Chapter 33 – Split Between Friends (and Cracks)

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My throat felt dry after that weird conversation.

Guess my autonomic nervous system is working overtime. Like hell anything’s gonna start if I don't get the parasympathetic side to take over and get my dick hard first.

By the way, for guys, erections are run by the parasympathetic system, but ejaculation gets handed off to the sympathetic.

Sex is literally a rollercoaster for your autonomic nerves. No wonder people drop dead mid-hump.

Anyway, it's late, but I might head out and grab a Lifeguard. Caffeine doesn't even touch me anymore—late-night energy drinks are as weak as Makima-level scrubs to this body. I fear nothing now.

…or so I thought, until I step outside and see some commotion in the local park—yeah, the same park where I talked with Mahiro about that thing with Hashizume.

From a distance, it looked like two girls arguing. No, not fondling—fighting. Big difference.

And one of them…

“Mahiro…?”

Then I looked over at the other girl—Jesus. Purple hair styled like a modernized Seiko-chan cut. What kind of idol time-traveled here?

Only middle-aged Osaka aunties rock purple hair like that.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, Mahiro?!”

“B-But…”

“If you quit the soapland job without even handling a single customer, what's the point?!”

“I-I know it was selfish, and I'm sorry, Mami-chi, but still… I just… it's not for me…”

“This isn't about what’s for you!! You started it—then you finish it! I don't care if you gotta jack ’em off, suck ’em off, take it in the a*s, get fingered in public, or milk a prostate—whatever! Just get those dicks to bust! Where the hell is your work ethic?!”

What the hell is this? From the sounds of it, Mahiro bailed on that escort job she got roped into, and this chick's exploding with rage over it.

So this one's called Mami-chi?

Figures. The way she's ranting is like something straight out of a sleazy midnight radio show.

Wait… Mami-chi?

No way—is that the same Mami who was talking to Temari earlier?

Talk about f*****g convenient.

Still, I don’t know what this Mami chick's problem is, but she's got that money-crazed psycho vibe. Her eyes are probably bloodshot—hard to tell in the dark, but I'd bet money on it.

So what, Mahiro ditched her escort gig before she even did a job, and now Mami's flipping her s**t ‘cause she ain't getting that referral money?

Dragging your friend into this for a payout—what a selfish skank.

“Ossan cop! We've got a part-time housewife type here going full host-clinger, sacrificing her friend's virginity for cold hard cash! Emergency alert!”

I shouted as I stormed toward them.

“Y-Yuuya!?”

“Wh-what the—string bean!? You heard all that!?”

Yeah, they're both frozen now.

“If you didn't want people listening, maybe don't scream like it's a concert. What, your lower mouth the only thing you don't know how to shut? Actually—nah, not even that. Probably so loose now you could park a bike in it. Useless antique b***h—you're a goddamn eyesore to the whole neighborhood.”

“……”

“……”

Silence.

See? You can shut up when you try.

Pregnancy confirmed.

Anyway, it's been a while since someone called me string bean. Kinda pissed me off. Time for some verbal retribution.

No, not shooting into her mouth—just straight verbal bullets.

“So this purple-haired knockoff of the Shonan biker gang is the Kurimi Mami? Former Mob Girl B? You're not just out here slapping skins for cash—now you're dragging your friends into the red-light circuit? That's some next-level c**t behavior. All that, just to bump your host boy to No.1? Try having a shred of dignity, dumbass.”

“What!?”

“You wasting your own money chasing some pretty boy fantasy? That's your business. But f**k up your own life. Sell your pussy, sell your liver, hell, auction your kidneys—I don't care. But don't you dare drag someone else down with you. Don't rope in a friend who's actually trying to live clean. Tell me—how easy was it, convincing Mahiro to go along with your scam?”

“……”

“Preying on her weakness about school fees? That's some Instagram sugar-baby level scum s**t.

Honestly, girls who cum nonstop are more decent than you.”

Maybe I was pissed off because I didn't get to bust one out earlier. Libido backed up like a clogged pipe. The filth in my insults tonight is on another level.

They say your IQ drops to 2 when you nut, and maybe they're right—I just didn’t get the chance yet.

After that tirade, the park fell into silence… until I saw a flash of red light.

Ah, s**t. I was joking when I yelled earlier, but someone actually called the cops.

I'm not sticking around for this.

“Mahiro, let's go!”

“Ah…!”

I grabbed her hand—she was standing there like a stunned cow—and we booked it out of the park.

Mami? Not my problem. She ain't my friend or my childhood buddy.

“Don't do stupid s**t like that again.”

Still running, I threw the words over my shoulder.

“…Okay.”

“And that Mami chick? Cut her off. For good. Trust me—you keep hanging with her, you're gonna end up in some real deep s**t.”

“…Got it…”

I hope she really got it. Can't tell with her head down like that in the dark.

“If you can't cut her off and you're stuck, come to me. You've got no one else you can count on, right?”

“Y-yeah!”

But right after I said that, when she looked up at me—

I swear I saw something weird.

Something dark. Lurking in the back of her eyes.

…

Nah, probably just my imagination. Yeah. Definitely.