Time flew by, as I watched the two kendo beauties spar. Their movements were a blur of precise strikes and defensive sweeps while Nonko continued her passionate rant beside me. She detailed her grand dream of becoming a mangaka who would "overshadow even Oda-sensei!"
She launched into the premise of her story, her voice growing more animated. And as I listened, something shifted in my mind. I realized I was processing her words with perfect clarity while simultaneously analyzing the footwork and leverage of the sparring match.
It was like two parallel streams of thought, both fully engaged. My brain could now multitask without being bothered by having a split attention… could it be the dreaded multithreaded consciousness?
'Anyway. Seems my brain isn't overheating so we're good. Now I could focus on both.'
"So listen, listen!" Nonko leaned in, her green eyes sparkling with manic inspiration. "The setting is this amazing, sprawling old bathhouse inn—kinda like our old dorms bathhouse if they were more… steamy! And it's full of all these weird, lonely yokai and humans trying to figure themselves out. But the real star…"
She paused for dramatic effect, jabbing a finger in the air. "Is the resident ghost! A beautiful, tragic, pink-haired ghost named Yume!"
She clutched her hands to her heart, swaying slightly. "She died with deep regrets, you see? So now she's stuck, helping everyone else find love and happiness in the very bathhouse where she passed!"
"She's sweet, she's gentle, she's always trying to peek into the men's bath for 'research'—purely for comedic effect, of course!—and she has this killer design…" Nonko's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"In fact, I based her on the real ghost that haunts our own hot springs! I've seen her! She's adorable! It's like… life imitating art, hmm, in this case imitating afterlife!"
'This is… this is just 'Yuragi-sou no Yuuna-san.' She's literally describing the plot of Yuragi-sou no Yuuna-san.'
'Wait… a minute.'
'Say that again?'
She spread her arms wide, as if envisioning a marquee. "It's got everything! Heartwarming bonding, hilarious misunderstandings, steamy bath scenes—the steam is from the water, get your head out of the gutter!—and a hot ghost moving on from the past! It's gonna be a masterpiece!"
'Yeah sure… if no skin is involved there's nothing steamy about it.'
'Not that… the previous line. Did you see Yuuna? She exists even here?'
'Cue to shock. But it would be logical if you, busty, sexy Oni, are breathing in my ear, selling your idea as if I was some manga editor/publisher, she would also be alive… ghosting around.'
'I can't just ask her straight in her face about the real ghost. So, the best I could do is to encourage her.'
It just so happens that the sparring between those two beauties also ended, leaving for a great demonstration to sell and advertise the Kendo Club. But, there was still window to see other clubs, and I didn't want to miss on any of that action.
By the time we prepared to leave, I simply gave her a thumbs-up, a genuine smile on my face. "Senpai, run with it. Seriously. I'll be your first reader when you publish."
"REALLY?!" she squealed, and before I could brace myself, she engulfed me in a crushing, enthusiastic hug.
I heard a series of alarming pops and creaks from my spine and ribs. "S-Senpai… I'm glad… but I'm about to die…" I managed to rasp out, patting her back weakly.
She released me instantly, looking down and helping me out while appearing both concerned and amused. "Ahhh, Tsukune-chan! You really should drink more milk! Your bones are so fragile!"
As I gasped for air, my gaze, still slightly dizzy, dropped out of sheer physiological reflex—and landed squarely on the vast, soft expanse of her chest, now at eye level due to her leaning over.
I have no idea what my expression was, but Nonko's milky cheeks suddenly gained a faint, rosy tint. She crossed her arms, partially hiding her bosom, and let out an amused, scandalized huff. "Ecchi! And for your information, I am not lactating! You'll have to look elsewhere for that!"
I coughed, straightening my ruined uniform. "Noted. And not what I was… never mind. Thanks for the… experience, Senpai."
As we finally managed to extricate ourselves and walk away, Moka, who had been quietly observant the entire time, drifted closer. Her shoulder gently bumped against me—accidentally or intentionally, I couldn't tell.
She looked up at me, a small, thoughtful smile on her lips. "Nonko-senpai… is a very nice person, isn't she?"
I could smell and hear the subtext, but what can I do? I'm just a man surrounded by an expanse of beautiful flowers. If I even fail to pick one or two, ahem, multiple flowers, I would bring shame and grief to all of my transmigrating brethrens.
I nodded, sliding my hands into my pockets as we merged back into the river of students. "Yeah," I agreed, my bones still faintly throbbing. "A very forcefully nice person."
The festival's energy was still contagious, and after the Kendo Club debacle. Our walk to the Ping Pong Club's booth was noticeably quieter, in the sense that I kept my quiet, while a certain pink-haired vampire walked beside me with this serene, almost too-pleasant smile. However, the air around her felt several degrees cooler than the hallway warranted.
'Am I screwed?'
'But come on man, you can't miss the chance of landing such a hot, boobie Oni that likes to talk about anime, manga and light novels.'
'Sigh, I have to play to Moka-chan's ego and let her cool down. Maybe a play at the ping pong table wouldn't be that bad since I can just let her beat me, and have her show off. She also needs to have some limelight.'
The club had taken over a vacant classroom, the desks pushed aside to make room for three folding tables.
The rapid pok-pok-pok of balls and the shouts of Yokai players trying to respect the academy rules by remaining in a human form, some failing as I could see a Salamander's Yokai Head popping out in the body of a 'human', call it for a creepy encounter, created this chaotic yet engaging atmosphere.
An eager second-year with paddle-shaped antennae after seeing us interested, handed us paddles with a grin.
Moka took hers, giving it an experimental little swing. The motion was deceptively gentle. "This looks fun, Tsukune. Shall we?"
I nodded, a sense of inevitable doom settling in my stomach. We took our positions at an empty table.
'Here goes nothing.'
We took our positions. The club member acting as referee served, and the match began. It was immediately clear Moka had never considered sparing my male dignity. While I did play ping pong a lot on my breaks back in highschool, back then I was a normal human with the default, factory settings of a human.
So, how I was faring against this pink-haired vampiress that wanted to destroy me?
Not great, not terrible. I could fight back against her precise returns, as they landed deep on my side, forcing me to move. I could keep up with her, as my stats were close to breaking into C-tier and they weren't just for show.
We traded shots, the ball starting to blur between us. This "showdown" began to attract the attention of other students checking out the Ping Pong Club. They were mesmerized more by Moka's beauty than the match itself.
The pace of the match began to incrementally, mercilessly increase. Her swings became shorter, her wrist snaps sharper, while the sound gained a higher pitch as the ball started to reach impossible trajectories by human standards.
Sharp-angled slams that kissed the very edge of the table, spins that made it kick sideways after the bounce, but my vision and senses kept up for now, but the sweat started to pour like I was some trembling dog.
Her face, meanwhile, was a mask of placid concentration, her feet barely shifting from their planted position.
Then came the point that broke the game's pretense.
I put everything into a forehand loop, aiming for her wide backhand; it was the only technique I could rely back in my highschool days in winning against other 'competitors' at the table.
'Nice feel on the paddle! The power can't compare to my first life.'
Then came the moment of doom, Moka simply pivoted, her paddle arm drawing back and then forward in a motion so fast it was a smear. There was no finesse this time just that S-tier raw strength that brought the ball to near light-speed acceleration.
Or so it felt until I lost the ball trajectory.
CRACK
The ball became a white streak. It shot past my ear before my shoulder had even finished its follow-through, impacting the wall behind me with the sound of a gunshot, leaving a small, dented crater in the plaster.
'Oy, oy. Are you trying to kill your boyfriend here? Have some mercy.'
Silence fell at our table. Our nearby spectators stood frozen, mouths agape.
My eyes drifted down to my own paddle, still held in a frozen backswing. Right in the center of the rubber, where the ball would have made contact, a perfect, smoldering hole had been burned through the wood and foam. Thin tendrils of acrid smoke curled up.
I looked from the ruined paddle's eye-sized hole to Moka.
The referee also snapped back to reality, and decided to do the only job he had.
"Game point! Moka-san wins!" the referee announced.
She lowered her own paddle, her expression morphing into one of wide-eyed, innocent surprise. She brought a delicate hand to her lips. "Oh my," she breathed, her voice a feigned regret.
"I must have gripped it a little too hard. The excitement, you know?" Her emerald eyes met mine, sparkling with pure, unadulterated victory. "I'm so sorry, Tsukune~."
The apology was about as sincere as a fox in a henhouse. I placed my charred, perforated paddle gently on the table, looking at the referee/member of the Ping Pong Club who shook his hands, telling me that it wasn't needed to pay for the damages.
"It's all good, Aono-san. That match brought us more attention than we've had all day. We got our interest back with yours and Moka-san's match."
He leaned in, eager."However, I can't help myself but ask you again."
"Are you sure you won't reconsider?" the antennae-clad upperclassman pressed, his eyes flickering between us with undisguised hope. "With coordination like that, you could really go places! The Inter-Academy Yokai Sports Festival is next semester, and our team needs a mixed-doubles pair with your… explosive chemistry."
I let out a tired but good-natured chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck where the tension from Nonko's hug still lingered. "Thanks, really. It was fun. But I think we're going to keep our options open a little longer. Gotta see all the clubs, right? That's the whole point of the festival."
My tone was polite but final and since I didn't want to make enemies in too many places, I even offered him a slight, apologetic bow.
The representative's shoulders slumped, but he nodded in understanding. "Ah, fair enough! The festival spirit! Well, if you change your minds, you know where to find us!"
His attention then shifted to Moka, his expression brightening again. "And you, Moka-san! Your control was astonishing! Once you train with us at the Ping Pong Club, you could become a flawless champion!"
"Oh, no, thank you," Moka interjected, her voice a soft, melodic chime that effortlessly cut through his sales pitch. She clasped her hands demurely in front of her, the picture of gentle refusal.
"It was a very enjoyable game," she continued, smiling with a sweetness that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But I'm afraid I'm not much for… competitive sweating. It's so unladylike, don't you think?"
She delivered the line with such innocent conviction that the representative could only blink, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to reconcile the sentiment with the girl who had just obliterated a ping-pong ball which was crafted with materials capable of withstanding the power of Yokais, like it was nothing.
"I… uh… well, I suppose…" he stammered.
"Besides," Moka added, her gaze sliding toward me, her smile turning a fraction sharper, "I only played my hardest because Tsukune is such a wonderful, stimulating opponent. I'm not sure I'd find the same… motivation… with anyone else."
The subtext hung in the air, as clear as the smell of burnt rubber from my ruined paddle.
'You got gutsy, young lady? I'll see how gutsy you get when we're under the sheets.'
I met her look with a wry, knowing quirk of my lips.
"Right," I said, steering us gently away from the table. "Thanks again for the game. Good luck with the team."
As we melted back into the crowd, Moka looped her arm lightly through mine, her earlier coolness thawing into something more victoriously smug. She leaned in, her voice a whisper meant only for me.
"See, Tsukune? Sometimes trying new things can be so… revealing. Who would have thought that I could defeat you at a game you suggested?"
I patted her hand where it rested on my arm, then took her hand in mine. She blushed a bit but didn't shy away or blast me into a wall like she might have before. Still, she hadn't fully forgiven me for flirting with the busty oni senpai. I'd have to keep suffering to appease her.
"Want to check out the archery range next?" I asked.
She smiled innocently, but her eyes held a glint of competitive fire. "That sounds lovely."
Game on.
The Archery Range was tucked away in a high-ceilinged gymnasium at the edge of the B-Wing Sunlight streamed through high windows, catching motes of dust in gentle beams. The only sounds were the rhythmic thwip of arrows leaving bows and the satisfying thud as they found their targets.
And I have to tell you that at this Archery Range, I found another surprise and felt over the deja-vu punching me in the face.
Why you might ask? Because what took my attention was a petite young girl with medium-length, messy, light blue hair holding a small bow in her hands, clumsily attempting a range shot.
Her form was… generous. By which I meant nonexistent. She drew, aimed with intense concentration, and released.
The arrow sailed in a lazy arc, missing the target entirely and embedding itself in the padded wall three meters to the left.
"Urghh, archery is too hard, Haru Onee-san!" she whined, dropping her bow with a clatter. "Papi can't do it. I want to try human ice-cream instead!"
'Papi?'
The deja-vu once again punched me in the face, and this name triggered something in my memory achieves.
'Papi?' Papi the Party? I mean, the Harpy?'
I watched her stomp her little feet—which, I now noticed, were distinctly taloned beneath the hem of her skirt.
'Isn't she like the same age as Yukari? Well, I wouldn't put it past Mikogami-sama to bring them in while young.'
'Wait, she's that loli Harpy from that Monster Girl Anime! Same like Jorōgumo Arachnera, the sexy spider senpai.'
"You can't even do that much?" another voice cut in—cooler, more measured. "A Harpy needs to learn how to hunt. Hakuto, demonstrate for Papi."
"Ahhh, right away, Haru Onee-sama."
My attention drifted towards the leader of these Harpies, since my System managed to filter them quickly, and there was also a lazy-tellsign which was their taloned feet.
[Name: Papi]
[Threat Level: C(Poultry Harpy)]
This beauty, Haru, didn't strike me with any deja-vu's, but I wouldn't bet it against that she was connected in a way to Papi who was now throwing a tantrum when Hakuto, another beauty, clearly older, was trying to teach her proper archery.
Meanwhile, the one called Hakuto sprung up and man oh man, it was clear that I was in some twisted world where morality was out of the window. Well, what could you expect from a place called 'Yokai Academy'... there's no way they teach those monsters how to dress with decency.
And I raise my hand, and say that I am all for the skimpy outfits. Bring them on.
This Hakuto, was a busty woman with fair skin and somewhat tousled, two-toned hair that falls in a short, light fringe in front of her face and hangs down her back in a long, dark stand of hair. Her standard Academy uniform strained commendably against her chest, the mini-skirt riding up to showcase assets that were aggressively on display.
She moved with easy grace, adjusting Papi's grip on the bow.
[Name: Hakuto]
[Threat Level: B(Raptor Harpy)]
My eyes followed that figure, well, I did give some peeks in those dangerous spots, but since I wasn't alone, I couldn't ogle down like the monkey I was.
'Okay. So this is world still has plenty of surprises to share with me. And when I thought I had figure it out all, I wasn't even close enough.'
Then Haru shifted, and my brain short-circuited.
The one who seemed to be the leader of the girls with taloned feet, was the 'cool beauty' type, as she stood watching the people at the archery range with that aloof detachment.
Only when she spoke to the girls who showed the signs that they were Harpies even while in human disguise, she revealed a small smile while giving pointers.
She wasn't wearing the Academy uniform, opting to go with a white tank top under a cropped hoodie with feathered trim, torn denim jeans hugging pronounced hips, Gold earrings, sapphire studs, a collar necklace that caught the light. And wings—pure white, fully extended, utterly unapologetic about the academy rules, as if she couldn't be bothered to 'integrate' with the humans.
She has a light skin tone, silver hair, elven ears,and a pair of golden eyes. However, what I could say her forte was, apart from the outfit choices, was her body that struck that perfect balance.
She was bustier than Moka or Hakuto, not quite Kurumu or Nonko-senpai tier, but proportioned.
Her hips alone could start wars.
'I don't know if she's from the same world as Papi, but the creator was truly generous with her proportions.'
'When I see some great pair of tits and ass, my monkey brain can't help itself but activate.'
'Afterall, I am but humble man, what God crafts can only be admired. Ahem, fine arts should be appreciated, and this babe is a fine one.'
'Quoted … Proudly, A Man of Culture.'
[Name: Haru]
[Threat: S(Valkyrie Harpy)]
'She is even confirmed by the System of being a powerhouse, at least amongst the students here.'
Moka's grip on my hand tightened.
'Okay, okay, I'm not looking. I didn't look at her.'
We approached the cold beauty, who regarded us with detached curiosity. Her golden eyes swept over Moka, dismissed her politely, then settled on me. Seconds passed, and she didn't avert her eyes away from me.
If you continue to look this way at me, I might blush.
"Excuse me," I said. "Would it be alright if we tried the range? Just a few shots."
A beat of silence. Then a short nod. "Proceed. One lane. Ten arrows each. Return equipment when finished."
'Straight to business. No small talk. Noted.'
I didn't attempt small talk like I would usually do in such settings. I didn't even glance at her figure as we passed.
'Look at me being the responsible one and exercising restraint. Heh, I am growing as a person.'
Internally, however, the monkey was rattling its cage.
'Ahhh, why is it so hard to be a Harem King?' I lamented, selecting a bow from the rack.
'How do moronic protagonists like Issei do it? They stumble around, yell about boobs, and girls just… decide to fall in love with such idiots? And don't give me that bullshit that I don't have charm, I'm about to become the embodiment of charm as a Vampire.'
'Meanwhile, your boy has to tightrope-walk over an abyss of social consequences, balancing all these waifus of mine as if I was in some Life Sim RPG. If I'm not careful with my choices, I might end up as Geralt with no waifu at the end of my journey.'
I nocked an arrow. Took a breath to recalibrate my mind and released the nocked arrow.
Thwip. Thud.
Dead center.
Moka blinked. Haru's eyebrow twitched upward, almost imperceptibly.
'…Okay. I didn't expect to land it square on the center… This Vampiric eyesight is like having a sniper's scope bolted to my face.'
'Ahh, wait. I have to lose. Moka's still in her 'quietly furious about the oni senpai' phase. A win here would be disastrous.'
The first bullseye was just a one-time occurrence, trying to make it seem as much like a fluke as possible, maybe a random gift from Artemis herself, praise be, her glorious butt. My second and third shots were in the 7-9 point range, leaving the rest of my attempts to hit specific targets in the blue rings.
I deliberately pulled the eighth shot wide. Ninth, even wider. Tenth skimmed the edge of the target, barely clinging to the outer ring..
Final score: Moka, 72. Tsukune, 68.
"I win!" Moka clasped her hands together, genuine delight radiating from her, and the previous feigned anger she might have held over Tsukune evaporated under the competitive tension.
She looked at the target, then at me, then back at the target, as if confirming the victory was real.
'Yes. Yes, you did.'
'All according to Keikaku.'
Sometimes being a good partner meant swallowing your pride and taking the L. Her self-esteem needed the boost more than my ego needed the win.
"Beginner's luck," I said, returning the bow to one of the Harpies with nonchalance.
"Hey, you should talk about yourself. When you first hit the center bullseye I thought I would surely lose this one. In the end, I got on top of you."she countered, but her smile was too bright to hold any real accusation.
Haru observed our exchange from her post, golden eyes flicking between me and the scoreboard, and I didn't know or care if she spotted me holding back. Hakuto who received the bows, gave us a polite nod, and after rejecting her invitation to the Archery Club, we prepared to depart.
Just as we turned to leave, Hakuto suddenly rushed toward the blue-haired gremlin.
Papi was attempting to eat an eraser.
'Birdbrain.'
We slipped back into the flow of the festival.
The B-Wing's energy followed us for a while—the crush of bodies, the overlapping pitches of desperate club recruiters, the occasional spark of conflict as yokai abilities flared up occasionally. But as we drifted toward the periphery, the crowd thinned, voices muffled by the distance.
Moka's pace slowed. Her hand, still loosely tangled with mine, had gone quiet as I noticed her glancing at me without saying anything. I glanced back at her, catching the contrast between her pink hair and the corridor's light.
Her eyes seemed slightly downcast, tracing patterns on the floor tiles, but it was seconds later that a smile bloomed at the corners of her lips, as if she had thought of something pleasant.
She probably realized that this was the 'date' I was telling her when she was downcast that Inner Moka was 'stealing' my attention away from her.
"What's on your mind?" I asked.
Ah! Nothing, I was just…" A pause. Her fingers tightened around mine. "Thinking that this festival isn't so bad. I had a lot of fun today, and I can tell you Tsukune that this day is almost the best day in my life."
"Ohh?" I kept my tone light, curious. "Mind if I ask what the best day was?"
"...Ehhh." Her entire demeanor shrunk. Shoulders hunching, cheeks flooding with color. The words came out barely above a whisper. "That would be… meeting you. On our first day at the Academy."
Hearing her response, I could only smile a bit at her. Getting closer to her, I reached up and carefully, gently, tucked the loose strand of pink hair behind her ear. Her skin was warm. Her ear—red, fully red—twitched slightly at the contact.
She didn't pull away. I didn't tease her like I would usually do it, just met her gaze
"I share the sentiment," I said. Quiet. Honest. "That day changed everything for me too. Who would have thought that I, as a human, could thrive in such a place…"
Her breath caught. Her lips parted slightly.
At that moment, I almost felt like kissing her lips, but I restrained myself. There's still a small hill that I have to climb before I finally make that move, and that is also confronting the feelings of Inner Moka.
You don't kiss the shore while the tide is still out.
"Come on," I said, voice steady. "Let's keep looking. We haven't found our future club yet."
Moka nodded, still slightly dazed. Her hand found mine again, squeezing tight.