Even Today, the Genius High School Programmer Cashes In on Day Trades, Completely Flustered by Beautiful Girls' Growing Affection.

Air Hockey.

After that, we decided to stop swimming in the pool out of consideration for Sakuraba.

While wandering around the facility, we came across a game corner in the swimsuit-accessible area.

So we all ended up playing air hockey together.

As it turned out, the five of us were surprisingly well-matched in skill.

We rotated opponents and tried out all kinds of pairings.

My team-up with Sakuraba ended up losing a nail-biter to Shingo and Ryuusenji, 10–9.

Guess real-life couple power really is unbeatable.

For some reason, the final match turned into a singles showdown between me and Yamano.

And holy crap—watching Yamano play air hockey in that swimsuit was dangerous.

The sheer amplitude of her chest’s movement was insane.

Unlike regular clothes, the swimsuit left the exact shape and bounce completely exposed.

If Sakuraba’s were melons, Yamano’s were like giant watermelons.

And with her petite middle-school-girl height and baby face, the disproportion was off the charts.

Every time she darted left or right, those things naturally whipped around with her.

A crowd of fifteen or more guys had gathered, drawn like moths to a flame.

Almost all male, naturally.

While I was supposed to be playing air hockey, my eyes kept locking onto the physics-defying motion of her chest.

The fascinating part? When she moved right, her breasts lagged a split-second to the left before snapping forward with accelerating force—“bwoun.”

Classic law of inertia in action.

I found myself mentally trying to derive a formula: Yamano’s movement speed × distance traveled by chest × time required.

But obviously elasticity would factor in too.

I’d have to include a coefficient of restitution.

For breasts, I wanted to use π, but that’s just pi for circles.

And anyway, that coefficient would vary wildly from person to person.

Sakuraba’s definitely seemed softer.

So her restitution coefficient would be…

Before I knew it, the game was over.

1–10. Total annihilation.

Sakuraba’s deadpan stare drilled into me like ice picks.

Apparently Yamano almost always beats guys at air hockey.

The power of adolescent male distraction is terrifying.

3:30 p.m.

After changing, we finally left Water Paradise behind.

On the train home, Sakuraba and I ended up sitting side by side.

The other three—Shingo, Ryuusenji, and Yamano—were dead asleep, sprawled across their seats.

They’d kept playing nonstop while we were resting, so no surprise.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?”

Sakuraba gave me a sleepy, gentle smile.

She’d taken her ponytail out; her usual hairstyle framed her face again.

A literal goddess?

“Yeah. Really fun.”

I answered through a stifled yawn.

“This was actually my first time hanging out in a mixed group like this. Gotta thank Ryuusenji.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But… was I really the right choice? Wouldn’t it have been more lively if you invited someone who could keep up with trendy music, viral videos, TV dramas, that sort of thing? I was totally lost half the time when everyone was talking.”

There had been more than a few moments where I couldn’t follow the conversation at all.

“No way! I had so much fun talking with you, Ooyama-kun.”

She turned to face me fully.

“You’re always thinking about the other person, aren’t you? What they’re feeling, what they’re thinking, what makes them happy or hurts them… You care about it like it’s happening to you.”

Her tone was soft, but her eyes were dead serious.

“Do you know how much that means? I’ve never talked to a guy who tried so hard to understand me like that. Compared to music or drama gossip, it’s a hundred times more precious—and a hundred times more fun.”

For maybe two seconds.

She held my gaze, unblinking.

Those big, clear double-eyelids. Long, delicate lashes.

My heart slammed hard against my ribs.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, her expression shifted to startled embarrassment. She quickly looked away.

“S-sorry…”

Her cheeks bloomed vivid pink.

“Y-yeah? Well… I’m glad, then.”

That was all I could manage.

When we reached the station, everyone split up right there.

Back home in my room, I kept replaying the image of Sakuraba’s beautiful chest… and the words she’d said.

An indescribable feeling settled over me, warm and restless and impossible to name.