"...Sigh. What a pair of star-crossed souls."
Fujiwara let out a long breath, feeling sorry for Symboli Rudolf—and pitying Mizuno, too.
What a shame she'd fallen for a guy who was never going to be able to give her all his love.
And what a tragedy for him, doomed to a future where a whole pack of Umamusume would end up "sharing him out"...
Fujiwara had actually been a pretty hardcore shipper of Mizuno and Symboli Rudolf. He'd thought the two of them were practically a match made in heaven—so much so that he'd even planned to give them a nice cash gift when Symboli Rudolf got married.
But now Maruzensky had entered the picture, and Fujiwara's loyalties wobbled instantly.
Was he supposed to support Symboli Rudolf getting Mizuno, or support Maruzensky?
Symboli Rudolf was the one running Tracen Academy. Last time, when Fujiwara joked that Mizuno was her "little wifey," she'd been so delighted she even gave him a raise.
And Maruzensky was one of their amateur racing group's own—warm, helpful, talented, and genuinely decent. She was the youngest in the chat, yet anyone who met her still respectfully called her "Boss Maruzen."
Both sides mattered. How was he supposed to pick a camp?
"...Forget it." Fujiwara shook his head and gave up.
Ship wars and faction fights weren't for him. That was other people's domestic drama; as an outsider, he had no business sticking his nose in.
Besides—like it mattered who "won." It wasn't as if Mizuno's pelvis would magically stop getting crushed.
That was the fate of Tracen's outstanding Trainers. No one escaped it. Even if a god came down, they'd still have to get Uma Pyoi'd before they were allowed to leave.
So Fujiwara chose neutrality. Whether it was Symboli Rudolf, Maruzensky, or some other Umamusume who took Mizuno's first time, it didn't matter to him.
What mattered was what Mizuno wanted.
Fujiwara looked up and saw Mizuno with his back to him, trying to comfort Maruzensky—still heartsore from being snubbed.
A moment ago, Maruzensky had bravely greeted Fujiwara. Not only had she gotten no response, she'd been mistaken for a yōkai on top of it. That kind of misunderstanding stung.
It was like a dark cloud had gathered over her cardboard box, drizzling a thin, steady rain—an exact picture of how low her mood had sunk.
Luckily, Mizuno was good at soothing girls. Especially shy ones.
He bent at the waist, lowering himself, trying to make his black trash-bag getup look a little less intimidating, and then spoke gently:
"Don't be scared. Fujiwara-san is a kind elder—he's not scary at all."
"Earlier, he only mistook you for a yōkai because hiding in a box kind of looks like a Pokémon. It was just a misunderstanding, I swear—he didn't mean anything bad."
"You know Pokémon, right? Those cute little spirits. And you're really cute too, so he thought you were one of them."
"And you did great just now. I know you were scared, but you still worked up the courage to say hello to a stranger. That's already amazing."
"As for why he didn't respond—mostly it's because you were a bit far away, so he couldn't really hear you."
"Next time, try speaking just a tiny bit louder. Then people will hear you."
"..." Maruzensky slowly lifted the box flap and peeked out, gazing up at Mizuno with bright expectation. Her horse ears trembled with excitement.
"Really?"
"Of course." Mizuno nodded firmly, then looked at Fujiwara. "Right, Fujiwara-san?"
As he asked, he casually hid one hand behind his back and started making frantic signals—wordless, desperate: Please play along.
"Right, right! Exactly what Mizuno said!" Fujiwara caught on immediately and chimed in with a big smile.
"It really was a misunderstanding. Sorry about that, Maruzen."
"Eh?!" Being apologized to so directly, Maruzensky looked overwhelmed. She waved her hands in a fluster.
"No, no! You don't have to apologize!"
"It's my fault... I spoke too quietly..."
"If I'd just been louder from the start, you wouldn't have misunderstood..."
"Guh... it's all on me..." The more she talked, the more she blamed herself, and the worse she felt. Her ears drooped.
Just as Maruzensky spiraled into self-doubt, Mizuno put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from taking it all on herself.
"No. You didn't do anything wrong."
He shook his head, then said softly:
"If anything, there wasn't really anyone at fault at all..."
"Because any normal person would've had an awkward moment like that."
"I've had a few times where I didn't respond when someone called me, too. Not because they weren't loud enough—just because I didn't realize they were calling me."
"Our ears automatically filter out what the brain labels as background noise. And if you're not super close friends, who can honestly guarantee that a sudden greeting is definitely meant for you?"
"So the misunderstanding wasn't Fujiwara-san's problem—and it absolutely wasn't your fault, either..."
As he spoke, like he did when comforting his little sister Rice Shower, his hand naturally drifted up to Maruzensky's head.
The pat was gentle and unhurried—soft as a cloud, with not a trace of impatience in it.
"Guh..." Feeling that warmth above her, Maruzensky's tense nerves gradually eased. She pressed her lips together and gave a tiny, timid sound of agreement.
"..."
She kept her head lowered, hiding the faint redness in her cheeks, but anyone with eyes could tell from the way her ponytail swayed—Mizuno's sincere words had cheered her up a lot.
Watching the whole thing from the side, Fujiwara was so shocked he nearly forgot how to breathe.
For a second, he genuinely wondered if Mizuno had been swapped out by aliens.
Who the heck are you? Is this really the Mizuno he knew—the one who used to flinch at anything remotely female?
He'd been dodging women like they were landmines before, so how was he suddenly so smooth at comforting a girl?
And the way he patted a girl's head so naturally—like he'd done it tens of thousands of times—was he secretly some seasoned player?
The scariest part was this: he had the comforting skills of a playboy, but the character of a clean-cut, non-messy good kid. The kind of top-shelf man who's kind—and good in bed.
No wonder the "Emperor" had ended up taking a shine to him...
A guy like that would be in demand even among other men.
"...Sigh. What a waste." Fujiwara couldn't help letting out a regretful sigh.
What a pity his Jei was a guy. Otherwise, Fujiwara would've absolutely used his position as Mizuno's driving instructor to find a chance to set the two youngsters up.
Still, being friends wasn't bad either. A kid as outstanding as Mizuno would definitely be a good role model for his hopeless Jei.
"Oh, right."
Only then did Fujiwara realize he'd nearly forgotten something important—something he'd meant to say the moment he saw Mizuno this morning.
"Mizuno..." He chose his words, then spoke seriously to the young man who was still patting Maruzensky's head. "For next week's Cowherd-and-Weaver-Girl Race, you'll team up with Maruzensky and enter together."
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T/N: allowing bonus chapters :3
bonus chaps
200 stones -> 1 chapter
400 stones -> 2 chapters
600 stones -> 3 chapters
and so on
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