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It had to be admitted—screaming was one of the simplest, cheapest, and most effective ways for humans to vent.
Just like mountaineers who reach the summit only to throw their heads back and yell at the valley below.
Of course, there were no mountains on Itogami Island, and Bokue Keikain wasn't about to drag Asagi up a peak just for the sake of shouting.
But for the blonde girl in his arms, she had "reached the summit" plenty of times already—more than she could count.
From just before eleven in the morning until nearly two in the afternoon, for more than three relentless hours, Asagi had been brought over that peak again and again.
At first it was once every ten minutes. Then five. Then two or three. By the end, she was climbing to the top nearly every single minute.
By rights, her body shouldn't have been able to endure that much. She was human, not superhuman.
But Bokue hadn't let her collapse. At the same time he drove her higher, he was constantly using his magnetic field force to repair her strained muscles and refill her stamina the instant it dropped.
And since Asagi usually spent her days alone at home, no one was around to interrupt. Bokue could push the intensity without restraint—like a berserker stacking up every layer of "Lethal Tempo," sending her soaring to the clouds and never letting her come back down until the very end.
Now, after more than three hours, the once spotless bedroom was heavy with the thick, sweet scent of rhododendrons.
❁❁❁❁
On the bed, Bokue sat back against the headboard, the completely exhausted girl cradled limp in his arms. Asagi's fair skin was flushed a delicate pink, her whole body soft as melted sugar, her toes curling slightly as she curled up like cotton candy in his chest.
"How's that? Feeling better now?"
Bokue adjusted his grip, lifting her higher so she wouldn't slide down.
But even that small movement made her tense like a bowstring. A muffled, strangled sound slipped from her throat.
"W-wait..."
"Hm? What is it, Asagi?"
He leaned closer, but before she could finish, he scooped her up entirely—holding her sideways in a princess carry.
Her body pressed into his chest, and his "banner" pressed firmly against her abdomen like a locked gate, barring the entrance to her secret garden.
"Id... idiot..."
Her face, already red, turned so hot it could bleed. It took all the strength she had left to force out those two trembling syllables.
The truth was simple: Bokue had been keeping her body constantly restored, never letting her collapse, never letting her catch her breath. But Asagi's mind—her spirit—didn't have the same capacity.
After three hours at the peak, her thoughts were like a rubber band stretched too long, snapping slack. The negative feelings she'd carried earlier—gloom, isolation, despair—were gone.
All that remained was a muddled blankness, her head fizzing with the aftershocks of endless "cola bubbles."
And then—
"Mm—!"
Another tremor overtook her. She clamped down, holding her breath. One second, two... ten full seconds before she exhaled, trembling, like a beginner learning how to hold air underwater.
But Bokue didn't see a swimmer. He saw something else entirely. "Was it really that much?"
"...What do you think..." Her voice cracked, tinged with sobs. "I just barely came down... and you already..."
Her words broke, but Bokue understood perfectly.
"Don't worry about the details. What matters is the effect."
He shrugged casually.
"Speaking of which, let's go back to what we were talking about before. Now that you're in a better mood, are you willing to move into Keystone Gate with me?"
"...No."
After two seconds of silence, she shook her head. The answer was firm.
Bokue frowned. "Still no? Why not?"
"It's not about willingness..."
Her flushed cheek pressed against his chest, her voice sticky-sweet, like syrup thickened with starch.
"Dummy... did you forget I live with my parents? And your place is already full of girls. If I suddenly moved in, what would my mom and dad think?"
"...Ah."
That, he had to admit, was a problem.
Fathers especially never wanted to let their daughters go. And if they found out the boy was already surrounded by others... well, any responsible dad would be tempted to reach for the shotgun.
Bokue said lightly, "Then don't move. I'll just copy your house, make a perfect duplicate."
Asagi blinked. "A... duplicate?"
"Think of it like copy-paste."
He smirked. "Moving would be like cut-and-paste. But this way, I just make another one. You know how it works."
"Don't treat me like I'm still in kindergarten learning how to use a mouse."
She gave him a look—but after a moment, she bit her lip. "...Though, actually... that could work. Mom probably wouldn't complain."
"And your dad?"
"My dad won't even notice."
She rolled her eyes.
"He's always busy—up earlier than me, back later than me. If I disappeared for a whole month, he wouldn't even realize. And if he did, I could just say I was out shopping with friends."
"...Fair point."
Bokue nodded. Then, without warning, he hoisted her higher and swung his legs off the bed, carrying her straight toward the door.
"Wait—what are you doing?!"
"What else? You."
His tone was utterly casual.
"I was thinking it over. The fact you're still overthinking everything just proves I haven't done enough. Nagisa and Yukina never get caught up in this kind of worry. Which means you need more."
"You—you've really done it with them too?!"
Her eyes widened in shock.
"See? Still worrying. Which means definitely not enough."
Before she could protest further, Bokue shifted her into a tighter grip—like a train station lunchbox held firmly in one hand—and silenced her with action.
The storm rose again, drowning her once more in its tide.
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