I woke up feeling refreshed!
Kuroha Akira couldn't say exactly how long he'd slept, but it had been an exceptionally good rest—comparable to the quality of Toshiro-san's chest pillow.
Wait.
The pillow.
Sudden realization crashed over him like a cold wave. He was sleeping on the class representative's lap!
Kuroha Akira shot up like a spring-loaded mechanism, whipping around to face Asato Hitomi with genuine concern.
"Class representative! Are your legs okay? They must be numb, right? You should get up and stretch them!"
The class representative, who appeared to have dozed off herself, rubbed the corners of her eyes sleepily before offering a gentle smile.
"You're exaggerating, Kuroha-kun. Such a short time isn't enough to make my legs numb." She shifted slightly, demonstrating her flexibility. "I've studied tea ceremony and flower arrangement for years. Playing Go also requires sitting upright for long periods. Kneeling for several hours straight isn't difficult for me."
"That's amazing..."
From her attire, you'd never guess Asato Hitomi came from a prestigious family. But these small details—the discipline, the physical endurance—revealed the education of a well-bred young lady.
Kuroha Akira felt a twinge of regret. If her legs were numb, he could have offered to massage them...
After experiencing Shinomiya's beautiful white-stockinged legs, his horizons had expanded considerably. He'd developed a taste for certain... therapeutic activities.
Asato Hitomi blinked at him, a knowing half-smile playing on her lips.
"...Kuroha-kun, do you want to massage my legs?"
"No! Absolutely not!" He recoiled as if struck. "Why would the class representative think that? Am I really that kind of person?!"
Oh god. She's cheating. She can't just read my mind like that!
"Because your gaze was clearly fixed on my thighs." Her tone was light, teasing. "And you had the expression of a pervert with obvious intentions." She tilted her head. "Of course, if I'm wrong, I apologize."
She bowed slightly—actually apologized—which put Kuroha Akira in an impossible position.
Facing such a magnificent, righteous divine class representative, what could he do but confess like a sinner in a booth?
"I'm sorry." He hung his head. "I was thinking improper thoughts. Please punish me!"
Maybe I should make Soul Performance S a permanent ability?
He'd never realized before that he wore his thoughts so visibly on his face. In his previous life, he hadn't encountered this many beautiful women to appreciate. Apparently, looking at beautiful girls really did make one's expression slide into lecherous territory.
"There's no need for punishment, Kuroha-kun." Asato Hitomi waved dismissively. "If humanity were punished for every improper thought, we might face extinction."
She meant well—criminal intent without action wasn't a crime.
Namu Amida Butsu! Such boundless compassion! Class representative, you're truly a saint reincarnated!
"However..." Her expression grew more serious. "Although Kuroha-kun is an important friend, my thighs are still a bit too much."
She looked genuinely troubled. Joking boldly was one thing. Letting him see her fair thighs and absolute territory? Fine. A lap pillow? Acceptable. But there was a world of difference between looking and touching. As a friend, allowing thigh contact crossed a line.
Despite her heavy, somewhat distorted definition of friendship, Asato Hitomi remained relatively traditional about gender boundaries. Thighs were off-limits—along with waist, head, and certainly the cherries and secret garden below. Absolutely forbidden zones.
Even if Kuroha Akira were a girl, she wouldn't easily permit thigh touching. That area was too sensitive, too likely to lead to things spiraling out of control.
"I completely understand." Kuroha Akira nodded solemnly. "Thank you for your consideration. I was only thinking about it—I don't actually have the guts to commit such a suicidal act as invading the absolute territory."
He'd told Shinomiya himself that anything above the knee wasn't for someone of his status to touch. He wouldn't break that principle with the class representative.
Asato Hitomi's expression softened.
"But calves and feet are okay, you know?" She smiled. "They're not completely numb yet, but sitting for so long... I do feel a bit of soreness."
"Gladly at your service!"
Kuroha Akira clasped his hands together in gratitude, offering silent praise to whichever goddess had blessed this moment.
Dig in!
The class representative wore black mid-calf socks today—the length stopping just at her calves. The cuffs featured three white rings, a classic style that never went out of fashion.
Kuroha Akira knelt before her and lifted her beautiful black-socked feet as if receiving a sacred decree.
You don't know until you compare. Beautiful girls differed not only in appearance and figure—even the quality of their feet showed obvious variations.
Leaving aside specific detailed differences for now, the overall visual impression told the story.
Shinomiya's feet appeared more delicate. Slender and long, with an arch curve as elegant and moving as a swan's neck. Wearing exquisite high heels would probably add several more layers of nobility and sexiness to her presence.
The class representative's feet, by contrast, gave a very neat impression. The lines connecting her ankles to her calves flowed naturally, the overall proportions excellent. Her toes were neatly arranged, round and cute—they looked almost edible.
Well. Perhaps he was just hungry after waking up, and seeing the class representative reminded him of a delicious bento. It wasn't that he actually wanted to eat feet.
He really didn't.
...Probably.
By the way, when he'd tried to help Toshiro-san put on her shoes earlier that morning, Kuroha Akira had also observed her feet briefly. They weren't as youthful and tender as a high school girl's. Faint blue veins were slightly visible on the tops of her feet, and the skin on her heels was slightly thicker—all signs of life experience.
Put less politely: office workers walked more. Their feet couldn't remain as delicate as a young girl's.
However, after a full day of hard work, stockings soaked with sweat and toes painted with light red nail polish added a unique mature woman charm to her feet.
It's just that the impact of the "facial cleanser" experience later had been so overwhelming that Kuroha Akira hadn't formed a deep impression of Toshiro's feet at the time. Looking back now, they were quite flavorful.
In every sense of the word.
One could only say it was fortunate the alcohol smell covered other odors. This wasn't to suggest Toshiro had foot odor—it's simply that feet in stockings, cooped up in high heels all day, inevitably developed a certain... aroma. Some people apparently liked that. Maybe "smelly" meant "fragrant" in their dictionary? Smelled bad, tasted good? If you thought it smelled good, then it was good?
Well, Kuroha Akira hadn't tasted anything, so this touched a blind spot in his knowledge. Even among foot fetishists, there were differences, and scent fetish wasn't yet within his range of experience.
After discussing appearance, let's address texture.
Purely in terms of feel, the class representative's calves were a bit fleshier—more substantial when squeezed, almost overflowing between his fingers. Shinomiya's calves, encased in white stockings, were smoother and more tender.
So in terms of texture, the two were neck and neck! But equipment-wise, stockings definitely outperformed cotton socks!
One thing worth noting: the class representative's endurance far exceeded Shinomiya's. She didn't emit a single alluring moan throughout the entire process.
She genuinely enjoyed Kuroha Akira's foot massage, maintaining an elegant smile throughout. Her body didn't tremble once.
Perhaps this was another effect of long-term kneeling practice? Had her feet gone numb so many times they'd become desensitized?
A bit regrettable. Kuroha Akira still wanted to hear the class representative's version of "heavenly music."
He continued massaging her calves. When his fingers brushed against her popliteal fossa—the sensitive area behind the knee—a sound came from above.
"Eek...!"
"Hmm?"
Kuroha Akira looked up in confusion. The class representative had quickly covered her mouth with both hands, her expression slightly flustered.
Oh my? Found a weakness?
The class representative forced a smile. "Mm, I'm fine... Kuroha-kun, don't mind it. It's just... I rarely touch that area myself... so I'm a bit unaccustomed..."
"I see..."
Kuroha Akira's smile turned mischievous. Asato Hitomi immediately sensed danger.
"Mm... Um, Kuroha-kun... Please be gentle..."
"Okay! Class rep! No problem! Class rep!"
He focused on the acupoints behind her popliteal fossa, applying thorough "care" with his thumbs.
Asato Hitomi ultimately couldn't endure to the end. She lay back on the infirmary bed, letting out heart-pounding sounds from her throat.
Listen to that wonderful sound! It makes one's blood boil!
Kuroha Akira felt an enormous sense of accomplishment. He'd successfully made the class rep cry out! This was a moment worthy of historical record!
Yay!
Ono Junko had secretly slipped out to the back of the school building for a few cigarettes. Deciding it was about time to return, she approached the infirmary door just in time to hear a faint moan from inside.
She perked up immediately, pressing her face against the door like a detective on a stakeout.
Oh my. These young ones are still at it after all this time. They really can go at it... Young people truly have endless energy.
Just a peek. One tiny peek to see what kind of play they're engaged in...
She eased the door open a crack.
The scene inside was not what she expected.
Kuroha Akira knelt on one knee, holding Asato Hitomi's feet high as if he'd just won the World Cup Golden Boot award. Asato Hitomi lay on the bed, one arm covering her eyes, her small mouth opening and closing, chest rising and falling as if breathing heavily.
But their clothes were quite tidy.
What is this? Ono Junko's brain short-circuited. Are young people nowadays playing such elaborate games? Not even taking off their clothes, just using feet to reach this state?
More importantly—there's a type of play I don't even know about?!
This was unacceptable! Her practical experience was already zero—how could she not even keep up with theoretical knowledge?!
For the sake of her future marriage prospects, she absolutely had to ask for advice!