Futa Harem System: Infinite Money in Tokyo
Chapter 11: The Fourth Chair
On Monday morning, the schedule on the fridge had a new column.
Lena didn’t see it until later.
What she saw first, at six-fifteen, was Ayaka Mori sitting cross-legged on the bed beside her in nothing but Lena’s white shirt, unbuttoned, her black hair falling over one shoulder, holding a cup of coffee and watching the sunrise through the garden pines as if she’d never seen one before.
“Good morning,” Ayaka said, without turning.
“Your garden has a heron in it.”
“It comes for the koi.
We’re negotiating.”
Ayaka laughed and finally turned.
Her face, without makeup, was softer and younger, and there was a crease on her cheek from the pillow.
“I went downstairs to make coffee and found a laminated document on the refrigerator.
It says Monday is Rei’s.”
“It is.”
“Under it, someone has written, in very elegant handwriting: *Ceded to Ayaka Mori, once, as a welcome gift.
Do not get used to it.
— R.K.*” Ayaka set the cup down on the nightstand.
“Underneath that, someone else wrote a smiley face with a knife.”
“That’s Hina.”
“I guessed.” Ayaka shifted closer.
The shirt slid off her shoulder.
“So.
I have a gift, and I don’t know what the custom is.
Yuki explained some of it last night, very seriously, while drying dishes.
She said I have to ask.” Her eyes, dark and amused, dropped meaningfully.
“I’m asking.”
Lena reached up and pushed the shirt the rest of the way off her shoulder.
“Yes.”
Ayaka was the first of them who had done this before, and it showed.
Not in technique, exactly.
In patience.
In the way she wasn’t in a hurry to prove anything.
She knelt between Lena’s legs in the gold morning light, gathered her long hair over one shoulder, and simply looked for a moment, the way she looked at a dress on a hanger, with frank professional appreciation.
“You’re beautiful,” she said.
“All of you.
I want that on the record.”
“Noted.”
Ayaka smiled and bent her head.
She began with her hand, slow, firm, unhurried, while her mouth wandered: the inside of Lena’s thigh, her hip, the crease where leg met body, until Lena was arching into her palm and making small, impatient sounds.
Only then did Ayaka take her into her mouth, warm and wet and devastatingly slow, her red-painted lips stretched, her dark eyes lifting to watch Lena’s face.
She found every place that made Lena gasp, and she remembered each one, and returned to them in a different order every time so that Lena could never brace herself.
She used her tongue in long, flat strokes.
She hummed.
When Lena’s fingers tangled in her hair, Ayaka covered Lena’s hand with her own and pressed it there, gently, as if saying *you can hold on*.
“Ayaka,” Lena breathed.
“Ayaka, please.”
Ayaka let go long enough to smile, lips glistening.
“Please what?
Be specific.
I’m a professional.”
“Don’t stop.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Ayaka said, and took her deep.
Lena came with a long, helpless moan, her hand fisted in Ayaka’s hair, her heels digging into the mattress.
Ayaka stayed with her until the end, swallowing, her eyes half-closed, and then sat back on her heels and wiped the corner of her mouth with one elegant fingertip, just as Rei had once, and laughed softly when she noticed.
“Rei does that,” Lena said, dazed.
“I know.
I saw her do it at dinner with a napkin.
I’ve been practicing.” Ayaka lay down beside her, tucked herself against Lena’s side, and sighed.
“Where do I go?
Yuki has the left.
Hina has the right.
Rei has your hip.”
“Where do you want to go?”
Ayaka thought about it.
Then she slid lower and rested her head on Lena’s stomach, just below her breasts, her hair spilling across Lena’s skin like a dark silk scarf.
“Is here free?”
“Here is yours.”
*Ding.*
[Ayaka Mori | Love: 100% — LOCKED]
[Achievement unlocked: “Welcome Gift” — A rival ceded her morning to a newcomer.]
[System Note: Rei Kurosawa will mention this for approximately six months.]
Rei mentioned it at breakfast.
“I hope it was satisfactory,” she said, buttering toast with surgical precision.
“Because I am never doing that again.”
“It was very satisfactory,” Ayaka said, and Rei went faintly pink and buttered the toast a second time.
Yuki had added a fifth column to the schedule.
At the top, in careful kanji, it read AYAKA.
Under it, Yuki had written nothing yet, only a small question mark in pencil.
“We have to negotiate,” Yuki said.
“There are only seven days.
There are four of you.
It’s mathematics.”
“Five of us,” Hina said, mouth full.
“You forgot yourself.”
“I’m the committee.
The committee doesn’t count.” Yuki pushed her glasses up.
“I’m proposing Saturdays become rock-paper-scissors for five players.”
“That’s not even possible,” said Rei.
“Everything is possible,” said Yuki, “in literature.”
Microeconomics was at nine.
Lena rode in with Yuki behind her on the Ninja and Rei in the back of a taxi, reading a law journal, because there was only room for one passenger and Rei had lost the coin toss.
“I’m buying a second motorcycle,” Lena announced in the parking lot, pulling off her helmet.
“I’ve decided.”
Yuki stared at her.
“We have a car service.
We have taxis.
You have infinite money.”
“That’s why I’m buying a second motorcycle.”
“That’s not a reason.
That’s a symptom.”
Lena patted the Ninja’s tank.
She loved it, every inch of it, the way it growled at red lights and leaned into curves like it was reading her mind.
But the garage at the villa had space for five vehicles, and there was one in it, and every morning when she went down for her helmet, the four empty spaces looked at her like empty chairs at a table.
“Something red,” she said dreamily.
“Italian.”
Yuki sighed the sigh of a nineteen-year-old who had just understood something important about the woman she loved.
Fujiwara lectured on consumer choice and indifference curves and called on Lena once, and Lena answered correctly, and Fujiwara said “Good” and moved on so quickly she nearly walked into the projector.
After class, in the doorway, she stopped Lena with two fingers on her sleeve.
“Tomorrow,” the professor said, low.
“Six o’clock.
My office.
Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late.”
“I know.” Fujiwara pushed her glasses up into her hair, and then pulled them back down, as if remembering she was supposed to be strict.
“I’m the one who’s worried about being late.
I’ve rearranged my office three times.”
She seemed to realize what she’d said.
She turned and walked away very fast.
[Sakura Fujiwara | Attraction: 94% → 95%]
The afternoon was Lena’s first-year seminar on Japanese economic history, twenty students around a table, and a lecturer with a bow tie who spent ninety minutes on the Meiji Restoration and the rise of the zaibatsu, the giant family conglomerates that had owned half of Japan.
At one point he put up a slide of their modern descendants.
Kurosawa Group was on it, third from the top.
Takamura Industries was two lines below.
Lena wrote both names in her notebook and drew a small, neat line between them.
Ayaka moved in that evening, and it took eleven people.
Not because she owned much.
She owned, it turned out, very little: a futon, a single bookshelf, a kettle, and two hundred and twelve garments, every one of them hung in a garment bag and labeled by color.
It took eleven people because Hina had hired a moving company and then, unable to sit still, had supervised them, and the moving company had sent eleven people to be safe after Hina’s phone call.
“What did you say to them?” Lena asked.
“Nothing,” said Hina.
“I just explained it was very important.”
Ayaka chose the room on the third floor that faced the garden, the one with the long wall that could hold a rack, and she stood in the middle of it while the eleven women from the moving company filed out, looking at the empty space as if it were a blank canvas. This chapter was copied from novelping . com without permission.
“I’ve never had a room with a window that faces something alive,” she said.
“My apartment faced the back of a pachinko parlor.”
Yuki appeared in the doorway holding a small velvet box with both hands, as solemnly as if it contained a crown.
Behind her, Hina and Rei crowded in.
“It’s my job,” Yuki explained.
“I’m the first.
I give the keys.”
She opened the box.
On the silver ring hung the house key and, beside it, a tiny silver ribbon tied in a bow, so finely made that the loops seemed to move.
“A bow,” Ayaka whispered.
“Lena chose it,” Yuki said.
“Because you tie everything together.
That’s what she said.
You make things look like gifts.”
Ayaka took the key.
Her fingers were steady, her face was not.
She looked at the four of them, Yuki in her apron, Hina with her hand on her stomach, Rei with her arms folded and her eyes suspiciously bright, Lena leaning in the doorframe, and then she did something none of them expected.
She sank to her knees on the bare floor of her new room and bowed until her forehead touched the boards.
“Thank you for having me,” she said, in the old formal way, the way a bride says it to a new family.
Hina was the first to crack.
She dropped to the floor and hugged her from behind, sobbing loudly and without shame.
“Stop it, stop it, I’m pregnant, I can’t take this!”
*Ding.*
[Ayaka Mori: Love 100% — lives in your home — shares your bed.]
[All conditions met!]
[Talent acquired: “Eye of the Stylist” — Flawless taste, the ability to read any body and any mood at a glance, and a saleswoman’s gift for persuasion.]
[Harem Members: 4/∞]
[Level 3 → Level 4.]
[Rewards: 1 Gacha Ticket (Total: 5) | Passive: “Endless Stamina” upgraded.]
The world changed color.
Not literally.
But suddenly Lena saw it.
Yuki’s sweater was a shade too cold for her skin; she needed cream, not grey.
Hina’s hoodie was hiding her shoulders, which were the most beautiful thing about her.
Rei was standing with her weight on her left leg because her new shoes pinched, and she would never say so.
And Ayaka, kneeling on the floor, was happier than she had been in eight years and terrified it would vanish, and needed someone to tell her, quietly, that it would not.
Lena knelt and said it in her ear.
Ayaka turned and held on to her.
That night, in the big bed, there were five of them, and it was a mess, and it was perfect.
Ayaka was too long for the space at Lena’s stomach and kept sliding down.
Rei complained that Ayaka’s hair was in her face.
Hina said Ayaka’s hair smelled like a hotel and she loved it.
Yuki, on the left, kissed Lena once, and then again, and then whispered “It’s Monday, it’s Rei’s night but she gave the morning away, so does she get the night back, or—” and Rei said “I am right here,” and Yuki said “I know, that’s why I’m whispering,” and Lena laughed so hard the bed shook.
It ended with Yuki on top of her, slow and shy and sweet, while Ayaka kissed Lena’s neck and Hina held Yuki’s hand.
It ended with Rei, afterward, very quietly, in the dark, her lips at Lena’s ear and her body moving against Lena’s with a fierce, private urgency, as if to say *I gave the morning away; I’m not giving away this.* It ended with Ayaka asleep on Lena’s stomach, after all, and Rei’s head on her hip, and all of them breathing together like one creature.
Lena was almost asleep when her phone lit up.
An email.
From the Faculty of Economics.
Sent at 23:04.
*”Lena.
Attached: the files for tomorrow.
340 pages.
Read what you can; I don’t expect all of it.*
*Also, something you should know.
This afternoon a man came to the department office and asked the secretary which research group you had joined.
He said he was from your scholarship foundation.
You do not have a scholarship foundation.
I checked.*
*I told the office to tell him nothing.*
*See you at six.
— S.
Fujiwara”*
Lena read it twice.
Then she opened the attachment, propped the phone on Ayaka’s shoulder, and began to read.
[End of Chapter 11]