Originally, Kitahara Sota's four Uma Musume had planned to deliver dinner together, but shortly thereafter, Eclipse and Tokai Teio both mentioned they had urgent matters and couldn't make it.
Special Week had initially planned to come along with Oguri Cap, but due to her terrible grades from last semester, and a similarly poor performance on a quiz earlier today, she'd been dragged away by her homeroom teacher for remedial lessons.
Thus, Oguri Cap ended up coming alone.
As Oguri Cap sat quietly on the chair beside his bed, Kitahara stared nervously at the towering stack of food containers she held—almost as tall as half an adult's arm.
To confirm his suspicion, he tentatively asked, "Oguri, have you eaten yet?"
"Yes, I have," she replied calmly, nodding.
It wasn't that Oguri Cap didn't want to eat with him; rather, transporting enough food for her immense appetite would have been impractical.
Then that means…
Kitahara pointed shakily at the massive stack of food boxes. "Are all of these... for me?"
"Yes," Oguri Cap nodded again, opening the containers to reveal the sumptuous meal inside. "You need to eat more to heal faster."
"But this is way too much!" Kitahara looked ready to collapse. "I'm human, Oguri."
Oguri blinked slowly, finally catching on to his meaning, yet her expression remained unchanged. After quietly assessing the food, she calmly said, "Then just leave whatever you can't finish to me. I can handle this much."
"...Isn't that a bit inappropriate?"
"Why?" she asked in genuine confusion, her eyes clear and untroubled.
Kitahara fell silent.
He did find the idea somewhat improper, but after years of hardship, the instinct to cherish food had become second nature. Oguri herself showed no hesitation, so after a moment's thought, he sighed softly and agreed.
"All right."
Just as Kitahara reached out for the chopsticks, a small, delicate hand beat him to it, picking up a piece of meat and holding it gently toward his mouth.
"Say 'Ah~'"
Oguri made a gesture akin to coaxing a child, gazing quietly at him with serene, gray eyes.
"...What are you doing?"
Kitahara froze, stunned.
"Feeding you," she replied calmly.
He waved his good hand. "My right hand is perfectly fine."
"You're still a patient."
"Patients can eat on their own, Oguri…"
"But someone once told me that when you're sick, you should just relax and leave everything to someone else."
"Who said that nonsense?"
Oguri Cap didn't answer, simply continuing to stare at him.
Kitahara met her eyes, his mind calming as a vague memory stirred.
Ah, right. Maybe, perhaps, a few years ago, he had indeed said something like that—to a certain young girl who was bedridden with a bad cold.
"You still remember that, huh," he said awkwardly. "You were young then; I figured you probably wouldn't even recognize me clearly now, let alone recall those minor details."
"I remember everything clearly," Oguri Cap said earnestly, nodding. "Trainer Kitahara was the one who saved me back then. Of course, I'd remember."
Kitahara smiled wryly, shaking his head. "You exaggerate. It wasn't really saving you—I just helped out a bit and kept you from going down the wrong path…"
In truth, their story wasn't very complicated; it was even a little amusing.
Oguri Cap had been a big eater since birth. Initially, her family considered her appetite a sign of good health. But as her appetite continued to increase alarmingly over the years, they began to worry.
Concerned, her family brought her to a local Uma Musume hospital, where doctors diagnosed her with bulimia and advised restricting her food intake.
After some treatment, Oguri's "condition" improved because she'd grown accustomed to constant hunger. Outwardly, her behavior, appetite, and even racing performance appeared normal—just an ordinary local Uma Musume.
That was when Kitahara first encountered her.
He hadn't intentionally sought her out. Rather, he'd been invited to a regional training center to help address some problems with their Uma Musume. His reputation soon spread locally, bringing more people to seek him out and forcing him to stay longer than intended.
One day, while eating in the cafeteria, he saw Oguri Cap sitting alone with the large words "Undernourished" practically glowing above her head. He turned suspiciously toward the local trainer who'd invited him, puzzled.
"Are you guys mistreating your Uma Musume here? Aren't you afraid the Uma Musume Welfare Association will come after you?"
"Mistreating…? No way!"
The trainers were stunned. Mistreating an Uma Musume? They'd consider themselves lucky if they weren't the ones getting mistreated instead.
Afterward, the matter became straightforward:
Kitahara approached Oguri Cap directly, learning about her condition through conversation—and a quick glance at his hidden information system. He discovered she suffered frequent dizziness, particularly severe after intense training sessions or races, sometimes so bad she could barely walk straight.
Because of this, the local trainers had deemed Oguri physically weak, not suited to racing.
But obviously, she was just starving!
So, Kitahara stayed on longer, helping the center address various other issues while carefully treating Oguri Cap's physical condition. He also temporarily took over her training.
Their routine wasn't complicated: he designed balanced meals to gradually strengthen her stomach, accompanied by tailored training sessions and some psychological support.
His goal wasn't ambitious: he just wanted Oguri to reach normal health standards.
—Though, admittedly, "normal" by Kitahara's standards.
Incidentally, while bored during her recovery, Kitahara designed a specialized, low-posture running technique specifically suited to her physique, helping her maximize her innate advantages.
Oguri Cap repaid Kitahara's efforts splendidly. After a short recovery, her performance skyrocketed. She quickly became the strongest Uma Musume in her age group, even rivaling older students.
All this happened before she even underwent her "maturation", her body still underdeveloped due to long-term food restrictions. Had Kitahara not intervened early, her sustained malnutrition could've irreparably damaged her growth, undermining her talents—or worse, causing permanent health issues that might have ended her career before it began, leaving her forever bedridden and watching others race on screen.
So, Oguri Cap's claim that Kitahara "saved" her wasn't an exaggeration; it was sincere gratitude.
Once Oguri's condition stabilized, Kitahara visited her family personally, explaining she never had bulimia—complete with undeniable proof that bulimics simply didn't eat that much.
The incident ended on a positive note, except for one minor regret. When Oguri Cap went looking to thank Kitahara properly afterward, he'd already disappeared.
She'd felt angry about that at first. But upon learning about Eclipse, Oguri immediately understood his circumstances.
After all, Oguri herself nearly bankrupted her family once allowed to eat freely. Kitahara, still just a child back then, had carried the burden of caring for Eclipse—whose appetite was even more terrifying than hers. Just imagining his struggles was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
"It wasn't that tough, actually. Eclipse was very understanding. When we really struggled, she'd secretly find ways to help out—like anonymously winning a few races, or hunting and gathering food in the mountains…"
As Kitahara reminisced, Oguri gently fed him another piece of meat.
He'd unconsciously relaxed, lost in his memories, and before he knew it, he was already being fed by Oguri Cap.
Speaking of Eclipse, Oguri paused briefly before asking softly, handing him some vegetables, "Miss Eclipse eats a lot, right? So logically, she must be pretty strong. Have you ever thought about sending her to Tracen earlier?"
"Whether she's strong, I don't know—but she's definitely not weak," he replied, chewing thoughtfully. "I've never once seen her lose."
Oguri's hand paused. "Never lost? When did she start her awakening?"
"No idea, she's never mentioned it."
"How old is she?"
"Probably doesn't even know herself. I found her when she seemed around six, so I just called her six. She's never disagreed."
"Why doesn't she usually train? I invited her once, but she turned me down."
"I honestly have no idea. Since childhood, I've never once seen her train—but then again, maybe she trains secretly behind my back?"
"I see."
Once their conversation ended, dinner was also done. Oguri Cap finished the leftovers quickly, then pulled out her textbooks and began quietly studying.
"Aren't you heading back?" Kitahara asked.
"I told my dorm leader I'd be late. Besides, no one else is here right now, so it's fine."
"But I only hurt my arm, not anywhere else…"
"Patients should just relax and leave everything else to others—that's what someone once told me."
"...Fine."
Kitahara surrendered.
If it were Tokai Teio or Agnes Tachyon, he'd refuse outright, fearing imprisonment or experimentation. But with Oguri Cap, seeing her clear, innocent eyes, coupled with her naturally stable personality, even he, severely traumatized by Uma Musume paranoia, struggled to remain wary.
Aside from today's feeding session—which Oguri clearly intended merely as care for a patient—they'd never done anything remotely intimate. Even her form of address, "Trainer Kitahara," was formal and reassuring.
Perhaps this was what a normal trainer-Uma Musume relationship looked like?
Slowly relaxing, Kitahara drifted off, lulled by Oguri Cap's gentle scribbling as she studied.
Once she noticed his breathing deepen into restful sleep, Oguri's pen slowly stopped moving. She turned quietly toward his peaceful face, gray eyes shimmering gently. After silently watching for a long while, she whispered softly,
"Good night, Trainer Kitahara."
Turning back to her studies, she resumed her notes. Accompanied by the soft sound of pencil against paper, Kitahara Sota slept peacefully.