"Ugh… What are you doing here? Did you come to collect your 'due,' Takashi?"
Kei Kaurizawa stood frozen in the doorway, utterly speechless at the sight of me lounging comfortably on her sofa.
I was staring idly at the television, a half-empty bag of potato chips in my hand.
I didn't even bother to glance in her direction. "Remember your current position, Kei Kaurizawa. I don't need permission to be in my own girlfriend's room."
"That's a violation of boundaries, girlfriend or not," she shot back, her voice tight.
I didn't need to look at her to picture her current expression—that familiar mix of annoyance, embarrassment, and reluctant submission.
I'd already secured a key to her dormitory after we'd established our… arrangement.
It was part of the deal, even if things hadn't gone all the way in that empty warehouse.
"We've done far more than that, Kei Kaurizawa. Does it even matter if I'm 'intruding' or not at this point?" I said, rolling my eyes.
I still didn't turn to face her as she finally moved, sinking onto the sofa beside me with a huff.
"Your taste is terrible, Takashi. How can you even have an appetite eating chips while watching something this disturbing? Yick…"
She recoiled, looking like she might be sick, probably regretting not just slamming the TV off.
On screen, the protagonist was sobbing hysterically while methodically butchering and then consuming a corpse.
"And that's precisely why you were so weak. Why you groveled for your bullies. You can't even handle fiction," I snorted, my tone dripping with disdain as I watched her try to shield her eyes.
To drive the point home, I cranked the volume.
The grotesque, wet sounds of chewing and flesh being torn filled the room, echoing right into my girlfriend's ears.
She finally couldn't take it anymore.
With a sharp, frustrated motion, she snatched the remote control right out of my hand and turned off the program.
I let her have the small victory, leaning back into the cushions to watch her. Her chest was heaving, a flush of angry color on her neck. She'd shut down the problem, forcefully. It was a simple, violent solution.
"See?" I said, a faint, approving smirk on my lips. "It's not so hard, is it? Solving problems with a little force. You're learning, Kei-chan."
Kei stared blankly at the dark TV. "What is this even supposed to accomplish, Takashi? I don't see how any of this makes a difference. If your goal is to 'toughen me up,' it's pointless. I only dared to do that because you're… you. I know you won't actually hurt me or hit me over something this stupid."
"And that's where you're wrong, Kei-chan," I murmured, my voice dropping lower. "Everything significant starts from something small. Look at you now. You were assertive. You didn't stutter. You didn't look like you were just acting tough. It sounded natural. That's good. Very good."
I tossed the bag of chips onto the coffee table and reached for her.
My hand first stroked through her blonde hair in a gesture of praise, but it didn't stop there.
My touch trailed down, caressing the line of her back before settling possessively on her waist, pulling her closer until her body was leaning against mine.
Her breath hitched. A visible shudder ran through her. "H-hey, Takashi… Don't… We're in the living room…"
My hand remained on her waist, my thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles against the fabric.
I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her burning-hot ear.
I could smell her shampoo, her sweat, her fear.
"So?"
"That's… I mean, if you wanted to do this kind of thing… shouldn't we go on a date first?"
Her protest was feeble, barely a whisper, as she offered no real resistance.
She let my hands claim her form, allowing me to wreak havoc on her senses.
My palm found the swell of her breast, squeezing through the fabric of her uniform, and a helpless, shuddering moan escaped her lips.
My touch was restless, relentless—it wasn't just her breast.
My fingers traced the sensitive skin of her side, her stomach, before finding the hardened peak of her nipple, standing stiff and eager against the tight blue weave of her academy uniform, begging for more attention.
I stopped right at the moment the heat between us had grown thick, right when her breathing had hitched and her body had arched into my touch.
She shot me a look of pure, heated dissatisfaction, her breath coming in short, frustrated pants. "Why did you stop?"
I met her gaze with feigned innocence. "You asked me to stop. You said we should date first."
She bit her lower lip, the gesture full of resentment and thwarted desire. She bit her lower lip, a flush of embarrassment and arousal darkening her cheeks.
"You're such a bastard, Takashi."
I could see it clearly—the hunger in her eyes, the way her body still leaned slightly toward mine.
That restraint, that fragile self-control amidst the temptation, was good.
It showed there was still something to mold.
My smile was a slow, predatory curve. "Of course I'm a bastard. I'm the only bastard who can teach you how to become the bigger bad in this school. The baddest one of them all."
The words seemed to jolt her.
Kei put distance between us, scooting to the far end of the sofa and straightening her disheveled uniform and her posture.
Her expression hardening into something she hoped looked assertive and strong.
"So, what now, Takashi?" she asked, her voice taking on a forced, challenging edge. "What do you want from me? Should I get on my knees right here and suck your cock? Or should I bend over the armrest so you can satisfy your most primal conquest?"
Her tone was pure provocation, a dare laced with a bitterness she couldn't fully hide.
She stared me down, waiting to see how her newfound, shaky defiance would land.
"I'm disappointed, Kei Kaurizawa."
I turned my full gaze on her, letting my disapproval hang in the air like a physical weight.
She shrank back instantly, the color draining from her face.
Her entire facade of assertiveness—that fragile fortress she'd built—crumbled under the sheer pressure of my stare.
"What do you think you are?" I continued, my voice low and cutting. "A decorative vase? A sex doll? If that's really what you believe, then go ahead. Do me a favor. Get on your knees right now, become a good little cocksucker, and erase every last independent thought from your mind. Is that what you want?"
"But… I don't mean that, Takashi," she defended, her voice small and weak, like a balloon losing all its air.
She was completely lost, adrift in the sudden storm of my contempt.
"No. You don't understand anything at all, Kei Kaurizawa." I leaned back, my eyes never leaving hers. "You said the words yourself, didn't you? 'I will not harm you over something so stupid.' And yet, here you are. Terrified of me. A single word of disappointment from me, and you fold. You cave under the slightest pressure."
I picked up the remote and turned the television back on.
This time, I switched away from the grotesque cannibalism documentary to something softer, more mellow.
The shift in background noise was deliberate—a change in atmosphere, not a release of tension.
"Kei-chan."
"Y-yes, Takashi-kun?" she stammered, forcing herself to meet my eyes, bracing for another unpredictable shift in my mood.
I finally looked back at her, my tone hardening into something absolute. "You are my girlfriend. Start acting like one. This is the first and last time we have this conversation. I will not tolerate a situation where some random piece of trash on the street can threaten you, and by extension, threaten me, simply because you are too much of a coward to stand your ground."
I let that sink in before driving the point home.
"Remember our contract. I offered you the position of my girlfriend, and you accepted. You took on the role. That means something."
I paused, making sure she was tracking every word.
"When someone acts tough with you, you don't just see a threat. You analyze them. You find their weakness. You figure out why they're hostile and what they actually want from you. This isn't optional. It's survival."
I shifted forward slightly, my expression intent.
"Now. Let's begin with the root. Tell me everything. Why were you bullied in high school?"
And so, she began.
Haltingly at first, then in a nervous rush, she laid it out: how multiple boys in her class had liked her, how the attention had sparked jealousy among other girls—especially when their own boyfriends started looking Kei's way.
It started with three girls in her class.
Then it spread.
More and more joined in, a wave of whispers, stolen belongings, and cruel notes.
Even the boys and the teachers knew.
They saw it, heard it, and chose to look the other way, pretending everything was normal as class carried on, as if nothing was happening at all.
"So, what was your primal reaction to them?" I asked, cutting through her backstory midway. I needed the core of it, not just the events.
She answered with raw honesty, her voice hitching. "Fear… I was afraid of them, Takashi-kun…"
I reached out, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb, my touch surprisingly gentle as my tone softened. "And do you understand now why they bullied you?"
"Because I'm weak," Kei whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor, exposing her most vulnerable belief.
"Weak?" I countered, my voice firm. "Does someone weak deserve that much attention? No, Kei-chan. That's wrong. They bullied you because they felt inferior. Your very existence threatened them. When humans feel their territory—their status, their relationships—is being touched, they lash out. They sabotage. They smear. They try to feel powerful by making the person who threatens them feel small."
I cupped her chin, lifting her face to force her eyes to meet mine. "Now. Tell me again. Why were you bullied?"
Her breath hitched, but she held my gaze, the new understanding flickering behind her tears. "It's because they are ugly. It's because their useless boyfriends were just monkeys in heat. It's… it's because I'm beautiful."
A slow, approving grin spread across my face. "Now you're speaking my language, girlfriend."
"Yes. That's exactly right. When someone insults you, it means you've touched a sore spot. When someone criticizes you, it means they want something from you that they can't have. Every action has a motive. A selfish, ugly, human reason. Remember that."
I held her gaze, driving the lesson home. "Keep this mindset. Never look down on yourself and think you're weak. The opposite is true. You are strong, and you need to start acknowledging that strength. Don't remember your fear. Remember how those bullies felt so small inside that they had to tear you down. Pity them. Don't fear them."
I let the words sink in, painting a new reality for her. "If anyone ever digs up your past, you tell them proudly: you were bullied because you were beautiful, and the perpetrators were ugly and pathetic. You allowed it because you pitied them, not because you feared them. That is the truth you will own from now on."
"Pity them… Never fear them… Make them feel small…"
The words seemed to rewire something deep inside Kei.
Instead of being crushed by the weight of her past memories and perceived weakness, a new light ignited in her eyes.
The trembling uncertainty vanished, replaced by a resolute spark.
Her gaze when it met mine was no longer fearful, but filled with a fierce, grateful encouragement.
"Thank you, Takashi-kun… I understand now. I know what I need to do." Her voice was firm, solid.
Then, in a movement that was both brave and tender, she closed the distance between us.
Her face drew nearer, and she leaned in, her lips meeting mine in a soft, deliberate kiss.
She pulled back just enough to speak, her cheeks flushed a warm pink. "That… that's your reward from me, Takashi-kun. I hope you like it. And… thank you."
I caressed her cheek, my thumb stroking her skin.
A deep sense of satisfaction settled in my chest.
"Do you know why you feel strength in my words, Kei Kaurizawa?" I asked, a playful yet pointed edge to my tone. "Do you think if you went to a therapist, the effect would be the same?"
She hesitated, the memory clouding her expression. "I don't know, Takashi-kun… But I don't think they could have healed me. I went once—my mother made me. They told me the bullies might be hurting too. They encouraged me, saying I wasn't alone, that everyone was with me… I didn't feel empowered. I only felt their hypocrisy."
Bitterness seeped into her voice.
"Of course you did," I affirmed, nodding slowly. "That's the standard script. They tell you to 'respect your boundaries,' to 'assert yourself' against your bully, while also feeling 'empathy' for them. They tell you what to do, but never how to actually do it. They claim to be your friend, inserting themselves into that role, but you felt the hypocrisy because, despite their words, they never trusted you as a friend, Kei Kaurizawa."
I leaned in, making sure every syllable landed with its full, cold weight. "They never sided with you. They side with the rules, with their institution's liability, not with you as an individual. They don't see you as a friend; they see you as a potential threat—a liability. Why? Because they're afraid. Terrified that if they told you the true method, the real way to end it, they'd be sued, fired, and kicked out for releasing a lion into their carefully managed cage of cogs."
I let the analogy hang, watching her absorb the ugly truth. "That is the reality of our society. A lawyer, a government, even a therapist… they are never your friend. They only acknowledge you as one when you show your worth, your undeniable strength, and prove you can protect their interests. That's when they see you as an ally. Not before. Not through polite procedure."
My voice was utterly blunt, stripping away any comforting illusion. "And ironically, once you give them that peace of mind—that proof of your strength—you'll find they become very effective at their jobs."
I shifted gears, my gaze locking onto hers with predatory focus. "Now? Let's start with this school. Prove your worth, Kei Kaurizawa. Not to them. To yourself. Because only personal strength and your own demonstrable worth will never betray you. When you truly possess them, you'll find the world isn't the ugly place you thought… it becomes a very, very beautiful game."
A slow, conspiratorial grin spread across my face.
But before I could say more, she moved.
"Before that, Takashi-kun…" Her voice was firmer now, laced with a newfound resolve. "Let me show my appreciation. For showing me the way."
Then she kissed me.
This time, it was different.
No hesitation, no fragility.
It was intense, pressing, and charged with a raw, hungry intimacy that hadn't been there before. It was the kiss of someone who had just been handed a weapon and was eager to learn how to use it.
I pressed my body against hers, feeling her yield willingly under my touch.
We sank back onto the sofa, a tangle of limbs and shared breath.
Whether this would lead to a full-blown, consuming sex or a slower, half-baked exploration, only the passing moments would tell.
...
Note:
Yeah, the new season of COTE will be released soon enough, and I also want to create a new COTE fanfic.
I had the idea of adapting my premise '100 Waifus Really Love You' into '100 Tools Who Really Love You,' where the MC is Ayanokouji. It's a soulmate idea where 100 girls are obsessed with him.
However, I also have another premise where the MC is Shiina Hiyori's father, which would involve incest. That one would also be a harem...
I'm not sure yet which one I should write. I also want to write a Mobuseka fanfic in the future, especially since they released the anime this year.
So, feel free to give me your opinion on what you'd most like to see: the '100 Tools' idea or the one with the MC as Hiyori's father. To be frank, after the new season of COTE is released (or maybe a week before it), I will post one of these ideas—not both, since I don't have time to write two fics at once.
If you're enjoying this story, feel free to throw in all your power stones, rate it 5 stars, or add it to your library and collection. For every 250 power stones will unlock a bonus chapter.