Sun, summer breeze, pool, cute girls in bikinis, and a piña colada in hand.
My dear readers...
This is paradise.
And yes, this is my current situation.
After days of sweating, fighting for space in the tent, arguing over energy bars, and dealing with people who think shouting out loud helps them survive better in nature, the island exam is finally over!
Just a few hours ago, the emergency speakers blasted across the island, announcing with all the elegance of a rusty horn that the exam was officially over.
And how to put it...?
Shocking. Surprising. Ridiculously insane.
Yet... real.
The results were:
Class A: 120 points
Class B: 140 points
Class C: 0 points (yes, ZERO, someone please give these people a compass)
Class D: 225 points
That's right.
My class. My people. We won with a historic comeback!
The how? Well, that's a question even the gods of anime couldn't answer clearly.
According to Ayanokouji —yes, that quiet guy who always looks like he's playing mental chess against humanity— it was all part of Horikita's "master plan." She thought of everything, calculated every move, predicted the weather with her breathing, and stuff like that.
But I... have my doubts.
Hours before her withdrawal, Horikita looked more worried than calm, sweating bullets, with that look that said: "My body hurts, but leaving this exam unfinished hurts even more."
She didn't look like someone in control.
She looked like she was holding on just out of pride.
So yes, maybe part of the plan was hers.
But if you ask me, there was a lot more behind our victory.
Who? How? Why?
I don't care.
I'm not a detective, nor the protagonist of a mystery series.
I just wanted to get off that island alive. And I did.
And now... here I am.
With my piña colada, lying on a deck chair by the pool of the cruise ship, watching life wink at me.
Oh, and as the cherry on top:
We actually have a real vacation!
For the next few days, we're free. Zero classes. Zero exams. Zero people shouting "discipline first!" We can do whatever we want. Sleep in, eat like there's no tomorrow, and of course, spend the whole day without worrying about mosquitoes, humidity, or portable toilets with attitude.
The moral is simple:
Survive, win... and get your piña colada.
Thank you for attending my TED talk.
Now, if you'll excuse me, a girl in a bikini is offering me more sunscreen.
And I'm not stupid enough to say no to that.
...
—I think that's enough —I said after finishing applying sunscreen to Maya.
Yes, Maya. No longer "Sato-san" or "that girl who talks in her sleep."
After everything we went through on the island—sharing a tent, surviving together, and, well... also sleeping pretty close—our relationship leveled up.
Now we call each other by our first names. Almost like a romantic slice-of-life... but with more sweat and less air conditioning.
—Thanks, Akira-kun~ —Maya replied with a sweet smile, completely relaxed under the sun.
She was lying face down, like a cat sunbathing. She only needed to purr.
—Akira-kun~ I want sunscreen too! —said a familiar voice beside me.
I turned and saw Matsushita, or rather, Chiaki, with a mischievous smile that made me know this wasn't just a medical favor.
—Sure, pass me the bottle —I replied, extending my hand.
She sat in front of me, turning to give me access to her back.
—But watch out, Akira-kun —she said, giving me a look that could melt even the coldest heart —. Don't even think about touching where you shouldn't, okay?
—Does that include the "accidentally allowed" areas? —I replied without thinking, as I scooped a good amount of sunscreen onto my hands.
—Depends —she murmured, barely turning her face to look over her shoulder at me —. If you behave... maybe I'll pretend to be asleep.
See? This is my life now.
From sleeping in a damp-smelling tent to putting sunscreen on a girl while another winks at me.
I don't know how I got here, but I'm not complaining.
—Akira-kun, be careful with my lower back, it's very sensitive~ —Chiaki said, in a playful voice.
—Like when you complained that the tent mattress "didn't have the right density"? —I replied while spreading the sunscreen.
—That was a legitimate complaint! My spine thanks me, okay?
Maya lifted her head from her towel, raising an eyebrow.
—Akira-kun... how many girls are you going to put sunscreen on today? Should we take turns or do a lottery?
—I do it for the good of the group's dermatological health —I declared, raising my hand with dignity.
The two of them laughed, their sound mixing with the waves and happy shouts of other students enjoying their vacation.
The hell of the island was behind us. Now it was time to enjoy.
And if that meant a little more sunscreen, playful glances, and flirting under the sun...
Not bad at all.
...
I was hungry. Hungry with a capital H. After so many days eating like a castaway, my stomach was screaming for pleasure... culinary pleasure, of course.
So I walked into the first restaurant on the cruise. All fancy, low lights, soft music, and waitresses who looked like they had stepped out of an expensive perfume commercial.
I sat down, stretched with satisfaction, and said:
—Ugh... I want something big to put in my mouth. Juicy, hot, and makes me sweat while I chew it.
The girl taking my order froze with her notebook half-raised.
—W-what would you like... sir?
—Whatever is the biggest you have. But don't let it be dry, okay? I like it to drip.
If I don't get my hands messy, it's not worth it.
At the table next to us, a couple stopped talking. The girl covered her mouth with her hand, the guy lowered his head as if to disappear.
—I also want something with a nice shape —I continued —. Something that makes me look at it on the plate and say, "Ugh, this is to devour without mercy." You know... like those curves that make you lose your mind.
The waitress let out a tiny noise, like she had stepped on a cockroach.
—Don't bring me anything soft, okay? I want to bite hard, feel it fill my mouth. I have to work it slowly with my tongue...
Another waitress in the back muttered "Oh my God!" as if witnessing an exorcism live.
Me, completely oblivious, just smiled while looking at the menu.
—Oh, and by the way... are the buns handmade? I love it when they're round and firm. I like to grab them, squeeze them a bit, see them bounce.
If not, it's pointless.
Silence. Complete silence.
A glass broke in the background. A lady crossed herself.
—Chef! —someone shouted from the kitchen —. The pervert of the buns is back!
And me, completely confused, just said:
—What's wrong with everyone? I just came to eat...