"Hm? This taste?"
The moment El Condor Pasa instinctively licked Mizuno's finger, her eyes widened in disbelief.
That flavor—it wasn't the salty sting of sweat, nor the tang of lactic acid, nor even the dull bitterness of dust. It was…
"Sweet?!"
She blinked rapidly, staring at Mizuno's slender, pale hand—so clean and refined it looked like it belonged to a pianist. Nothing about it made sense.
Why did this finger, smelling of sweet carrots, taste sweet too?
A normal human—especially one soaked in sweat from a fierce match—shouldn't taste like this!
Suspicious, El Condor Pasa licked again. Once, twice… then several more times, to confirm her taste buds weren't lying.
No mistake. It was sweet—undeniably, richly sweet!
And not some cheap sugar-water sweetness either. It was exquisite—like a layered parfait with ice cream, syrup, whipped cream, chocolate, and jelly all melting together in perfect balance.
If she had to describe it… it was like licking a parfait-flavored lollipop.
Completely stunned, El Condor Pasa stared at the finger glistening faintly with her own saliva, as though she'd just discovered a new world.
If his finger tasted this good… then what about the rest of him?
Before she could chase that dangerous thought any further, the "lollipop" in question actually drifted closer, willingly entering her reach.
"Hah… hah…"
The sweet fragrance, mixed with that addictive aftertaste, overwhelmed her last shred of restraint. She opened her mouth and took the "lollipop" in, softly licking its tip.
The lollipop twitched—then panicked, clearly alive—and tried to flee.
But El Condor Pasa wasn't letting go. Her lips sealed tighter, her tongue trapped it firmly in place.
"Gwah!"
The "lollipop," realizing escape was hopeless, struggled a few moments longer before giving up completely—left at her mercy as she savored it at leisure.
Meanwhile, her body, which had been held rigid in Mizuno's lock, began to slacken. Her limbs were free again before either of them realized.
Using her regained hands, El Condor Pasa gently held the "lollipop," keeping it steady so she could enjoy it to the fullest.
"So sweet~" she murmured dreamily.
Warmth spread through her chest, melting the fatigue, the doubt, the pain she'd been carrying for so long. The sweetness filled her like sunlight through an open window, bringing back memories she hadn't touched in years—tiny, bright fragments of childhood.
Moments not of shame or fear, but happiness: sitting between her parents, nibbling candy, laughing at silly jokes. Her father's hand ruffling her hair, her mother's voice calling her brave.
The truth hit her gently. Her parents had never called her weak. They'd always told her she was wonderful—told her to live happily, not to chase approval from others.
She remembered the nights when, even after long tours, they'd come home and play wrestling games with her. Those had been her most joyous, peaceful days—not the harsh, punishing ones she'd created later.
So when had she started believing that being loved wasn't enough?
When had she decided that unless she became the strongest, she didn't deserve to exist?
Would her parents—who only ever wanted her to be healthy and happy—truly be proud if she wrecked her body just to prove herself?
She'd never asked herself that before. From the moment she'd put on her father's mask, she'd stopped being the El Condor Pasa who could simply enjoy life. She'd replaced joy with obligation, warmth with pressure, happiness with guilt.
Day after day, she'd thrown herself into Azuma Hana's brutal training, hiding her pain behind the mask.
Even when her trainer asked if she was okay, she'd always forced a smile and said yes.
When she finally started breaking down, Hana had given her leave to rest—only for her to
ignore it and chase the "mysterious man" instead, convinced he was the obstacle keeping her from regaining her strength.
And now that "enemy" was sitting right behind her, his face twisted in pure misery as she absently sucked on his finger.
"…"
Mizuno looked down at the Uma Musume in his arms—her eyes half-closed, her expression serene—and finally understood something important.
His scent did have a real effect on Uma Musume.
It soothed them. Calmed their hearts. Lulled them toward sleep.
And the more mentally exhausted they were, the stronger that effect became.
Hayakawa-san had done the same thing the first time she inhaled it—utterly drained, she'd clung to him like a mother comforting her child.
El Condor Pasa's reaction, though, was… unique.
Feeling the warm, slick touch of her tongue against his finger, Mizuno realized exactly what was happening—and groaned inwardly.
"Seriously? Since when did my finger turn into candy?" he muttered weakly.
The once-fierce luchadora was now an innocent girl, happily sucking on his finger like it was her favorite treat.
If anyone walked in right now, they'd definitely think they were witnessing a crime.
Still, even without knowing her story, Mizuno could tell—this was what she'd been missing all along. Not strength, not victory, but a simple sense of safety and warmth.
"…Does this count as a win?" he muttered, freeing one hand to let go of her tail.
He'd planned to pull it as a last resort, but clearly, his scent alone had done the job.
Curious, he carefully squeezed her arm and leg muscles. His brows drew together.
"She's way too fatigued…"
Her body looked fine, but the muscle tension was severe, her fibers brittle with microtears. She was a few steps from total collapse.
"She's been hiding it from her trainer," he murmured. "Overtraining herself."
What she really needed wasn't more fighting—it was rest, recovery, and care.
"…Could use a full-body massage," he whispered, more to himself than anyone. Maybe he could do it later, carefully enough not to wake her.
For now, though, he had one urgent goal—getting his finger back.
He moved slowly, carefully trying to slide it from her mouth.
But the moment he tugged, she murmured through her lips, muffled and gentle:
"Dame~"
Her voice was small, childlike—but her refusal was absolute. Her grip tightened, holding him there.
"…" Mizuno sighed in defeat.
Just like with Hayakawa-san. He'd have to wait.
Only when El Condor Pasa finally drifted into deep sleep would he be free again…