Too Many Losing Heroines! - Volume 1 - Chapter 2.1

Loss 2:

Yakishio Lemon versus the Narrative

SO MANY CICADAS. THE CRIES WERE DEAFENING. And the sweltering sun didn’t help matters. Second period—PE—was finally over, and all that stood in the way between me and freedom was cleanup duty.

I dropped the last hurdle into the storage shed and wiped up some of the sweat dripping from my face. The system was broken. It just wasn’t fair that the guy on duty had to be whoever’s seating number happened to match up with the day of the month. Whoever decided that little rule must have been number thirty and thought himself real clever.

“I’ll kill ’em,” I grumbled, beating the dirt off my hands.

The sooner I wrapped this up, the sooner I could get out of these gross, sweaty clothes. The last guy to change was the last one to stand around in his underwear while everyone else was dressed, and I wasn’t looking to be that guy.

Suddenly, the door rattled shut. The place went dark. Had it finally happened? Was the bullying finally starting? This was it for me.

I whipped around to find that I wasn’t alone. Standing there in the dim darkness, fidgeting awkwardly, was Yakishio Lemon. Sweat gripped her clothes, gluing them to her body and accentuating her figure.

“Yakishio-san?” I said.

This was a scene straight out of an anime. I gulped.

Yakishio avoided looking me in the eye. She brushed back a strand of hair clinging to her cheek and stepped closer. “Hey, Nukumizu,” she said. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Unlike those with minds of a lesser discipline, my expectations weren’t high. I’d seen enough rom-coms to know that we hadn’t had nearly enough buildup to unlock a scene of this caliber.

“Have you guys talked since?” she asked.

“Huh? Who? About what?”

This was no romantic development. This was the kind where the lead is expected to act all flustered before his hopes are dashed. I could handle that.

“Mitsuki,” Yakishio said. “About the books. Did he come get ’em yet?”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t updated Ayano at all about that.

Yakishio held her hands behind her back and shyly tapped at the ground with the tip of her shoe. “I-I was thinking that, well, maybe I could make the delivery myself?”

“I mean, it’s a pretty big collection,” I said. “It’d make more sense to have him come and…” Yakishio kept fidgeting. I caught on. “Actually, let him know for me, would you? I got permission, so he can stop by whenever.”

“Can do! You’ve got my word he’ll get the word!” Her smile lit up the shed. The dust dancing in the beams of sunlight seemed to almost sparkle around her. “I’ll let him know to come by after school!”

“Actually, wait. I have an idea.”

“Yeah?” Yakishio tilted her head, still smiling.

We came from the same junior high. The sentimental side of me felt like doing her a favor.

“How about you tell him to come by on a day you don’t have practice?” I said.

It was the perfect setup to get them together for longer. Maybe I could even work something out and get them the room to themselves for a couple hours.

“But why, though?” Yakishio said, peering confusedly at me.

“So you can, er, come take a tour of the club. On the same day,” I said. I couldn’t possibly have made it clearer. “You know.”

“Not…really.”

Screw it.

“You could just tell him to come pick up his books and be done with it,” I explained. “Or you could pick a day you don’t have practice so you can come together. If you don’t know how to invite yourself along, the tour gives you an excuse to be there anyway.”

She clapped her hands together and raised her eyebrows in realization. “Oh, I get it! You’re a smart guy, Nukumizu.” Her lips spread into a wide grin. She smacked me on the back. “I had you all wrong. You’re not so bad!”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what all these “ideas” my classmates kept alluding to were.

“D-don’t get it twisted, though!” Yakishio said hastily. “Mitsuki’s just a friend, y’know? We’re just bros, that’s all!”

“Nice save,” I said with a dry expression.

Yakishio pouted at me. Ranking in the social hierarchy didn’t equate to emotional maturity, it seemed.

“Anyway, can we, like, wrap this up? I’m melting over here.” She fanned her shirt at the collar. Meanwhile, I forced myself to bite my tongue. She tried the door. “Uh…”

“What?” I tried the door with her. No dice.

Yakishio turned to me. “I, uh, think we might, maybe, possibly be locked inside.”

“You’re joking,” I said. “Help! Is anyone out—”

“Shush!” Yakishio hissed. “Stop yelling!”

She swung one arm around my neck from behind and held on for dear life. The many things pressing against my back almost made me forget about all the nasty sweat she was covered in. Almost.

“Can’t…breathe!” I choked. Try as I might to throw her off, it was her muscles against my lack-thereof. “I see a light…!”

I tapped her arm.

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” she said. “You okay?”

“You… You’re insane,” I panted. “Why the actual hell did you stop me?”

“Because Mitsuki’s class had PE too! He could be out there!”

“And we didn’t call for him because…?”

“Because!” Yakishio asserted. “Wh-what if he saw me alone in here with another guy and he, well, I dunno…” She twiddled her thumbs. I would have found it cute in any other situation.

“Well, we’ve gotta hurry before everyone leaves,” I said.

“The next class’ll show up soon enough, okay? Let’s just wait till then.”

“And then they’ll find a guy and a girl who’ve been alone together for God knows how long.”

“You could cross-dress,” Yakishio proposed.

“If that’s on the table, you’d sell it better anyway.”

We were getting nowhere, and all our classmates had left in the meantime. The murmurs of students had been replaced by a cacophony of cicadas.

Yakishio hoisted herself up to peek out a high window. “Huh. Why’s no one coming?”

“Oh,” I said. “Yakishio-san. I think they might be at the pool.”

“Huh?” The bell sounded. The next period had started. “Why weren’t we at the pool?!”

“Didn’t you hear the teacher? The second-years were using it to practice for the meet.”

“Oh. Right. So now the pool’s open,” Yakishio said. “And we’re stuck out here.”

The cicadas buzzed their orchestra.

“Help!” Yakishio cried. “I’m in here too!”

“Someone!” I shouted.

Our pleas echoed out into nothingness. Eventually, we gave up and found a couple comfortable spots on the ground to contemplate.

The forecast this morning had said today would be a scorcher—a high of thirty-five degrees—and the shed was only getting hotter. I stopped feeling quite as sweaty at some point, not because I’d gotten used to the heat, but because I was as dry as a skeleton.

“Wonder when someone’ll notice,” I mumbled.

“The track team’ll be here at lunch at least,” Yakishio panted. An actual, visible puddle was forming around her. Her body was a machine.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, nah, I’m an impala kind of girl. No gazelle here,” she muttered.

“Oh, cool.”

Wait, what?

“I try to tell people, four legs are better than one. But do they listen?” she rambled. “Listen. Nothing cools ya down like water does a spotted hyena.”

“Yakishio-san?”

She was anything but okay. I had to do something.

The window was high up, close to the ceiling, and barred for safety. Couldn’t squeeze through there. I dug around the shelves to maybe find something to make noise with—a whistle or megaphone maybe—and found an old, dusty duffel bag buried deep. Inside were women’s clothes, a towel, and, thank god, a half-drunk bottle of water.

My stomach dropped. The liquid was coated with sheets of mold. I shoved the bottle back in the bag, then happened to spot a can of cooling spray.

“Yakishio-san! This should help,” I said.

She noticed the can, and a little light returned to her eyes. “You’re the best, Nukkun! Hit me.”

Nukkun?

She turned her back to me, throwing off her drenched top. The sports bra concealed very little of her bare skin, even in the dim light.

I choked on spit. “S-slow down!”

“But I neeed it!” Yakishio whined.

To think I would live to see the day a woman begged me for something—and for this, no less. Timidly, I gave her back a good spritz. Yakishio let out several less than wholesome moans and yips in the process.

“Front next,” she said.

She turned. Was this allowed? It felt like I was breaking something. A law, a rule of some kind. I could see her naked stomach, and the tan lines peeking out from her sports bra weren’t helping with the intrusive thoughts.

I sprayed. Her abs twitched. She moaned again. It was not my fault for the places my mind went. That was a hill I would die on.

“Better?” I asked.

“A little,” she said. She still looked vacant, her eyes unsteady. Her hands went under her bra.

“Wait, wait, wait!” I blurted. “Keep that on!”

“Aww, c’mon, Nukkun. We’re both girls here. I’m sooo sweaty. Gimme a towel.”

This girl had gone delusional. She thought she was in the girls’ locker room, of all places.

I ruffled through the bag for the towel and, keeping my eyes firmly pointed in the other direction, handed it to Yakishio as she tossed her bra to the side. “P-put that back on when you’re done!”

“Hey,” she said, “that’s my bag. So this is where I lost it.”

Yakishio took a gander inside while she wiped herself down.

“Yakishio-san!” I shouted. “C-clothes! Clothes first!”

“I left a drink inside too!”

Uh-oh. I risked a peek to find Yakishio moments before ­taking a sip out of the moldy bottle.

“Stop!” I swiped it from her. “Do not drink this!”

“Why you being so mean, Nukkun?” She climbed onto me, reaching for the bottle.

I screamed. “Not looking! Not looking!”

“It’s mine!” Yakishio moaned.

There it is again! Right against my back! Yup, I feel it this time!

“Is someone in there? Marcooo!” A voice I recognized. It was our homeroom teacher, Amanatsu Konami.

“Sensei! We’re here! Polo! Polo!” I shouted back.

There was a click, a rattle, and the door slid open. We were saved.

Amanatsu-sensei took a good long look at the sight before her. “Having fun, are we?”

Perhaps we were not saved. A half-naked Yakishio lay strewn on top of me. Perhaps we were simply out of the proverbial frying pan and into the literal fire.

“You two finish up first,” Amanatsu-sensei said flatly.

“Wait, don’t shut the door! I need your help!”

“I’ve been in some crazy scenarios in my time, but during class? Really, now?”

“TMI, Sensei, now please for the love of God help me!”

Once I’d managed to free myself from Yakishio’s delirious grip, she went out like a light right on the floor.

Once more, for the record: I was not looking.