The situation was bad, and panicking wouldn't help.
With that thought, Fujiwara Chiya suddenly forced himself to calm down. He turned his head and stared at the white-haired girl who had appeared beside him out of nowhere, trying to figure out how on earth he could have brought her into his room last night.
No, that wasn't right. He was certain he had never seen her before, because this was a face no one could forget.
Her short hair framed her face perfectly, falling lightly to her shoulders, and her snow-pale cheeks reflected the morning light streaming through the window. Delicate eyes, soft pink lips, long feather-like ears, and a pure white tail beneath her dress made her look like something straight out of a myth.
Uma Musume. This girl is an Uma Musume.
Through the thin fabric of her white dress, he could see the pale outline of her legs beneath the blankets.
This was bad. Anyone would react instinctively upon waking up to a girl like this beside them, and Fujiwara Chiya felt his body respond before his brain could catch up.
Get a grip! You don't even understand what's going on yet!
Berating himself for his disgraceful instincts, Fujiwara Chiya hurriedly grabbed for his jacket. Just as he was about to put it on, the white-haired girl grabbed her clothes in exactly the same way.
At the same time, an image surfaced in his mind: a black-haired man fumbling awkwardly as he dressed. It was a sight he knew all too well.
It was himself.
"What the hell is going on?!"
"What the hell is going on?!"
The curse burst from both mouths at once, and the girl's voice rang like a bell in his ears.
…Hearing profanity come from such a beautiful girl was strangely—
No. That was absolutely not the problem right now.
His vision had split unnaturally in two, and unfamiliar sensations were flooding his mind, forming a dreadful suspicion.
"No way… that's impossible."
"No way… that's impossible."
Same tone, same timing, same movements. The white-haired girl mirrored him perfectly.
"I need to—holy—!"
"I need to—holy—!"
Even though they moved in sync, they weren't in the same position. The girl was on the inner side of the bed, while he was closer to the edge.
As Fujiwara Chiya stood up, his attention slipped into the girl's perspective. Instinctively, she shifted outward just as his male body reached the edge of the bed.
The world spun, and with a dull thud, Fujiwara Chiya tumbled to the floor. From the girl's viewpoint, he watched himself fall off the bed.
When he scrambled back up, he saw the white-haired girl leaning against the windowsill in the exact same posture.
Wait. That window is open.
Cold sweat broke out across his forehead, and from her perspective, he could clearly see the ground ten meters below. If she fell, this wouldn't be a joke.
Don't move. Don't move.
Muttering reassurances to himself, Fujiwara Chiya forced his attention back onto the girl. It felt like trying to draw a circle with one hand and a square with the other. He had to control two bodies at once, and for a first attempt, it was far too difficult.
The moment his concentration slipped, both bodies moved in sync again. Conflicting impulses collided in his mind, making his chest itch unbearably, and unable to take it anymore, he reached out and grabbed the girl's ankle.
That's it. Come here!
The instant his hand closed around her smooth ankle, a hot, unfamiliar sensation wrapped around his own foot, as if someone had grabbed it and yanked hard.
"Eek!"
The girl let out a startled cry as the sudden sensation sent a chill through her body, and instinctively, she kicked out straight at him.
Only then did Fujiwara Chiya realize he had made a catastrophically stupid mistake.
The girl's pale foot slammed into his face. It felt like getting hit by a truck, and he flew several meters back, crashed into the sofa, and rolled across the floor.
At the same time, the girl groaned, clutching her face as she fell from the bed.
Chaos filled the room.
"What the hell are you doing this early in the morning?! Having a rave?!"
The door burst open, and a man in pajamas and slippers, hair sticking out in all directions, stormed in.
"I worked overtime until nine last night, you know! Nine o'cl—huh…?"
His words died in his throat because what he saw next would stay with him for the rest of his life.
A snow-white girl lay on the floor, clutching her face, her angelic ears and tail twitching restlessly. Nearby, Fujiwara Chiya lay sprawled in the exact same posture.
The man froze. After several seconds, he slowly took out his phone and began dialing.
"Hello? Police? I'd like to report—"
"WAIT—!"
"WAIT—!"
Both figures on the floor raised a hand at the same time.
…
At this point, what was there even left to explain?
The smell of alcohol in the room, disheveled clothes, red footprints on Chiya's face, a wrecked apartment, and morning screams. All the pieces were there.
Katsumura Yota crossed his arms and stared at his colleague, having already reconstructed the entire incident in his head.
Fujiwara Chiya, overcome by lust, got a beautiful girl drunk and brought her back to his room. When he tried to do something inappropriate, she woke up in time and kicked him across the room.
Yota's gaze turned icy.
I thought you were a decent guy. And you went after an Uma Musume of all people?
That kick was merciful. If she'd kicked him seriously, he'd be dead or crippled. This wasn't harassment. This was suicide.
Meanwhile, the white-haired girl was kneeling beside Chiya in the exact same posture.
Wait. Why is the "victim" doing that?
Yota blinked, confusion briefly crossing his face before his attention was immediately drawn to the graceful silhouette beneath her dress.
"Th-that's not what you think," Fujiwara Chiya said quickly.
By now, he was certain. He and the girl were sharing the same mind.
Why something this absurd had happened, he didn't know, but the only explanation he could think of was the wish he'd made to the Three Goddesses.
A wish for an obedient Uma Musume who could understand him completely.
She met both conditions perfectly. Every movement followed his will, and every thought was shared.
This wasn't mutual understanding. This was splitting his brain in half.
Cursing the gods' creative interpretation of his wish, he hurriedly made something up.
"She's… my distant cousin. Her name is… Shirayuki. Yes. Fujiwara Shirayuki."
"What kind of excuse is that?" Yota narrowed his eyes. "You can't even remember your cousin's name? Are you sure she's your cousin? She looks like she wants to say something."
He pointed at the girl, who sat stiffly with her lips pressed together, clearly holding something back.
Of course she did. Chiya still couldn't coordinate speaking with one mouth while keeping the other closed, so for now, exaggerated gestures were the only solution.
"Of course she is. Don't we look alike?"
"Have you looked in a mirror? You've got some nerve saying that."
Chiya wasn't unattractive, but compared to the girl's flawless skin and half-lowered lashes, it wasn't even a contest.
"Don't doubt me. Shirayuki, tell him our relationship," Chiya ordered.
"Fujiwara Chiya is my cousin."
Playing along perfectly, Fujiwara Shirayuki spoke, her voice flowing like clear water and leaving Yota momentarily dazed.
She actually said it. That rookie trainer had a cousin like this?
Yota's eyebrow twitched.
"Then what were those screams this morning? I heard everything from next door."
"She just arrived at Tracen last night and had nowhere to stay, so I let her sleep here. Turns out she has a serious morning temper. I tried to wake her up and got kicked flying."
"Yes. I'm very sorry for the trouble."
Shirayuki lowered her head apologetically. Both men froze for a moment. The sight stirred an overwhelming urge to protect her.
"Ahem… well, as long as nothing serious happened," Yota said awkwardly. "I thought Chiya here was about to do something immoral. Gave me a scare."
"Hey. That adjective just now was unnecessary."
"My name's Katsumura Yota. I'm Chiya's colleague and the trainer for Team Pollux. If you need anything, feel free to come to me."
He brushed his bangs aside and smiled brightly at Shirayuki.
"Meeting someone for the first time while wearing pajamas, you're something else."
Seeing his colleague strike a pose, Chiya couldn't resist mocking him.
"Pajamas?"
Only then did Yota realize his own appearance. He had gone to bed late, been woken abruptly, and stormed over in a rage without thinking about it.
His face flushed red.
"Well… I'll get going then. Let's talk some other time."
He left in a hurry.
The room fell silent. Only Chiya and Shirayuki remained.
Or rather, only Fujiwara Chiya.
The alarm rang sharply from the bed. Fujiwara Chiya glanced at the time. It was almost eight.
Realizing he was about to be late, he hurriedly threw on his jacket. Then he turned to the white-haired girl behind him.
"You're coming with me. We're going to the director's office."