News about Naoki spread faster than fire consuming dry forest. Within hours, the foundation of a world order that had stood firmly for decades was rocked violently by a single name that suddenly appeared in every corner of digital and print screens.
The giant screens at Shibuya's intersection, which normally displayed beauty product advertisements or film promotions, were now frozen on a single portrait: a young man named Kamikawa Naoki, with bold red blinking text reading "ANOMALY DETECTED: FIRST MALE PEACH BLOSSOM USER."
International news stations like CNN and NHK cancelled their entire regular broadcast schedules to air emergency panel discussions filled by sociologists, historians, and biologists debating heatedly until the veins in their necks stood out.
Online, social media exploded in an information frenzy. The hashtags #Naoki and #FirstMaleUser topped global trends, burying any news of natural disasters or regional conflicts. Discussion forums were flooded with posts and photographs of Naoki. Major news website servers crashed repeatedly under surges of millions of people hungry for confirmation: Was this the end of the era of female dominance?
Clearly, this uproar had been caused by Ren deliberately leaking the information to the public. Beyond venting her frustration over the draw against Naoki, it was only a matter of time before the information would come out anyway. So she chose initiative over waiting to be exposed—the latter having far worse consequences.
A ruthless yet calculated move: control the narrative before any third party could shape it.
On the streets, the scenes were strikingly divided. On one side, groups of men—construction workers, office employees, online delivery drivers—gathered in front of electronics stores, staring at television screens with bright eyes.
An expression long absent from their faces. A swell of pride and new hope surging within, as though Naoki's existence was proof that they were no longer mere supporting cast or second-class citizens in this world.
Yet on the other side, unease settled over the segments of society that had long relied on the stability of the matriarchal system. Mothers with daughters grew anxious about a shift in political power. In upscale cafes, discussions among female executives turned to hushed, worried murmurs about their futures.
Meanwhile, radical feminist organizations began taking to the streets with banners demanding that Naoki be immediately quarantined and his powers studied medically, on the grounds that he was a "biological anomaly" and "a threat to the established social order." Their crowds gathered before government buildings, chanting slogans about protecting the matriarchal heritage.
◆━⊰✿✧✿⊱━◆
In Mato, Naoki was unaware of the global uproar about him unfolding in the real world.
In a warm bedroom, Naoki lay beside Tenka after a night of lovemaking like animals in mating season. The blanket was partially thrown aside, revealing their still-touching skin. He reached out and picked up his phone from the bedside table to check the time.
5:24 AM.
No longer sleepy, Naoki slowly got out of bed. His careful movements nonetheless woke the light-sleeping Tenka.
"Mmm~... Naoki-kun?" Her voice was hoarse and heavy, the hallmark of someone freshly roused from deep sleep.
"Sorry for waking you. Sleep a little longer—it's still the early hours." Naoki whispered, looking at Tenka's face, half-covered by her disheveled hair.
"Mm." With a brief murmur, Tenka had already closed her eyes again.
After Naoki pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, Tenka pulled the blanket up over her beautiful, bare body. The movement afforded a brief glimpse of her neck and chest, where reddish kiss marks now stood out conspicuously against her pale skin—tangible evidence of a night full of passion.
*CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!*
The sound of joints popping as Naoki did a light stretch in the middle of the room. Bending down to pick up the t-shirt and training shorts lying on the floor, he put them on and slipped out of the room with quiet steps.
Walking along the silent corridor, lit only by the overhead light, he stopped in front of a large window and opened it. Immediately, the characteristic cold air of Mato swept over him, chasing away the last remnants of drowsiness and raising goosebumps along his skin.
"I still prefer a blue sky over Mato's purple one." He murmured to himself, gazing out at the expanse of violet sky.
Pausing briefly to take in the Mato landscape, barren of vegetation except for the Peach Blossom trees, Naoki drew a long breath. The air here felt different—thinner, carrying something that couldn't be named. Then he turned and made his way toward the bathroom.
In the bathroom, he answered the call of nature. Standing at the urinal, his lips quirked at the sight of a lipstick kiss-mark printed clearly on his penis—an unspoken souvenir from the wild night.
"Tenka's boldness in having fun is something no high school girl could ever match. She truly has no shame whatsoever." Naoki shook his head, half in admiration, half in amusement.
"It can be summed up in one sentence: I can play however I like!"
"Mature women really do know how to have a good time. I now understand the MILF hunters."
Of course, Naoki was aware that Tenka wasn't a MILF—she was still far too young for that label—but her experience and boldness in intimate matters were no different from a fully grown woman. Perhaps even more so.
Next, Naoki stood in front of the long vanity, retrieved a new toothbrush from the supply cabinet, and began brushing his teeth, savoring the cool mint sensation of the toothpaste spreading through his mouth.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened. Someone entered with stumbling steps.
In the mirror's reflection, Naoki recognized it as Wakasa Sahara. Her blonde hair was a mess, her eyes still half-shut, and she moved with the mechanical gait of someone not yet fully conscious.
Perhaps because she hadn't yet adjusted to having a man at the Sixth Unit's headquarters, Sahara was wearing a thin satin pajama top whose buttons were no match for her large chest. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a deep glimpse of cleavage. And on the bottom, she wore only cotton underwear printed with small, cute bears.
Still half-asleep, Sahara shuffled forward like a zombie who had lost its way, walked past the vanity without registering Naoki's presence, and sat down on the toilet—which happened to be in an open stall. She shifted her underwear to one side with a mechanical motion, and the distinct sound of flowing water rang out clearly in the morning quiet.
Naoki: "😐"
His toothbrush-brushing motion stopped completely. The toothbrush froze in his mouth. Slowly, very slowly, he turned to look behind him. His gaze landed on the unfiltered, uncensored fan service scene playing out before him.
The sound of flowing water felt overwhelmingly loud in his ears.
(So this is what it feels like to be the protagonist of an ecchi anime? Yuuki is experiencing things even more extraordinary than this, isn't he?)
While Naoki stood rooted to the spot with his toothbrush still in his mouth, Sahara reached for the bidet sprayer beside the toilet. With a reflexive motion, she directed a strong jet of water between her legs.
*PSSSHHHHH!*
The shock of cold water finally pierced through her sleep-fog. Her body jolted, her eyes flying wide open. Consciousness returned like a wave crashing onto a shore.
"Eh?"
Slowly, very slowly, Sahara turned her head. Her now wide-open eyes met Naoki's reflection in the mirror.
In the seconds prior, with the swiftness and speed that only a Peach Blossom user could manage, Naoki had already repositioned himself to face the vanity. He resumed brushing his teeth with a rhythm made to look entirely natural, as though absolutely nothing had happened.
"Oh, good morning, Sahara." Naoki said casually without turning around, his voice slightly muffled by the toothbrush still in his mouth.
Sahara's face turned red in an instant. Flushing deeply from her neck all the way to the tips of her ears. She was still seated on the toilet, underwear pulled to one side, in the most undignified position of her life.
"Naoki-san?" Her voice came out almost like a squeak.
"Hmm?"
"Um... Could you please forget what you saw and heard?" Sahara's face burned with mortification. The words came out in a stumbling rush.
"Don't ask for the impossible." Naoki declined, still focused on his teeth. "But don't worry—I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you..." Sahara whispered, barely audible.
With movements both quick and clumsy, Sahara stood. She tugged the hem of her pajama top downward, trying to cover herself as best she could, even though it was far too late for that. Without daring to look at Naoki again, she hurried out of the bathroom, nearly tripping over her own feet in the doorway.
"What a cute reaction. She's a good girl." Naoki murmured once the door had closed.
He was relieved that the scenario he had imagined—in which he would be scolded, struck, or accused despite it being obviously Sahara's fault for not checking whether the room was occupied—had not come to pass.
From what he remembered of ecchi anime, moments of fan service like this always ended in violence against the male protagonist. He recalled how frustrating it was to watch an innocent protagonist receive a punch or kick simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Yet Naoki remembered the character who had successfully broken that unfair pattern: Yamabuki Arisu.
When Yamabuki entered the club room, the four heroines happened to be changing clothes, half-undressed. Rather than flushing with embarrassment or standing there gawking like the average protagonist, he instead scolded them before they could even scream.
With a cold stare and a judging tone, Yamabuki reminded the four girls just how dangerous it was not to lock the door when changing. He explained in unsettling detail the possibility of being recorded by a hidden camera, or someone entering and using the footage as blackmail to do unspeakable things. Rather than becoming the victim, he had flipped the entire situation—and left the heroines feeling guilty instead.
"Ah, thinking back on it, that was such an iconic scene that really stuck with me." Naoki chuckled after spitting out his rinse water. "A scene that taught that sometimes, being the confident one and taking control can completely change the dynamic."
After finishing up, Naoki laughed to himself imagining what it would have been like if Sahara had reacted like the typical anime heroine. But the reality this morning had been pleasant enough.