COTE : Oh No, I've Become the Substitute

Emitting a low, droning hum, the fan blades swayed back and forth in rhythmic oscillation, each sweep stirring the stagnant, oppressive air within the room. The soft, cool breeze gently lifted the blue-green curtains by the balcony, then slowly let them fall once more...

Borrowing the sly, cunning moonlight slanting into the room, Fuyuji moved slowly and silently away from his bed. Standing barefoot beside it, his gaze fell tenderly upon the four girls in the room.

Morishita—most of her blanket had been rolled into a ball and clutched tightly in her arms, with only one corner draped over her stomach. Occasionally, in her dreams, she would unconsciously nuzzle against the bundle in her embrace, her entire body curled up like a little hamster.

Kamuro—several strands of hair clung to her slightly sweat-dampened neck, yet she hadn't even bothered with a blanket. She lay on her side, facing the wall, presenting him with a silhouette—sharply outlined by the moonlight—of her breathtakingly beautiful waist and hip curve.

Yamamura—lying quietly and peacefully on her mat, her blanket neatly and properly draped over her. Both hands rested subconsciously atop her lower abdomen, fingertips faintly curled. Her pale, unadorned little feet peeked out from beneath the blanket, glowing with a jade-like luster under the moonlight. So soft, so delicate.

And Shiraishi—her eyelids gently closed, her long, golden hair spread out like a blooming flower across the rattan mat. Even in sleep, a faint, almost imperceptible smile lingered at the corner of her lips—just like a sleeping beauty.

Four sleeping faces, each tracing a heart-soothing outline in the quiet of the night.

These girls—they had been by his side ever since the very beginning of his transmigration. They were the people in this world who knew him best. And so—he had no intention of giving up a single one of them!

Several months after transmigrating into this world, after several months of idly messing around at Advanced Nurturing High, Fuyuji had, at long last, firmly established his goal in the depths of his heart—like a war drum pounding with resolve.

He, Fuyuji Mikage—liked all four of them!

He, Fuyuji Mikage—wanted all of them!

He, Fuyuji Mikage—was going to build a harem!

Fuyuji clenched his fist with unwavering determination. A blazing fire ignited in his eyes. He puffed out his chest with open, forthright pride and frankly admitted the truth: he was a scumbag.

What a pity. The flames were soon swayed into unsteady flickers by the cool breeze of reality. For now, this goal could only remain in the realm of imagination...

Fuyuji released his fist and let out a helpless sigh.

Setting aside the obstruction of various external, objective factors—if they were face to face under normal circumstances, the moment the words left his mouth, these girls who harbored feelings for him would most likely kill him on the spot first. The kind where they'd hack him into eight pieces!

But now...

Fuyuji swiftly rallied his spirits. He drew a deep breath, rubbed his palms together, and let his gaze slowly drift and linger across the girls one by one.

At this very moment, the girls—still maintaining their respective sleeping postures—silently formed a question mark in unison within their hearts.

[What's this guy doing? Why is he just standing there without making a move?]

Unable to contain her curiosity, Morishita, still curled up in the darkness, quietly cracked open her eyelids just a sliver. The remaining girls also silently pricked up their ears, wanting to catch what would follow.

"You all..." Fuyuji's soft murmur suddenly rang out in the silent room.

Us?

"Are all my wings!" A voice, brimming with unashamed confidence, rang out—carrying more than a hint of the righteous self-assurance Morishita usually displayed. "I will take responsibility for every single one of you!"

"So before you hack me to death, I'm going to confess to you."

[...Haah?]

Crack! Kamuro, sleeping on the mat, ground her teeth and seized the hem of her pajamas, as if she wanted to strangle Fuyuji to death on the spot.

Yamamura's breathing suddenly deepened by several degrees. She subconsciously bit her lip. If... together... then what about herself and Morishita...

Shiraishi lay peacefully on her mat, a faint smile lingering at the corner of her lips. Fufu. So that was why her boy hadn't been the least bit proactive after getting up earlier. He had his own plan all along.

Morishita, curled up, lifted her eyelids just a sliver once more. She wanted to leap up immediately and kill him. No! She had to wait a little longer and see exactly what this pervert wanted to say to the great Morishita.

For a moment, a strange atmosphere spread across the room.

Kamuro, who had been sleeping by the wall, suddenly felt her body tense. Her toes abruptly curled. A faint breeze brushed past the nape of her neck, and a patch of fine goosebumps rose on the skin behind her. That bastard was behind her!

The very next moment, warm breath pressed against her taut spine.

"Bro... expecting you to be honest and say you like me—that's probably impossible, even in the next life." A voice—heavy with a touch of sorrow—sounded beside her ear. "At a time like this, sharing the same room... if you say you don't like me, that only proves we really are just pals." The voice grew even sadder. "I don't want that! Bro, you smell so good!"

Get lost! Get the hell away from me! Who likes you?! I-I only came here because you forced me with your orders!

Kamuro's eyelids pressed completely shut. The back of her neck burned a fiery red, the color spreading all the way to the rims of her ears. Yet her body, honest as ever, remained perfectly still.

"But it doesn't matter." Fuyuji's voice suddenly turned light and cheerful. "As long as I like you, that's enough."

Then, a hand gently came to rest on Kamuro's long, fair thigh, slowly stroking it.

You bastard!

A surge of fury mixed with exhilaration erupted from the depths of Kamuro's heart. The words were about to burst from her lips the very next second, but she forcibly pressed them back at the edge of her mouth.

"Thrilling, isn't it?" Fuyuji chuckled. "If Pal were awake, she might actually like this feeling, wouldn't she? Still, if I touched your leg like this normally, you'd probably kick me with that tsundere attitude of yours."

Who... likes it, you bastard... Hurry up... and let go...

"Honestly. Such a beautiful pair of legs. Why won't you wear stockings, even just once? They'd suit you so well. You could at least wear them for me. Even if not, you could at least wear skirts more often. Why do you always wear long pants?" Fuyuji continued his resentful muttering.

His fingers traced across her smooth skin, sending an indescribable, tingling numbness through her.

I like it this way, none of your business! What's wrong with dressing comfortably?!

"Still..."

Before Kamuro's body could even react, a moist, warm kiss—as light as a dragonfly skimming the water's surface—was gently imprinted on the back of her neck.

"Whatever you like is fine. You've always had a sharp tongue but a soft heart. You might seem like you don't care about anyone, but at critical moments, you always think of sacrificing yourself. That's exactly why I've never assigned you missions—I've kept you idle on purpose."

"If you get too bored, I just toss a couple of errands your way to kill time." Fuyuji smiled. "It'll probably be like this in the future too. If you have complaints, you can come find me. I'll find you something else to do. But the prerequisite is—not because you're seeking thrills, but because you like it or you want to do it."

A moment later, the gentle, stroking sensation on her leg disappeared. The stifling, oppressive air behind her began to flow once more. The person behind her had already left.

Kamuro, her nerves strung taut the entire time, took several long seconds before she slowly, ever so faintly, opened her eyes. She stared at the pitch-black wall before her, her shoulders gradually relaxing. In a voice so soft it was barely audible, she spoke.

"Baka..."

The fan in the center of the room hummed and whirred. The clock on the wall ticked and tocked. The chirping of crickets beyond the balcony continued to drift in.

The four girls still maintained the same serene, sleeping appearances they'd had from the very beginning, as if they had never been startled in the slightest by the sounds Fuyuji had made.

In truth, at this very moment, they also wanted to know what Fuyuji's confession to them would be. At the same time, they wanted to know what Fuyuji's confession to the other girls would be like. That was precisely why they continued to feign sleep without a single word, curious to see what other tricks this guy still had up his sleeve.

Shiraishi... was feigning sleep. She felt that Fuyuji probably knew she was feigning sleep as well. After all, she had already made plans with him for tonight. But she had temporarily abandoned that plan now, deliberately choosing not to wake up. Because if she woke up right now, the words she wanted to hear would most likely be glossed over by her little boy. So she closed her eyes and wore a faint smile, silently hinting to her little boy that he had better give her a proper confession this time.

All the previous times, she had been the one to take the initiative and confess. The fact that she had never heard Fuyuji's confession—this was something that had always weighed on her mind.

So... Fuyuji... you owe me compensation...

"Chu~" A pair of lips pressed directly against the beauty mark at the corner of her eye.

Then, a heavy breath brushed past Shiraishi's face, making her instantly aware that Fuyuji was probably just a few centimeters away.

"To be honest... I actually don't know how to confess to Shiraishi-san..." Fuyuji spoke with a touch of distress.

Hm? If you don't say it, I'm going to wake up right now, you know... And Shiraishi-san... Are you reminiscing about those days before I confessed?

Slender fingers gently reached out. After groping for a moment, her nails lightly scratched the back of Fuyuji's hand.

"After all, with Shiraishi-san's gentle personality..." The faint sound of nails scraping against skin rang out—probably Fuyuji scratching his head. "If I were to confess, Shiraishi-san would most likely just smile and say 'Alright~' and then it'd be over."

Fufu~ You really do understand me, Fuyuji...

In the process of continuously, proactively drawing closer to you, I had unknowingly fallen for you so hopelessly deep. Yet, afraid that you'd distance yourself from me once you learned my intentions in approaching you weren't entirely pure, I could only take it slowly, step by step. If you had confessed to me back then... I probably would have agreed the moment the first words left your mouth... Because I was afraid you'd run away...

"So, my confession to you only needs one sentence."

The moment the words fell, Shiraishi's left ear instantly felt a warm breath brush past it.

"I like you, Shiraishi Asuka. From today onward, stay by my side. You're only allowed to like me, and no one else. Do you hear me?"

In an instant, Shiraishi's small hand—the one gently stroking the back of Fuyuji's hand—interlocked its fingers tightly with his. The legs peeking out from beneath her white nightgown suddenly straightened and tensed, rubbing together subconsciously a few times.

"And one more thing..." Fuyuji's voice dropped even lower, so soft that only Shiraishi could hear. "Right now, switch to the gentle Shiraishi Mama form. That bad woman with the overwhelming attack power is not allowed to come out. Otherwise... house discipline."

Before Shiraishi could even figure out what "house discipline" meant, her violet eyes snapped wide open. A sound, beyond her control, was about to spill from her red lips—

The very next second, her lips were sealed.

Her own flushed cheeks reflected in Fuyuji's eyes, which were brimming with a smile.

[As I thought... you really were awake~]

[You scoundrel~]

A pink fist rose and lightly thumped against Fuyuji's chest.

[No making noise. Keep sleeping.]

[Alright~]

Shiraishi's brows and eyes curved like crescent moons. A wave of spring water rippled through those clear, limpid eyes. Her eyelids quietly closed, and she returned to her Sleeping Beauty form once more.

At the same time, the other three girls, who had been pricking up their ears, all froze in unison.

[That short?! Just two sentences?! As expected, the relationship between these two isn't as simple as it appears on the surface! Shiraishi Asuka, you... you snuck ahead, didn't you?!]

...

Compared to the others, Yamamura actually didn't feel much resistance toward Fuyuji's behavior. In fact, she was even a little happy.

After all, in her own eyes, she was just an ordinary girl—one with significant flaws, at that. She didn't have Kamuro's gallant spirit or her physical stamina. She wasn't as gentle as Shiraishi. Even the one thing she could somewhat hold her own in—academic ability—wasn't as outstanding as Shiraishi's. All her other abilities were far, far inferior.

And as for Morishita... even she herself felt that Morishita and Fuyuji were meant to be a pair. She was just an outsider who had unintentionally stumbled into the space between the two of them.

As for herself... if nothing unexpected happened, she would probably watch the two of them walk together. She would accompany them—or be accompanied by them—through graduation. Then she'd watch them get married and have children. The children would call her Auntie Yamamura. And when the children asked, "Why didn't you ever get married, Auntie?" she would smile and answer.

"Because no one wanted Auntie..."

Yamamura bit her lip and gently pressed it shut. Because... because... in this world, aside from her parents, the only ones who cared about her... were them.

But... the feelings in her heart simply couldn't be suppressed. And so, that confession letter had come to be. And in the end, he had still discovered it. Just how had he figured out that she liked him? She'd hidden it so well, hadn't she? Could it be—

"Miki!" A faint, tearful voice rang out. Her hand was gently grasped. "Without you, I'm going to die!"

No, you won't. Yamamura didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I can't cook..."

You can find someone else to do it.

"I can't take care of myself..."

Honestly. If you know you might get sick, can't you at least try to take fewer risks?

"I don't have any plans for myself. I don't know what I'm supposed to do tomorrow. I just drift along day by day..."

You can learn. I actually don't know how either. It's only because you and Morishita both live so carefree that I'm able to make arrangements.

"All of those things... someone else could probably do instead."

See...

"But..."

Yamamura felt her cheeks being cupped. Warmth—tinged with a faint trace of moisture—pressed against them.

"Without you here... I'd be lonely..."

"..."

Time seemed to freeze in that very moment. A strange, inexplicable feeling suddenly surged through her heart. In this instant, Yamamura could no longer find any excuse for why she wasn't important. She opened her mouth, only to discover that not a single sound could escape.

Fuyuji made no further noise. He simply maintained this posture in silence, letting the warmth of her cheeks transmit to him, letting her breath brush past his wrists, letting her feel this heavy yet incomparably gentle presence.

A long while passed. The palm withdrew, leaving behind Yamamura, her mind a complete, utter blank.

...

A faint series of footsteps rang out.

At last, only one remained among the four—Morishita, hugging her blanket, curled up into a tight little ball.

At this very moment, she was teetering right on the critical edge of leaping up and biting this guy to death.

You four-timing, unfaithful bastard! I was clearly first! The first to meet! The first to know each other's names! The first to do things together! The first to... So many, many firsts—all of them were spent with him...

"Hmph hmph." The triumphant tone Morishita usually used quietly sounded beside her ear, perfectly mimicked. "If the great Morishita were awake right now, she'd probably be dying to jump up and bite me to death, wouldn't she? Even though we were the first to meet... I still saved you for last."

You KNEW you were saving me for last, and you still did it! Morishita ground her teeth.

"Because I did it on purpose!" Fuyuji declared smugly.

Her small fists instantly clenched. Morishita drew a deep breath, her cheeks puffing up subconsciously. Hold it in, great Morishita. Hold it in. Wait until this bastard finishes his confession. Then leap up and bite him to death. Otherwise, you'll be the one taking the bigger loss.

"Actually... Hashimoto told me that rumors have already started spreading in class about the two of us being boyfriend and girlfriend."

Hm? So that's why you saved me for last? Because the outcome was already decided?

"Can't be helped." A rather helpless voice drifted over. Morishita could practically picture Fuyuji turning his head away and spreading his palms in resignation. "Who told the great Morishita to have so many flaws? Eccentric. Scatterbrained. Won't follow orders. Does whatever she wants. And even a bit chuuni and vain."

"..."

Fuyuji Mikage. You're finished. Not even Ultraman can save you now. Tonight, your death star shines bright.

In that moment, her fury could no longer be contained. Morishita's calves tensed. Her hands pressed against the floor, ready to launch—

"So that's why I saved you for last."

In the instant Morishita was about to spring up, Fuyuji wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Because... I wanted to keep you here. No matter what."

In that split second, Morishita stopped.

Fuyuji buried his face in her loose, cascading hair. Kneeling on the floor, he embraced her fiercely. His voice, his movements—even his body—trembled.

"Because I know... if I miss you, I'll never meet another girl like you again." His broad shoulders held her tightly in his embrace.

"In this world, there are girls more beautiful than you. Girls more outstanding than you. There might even be plenty of girls whose brains work in even stranger ways than yours." Fuyuji's pace of speech slowed.

"But... there will never be another girl who can, just like you, ride the bus together with me, race to school together with me, eat ramen together with me, spy on people together with me, pull all-nighters gaming together with me, scream on a deserted island together with me, explore a cruise ship together with me, walk through these fleeting years heartlessly and carefreely together with me—and grow up together with me."

"So... please stay. Will you?" That final, questioning line was as light as a sigh.

The hand that had tensed, coiled, and was just about to swing straight out—as if every last ounce of strength had been drained from it—slowly fell. At last, like a bird returning to its nest, it came to rest, wrapping around Fuyuji's slightly thin yet exceptionally warm back.

Moonlight streamed through the balcony and spilled into the room. Morishita lay frozen in Fuyuji's arms. A moment later, her already open eyes closed once more. Like a sleeping child, she nuzzled deeper into his embrace.

...

Who knew how much time had passed.

"Haah~"

At last, having completed all his objectives for the night, Fuyuji let out a long breath. He stretched his limbs and soundlessly made his way toward his own bed. A smile—the smile of a scheme successfully executed—quietly surfaced on his face.

Nonsense. Did he not know these girls were awake?

Never mind that he had his psychic perception active. Even without it—with the way these girls' faces were flushed red and their breathing had turned rapid—if he couldn't tell they were awake, what kind of harem protagonist would he even be?

Yet Fuyuji had still resolutely chosen to confess to all of them at the same time.

After all, since he had chosen this path, the girls were bound to find out sooner or later.

And in his long, extensive career as a transmigrator, he had learned one truth: the more a protagonist schemes and calculates, the more likely he is to trip over some unforeseen coincidence—and the ending is usually catastrophic. The kind where they take you on a boat trip.

Rather than live in constant fear and get passively sunk... it was better—right now, while the situation was still within his control—to detonate this bomb ahead of time, with his own hands, with one hundred percent sincerity and two hundred percent cunning!

Anyway, right now... you're all in a "sleeping" state. You can't open your eyes. You can't open your mouths. You can only listen passively. You can't immediately jump up and hack me into eight pieces.

Sigh~ Although I confessed, I didn't truly confess to you. You should still be in a state of not knowing. Therefore, tonight's confession is theoretically invalid. Once I've clearly ascertained your attitudes, I'll formally confess to you then.

Fuyuji, who had just lifted his bedsheet, suddenly paused. He turned his head.

"Oh, right. What I just said was only part of the confession. There's actually a huge chunk more in my heart. I was afraid that when the time comes for the formal confession, it wouldn't have the same flavor, so I saved a big portion of it. I'll tell you the rest during the formal confession."

[Now! Immediately! This instant! Say it right now, you scoundrel (bastard / Fuyuji)!]

"Good night~"

Pulling his small blanket over himself, Fuyuji peacefully closed his eyes. The very next second, the sound of deliberately crafted, perfectly mimicked breathing emerged from beneath the covers.

The clock on the wall once again ticked and tocked. The moonlight beyond the window gradually slanted westward, casting faint, dim streaks of light across the room's floor. The fan continued to spin tirelessly, its hum seeming to carry a trace of drowsy, hypnotic fatigue...

In the darkness, four girls opened their eyes one after another. With helplessness, or amusement, or anger, or tender indulgence, they gazed at the soundly sleeping Fuyuji on the bed.

[Honestly... just what kind of incredibly cunning boy have I fallen for?!]

Carrying a tangle of emotions—impossible to sort out, impossible to articulate—the four girls, after a long, wordless staring contest (though they couldn't see each other) and an intense psychological struggle, ultimately closed their eyes once more.

This night... was destined to be sleepless.

Only the moonlight flowed on in silence. Only the clock ticked and tocked away...

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