A gray-white AE86 sat parked by the guardrail. Fujiwara, sporting a pair of fashionable shades, lounged in the driver's seat with his phone in hand, endlessly scrolling short videos.
[At three in the morning, an uncle taking a stroll through the park heard a man's screams coming from the bushes—again and again. Was it the distortion of human nature… or the collapse of morality?]
[Experts propose that, based on physiology and cultural tradition, Umamusume are better suited to be wives than human women. Human men are advised to actively respond to Umamusume confessions of love.]
[Breaking news: yesterday, police arrested a sexual assault offender. After her childhood friend rejected her confession, she flew into a rage and, in a fit of humiliation, mounted him for three days and three nights. The victim has since been rescued.]
[In response to the rising rate of forced Uma Pyoi, the government has amended relevant laws, officially declaring that as long as there is no pregnancy, it won't be treated as sexual assault. Forced Uma Pyoi incidents have since dropped significantly—cause for celebration.]
[Recently, the greatest mountain and longest river in the Umamusume world—"the Emperor," Symboli Rudolf—was asked by reporters whether she had a romantic partner. Her expression suddenly turned shy, suggesting she may already have a secret boyfriend.]
"Uh… that's Mizuno, isn't it…" Fujiwara tipped his chin at the screen, recalling the scene from a few days ago when he'd run into Mizuno and Symboli Rudolf. He knew instantly who the news was talking about.
"Wonder when the Emperor's gonna make her move," he muttered, intrigued.
When he'd first seen Mizuno in a wheelchair, he'd assumed Symboli Rudolf had already Uma Pyoi'd him, and that was why he couldn't stand.
Turns out Mizuno had done it to himself. Symboli Rudolf—an honest-to-god Emperor—hadn't mounted him, hadn't even kissed him. That genuinely surprised Fujiwara.
In decades of driving Tracen's buses and hauling all kinds of Trainers around, this was the first time he'd met one in a wheelchair who wasn't there because of Uma Pyoi. What an oddball.
Still, Fujiwara figured Mizuno's time was coming.
Based on the average "time-to-eat" at Tracen, most Umamusume could land a Trainer within half a year.
And Symboli Rudolf? Student Council President, power to burn, backed by the mighty Symboli family—her "time-to-eat" would only be shorter.
Fujiwara could tell at a glance: the Emperor hadn't moved yet because Mizuno's condition was poor, and pushing it now would just turn ugly. So she'd been holding back—for now.
But once Mizuno could stand again, once the fruit was ripe, the farmer who'd been drooling nearby would harvest it immediately.
The day the consort recovers… is the day the Emperor comes to collect.
"Ahh… that's the price of being a Trainer," Fujiwara sighed. Then he glanced at the time in the top right of his screen—Mizuno was already a few minutes past their meeting time.
"Well, that's new. Mizuno's actually late today…" Fujiwara leaned out the window. The clearing was still empty—just him.
Normally, Mizuno would arrive half an hour early. And every time Fujiwara- showed up, Mizuno would say, I just got here—didn't wait long, maxing out both manners and EQ.
But today… he was late.
"Don't tell me he's already been—" Fujiwara's eyes widened, an image flashing into his head: Mizuno pinned to a bed under Symboli Rudolf.
So he couldn't dodge it after all…
Just as Fujiwara- was offering a silent moment of mourning, a horn and an engine-like whine sounded in the distance.
He turned—and there was Mizuno, rocketing in on his street-racer wheelchair, leaning on the horn as he approached.
Look closer and you'd see it: there was a new "seat" behind the wheelchair now, currently occupied by a bulging backpack.
"Sorry, Fujiwara-san—kept you waiting." Mizuno drifted to a stop in front of him, genuinely apologetic.
He'd missed the time because he'd been busy modding the rear seat, making someone wait a few extra minutes. Not exactly a good look.
But instead of scolding him or showing any impatience, Fujiwara looked him over from head to toe with visible relief, then let out a breath like he'd been holding it forever.
"Whew. Thank God. You're still fine."
"Huh?" Mizuno blinked, completely thrown. "Still fine? Was I supposed to… not be?"
"Why're you late today?" Fujiwara asked, curious.
"Oh, that." Mizuno scratched his cheek, a little embarrassed. "I, uh… kind of adopted a little sister. I wanted to bring her today, so I built her a seat on the back. That ate up some time."
"A little sister?" Fujiwara arched a brow, eyeing him strangely.
Did he mean little sister in the normal sense?
Or was "little sister" just what kids called their girlfriend these days?
It wasn't that Fujiwara was being weird—given how abstract young people's slang had gotten, if a buddy suddenly told you he'd "adopted" a "little sister" or "big sister" or "mom," it was hard not to suspect they'd just found a partner.
"You said you're bringing her. Where is she, then?" Fujiwara asked.
Sure, the wheelchair had an extra seat now—but it held a backpack, not a "little sister."
"Right here." Mizuno shifted aside and pointed to the empty space beside him.
Fujiwara followed his finger—and realized that, at some point, a shipping box had appeared next to Mizuno.
"…?" Fujiwara looked from Mizuno to the box, his expression turning bizarre.
"Your little sister… is a cardboard box?"
Fujiwara liked to think he was pretty open-minded for an older guy. He could accept modern youths' various two-dimensional preferences.
Mecha? Normal. That was a man's romance.
Kemonomimi? Also normal. Who didn't like fluffy ears and a tail?
Even… a giant mushroom fetish—fine. Barely.
But he honestly hadn't expected someone to be into cardboard boxes.
For a second, Fujiwara genuinely wondered if Mizuno had smacked his head too many times practicing drifts. Otherwise, how could he possibly "adopt" an ordinary shipping box as his little sister?
Just as Fujiwara considered calling Mizuno's "family"—Symboli Rudolf—to haul him to a hospital for a check-up…
The "inanimate" box suddenly produced a soft, timid voice.
"Hi…"
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T/N: wow crazy how moving the goal post for what counts as forced uma pyoing shows lower numbers...