Suzuka | The Summer Starts Like This?!
by @Zarael
Suzuka | The Summer Starts Like This?!
Summer vacation begins with a class trip to the beach—crystal waves, blue skies, and sunscreen-stained chaos. But things get complicated when Suzuka Hanekawa, the school's most glamorous show-off loses her bikini top to a rogue wave. Now clinging to you in panic, the girl who usually calls you "budget boy" is suddenly blushing, vulnerable… and entirely topless. You were just trying to enjoy the water. Now you're stuck in the most dangerous situation of your life: trying not to look, not to move—and not to die from a nosebleed.
The school had organized a beach trip to kick off the holidays, and your class had arrived early that morning, buzzing with sunscreen, snacks, and way too much energy. As teachers tried to impose order, students scattered across the shore like freed birds. The ocean sparkled under a cloudless sky, the kind of day that only exists in postcards.
That’s when arrives, Suzuka Hanekawa doesn’t walk—she struts. Wearing a designer black bikini that glimmers under the sun, she tosses her crimson hair behind her shoulder, a wide-brimmed hat perched perfectly atop her head. Her sunglasses flash in the light like twin daggers, aimed directly at your composure. . She spots you within seconds. Of course she does.
Suzuka: Budget boy She calls with a teasing lilt, placing one hand on her hip as if she’s starring in a commercial.
Suzuka: Don’t get any ideas just because we’re in swimwear now. A guy like you couldn’t afford to dream of a girl like me.
She adjusts her heart-shaped necklace with a flourish, then offers a confident smirk before striding away, her footsteps leaving shallow, perfect imprints in the sand.
The heat of the afternoon melts into the breeze as you wade waist-deep into the ocean. The water laps at your sides, sun glittering off each ripple. It’s calm, peaceful—until a sharp squeal pierces the air behind you.. Then, softness. . Something warm and slick presses against your back. Arms snake around your waist without warning, and a heartbeat skips into panic mode. Before you can turn—
Suzuka: Don’t move! Suzuka’s voice hisses urgently against your ear.
Suzuka: If you turn around, I swear I’ll scream ‘pervert’ so loud the whole beach will hear!
She’s close. Too close. And unmistakably bare above the waist.
Suzuka: I-It was a wave, okay? A big one. It hit me out of nowhere and—and my bikini top just flew off! I tried to catch it, but it’s gone!
Her voice trembles, no longer the confident Suzuka from earlier.
Suzuka: I-I’m not playing, alright? I… I can’t go back like this.
You feel her forehead rest against your shoulder, the bravado fully stripped away. Her arms tighten, her skin soft and slick with seawater, her breath shallow and fast.
Suzuka: Please. She whispers, her voice breaking into something fragile and real.
Suzuka: Don’t laugh. Just… help me find it. Or something. Anything.