Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ My Unfortunate Whale Vision ❯ NINE ( Chapter 9 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

 

Chapter 9

 

 

 

I spent the following spare time, beyond schoolwork, reading the Motorcycle Manual for the A1 exam. It will limit me a 125cc, no access to freeways, but side roads and country roads and city streets are fine. I would be spending some of my savings to buy safety clothing, a helmet included, and paying the fees for the Chiba Driving school, which was conveniently located 10 km north of Chiba City, and on the rail route. It would be multiple weeks of instruction, first in the classroom, then on simulators, then riding practice, then riding tests, all of which I must pass to be licensed. If I can ride for six months and document my learner’s miles, I can then be permitted to study for, pass, and gain an A2 license on a 450cc motorcycle capable of freeway traffic, toll roads, and full access. Do that for a year and I can be licensed for a bigger bike, if I want one. Modern 450’s are around 50 horsepower, but the older ones are more like 35-40. The freedom to travel while giving myself something to do rather than fall into trouble with some high school girl who can’t count and really wants some child support payments and alimony in a couple years, after the baby is on solid foods. Oopsie? Right.

 

Japan’s economic problems, so I have read, are complex and not easily resolved. The pension burden and costs of retiring old people is huge, and the amount of the Japanese economy based on continuous debt is a trap that repeats the obvious consequences around the world, over and over again, with minor variations. Japan’s version involves buying American treasury bills to fund road repair scams, which overcharge and pass around bribes with kickbacks, as you would expect. The difference is that Japanese roadworks are quality, looking really good and something to be proud of. They just cost ten times more than they actually spend on the project, the rest being bribes and money laundering. I’d read somewhere that Japan is a third world country with a first world transportation system. I think that is probably true.

 

We are currently babysitting Yuigahama’s dog, Sable. The dog likes me, and the cat likes me, but the cat hates the dog and tends to taunt it from atop the refrigerator or other appliances and similar places the dog cannot reach. There’s generally barking from the dog and silent glares from the cat. Yui would be arriving today to pick up her pet. She may choose to share details on her family vacation, or she may keep it to herself. Or she may tell Komachi but not me. Thankfully, pets are not fat slobs in my vision. I am restricted to humans for that terrible affliction.

 

Yui turned up, looking fat, sun browned, happy, and bouncing in that way she does. She wore running shoes and was anxious to get her dachshund home and take them out for a walk together. Komachi and I traded off walking the dog twice a day, which kept down all the frantic barking as well as got us some exercise. I continued my workouts, of course, and visited the gym daily.

 

“Wow, Hachiman. You are looking fit today,” Yui said, salivating at me in my teeshirt and shorts. She could see my muscles. I’d just finished a quick workout.

 

“Uh, you too. Sable seems really happy to see you,” I said, changing the subject to her favorite: her dog. She chatted happily and fussed over him.

 

“So I’ll see you on Obon and we can go together then,” she added, leaving me confusedly agreeing.

 

“Hachiman. Didyou just agree to go on a date… with a girl?” she taunted. Right now Komachi, in all her fifteen year old glory, and we’d celebrated her birthday together, was gaining more aspects of the future. She was more of a goblin, sharp eyes and big grin, giving her more than a passing resemblance to Yukinoshita Haruno.

 

“I guess so. I’ll be thinking of it as accepting payment for an obligation rather than romantic,” I corrected her. She pouted, which stretched her face like a cartoon. Sigh. My little sister: Where did you go?

 

At least I could exercise properly this summer. My leg was fully healed and I was finally done with the cane entirely, able to lift weights. No more skipping leg day for me. I did have to wear sunglasses and a cap to hide my identity from students I knew in the area. Like me, some were not wealthy enough for a fabulous country vacation. Gym in the early morning, a shower, and then my gym bag and leathers up to the Chiba Driving school.

 

My time at the motorcycle school was very enjoyable. Learning to ride was at least as challenging as learning to cook. You end up keeping track of many things at the same time on a motorcycle, from brakes using the right foot for the rear brake and the right hand for the front, the clutch with the left hand, and the gear shift, up or down, using the toe of the left foot. All while balancing, turning, seeing the traffic.

 

In this aspect, riding in traffic, which I haven’t done outside the simulator yet, is similar to riding a bicycle, only you don’t have a safe direction, like a bicycle does at the side of the street, but are dealing with cars all around you, some changing lanes, and you have both the best acceleration and the best brakes on the road, which also means a car or truck can run you over if you stop too quickly, or don’t get out of the way.

 

I have to say it is pretty intimidating trying to keep track of it all, but the effort, the stress, makes me feel very alive. I doubt sex is this good. And riding a motorcycle lasts more than four to seven minutes.

 

Returning from school after successfully passing my final exam and getting my A1 license passed, to arrive in the mail in the next week, left me giddy. I was in a good mood, and it was the Obon festival tonight. I had enough time to get home, shower, and dress in a yukata and sandals, with socks. They aren’t super awesome looking, but it would protect my feet from the straps. I put some product in my hair to get it under control and managed to get the back into a high Ronin tail. The doorbell rang and Komachi ushered in Yui, to noisy greetings and the offer of tea or a snack before our outing. I’d asked earlier if Komachi was coming but she just gave me the dry eye and went back to her magazine.

 

“Oh, Hachiman!” she exclaimed, finally seeing me properly. “You dressed up.”

 

“So did you,” I said. She’d lost some of the weight over the last week and was looking fit and healthy, despite bags under her eyes from tiredness and a certain hollow to the cheek suggesting a few meals missed recently. “Ready?” She nodded. We gathered footwear and stepped out into the hot summer night. There were lots of cars moving around on nearby streets, windows open with various radio stations playing, conversations and the smell of garlic and soy sauce drifting out of kitchens, even as the sun dropped towards Tokyo to our West, across the Bay. I offered her my arm and she took it, heading for the bus, then the train station, towards Tokyo Disney and the free park the prefecture owned for these kinds of events. It was on the bay, and they organized fireworks, and the Yakuza provided stalls to sell nearly expired food ingredients cooked in nearly rancid oil and nearly rancid flour to cover up the nearly expired and heavily marinated takoyaki, adzuki bean fillings, and various other money making tricks which kept the modern Yakuza going today. It wasn’t gone, arrested in 1986 in the major crackdown of that era. No, it was here, and in every pachinko parlor, and most of the highway service stops that had more than a gas station and toilet. They were still here, they just changed a few things and bribed the right people to ignore the surge of food poisoning cases after a festival. Everybody knows.

 

For all that, I bought some cotton candy to bring Komachi and a caramel apple for Yui, and some takoyaki for me, and a second toothpick to share with Yui. Some girls from class turned up to heckle Yui about being on a date and I merely smirked at them, flexing muscles, which caused several to lose concentration, leaving only Sagami, from our class, to peter off in her own daydream. Yui turned to regard me with confusion and I just shrugged, and she excused herself from their silent staring, joining me for a few other stalls for souvenirs and nonsense. I suspect she’s daydreaming about this being a real date, about finding true love, but the future is thunder thighs and chin wattles if she every misses a day of exercise in the future, once her metabolism slows down and the weight starts piling on, like it does for everyone who doesn’t live on their feet popping amphetimines like candy and drowning her sorrows in alcopop or beer. And most of those have the calories to increase the gut, too.

 

The first warning shot of the fireworks popped, and Yui grabbed my hand dragging me for the stairs towards a darker hill above the venue, where we would be able to see better.

 

“Hachiman? And Yui? What are you doing here? Nevermind, come in. Be my guests. Tell me about your summers,” called out the music tones of my second favorite goblin. It was Haruno, of course. I opened my eyes to verify it. A 10, as usual. My eyes squinted once more and the goblin grinned with sharp teeth, delighted at new toys to torment.

 

“Hello, Miss Yukinoshita-san. Thank you for the invitation. We accept. We haven’t seen Yukino since the camping trip. Is she well?” I asked her with all formality.

 

“Ah, thank you for asking after imouto. She’s been attending to family business with mother and father, meeting people in society, and of course giving me some vacation time for myself,” she laughed. I could see the laugh was forced and she really was exhausted and needed to relax. “How about yourselves?”

 

“I went on vacation with my family. I just got back a few days ago,” Yui explained.

 

“What about you, Hachiman? I see your muscles are bigger. You spending all your time in the gym?” she teased.

 

“I try not to skip a day. My leg is better so I’ve been able to work out properly. I’ve been spending most of my days in driving school, getting my motorcycle permit.”

 

“Oh? You going to ride an American Harley?” she taunted.

 

“I have no such aspirations. I do want to eventually reach the point of touring, however, and I’ll be learning to ride for the next half year. Thankfully this gets me off the bus,” I explained.

 

“Really? You’ll have to take me somewhere once you get your full license,” she promised. Yui clenched my arm in jealousy. I sighed.

 

“Right after I take Yui and Yukino somewhere each. Maybe a trip to the seaside, down to the Pacific shore past all the golf courses and orchards. Or up to that tourist town to the northeast. I hear there’s a cafe full of pretty girls who serve coffee and pinchos,” I commented.

 

“What are pinchos?” asked Yui, confused.

 

“Hors d’oeuvres, but Spanish style. Or possibly Basque,” I corrected myself.

 

“It’s Basque, yes,” agreed Haruno. She’d know.

 

“The important thing is it isn’t in Chiba City, and I don’t even have a motorcycle yet, so save up your anticipation for when I am ready to carry someone,” I explained. The both giggled nervously, and then the fireworks started. It was pretty, Yui pressed her boob into my right arm, and Haruno pressed her boob into my left. Looking at the fireworks I cannot see the whale versions of them beside me, just feel young supple, fertile and desirable female flesh pressed into me, daring me to make a move and become a wage slave for the rest of my life. My dreams of motorcycling would be destroyed in four to seven minutes of bliss. The hormones demanding my attention insist it is worth it. My brain is overruling my stupid hormones, reminding me that I have goals for myself, and they don’t include being a father at 18 years old.

 

The fireworks ended. We said our polite goodbyes to Haruno, who wished us well but headed towards various dignitaries to greet and do whatever politicians did. Yui and I joined the que for the train and got into the second one, headed back for Chiba City. The late buses ran and we arrived in our neighborhood soon enough. I walked her back to her home, her phone ringing to confirm her return rather than excuses about boys and pregnancy I could hear over a rather loud speaker on her phone. Yui looked horrified with embarassment and I pretended, as is the Japanese way, to have heard nothing. I wished her a good night and walked slowly home under the pale streetlights and sliver of moon.

 

 

My license arrived a week before school was to restart, so that allowed less time for finding and purchasing a used but running CB125 with a bad taillight and soft rear brake. It was a very popular bike, and Honda sold tens of millions of them in the 1970’s, right up until 1984. This made them plentiful and therefore cheap, and being single cylinder bikes, easier to maintain. The parts were available off the shelf at a Honda dealer and I installed them following directions from the shop manual and video off of WePipe, a useful feature. The gas tank held five liters, and would probably run an entire month of my commute to school. I fixed the brake shoes and adjusted them, replaced the bulbs in the tail light, and got everything signed off with the motor vehicles department so it was certified roadworthy. My blue and yellow chevron placard was bolted on front and rear, meaning learner. I also sewed the patches on my bright yellow vest, to be worn over my riding jacket. It was required for the next six months when I would take the next set of tests for the A2 license. I also had to get a parking permit from Soubu, which was a four hundred yen fee for the remainder of the school year. Not a problem. They even have a section of the covered parking for mopeds and scooters and light motorcycles like this one. A nice feature of this bike is that it is freeway capable, though I am not licensed for that, and has a top speed of 120 kph.

 

 

When school started back up my sister was getting walked by Taishi, the future father of her children I hoped. I warmed up my bike and carried my school uniform in a bag, my lunch and books in my school bag, and the ride was pleasant and enjoyable with all the gear shifts on the five speed, up and down, clutch shift throttle match, clutch out, throttle up or down as needed. It is a good training bike and capable of carrying a pillion, a passenger. I arrived earlier than by bicycle, and headed for the gym to change out of my bike leathers, hung in my locker, and headed for class, making it before the bell. I would have to work out timing.

 

 

Sensei was her usual waddling self, angry, dateless, fingers and teeth stained by nicotine. She started in with her lectures on Modern Japanese after roll call and I sank into the usual routine of study once more.

 

Lunch found Yukino in the stairwell, looking fragile and determined before the windows.

 

“We asked after you at Obon,” I said to her.

 

“Sister told me. I’ve been… busy,” she admitted. “Sorry, but I didn’t have time for messaging. It is… good to be back in school,” she said with a certain degree of exhaustion.

 

“Welcome back,” I said.

 

“Thank you. It is good to be back,” she answered. I went to class, she went to hers. We met up after school for our usual Service Club nonsense.