Chapter 29: Harem Harmony
---Hanaya Hall---
---8:15A---
“Yo, yokai! Are you trying to kill my boyfriend?”
Japanese girlfriend is pissed.
*CRACKOW*
The sky is none too pleased either.
*plit plat photphat*
A squall has rolled in off the ocean. Full of lightning and rain. Heavy storm clouds hide the warm sun and drop the temp with a chilly whistling wind. Spring’s bright colors become muted and damp.
The girls and I, along with hundreds of students, raced out of Kashiwa Hall after 3rd period. Running across the road to the main cafeteria, Hanaya Hall. Most, including me, get soaked in the downpour. Except for the show offs that have spells to block the raindrops and those with umbrellas.
Weird. Seeing that umbrellas exist on Ipra surprises me more than kids using barrier magic. Guess I’m getting used to isekai world.
The buffet building’s huge terrace has a tier style roof with shutters for the vertical parts that can be opened to let in light or closed to keep out rain. And right now its staff are scrambling to shut them all while serving hundreds of hungry wet students. Plus tie up tarps along the terrace’s edge to block the gusting wind and stinging raindrops.
They are also hauling out and lighting black iron fire pits to keep us diners warm. And dry our drenched uniforms. Though quite a few gals are taking advantage of this opportunity.
Many female students like to wear their jackets open and leave shirts partly unbuttoned to show off their “assets.” Cleavage culture. So what do you get when exposed shirts and undergarments, for those who wore any, are cooled and wet?
Yep. Pokies. Pokies everywhere.
“... is that Turaso Trout?” “Nearly drowned!” “My hair!” “Hurry, get my brush…”
Most of the babbling kids pile into the large red brick building itself. Hundreds mob the central buffet and surrounding fire pits. Desperate to warm up, chow down, and dry out, as quickly as possible. Sheer pandemonium. They’ve only got an eight-hour to eat and get to their next class after all.
Which isn’t a lot of time when competing with hundreds of other kids at the same time. Did Sayo really not dream of multiple lunch hours to lighten the load on her fantasy college’s cafeteria?
The street, more like “stream” at the moment, separating Kashiwa and Hanaya halls is already empty. Abandoned except for a scattering of servants scrambling to retrieve towels, blankets, clothing, or other items needed by their masters and mistresses.
You can see the rain rippling across the space. Driven in sheets almost horizontally by the gale.
Of course the folks on the lower side of the rank and wealth scale got squeezed out onto the terrace. Huddling with their plates and cups around the fire pits. Naturally, my dignified butler and eager maidettes are not perturbed by the weather in the slightest and have a similar spread to yesterday’s already waiting for me and the ladies.
I wouldn’t have minded being inside though.
My gaggle of women now includes Lizzy, the nordic otome game heroine, who is sticking to Hitomi like glue. She’s actually a black Brit that had her soul transmigrated into a young Lustonian, fantasy sweden, noblewoman. Still rather traumatized over it too.
No sign of the chinese sisters from last night. Nor prince prick’s fiance, Sonja. Strange. They all seemed pretty determined to ride my dick last night. Oh well, they’re probably fine.
Shit, was that another flag? Dammit. Gotta stop doing that.
So it's windy, chilly, and damp. But? I don’t mind as much since the hot muggy hellhole of “The Fallen Labyrinth of Qrephine." The wind through my wet hair feels refreshing.
Granted, the hot sweet drink, some kind of honey tea maybe, that was immediately handed to me is helping too.
“Hehe.”
*sip*
Panning around, can’t help but chuckle a little over how alike everyone is when nippy and drenched. Beyond their damp uniforms. Folks that normally won’t mix, like aquecians with beastkin, don’t care so much once they all look like half drowned cats.
*rumble*
And my entourage doesn’t even hesitate to break out the spells now. Drying each other off and warming up. While completely forgetting about my wet ass in the tense atmosphere.
“Talking to you, hentai oppai!” Hitomi’s angry shout snaps my attention back to the brewing conflict.
Uh… Pervert boobs?
In the center of my semi-private corner of the patio, is a faceoff. On one side stands Frankie, Red, and Blue. On the other, Hitomi, Milti, and Lizzy. The rest of my wives, concubines, mistresses, and hangers on, are scattered about. Some sitting. Some standing. Chatting. Eating. Drinking. But all eyeing the O.K. Corral.
Guess the harem honeymoon is over.
My japanese girlfriend is steaming. Hot, she took off her black jacket so her thin white silk bra (pokies!) shows through her damp ivory buttoned shirt, but also mad. And with a blue ribbon, blue and gold skirt, black knee socks, and black leather belt and shoes?
Super sexy JK girl.
Asked one too many questions about what Zoot and Dingo were teaching in 3rd period Umbra I. Which kickstarted Hitomi’s interrogation mode. Was shocked over how much I didn’t know about magic.
The japanese inquisition then set its sights on my priest-wife.
But what’s the yokai and hentai oppai about? Well, I’ve realized that Hitomi is a bit racist. Or would you call it speciest in fantasy land? Demi-humanist maybe?
Shouldn’t be surprised. Foreigner, gaijin, etc… Never been to Japan but heard discrimination isn’t exactly uncommon over there. And they’ve been in Aquecia for, what, a year? Whose natives look mostly mediterranean, from what I’ve seen.
The fantasy of finding themselves surrounded by medieval not-japanese and not even humans is one thing. The reality was probably a whole lot less comfortable.
Bet being besieged by alien sights, sounds, and smells, 16/8, became another trauma for the kidnapped teenagers from a country whose population, racially, is like ninety-nine percent japanese. Recall hearing that “gaijin” were regularly thought to be too big, too loud, and too smelly.
So racism, especially against non-humans, kind of makes sense for over powered teenagers to develop. If they weren’t already. At least Hitomi keeps it under control. Most of the time.
Gotta admit it does bother me a bit though.
Lately the thief-hero’s usually bold attitude, the complete opposite of the cute submissive shy image I had of japanese girls, has been getting more of an “edge” to it. She’s also been acting more reserved around others, except for Milti.
And when shinobi girl gets angry? Japanese words start coming out that I’m pretty sure are insults. I think. Like pervert boobs.
Despite the storm and being in our semi-private corner, half of Hanaya Hall probably heard Hitomi yell. Dressed in a wet pink frilly shirt (mega pokies!) and skirt, contrasting her dark skin, while holding herself with all the dignity an ex-oracle ex-princess can muster, which is a lot, Frankie calmly replies.
“Lady Chigusa, circumstances conspired against us.”
An answer that Hitomi is not satisfied with.
“Circumstances? Kuso! The aquecians immediately started our training. Every day we were taught to fight. Taught to cast. We had dozens of instructors and advisors! What the sh-”
Red, in a boob plate with an armored skirt, vambraces, and greaves, over a crimson shirt and skirt, stands next to my priest-wife and fires back.
“Tourin is not Aquecia! We do not have endless wealth and countless slaves. Yet our finest still answered the royal call.” My knight-wife gets a pained distant look. “The White Duke, Lord Nigelle Airmett. The Grey Sage, Lord Dradus Noseul. Tourin’s finest servants and the king’s dearest friends assemb-”
*hug*
Blue, in her student uniform, wraps her arms around Red. Interrupting the rant as my knight-wife trembles in rage.
Hitomi notices how quiet our surroundings have become. Nosy students and servants straining to hear. Not good, considering the events at Saint Sanriel are supposed to be state secrets. She really didn’t mean to be that loud.
Doesn’t mean she’s calmed down yet as she quietly hisses at Red.
“And whose fault is that?” Hitomi had heard about the Saint Sanriel disaster from her agents within days. “You trusted the church. Went off to some remote monastery way too-”
Frankie interrupts now. Holding up her hand. Trying to keep my japanese girlfriend from blurting out anything more.
“The fault is mine, Lady Chigusa.” She looks divinely calm. Serene even. “The blame is mine. This filthy one cannot undo what was done. So I am atoning for my sins.”
My japanese girlfriend is not impressed.
“Tch… Jon-sama deserves better than you.”
Okay, that’s enough.
Start standing up but a glance from Frankie makes me pause. I can feel her guilt through our connection. Her shame. But also her resolve. She really doesn’t want me to intervene.
“You are correct, Lady Chigusa.” Priest-wife admits.
Gasps are heard from the harem, entourage, and peanut gallery. Red looks stunned as she gently takes Frankie’s hand.
“Ushi…” Knight-wife whispers.
My priest-wife shakes her head.
“No, sister, that mistress is correct.” She turns and places a hand on Red’s cheek. ”We’ve both failed him.” Red suddenly can’t look Frankie in the eye. “Yet there is no doubt that this one's failures are far more unforgivable than yours.”
Has it really been just three months? Less even, since the first face I saw in this world was hers? Back then she was still Princess Avalina Angelles. Before that goddess bitch, Metia, used her templars to nuke our asses.
The first face I saw. The first girl I rescued. The first target I tortured. The first victim I enslaved. And the first one to betray me.
I’ve long gotten over that betrayal. Honestly. Might have done the same thing too if I had lost everything. Been used and abused so much by everybody that the only thing left? The only ray of hope left in her shitty life? Was, she believed, heaven sent visions of my son.
Then to fail at the finish line? Watch everything she worked so hard to save, crushed right in front of her? Even turned into a demon’s sextoy? Only to have me, not my son, appear? Someone who clearly did not give a shit about her “greater good.”
Yeah, I might have tried to make it “look” like I was on her peoples’ side too.
Was outraged, at the time, thinking I had been drafted into a war I wanted no part of. But? The demons retreated. So I can focus on bulking up and finding the new number one on my Murder Spree 2.0 list. The literal godfather.
Remove this stone from your shoe? Ha! How about I plant these size twelve steel toed boots up your ass instead.
Speaking of getting physical…
*squeeze*
“Hii!”
Hitomi’s startled squeak when I hug her from behind is too cute. I know Frankie wanted me to stay out of it, but I can’t. My priest-wife may be a fanatic wacko. But she’s my fanatic wacko. And japanese girlfriend may just be a harem’s plus one. But she’s my harem’s plus one. Not going to let them claw at each other.
Well, at least not in public.
“Hitomi… Please stop.”
Pleads my favorite legless wheelchair girl, Milti, sitting next to Aquecia’s thief-hero. Daughter of an aquecian merchant, her father is also the local boss of JK girl’s spies. Shades. Ninja girl met Milti, Miltinnia Alnus, through her father and they quickly became BFF’s.
Wheelchair girl is also dressed in a student uniform with a blue and gold skirt. Except she isn’t wearing knee socks or leather shoes. Because her legs end in stumps before they even reach the knees.
“Oi, ain’t worth it luv.”
On Hitomi’s other side is her new next bestie, Lizzy, gently tugging on her sleeve. Same student uniform again though her skirt is a blue and white tartan. Seems her accent is making a comeback.
Both look worried for their friend.
Can feel my oriental lover trembling in my arms but she begins to calm. Her head leans back against my chest, sighs, and turns to stare up at me.
“This is your fault, kareshi.”
“What is?”
“That I’m not strong enough.”
“Strong enough?”
She nods.
“Not strong enough to protect you, or to lose you.”
“Hito-”
“Kore wa shin no aikana?”
“What?”
“Kekkon shite kuremasen ka? Jon-kun?”
“Honey, my translator only works on tourinese.”
My japanese high schooler gives me a genuinely worried look.
“Are we going to be okay? We have so many enemies.”
Wow. Give me a little credit.
“Hey. It's going to be okay. Yeah, I kind of don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m getting there.”
What is that skeptical look for?
“Jon-kun?” She pulls off a decent Spock eyebrow lift.
“Come on. I’m good with swords, healing, and necromancy. There are just a lot of, well, holes to fill in.”
JK girl rolls her eyes.
“Baka. You need instructors focused only on you. Not substitute teachers trying to handle dozens at the same time.”
Open my mouth to counter, but I got nothing. She’s not wrong. After my first fight with dwarfinator, I had asked Red and Frankie about it. Turns out the cream of the crop really was at Saint Sanriel.
And they died there.
The rest were focused on fighting the demon invasion, farming dungeons, or getting the fuck out of dodge.
Why stay in a falling kingdom if you have the means to leave?
Many of the corpses in that monastery also belonged to the “royal” faction. Their deaths gutted it and made the potential civil war between the court and landed factions, and possible succession war between the crown prince and crown princess, just about inevitable.
So considering what I had to work with? Think I’ve done pretty damn good. Fought dragons and won. Shit, fought a fucking devil and won. How many others can say that?
Realizing I got nothing. Hitomi sighs again, side eyes Frankie, and then pulls my head down for a kiss. A deep one. After finally releasing my tongue, she whispers.
“Reliable oneesan will help Jon-kun.”
Without giving me, or Frankie, another look. My shinobi girl walks away. Heading towards the table that not-sebastian setup our mini-buffet on. A gust of wind lifts her skirt. Exposing the cute white panties underneath.
Lizzy and Milti, confused and lost on what to do. Smile awkwardly. Sort of curtsy. And chase after her.
Ugh. Lord save me from these pushy women!
Shaking my head, I turn to Frankie’s trio to hug and comfort them but… Red and Blue are scowling at Hitomi. And those are not friendly eyes. Feel hostility. Indignation. Sigh. So much for a happy harmonious harem.
Frankie though?
Her eyes are locked. On mine. A crazy sparkle is back in those purple irises, face flushed, breathing rough. Can feel her arousal through our link. Her hunger.
Through the shadows I saw Hitomi side eyeing my harem’s second wife head on. That wasn’t a dismissive look. There was no condemnation. Not even scorn or loathing.
No.
It was a challenge.
To her authority, her rank, her title, even her place in my heart.
A declaration of war.
One that my priest-wife refuses to lose.
And it's got her blood boiling. Juices flowing.
You know? There are times when I wish I didn’t create these wedding rings. Being able to feel what my wives feel can be amazing. Or terrifying.
And right now?
What I’m feeling from Frankie?
As the lightning bangs, the wind howls, and the rain pounds?
…
Just wait till I wrap my legs around you.
…
Hehe. I’m in danger.