Agrippa
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All Right! Fine! I Will Take You! – Chapter 73
🕑 Added 2023-04-11 01:21:40 +0000 UTCWhen it comes to not only anime but fiction in general, there’s something that no author can evade. Something all readers, players, and viewers know is waiting for them.
The Status Quo.
Yes. It deserves the uppercase.
Because, as you all already know, the Status Quo is a character in and of itself, one more powerful than Super Saiyajin Rainbow Goku, Sage Mode Nine-tailed Naruko, or Miscegenation Actually Works Pretty Well Ichigo Kurosaki. Status Quo can warp the very fabric of space and time, yes, but also screws around with cause and effect in a way that would make a certain blue-themed Lancer sulk in sheer phallic-weapon inadequacy.
(Seriously, that lance’s shaft is veined.)
But, and I blame the Fate franchise for this, even if it objectively has absolutely nothing to do with it at all, Status Quo is even more powerful when paired with Status Quo Alter.
You see, things in most stories work out more or less in the following manner: we are introduced to the main character’s baseline normal, whatever it is that their daily life usually consists of, his Status Quo, and then the inciting incident occurs, and the life they’re familiar with explodes—sometimes literally.
Suddenly, there’s no longer anything ‘normal’ to go back to. The story has started, and everything has gone off the rails, with the main character dragged along for the wild ride.
But! We live in a world of serialization.
You can’t keep doing that. There’re only so many times you can raze to the ground their home village, as those villagers tend to be a non-renewable resource unless balls made of dragons are involved. So, the character finds themselves in a new normal.
A new Status Quo.
A new baseline that they no longer deviate from because those deviations are the Status Quo. Nobody expects the martial arts maniac to happily retire with his wife into the woods and go on no more adventures or ridiculously laissez-faire tournaments. Nobody expects Ninja Jesus to be an office worker. Nobody expects the genetic aberration to stop discovering new ancestors with ever more ridiculously over-the-top powers.
We all, to our horror, discover that Status Quo never truly died. That he merely pretended to expire while disguising himself with something that may, or not, include pauldrons.
But then there’s the darker one. Status Quo Alter.
Because for action-focused stories, it’s easy to just keep the ball rolling. To introduce a new enemy that mimics the latest arc with, sometimes, if Toriyama isn’t feeling particularly lazy, an original twist or two.
But for slice of life?
That’s where things get disturbing.
The characters are locked in a time-loop that would make Haruhi Suzumiya swoon, but one even more insidious than wasting half a season with recycled footage. It’s not that they repeat actions, but that they repeat patterns. That they’re trapped in a purgatory where every single one of their mistakes revisits them again and again, not even letting them learn from and grow past them as Alter activates its ultimate Noble Phantasm: Not This Shit Again!
It’s very powerful. And fearsome.
Really.
‘You’re panicking.’
What, me? Panicking and sublimating that into a rant in which I rail against the most salient failings of franchises I once loved and enjoyed without an ounce of cynicism to taint my childish glee? Surely you jest, Brain-chan.
‘Right, let me rephrase that: stop panicking.’
You can’t make me!
‘Zaimokuza and Minami in a jacuzzi—’
That is not stopping me from panicking! That is making me panic harder!
‘Ah, yes. Tell me how the thought of gleaming water droplets running down Zaimokuza’s broad, bare chest makes you harder—’
I’m not panicking! I’m calm as a mirror-like lake reflecting a flawless Moon! I am as calm as the Buddha himself while indulging his golden shower fetish!
‘… Does it count as bestiality if Son Goku had a human form?’
Brain-chan, you, of all people, know perfectly well what’s my stance on sex with characters with animal traits.
‘Right. Now I remember why I hate you so much. So, as I was saying, Minami leans forward to lick the sweat dripping down his neck, and Zaimokuza grabs the back of her hair—’
Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!
“Hikigaya, go stand outside,” my English teacher says.
I blink at him. Then at the rest of the classroom staring at me.
…
Yui is blushing. And refusing to meet my eyes.
Hayama has a smile plastered on his face that seems as brittle as Komachi’s remaining sanity.
And Miura is burying her face in her hands.
…
I shall assume I just blurted the panicked yell out and neververify whether anything else slipped.
‘… Yup. Go do that. Meanwhile, I’ll be here. In the back of your head. Wishing I could die.’
Now’s not the time to long for a dramatic reunion with your departed lover, Brain-chan.
‘Self-Preservation-kun and I are not like that—’
“Hikigaya,” my very patient, not scary at all teacher whose eye isn’t twitching tells me, kindly reminding me that I should do something other than stand between my desk and my chair, dumbly staring at my classmates staring back at me with a similar degree of dumbness.
“Right. I’m sorry. I’ll be going now,” I say, quickly rushing out and closing the door behind me before anybody else can say anything at all that will make me want to join Brain-chan and Self-Preservation-kun in the great beyond just to make things awkward for them.
‘I hate you. So much.’
That has been made abundantly clear through the years, my dearest Brain-chan.
‘Thank you. It’s good to know that you care.’
Indeed.
‘…’
…
‘…’
What?
‘Get your goddamn phone out already!’
What? You mean that just because I’ve been in a state of near panic since it was announced that Shizu wouldn’t be attending today, and they gave us a free period during which the woman I know for an objective fact was perfectly fine and coming to work didn’t answer any of my discreet text messages despite her pathological inability to refrain from bombing my phone I should now check whether there’re any actual news from her? Is that what you’re suggesting, Brain-chan?
‘Yes! That! Precisely that!’
I mean, I could do that and soothe my nerves if there’s an actual, reasonable explanation for her prolonged silence during the first period to find, or I could keep my nerves at their currently manageable level and not risk a heart attack when I unlock the damn square of glass and metal and find that she still hasn’t answered—
‘Breathe.’
That is very bad advice. I either am unable to follow it, or Body-kun has sagely decided in my stead to choke me to unconsciousness like a loving father figure who’s a cyborg space wizard.
‘For fuck’s—take out your goddamn phone!’
I don’t wanna!
‘Take it!’
You can’t make me!
‘Assuming Direct Control!’
… Did you really expect that to work at all?
‘I mean, I’m you, so… kinda?’
Right.
Ignoring the disturbingly proactive voice I’ve recently allowed far too much leeway inside my head, I silently pace along the corridor outside my classroom, turning around before reaching the next class to avoid a teacher seeing me taking a relaxing morning stroll.
To my right, there’s the wall outside the classrooms of Sobu High, painted in what should be a soothing cream color that is always somehow shadowed into grayness with its lower half painted a dark, forest green with that particular shade that always seems to find its way into any kind of school.
To my left, there are windows that start just above my waistline and run up to the ceiling, showing me a view of the football field currently being unused by both club members and gym classes.
The sky is still gray, but the particular shade of winter blue that struggles against the coming spring already peeks out over the buildings of Chiba spread below the small hill Sobu High is set on top of.
I stop between two classes, rest my open hand against the cool glass like I’m trying to cosplay as Rei Ayanami, and sigh.
Then I lean forward until my forehead presses against the window, and my eyes close as I try not to think about everything that could’ve happened.
And, finally, I take out my phone.
‘Yes! I knew I could do it!’
Ignoring the voice that most certainly doesn’t have Direct Control, I peek at the screen.
She’s answered.
My heart thunders, and I unlock the messaging app.
“I’m really sorry about worrying you, Hachi. There’s something we need to talk about after classes, but don’t worry about it for now, just—”
I don’t know what else the message says.
Because I’m already calling.
“Hachi? Don’t you have English—”
“I got thrown out of class after maybe inadvertently blurting out a very vivid recounting of Zaimokuza about to ravish his girlfriend, who, now that I think about it, is a classmate of mine and must’ve heard whatever it is I just said back there, so I really, really hope I just screamed incoherently rather than add anything else to the rather long list of things she may justifiably want to kill me for—”
“Breathe.”
“I just told the disembodied voice in my head that that is a very unhelpful piece of advice.”
“Your what?”
“She’s called Brain-chan, and we both hate each other very lovingly.”
“I—I am not sure I’m equipped to have this conversation.”
“Well, tough luck, now you know how I felt when you suddenly decided to stop obsessively informing me of your every move through text messages!”
“I’m working on it!”
“I want at least three pictures to make up for the radio silence!”
“That’s not how our deal works!”
“I’m altering the deal! Pray I do not—”
“Hikigaya. Give me your phone,” my very patient, not-at-all fuming English teacher says from right behind me.
I slowly turn to look at him over my shoulder, meet dark brown eyes that have seen too much, yet hopefully not heard all that much, and give him the only answer I can think of.
“It’s a family emergency,” I say, not quite lying through my teeth.
His eye twitches.
“Your. Phone,” he insists as I fully face him and his demanding, open hand.
I wet my dry lips, look at the piece of technology suspiciously silent in my hand, and once again dare look up at the embodiment of calm, rational authority in my school.
And then I give him the only other answer I can think of:
“Joestar Family Secret Technique!”
And run away as fast as I can.
***
“Go back,” Shizu says from the other end of the line as I rush past the store where I stupidly bought a pair of dumbbells not that long ago when my delinquent blood first roared.
“Wark!” I manage to answer, Body-kun yet again spontaneously switching to the local chocobo dialect as my lungs struggle to catch enough air to maybe not faint and fall on my face, thus ruining my handsome visage and decreasing my chances of having a repeat foursome with Iroha, Haruno, and Shizu.
‘As if. Iroha would tie them for you herself if she had to.’
Not the time! I need all my blood inside my muscles!
‘I hear that is a muscle.’
I don’t even know what it is! I wasn’t paying attention to Shizu’s stupidly detailed lecture on the subject!
“Hachi! Go back to school and apologize!” the lecturer in question demands.
“Wark!” I counterargue with a masterful display of rhetorical skill that may sadly be somewhat lost in translation.
“Stop making a scene, or I’ll set Haruno on you!” she says, and I almost trip and headbutt a lonely, leafless tree marking the end of the block after my first lover, the woman I’ve entrusted my tender heart to, threatens me with horrifying betrayal.
“Wark!” I plead for mercy as I abruptly turn to my right and keep running down the sidewalk to avoid having to wait for the streetlight to turn or for Truck-kun to appear.
“Stop doing that and breathe!”
I take a quick look around and find a small side alley a bit in front of me and to the right that I duck into after throwing a look behind me to make sure my pursuers have lost track of me.
Then I bonelessly slump against the bare brick wall, allowing the cool of the red clay to seep past my drenched uniform jacket as I finally manage to take a lungful that doesn’t feel like it’s burning its way down my throat.
“That…” I finally manage to say after Body-kun returns my notions of the Japanese tongue, “is not helpful advice.”
I could swear the sharp noise I hear through the phone is Shizu facepalming.
Heh.
“Hachi, go back,” she demands, but not in the sexy way she would voice some other demands such as, for instance, a very insistent, repeated, ‘Take me!’
“What’s going on?” I ask her rather than…
Than, well, indulge in being so ridiculously over the top that I could fool myself into believing I wasn’t worrying myself sick.
There’s a brief silence that only my frantic heartbeat and rough breathing disturb as the very few people going about during this late morning walk by the alley’s entrance without even looking in to see if I am getting mugged.
Japanese society, please never change. Your careful regard for the privacy of others may one day allow me to indulge yet another of Iroha’s soon-to-be-discovered fetishes.
“The principal found out,” Shizu finally says.
I clench my teeth, and my grip tightens on my phone, the glass of the screen pulling at my ear as it slides over sweaty skin.
“How much?” I immediately ask, my brain whirring as the things I was trying not to think about come rushing to the forefront of my mind, possible countermeasures already in place.
The first one involves Haruno, blackmail, and maybebribery.
I am not feeling like a nice person at the moment.
“I… a neighbor sent the school pictures of you and Iroha coming in on Saturday and you leaving on Sunday.”
Shizu’s voice is fragile. Tentative.
Somebody made her like this.
Somebody is going to hurt—
“Don’t,” she says.
“Why?” I immediately reply.
“Because she may have been in the right, Hachi. She saw a teacher acting inappropriately with her students, and—”
“And didn’t talk to you. Didn’t think to confront us. Didn’t think to stop us. If you really were that predator you’re picturing yourself as, that neighbor of yours let Iroha and I go to our rape. I am not prone to feeling particularly merciful with someone who would let Iroha be raped.”
There’s another pause, and I let acid pour down my spine as all the vitriol of the old Hachiman comes up. As I allow my comfortable hatred for all those who would follow the rules of society without thinking about the individuals it tramples warm me.
As I picture a nosy neighbor about to discover just how cruel gossip can truly be.
“I was expecting this from Haruno, you know?” Shizu finally says, her voice steadier than I thought it would be.
“You’re with her,” I say.
“I… Yes. I needed to talk, and you were—”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m glad she’s there for—oh. Sorry. I… I went out and—I didn’t even think—how are you? How do you feel? Shizu, please, I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s all right,” she whispers. “I know what you meant. I know that you care.”
I close my eyes and lightly bump the back of my head against the wall behind me.
“It’s not all right. Protect first, avenge second. I should’ve learned that much from that stupid Uchiha mess,” I say.
“Hachi, you don’t need to protect me.”
I open my eyes and look up at the portion of no longer grey sky above me, flanked by two low buildings so close together that everything between them is covered in light shadow.
“I do. You are the woman I love. Of course I will protect you.”
There’s more silence.
“I love you,” she whispers, her voice fragile.
“I know. I’ll try to get you a good therapist if I ever get a job.”
“You are impossible.”
“I also know that. How else could I have ended up with you?”
She gasps, and I let my breathing even out, my pulse returning to something steadier even as I talk with the woman I love and fail utterly at reassuring her that everything’s going to be—
‘Just tell her.’
That easy, uh?
‘No. Not easy. Never that. That’s why it means something.’
And so, my breath is no longer even as I stop it and take as much air in as I can, my chest straining my wet shirt as I do.
I let it out slowly.
“It’s going to be all right. I will make it all right,” I tell her.
“You can’t promise that,” she answers, but with that tone that tells me there’s a half-exasperated smile on her end of the conversation.
“I can. That’s what promises are, you know? Things that you can always say. That you can always fight for. It’s not fulfilling them that matters: it’s trying.”
“… You are trying to get me sappy and shounen about this whole thing. It’s not going to work. I’m a grown-up woman who can distinguish between reality and fantasy.”
“You just got fucked by your boyfriend in a butler cosplay, your girlfriend in a French maid uniform, and your other girlfriend in a kunoichi kitsune cosplay so good you didn’t even notice the ears. Tell me more about your realistic expectations, please.”
She makes a strangled noise.
Heh.
“You’re killing her,” Haruno, more or less, chides me after grabbing the phone from, I presume, limp fingers attached to a stuttering mess.
“Funny. I seem to remember it was me who almost fainted due to dehydration on Saturday.”
“You and I both know that’s entirely untrue. But, just in case, keep doing those exercises you and the meathead love so much.”
“I’m sure you’re encouraging me due to entirely altruistic reasons.”
“Of course. I’m even willing to reward your hard work with a good cooldown massage, kneading your sore muscles with my thin fingers, gliding my palms over your sweat-slickened back, sitting over your hips so I can put my whole body into it…”
“Haruno,” I say after shuffling my hips uncomfortably for absolutely no reason, “I regret to inform you that I’m hidden in an alley with no witnesses, so your attempts to make me uncomfortable by giving me an erection in public are not going to—”
“Oh? You mean you could just unzip your pants, take out your cock in your hand and get comfortable as I describe to you, in detail, what I could do to your sore, exhausted body as I got you ready to push for that last rep—”
Sounds of muffled discussion and slapping hands cut off Haruno’s fascinating dissertation on what one may do in a discreet alley, something that reminds me of how my last attempt at talking to her at her college ended and how it could turn out slightly differently if I just went to—
“Go back to school, Hachi,” Shizu’s forcedly stern voice says with a flat tone that more than implies the flushed cheeks and nose-bridge-massaging that I’m sadly missing out on.
“I—” I try argue my case and explain how much of a bad idea that is after… well.
Earlier.
“She’s right,” Haruno interjects. “We’ve got things handled, but that’s only if you don’t mess them up by going on a rampage.”
“I am not rampaging. I’m barely rioting. The school knows the difference by now.”
“Hachi…” Shizu once more says, which makes me imagine the two of them holding the phone together, looking at it like Shizu and Iroha looked at something else not that long ago. “You really don’t have to do anything. Particularly because it won’t be me who will handle your punishment this time around.”
“Kinky—”
“No. Down. Bad Hikigaya. Really, what would my dear little sister say?”
“Something scathing, cutting, utterly disproportionate in both rudeness and vitriol and that would likely get me aroused.”
“There’s such a thing as being too honest—” Shizu rudely interjects into my pleasant conversation with Haruno.
“No, no, let him talk. It’s not like I’m recording this and will hold the threat of sending it to Yukino over his head for years—”
“Go back to school and face disciplinary action the likes of which would make the Showa era seem like something to nostalgically look back on? Of course. I’ll be going right now. I see absolutely no reason not to.”
“I don’t know if I should let you two manage one another or try my hardest to not let that ever happen,” Shizu once again interjects very rudely on the conversation being held through her phone.
“Try, by all means. It’s more entertaining if I’m dealing with more than one objective,” Haruno idly comments, possibly looking up with a disarming smile while polishing her pauldrons.
“Stop, women. I can only get so erect,” I comment, Haruno’s phrase seeming somehow appropriate.
I mean, other than it being entirely inappropriate.
As signaled by Haruno’s giggling.
… Here is where I say that it creeps me out; that it brings the chill between faraway stars to crawl down my spine; that it makes me realize the sad, senseless joke that the human spirit is in the face of an uncaring cosmos.
Except it’s a pretty cute giggle.
And…
I take another deep breath. And I let go of it and the forced levity of the moment.
“Promise me that I don’t have to do anything. That I really just have to pretend to be normal,” I say.
The giggle softens into a wordless sound that is still reassuring.
And Shizu answers:
“I promise that you won’t ever have to pretend with me.”
I close my eyes.
Try to suppress the sappy smile the two of them are forcing on me.
And get out of the alley, refuse to hunch over when a cool breeze cuts straight through my sweaty shirt…
And go back to Sobu High.
Where, hopefully, I won’t rampage.
Not even throw a bit of a riot.
