All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 59 (Patreon)

Callbacks.

The power of callbacks is a subtle one and not within reach of every series. You can’t call back to something that isn’t there, so you need to establish things properly and in a way that’s memorable enough to stick in the audience’s mind.

A classic example would be something related to a rivalry (that pillar of shounen manga since people decided that wearing spotted, yellow and black bandanas was a good fashion statement) and how an exchange of attacks is something familiar to the people involved. A pattern that gets viewers in the right mindset.

It could be something as simple as a battle cry, a recomforting greeting such as ‘Ranma, because of you I have seen Hell!’ before someone drops out of a high vantage point and craters the street in a way that makes the construction crew hired by the local government cheer, or it could be something slightly more sophisticated, something like—

“My kinsman!”

No. Nothing like that.

“Ah! To think you’d finally reveal to us, your sworn comrades, the extent of your secret battle harem—”

“I don’t have a battle harem!”

“Ah, so modest! So humble! Truly, only one fit to be my bannerman could so easily dismiss his own momentous achievements, yet I won’t allow it! I shall have you bask in the glory of—”

“You will shut up and sit back down, you damn chuuni, or I swear I shall strangle you like the goddess Nuit smothering the Sun itself—damn it, Zaimokuza!”

“Please… Please, stop… it hurts…” Saika supplicates, begging for relief from his terrible pain.

That is: laughing so hard he’s red in the face.

With tears brimming on the corners of his bright eyes, hands clutching at his belly in a way that lifts the white shirt just enough for a pale stretch of skin to show above the black pants of his sports uniform, and the widest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.

‘… Look, if you expect me to be coherent in front of that, you certainly don’t know me as well as you should.’

Indeed, Brain-chan. Your suffering is shared, and we shall stand as comrades in front of this unconquerable foe.

‘My kinsman!’

Not you as well!

“Ah, my apologies, my dearest friend; I wasn’t aware that the joy you felt at our Hachiman’s outstanding triumphs would leave you in such a dire condition. Truly, your heart is as wide as the everlasting fields of Elysium, and your capability to share in the joy of your comrades brings you honor higher than Valhalla itself—”

“Stop mixing up mythologies! Stick to a theme and aesthetic, damn it! You can’t just throw in every single thing you think sounds cool and then have the gall to expect the novel will have an iota of consistency; you first need to choose the one thing that will highlight the underlying idea behind the story—don’t take notes!”

“How could I allow the wise words of my patron deity to risk being forgotten? For no matter how rapturously I listen to your instruction, Hachiman, I’m but a mere mortal and my fallibility would inevitably bring corruption to the enlightenment you seek to bestow upon me, much as Toriyama himself couldn’t elevate his disciple Toyotaro—”

“Toyotaro is a hack, but the fruit was poisoned from the start. How can you turn hair-dye-seeking aliens into the whole focus of the franchise, adding multiplier after multiplier to the latest ridiculous power-up, and then pretend to have a semblance of a plot? And then he had the gall to bring the Turtle Hermit back as a fighter? The one guy whose power level had been established back in the original series as lower than kid Goku and that we know hasn’t been training at all since then? What the Hell! Any participant in the Tournament of Power should’ve vaporized him by blinking or been vaporized by Goku breathing. Stop adding zeroes to a number when it gets too long for you to count up to, Toriyama! That’s at most two zeroes, and I’m being generous—”

“Please… Please, I beg you…”

“And you! Don’t you know what being out of breath and saying ‘I beg you’ does to a young, healthy male! Damn it, Saika, it’s like you do this shit on purpose!”

Oh.

‘Fuck.’

Well, I hope not. I mean, I am a taken man, after all.

‘This is why you should’ve gotten with Yui. Yui would’ve cheered.’

And Iroha recorded it, but I already have the party slots filled up, woman!

“Saika, I think you should try and contain your endless mirth now. You’re looking dangerously crimson at the moment,” Zaimokuza states with genuine worry.

Saika, as his only answer, wheezes out of breath in what I’m pretty sure is the least sexual an ahegao can get.

It’s still pretty damn sexual.

“I… My… You two at once are too much for me…” she—he says.

While writhing on his side over the bench, his soft hair almost brushing against my leg, tantalizingly reaching toward me with every tremulous exhalation as the stretch of bare skin keeps increasing—

“That’s it; no way you’re doing this on accident, Saika. There’s absolutely no way. I refuse. I refuse to acknowledge somebody could be so utterly Astolfo without meaning to! You’re deliberately—”

“Who’s… Astolfo?” he asks, peering up at me, innocently blinking tears away from behind white bangs softer than any cloud—gods damn it!

‘No gods were involved in this. That’s an incubus, and you can’t convince me otherwise.’

We’re once again in agreement, Brain-chan—

‘Certainly. Now get him in vinyl, hip-hugging shorts—’

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

“Astolfo was one of the great heroes of the Western sagas! A paladin! One of the Twelve Peers! Truly, for Hachiman to acknowledge your virtue and courage in such a way is flattering beyond belief, my comrade!”

“That… does sound flattering?” Saika comments in mild confusion as his eyes swim away from mine to stare at the boisterous chuuni standing in front of us.

“He’s also known for, in recent depictions, dressing up in daringly short miniskirts and incensing the passions of confused young men,” Zaimokuza adds as if merely commenting on some kind of meaningless trivia.

“I’m gonna murder you,” I add as if merely stating something that should’ve been preceded by ‘as you all know.’

“Whyyyyyyy?!” he states in blond, non-vaguely homoerotic vampire.

“Uh… Hachiman, I…” Saika comments, looking right back at me and through my soul.

“Nope. Nope, you can’t. You can’t make me feel guiltier or more mortified than I already am. My shame transcends the very Heavens themselves, my blush is the blood-red of the hellish battlefield, and my pulse is the frantic pace of the runaway in front of Cerberus’ jaws! No mere mortal can bring me any more shame than this!” I heroically proclaim.

“Iroha is behind you,” Saika matter-of-factly states.

“Whyyyyyyyyyy?!” I calmly comment, echoing Zaimokuza’s earlier statement yet with even more gravitas.

“I… I am going to pretend I didn’t find you. Later, gross-Senpai,” Iroha says from behind me.

Then there’s silence, quickly followed by retreating, soft footsteps.

“…”

“I… My kinsman, shouldn’t you run after your battle haremette—”

“Zaimokuza, please, shut up while I die a little inside.”

“I… I am sorry?” Saika hesitantly says as he sits up properly and gets his clothes back in place before shooting me a rueful, chagrined smile.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Saika; I just let myself get carried away—”

“I do it on purpose,” he says, interrupting me for once in his life.

“… What?” I say.

“I knew it!” Zaimokuza yells to the void between the stars, as there’s no one here who would both listen to him and believe him.

“I… It’s funny? I mean, I’ve always felt safe with you, so I let myself be… you know, a bit like that? I won’t do it again if it bothers you?”

I… I stare at him.

At what I always thought was the saintliest, most wholesome of my acquaintances, but no, I can’t have that, can I? Everybody needs to have some way to torture my libido—

‘Zaimokuza—’

Shut up! No! Not even contemplating that—

‘Zaimokuza writing an eroge based on you—’

Whyyyyyyyyyy?!

‘Because your reactions are funny.’

… Even if you tell me that was the quickest way for me to process Saika purposefully testing the limits of my sanity, that is a step too far, Brain-chan. I fear our feud has only grown deeper, that you’ve dared descend to darkness unplumbed by the light of reason.

‘Praise me more.’

Fuck you.

“Hachiman?” Saika asks with a hint of worry.

And I, purposefully ignoring Zaimokuza’s frame blocking the sun in a way that turns him into a dramatically backlit silhouette, take a deep breath.

And sigh.

“Don’t worry, we were just letting off steam; I… I needed that. Thanks,” I tell my friend with my own chagrined smile.

And, suddenly, I’m encircled by arms bulging with more muscle than his gut would hint at.

“My kinsmaaaaaaaan!”

“Damn it, Zaimokuza!”

“We seek not to be born on the same day, in the same month, and in the same year…” Saika softly invokes the dreaded power of the callback before encircling the two of us with arms more toned than Zaimokuza’s, even if far more slender.

And I pretend to roll my eyes in annoyance as I reluctantly join in the group hug before adding my own muttered reply.

“We merely hope to die on the same day, in the same month, and in the same year.”

And Zaimokuza, echoing what I think is one of Yui’s racial class skills, squeals so high it’s hard to hear him.

Not to mention painful.

Damn it, Zaimokuza…

***

It takes us… a while to go back to our lunch with a slightly less rambunctious predisposition.

And I…

Well, as you all already know…

“So, I can’t name any names to protect the not-so-innocent, but… that’s it. I… I have more or less done things in some combination that includes at least one of them, and they have mostly done the same between them, and I want to think everything’s going to work out, and we’ll all be together, but… I mean… Three women. At once.”

By the end of my carefully censored exposition, I’m blushing about as hard as Saika by my side, and Zaimokuza is grinning from ear to ear.

“Only one such as you would aim so highly! Truly, that your ardent passions would be as ambitious as your martial disposition ever was—”

“OK, that’s enough of that. I demand to see half-serious Zaimokuza right this instant.”

He stops himself cold, and his face goes blank before a lopsided grin that flashes me his right fang spreads like a moonlit knife, and he adjusts his glasses with the middle finger of his right hand until they gleam.

…

‘I’m sure he has practiced that a lot.’

I know, but still.

‘Yeah. Also, just a gentle reminder that I’m bisexual—’

Don’t you fucking dare!

“But of course, my dearest Hachiman, for how could I take your worries in any but the most solemn of moods? I fear, though, that is precisely your problem in this instance: you’re being too worried, too serious, about something that should be no more than the joyful celebration of your shared joy, for is it not together that you four have come this far? That you’ve surpassed the difficulties not only of love, but of societal convention? Is it not the time to jointly celebrate your heroic accomplishments rather than dwell on what may go wrong? You and yours, Hachiman, have reached for the golden ending, and it is in your grasp. Don’t let your own disposition tarnish that radiant gleam: step into the light, into the embrace of your lovers, and allow your shared love to grow that much stronger as it is nurtured by all of you at once,” Zaimokuza says.

…

‘He… kinda has a point.’

I know; that’s what I’m trying to process.

‘Also, bisexual—’

You shut your dirty mouth, you necrophiliac.

“Zaimokuza…” I try to say as I peer up at the, admittedly imposing, tall man before me.

“Yes, my kinsman?” he says, his hands pulling taut the lapels of his trench coat.

“Sagami is right behind you,” I say.

He pales, all the pretense of for once being as cool as he always tries to come across melting away from him like a wax statue going up against Endeavor.

Then he, delightfully slowly, turns back.

To a blushing, glaring redhead tapping her foot on the ground of this no-longer so hidden corner of the schoolyard.

“A harem,” she drily states.

“I do believe the term ‘polycule’ is a more respectful alternative, my Lady Minami,” Zaimokuza points out.

“You’re giving him advice on harem management,” Sagami, as concerned with the proper nomenclature as I would expect, proceeds with her accusation.

“If my kinsman is to seek advice from my own wisdom, I shall not falter in—”

“You seem to have given a lot of thought to harem management.”

“I… I write light novels, of course the notion has oft been at the forefront of my mind—”

“You are forbidden to spend any time with Mika.”

“But I—”

“Forbidden.”

“Just how many times shall you forbid me the same thing, woman!”

“As many as it takes! You’re barely capable of managing onegirlfriend; you’re not allowed to—”

“To go to your childhood friend to inquire as to the nature of the bond between you—”

“No harem for you!”

“It wouldn’t be a harem if you both explored your feelings for—”

“I don’t have feelings for Mika, you damn moron! It’s already hard enough work being in love with you!” Sagami cuts him off with a decisive step forward.

“You speak as if it is easy to hold your affections when you’re too lovely to behold!” Zaimokuza shouts back, refusing to stand down and taking his own step toward the belligerent redhead.

“Of course I’m not easy!” she declares with a stabbing finger buried in his chest.

“You certainly aren’t!” he says, taking off his glasses to glare down at her.

“And you’re impossible!” She says, standing on her tiptoes, almost reaching his face.

“Thank you!” he says, beaming.

“That wasn’t a compliment!” she shoots back, grabbing his ponytail.

“It sure sounded like it!” he declares, grasping her waist and lifting her up.

And then, to my silent horror, Sagami wraps her legs around Zaimokuza’s waist, her arms around his neck, and proceeds to do what I’m certain in some circumstances one could deem a kiss rather than a predatory ritual to mark the prey about to be devoured.

Zaimokuza, unaware of the danger he faces, grabs her buttand pulls her tighter against him, to what I could be persuaded under torture are noises of approval from the manhandled woman.

Then, after a far too long pause, they separate.

“You still cannot be alone with Mika in the same room,” Sagami, eyes lidded, murmurs.

“How could I ever convince you of the steadfastness of my heart?” Zaimokuza says before briefly biting his lip.

“I may have some ideas…” Sagami purrs.

And then, slowly, she blinks and turns to the side.

Where she meets my horrified gaze.

And blushes.

Which is certainly an enviable reaction, given I feel my own cardiorespiratory system is having a far rougher time of it.

“You’ve seen nothing,” she declares.

“I’ve seen nothing,” I answer as if I was looking for a pair of charismatic robots in a place with too much sand.

“Good,” she states.

“I disagree,” I answer.

“My Lady, while I’d never dare suggest you’re more cumbersome than the very feather used to measure a soul’s burden, my arms are in fact growing tired,” Zaimokuza interjects.

Which, for some unfathomable reason, earns him a double finger stab right below his floating ribs, my horrified yet unwavering stare, and Saika’s shaking, silent laughter.

‘Look, I don’t even know what you expected to get out of this conversation, but I’m pretty sure this is far better than your most optimistic projections.’

Shut up, Brain-chan. Nobody likes a know-it-all.

***

It is only a few minutes later (that nonetheless have stretched long enough to leave behind the kind of scarred psyche that makes psychotherapists think about a cushy retirement on the sunny shores of Okinawa) that find me wandering listlessly through the halls of my place of alleged learning, trying to forget the sight of Zaimokuza making a woman moan and writhe against him—

‘I—’

Shut. Up.

As I was saying, I’m trying to purge the trauma inflicted on my innocent self that has only ever done his very best to protect his little sister from a world filled with treasonous cognito-hazards. Karma? What is that? Can you eat it?

‘I bet Sagami is currently eating—’

I hate you. I hate you as much as you hate me, which I’m pretty sure is the higher tier of hatred one can reach without a debate involving prequels, sequels, and other things that end in ‘quels.’

‘Look, I’m just saying that if admitting your attraction to Saika is not that big of a deal now that you know none of you will ever act on it, realizing that Zaimokuza is actually a sexual being—’

None of those words make any sense, either by themselves or in any of the mathematical permutations they can end up in.

‘You hate math.’

Precisely.

Also, my phone is ringing. Oh, look, a distraction!

‘Right. Because picking up your phone has never backfired on you.’

I’m sure this time will be different. Also, it’s a message.

‘… Run.’

Surely there’s no reason to—it has a video.

From Haruno.

I frantically look around, realize nobody is anywhere near me for reasons that I’m assured are not damaging to my self-esteem nor social standing, and nonetheless duck beneath the stairs to the second floor before opening the damn thing to find a reenactment of my earlier conversation with my sworn comrades shoot from behind me by a mysterious someone who’s about to get intimately acquainted with the true meaning of the word ‘discipline.’

Even if she’s into it.

Beneath the incriminating video, Haruno has written the following message.

“I don’t care how the next part goes, but I’ll be very disappointed in Iroha if I don’t get a video of it.”

…

Damn it, Zaimokuza.