At around 9:30 in the morning, everyone stepped out of the inn.
Sawamura Eriri, as the organizer and initiator of this little trip, had already prepared a detailed sightseeing itinerary.
That day, their first stop was Lake Ashi, where they strolled along the shore and admired the scenery.
The weather was clear, and the lake reflected a crisp image of Mount Fuji.
A striking vermilion torii gate, the "floating gate" of Hakone Shrine, stood out on the water.
The man-made structure against the natural beauty made for a classic photo spot.
Rokka pulled everyone together and asked a kind passerby to take a group photo.
After that, they drove to the Hakone Open-Air Museum, enjoying the Picasso Pavilion and the outdoor sculptures.
Then they visited the Little Prince Museum, which recreated European-style streetscapes.
Local staff mentioned that their timing was a little off—had they come during Christmas season, they would have seen the spectacular winter light show, famous for its romantic atmosphere.
On the way to Yunessun Hot Springs Park, they sampled regional specialties. One in particular: kuro-tamago, "black eggs" boiled in sulfur springs. Priced at only 120 yen each, they were said to add seven years to your life.
Neither Eriri nor Rokka was especially hungry, but both ended up eating three in a row.
The schedule was tight—they had only two days in total—so if they wanted to experience as many attractions as possible, speed was of the essence.
Because of that, the two "literary girls" in the group had no choice but to keep up with the pace, scurrying along as if they were in some kind of festival rush.
The morning was manageable, but by late afternoon both of them were short of breath.
At that point, the two resembled kids dragged along by relatives on endless shopping trips: whenever there was a chance to pause, they would seize the precious opportunity to sit down at once.
On the shopping street near the hot springs, Rokka tugged Eriri over excitedly to take pictures with the local mascot.
Saeko, however, turned her eyes toward Yukinoshita Yukino and Kasumigaoka Utaha, who had collapsed onto a bench.
Yukino let out a long sigh of relief, while Utaha bent over to massage her calves through her black stockings.
Neither of them had much stamina.
Feeling Saeko's thoughtful gaze on them, both Yukino and Utaha blushed slightly.
Still, since it wasn't just one of them but both in the same state, it was tolerable.
Oddly enough, in that moment, despite usually being at odds, the two shared a silent thought: thank goodness I'm not the only one.
Just then, Minamoto Senya returned with milk tea he'd bought. He handed it first to Yukino and Utaha, then to Saeko.
As Saeko looked at the cloudy white liquid inside the clear bottle, her mind flashed back to last night.
Senya, for his part, hadn't thought anything indecent—until he noticed Saeko's damp eyes fixed on him, as though she were trying to send a message.
When she held the bottle in both hands, fingers fidgeting nervously, realization struck him.
Wait a second. Was this really the kind of situation she was hinting at?
When a woman gets lewd… sometimes she can rival, if not surpass, a man.
Meanwhile, Rokka came bouncing back with Eriri, both of them chattering about going to the next destination.
On Yukino's and Utaha's faces appeared expressions of grim resignation once again.
They took a deep breath and rose from the comfort of the bench.
Saeko sipped through the thick straw, the kind designed to let chewy tapioca pearls pass through, and quietly observed the whole scene.
A thought crossed her mind: judging from Yukino's and Utaha's pitiful stamina, neither of them would last long against Senya.
To put it bluntly, if the positions were reversed and last night's intense activities had been theirs to endure, both would have collapsed by the second—no, the first—round.
Noticing this gave Saeko's mood an extra lift.
By 5:00 p.m., the group returned to the inn.
Shoes off, they gathered in the suite's living room.
Though exhausted, Yukino and Utaha didn't immediately flop onto the seats.
Utaha hurried into the bathroom first.
Yukino, seeing that, slipped off to the courtyard's hot spring showers.
Both girls were the type to care a lot about cleanliness.
After walking around all day, they'd sweated quite a bit. With their weaker constitutions, they couldn't help it.
Among the worst "casualties" were their feet, which had been trapped in shoes the entire time.
Pretty girls aren't robots—even the best-scented bodies can only resist so much. Sweat in an enclosed, unventilated space ferments, and the smell that emerges can be… impactful.
Especially when that guy was around.
So, of course, they had to take care.
At first, Eriri didn't understand why Yukino and Utaha had rushed off the moment they entered the suite.
Only when the two returned—bare-ankled, having shed their socks—did she suddenly realize.
Glancing down at her own white socks, which seemed to be emitting faint heat, she panicked and bolted for the bathroom too.
By six in the evening, everyone had eaten dinner.
Then Senya made a suggestion:
"This inn offers massage services. After walking all day, you must all be exhausted. Let me treat you."
Prices ranged from 6,000 to 20,000 yen, depending on time and method. Not exactly cheap, but to Senya, it wasn't an issue.
Yukino started to shake her head, but before she could say anything, Senya caught her eyes and immediately understood: she wasn't refusing out of pride, only out of concern for imposing on him.
"You don't have to be so formal with me. I'm earning my own income now—it's no trouble at all."
Seeing hesitation linger, he added,
"I just thought that since we rarely get to travel together, we should experience something different as a group."
That line was persuasive enough.
Rokka eagerly raised her hand. "I've always wanted to try! Don't be shy, Senya's way richer than you think."
She even gave Yukino and Eriri a playful shake.
Saeko also spoke up: "I agree. Shared experiences like this make for wonderful memories."
With siblings and "outsiders" both voicing support, the rest had little choice but to nod.
They changed into yukata and headed to the massage rooms.
The masseuses were women in their thirties and forties, with calloused hands and expert techniques—completely professional.
But aside from Saeko and Senya, the others—Yukino, Eriri, and Utaha, not to mention Rokka, who had earlier been excited about the "traditional full-body oil massage" until she learned it required stripping down to disposable underwear—
All of them turned out to be terrible with pressure.
In other words: overly sensitive.
"Ah—!"
"Sorry, could you go a little lighter…"
"Y-ya… nngh…"
"Um, maybe softer, please…"
"Ah! Not so hard, not so hard—"
"Slower, slower…"
"You can skip the calves, maybe focus somewhere else…"
"Ow ow ow…!"
"E-er, the back is a bit much too, let's move on…"
The masseuses, trained to be professional, managed to keep their composure, though their faces betrayed amusement at the girls' reactions.
Senya buried his face in the massage table's headrest, enjoying his own treatment while also struggling with mixed feelings.
He prided himself on having willpower, but listening to the chorus of cute gasps, moans, and pleading instructions made it impossible not to imagine… other scenarios.
Still, the session gave him some valuable insights.
If the masseuses were applying roughly the same pressure to everyone, then one could reasonably compare their reactions.
And judging by that, the one who cried out most frequently—Yukino, usually so cool and stoic—was probably the most sensitive of them all.
Utaha and Eriri weren't much better, their muffled whimpers and forced endurance suggesting only slightly higher thresholds.
For Senya, the massage was relaxing. For Saeko too.
But for the others, it was practically torture.
Afterward, everyone soaked in the hot spring and went to bed early.
Running from one attraction to another all day had drained them.
That night, aside from Senya and Saeko, everyone enjoyed a sound sleep.
For Senya, though, it was different.
Once you've had a taste of something that intoxicating, going back to restraint is no longer an option.
The next morning, they packed, ate breakfast, and left Hakone.
"Eriri, you're back! How was it? Did you have fun?"
Eriri arrived home around ten.
The moment she stepped inside, Sawamura Sayuri rushed over, hugging her warmly and then tugging her into the living room, eager to hear about the trip—particularly whether her daughter had made… any progress.
"It was fun," Eriri said.
She thought back to that night—when everyone else was asleep and it was just her and Senya, talking quietly under the cover of darkness.
Though they had traveled as a group, that moment had been hers alone.
In other words—
Eriri had won big.
"Judging by your expression, something good must've happened."
"…Well, yes, but… Mom, don't make me say it out loud, it's embarrassing."
"What's there to be embarrassed about? We're mother and daughter—I'll always be on your side."
"Still no."
"Just give me a tiny hint then…"
"Nope~."
Eriri's smile was radiant, her little fang peeking out playfully.
For now, we'll leave the Sawamura household at that.
Minamoto Senya also returned home.
If Rokka hadn't been tagging along, he might have stopped by Saeko's place.
After two nights of passionate encounters, he had discovered something:
Even though they hadn't gone all the way, he had released multiple times in the span of hours. By all logic, he should have been left weak or drained—but he wasn't.
Despite running on only two or three hours of sleep each night, and despite the physical exertion of travel, he felt perfectly fine. More than fine, actually—his steps were light, his energy brimming.
And rather than exhaustion, he found himself craving more.
Was this some kind of hidden perk—an innate talent unlocked when a boy became a man?
Senya wasn't sure. But what he did know was that he was strong in this regard.
As strong as when he had faced forty-seven opponents in the Yulong Flag competition.
Knowing this erased many of his lingering doubts and gave him newfound confidence.
"I'm back, sis!"
"Oh."
"That's it? I even brought you souvenirs!"
Rokka puffed her cheeks in indignation.
Toka chuckled, ruffling her sister's hair before turning her gaze to Senya, who had just stepped in.
"I'm home, Toka."
Her expression softened, and she smiled warmly back. "Welcome home. Good work."
The clear difference in how she treated them left Rokka fuming.
It felt unfair, but what could she do?
Thankfully, the black raven, Wings of Darkness, swooped down and perched on her head, soothing her wounded heart.
Rokka carried it upstairs.
Senya handed the souvenirs to Toka. "Do you have the number for that local express courier?"
He remembered the flyer they had once found in the mailbox, and how Toka had kept it just in case.
"I do. Planning to send gifts to someone?"
"Yeah."
He had bought extras of Hakone's specialties, intending to send them to classmates like Asakura Kazusa and the maid.
Toka didn't pry. She nodded and sent the number to his phone.
Then she returned with an envelope from the entryway. "This arrived yesterday afternoon. It's addressed to you. I didn't open it."
Senya looked it over.
The sender's name was written clearly: "Japan Mystery Writers' Association."