Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ Kantei ❯ Yukino is Frustrated ( Chapter 3 )

He was doing it again. I don’t know why it drives me so crazy, but Hachiman really drives me up the wall. This time he was singing in English. And then he was singing in German, the only German song that ever made top 40 in the world: 99 Luftballons by Nina Hagen. And he was getting the pronunciation right.

I speak German. I also speak Elvish, English, Polish, Russian, high and low Dacian, French, Spanish, and Gutteral Latin. I woke up with the knowledge after several fever dreams when I was young. Being a dragon. Being a small genki sprinter who liked guns and farming equipment. A Mecha pilot, because what Japanese person doesn’t dream of being a Gundam pilot? A German-Russian flying witch whose boss was really scary, a witch who is good with ice magic, and a girl obsessed with coffee. Oh, and I speak Romance, the language of Switzerland. For all that, Ryu Lyon, an elf battle princess was the sharpest personality at the moment. She was always angry. Oh, and I’m really good with a 5-speed, clutch and mountain drifting an all wheel drive Nissan Skyline. And I carry a skein of wool and knitting needles with me. I sharpened them myself. Don’t ask.

I don’t like the way that Iroha hits on Hachiman. She isn’t fooling anyone. Yui’s affection is the sort of pure love that blinds you, but mine… for some reason I feel like I would kill for him. That used to be pretty common thing in Japan. Women killing for their love. It is possible I have Yandere tendencies.

It doesn’t help that I’ve noticed him reading the DSM-IV on his phone. Who does that?

I made tea for the others and settled down with my cat book, sipping from my cup, observing over the top of the page. I made sure to turn the page at appropriate intervals to allay suspicion.

“We should do karaoke sometime. Maybe invite our sisters,” Hachiman casually dropped. I stared at him. Inviting Haruno near my man? I raised an eyebrow. He’d need to meet her eventually. Yui seemed enthused, demonstrating she had an adequate voice.

“Do you think that wise? My sister is… overbearing,” I warned.

“Can’t be worse than Komachi when she’s had sugar in her coffee,” he offered blithely. I could tell it was blithe. His vocabulary is pretty broad. This is yet another thing which annoys me about him. He’s a mystery wrapped in an enigma. He talks like a man, experienced and well-travelled. This is impossible, of course. Note to self: start a company that makes pajamas and blankets, so that pun can be literal. Mystery PJs and Enigma blankets and sheets. This will sell. Girls in Japan buy shirts with the word MOIST on it in English, because Japan speaks English about as well as Americans speak Spanish. Some, and poorly. I got a dose of that in San Diego.

“If you’re certain, I can only say I told you so,” I returned, because that’s the sort of woman I’ve grown up to be. A sniper, with words. I retaliate. I wait for the right moment. I fire, and kill them dead… with metaphors and sarcasm. Part of me rebels against this overt action, but holding back my violent need to lash out is taking considerable willpower. Still, karaoke, and a chance to meet this sister he’s so devoted to. I’m sure she exists. I found it in the records. His parents are still married, but his cold attitude and deliberate distance from classmates is really odd. Most boys his age would be pining for attention, from friends or from girls they want to impress into taking off their clothes for him. It isn’t at all mysterious. Mother revealled that to me when I was 12 and had my first period. And sister confirmed all the juicy details, usually when I’m trying to do something else that requires concentration. I do regret that Haruno has my spare key, but it was her or allow Mother to descend on me. Nevermind I’m up in a tower. It will still feel like a descent, the glower of an angry goddess showing her displeasure. So I let Haruno have the key, report my living conditions to mother, and I’m left alone without the constant interruptions at the family mansion and its continuous interlopers and degernates hoping to molest a princess and get on the inside of the family fortune. The man who tried? Well, my knitting needles resolved him after sufficient stabs, and mother and father were quite appalled with his employers and some of them were not seen in public again, though one or two might float up under the Chiba dockyards before the crabs finish them. Note to self: never eat anything caught in Tokyo Bay.