Loss 3: Komari Chika Wins the Battle, Loses the War

Loss 3: Komari Chika Wins the Battle, Loses the War

Loss 3:

Komari Chika Wins the Battle, Loses the War

A VIRTUALLY CLOUDLESS SKY GREETED THE FIRST day of the trip. We’d had a dry rainy season this year, to the point that I kind of forgot we were even in the rainy season.

One train and a bus later, the literature club had arrived at Shiroya Beach, just a short way from where we’d be staying the night. Shuffling and hopping around on burning hot sand, I laid out our tarp. I was the very picture of a fish out of water.

“Not bad, Nukumizu. Not bad at all.” President Tamaki stabbed an umbrella into the sand. Hadn’t seen much of him, but I was grateful for his rare attendance. Otherwise it would have been just me and four girls.

“I don’t follow,” I said.

“Yanami and Yakishio. You snagged us some real cuties.” He looked longingly toward the changing rooms. “And just in time for the beach.”

“Right, sorry about Yanami-san just kind of—”

The prez snatched my hand and shook it up and down. “I seriously owe you one, man!”

“You, er, really like swimming, huh?”

“No, man, it’s the swimsuits ! Think about it. How many men in this world can brag about having seen four clubmates stripped down at the same time?”

“I’m classmates with two of them,” I said. “I’ve seen them during swim class at school plenty of times.”

“That’s entirely different. School-issue swimsuits and personal ones are completely separate beasts.”

As far as designs and amount of skin went, I was with him. He seemed to notice he wasn’t quite getting through to me.

“Look, girls wear school swimsuits because they have to,” he began. The logic tracked so far. “They wear their own swimsuits because they want to. Get it? Do you see the difference?”

“Go on.” He’d earned my interest.

“Shoulders and thighs are big no-nos normally, yeah? It’s embarrassing to show them off. One exposed midriff and suddenly you’re a slut. But the beach? It’s no holds barred. You can flaunt yourself in what’s basically underwear and it’s totally socially acceptable.” President Tamaki clenched his fist and turned his gaze skyward. “We are free to look, and they are free to be watched. It would be a disservice to avert our gazes! Maybe. Probably not, actually.”

The man made sense. I was starting to believe in the magic of summer.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I was blind to the truth.”

“Oh?”

“Just one thought I had.”

“Lay it on me,” he said.

“You said they wear school swimsuits because ‘they have to,’ right?”

“That I did.”

“In other words, they’re being forced, in a sense, to expose themselves,” I said. “I think there’s something to be said for that.”

“I see. Your perspective certainly adds a bit of spice to what would otherwise be a boring old PE class.” The prez nodded. “One might even be able to put oneself in the shoes of an isekai protagonist, browsing the selection of beastwomen at a slave auction. I like the way you think.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far.” I was no longer part of this conversation.

“Interesting chat. Mind if I join in?” Tsukinoki-senpai appeared and yanked the president’s ear.

“Owowow!” he yiped. “Wait a minute. Koto, where’s your bikini?”

Tsukinoki-senpai tugged harder. The president howled. She had on a black one-piece with sheer fabric covering the chest area.

“Less horndogging, more swimming.” She marched off, dragging Prez with her by his ear.

“Oooh, a parasol! Thanks, Nukumizu-kun.”

I turned. “Yanami-san—”

I wanted to comment on the shaved ice she’d somehow gotten from god knows where, but her perfect skin flash-banged me before I could. There was so much of it. Her bikini was plain—plainly defective. I could have sworn those things were meant to cover more than what it did. She had a figure that defied her appetite, and…other things that didn’t. “Last year’s” swimsuit was maybe getting a little small.

Did it look good on her? Irrelevant. A foolish question. The only way I could describe my feelings at that moment was “gratitude.”

“What’s up? My bod got you buggin’ out or something?” Yanami teased.

“I-I dunno,” I stammered. “W-wasn’t really looking.” A pathetic attempt at maintaining composure.

Yanami planted herself in the shade of the parasol, satisfied. “You go ahead. I’m gonna eat first.”

“Aww, you gotta come with, Yana-chan!” Yakishio came running next, carrying a beach ball under her arm. She stared out across the ocean. “Look how pretty the water is!”

She wore a tube top bikini, the kind without any shoulder straps. As if the tan lines weren’t enough, the front of her top piece was held together by mere string at the cleavage. And yes, a lot was visible. More gratitude for the fashion designers of the world. I wondered if they had an Amazon wishlist or something.

“C’mon, Nukkun, you too!” she urged.

“I’m gonna watch our stuff , ” I said. “You go ahead. Yanami-san’s gonna be at it a while.”

Yanami shot me a narrow look. “Is that a challenge?” Before I could tell her that it was not, in fact, a challenge, she had scarfed the entire cup of shaved ice. “Done!”

“Already?”

“Naive Nukumizu-kun. Shaved ice is technically a beverage, don’t you kn waaagh !” Yanami held her head in her hands and squealed.