"Hello..."
A faint sound came from the cardboard box—soft and gentle, like the voice of a young girl.
"?"
Hearing the greeting, Fujiwara glanced at the box beside Mizuno and furrowed his brow in confusion.
Just now... did that box greet him?
Was the box actually talking, or was he getting old and mishearing things?
Fujiwara pinched his chin and fell silent.
"Guh..." On the other side, Maruzensky—hiding inside the box—saw Fujiwara staring straight at her and got so nervous she felt like she was about to cry.
She'd finally worked up the courage to say hello to a stranger, and he hadn't responded at all... Was it because she was too timid—because she could only bring herself to hide in a box—so he'd just ignored her?
...Yeah. She really was useless. An Umamusume like her was better off curled up at home alone...
"Guh..." Maruzensky instinctively shuffled farther behind Mizuno, using his body to block Fujiwara's line of sight.
That single movement scared the life out of Fujiwara.
"?!"
He stared in horror at the cardboard box behind Mizuno—one that had moved on its own—and broke out in a cold sweat.
In Japan, there's the idea of "eight million kami".
"Eight million" isn't a literal count—it's a way of expressing the endless, pervasive presence of the divine. From towering mountains to a chipped bowl in your home, even a speck of dust in a crack in the ground—any of it might have a spirit dwelling inside, quietly playing its part in everyday life.
In simpler terms: everything has a soul.
Some of it came from life in a resource-poor island nation—an old cultural push toward frugality and respect for objects. Especially among the older generation, there are still people who believe that if you treat the things you use without reverence, you'll invite punishment from spirits and monsters.
Fujiwara was never superstitious, but he lived by one rule: better to believe than to scoff.
Just because you haven't seen it doesn't mean it isn't real.
And today, he'd finally laid eyes on one: a cardboard-box spirit that could move.
As for why Fujiwara didn't assume there was a person—or an Umamusume—hiding under the box...
Come on. What normal person goes out wearing a cardboard box?
Even the most painfully introverted shut-in would rather not leave the house at all than walk around wrapped in a box. That would just be even more humiliating.
So it had to be some kind of yōkai born from a cardboard box!
And from the way Mizuno kept calling it his "little sister," it sounded like a clingy female spirit, too!
"Hiss..." Fujiwara sucked in a sharp breath, staring warily at the trembling box hiding behind Mizuno, sweat beading on his forehead.
"?" Mizuno immediately picked up that something was off and asked with concern, "Fujiwara, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about..."
"Me?" Mizuno pointed at himself, baffled.
"Yeah..." Fujiwara nodded, then asked pointedly, "You haven't been doing anything bad lately, right? You didn't go and offend something you really shouldn't have?"
"Uh... probably not..." Mizuno said, a little guilty as he glanced back at Maruzensky.
He didn't know what "bad" Fujiwara meant, but his Uma Mint really had provoked plenty of Umamusume he shouldn't have—Maruzensky included. That was why he was stuck worrying over how to fulfill her wish now.
"Just as I thought." Fujiwara looked at Mizuno's expression and grew even more convinced.
This kid had done something taboo—and gotten himself latched onto by a cardboard-box yōkai!
"Forget driving practice for today. I'm taking you to a temple to find a master. See if they can drive the evil out." Fujiwara swallowed hard, his eyes flicking again and again to the trembling box behind Mizuno.
"Drive the evil out?"
"Yeah."
Mizuno followed Fujiwara's gaze and realized the man had genuinely mistaken Maruzensky-in-the-box for a cardboard-box spirit.
So he hurried to explain.
"Fujiwara, you've got it wrong. Her name is Maruzensky. You know her."
"Maruzensky?" Fujiwara blinked. The name felt oddly familiar.
"Wait—she's the Maruzen kid?!"
It hit him all at once. Maruzensky—wasn't that the name of the former #1 in the skill rankings in their amateur racing enthusiasts' group?!
Maruzensky might not recognize Fujiwara—he rarely spoke in the chat—but Fujiwara definitely knew her.
Because Maruzensky wasn't just the top of an amateur ranking list. She was a major star in the racing world. As Tracen Academy's school-bus driver, Fujiwara- would have to be living under a rock not to know her.
It was just that the Maruzensky in his memory was a Showa-flavored Umamusume girl with a personality like a blaze—nothing like a shy Umamusume hiding inside a cardboard box.
"What's wrong with her?" Fujiwara asked.
"Uh... it's a long story." Mizuno scratched his head awkwardly and told Fujiwara everything from start to finish.
The whole confession in front of the statue of the Three Goddesses, the sudden personality shift, the wish that needed fulfilling—everything.
Fujiwara already knew about his Uma Mint constitution, and he'd always helped cover for him. He was an elder worth trusting, so Mizuno didn't hide anything.
"I see..." After hearing the truth, Fujiwara let out a long sigh and studied Mizuno with a kind of pity.
That Uma Mint constitution really was a heavy sin to bear. Not only did it force him to dress like a walking black garbage bag most days, but if he ever slipped up and got exposed, it could cause serious negative effects on any Umamusume who got caught in it...
At least Mizuno was a good kid—responsible. He'd never once tried to abandon an Umamusume, and he always worked hard to find solutions.
Still, the part Fujiwara cared about most wasn't any of that.
He was curious about how Symboli Rudolf felt.
After all, President Rudolf treated Mizuno like her beloved consort!
If her consort was tangled up with so many other Umamusume, wouldn't the "Emperor" get jealous?
And Maruzensky and Symboli Rudolf were close, too—always showing up together in public. Calling them besties wouldn't be an exaggeration.
But now, for Maruzensky's condition to improve, she needed a boyfriend's wholehearted care—and Symboli Rudolf, as Tracen's Student Council President, couldn't exactly say no...
Whoa. A wave of NTR stench hit him right in the face.
Fujiwara had never lived through anything like it, but he could still imagine how complicated Symboli Rudolf's feelings must be every time she told Mizuno which Umamusume needed his help next...