Rumors About Ichinose

February arrived, marking the end of the Mixed Training Camp and the students' return to the familiar routine of school life. A tense atmosphere settled over the student council room as Sakayanagi Arisu, Class A's unwavering leader, laid out her plan. Her target: Ichinose Honami, the embodiment of optimism and the class representative of Class B.

"I intend to target Ichinose," Sakayanagi declared, her voice devoid of emotion. "To exploit a vulnerability and break her completely."

Nagumo, usually a whirlwind of chaotic energy, leaned back in his chair, amusement flickering across his face. The lack of fear in Sakayanagi's eyes intrigued him. "A bold move," he acknowledged. "But tell me, what does Class A gain from Ichinose's downfall?"

"Directly?" Sakayanagi admitted. "Perhaps not much. But a weakened Ichinose weakens Class B as a whole. And a weakened Class B is less of a threat."

She didn't fear Nagumo, the current student council president, but acknowledged the potential inconvenience his authority posed. Interference on Ichinose's behalf was unwelcome.

Nagumo, a predator with a mischievous glint in his eyes, found amusement in her bravado. He relished the lack of fear directed at him.

In Sakayanagi's words, Nagumo saw an opportunity.

If Sakayanagi succeeded in breaking Ichinose, a vulnerable Ichinose presented a delicious prospect. He wouldn't deny an opening to exploit her emotional state, perhaps even gain her favor. Ichinose's beauty held a certain appeal, a potential plaything. Naturally, this wasn't a grand ambition, merely a passing fancy.

"Very well," Nagumo conceded, hiding his true motives behind a playful grin. "You won't face any resistance from the council. Consider it a free hand."

Sakayanagi saw no reason to doubt his sincerity. With a curt nod, she left the room, leaving Nagumo alone with his predatory plans.

~~

The whispers began subtly, like a seed taking root in the fertile soil of the student body. One morning, students found cryptic notes tucked into their mailboxes. These weren't love letters or birthday greetings, but accusations. The notes, crudely printed, mentioned a dark secret about Ichinose Honami, the popular leader of Class B. They spoke of a past shrouded in violence, of illicit transactions, and even drug use.

The accusations were vague, a deliberate tactic by Sakayanagi Arisu, the mastermind behind this smear campaign.

Uncertainty fueled the flames of suspicion. Ichinose urged her classmates to ignore them. "Let these rumors fizzle out," she advised, her voice tinged with a hint of forced cheer.

Horikita, observing this, couldn't help but admire Ichinose's resilience. To be targeted so blatantly and remain composed was no easy feat. She offered a curt nod of respect, a silent acknowledgment of Ichinose's strength.

Days crawled by. The initial shock subsided, and a wave of skepticism began to sweep through the school. Students started questioning the accusations – why Ichinose? With no concrete evidence, the rumors started to lose their potency. Some, emboldened, even voiced their support for Ichinose, the kind and diligent class representative.

Just when it seemed the storm was clearing, another ominous note materialized in the mailboxes. This time, the accusation was blunt and brutal: Ichinose Honami is a criminal. She is a lowly thief.

The effect was immediate. Shock and anger rippled through Class B. This wasn't a vague accusation anymore; it was a direct attack on their beloved leader's character. Fingers pointed towards Class A, with Sakayanagi, their scheming leader, the prime suspect.

Fury simmered in the eyes of B-class students. They demanded action, wanted to confront Class A head-on. But Ichinose, her normally vibrant face pale and drawn, stopped them. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Don't give them the satisfaction. Ignore it."

The words hung heavy in the air. Disappointment flickered across the students' faces. They yearned to defend their class rep, but they wouldn't disobey her direct order. A heavy silence descended upon the classroom, a stark contrast to the usual lively atmosphere.

The days blurred into a monotonous routine for Class B. The accusatory notes had vanished, but the shadow they cast lingered. Ichinose, their vibrant leader, remained confined to her dorm room, citing illness. While her classmates readily accepted this explanation, a gnawing unease settled over them.

Ayanokoji received the news with a poker face. He considered the rumors, dissecting them with a cold, analytical mind. Could there be a sliver of truth buried beneath the accusations? The mere possibility resonated with the despair he'd witnessed in Ichinose's eyes.

However, his primary concern wasn't Ichinose's well-being, nor the potential damage to Class B's reputation. A few lost class points were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He retreated to his dorm room, seeking solitude.

Once in his room, Ayanokoji watched with a detached curiosity as Kamuro launched into a rambling confession. She spoke of a past riddled with petty theft, even demonstrating her "skills" by swiping a can of forbidden alcohol from the vending machine downstairs. Ayanokoji listened impassively, his poker face betraying no emotion.

Alone in his room, Ayanokoji dissected the encounter. Kamuro's confession, her blatant disregard for the rules, felt staged. It was clear that Sakayanagi, the puppet master behind the rumor campaign, was pushing him to act.

Perhaps it was a dare, a test of his character before their inevitable clash. But without an explicit order, she wouldn't intervene if he chose to remain a bystander.

He was a pawn in her game, but one with the freedom to choose his own moves.

Intrigued, Ayanokoji decided to play along. Ichinose's despair was an unexpected variable, but not an unwelcome one. He needed to draw her out of her self-imposed isolation. With a glint in his emotionless eyes, he reached for his phone.

The message flickered on Kushida's screen, a stark command in the digital darkness. "Come to my room. Midnight."

Ayanokoji's name attached to it sent a shiver down her spine. Panic gnawed at her. What did he want? The time, so late, fueled her anxieties. Had he finally cracked, his usual stoicism giving way to some perverse impulse?

Images flashed through her mind – him demanding she strip, this time for him alone, no blackmail involved. Maybe he'd want her to go further, explore depravities she only dared dream of. But as his tool, as the girl reliant on him for a semblance of normalcy, she couldn't refuse. Steeling herself, she mentally prepared for the worst.

The clock ticked, each second an agonizing echo of her apprehension. Finally, midnight struck. With a deep breath, Kushida stood before Ayanokoji's door. Three hesitant knocks shattered the silence. The lock clicked open, and she slipped inside, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"Close the door," Ayanokoji instructed, his voice devoid of inflection. "And lock it."

Kushida complied, the click of the lock a finality that sent shivers down her spine. He turned, his gaze cold and emotionless. "Undress," he commanded.

Her eyes fluttered shut, a silent acceptance of whatever twisted desires he harbored. Slowly, self-consciously, she began to peel off her clothes, each garment a discarded layer of her apprehension.

He watched, impassive, as she stood before him, naked and vulnerable. Ayanokoji didn't reach for her, didn't let his gaze linger on her exposed flesh.

Instead, he cast a flat glance at the discarded clothes on the floor, then at her phone resting on the desk. "You've stopped the pathetic recording attempts, I see," he remarked, his tone devoid of praise or accusation.

Kushida blinked, surprised by the unexpected observation. Her voice, a mere whisper, confirmed it. "Y-yes."

"Good. Now," he continued, his voice returning to its usual monotone, "come closer."

She approached, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. He reached out, grasped her arms, and without a word, maneuvered her onto his lap.

The unexpected contact sent a jolt through her. Her breath hitched as she felt the hardness of him pressing against her. His hands, cold and detached, moved to her chest, fondling her massive soft globes.

A soft moan escaped her lips at the unexpected touch.

"I need you to do something," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear. "Spread rumors. About specific students, from various classes. You have the information, use it."

The carnal tension evaporated, replaced by a cold pragmatism. Relief washed over her – this wasn't another twisted test. This was a job, albeit a precarious one. "Who?" she breathed, the question hanging between them.

Ayanokoji leaned back, his face unreadable in the dim light.