“Let’s play with this next.”
“This doesn’t seem like a girls’-arcade-game.”
“Nee-chan and I use it sometimes for stress relief.”
The game Reona wanted to try was the punching machine. Reona, sure — Riona doing this, on the other hand, I could not picture in advance, so this was a surprise.
While I was thinking that, Riona had already dropped coins into the machine, strapped a glove on, and was winding up. She drove a punch into the dummy bag.
“Yeah. Cathartic.”
“That’s a pretty solid score.”
Riona’s score was a notch above the wall-posted average. Considering that average was co-ed, this was high-tier for a girl.
“Okay — my turn.”
“Nee-chan, do it.”
“Watch me, you two.”
Reona pulled on the glove, took a breath, and delivered a clean-form, full-power punch into the bag.
“Hmm. Could’ve been better.”
“That score is terrifying.”
It was well above average, comparable to the fifth-place spot on the leaderboard. If I ever picked a fight with Reona, I was going to get flattened.
“Ryouya, you try. It really does help.”
“I’ve never done this. Wonder if I can do it right.”
“It’s fine, don’t overthink it — full-power swing at the bag in front of you.”
I took the glove from Reona, did a quick warm-up, and threw a punch at the bag. The score on the readout wasn’t even in average territory.
“Harder than it looks…”
“You’d score better if you fixed your punching form.”
“Then Riona and I will teach you the right form. Special service.”
“H-hey—!?”
The two of them had pressed up against me from behind. They started walking me through the mechanics while moving my limbs around — but their chests were firmly against my back, and concentration was not happening.
“Shoulder-width about this much, brace your arm like so, foot stance… Ryouya-kun, are you actually listening?”
“That’s the face of someone whose mind is not here.”
“I-I’m listening, of course.”
Lie. The sensation of their chests was occupying ninety-nine percent of my processing power, and I was absorbing exactly zero of the instructions.
And it was a hundred percent certain that they knew this and were asking on purpose. My second score was almost identical to the first, but both of them looked extremely pleased with themselves.
“Next — purikura. The three of us.”
“Purikura — never actually done one.”
“Then Riona and I will help you graduate from your purikura virginity.”
”…Casually weaponizing the word ‘virgin’ is jarring. Stop.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
We piled into the photo booth. I had some lingering reservations about purikura, but they were so amped up I couldn’t say no. They worked the controls like pros and got us to the shooting screen in seconds.
The countdown started and I was about to set up the prescribed pose when both of them latched onto me from left and right.
“Wh—!?”
The first shutter went off the next instant. I tried to detach them, but they would not let go. All five shots ended up with me having them attached to me.
“Ryouya-kun, your face. Quite the expression.”
“Rare expression.”
“Anyone clung to like that would make this face!”
I shot them a look of protest, but it might as well have been a soft breeze. After that they messed with the editing screen, enlarging my eyes, doodling with the stylus.
“Hey — do you guys really need to enlarge my eyes that much? I don’t get it.”
“What? But that’s the whole point of purikura.”
“This is normal in girl-world.”
”…Reona and Riona are both gorgeous, you really don’t need to do anything.”
I muttered it without meaning to be audible — and both their faces went bright red.
“W-wait, what’s with the sudden whatever-that-was?!”
”…Cheap shot to do it out of nowhere.”
“S-sorry. I didn’t actually think you’d hear it.”
The arcade is noisy enough that I’d been counting on the ambient noise to bury it. Apparently it didn’t.
“If you’re going to say things like that, Ryouya-kun, fine, I’ll leave my eyes alone.”
“This time we’ll settle for doodles.”
They went back to doodling with their faces still flushed, in dead silence. Time ran out and we stepped out of the booth.
“Here’s your set, Ryouya-kun.”
“Thanks. …What’re you guys going to do with yours, exactly?”
Reona had handed me the cut-up purikura strip. I asked the question.
“We’re going to stick them on stuff.”
“Mm. Purikura is for sticking.”
The two of them started applying the strips to their planners, the backs of their phones — anywhere on their belongings.
”…You can stick them wherever you want, that’s your call, but — can you maybe pick somewhere a little less visible?”
“Why?”
“Because they’re shots of me being hugged by you guys. Obviously embarrassing.”
A normal purikura was already a stretch — a hugged purikura was much, much worse.
“Riona and I are fine with it.”
“Yeah, we want to show everyone.”
“Just because you guys are fine doesn’t make me one bit fine.”
I tossed in the protest. Their willingness to redo it was zero. After enough back-and-forth to confirm persuasion was a waste of breath, I gave up.
“All right — let’s get back to shopping. Where next?”
“I want to look at new underwear. Ryouya, choose for me.”
“Nice, let’s do that.”
“No, no, that’s not nice. And, hey — quietly delivering insane requests is not okay.”
If I followed them into the women’s underwear floor, I was getting a stadium’s worth of curious looks. After that exchange we left the arcade and resumed shopping — and I ended up roped in for the rest of the day, more than half of it.