All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 29 (Patreon)

In recent years, there’s been a scholarly debate about a moral concern that has repercussions that may affect society as a whole. The question that’s been posited is the following: is it wrong to try to pick up girls in a dungeon?

It is not, as some may claim, a frivolous matter. Even if it has been explored in a way that some may find distasteful due to the common prejudice against gratuitous fanservice, paper-thin excuses for a quasi-masturbatory power fantasy, and best girl being out of the race before it even starts, the matter at hand is still of the outmost gravity.

Because what is a dungeon, if not a place to reveal one’s deepest feelings?

How many times have we witnessed a group of battle-forged friends share their hidden fears before confronting the final boss?

How many times has a protagonist woken up in the middle of the night to talk to the romantic interest while looking at a sea of stars while the campfire crackled behind them?

How many times have those recently reaffirmed bonds been the key to defeat the last boss after they cried out, for the last time, that this wasn’t even their final form?

Thus, claiming that it is wrong to pick up girls in a dungeon is tantamount to claiming that it is wrong to conquer the dungeon itself, that the ties that bind the hero’s party have no right to exist. That the Demon Lord should win.

And so, to all that hold a spark of courage in their hearts, to men who long for the romance of adventure, to all those who think they wouldn’t die of dysentery in less than a month if they were to be transported to a fantasy world, there’s only one possible answer:

It is rightfulto pick up girls in a dungeon.

In fact, it is the very duty of the hero to wake up right in the middle of the night before the final battle and take the white mage or princess in diguise’s hand and…

‘Will you send the fucking message already?’

… Well, I wasgoing to, but somebody decided to ruin the mood.

‘…’

Fine…

Sighing, I let my hovering thumb travel the critical distance toward its fateful destination: the ‘send’ button.

“You up?”

It may not be the height of my skill with the written word, but at least it isn’t Zaimokuza tier.

“Really?” Shizu immediately answers.

Just as expected.

‘Just as expected, my non-corporeal ass. You’ve been sweating bullets for fifteen minutes.’

Expectation makes me nervous. Being right is a terrible burden.

“… You don’t even know what you just sent, do you?” Shizu enigmatically inquires.

“A message? Not in a bottle?”

“… That is code for a booty call, Hikigaya.”

…

‘Don’t look at me. My experience with texting mostly involves ignoring the chuuni.’

Right. Right. Of course.

“Hachi? You still there?”

… I think I should answer.

“Are you having a stroke or something? Should I call your sister?”

I mean, sure, why not. My secret lover calling my little sister in the middle of the night sounds like an excellent idea. I was thinking it was time for a new trachea, anyway.

There’s the chime of another message while I debate what to—

It’s a picture. Of Shizu’s button-up pajamas being clearly no longer buttoned up.

The top is parted, leaving her cleavage completely bare, the flaps of clothing draped so only the very edge of her areolas peeks from beneath the lilac satin.

“There. I remembered your rule. Now, are you there, or do I really need to call Komachi?”

“No, please. The last thing my sanity needs is for her to walk in on me while I try to wrestle down a gigantic erection.”

“… Always so flattering.”

“Woman, if you want clever wordplay, maybe you should let me have some blood available to properly fuel it.”

There’s a moment of silence that I do not use to look back at my growing collection of Shizu pics.

‘Because you’re a moron. Mostly.’

Also because I really want to be able to answer her, and I’m not that good at typing one-handed.

“You always make me laugh.”

“I hope this isn’t a comment on my skills as a lover.”

“Well… I mean…”

“Ugh! Too strong! The attack is too strong! Soul-based strikes shouldn’t be allowed!”

“I mean that making me laugh is part of what makes you such a good lover.”

“… You aren’t helping with that whole ‘giant erection’ thing.”

“Oh, I’d like to think I am helping.”

I can’t help the soft smile on my lips as I read it, as I imagine her warm, soft voice, that tender way she looks at me when imparting hard-earned wisdom on a surly, cynical teenage boy.

And I wonder once again how did I ever manage to get so lucky.

“Hey… I wanted to talk about tomorrow,” I finally send her.

“… I don’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s… I don’t want to have a plan, to have something to stick to. I want… I don’t know. She’s my friend, Hachi. I just… I’ll listen to what she has to say.”

Her message has taken some time, and I can tell there’s been a few rewrites as the ‘typing’ icon kept appearing and disappearing from my screen. And it may be that she doesn’t know how to say what she’s thinking or that she doesn’t know herself what to think.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll respect it (as if I have any choice), but… Is that really what you want?”

The pause this time is longer, and it takes me a lot not to interrupt, not to pester her with another message while she keeps writing and deleting whatever answer she thinks I want to hear.

“No. I want things to be simple, easy. I want there to be no tomorrow, to have Haruno be a normal, happy girl who wasn’t stuck on me for years. I want not to have to hide my boyfriend and for my girlfriend not to keep pestering me about the video of how she lost her virginity. But… We can’t always get what we want. And, sometimes, we want more than one thing at the same time.”

I feel a stab in my chest, and I start to write a reply immediately. As usual, Shizu’s texting speed far surpasses mine, though.

“So I want to have you and Iroha. I want the complicated, hard thing we have. I want this to last. I want you to love me as much as you say you do. I… I want to keep crying incredulous tears. I want you to be here, with me, hugging me in that oblivious manner you have of melting my heart.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I cannot even delete the inadequate, obsolete words of my last message as I keep rereading what she sent me.

“I want tomorrow not to come. And I want tomorrow to be over. And I want you to solve every little problem my old student has, and I want her not to have problems to solve, and I want to hug her, and punch her, and… And I don’t even know. But I think I don’t want to know. I want to see her and feel it. Not to decide beforehand.”

I don’t know what to tell her. Because I understand, even if I think it’s wrong, even if I think the three of us should’ve had a long talk, to settle on some common ground before we let Haruno break in front of us—because if I know something about Yukinoshitas, it’s that sharing emotions without something shattering isn’t an option for them.

But… It’s Shizu. And it’s been years for her, even if it’s only been days for me. She has a right to decide how to approach this, even if I think she’s wrong—especially if I think she’s wrong.

Another chime. Another message to bring me out of my inner monologue.

Another image.

She’s lying on her side, half her face hidden by her draped hair, her chest naked even if partly hidden by her crossed arm.

And she’s smiling.

It’s soft, warm, caring.

And sad.

“I love you, Hachi. Now, let me get back to freaking out and not sleeping.”

I swallow, reading and rereading her words until I send her the only possible answer.

“I love you, Shizu. And I look forward to not letting you sleep for years to come.”

I close my eyes, and get ready to toss and turn for quite a while, because bothering Iroha about this would seem like a betrayal of Shizu’s request, and—

“Jerk. Double entendres are a thing.”

Wha—

Oh.

“Well, I definitely am also looking forward to that.”

***

Shizu’s Side: First Time

Hiro is…

Well, he’s sleeping. So I guess not everything I knew about sex was a lie.

Brushing his black hair out of his face and not laying a kiss on his forehead, I slip out of bed and take my phone before going to the love hotel’s toilet.

Then I call Miki. Because I most definitely am not calling Mom.

“Tsuka? Do you even have any idea what time it is—” She sounds sleepy, slightly miffed.

“We did it.” I… don’t know how I sound.

“Are you all right?” She’s instantly awake. Alert.

And I lean on the white-tiled wall and slip down it, my naked back dragging over the surface.

“I don’t know, I…”

“Did he do anything? Where are you, Tsuka? I can get there in—tell me where you are, and I’ll tell you how long it’ll take me to get there!”

She sounds so frantic, so scared, I…

I chuckle.

“It’s not that, Miki. I just… I didn’t think I would feel like this.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the phone, and I can almost see her lying back on her bed, draping an arm over her eyes as she allows herself to calm down.

“Tell me. Tell me everything until you know if you’re all right.”

And I do.

I tell her about being happy Hiro and I ended up at the same college, about having maybe a couple of drinks too many at the party for the freshmen, about finally kissing him after all the awkwardness of last year.

I tell her about him getting handsy and me not minding it that much.

And then we kept seeing each other on campus, and… Well, she knows this part, but I feel the need to tell her all over again. To tell her about me having my first proper boyfriend since Ken, and…

And I really wanted things to work.

So, when he asked, and when he asked again… I…

“You should’ve told me,” she says. And her voice is hiding a kind of hurt I barely understand.

“I should have,” I agree. Because I know. I know how stupid it is for me to hide this from my best friend, to only tell her after I’ve already made a mistake, something I can’t take back.

“You don’t love him.”

“No. No, I really don’t.”

We stay in silence, the tiles starting to warm up beneath my naked body.

“Did… Was it…” She doesn’t know how to ask it, but…

“You pervert.” And I smile. For the first time in the past hour, I smile.

“That’s not it! I—damn it, Tsuka, you know I—”

“I know. I do. Thank you, Miki.”

“… For what?”

I take a deep breath. Her voice, her presence, even if at a distance, has calmed me down a lot, and I no longer feel like I’m about to freak out or shut down or both; I just… I just feel like…

“For being you. My friend. With me.”

She doesn’t answer, and I can all but see her looking at the phone with that miffed look she gets when she thinks I just said something blindingly obvious.

“I love you, you know?” I prod her.

“Of course you do. I am amazing.”

I chuckle.

“You are. You really are.”

“… Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up? Where are you?”

“I… At a love hotel near the station, but… no, thank you. I shouldn’t leave him alone just because it wasn’t what I hoped.”

“… What did you hope for, Tsuka?”

I close my eyes, and I feel a bit of a sting. It’s not the almost hysteria of minutes ago; it’s a far calmer thing, but it’s also so much bitterer, so…

“That I’d love him. That my first time would be magical, and I’d feel so close to him, and I would stop feeling like this… this defective girl no one can love, and I… I didn’t feel like that, Miki. I still feel like—”

“Tsuka. No, please. You’re amazing. You’re smart, and beautiful, and have a sense of humor, and incredible boobs—”

I snort at that. I shouldn’t have.

I rush to get a bit of toilet paper to wipe my nose and sit on the toilet beside the bathtub, which is colder than the floor was but still far more comfortable.

“Always with the boobs,” I finally say.

“You practically shove them in my face! If you at least were shorter, they wouldn’t be at eye level!”

“Start wearing heels.”

“Start wearing cleavage!”

“… That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not from yourperspective.”

And I snort again, and, again, I wipe my nose.

“I should go back to bed. He may wake up.”

“Wait, he fell asleep? Right after?”

“According to movies, it’s the expected reaction.”

“… Are you sure you just didn’t drain his—”

“There wasn’t any draining!”

“Yeah, sure. I believe you. I mean, there’s no way the overly enthusiastic Tsuka, who doesn’t realize people haven’t been going to the gym their whole lives and regularly trains with pro boxers, wouldn’t know Hiro’s limits.”

Right. And now I am blushing.

“It didn’t take him long enough to get that tired.”

“Alas, poor Hiro. At least he died with a smile on his face.”

“He isn’t dead.”

“Really? Quick! Call an ambulance! There may still be a chance!”

“Miki, I’m about to get mad.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re angry.”

And I laugh. I don’t snort, I just laugh, and this time I don’t need to wipe my nose.

“Thank you,” I finally say after too long. After laughing till my belly aches and I no longer feel like I’m holding something back, something far too bitter to swallow.

“Hey, what are friends for?” she says with that soft almost whisper she uses on the rare occasions when she isn’t even thinking about joking.

“I don’t know, Miki. I think you’re far more than just a friend.”

We both remain silent for a while, just listening to the other breathing, knowing there’s someone on the other side of the phone that will always be there, no matter what.

Knowing I may not love Hiro, that my first time will forever be not what I hoped it would be, but… That I’m still blessed. That I still have something precious most people won’t ever know exists.

“Love you too, Tsuka,” she finally says.

And…

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

I smile.

And my chest hurts, and my nose stings just a bit, and there’s an itchy line on my back that tells me letting myself drag my body down a wall while naked wasn’t my best idea tonight, but…

There’s also this warmth, this tender thing, this precious feeling…

“Now let me go back to sleep. Or give me the goddamn address so I can come pick you up.”

I don’t laugh. I just smile.

“Thank you, Miki.”

She pauses.

“Anytime,” she finally says, almost a mumble.

And I hang up on my best friend and go back to a bed that has what in a few days will be my ex-boyfriend.