The noon sun blazed like a giant furnace, releasing unbearable heat that made the very air shimmer and twist.
Haramura Makoto stood beneath a parasol, enjoying the shade.
Shokuhou Misaki stood gracefully in the scorching sunlight.
Under the sun's rays, her sunscreen-protected skin gleamed with an extremely fair luster—not quite pure cold-toned skin, but sparkling with a pearl-like radiance.
At only fourteen, she wasn't tall enough to pull off figure-hugging bikini styles. Instead, she'd chosen a two-piece white swimsuit with lace trim and delicate patterns.
This style perfectly showcased her slender waist and straight thighs while cleverly concealing her... underdeveloped areas.
"So, what do you think? Give me your honest opinion."
Originally, she'd wanted Haramura Makoto to personally select her swimsuit, then model it for him. But after being criticized about her figure before even entering the store, she'd had to choose herself—fearing he might pick out a school swimsuit.
(But still...)
While waiting for his evaluation of her carefully chosen swimsuit, her gaze remained fixed on him.
"No wonder he has such athletic ability... his physique is incredible..."
A delicate pink blush crept across Shokuhou Misaki's cheeks.
Haramura Makoto always wore loose, full-coverage clothing—never shorts or half-sleeves. This meant the body hidden beneath his baggy clothes had never been revealed.
A nearly perfect physique with no excess fat, perfectly proportioned muscles displayed across his arms, thighs, abdomen, and chest.
It was the ideal balance of strength and aesthetics—virtually no girl could resist a boy with such a build.
Those bulging, shirt-bursting muscle masses that many found disgusting paled in comparison to Haramura Makoto's almost perfect ideal physique.
Men couldn't help but stare at women with good figures—behavior women criticized as perverted. But when women saw attractive, well-built men, they acted no differently. When it came to being lustful, men were nothing compared to women.
"Opinion?"
He naturally sensed Shokuhou Misaki's shy yet careful gaze.
But he still needed to answer her question.
His eyes swept over her again, this time with a more evaluative quality, moving noticeably slower.
"It suits you well."
"It appropriately showcases your current physical condition. It looks good."
"..."
"That's it?"
So bland? Where was the lingering reluctance in his gaze? Why did he seem so calm?
"Can't you say more? Surely there's more than just that."
This reaction definitely wasn't what she wanted.
She'd spent so long preparing for today's plan yesterday, and nearly an hour doing her makeup in the room just now.
Only to receive such dry, brief commentary?
She absolutely couldn't accept this.
(I should probably be tactful here.)
Haramura Makoto's emotional intelligence wasn't low—otherwise he couldn't have achieved his current status. He certainly understood what Shokuhou Misaki wanted to hear.
(Why do I feel like if I say something insincere now, my future self will regret it?)
The complimentary words were right on his lips.
But some invisible force within seemed to be preventing him from speaking them.
"That's really all I can say."
"Given your current figure, I can only praise how the swimsuit suits you and how nice your skin is."
"Forcing myself to compliment your figure would be embarrassing even for you, wouldn't it?"
"..."
A few crows seemed to fly overhead as the scene fell into instant silence.
The expected scene of Shokuhou Misaki becoming furious and shouting didn't materialize.
She remained unusually calm.
"Do you really love those useless fat accumulations that much?"
"Hmm..."
Haramura Makoto seriously considered this, falling into thought.
"I wouldn't say I particularly value them, but for me, having them is definitely better than not having them."
"After all, my aesthetic sense has always aligned with mainstream preferences."
Discussing such matters with a girl who had some feelings for him, especially when she lacked in that department, wasn't advisable from any perspective.
But why was Haramura Makoto saying this?
Don't ask—call it intuition!
His intuition told him that if he didn't say this, his future life would lose much of its enjoyment.
"Fine, just wait. I will definitely grow up."
No longer jumping mad, not seeming to throw a tantrum either.
Shokuhou Misaki spoke to Haramura Makoto as if stating some definitive fact.
"Of course, though it might not have much to do with me, I still believe your scientifically unfounded claim."
Haramura Makoto spread his hands, leaving the parasol's shade and walking to the pool's edge.
The phrase "late bloomer" was usually just self-consolation.
Looking at the average for girls in this world, even at just fourteen, even as a first-year middle schooler, the average level should be at least a B-cup—that's what a girl should have.
Some developed better, like Hanakaze Junko who followed behind Shokuhou Misaki.
This noble young lady's development had clearly surpassed average standards. From Haramura Makoto's perspective, she was at least a C-cup, possibly even larger.
But Shokuhou Misaki, at her age, remained so unremarkably flat.
Even if she could grow in the future, reaching a B-cup would probably be her limit.
But in this world, a B-cup could only be classified as small-chested.
"Hmph!"
"You just wait and see my future growth."
Lifting her chin and taking confident, proud steps, Shokuhou Misaki walked to Haramura Makoto's side.
"Mm-hmm—"
"I understand, I understand."
"So, Miss Shokuhou, shall we get in the water now? I'm afraid the remaining time won't be enough for me to teach you properly."