Clang!
Clink-clink!
Clang!
Clack... clack...
A series of rhythmic, light sounds reach my ears.
It feels… refreshing. Youthful, energetic. I like it.
With no particular destination, I let myself be drawn toward the source of the sound, letting my feet wander where they please.
I see now—table tennis in yukata at a hot spring. That's a nice vibe...
But what I stumbled upon wasn't some lighthearted, friendly match. The atmosphere was intense—more of a fierce, focused competition, filled with sharp, snappy sounds. I accidentally locked eyes with a few spectators and caused a bit of a stir, but I just waved it off with a silent gesture and quietly claimed a spot off to the side. Sounded like you could hear the air being sliced by smashes.
Watching seriously is just good manners, after all.
Though honestly, I'm more interested in the lively movements of their bodies than the outcome of the match.
Their fluttering sleeves and hems seemed to get in the way, so they were tied up neatly with sashes, exposing more than usual—almost like mini-skirts. Flushed skin from the movement, the subtle glimpses of thighs and collarbones… there was a lot to appreciate.
"You like that sort of thing?"
A quiet question from Hachikuma-san nearby, her tone curious.
I mean… coming from someone who clearly trains hard herself?
"I actually do," I whispered back, without a hint of guilt. In truth, I find anyone who trains attractive—especially women.
The way bodies move during sports, the way muscles tense and release—that's beautiful.
And then there's the contrast: small chests, perhaps less protected, seeming more vulnerable… or large ones, restrained by sports bras, still bouncing despite the effort to keep them in check.
On the court were Kiyora from the Protection Bureau, the tall one from last night, the journalist, and the one who made the first move yesterday. Her partner, Kotori, seemed to be acting as the referee and scorer, gesturing busily. The match seemed close and heated, judging by their heavy breathing.
Clack...
Tap-tap...
Roll...
"Got it!"
Kiyora scored, pumping her fist quietly, while the tall girl spread her arms wide for a high-five.
Checking the scoreboard and finally relaxing, they both collapsed to the floor, spent.
The scoreboard was clear: match point had been played and replayed over and over—evidence of a grueling back-and-forth.
Polite applause.
No loud clapping—just a light show of appreciation. Suddenly, all eyes turned to me, like they'd seen a ghost in daylight.
(Okay, no need for that kind of reaction in broad daylight...)
I swallowed the quip and instead offered:
"Nice work. Want a reward?"
Not that I really knew what kind of reward they'd be hoping for.
"..."
"...…"
They exchanged a glance, then started whispering furtively.
"Umm… maybe this?" Kiyora suggested hesitantly, pointing to the large thing right by her head.
Apparently, the reward was… a chance to grope that.
I froze, a little stunned.
"If that's no good, maybe a hug instead?"
She seemed to take my silence as rejection. The tall girl's face immediately clouded with disappointment.
"You could be more confident, you know?" I said with a wry smile, cutting off her apology.
"Over the clothes? Or direct?" I asked, throwing caution to the wind, my fingers twitching playfully.
Honestly, I figured I was crossing a line—but both of their faces turned red, and they started fixing their outfits with oddly relieved expressions. So... it was a yes?
The cultural gap here is something else. But hey, when the offer's on the table, refusing too seriously feels rude.
Soft, squishy, springy...
That impossibly large chest was both immense and yielding. Drenched in a light sheen of sweat from the earlier match, it clung gently to my hand. The tips were subtly raised, hidden in a modest way that somehow made it feel even more intimate. I resisted the urge to tease them too much and just enjoyed the softness.
Her breath quickened with a dreamy sigh.
"Ah... mm..."
Suddenly, one of the hidden tips peeked out. Almost instinctively, I pinched it gently.
"Nh!"
Her body shivered slightly at the touch, before she collapsed softly in my arms.
Did I overdo it?
As I reluctantly let go, Hachikuma-san stepped in smoothly, gathering her up and leading her away. She really had the cleanup routine down by now.
Looking around, the mood had completely shifted—an unmistakably pink atmosphere had taken over.
"Next?"
"Me!"
Kiyora practically leapt forward, like she'd been waiting all day.