All Right! Fine! I’ll Take You! – Zaimokuza Gaiden – Chapter 7 (Patreon)

The most embarrassing thing in my room.

That was the Lady Minami’s request, and she surmised by my actions that the thoroughly critiqued manuscript of my (well, maybe not quite mine) novel was it.

It was… a bit of a lie.

Not an intentional one, because I didn’t say anything out loud, but… A lie nonetheless.

And I just promised to her I wouldn’t lie to her.

That’s why my noble self has so selflessly decided to clear up the—

“Why do you keep fidgeting?” Minami asks on the very edge of my doorstep, her status as a guest about to be revoked and thus outside my protection.

… Uh, well, not necessarily.

“Do you want me to escort you?”

“Ah…” Her face bashfully tints with the tones of the forbidden fruit of Eden (the red ones, not the greens), and her eyes turn downward in a way she won’t ever convince hasn’t been thoroughly copied from moe anime. “If… if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely not! Please, allow me this privilege!”

“All right, all right, just stop yelling! Indoor voice!”

Once again, I’m confronted by this bewildering notion. Maybe I should ask Hachiman to clarify for me?

‘Don’t look at me, buddy; I have no idea what she’s talking about.’

Well then, what use are you to me, Inner Hachiman?

‘… That’s it, I’m asking Iner Yukinoshita to tag in from now on.’

Noooooo!

Before the terrible threats from the merciless blade of the God of War can be executed, I rush back in with the Lady Minami’s surprised gaze following me.

Because it’s not merely a coat and shoes that I intend to bring with me.

It is with great dread that I take my backpack and fill it with… That.

When I go back out, the Lady Minami raises an eyebrow at seeing me carrying any kind of luggage, but for some reason that I will forever hold in my esteem, decides not to comment.

And we set off.

I don’t know where to, though.

“So, am I escorting you to the station or…” I hesitate at my forceful inquiry.

“No, I… I actually don’t live that far. You don’t need to go all the way with me—damn it.”

I look at her uncomprehendingly until proper understanding descends upon me like a revelation from the Heavens. As long as the Heavens would like to see me flush and sweat nervously, and stutter, and—

Oh. Yes. Like a revelation from the Heavens, indeed.

Awkward silence hangs between us for a couple of blocks, and I really don’t know what to say to make it less uncomfortable. Well, of course, I could easily provoke her into a rage that makes her forget all about our current circumstances, but that doesn’t seem to be wise when there are potential witnesses to her debauched excesses.

I wonder how far she would be able to restrain herself in such a public setting… Is this how people develop an exhibitionistic complex? Just through idle musings about having the lady Minami’s generous, soft curves pressed against my body—

Damn it! Hands in pockets it is.

At my abrupt motion, she looks at me askance, at the way I’m hunched over while decidedly staring straight ahead, and she giggles.

“Really? Again?” she asks with a smile far less impish than I would expect.

“What can I say? I’m but a weak man who’s helpless against burning temptation.”

“You say the sweetest things.” And now her tone is dry. Have I done anything to warrant the leave of her merriment?

“I must confess at not having done so on purpose. I fear my mind may be too busy at the moment.”

“Oh? With what?” This time, her tone is carefully disaffected. Woman, how about trying to lower the difficulty setting for those not even used to the controls?

“… Thoughts of how to properly provoke you out of an awkward silence without turning this into something that would get us arrested?” That promise not to lie is going to be harder to uphold than I expected if you keep asking questions like these.

Oh. She’s now flushed red. Like me. Such a matching pair.

… That is an unexpectedly pleasant thought. Also, a wholly expectedly pleasant image. Lady Minami’s effusive blush suits her far too well.

I don’t even mind her elbow impacting my side. There’s plenty of padding in there.

‘… Dude, try not to put yourself down like that. It’s kinda my thing, you know?’

“Yoshiteru… You have permission to lie to me when the answer is utterly embarrassing to one or both of us.”

“Uh? I don’t think my oath would be well served by such a dishonest approach to—”

“I don’t want you to blurt out in front of my parents how our first kiss went!”

“Marvelously.”

“I—you groped my butt!”

“I don’t see how that in any way contradicts my statement.”

“Gah!” She throws her hands up in exasperation and—

Yep. She kisses me.

There’s the undercurrent of fire I’ve come to expect (and anticipate), the heat of her body managing to seep through my trenchcoat and warm me even in this winter’s eve, but it’s also something more subdued, almost languid. Not so much a raging fire, but maybe a flame lazily consuming a matchstick, only spreading at a sedate pace once a segment of wood has been consumed and started curling In on itself.

I swear I didn’t intend for the metaphor to turn so phallic!

‘Dude, nobody blames you. You still have a scorching hot woman rubbing herself against your stiffy.’

Inner Hachiman, we must have a talk about your ever-growing irreverence.

‘Sure. Just as long as you keep feeding me such wonderful side dishes.’

How uncouth of you! The Lady Minami is no one’s side dish!

‘True, she looks filling enough to be a main dish for quite a few meals.’

Uh—I… Uh…

‘Yeah. Are you going to try and tell me you aren’t going to fill quite a few tissues with memories today?’

I’d never—!

‘Oh? So are you going to be unfaithful to her with your 2D harem?’

… You are despicable.

‘And you’ve got it bad. Now try to focus on the lingering lips of the ardent quasi-redhead—and try not to let your hand wander.’

With a burst of awareness, I manage to stop my hand at just clasping her waist. It… was not the intended target.

Yes. Her butt. She shouldn’t keep mentioning it if she doesn’t want me to do anything about it.

Is this reverse psychology? Ah, how much like the Lady Minami to delve into the devious mind tricks of anime characters who may start the climax of a fight by claiming the next line their opponents are going to say.

I should ask her if she’s seen Jojo. I don’t know how cultured she actually is.

Amid my musings and internal strife, though, it looks like she’s calmed down enough to back away and fix her gray eyes on my own. They are open, perhaps not wide, but ample enough that they aren’t lidded nor narrowed, eyes with a clear gaze, brimming with something that seems to radiate from them and gently lift the corners of her lips.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she whispers, close enough that I feel the exhalation of each and every syllable.

“You are beautiful.”

And her smile widens and she leans on my chest as my hands travel up from her waist to surround her shoulders.

We stay like this for a bit, just silently close to one another, no rush nor motion disturbing the silence of our little corner of the world.

If it was snowing, it would be the perfect scene.

“That is my house,” she whispers without separating from my chest.

“I see,” but I don’t. Because my eyes haven’t moved from the top of her head, watching the hue her hair takes when it is night and the streetlights are our only meager candle.

I do believe this adheres to my promise. I would be embarrassed to admit I can’t look away from her for even a second.

“I should get going,” she says after a few more seconds of silence.

“It’s getting late,” I don’t quite agree.

And so we stay a bit more like this, in the silent, cold, dark street.

And the world has rarely felt so bright.

***

It takes us a while to separate, and I feel our twin blushes return at the realization of how utterly cloying the scene must have been. Would my sworn brother tell me to go explode if he were to witness such a display?

‘Oh, you bet…’

Right, of course. How silly of me.

‘Certainly. Now, either kiss her goodbye or give her the damn thing.’

Ah… certainly.

“Well, I really should get going…” Minami says, fiddling with the hem of her tan coat.

“I… Before we depart, I wanted to entrust you with something.” And she raises her eyes at that, looking at me with curiosity and no apprehension.

It still baffles me.

So, before my courage deserts me, I take out my backpack and…

Well, it’s just a loose sheaf of papers, not something that really nails the gravitas of the moment. Still…

“You… asked me what it was in my room that was the most mortifying, the thing that would make me want to crawl inside my bed and die, and—”

“And I already got that horrid novel-thing. Is that a sequel?” she asks in a tone that shows as much distaste as curiosity.

“I… No. This was… I wrote this before.”

“Oh. So, it’s that much worse?” she asks, and I chuckle.

“In a way. I… When I was a kid, I once won the school short prose contest. It encouraged me to keep trying, to maybe try and become a writer in truth. But…” I am looking at the ground, unable to—

And a soft hand cups my cheek from below me, lifting my head until I’m looking at Sagami’s tender smile and accepting eyes.

“But?” she asks, with a tone more tender than I’ve ever heard from her.

And I swallow. Hesitance, fear, nerves… They are still there, but I swallow them and force myself to continue.

“But I… I wrote something else. A short story. I wanted to send it to a local contest, but then I started reading Light Novels, and they were all so cool, and spectacular, and the fate of the world always seemed in the balance, with stakes impossibly high, and they used such complicated wordplay with layered meaning, and—” My breath hitches, and I cannot continue.

“You didn’t send it.” So she does it for me.

“I didn’t.”

Her hand remains on my cheek as she steps toward me, her body once again pushing against my own, and she gets on her tiptoes to lay a small, soft, fleeting kiss on mine.

Then the pages are no longer in my hand.

“I’ll read it,” she promises.

And then goes to her house and leaves me in the cold, dark, silent street.

It is still somewhat bright.

***

Once upon a time, there were three brothers. When they came of age, their father gathered them in their living room and laid a map and a compass on the table.

“My sons,” he began, “now that you are old enough to settle on your own, I must reveal to you the secret treasure of our family. It’s been passed down for generations: this compass, a magical gift that leads one toward their true heart’s desire.”

“What use is there in something that will just point me toward my ambition?” asked the eldest.

“Why don’t you try it? You shall be the first of your brothers to set out,” answered his father.

And so the eldest, a blond man, broad of shoulders and decisive in his every action, took the compass. As soon as he touched it, the needle started spinning, and he felt it pull him toward the map. Not knowing how or why, hesitating for maybe the first time in his life, he laid it on a stretch of open sea.

Their father nodded.

“Take this bag of gold and leave. You shall find your ambition there.”

“There is nothing but water and storm over there. The magic has led me astray.”

“Go. The magic has never failed. If you go there and find nothing, come back, and I shall give you ten times as much.”

Once again, and for the second time, the eldest hesitated. He knew the danger of the seas even if he had never been a sailor, but he was also driven by his desire. It wasn’t greed, not quite, but it was near enough that, when the morning came, he had left.

The weeks passed, and one day a letter arrived.

‘Father, the magic was right, and so were you. I’ve no need for more gold, as I’ve found an unclaimed island that offers me more treasure than I ever dreamed of having. Thank you, father, for everything you’ve done for me thus far and for giving me the chance to achieve my ambition. Send my regards to my brothers and tell them to trust the magic.’

The second brother was next to take the compass, yet he still hesitated.

“I am not like the eldest, father; I’ve never wanted for anything more than what I already have. Surely, the compass won’t like such pitiful ambition? Surely, the magic will fail?”

The father stood up and laid a hand on his second’s shoulder.

“It matters not how grand or how little your ambition, my son; it only matters that your heart beats and it desires. Trust the magic, and it won’t lead you astray.”

And so, still hesitating, he grasped the compass.

Yet it didn’t lead him to the map.

Feeling a strong pull, the second left the house and, soon enough, there was a crashing sound. He had tripped and fallen on top of their neighbor, a girl their age who had shared many a game as they grew up, yet grown distant as the barriers between men and women separated them. The second apologized and helped her up, but in their accident, he had broken the jugs she had been carrying from the cowshed. Of course, the second offered to work till he was able to repay the loss he had caused her.

After two moons, after hard work, companionship, and tearing of barriers, they were to be wed.

“Father,” the second said, his bride to be sitting by his side, “it’s true that my ambition was small, and I won’t go to an unclaimed island, yet I will remain your neighbor. I couldn’t be happier with the greatest treasure under the sky.”

Their father blessed his union and, the second left the house.

And the third was eager.

He had been from the start, wondering what kind of adventure the compass would offer him, what unseen corners of the world, what mysteries still unknown, what feats of courage and bravery.

Because the first had loved prosperity and growth, the second had loved their neighbor, but the third had loved adventure.

And so, even before his father told him to, he grasped the compass.

And it did not move.

Astonished, holding back tears, he turned toward his father only to find him smiling.

“I broke the magic, father,” the third said.

Yet the father kept smiling, his lips soft and a faraway look in his eyes.

“My grandfather was the first to get this compass. He arrived at this village and became its mayor, leading it to prosperity after a cruel famine. My father left this home, wandering and becoming a scholar; it is because of him that you and your brothers learned to read and had books to enjoy. I returned to this village, met your mother, and had three sons that make me proud to this day.”

The faraway look left his father’s eyes, and his warm gaze met the wavering one of the third.

“The compass never moved for any of us, son. It let us choose.”

***

I am in front of the school long before the scheduled time, rereading this stupid little thing I wrote years ago that I felt compelled to entrust to my Lady Minami.

I couldn’t stay at home for a minute longer, not without hearing her judgment, without hearing her say how much she despises something that, this time, is actually mine. That isn’t a copy of a copy, even If the idea for the compass came from some stupid movie with pirates of all things—no, not One Piece, I wasn’t—never mind.

What I mean to say is that I am as nervous as I’ve ever been, awaiting the final verdict and—

Is that Hachiman? It’s completely unlike him to come here so early. Maybe I can rely on his strength to support my own flagging—

Ah, no, he’s been intercepted by the demon fox. Truly, he’s far too reckless with the ones he deigns invite into his harem. Even more so given how much he claims to hate work and how much the Student Council President likes to “delegate.”

Maybe I should take cover before I’m recruited for some unpleasant duty—

“Do you have the slightest clue how long I’ve been waiting in front of your house?” Lady Minami’s irritated voice asks from behind me.

“Uh?” I answer with as much clarity as I think should be reasonably be expected of such a query.

“Ten. Minutes. And it was your sister that finally came out to tell me you had already left. What the Hell?! I was lucky she had no classes this morning!”

“Oh, she does; she just doesn’t go if she doesn’t feel like it.” I shouldn’t be letting myself get carried away by the conversation, but, somehow, she always manages to drag me into her pace.

“Uh? You mean she skips? Isn’t that kind of a big deal with college?”

“I do believe she has a thrall on every subject she attends that gives her the notes she requires. So far, it’s worked for her, though I don’t think it’s worked for the thralls…” Really, it’s like I can’t ever get focused on anything other than the Lady and what comes out of her mouth.

“You make her sound like a Demon Lord managing her minions.” Her arms are once again cross under her big—generous curves. And her foot is tapping the ground like she’s getting impatient at the pace of the very world.

“That may certainly be an apt description. Except that Demon Lords can be vanquished.” And she laughs, and something in my chest eases.

And I look into her eyes, captivated once again, until her cheeks flush and she fidgets once more.

“So…” I start, gathering the courage to take the plunge, “did you read it?”

And her eyes close for a second before opening, once again clear and not wide enough to be alert, just… relaxed, letting the light of the world in and her own out.

And slender arms circle my neck as a light body jumps up mine and her lips meet mine. In front of the whole school.

Me, the pariah, being kissed by her, the… Minami.

I don’t even know when my arms wrap around her, just that they do, that they hold her aloft with barely any strain as warm, soft, tender lips meet mine over and over again.

She finally lets go of my neck, and she slides down my body until her cheek is resting over my thundering heart.

“I loved it,” she says.

And I could scream my joy and defiance to the world.

If not for the quiet sobs I’m holding back.

The End

(Of Book One)

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This has been quite a ride. When I flippantly suggested someone commission a piece based on a raunchy, purposefully eye-searing joke about our resident chuuni, I never expected anyone to take me up on it, much less for the very generous aj0413 to outright offer me to pay 25k words in advance and for 0Kanata0 to then contribute yet another 2k per month through my Patreon. It was a show of trust and faith in both me and my skills that left me floored, and I took about a month preparing the foundations of the story, familiarizing myself with the canon characters, and sketching out an arc for them to grow together and fall in the beginnings of love. Through it all, I challenged myself to write Zaimoukuza’s voice, to let him be the one who narrated his story, and the exercise has, I think, helped me immensely as a writer. This is the result: the story of a chuuni and a former chuuni meeting each other and digging just a bit beyond the surface to discover the actual person beneath. I’m a bit proud of it.

And I loved writing it.

This isn’t the actual end, just the end I had planned for the first arc. 0Kanata0 is still contributing (that is, hasn’t gotten tired of me), and I’ll take this time to think about how to further their story in a way that will hopefully be still satisfying to you all.

So, sorry for my rant, but, even if the story hasn’t finished, I feel like something has. And I am… proud, satisfied, sad, and a plethora of other things. Thanks for reading the woes of this chuuni writer, and for enjoying Zaimokuza. See you soon!