81(A Lime-flavored Original Fic)
By Ammadeau
~amm/
Chapter 15: Scenes of Minor Consequence
***
"Kumiko, I'm not so sure about this," Ken protested to the
small of the demon-girl's back. She was currently carrying him
over her shoulder as she bounded up the stairs of his apartment
building two steps at a time. Not that he really had any objections
to another attempt at satisfying the demon-girl's insatiable libido,
but he did have his manly pride, which suffered under being
handled like a piece of anatomically correct luggage. "At least put
me down. This is embarrassing!"
"What? You want to do it right here?" Kumiko asked,
blinking in confusion as she looked around at the dusty stairwell,
tightening her hold on her slave's legs and nearly smacking his
head into the wall as she turned around. "I thought you didn't want
to do that sort of thing in public anymore... but okay! And for the
last time, call me Kumi-chan!"
Ken felt a bit disorientated as Kumiko flipped him over her
shoulder and slammed him into the wall, though only hard enough
to knock the breath out of him. Which was why he was slow to
realize she was struggling to undress him, starting with his belt.
"On second thought," Ken added nervously as he heard the
sounds of people coming up the stairs, "we should start in my room
where we wouldn't be interrupted."
"Right!" Kumiko agreed enthusiastically as she threw her
slave back over her shoulder and continued to bound up the stairs,
now taking them three at a time.
Ken was just in time to unlock the door, saving it from
being ripped right off its hinges by an overly eager demon-girl.
This was doubly impressive while still hanging upside down from
Kumiko's back, but the bill for the damaged window was all the
incentive he needed to perform superhuman feats in order to keep
his apartment in one piece.
Returning to his rest position after struggling to close the
door behind him, Ken blinked as his nose lightly poked the demon-
girl's bare bottom, rapidly swaying to and fro as she quickly
sauntered her way through his apartment. He had only a moment
to admire the view, however, as he was suddenly flipped up into
the air again, his hair brushing against the ceiling while his world
reeled with vertigo. Only for everything to come to a sudden halt
as he landed on his bed with a small bounce.
Kumiko now knelt above him with her large dark wings
outstretched, casting them both in shadow, though her pale skin
seemed luminous. Her red eyes were heavy with lust as she
playfully licked at her fangs with her forked tongue, while her
hands slowly traveled up her thighs and over her taunt stomach to
cup her full breasts, massaging them gently.
So Ken wasn't too angry when she tore away his clothes
like tissue paper to roughly press her nude body against his, her
skin feverishly hot, but not as hot as her panting breath exhaled
against his neck. When she kissed him passionately, crushing her
lips against his as her tongue licked at his teeth, he knew there was
no more time for thought.
Ken acted instead.
Satoru had nowhere left to run. His back smacked against
the wall of the darkened alley just as a group of thugs, looking like
rejects from a Japanese remake of Mad Max, advanced upon him,
wielding their various implements of pain and suffering. The
bishonen man was a target because of his extreme good looks,
which were the envy of men everywhere who could not get dates.
The thugs were prepared to beat him down to their level and there
was no sign of escape.
The loud roar of a powerful engine froze the thugs in mid-
step. They slowly turned around, only to be blinded from the
sudden glare of a single headlight. While the sound of the engine
lowered to a steady purr, their eyes adjusted to the light, revealing
a sexy woman sitting astride a motorcycle. She was dressed in a
daring red dress that lovingly hugged her perfect proportions, slit
up the sides nearly to her waist, revealing her lightly tanned and
muscled legs. She flicked her head, snapping her ponytail back as
her long bangs hung down to obscure her eyes, giving her a
ominous appearance as she stared the punks down.
"Fujiko!" Satoru shouted, his voice filled with relief.
The world-champion motorcycle racer simply grinned in
her usual cocky manner and gunned the engine of her custom-
made racing bike, pleased when the thugs all took a step back in
fear. That didn't last long, however, as with wordless cries they
desperately lunged forward, no doubt captivated by her good
looks. Fujiko could only laugh at their stupidity as she charged
right into them, sending them flying off in the direction of the local
jail.
With a well-practiced ease, Fujiko secured her meek
boyfriend and deposited him on the back of her bike, all without
slowing down. They had reservations for two for a romantic night
on the town and she wasn't let them go to waste again. If it wasn't
another underhanded scheme by her jealous competitors, it was
poor Satoru being unable to stand up for himself once again.
"I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?" Fujiko
joked, blushing faintly as Satoru squeezed her tight to hold on to
dear life. They were only going 90 kph... or was that mph? "This
time it's a gang of ugly punks, last time it was that blue-haired
witch and her undead ninja army. If you could just learn to stand
up for yourself, you wouldn't need my help all the time."
"But I'm lost without you Fuji-chan," Satoru whispered
softly, his lips brushing against her ear, while his hands found
much more interesting places to hold onto her.
Sakura petals swirling all around them, together they rode
off into the night, heading towards the city lights that twinkled
merrily off in the distance.
Nami pouted as she raced down the street, arms
outstretched, and also far ahead of her gasping manager who
struggled to keep up. Tadashi had only returned to work today and
he was already being such a meany. He wouldn't let her give her
precious brother one of her patented wake up calls, just because
Satoru's new steel door wouldn't fly off the hinges after one measly
shove. She was sure she could have knocked it down with another
push or two, or even come through the window. No door, wood or
steel, was a match for her.
Her manager had to be such a spoilsport, nagging her about
not being late for filming and that getting hurt before a job wasn't
very professional. He even had the audacity to imply this retake
was all her fault; it was just the other actors were unable to keep up
with her. She didn't want Tadashi going on vacation again so
soon, though. Aomori-san had asked her to treat him a bit more
gently from now on or she might end up so busy that she would
never have the chance to see her darling Satoru.
Reaffirming her affection for her beloved Sato-chan would
have been a great way to start the day, but it wasn't an absolute
requirement. Food was, and the more calories the better. Nami
was blessed with unusually high metabolism, which gave her the
dual benefits of always being full of energy and keeping a slim
figure. The only drawback was she was almost constantly hungry,
and right now she needed to shovel down some snacks quick if she
was going to be the bouncy Nami her public wanted.
"You don't really... need to run that fast... Nami-san,"
Tadashi told his ulta-genki client between gasps for air as he held
his hand to his chest to keep his wildly beating heart inside his
ribcage. He couldn't believe he had agreed to cut his vacation
short, but Aomori-san could be very persuasive when she wanted
to be; saying how she was far too busy to manage Nami herself
any longer and how Tadashi was the only person she could trust
with such an important client. *I bet Nami didn't give Aomori-san
any trouble.*
Nami simply ignored her manager's usual complaints, that's
what he got for taking it easy while she never had a long vacation,
and instead dived right into the semi-darkened interior of the
convenience store. She blinked to see that that the leather jacket-
wearing clerk was fast asleep, her head propped up by her hands,
but she was too near to starvation to pay it much attention,
especially with that creepy smile on the woman's face.
Tasty things all sealed in brightly colored packages
surrounded Nami as she raced down the aisles, quickly snatching
up her favorites, along a few others that she hadn't tried yet. In
moments, her arms were stuffed with treats, which she decided
should be enough to hold her at least until they arrived at today's
set. She did have a big breakfast that morning after all.
Between bites of snack food, Nami sang softly along with
the j-pop tune that floated through the store as she approached the
register. She knew the song so well that she was barely aware of
it; it was her first single to actually make an impact on the charts.
Aomori-san hoped to make her into a singing sensation as well, but
she much preferred acting. Microphones limited her movement
too much and actual recording meant she actually had to keep still
for more than five minutes at a stretch.
The clerk was still deep in dreamland as Nami piled up her
purchases on the counter, tapping her feet and loudly munching on
her second bag of snacks as she waited for the woman to awaken.
She had to wait for her manager to haul himself into the
convenience store to pay for all of her treats anyway, even though
she wasn't normally a patient person by nature.
"Oh no, we shouldn't," Fujiko began muttering in her sleep,
her voice coy and her cheeks flushed. "We should save ourselves
for our wedding night, Sato-chan."
The biker girl was startled awake by a sudden loud slam,
using her arms instinctively to steady herself as the room shook
with a tremor. Arms that had been propping her face up, which
sent it crashing down onto the counter, and possibly shortening her
nose by a few millimeters in the process.
Rubbing her face in a vain attempt to ease her pain and
confusion, Fujiko irritably peered around for what had caused the
sudden interruption of a very good dream. Last night, she had a
nightmare of being pursued by a red-eyed demon that kept
claiming every man for herself, and combined with how early she
had to wake up for this job, meant she hadn't gotten much sleep.
Seeing the girl across from her dancing around the convenience
store as she clutched her hand in pain, along with the sizable hand-
shaped dent in the counter with bags of various snacks scattered
around it, made her wonder if she was still dreaming.
*Oww!* thought Nami as the throbbing pain in her hand
began to subside. On her TV show, she played a shinobi trying to
survive ninja high school while still getting good grades and
making room for romance. Having a black belt in karate, she
always did her own stunts, but of course on her show they had
specially prepared stuff for her to break. She had just found out
the hard way that she wasn't quite ready for the real thing.
The sounds of muffled snickering shook the future idol and
action star out of her thoughts. Nami set the full force of her glare
on the leather jacket wearing bimbo clerk that was currently
attempting to hold back her laughter. "How dare you laugh at me
after referring to _my_ precious Sato-chan so familiarly!"
*Was I talking in my sleep?* Fujiko thought with a blush,
hoping she hadn't spoken some of the more intimate details out
loud. Then she noticed the little girl frowning up at her and
thought, *Oh, how cute. She thinks I'm trying to take away her
grade school sweetheart who happens to have the same name as
my potential boyfriend. Little girls can be so possessive.*
"Hey, don't worry, kid. I'm not interested in someone your
age. My Satoru is a freshman at the local college whose tall and
handsome, with wild black hair and the softest, most gentle
eyes...," Fujiko trailed off with a contented smile on her lips, only
to blink in surprise when she realized the girl, who was now
balling the one fist she could still use, actually looked like Satoru,
if only just a bit.
"That is my Satoru! And only I have the right to call him
Sato-chan!" Nami insisted, slamming her hand down on the
counter for emphasis, only to jump back as she realized she had
just used her badly bruised one. It was this crazy woman's fault
that she had hurt herself before filming, all because she was
delusional enough to think that Nami's refined brother would be
seen anywhere with the likes of her. "Hmph! As if he would
waste his time with a wrinkled old hag like you when he could be
spending it all with me, his sis... lover!"
"What did you say?!" Fujiko raged back, knowing she was
still quite young, even though the various scars she had gotten
from the occasional motorcycle accident could look like wrinkles
in the wrong light. And she was also sure that this pushy,
overbearing brat didn't even know what love meant...
Suddenly, everything became startlingly clear for Fujiko.
Satoru really had been talking about his friend when he mentioned
that blue witch, but the reason his eyes were so full of sympathy
was because he was suffering from the same thing himself, only
worse! At least that Ken person was being pushed around by
someone his own age and didn't have to suffer the humiliation of
being bullied by an adolescent.
"Seems that you don't know your Sato-chan as well as you
think," Fujiko told the little girl with a cruel smile and a mocking
tone in her voice. "Because on this very spot, Satoru asked me out
on a date. We're just waiting for mid-terms to be over so there's
nothing to distract us from our romance."
"You're lying!" Nami raged back at the smug woman,
tempted to use this crazy tramp as a training dummy. She knew in
her heart that her brother was only letting a silly little cultural
taboo prevent him from giving into his feelings for her, but her
head still had some doubts. "Sato-chan loves me alone! He would
never go out with you!"
"Why don't you just go and ask him then? Then you'll see
I'm not lying," Fujiko stated firmly, hoping Satoru would show a
little courage in the face of this petite tyrant. Even if he didn't, she
could always bring her friend from the photo club to snap off a few
momentos as proof of their romance.
"I will!" Nami shouted back, certain that this lonely
woman was just living in some sort of dream world. She snatched
up her high calorie snack treats and marched out the door, ready to
take out her aggression on professionals.
"Is it okay to come out now?" Tadashi asked nervously
from his hiding place behind the magazine rack. He had finally
caught up to Nami, only to see her flying off into one of her
tirades. He had learned the hard way that there was nothing he
could do to prevent them; at least nothing that wouldn't leave him
looking and feeling like a very unsuccessful boxer. Since that was
a bit above and beyond the call of duty for a manager, he decided
to observe from a safe distance and hope for the best.
"Yeah, the brat's gone," Fujiko told the coward with a
frown, not looking up from the large dent in the counter before her.
She just knew her boss was going to blame her for it somehow. He
would never believe it was caused by the karate chop of a middle
school girl. "Someone should put a leash on that little monster."
"Actually, I'm sort of responsible for Nami... You see, I'm
her manager," Tadashi explained, rubbing the back of his head in
embarrassment. He knew he should be chasing after his client to
make sure she made it to the shoot without causing any more
mischief, not that he could do much to stop her, but he just didn't
feel right in leaving without explaining things. "She's normally a
very, umm... sweet and energetic girl. There are just a few things
that really upset her."
"I guess," Fujiko replied with a shrug, happy it was all
over, though part of her wished she hadn't wasted the opportunity
to pop the brat one for making Satoru so meek. She idly wondered
what her soon to be boyfriend was so intimidated by. Nami didn't
seem that dangerous. The divot in the counter had to be a fluke,
the result of cheap materials or something. "You're her manager?
Then you can pay for the food she just walked off with and explain
to my boss how the counter got damaged."
Tadashi sighed and started to count his yen, hoping that
somehow Nami wouldn't cause any more trouble that day. He
didn't think his stomach could take much more. The only thing he
could do was pray to every religion he could think of that the girl
he spoke to yesterday would call him back so he could make Nami
someone else's problem.
After a quick breakfast, which caused Ayame to swoon
only once, Natsume and her guest rolled up their sleeves and got
down to work with the determination to have 'Natsume's' up and
running before the sun set. Thankfully, most of the larger and
more time-consuming tasks had already been accomplished, but
there were still a lot of little things that needed to be finished
before Natsume could open the doors to the public and be
confident of her success.
Natsume also knew that she could work a hell of a lot faster
if she wasn't in the same room with Ayame. Ever since her guest
had made her heartfelt pledge of aid, she had been eyeing the
sandy-haired girl intently, as if carefully studying everything she
did. Natsume would have welcomed this new interest in her with
open arms... but then the work definitely wouldn't get done. Not to
mention the troubled woman was probably just clinging to her as
her one source of stability after being cruelly dumped by Kumiko.
So she plunged right into putting the final touches on the kitchen to
keep the hentai thoughts at bay. At least for now.
In the main room, Ayame was busily finishing up coating
the walls of the coffee shop in pale yellow paint; a hue she was
quickly becoming fond of. Perhaps because she associated it with
her kind host, who she saw as the model by which she could lead a
truly angelic life and thereby avoid the dread sentence of passing
on. She was also pleased because while she had made so many
blunders since arriving in the human world, painting was
something she was confident in her ability to do well. Her smile
widened as she stepped back to study the wall, shimmering wetly
from the still-damp paint. Perfect. Not a spot had been missed.
"Natsume, I've finished painting the other wall. Please tell
me what you think!" Ayame announced with the eagerness of a
child as she practically ran into the kitchen in search of her host,
who she was also starting to think of as her earthly mentor.
Natsume, who was on her knees scrubbing away the last
bits of dirt and grime, looked up in surprise as Ayame ran into the
kitchen, slipped on the floor she had just finished waxing, and
flailed her arms wildly as she sped on a collision course for the
sandy-haired girl. Natsume tried to slide out of the way in time,
but that only spun them like a top as they collided, sending them
both tumbling to the shimmering floor with a heavy thud.
"Dizzy," Ayame remarked as the room seemed to be
spinning all around her. Shaking her head violently was a painful
yet effective way of snapping the world back into focus, though
she still felt a touch light-headed. Only too late did she remember
the other reason she never ran through the Halls of Information,
something she had done as a trainee when the floors had been
freshly waxed; worse considering she had been the one who had
waxed them.
Berating herself for letting her excitement go to her head,
the angel-girl glanced around to asses the damage she had caused
this time. She was sitting up with her back against one of the
kitchen cabinets with something heavy was lying on her legs.
Though it was partly concealed by her long skirt, Ayame had no
trouble recognizing her host's lower body sprawled out on the tiled
floor.
With a blush of embarrassment, the angel-girl slowly lifted
her long skirt to find Natsume's head lying in her lap, the girl's hair
all in disarray as she rested in blissful unconscious. She must have
been knocked out in their collision since she seemed to have
suffered a minor nosebleed, though the expression on her face was
hardly one of pain. Natsume was such an innocent soul to be able
to rest so peacefully no matter what had happened.
Careful of the waxed floor this time, Ayame stood up with
her host cradled in her arms. She cleaned away the blood from
Natsume's face with a damp washcloth and smiled as an idea
suddenly occurred to her. She would allow her host to rest for
now, and when she awoke, her unfinished coffee shop would be
transformed, ready to open for business.
Nozomi Kiyoshima was sitting in the shade of a tree in the
college's courtyard as she busily checked her schedule. This was
something she had to do frequently since she possessed only a
slightly above average memory. Despite being a member of
almost all the women's clubs on campus, along with a select
number of mixed ones, she was surprised to find that she had
nothing that required her attendance until late afternoon. Not that
anyone would miss her skills if she failed to appear.
The plain-faced freshman with lank, shoulder-length hair
and only middling bust-line was just slightly above average in
everything. As a result, she had never been counted on to make
the winning spike of the game or produce a cake that would wow
the judges. Nozomi saw it as the curse of wealthy parents. Having
everything handed to her without any effort on her part during her
formative years had stagnated her growth as a person. Sometimes
she felt like an old woman trying to learn how to skip rope for the
first time, struggling for something other people did naturally.
It was hard for Nozomi to get too depressed, however,
especially when all the members of her various clubs were so kind
to her, always encouraging her to do her best. Even Yui, the stern
captain of the judo club, had convinced her to reconsider when she
had tried to quit after the 'attack of the perverts' incident. Though
it had turned into a good story for the school's newspaper, going
along with the pictures she had taken for the photography club.
What Nozomi had discovered on the suspected pervert's
film had shocked and scared her a bit, and it wasn't just the fact
that someone would bother taking a picture of her when her gi
slipped to reveal a hint of her bra. It was a single photograph of
the woman who had fought the unbeatable Yui and won. A
woman who had fangs, glowing red eyes, and bat wings sticking
out of her head.
Being a sensible girl who had grown up in a modern
household, Nozomi had always assumed that supernatural
creatures like demons and ghosts were either exaggerations or
creations of pure fantasy. Never before had she considered they
could actually be real, but the photo was proof that there was a
whole other world whose existence she had been completely
unaware of.
So despite normally being intimidated to the point of fear
by the majority of the male gender, when the man who took that
picture suddenly appeared in her art class, Nozomi just had to
speak to him. She had found him surprisingly easy to talk to, eager
to chat about the supernatural and not at all bothered by her rather
ordinary appearance. Hearing about his Paranormal Club had even
made her forget the reason for her initial interest. *I should really
return his photographs... if I ever see him again.*
"Argh! I can't take it anymore! Why do things like this
always happen to me?!" shouted a man nearby, causing Nozomi to
look up as a student about her age was busily tugging at his hair
with a pained expression, which didn't seem just the result of his
self-immolation. This was not an uncommon sight in the college's
courtyard, where people came right after blowing major exams to
blow off some steam, but then she realized he was exactly the
person she had been thinking of.
"You might not remember me, but I spoke with you in the
art class a day or so ago," Nozomi said hesitantly as she walked
over to him, not wanting to say or do anything to upset him further.
"So it might not be any of my business but... Is there something
the matter, Eichi-san?"
Eichi blinked at the girl looking up at him in concern, her
interruption enough to shock him right out of his current tirade.
No one was ever concerned with his welfare, not even his own
parents after one of his big sister's little experiments, so she
immediately grabbed his attention. Long experience with the List
had given him the ability to easily recall a woman's name, so he
said almost automatically, "Nozomi Kiyoshima, right?"
"You remembered," Nozomi smiled in delight, and with
dimples that made her plain features almost cute. No man had ever
remembered her name before; her male teachers always needed to
consult their seating plans and even her own father only called her
Nezumi-chan. She supposed it was a fitting nickname. She was
rather mouse-like and nondescript sometimes, making her easy to
forget, but it was nice to be remembered for once.
However, the thought also made Nozomi feel a bit
embarrassed so she quickly diverted the topic away from herself by
saying, "I mean... I don't know you very well, but you do seem
troubled by something."
"Argh!" Eichi shouted again, giving his hair another good
tug, which completely resisted his efforts to tear it out by the roots.
The reason for his earlier frustration had come back to him as if
riding a speeding express train with his skull as its final
destination. He gestured wildly as he frantically explained, "The
Paranormal Club I was telling you about earlier, the one that was
on the verge of a major discovery... Well, it's gone! Over!
Disbanded! Kaput!"
"Oh, my! What happened to it?" Nozomi asked in concern,
especially since with someone like Eichi as president, she had
thought about joining, though had been unsure if she would feel
comfortable with the other members. Her male phobia made the
mixed clubs she was a member of difficult sometimes, but at least
the school newspaper was run by a woman and the photography
club's room was always dark, making it easier to deal with when
she couldn't actually see the male members. She didn't find Eichi
at all intimidating for some reason though.
"Right after our pivotal art class experiment, the other two
members suddenly quit for absolutely no reason!" Eichi exclaimed
with righteous fist upraised and tears forming in his eyes. "Now I
will have to give up on the club that I have dedicated my life to,
without ever knowing the sweet taste of victory!"
"I don't see why you have to give up on something you
have put so much effort into just because the other members quit,"
Nozomi told him reasonably, though a little awed by someone who
could be so dedicated to something. This was even more than
Fujiko-san loved motorcycle racing, more determined than Yuki-
san was to win a volleyball match, and even more resolute than
Natsume-san was to... solve her own rather unique problem.
"A club can't have just one member!" Eichi raged at the
heavens as his tears finally flowed forth; manly tears of one who
suffered from the betrayal of his whole world. "It's just too
pathetic!"
"Actually, I want to join your club, Eichi-san," Nozomi
offered with a smile. If there were no other members, she would
have nothing to worry about. Besides, she was sure she could
convince some of her fellow female students to join with such a
dedicated president to lead them.
"You do? Really?!" Eichi asked, his eyes wide with hope
as he placed his hands on her shoulders. One loyal member was all
he needed for the rebirth of the once-great Paranormal Club. As
long as he had someone to resolutely stand by his side, he was sure
he could finally expose the supernatural to the world and put Nobu,
Satoru, and especially his sister in their places. And naturally, with
success would come popularity and a sudden influx of members all
wishing to strive for his vision...
Nozomi had never been touched by a man before. It felt
strange, but not unpleasantly so. Certainly not as bad as Natsume
had claimed it was, though Eichi wasn't trying to do any of the
perverted things that Yuki had warned her about. It was nice to
have upperclasswomen who watched out for her, but she couldn't
live under their protective advice forever. She needed to be bold
and courageous like Eichi if she was ever going to find her true
purpose. With conviction in her steely gaze, she firmly nodded.
"Thank you!" Eichi enthused, with tears now of joy in his
eyes as he embraced his savior, overcome with emotion.
Smiling with a faint blush on her cheeks, Nozomi slowly
placed her arms around Eichi, patting him on the back with what
she hoped was a comforting manner. Eichi didn't frighten her like
most men did, but she was pretty sure now that Eichi wasn't like
most men. Being held by him was at the same time anxious and
very nice.
Eichi's brain finally realized he was making a fool of
himself in public and quickly released the woman, fearful that his
sudden outburst would make her rethink her decision. "Well,
honestly, it's not much of a club. It's been in existence for nearly
half a semester now and I'm not even sure if my one big discovery
is a supernatural being or not. We could never get solid proof."
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The
photos you took during...," Nozomi trailed off when she realized
they were no longer alone. A tall, grey-haired and elegantly
dressed young man was walking up to the both of them; a
handsome, almost beautiful man who seemed to be staring hard at
the both of them despite the fact he was wearing sunglasses.
Nozomi quickly hid behind Eichi, overcome with fear.
Katsuhiko would never admit to being angry. That was a
crude emotion, something that dominated the thinking of more
base lifeforms and not a vanguard of perfection like himself.
However, he was willing to admit he was more than a little
irritated at the moment, for he had been walking through the
backward human city for over an hour now and still had yet to find
a single trace of Kumiko; who he was seeking purely for the
demon-girl's own benefit, noble demon that he was.
Unlike other demons whose work occasionally took them
to the human world, Katsuhiko possessed few abilities that were
useful in this unclean land of flesh and blood, such as sensing other
demons, the ability to turn invisible, or even fly. Though
Katsuhiko considered teleportation far superior to any form of
locomotion, he knew it was something his superiors would frown
upon him using too frequently during his stay. He was pushing
their good will as it was simply being there and was well aware
that causing too much of a fuss would get him sent straight back to
Hell, leaving his mission a failure. And he was far too perfect to
tolerate failure.
There was no option left to him. He would simply have to
swallow his pride and risk sullying his high level of refinement in
questioning one of these humans to uncover Kumiko's
whereabouts. Sighting a fairly average pair of humans, Katsuhiko
strode over to them and demanded, "Inform me of the current
location of Kumiko immediately!"
*What a pompous jerk,* Eichi though with a frown as
Nozomi hid behind him. Here he was trying to raise his
Paranormal Club up from the ashes and this arrogant man had to
butt in. The name 'Kumiko' did sound distinctly familiar, though
while he was able to instantly recall names, he couldn't readily
place them without a face to apply them to. Either way, he wasn't
about to help someone with a high and mighty attitude, especially
one with looks that surely got him all the women he didn't deserve.
"I don't know who you're talking about. Now, if you would
please excuse us, we were about to...," Eichi paused as his brain
worked frantically for a fitting excuse. *What's something you do
with a girl?* "... go on a date! Yes, and if you don't get to the
movie theatre early, the only seats left are the ones in the back
where you can hardly see the screen, and the sound is really bad
too. And just when your eyes adjust to the light, some tall guy sits
right in front of you, blocking..."
For one brief moment, Katsuhiko wondered if this was how
others felt to be on the receiving end of one his monologues; the
irritation, the confusion, the indecision. Should one attempt to
divert this long rant back into a dialogue, crush the speaker's skull
in for the good of all life, or simply walk away? But then he
realized his own carefully crafted speeches were of course far more
interesting then this human's babble. There simply was no
comparison.
*A date? With me?* Nozomi thought with a heavy blush
as she continued to use Eichi as a shield from the bishonen
stranger. She didn't remember him asking before, being the first
time anyone had ever asked her out it would have been impossible
for her to forget, but there was an American movie playing now
that was based on the paranormal TV series they had discussed
before. Maybe he was planning on asking her just before they
were interrupted, most likely as a sort of welcoming her to his
club. She knew too well that she was far too ordinary for any man
to entertain romantic thoughts about her.
"Surely Kumiko would stand out in such drab surroundings
as this," Katsuhiko mused out loud, mentally shutting out the
human for the moment. Then the realization came as he said, "Ah,
perhaps you simply unaware of her name. Yes, I can see how you
ignorant humans would miss that...
"Listen well. Kumiko is a female about your puny height,
though she has far more refined features, including long blue hair
and pale skin. Now where is she?"
"Maybe he means that woman who interrupted judo
practice before...," Nozomi mused out loud. She was certainly
hard to forget after seeing the photo that revealed her true demonic
form, but why would this man want to find her? Maybe he was a
demon hunter, trying to track her down for the kill. They did
always seem arrogant and refined in the movies.
"What? You've seen her?" Katsuhiko asked urgently as he
confronted the smaller, female human, crouching behind the other
for some unfathomable, and most likely obscene, reason. With a
snarl, he demanded, "Tell me where she is!"
Nozomi screamed and quickly circled around Eichi to have
him between her and the grey-haired man. She was shaking in fear
as she clung to Eichi for support.
"Oh, that Kumiko," Eichi said loud enough to grab the
stranger's attention and direct it away from the frightened Nozomi.
Another man might have tried slugging this jerk for scaring a
woman like that, but Eichi liked to think he was above such brutal
tactics and rely on his sharpened wits instead. There was also the
fact that the man was wearing a sword in plain sight, which
strongly discouraged a more direct approach. "We just saw her at
the train station only a little while ago boarding the express to
Osaka. If you hurry, you just might catch her."
Remember previously passing by a larger building marked
as a train station, Katsuhiko hurried off in that general direction,
leaving the humans behind with a great sense of relief, and without
a word. Soon this torturous labor would be over.
Once the jerk was gone, Eichi breathed his own sigh of
relief and then turned to face Nozomi. "Are you all right?"
"Yes... You see, I have this small fear of some men, but
I'm fine now. Thank you," Nozomi replied with a light blush she
marking her cheeks. Nervously, she added, "So, should we hurry
on to the movies now? I don't want to be responsible for you
sitting in the back after hearing how much you hate it, especially
when its the movie version of your favorite TV series."
"Movies? But that was..." Eichi started to explain, but then
trailed off when he realized that going to the movies was a pretty
good idea after all. He had wanted to have a marathon session of
his favorite supernatural TV show to cheer him up after the
fragmenting of his club, but Nobu had already taken all the A/V
equipment out of the clubroom. Seeing the movie based on the
series could be the next best thing.
"I mean, you're right, we better hurry along," Eichi agreed,
starting off in the direction of the movie theatre. As Nozomi fell in
step to his right, he added, "On the way, I can explain all your new
duties as the vice-president and treasurer of the Paranormal Club."
"I will do my best to live up to your expectations, Eichi-
san," Nozomi firmly stated as she drifted closer to him, and idly
wondering why she had the strangest urge to hold his hand.
"Again! Again! More! More!" Kumiko demanded in a
gigglish voice as she waved her arms in the air like a cheerleader
eager for another touchdown. She was kneeling in the tangled
sheets of her slave's bed, her body coated with his sweat
shimmering like polished marble, partly concealed by her long
blue hair cascading down her voluptuous figure.
"Just give me five minutes," Ken muttered as he staggered
off in the direction of the kitchen, feeling the world pitch and sway
all around him. Even more so when Kumiko leapt onto his back,
arms around his neck as she hugged his lower torso with her
thighs. Despite his current state, he couldn't help feel a stir of
arousal as her hard nipples dug into his back.
Ken thought that sex with the demon-girl had been taxing
before, but apparently Kumiko had been holding back. She wasn't
satisfied with simple and straightforward sex anymore; she had to
make it new and exciting each time. She must have been browsing
his hentai manga collection for ideas because he was sure a real
woman's body couldn't be that limber, or a normal woman's mind
that perverted.
As Ken finally reached the life-giving oasis of his small
kitchen, he turned on the cold water tap full blast and swallowed as
much as he could, savoring each drop. He made a mental note to
purchase a large supply of that sports drink professional athletes
use, but for now he would have to settle for an all-natural
substitute. Kumiko's skin was unusually warm under normal
circumstances, but she burned hotter and hotter the more
passionate the both of them became. The result had left him
dehydrated, but he thought it was a very small price to pay. The
fact that the demon-girl also consumed a small portion of his soul
in the process was a much larger issue, but Kumiko could be very
persuasive when she wanted to be.
Dunking his head under the tap in an effort to clear it, Ken
blinked to find the weight of the demon-girl lifted from his
shoulders. He turned to find her sitting on his small dining table,
arching her back as she gripped the table firmly with one hand
between her long legs. The other hand gestured coyly for her slave
to approach.
Ken couldn't think of a reason to refuse.
Honami Matsuno lifted up her paintbrush for the twelfth
time, only to put it down once more with a sigh, leaving a pristine
white canvas before her. She had been trying to use painting as a
source of relaxation, but she could not make a single confident
stroke unless she was already at peace. Not being the sort of
person could create unless she was sure of what she was doing, the
art teacher simply gave up on the whole idea for now.
Turning away from the accusing canvas as her long
chestnut-brown hair swirled around her waist, Honami glanced
over her office, narrowing her chocolate brown eyes in search of a
single spec of dust whose eradication would bring her the inner
peace she so desperately sought. Her small office gleamed back at
her, a sight that would make an obsessive compulsive think she
had been overdoing things lately, but in her heart she knew her
problem was not a material one.
The root of her anxiety could not be easily wiped away like
dust and dirt. Ever since that mysterious girl Kumiko had
appeared in her class, Honami had been on edge, unable to drop
her guard even for a moment when she feared that They would
suddenly appear to take her away. She knew what she was
supposed to have done, and yet she had resisted taking that final
step. The pull had not lessened over the years, but she had
managed to control it to the point where it had become only a
minor annoyance, though occasionally catching her by surprise in a
moment of weakness.
A single important task not yet done gave Honami all the
willpower she needed to stand firm; a secret confession buried
deeply in her heart that she ironically lacked the confidence to give
voice to. An irrational and desperate longing that sometimes left
her wide-awake far into the night, yearning for it to be fulfilled.
However, the rejection she expected and feared forced her silence.
Honami shook her head with a small self-depreciating
smile. She was a bit too practical to waste another day moping,
especially when she knew she still wasn't ready to actually do
something about it. If They came for her, then there was little she
could do. No sense worrying about it. She didn't even know if
Kumiko was truly affiliated with Them anyway. If she could only
find out a little more about the mysterious blue-haired girl, maybe
then she could set her mind at ease.
Suddenly remembering Ken mentioning having, or in his
own words 'suffering,' a class with Dr. Strauss, Honami wondered
if Kumiko had appeared in the strict teacher's class as well. She
did seem rather unwilling to let her new boyfriend out of her sight
for even a moment. Besides, who better to ask about a mysterious
student than a mysterious professor?
"Dr. Strauss? May I speak with you for a moment?"
Honami asked as she knocked lightly on the door to the professor's
office. She had seen his well-maintained antique car in the faculty
parking lot so was sure that he was somewhere on campus. He
was much too organized to have simply forgotten his car there.
That was something Honami herself might do if distracted by
thoughts of a special someone; that is if she owned an auto.
Driving was one of the many skills that were far beyond her.
Painting was really the only thing she could do well, making it
even harder to make the confession her heart yearned to deliver.
"Nein!" came an immediate reply through the door. It was
followed by the sound of files and papers crashing to the floor and
muffled cursing in what she assumed to be German. After a
moment of silence, the voice, now speaking in Japanese, added in a
somewhat nervous but softer tone, "What I mean is I am really
very busy grading mid-terms and have no time for visitors."
"Sorry to have disturbed you," Honami apologized, having
never heard the cool and aloof doctor of mathematics sound so
upset before. His classes must have done very poorly on their
exams. "I was only wondering if a new girl Kumiko had joined
your class recently. I've never had a student join in the middle of a
semester like this and I was wondering..."
"Kumiko did you say?" asked Dr. Strauss, poking his head
through the swiftly opened door. His current state of unkemptness
made him hard for Honami to immediately identify, however, as
his normally severely neat grey hair was all in disarray, while his
piecing blue eyes were now bloodshot and underscored by heavy
lines showing a distinct lack of sleep. The art teacher was very
glad she didn't have piles of mathematical equations to go through,
especially if she would end up looking like that
Meekly, Honami nodded. Despite their weary condition,
Dr. Strauss's eyes were as intense as ever, boring right into her
own, and making her fear once more that he could see her deepest
secret reflected there. "Ahh, it wasn't anything really important. I
just wanted to make her transition into the class as painless as
possible, especially after not having the best of introductions."
"Ach! I must be a sight right now," Dr. Strauss said with a
small chuckle as if noting her apprehension. He took out an
antique pocket watch and studied it for a time before shutting the
lid closed with a loud snap. "Just give me moment to get things in
order..."
Honami didn't even get the chance to reply before Dr.
Strauss shut the door in her face with the distinctive clink of a lock
turning. For a brief moment, the art teacher wondered just what
her fellow faculty member was hiding, but then realized she didn't
have the right to be curious when she had her own secrets she
wanted to protect just as desperately.
"There. That is much better, ja?" Dr. Strauss asked with a
smile as he once again emerged from his office, looking as prim
and proper as ever. His office beyond was like a mirror reflection
of the man's refined and well-kept soul, though Honami had the
feeling that only moments ago the office had been just as
disheveled as the man who occupied it.
Dr. Strauss took his place in the high leather backed chair
behind his large oaken desk, moving with the aid of a cane that she
had never seen before, though she knew of his limp that many
speculated as some sort of war wound. Wordlessly, he offered
Honami the seat before his desk, which she accepted with a smile.
Nodding slightly in satisfaction, the professor said
thoughtfully, "Bringing a new student up to speed... I am
privileged in this case since Kumiko seems to be something of a
mathematical savant. She has just entered the class and already
she is one of my top students. If only she could do something
about that boy she seems so keen on..."
Homani quickly hid a smile behind her hand. It was
amusing that after listening to how Ken felt about his dictatorial
teacher, that the feelings of suffering were mutual. She wasn't sure
what to think about Kumiko being some sort of math genius
however. She didn't seem the type, though with all They had to
keep track of, she supposed one of Them would need a great deal
of mathematical savvy. Though she desperately hoped it was only
just a coincidence.
"But I digress," Dr. Strauss continued, seeming more and
more at ease as the moments passed. "I don't know how well this
applies to art, but I would say that under normal circumstances,
tutoring sessions would be advisable. In Kumiko's case, it would
be best to give her additional homework assignments and go..."
"That's a very good idea. Thank you, Dr. Strauss," Honami
told him sincerely as she stood, already eager to put his plan into
effect. Though it had its dangers, a short one on one session with
the mysterious blue-haired girl would really be the best way of
discovering for certain if she was one of Them or not.
Honami wouldn't even have to wait until after break. She
had the home phone numbers of all her students and was sure that
Ken could get in touch with his girlfriend at a moment's notice.
Whether Kumiko was one of Them or not, Honami would know
peace of one sort soon, which filled the art teacher with relief.
Still, she frantically tried to come up with an excuse to call a
special someone, just in case it would be the last time.
"Wait! I wasn't finished...," Dr. Strauss called out, but the
mildly suspicious art teacher had already left, shutting the door
behind her. She seemed to be unaware of their fellow new
student's true nature, however, which meant that the both of them
could continue to operate in secret. He sighed and went back to
studying the strange diagrams that Kumiko had left him, feeling
like he was on the verge of unlocking their secrets.
Honami's head was filled with silly excuses that she was
sure would be seen through the moment she opened her mouth to
voice them, when she suddenly collided with someone, sending
papers, video cassettes, and other materials all over the hall.
Bending to gather them up again as best she could, she said, "Oh,
I'm so sorry! My head was in the clouds and I didn't see you
there..."
"That's okay. No one ever notices me anyway," Nobu
replied, doing his best not to come into contact with the beautiful
art teacher as he helped her collect the Kumiko Fanclub
promotional materials he had spent the last couple of days working
on. He could have done a decent job of them in only a few hours,
but when it came to his goddess, he would settle for nothing less
than absolute perfection. Scrambling to hide said materials every
time his mother barged into his room without knocking had created
further delays.
When Honami saw the posters were all of Kumiko, some
enlarged photographs while others were clearly prints of some of
the paintings that had been done in her very class, she pitied the
poor boy who obviously had a crush on the new student. Kumiko's
heart was already firmly set on Ken, along with the rest of her
body it seemed. She just couldn't bring herself to dash someone's
hopes, vain as they were, so simply handed the materials back to
the boy with an understanding smile on her lips.
"Do you know if... that is, is Dr. Strauss in?" Nobu asked
nervously, having not had the time to build up the requisite
confidence he needed in conversing with lovely women, especially
when they stood so close to him. He much preferred to observe
them from a distance, untainted by his imperfect presence.
All of Nobu's meager confidence was now dedicated to
making the Kumiko Fanclub something worthy of his goddess,
whose every motion and utterance were acts of perfection. Of
course, that meant creating something on a far grander scale than
the old Paranormal Club had been. He could produce all the
needed materials himself, from promotional posters to videos of
the goddess in action, but for a truly successful club he would need
a large clubroom. A disused janitor's closet just wouldn't do.
The problem was to get something on that scale, Nobu
would need a faculty advisor, but he was sure that most teachers
would get entirely the wrong idea of a club dedicated to admiring a
single person. They would likely believe that he had some
perverted purpose in mind, when nothing could be further from the
truth. In fact, Nobu's ultimate goal was to free the innocent and
pure Kumiko from the clutches of the notorious lecher Ken
Iwakami, who probably forced her to engage in deviant practices
for to fulfill his own sick lusts.
Nobu had but a single ray of hope. He had seen how nice
Dr. Strauss had been to Kumiko on the video Satoru had recorded,
despite his reputation as a cold and aloof professor who treats his
students as if they were mathematical equations. Perhaps an
intelligent man like him could see the need of a fanclub to support
the wondrous woman known as Kumiko. Even though the
mysterious professor intimidated virtually all who ever spoken
with him, for the sake of his goddess Nobu had to try.
"Ah, yes, he is. I just spoke with him in fact," Honami
replied with a smile at first, wanting to set the nervous boy at ease.
She was used to people being intimidated by her beauty, though
there was one person who had never been.
Then Honami frowned as she remembered how the
professor had reacted at first when she mentioned Kumiko. Was
Dr. Strauss and this boy involved in some sort of conspiracy with
the new blue-haired student? The art teacher shook her head,
knowing that she was being far too paranoid. The doctor of
mathematics was probably just a harmless old eccentric and there
was no way this meek boy could be one of Them. "He was busy
grading exams, however, so I don't know if he'll be willing to
speak to you."
"Ah, that's okay," Nobu replied, struggling to keep his
confidence high in the face of this minor opposition. He could
wait and come back another time when Dr. Strauss would be more
receptive to his proposal, but Nobu knew if he backed down now,
he would keep putting it off while his goddess continued to suffer
under the evil pervert's abuse. "It's really important that I speak to
him though, and what I have to say shouldn't take long anyway."
*Love advice perhaps?* Honami wondered, noting the
urgency in the boy's voice. Dr. Strauss was the last person in the
world she would think to ask about matters of the heart, but she
had just seen a hint of another side to him whose existence she
never would have suspected. And it wasn't as if she had any right
to question another's romance, especially when she still had her
own particular emotional problems to solve. That thought returned
her previous urgency, she quickly said to Nobu as she passed him
down the hall, "Well, I have to be going. It was nice meeting you."
"Actually, we've met before...," Nobu started to say, but
shrugged as the art teacher had already left. Not that he had been
really surprised that she hadn't remembered him, especially when
he had stood in the shadow of such outgoing people as Satoru and
Eichi. *Well, I won't stand in anyone's shadow any longer. One
day, the name of Nobukazu Minamisaka would be known
throughout the campus as the president of the wildly popular
Kumiko Fanclub!*
"Hmm, what is this about Kumiko?" asked Dr. Strauss,
standing before him as he peered at pudgy student intently with his
piercing blue eyes. The math professor had apparently just stepped
out of his nearby office to snag a cup of coffee, and Nobu had been
too deep in his thoughts to notice.
Nobu jumped back, startled and embarrassed to realize he
had thought the last part out loud. Eichi must have had more of an
influence on him than he had thought. "Just a school club I was
thinking of starting... and I was wondering if you would be wiling
to be my faculty advisor."
"I don't have time for such frivolous activities," Dr. Strauss
snapped, but then he sipped at his coffee and added in a curious
tone, "But you said something about Kumiko..."
"Umm, yes," Nobu replied nervously, wondering what was
the right way to explain his club idea without having it sound like a
den of perversion. "Well, you see the club would be sort of built
around Kumiko... because she's a new student and could use some
encouragement. I also think she would make a good role model
for others, because she seems so nice, and kind, and sweet, and...
So what I'm basically proposing is a Kumiko Fanclub."
"I see," Dr. Strauss spoke after a moment of silence,
tugging at his moustache in thought. It was quite suspicious that
two people would be so concerned with Kumiko right after the
other, and the professor know all too well how such suspicion
could be turned to one's advantage. However, the art teacher had
seemed honestly worried about her new student and this boy...
though it might be hard for some to believe, Joseph had also been
young once. He also could not fail to see some benefit in this for
him as well.
"It is an interesting idea," Dr. Strauss admitted finally. "As
you yourself said, she is a special student who could use some
additional support, as well as making her feel welcome at her new
school, ja? Come to my office and we can discuss the details."
"Yes, sir!" Nobu agreed immediately, almost not believing
that his wish was coming true. Maybe the professor would allow
him to use school funds to build the life-sized bronze statue of
Kumiko he was currently designing.
"Ach, please don't call me sir," Dr. Strauss told him with a
pained expression. His old injury seemed to flare from that single
word and all that it meant to him.
"Umm, okay, sensei," Nobu replied nervously, not knowing
why the professor would be annoyed by a term of respect, but not
wanting to offend his new club advisor either. With luck, he could
begin trying to recruit loyal members for the Kumiko Fanclub
before the day was through.
Ayame already looked the part of a waitress now dressed in
her 'Natsume's' apron and with her long strawberry locks bound
back into a ponytail. She glided her away around the main room of
the coffee shop as she put everything in order while humming a
cheery tune. Not since arriving in the human world had she felt
more at peace as straightened tables and chairs with ease.
Then the angel-girl went to the boxes she had set up all in a
row, each one containing a vital element of her host's ideal place
setting. Natsume had found a picture in a magazine that was her
coffee shop archetype and Ayame had taped that image to the wall
above the boxes so she could study it intently before each pass.
Roughly have the place settings were complete when
Ayame realized she had just run out of some of the necessary
components to her host's functional masterpiece. That meant a trip
back into the kitchen and the storeroom beyond, though she would
walk slowly this time to absolutely sure not to slip.
Only the kitchen wasn't as empty as she had left it only a
few moments ago. Ayame's superhuman hearing should have
noted the sound of the back door being opened, but it was no
surprise when she recognized the visitor a moment later.
"My, this has become a cheery place rather quickly,"
Noriaki commented as he glanced around the kitchen, rubbing his
short grey beard in thought. The second in command of the Hall of
Records and Ayame's angelic superior seemed in high spirits,
which helped ease the angel-girl's apprehension at his sudden
appearance. The fact that he was usually in a cheery mood kept
her from fully relaxing, however. "It is truly amazing what
humans can do when they are motivated, and angels too I
suppose."
"It is a pleasure to see you once again, sir," Ayame spoke
formally, bowing low to the elder angel with her hands clasped
together. This had become her traditional greeting since it kept her
from shaking in nervousness.
"We're not in Heaven anymore, Ayame. There is no need
for such formality," Noriaki told her with a small shake of his
head. He had hoped that the friendly human Natsume would be a
positive influence on his protégée and help her loosen up a bit, but
perhaps it was still too soon to have much of an impact. "Anyway,
I am here to accept your first official report. What are your initial
impressions of the subject Kensuke Iwakami?"
Ayame froze up, staring back at her superior in shock. In
all the chaos of adjusting to the mortal world and trying to do her
best to return the kindness bestowed upon her by Natsume, her
whole reason for being there in the first place had nearly slipped
her mind. She hadn't been observing Ken as much as she really
should have, Kumiko being a major deterrent to that, but she had
observed him enough for just some initial impressions. All she
needed to do was get her mind in order.
"My initial impressions of Kensuke Iwakami are... umm..."
Ayame trailed off as her confidence faulted, too nervous at the
moment to bring her thoughts into focus. She knew her report
would be passed on to the Great Chorus and if she said the wrong
thing, it could be all over for her. She could be made to pass on, or
possibly something even worse...
"You're hyperventilating again, Ayame. Please calm down.
There's no wrong answer to this," Noriaki told her with a sigh. He
had chosen this moment to request her first report because she
seemed so full of confidence, but a simple reminder of her mission
was enough to replace that with insecurity.
Perhaps he could persuade one of the Great Chorus to
speak with her directly, to reassure her that her worries were
groundless, but this was more likely to terrify the sensitive girl
than anything else. "Here, drink this water. I read that it helps
humans with the same condition."
"Thank you, sir." Ayame took the glass with a small nod
and gulped it down quickly, finishing with a sigh of relief. Calm.
She had to remain calm and professional to make a good
impression with her first report on such an important assignment.
She still had much of the year left to make up for early mistakes.
"My initial impressions of the subject is that he has been
corrupted by the demon Kumiko for some unknown purpose. He
submits to her most deviant suggestions and general abuse with
very little protest, however, he does not yet appear to be
completely under her control. Oddly, while he shows only minor
concern for his own welfare, he will protect others from the
demon's foul temper. In fact, I created a scenario to test... oh no!"
"What's the matter, Ayame?" Noriaki asked in concern,
wondering what could make his pupil so upset.
The angel-girl couldn't believe she had been so selfish as to
enjoy a nice bath with her host, along with experimenting with
sake, when she had had some very serious responsibilities to attend
to. Hopefully, no fatal consequences resulted from her lack of
responsibility, and perhaps if she hurried now she could still
witness the fruits of her experiment.
"I'm very sorry, sir, but there's something I must attend to!"
Ayame told him all in a rush as she twirled in the air and returned
to her full angelic form, wings spread outwards as she flew out the
back door and up above the city. There she hovered invisible to
mortal eyes and took a deep breath before plunging towards Ken's
apartment below.
Back in the coffee shop, Noriaki could only shrug with a
small smile. At least his protégée was eager now instead of
depressed, but he had a feeling that she return to her earlier sadness
when she realized she had left her work there half finished. The
elder angel, now in a human guise, wandered out into the main
room of the coffee shop and intently studied the photo that had
been taped up on the wall. It didn't look too complex...
"Reader's Guide to the King in Yellow... Illustrated History
of the Necronomicon... Dummies Guide to Cthulhu... that should
be all of them," Satoru took a breath as he finished gathering up
the various supernatural texts that he had collected over the years,
removing them from his bookshelf to dump them carefully in a
lead lined steel box he had special ordered just for this purpose.
He couldn't allow such dangerous books to fall into the wrong
hands now that he was done with them, though some could
probably cause enough trouble by themselves.
Various paranormal paraphernalia already lined the
massive box, including the goth fashions that had gone along with
him. He didn't want a look that would attract demons and other
denizens of the dark; nothing but bright and upbeat fashions for
him from now on. Now only one last item remained before he
could shut the door on that part of his life forever, but Satoru
hesitated, reluctant to part with the mystical orb that had been
willed to him by his deceased grandmother. He sighed and
dumped the orb into a shoebox instead, burying it deep in the back
of his closet where he hoped it wouldn't be able to do anything that
might make him regret his decision.
Satoru slammed the lid of the steel box closed, secured it
with several stout padlocks, threw the keys out the window, and
called out, "All right! You can come get it now!"
Four muscular men and two muscular women barely fit in
his small apartment as they encircled the large steel crate and
groaned as they pried it off the floor. With a nod from most of the
men, and a wink from both women and one of the guys, the
professional movers carried the box like pallbearers down the
hallway and out of Satoru's apartment. Soon the crate and its
troublesome contents would be at the bottom of the sea where they
couldn't endanger the soul of anyone.
Despite having earned more unwanted admirers, Satoru
grinned as they left and quickly changed into his best clothes. He
had a special meeting to attend with a very special person. First
checking his appearance in the mirror a dozen or so times, the
bishonen college student was out the door himself, headed in the
direction of the business district.
Satoru was not the sort of person would could relax and
waste his time in pointless endeavors. He always needed to be
doing something, something he felt was worthwhile and his
schoolwork was simply not enough. Up until recently, the occult
had filled that need, but after seeing and feeling what a real demon
was capable of, Satoru had realized he was way over his head and
ended all paranormal activities while his soul was still in one piece.
So despite how much he had loathed it by the end, Satoru had
decided to return to the one other thing that had ever given his life
meaning; a career as an idol.
Tracking down his old manager had been a much harder
task than he had first expected. It turned out that after his
persistent begging attempts to persuade Satoru to return to the life
of an idol had failed, the manager had retired in disappointment,
becoming a monk in a remote monastery where he wouldn't be
reminded of material things.
Which was why Satoru had contacted the talent agency his
sister worked for, which happened to be owned by the mature red-
haired vision of loveliness that was Miss Aomori. A woman who
he was about to have an interview with, but he would do his best to
act calm and in control, no matter how much he wanted to beg her
to allow him to be her slave.
Attired in newly purchased cutting edge fashions, Satoru
stared up on awe at the headquarters of Aomori Enterprises.
Though the building in itself wasn't all that impressive, being a few
floors shorter than those around it, he was still overwhelmed by the
fact it was owned entirely by a mature and incredibly sexy
entrepreneuress, built up from nothing by her tireless efforts.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, the former idol
and now former supernatural expert passed the sliding glass doors
into the cool interior of the lobby.
Aomori sat in her semi-darkened office as she awaited her
next appointment to arrive. He wasn't due for another fifteen
minutes, but she had a feeling that Nami's brother would be early.
It wasn't as if she had never seen that look in a man's eyes before,
though she was mildly surprised it had taken him this long to act
upon it. Normally, she didn't accept applications for her talent
agency, preferring to select perspective clients herself, but an out
and out refusal of Nami's brother might upset her current star, so it
was worth a few moments of personal inconvenience to keep her
prized commodity happy.
The successful businesswoman wasn't idle as she waited,
however, quickly going over reports and jotting down notes as she
finalized plans for a new lingerie shop; one she was hoping to turn
into a successful chain. She knew just the person to manage the
shop for her too, but had a suspicion that her student was busy with
her own business venture that she was trying to keep a secret from
her mentor. That was fine for Aomori. She liked surprises,
especially coming from Natsume.
"Aomori-san, a Mr. Satoru Aoda is here to see you,"
announced her secretary over the intercom, a small speaker flush
with her black metalic desk. Everything she needed was built into
it, leaving a nice smooth surface on top. The businesswoman liked
everything in sight to be as neat and orderly as possible.
Everything in its place and nothing to offend the eye.
Aomori stretched a bit, having been sitting there for longer
than she had realized. She usually liked to be more active, but
lately she had been stuck spending more and more time behind a
desk. The businesswoman sighed with a slight smile, then tapped
the intercom button and replied, "Please show him in."
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Aomori-san," Satoru
spoke nervously as he entered the businesswoman's office for the
first time. The room was dimly lit for that time of day, with just
enough light to read by seeping in from under the draw shades and
the small lights that were angled to illuminate the large landscape
painting mounted on the wall behind her. The painting clashed
with the severely functional and modern office, but Satoru wasn't
about tell his prospective boss how to decorate. "I'll do my best
not to take up too much of your precious time."
"Take a seat then and we'll begin," Aomori suggested,
gesturing with an outstretched pen to the simple steel chair set
before her desk. It didn't look very comfortable, but this was
hardly a social event. As Satoru sat down, Aomori nodded and
asked, "So you want to work for my talent agency as an idol, just
like your sister, Satoru-san?"
Her form was hard for him to make out in the darkened
office, with the feeble light shining off her sunglasses, giving her
an almost otherworldly look. She was little more than a curvatious
silhouette dressed in a conservative business suit, with flashes of
her long red hair, shimmering like velvet.
"Umm, yes," Satoru replied nervously, clearing his throat
to shore up his failing courage. "I'm not sure if you are aware that
I was once a rather popular child idol..."
"Yes, your sister mentioned this to me before. However,
times have changed and you are no longer a child," Aomori stated
firmly, in a commanding tone that sent shivers up Satoru's spine.
Even though he could not see her eyes, Satoru had the feeling she
was studying him with a distinct lack of interest.
Then all of the sudden something in her posture changed,
shifting in her high backed chair as she added, "But then again,
you might be some use to me after all, that is if you don't mind
being the first client of a student of mine."
"I wouldn't mind at all," Satoru replied quickly. He had no
illusions about the possibility of being managed by Aomori herself,
though he had several fantasies about it, and anyone had to be
better than that weak-willed Tadashi. Besides, making a good
impression on Aomori's prized student might be nearly as good as
impressing the woman herself.
"Good," Aomori said, smiling slightly in the near darkness.
"I will make all the necessary arrangements and hopefully your
new manager will be contacting you before the end of the day. I
already have a few job offers that might suit you."
"Thank you very much, Aomori-san!" Satoru replied with a
deep bow, hoping that he would be neck deep in work soon no
matter what it was. His life couldn't go crazy anymore if he didn't
have any free time. "No matter what sort of work you have for me,
I will always strive to live up to your expectations!"
"You may go now, Satoru-san," Aomori replied, tired of
looking at him already. Tadashi held no romantic illusions about
her, at least none she had been able to discern. Hopefully, she
would never have to see this boy again.
"Right! Good-bye, mistre... I mean chief!" Satoru shouted
a bit nervously before turning around and marching stiffly out of
the office, the door shutting behind him automatically.
Aomori set her sunglasses on the desk and picked up the
handset of her phone, her finger poised over one of the speed dial
buttons. She had learned some time ago that the problem with
teaching was that there was only so much one could say about any
given topic. No matter how much she tried to stretch it out with
other items of interest, Aomori had already taught her student all
she really needed to know about running her own business. It was
time to give her dedicated pupil her first assignment, one that
wouldn't take too much time away from the girl's own little
business venture.
"Tadashi calling on line 2," the secretary spoke via the
intercom once more, derailing Aomori's train of thought. "It seems
that Nami-chan caused a bit of trouble again."
Aomori sighed and tapped the button for line 2 instead,
though after trying to manage Nami herself for a short while, she
was no longer quite as upset with Tadashi for being unable to
control their temperamental star. She would simply have to give
Natsume the good news later.
Outside of Aomori Enterprises, three women knelt huddled
together in the shadow of the building; predators awaiting the sight
of their prey. They knew he was in there someplace, mainly
because they had been trailing him since he had left his apartment.
He was unaware they knew about his lair, and tempting as it was to
study the interior, they had left it untouched so he would continue
to be easy to track.
Though the personalities of the three huntresses varied,
each shared two common traits; they all attended the same college
and they all desired to be the greatest bunny girls Japan had ever
seen. And while they all held different reasons for wanting to
achieve this noble goal, they had all agreed that the seduction of
the most handsome man in school was the way to prove it.
"Rope?"
"Check."
"Sake?"
"Check."
"Bunny ears?"
"Check."
Then Satoru stepped out of the building, grinning from ear
to ear as he headed back to his apartment. The bunny girls all
grew much more sinister smiles as they rushed out of the shadows
on a collision course with the unsuspecting idol.
Ken liked sex. He liked it as much as any other hormone-
driven male who had been sexually frustrated for roughly seven
years, and then some. He had as large a collection of hentai anime
and manga as his budget could comfortably support and used to
indulge in elaborate fantasies of every attractive woman he met.
Even when it looked like he was about to die at the hands of a
soul-hungry demon-girl, all he could think about was the burning
desire not to die a virgin. But despite Kumiko being ready and
willing for another hot and steamy round of their sexual olympics,
all Ken wanted to do was sleep. She had worn him out.
"Ken-chan," the demon-girl purred in his ear as she slipped
her hand down the covers he had pulled up around his neck, gently
scraping her nails along his back, which normally sent a delightful
shiver through his body. All it did now was cause him to yawn.
Even the sight of her nude form draped on the bed next to him
wasn't enough to stir his interest.
"I have a headache," Ken protested in a feeble attempt to
dissuade the insatiable demon-girl, turning away as he buried his
head in his pillow. In his opinion, he had already gone above and
beyond the call of duty of a sex slave and Kumiko would just have
to find some other willing victim to sate her demonic lusts. He
was sure that Natsume wouldn't object to helping out her new
friend with her little problem.
"Ken-chan! Ken-chan!" Kumiko shouted urgently as she
rocked her slave back and forth, but stopped some moments later
when he only groaned in response. The demon-girl was in a
creative mood and had already thought up another new sexual
activity for them to try before she forgot it, but Ken wouldn't even
hear her out.
Kumiko crossed her arms under her bare breasts instead,
pouting down at her slave as she wondered what she could do to
motivate him. She had already used up all the little tricks she had
learned to keep his interest level high, which he had slowly grown
an immunity to. Nothing immediately coming to mind, the demon-
girl thought back to her training...
The sudden crack of a whip startled Ken right out of bed.
He only had a moment to blink at the sight of Kumiko posing nude
with whip in hand before the handle of that instrument of torture
was shoved into his mouth and the demon-girl heaved him back
onto the bed, taking full advantage of how he had stiffened with
fear and alarm.
*Oh what the hell,* Ken thought with a grin as he began to
suckle at Kumiko's right breast already squashed against his face,
not noticing the loud crashing sound in the ally behind him, much
like the clamor of an angel falling to earth.