"Trainer, when is my second race?"
On the second day of the New Year, before the holiday had even ended, Orfevre came to find Fujiwara Chiya.
"What did you wish for on New Year's?"
Instead of answering right away, Fujiwara Chiya started with idle chatter.
"What else? Naturally, to become the best in the world."
"Anything else?"
"My goal is first place. Everything else is irrelevant."
On the night after the Arima Kinen ended, right after everyone finished the celebration banquet, Orfevre had pulled Fujiwara Chiya aside alone.
"Train me."
No nonsense.
Straight to the point.
Fujiwara Chiya had not refused either. That very night, he accompanied Orfevre in training until the middle of the night.
Before leaving, Orfevre had quietly said, "Thank you."
When he went to Europe to race, Fujiwara Chiya came to understand something.
If you try to catch up by following the growth pace of an uma musume, your opponent will be stronger than you imagined.
Clearly, Orfevre did not yet understand that.
She was still judging Shirayuki based on the Arc.
But in reality, Shirayuki had already become stronger than she had been during the Arc.
That strength did not show directly in her body.
It was in her spirit. Her presence. Or perhaps, her state of mind.
Before every race, Shirayuki would spend a little time alone with Chiya in the competitors' waiting room. She would sit on Chiya's lap, breathe in his scent, taste him lightly, and use that to settle her own condition.
She liked biting Chiya's fingers and ears.
Those two places were the most sensitive, and the nicest to bite. Every time she finished, Shirayuki would feel almost lightheaded with satisfaction. Carrying that sensation onto the track, Shirayuki's performance would turn strangely, unbelievably good.
In the past, Chiya had even tried to keep Shirayuki away because of the whole scent issue, afraid she would become addicted to his smell.
Thinking about it now, he had been unbelievably stupid back then.
Such a perfect opportunity, and he had not treasured it.
After returning to Japan, he could only barely squeeze out a little time for it.
The topic had drifted.
In short, because Chiya had accepted her, Shirayuki's condition had skyrocketed. She often ran results that shocked even him.
And seeing Shirayuki become more powerful with each race, Orfevre inevitably felt discouraged.
No matter how proud she was, in the face of raw ability, even she had to lower her head.
But Orfevre would never willingly stay behind.
She wanted to surpass.
She wanted to surpass Trainer.
She wanted to surpass Shirayuki.
She wanted to overtake both of them.
For that purpose, Orfevre trained desperately. She had only debuted less than two months ago, yet her training volume had already increased by nearly a quarter.
Fujiwara Chiya was a little worried about whether Orfevre's body could last until the Arc.
She had better not train herself into scrap before the race even arrived.
"Your next race has already been decided. It's next week's GIII graded race, the Shinzan Kinen."
"Oh? A graded race. Not bad. Trainer understands that I have no need for those dull little races."
"True. With your ability, running lower-level races would be a waste."
"Heh."
Orfevre proudly lifted the corners of her mouth.
"But before the race, I need to confirm something. You're not forcing yourself, are you?"
"No. Why would I force myself?"
"After seeing Shirayuki grow stronger and stronger, your desire to surpass her has become more urgent. Because of that, you secretly increase your training volume every day… something like that is entirely possible."
"Guh…"
Orfevre turned her head away.
Bingo.
This girl was secretly training again!
She could not lie at all. Fujiwara Chiya saw through her at a glance.
So you're a grind monster too!
Fine, grind all you want, but don't grind yourself into pieces.
When Seiun Sky pushed herself, she would still slack off and rest. When Orfevre pushed herself, she simply pushed herself.
"I want to check something."
"Check what?"
"Your physical condition."
Yaeno Muteki had taught Fujiwara Chiya how to judge someone's physical condition through touch, including fatigue and injuries.
Because he frequently went to the dojo, Fujiwara Chiya had been injured quite a few times. Yaeno Muteki often treated both him and Shirayuki. Over time, she had also taught Chiya the method.
"How will you check?"
"Like a doctor. I'll examine you by touch."
"Touch… Are you saying you want to touch my feet?!"
"If I want to confirm properly, yes."
"Trainer, you…!"
Orfevre's face instantly turned red.
An uma musume's feet were the most sensitive and most important part of her entire body.
Only the people they trusted most were allowed to touch them.
You are merely a trainer!
How dare you be so bold!
"Don't twist it in that direction. I'm being professional. I'm not trying to take advantage of you. If you don't want to, I won't force you."
Orfevre hesitated.
On the track, she was arrogant enough to kick the sky itself.
But when it came to close physical contact, Orfevre was shockingly pure.
If I don't let Trainer check, he probably won't increase my training intensity in the future.
My body can handle it perfectly.
In that case…
"I permit it."
"What?"
"I permit you to touch me. Be grateful for my generosity. However, before that, wait here for a while."
After saying that, Orfevre left the room.
Fujiwara Chiya sat in the office, utterly confused.
Half an hour later, Orfevre returned.
Steam rose faintly from her body. Her hair was damp, and she looked as if she had just taken a bath.
"All right. Begin."
Orfevre sat down on the sofa.
"…"
Fujiwara Chiya came over and helped her take off her shoes.
From her freshly changed white cotton socks came a faint, sweet scent of soap.
He removed the socks, then gently pressed her fair, rounded foot. The soft flesh shifted beneath his fingers.
Orfevre's face flushed. Without making it obvious, she covered her mouth and turned her gaze toward the window.
"Does it hurt here?"
"No."
"What does it feel like when I press?"
"A little ticklish."
"And here…"
Having such a sensitive part of her body examined by someone else made Orfevre's heart pound hard against her ribs.
She glanced down at the man kneeling before her, his expression completely serious, and could not help speaking.
"Seeing my noble ankle, does Trainer truly feel nothing special?"
"Feel? What kind of feeling?"
"Hmph. Playing dumb, are you?"
"Well… if you mean whether it's pretty, then yes, it's quite pretty."
Fujiwara Chiya answered honestly.
For some reason, no matter which uma musume it was, their feet all seemed to have perfect golden proportions. The ideal size to fit in one hand, and a softness far beyond humans.
Touching them made it hard to stop.
But out of everyone, Fujiwara Chiya still liked Shirayuki's feet the most.
Small. Soft. Delicate.
And when he touched them, there was also the sensation of being touched in return.
In the past, Shirayuki's only weakness was that after running, the scent of sweat could be a little strong. But now that Chiya had become an uma musume, that scent had turned sweet instead. In a way, it had become one of Shirayuki's charms.
Now, whenever Fujiwara Chiya saw Shirayuki's little feet shifting inside cotton socks, certain thoughts would occasionally pop into his head.
"Are you still pretending to be a gentleman, Trainer? Before my charm, you may reveal your desires. That is a privilege I grant to you as my trainer."
"What do you take me for? I'm not that starved."
"Oh? Does that mean someone helps Trainer deal with his hunger? Who is it? Don't tell me it's the Empress?"
As always, Orfevre seized every chance she got to take a jab at Shirayuki.
But the instant she finished speaking, she felt Fujiwara Chiya's hand tremble twice.
Looking at Fujiwara Chiya's evasive eyes, Orfevre clicked her tongue.
How irritating.
Where, exactly, am I inferior to the Empress?