Chapter 32 - Confession Response
As Vincent flew through the divine realm, the golden sky slowly began to shift.
Warm sunlight dissolved to an oppressive blanket of dark, swirling storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and jagged streaks of lightning sliced through the darkening horizon.
’Man... this weather reminds me of how Mama got when she was sad after we first met. Dee did tell me that Nat was sulking... Dammit. She must be in a really dark headspace right now.’
Following the coordinates on his mother’s phone, Vincent descended toward a grand, isolated manor perched atop its own floating island.
It was the eye of the storm – here, heavy rain lashed against the walls and deep puddles, and howling winds whipped through the willow trees surrounding the courtyard.
He landed on her front porch, knocking loudly on the doors while shielding his face from the downpour.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
"Nat! Hey, Nat! Open up! It’s me, Vincent!"
His voice was out by the storm. No one answered.
He tried again, pounding harder this time.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
"NAT! OPEN THE DOOR!"
Still nothing.
Worried, Vincent reached out and grabbed the golden door handle. To his surprise, it turned with a soft click – the door was unlocked. He stepped inside and dried himself using his divine power.
The interior of the estate was pitch-black and eerily quiet, save for the ambient storm raging against the roof and windows.
"Nat...?" Vincent called out softly. "Are you home? I’m coming in, okay?"
He began randomly searching room by room.
He checked what looked to be her personal training hall – empty. The living room, kitchen and other miscellaneous rooms – deserted. Finally, he reached the master suite on the top floor. The double doors were cracked slightly open.
He pushed the door open gently and stepped into the dark bedroom.
The space inside was in total disarray. The floor was littered with empty packets of crisps, crushed juice cartons, and half-eaten chocolate bars scattered everywhere.
And in the center of the king-sized four-poster bed sat an absurd mountain of trembling blankets. A literal fortress of self-pity.
Vincent walked up to the edge of the mattress and sat on it and rested a gentle hand against the mound.
Speaking softly, he said, "Nat? Nat, hey... it’s me. I came to see you."
*Sniff* "... Go away," a muffled, miserable voice croaked from deep within.
"Natasha... Come on out, please?"
The blanket fortress shifted slightly, scooting away from him toward the headboard.
"Nat–"
"I said go away, Vincent!" her muffled voice squeaked, sounding terribly sad and small. Very much unlike her.
"I know why you’re here! You... you’re just taking pity on me because I ruined everything and acted like a lovestruck idiot! Just leave me alone!"
"The hell– What?! Nat, no! That’s not true at all–"
"It is true!" her crying, muffled voice cracked.
"I’m supposed to be a Senior Goddess! I’m your mentor! I was supposed to be cool and reliable! Instead... Here I am, confessing at the worse time like a fucking dumbass! I’m a disaster! Just leave me to rot in my blanket cave!"
"Minus the disaster part, you are cool and reliable. Now come out so that we can talk properly."
"No! I’m not coming out!"
"Alright, leave me no choice then."
With a swift motion, Vincent grabbed the edge of the blanket pile and pulled the whole batch off her.
""No! Don’t touch it–!"
FWOOSH!
The blankets fell away, exposing Natasha to the dim lightning flashes illuminating the room.
Vincent froze dead in his tracks. His eyes widened, and his face detonated into a fiery shade of red.
Natasha was curled into a tight ball, wearing only a pair of delicate, white lace bra and matching panties. Her red hair was messy, and tears were brimming in her wide, panicked crimson eyes.
Flustered, mortified, and overwhelmed by her vulnerability, Natasha’s defensive instincts flared up like a cornered beast.
"DON’T LOOK AT ME!"
BOOM!
A violent wave of divine aura exploded from her body like a shockwave.
The force blasted Vincent backward off the bed and sent him flying across the room, crashing through a wooden wardrobe.
Natasha quickly raised a blanket to cover her exposed body. "YOU SHOULDN’T SEE ME LIKE THIS! THIS IS EMBARRASSING! I LOOK LIKE A MESS!"
"What’s so wrong with seeing my future girlfriend in only her underwear?!" Vincent yelled back as he got up from the wreckage.
"G-G-G-GIRLFRIEND?! D-Don’t mock me, Vincent! Girlfriend?! How could someone like you want someone like me as a girlfriend?! I’m shit at this! I don’t know how to be sweet like Maribelle! I don’t know how to be romantic like Deina! I-I’m a warrior! I smash mountains! I kill armies! What if I accidentally break your arm during a cuddle?! What if I get overly possessive and hurt someone because another girl looks at you?! I spent all night worrying that I’m unfit for love–!"
While Natasha was spiraling in her hysterical rant, Vincent’s boot tapped against something hard on the floor as he stepped out of the broken wardrobe.
He looked down. Laying open on the carpet was what looked to be a diary. Its pages were filled with neat handwriting, highlighted in bright pink and yellow markers, with little colorful sticky notes sticking out the sides.
Intrigued, he leaned down and picked it up, squinting at the page open in front of him.
"What’s this...?’Easy Step-by-Step Guide to Courtship and Romance.’"
"–I blurted out my feelings like a pathetic teenager, got emotional, and then you got dragged off to another world! I don’t know how to do any of this lovey dovey crap! I’ve spent thousands of years fighting wars, not... not doing this–!"
"... Step 4: Hold hands for at least five minutes without blushing or breaking their fingers..."
Natasha’s rant came to a screeching, dead halt as her soul left her body. Time stood still as she looked from the diary in his hand up to his face.
".... Step 5: Offer a cute, feminine compliment without using military terminology..."
"EEEEEKKK!"
She leaped off the bed in a blinding blur of speed and charged across the room like a runaway freight train, trying, but failing, to snatch the book out his hands.
"YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT!"
Mortified beyond any hope of recovery, her brain short-circuited.
Looking at Vincent standing there with her diary – having read her secret, embarrassing romance manual – her panicked mind arrived at the only rational solution remaining:
She had to knock him out cold so that he suffered severe, temporary amnesia.
"F-FORGET EVERYTHING YOU JUST READ!"
She lunged at him, her fist sweeping forward in a strike aimed straight for his jaw.
Vincent leaned his head back, feeling the wind of her bare-knuckle punch graze his nose. "Nat, wait–!"
"NO WAITING! AMNESIA STRIKE!"
"OH SHIT–!"
BANG! CRASH!
Natasha unleashed a relentless, flurry of hooks, jabs, and spinning kicks. Vincent threw up his forearms, desperately blocking her strikes as they engaged in a brawl right there in the room.
SMASH! SHATTER!
The force her blows tore and shook through the mansion like a hurricane. They smashed straight through the bedroom wall, tumbling into the corridor.
"Nat, stop! Calm down!" Vincent shouted as he parried an enhanced palm-strike aimed at his solar plexus.
While backing up, he couldn’t help but glance down at the pages while dodging her attacks. "Step 7: If he looks into your eyes, do not panic and punch him in his face–!"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
She leaped off a stone pillar and executed a flying knee strike.
SMASH!
Vincent ducked and her knee broke straight through the wall.
As they fought through the corridor and flew down the staircase, furniture was obliterated, antique vases exploded into dust, and pillars cracked as Vincent leapt, flipped, and dodged around her flustered assault, all while matching her blow-for-blow.
"You know, I thought Step 2 was pretty sweet, actually! ’Step 2: Initiate physical contact gently, such as resting head on shoulder’–"
"STOP TALKING!"
CRASH!
This chaotic outburst wasn’t real anger. It was just her "unique way" of panicking over her terrifying feelings for him.
She was terrified of failing. She was terrified of being vulnerable.
"Natasha!" Vincent called out, parrying her desperate right hook.
"FORGET THE DIARY FORGET ABOUT ME!"
She drove her open fingers toward his throat.
’Ok, I’ve heard enough of this.’
Vincent didn’t dodge this time.
Using his speed, he slipped fluidly past her and reached around her waist with his arm, sweeping his left leg behind her knees, and lifted her off her feet in one smooth motion.
"W-What–?! LET ME GO!" Natasha beat her small fists against his chest as she squirmed in his arms. "PUT ME DOWN, VINCENT! I’M SERIOUS!"
"Natasha, look at me. Now." Vincent commanded.
Something in his tone made her freeze.
Her trembling fists slowed against his shirt. Breathing heavily, her exposed, half-naked body pressed tightly against his warmth as she raised her wet crimson eyes to meet his.
*Sigh* "Nat. You don’t need a manual," he spoke gently. "I don’t love you because you’re some perfect mentor."
"L-Little Demi...?"
"I’ll make this loud and clear. I love you because you’re you. I love how passionate, awkward, and batshit crazy you are. I love you exactly as you are, Natasha."
Before she could fully process his words, Vincent leaned down and captured her lips with his in a gentle kiss.
Natasha’s entire world exploded in her head.
For the first two seconds, she panicked.
Her hands pushed weakly against his chest, trying to fight the overwhelming rush of warmth. But as Vincent deepened the kiss, wrapping his arm tighter around her back and pulling her flush against his chest, every drop of resistance inside her body vaporized.
Once again, just like the time she gave him a goodbye kiss at the golden gates, she melted.
Her eyes slowly fluttered shut.
Letting out a soft, trembling sigh against his mouth, Natasha wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her fingers in his blue hair as she completely surrendered to him.
She kissed him back with all the pent-up love and passion she had carried for centuries.
When Vincent finally pulled back by an inch, he looked down at her flushed, tear-stained, breathless face, and smiled.
"So, there you have your answer, Nat. Now let me be the one to ask you this time. Please... will you be my girlfriend?"
Fresh, warm tears spilled from her eyes, but this time, they weren’t tears of embarrassment or despair. They were tears of pure happiness.
"Heh.. Haha.. Hahaha! Ahahaha! Yes! Yes, you idiot! A million times yes! Of course I will!"
She pulled his face back down, driving her lips onto his in a far deeper, wilder, and more loving kiss – surrendering herself to the man she had fallen so helplessly in love with.
High above the floating island outside the manor, the howling winds instantly died down.
The heavy storm clouds parted, revealing brilliant, golden rays of sunlight that broke through the glass windows, bathing the two of them in warm light.