Crossover Fan Fiction ❯ To Be The Villain ❯ Food Poisoning ( Chapter 5 )

“Kate! Not the cheese!” I shouted myself awake and found my glands have overridden my self control. I will need a shower and some clean underwear. Dammit all. Who know sister Kate Takayama looked like that under her stupid robes. Only in Japan are nuns a short-term gig, exactly like shrine maidens. Japan really doesn’t understand Christianity. Being exposed to the Amakusa branch following the attempted sedition by Portuguese Dominicans probably didn’t give them the best impression, though trying to crucify all believers is rarely the right solution to a largely non-violent faith. Japan thinks all religions are cults ever since the Buddhist uprising nine hundred years ago. It’s also why they require Buddhists to marry in Japan. Though why anyone would want to die a Buddhist when they actively preach that reincarnation is something they pray to avoid, and Christianity only believes in a single life… yeah. Don’t expect consistent logical thinking. So we get Sister Kate, who looks and acts like an apostle of lusty deeds for Valentine’s Day. That or a call girl with a nun theme. I suspect that I have food poisoning, thus the dream. I will need to get some vitamins in me to fight this off today so I don’t miss school and potentially allow brewing drama to boil over. Sigh. Shower first.

Clean clothes and tidying up my inevitable mess. Not daring to have a lover with all the social pressure in my life means I’m going to suffer these releases in my sleep. It’s so embarrassing. At least Haruno isn’t picking on me first thing in the morning. Instead I get messages from Miura, in a better mood I notice.

“I talked to Totsuka. He’s nice. How did such a sweet boy avoid attention at our school?” she wrote me in LINES. I sipped a vitamin drink and poured myself a glass of water, to rehydrate.

“It is probably my fault for being so danged handsome. All the girls talk about me. They don’t even whisper anymore. I can hear them when I walk past. Have you see the video of Saki hugging me at the library? I helped her fill out scholarship forms, and she was giddy. Should we activate Code Chartreuse?” I asked her.

“I want to wait a week to be sure. Maybe by then I’ll know,” she answered.

“Fair enough. Is Yui making any progress in her romance yet? I am not sure I’ve helped them much. Yukino is being a brat. Haruno is in denial. And Iroha has been peeking on me in the locker room showers,” I wrote.

“Poor her. The glimpse will just make her more hot and bothered. You should never look at the one you want in full glory. You end up tired and unfulfilled,” she swore. I probably shouldn’t have agreed to her request last year to show her my nude form. While she’s good looking and will be a pretty woman, she’s no Haruno, who managed to strip where I could see her and I still get wet dreams from that memory. Exposing herself to me was her idea of a joke with a punchline, which in my case was three years of blue balls. Thanks Haruno!

“Yeah, I said was sorry about that. You begged,” I reminded her. She did, too.

“I’m sorry. I should be more grateful, it’s just the long term consequences are more significant than I ever thought they would be,” Miura apologized.

“So does Saika know you like him?” I asked her.

“I’ll work up to it. He seems like the blushing type so teasing him looks fun,” she said, offering one of her approach options to me. I hummed, considering.

“I guess that would work. Be sure and reward him with actual contact rather than just teasing. It won’t do you any good to tease without a reward, unless you want to mentally scar him for life. You want him to end up like me?” I warned her.

“No thank you. I’ll be good,” she promised. I signed off and checked for homework, finding some and doing that before Sunday brunch. Mom and Dad looked kinda green as well. Maybe that beef tongue was off? Or the sobu noodle dipping sauce?

“I had some mild food poisoning,” I admitted at the breakfast table, sipping my vitamin drink.

“Us too. It ruined our evening plans,” Dad admitted. That’s a shame.

“I’ll find out Monday if anyone else on the team was ill. Not that it matters. I’ve got some vitamin drinks if you want them, under my bathroom sink,” I offered. Dad thanked me for my thoughtfulness and Mom retrieved a pair of them, served in juice glasses over ice, because why not?

“I’m going to rest and recover today, and see about some homework and messages I suppose,” I offered. Mom nodded, looking too green for what she liked to do with Dad when the house was empty. Normally I’d get out of the house on Sunday and hand with friends so they could have alone time. I wondered if someday I’d have that kind of double decade romance with my wife? Is Saki the kind of woman who’d be randy every day, and keep the romance going week after week, year after year? And if she wasn’t, should I be pursuing her at all? Is my own romance going to crash and burn in a few weeks, ruining a perfectly created cover defense from all those curious girls and their relentless social climbing? Do I want a hundred girls to hate me as much as Yukino does? Can I risk it? I don’t know. I feel sick and my brain is running slowly. I haven’t dared have coffee with food poisoning roiling my guts and that queasy sex dream still floating around in my back brain. I will never look at Haganai the same way again.

Within a couple hours my stomach settled down again and I showered to get fully cleaned up, again. It was time to go out. I put on some casual but still fashionable clothes, headed for the giant Chiba City shopping mall via my student bus pass. It is five stories tall and has around three hundred shops and several department stores. A million people live here, remember? It’s not just a run-down dockworkers’ town used to showcase action movie fights for Sonny Chiba anymore. Ancient history. We never turned into Night City either, in case you were wondering. The air is clean and it modernized. We even have a Monorail.

Tobe had begged off, something about helping Iroha, and Ooka was spending time with family, Miura with Ebina, so I went alone. Oddly, this felt nostalgic. I feel like I should be joining a gym with weights and an Olympic pool so I can practice my Ausralian Crawl. I bought training trunks and racing goggles before I thought about it much, and used my student pass to get a discounted membership. My name, apparently, also got me some recognition and attention. Again. At this point I rather envy Hikigaya and his stealth skill. He actually wants attention, but I want some private life and a lover who won’t unset the careful balance of political will of interlocked corruption and family dependency. Sigh. I swam and it took me half a lap to refine my form in this body and began to smooth out and speed up. By the end of three laps, I was tired, however, and had to pace myself. Great exercise. After swimming and a shower I used the gym’s branded exercise shorts and a club sleeveless tee as a jersey to work out in the gym, noting that I was pretty weak in my upper body, though my legs would do 50 kg extensions as much as I wanted, and had to hold my upper body down by the handles because I would flip out of position otherwise. It was good. I switched from quads to deadlifts and leg presses, alternating between reps. It was great and I felt comfortably sore and sweaty by the end of what I think is adequate first time work out. I returned to the locker room, showered, and got into my street clothes, carrying the branded gym bag. I looked at the Mall, remembering something, and found a logo section, buying a Mitsubishi Truck logo shirt for workouts in the future. Because it is funny.

I returned home via the bus, maintaining my public mask because people always recognize me in Chiba, and checked my phone for messages. The message from the parents suggested I eat dinner elsewhere. I went to Saize, and found Hachiman there. I grinned and joined his table without being asked. He’ll appreciate the rudeness.

“Hachiman! So great to see you. How are you getting along with Yukino-chan?” I teased him.

“Great,” he answered sarcastically. “She insults and belittles me constantly.”

“Ah, that’s how she shows affection. If she didn’t like you, she wouldn’t talk to you at all,” I corrected him.

“So, that’s how she is,” he commented. I smiled, entering my order at the table and waited for the pasta to be prepared and delivered. I was getting chicken with it. I needed the sodium after using so much in my exercise.

“How is club otherwise?” I asked him.

“Yuigahama joined, and she talks to Yukino a lot. I think its kind of a new experience for them both,” Hachiman said.

“How about you? Two pretty girls sharing a room with you. How are you dealing with all the attention?” I asked him. I let my smile fall. “Yuigahama is a friend. Ever since you saved her dog, she’s had an interest in you. She even visited your house to bring you candy. I think she said your sister answered the door. Did you get that?”

“Huh? No. Komachi likes sweets. She probably ate them, then forgot to tell me,” he admitted, confused.

“That’s why she wanted to bake you cookies you know. To show she’s interested,” I said, and dropped the bomb on the table. Hachiman froze, looking at me like I was a space alien in his bathtub.

“Huh? Yuighama what?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Look, I realize you’re an anime protagonist, so you’re bound to be denser than lead, but I wanted to avoid a lot of drama here. Yui likes you. She’s thinking about marriage. You impressed her. Don’t hurt her feelings or reject her. She actually likes you, as you are.”

“Umm. I noticed she’s a bad cook,” he said, struggling to find a flaw.

“Yes, she’s not experienced like Yukino, who lives alone in a literal tower. Yuigahama is regular folks, like you. She’s from the same social class. You won’t suffer derision or stigma dating or marrying her. She’s going to learn to cook. You could stand to learn it as well. Can’t let Komachi do all your cooking,” I pointed out. “Invite her over, cook some meals with her once a week or something. Maybe go to her place once a week. Give her a chance to meet your family, and you can meet hers.”

“Umm. Will she really do that?” he asked me. My plate arrived and I dug into my food. The server took away his plate, as he was clearly finished.

“Yes, probably.”

“Should I invite Yukino over to teach us?” he asked, looking thoughtful.

“Do you want to spoil your date by introducing her competition?” I asked him. I smirked at his thoughtful look, and then realization.

“Uh? What?” he asked me.

“Do you mean Yukinoshita has feelings..,” he started to say.

“Hayato… and who is this?” announced the overly cheerful voice of Haruno, inches from my face. I facepalmed. This is my fault. If you say her name, its like she’s summoned. Haruno is a devil of Chiba City.

“I feel like you’re thinking something uncharitable at me, Hayato. Answer my question?” she said, wanting the introduction.

“Hikkigaya Hachiman, this is Yukinoshita Haruno, who was also in the limosine which hit you six weeks ago. She feels really bad about this and her family paid your medical bills. Yukino-chan was also in the limo at the time, and was late for class because of you. I am less certain how she feels about you, but the Yukinoshita women are natural catgirls, so they play with their food,” I explained. Haruno’s grin was huge, fake, and promised pain. She slid into my side of the booth, bumping me with her hip, something I’d ordinarily enjoy. She leaned forward, tapping the control and selecting a piece of cherry pie, heated, ala mode, vanilla ice cream.

“That will give you indigestion,” I pointed out.

“Hush, Hayato,” she insisted.

“Ah… so you are Yukinoshita-san’s sister?” Hikigaya tried to say politely.

“Ahhahah!” laughed the fiend. “So you’re the one troubling Yukino’s sleep and making her all frowny faced.”

“Haruno… Do you know what Projection is?” I asked her. I’d been wanting to ask her this since my past life when I watched the anime and third season was so cringe inducing. That whole “I want something genuine” speech was out of character for him.

“Eh? What’s this now?” Haruno glared at me for interrupting her clown show. Her pie arrived, with vanilla ice cream melting beside the bright red cherries. She looked at me and grinned taking a bite from her spoon, leaking cream down her chin. I wanted to kiss her, but cannot dare to. Haruno watched my anguish, as I knew she would, and smirked at my expression. She toys with things until she gets bored with them, and for now, I was just another toy to her. And later she would throw me away when I stopped being fun. Hurricane Haruno.

“Projection is the act of assuming other people are committing some act or feeling you are having, and then blaming them for the sinfulness of the thoughts or actions you are actually, hypocritically, doing or having. It is common with females and figures of organized churches and most politicians. Projection is not a good thing,” I explained, just so I was clear.

“What was that Hayato? Did you ask for a spanking? Is that what you’re saying to me?” whispered Haruno in my ear from an inch away, hot breath arousing me terribly.

“See what Yukinoshita women are like, Hachiman?” I addressed him rather than answer yet another projection by Haruno. Now I know she likes masochism, which should surprise me but doesn’t. I’ve been studying her for years now. I’ve even read books on Psychology. This is why I’m sure something happened at Miramar. More than she was ready for.

“Yukino is a tangled mess of nerves and aggression. You have no idea. She might become as emotional as Haruno one day,” I explained. “Emotional where you can see it. Right now she’s on her best behavior. If you invite her to teach the two of you cooking at your respective homes, she may work out these feelings she is having and calm down. Or she might get jealous and explode. I do not know how it will go, honestly.”

“What’s this? You want to invite Yukino to have a three-some? How risqué! How delightfully debauched,” Haruno said.

“Projection, once more. Is that what you’re into, Haruno? Some airtight fantasies?” I teased her in English. She finally blushed. Hachiman blinked, not getting the words because his English isn’t native like mine. It takes 2000 hours to get basic proficiency in English, and Japan just doesn’t have enough to spare from their curriculum which only provides them 150 hours of instruction.

“Don’t worry yourself, Hachiman. The key thing is that you need to decide if Yukino is a patient enough teacher to ask for her time so you can learn basic skills. You might ask your sister to start with,” I suggested.

“Oh? A sister? Who can cook? We have more in common than I suspected, Hachiman,” purred Haruno, who ignored my sexual taunt and leered at Hachiman in one of her everchanging fake expression masks. This was a mixture of false interest and shared experience sympathy. Haruno doesn’t have sympathy, which is why it is easy to see her expression is fake. I watched him, saw the second it took to “aha” at her and then smirk. Now you’ve done it. She likes it when men call her out on her lies. So few that know her mother would ever dare.

“Yes, my little sister is in middle school. She’ll be coming to Soubu next year, if she can pass the entrance exams. My parents work a lot, so we cook meals together,” he explained.

“Really. Do you have a picture? Show me,” she insisted. He pulled out his phone and ran a picture gallery. I looked at them too. Yes, cutest little sister in Japan. And she’s got the intelligence of Haruno, a very sharp wit.

“She’s smart, so long as she studies every night for a month before exam day,” I offered. I haven’t actually met her yet, but my Little Bird excuse is useful.

“Oh? What’s this hubris?” Haruno asked me, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s at least as smart as you, and sociable,” I pointed out. Haruno looked thoughtful.

“Wonderful!” she cheered, and finished her pie, scraping up the melted ice cream and slurping it down. I noticed a partial roll of an over the counter lactose digestion enzyme tablet roll sticking out of her open purse. So maybe she’d sleep okay after all.

“I must run, but great talking to you both!” Haruno said and rushed to the counter, gesturing at our table and flashing a black amex card.

“What just happened?” Hachiman finally asked me when the shock wore off.

“That is Yukino’s older sister, and my first crush. Or second crush if you believe Yukino. Haruno is quite something isn’t she. She projects the image of the perfect girl, doesn’t she?” I said, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, all fake. Nobody is that perfect. She’s probably like that at parties,” he said, eyeing me and picturing me in a tuxedo. Yes, I have one. I’ve had a dozen. I had one when I was little and could barely walk. I can tie the bow tie, too. The real one, not the clip on.

“True. As the elder daughter of a Diet member, she meets all sorts of men of power and influence. Ambassadors, civic leaders, champions of industry. I think she is sick of it, but she’s obligated to continue. I believe she’s close to breaking point, which is why she’s so sarcastic and rude to people who don’t matter, or already know the real her.” I sipped from my water glass, finishing up my pasta and chicken. The sauce wasn’t anything special, other than salty and the parmesan cheese had the consistency of sand. It wasn’t great, but I got lucky finding Hachiman here, away from his classmates. Pity about Haruno dropping in.

“I saw a video of you and Saki hugging,” Hachiman said. “Isn’t Miura going to be mad?”

Interesting. Probably saw it because Yuigahama showed him.

“Sometimes when you do a girl a favor, she rewards you as best she knows how. What do you think Yui wants to reward you with for saving her precious Sable?” I asked.

“Saeburu?” he asked, confused.

“The long haired dashund that got your leg broken?” I explained. Light dawned.

“Ah. Hmm. Well,” he said, turning pink at the potential answers.

“Whatever you’re thinking, if she keeps liking you it will be that and more.”

“You’ve known her for a while. What do you think of Yuigahama?” he asked me. This polite conversation is really underrated, like those running backs in American football. They’re always underrated. The announcers frequently say so.

“She’s a nice girl. Friendly, open, kind. She is what she appears to be. She aggravates ambitious women like Miura, because she’s free to have an ordinary woman’s life. She isn’t forced into public marriages for the sake of family politics, or expected to achieve great things or important jobs after a stellar and perfect college record. She wants to be a housewife, maybe run a pastry shop or flower shop. She can afford to dream common dreams. Yukino almost certainly envies her.” I let my expression go cold at that. Let Hachiman see I am serious.

“Jealousy? Yukino is good at everything. Its why so many girls hate her…oh.” His face blanked as he considered the implications of his own realization. This is what it looks like from the outside.

“Women are complicated,” he finally said.

“And often unhappy. The more ambitious they are, the more likely they are unhappy,” I answered with the aplomb of a French diplomat I’d conversed with at an embassy function last year. It had helped cope with my lingering feelings for Haruno. You can’t change everything, and trying will usually kill you.

“So what is Yukino’s ambition?” Hachiman asked me.

“She wants to step into her sister’s shoes, become the darling web spinner, and the next generation maven of the Yukinoshita family, behind a suitable political marriage, potentially a successful and ruthless deal maker. It is part of the reason she likes you, but she hasn’t though this through. You aren’t of the right social class, and any romance would be cut short because you are unsuitably born for their family ambitions. For that matter, so am I,” I admitted.

“What do you mean?” he asked me.

“My family are servants of theirs. You don’t marry the help, or their children. It isn’t done,” I explained. This sank in, as he considered my recent interactions with Haruno and he paled.

“Wow. Umm… sorry for the uncharitable thoughts I’ve had about your clique for the last couple weeks,” he said, bowing briefly.

“Yes, well, I understand you weren’t properly informed as the situation. It is hard to have empathy for apparent winners of life’s lottery. I assure you, I am jealous of your freedoms. You can have a gentle girlfriend like Yui, and I’m denied a similar enjoyment with Saki. We are different social classes, and she’s got ambitions for college when I’ll need either a partner in law school or a perfect housewife to raise my perfect children. Miura chafes at the idea, and I’ll have better luck searching in college or accepting the omiai my family arranges.”

“Aren’t you gaijin?” Hikigaya asked me.

“Yes, but we’re insiders, accepted and necessary. We’re no longer disposable, so we’ll have to have me marry someone suitable, another insider family that doesn’t mind the change insults. You see?” I explained, smiling somewhat painfully. I am feeling some sore muscles. I checked my phone. Still no all-clear message allowing me to come home. Maybe I’ll catch a movie.

“It is kinda weird talking to you like this,” Hikigaya admitted.

“I’m just as human as you are. I have more responsibilities you don’t. Did you get a chance to use those writing links I sent you?” I asked him.

“Huh? That was you?” he asked, perking up.

“Yeah, a Little Bird Told Me that a guy in the literature club wants his novel read and reviewed,” I mentioned.

“Oh, that. Yeah, his novel was pretty bad. I used the links after we read it. Yukino was not best-pleased, and Yui didn’t even try. Pretending she’d read it and pretending to be sleeping like the two of us was pretty cute,” he admitted.

“Treasure those memories. You were going to get visited by Totsuka for tennis practice help, but I got Miura to do that.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing the Service Club would do,” he answered, thinking about it.

“Miura is professional level, highly trained. She’s too GOOD for a high school team like ours. And I think she’s kinda interested in Totsuka. We’ll see if that goes anywhere,” I admitted.

“Eh? But isn’t Miura your girlfriend?” he asked, then realized what I’d said a few minutes ago and piped down, thinking again.

“Wheels within wheels,” he said at last.

“Pretty much. He seems like a nice enough guy, if a big girly. Maybe she just likes him for her own reasons. So do you have any plans for the summer? Its only a few weeks away,” I pointed out. He hummed.

“I was going to rest on my couch and play video games on Vita-chan,” he said.

“Maybe that will be a good time to practice cooking with Yui a couple meals a day, and go out together without distractions or constraints on your time?” I suggested. He looked curious.

“She’ll be wearing light summery clothes. And eating better. Maybe growing in certain areas,” I pointed out further. He looked intrigued.

“That… that sounds pretty good.”

“And your sister won’t tease you for being a lazy bum, right?” I added. He froze.

“How did you know she says that?” he asked me.

“She’s dating Saki’s little brother. She talks about you to him,” I said, not claiming directly that he’d said anything, just misdirecting his mind. It’s because I’m a villain. See how I did that?

“Anyway, we should pay and head out. We’ve occupied this table long enough, and it’s the dinner rush,” I gestured to the full restaurant, and the waitress that was glaring at us from her position across the way.

As expected, Haruno had paid for our dinners. Hachiman looked baffled, but we left in good spirits. I wished him well and noted my phone had the all-clear, finally. I went home, put gym clothes into the washer, and went to bed. I slept like a log.