COTE: Harem

Back in the quiet solitude of his dorm room after a predictably uninspired dinner in the cafeteria, Ayanokoji settled into his chair, retrieving his phone from his pocket. He navigated to the student app, his fingers moving with practiced ease, and checked his point balance.

As anticipated, the numbers remained stubbornly unchanged. Disappointment wasn't an emotion he readily experienced, but a sense of mild frustration flickered within him.

The promised individual points for passing the midterms, a key element in his carefully laid plans, were still conspicuously absent. The first-year point situation, as Chabashira had vaguely put it, remained shrouded in an irritating mystery.

'This delay is… inconvenient,' Ayanokoji thought, his gaze fixed on the unchanging numbers on the screen. 'Unforeseen variables are always troublesome. It disrupts the planned trajectory.' He folded his phone shut with a soft click, the screen going dark, mirroring his own impassive expression. Leaning back in his chair, he allowed his mind to drift, methodically replaying the day's events, analyzing every interaction, every subtle nuance he had observed.

His train of thought, however, was abruptly derailed by a sudden, loud BANG. His dorm room door, usually securely locked after his return, swung inward with a force that rattled the entire frame, the sound echoing sharply in the confined space. Sudou Ken, a whirlwind of barely contained nervous energy, stood framed in the doorway, his presence filling the small room with a palpable sense of panic.

"Ayanokouji!" Sudou bellowed, his voice laced with a distinct edge of desperation, bordering on hysteria. "You gotta help me, man! I'm in deep trouble!"

Ayanokoji raised a single eyebrow, his expression remaining calm and unperturbed despite the dramatic, uninvited entrance. He noted the disheveled state of Sudou's clothes, the sweat beading on his forehead, the wild look in his eyes. 'Unusual even for Sudou,' he observed internally. "Sudou," he began, his voice measured and calm, a stark contrast to Sudou's frantic outburst, "perhaps a little explanation about your sudden… appearance is in order. And," he added pointedly, gesturing towards the still-ajar door, "the door was locked, if I recall correctly."

Sudou scratched his head sheepishly, momentarily deflated by Ayanokoji's calm, almost detached demeanor. "Oh, right. Yeah, sorry about that, man." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his nervous energy still radiating off him in waves. "Well, the thing is, this room… your room… is kinda like the unofficial meeting place for the… well, you know, the group we got going on." He gestured vaguely around the room, as if indicating some invisible, pre-existing social arrangement that Ayanokoji was somehow supposed to be aware of.

Before Ayanokoji could press further, could dissect the illogicality of his room becoming an 'unofficial meeting place' without his knowledge or consent, the door swung open once again. This time, however, the entrance was far more composed, far less disruptive. Kushida Kikyou stood in the doorway, her posture perfectly balanced, her expression serene. She held aloft a small, rectangular object – a duplicate key card, glinting faintly in the room's soft lighting.

"Hey, Ayanokouji-kun," she greeted him with her signature cheerful smile, her voice light and airy, as if barging into someone's dorm room unannounced with a stolen keycard was the most natural thing in the world. "Mind if I borrow some sugar? I'm baking cookies and I seem to have run out."

Ayanokoji blinked slowly, his gaze shifting from Sudou's panicked face to Kushida's bright, almost unsettlingly cheerful smile, then finally settling on the key card held delicately between her fingers. "Sugar?" he repeated, his voice still even, betraying no hint of the internal sigh that was building within him. He then glanced pointedly at the key card in her hand. "For your room, Kushida-san?" he inquired, already suspecting the true purpose of her 'visit.'

She shook her head, her smile widening, becoming even more radiant, almost blindingly so. "Actually," she corrected, her tone still light and playful, "for this very room." She gestured with the keycard towards Ayanokoji's room, her meaning now becoming increasingly clear. "Apparently," she continued, her voice taking on a slightly conspiratorial tone, "it's become the unofficial meeting place for a certain… group." She exchanged a knowing glance with Sudou, who was now nodding enthusiastically from his sprawled position on the sofa.

Ayanokoji's internal sigh deepened, bordering on a groan. 'Of course,' he thought dryly. 'Ike and Yamauchi. Boundless enthusiasm and zero foresight. A predictably disastrous combination.' It seemed Ike and Yamauchi, in their boundless, and often misguided, enthusiasm, had taken it upon themselves to create duplicate key cards for 'easier access' to their 'unofficial meeting place' – a fact they had, of course, neglected to mention to the room's actual occupant. Not exactly ideal, not exactly conducive to his preferred solitude, but considering the current chaotic and often illogical state of Class D, perhaps not entirely unexpected. It was par for the course for this class.

"I see," Ayanokoji said evenly, suppressing the very strong urge to roll his eyes and voice his considerable displeasure at this blatant intrusion on his personal space. "Well, come in, then." He gestured vaguely towards the room, his expression still betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Resistance, he knew, would be futile, and likely more trouble than it was worth. Pragmatism dictated acceptance, at least for the moment.

Kushida entered the room, finally crossing the threshold, and carefully closed the door behind her, her movements graceful and fluid. She exchanged cheerful greetings with Sudou, her smile unwavering, before turning her attention back to Ayanokoji, her expression shifting subtly, becoming slightly more serious, though still maintaining a veneer of friendly concern. Sudou, meanwhile, had sprawled himself dramatically across Ayanokoji's small sofa, clutching his head in his hands, radiating an aura of impending doom.

"Alright, Sudou-kun," Ayanokoji said, deciding to cut directly to the chase and bypass any further unnecessary pleasantries. "What brings you here so… agitated?" He observed Sudou with a detached curiosity, waiting for the inevitable outpouring of panicked explanation.

Sudou sat bolt upright, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow, his eyes wide and pleading. "Suspension, Ayanokouji! They're talking about suspending me!" His voice cracked with a mixture of fear and indignation, the word 'suspension' hanging heavy in the air.

"Suspension?" Ayanokoji echoed, feigning a degree of surprise that he certainly didn't feel. He already suspected something of this nature was brewing, given Chabashira's pointed summons after class. "Suspension? What did you do this time, Sudou?" he inquired, emphasizing the 'this time' with a subtle inflection that hinted at Sudou's less-than-stellar track record.

"Do?" Sudou sputtered, indignation coloring his cheeks a furious shade of red. "I didn't do anything! Those jerks from Class C ambushed me yesterday, out of nowhere! Told me to quit the basketball team and all that crap! Then they tried to jump me, all three of them, ganging up on me! But obviously," he puffed out his chest, a hint of pride momentarily, and somewhat inappropriately, replacing his worry, "they didn't stand a chance! I took them all on!"

He puffed out his chest further, flexing his biceps for emphasis, completely missing the irony of his boastful display in the face of a potential suspension. "So then," Sudou continued, his voice rising in pitch again, fueled by righteous anger, "they run crying to the school, claiming I assaulted them! Can you believe it?!"

Kushida chimed in, adding a layer of context to Sudou's frantic explanation. "Apparently," she said, her voice calm and measured, contrasting sharply with Sudou's agitation, "they were called into the staff room earlier, Sudou-kun. Chabashira-sensei gave you a chance to explain your side of the story, but…" She trailed off, her tone implying the explanation hadn't gone particularly well.

"But I don't have any proof!" Sudou interjected, his voice laced with desperation, cutting off Kushida mid-sentence. "That's the whole problem! It's just my word against theirs! Those guys were the ones who started it! They ganged up on me! It was self-defense!"

The situation, as Sudou frantically painted it, was frustratingly clear – a classic, messy case of he-said, she-said. Without any concrete evidence to corroborate Sudou's version of events, without any independent witnesses or security footage, a suspension seemed not just likely, but almost inevitable. And a suspension for Sudou wouldn't just affect Sudou personally; it would directly translate to a loss of precious class points for Class D, points they desperately needed to climb out of their current abysmal ranking. The implications were far-reaching and potentially damaging to the entire class.

Sudou, sensing Ayanokoji's prolonged silence, misinterpreting it as doubt or disbelief, leaned forward, his pleading eyes fixed intently on Ayanokoji's impassive face. "That's why I came to you, Ayanokouji," he pleaded, his voice cracking with genuine despair. "You gotta help me, man! I can't get suspended! My basketball team, the class points, everything will be screwed!"

Ayanokoji met Sudou's desperate gaze, his own expression remaining carefully neutral, betraying no hint of his internal calculations. Helping Sudou, he recognized, would require some careful maneuvering, some strategic intervention. But the potential loss of class points, especially given the current precarious situation with the delayed rewards, was a significant motivator. 'Perhaps,' he considered, a faint flicker of strategic calculation igniting in his mind, 'just perhaps, there is a way to turn this potentially negative situation to our advantage. A crisis can be an opportunity, if approached correctly.'

"Very well, Sudou-kun," Ayanokoji said finally, breaking the tense silence, his voice calm and measured, conveying a sense of quiet resolve. "Let's hear the details of this 'ambush' in more detail. Start from the beginning." A faint flicker of hope, fragile but noticeable, flickered in Sudou's bloodshot eyes.

Sudou's panicked rambling, fueled by adrenaline and desperation, filled the small dorm room, his agitation palpable, almost contagious. Ayanokoji listened patiently, his expression unchanging, as Sudou recounted the events of the previous day, his narrative punctuated by angry outbursts and self-justifications. Locking the door after entering his room, a minor detail in his usual routine, seemed utterly insignificant now compared to the very real threat of suspension hanging over Sudou's head, and by extension, over Class D. He allowed Sudou to vent, to release his pent-up anxieties, his mind already working through the fragmented pieces of information, piecing together the puzzle, formulating a strategy.

"Alright, Sudou," Ayanokoji interjected calmly once Sudou's frantic account finally began to wind down, his voice cutting through the emotional turmoil with a steadying effect. "Let's take a step back for a moment. Shouting and getting worked up isn't going to solve anything. We need to approach this logically, strategically."

Sudou slumped back against the sofa cushions, his initial bravado and frantic energy replaced by a worried frown, a visible deflation of his earlier bluster. "But… a suspension, Ayanokouji!" he repeated, his voice cracking with renewed despair. "They can't just… suspend me based on their word alone, can they?"

"Without evidence to the contrary, they can," Ayanokoji cut in, his voice still neutral, matter-of-fact, devoid of any false reassurance. "It's your word against theirs – three of them, all claiming injury, against you, completely unscathed. From the school's perspective, it doesn't look good, especially given your… history." He subtly alluded to Sudou's well-documented disciplinary record, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Sudou scowled, his face contorting in frustration and simmering anger. "But it was self-defense! I swear, Ayanokouji, they ambushed me! They started it!"

"Right," Ayanokoji said, nodding slowly, deliberately, as if considering Sudou's words with careful deliberation. "I believe you, Sudou. But belief isn't enough in this situation. The school administration deals in facts, in evidence. And right now, we lack that crucial element. The question isn't whether you're telling the truth, but how do we prove that truth to the school? Security cameras," he mused aloud, considering the possibilities, "probably didn't capture the entire incident, and even if they did, the angles might be unfavorable, inconclusive. And witnesses," he continued, his tone pragmatic, "are likely to be biased towards their classmates, towards the injured party. Class C students will naturally side with Class C students."

The stark, unfavorable implication hung heavy in the air between them. The odds, as Ayanokoji calmly laid them out, were undeniably stacked against Sudou. A single, uninjured defendant facing a group of injured accusers from a rival class? Suspension, in the absence of compelling counter-evidence, seemed like a foregone, and deeply undesirable, conclusion.

"So… what do we do?" Sudou pleaded again, his voice cracking with despair, his earlier bravado completely extinguished, replaced by raw fear of the impending consequences. "Tell me there's something we can do, Ayanokouji. I really can't get suspended!"

A flicker of a plan, a nascent strategy, ignited in Ayanokoji's mind, a possibility worth exploring, however slim. "There's a chance, Sudou," Ayanokoji said, his voice remaining calm, measured, projecting an air of quiet confidence that belied the precariousness of their situation. "A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. But it hinges on finding evidence, something tangible, something irrefutable to corroborate your version of events, to shift the narrative in our favor."

Sudou perked up slightly, a glimmer of hope, fragile but noticeable, replacing his earlier dejection. "Evidence?" he repeated, his voice tinged with a renewed, if tentative, optimism. "Like what kind of evidence? What are we gonna do, find a security tape we already said probably doesn't exist?"

"An eyewitness, perhaps," Ayanokoji suggested, his tone thoughtful, considering the most viable, albeit unlikely, option. "Someone who actually saw the fight, someone impartial, someone who can confirm your version of events, who can testify that you were indeed ambushed, and acted in self-defense."

Sudou scrunched his brow, his face contorted in concentration as he desperately tried to recall any detail that might support Ayanokoji's suggestion. "Now that you mention it…" he said slowly, his voice hesitant, as if grasping at a faint, almost forgotten memory. "I did have this… feeling. Like someone was watching. Out of the corner of my eye, you know? But I looked around, I swear I did, and I didn't see anyone. It was probably just my nerves, or something."

It wasn't much, not exactly a reliable lead, but in their current evidence-starved situation, it was a start, a fragile thread to grasp onto. A witness, even an unseen, potentially unreliable one, could be the key, the element that tipped the scales, however slightly, in Sudou's favor.

"Alright, Sudou," Ayanokoji said, his voice firm, decisive, taking charge of the situation. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to try and find this 'feeling' of yours, this potential witness. But this needs to stay quiet, understood? Absolutely discreet. Don't breathe a word of it to anyone, not Ike, not Yamauchi, not even Horikita. This is between us, Kushida and me, for now."

Sudou nodded solemnly, his earlier panic momentarily subdued, replaced by a focused determination. He might be impulsive, prone to outbursts of temper, and not always the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn't stupid. He understood the gravity of the situation, the importance of discretion, the need to operate in the shadows.

With Sudou finally dismissed, sent off with instructions to remain calm and await further instructions, Ayanokoji turned his attention to Kushida, who had been silently observing the entire exchange, her expression carefully neutral, almost detached, as if she were watching a scene unfold on a stage rather than participating in a high-stakes intervention. "So," she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "what exactly did you want me to do, Ayanokouji-kun? Besides witness Sudou's… dramatic meltdown, of course."

Ayanokoji remained outwardly calm, his expression unchanging, though internally he acknowledged the accuracy of Kushida's assessment of Sudou's emotional state. "Help Sudou, of course," he replied, his voice even, devoid of any inflection. "And discreetly, if you please. We need to find this potential witness, without alerting Class C, or the school administration, to our investigation."

Kushida raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a playful smile still dancing on her lips, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something more calculating, more… predatory. "Discreetly, huh?" she purred, drawing out the word, savoring the sound of it. "Sounds intriguing, Ayanokouji-kun. What exactly do you have in mind? What clandestine operation are you planning for me?"

"I want you to use your… connections," Ayanokoji said, choosing his words carefully, deliberately vague but conveying his meaning nonetheless. "Your… network of informants. See if anyone, anyone at all, witnessed this fight between Sudou and those Class C boys. Someone who might have seen something, someone who might be willing to talk, discreetly, of course."

It was phrased as a request, but the underlying tone, the implicit expectation, was clear. It was an order, not a polite suggestion. Given their current, unspoken arrangement, the power dynamic established in the stairwell, Ayanokoji knew she wouldn't refuse, not directly, not anymore.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her face, erasing any trace of playful doubt, replaced by a look of focused intent. "Intriguing," she purred again, her voice dripping with a honeyed sweetness that was both alluring and unsettling. "A little bit of discreet information gathering? A task perfectly suited to my… talents. Let's see what we can dig up, shall we?"

Before Kushida could turn to leave, to embark on her assigned task, Ayanokoji moved forward with a sudden, deliberate motion, intercepting her path, his hand coming to rest firmly, possessively, on her soft breasts.

It wasn't the first time this physical interaction had occurred between them – in fact, it had become a somewhat normalized, almost routine occurrence in their interactions, a silent, unspoken agreement. Every time Kushida entered his room, every time she was tasked with something, this physical exchange served as a form of… compensation, a twisted sort of 'rent' for her presence, for her services.

Ayanokoji's expression remained impassive, his gaze fixed on hers, devoid of any discernible emotion as he dryly commented, "Any boy in this school, probably in this entire country, would consider himself blessed to fondle these large breasts of yours, Kushida." His voice was flat, factual, devoid of any warmth or genuine appreciation.

But then he added, equally dryly, his tone unchanged, "But it's become such a natural occurrence, so… routine, that I don't feel all that excited anymore. Perhaps we'll need to explore other forms of 'payment' in the future to keep things… interesting."

He continued to hold her breast for a moment longer, his touch firm, possessive, ensuring the message, the power dynamic, was crystal clear, reinforcing his dominance, her subservience. Then, just as abruptly as he had initiated the contact, he released her chest and stepped back, creating a deliberate space between them, his expression remaining unreadable, a perfect mask of indifference.

"Go," he told her simply, his voice devoid of any emotion, any lingering physical trace of the intimate contact. "Find me my witness, Kushida. And remember, discretion is paramount."

~~

A/N: I hope you all liked this long chapter.

(If you like Harem Stories, check out my Original Story, which is Harem Master: Seduction System. Please give your PS to that novel so that my novel's ranking can remain at the top. Thank you.)