Very good begging.
Little Asakusa gave a thumbs-up.
As for which thumb it was… don't ask. Just know that it was a thumb.
That said, although Asakusa Tetsu was a little fired up, he hadn't lost his rationality.
His mind was much clearer than Kushida Kikyo probably imagined.
Playing around was fine. Teasing was fine. Getting a little handsy was fine.
But going as far as actual coercion?
That wasn't "fun" anymore.
That was a crime.
…Well, to be honest, Asakusa didn't care that much about whether something counted as a crime or not.
Even if he were thrown into prison, he could still leisurely write his diary.
It wasn't easy to commit something that would get him sentenced to death, anyway.
As long as the diary gave him sufficiently perverted rewards, he could quickly enter the "no beef" phase.
But…
After having the diary for a month, Asakusa had figured something out.
Even though the rewards were supposedly random, they were clearly biased.
Most of them were either jokes related to Classroom of the Elite itself, or things connected to Advanced Nurturing High.
In other words, as long as the story was still in this arc, the upper limit of rewards was basically Ayanokoji Kiyotaka—the pseudo-human.
Which meant the peak was the S-rank White Gym membership card.
If he wanted better stuff, he'd have to wait until the diary switched to a more outrageous, higher-ceiling anime storyline.
It was a bit inconvenient.
It'd be nice if he could run multiple routes at once.
But the diary could wait.
Back to Kushida.
Asakusa knew very well that he could tear away her last bit of dignity at any time.
With her terminal confiscated, he could go all the way and it wouldn't matter.
He had that kind of "violence" on his side.
But that would be ugly.
And boring.
Coercion was only fun when the other person was half-resisting, half-complying, unwilling but forced.
That expression was what made it interesting.
Once it turned into pure violence, it lost all charm.
He'd gone this far only because Kushida's reactions were too entertaining.
He liked watching pretty girls cry.
Embarrassed. Cornered. Sweating. Kneeling and begging.
Every expression was delicious.
"Let's stop here for today."
Letting go of Kushida, Asakusa casually grabbed the hem of her clothes and wiped most of the liquid off his hand, then smiled.
"Thanks for the treat."
Completely limp, Kushida suddenly collapsed onto the ground.
She gasped for breath, filled with the joy of surviving a disaster.
Thank goodness.
She wasn't actually raped.
Although pretty much every advantage that could be taken had already been taken, aside from the final step…
In the end, it was still just touching.
Nothing had gone inside.
As long as that line wasn't crossed, it was fine.
But…
"Today"?
"Here, take it."
Just as Kushida noticed his wording, Asakusa grabbed her small hand and stuffed her terminal back into it.
Looking at her recovered device…
Looking at her messy face reflected in the dark screen…
A thought surfaced in her mind.
If I call the police now… can I get this guy arrested?
Unlike fingerprints left on her chest, his hands now had her saliva on them, and…
Her clothes were a mess too.
Even if they couldn't prove actual intercourse, this was probably enough to send him in.
The only problem was—
If she really called the police…
By the time they arrived, she'd already be eaten clean.
…Was it worth it?
No.
Not at all.
But swallowing this loss and doing nothing also wasn't her style.
What should she do?
What could she do?
While she hesitated, Asakusa suddenly crouched down.
"Oh right, I almost forgot something."
Smiling, he pulled out something from his pocket that made her heart stop.
A voice recorder.
Then, with a few simple operations, he gently pressed play.
Kushida's vicious curses immediately echoed clearly across the rooftop.
Not just her insults—
Even her words, "I'll spread rumors that you tried to rape me," were recorded perfectly.
"..."
Her brain crashed.
Only then did she remember—
The man in front of her, Asakusa Tetsu, was the famous…
"Recorder fanatic."
It'd be stranger if he didn't carry one on him.
Do you know who she thought of?
Her good friend, Horikita Suzune.
That idiot also carried a recorder everywhere.
Damn it, I should've realized sooner!!!
Now even if she called the police, he had solid evidence.
Unless—
Her body moved before her brain.
Summoning the last of her strength, Kushida lunged forward and snatched the recorder from his hand.
Then she slammed it onto the ground with all her might.
"Bang—"
It smashed against the concrete.
The recording stuttered twice and froze.
The screen cracked into pieces.
That blow did serious damage.
Kushida's chest heaved violently.
Her heart pounded.
She knew this would anger him.
She knew she shouldn't do this.
But she couldn't stop herself.
No evidence.
There must be no evidence.
That was the only thought in her mind.
Just as her breathing calmed slightly—
Like a nightmare repeating—
Her own voice sounded again.
"Gonna puke… really gonna puke—"
She raised her head in a daze.
And saw that in Asakusa's hand…
There were now five recorders.
Five identical recorders, all replaying the same recording.
He lifted his hand and brushed aside the strands of hair stuck to her face, then spoke softly.
"Little sister, who told you I only carry one recorder?"
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