The next morning, when Kitahara Sota woke up, he didn't feel anything particularly wrong.
There was a weight on his body, yes, but Eclipse often crawled into his futon in the middle of the night—sometimes even into his arms—so he was long used to that feeling.
But then, as he grew more awake, he realized something. Eclipse wasn't beside him. She'd gone to sleep with the little ones.
So what was this weight?
He stiffly lowered his head—and saw two small heads pillowed on his chest.
Nice Nature wasn't too bad. Just half her body poked from the futon, head resting on his chest, hand gripping his.
But Sunday Silence… her sleeping posture was anything but graceful.
Being a ghost, she phased at will—so she sprawled over him like an octopus, even her legs clipping right into Nature's bedding.
The hell?!
Kitahara shook Sunday awake. But she had the nerve to have a morning temper.
Half-asleep, she just shoved against him irritably, showing no sign of letting go or getting up.
As for Nice Nature, he carefully shifted her back into a normal position—but her hand…
No matter what trick he tried, he couldn't free himself from her little grip.
He understood why.
There really had been a ghost lying beside her last night—its feet still sticking through her covers until moments ago. Of course she'd been too scared to release his hand.
But today was training day. Soon everyone would be up. If they saw this scene, who knew what misunderstandings would erupt.
So after a while, Kitahara shook Nature awake. Flushed red, she let go.
After that, while the dorm was still quiet, she sneaked her futon back onto her bed and scrubbed away the traces of Kitahara's scent on her body.
She had wanted to keep them, declare her claim.
But here, in camp, if anyone knew she had pulled off a stunt like this, she'd be instantly targeted. Better to make a silent profit.
Still, even after cleaning up, she worried.
There was a ghost in the room. If she had seen everything…
"'Your friend' says you don't need to worry. She'll keep your secret."
Between training sessions, Manhattan Café passed along the message.
But though she relayed it, Café didn't understand it either. She'd asked Sunday directly, but Sunday gave no reply.
Hearing the message, Nice Nature finally relaxed, thanking Sunday through Café. Her fear of the ghost faded halfway in that instant.
After that, with the oddities covered up and the few who knew all keeping silent, daily life returned to calm.
Except that, every night, Sunday and Nature carried out an unspoken agreement—one played the ghost, the other the frightened girl looking for excuses to cuddle.
Neither pushed too far. Nature no longer held his hand, only quietly savoring the feeling of sharing sleep, edging closer step by step.
And she wasn't stupid.
After brushing against that aura several times, she began to piece together Sunday's position, and realized she might not be the only one sneaking around.
But she didn't expose it.
She even secretly promised to help cover for Sunday too.
Eclipse was right there. Nature never expected she could secure the "first move" anyway.
And after hearing Café talk about Sunday's past, she realized Kitahara might be her only move.
Considering the ghost's situation, she figured cooperation wasn't a bad idea.
Competition was fierce. Without an ally, she had no confidence of outlasting those wolves circling.
And they weren't the only ones forming teams.
Despite the odd, watchful tension in the dorm, not everyone saw each other as rivals.
Oguri Cap, for example. Sometimes she did things that looked questionable—like licking cream, or swapping food.
But she herself didn't even know why. By instinct, she avoided eyes when doing it. So no one ever thought of her as a contender.
Grass Wonder was similar.
Though her womanly threat was high, she never let anyone see when her tail coiled secretly around Kitahara. She played the observer.
Sometimes she even assisted Special Week, making her, for now, part of Spe-chan's "faction."
As for Agnes Digital—though she'd grown more affectionate with Kitahara lately—
Her ingrained perversion, and the fact she usually came near under the excuse of work or study, kept suspicion away.
Not everyone had the piercing gaze of Symboli Speed or the elder Uma Musume. Few could trace each scent-mark in this crowded camp.
And Digital had another outrageous quirk—she didn't mind him being close to other girls.
Even if her own feelings had grown complicated, her love of "shipping" had never changed.
Sure, sometimes jealousy pricked when she saw him with others.
But when she confirmed that no matter who was around, Kitahara still honored his promise to her—that he'd always respond when she asked, always be available even 24 hours a day—
The jealousy fused with her fujoshi joy, becoming a strange pleasure.
Far from wanting to monopolize him, she even wanted him closer with more girls.
That way, she could enjoy his closeness and theirs, savoring double the pleasure.
For that reason, she not only stayed glued to him, but also secretly helped Tachyon—aligning herself with Tachyon's "camp."
Eclipse and Tokai Teio? They didn't need factions.
Eclipse stood alone—childhood bond, unmatched speed, everything towering.
No one dared even imagine winning against her. Most had already accepted that if they conquered the block of wood Kitahara, they'd still have to share him with Eclipse.
No—more precisely, Eclipse would share him with them.
And there was precedent.
Because of the severe trainer shortage, although one-to-one pairs were standard, some trainers had been shared.
Like the famed "Three Heroes of Taishi."
The reasons varied—team bonds, refusal to let go, or prior agreement.
But the true reason was this: Uma Musume were a species outside the normal human gender ratio.
Humans alone balanced at about 100:100. But women already slightly outnumbered men—and with Uma Musume added, the imbalance widened dramatically.
And though so similar to humans, in fine details they were different.
If an Uma Musume married an ordinary man, those details meant long, risky adjustment. And their superior physiques only made accidents likelier.
But trainers were different.
Their very profession was built on knowing Uma Musume better than anyone. Vetted by the Three Goddesses, trained in relevant skills, able to add color to marriage life—
For Uma Musume, trainers were the ideal partners.
So "shared trainers" happened. Not common, but not unheard of.
But to trainers themselves, this supposed "harem prize" was pure terror.
Because trainers were desk workers, often frail. Uma Musume were athletes, young, brimming with power.
One was enough to exhaust a man to the brink of death. Several…
Some trainers even deliberately sought pelvic fractures, using the recovery period as precious rest. Some refused the medicine that sped healing.
Thus in the trainer community, "pelvic fracture" was no tragedy, but almost an inside joke.
As for Kitahara Sota—Eclipse's presence alone had most given up monopolizing him.
But "not monopolize" didn't mean "share with everyone."
If possible, they wanted as few sharers as possible. Best of all, none.
Tokai Teio especially.
As his second tantou, she hadn't begun with love so much as the possessiveness of a child with a toy.
Back then, Kitahara had felt like a toy Eclipse shared with her.
So when Special Week and Oguri joined, she felt a twinge.
But she also knew—he wasn't a toy. They were strangers bound by duty.
So the unhappiness passed.
Later, bit by bit, everything changed.
Acquaintance turned to play, to friendship.
Student council confrontations. Late-night talks.
Teio discovered he wasn't simple. His weight in her heart grew.
Crises, the Black Forest, Tachyon.
Guilt, jealousy, fear of being left behind.
Trust, the decisive outfit, the reveal of her talent.
He never forced her, never denied her whims. Always steady at her side.
How could she not be drawn in?
And now, with all those memories piled up—plus the president's words, plus that one night's embrace—
Her balance collapsed.
She still hadn't asked him to be her exclusive trainer—not out of self-doubt, but out of respect.
He had said: even without him, she could seize the undefeated Triple Crown herself.
So she wanted to prove him right with her own results.
And besides him, she still adored Rudolf, still wanted to chase her back.
President and Trainer—two ends of her heart's scales. Her only pillars.
Rudolf had said Teio resembled her younger self: possessive, unwilling to share.
But Teio's possessiveness wasn't material.
She gladly shared things like snacks, drinks, even her beloved honey soda.
But in spirit—in recognition, in victory—her competitive hunger was stronger than anyone's.
She had always trained hard, not just to respond to Rudolf's trust, but to win more praise, more attention.
So when Rudolf praised others, she wilted.
It was like the kid in class who always got the red star sticker. The day the teacher gave it to someone else, that kid's world fell apart.
Now, Kitahara was another teacher.
And naturally, she wanted his stars for herself.
But he had many students. She had to take her turn.
Even so, she wasn't dejected.
She believed if she performed well enough, she'd earn his stars. She had confidence in that.
And Rudolf still gave her all hers, even visiting her training often. That filled her with joy.
Sometimes, mid-training, glancing at Kitahara chatting warmly with Rudolf—
Though she knew they spoke about her, though she felt relief their tension had softened—
Somewhere in her mind flickered doubts: Too close? Too frequent? Too intimate?
But those flickers drowned quickly in joy.
She trusted them both completely.
So she pressed those doubts down.
Focused on her race. Determined to win results, to earn even more stars.
She prepared in earnest.
But elsewhere…
Another contest was underway.
A contest known as the Shameless-Women Tournament of the Kitahara Cup.