Hugging. Touching. Kissing.
When more areas become accessible, the moment contact is made, extra movements appear naturally.
If touching is already allowed, then holding back and doing nothing would not only be unfair to yourself, but also to the person in front of you.
And so, the rhythm of breathing changes.
Scalding breaths brush against flushed cheeks. The surrounding cool air retreats. The temperature rises.
Everything follows its course.
After interrupting each other's rhythm again and again, after the scrambling and tugging, Kushida Kikyo—now lying back on the bed—tilted her head aside and muttered:
"Today… I can eat something cold."
It seemed her condition was finally improving.
She could now enjoy the greatest pleasure of a scorching summer—
Lying in an air-conditioned room eating a popsicle.
When even air conditioning can't fully dispel the heat, something icy is needed to regulate body temperature.
"Ring—ring—"
Suddenly, as if to cut through everything, the preset alarm began ringing.
Utterly out of place.
Utterly ill-timed.
Utterly infuriating.
The alarm they had set for themselves as a reminder and warning was now buzzing insistently.
Its shrill noise seemed determined to shatter the heated air in the room and force calm back into their bodies.
But the flushed girl stretched out her slender arm in irritation, twisting her body and slamming the alarm off.
"Open the fridge," she said.
Her gaze was resolute. Reckless. As if abandoning all restraint.
...
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Buzz. Buzz. Buzz—"
"It's happening again," Asakusa Tōru said, pausing and glancing at the terminal she had tossed aside. "You're not going to answer?"
The screen had lit up countless times already.
Even he could clearly see the caller ID displayed there.
Horikita Suzune.
He could easily guess why she was calling at this hour.
Most likely to discuss the diary he had just updated.
After all, not long ago, the two girls had formed a sort of alliance.
"Don't worry about it," Kushida snapped, shooting him a glare.
She grabbed her terminal and shut it off completely.
Then she returned, cupping his face in both hands.
"You just focus on what you're supposed to do."
"Be a good Mr. Horn."
"And now—****," she said.
...
Kushida Kikyo carried a great deal of resentment.
Heavy resentment, like a wandering ghost with nowhere to go.
Every single day, countless negative emotions piled onto her.
Even something as soothing as a hug could only ease the tension of that day, giving her a tiny bit of strength to survive the next.
The resentment buried deep inside her heart had been accumulating for far too long to vanish easily.
Pinching someone she disliked helped a little.
Biting into someone's shoulder eased it somewhat.
But those methods were still restrained.
That sense of restraint kept the emotions from fully exploding.
She had to control her strength when pinching a face—she couldn't really tear someone's skin.
She couldn't bite with full force either—though even a girl could rip flesh if she truly tried.
She could shout, yes—but finding a safe place to vent wasn't easy. Screaming in cramped spaces never felt satisfying.
Destruction was effective.
Swinging. Hitting. Smashing. Kicking.
Watching something shatter felt good.
But it cost money.
And unbreakable things weren't satisfying at all.
So her resentment had kept building.
But now—
She seemed to have found something that let her completely release herself.
Her nerves were overwhelmed.
Her senses flooded.
Her body screamed as if about to overload.
And that was exactly what she wanted.
This was what she'd been craving.
It should have been like this from the start!
"I'll bite you to death!"
"Bite you apart!"
"Crush you!"
"Recording me? Taking photos? Making me kneel perfectly?!"
Kushida Kikyo crushed the popsicles in the fridge.
...
Unfortunately, while emotions could give a girl temporary dominance, stamina was still the greatest limitation.
Kushida's stamina was excellent among girls—
But compared to Asakusa, she fell far short.
Such is the privilege of being a White Gym member.
"How are you—" Her face twisted, no longer triumphant. She lay against him, glaring up in frustration.
She had already mentally prepared herself to take precautions afterward.
Maybe it was impulsive.
Maybe she wasn't thinking clearly.
But she didn't care.
Right now. Today. Immediately.
She wanted it.
The surge of emotion in her chest demanded release.
As for whether this was progressing too fast—
Kushida shrugged inwardly.
Why hesitate?
If you want something, you do it.
She knew plenty of girls who went from confession to dating to hand-holding to "happily ever after" in a single day.
At this moment, her emotions were absolute.
Her desires were absolute.
If both sides were willing, what was the problem?
"…Isn't it possible," Asakusa blinked and tilted his head, "that you're just too weak?"
It might look like Kushida was forcing him.
But honestly, compared to real strength, it felt more like playful struggling.
Intensity-wise, it didn't even compare to Amasawa.
Of course, in other aspects, he was quite satisfied—
Whether in his hands, in his arms, or pressed close against him.
Comparing Kushida to someone trained at the White Gym was a bit unfair.
Her core strength simply couldn't match.
"Huh?" Kushida huffed.
Why was he so smug?!
"Shut up!" She inhaled sharply, straightened up, slapped his chest, and planted her hands on her hips. "I'll make you beg and call me Mommy!"
"Valorant—activate!"
...
Ceasefire.
Truce.
Whether anyone actually called "Mommy," Asakusa didn't know.
But someone might have shouted "Daddy" quite a few times.
When your head overheats, it's hard to keep track of what you're saying.
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