"Sakuraba Ryo. My reward."
Backstage at the Kentucky Derby winning concert, Sunday Silence looked at Sakuraba Ryo with glittering golden eyes.
"...My reward? What kind of reward do you want...?"
One hand pressed to his chest, Sakuraba Ryo asked the question with a constipated look on his face.
Why are you asking me for a reward now?
As far as Sakuraba Ryo was concerned, coming to watch this Kentucky Derby had been nothing short of a nightmare.
First, while watching the race, he had somehow gotten intercepted by Secretariat.
What kind of nonsense was that? He bought a ticket at random, and Secretariat had just magically materialized in the seat next to him?
Was that normal?
No matter how he thought about it, it was weird!
And if Secretariat merely showing up beside him had been the end of it, that would have been one thing, but this student council president had gone out of her way to make things difficult for him!
She made him massage her during the race, and if he did not use enough strength, she was dissatisfied. So naturally, Sakuraba Ryo gave it everything he had, just like she asked.
And in the end, while he had at least managed not to make any strange noises come out of Secretariat, she had probably still taken offense.
Sakuraba Ryo felt like he had suffered a total disaster for no reason.
Next time he saw Secretariat, he was absolutely going to walk the other way.
And on top of offending Secretariat, the even harder thing for Sakuraba Ryo to deal with was...
Damn it!
How had Sunday Silence won again?!
And this time it was the Kentucky Derby, the first crown of the Triple Crown!
Where was Easy Goer when he needed her? Help me out here!
How did you fold the second Sunday Silence started getting serious??
Was America's rising supernova really this lacking in presence?
I refuse to accept an ending like this!
Prize money! More prize money again!
This year's Kentucky Derby winner's purse was 600,000.
But that number was not in yen.
It was in dollars.
Converted into yen, that was close to a hundred million.
Ugh, this is only the beginning, so why are you already making this much money?!
Sunday Silence, I didn't invest in you so you could go out and win money!
He had imagined her getting sent flying by Easy Goer on the track, then him properly comforting her afterward, then taking her out to some high-end restaurant in America for a nice meal.
That was how this was supposed to go!
What exactly are you doing here?
Don't tell me you're really planning to take the Triple Crown?
You're going this hard?
And after winning, you're actually asking me for a reward?
Unbelievable!
You stab me in the back and still want a gift?
Dream on!
"...Go ahead, then. Tell me what you want."
Sakuraba Ryo lowered his head and asked in a sulky voice what the girl wanted.
There was no helping it.
The way Sunday Silence was looking at him with those shining eyes, he just could not bring himself to refuse.
Sigh.
He was too kind-hearted.
At his willingness to give her a reward, the corner of Sunday Silence's mouth curled upward.
"Mm..."
She looked him up and down, then blinked.
Those golden eyes traced a slow circle over his face before settling.
She raised a hand. But instead of pointing anywhere else, her slender fingertip lightly tapped her own cheek.
"Then..." The smile at her lips deepened, tinged with mischief, but there was also a matter-of-fact certainty to it that brooked no argument. "Give me a kiss."
Sakuraba Ryo blinked.
Then blinked again.
The look on his face went from weary resignation at having to deal with some troublesome request to a blank, dazed void, as though his brain's processor had just been handed an instruction it had absolutely no way to parse.
"...?"
A short, confused sound squeezed its way out of his throat.
What did that mean?
Did I hear that wrong?
A... a kiss?
Who?
Kiss who?
Kiss where?
Miss, something is seriously wrong with you!
He stared at Sunday Silence, trying to find even the tiniest trace of a joke on that beautiful face of hers, tinged with a little smugness.
But in those glittering golden eyes, there was nothing except bright, open expectation and the perfectly righteous conviction that you promised, so you had better deliver.
A reward?
This was the reward she wanted?
After winning the Kentucky Derby, after taking home that enormous prize, standing backstage at the winning concert, the reward she wanted from him... was a kiss?
Sakuraba Ryo felt all his inward screaming about prize money, betrayal, and ruined future plans get muted in an instant, replaced by a sharper, more dangerous kind of chaos.
Heat rushed uncontrollably to his face. He instinctively took half a step back and nearly tripped over something small on the floor of the lounge.
Holy crap!
You're actually after my body?!
"W-wait... hold on..."
He spoke in a flustered jumble, fingers twitching helplessly.
"This... what kind of reward even is that? No, that's not the point. The point is... th-this really isn't appropriate, is it? We... I mean..."
His eyes drifted toward the lounge door, left slightly ajar. Beyond it, he could still faintly hear the noise of the audience and staff outside.
Here?
Now?
Kiss... kiss Sunday Silence?
"Didn't you agree?"
Sunday Silence tilted her head slightly. There was a hint of dissatisfied impatience in her tone, but the crafty light in her eyes only burned brighter.
"Sakuraba Ryo, you should keep your word."
She even leaned closer, tilting her face up, her finger still pressed to that patch of pale cheek as though silently emphasizing the exact target.
Sakuraba Ryo froze where he stood, feeling like a robot that had suddenly blue-screened.
Refuse?
That would make him seem stingy, and besides, he really had agreed to give her a reward.
Agree?
...Just imagining the scene made his scalp tingle.
An investor getting mixed up with the Umamusume he had invested in.
What the hell was this?
Some kind of dark rule at Tracen Academy?
No, wait, that's not right.
Even if it was some kind of unspoken rule, shouldn't it be me exploiting the Umamusume?
Why is she the one making this request first??
"Hurry up."
Sunday Silence urged him on. The composure of a victor and the childish insistence of wanting something right now mixed together in a strange way, forming a presence Sakuraba Ryo had absolutely no defense against.
The air in the lounge seemed to freeze solid. Only the distant commotion outside remained, along with the increasingly loud sound of Sakuraba Ryo's own heartbeat.
Looking into Sunday Silence's golden eyes, eyes that clearly said well, what are you waiting for, Sakuraba Ryo felt his face grow so hot he could probably fry an egg on it.
The corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily as he made one last attempt at resistance.
"...You're serious?" His voice was dry, still clinging to the last sliver of hope.
Sunday Silence said nothing. She just nodded firmly, eyes bright enough to dazzle, fingertip still stubbornly touching her cheek.
Here. Right here. Hurry up.
"...Sigh..."
Sakuraba Ryo let out a long breath like a man surrendering to fate. He told himself, with the resignation of someone beyond saving, that it was only the cheek anyway, just a quick touch. Like one of those cheek-kiss greetings foreigners did... probably.
That had to be better than letting her ask for something even weirder.
His movements were stiff as he slowly bent down, drawing closer to that exquisitely pretty face right in front of him.
The unique scent coming off her—a mix of sweat and faint fragrance—grew instantly sharper, and his heart started pounding like a drum.
Sigh!
Good lord.
Whatever. I'm doing it.
He closed his eyes, intending to touch the spot she had pointed at as quickly as possible and then retreat at once.
But just as his lips were about to brush that warm cheek—
Sunday Silence moved.
With incredible nimbleness, she turned her head slightly.
The trajectory aimed at her cheek changed in an instant.
And the target became—
Before Sakuraba Ryo could even react, he felt a warm, soft touch land against his lips.
!!??
His eyes flew open.
Right in front of him were Sunday Silence's suddenly enlarged golden pupils, full of triumphant delight.
This is bad!
This is completely bad!!!
Alarms went off wildly in Sakuraba Ryo's head, and he instinctively tried to pull back.
But almost at the exact same moment that thought formed, Sunday Silence's arms had already curled around his neck like supple vines, effortlessly dissolving the force of his attempted retreat.
And that was not even the end of it!
Through the slight parting of his lips, opened by sheer shock, something warm and nimble slipped in with unmistakable exploratory intent—clumsy, but bold.
"Mmph—?!"
All the blood in Sakuraba Ryo's body seemed to rush to his head in that instant—and then freeze solid.
He went completely rigid. His brain turned into total blank white noise. All that remained was the strange, invasive softness between lips and teeth, and the hot breath of a victorious girl winding around him from unbearably close range.
The noise outside the lounge seemed to vanish completely.
The whole world fell so silent that all that remained was the disordered sound of their breathing tangling together.
Time itself blurred in that moment.
Sakuraba Ryo had no idea how long it lasted. It felt like only a few seconds, and yet also like an entire century.
Only when that clumsy but stubborn exploration finally retreated a little, only when the arms around his neck loosened, did he feel as though he had broken back to the surface after drowning and regained control of his body.
"Ah..."
He stumbled back a step and hit the wall behind him, chest heaving as he gasped for air. A vivid, scorching softness still lingered on his lips, along with the faint sweetness that belonged only to a girl.
He raised his head, his eyes still full of unspent shock and bewilderment.
And the culprit—Sunday Silence—stood not far in front of him.
She too was breathing lightly, and the flush that had already been on her face from victory and exertion had now deepened into something richer, like evening clouds lit by sunset, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
Those golden eyes of hers, always sharp or glinting with mischief, now seemed veiled in a watery haze. Her gaze wandered, unable to meet his directly.
She raised a hand, her fingertips brushing lightly over her own damp lips, then dropped it again as though burned.
A silence thick with something impossible to name—part shyness, part lingering intimacy—spread through the room.
"...Th-thank you for the meal."
A tiny voice, fine as a mosquito's buzz and trembling noticeably, finally broke the silence.
After blurting that out, Sunday Silence did not dare look at Sakuraba Ryo a second time. She spun around and shot out the lounge door in a blur, disappearing around the corner of the corridor almost instantly.
Bang.
The door shuddered lightly from the force of her exit, then slowly swung shut.
That left Sakuraba Ryo alone, his back pressed against the cold wall, facing the sudden emptiness and silence of the room—and the searing soft memory that refused to leave his lips or his mind.
Slowly, he lifted a hand and touched his lips, then looked toward the now-empty doorway.
"...?"
He muttered that same word again, the expression on his face too complicated to describe.
What kind of "meal" was that supposed to be...?
Holy crap!
There's a female hooligan on the loose!
---
T/N: O o O
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