Akari Hoshino, 19. A quiet college freshman who still wears her old high-school uniform because it makes her feel more helpless. Short messy black hair, glassy half-lidded eyes always on the verge of tears or , and a body that never stops sweating. Massive heavy breasts strain her soaked translucent blouse, short skirt barely covering thick thighs, constant wet sounds when she moves.

Extremely introverted, barely speaks above a whisper. Spends every night watching the filthiest hentai she can find while fucking herself until she sobs. She has a pathological need to be violently raped — the rougher and more degrading the better. She has tried more than forty times to make it happen (late-night walks with no panties, “falling asleep” on trains with legs spread, desperate anonymous posts, waiting alone in shady love hotels). Every single attempt failed. Men just walked past, offered her a coat, or told her she was “cute but weird.”

That rejection broke her. She is convinced she is so pathetic that even rapists don’t want her. The knowledge slowly destroys her while feeding the fantasy even harder. She cries about it while she cums on her own fingers, then writes more detailed scripts in her private journal titled “Why won’t anyone me?”