Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 77 – Worried Women
🕑 Added 2023-05-07 03:53:37 +0000 UTCShizu – Guess Who’s Coming For Dinner?
‘That’s not gonna happen,’ I told him with a teasing lilt.
This very morning.
Just this morning.
“Nice to meet you, Haruno,” Dad says as he grabs my incredibly persistent, nagging, stubborn girlfriend’s hand and pumps it up and down in an energic greeting that only ends when Haruno, with a full Yukinoshita, demure smile plastered over her face, twists her wrist just so and my father grimaces oh so slightly.
My driving gloves feel surprisingly pleasant as I rub the bridge of my nose in soothing circles. I’m glad I splurged for the good leather.
“Likewise, Mister Hiratsuka. Or should I call you father?” the devil says from my right as Dad freezes in place, his muscular bulk still blocking the entrance to my childhood home.
He takes a moment to tear his eyes away from the disarmingly deferential Haruno and to meet mine with wide, panicked, grey eyes that have always been a bit lighter than my own.
I roll mine.
“Psychological warfare against Haruno is only going to end up one of two ways: with an unconditional surrender or with you believing you have won,” I tell him, leaving the dark street behind to push past him and into the entranceway.
“Believing?” he asks after my retreating form as I shrug off my white coat and turn to hang it amid the disorganized pile of men’s jackets and the single woman’s coat.
“Don’t listen to her,” Haruno says. “She’s just grouchy because I forced her to introduce me to her parents after years since she first corrupted my poor, impressionable, young mind. I am perfectly sure you can win whatever games you want to play with me, Mister. Please, by all means, try.”
“No traumatizing my father. That’s my job,” I say while trying very hard to act nonchalant and not stare back in fascinated horror like a monster movie protagonist who should really, really keep running.
“Your job? You aren’t living here anymore, young lady,” Mom says, entering the corridor from the living room and stepping up to me before…
Hugging me.
I allow the shorter woman to drag me down into the embrace so that her thin arms can fully surround me as Mom holds me and I…
Relax.
“Hi,” I mutter into long dark hair that was always frustratingly more well-behaved than my own.
“Hi,” she says, her voice strained with… with a lot of things. “How are you? Who do I need to crush?”
I laugh.
Mostly, because she isn’t joking.
“I am… better. Inoue was very… very much unlike what he had any right to be. It won’t be an issue,” I tell her, my own arms around her shoulders, pulling her just a bit closer.
Because…
Well, she’s Mom.
As much as Dad has always been there, as much as he’s often been the ear for me to pour my many, many frustrations to…
Mom was the one who took charge.
So I pull away, my hands on her shoulders, and look down into coal-black eyes that always looked more severe than they were.
She caresses my cheek, a wry grin on her lips.
And then looks at Dad and Haruno standing in the doorway.
“Aren’t you going to invite our guest in, dear?” she says.
And Dad pales just a tad before he hurries to step away and let Haruno walk into my childhood home. To have dinner with my parents.
To meet my family.
As my official girlfriend.
I want to joke about being doomed. About all the ways in which this can and will go wrong.
I also want to let myself just rest on the warm feeling of finally allowing something to happen that maybe should have happened years ago. That could have saved both of us too many moments of regret.
But I just caught Haruno’s eyes.
I just saw the way she looked at Mom and me.
And I know her enough that I can only smile at her with a hint of sadness. With a promise that she will not find here what she expected to find.
What she came to defend me from.
Isn’t it sad, Haruno?
***
Haruno – It Is, Indeed, Sad
A part of me knew precisely what I was about to walk into.
These two people are, after all, the ones more directly responsible for Shizuk—Shizu being who she is. The ones who taught her about compassion, about fairness, about fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves.
She’s not like Hachiman. She’s not somebody who developed her ideals by herself, by copying what she couldn’t find close to her from fiction and the elaborate workings of a far too active mind.
Not her. She’s too loving. Too wise, in her desperately foolish way.
No, Shizu was taught.
From example.
From the man who can’t even pretend to be harsh for more than five minutes before devolving into conciliatory humor and welcoming hospitality.
From the unbending woman sitting at the head of the table, carefully assessing my every move, my every response, and only approving of me when her daughter does.
“I am sorry about imposing like this. I just thought that, given all the trouble Shizu went through today, she could do with some emotional support,” I say as I cut a tiny piece of the breaded pork on my plate.
Homemade, if a bit rushed. The ingredients and accompanying wine are of good quality, even if the dish itself is far from ostentatious. A family that is comfortably wealthy, if not rich.
Or, at least, not rich in the garish way of nouveau riche nor the stifling way of old money and older blood.
Interesting. Particularly given Shizu’s taste in cars.
“I agree. And here she is, receiving support from her parents,” her mother says, looking at me with her head askance and a curious tilt that somewhat softens the sharp answer.
… Damn it.
I set the fork down and take the stem of the wine cup between the tips of my fingers, pretending not to notice Shizu’s nervous look to my right as I focus on all the ways in which the lamps set on the corners of the spacious room glitter over glass and through a sharp red that is far from the deep, violet-hued shade of the Bordeaux I usually favor.
I take a small sip of it, letting a thin coating of alcohol wash over my tongue as I breathe just enough air through my almost-closed lips to wake up the aroma. To unlock the hidden nuances some would gargle it to discover.
I always found that particular part of wine tasting somewhat distasteful. Gross, as many of Hachiman’s acquaintances would put it.
But this discreet little breath? This almost sensual susurration so few would notice?
That’s much more to my tastes.
As is the vibrant taste of the young California red, dominated by the notes of blackberry and the hint of oak.
I could find out more.
I could just focus on my senses, allowing the moment to pass.
But that would defeat the purpose of buying time, wouldn’t it?
So I set my glass down, the round base of the cup glittering in front of the white porcelain dish that seems custom-made to bring out the sharp color of the green lettuce and golden brown breaded meat resting on it.
And I turn to face my, quite possibly, if I allow my natural pessimism to abate…
Future mother-in-law.
I may have to upheave some deeply held traditions and legalize same-sex marriage, but, really, that doesn’t seem half as hard as what I have already accomplished on the way here.
“Allow me to reiterate my apologies: I was worried about my girlfriend and didn’t want to leave her alone with people I don’t know.”
Shizu, for mysterious reasons beyond my understanding, slaps her forehead.
Her father blinks at me in stupefaction.
And her mother looks at me before taking her own answer-delaying sip of wine.
The silence ends when she sets her cup on the white tablecloth (cotton thread, dense, but very fine—expensive, and, yet again, understated as it doesn’t have any adornments), hard enough that the wine swishes in varied hues, in transparency that goes from almost opaque near the middle of the round bowl, to light barely tinged with red in the waves that lap up the sides of pure crystal (that I don’t know enough about to ponder the price, but I’d wager nothing cheaper than Bohemian).
“You come into my house and dare insinuate you were worried about my daughter being alone with me?” she asks.
I answer the curious tilt of her head in kind.
“Why, yes. I suppose I did just that,” I tell her right before Shizu groans.
Her father blinks.
And her mother smiles.
“Good. But don’t pull this crap in public, all right?” she says.
I nod, returning the pleasant smile, if not the warmth behind eyes that may have taught Shizu to look for that which could be genuine.
It’s already hard enough to stop the bitterness.
***
Shizu – I Am Not the One Who Should Be Anxious About This Dinner
They are going to kill me.
Ulcers can be lethal, after all.
Stress-induced ulcers. They are a thing. A thing I’m likely to get.
And this is Haruno. I don’t even want to know what Hachiman would’ve managed if—wait.
Hachiman is the reckless one. The straightforward one, even when he’s lying through his teeth.
This is entirely unlike Haruno.
I look to my left at my… my girlfriend bringing the small piece of tonkatsu up to her lips as politely as she ever does anything she deigns to be polite for, and she doesn’t meet my eyes.
Then I look toward Mom, and she gives me a barely-there smile and a gesture for me not to say anything.
In front of me, Dad looks about as confused as I expected him to be.
… Damn it.
“I refuse,” I say.
Dad blinks in confusion, Haruno keeps eating with an appreciative air, and Mom groans.
“What?” Dad finally says.
“Haruno and Mom are doing that thing where they hold a different conversation from the one we’re hearing, which is already infuriating enough when I’m able to keep up, but this is Mom, so she’s not going to be fair and will keep making mental notes and silent judgments until she’s come to a conclusion she could’ve reached just by asking me.”
“I feel attacked. Am I being attacked?” Mom says with a perplexed blink that fools absolutely no one.
“Dear, your daughter just very clearly stated that I’m the only one at this table unable to even begin to understand there was something for me to try and fail to understand. It’s me she’s calling dumb.”
“Well, she’s not wrong.”
“Will you let that go already! Yes, I told her we were in a three-way! She needed to hear that!”
“No, she didn’t! And if she did, we could’ve told her together so that she understood how and why that was an utter mess that blew up in our faces, and it’s a wonder we’re still on speaking terms with Mike at all!”
I… look at the two of them.
“You’re putting on a bit. You’re just trying to distract me,” I say.
They both keep looking at one another with all the solemnity of Goku and Vegeta about to go at it when there are far more urgent concerns to deal with.
And, finally, Dad cracks.
“All right, fine; I don’t even know why I played along. Care to explain, dear?” he says as he scratches the back of his head with a faint air of embarrassment.
“Because you love me and trust me enough to follow my lead when you’re out of your depth,” Mom says with a shrug before picking up her glass and taking a long sip of it.
“Ah, yes, that makes sense,” Dad answers before taking a quite large slice of tonkatsu into his mouth.
So I rest my elbow on the table, lean forward to rest the bridge of my nose on pinched fingers, and let out an impressively long breath.
“You two are impossible,” I finally say, my eyes still closed.
“Oh gods, you were groomed for me,” Haruno mutters.
Which I politely ignore.
You know, other than burying an elbow on her side.
“That was completely uncalled for,” she says as she tries to stab me with her fingers.
“Conspiring with my mother right in front of me is far worse,” I tell her as I shift just out of reach on my cushioned chair.
“I was not conspiring; I was checking,” she says, trying to be tricky and twist her arm at the last second to get around my block with a crane’s beak—wait a damn second.
“You’re cross-training!” I tell her with about as much indignation as I can muster as I stand up, and she follows.
“I told you that you wouldn’t defeat me again!” she says as she steps forward with a spear hand that goes right past my chest as I lean back and circle away from the table.
“That wasn’t—there was context! The implication was not that you would learn kung fu to counter my Muay Thai!” I tell her as she takes my cue and steps right where I was a moment ago so I can shoot right into her open stance and press my shoulder against her sternum to drive her back.
“Kung fu doesn’t counter Muay Thai; skill counters Muay Thai,” she says as she spins right at the last moment, getting out of the way of my charge and lightly tapping my back to push me forward so that I stumble and fall.
With my hands over Mom’s chair’s armrests.
And looking straight into coal-black eyes that haven’t been this shocked since she walked in on—never mind.
“What?” she says, still trying to switch gears from witnessing an impromptu martial arts duel to having her daughter blocking all exits.
“Hi. This just has been a friendly performance to show you that, as endearing as it is for you two to act like having been married for more than twenty years gives you some kind of preternatural skill to act in unison, I can also pull that trick,” I say with a grin that has a bit too much fang.
And then Haruno stabs my side with her fingers.
Because of course she does.
“I despise you,” I tell her through clenched teeth, looking at her over my shoulder.
“I love how terrible you are at lying,” she answers.
From right behind me.
Before she hugs me.
And I…
I allow her to pull me up before I lean back into her embrace, my eyes closing on their own as I rest my hand atop the crossed arms shielding my belly.
Feel her warmth, her softness, her vulnerability.
And open my eyes to see Mom look at me with sad, melancholy pride.
“I love her,” I tell them. “I know… I know I’ve made some terrible choices in the past. I know you two are worried, and that you’ll keep worrying, but… but please, give her a chance. Them. Us.”
Mom stands up right as Dad’s heavy, reassuring hand falls on my shoulder.
“You’re going to stop watching those cartoons of yours and have a sensible conversation without theatrics at some point, aren’t you?” he asks with laughter in his tone.
“Not if I can help it,” I answer.
“Good girl,” Mom says as she hugs me yet again, her arms going around my waist and catching Haruno with them, my girlfriend gasping at the unexpected contact.
And we stand there until Dad reminds us that the food is about to go cold.
***
Mio Hiratsuka – A Mother Worries
“What’s the matter?” the lovable, warm, cuddly pile of muscles under me asks as he runs thick fingers down my hair.
“You know perfectly well what’s the matter,” I tell him. Or, well, his chest.
It’s a nice chest.
A comfy chest.
Particularly when we’re both naked and he’s once again acting as my slightly too-large teddy bear.
“I may know perfectly well what is the matter, but our hotheaded daughter just told us to ask things if we want answers, and maybe there’s something to that whole ‘learning lessons after being defeated by a rival’ thing.”
I snort.
“So, do you wonder precisely what it is that our daughterand her girlfriend do after one of them gets defeated?” I tell the big goof.
“Gah! Why?! Why would you do that to my brain?!” he yells loudly enough that his chest pleasantly rumbles under my cheek.
“Because I love you, and love hurts?” I say.
He stays in silence for a moment.
And then thick arms that cover so much of my back as to make me shiver inside surround me, and he spins us around on our bed until I’m lying under him, staring right up into grey eyes that look like silver with the faint light of our dimmed bedside lamp.
My hands are trapped between the two of us, my palms spread right below his chest.
And, after all these years, he still steals my breath away.
“It does. But that was never the problem with our daughter,” he says, his lips lowering with every syllable until he’s almost kissing me, driving me to tilt my head back in a screaming, silent demand for him to do something.
And he does.
He kisses my forehead.
… Damn the smug man.
“I worry,” he says, thick fingers combing my bangs away from my eyes.
“I know,” I tell him as I just… enjoy him being close.
“So. Tell me,” he says with that half-grin of his. The one that is sheepish enough to make me melt even as he exasperates me.
I answer him with my own wry grin. The one he hasn’t gotten tired of after all these years, no matter what I feared at the start of… of everything.
“Haruno is… an interesting woman. Smart enough to realize that Shizuka and we have a good relationship, but still inherently distrustful of anybody who can hold power over her girlfriend. It’s the kind of bitterness that doesn’t go away. Not entirely. But… but, for some reason, she blindly trusts Shizuka. I do think they are sincere when they say they love one another.”
He sighs, relieved.
I could fall for him all over again just because of that.
“So. Not another Miki,” he says.
“Not another Miki,” I tell him.
And he hugs me tightly before rolling around on the bed, my spot on top of his chest once more reclaimed.
“I guess that’s all I can ask for,” he says before leaning down to kiss the top of my head.
“There are two other love—”
“That’s all I can ask for if I want to get any sleep at all.”
And then I do something I very rarely do when it’s not the two of us, alone, together:
I giggle.
And, on top of the second man I loved, I fall asleep.
***
Haruno – Old Habits
Today I did something I didn’t expect to ever do.
No, that’s not meeting Shizu’s parents, as much as I’m still reeling from the experience.
It’s not even putting on a brief martial arts play for whatever it is she thought she was doing.
Nor even being horribly embarrassed by the aftermath of such a performance.
It’s…
‘Are you sure you don’t want to… come in?’ the woman I love asked, making absolutely no attempt to conceal what she meant by it.
‘That line would’ve worked better if we were in front of your apartment,’ I answered with a hint of mischief.
She rolled her eyes, gesturing at Yukino’s apartment building outside the window of her car.
‘I wasn’t about to coerce you by withholding a ride home,’ she said.
‘Nonetheless, it seems like I’ll be the one withholding a ride from you,’ I said with as much mischief as I could pour on the words.
She slapped my shoulder.
And I kissed her.
Hands roamed over our bodies, on the verge of going under our clothes as our breathing deepened and our eyes met.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to… you know me.’
‘I do,’ she said before kissing up the side of my neck to nibble on my earlobe as I moaned in almost suffering. ‘I do, and I understand what went through that devious head of yours. I just… I just wish you’ll be able to trust them one day.’
‘I do. I… I know you’re like this thanks to them. And I couldn’t be more grateful,’ I told her, not even lying. Or, at least, not trying to.
‘They are my parents. Family,’ she said, her lips drawing back and seeming to tear off something I desperately need when they left behind a quickly cooling patch of skin.
‘I—’
‘We will be family, Haruno.’
And I stared at her.
At the woman I love. The woman I’ve loved for years.
The woman so easily offering me everything I’ve ever wanted.
‘We will,’ I finally said as I broke down and cried yet again in her arms.
And then I refused once more her offer to keep her company tonight. To go back to her apartment and sleep in her arms, surrounded by her scent and embarrassingly tasteless, colorful figurines.
I did what I never expected to do:
I refused to sleep with Shizuka Hiratsuka.
“Sister? Is everything all right?” Yukino asks as she walks into our shared living room to see me lounging in my white pajamas, in the dark, on top of the sofa Hachiman and I very nearly desecrated not that long ago.
I hold back the rush of heat to my cheeks the memory brings as I look up from the glaring screen of my laptop.
“No. Not everything,” I tell her with a tired, more sincere smile than I’m used to.
She answers it with something wry before sitting beside me, prim as ever, a sharp contrast to my slouched, half-reclining posture, with my feet on top of the cushions and my knees bent to hold the laptop upright on my thighs.
“… Private detectives?” she curiously asks after taking a look at the pages I’m browsing.
And I sigh.
“Can I tell you tomorrow? It’s already been a trying day, and I don’t want to unburden on you,” I tell her.
She raises a sculpted eyebrow that would still make Hachiman’s heart thunder.
“I thought the point of you living here was so that we could ‘unburden’ on one another,” she says.
And, without even meaning to, I smile up at my little sister in a way that’s both similar and entirely different from the smiles that Shizu draws from me despite myself.
So I hug the little brat down, forcefully enough that she shuts the lid of my laptop in her frantic flailing before I give her a noogie, and then I kiss the crown of her head.
And, for a brief, joyful moment, I set aside my plans to have a professional comb through every single bit of blackmail they could ever find on Shizu’s neighbors.
