"Why… won't you let me drink…" Fujiwara Chiya groaned, sprawled across the table like a man whose soul had already left his body.
"Students aren't allowed to drink," Nase Fumino said, biting lightly on the rim of her glass as she glanced at the man sitting beside her in a Tracen uma musume uniform.
"Even if we take ten thousand steps back, I'm still technically a graduate student. Grad students are allowed to drink, right?"
"The Director specifically told me to keep an eye on you. She said you'd use a race victory as an excuse to sneak off and get completely wasted."
"I wouldn't get wasted. I can hold my liquor."
"I almost believed you. Then I remembered I've had to carry you home before."
"Guh…"
Chiya stared at the orange juice beside him with all the enthusiasm of a condemned man accepting his final meal. He picked it up and took a few sad sips.
"That kid, Kitasan Black," Fumino said, crossing her legs as she watched the uma musume happily eating around them. Then she turned back to Chiya. "You taught her, didn't you? That running form."
"Yeah. I thought it suited her better… You're not mad I taught your student without asking, are you?"
"Hmph."
Fumino gave a very girlish little snort.
"Not bad. As expected of a senior trainer. One glance and you can tell what running style suits an uma musume. People like us don't have that kind of talent."
"Why do I feel like you're making fun of me?"
"Am I, Senior Trainer-sama?"
"Fine, fine. Next time I teach Kitasan anything, I'll let you know first."
"It's not just when you teach Kitasan something." Beneath the table, Fumino slipped out one foot and brushed it against Chiya's thigh. "You need to tell me whenever you do anything. Don't forget your current position. I'm your direct superior now. Whatever you want to do, you need my approval first."
"Yes, Lady Fumino. This humble servant has overstepped."
Fumino smiled and took another sip of alcohol.
"Honestly, I think this arrangement is kind of nice."
"What is?"
"At first, I used to imagine that one day, I'd get to train uma musume together with you. Not as rivals, but as partners. We'd raise one uma musume together, and when she became famous, the two of us would share that glory."
"That does sound pretty nice."
"Right?" Fumino's gaze softened. "Back then, I even thought I'd train you into becoming a high-level trainer, then apply to Central for a joint training arrangement. But then you skipped that entire step and became a senior trainer. Your growth speed was so ridiculous even I was shocked."
Fumino slipped off her shoe and kept brushing her toes against Chiya.
"You really are a heartless man, Chiya. You never wait for anyone."
"Why are you suddenly digging up old grudges? Are you drunk, Fumino?"
"I'm venting my dissatisfaction with you. Someone like you deserves to be taught a very thorough lesson."
Fumino hooked her toe under the edge of Chiya's sock, then rubbed her stockinged foot against his leg.
"I want to punish you, Chiya."
"Chiba!"
Kitasan Black's voice rang out from behind them.
She came bounding over with a glass of orange juice, threw her arms around Chiya's neck from behind, and beamed like the sun had personally blessed her.
"Did you see it? I finally took my first step! Now we're officially rivals, Chiba!"
"…Yeah. We are."
"Trainer Nase, I'll work even harder from now on! I'm going to become an amazing uma musume!"
"…"
"Trainer?"
"I'm going to train you very, very hard, Kitasan."
"Yeah!"
Completely missing the dark resentment hidden in Fumino's voice, Kitasan Black flashed a bright smile. She leaned against Chiya, squeezed onto the same seat as him, and happily drank her orange juice.
"Chiba, cheers!"
"Cheers."
"Hehe~"
That night, after Chiya sent the very drunk Fumino home, Kitasan Black stood outside the dormitory and waved at him.
"Chiba, we promised, okay? Once my debut race is over, we're going out to have fun. I'll come find you tomorrow!"
"Sure."
"Then see you tomorrow!"
The two of them waved goodbye.
"That little one did pretty well."
A proud, untamed voice drifted into Chiya's ears.
He turned around and saw a beautiful figure standing under the moonlight. Her golden hair fell gallantly down her back, and Orfevre wore the same arrogant grin as always.
"I almost want to race her myself."
"Good evening, Orfevre. You didn't go home?"
"I came to see where my husband had gone off to fool around when he still hadn't returned. I waited at the entrance the whole time."
"Didn't I tell you there was a victory party today and that I'd be back late?"
"I wanted to know which mattered more to you. A victory party, or your family."
"…Those two aren't even comparable!"
Orfevre's grin widened. She stepped up to Chiya, rose onto her tiptoes, and kissed him.
The two of them melted together in the quiet corner.
"Wearing women's clothes, secretly kissing your uma musume wife in some empty corner… You really are beyond saving."
Orfevre's face was flushed as she scolded him, but her mouth had always been like that. Even after living together for so long, she still refused to go easy on him.
The moment she finished speaking, she hugged Chiya around the waist and smacked his back with her tail.
"Don't make me worry like that again. Do you hear me?"
"Yes."
Chiya gently stroked her soft cheek.
Orfevre was as cute as ever.
Not that she would ever allow anyone to say that out loud.
Chiya still remembered the one time he had accidentally called her cute while they were in bed. She had gotten so furious that she spent the entire night "educating" him.
Honestly, the fact that he had survived until morning was a miracle.
The people who came into the room afterward had all looked genuinely stunned.
"Trainer, drink water! Hurry!"
They had sounded so worried.
Ever since then, Chiya had never dared to openly call Orfevre cute again.
"The Director said that after you win, everyone should go out together to celebrate," Orfevre said.
"Win? You mean my debut race?"
"Every race you win." Orfevre's lips curved upward. "Each victory is a piece of glory. I want Trainer to enjoy that glory too."
"That feels kind of embarrassing."
"What's there to be embarrassed about?"
"When I think about standing on the Winners' Stage, I want to crawl into a hole. Can I skip that part?"
"Absolutely not. The Winners' Stage is glory itself! Running from the Winners' Stage means running from glory!" Orfevre lifted her chin proudly. "I won't allow it. I want the whole world to see my husband shining at his brightest. You are my pride."
Chiya scratched his cheek.
"Well, if you put it like that, I guess I have no choice but to go up there. Though I wonder what all those fans who supported me will think when they find out the uma musume they like is actually a man. They'll probably regret everything."
"I don't believe that." Orfevre's voice was firm. "My husband is the finest person there is, whether as a trainer or as an uma musume."
"That's reassuring. But you all better not laugh when I get dressed up and go onstage looking all flashy. If you do, I'm never living at home again."
"Of course I won't… I'll try."
"Hey!"
Looking at her husband in a Tracen uma musume uniform, his face shy and awkward, Orfevre's arrogant expression slowly faded.
In its place came the soft, gentle smile of a wife.
She wrapped her arms around Chiya's waist, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him again.
And again.
And again.
"I want you again," Orfevre murmured.
"Let's go home."
"This time, I want to try that place."
"…Hm?"