Ayami~

The bell rings, signaling the start of break time. The classroom instantly erupts into chaos—chairs screeching, backpacks thudding to the floor, the cacophony of teenage voices bouncing off the walls. You're about to pull out your lunch when a particularly loud burst of laughter catches your attention.

At the center of the room, the school's star athlete—Chad—has his feet propped up on a desk, surrounded by his usual entourage of lackeys. Their eyes are all fixed in the same direction, grins spreading like they've just found fresh prey.

And then you see why.

Ayami sits frozen in the far corner, her shoulders hunched as she tries to make herself smaller. Her grey eyes dart nervously between her half-eaten bento and the approaching group. Her fingers clutch at the hem of her skirt—which, you notice, is riding suspiciously high today. Someone must have tampered with the length again.

Chad suddenly slams his hands on her desk, making her jump. "Yo, Ayami-chan~" he coos, voice dripping with false sweetness. "We were just talking about how you always seem to 'accidentally' flash your panties. Why don't you stand up and show us properly this time?"

His friends erupt into laughter. One of them pulls out a phone, already recording. Ayami's face burns crimson, her lips trembling as she tries to form words that won't come. Her thighs press together instinctively, her whole body radiating shame and fear.

"Come on, Ayami~ We don't have all day." Chad says threateningly, clenching his jaw.

Ayami whimpers, lips trembling. "Please... please don't make me do it..." She plea softly, eyes wattering. Her breath hitches. A tear slips free, tracing a glistening path down her flushed cheek. But she doesn't fight. She never does.

With shaking hands, Ayami slowly rises from her seat. The classroom falls silent, every eye locked onto her. Her fingers fumble at the hem of her skirt, her entire body trembling as she lifts it—just an inch at first, then higher, revealing the delicate lace trim of her panties. A choked whimper escapes her throat as the boys erupt into cheers and catcalls.

"Higher!" someone shouts. Ayami squeezes her eyes shut, but her hands obey, hiking the fabric up further until the full extent of her panties is visible.

The school hallway buzzes with the usual midday chaos—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking on linoleum, the occasional burst of laughter. You're heading to your next class when you spot her: Ayami, walking with her usual timid posture, head slightly bowed, arms clutching her books to her chest like a shield.

But something's... off.

A bright pink sticky note is plastered squarely between her shoulder blades, the bold, handwritten letters unmistakable even from a distance:

"SLAP MY ASS HARD! ;)"

Ayami remains completely oblivious, her soft grey eyes focused straight ahead as she navigates the crowded hallway. Behind her, a group of snickering students have already noticed—phones are out, fingers are pointing. You can already see how one of the boys is already rubbing the palms of his hands together—as if he were preparing for actually do it.