It was obvious—Komata Hajime was drunk.
That, Kitahara Sota had not expected.
Because when the waiter brought the drinks, even though he hadn't touched a drop, he'd still glanced at the label.
The alcohol content wasn't high—lower than most beers, in fact. And the serving size was smaller too. You could almost call it a soft drink.
So Kitahara honestly hadn't thought Komata could get drunk on this.
But drunk is drunk. She wasn't a heavy drinker to begin with.
An adult overdoing it once in a while—nothing unacceptable.
The real problem was how she acted when drunk.
Normally, Komata's face might look a bit young, but her words and actions gave off a steady air.
She was reliable—otherwise Kitahara wouldn't have treated her so seriously as a senpai.
But now…
Watching her thrash in Super Creek's arms, trying to squirm toward him, then, when she failed, pitching a child's tantrum like she might roll on the floor—Kitahara's expression sank into weary despair.
Come on. If you can't drink, don't try to act tough…
What he didn't know: her collapse wasn't just the alcohol. It was him.
Komata usually avoided drinking, but she knew her tolerance. Her original plan had been simple—look mature, sip a little, stop.
But that initial misunderstanding between them had shattered her defenses. In the panic, she hadn't noticed how much she drank.
Then his words, Tamamo's sudden appearance, the crash and surge of feelings—the drunk fog that should have built slowly instead slammed into her all at once, drowning her will.
By the time she was hugging Tamamo back, her mind was already hazy.
By the time Super Creek finished speaking, she was basically gone.
She hadn't even understood Creek's words. Just heard "team merging." And in her fog, thought that meant she could stay with Kitahara more. So she'd kicked up a fuss.
After her outburst was restrained, everyone returned to Tracen. Straight to Kitahara's dorm.
…Wait. Why his dorm?
When he unlocked the door and saw them filing inside, Kitahara froze.
Shouldn't she have been sent to her dorm?
Dragging a drunk female colleague into his place—how was this normal?
He raised the objection, suggested returning her.
But before anyone else could fabricate—uh, explain—Komata burst into tears.
And sobbed that he was bullying her, that he must hate her.
Kitahara was dumbstruck. Even Super Creek, holding her, faltered.
Finally, seeing her crying too hard, Creek released her.
Komata instantly burrowed into Kitahara's chest.
It took a long time to soothe her. Only then did her sobbing fade, her eyes close, her breath grow slow and steady.
Kitahara let out a sigh of relief.
But it lasted less than a second.
"For what I mentioned earlier—about merging our teams. What do you all think?"
The moment Komata settled, Super Creek spoke again.
Kitahara inhaled sharply.
Damn it. Almost forgot that.
He looked at her—at Komata in his arms, at Creek herself—eyes shining with unhidden desire.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
No. I have to ruin this. She's definitely set her sights on me. If she joins my team, who knows what she'll try?
Others, with odd kinks, might welcome her motherly care.
But as a sound-bodied, nearly grown man, he had no desire to be forced into baby clothes and spoon-fed.
Still… after cooling down, Kitahara realized it might not be so bad.
Merging was complicated.
Beyond endless regulations, the key was unanimous consent.
Right now, Creek had proposed it. True, both sides got along. But that wasn't enough.
Komata's team only had three girls.
Merged with his, not counting Sunday, that made twelve.
Creek's attention would be split four ways. Less time for each.
Even if Creek agreed, what about the others?
Tamamo might accept. But Nishino Flower…
He glanced at her. She averted her eyes shyly.
"Um… I don't mind. As long as everyone's happy…"
Flower was timid, without opinions of her own. Always followed others.
And lately, she'd found Kitahara to be a good person. With no feelings for him herself, she got along fine with his girls. She wouldn't oppose merging.
As for Tamamo—her response was beyond what he expected.
Not just neutral. Supportive.
Protecting Kitahara was one reason.
But also—she'd discovered a new one.
To push Komata and Kitahara together.
She'd long suspected her trainer's feelings. The drunken slip confirmed it.
Komata liked Kitahara. At least, liked him more than a little.
Any other Uma Musume would have bristled. Refused.
But Tamamo was different.
She, the only one in Tracen with a normal view of love, had always found trainer–tantou romances ridiculous. Most students were under twenty, some doubling as idols. How could that ever be okay?
But Komata wasn't like that.
She was an adult. Sweet-natured, cute. A trainer herself.
Quality on both sides assured. They could support each other, talk to each other. Their life together would be good.
That was normal romance.
Though, oddly, when she'd said this to others, their eyes had gone strange. Like watching a doomed species mutter its own extinction. Whispering things she half-understood:
"You're too young." "You'll regret it." "Lifelong regret."
Still, for her, Komata and Kitahara was the healthy option.
Besides—there was one more reason to support merging.
If Creek joined Kitahara's team, maybe she'd stop tormenting Tamamo and Flower.
At least, split her focus.
But Kitahara's girls didn't see it.
They'd only noticed that Komata's side seemed afraid of Creek.
But Creek was careful—never let her "kids" embarrass themselves in public. And Tamamo and Flower never admitted anything.
So to this day, no one knew Creek's "Motherly Demon" side. They just thought she liked to care too much.
Otherwise, not even Teio would have dared let her in.
But now…
With all three on Komata's side agreeing, Kitahara's lip twitched. He turned to his own girls.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he wished they had some "possessiveness." Someone, anyone, to say no.
But as he swept his gaze across them—saw their eager faces—he knew.
He was doomed.
His last hope was Tokai Teio.
Teio, my dear Teio, activate your unbeatable possessiveness. Save me.
She couldn't read his exact plea. But she sensed he didn't want the merge. She hesitated.
Normally, she too wouldn't want to share his attention further.
But then—she looked at Komata. Sleeping, clinging to him, even in dreams trying to wrap her arms around him.
The light dimmed in her eyes. Her hesitation melted.
And moments later, to Kitahara's despair, the merge won approval from everyone—including Teio.
All eyes turned to him.
He held his breath, ready to refuse.
But before he could, the girls moved.
Oguri Cap edged close, silent, pleading eyes on him.
Tamamo stepped up, declaring that though she loved her trainer, she wanted to talk with him too.
Teio rushed in, babbling about how big teams could play more games—earning herself a brutal forehead flick.
One by one, they crowded near.
Half begging, half with secret motives.
And suddenly, Kitahara found himself surrounded.
Dozens of eyes, pleading, hungry. Their stares prickled his scalp, like he might be torn apart any second.
And in the middle of it—his arms shifted.
Little hands looped his neck.
Komata, face flushed, eyes hazy, breath thick with alcohol.
"Kitahara… just say yes. If you don't want to me to be a main trainer, I'll be your assistant. Just say yes. Please…"
Silence.
He scanned their faces.
Sighed, deep.
And in their watching eyes, he gently pried Komata's hands from his neck. Nodded.
But—he added—Komata was drunk. Tomorrow, if she refused sober, that would be that.
But his words drowned in cheers.
The circle of Uma Musume collapsed on him, burying him in the tide.
And as the laughter ebbed, the undercurrents that had stilled with his nod began to flow again.
Only now—they no longer flowed toward the same goal.
...
Meanwhile, in the chairwoman's office.
Hayakawa Tazuna had just finished her stack of files. She hadn't even taken a breath when Akikawa Yayoi leaned over, flicked open her folding fan, and spoke earnestly.
"A benefit! If you go get yourself a boyfriend, I'll give you half a month of paid leave. Condition being—you have to bring him back."
Half a month… paid leave.
Exhausted, Tazuna's eyes lit up—then dimmed again. Her expression fell.
Truth was, she wanted a partner. Desperately.
But like Komata, where could she find one?
Work chained her to the academy. A girls' school, where men were scarce, and the few male colleagues were already circled by little Uma Musume wolves.
She'd even considered—briefly—roping Kitahara into pretending.
But unlike the others' families, the chairwoman was right here, watching.
If they tried faking, Akikawa would tear the lie apart instantly.
So no matter how tempting the offer, Tazuna refused. And went back to her dorm.
She washed, changed, collapsed into bed, expression wan.
So tired…
The pay was high. She took her duties seriously. She didn't mind overtime.
But with the surge of transfers, her workload had ballooned.
She already carried much, to stabilize the school.
Now—she was working nonstop.
Even with a body stronger than most, two months of this had left her spent. The exhaustion showed through even makeup.
How could I possibly go look for a boyfriend like this…
She sighed, closed her eyes.
But as she drifted—one thought came.
If not a boyfriend… then maybe a caretaker.
Someone to massage away her fatigue each night.
But at her level of strain, it would have to be a top-class one.
And top-class caretakers, like top-class victory-outfit designers, were near-extinct. Money alone couldn't summon them.
Still… she dreamed.
If only the academy had one. Someone who could ease her burden at the end of every day…
She knew it was impossible.
But she thought it anyway.
And under the weight of exhaustion, she fell asleep. Breathing deep.