COTE: Harem

The first day of a new month always injected a peculiar vibrancy into the atmosphere of Class 1-D. This time, however, the usual anticipation was heightened, charged with an almost palpable excitement. A week had passed since the midterm exams had concluded, and the air in the classroom thrummed with hushed whispers and speculative glances, all centered around the promised reward: the coveted class points for passing.

Students huddled in small groups, their voices buzzing with anticipation. Ike Kanji, ever the loudest, was practically bouncing in his seat, his eyes wide with barely contained eagerness. "Dude, I can't wait to see how many points we got!" he exclaimed to Yamauchi Haruki, his voice carrying across the room. "Imagine, we actually passed! We're gonna be rolling in private points!"

Yamauchi, equally enthusiastic, nodded vigorously. "Yeah, man! Think of all the stuff we can buy! Games, snacks, maybe even… you know…" He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, implying frivolous and likely unnecessary purchases with the anticipated points.

Shinohara Satsuki, overhearing their conversation, rolled her eyes but couldn't quite suppress a small smile. "Don't get too ahead of yourselves, you two," she said, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness. "We don't even know how many points we'll get yet."

"But it's gotta be a lot, right?" Ike persisted, his optimism undeterred. "I mean, we actually studied this time! We deserve a massive reward!"

Across the room, Horikita Suzune sat at her desk, observing the class's excited chatter with her characteristic detached gaze. She didn't participate in the buoyant atmosphere, but there was a subtle shift in her usual rigid posture, a slight easing of tension that suggested even she was not entirely immune to the prevailing anticipation.

Just as the classroom reached a fever pitch of excited speculation, the door slid open with its usual smooth, automated motion. Chabashira Sae, their homeroom teacher, sauntered into the room, her entrance instantly silencing the excited chatter. Her usual air of nonchalance was firmly in place, but Ayanokoji, with his keen observational skills, detected a subtle quirk to her lips, a fleeting expression that might have been interpreted as amusement.

'Amusement? At our expense, probably,' Ayanokoji thought, his gaze fixed on Chabashira. He doubted it was genuine warmth, more likely a sardonic enjoyment of their naive hopes.

Before Chabashira could even reach the teacher's podium, the pent-up questions erupted from the class. Ike, unable to contain himself any longer, practically yelled, "Chabashira-sensei! When are we getting the points for the midterms?" His voice was thick with impatience and expectation.

Yamauchi chimed in immediately, echoing Ike's eagerness, "Yeah, come on, sensei! We passed, didn't we? Are we getting the points today?" His eyes gleamed with undisguised avarice, already picturing the private points translating into tangible goods.

Chabashira allowed a small, predatory smile to slowly spread across her lips. She seemed to relish the anticipation, drawing out the moment for dramatic effect. She let the flurry of questions wash over her, savouring their eagerness before finally raising a hand, a gesture that effectively silenced the room in an instant.

"Patience, Class D," she drawled, her voice dripping with mock sympathy and a hint of something sharper beneath the surface. "Always so… enthusiastic. Now, onto the matter of class points." She paused again, letting the silence build, then with a flourish, she activated the projector, displaying the point totals onto the large screen at the front of the classroom.

A collective gasp rippled through the class as the numbers for the other classes flashed onto the screen in quick succession. Class A, Class B, Class C – all displayed significantly higher point gains compared to the previous month. Some classes had even increased their points by nearly a hundred, a truly impressive feat in this cutthroat environment. Ayanokoji observed the numbers with detached interest, acknowledging the evident progress of the other classes. 'Impressive,' he conceded internally, recognizing the effort and strategy that must have gone into such gains.

Then, finally, came Class D's score. A tense silence gripped the room, all previous excitement momentarily forgotten, replaced by a collective held breath. The number materialized on the screen: 87 points.

A wave of mixed reactions swept through the class. Eighty-seven points. It wasn't a paltry sum, especially considering Class D's consistently abysmal performance in the past. Hirata Yousuke, ever the optimist, let out a relieved sigh, a visible weight lifting from his shoulders. Even Horikita, though her expression remained largely unchanged, seemed to relax a fraction, a subtle easing of the almost perpetual tension she carried.

"See, not so bad, right?" Yamaguchi whispered to Ike, nudging his friend with his elbow. Ike, however, was still staring at the screen with a deep furrow in his brow, his initial excitement completely evaporated.

"Yeah, but… where are our individual points?" he grumbled, his voice now laced with disappointment. "The whole reason we studied for those stupid midterms was the promise of points, remember? That's what Chabashira-sensei said, right? Pass the exams, get individual points!"

A flicker of a smile, this time undeniably predatory, played on Chabashira's lips. "Ah, about that, Class D," she began, her voice suddenly adopting an ominous tone, the playful amusement vanishing completely. "There seems to be a slight… delay with the first-year points this month. The school is currently… deliberating." She paused, drawing out the word 'deliberating' with a deliberate emphasis, her eyes scanning the room, taking in the students' growing unease. "You'll just have to wait until a decision is made."

'Deliberating?' Ayanokoji frowned internally, a rare expression of confusion creasing his usually smooth forehead. 'What the heck does that even mean?' This wasn't part of the established system. Passing the midterms was explicitly stated as a guaranteed way to earn individual points. This unexpected deviation from the norm sent a ripple of unease through the classroom, a sense that something was amiss.

Horikita, ever pragmatic and direct, was the first to voice the collective concern that was now palpable in the room. "And how long will we have to wait, Chabashira-sensei?" she asked, her voice sharp and devoid of any pretense of politeness.

Chabashira simply shrugged, feigning an air of helpless indifference. "Who knows?" she drawled, her tone dismissive. "The school works in mysterious ways. But rest assured," she added, a hint of sarcasm lacing her words, "the school has your best interests at heart. Now, enough with these trivial matters. Class is in session."

With that abrupt dismissal, she launched directly into the day's lesson, completely ignoring the palpable anxiety and unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air. Her casual dismissal of their concerns, especially the promised individual points, cast a dark shadow over the earlier excitement.

Earning 87 class points was undeniably a feat for Class D, a significant improvement and a testament to their collective, albeit begrudging, effort during the midterms. But without the promised individual rewards, the victory felt strangely hollow, a bitter taste of disappointment lingering beneath the surface of their initial relief.

The sharp clang of the lunch bell shattered the tense atmosphere of the classroom, a welcome sound after a particularly dry and unsettling morning lecture. The room erupted in a sudden cacophony of noise as students surged towards the exits, the collective tension momentarily released in a flurry of chatter and shuffling feet as everyone made a beeline for the cafeteria. Ayanokoji, however, remained resolutely glued to his seat, the sudden silence around him as deafening as the receding noise of the departing crowd.

He watched as the classroom emptied, his gaze impassive, his thoughts drifting. Lunch in the bustling cafeteria held little appeal. The noise, the crowds, the forced social interactions – none of it particularly enticing. Solitude, in its quiet simplicity, was often preferable.

"Another solo lunch, Ayanokouji-kun?" Horikita's voice cut through the quiet, breaking his train of thought. Her tone was laced with a hint of something he couldn't quite decipher – amusement? Pity? It was always difficult to gauge Horikita's true emotions.

Ayanokoji shrugged, not bothering to meet her gaze. He continued to look out the window, his expression unchanging. "It wouldn't be the first, would it?" he replied, his voice flat, devoid of inflection.

Truth be told, the consistent lack of a regular lunch companion was starting to grate on him, though he would never admit it aloud. Sure, he genuinely enjoyed his solitude, valued the peace and quiet it afforded. But he also recognized, on a purely pragmatic level, that there was a certain… efficiency to be gained from casual lunchtime conversations. Information could be gleaned, strategies discussed, potential alliances subtly formed – all over a shared plate of questionable cafeteria food. Social interactions, even casual ones, were a valuable tool, a source of data in this complex and competitive environment.

Horikita scoffed, a short, dismissive sound. "Well, don't blame anyone but yourself then," she stated bluntly, her words lacking any attempt at tact. "Frankly, your social skills are about as appealing as week-old cafeteria food."

Ouch. Ayanokoji registered the harshness of her comment, but didn't react outwardly. 'Harsh, but probably true,' he conceded internally, a flicker of self-awareness surfacing beneath his usual detachment. He wasn't exactly known for his charm or his social graces. Then again, neither was Horikita. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. Here she was, criticizing his social ineptitude while simultaneously existing in the same friendless boat. 'Pot calling the kettle black,' he mused silently.

As he was silently contemplating the irony of their shared social isolation, a sudden splash of pink and sunshine materialized in the doorway, disrupting the quiet contemplation.

"Hey there, Ayanokouji-kun!" chirped Kushida, her voice bright and cheerful, her smile as radiant and seemingly genuine as ever. "All alone again? Mind if I join you?"

Ayanokoji's head snapped up, his gaze shifting from the window to Kushida, surprise warring with a flicker of… curiosity? Kushida, the class's social butterfly, actively seeking out his company for lunch? 'Interesting,' he thought, his mind immediately analyzing the possible motives behind this unexpected overture. 'What is she planning?'

Even knowing Kushida was now, in a sense, his tool, this invitation felt unexpected, almost out of character for her usual carefully curated interactions. It made him wonder what subtle manipulations or information gathering she might be attempting, even in this seemingly casual setting.

His surprise must have been evident on his face, betraying his usual impassivity for a fleeting moment, because Kushida tilted her head in mock confusion, her smile widening slightly. "Is that a no?" she asked playfully, her tone light and teasing. "Come on, don't be a stranger! We're classmates, aren't we?"

Before Ayanokoji could formulate a verbal response, a mischievous glint sparked in her bright eyes, adding another layer of complexity to her seemingly innocent invitation. "Unless, of course," she continued, leaning in slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "you have a secret lunch date already?" She batted her eyelashes playfully, her performance bordering on theatrical.

Internally, Ayanokoji rolled his eyes, though his external expression remained neutral. Kushida's theatrics could sometimes be a bit… much. But despite the over-the-top performance, her offer was undeniably a welcome distraction from the unsettling news about the delayed points and his own introspective musings about his solitary lunches. Besides, he reasoned pragmatically, who knew what kind of interesting intel, what valuable insights into the class dynamics, he might glean from a seemingly casual lunch with the ever-popular Kushida? Even if she was now his tool, she remained a valuable asset, a source of information and influence within the class.

"No secret dates, Kushida-san," Ayanokoji replied, his tone carefully neutral, giving nothing away. "Please, join me." He kept his answer concise, avoiding any unnecessary elaboration or emotional inflection.

Kushida beamed, her smile radiating pure, unadulterated… something. Maybe genuine friendliness, maybe something more calculated, more manipulative. It was always difficult to discern Kushida's true intentions behind her carefully crafted persona. But one thing was certain – lunch, which had previously promised to be another solitary affair, had just become significantly more interesting.

And just like that, his solitary lunch plans were effectively thwarted, in what he had to admit, was the best possible way, at least from an information-gathering perspective. As he gathered his few belongings, preparing to accompany Kushida to the cafeteria, he couldn't help but notice Horikita's piercing gaze following them as they moved towards the door. She didn't say anything, her face remaining an impassive mask, but a subtle flicker of something – curiosity? annoyance? – crossed her features before she abruptly turned and walked away in the opposite direction, heading towards the library, likely seeking her preferred solitude amongst books.

The final school bell blared, its loud, insistent ringing signaling the official end of another day in the perpetually chaotic environment of Class 1-D. As students surged towards the exits, eager to escape the confines of the classroom, a dark cloud of unease seemed to visibly settle over Sudou Ken. Chabashira, her usual smirk firmly etched on her face, stood by the classroom door, her gaze deliberately fixed on Sudou, singling him out from the departing throng.

"Sudou-kun," she drawled, her voice dripping with a false sweetness that did little to mask the underlying steel. "A word, please. In the staff room."

Sudou groaned audibly, his face contorting in a mixture of annoyance and apprehension. "Ugh, not now, Chabashira-sensei!" he protested, his voice laced with exasperation. "I gotta get to basketball practice! The team's waiting!"

Chabashira's smile faltered for a brief, almost imperceptible moment, the saccharine sweetness momentarily cracking to reveal the sharper, more demanding edge beneath. Then, just as quickly, the smile reappeared, sharper and more pointed this time, carrying an unmistakable threat. "Practice can wait, Sudou-kun," she stated firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "This matter is far more important. Disobey, and you'll face consequences you won't like."

The threat hung heavy in the air, unspoken but clearly understood by Sudou and everyone else in the vicinity. Sudou, his usual bravado momentarily deflated, his boisterous energy visibly diminished, slumped his broad shoulders in defeat. "Fine," he mumbled, his voice subdued, following Chabashira out of the classroom like a condemned man walking to his execution.

"Well, that doesn't bode well," Ayanokoji muttered, almost to himself, but loud enough for Horikita, who was still methodically gathering her things at her desk beside him, to hear.

"Indeed," she replied, her voice devoid of any discernible emotion, mirroring his own detached tone. "Though knowing Sudou," she added, a hint of dry sarcasm creeping into her voice, "he probably got himself into some kind of trouble again. It's practically his default state."

"Perhaps," Ayanokoji conceded, a thoughtful frown, barely perceptible, creasing his forehead. "But Chabashira's timing is… interesting. Right after the announcement of the delayed points…" He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Horikita's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharpening, focusing on Ayanokoji with an intensity that was almost unnerving. "You think they're connected?" she asked, her voice now laced with a hint of suspicion, mirroring his own burgeoning unease.

Ayanokoji simply shrugged, noncommittal. "It's a possibility," he stated, offering no further elaboration, preferring to keep his assessment tentative, his cards close to his chest.

Horikita snorted, a sound of cynical amusement. "That wouldn't surprise me in the slightest," she admitted, her voice laced with a weary acceptance of the school's often-questionable methods.

They fell into a comfortable silence, a familiar dynamic between them, as they exited the bustling school building, joining the throng of students heading towards the dorms. The late afternoon sun cast long, elongated shadows across the school grounds, and the air thrummed with the usual post-school bustle of students eager to unwind after a long day of classes.

"By the way," Ayanokoji said casually, breaking the silence as they walked, his tone conversational, almost offhand. "You should check the class group chat sometime."

Horikita immediately shot him a withering look, her eyebrows arching in disdain. "And why would I do that?" she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. "It's a cesspool of irrelevant chatter. Mostly inane gossip and pointless emojis."

"Perhaps," Ayanokoji conceded, acknowledging the validity of her assessment. "But there might be some… useful information buried amongst the noise. You never know what you might find if you sift through the rubbish."

She scoffed again, rolling her eyes this time, her skepticism unwavering. "Like what? Kushida's latest fashion tips? Or maybe Ike's brilliant insights into… well, anything?"

Ayanokoji rolled his own eyes, though internally, mirroring her outward gesture. "Maybe," he repeated, his tone deliberately ambiguous, "Maybe not. The point is, staying informed, even about seemingly trivial things, can sometimes be advantageous. It's about gathering data, understanding the flow of information, even the useless information."

Horikita remained pointedly unconvinced, her expression still conveying her deep skepticism towards the value of the class group chat. She clearly saw it as a waste of time, a distraction from more important pursuits. She didn't respond verbally, but her silence spoke volumes, conveying her dismissal of his suggestion.

As they neared the familiar sight of the dormitories, the setting sun casting long, dramatic shadows that stretched across the neatly manicured lawns, Ayanokoji cast a final, lingering glance back at the imposing school building. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange, pink, and deepening purple, a beautiful, almost serene backdrop to the undercurrent of unease and uncertainty that was beginning to permeate Class 1-D.