Outside Takamine's bedroom door…
Several fluffy, soft horse tails were swishing back and forth—restless, just like their owners' nerves.
A cluster of elegant young ladies in different styles of nightgowns were crammed into the crack of the door, pressed up like a bunch of peeping perverts spying on someone's bath as they tried to sneak a look at Mejiro Takamine inside.
They were, of course, the rest of the Mejiro family's seven sisters.
Because there'd been a family dinner tonight, they hadn't stayed at the Tracen dorms—so they could all gather like this in the mansion.
"Um… Ardan-nee, what's going on with Takamine-nee?" Mejiro McQueen asked in a hushed voice.
McQueen's horse ears twitched as she glanced up at the… generous burden pressing down on the top of her head.
Compared to her own chest, McQueen couldn't help feeling a little tired.
We're all sisters, so why is it that everyone else's first measurement starts with an '8'… but mine is a '7'?
Mejiro Ardan touched her cheek, looking troubled. "I don't know either. I've never seen Takamine-nee this melancholy."
The others nodded quickly in agreement.
Normally, Takamine could be hard to approach when she got stubborn. But in their eyes, she was always the same: eternally elegant, eternally noble, eternally gorgeous, and confidently above it all.
And yet now?
Now she looked like a lovesick girl pining for someone she couldn't have.
Everyone collectively shuddered.
"Mm… could it have something to do with running?" someone suggested.
It was the only girl among them not wearing a nightgown—she was in a plain black sports bra instead.
Her hair was short and boyish, completely different from the others.
And her physique—oh yeah—built. Athletic.
It was Mejiro Ryan.
Once upon a time, overseas, there was a certain yakuza boss.
Hanayama Kaoru.
Born with monstrous strength and an absurd grip—he could crush coins barehanded, and his fingers could even "pluck" a chunk off a deck of cards.
As a natural-born powerhouse, he believed—
Since you're already blessed, don't be greedy.
Since you're born strong, you shouldn't keep chasing more.
Even without training, if you only talked raw power, some said he might've been Europe's strongest.
Some people even claimed he could go toe-to-toe with a horse girl.
However…
In a certain street fitness contest, he got treated like roadside trash and solo'd—by a casually participating Mejiro Ryan.
And as Hanayama Kaoru questioned his entire existence, Ryan told him:
"Training isn't only for getting stronger. The passion you feel when you sweat—that's part of what you gain, too."
With that sunny grin, Mejiro Ryan looked like some dashing hero straight out of a novel.
So Hanayama Kaoru made the story his organization's creed, passing it down generation after generation.
Historically known as—
"Chivalry's Way."
Ahem… anyway, that was a tangent.
In short, Ryan's guess immediately won unanimous agreement from the sisters.
"Ryan's got a point," Ardan murmured, resting a slender finger against her chin. "Takamine-nee has been researching new training methods lately… Two days ago I even saw her secretly watching recordings of overseas races."
"Huh? You think she hit a wall?" another sister—Mejiro Bright, wearing a lace nightgown—blinked and whispered. "I remember Takamine-nee saying she wanted to break her record…"
"But that still covers way too much…"
"Wait—look," said Mejiro Dober. "Takamine-nee's tablet… isn't that a chat window with someone?"
As a famous yuri-doujin mangaka—Dober-sensei—she was naturally sharp with electronics.
Several pairs of horse ears snapped up at once, all of them focusing on the tablet in Takamine's hands.
"Everyone! Look who Takamine-nee is chatting with!"
"Don't tell me it's a guy?"
"Ooh~ so even Takamine-nee's heart can bloom someday?"
After a brief burst of whispering chaos, Mejiro Zenshin patted her chest, cupped her hands into "binoculars," and finally managed to read the name of Takamine's chat partner.
"It looks like… Ra… dish… HUH—?!!"
Zenshin nearly yelped out loud like she'd uncovered a world-ending secret. If the other sisters hadn't immediately piled on and covered her mouth, the entire Mejiro estate's maids would've been alerted.
"Don't just scream like that!" Dober hissed, panicking.
"What is it? What's going on?" McQueen demanded in a whisper.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Zenshin looked miserable and patted the hands covering her mouth. Ryan hurriedly let go, apologizing awkwardly.
But Zenshin wasn't worried about that.
She had much more important news.
"I saw it! The person on her screen… it's Radish Teacher!"
Silence.
"HUH—?!!" x5.
At that point, the entire Mejiro family was effectively shaken awake—
Click.
The door behind them suddenly opened.
The sisters—caught in ridiculous poses, hands over each other's mouths—whirled around like startled little rabbits.
There, in the doorway, stood Mejiro Takamine.
She still wore that elegant silk robe, but her brows held the unmistakable authority of the eldest sister.
The sisters immediately withdrew their heads, sat properly on the floor in neat seiza, and waited for their sister's lecture.
Takamine's gaze swept across the tightly packed group. The corner of her mouth twitched.
"You… what are you doing?"
"We—we were… um…" Bright stammered, sweating at the temple.
"Night patrol!" Ryan suddenly puffed out her chest, solemn and righteous. "We heard there were mosquitoes in the hallway, so we came to check!"
The others: "..."
It's autumn right now, isn't it…?
Even Ryan realized how stupid that excuse sounded and lowered her head, falling silent.
Takamine paused, then let out a soft sigh.
"Come in."
She turned and walked back into the room, her voice carrying an unexpected trace of fatigue.
"Good timing… I have something I want to ask you all, too."
The sisters exchanged looks, then filed in.
…
The room was filled with a faint scent of aromatherapy. Training notes were spread out on the desk, along with several layout maps of overseas racecourses.
Everything confirmed Ryan's suspicion.
The sisters sat obediently on the sofa, and the maids—now disturbed—brought in freshly brewed black tea.
At a glance, the room was full of breathtaking beauty in every direction—different styles, different charms, all of them in sleepwear—altogether forming a rather dangerously enticing scene.
Anyone who didn't know better would think the Mejiro ladies were holding a pajama tea party.
Takamine didn't sit. She walked slowly to the window and stared out at the dry rock garden below, washed white by moonlight.
Steam curled from the teacups in the sisters' hands. No one spoke first. The only sound was the faint clink of porcelain.
But in truth, every single one of them was about to lose their mind from the tension of the silence.
They all wanted to ask the exact same question—
"Sister… so you watch Radish Teacher too?!"
....
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