🌸Cherry Blossom Palette🎨
🌸Chapter 24: A Chore🎨
Written by EmtenDew
Edited by P. serrulata
Author's note:
ED: On the subject of the end of the previous chapter, I feel blessed to not have the kind of experiences my editor gifted me in the writing of the chapter. It sounds terrifying, and he didn't pull many punches in this chapter either when I asked for his help. As we said last chapter, this is how Naoto views things, whether he's right or wrong. I assure you that it's all going somewhere.
Editing this chapter was somewhat tiring to both of us. This chapter is a little "heady" and heavy on exposition, but it will shed light on my interpretation of Naoto for this story.
** (It's also quite angry and contains depictions of anxiety, so be ready for that.) **
This is a longer chapter. We really wanted to divide it into two parts, but given the material, we agreed that leaving readers hanging was a lousy idea. Things will improve for our hero in the next several chapters.
Just try to roll with the next bundle of chapters. It may seem weird or downright crazy, but again, it's going somewhere, so please just go with it. I mean, their summer vacation is about to start!
To get to the story, something not so chill has happened with Naoto. Let's see where it goes.
I'd like to wish you a Happy New Year! See you soon.
Please look at the Q&A section I set up at the end of the chapter. Ask us anything, and we'll add another section in the next chapter. I would be happy if you ask questions.
Please enjoy what I wrote.
Saturday, July 6, 2018
Naoto Hachioji, a moment before, had suddenly gotten sick in the sporting goods store on his shopping trip with Nagatoro. A distinct tightness in his chest and fog in his head had threatened to ground him.
Having fallen to his knees, barely managing to shut and lock the door of the men's room, he'd almost vomited, somehow managing not to. Standing up again had been a chore, but he'd been able to do it.
Adjusting his gaze, he saw himself in the mirror above the sink. He saw the tears of exertion… the pallid skin… the fear… the anger.
He had to stop himself from punching out the glass, reflecting his valueless being, and he clasped his hands close to his constricting chest.
Sitting heavily back down on the floor, he harangued himself.
You Goddamn coward! You're messing it up again!
He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, but his wind failed him, and he dared not make a peep.
He could tell a sob was coming on.
He fought it. Don't cry! Don't cry!
It wouldn't have made much difference in his looks if he did—nearly puking tended to bring out tears and redness in the eyes and face—but it was just another complication that he didn't need.
Wrapping his head in his winding arms, he tried to even out his breathing.
What the fuck's wrong with me?!
He hadn't been through this in at least a month. He thought he'd gotten better! All the times he'd been together with Nagatoro since, he'd been able to keep a lid on this nonsense!
This only happened when he was with Nagatoro, and it had never happened before he met her. Sure, he'd gotten a little anxious a few times in his life, but it had never felt like the sky was falling on him!
Maybe this is what being in love is like… and I just can't deal with it.
He hoped that wasn't the case, and he doubted it was; it was maddening, and it made no sense.
His world didn't make much sense a lot of the time.
Maybe I'm just tired…
Exactly what he was going through was difficult to put into words, even for him, and it was happening to him!
It was an indescribably unpleasant sensation!
It was as if there was this… big, unclear, terrible nothing walking behind him all the time. He lived in dread of what might happen next. It was like fear feeding fear feeding fear.
It was like some enormous… cloud of shit just swirling around, always lashing at his back!
He lived in fear.
Specifically, he lived in fear of what Nagatoro might do!
Every time he was away from her, he forgot what it was like to be alone with her!
A few people around the two of them, he was fine, but being alone with her was sometimes more than he could handle when she got nasty.
On the phone or in a group, he felt he had a measure of control in a given situation. He could hang up the phone or cut a call short if he started to edge like this. The others being around gave him a place to retreat to, and it seemed to keep Nagatoro in check.
But alone with her, he knew he could often be steered in any direction she wanted. That's probably what bothered him the most.
Still, there was more to it than that, why he'd withdrawn. It wasn't even Nagatoro's goading itself, mostly.
To Naoto's relief, he was beginning to rightly calm down.
Taking a chance on standing again, he became dizzy for a few seconds, but he bowed his head, inclined towards the sink, and was better almost immediately.
Raising his eyes, he looked into the mirror.
Oh, yeah… Definitely looks like I've been crying…
But, as had been said, he'd come close to puking out everything he'd had to eat and drink that afternoon, so he wouldn't even have to fib as to why he looked like Hell.
Splashing some water in his face, he blew his nose and padded himself dry.
Finally turning the water off, he was grateful for the obnoxiously loud fan, and he plotted his next move.
Sitting on the toilet seems like a good idea. He didn't need to go; he needed to sit on something besides the unmopped, piss-stained floor of the men's room in some little sporting goods store.
Making doubly sure the lid was back down—he'd thrown it open in case the chunks flew—he turned around and took a welcome seat.
Ah… Oh, yeah… He knew he'd be ready to leave again after a time.
He hadn't checked his watch prior to running inside, but he estimated he'd only been gone about four or five minutes.
Maybe I'll stay for 15… It didn't seem excessive to him.
He was having tummy troubles, so he wouldn't have to explain himself past that.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
The sink's faucet wasn't fully off. Even with the fan going, the dripping was still plenty loud.
Just able to reach the handle, Naoto cranked on it. The drip slowed, but it didn't stop.
Leaky thing… He could still hear it, but whatever.
After another moment, he'd consoled himself to the point where he was able to think more clearly again.
Nagatoro's teasing…
The first couple of times it happened, it scared the Hell out of him! But as they became friends…
He'd grown to like it in a way, when it wasn't overly ruthless. He'd liked it when it was just her paying attention to him and spending time together, but he'd begun to see things differently before long.
Things changed when he fell in love.
Her "cruelty"… he didn't like it the way he had. It was just different; there wasn't really another word for it.
Some switch or fuse had popped, some wheel had turned, and how he processed her teasing and scheming must've begun running through a new circuit or some extraneous channel.
Things are making sense again, but that still doesn't make sense. Thinking about it had him all turned around!
He'd told her he didn't mind when she did it to him, yes, but that was a long time ago. His other friends, he still thought it was kind of funny when they ragged on him, but things had largely changed for him surrounding Nagatoro.
He'd grinned and borne it, but he wanted it to change. He needed it to change!
Unable to sit still, Naoto jumped to his feet again and stared down his reflection in the mirror.
I need to tell her how I feel! This thought was never far away.
But he'd be unable to articulate when he had chance and reason. And he'd promise himself that the next time will be better.
Then he'd fail the next time. He'd fail to tell her how he felt.
But things would be better next time! He'd find a way to tell her that he just wants her to cool it, that it hurts. He wanted her to just ease up on the teasing and treat him with a little more respect. The way he feels has changed.
Things would be different! He'd speak up! Things would be better!
He'd tell himself that priorly, but then they still weren't.
But next time…!
And around and around it went!
He forgot each and every time how it felt.
How he'd not go through it again.
He swore he'd tell her off tactfully. And he just never did.
He couldn't bring himself to do it, really.
It would bottle up until the… whatever this was came out. He hadn't always gotten to the point of illness, but it was more and more trying every time!
When he was unable to remain levelheaded, he wanted so badly to just unload on her. But what good would that do?!
He'd need to do it tactfully, but he didn't know how.
And he loved her! That complicated it all the more!
How could he tell her at some point that he loved her without overcoming this other obstacle?
Naoto wasn't always sure what he was so terrified of. There were a lot of things he wasn't sure of.
But he knew one thing:
He was afraid he'd lose her.
And he sometimes didn't know why he felt that way, but Mr. "Big, Unclear, Terrible, Nothing Cloud of Shit" never gave him a reason for much of anything.
He was becoming quick to anger over all of this, and he often found himself having "shouting matches" between the "submissive" wimp and the "go-getter" wimp in his own head.
His sight had returned to the bottom of the sink, and he squeezed shut his eyes, losing himself.
…
Stop it!
Lay off a little.
That hurts.
Keep your mouth shut, Naoto.
Please, can you just treat me a little better?
It's fun sometimes, but could you please not go so far?
Tell her, you stupid cocksucker!
Don't say anything!
Could you please not go overboard?
WoUld yOU fuCKIng STOP IT?!
Relax! Just take it, you shit.
Tell her already!
That'd be pushing her away. She might try to push me, but I wouldn't! I'd never push her away. I only want to get closer!
Just stop, PLEASE!
Please…!
I don't wanna lose her!
I'm gonna speak my mind!
No, I'm not…
Right, I… won't…
Because I'm just a little pussy.
I'm just a waste.
I'm garbage…
…
Inhaling deeply and blowing out a rough breath, Naoto settled for a brief moment.
I'm a mess…! He again tried to steady his breathing and was nearly there.
Opening his eyes again, he mulled his situation.
How many times has this happened?! He wasn't sure, but it had probably happened a couple times a month. Nagatoro probably thought he had IBS or something, as often as he would abscond to the nearest bathroom. Several times, he'd been able to hold on until he was alone, so maybe she thought nothing of it, not even being there when this happened.
However, even with all that, the above shitstorm wasn't the cause of this current breakdown.
It wasn't the pressure of the struggle between the concept of keeping his mouth shut and speaking his mind to Nagatoro that had sent him cowering to the restroom. Naoto may have even begun to make a quasi-peace with the fact that he'd never be able to speak up and tell her what he was thinking.
No.
The cowering? Again, this hadn't happened in over a month. It was in late May or the beginning of June the last time he'd run for cover, falling to pieces over his dilemma concerning addressing his grievances with Nagatoro.
It was months past, but this had even happened early on when Nagatoro's tormenting became too much to bear. A few times, she'd simply been so mean to him that he'd dissolved and found himself going through a milder version of what he was now.
It seemed apparent he'd moved past that kind of stuff.
This time, it was the mention of her brother that had started him up.
Naoto had met him in the spring.
With no idea of who the guy was, Naoto had confronted him, thinking he was harassing Nagatoro.
One thing led to another, and before Naoto knew it, he'd stepped in front of what turned out to be a playful punch meant for Nagatoro. Her brother had stopped short, but it had been close.
After learning who he was, Naoto almost wished the punch had landed. Nagatoro would be visiting her brother's ass in jail, and she might not be happy about the fact he was locked up for slugging her senpai, but at least that goon would be out of his life for an indefinite period of time.
Nagatoro's big brother was one of the most repellant people Naoto had ever met, and only a few people sat higher on that list.
He'd tried to smile through it all and did, but it wasn't real. He was freaking out, and keeping his cool had been hard. It didn't help the guy was nearly a head taller than him.
Her brother had no idea who he was, and the sick fuck was already tormenting and verbally assaulting him, treating him like he was insignificant. For nothing!
A man knows he's good and afraid when he can physically feel his testicles pulling up into the safety of his body. It's not a pleasant sensation, your nuts telling you they've apparently either been given a swift kick or that someone was giving them a healthy squeeze with an iron fist.
Naoto hated that dreadful sensation, and he'd sensed it alright, dealing with that bastard. That sickening ache lingered. And it was often accompanied by a deathly cold that went straight to the marrow.
Turning away from the mirror, Naoto was hit with a violent impulse to punch the wall, but he collected himself, refraining from the foolish act.
The way he looked at me…! Like I was a bug!
It had been beyond disgusting.
Conjuring up the scene, he grabbed onto one of the handicap rails screwed into the wall's studs and began wrenching at it.
The fixture creaked, otherwise unyielding, but it felt good to twist on something, and it was better than punching a hole in the drywall.
Damn it!
Naoto knew he still had a problem with his jumping to conclusions, and he was trying to be less judgmental, but when something malignant was staring him in the face, he could see it for what it was.
He knew something unbelievable—something sick—was rising up. There wasn't a name to give it. It was just there, and Naoto saw it! It didn't even have a face, but he saw it! It was like a tsunami wave of… blood and feces looming over anything and everything! A blight!
All Naoto heard from his brains, heart, guts, and balls—his whole being and all his instincts—was "run".
Well, maybe running away wasn't the thing to do…
But he was a man! Why'd he stand there and take that?!
He'd been such a pantywaist, standing there and letting that fucking piece of trash treat him that way in front of Nagatoro. If he'd had his balls attached that day or had any respect for himself, he would've just turned around and walked away, parting with, "If you're gonna treat me like this, I'm leaving."
How would Nagatoro deal with that?! He relished the thought of turning his back and leaving her with that waste of life she called a brother. That'd show her!
Her brother?!
Naoto cranked on the handicap bar again, frothing.
Fuck that guy! He can go take a running jump, headfirst, off the cliffs of Aokigahara! And he can bring his stupid haircut along for the ride!
After meeting Big Bro, Naoto had tried to block out his existence, and he'd somewhat been successful in that, in that the guy didn't blot his every waking or sleeping moment. It surely didn't take much to remind him though.
Nagatoro's "cool older brother", whom Naoto was sure even a convenience store wouldn't hire, hated him.
He knew it! The guy loathed the fact he was breathing! Everything in him—again, his whole being—told him this!
On top of all this—to a minutely lesser extent—Naoto concretely knew Nagatoro's sister was of the same ilk.
Sure, Naoto knew he'd been suspect standing on the Nagatoro property when he went to drop off his friend's homework the day she'd been sick in the fall, but he had a big problem with Big Sister's first response consisting of snapping pictures of him and being in the process of calling the police, without so much as a "who are you, and what are you doing?".
He wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. And she'd shown him that disgusting, skanky smile of hers while she was phoning in.
The thing about the aching balls climbing up wrinkle-sack mountain into a man's pelvis? It had also happened to Naoto then, and that was before he'd met the brother. He'd almost doubled over; it had hurt so badly. He'd physically shivered, right down to his bones at the chill of it.
The older girl felt the same way about him as her brother did. He could tell.
To Nagatoro's siblings, he was a thing to be mocked, abused, and vetted. A thing!
He was just a thing to them! He was less than a child and an object of ridicule.
Naoto had kept his head, but after meeting Nagatoro's sister—even knowing who she was and what it would mean if he bolted—he wanted to bail worse than he could ever remember wanting to bail. He was "polite", but all he wanted to do was get away. If Nagatoro hadn't awoken from her nap, he might've done just that and split like pants on a fat guy clambering onto a bicycle.
That bitch… That douchebag brother…
What a couple of assholes those two were…! Human garbage!
Giving the rail one last lurch, he pulled his hands up, spreading them, before dropping them limply to his sides.
Those assholes…!
The way they looked at him! The way they leered! It was the same one Nagatoro gave him!
He could stand it on Nagatoro, but it was revolting on anyone else.
It bothered him more than he could coherently express that a more serious relationship with Nagatoro would involve more time with these two. It was as if Nagatoro's worst qualities were exaggerated and crammed into them without any of the good ones he could relate to or love, and they were cruel even to her.
You don't treat family like that, even if it's done playfully! He didn't care to consider otherwise.
If that's how siblings were, he was blessed to have spent his life an only child. The idea of living in a dysfunctional family like hers freaked him right the Hell out.
Yet they doted on Nagatoro and were overprotective, treating him like such a pest. It repulsed him. The way they eyeballed him and treated him made him sick to his stomach!
The way they looked at him, hating him, disturbed him. And for what reason?! Why did they hate him? Sometimes, there was no reason, and maybe that was the scariest part of all.
Naoto knew it was wrong to hate them back, but they'd drawn first blood. They're the ones that hated him for no reason.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Then, despite their remarkable assholery, they were still so very keen on protecting their little sister.
But Nagatoro didn't need protecting.
Sure, she could be too stubborn and foolish to see her limitations and could get very discouraged very easily, but she didn't need protecting.
She just couldn't handle being knocked down a peg or two when it very rarely happened, and she needed a pretty stout push in the right direction to get her moving again.
He wasn't one to talk, he knew all too well, sometimes needing a good, hard shove in the right direction, but he was better at dealing with failure than she was. Sometimes it seemed like he ate nothing but humble pie.
Nagatoro had it made!
Drip… Drip… Drip…
He wished someone had protected him from Nagatoro when he needed it. She'd learned that shit from her sadistic siblings, and part of him still resented her for those early days they shared. He'd told Gamo-chan that most of the crap he'd gone through was funny to look back on, but he largely meant the stuff that Gamo-chan, Yoshi, and Sakura had put him through.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
There were things he held against Nagatoro, and she'd not redeemed herself in his eyes.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Getting him to cry the first two times they met, first mocking his art and pushing him to his limit, and second, opening his arms like a wishbone when he'd begged to be left alone weren't things he'd just let go.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
ENOUGH!
Seeing red, Naoto lunged at the sink's faucet one more time, ready to rip the handle clean off, but for the second time, he managed to turn away.
No… No, Naoto… don't do it… Lacing his fingers behind his head, he paced around, his breathing overpowering the sound of the bathroom fan, but it probably just seemed that way to him.
There… calm down… He soothed himself.
All this with Nagatoro…
More than arguably, some good things had come out of the entire cacophony, but it didn't make up for the initial viciousness she'd shown him, having no idea who he even was, just as her brother wound up doing to him much later.
No… she'd wronged him, and a small part of him dearly wished to see her pay for it.
He tried not to think that way, but when he judged himself, unable to sleep, lying awake in the darkness and dwelling upon things he avoided at all other times (even in the course of his manly reflections in the shower), he had some stupendously ugly feelings.
Nagatoro's siblings…
They loved her dearly, supposedly, and maybe they had some good qualities, but even Yoshio Tachibana had probably had a few good qualities. It had taken Naoto long enough to see past Nagatoro's numerous faults to even want to be her friend, much less fall in love with her. He had no interest in getting to know her brother and sister, and he refused to deal with the two of them if they were going to be so hostile towards him without cause.
The idea that they'd be showing up to the festivals with their lil' sis was enough to have him "call in sick" when the time came.
In fact, he resolved that he would do that. Fuck 'em!
Whether or not he'd go through with that, of course, was probably a given, knowing that he couldn't even tell Nagatoro to tone down her behavior towards him.
So, Naoto just felt more scared and even angrier.
He felt cornered!
Telling Nagatoro to lay off was one thing. Telling her he despised and was sickened by her older brother and sister was another animal entirely.
And he blew his stack again.
Seizing the handicap rail once more, he thrashed at it until his arms were tired.
Those two…
He wished the two of them didn't exist. That would make things so much easier!
And what were their fucking parents like? To raise those three?!
The young man didn't seem able to stop. Fuming, forlorn, and frustrated, he just kept going.
Naoto continued his hateful and bitter brooding until his mind was numb.
…
…
…
Figuring he'd spent enough time in the can trying to examine his own head, Naoto finally emerged after about 14 minutes.
It had taken more than a few moments to get himself under control.
Glancing around, he noticed a few other customers had shown up. When they'd arrived, he and Nagatoro were the only patrons in the store.
Whether it was predictable or not, his friend was already standing in front of him, smirking.
She chuckled, "Bad digestion, Senpai? Seems like you need a little more fiber~."
This didn't frazzle him too much; he'd taken the time to center himself, and he was able to explain himself as casually as if he was blowing his nose.
"It's not that." He waved her off. "I must've eaten something that didn't agree. My stomach's been bothering me all day. I think the leftovers I took out of the fridge this morning were bad."
Not surprisingly, Nagatoro was troubled. "Are you okay?"
"I threw up a little, but I feel better." He wasn't lying. "I'm sorry that took so long. I just wanted to make sure I was good."
"You look awful, Senpai," she said, her amber eyes intent on him.
He knew that well enough; he'd looked like half-baked Hell in the mirror.
"Why don't we just call it a day?" she offered. "We could get something to calm your stomach."
Naoto wouldn't have it, and he tried to throw out concern. "We don't have to leave. Finish your shopping. We're already here."
"Really?" she asked.
He popped in a stick of gum, and that helped. "Yes, really. I feel a lot better. I think I got it out of my system."
"You're really sure?" The candor in her voice was somewhat unfamiliar, but it sounded real.
"I'm sure, Nagatoro," he guaranteed her. "Please, take your time, but let's not dawdle."
She mumbled, "There are… six bikinis I was interested in looking at. I don't think I'll try them all, but I still think that'll take too long."
Naoto had worked out his frustration, as unhealthy and bitter the work had been; he was cool as a cucumber.
He assured her, "Go ahead. I'll just sit and wait near the changing rooms. There's a few chairs there."
She smiled at him, "Thanks, Senpai. I'll try not to keep us much longer.
While he went to wait, Nagatoro took a fresh basket and went around the store.
Over in the corner, Naoto could generally see her as she darted around the store, the place not being all that big to begin with.
Her earlier game, while annoying, had brought one advantage:
Nagatoro knew where everything was. It only took her two minutes to gather up the swimsuits of interest to her.
She approached Naoto. "This shouldn't take too long, Senpai. I'll pick one out, and we can get going."
Attempting to peer into the basket, Naoto wasn't able to make out its contents. "No worries."
Giggling, Nagatoro noticed that he was trying to sneak a look at her choices.
Impishly pulling the basket from his view, she tutted, "No, no~! This is gonna be a surprise, Senpai."
Figures… He sulked, but it didn't grieve him much.
"But since you put up with all this running around, I'll show you the swimsuit I pick out once I've tried it on."
Poink!
Naoto's jitters—absent for some time—came back, traveling from the base of his skull to the apex of his ass.
What?!
Nagatoro didn't stick around to toy with him, if she'd even noticed the violent shudder that shot up and down his spine; she just left him with his thoughts.
He watched her untie her shoes, leaving them outside the curtain, and climb into the changing room in her mismatched socks, disappearing from his view.
Yes, she'd left him with his thoughts, and his thoughts were colorful!
Once she's tried it on?!
He knew what was going on behind that curtain.
Would she model it for him…?
He wouldn't put it past her, but…
Nah, she's not gonna show it to me when it's ON her!
They were in a public place. It wasn't that crowded, but it didn't seem appropriate for her to put on some exhibition.
Settling on the knowledge she'd just dangle the garment before his eyes, tittering, he could live with that.
She knew he wasn't feeling too hot, and she'd go easy on him, even if she gave him a little mischief.
Naoto was confident things would go just like that, and he made his peace.
Not long after—
"Senpai~~~~!"
The tone of her voice told Naoto one thing:
She indeed had some kind of goof for him to suffer through.
Regardless, he'd just expelled weeks' worth of resentment in the bathroom (without breaking anything!), and he was in a decidedly mellow mood.
He'd play her game.
"What's up, Nagatoro?" he called back, noticing a bounciness to his own voice.
"I've got something to show you~!" she sang out.
Poink!
But he wouldn't let her guide him into a trap.
"Do you now?" His inquiry was full of sarcasm.
"Don't be that way, Senpai," she purred. "I want your thoughts on this."
Naoto stood and walked up, facing the curtain.
Oh, yes, he'd play her game.
"What are you up to back there?" He tried to keep a straight face and an even timbre.
"I'm up to my tan lines in a feast for the eyes of my senpai~!"
It was time to call her bluff; he snorted, "I'll bet you are."
"Oh, Senpai's playing it cool, is he?" She fluttered the curtains, rippling them. "You don't believe me?"
As out of character as it was for him, he went along with it, confident she was just messing with him. "No, I don't believe you."
This was a change of pace for him, but he liked this; it was fun.
"You really don't believe me, Senpai~?"
"I don't~."
"Well, believe this~," she simpered.
From the gap in the changing stall's curtain, a leg appeared, showing to well above the knee.
A tan leg.
A left leg.
A bare leg.
"…!" All of Naoto's masculine juices blew into motion with the force of a Sabre jet taking off.
It was reminiscent of a woman in an old cartoon flagging down a car on the road by showing a little leg on the side of the road!
"Check it out, Senpai~!" Nagatoro's voice sounded from somewhere beyond the great veil.
She waggled her toes, drumming them on some unseen surface with the dexterity of a human hand.
Holy jumpin' dogshit! Naoto's vision faded in and out like the screen of an old tube TV being turned on and off in fast motion.
Playing it cool had officially hopped the last plane to Okinawa.
"No way…" he mouthed to himself. "There's no way…"
She's gonna show me!
This was plenty enough to convince him!
She's gonna show me!
"Whaddaya say, Senpai~?" Nagatoro straightened her leg, giving him one last flair of her digits, and retracted it behind that stupid sheet of fabric blocking his view.
Naoto wanted to say "yes", and he wanted to say it almost as badly as he'd ever wanted anything in his life!
The girl he wanted in this life even more than he wanted to see in a bikini was in such a delightful garment, and she wanted him to see!
Damn straight, he wanted it!
But his lame timidness came out to ruin everything.
He flustered, "I dunno if you should, Nagatoro… I mean… I don't think they want you putting on a show in the store…"
"Putting on a show?!" She was wounded at the idea of something so scandalous. "It's not like I'm gonna jump out there and dance! I'm gonna stand right here, and you're gonna get to see the bikini I chose."
"Uh…" was all that came out of his mouth.
"Seriously, it's not a big deal, Senpai." And it wasn't, really. "Just come over here, and open the curtain."
"Open the curtain?" he spasmodically repeated her.
"Yes, open the curtain!" she said. "I can't do it and hold this pose at the same time~."
A pose?! Naoto's hand reached forward without his brain telling him to do so.
He halted. What am I doing?!
Nagatoro called, "Are you going to give your opinion on my new bikini or do I have to wait until we go to the beach for you to see it? If it turns out to be a dud, I'm putting the blame solely on you~."
Naoto squirmed. He didn't want that to happen, did he?!
"You'll be the first and only one to see it before then if you just open that curtain." Tantalizingly, she flapped the curtain a second time. "Senpai~!"
That was good enough for him!
Yes, I'm gonna open that curtain! Naoto put out his arm.
Why was he getting all worked up?! It was just a bikini.
He was so ready to see her.
Without a word, he promptly swept aside the curtain as if he was clearing a table of its silverware and dishes, sending them crashing to the floor.
It shocked Nagatoro that he'd done this so abruptly, and she lost the "pose" she'd made when she staggered backwards, but it didn't throw her off her game too much.
Naoto stood there, feeling as stupid as stupid could be stupid. "…"
Looking her up and down, he should've known. She'd gotten him, and she'd gotten him good.
Nagatoro was standing there, already back in her street clothes, minus her blue sock, and she began swinging the blue sock around as if she was a rhythmic gymnast. In her other hand, she rocked a hanger, the black and pink bikini she'd apparently picked already fixed to it again.
Naoto, having gone from exasperation to indignation to imperturbability to electrification, now noticed his family jewels fall out of the coin purse, tumble down his leg, and roll under the nearby sunscreen display.
Nagatoro lit up like a Christmas tree and positively squawked, "Oh, my Gawd! You're such a pervert~!"
She laughed. She laughed long and hard and with as much malice as Naoto had ever seen out of her.
He… didn't even know what to do. Standing there expressionlessly, he registered her braying laughter, somewhere far away.
And the girl wasn't done. "You were so amped up, Senpai~! You came at me like an animal! I was almost scared! Almost!"
The laughter didn't stop, and it had gained the attention of the staff and other customers.
It just kept going. "I'll bet you've got a woody and everything~!"
If he had popped wood, it was at this point in time withering away like an icicle thrown into a pot of boiling water.
Nagatoro didn't seem to tire of it. "Lewd! So, so lewd!"
Yeah, the staff are coming over… Naoto nebulously noticed this.
"So, so gross~!" The noise seemed to be getting farther and farther away.
Naoto didn't really pick up on much after this, but they were shooed from the store, though not before paying for all the stuff Nagatoro had picked out.
If he'd been out of it a few times that day, he was pretty much a blank slate at this point.
She'd seemed so sweet about everything as the two of them read the poster for that upcoming street festival.
I'm really happy we'll get to go together this year.
That was what she'd said to him, so sweetly.
How stupid was he?
By "finish up and leave", she'd apparently meant it was time for a new game… a new torture. Or maybe she'd just decided to go that route, waiting that one-quarter of an hour for him to come back out of the bathroom, unaware of the tantrum he was throwing.
He'd figured she'd go easy on him. She knew he was feeling sick, but he'd encouraged her to stay and just finish her shopping.
She'd even given him an out! She'd offered that they take an early day so he could go relax and take care of his upset stomach.
Needless to say, he now regretted not taking her up on her offer, but it was resignation more than it was regret.
At some point during this inner monologue, they'd exited the store, and Naoto realized he had a bag in each hand. Nagatoro must've passed them to him; he didn't remember.
Nagatoro did want a doughnut as she'd said earlier, and he merely nodded, not terribly interested himself. He'd settle for a water and a fresh stick of gum.
And the two of them walked and talked, and Naoto conversed with her, but he didn't remember much of that either.
Was she being kind? Was she being mean?
He couldn't tell.
Did it even matter?
As they went along, the numbness Naoto was experiencing began to fade.
His emotions creeping back into him, he swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat join the hodgepodge of detritus in his belly.
He just pushed his feelings down, out of sight but not quite out of mind.
Nevertheless, he rapidly began feeling nearer to normal again, sipping a bottle of clean water, a fresh stick of gum in his mouth.
Nagatoro had been after a doughnut, but the shop they went to had eclairs, and it was no contest, deciding to get one over a boring, old doughnut.
As she sat there, enjoying her treat on the bricks of an impressive flowerbed, Naoto noticed that she was giving him a really good pose. It wasn't anything special, per say, but she just seemed very natural. She seemed very herself, and it was as delightful as any of the four paintings he'd done of her for the school festival the fall prior.
The thought to sketch her flashed across his mind.
It wasn't anything mind-blowing to most, but to him, it was a great pose—the kind he'd seen while dreaming of her!
He had all of his stuff with him! The sketch wouldn't even take that long! It wouldn't be a masterpiece, but it was just a good look for her, and he wanted to capture it.
But he couldn't even raise his hand or his voice to stake a claim on this opportunity. It wasn't in him.
Things just sort of… blurred on past.
At some point, the two of them parted, knowing they'd see one another again on Monday.
…
…
…
Naoto, walking home alone, had begun the afternoon a god, one of the Lords of all Creation. And he ended it feeling drained and a little sad, like all the cheer and optimism had been sucked out of him.
The numbness was entirely gone, replaced by a dull ache that seemed to disseminate throughout his very soul. His balls would probably ache too, but he'd left them on the floor of some sporting goods store he never wanted to visit again. The fascinating thing about "ouchie boo-boo scared nuts" was it happened in other stressful situations too. Say, getting chewed out… or emasculation.
Awareness returned to Naoto.
"…" He knew he needed to study.
He thought of Sakura and Hana.
He needed to get a "lesson plan" ready for the girls too—they were meeting again in the morning!
And he would do those things; he had to. But all he wanted to do was sit down and stare at the wall for a while.
Still, there had to be a way. No matter what, there had to be a way. There had to be a way to make himself known to Nagatoro!
There had to be a way to calmly let her know. To reach an understanding. Maybe he just needed to toughen up.
There had to be a way.
Maybe.
Probably.
Yes, there had to be a way!
Things would be better next time! He'd find a way to tell her that he just wants her to cool it. That it hurts.
Things would be different! He'd speak up! He wouldn't put up with any more of her disrespect. Fun was one thing, but she didn't have to take everything so far!
He knew it! It would work.
He was confident it would work.
He'd get her respect and not push her away.
She'll understand! Naoto knew she would.
Q&A Section
When you write or work on the story, do you like having background noise or do you prefer to work in silence?
ED: I need to have something going on in the background. I'll watch TV or listen to music or even multitask. Not having something else to hear besides the clacking of my keyboard is more than I can deal with.
PS: I overwhelmingly prefer to work in silence. Quiet doesn't bother me. I find it easy to get lost in my work, whether it's personal matters, professional matters, recreational material, or editing this story. In fact, I find it so easy to get lost, that if I don't set an alarm or a timer, I'll just work for hours on whatever it is I'm working on and not realize how much time has gone by.
Please look forward to the next chapter! Thanks for reading!