...
It took quite some effort to carry her all the way back to the car, but Lucian still couldn't manage to stuff Mejiro McQueen into the back seat.
"Young lady, are you going home or not?"
Mejiro McQueen squatted beside the car door, her hands tightly wedged between her abdomen and knees, looking exactly like a cat burying its front paws under its body. "I don't want to sit in the back."
"Are you planning to sleep on the ground?"
"I... hic... want to sit in the front." Mejiro McQueen's eyes, glistening with drunken moisture, stared stubbornly and directly at Lucian.
"I'll call your family to come pick you up."
Lucian had just pulled out his phone when Mejiro McQueen grabbed his hand and yanked him down to the ground with her. "No... Torena-san sending me back... hic... is enough."
"But you're not behaving." Lucian tried to put on a stern face, pointing out her unreasonable behavior.
It seemed quite effective—Mejiro McQueen compromised. "Then I'll behave."
And then Lucian watched helplessly as Mejiro McQueen walked over to the driver's side door and climbed in.
He regretted it. He really shouldn't develop any more alcohol-like substances. Otherwise, the refined young lady would disappear, replaced by a walking trouble generator with a high danger level.
Lucian sighed, intending to get Mejiro McQueen out of the driver's seat, but she had already crawled over to the passenger side.
"Torena-san... hic... get in... go home." Mejiro McQueen patted the seat.
In the end, Lucian successfully delivered Mejiro McQueen back to her doorstep. She had been drowsy in the car, so she was relatively well-behaved.
But when Lucian carried her into the house on his back, he faintly heard Mejiro McQueen murmuring in his ear—like sleep-talking, indistinct and fuzzy.
Something about "thank you"... something about "my favorite dessert"...
Then, just like last time, she gently took his earlobe into her mouth, leaving a faint tooth mark.
...
A few days later, on the training ground.
"Beep—" Lucian blew the whistle, scattering the tranquility and drowsiness on the field. "Line up, line up."
He counted the numbers and skipped roll call. "Can you all be a little more alert? Didn't you just rest? Haru Urara, Twin Turbo, Matikane Tannhauser—step forward."
The three sleepy horse girls walked out of formation upon hearing their names.
Haru Urara, with her messy pink short hair, slowly stepped forward. Twin Turbo exaggeratedly opened her mouth wide and yawned. Matikane Tannhauser at least looked a bit more awake and tried hard to straighten her back.
"Head up, chest out. Stand properly. Looking all droopy and wilted is so unsightly."
"Hai~"
"Got it, Trainer."
"I know~"
...
"Spe-chan, step forward!"
"Hai!" Special Week marched out with matching arms and legs, standing at attention like a soldier.
"The Japan Cup is coming up soon, so your training tasks today will be different from theirs." After saying that, Lucian called again. "Suzuka."
Silence Suzuka looked utterly speechless but still stepped out of formation and stood there like a steel plate.
"Suzuka, for the first half lap later, you lead Spe-chan. Keep your own pace and let her feel your stride frequency and breathing rhythm."
"Understood."
After assigning the tasks, Lucian sent the horse girls off to begin training.
He turned to the three still standing in place. "Training has started. Why are you three still standing there?"
"But Trainer told us to stand." Twin Turbo pouted.
"Told you to stand there squinting and sleeping, huh?" Lucian said irritably. They were getting harder to manage day by day.
Twin Turbo showed no embarrassment at being exposed. "Hmph. Trainer only said head up and chest out. You didn't say we couldn't squint."
Haru Urara leaned her head against Lucian's body. "So sleepy~ Trainer~ If you let me sleep another hour, I could sleep two more hours."
"I can tell Urara hasn't woken up yet." Lucian sighed. "From now on, don't sleep too long in the afternoon. You three go warm up first and wake yourselves up."
...
After running two laps with Silence Suzuka's assistance, Special Week came to the side panting heavily to rest.
Sweat had long since soaked her hair, sliding down the lines of her face.
"Spe!!!" At that moment, an extremely energetic voice came from behind her.
Special Week turned around, and joy lit up her tired eyes. "Little Eagle!? When did you get back?"
"Just this morning, hehe~" El Condor Pasa clasped her hands behind her back and playfully blinked. "Spe-chan looks to be in great shape."
"Because..." Special Week took a deep breath, trying hard to steady her breathing, then smiled. "This Japan Cup is going to be very different."
She seemed to feel the heavy burden on her shoulders. As she spoke, that smile quickly mixed with a trace of barely noticeable gravity.
"If it's Spe-chan... maybe..." El Condor Pasa muttered softly, as if speaking to herself.
"Little Eagle, what are you saying?"
"Nothing!" El Condor Pasa shook her head and quickly returned to her full-of-energy self. "I came back especially to cheer for Spe-chan! Your personal cheer squad is ready!"
"Arigatou, Little Eagle!" Special Week wiped the sweat from her face. "Little Eagle, can I ask you something? How do you say 'Let's have a wonderful race' in French?"
"That phrase... hmm..." El Condor Pasa held her chin, seeming to fish the sentence out of the sea of memory. A few seconds later, her eyes lit up. "Oh—I remember!"
She leaned close to Special Week's ear and began her prank, teaching her a completely different French phrase—"Wait for me."
"How about that, Spe-chan? Memorized it? If you haven't, I'll teach you again right before you go on stage!"
Special Week silently repeated it to herself several times, then thanked her sincerely again. "I've got it. Thank you, Little Eagle!"
The reason Special Week wanted to learn such a phrase was, of course, to have a friendly exchange with Broye before the race.
But she didn't realize El Condor Pasa had teased her—and she still foolishly thanked her.
El Condor Pasa probably carried some personal grudge, but it wasn't aimed at Special Week—it was at Broye. Still, this showed she was slowly recovering from her defeat.
"El Condor Pasa? Long time no see." Lucian walked over with Ines Fujin.
"Trainer Lucian, and Senior Fujin~" El Condor Pasa waved dramatically in greeting.
"What were you two talking about?" Lucian had noticed them whispering earlier.
El Condor Pasa knew Lucian understood French, so she avoided the previous topic. "I was cheering Spe-chan on, right, Spe-chan?"
Special Week nodded. "Mhm. Little Eagle came back from abroad especially to cheer for me."
"Ahem~ Spe-chan, you keep training. I still need to go find Coach Toujou. I'll head off first! Trainer Lucian, Senior Fujin, bye~"
"Bye."
"Bye~"
...
Watching El Condor Pasa jog away, Lucian said, "Looks like she's adjusted quickly."
Special Week looked back. "Mhm. Little Eagle just taught me a French phrase."
"French? What French?"
"Emmmm... it's the French for 'Let's have a wonderful race,' but I've already forgotten how to say it." Special Week lowered her head sheepishly. "I clearly remembered it just a second ago."
"You're even self-aware enough to roast yourself?" Lucian smiled and ruffled Special Week's head. "Alright, rest is over. Back to training."
...