So. Long-running series. Do you know what’s an issue that they often run into?

Descriptions.

Admittedly, that’s not as much of an issue with visual mediums such as manga or anime, but in light novels? In things that are shoveled out the door as quickly as the publisher can arrange for the murder of a few more trees? And with the criminal lack of imagination that will make it so Zaimokuza has an actual chance in that over-saturated industry?

… Yeah.

Some very few select scenarios will get reused again and again, and the writer, being quintessentially otakuesque in their approach to literary excellence, will likely, at some point, just give up and not even mention the décor.

But do you know what’s an excellent way to reintroduce some of the old magic? Some of the charm that skilled authors can bring about when they turn the stage into yet another character for the audience to relate to?

A new perspective.

Such as, for instance, introducing a new character to an old scenario and then lovingly describing precisely how they interact with a setting that familiarity had turned dull and lifeless.

Or, as could also be the case, by not interacting.

“I’m not sitting there,” Yukino says, pointing down at the L-shaped piece of furniture cowering in front of her while sounding far more Yukino like than she has since Yui applied herself to the task of defrosting the ice maiden.

Sofa-chan, likely intimidated by the display, doesn’t argue back and just sulks against the wall like a properly depressed anime girl, even adopting the desaturated palette that the sketch demands of her.

“I vacuumed,” Shizu says with a broad, sweeping gesture that has her uncuffed sleeve flap around a delightfully slender—I mean, Shizu says, taking it upon herself to shield her suspiciously gray furniture from the unexpected attack, ever a stalwart defender of the oppressed and those discriminated against because of the color of their print.

“There’s no feat of engineering in this world that would have me agree to sit on that thing after I walked into an apartment that had tangible clouds of tobacco smoke,” Yukinoshita unreasonably says, crossing her arms with as much finality as lack of cushioning.

“Isn’t smoke tangible by definition? It’s not an ethereal concept, just a mass of gasses,” I say, ever helpful and likable.

‘“As helpful and likable as ever,” corrected Brain-chan.’

“Don’t get me started on masses of gas,” Yukinoshita nonsensically says, glaring at me with heartwarming nostalgia.

“Stop. Stop doing what you’re doing. Please,” Yui says with what looks like genuine distress, her fingers already buried in the hair falling around her temples.

“Just pause for a couple of minutes. I need to microwave the popcorn,” Iroha idiosyncratically supports her, turning around to the open kitchen that she’s gradually conquered one bag of snacks at a time.

“Iroha, I fear that your voyeuristic propensities are veering into less classy practices than usual. Where’s the artistry? The devotion to your craft?” I say, tapping my chin with a perfectly classy pointer finger.

“Senpai, are you asking me to show off to all the women present in what position, precisely, I can perfect my ‘craft?’ How I can use my lips and tongue to—”

“No. I most certainly am not asking you to do that.”

She pouts.

Shizu facepalms.

And Yukino stares in incomprehension before a slow blush creeps up her cheeks.

Then Yui, always the (relatively) sane one, sighs, grabs her girlfriend’s shoulders, and sits on a shyly accommodating Sofa-chan before dragging the youngest Yukinoshita to her lap.

That is, of course, my cue to turn back to the older Yukinoshita sibling, still standing by the door to the apartment that she has so often had difficulty crossing when an overly enthusiastic goodbye has delayed her more than (presumably) she had planned for.

And…

Yeah.

She’s… there.

And I know… I know what we all just went through. I suspect what may have happened when an infuriating woman refused to follow the plan. And I definitely am certain of how and why we just acted the way we all did, treating Shizu’s apartment like a stage for yet another one of our rehearsed yet spontaneous interactions that have taken an entire year to bloom into their current state.

I know what’s the tight, spinning ball of feelings brewing in my belly.

But I…

I walk toward her yet again. Slowly, asking for permission after every step, fearing she will vanish if I move too quickly.

She smiles at me, and, of course, it’s a complicated smile because she’s still Haruno, and…

And I’m in front of her.

She’s still wearing her tan coat, open to display a cerulean, thin sweater with a V-neck showing off a tightly closed white blouse that barely contrasts with her slender, pale neck, the blue of her veins nobly standing out, more vibrant than the piece of clothing under them.

Pink lips, unmarred by make-up other than a hint of gloss, are still set in that soft, barely there smile.

And, above them…

Her eyes.

“Never again,” I tell her, not daring to take that last step.

“I can’t promise—”

“I’m not asking you to promise anything, Haruno. I’m telling you. Never again,” I say, reaching up, taking her chin.

Staring into delicate lavender that would never survive a snowstorm.

Her breath catches.

And, finally…

“All right,” she mumbles.

And, before Iroha can interrupt yet again, I take that final step forward and press her hard against the door behind her so that, when I take her lips, she can’t back away from me.

From us.

Never again.

***

“You’re giving me a headache,” Haruno mutters, rolling across her forehead a can of that soda filled with grapes that Iroha seems to prefer as of late.

Iroha, without saying a single thing, pats a pantyhose-covered thigh in solidarity and maybe a hint of possessiveness while Yui blinks at Shizu from the farthest end of the sofa the four of them are sitting on, and Yukino, still not technically sitting on Sofa-chan, does her very best not to stare at the girl not quite groping her sister to her left.

I, in turn, keep leaning forward on the chair I dragged here so I could sit at an angle from everybody presently occupying Shizu’s sofa.

Please, do forgive me, Sofa-chan. It’s not that I have anything against you or that I find you particularly suspicious after the obvious display of the chain-smoking that’s recently taken place in this room that’s still being aired via a wide-open balcony. I just want to occupy a tactically advantageous position in case things take an unpredictable turn.

Which, given the people involved, would involve the conversation being calm and productive.

“It was… It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” Shizu says, lying through her teeth.

“How long?” I ask from behind hands set in a dome formed by interlaced fingers.

“What?” she dares to ask, blinking at me in disarming confusion.

“How long have you planned to use yourself and your entire career as a sacrificial pawn?” I clarify for the less capable among the audience.

… Sorry, Yui.

Shizu, rather than immediately deny my accusation, looks at me like I’m a hunter and she’s a bunnygirl senpai—goddamnit, Brain-chan!

‘You can’t honestly tell me you don’t want to see that.’

I can honestly tell you that I can’t think about that and focus on a possibly life-altering discussion!

‘Well, yeah, but whoever told you that I’m even remotely up for one of those at this moment?’

You bring up a good point.

‘And that makes you furious.’

You know me so well…

“I…” she starts to say until I cut her off with a raised hand.

“Did you sign up anything?” I ask.

“About the blackmail deal?” she replies as if I was dropped on my head as a child—something that Mom assures me only happened a few times.

“Yes, about the deal you just made with a woman that you’ve allegedly forced into starting an entire charity for you,” I say, trying not to make it sound like an impressive achievement.

…

Because it isn’t.

‘Of course it isn’t. We don’t like it, so it can’t be an achievement.’

Precisely.

“Hachi, I swear, stop making those faces, or people will think you’re having a stroke,” she has the gall to say as she leans back on her sofa with an eye roll perfectly coordinated with her boneless slump.

“I’m scolding you. You. The one member of this arrangement that I thought less likely to turn to a life of crime—”

“I only blackmailed you once—” Iroha starts.

“You’d never catch me—” Haruno continues.

“You keep claiming I’m some sort of yakuza princess—” Shizu keeps up.

“I’m so glad I’m monogamous…” Yui combo breaks.

Yukino, meanwhile, just looks from deranged person to walking enigma with blinking incomprehension, yet again ruining her aloof, mysterious air. Oi, Yukino, don’t you realize that your cutely blinking in incomprehension at everyone around you contravenes our unstated respective roles and puts you in the position of helpless, innocent maiden likely to be ravished by a fully unleashed Yuigahama? What’s that, you do? That’s a strategy that’s been working out for you magnificently, both in and out of the bedroom? Fine, keep doing that. Also, riajuu go explode.

‘I think Shizu has a point. This much irony is likely to give me an overdose.’

“All right, I’m going to ignore everything you all just said for the sake of the tattered remains of my sanity and focus on what’s essential right now, that is, whatever I’m interested in—”

“You lustful beast—” Yukino tries to intervene.

“Other than that,” I needlessly clarify. “So, Shizu. Dear. Love of my life,” I tell with clear sarcasm and not at all having to hold back my lips from twitching into a sappy grin when the woman in question pleasantly flushes. “Is there anything at all binding you to this life-altering deal with the devil you just entered on your own?”

For once, everybody remains in blissful silence as we all bully with our gazes the flustered Christmas Cake sitting by herself on the short side of Sofa-chan’s uncharacteristically stoic imitation of Darkness in her human-furniture phase.

She (Shizu, not Sofa-chan) takes her time to wet her lips and meet each of our gazes.

Then…

“I gave my word,” she says.

And is, of course, met with a chorus of frustrated groans.

Something that makes me alarmedly aware that my role in this relationship is being stolen.

… Wait, my role in this relationship is being stolen!

“Do you even—no,” Iroha stops, pausing to pinch the bridge of her cute button nose. “You won’t do this to yourself. There’s absolutely no guarantee that she will hold her own end of the deal, Shizu. You need to pretend to follow through and—”

“Mother won’t break her word,” Yukino states with a frown that speaks volumes.

I raise my eyebrow.

“She won’t,” Haruno agrees with a nod that has the girl clutching her thigh look up at her in confusion.

“Are you… sure about that?” Yui asks before meeting my eyes with something that seems more gentle than confused.

“She will look for ways to twist it around if she thinks we’ve given her reason to, but otherwise, she’ll stick to the letter of the agreement. It’s one of her rules,” Yukino says from on top of Yui’s thighs as the shorter girl’s arms tighten around her trim belly.

“Rules?” I ask, my mouth slightly dry.

“She has those,” Haruno says, catching the meaning of my question.

And, when I look at her with a flash of fury at what, precisely, those rules have allowed the Yukinoshita’s daughter to go through… she smiles.

Soft, sad, and fragile.

So I have no choice other than to nod even as I make a mental note to resume this conversation when the two sisters aren’t around to be hurt by what I’ll have to say.

“Hachi. Trust me,” she says, not letting me retreat so easily.

Because of course she wouldn’t.

“I trust you with a lot of things, Haruno, but not with not hurting yourself,” I say, increasing the tension in the room immediately.

“That’s not fair,” she says.

“No. No, it hasn’t been,” Iroha whispers before tenderly caressing down Haruno’s left cheek to tilt her head down to meet her into a soft kiss.

Yukino… doesn’t say anything.

So Yui does.

“We won’t solve all of this today, Hikky,” she says with a half-smile that conveys as much as she ever did when agitatedly flustered or shyly looking up through her falling bangs.

I can’t help but answer the gesture, though I’m not entirely sure of what it is that I convey to her.

“You’re right. I’m just… It’s one thing after the other.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Stop. Rest. Come at this another day.”

“I… That’s what I’m trying to do.”

The half-smile twists with wry amusement.

“I know you mean that, and I can’t still believe that you believe it,” she says.

“Stop seducing my boyfriend,” Iroha mumbles.

“Wha—I—I’m not! I don’t know how to seduce anyone, least of all him! I thought that was perfectly clear by now!”

“Really. You offer him empathy and open vulnerability with a hint of witty banter, and you want me to believe that’s by accident.”

“I did what?”

“It is by accident,” Yukino primly replies despite her derriere being firmly planted in plush thighs. “She keeps doing it and never even means to. It frustrates me to no end.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Iroha sharply retorts.

“And what is that supposed to mean, you thieving—”

“What it means, dearest sister, is that if you want to have verbal sex with my boyfriend, you could at least have the decency to handcuff me to a chair first so that I can properly enjoy the scene like it was meant to be enjoyed,” Haruno horrifically states.

“Of course you’d enjoy the cuck chair,” Iroha says with an eye-roll while still holding onto Haruno’s thigh.

“I’m guessing you’d prefer peeking unnoticed?” the gropee tells the groper.

“I mean…” Iroha replies before biting the left side of her lower lip and slowly letting the glossy, soft flesh escape from the grip of perfectly white teeth.

I blink.

Then, slowly enough not to startle any of the wild predators I’m apparently surrounded by, I turn toward Shizu, who, rather than commiserate, shoots an accusing glare my way.

Ah.

Unfairness.

It was only this morning that I reflected on it.

***

“You all need to go to your respective houses,” Shizu mutters over the rim of a teacup that is not being used as an ashtray.

“I… I guess I should talk to Mom,” Iroha hesitatingly agrees, even if she doesn’t let go of Haruno’s hand on top of Haruno’s thigh.

They’re both drinking the same kind of soda, and I can’t help but notice that I’ve been offered a non-caffeinated drink rather than my preferred choice like everybody else in this room has.

Oi, Iroha, this is discrimination. This is unfairness made manifest. This is bullying, and I won’t stand for it, much less for your wifely scolding when you slightly bent forward with a fist resting on your hip and a wagging finger in front of my face straight out of my most otaku fantasies to directly tell me that I need to watch my intake of the godly nectar while going through stressful situations.

‘Marry her already.’

Not until after college.

‘Like it will make any difference.’

“Mom will be worried until I tell her how this ended,” Yui agrees, her hands going from Yukino’s shoulders to her waist, making the taller girl let out a cute ‘eep’ when she lifts her off her lap.

“I—” Yukino starts.

“You’re coming,” Yui states as she brushes her skirt into place, allegedly oblivious to Yukino’s sharply cut-off breath at the matter-of-fact order.

“Of course,” Yukino mumbles before meeting Haruno’s eyes and sharing a nod of silent understanding with her sister that, for once, doesn’t seem to carry any fourth, third, or even second meanings.

“I think I’ll stay and cook dinner like a proper househusband—”

“You, most definitely you, are leaving,” Shizu unfairly says.

“I’m hurt. Wounded. Astonished at your brutal, merciless rejection—”

“Hachi,” she says.

And I look at her.

Properly.

At… At the woman that I made love to this very morning. The one I entrusted the culmination of my plans with. The one that I…

Well, the one that I started this whole thing for.

And look how I’ve repaid her.

“Shizu, I—”

“No. We will talk. Tomorrow. We will talk, and we’ll calmly discuss… this. But today… You’ve earned your rest. Please,” she says.

And I catch her eyes briefly going toward Haruno, and…

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that they’re going to keep this conversation going. That she would ask me to relax and unwind while she’s here with her, dwelling on one another’s wounds.

Iroha frowns, agreeing with me, and Yui has stopped in the middle of the room, looking from one of us to another in a way that suggests a defenseless confusion at not knowing how to help.

Yukino just pretends not to notice, and I think I catch yet another hint of how she’s been hurt.

None of it is fair.

It just is.

“Do you really think I can rest while you two do your thing?” I say, still not getting up from the chair.

She smiles sadly at me.

“No. I don’t really think so,” she answers.

“Then I’m staying.”

“So will I,” Iroha unnecessarily says, dropping back down by Haruno’s side.

“I… I will go,” Yui says before taking Yukino’s hand and reassuringly squeezing it.

Yukino, in turn, looks back at her sister, and Haruno nods with yet another sad smile.

Then it’s a brief sharing of goodbyes and see-you-laters, and…

And we four are finally alone.

“Time to get serious, then,” I unnecessarily say.

“You can be so goddamn melodramatic…” Haruno answers.

And, finally, without any need for pretense or forced levity, I’m allowed to smile.

 

 

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This work is a repost of my second oldest fic on QQ, where it can be found up to date except for the latest two chapters that are currently only available on Patreon. Unless something drastic happens, it will be updated at a daily rate until it catches up to the currently written 110 chapters (or my brain is consumed by the overwhelming amounts of snark, whichever happens first).

Also, I’d like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon: aj0413, LearningDiscord, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, 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 Amazon. Thank you for reading!