"Friendship Ending!"

"Ugh, so annoying!"

Kitagawa Marin scratched her golden hair, puffing out her cheeks in frustration. She’d been playing this game for days. If she chose any other character, she could brawl with her opponent, fighting until they were bruised and battered, even drenched in lustful fervor—an utterly debauched game.

But Marin had to admit, it was thrilling. Except, *except* when it came to Komi Shouko. They could never truly fight! All Komi had to do was offer a gift, and the battle was over!

What kind of nonsense was that?

Why did *she* get such a cheat skill? So unfair! And to top it off, Gojo kept designing all those outfits for her. Marin couldn’t even teach her a lesson!

Marin clutched her flushed face. She really wanted to take Komi on, maybe because the game never let her, which was driving her nuts, or maybe because she was jealous of Gojo making clothes for Komi.

Either way, she was about to burst! Seeing other characters in the game go at it like that, while Komi was immune to everything—it was infuriating! If she ran into Komi at the cultural festival—

Ugh, was she being too emotional? She’d never even met Komi, yet she felt this burning rivalry, wanting to take her down, to prove she was better by fighting her.

Looking at Komi’s adorable face on the screen, Marin sighed and stretched lazily. Why did she have to be so cute?

She should probably befriend her instead. Cosplaying together would be fun, right? Yeah, she had to focus on cosplay—how could she actually fight Komi like in the game, all sweaty and entangled in that lewd mess?

The thought of her and Komi locked in such an intense, erotic struggle sent a shiver through Marin, a trickle of heat pooling below.

Ugh, it’s late. Time to sleep.

---

Only *my* character has this skill.

Komi Shouko stared at the game screen, where her character faced off against Marin’s. Making friends in the game was so easy, but in real life, Marin might be hot-tempered. Maybe Komi could never befriend her.

In the game, Marin could never beat her—or rather, they could never truly fight.

But for some reason, Komi really wanted to face Marin in the kind of brutal, sensual battle the other characters had.

The thought of that erotic, violent clash made her face burn, but deep down, her heart whispered: *Find Marin. Fight her. Take her on!*

Why? Was it jealousy of Marin’s radiant smile? Or, more bluntly, was she just a pervert?

Marin was undeniably gorgeous—blindingly so, enough to spark envy. In the game, their chests pressed so close, yet—

Komi couldn’t shake the fantasy of their fight. Her mind was consumed with images of her and Marin tangled together, their breasts fiercely clashing.

God, she couldn’t even speak. Maybe she *was* a pervert. If she could beat Marin in real life, could she smile like that too? Or, if she were just bolder, could she make friends as easily as Marin? That’s what Tadano wanted, right? If she were Marin, she wouldn’t need Tadano’s help. Did he prefer girls like that? Her personality was already a complete loss—fine, but at least in terms of figure, she refused to lose!

She wanted to befriend Marin but also saw her as a rival. If she could defeat her, she could talk as freely, smile as boldly, make as many friends. She could become the person Tadano wanted! She could prove herself!

She had to win! Komi’s mind raced, her hand unconsciously drifting downward.

No! Komi yawned. Time to sleep. No more thinking.

---

The two girls, about to meet in real life and unleash the fierce battle the game denied them, fell into dreams.

In their dreams, they clashed with their rival in an indescribable frenzy, more intense than any fight in the game. Their evenly matched bodies were battered, their lovely faces nearly unrecognizable. In the end, Komi’s swollen, sagging breasts and broken, leaking core triumphed over her opponent.

Komi Shouko smiled faintly. Kitagawa Marin grinned boldly—

Pinning the loser down, forcing her to taste the victor’s essence.

God, what a wild dream! To think she’d done *that* with Komi—

Marin clutched her head, barely able to think straight. The dream’s brutal fight seemed to bleed into reality, leaving her exhausted.

The cultural festival started today. Marin instinctively scanned for Gojo’s figure. Wait—

Komi Shouko!

With Gojo—and another boy!

"Marin’s gonna love her special outfit," Gojo was saying. "Thanks again for letting me take your measurements. I still can’t believe your sizes are *exactly* the same!"

Gojo had no idea his words were about to ignite a firestorm.

He took Komi’s measurements! Was she in a swimsuit, a bikini, or—nothing at all, like Marin had been? Did he measure the distance between her nipples too? Were they *that* identical?

No, Marin couldn’t take it! What did Gojo think? Why was he blushing? Her figure was better, right? She couldn’t let Komi steal him!

Marin trembled, barely containing her raging emotions. If they were alone, like in the game’s dungeon, she’d pounce right now!

She’d crush Komi with her breasts, overwhelm her with her core, prove she was the better woman!

---

Meanwhile, Komi Shouko stood in the crowd, her cheeks flushed as if scorched by the sun, a strange fire burning within her.

Her measurements... *exactly* the same as Marin’s?

She glanced at her chest, the tight curve of her uniform making her heart race. *Can I really not beat her?* She recalled Tadano’s encouragement: "Kitagawa-san’s really nice. You’ll definitely be fine!"

Komi’s gaze darkened, a rare flicker of irritation rising. She didn’t want to lose everything. Her personality couldn’t match Marin’s—she couldn’t smile or speak as freely—but at least in figure, she refused to lose! She’d prove to Tadano she was just as good!

Clenching her fists, her nails dug into her palms, her eyes flashing with defiance. She decided: today, she’d find Marin, take the initiative, and even if it meant clashing like in the game, she’d prove herself! This was what Tadano liked... She’d do what the game couldn’t!

"Gojo, let’s hit the changing room. The festival’s about to start," Tadano said, pulling Gojo away. He glanced back at Komi, smiling warmly. "Komi-san, do your best today!"

Komi nodded, her eyes locked on Marin’s retreating figure, like a hunter tracking prey. *I’ll be bolder than her... I’ll win!*

---

Meanwhile, Marin hurried away, unable to hold back any longer. If she saw Komi again, she might actually fight her!

Biting her lip, her mind replayed the dream’s intense scenes—their bodies locked in combat, sweat and gasps mingling. No, she couldn’t let Komi see her like this! If Komi just wanted to be friends, but Marin wanted to fight—what kind of person would Komi think she was?

But Komi noticed Marin’s retreat.

*She’s hiding in that classroom!*

*Did the door just close?*

Komi entered the storage room.

Kitagawa Marin had nowhere to hide.

Blushing, Komi steeled herself. Unable to speak, she pulled out her notebook.

Marin stepped forward helplessly, a spark of anticipation in her chest. But then she saw Komi’s gesture.

Ugh, it’s *exactly* like the game!

Komi, face crimson, body hunched, head lowered, held out her notebook with both hands.

God, don’t be so cute! It’s just like the game—I’ve lost again.

Marin slowly opened the note, deciding there was no point in overthinking. Being friends with her wouldn’t be so bad.

"Fight me!"

A rush of heat surged through Marin’s mind. Her hands trembled, her legs shook, her breasts pulsed, her core already slick.

Kitagawa Marin flashed her signature smile—no, bolder, lewder, more seductive than ever!

And Komi Shouko, for the first time, mirrored that smile—her usually serene eyes glinting with heart-shaped sparkles.

"You—why’s your smile so *lewd*, you slut!"

Their breaths mingled, chests heaving, as if ready to pounce. The battle the game denied them was unfolding in reality—they were mortal enemies, yet each other’s most dazzling reflection.

Just like the game: a confined space, two hostile heroines, faces flushed, breaths hot, bodies restless. In the game, they couldn’t fight, but in reality, no one could stop them!

Where was the game? Where was reality?

The girls’ eyes glowed pink, forgetting why they were fighting. All that mattered was the infuriatingly provocative woman before them.

*She’s taunting me!*

It didn’t matter if they were shy or lively. In this moment, they were just two jealous women facing off. Like code programmed into the game, when two evenly matched women clashed like this, reasons didn’t matter—they had to teach that *slut* a lesson with their bodies!

That’s why the game’s intense standoff made them crave a real fight. Because that’s what women do—especially when they’re equals!

*Ptoo!*

Komi spat at her.

The glistening, sticky liquid clung to Marin’s face, as if the gyaru was meant to be this lewd.

*Ptoo!*

Marin retaliated without hesitation.

The sultry liquid shattered Komi’s elegance, turning her into a matching vixen.

*Ptoo!!*

Their spit collided midair.

The lust in their eyes was undeniable—lips parted, teeth bared, eyes curved, faces flushed, tongues dripping with saliva, faces coated in it—two women in heat.

Their noses pressed together.

"You’re as slutty as in the game!"

"You’re a pervert too!"

Their lips grazed.

"That’s right, I am!"

"Like looking in a mirror!"

Their teeth clashed.

"Marin!"

"Shouko!"

Their tongues surged forward.

"You’re so ugly!"

The two beauties, eyes blazing, noses skewed by the pressure, Komi’s lips curling, Marin’s pouting—more erotic, more intense than any game standoff.

If they couldn’t do it in the game, they’d do it in reality!

If they both wanted a fight, they’d teach this *slut* a lesson!

Why did Gojo make clothes for you?

Why does Tadano think you’re so nice?

Think your figure’s better than mine?

Think you’re the better woman?

Then let’s find out!

Come on!

Let’s fight!

In a flash, they recalled last night’s dream—after a brutal fight, one would emerge victorious—

"Wait, I’ve got a modeling gig tomorrow!" Marin snapped back to reality. She couldn’t show up covered in bruises. "It’s for work!"

Komi froze too. The two girls pulled back from the terrifying, life-or-death atmosphere.

What just happened? Were they really about to go all out?

They were still so close, their suggestive breaths mingling, their ample breasts still pressed together. It couldn’t just end like this.

"Um, if you’re up for it," Marin said shyly, "how about a kissing duel?"

Komi didn’t answer—she offered her lips.

*Smack—*

The lascivious kiss unfolded between the beauties. Their tender pink tongues curled and darted, clashing in midair, then entwining like two relentless snakes.

Tongues touched and parted, teasingly pulling apart with silvery threads; they grazed each other’s lips, overlapping in a rhythmic dance, dripping with lewd saliva. Tongue tips pressed against each other, surfaces grinding, every tiny bump trembling in competition. Tongues slid lower, mouths opening wider, overlapping more, pleasure intensifying. At their limit, their mouths formed twin pink "O"s, tongues locked in a fierce struggle, then sealed shut as their lips closed the battlefield.

Their seductive lips locked tightly, trapping their entwined tongues in a confined, saliva-soaked space. Soft tongues roamed wildly in sensitive mouths, invading each other’s territory, brushing against tempting lips.

They clung to each other, clothes somehow undone, bras long gone, their massive breasts pressed together like their battling tongues.

*Pop!* They broke apart, gasping for air.

So warm, so soft—Marin and Komi’s minds were consumed by the intimate touch of each other’s tongues. Those agile tongues were mesmerizing, yet maddeningly invasive. Not enough!

*My kissing skills won’t lose!*

*Smack—*

Lips sealed again, tongues wrestling, noses squashed from their faces’ closeness, minds blank of all else.

Kissing her feels so good—not enough, not enough, not enough!

*I can last longer!*

Saliva dripped from their writhing faces, their locked lips, falling into the cleft of their clashing breasts, trickling along the pressed flesh, grazing their hardened peaks, sending shivers through them.

---

“Ding-a-ling-ling-lala—”

The cheerful broadcast shatters the storage room’s tension, like thunder halting their kiss-fueled duel. Komi Shouko and Kitagawa Marin shudder in unison, their hardened nipples clashing through their pressed breasts, a jolt of forbidden pleasure coursing through them. Their bodies quiver, caught in a fleeting, illicit climax, sweat and gasps mingling, the air thick with sultry heat.

“Cultural festival starting soon—”

The broadcast yanks them back to reality, the fire of desire ebbing like a receding tide, reason reclaiming their minds. They pull apart, chests heaving, their cleavage faintly visible in the dim light.

Marin’s blonde hair spills messily over her shoulders, her cheeks flushed like ripe apples, her golden eyes flickering with a mix of defiance and unexpected tenderness. Komi’s black hair clings wetly to her face, her cool gaze softened by a shy curve of her lips, as if she’s crossed an invisible line.

Komi steps forward, her knees brushing the floor in a gesture like a lady from a classic painting, bowing to Marin. Her voice, soft as a whisper, carries unprecedented resolve: “Thank you… for sparring with me today.” Her face burns crimson, her fingers clutching her uniform, nails digging in. This isn’t her usual timidity—it’s the boldest move of her life. She challenged Marin and, in doing so, herself. *I didn’t win… but I took a step toward her.*

Marin freezes, her golden eyes wide, as if struck by Komi’s gesture. Then, she leans down, her forehead gently meeting Komi’s black hair, blonde and black intertwining like sun and moonlight. “Thanks, Shouko…” Her voice is husky, trembling slightly, but her signature bold grin returns. “You actually… went along with my urge to throw down. No winner this time, but damn, that was thrilling!” Her heart churns with mixed feelings: *She’s so graceful, yet just as wild as me? I kinda… like her.*

Komi lifts her head, her eyes clear yet fiery. Her trembling fingers pull out her notebook, scribbling “Rival?” in neat, tentative strokes. She pauses, flips the page, and writes, “Or friend.” Biting her lip, her face flaming, she adds in parentheses: “(Bitch).” She hands it over, a glint of mischief in her eyes, mimicking Marin’s boldness but with her own shy charm.

Marin takes the notebook, spotting “(Bitch)” and bursting into a clear, bell-like laugh laced with flirtatious warmth. “Alright, Shouko…” She steps closer, her nose nearly brushing Komi’s, her eyes blazing with fiery challenge. “I’ll be your rival!” Her voice softens, a tender edge creeping in. “And your friend.” Her fingers graze Komi’s notebook, a silent vow. *You’re like cool moonlight… I wanna keep challenging you—and get closer.*

In the storage room, sweat and body heat mingle, their gazes locking once more, like flame and moonlight colliding. Komi’s cheeks glow, her eyes resolute: *I’ll beat you… and become your friend.* Marin’s lips curve, bold yet warm: *I’ll outshine you… but I want to shine with you.* Their chests still heave, a lingering spark of rivalry and a budding bond. As the cultural festival’s clamor looms, this clash pauses, opening a new chapter for their “frenemies” saga.

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