Mimata Chieri
After we arrived home, Lady Jin Mija calmed her mind and body with a cup of tea, then announced she would lie down and vanished into the master bedroom. I stayed behind and chatted with my two friends.
“Thanks. For protecting my mom like that.”
Once we reached the house, I thanked Kazuhiro and Kiyohira. They simply shook their heads as if it had been nothing at all.
“If anything, thank you for blocking everything with your whole body. I nearly cried back there.”
“I honestly thought you were going to die, you idiot. That’s why I held your mother—I figured I should at least take good care of her.”
They seemed deeply moved by the sight of me spreading my body to block the bullets. Well, it wasn’t as if something like that could actually kill me….
As expected, the combo of the Yeouiju—the eternal friend of beginners for the youngest son of the megacorp—and the regeneration trait was no joke. It let me withstand a hail of bullets without any armor. Of course, it only worked because I had leveled up the regeneration trait by taking hits in between shots.
“I’m not going to die, you morons.”
“Crazy bastard.”
“Next time I’ll train harder and become a martial artist who can beat guns too.”
Kazuhiro scoffed at my claim, while Kiyohira made the vow with a completely straight face.
Of course this world allowed martial artists to defeat gunmen. If you gained supernatural power like me or underwent body modification, firearms could be overcome.
But Kiyohira, who loathed body modification, would have to master at least Narrative-rank martial arts or level up and suddenly acquire an esper trait.
The reason he had come to hate modification so intensely was my master, Fujigasaki Rinka.
Kiyohira had learned the fundamentals from her. She had claimed an undefeated championship in the unrestricted class—the most brutal division of the world’s top fighting organization, UMC—using nothing but an unmodified woman’s body, and had defended the title for two straight years. Naturally he had developed a fierce admiration for natural fighters. As a backlash, he grew to despise body modification.
Since Fujigasaki Rinka had come up, I decided to ask him about her. They were both in America and in the same organization, so he should know something.
“Oh, right. How’s Master? You must have seen her a few times in America, right?”
“I haven’t seen her much either. They say she’s been living in a national park for the last six months.”
“So that’s why you went to Yosemite? Following her example?”
When I asked in disbelief, Kiyohira nodded with an expression that said the answer was obvious.
“Of course. There’s no shame in following the best. Only by copying what the best does can you hope to touch even the edge of their shadow.”
He wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t have a Mythic-rank martial art like Fujigasaki Rinka…. It was a little sad. If I ever obtained a Narrative-rank or higher manual, I would have to pass it to him. Since he fought in the relatively human welterweight division—around 77.1 kg—Narrative-rank or above should let him put on a good match. The welterweight was fierce, but it was nothing compared to the inhuman hell of the unrestricted class.
“Yeah, give it your all. I want to see my friend become champion someday.”
“Thanks. I’m heading back to America a little later than planned. I think I’ll train in the deep forests around Mount Fuji….”
He was starting to sound like a friend who disappears in a Japanese horror story. I’d have to plant a GPS on him later….
“Bro, stop encouraging only Kiyohira and give me some love too!”
Kazuhiro, now calmer, joined the conversation. It confirmed he had a softer heart than Kiyohira.
Kazuhiro had become a delinquent because of his broken home and racist bullying, while Kiyohira—despite his own troubled family—had turned delinquent simply because he loved fighting and was always looking for the next brawl. That difference made Kazuhiro the more tender-hearted of the two.
“Feeling better now?”
“Kukuku, to think the Black Ogre of Edogawa Middle was such a coward.”
“Don’t bring up Kuroki! You White Ogre!”
Back in Edogawa Middle their nicknames had been Kuroki and Shiroki. As adults both found those names mortifying. Even I would cringe if someone called me the Black Ogre of Edogawa. It might have sounded cool during my middle-school chuunibyou phase, but not anymore.
“Shut it, both of you. Or I’ll leak your middle-school nicknames to every broadcaster in the country.”
Now that they were a UMC fighter and a J-League player with public images, my threat instantly silenced them. I had done it so I could call Yukiko. She would have heard the news by now, and I didn’t want her worrying if I stayed out of touch.
“Are you okay? I heard about it too. What on earth happened all of a sudden….”
I told her I was fine for now and would explain everything when I returned. Then I asked her to send a single bodyguard; I was worried about my biological mother.
After I hung up, the two of them—apparently seeking revenge for my broadcasting threat—began hurling insults without restraint.
“Oh ho! A son serving two mothers! You really are Lu Bu reincarnated!”
“Boo~! Boo~!”
Comparing me to Lu Bu showed real creativity in their abuse. Kazuhiro’s unexpected love for the Romance of the Three Kingdoms had clearly inspired the jab.
“Fine, you punks. Want to taste Lu Bu’s fist?”
“I don’t fight injured people.”
“Neither do I. If a doctor certifies you’re fully healed I’ll have no excuse not to fight you, but that’s not the case right now.”
They had already forgotten their earlier Lu Bu comparison and were now refusing to fight an “injured” man. These guys were professionals at getting under my skin.
“More importantly…”
Kiyohira suddenly turned serious. What now?
“Let’s see the photos of those girls from your rag-man story. Kazuhiro saw them in person, so I should at least get pictures.”
I stared at him in disbelief for a moment, sighed, and pulled out my smartphone to show him photos of Han Yukyung and Aris.
“Ooh~! They’re gorgeous. Both look like celebrities.”
Though their tastes were peculiar, Kazuhiro and Kiyohira could still recognize beauty. They knew Han Yukyung and Aris were stunning; the girls simply didn’t match their personal preferences.
“So which one are you dating?”
“Both.”
I answered Kiyohira’s question without hesitation. They stared at me blankly, then—forgetting their earlier refusal to fight an injured man—teamed up to attack me.
“Beat this shameless bastard senseless!”
“You rotten piece of trash!”
I endured their harassment until the bodyguard Yukiko sent finally arrived.
After the bodyguard showed up I dropped my friends off and headed for the house at the Human Resources Development Center. It was quite late, but Yukiko would be waiting. Just as I expected, the moment I stepped inside she ran over and threw her arms around me.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”
“I’m fine, Yukiko.”
Hmm. As always, the feeling of Yukiko’s breasts was heavenly. I held her almost every day, yet the sensation never grew stale—thanks, of course, to those soft yet resilient curves.
“Let me tell you what happened…”
I recounted the restaurant incident. In the process I naturally revealed Mimata Chieri’s true identity. Since she was hospitalized and wouldn’t be able to work for several days, Yukiko needed to know.
“So you were safe thanks to the agent the chairman sent?”
“That’s right.”
I left out the part where I had spread my arms and blocked the bullets in front of everyone; I didn’t want to worry her needlessly.
“She’s someone we should be grateful for. I’ll handle your absence from work tomorrow, so don’t worry about that.”
“I hope she recovers. She was wearing a bulletproof vest so she wasn’t hit anywhere fatal, but it looked like she lost a lot of blood.”
Yukiko smiled reassuringly at my concern.
“Bleeding isn’t an issue. With the Taira Group’s technology they can save people who are already at death’s door….”
That was a relief. The confidence in her voice suggested Mimata Chieri would be all right.
“But are you really okay? From what I heard, bullets were flying everywhere…”
Yukiko asked again, her gaze dropping to my shirt. Ah…! I realized I had been wearing the blood-soaked shirt the entire time. Was that why my friends had refused to fight an “injured” person? After I showed them the photos of Han Yukyung and Aris they had harassed me, but they hadn’t gotten too physically rough.
“Look, I’m fine!”
I peeled off the shirt. There were no wounds, naturally, but I had bled heavily before regeneration kicked in, so my torso was still covered in dried blood.
“There’s so much blood…! Just wait a moment!”
Yukiko dashed off and returned with a water-soaked towel. She began carefully wiping me down. I could have just taken a shower, but she seemed intent on inspecting every inch of me for injuries.
After about ten minutes all the bloodstains were gone. Yet Yukiko kept wiping, especially lingering over my sharply defined abs with long, almost licking strokes. At some point her goal had clearly changed. Naturally my body reacted to the stimulation. I became rock hard.
Hmm…. Was this her succubus instinct, the urge to excite me like this? I pulled Yukiko to her feet and kissed her.
Chuuup…! Chup, chuuuu♥
Yukiko responded with eager passion. After several minutes I pulled back, looked at her melted expression, and spoke.
“I’ll go wash up. Wait for me in bed and warm yourself up by touching your body.”
“No.”
Her refusal was firm. Huh? Did she not want to do it? Or did she only want to kiss?
“You don’t want to?”
“No… Ryuta, you smell so good right now…♥ If you wash, the scent will disappear.”
Aha. Her scent fetish had activated at full power.
“Then let’s do it first and wash afterward.”
“Kyaa!”
I lifted Yukiko in a princess carry and ran up the stairs.
