"Aw, but I thought I'd get to see big tits! Big tits! I thought this was my chance!" Ike wails in agony, slapping his hands against the wet tile floor.
His loud, pathetic cries echo all the way up to the observation deck.
"Gross," I hear one of the girls mutter.
Ike is being far too obvious. It is not surprising that the girls already hate him.
Tal stands next to me. He looks up at the balcony, then looks down at Ike rolling on the floor. Tal slowly reaches into his pocket, pretending to pull out an invisible object, and presses it to his ear.
"Hello, authorities?" Tal says into his empty hand, projecting his voice just loud enough for our group to hear. "Yes, I'd like to report a crime. A man has just died of terminal thirst right here on the pool deck. Please send an ambulance. And maybe a mop."
Yamauchi bursts out laughing, trying to mask it behind a cough. He grabs Ike by the shoulder and hauls him back up to his feet.
"Ike, don't be sad! Come on, there are still tons of girls out there for us!" Yamauchi says, trying to inject some morale back into his fallen comrade.
Ike sniffs loudly, wiping his nose. "Y-yeah, that's right. You got a point. I can't get down in the dumps now. I have to stay strong."
"Bro!" Yamauchi yells.
They clasp hands, reaffirming their degenerate, manly bond of friendship right there on the slippery tiles.
"What are you two doing? That looks like fun."
A soft, melodic voice breaks their dramatic moment.
"K-K-Kushida-chan?!" Ike stammers, his eyes practically bugging out of his skull.
Kushida Kikyou walks right between the two of them. She did not go up to the observation deck with the others. She stands right here on the ground floor with us. She is clad in her tight, school-issued swimwear. The dark blue fabric clings perfectly to her skin, heavily highlighting her voluptuous figure.
In a single instant, every single boy in the immediate vicinity locks their eyes directly onto Kushida's body.
She must be a D or E cup. I do not know for sure, as my internal database on human sizing is mostly theoretical, but I estimate based on visual displacement.
She is significantly larger than I originally thought. The cut of the swimsuit also emphasizes the curve of her hips and thighs. It is strangely, undeniably captivating.
A heavy, oppressive silence falls over the boys.
Then, exactly as Tal predicted earlier, the biological imperative triggers. The physiological reaction hits the group like a shockwave.
All of us violently jerk our heads away. We stare intently at the blank white walls, the ceiling, the rippling water of the pool—anywhere but at her.
Ah. The weather must be nice outside today. World peace truly is a wonderful concept.
I struggle to keep my face completely flat and devoid of emotion while a sudden rush of heat hits my ears.
"Why the pained expression?"
I jump slightly. Horikita stands right next to me. I didn't even hear her approach. She examines my face closely, her dark eyes narrowing with deep suspicion.
"I'm currently in the midst of an internal battle," I reply honestly.
Horikita wears the exact same dark blue school swimsuit. Her figure is slender, fit, and surprisingly well-proportioned. She looks good. Not bad at all.
But if I stare at her for more than two seconds, it is highly likely that she will physically assault me again. I think it is best to grin and bear the awkward tension until my heart rate drops back down to a normal resting pace.
For some reason, Horikita does not look away. Her eyes track slowly down my arms, across my chest, and back up to my face. She is checking me out.
"Ayanokouji-kun, do you exercise?" she asks, her voice dropping slightly.
"Huh? No, not really," I lie smoothly. "I'm not particularly proud of this, but in middle school I was the kid who never had any after-school plans. I just went home."
"Well, you say that, but…" Horikita steps a fraction of an inch closer. "Judging from the development of your forearms and your back muscles, you seem significantly above average."
"I guess my parents blessed me with good genes?" I offer a weak shrug.
"I don't think that's the only reason," she mutters, her eyes lingering on my stomach.
"Jeez, what's with you?" I ask, trying to deflect the dangerous scrutiny. "Do you have a muscle fetish or something? Is that it?"
Horikita glares at me. "I suppose if you deny it that much, I have to believe you."
She appears highly dissatisfied with my answer. She possesses a very sharp, discerning eye. I need to be more careful about how I move around her.
"Are you a good swimmer, Horikita-san?" Kushida suddenly asks, walking over to join us.
Horikita gives her a cold, slightly puzzled look before answering quietly. "I wouldn't say I'm particularly good or bad at it."
"I was really bad at swimming when I was in junior high," Kushida smiles warmly, completely ignoring the icy atmosphere Horikita projects. "But I gave it my all and practiced really hard, and now I think I've gotten much better."
"I see," Horikita says, her voice completely dead. She physically backs away, clearly signaling that the conversation is over.
A loud, piercing whistle blows across the pool deck.
"All right, everyone, line up!"
A heavily muscled, middle-aged man stands at the edge of the water. He wears a tight tracksuit and has a whistle hanging around his thick neck. He looks exactly like a stereotypical, intense physical education teacher.
"There are sixteen of you boys, huh?" the coach barks, pacing back and forth. "I thought there would've been more, but this is all right. After you warm up, I want to see what you can really do. Swim for me."
A boy in the back raises his hand nervously. "Excuse me, sir. I can't really swim, though…"
"Since you have me as your teacher, you'll be swimming by summertime. Don't worry about a thing," the coach yells confidently. "Being able to swim will definitely come in handy later in life."
We run through a set of basic warm-up stretches. Ike keeps twisting his neck, trying to peek at the girls whenever the coach turns his back.
"Okay, fifty-meter freestyle!" the coach announces. "I'll give out a special bonus to the first-place winner: 5,000 private points. The student who comes in last place, however, will have to take supplementary weekend lessons. Get ready!"
A loud cheer erupts from the athletic students. A groan of pure misery rises from the weaker ones. Five thousand points is a massive reward for a simple race. The school never misses an opportunity to inject financial incentives into our daily lives.
The girls' races go first. Horikita dives in and completely dominates her heat. She cuts through the water with precise, aggressive strokes, finishing in twenty-eight seconds. The boys on the sidelines cheer loudly.
Then it is our turn.
I step up to the starting block for the second heat. Sudou is in lane one, right next to me. Tal is in lane four.
"I'm not aiming for first," Tal mutters across the blocks, adjusting his goggles. "But I am absolutely not spending my Saturday doing supplementary laps with the Professor. See you at the finish line, Ayanokouji."
The whistle blows.
I dive into the cool water. I keep my pace strictly average. I do not kick too hard, and I intentionally drag my left arm slightly to slow my momentum. I let Sudou blast past me in a wave of violent, splashing power.
I touch the wall at thirty-six seconds. A perfectly forgettable, middle-of-the-pack time. Exactly what I wanted.
Tal finishes two seconds before me, popping out of the water and gasping for air. He pulls himself up onto the wet tiles, looking exhausted but relieved.
The final race is a showdown between Sudou, Hirata, and a tall, incredibly arrogant blonde boy named Kouenji Rokusuke. Kouenji wears a tight, European-style speedo that makes the girls actively look away in disgust.
But when the whistle blows, Kouenji moves like a torpedo. He destroys Sudou, finishing the fifty meters in an absurd twenty-three seconds without even breathing hard.
"Wow, Kouenji is amazing," Ike mutters, staring at the blonde upper-class heir. "I thought Sudou had it in the bag. What the heck is going on, Ayanokouji?"
"I didn't do anything," I reply, confused by the accusation.
"That's not what I'm talking about!" Ike hisses. He wraps his wet arm around my shoulder and yanks me down to his level. He glares at me with demonic intensity. "I saw you talking to her earlier. I'm aiming for Kushida-chan. Don't get in my way!"
I stare at Ike's frantic, desperate face. I didn't exactly plan to get in the way, but his goal was slightly unrealistic. I didn't think Kushida was the type who'd stoop to being with someone like Ike. Of course, I didn't think she'd get with me, either.
"Understood," I say flatly.
Tal walks past us, dragging his towel over his wet hair. He catches my eye and gives a slow, knowing nod.