Cherreads

Chapter 1 - Yamamoto Aiko

The first bell hadn't even rung when the whispers started.

"Look, it's her…"

"God, those tits—how is that uniform still intact?"

"Don't bother, dude. She'll freeze your balls off before you finish saying 'good morning'."

Aiko Yamamoto walked through the school gates like she always did—chin up, hips swaying, tight navy skirt clinging to an ass that had broken more desks than delinquents. Her blouse was buttoned just wrong enough to show a sliver of lace, her knee-highs pulled taut over thighs that could suffocate a man in seconds. Every step made her G-cups bounce under starched cotton, nipples stiff enough to cut glass.

They called her the Ice Queen.

They had no idea.

Behind those venomous dark eyes and pouty, glossed lips hid a girl who could suck the soul out of a man's dick in under three minutes flat. Aiko didn't do boyfriends. Didn't do dates. Not when she could ruin a guy faster than he could beg—tongue swirling, throat fluttering, lips sealing tight as she swallowed every last drop of his dignity.

Two Unbreakable Rules:

1)No penetrative sex. (Her pussy was a vault.)

2)Payment upfront:

...

The alarm screamed at 5:30 AM, a shrill, mechanical sound that would've jolted any normal person into groggy disorientation.

Aiko's hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the device, silencing it mid-vibration. No hesitation. No wasted movement. Just a slow, deliberate exhale through her nose as she sat up, the silk sheets sliding off her like water.

Morning light seeped through the blinds, painting her bedroom in thin, cold stripes. Just the sharp angles of her face, the unreadable stillness in her dark eyes.

Camping trip. Mandatory. A joke.

She despised nature—the way dirt clung to skin, the way insects buzzed like they had any right to exist near her, the way people pretended to enjoy sleeping on the ground like animals. But the school had decreed it: three days of forced camaraderie in some godforsaken forest.

If she had to endure it, she'd do it flawlessly. No borrowed gear. No compromises. No trace of vulnerability.

Outdoor Master. The most overpriced survival store in the city.

The store was a cathedral of consumerism, filled with the kind of people who thought buying a ¥50,000 jacket made them adventurers. The air smelled like synthetic fabric and the faint, cloying scent of protein bar samples.

Aiko walked in, and the atmosphere shifted. Conversations dipped. Eyes flickered toward her—then quickly away.

Aiko didn't even look at them. She moved with quiet purpose, heels tapping across polished concrete. Heads turned, then quickly turned away.

She bypassed the budget section entirely and walked straight to the high-end gear.

First: the tent.

Most of her classmates would show up with cheap nylon disasters. Aiko selected the Kuroshio Black—¥275,000. Modular, soundproof, insulated. The inside felt more like a private capsule hotel than a tent.

"This will do," she said.

The clerk blinked. "That's, um… our most expensive model."

She didn't look at him. "Obviously."

Next: the sleeping bag.

No way she'd use the school's recommended ¥8,000 synthetic thing. She chose the Yuki-onna Supreme—¥120,000. Arctic-grade down, temperature-regulated, and softer than her own sheets.

She tested the lining with her hand. Perfect.

Then: the multi-tool.

She inspected several, then picked the Onyx Forge Tactical—¥55,000. Titanium body. Razor-sharp blade. Built-in firestarter. She tested the knife on her thumb. A thin line of red appeared.

She nodded. "Good."

She needed a backpack that didn't look like it belonged to a scout troop. The Osprey Aura 65L backpack—¥150,000—was sleek, black, and built like armor. Hand-stitched leather, padded straps, and enough hidden pockets to smuggle state secrets.

She tried it on. It fit like it was made for her.

Aiko added the finishing touches without hesitation.

A UV water purifier for ¥25,000—because drinking from a stream was barbaric.

A titanium cookset for ¥45,000—no shared pots, no cafeteria slop.

And a pair of Silentium noise-canceling earbuds—¥75,000—so she wouldn't have to hear her classmates talk about bugs or boys.

Then she felt it.

A weight. A presence. Someone staring.

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