The next day.
After a night of, ahem, very thorough "guidance," Kuroha felt not the slightest fatigue—if anything, he was refreshed.
The two "students" slept like babies; even the morning alarm nearly failed to wake them.
But horse-girl constitutions are a wonder.
Once the soreness faded from their legs, they went about the day like nothing had happened and joined morning training as usual.
On the track, sleek figures carved arcs through the cool air.
Beside the rail, it wasn't just Aoi Kiryuin—
Kuroha himself stood there with a stopwatch, expression focused, watching each of his girls' condition closely.
"Huff—hah—huff—hah—"
A set of strong, rapid footfalls swept up to him and slowed to a stop.
Inari One braced her hands on her knees, chest heaving.
Beads of sweat slid down her cheeks, yet her pale-green eyes shone with the thrill of higher and higher training numbers.
Kuroha glanced at the watch and smiled. "Looking sharp, Inari."
"But of course!"
Praise always added fuel to her fire.
She straightened, hands on hips, chest proud and powerful, laughing boldly:
"Inari-sama is invincible!"
Kuroha could only shake his head at that boundless energy, then outlined the cues for her next set.
During Inari's between-rep rest, Kuroha fetched a few bottles of water.
By the time he came back, the twin-tailed girl had settled against the white rail, lost in thought.
"What's up? Thinking about the Tenno Sho (Spring) at month's end?"
He passed her a bottle with a smile.
Inari drank a few gulps, then planted one hand on her hip, full of her usual swagger. "Hmph. It's just the Tenno Sho (Spring). No one can match me."
She paused, then added, almost under her breath:
"And besides… for this Tenno Sho (Spring), it just feels like… there aren't any interesting rivals…"
The tone lacked a bit of its usual bravado, with a faint tinge of melancholy.
Kuroha heard it clearly; the smile on his lips softened, tinged with understanding.
True enough.
The Tenno Sho (Spring) is a 3200m Long-distance Grade 1.
At that trip, the field really thins out.
If you had to name someone who could stand opposite Inari right now, it would only be Super Creek.
Unfortunately, the reigning long-distance empress was resting up with an injury.
After a moment's thought, Kuroha lifted a hand to muss that soft, fluffy hair.
"Don't overthink it," he said lightly. "Just keep sharpening yourself. There'll be plenty of challenges ahead."
The twin tails nudged into his warm palm out of habit. "...Got it. I'm going back to training."
He watched her go, ponytails bouncing.
Morning practice wrapped.
Once the girls headed to class, Kuroha—per routine—took a small vial of Fortifying Tonic from the locker and tossed it back.
A warm current spread through his limbs, topping up the last dregs spent the night before.
He changed into sportswear for a run around campus—warm up first, then a proper session in the gym.
The morning air was crisp. A few other students were out, scattered along the paths.
He rounded a bend and nearly ran into someone.
Nase Fumino—head down, wandering aimlessly.
On the away stands she could seem a touch haughty, but now her face held a worry that wouldn't lift. She didn't even notice Kuroha drawing alongside.
"Fumino-san, morning."
"Ah!"
Fumino jumped, then, seeing it was Kuroha, patted her chest and forced a smile. "Kuroha… good morning."
No honorific, huh…
Kuroha just slowed to match her pace.
They were both Central trainers; lately they'd had plenty of contact.
And Kuroha, being from the East, wasn't fussy about how people addressed him, so he let it pass.
"Where to? Just walking?"
"Huh? N-No… nothing really. I just sent Creek to class, so I came out to clear my head." Her answer drifted, distracted.
Kuroha caught the gloom and offered, "I'm headed to the gym. Wanna come?"
"The gym?"
Fumino blinked at his energetic look. Thinking of the knot in her chest, she nodded.
"Sure… I could use a little venting."
A short while later, in Tracen's gym—
Fumino stood slack-jawed, eyes locked on the squat rack.
Over there, Kuroha had a barbell across his shoulders—a load that would make most horse girls blanch—
and he knocked out crisp, balanced reps one after another.
Each "thunk" of the plates was heavy and rhythmic.
"Y-You… are you even human?"
When he racked the frankly terrifying weight without a flinch, she finally found her voice.
"Are you a horse girl in disguise? With power like that, you could place in a race right now…"
"What are you even saying…" Kuroha rolled his eyes and swiped sweat away with a towel.
Fumino could only shake her head and go wrestle a set that was already a bit much for her.
Time passed.
Kuroha finished a natural cooldown and walked over.
Fumino sat on a bench, panting, taking a long pull from her bottle. Sweat darkened her bangs, but that clouded look still hadn't left her face.
He didn't need to ask to know what weighed on her mind.
He took a seat beside her, hesitated a beat, then exhaled.
"...Fumino."
He'd been about to call her "Fumino-san," but thinking of how casually she'd addressed him earlier, he went with her name.
"You're still worried about Super Creek, aren't you?"
Her bottle paused mid-tilt. She lowered it.
"I might have a way."
Kuroha kept his voice calm and serious. "You know I'm the trainer for McQueen and Ardan."
"I can call in a favor and have the Mejiro family's top-tier medical team give Creek a full evaluation and regimen."
"If she came under my umbrella, we could set up her rehab under the most professional care and…"
Having weighed it through—plus remembering what Inari said that morning—
Kuroha had decided to help Super Creek recover.
Unlike Oguri Cap, Creek's injury was an accident.
Chances were she could bounce back faster.
Of course, this couldn't be a repeat of Ardan's case—no waving around the Panacea.
Better to dilute the effect, nudge things along.
No instant miracle—no questions asked.
Hearing this, light sparked in Fumino's eyes—
but she reined herself in quickly, asking carefully, "Is that… really possible? I did ask Ardan once before, and she didn't seem…"
"I'll handle Ardan. But—there's no free lunch."
Kuroha's tone didn't change. "Mejiro's medical resources aren't a charity."
"If Creek really comes over, there'll be a price to pay."
"...Funds," he added softly.
"No problem!"
Her answer snapped out without a second thought.
"No matter how much—just say it!"
Watching the way excitement relit her silver gaze, Kuroha's expression didn't shift; he simply nodded.
"Good."
"I'll have Mejiro's staff reach out to you."
They hashed out the rough plan, and only then did Fumino's shoulders finally drop. The old poise slid back into place.
"Thanks, Kuroha-kun," she said, voice soft.
Kuroha: "…"
When she's in a mood dip, does her EQ and IQ both take a hit?
He took a sip of water, smiling at the corner of his mouth. "It's nothing. We're colleagues, right, Fumino?"
"No matter wh—… hmm?"
Fumino froze, then realized what had happened.
They'd just called each other by name.
"F-F-Fumino?!" she squeaked at herself more than him—
and any thin veneer of cool elegance evaporated.
"Is it worth that big a reaction?" Kuroha deadpanned. "Didn't you start it?"
Fumino harrumphed twice, forced herself upright, pink still clinging to her ears.
Traditional tsundere, noted, filed.
"Anyway—thank you," she said again, then added, a touch awkward, "I owe you."
"If you need help in the future, I'll be there!"
"Finances are separate, of course. Don't worry—I won't mix them up."
She paused, voice dropping. "Really… thanks this time."
"You're welcome," Kuroha said with a smile.
They chatted a little longer, then wrapped it up.
Watching Fumino practically jog away, Kuroha exhaled a quiet laugh.
"Did I just… find a rival for little Inari?"
A rival?
He pictured Inari's all-stats brushing 1200 at peak,
then compared it to what Body and Breath Perception had shown for Creek not long ago—
a bit over 900 across the board…
Right. Inari is in peak form; Creek's just entered her Senior year.
Kuroha's expression turned a touch wry.
"Er… let's hope she doesn't take too hard a blow."
(End of Chapter)
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