COTE :  Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

The moon beyond the balcony quietly climbed above the branches, hanging high in the night sky.

Inside the room, the modestly sized desk lamp barely managed to illuminate the entire space. The fan blades sliced through the stagnant, sweltering heat, humming as they stirred the humid air—thick with the mingled scents of various shampoos and the fragrance of young women.

The girls were thoroughly familiar with Fuyuji's room by now, showing absolutely none of the reserve one might expect from guests. Instead, each carried herself with the air of a mistress of the house, tending to her own affairs.

The sound of rushing water rang out. Yamamura, wrapped in an apron, stood before the stove, washing the tea set left over from the day. The water cascaded from between her fingers and splashed into the stainless steel sink, producing crisp, clear echoes.

On the bed, Kamuro rolled over in utter boredom and continued scrolling through her phone. Her white school uniform pleated skirt had already been swapped out for loose pure-cotton pajama shorts. Her porcelain-white, long legs rested along the edge of the bed, swaying gently. Beneath the dim amber lamplight, they were coated in a soft, hazy glow.

"Tch!"

Fuyuji had lost count of how many times he'd clicked his tongue in lament over those beautiful legs. Why on earth did his pal dislike wearing stockings so much? And that wasn't even the worst of it—she frequently wore long pants too! What a complete waste of those gorgeous legs.

Sensing Fuyuji's deeply resentful gaze, Kamura opened her eyes wide and, refusing to be outdone, glared right back at him. For good measure, she raised her thigh as if in demonstration and aimed a mock kick through the air.

Her arch tensed like a bowstring drawn taut. The pale pink sole of her foot traced a graceful arc through the air—fully and completely exposed to Fuyuji's unobstructed view.

Fuyuji let out yet another deeply regretful sigh. Why didn't she like them? She could at least wear them for me. No matter how you looked at it, I'm still your pal and direct superior. What's wrong with throwing me a little fan service now and then?

Seeing Fuyuji's expression—as if he were watching something of incredible value go utterly to waste—Kamuro instantly revealed her signature look of pure disgust. The five toes of the beautiful leg she'd been stretching straight toward him suddenly curled inward and vanished beneath the bedsheet in a flash.

Damn it! To think you'd even strip me of my last bit of fan service! Are you still my bro or not?!

Kamuro silently rolled over, presenting him with the distinctive curve of her waist and hips wrapped in pure-cotton pajamas.

Fuyuji: "..."

"Smack—!"

A small hand reached out and smacked Fuyuji's thigh with neither too much nor too little force.

"Where are you looking? Please focus on helping the great Morishita dry her hair."

"Ah, right." Fuyuji hurriedly withdrew his gaze. Both hands gently parted the damp strands of hair. Under the breeze of the fan before them, the deep blue locks billowed backward. The cool wind, carrying the fresh scent of lemon shampoo, drifted into his nostrils and sobered him up by several degrees.

At this moment, the two hair clips Morishita usually wore on her head had already been removed. The two small braids at her chest had also been completely freed from their restraints. Her shoulder-length, deep blue hair cascaded loosely behind her, still carrying a touch of post-wash moisture. It gave her an entirely different feeling from usual.

At a single glance, the usual Morishita would most likely be pegged as a girl with a cold, aloof personality. But this version of her seemed much closer to a soft, quiet, delicate young girl.

"That's more like it."

Barefoot, dressed in her little bear pajamas, her legs pressed together as she sat directly in front of him, Morishita withdrew her hand with satisfaction. Her pink tongue once again licked at the popsicle—now nearly melted—before continuing.

"Ah~ ah~ ah~"

"Great Morishita."

Fuyuji gently kneaded the gracefully shaped back of Morishita's head and spoke with exasperation.

"How many of these have you had today already? Be careful, or you'll end up with a stomachache tomorrow."

"It's only because..." Morishita parted her small lips and bit off a small chunk of the milky-white popsicle. "...Fuyuji Mikage went and bought so many of these in one go. And now with the power out, they'll go to waste if we don't eat them."

"That still doesn't mean you have to eat so many, does it?"

"It's fine." Morishita puffed out her chest. "After all, as an Amazon warrior, I rarely get sick."

"..." Why don't I believe a single word of that?

With a soft click, the door was gently pushed open. Shiraishi tilted her head to the side, toweling her damp, pale golden hair as she arrived fashionably late.

Three gazes instantly darted toward her—discreet, unannounced—then silently withdrew, each returning to the task at hand.

...

Later, while waiting for the girls' hair to dry, and under Morishita's repeated, raised-hand suggestion, the group once again played the game of Old Maid they'd enjoyed on the cruise ship.

According to her, she was innately talented at this kind of game and could sense who held the Joker behind their back.

In the end, every single person—including even the most cunning and devious Shiraishi—had their faces plastered with white paper strips to varying degrees.

As an aside, the one who ended up with the most strips was still our very own great Morishita. By the time they called it quits, she looked like a hedgehog bristling with white arrows from head to toe.

The clock on the wall had slowly crept past ten in the evening.

Fuyuji stood up and stretched with a long, languid yawn. He moved the table from the center of the room outside onto the balcony and propped it against the wall. The room, which had felt somewhat cramped with everyone gathered together, suddenly seemed spacious.

"So... who's sleeping on the bed tonight?"

Fuyuji swiveled his neck and gazed at the girls present, asking with a beaming smile.

After all, he was the only guy here. It would hardly be gentlemanly to still sleep on the bed himself. The bed provided by the school wasn't particularly large, but it wasn't small either. Two girls could comfortably fit, and if they squeezed a little, even three wasn't impossible. Still, with the power out tonight and the weather already stifling, three would be miserable. Two would be just right.

Unexpectedly, after a few flickers in their eyes, the girls declined in unspoken unison.

"Sleep in your own bed yourself." Kamuro raised a hand to cover her lips and let out a yawn, dragging out her syllables. "I'm a bit tired."

"No. Compared to Fuyuji Mikage's bed, sleeping on the mat is cooler." Morishita stepped forward and refused with crisp, decisive finality.

"M-me too." Yamamura followed right behind.

"Since they've all said so, I can only join them." Shiraishi's violet eyes flickered a few times. She raised a hand to cover the corner of her mouth and spoke with light, lilting cheer.

Sleeping on the bed simply wouldn't do. Tonight, she still had a boy to coax. If she slept together with the others, it would be difficult to slip away in the middle of the night, and her plan would be ruined.

"..."

Strange. Normally, they loved commandeering my bed. Why so uncomfortable now?

"Fine." Fuyuji nodded in helpless agreement. "As you say. You all go wash up first. I'll lay out the bedding for you."

A few weeks ago, with summer approaching, Keyaki Mall had held a promotion called the Summer Mega Sale. He'd happened to pick up two mats.

"Okay!" x4

After washing up, with a sharp click, the desk lamp was turned off, and the room sank back into darkness. Five silhouettes, outlined by the faint moonlight, settled into their respective beds. The rustling of thin sheets gradually faded into silence.

...

In the pitch-black room, the solar-powered electric fan hummed steadily through the quiet. The occasional chirp of crickets drifted in from outside. Several figures lay scattered in orderly fashion across the room, resting quietly on their beds. Moonlight streamed in through the balcony, faintly tracing the slender, graceful curves of their bodies.

The clock on the wall ticked and tocked. No one knew how much time had passed.

In the darkness, a figure suddenly rolled over. An extremely faint rustle sounded through the room. Then, slowly, he propped up his upper body, his eyes leisurely opening.

Gazing at the girls on the mats, each in a different sleeping posture, the corner of Fuyuji's lips couldn't help but curve into a smile.

At this point, he admitted it!

He, Fuyuji Mikage, was a scumbag!

On the other side, the girls—each maintaining their own sleeping posture—felt their originally slow, drawn-out breaths come to a halt in unison. Their palms quietly clenched.

Just as I thought! This super mega pervert (scumbag)!

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75 [Power Stones] = Bonus Chapter!