Fujiwara Chiya had finished scouting most of the western-side training grounds, so he jogged out toward the southern outskirts of Paris next. From a distance, he spotted an uma musume in the middle of training and slammed on the brakes. A second later, he slipped beneath the shade of a tree and watched her from afar.
A trainer stood nearby.
Chiya flipped open his notebook, glanced at the uma musume's appearance, then compared it against the descriptions he had gathered from the foreign girls.
"Danedream… King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes champion. Multiple G1 victories on record."
A terrifying opponent, and one already on Chiya's investigation list.
The fact that she had chosen to train out here in the southern outskirts instead of at a training facility meant one thing. They were preparing to challenge the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe.
Chiya pulled out his map and drew a circle over the location. At the same time, he clicked his stopwatch and began timing her.
"Warm-up pace is off by zero point two seconds… hmm."
Just as Chiya was about to start calculating her data, a sharp gaze shot toward him from the distance. His head snapped up.
His eyes met Danedream's dark-gold ones.
She started walking toward him.
Crap. She noticed me!
Without thinking, Chiya turned and ran. Danedream looked like she intended to chase him at first, but the instant she saw his speed, she stopped dead in her tracks.
"What is it, Danedream?"
"I thought I saw a human just now… no, an uma musume? Weird. Maybe a human girl?"
"Hm?"
"No, I must have imagined it."
That person had been far too fast. One blink, and he was gone.
Elsewhere, after putting plenty of distance between himself and Danedream, Chiya wiped the cold sweat from his brow. Investigating opponents before a race was one of those tactics every trainer knew about, but it was not exactly something to brag about. Especially if you were standing there in broad daylight, openly studying someone. That left an awful impression on the other trainer.
It basically screamed, Yeah, I'm coming for you in the race.
Uma musume could get away with that. Trainers could not. For most trainers, racing was work, and victory was tied to performance. Openly hostile behavior only made things awkward for everyone involved.
So unless they were already on friendly terms, trainers generally treated each other like colleagues. This time, Chiya had come to France alone. Mei would not arrive for another month. Without anyone backing him up, he had to avoid making enemies among the local trainers as much as possible.
Of course, he would still investigate them.
For ordinary trainers, racing was work. But for Chiya, races carried a much heavier meaning.
He would peel those uma musume apart, inside and out. Every habit, every weakness, every usable resource. He would use all of it.
That was how he raced.
After returning to Tracen, Chiya took a shower. He had visited three more places that morning and even found one of the strongest Arc contenders this year. A fine haul. Later, he would dig up Danedream's race records and analyze the training footage he had just filmed.
The ability he had gained through synchronized training was not limited to his own uma musume. Even when he watched uma musume he had never met before, their running forms and movements still gave him a certain feeling.
He could roughly estimate how much strength they were using.
From there, he could predict how fast they might be at full power.
After his shower, Chiya went to the office and started investigating Danedream. He recorded every tactic and running style she had used in past races. Before he knew it, two hours had slipped by.
A knock came at the door.
Orfevre walked into the room.
"Pardon me, Trainer."
In her hands was a lunchbox.
"Orfevre, have a seat."
The girl walked over to him.
"Have you eaten lunch?"
"I was just about to…"
Shirayuki had just finished preparing something and was supposed to bring it over, but Orfevre had arrived first.
"I knew it. You truly do not know how to take care of yourself. Here." Orfevre placed the lunchbox on his desk.
"This is… my lunch?"
"Who else would it be for?" Orfevre snapped.
Chiya gave a dry laugh and opened the box. Inside were sandwiches.
"I cannot make anything too complicated. Make do with this. It is better than you running on an empty stomach."
"Sandwiches are great. Balanced nutrition and all."
Honestly, Chiya was so hungry he would have eaten anything at this point.
As he ate the sandwiches, Chiya kept reading through the race records. Orfevre sat on the sofa with one leg crossed, her cheek propped against her hand, silently watching him eat every bite of the food she had made.
"Trainer, what were you doing this morning?"
"Scouting the grounds."
"Why do you go every day?"
"Because the area is huge. But I should be mostly done in about half a month."
"You have been leaving the planning to Shirayuki lately. Is she reliable?"
"Don't worry. She's only working according to my instructions. Besides, Shirayuki is the student council vice president, and she knows training very well. I can trust her with it."
"If Shirayuki makes a mistake and my strength declines because of it, Trainer, you will take responsibility."
"Yeah, I know."
Chiya took a sip of tea and went back to work.
Orfevre frowned.
"How long have you been working?"
"Not sure. Two or three hours?"
"Come here. Rest with me for a while."
"…Hm?"
"Trainer has been working for far too long, and I have just finished training. What is wrong with taking a break? Must you exhaust yourself before you stop? You carry the mission of leading me to victory. If you cannot even look after yourself, what right do you have to look after me?"
Orfevre patted the space beside her.
Chiya glanced at the race records he had just finished writing.
"Fine. I'll slack off for a bit."
He chose to be lazy for once and sat down beside Orfevre.
At first, Chiya had thought that after what happened between them, things would turn awkward. There might be distance. Hesitation. A strange, invisible wall.
Apparently, he had overthought it.
Orfevre did not avoid him at all. If anything, she had become even more proactive about closing the distance.
"Want anything to eat?" Chiya asked.
"No interest. I have already eaten."
She watched him lean back into the sofa and relax. After hesitating several times, Orfevre finally said, "Trainer, massage my feet."
"Hm?"
"Did you not promise to take care of my body?" Her blue-violet eyes stared straight at him.
"A foot massage, huh… sure."
The moment he agreed, Orfevre's shoulders gave a tiny twitch. She turned sideways and lifted one foot, placing it against Chiya. He held her ankle and rested it on his thigh.
Her pure white stocking caught the bright sunlight streaming through the window. The thin fabric stretched over her toes, turning faintly translucent, revealing the delicate skin beneath and the soft pink curve of her nails. Maybe because she had just showered, Chiya could smell the clean fragrance of soap on her.
He remembered Orfevre saying that she had always taken careful care of her body.
She had not been lying.
Even the bands of her socks where they pressed into her thighs were perfectly neat, without a single wrinkle.
Chiya narrowed his eyes. Like he had found the world's best stress-relief toy, his fingertips gently traced over Orfevre's soft sole.
Even if the feeling was one-sided, it was enough for him to relax.
An uma musume's soft foot really was the ultimate stress-relief tool.
He had been running around all morning without a single proper break. Now that he finally let himself unwind, drowsiness surged over him all at once. Chiya yawned, leaned back against the sofa, and kept massaging her on instinct.
He had no idea how much time passed.
Orfevre silently pulled her foot back.
Her entire body was damp with sweat as she stared at the sleeping Chiya.
"You… foot-obsessed Trainer…"
Orfevre panted softly, her face so red it looked like it might start dripping color. Her clothes had gone slightly disheveled from how much she had been squirming. She covered her mouth, desperately keeping any strange sounds from slipping out.
Even though Trainer had fallen asleep, his hands had kept moving.
Clutching her chest, Orfevre tried to calm her wildly pounding heart. She touched her stomach, glanced at Trainer, then quietly took out her phone and snapped a picture of him sleeping.
After that, she slipped into the bathroom on tiptoe.
About twenty minutes later, Orfevre set her phone aside, turned on the faucet, and rinsed her trembling fingers under the running water.
The flush on her face had faded a little by the time she returned to the room. Chiya was still asleep on the sofa.
"Just you wait, Trainer. This humiliation you have given me… I shall return it a hundredfold."
She muttered the threat under her breath, fierce as ever.
Then she gently laid Chiya flat on the sofa and covered him with a blanket.