For Kitahara Sota, finding Nice Nature suddenly living in his dorm was no surprise at all.
Because in fact—already a few days ago, the day after her race—she had moved in. With his reluctant consent.
As for how...
Because Kitahara had agreed to her request, and Nice Nature wanted to act quickly, before anyone else noticed and joined forces against her, she had, the day after the race, after training, snuck straight to his dorm and begun tidying it.
That day, she hadn't planned to stay the night.
But because she hadn't slept well the night before (too wound up from Kitahara's promise), and with training tiring her out, after a little cleaning she grew drowsy.
She thought she'd nap a moment on the sofa—yet the moment her eyes shut, she was gone.
Kitahara, preoccupied with patrol discussions with the Chairwoman and the others, didn't notice.
By the time he realized, curfew had already passed.
He looked at her sleeping form on the sofa. Considered. Then, instead of waking her, he used her phone to message the dorm leader for leave, and carried her into his room. After settling her in, he himself spent the night outside, in his usual spot.
The next day, Nature quickly realized what had happened. Flushed red, she apologized.
But the "accident" didn't wound her spirit at all.
If anything, it gave her inspiration.
Realizing Kitahara wasn't opposed to her staying, she went ahead and asked outright to move in.
"Maybe it's from using too much aura in the race, but I can't control my pressure well right now. If I keep staying in the dorm, my roommates might have trouble..."
"And besides, I'll be coming here often anyway, for Kitahara-san's nursing..."
"If I move in, it'll be easier to look after you too. I know you're busy, Kitahara-san, but I'll be careful not to cause trouble..."
On the foundation of her victory, with insistence—almost pleading—Kitahara caved. He agreed.
Still, embarrassed at the thought of living alone with her, he pulled Eclipse in as well. Let them keep each other company.
Nature didn't mind. She even welcomed it. Eclipse had cared for her when she was in a daze before—she didn't mind sharing.
Thus began their three-person cohabitation.
Kitahara and Eclipse patrolled with Tazuna by day.
Eclipse's presence was faint, easily overlooked.
Nature trained by day. By evening she cleaned the dorm, tidied, drew the bath, made ready before they returned.
And lately—under the excuse of "learning nursing techniques" and "relieving Kitahara's fatigue"—she had started giving him little treatments herself before her own sessions. Tasting, for once, Agnes Digital's privileges.
Training by day, "sipping Kitahara" at night, chatting with Eclipse before bed, who was immune to her pressure—this was, to Nice Nature, the very image of her ideal life.
She even once summoned the courage to ask Eclipse, privately, her opinion of Kitahara. As always, Eclipse said nothing.
But Nature didn't mind. In her heart, she already accepted Eclipse as "first place." She didn't dislike her. She didn't mind being second. Even third. So even without answers, it was fine.
But such sweet days couldn't last.
Her visits to Kitahara had become too frequent. The others were bound to notice.
So, after enjoying a few days of stolen bliss, she confessed to them herself.
And—knowing she'd stolen too far ahead—she, sensible as ever, shared out the soup after eating the meat.
She explained: if they wanted to go privately to Kitahara's, they could use her name. She had his key. They could use her spare, then claim she'd let them in. So long as they left afterwards.
The others, though annoyed at her sneakiness, accepted. Because she'd been thoughtful enough to share.
No backlash came. Instead, they began calculating their own future moves: how big a leap they'd make after their own wins.
So even though Kitahara's dorm was busier now, with Uma Musume slipping in and out daily, Nature never minded.
Because when she went to him herself, even for her own indulgence, Kitahara never strayed.
If she didn't seek closeness, he never touched her. Rarely even spoke more than necessary.
So letting the others in, giving them moments to chat, to play games—it wasn't bad.
But there was one exception.
One girl, who did not forgive.
Even after the soup was shared, her hostility burned fiercer.
Yes. That woman.
Super Creek.
Unlike the others, Creek had no romantic intentions toward Kitahara. Not yet, at least.
So she didn't care if Nature had stolen a march, or whether soup was shared.
What she could not forgive—was that her "child" had been stolen.
Still, Creek wasn't unreasonable.
She knew Kitahara wasn't anyone's property. He had the right to choose—and be chosen.
And, with three "children" of her own already, and more after the team merge, she'd been busy. Busy enough to drown in the bliss of mothering them, even forgetting Kitahara for a while.
But when she looked up again, Nice Nature had moved straight in, managing his daily life.
She didn't resent Nature. She even thought her a good child. Watching her care for Kitahara stirred her own urge to care for Nature, too.
But even so—on the matter of her child being stolen—Creek could not reconcile it.
She was unwilling. But powerless.
Because though she looked mature, she was still younger than she seemed.
Creek had matured late, even later than Tokai Teio—she was in the same cohort as Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross. This year was her debut.
So though she longed to care for Kitahara, she wasn't the type to interfere without cause.
She had only stepped into Komata's team because those three truly needed it.
Komata's childishness. Tamamo's habit of under-eating. Nishino's timid indecision...
But Kitahara? She could have justified it by saying he was poor at caring for himself.
Yet now, with Nice Nature filling that gap—she had no reason.
So she came only to watch, circling, searching for an opening.
Days passed. She found none.
Instead, Kitahara came to her.
"Creek-san. This is for you."
He handed her two Racing Outfits.
One: a blue dress. One: a sporty uniform with a shield-battery motif, streaked with lightning.
These were the outfits he'd ordered for Super Creek and Tamamo Cross when they joined.
He'd been too busy to fetch them until now.
He hadn't asked Tamamo to pick them up herself.
Because lately, his perception and learning were sharpening. He couldn't craft the outfits himself, but he could already advise the elder mare, point out flaws, catch mismatches between fabric and runner. He was the one inspecting the deliveries now.
The elder mare, last time, had even squinted at him: "Did you add someone new to your team?"
When he denied it, she'd frowned.
Then why do I smell something new on you? And not quite like the others...
But she'd let it go. For now. Planning to pry later.
So now, with the two outfits, Kitahara returned—and happened to meet Creek.
He handed them to her.
But after that, he didn't leave. He sat opposite, and asked:
"What do you think? Do they suit you?"
"I like them very much. Thank you, Trainer Kitahara."
"No need for thanks. It's my duty."
He paused. Then added:
"But Creek-san, I'd like to ask something. If you don't dislike this one—would you wear it often?"
His gaze fell to her legs. She, pulling out the socks paired with the outfit, quickly understood.
"Because of... my legs?"
"Yes."
Leg problems were common in Uma Musume.
Especially racers. Their legs bore enormous strain. Injuries were frequent.
Creek's weren't serious. Not "glass legs."
But Kitahara wanted the risk lower still. He'd asked the elder mare to add protection into her outfit.
He explained. She understood. She promised to wear it often.
But as she stroked the fabric, looking at him, a strange feeling welled up.
I... am being cared for, am I not?
Komata, her previous trainer, had helped, yes. But like a teacher guiding a pupil.
In all else, Komata was like a child himself—always needing care, never giving it.
And Kitahara—whom she had planned to care for—was instead caring for her.
Before the thought faded, Kitahara slid more papers across the table.
"And this—some special exercises for your legs. A diet list, too."
"As for race strategy—I'll wait until you've improved a little. Then I can design something stronger for you."
"If you want one now, we can try, but the effect won't be great. And adjusting later will be more work."
As he spoke, the feeling in her chest swelled.
From childhood, Creek had been one who cared. After infancy, there was only ever her giving, never others giving to her.
But now...
Holding his notes, listening to his earnest instructions—she felt a strange, sharp pang of defeat.
From childhood, she had lived in his shadow. Her challenges against him had failed.
Later, she had forgotten those feelings, telling herself he couldn't even care for himself. That she would.
But deep down, wasn't that her way of surpassing him? Of breaking the shadow cast over her life?
Yet now—she couldn't even do that. He was caring for her.
And it wasn't only her. Even the "children" she had once cared for—Oguri, Tamamo, Nishino—now clung to Kitahara more. Listened to him more.
Caring ability. Popularity. History.
For the first time, she saw clearly the full shape of the shadow over her life.
When it had been vague, she could at least resist.
Now, recognizing it—she could not even summon resistance.
"Kitahara-san... you really are amazing."
Her voice sincere, though a trace of loss edged her expression.
Kitahara noticed, worried he'd said something wrong. He asked carefully.
Creek was silent. Then admitted: she thought he was better at caring, more beloved. She was lacking.
But Kitahara shook his head.
"Actually, Creek-san, I think you're the greater one."
He didn't let her protest.
"I know you won't believe it. But truly—in caring for others, you surpass me.
"Because even when I help, I expect return. Maybe food. Maybe winnings. Even here, with you—it's my duty. And if you win, I profit.
"But you—you care purely because others need it. With no thought of return. In that, I cannot compare."
He paused.
"But I also think... you go too far."
She blinked.
"Too far?"
"Yes." He nodded.
"You're too good. Too perfect."
"Caring is good. Selfless is noble."
"But people also need... to be needed."
"You give and give, never asking. It can feel as though others need you, but you don't need them. That can become pressure."
He met her eyes.
"Even mothers cannot do everything alone. They need fathers. Even children. Help goes both ways."
"So I think—you don't need to become better. You're already excellent."
"What you need is to learn to be needed. To lean on others. To let them help you, too."
"One-sided giving builds walls. Perfection makes distance. To truly draw close—it must be mutual. Supporting each other."
He finished softly.
"At least—that's how I see it."
"What do you think, Creek-san?"
Silence.
Creek sat still. Her tail swayed.
Truthfully, it had begun swaying halfway through.
Nothing could be happier than hearing your lifelong rival praise you.
Unless—it was him praising you sincerely. Logically. Convincingly.
Learn to rely on others, hm...
She smiled.
"Then, Kitahara-san—am I not right now relying on you? Being cared for by you?"
He arched a brow.
"Of course. I'm your trainer."
"In that case..."
Her smile deepened. One hand cupping her cheek.
"Then, Kitahara-san—if, as you say, the best path is mutual support—since I am now cared for by you, shouldn't I also be... needed by you?"
His hair stood on end.
Damn. He'd walked himself into it.
Before he could answer, Nice Nature appeared, announcing the bath was ready, urging him to wash first.
Kitahara seized the chance, fleeing like a man pardoned.
He didn't see—
After he left, Nice Nature stood still, holding his jacket, eyes locked with Creek's.
After a long silence, she spoke, voice edged with hostility:
"I won't give him to you."
Creek only smiled, silent.
But in her eyes—the battle-lust only surged higher.