From Kitahara Sota's perspective, ever since Manhattan Café joined the team, life had once again settled into calm.
The Symboli family had made no moves. The Black Forest matter was closed.
Even Sunday Silence was being well-behaved. Apart from showing up every night to hug his arm and sleep, she hadn't done anything else.
And aside from Nice Nature—who now slept beside him nightly because of Sunday's presence—there was nothing worth noting.
And even that, he knew, was only because Sunday's aura and Nature's unstable condition left her no choice but to bed down near him.
Since then, she had done nothing extra—no more waking to find her lying on him. She quietly kept to her side.
At first, it had been awkward. But once he got used to it, it wasn't much of a problem.
So, Kitahara didn't overthink it. He simply sank back into his peaceful, lazy life.
At most, he spent two or three hours each day on training plans for his girls.
The rest of his time was spent on his phone, scrolling forums, bantering in chats—occasionally doing research on Sunday Silence, and slipping in the chance to squeeze or rub Eclipse a little.
To him, things felt about the same as before.
But to others…
Nature went without saying. Ever since teaming up with Sunday Silence, she had secured permanent residence at Kitahara's side.
Though worried Kitahara might be spooked or resistant, she had made no further moves.
But even just "sleeping together" was already a huge step forward, putting her far ahead of the rest.
And with Sunday's cooperation, no one else had discovered it yet. No danger of being swarmed.
Yes, they'd all agreed before—due to too much internal pressure, everyone agreed on giving up on open competition.
But no one had said they couldn't sneak ahead.
And while Nature congratulated herself in secret for her success, others were doing the same.
First—Grass Wonder.
She still hadn't entered the battlefield, still planning to save Kitahara only if he truly fell into danger.
But her tail… her tail had other ideas.
Because of the Black Forest, Kitahara often had to meet with her, poring over documents.
Which meant sitting side by side.
And in those moments, Grass Wonder's tail had tried everything: coiling around his arm, his waist, even creeping toward his thigh.
At first, both she and Kitahara had been embarrassed, avoiding it.
But as time passed, Kitahara accepted it as "just how things were."
Especially after seeing her tail wrap Eclipse's little arm while they sat working earnestly side by side—
He decided it must be simple habit.
What he didn't know: the instant his gaze moved away, her tail would retreat from Eclipse, swaying excitedly behind her.
Next—Special Week.
With so many people around, she couldn't just burrow into Kitahara's arms.
But unlike the others, Spe-chan knew exactly what Kitahara liked.
So lately, she had been especially "good"—not overly clingy, not even asking him to ruffle her hair.
It looked like her progress had stalled.
But that was only the surface.
In private, she never hid her longing. Wide, pitiful eyes looked up at him. Cute, needy little sounds slipped out to draw his attention.
But she never crossed the line, never asked outright.
Because she wanted Kitahara to come to her.
She knew—feelings had to go both ways.
If she begged, desperate, using only what he could accept, he might yield. But it would be hard on him.
She wanted him happy too. So she chose this route.
If he liked obedient kids, she would be one.
If he allowed her spoiled antics in small doses, she would indulge them.
She combined the two—wanting to coax him into spoiling her of his own accord.
And after holding out—she succeeded.
Worn down by her patience, Kitahara privately caved a few times, secretly ruffling her hair hard in ways no one else saw.
She savored it.
And during those moments, she slipped in tiny "accidents"—pouncing, clinging to his arm, lightly biting his neck in mock anger.
Always brief. Always stopping before he grew displeased.
And if Spe-chan was like that, Oguri Cap was on another track altogether.
Not that she'd thought about it deeply. She hadn't even realized what she was doing.
But instinct alone was enough to keep her competitive in the Kitahara Cup.
Aside from her food-sharing, lately she had found a new way to "taste" him.
She'd buy him snacks as thanks—then, after he ate, stare at him until he split half back to her.
A win-win: a gift given, a craving satisfied.
Once, she'd bought a powdery, crunchy snack. After licking her own fingers clean, her eyes slid to Kitahara's.
And in the next moment, she repeated what had once happened in the cafeteria.
Except this time she didn't lick.
This time—she took his fingers into her mouth.
Sucking lightly, tongue swirling, scraping every crumb of seasoning away in ticklish motions.
Kitahara lectured her, of course.
But midway, he noticed her gaze flick to his face—realized there were still crumbs at the corner of his own mouth.
And in her disappointed eyes, the lecture ended.
The crumbs on his lips… probably taste even better than on his hand…
The thought stirred a familiar hunger in her belly.
And Agnes Digital.
No one suspected her. She had the most legitimate excuses to be around him—work, training, care studies, even helping him relax.
If not for her deeply ingrained perverted reputation, and her lack of any possessiveness—
She would have been top priority, above even Nature.
But because of that, no one thought she had designs on him.
Especially after she'd even been seen helping Tachyon—cementing her image as just "the pervert."
And Tachyon herself.
After that race, she kept her distance for a few days—not just out of shyness, but regret.
Not regret for not confessing. Even if she had, she would've been refused. That would only sour things.
No, she regretted joking.
She knew the story of the boy who cried wolf.
Now, even if she confessed sincerely, he'd dismiss it as another joke.
But a few days later, she realized—it wasn't so bad.
Because if even a confession would be brushed off as a joke—
Then she could act boldly, slip in transgressions—and he'd still dismiss them as "just Tachyon."
Teasing, playing, even pushing him onto the sofa and pretending to kiss him...
That last one earned her a vicious forehead flick and a long scolding.
But in it, she found her path.
Not to leap on him outright.
No—she would accustom him. Bit by bit, wear down his shell.
Until the day it loosened—and she would strike.
Manhattan Café, though…
Yes, she joined his team. Yes, she was fond of him.
But she was shy, reserved. She noticed others' little schemes—looked away, blushing. No move to join the battlefield.
But outside the team, someone had noticed.
Tamamo Cross.
Watching, she became more certain Kitahara was being corrupted by these girls.
And more aware of his danger.
It worried her.
Years ago he had helped her once. Recently he'd adjusted her schedule, even found her a job.
She had never given him anything in return.
She had planned to, once she debuted, once she won money—gifts, thanks, help however she could.
But if things kept going this way, she feared she'd never get the chance.
Yet, as an outsider, she couldn't intervene in another team's affairs.
The conflict ate at her. It showed in her training, her eyes drifting toward Kitahara, tinged with worry.
And of course—Komata Hajime noticed.
She didn't know why Tamamo looked, but she drew her own conclusion.
Kitahara and Tamamo already knew each other. He was more capable than her.
He had solved her problems when Komata herself had done nothing.
They talked easily, teasing and joking, while she was always the butt of Tamamo's complaints.
The answer was clear.
Tamamo longed to switch to Kitahara, but her contract kept her trapped.
Komata couldn't help but feel low.
She liked Tamamo. Cared for her.
But her heart was elsewhere.
She had to admit it.
And she also knew—Kitahara's skill dwarfed her own.
Her only successes with Tamamo and Super Creek had come from chance, not ability.
So though it hurt, she resolved herself.
She was an adult. She couldn't let her selfishness keep a child bound.
If Kitahara could raise Tamamo higher, then she would let her go.
As for Super Creek—if she lost Tamamo too, then Nishino would just have to shoulder the burden.
Even if, deep down, Komata feared the worst.
If Tamamo left, and Super Creek followed…
She swallowed the thought, steadying herself.
She was their trainer. Whatever happened, she had to be responsible for their futures.
That was her duty.
So she took a step toward Kitahara.
"Um, Trainer Kitahara."
"What is it, senpai?"
She hesitated—then gathered her courage, speaking seriously.
"Tonight… if you're free… can you stay with me for a bit?
"I have something important to discuss."
As her words fell, the air over the training grounds shifted.
Even the sunlight seemed to dim.