Bang—
The punch landed.
But rather than striking flesh and bone, it hit the cold, hard wall.
Mindful that her opponent was human, she had restrained her strength. Thus, even after hitting the wall, her fist sustained no injury—not even a faint redness.
Across from her, Kitahara Sota tilted his head, watching her momentarily stunned by missing her target. His expression was puzzled.
"You know, school rules forbid running recklessly outside the training grounds, especially in narrow places like this—"
Before he could finish, she regained her senses and swiftly threw a second punch aimed at his stomach.
Bang—
The plastic bag filled with toys absorbed the blow, causing it to burst open, scattering toys everywhere.
By the time her fist passed through the toys, Kitahara had already retreated beyond her striking distance. He glanced at the toys strewn across the ground, then back at her, and sighed helplessly.
As expected, someone had targeted him.
He hadn't spent all that time scrolling forums for nothing, nor was he completely unprepared upon entering Tracen.
He'd noticed this Uma Musume's stare back in the crowd, but hadn't initially thought much of it since many people were watching him.
However, once she followed him into this secluded path, it became clear she was specifically targeting him.
Considering recent events, she might even be the one fueling online rumors.
Dropping the remaining intact bag of toys aside, he raised his hands placatingly.
"Listen, Miss, I think there's some misunderstanding between us. Maybe we could talk it out—"
Whoosh—
His answer was a swift kick slicing through the air.
Quickly stepping back to avoid the strike, Kitahara stubbornly persisted with his "talk it out" tactic, babbling on.
"Are you a fan of Tokai Teio? Or did I accidentally offend you somehow? Whatever the problem is, let's discuss it. If it's my fault, I'll apologize right away. If you need some kind of compensation, just name it. We can work this out peacefully."
This time, she didn't immediately attack again. Instead, she paused, looking at him with a strange expression.
"Are you really human?"
Due to his previous two evasions, she no longer saw him as weak prey. The kick she'd just delivered was serious enough that even an ordinary Uma Musume might fail to dodge it.
Yet, this man had effortlessly avoided it. Moreover, he showed none of the relief or fear normal humans would display—only an unsettling ease, casually chattering nonsense with her.
This wasn't something a normal person could manage.
"Of course I'm human."
Seeing her hesitation, Kitahara quickly seized the opportunity to continue speaking.
"Seriously, just tell me why you're attacking me, and we'll solve it together peacefully. I promise afterward I won't tell the Chairwoman—how about it?"
She fell silent for a moment, seemingly having made a decision, and sighed.
"All right then, I'll tell you. Actually, I—"
Crack—
Her words ended abruptly as her leg whipped out once more, breaking the air with an audible snap.
Bang—
The steel horseshoe of her foot smashed down fiercely where Kitahara had stood moments before, cracking the pavement and sending fragments flying.
Kitahara stared wide-eyed at the damage, eyelid twitching involuntarily as he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Hiss—are all you Uma Musume this terrifying?"
Her reply was a swift jab aimed straight at his face.
Bang—
Again, her fist hit nothing but cold air. Her expression finally began to shift, a mixture of shock and disbelief crossing her features.
Even at Tracen Academy, where elite Uma Musume abounded, she ranked among the strongest fighters—fewer than ten could confidently defeat her.
Yet now, even at full strength, she couldn't even brush against this human's clothing.
"You look surprised," Kitahara remarked dryly.
Seeing she clearly had no intention to talk peacefully, Kitahara gave up on negotiating. As he spoke, he removed his cheap suit jacket.
The evasive maneuvers had left it torn and frayed, stitching popped in several places. Seeing its battered condition, he felt a pang of regret.
You've done well, old friend.
Discarding the cheap suit, Kitahara turned back to her, speaking calmly.
"True, you Uma Musume have several times the physical strength of ordinary humans, but even humans, with proper training, can exceed their normal limits—though naturally, we're still far weaker compared to you."
"I've fought plenty of human martial arts masters before," she replied gravely, resuming her fighting stance, now treating Kitahara as an equal opponent. "Not one has lasted more than three moves against me."
"I'm beginning to seriously doubt you're human at all."
"Believe whatever you want."
Kitahara maintained his relaxed tone, though his expression gradually hardened.
He raised his hand slightly, prompting her instant reaction—a straight punch. Kitahara moved swiftly to evade, but at the moment he dodged, she abruptly shifted her stance. Her punch halted mid-motion, her knee snapping upward toward his abdomen.
Faced with this unexpected, decisive strike, Kitahara remained calm, raising an arm to block. The instant her knee impacted, a sickening crack echoed—his bones fractured like eggshells beneath a stone.
Sensing her successful hit, she relaxed her expression slightly.
So he really was just human after all, despite his agility…
But in the next instant, she felt a hand grasp her neck, pulling forcefully downward.
It wasn't sheer strength, but rather precise leverage, disrupting her center of gravity.
In the split-second she lost balance, the same hand shifted position, pressing downwards forcefully along her own momentum.
Bang—
Using her strength against her, he slammed her heavily to the ground, the impact fierce enough to momentarily blank her mind.
Before she could recover, she felt something cold and sharp press against her neck, piercing lightly through her skin.
"Get some rest," Kitahara muttered softly.
As the specially formulated tranquilizer for Uma Musume entered her bloodstream, her vision blurred rapidly. She lost consciousness before she could even feel panic.
Confirming she was safely incapacitated, Kitahara rose slowly, his expression immediately twisting in pain.
"Damn it, that hurts like hell. Uma Musume really are monsters..."
Truthfully, luck had played a significant role in his victory.
The physical disparity between humans and Uma Musume was absolute. Even with extensive training, a human like him had zero chance in direct combat. His arm, shattered just from blocking one knee strike, was proof enough.
While skill had certainly helped, his win primarily hinged on his opponent severely underestimating him—never expecting a serious counterattack.
After all, common sense dictated that an unarmed human posed no threat whatsoever to an Uma Musume.
Enduring the intense pain, Kitahara scanned the area. Confirming no witnesses, he extended his uninjured hand, producing an orange-colored drink seemingly from thin air. After gulping it down, he felt a noticeable relief in his injured arm.
Repeating this four times, his arm, though still visibly distorted, at least became manageable.
He didn't fully heal because, after four bottles, he was nauseatingly bloated—he physically couldn't stomach more liquid.
Besides, the throbbing pain and rapid drinking had caused him to choke, spilling some of the precious beverage. Thankfully, he had plenty stored, so he didn't lament the loss.
His stomach sloshing uncomfortably, Kitahara glanced at the unconscious Uma Musume, noticing a slightly worn Tokai Teio plush doll that had fallen from her pocket.
So she's a fan of Tokai Teio...? Like hell I'd believe that!
Given her calculated attack, calm demeanor, and his repeated attempts at reasoning, the idea of an impulsive fan was utterly unbelievable.
That left only one other possibility…
He bent down, picked up the plush, and sniffed lightly. Then he leaned toward the fallen Uma Musume, sniffing gently near her collar.
The scents didn't match. The difference was clear enough that even his human senses could distinguish it. This plush definitely wasn't hers.
Straightening up and gazing at the unconscious figure before him, Kitahara's expression grew increasingly weary.
Secret photos, manipulative online rumors, disguised attacks under the guise of fandom…
All he'd wanted was to quietly slack off for three peaceful years—so why did trouble constantly come seeking him out?