All Right! Fine! I’ll Take You! – Zaimokuza Gaiden – Chapter 3

A scene that has the makings of a classic: our hero has been captured by the Demon Queen, showing at once that no, he’s not overpowered and can be actually defeated if the adequate challenge comes along, so there! And obviously the hero of the story is going to be powerful, what even is the point of showing an average guy doing average things—

Uh, I mean: the hero has been brought low, either by the ill whims of twisted fate or by the low cunning of the antagonist ruthlessly exploiting his fatal flaw (maybe he has sacrificed himself so that others won’t suffer? Is being actually heroic a flaw? Archer appears to think so…), and he’s now in the clutches of his sworn enemy, who seeks to extract information from him. Of course, no matter the grievous threats lowered against his august self, his noble composure won’t break. Nay! It won’t even bend, for her—

“So, did you tell anyone?”

“Eeeeek!”

Miss Sagami, you are far too scary! Your gaze alone could cut down lesser men than I! It is but a small token of the favor of the Heavens that I still stand before you after such a ruthless attack.

Seemingly acknowledging my impressive fortitude and the futility of further attacks, Sagami sighs and drops her gaze to the side, her lips pursed in irritation.

We currently are standing on the rooftop of our academy of learning (that, disappointingly enough, doesn’t seem to have an Occult Club or a ridiculously shady student council—if one were to discount that Isshiki fellow, but she’s under Hachiman’s sway), my noble personage having been summoned by her under the pretense of sharing our meal. Of course, I already suspected subterfuge after her duplicity was made manifest on yester-eve, though this time I sought to confront her challenge alone rather than rely on the might of my kinsman.

Which might have been a mistake…

“Yoshiteru—Zaimokuza. No need to look so nervous, I just…” And now she’s worrying at her lip with her teeth, her eyes still not meeting my own. Ah, how cunning, how studiously applied such a pose of vulnerability and…

Dammit, this is too moe. Can I take a photo for an illustration reference?

“I would never betray your confidence for such paltry reasons,” especially when I don’t know what reasons she’s even thinking of. I mean, what does she expect me to do? Blackmail her like in a poorly written doujin where the loser with no friends is inexplicably not beaten up after pulling such a cowardly move? “I don’t even think I know anyone who would be interested in learning your secret, such as it is.”

And she looks at me, her right hand scratching below her left ear, her elbow cradled in her other hand, her arm crossed over her big boo—her bountiful bust, her head still twisted aside.

Does she study anime poses? Can she do Jojo?

“I guess you are right… Look, sorry to act so… You know.”

“Ehm… Exceedingly cautious?” I offer.

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Is there a better term you had in mind?” The look that she shoots me at my perfectly reasonable inquiry seems to be answer enough. In the sense that I am suddenly bereft of any drive to further my inquiries.

Then she sighs, her hand dropping to meet the elbow of the arm that is inadvertently, yet enticingly, pushing up her big boo—plentiful mounds of hopes and dreams.

Wait, is that better or worse? I think it’s worse.

Anyway, she has her arms crossed under her chest. There, plain and simple.

I hate it.

“If I may, is there a reason for your subterfuge I am unaware of? Your brother doesn’t seem to hide his inclinations, and he’s doing perfectly fine.”

And now there’s pity in her eyes. Ah, that is something I am far more familiar with. It’s nice to be back on steady ground.

“My brother has a grand total of two friends in this place, you included.”

“See? Perfectly fine.”

And now she’s groaning. I am afraid that’s a sound I will get to grow far too familiar with.

“Yosh—Zaimokuza, two friends in high school is basically being a pariah.”

“Oh,” wait, does that mean… “Great! I have four!”

And now her palm is on her face. What is it with this woman and pulling iconic poses? Is she training to be an actress?

Gasp! A voice actress?

No, wait, that doesn’t make any sense. The poses are the animator’s job.

“Still a pariah.”

“Ah… How stringent are your requirements to escape from pariahdom?”

“I… I don’t know; there isn’t any given number. It’s just that if most people either ignore your existence or try to act like they do, you are definitely a pariah. It’s not a hard concept to grasp.”

“One could be a loner, heroically unconcerned with the regard of lesser men.”

“Yes, that’s what we call a deluded pariah.”

Ugh! Too strong, this woman’s curse is too strong! How did you manage to prevail against her, Hachiman! How did your blade not falter in front of such careless cruelty?!

‘Probably by recklessly exploiting a carefully hidden weakness. Like, I don’t know, her being a closet otaku with an acute interest in the occult.’

Ah, of course. How despicable of you, Inner Hachiman. How contemptible.

‘I don’t even know what else you expected.’

True.

“Are you done internally processing the fact that you have gone a whole year through high school without realizing you are a social outcast?”

“Gah! Leash your tongue, woman! Your poison is far too noxious to be so carelessly spit!”

“Rude. Also, you aren’t that dumb, so I am not buying you didn’t know this already.”

“Ah, your soothing praise is salve enough to lessen the worse of my injuries. You have my gratitude.” She starts to mutter something that suspiciously sounds like ‘what praise,’ but I magnanimously spare her the embarrassment of acknowledging her bashfulness. “But… it’s not so much that I didn’t know, but that I didn’t care?”

“… Explain.”

“Ah, well, how to put it.” I look at the sky, the azure expanse free of clouds, the sun high in its apogee, obviously showing my manly profile in contemplation of the deepest mysteries of the cosmos, even if what I am about to say is not that different from what I already told her during our fateful conversation in front of the train station. “I could have few friends who know the real me, or I could have a lot at the price of not being myself. Given the choice, the dilemma is easily solved.”

And I smile at her, hopefully in an angle that has the sun glinting off my teeth and glasses at once.

That would be cool.

“That is either wise or dumbly simplistic.”

“Thank you!”

“That wasn’t…” and she sighs, suddenly overcome by the fatigue that… uh, I don’t know why she would be fatigued. Maybe she didn’t sleep well? Maybe she’s weighed down by hopes and dreams? “Never mind. Look, I get what you are trying to say, really, I get it, but it’s not…” She interrupts herself, her mouth set in a thin line of determination, and she takes a seat on the ground as she takes out her lunchbox.

Is this…?

She pats the spot by her side, and I rush to sit by her, taking out my own lunchbox.

I am eating with a girl alone in the roof.

Is this…? Do I get a save point? I don’t want to mess up the dialog tree.

Sagami starts twirling a strand of hair, looking at the tips as they spread when she twists them and get back together when she eases her fingers. I didn’t know that was a thing you could do with hair, but I am certainly taking notes.

“People who know the real you… Are the ones who can hurt you the most,” she finally says.

“What?” This wasn’t what I was expecting to come from her lips. At all.

“All this?” She gestures at herself. At her carefully styled hair, at her earring studs that pair oh so well with her particular shade, at… Well, she likely didn’t intend to gesture at that. “It’s work, hard work that never seems to end, but if you know the rules, if you follow them? You get results. Predictable, reliable results. So, again, all this?” And her gesture is as much a dismissal as anything else. “This is easy. Look up some fashion tips, keep talking with the girls who are under the spotlight, keep your tongue in check, don’t act too strong-willed, and suddenly you fit in at the top of the heap. Easy.”

There’s a defiance in her eyes, as if as proud of her achievement as dismissive of anyone who would begrudge her this success she calls easy. The reliable result of hard, steady work.

“I… don’t think I could manage, to be honest.”

She looks at me, at my trench coat over my uniform, my fingerless gloves, my silver hair pulled in a spiky ponytail. And she nods.

“No, you likely couldn’t,” she says, and I don’t know whether that’s praise or condemnation. “But… I can. What I cannot do, apparently, is to have people know the real me and not use it as a way to advance their own standing.” And she almost spits at that.

“I feel like we are about to drift into a flashback.”

And she laughs. Like crystal bells chiming, dancing through a summer breeze. It’s so free, so beautifully fairy-like, so…

I…

Dammit, Yoshiteru, what did you just do, and how can you repeat it?

“No, nothing like that. Let’s just say middle school was awful, and I decided to change my approach in high school. Which seemed to have been working until… Until this whole mess.”

“I still don’t understand what the actual mess is.”

“I—are you serious? You were there for most of it!”

“I… may not have been paying attention?”

“I broke down and cried in front of the whole committee!”

“I am pretty sure I wasn’t there for that.”

“Wha—uh… Right. Maybe you weren’t.” And now she’s blushing and poking the tips of her index fingers together.

…

Moeeeeeeee!

“Are you doing that on purpose? Are those the dreaded techniques of the riajuu at play?”

“Wha—What the Hell are you even talking about?”

“That!” I point at her fingers. “That is an anime pose! Real people don’t act so incredibly cute for no reason!”

“Wha—cute—what are you even saying?!”

“You cannot fool my eyes, woman! You have devotedly studied how to portray yourself to appear as delectable as possible! To search for the weakness that lies at the hearts of men and ruthlessly exploit it! You are a temptress wearing a lamb’s skin! An enticing vision of—”

Uh? It seems as if a pair of hands are trying to impede my speech. Also, Sagami’s blush is far deeper now. And she’s looking down, as if too afraid to meet mine own gaze, lest her secrets be revealed, and—

…

Oh, gods, what did I just say?!

“If that’s your way of cheering me up… At least I can say you got my head out of dumb things. Now it’s on far dumber things.” She tries to sear me with her heated gaze at the last words, but, for some reason, it seems like her attack is reflected by some manner of mystical protection and makes her speedily turn her head down once again.

Weird.

Also, for some inscrutable reason, it appears that my cheeks are now burning in intense shame. Maybe her attack wasn’t fully reflected?

“So, I am going to drop my hands in a moment. When I do, I want you not to start yelling how cute I am at the top of your lungs. Can you do me this small favor?” She asks with a thread of voice that wouldn’t be amiss in a scene where the main love interest whispers an intimate secret to the main character after clearing the latest dungeon.

I nod as far as slender yet surprisingly firm arms allow me.

And she drops her hands. Her face remains dropped, though. Maybe she’s trying to match them?

“Uh, my apologies. Sometimes I get… enthusiastic. About things. Things that I get enthusiastic about.”

“I gathered,” she answers with a tone as dry as the ink of a manuscript rejection letter.

“I…” What would Hachiman say under these circumstances? What sage guidance would the Lord of Battle, Harems, and Battle Harems offer?

‘Don’t ask me, buddy; I am just your inner model of someone. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.’

I know that, Inner Hachiman. Still, what say you?

‘Uh… Well, let’s try this. Just imagine I am pushing up my glasses so that a sinister glint of light reflects off them or something.’

Hachiman doesn’t wear glasses.

‘An obvious design fault. Now, from what you know about Sagami, she fears social isolation after having been betrayed by a close friend who used her for social advancement. With me so far?’

Yeah. Kinda obvious, because she just told me precisely that.

‘Right, so, while she may have been satisfied with shallow friendships and keeping her guard up, now she has seen even that is not enough, that she can still be betrayed, that there’s no easy way to avoid a knife in the back.’

Obvious still.

‘Dude, I am you; let me work at it if you want something a bit more profound.’

I don’t think your level of formality is adequate for a proper modeling of my kinsman.

‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you—’

“What are you doing?”

“Uh… I am trying to think what somebody better suited for this conversation would tell you?”

“… Please, tell me that someone isn’t Hikigaya.”

‘Hey! Listen here, you little—’

“To be fair, his advice seemed to work for our date,” I say before Inner Hachiman gets too worked up.

“His what?!”

‘Uh, on second thought, you are on your own, buddy! Bye!’

Ah, how treasonous, how cunning, how decisive in retreat as well as in charging forward. As expected, Inner Hachiman.

“I… He’s my best friend; who else did you think I would ask advice for about my first date?”

“A fakedate.”

“You didn’t seem to think so yesterday.”

And now there’s a hand pulling on my collar. Ah, how nostalgic.

“We don’t talk about yesterday,” Sagami declares, burning eyes far too close to mine.

“You mean when you curled over me and cried on my chest?”

“Yes. That. We don’t talk about that.”

‘Know what? I think I know what Outer Hachiman would do. Follow my lead.’

“Really? Because it looks like we are doing it. It looks like I am telling you about how you opened up to me and allowed yourself to be you, without any pretense, and how utterly relieved you were at being able to do—”

“Yoshiteru, shut up.”

“And now you call me ‘Yoshiteru’ again. In the heat of the moment?” I ask, a smirk far too wide on my face. “Maybe you should—”

And Sagami kisses me.

… Uh?

‘Holy shit, that worked? I mean, just as planned. Of course.’

She’s forceful, her lips mashing against mine rather than tenderly exploring, and I can feel her pointed canines at one point. It’s only when I raise my hands that I realize she’s straddling me, and I grab her waist, lifting her just a bit to pull her farther against me, to feel bountiful—

Screw it. Big boobs. I have big boobs mashed against me. This day will be enshrined in living memory and passed down as a treasure to my descendants.

Sagami bites on my lower lip, hard enough to let me know it could hurt if she intended to, and pulls away, dragging me with her as her eyes open, the heated glare still there.

“There, that should shut you up for a second.” My lip audibly smacks as she lets it out of her animalistic grasp.

“If that is indeed what you seek, I—”

And she kisses me again.

Rough, her hands entangling on my hair and pulling it loose from my ponytail, my own traveling up her back, feeling slender shoulder blades moving under my fingers as her own hands trail lines of fire as she nearly scratches my scalp, and a low moan vibrates through her lips as I feel the blade of the Blademaster General unsheathe—

No, that’s a really bad euphemism. I get hard, all right? I get hard as I have a girl straddling me and bruising my lips with her own, as her chest pushes against mine, as her ass presses down on my lap, as I feel a heat I can barely intuit comes from—

“So. Shut up yet?”

“I don’t think you understand what a perverse incentive is—”

This time, my mouth opens, and she follows my lead, our tongues entangling like the red string of fate that surely—

Never mind. Like two hormonal teenagers having their first kiss. That should be descriptive enough.

My hand boldly descends to unclaimed territory and lands on the shapely globe grinding on my lap, grasping it to what, from what I can gather from the increased intensity of her tongue’s motions, seems to be enthusiastic approval.

And then she pulls away.

“I can keep talking all day, Miss Sagami.”

“Already gathered as much,” she replies, cheeks delightfully flushed, breathing washing over my wet lips, bountiful mounds changing shape with every labored inhalation and exhalation as they press against my own chest, eyes heated yet lidded—

And then they shoot open.

Sagami, very slowly and deliberately, looks down and behind her, at the place my hand is grasping with unprecedented enthusiasm.

I can’t help it. I squeeze.

The yelp she lets out is cute enough to be used for a magical girl mascot sound effect.

“Yoshiteru, what the Hell are you doing?”

“Uh?” I squeeze once again, and she jumps up before falling down on my own hardness. We both moan. “Me? It was you that—”

And suddenly my hands are empty, pitifully grasping at cold air that will never convey—

“Yoshiteru… That didn’t… It was…”

I turn to my side, Sagami kneeling in seiza, her hands clutching her knees, her gaze locked on her lap, the red on her cheeks competing with the tint of her hair.

“The heat of the moment?” I offer, not unkindly.

While I try to discreetly maneuver my erection down my pants leg. Because this is suddenly veryuncomfortable.

“Yes. That.” Her voice is once again barely more than a whisper, the kind that men long to hear brushing against their ears as twilight red washes their surroundings in the steadily burning fires of barely restrained passion.

… That sounds good. Very good. Would it be too uncouth if I started taking notes at this moment?

“I… may allow this moment to go without further comment at this time. I only ask a boon of you for it.”

“What is it?” There’s apprehension in her tone, likely far too used to steep prices.

“Allow this Yoshiteru Zaimokuza to call you Minami.”

Her head shoots up, her wide eyes and slightly open mouth meeting my own soft smile. And she relaxes, her shoulders drooping and her lids slackening.

“I… All right.”

Yes!

“But not in public!”

Oh. Yay?

***

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully enough, likely because the Organization is far too considerate to pile complications on my shoulders after my lunchtime rendezvous. How kind they are in their plotting.

As an added boon, it seems my demonic sister has gone out with her friends, and thus my home is now a fortress of solitude which should allow me to take care of matters left unattended in unprecedented peace.

I know how unchivalrous it is of me to do so, but a man can only be expected to withstand so much temptation before he stops letting carnal concerns remain unattended.

And with such delightful treasures added to my mental bank, I—

The phone is ringing.

Two days in a row.

That… Is this the Organization? Is the truce over?

“Yes? Blademaster General Zaimokuza speaking.” In my moment of uncertainty, I answer with my customary greeting. That should be—

“… I can’t believe you answer the phone like that without bursting in flames from sheer embarrassment.” Minami’s melodious voice manifests her admiration from the other end of the line.

“Thank you!”

“That wasn’t…” And she sighs once again. I guess the weight of hopes and dreams is really tiresome. “Anyway, weren’t you going to call me?”

“Uh, how? Till this very moment, I was unaware of any means to contact you.”

“You could have asked my brother. You know like I just did.” There seems to be rebuke in her tone, yet I am somehow unaware of any possible causes for it.

“True, though it seems to me to be far too invasive a thing to consider. I wouldn’t want to intrude on a lady’s privacy uninvited.”

There’s a lull in the conversation.

“Uninvited,” she finally says.

“Yes?”

Another sigh. Are they really that heavy? I didn’t have the chance to check…

“Anyway, I will clarify: in case you had my number, you still wouldn’t have called me, would you?”

“Uh… Should I have?”

“After what went on at lunch, you don’t even—”

“I thought you didn’t want me to speak of it?”

“I—are you serious?”

“I think so? Would you want me to jest?”

They reallymust be heavy. That’s the third sigh.

“Never mind. See you tomorrow, Yoshiteru.”

And she hangs up.

Is… Is this an invitation? A date? An ultimatum?

Suddenly, carnal concerns are now the furthest thing from my mind, as I find myself wallowing in doubt and uncertainty. I look down at my still held phone, hoping that the means which have brought me low will also bring me to salvation.

With a trembling finger, I touch a name on the screen, and ready myself for a long wait as the bells of the line toll like… something, something, dark secret, church. Argh, pick up already, will you?

“Yes?” Hachiman’s perpetually uninterested voice answers my call at last, thus fulfilling our ancient compact!

“Hachiman! My kinsman! In this dark hour of the soul, I command thee to –”

“Hanging up.”

“Whyyyyyy?!”