The S-Class Mage is a Gyaru!?-Chapter 92: Arcane Jungle, Part Nineteen

{Reina}

[Well damn. Didn’t see that coming.]

I watch as Nao limps out of the arena, looking like she just went ten rounds with a meat grinder. But she’s grinning, this big, stupid, punch-drunk grin that somehow makes her look even more beat to shit.

A couple healers rush over, fussing around her like mother hens. Nao waves them off at first, but they’re persistent little fuckers. Finally she relents, slumping down in her seat as they start healing her bruises away.

"Baaabe!" Haruka practically tackles the poor girl, tits first. The healers scoff but keep working. "That was fucking incredible! The way you just kept coming at him, even when he was blasting you with those fuck-off huge spells... Unf!"

She smacks a big wet kiss on Nao’s cheek, heedless of the sweat. Nao flushes, but she’s still smiling. Yeah, she looks tired, but happy.

"It was pretty badass," Akari agrees, reaching over to ruffle Nao’s hair. "Really dumb of that guy to be so cocky."

"Says the girl who’s definitely gonna do even dumber shit when it’s her turn," Nao grumbles. But she leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a second.

[Aw, poor tiger’s exhausted.]

"Maybe," Akari says with a grin.

I lean on my seat.

"You did well," I say softly. Nao’s eyes snap open, meeting mine. For a second we just look at each other. Then her smile widens, just a fraction.

"Thanks," she murmurs. "I just... I really wanted to win, ya know?"

"I know."

Boy do I ever. That desperate need to prove yourself, to show everyone that you’re more than they think... It’s a feeling I know all too well.

"Well, you sure showed that abs-for-brains!" Haruka crows. "Fucker thought he had you on the ropes, but you snatched that win right outta his smug ass face!"

She leans in close, her voice dropping to a stage whisper.

"And speaking of snatching... I’m gonna give you a reaaal nice reward later for being a winner~"

We all (by that I mean Akari, me, and the healers) hear that.

Nao chokes, her face going supernova. Akari hoots with laughter, slapping her knee like it’s the funniest shit she’s ever heard. The healers glance at each other and awkwardly finish up before walking away with a bunch of whispers.

[Haruka, I swear to god...]

But I can’t help smiling too.

And, at that moment, we hear...

"HARUKA SUZUKI! PLEASE REPORT TO THE ARENA!"

[Oh.]

The announcement cuts through the post-match chatter like a whip crack. Haruka perks up, her eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and pure, unfiltered bloodlust.

"Ooh, that’s me!" She bounces to her feet, her tits threatening to stage a jailbreak from her top. "Wish me luck, sluts!" She blows us a kiss.

"Break a leg," Akari says with a grin.

"Yeah, I’ll break hers," Haruka winks.

[... That was kinda hardcore.]

Haruka sashays off toward the arena, her hips swaying like a metronome.

"She’s gonna destroy that poor woman, isn’t she?" Nao asks, watching her go with a mix of awe and fear.

I expect to hear a big "fuck yeah!" from Akari, but she actually doesn’t respond too fast.

"Well..." Akari shrugs. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" I ask, confused.

"Yeah," Akari says, stretching, yawning, and "subtly" putting her arm around my shoulder.

[This little...] I roll my eyes, but I guess it’s fine to let her indulge this much.

"It depends," Akari continues.

"On what?"

"I dunno," Akari shrugs. "Haruka’s weird about this sort of thing."

Hm.

I’ve been spending so much time with these gyarus and I don’t really know what Akari means by that.

In any case, I’m ready to watch this chaos unfold.

Haruka struts into the circle, all confidence... and cleavage. Her opponent, some stern-faced Indian chick built like Nao eyes her warily.

[... To be honest, I’m kinda excited,] I think to myself. [I mean, Haruka and Akari must do some practicing in between fucking, right? She basically has an S-Class sparring partner all to herself.]

Up ahead, Haruka doesn’t seem to be under any sort of pressure. She’s too busy adjusting her tits in her top, making sure they’re sitting just right, bouncing just so. It’s like she’s getting ready for a photoshoot, not a duel.

The announcer gives the go-ahead and the Indian girl wastes no time.

She comes out slinging fire like it’s the only thing standing between her and a million-dollar prize.

[No mana blasts? Guess she’s more interested in the "rendering your opponent unable to cast" way of achieving victory than pushing Haruka off the circle.]

The flames lick at the edges of the circle, hot enough that I can feel it from here.

Still, Haruka looks entirely unconcerned.

She’s treating it like a dance. She twirls and spins, dodging each fiery blast with moves that look ripped out of a ManaGram trend.

[Heh, what is she doing?] I smirk a bit, letting my head fall onto Akari’s arm as I watch the show.

The crowd’s eating it up though, whooping and hollering with each near-miss. The cameras are flashing, catching every angle of Haruka’s jiggling boobs and extremely short skirt.

I shake my head, smiling.

[Come on, Haruka. At least leave a little bit to the imagination.]

But something’s off. Haruka’s not fighting back. Like, at all. She’s just dancing, posing, blowing kisses to the audience like this is her own personal runway show.

[Hm... Seriously,] I squint. [What the fuck are you doing, Haruka?]

I glance over at Akari, expecting to see the same confusion I’m feeling written all over her face. But nope. She just sighs, shaking her head.

"She’s not gonna win this," she says, casual as commenting on the weather.

"What? Why?" I demand, my brow furrowing.

Akari just shrugs, that infuriating little half-smile playing on her lips.

[Well, that’s fucking helpful.]

I turn back to the match, trying to puzzle out what the fuck Haruka’s play is here. Is she trying to tire the other girl out? Lull her into a false sense of security?

If she is, she’s getting a bit too close to getting hit. The Indian student manages to just barely graze Haruka with one of her fireballs.

And, as soon as that happens, without warning, Haruka just... stops.

Mid-pose, mid-wink, she straightens up and walks right out of her circle. No magic, no final attack, not even a goddamn "good game."

She just... leaves.

The crowd goes silent. You could hear a panty drop. Fuck, you could hear a panty get wet, turned on, then dropped in sheer fucking confusion.

The Indian chick’s flames sputter out, her fierce expression morphing into one of utter bafflement. She looks around, like she’s waiting for the punchline, for Haruka to jump back in with a "just kidding!"

But nope. Haruka’s already halfway to us, hips swaying, tits bouncing, not a single fuck given.

[What?] I blink. [What. The actual. Fuck.]

Nao’s jaw is on the floor. I think mine might be in the basement. Even the announcer seems at a loss, stammering out a "Uh... Haruka Suzuki has forfeited the match?"

Haruka plops down next to Nao, crossing her legs like she didn’t just pull the wildest shit I’ve ever seen in a magical duel.

"What?" she asks as she notices the way Nao and I are looking at her. "You know how long this makeup took? I’m not tryin’ to have my whole aesthetic blown out the window, babes."

Nao just blinks at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. I’m pretty sure my brain is making the same motions, trying to process the sheer audacity of this bitch.

But Akari? She’s laughing. Full on, head-back, tits-out laughing.

"Never change, babe. Never change," she manages between guffaws, holding her hand up for a high-five that Haruka gleefully returns.

"Well," I speak up. "Let’s hope the next fight has a bit more in the form of action than this last one did."

As if the heavens themselves were like, "bet?" I then hear...

"REINA MIYAMOTO! PLEASE REPORT TO THE ARENA!"

The announcer’s voice cuts through my musings like a magical megaphone to the tit.

[Wait, what? Already?]

But yeah, there’s my name up on the big board, right under "NEXT UP" in flashing neon.

[Well, fuck me.]

"I guess I’m up."

"Looks like it," Akari notes.

"Come on, baby!" Haruka goes before spanking my butt. "Give ’em hell!"

I stand up, taking a deep breath.

Suddenly, I can feel the eyes on me, feel the weight of expectations like a physical thing. The crowd’s already restless, hungry for the next display of magical fuckery.

[Well... Who am I to disappoint?]

"Go on, kitty!" Akari calls after me, blowing a kiss. "Show ’em how a real bad bitch does it! Knock ’em dead! And if you can’t knock ’em dead, at least knock ’em naked!"

Even Nao manages a little nod, her eyes speaking the "you got this" that her mouth’s still too shook to say.

[Alright, alright. Message received. Time to nut up or shut up.]

I stride towards the arena, my heels clicking out a beat to the whispers I hear all around me.

"... Miyamoto’s heiress...?"

"... She’s so odd-looking..."

"... dunno if this is what a heiress should..."

I try to shut it all out.

My heart’s pounding, my magic’s buzzing. I keep my head high. My back straight.

[Alright, magic. Alright, world. Alright, Miyamoto ancestors... Let’s do this.]