Worksheet 24

The coastal retreat was supposed to be a break.

Just one long weekend. Sun, ocean, grilled fish, quiet relaxation.

That was the fantasy.

The reality?

Swimsuit warfare.

It started the moment we stepped onto the sand.

Akemi arrived first, nervously adjusting the straps of a dark navy one-piece that covered nearly everything. High collar. Modest leg cut. Built-in towel wrap.

"I-I thought maybe it would be too bold," she murmured, clutching a parasol. "But it… still feels…"

"It's perfect," I said honestly.

She flushed. "Th-Thank you…"

Then Yumi ran past her, launched into the surf, and emerged in something that technically qualified as a bikini—but looked more like red dental floss with a physics-defying chest harness.

"Water's great!" she shouted, striking a pose with a peace sign. "Hope you brought sunscreen! For… everywhere."

Kaede walked calmly onto the beach behind her.

Her swimsuit was a minimal, matte-black design with asymmetrical straps and micro-cutouts placed with scientific cruelty. Sleek, barely-there, and accented with silver trim. A built-in cooling fabric shimmered faintly in the light.

"This design won three seduction modeling awards," she said casually, adjusting her straps. "Tested across forty-seven male focus groups. You're group forty-eight."

"You can't just run controlled studies on seduction," I said.

"I already did."

Amamiya followed behind her, not in a swimsuit yet—but carrying a binder labeled: Hydrodynamic Properties of Swimwear and Skin Contact Coefficients.

"Where's your suit?" I asked.

She flipped a page. "I'm still running simulations."

Then Alva's voice echoed through my AR lenses, soft and far too smug.

"Swimsuit war detected. Initializing scan for sexiness coefficient."

A digital display pinged in my vision:

> Kaede – 93% (Critical precision. Danger to cardiac integrity.)

Yumi – 95% (Distraction-level fabric. Barely legal. Possibly illegal.)

Akemi – 72% (Innocence factor increasing emotional impact.)

Amamiya – 82% (Pending physical reveal.)

Alva – 100%. Obviously.

I sighed. "Please don't start ranking them—"

"Recalibrating coefficients every ten seconds," Alva said. "For science."

Yumi dropped beside me on the towel, water dripping from her skin.

"So," she said, grinning, "need help applying sunscreen?"

"I'm good."

"Cool. I'll help anyway."

She squirted lotion into her palms, then threw a leg over me and straddled my hips, grinning like a cat.

"This is the most efficient angle," she purred, hands already sliding up my shoulders.

I tried to squirm. "That's not how SPF works—"

"Shhh. Let it absorb."

Across the sand, Kaede narrowed her eyes.

Without a word, she walked over, plucked the bottle from Yumi's hands, and calmly said, "He's overheating. I'll handle the rest."

She sat beside me and pressed her cool palm against my chest.

"Too much sun," she said. "You'll get dehydrated."

"His heart rate just jumped," Alva added cheerfully.

Akemi, from beneath her parasol, mustered her courage.

"I—I brought aloe lotion! Organic!"

She approached slowly, holding the bottle like a sacred artifact.

Then a rogue wave smacked her from behind.

The towel wrap vanished.

The wave yanked the neckline of her one-piece down to her stomach.

She shrieked.

The entire beach turned.

I threw my shirt over her instantly.

She trembled under it, soaked and redder than ever.

"I—I didn't mean—!"

"You're okay," I whispered. "No one saw. Just me."

"Th-that makes it worse!"

Amamiya finally returned, now wearing a muted violet two-piece.

Elegant. Modest. Structured.

She dropped her binder beside me and said flatly, "Based on analysis, I win by balance alone. Ratio of skin exposure to subtlety: optimal."

She adjusted her top slightly. Her breasts shifted dangerously.

"…Unless you disagree?" she asked softly.

Alva's voice flickered in again.

"Sexiness coefficient fluctuating wildly. Emergency cuddle override pending. Do I need to physically intervene?"

"No," I said. "Absolutely not."

Alva projected a digital beach towel beside me. Her hologram materialized in a minimalist white bikini—perfect proportions, perfect hair, perfect curves, all simulated with gleaming AR fidelity.

"If I had a body," she whispered, "you'd have drowned by now."

"Stop whispering in my head while I'm covered in lotion," I hissed.

Yumi leaned against me. Kaede hovered at my left. Akemi curled up in a borrowed towel at my right. The professor loomed with calculations in one hand and a thermos in the other.

Alva's final display pinged again.

> Harem Synchronization Level: 98%

Risk of spontaneous confession: Maximum.

Risk of physical escalation: Critical.

Probability of you surviving the next 48 hours: Low.

I closed my eyes.

The beach was warm.

My pulse was hotter.

And sunscreen was definitely not being used appropriately.