"I won!" the ash-gray girl ran up to everyone.
Even though she'd just shattered Sha Tin Racecourse's track record, there wasn't much fatigue on her face. Instead, that clear gaze of hers glittered with an unraised, eager light.
No matter when you met her, she always kept that pure-hearted sincerity.
When Oguri Cap appeared, Nase Fumino's slightly unfocused eyes finally snapped back into place.
"Yes, yes, you won, you won." She chuckled, then gently dabbed the sweat off Oguri Cap's cheek with a handkerchief. "Your trainer is really happy too."
"Trainer?"
Oguri Cap immediately leaned in, and her gray-white hair brushed Fumino's nose.
"…Are you a dog or something?" Fumino's nose tickled. Annoyed, she pushed that big head away, then cleared her throat and lowered her voice.
"Yeah. He just finished watching the races back home and called to ask how you did."
Oguri Cap's eyes instantly lit up. Her ears flicked—one forward, one back—and her long tail, which had been drooping, started swishing wildly.
"Then what did he say? Did he praise me?"
Seeing how expectant she was, Fumino remembered the man's voice from the call.
After a brief hesitation, she crossed her arms and imitated Kuroha's tone, speaking softly. "He said—tell Oguri, you did great."
"And…"
Fumino paused. Watching Oguri Cap's eyes shine even brighter, she smiled. "He finished up over there. He's flying over the day after tomorrow."
"Really?!" Oguri Cap clenched her fists, her mouth forming a perfect O. Her ash-gray ears went boing, boing. "That's awesome! I haven't seen Trainer in forever!"
Fumino smiled and nodded, about to say more—when she sensed something was off. Her brows drew together as her peripheral vision slid toward the competitors' tunnel, where more and more Hong Kong trainers and their Uma Musume were quietly gathering.
They were all teams from this qualifier—some of them even future opponents for the main race on December 16.
"Alright. We'll talk about celebrating after we get back," Fumino said, cutting the topic cleanly. She led the team away from the scene without hesitation.
Watching Oguri Cap's group leave, several trainers who stayed behind wore grim expressions, then turned to ask their own girls for details about the race.
…
The next morning.
Kuroha woke from sleep.
Beside him, Fujimasa March was still out cold, hugging his arm like it was a lifeline.
It seemed last night's "celebration" had been a little too exhausting. The newly crowned silver storm was sleeping incredibly soundly.
The blanket rose and fell with her long, steady breathing. Strands of silver hair lay scattered across the pillow, and she looked uncharacteristically lazy and soft—fragile in a way she almost never allowed anyone to see.
Kuroha didn't wake her. He got up gently, got dressed, washed up.
Then he stepped out of the room as quietly as possible and closed the door.
Downstairs in the kitchen, he moved with practiced ease. Before long, the scent of simple fried eggs, toasted bread, and hot milk filled the air.
After he finished breakfast and packed each Uma Musume's portion into the insulated box, Kuroha wiped his hands and was just about to head out.
"Aaahh…"
At that moment, a cute yawn drifted down from the upstairs landing.
Kuroha looked up.
A stunning figure with pale lavender hair falling to her waist was rubbing sleepy eyes, wearing a loose nightgown and slippers as she slowly made her way down the stairs.
She didn't seem fully awake yet—her steps wobbled slightly.
Even her purple horse ears drooped unevenly, one higher than the other. She looked dazed and unfocused, with none of her usual elegant young-lady authority.
It was Mejiro McQueen.
Ever since her win at the Japan Derby, she'd used "it'll make training guidance more convenient" as her excuse. While everyone else took her Emperor's Prize pre-race break in her "resting" gaze, she'd simply moved into the Chasing Light villa.
"Morning, McQueen," Kuroha said with a smile as he tied his shoelaces.
"Mm… g-good morning, Trainer…" Hearing the familiar voice, McQueen stopped instinctively and gave him a small, slightly airheaded wave. A misty sheen still lingered in her violet eyes.
Seeing how she clearly hadn't rebooted yet, Kuroha laughed quietly and reminded her, "Breakfast is in the kitchen. I kept your portion warm too—wash up first, then serve yourself. And drink more milk."
"And don't be late for morning training. The Kikuka Sho just ended, so these few days are for adjustment, but you can't slack off completely."
"Y-Yes… I understand…" McQueen nodded obediently.
"Alright. I'm heading out," Kuroha said. Shoes on, he opened the front door and stepped outside.
With a soft click, the door shut.
In the spacious living room, only McQueen remained—still standing by the stairs.
She stared blankly at her trainer's departing back, her hand frozen mid-wave for several seconds.
Then, as her brain finally finished booting up, her gaze slowly lifted—until it locked onto the tightly closed master bedroom door on the second floor.
She knew.
At this hour, March-senpai—still not awake—had to be in that room.
"…"
Silence spread through the air.
The next second—
"Ugh—!" It was like steam burst from the top of her head. McQueen's pale, delicate face flushed bright red in an instant, the color spreading all the way to her ears and neck.
Shame, envy, frustration… all of it twisted together until her whole body trembled.
"Idiot… idiot McQueen! I'm such an idiot!"
She covered her burning face, inwardly wailing in a miserable mess.
Trainer literally said it—if I took the undefeated Triple Crown, he'd grant any wish!
And I… I only asked for a date?!
Her memory snapped back to the days after the Kikuka Sho.
Right after she'd crossed the finish line—newly crowned as the undefeated Triple Crown Uma Musume—she'd ridden that momentum straight over to Kuroha.
According to the script she'd rehearsed in her head countless times…
She was supposed to do what March-senpai, Ardan-nee, and the other Chasing Light senpai had done—use the force of victory, gather her courage, and just go on the attack.
A confession, or something a little more daring…
She should've danced all night that very night!
The senpai danced. They danced every day. Why couldn't Mejiro McQueen dance too?!
And yet—
When she actually stood in front of Kuroha, looking at that warm smile of his—like he'd been wrapped in ten million layers of soft-focus glow…
Every bold line she'd prepared got stuck in her throat.
Her mind went blank.
In the end, under Kuroha's gaze, the newly crowned Triple Crown winner stammered for ages, cheeks burning, and squeezed out one utterly pathetic sentence:
"U-Um… if you have time, could you take me out alone for a day…?"
…
The humiliating memory ended.
"Ahhh!" Thinking back to that mortifying scene, McQueen crouched down in agony and buried her face in her arms.
So spineless!
That was the best chance!
And I just threw it away!
Only after a long while did she finally stand again.
She slapped her cheeks twice—hard—forcing herself to calm down and recover her usual elegant, composed young-lady posture.
"Don't rush, McQueen… calm down," she said, drawing in a deep breath as fighting spirit reignited in her pale lavender eyes.
"This year… there's still one more chance."
The Arima Kinen!
Even though Ardan-nee and March-senpai had already decided not to enter, it was still the year-end festival of the Glorious Series.
A battlefield where top-tier monsters—survivors from every era—gathered in one place.
Yaeno Muteki, Bamboo Memory… those elite Uma Musume who'd once stood alongside Chasing Light's senpai weren't to be underestimated.
If she could win that race with absolute dominance…
Then asking Trainer for what she really wanted wouldn't be too late.
"And…"
"Next year is Teio's Senior Year. At the very least, I'm going to be happier than Teio!"
...
With her resolve set, the purple-haired girl clenched her small fist and headed for the bathroom.
…
At the same time—Central Tracen Academy, Ritto dormitory area.
Inside one dorm room.
Tokai Teio, half-asleep and brushing her teeth, suddenly felt a strange prickling in the back of her head.
"Mm…?" She paused. The signature crescent-shaped white forelock on her head bobbed once, as if it were detecting danger.
The girl in the mirror blinked and looked around in confusion.
"Was that my imagination?"
Teio tilted her head. Not finding anything unusual, she tossed the feeling aside and went back to brushing happily.
…
Walking down the street, Kuroha didn't have anything urgent to handle today.
Yesterday, he'd already finished the association work, and the trip to Hong Kong was set for tomorrow.
The only reason he'd left so early was because March had just retired yesterday. He wanted to take advantage of her still sleeping and buy something tasty to bring back.
As for the wedding—Kuroha planned to set it in December.
That would be after McQueen's Arima Kinen, and it also lined up nicely right before the New Year holiday.
Everyone would be a little freer then, and he could use the long break to take March on a proper honeymoon.
As for that arrangement, the "orange second-in-command" had raised no objections whatsoever.
"Because February is my turn!" In his memory, Inari One sat cross-legged, grinning shamelessly.
"March is mine," came Obey Your Master's voice.
"I'm April," Ardan said with a gentle laugh, covering her mouth.
"May is me!" Sakura Chiyono O raised her hand.
"And then June goes to me." Maruzensky hooked an arm around Kuroha's neck from behind and even gave him a sly little eyebrow wiggle.
Six months. Six weddings. Six honeymoons.
And then, seamlessly, July's summer training camp.
No downtime. Impressive in its own way.
It was basically even arranged in the order they'd joined the team—reasonably, almost annoyingly so.
…
Thinking of it, Kuroha rubbed his forehead, a little troubled.
He was the trainer—the one who usually made plans for his Uma Musume.
And yet now, he was the one getting scheduled down to the minute by his own girls.
"…Whatever." Kuroha shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips.
This was just the kind of "happy trouble" he was meant to carry.
(End of Chapter)
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