Within that calm, everyday rhythm, time slipped into the end of July.
With summer digging deeper, the weather grew hotter day by day.
The heat, plus the wave of training camps rolling out one after another, meant the number of Uma Musume and trainers on the grounds had dropped noticeably. Outfits, too, grew lighter.
Kitahara Sota's side was, of course, the same.
After all, he wasn't a god. He couldn't control climate or the turn of seasons. He cut down some of his girls' training volume, shifting it to cooler hours.
Beyond training, during his time wandering here and there, he had also picked up some folk recipes.
Drinks to fight the heat, tonics to refresh the mind, prevent sunburn and tanning, restore stamina…
All sorts of things.
For various reasons, up till now, apart from adjusting their schedules and strategies, he had barely done anything that resembled a trainer's usual job.
And with the Black Forest's structure complete, Grass Wonder could handle everything herself now—so much that Agnes Digital's help wasn't even needed anymore. That meant Kitahara himself was needed even less.
So these days, Kitahara Sota was really doing nothing at all.
Scrolling his phone, browsing forums, filling Eclipse's daily training quota when he had to, occasionally giving Nice Nature some care… the rest was empty.
So, bored out of his skull, he remembered those recipes he had learned. He happened to have money on hand too.
So he began experimenting and refining them, handing out the results to his Uma Musume and a few trainer acquaintances to test. Every single one gave glowing reviews.
Unlike Agnes Tachyon's concoctions, his were all inherited recipes from elsewhere—old, tried-and-true remedies.
Sure, their effects weren't as absurd as Tachyon's potions, but the advantage was: no side effects. The moment he put them out, they were warmly welcomed. Some even tried to approach him privately, offering huge sums and profit cuts to buy the recipes.
Kitahara refused.
Not because he didn't want to sell, but because these recipes were things he had learned from others.
And quite a few were closely guarded family secrets, or someone's bread-and-butter craft—shared with him only because they trusted him.
Making small batches to share with friends was fine. Selling them publicly—he couldn't bring himself to do that.
And so, time flowed quietly… until Sunday arrived.
Having lived in Kitahara Sota's dorm for quite a while, the girls had grown familiar with his habits.
They knew he liked to sleep in on weekends. After waking, he would wash up, eat a bit, and then—with no care for appearances—sloppily sink into tinkering with whatever interested him.
Kitahara himself believed letting his image slide would lower the impression he left in their minds.
But to the Uma Musume, that private, careless look of his carried its own kind of flavor. Even Nice Nature never tried to stop him.
But today—things weren't as they expected.
Before their startled eyes, Kitahara got up early. For once, he washed and groomed himself carefully.
When he finished, he pulled out the custom suit from his wardrobe—the one he had only worn once, at Agnes Digital's G1 race. He put it on with rare formality.
This was…
A sense of foreboding rose in their chests. The air inside the dorm turned eerie.
"Um, Trainer-san," Tokai Teio spoke first, feigning nonchalance.
"You're heading out?"
"Mm."
Kitahara nodded, answering casually.
"Didn't I tell you before? This Sunday I have to help Trainer Komata Hajime with something. If all goes well, I'll be back in the afternoon."
"What kind of something? Can you take us with you? We want to go out too."
"I'd like to, but today's task is kind of like meeting a client to discuss a contract. It wouldn't be appropriate to bring you along."
Hearing this explanation, which sounded reasonable on the surface, the Uma Musume only grew more suspicious.
Client? What client? Even if it was a client, would he really dress up this seriously?
And Komata Hajime—hadn't she been in contact with their trainer a bit too frequently lately?
And this was Sunday! A man and a woman going out together on "business"—even if it really was business, how was that any different from a date?
Especially when they remembered: Tracen had, in the past, suffered the disgrace of trainers dating trainers. Their unease swelled all the more.
But the problem was—they couldn't find any justifiable reason to stop him.
Because everyone already agreed: Kitahara Sota was a block of wood.
He didn't harbor those kinds of feelings for them. He saw them only as children. They all understood that. And they had no grounds to stop him from going out with a colleague under a legitimate reason.
So even as the air in the room grew heavier, no one spoke up to oppose it. They could only watch in silence as Kitahara Sota—clearly in an unusual state—walked out the door.
The instant the door shut behind him, every Uma Musume inside froze.
Moments later, they gathered around the table. Silence thickened until it felt weighty.
At last, Tokai Teio spoke.
"What do you think Trainer-san went to do?"
Date.
The word flashed instantly through all their minds. Then just as quickly, they rejected it.
If he were the kind of man who could actually go on a date, they wouldn't all have nearly killed themselves rebounding off him these past days.
But then—they realized something.
Kitahara Sota himself would never have such thoughts. He might not even notice if someone asked him out.
And precisely because of that—what if the other party exploited that blind spot? What if he had been coaxed into a date without even realizing it…?
With how well they knew him, that was absolutely possible.
And given Komata Hajime's recent frequency of contact with him, and the way she acted during those interactions—it was highly likely she had set her sights on their trainer and was already taking steps.
The thought made all their expressions change.
They'd been so focused on guarding against teammates inside the circle… they'd forgotten there were dangers outside, too.
And worse—Komata was a trainer herself.
Already, Tracen's environment was one of wolves and scarce meat. The ratio of Uma Musume to trainers had long hovered between 9:1 and 14:1 (counting both active and retired).
But in recent years, with the surge of Uma Musume, and especially the flood of transfer students, that ratio had ballooned to a staggering 20:1—and was still climbing. Breaking past 30 wasn't out of the question.
In such conditions, never mind "taking a trainer home"—some girls with weaker talent couldn't even find a team. That was why the Chairwoman had so forcefully pushed new regulations.
And it wasn't just Uma Musume fighting over trainers. Out in the human marriage market, trainers were extremely sought-after.
Good pay, solid social standing.
If they could pass Tracen's exams and serve under the very eyes of the Three Goddesses, their character was essentially guaranteed. More reliable even than a civil service exam.
And to make it into Tracen's main campus—that was the cream of the crop.
Income, reputation, character—everything met the definition of an ideal spouse. Naturally, they drew covetous eyes.
Some didn't even bother hiding it, openly trying to steal trainers away despite their existing assignments.
So—could you blame the Uma Musume for being unreserved?
With predators circling outside, and wolves prowling inside—
If you moved even a little too slow, you might not just miss out entirely. You'd end up attending someone else's wedding banquet instead, gift money in hand.
And it wasn't like Tracen's Uma Musume had always been this way.
A long time ago, for a few years, they too had found the Tracen-to-Trap trend indecent. Under the then-student council president's lead, they had tried to preserve the academy's atmosphere.
That period—later remembered as the "Era of Lifelong Regrets"—left such bitter scars that even now, the memory still stung like a raw nerve. A reminder of how terrifying those outside "cheap women" could be.
Especially after the very president who had led that movement had her trainer stolen by an outside woman… Tracen's descent into Tracen-Trap became unstoppable.
Reserved? Reserved your ass. If you steal my trainer, that's reserved?!
And forget outsiders—even inside the academy, with the constant shortage of trainers, if you wanted to take one home you had to claw your way through a pack of wolves.
The ones who succeeded were rare. Otherwise there wouldn't still be so many single Uma Musume.
And now—there were even trainers trying to "digest things internally"?
Tokai Teio, as the heir chosen by President Rudolf herself, felt it was her duty to stop this rotten trend. Absolutely not because she had any special feelings toward her own Trainer-san.
The problem was—how?
Follow him? Don't joke. Even Agnes Digital, a specialist in that art, would be noticed by him instantly.
Throw a tantrum? Lowering their impression points and handing over the lane on a platter—none of them would do that.
And the main issue wasn't with Kitahara Sota anyway. If this block of wood were capable of sprouting, they wouldn't still be stuck at zero progress.
As for Komata Hajime—sure, she and Kitahara got along. But that was it. She had no ties to them, wasn't their trainer. They had no standing, no reason to intervene.
After a long silence, Oguri Cap—who had stayed quiet until now—raised her hand.
"Um. My roommate is Tamamo Cross. She's under Trainer Komata Hajime. I have her contact info. Should I call them over to discuss together?"
The others looked around at each other, then nodded.
"…That works."