Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ From Beta To Sigma ❯ Yukino ( Chapter 8 )

“Niisan,” asked my sister Komachi. I was visiting home. She was still cute but she’d gotten a little taller and developed a bust and was engaged to Taishi. “Why didn’t you just go to Chiba Institute of Technology?” she asked. She was wearing a Nekomi Tech teeshirt, which was fictional but looked real. I’m a little surprised she’d discovered the old show Ah My Goddess, but whatever.

“Unlike in the show, they don’t have an automotive engineering program. They’re mostly about robotics. I’ve already learned engine tuning, parts development, testing and CAD, machine shop manufacturing submission standards, materials and heat treating, suspension damping and a bunch of other things. I had to live by the campus, and that’s in Tokyo. Besides, you didn’t want me looming over you when you and Taishi wanted to deepen your relationship, did you?” I explained. She made a face in agreement about that.

“So you’ve got a ring and a wedding date after you graduate, right?” I asked her. She lifted her hand to show off the ring. It wasn’t huge or fancy, but it was an engagement ring.

“So Saki and Saika will be my inlaws soon. What is Taishi going to do?” I asked her.

“He’s been working as a Longshoreman at the port, saving money,” she said. A tough job. We never talked about the port, but the Chiba port was huge and went for 40 kilometers around Tokyo Bay. It used to be busier, but it was still plenty of work for the guys who ran it, and there was a steel mill and iron works in one section of it, used in the car industry, and I’d toured it as a student on a field trip. We had also gone to visit Honda and Toyota and Nissan and Mitsubishi.

I’d be starting car company internships next semester. Getting a feel for the factories and the pacing of how cars were made. The car export business wasn’t as big as it once was, but instead the companies had gotten around the issue by building factories in the countries their vehicles were sold. Toyota and Honda both made cars in the USA, with Japanese trained managers and quality control procedures, which is how they maintained the quality despite foreign/domestic workers actually assembling them.

Being a Longshoreman was a high paying job, once he passed the apprentice stage. Particularly if he ended up working the shipping container cranes. Even the vehicles that lifted and moved that around the ports into stacks for inspection or loading or unloading or out-port trucking or railroad hauling was a huge amount of work, and that work would pay for a mortgage. He had good reason to work, with Komachi at home waiting for him.

“So are you going to start your family right away?” I asked her. She nodded. “Well, good.” It was all I could say. She was ahead of the game for most of her graduating class.

Most of the women heading to college would be cat ladies in the future rather than raising a new generation. They’d have careers nobody cared about, and produce minimal productive work behind a sea of excuses. Exceptions like Haruno would probably get more effective if they worried more about their projects and less about their siblings, but I suppose she’s just being an older sibling, just like me. You can’t help but worry about your kid sister, after all.

“Yuigahama got married,” Komachi said. I regarded her.

“Yeah? Good for her. She’s a nice girl. Anyone I know?” I asked her. Komachi shook her head.

“I ran into her at the market. We compared rings and stories. She asked about you,” Komachi said. I shrugged.

“Haruno visited a few months ago, at my apartment in Tokyo. Said Yukino was being troublesome, and wanted to reassure me my scholarship wasn’t being cut,” I said. Komachi raised an eyebrow.

“So you got a personal visit?” she confirmed.

“Yeah. We had coffee and then I showed her around the campus labs. She seemed satisfied. My checks keep arriving. Their foundation is around a half of my living expenses.”

“Interesting. Think this is part of their apology for the accident, and hush money for keeping away from Yukino?” she asked.

“Probably. I think Haruno wants me to look in on Yukino.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” she pointed out. Komachi has always been a voice of reason, curbing my worst extremes.

“I still wonder if I should do anything. Haruno seems to think if she sees me she’ll get over me,” I explained.

“Sees? You did a romantic overnight trip together, hundreds of kilometers clenching you atop what’s a huge rolling massager. Her desires were pretty clear.”

“Yukino was only really good at expressing disdain, probably learned from her mother. Affection is unfamiliar. You can’t blame me for not picking up on far too subtle messages,” I complained. Komachi game me a look.

“If I went on a three day trip with Taishi on a motorcycle, before I got this ring, how would you respond?” she asked me.

“Shovel,” I answered immediately.

“See? That’s a clear message. Real women aren’t like the girls in your stories and anime. Those girls are really forward, but those girls are fiction,” she reminded.

“Don’t I know it. Most of the women in my program washed out by the end of the first semester, and it’s all men since then. Good for focus on our education, but not for dating.”

“There must be other women at the university, right?” she confirmed.

“Sure, but they’re future cat ladies studying Psychology and Business Administration, obvious head cases nobody wants,” I challenged her. She made the tch noise women make when they’ve lost an argument and promised retribution.

“I don’t have the energy to decode women’s failure to communicate, least of all Yukinoshita Yukino. Besides, her family will marry her off to some business partner sooner or later.”

“Is that something you can live with, Brother?” she asked.

“She was a friend, of a sort. Maybe her feelings are tangled up. She isn’t clear. She never confessed to me. The closest she came was demanding that romantic weekend together. Yukino never much liked anyone but Yuigahama. Even her sister aggravated her.”

“And her sister still cared enough to visit you in Tokyo to tell you about her?” Komachi pointed out.

“If we’d gone forward, think of what would have happened,” I explained. “There’d have been scandal and parental outrage. I wouldn’t have the scholarship so I wouldn’t be at this university. If she was pregnant we’d have married, and her tendency to sharp words would have caused troubles and hard feelings, especially if the pregnancy made her worse than usual. I met her mother at the graduation. That woman is nobody you want to be related to or forced to deal with frequently.”

“Yukino had her own apartment through high school. I don’t think she liked dealing with her mother either, but she’s at home now, being presented like a prize to be auctioned off. But only if she plays along. And she’s not playing along.”

“So is the family trying to get me involved or not? Do they really think her seeing me will cure her affliction?” I asked.

“You sure have complicated relationships for an avowed loner, niisan,” Komachi answered. I sighed.

“I don’t think this is something I can resolve easily on a single weekend. I need to head back to school and get ready for classes tomorrow.”

“It was nice to see you, Hachiman,” Komachi said, hugging me. I hugged my sister back and stepped out of our family home.

The ride through Chiba and the various highways through Tokyo traffic before sunset was its usual business on a Sunday evening. I suffered through a boring instant meal and cleaned my apartment again before going to bed.

A week later I got a small package from Haruno, a couple thick novels and a letter with Yukino’s current private email and phone number. It was different from when we were in high school together. I looked at the novels and found some typical bodice rippers. I noted the pen name. The letter said that Haruno had discovered her sister was a secret romance novelist, despite being an inexperienced virgin, and these were two of her published works. I looked them up online and found the sales figures were relatively high. I found her first work had won the national first novel prize. It was titled “My Teen Romantic Comedy Was Wrong, As I Expected” and the pen name. It took place at Soubu and wasn’t particularly obscured from being an obvious autobiography, which in the reviews is apparently why it sold so well. I ordered this and read it, noting the differences between it and reality, but also Yukino’s substantial inner monologue. Her long cold expressions were full of inner commentary, particularly about me and other students. This was bordering on obsession, as I realized paging through her popular romance novels that I was her primary bad-boy love interest. Always more bad and more passionate and responsive than reality, but women had fantasies. It would be a huge scandal if the author of these books were revealed.

I considered this from Yukino’s perspective. She had taken her unfulfilled desires for me and turned them into a career. If met with her, and she were disappointed, would that destroy her ability to write and end this career? And did I have any right to do that? Or not do that? Should I show up and will meeting me just inspire more creativity through frustration? Will she get more popular? I need to talk to Haruno. I’m not into ruining people.

She met me on campus during a multi-hour break I normally put to study in the lab. CAD and stress testing simulation lab only gets you so far, since actual parts have metal crystals which affect actual strength and durability. You tried to minimize variation and design processes to produce consistent results in minimal materials. Our visits to the Subaru engine plant had taught us their contracts to supply engines to Toyota and their history of modifying the original Volkswagen and Porsche boxer engine into a reliable water cooled engine that could rev high or take a turbo to boost power into the famous WRX rally model. They manufactured mostly in Japan, exporting via ship on RORO vessels. Roll On, Roll Off were a popular design for cars and there were ports able to handle the ships around the world. Crews of expert drivers carefully filled ships in specific order and spacing with cars that had just enough gasoline to get on or off the boats with a minimum of fire danger and wasted space. It was dangerous, of course, but it was a job and anyone with a clean license and good spatial awareness and endurance could do it. It was mostly young men operating like sports teams. I’d been working on an assignment to work out a placement map based on car specifications to put the correct number of vehicles, and their loading order, onto a ship while adjusting the moveable floor heights and not capsize the ship in the process. It was an amusing method since there was a game version of this which did the math on that and left you to figure out the process. I think this was to give us engineers proper respect for the guys doing the RORO loading job. After decades of stratified arrogance, Japan was finally getting a dose of professional empathy.

Haruno was not interested in my studies and got right to the point.

“Hachiman… I can call you Hachiman at this point yes?” she asked. I agreed. “Yukino is obsessed with you. I want you to meet her, in person. Take her for a motorcycle ride. Ravish her properly, and return her to me so I can help her process.”

“Are you pimping out your sister?” I asked, shocked. Others in the lab glared at my outburst, then seeing the woman with me looked jealous. Haruno was very hot, a tool she used as a weapon of mass distraction. In your personal space it was worse because she was very touchy, smelled good, and all her body language promised things you could barely dream of. It is hard to control yourself around her.

“It’s not like she’s ever wanted anyone but you. She will either get over you and stop writing these erotic novels of hers or she’ll confess her feelings properly and you two can get married and settle down without scandal.”

“You know I dream of travel and I have barely started my career. I’m still not getting paid internships yet. I have another two years of study before I graduate, if all goes well.”

“You dream of domestic travel. This is hardly a problem for a novelist,” Haruno contradicted. “And our family is paying for your scholarship. We have connections that can help your career.”

“I wonder if Yukino would be satisfied with me?” I asked out loud.

“She’s always had strange tastes. She argues with me just like she does with you. It’s the clue she actually liked you before she started writing her novels.”

“So she’s a real tsundere? I always thought those were just fiction,” I reminded her.

“Heh. Women are mysteries wrapped in enigma. Only other women understand us, and we mostly hate each other as competition for attention. Even now your eyes are validating my fashion sense. I’m warping your perspective and reason with the way I present myself to you and invade your personal space, making an emotional appeal that defies your sense of reason and stated goals in life. If you do what I ask there’s a strong chance you’ll impregnate my virginal little sister and we’ll have to increase your scholarship allowance to get you a more private room large enough to hold a small family,” Haruno threatened, using quotes from my favorite book back in Middle School, the Female Nature. How she knew about that? Probably my sister. I sighed. I am going to cave. Her argument is unfortunately compelling.

“Why me, do you think?” I asked her seriously. Haruno leaned back, grinning.

“You’re the only man to ever give as good as you got, day after day of sniping comments and petty insults are like candy for the overly prim Yukino-chan.”

“I guess I should get her riding gear out of the closet.”

“You kept that?” she asked.

“Sure. Its worth a lot of money and she told me to hang onto it in case another girl wanted to ride with me.”

“More like she didn’t want mother to find it. You better get it cleaned and retailored. She’s more like me now,” she gestured to her bust. Yukino filled out is intriguing and I blushed.

“Still a virgin, I see. Well, Yukino will be pleased.”

It was two weekends later that I was able to visit Chiba and ride my motorcycle with her gear in a bag onto the grounds of her family mansion. It was surrounded by other mansions and not far from one of the many golf courses constructed just east of Chiba. A lot of men from Tokyo commuted out here to play and show off and make business deals. The industrial base in Chiba meant that there was a lot of money flowing through our city. Their security detail stood waiting until I took off my helmet and approached the front doors rather than the side entrance for deliveries. I rang the bell, smelling of leather conditioner and exhaust fumes.

The butler-person who answered the door had been briefed to expect me and offered some house slippers to avoid scratching the imported marble floors and I took in the impressive chandelier and high sweeping entranceway. It was meant to impress. It was opulent. My nemesis, Mrs. Yukinoshita Narusei appeared, stared at me, and withdrew, shutting the door rather than greet me. I rolled my eyes. At least Haruno liked me enough to talk to me. She was there, appearing from and hallway and escorting me to a library where a desktop computer was setup. Yukino was wearing UV blocking glasses and typed with great concentration. She clicked the mouse and probably saved her file before looking up.

“Gah!” she exclaimed. “Hikigaya, you startled me. I thought I felt an unwanted gaze upon me,” she sniped.

“Nice to see you too. I read your books. Congrats on winning the prize.” Yukino blushed.

“Haruno informed you then?” she confirmed. I nodded.

“So school has been fun. I am learning a lot,” I offered after a long awkward pause.

“Haruno said you don’t have a girlfriend, that you live alone in a small cramped apartment and study all the time,” Yukino answered.

“That’s mostly true. I still go on camping trips on my motorcycle,” I reminded her. “I brought your riding suit and gear. Want to go out with me? Take a little trip?” I asked her. She stood up suddenly and stretched. She had grown a couple inches in most directions, gaining womanly shape and softness she never had before. She was lovely, a different version of Haruno back when I’d first met her. She still wore her hair long.

“It can’t possibly still fit,” she sighed.

“Haruno warned me. I’ve had it adjusted by a specialized tailor. Go try it on,” I urged her. She looked in the bag and considered.

“Wait here.” She vanished into a side door and shut it behind her. I waited, looking at the various titles around the library, including a large section of current travel books. These are essential for dropping place names into a story for realism, I suppose.

She appeared after a suitable amount of time, including the boots, carrying her helmet and gloves. She looked good. She was also blushing.

“I now understand why neesan measured me recently.”

“Try crouching,” I suggested. She did.

“It fits. And the leather still stretches properly,” she admitted.

“Good. I had it cleaned and restored. Its been in my closet at home all this time.”

“No loaning it out to other girls?” she asked sharply.

“No. You know I didn’t.” She nodded then. Returned through the door and emerged with an overnight bag.

“Take me somewhere,” she insisted.

“Okay.”

We exited the mansion and I adjusted the straps on my riding boots before we got out of Chiba and onto the Expressway out of the city and towards Tokyo.

A brief stop at my apartment for camping gear and our sleeping bags, and we headed west. I was in a nostalgic mood, so headed for Fuji and the lakes. The freeway turned into two lane roads and then mountain passes with less and less traffic. It was early Fall. The weather was mild but our prior campground was full.

“Have any ideas?” Yukino asked, looking a bit disappointed.

“Sure. There’s lots of neat places here.” I found an alternate at a hidden lake and made the reservation call. I rode us there with a bag of groceries for the last 20 km, taking into account the failing light, noting the sign and my GPS warning me of the turn off. I’d graduated from broken cellphone to actual motorcycle GPS that worked with my gloves on and didn’t care about cellphone reception. Actual world travelers used these.

The manager checked us in and marked the map for our site. We gathered our things into a carrier frame sort of like a wheelbarrow and pushed it over to the site. I setup the rented fire stand and my stove with the freshly filled water bag filling the kettle. We always started with tea at club meetings. It was nostalgic. Yukino helped with the tent setup and then the tea while I folded out chairs as the stars came out. There were couples, families with a few kids further along around the lake. The temperature dropped a bit but it wasn’t awful. The sleeping bags were probably too warm for this weather.

We both worked together heating the food for dinner. It wasn’t a huge meal, but we weren’t starving. We ate, enjoying the peace of the hidden lake.

“There is a rumor that there’s a ghost of a bull that lives here. It is said to howl in the night of a full moon,” I mentioned. Yukino giggled.

“I think we’d better keep things down. There are children present,” she teased.

We enjoyed the evening, the chirping bugs, and eventually put out the fire and retreated to our tent, closing the flaps. We kissed then and things went as passion demands. Yukino was pent up after years, and I was inexperienced, but she was enthusiastic and inspired further devotion. I won’t bore you with purple prose, but it was good. Unstrapping the crucial protection I knotted it for disposal later and laid back with her half atop me. We cuddled comfortably exhausted. I considered my feelings. I do understand why men marry, and why they hold out for traditional women. Yukino was very traditional, even if she fantasizes about a more animal version of me. She shivered so I pulled the zipped open sleeping bag atop us before drifting off with her. We woke later and got busy again, kissing heavily as we moved. Again, it was good. Yukino suppressed what was probably a scream into her arm, breathing hard through her nose, long hair stuck to her sweating back and full chest. I could see her in the moonlight filtering through the tent fabric. She was lovely. I stroked her sides atop me and she shuddered hard before flopping down, still joined. We moved in different ways and drew out the joy of being together. We slept again, keeping each other warm as the night chilled, finally, and mist rose from the lake, making everything damp, outside and in.

The morning light woke us, sounds of campers doing their own wakeups and food preparations. Yukino came awake very cutely, wincing at sore parts and strained muscles. She extracted some baby wipes from the grocery sack and proceeded to clean up the mess on herself, and myself too. Grinning at the reaction I made. We kissed and got dressed, emerging to start the wakeup process and morning breakfast. She winced every now and then.

“Are you going to be okay straddling a motorcycle seat?” I asked her. She shuddered slightly at the thought.

“I’m still having aftershocks from last night. I’ll have to hold you tight,” she warned. Oatmeal and percolator coffee did not seem appetizing or a suitable way to celebrate our proper union, so we closed up the tent and walked to the lodge, which had a café open for breakfast. And good coffee. We ate a hearty breakfast and sipped coffee, watching the light increase and eventually touch the small hidden lake where we’d lost our virginity together. Do I want to marry this woman? Does she want to marry me?

“Marry me, Hachiman,” she finally said. I looked at her serious gaze.

“Okay.” What else could I say?