag her by her hand.
Yes, I know what I just said. It makes sense in context.
"Innocent lives are at stake. I cannot divulge any details," I answer, mostly happy that I've managed to find yet another variation to my already used-up 'no comment' alternatives.
"This is when your inner monologue states that, out of all your acquaintances, only you're truly innocent, and thus an existence worth protecting."
"Stop spending time with Haruno."
"Oh? Jealous, Senpai? Are you already invested in being Haruno's sole and only pupil?"
With something that I will deny till the day I die is a jolt of pure horror, I shoot a look at Iroha over my shoulder.
She [smirks.]
So I pull harder on her hand, make her stumble, and catch her in my arms.
We're perilously close to the railing on Shizu's apartment's entrance corridor, and there's something very tempting about lifting her far too light body, sitting her on it, and clasping her to me as she looks up at me with wide eyes, and…
Uh…
I think I was going somewhere with all of this?
['Haruno.']
Not now, Brain-chan. My libido is already set on a surprisingly bunny-like Iroha.
['She was talking about you being jealous of her learning from Haruno.']
Ah. Way to kill the mood.
['Look, it's about the only thing I can kill from up here, other than your hopes and dreams.']
Please, don't. I don't need another reminder of Yukino.
['You're both cruel and crass to a degree that would get you slapped only because no knives were available.']
Praise me more.
['Selfcest is a shitty fetish. Also, Iroha is going from looking at you like a defenseless kit to pondering whether or not she should bite you.']
But only because there are no knives available.
['I presume that to be the case.']
"Trying to make me jealous of our shared girlfriend is the kind of thing that can easily backfire, you know?" I tell her, my voice low enough that her legs close around my hips as her hands reach behind my neck.
"You'll never drop me," she says with breathless reverence.
And I blink in confusion.
Then I realize that the railing is not that wide and that Iroha is clinging to me with all her strength, and the mere idea of her being at risk at all—especially [because of me]—makes me grab her up in a panic and swing away from the damn falling hazard as I slam her against the wall behind us with, perhaps, a tad more impetus than I wanted to.
And that is precisely how I end up with Iroha's legs wrapped around my waist, her hands clutching my nape, her eyes locked on mine, her lips half-open…
And the door to Shizu's apartment opening as a curious Haruno, still holding the doorknob and wearing the kind of maid uniform Iroha would think adequate, peers at us first in glee, then in mock indignation as she tuts at us.
"Master, I would rather you saved your appetite rather than spoil it before the main event," she says, leaning forward with her left fist on her hip and waving her right index finger in a way I'm pretty sure she copied from Mahoromatic, because why not. Why spare a single chance to make my libido utterly confused. Why, Haruno.
"Because it's too damn easy," she says, rolling her eyes.
"That is a lie," Iroha, still clinging to me, and blushing fiercely, says. "There's absolutely nothing easy about… [him]."
"Of course not, but that's precisely why you should tell him otherwise. Don't you want to see him challenge himself to go above and beyond expectations? To look at you with burning eyes as he kneels between your legs? Really, my dear Iroha, I was told you're cunning."
Shit.
Fearing what I'll find, I look away from the smug maid cosplay to a girl clinging to me with determination steadily dawning on her features.
And not looking at me [at all].
"Oh, you're [on]," Iroha says.
And Haruno smirks.
And I…
['This is what happens when you do a battle-planning scene. You know this is what happens when you do a battle-planning scene. Yet you still did several battle-planning scenes.']
Shut up, Brain-chan. Nobody likes somebody telling them, 'I told you so.'
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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 85 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!
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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