Chapter 94: Don’t hold my hand. I’m exhausted to the point of death.

It was a morning sometime in February, at an hour when classes for the academy-affiliated Uma Musume hadn’t even begun yet. As usual, Masa and I were hard at work adjusting our trainees’ schedules and sorting through documents handed over by Tazuna-san when a knock echoed against the door to the trainer’s office. The door opened, and standing there was—by now—a familiar chestnut-haired Uma Musume.

"Mihono Bourbon? What’s wrong—did you forget something?"

Ignoring me as I tilted my head, she stepped into the office with her usual emotionless expression. Then she reached into the bag she was carrying and took out two small boxes—one for me, and one for Masa—and held them out toward us.

"Trainer, Masa-san, chocolate."

"Chocolate?"

Apparently, it was a gift—or something she’d come to deliver. She made no move to pull them back, so I accepted the box for now and examined it. There was no manufacturer name or product label, just a plain design. Thick white paperboard, small enough to grip in one hand, shaped like a simple, thin rectangular prism. Since Bourbon had clearly identified it as chocolate, she obviously knew what was inside. That ruled out the possibility of her returning a lost item. And since she’d brought one each for Masa and me, it was reasonable to assume this was a gift for us.

"...I see. A treat. Thank you, Mihono Bourbon."

I’d be lying if I said the completely unlabeled packaging didn’t make me a little uneasy, but I couldn’t imagine Bourbon slipping poison into anything. I decided to accept it gratefully. With that thought, I went to set the box down on my desk—but the very next moment—

"You idiot brother!"

"Oof!"

I got smacked on the head, hard. My vision swam for a second. If I hadn’t reflexively deflected part of the impact, I might’ve ended up with a concussion.

"Owow... The back of the head is dangerous, Masa. If I hadn’t redirected the force, things could’ve gone really wrong. If you’re going to hit me, at least aim for somewhere non-lethal, like the side."

"That’s fine. You can take a fall like that in your sleep anyway. No—wait, that’s not the point. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t notice? Like, actually didn’t notice?"

Masa stared at me with an expression that was half irritation, half disbelief, placing some very strange trust in me. Didn’t notice? Notice what?

...Alright. Let’s think this through.

Chocolate, suddenly handed to me by Bourbon. I’d assumed it was just a casual gift, but when I accepted it normally, Masa got angry. Masa usually only gets upset when I’m inconsiderate toward someone or when I push myself too hard. Sometimes it’s unfair, but more often than not, there’s a legitimate reason. That meant I’d likely mishandled how I responded to Bourbon’s gift. But my reaction didn’t seem that strange—

...Chocolate?

Wait.

Today was the second Friday of February. The date was February 14th.

"...I see. So today was Valentine’s Day."

The next attack came flying at me immediately—but I dodged it this time. Masa might’ve been calmer lately, but today she was clearly back to being furious.

"‘So it was’ isn’t good enough! You’re getting chocolate from a woman—even if she’s your trainee! You should at least look happy about it!"

"Eh, but she’s my trainee... I can’t exactly see her that way..."

"It’s not about how you see her! It’s basic manners! If you react with something like ‘Oh, you’re giving me some? Thanks,’ anyone would be hurt!"

"Is that how it works...?"

I couldn’t imagine Bourbon being bothered by something like that, but if that was the case, then maybe there was no reason to suppress my emotions.

I wrapped up my exchange with Masa and turned back to Bourbon, who was still holding out the chocolate.

"Thank you, Mihono Bourbon. I’m really happy."

Seemingly satisfied that I’d finally grasped the situation, Masa stopped her follow-up attacks. She pulled a small box from her own desk and exchanged it with Bourbon’s.

"I’ll accept yours too, Mihono Bourbon-san. And here—this is from me. It’s not friendship chocolate, but ‘assistant trainer chocolate.’ Please have it during a break."

"I appreciate it, Masa-san. I will consume it during training."

Wow. Masa, you’re impressive. Judging by the lack of any brand name, it looked homemade. She’d been incredibly busy lately—when did she even find the time? The wrapping was neat, and knowing Masa, the taste would be excellent. It was smaller than Bourbon’s, but in terms of quality, it probably didn’t lose at all.

...The bar for White Day just shot up. Still, I’m reasonably confident in my cooking. If I take my time, I should manage something.

"Still... Valentine’s Day, huh. I completely forgot about the event itself."

I set Bourbon’s chocolate down on my desk and muttered absentmindedly. I really shouldn’t have forgotten, but since I’m a guy and don’t usually need to initiate anything, it had slipped my mind. There’d been plenty of Valentine-themed projects and tie-ins until a few weeks ago, but work was work.

...No. Those are just excuses. I simply forgot.

"What about last year’s Valentine’s Day? Nothing happened? Knowing you, I figured you got at least one or two obligation chocolates."

"What do you take me for...? Well, the chairwoman handed some out to all staff. I got some from fellow trainers and Uma Musume I knew. Then there were a few from juniors I met through Wilm—well, they’re classic class this year—and some from people in the shopping district out of goodwill, and then—"

"That’s a ton of chocolate! How did you forget all that?!"

"I was busy..."

"That’s still something normal people remember!"

Oh no. The Masa volcano erupted again.

As I stood there bewildered and Masa practically steaming, Bourbon—who’d been listening quietly—stepped between us.

"Masa-san, I am not bothered by this."

"Mihono Bourbon-san, you don’t need to be considerate toward my brother! A man who can’t even remember a major event for maidens should reflect on himself at least once—!"

"I had also been focusing on the Triple Crown and forgot about Valentine’s Day until recently. Therefore, Trainer and I share the same status."

"…………"

Masa’s expression twisted, then finally deflated.

"...Sorry. I got too angry."

She sank back into her chair.

...Anyway.

I needed to thank Bourbon properly again.

"Thanks again for the chocolate, Bourbon. I was actually craving something sweet. Do you mind if I eat it now?"

"I do not mind. Please do."

Ignoring Masa’s pointed stare, I opened the box.

"...A cube?"

Inside were jet-black cube-shaped chocolates, lined up at perfect intervals. Each one was molded with astonishing precision—every edge identical. Extremely Mihono Bourbon-like.

I recalled the chocolate she’d made in her previous-life app version. I remembered she’d grown cacao herself, though the details were fuzzy. Either way, there was no way she’d done that now with the Triple Crown ahead of her. That had been something she could only manage in her senior year.

Still, her intention was genuinely touching.

I popped one cube into my mouth.

"Sweet!?"

A shocking level of sweetness stabbed straight through my skull.

...How is something this black this sweet? Did she dump sugar in instead of milk? Is she trying to give me diabetes?

Without thinking, I glanced at her. Interpreting my look her own way, she nodded.

"For intellectual labor, glucose is required. This chocolate contains approximately thirty times the sugar of standard chocolate. In theory, consuming one piece allows a full day of mental work. For Trainer and Masa-san, who always work so hard, I hoped this might—"

"Uh, um, Mihono Bourbon."

"Yes, Trainer?"

I cut her off. Bad manners, sure—but there was a glaring flaw.

"This will spike your blood sugar way too much and wreck your body."

"…………"

She froze, as if her processing had stalled.

"...I see. That is indeed correct."

Apparently, blood sugar hadn’t factored into her calculations. Bourbon is thorough, but she does have blind spots.

Even ignoring the superior metabolism of Uma Musume, humans can’t store glucose efficiently. Once ingested, it floods the bloodstream, raising blood sugar levels. Too high, and insulin converts it into fat. Push it further, and you get fatigue, drowsiness—eventually diabetes.

In short, consuming massive amounts of sugar at once is pointless. Replenishment needs to be gradual. Moderation matters.

...All of that is secondhand knowledge from my older brother, a practicing doctor. Back when I wasn’t eating properly, he drilled this into me endlessly.

By that logic, Bourbon’s chocolate was practically a drug. An absurd sugar concentration. Eating even one piece would probably lead to weight gain.

As I was considering how to handle it, she moved.

"I apologize. I will retrieve it and remake it."

She reached for the box, visibly dejected. I pulled it back gently.

"No. It’s fine. It’s your gift. I won’t eat it all at once, but I’ll enjoy it properly, little by little. That’s what I want to do. If there’s anything to reflect on, let’s save it for next year."

She was already overloaded with Triple Crown training. She was still a middle school girl—an age where she should be enjoying herself. And yet, she’d still made time for this.

Even if she considered it a failure, the feelings behind it mattered far more.

"...Understood. Thank you for your consideration, Trainer."

"No, thank you, Mihono Bourbon."

"Next Valentine’s Day, I promise to output the results of new learning and produce chocolate of even higher completion. Please look forward to it, Trainer."

After making that vow, she bowed and left for class.

...Yeah. Bourbon’s feelings really do make me happy. Happy enough that I’m already thinking seriously about White Day.

But—

When I turned around, Masa was standing there, holding her own box of cube-shaped chocolate, staring blankly.

...For a woman of marriageable age, this sugar bomb might be a problem.

"Masa... uh, want some help? This might be rough..."

"N-no. I’ll eat it. It’s Bourbon-san’s feelings. I can’t not consume it..."

Thirty times the sugar of normal chocolate. One cube equaled thirty pieces.

...At this rate, we might be saying "no more sweets" for a while.

---

A few hours later—

I spent the day as usual: rejecting absurd requests, attending meetings at URA headquarters, and going about my routine. Somewhere along the way, the word “Valentine” vanished from my mind.

Not entirely—I did receive chocolate here and there. But each time, it was more like, "Oh right, today’s Valentine’s Day."

Getting distracted at work would’ve been dangerous. A mistake could’ve affected my trainees.

At lunch, while eating and reading an academic journal on overseas races, my phone chimed. A message from a fellow trainer in my cohort—a man who sometimes handled graded stakes runners. Earnest with Uma Musume, sloppy with women.

“Did you get chocolate from anyone?”

...Is he bored? If he’s got time, I want him helping with work.

I replied politely: “From one trainee, a few friendly Uma Musume, and a female trainer who was in the same class as Rudolf.”

“You’re so popular!” No, I’m not. Obligation chocolates.

His next message was bleak: “Huh? I didn’t get any from our cohort... wait, what?”

I locked my phone.

He’s not disliked—just too open. Our generation teases him that way. Someone might shove chocolate at him later.

On a whim, I asked Nature’s trainer. His reply began with, “It’s rare for you to ask something like that, Horino,” followed by, “I got some from everyone in our cohort and my two trainees. It really does make you happy.”

...That unembellished tone. He’s exhausted. Hopefully things stay calm—though depending on Rice and Bourbon at the Kikuka-sho, maybe not.

Well. We won’t let that happen.

Right—back on track.

Getting chocolate from trainees really is a happy thing. It’s proof they’re satisfied with our work.

Bourbon’s gift reassured me too. She doesn’t show much emotion, so it’s hard to gauge her satisfaction. Being able to confirm that trust—even this way—made me genuinely happy.

...There is still one trainee who hasn’t given me any chocolate yet.

But there’s no reason to doubt our bond. She’s kind-hearted. I can’t imagine her not preparing something.

Still, knowing her, she might’ve been so focused on running that she only realized yesterday and is now panicking in a convenience store, thinking, “Oh no, I forgot!”

Bourbon’s like that too, but Wilm also—very occasionally, really only occasionally—has moments where she’s surprisingly absentminded.

…Well, coming from the guy who actually forgot, I probably shouldn’t be saying that.

"Ah, whatever."

In the end, Valentine’s chocolate is just a way of confirming feelings. If there’s no need to confirm—if the trust is already there—then there’s no reason to rush.

So, with that in mind… I more or less gave up on receiving any more chocolate that day and went back to focusing on my work as a trainer.

Valentine’s Day or not, holiday or not, our job doesn’t change. Masa and I spent the day buried in desk work, occasionally heading out for investigations or meetings.

That said, among the past month, today was actually on the lighter side workload-wise.

We’d already wrapped up the Valentine’s tie-in requests that had come in weeks ago, and enough time had passed since the Arc de Triomphe expedition report that the insane busyness of early February had finally settled down. As a result, our schedule had some much-needed breathing room.

So the day passed without any major incidents—Masa and I tapping away at keyboards and sorting paperwork in the trainer’s office… while I handled a higher-than-usual number of visitors.

"Horino Trainer… ah, Horino Ayumu Trainer, are you here?"

"Hm? …Oh, it’s you. How are things going? Getting along well with Trainer Aihara?"

"Yes! He’s been taking really good care of me lately! It’s all thanks to you introducing us, Horino Trainer—thank you so much!"

"Trainer Aihara is someone who values diligent Uma Musume. Your hard work paid off. I’m glad to hear it."

"Even so, you helped me a ton! This is… well, not exactly repayment, but Valentine’s chocolate!"

"Oh, thank you. That makes me happy."

"Ehehe. Then I’ll be looking forward to my White Day return gift!"

With that, she dashed out of the trainer’s office—a junior-class Uma Musume I knew. A lively, energetic red-haired girl.

When I say “knew,” it’s not like we were particularly close. About two weeks ago, I’d run into her behind one of the school buildings while taking out the trash. She’d been on the verge of tears, muttering, “I can’t do this anymore…” I asked what was wrong and helped her out a little. That was it.

She thanked me profusely, but honestly, all I did was introduce her to a trainer who suited her. I didn’t even put in a word for her—she passed Trainer Aihara’s fairly strict intake test on her own merits. That’s what deserves praise.

Feeling a bit apologetic—or maybe just embarrassed—about receiving such an excessive token of gratitude, I slipped the small wrapped chocolate into my desk drawer. The wrappers of several chocolates I’d cleared space for today brushed against each other, rustling softly.

"…You’re popular, big brother."

I turned at the comment to see Masa giving me a flat, unimpressed stare.

"Come on, don’t tease me, Masa. You know that’s not what this is."

"I’m not teasing you so much as… how many chocolates is that today now?"

"Huh? Well, counting them is kind of—"

"You can’t say you’re not popular when you’ve gotten so many chocolates you can’t even count them."

"They’re all obligation chocolates, though. That’s different from being popular."

Being popular, in the end, means receiving romantic feelings from the opposite sex. By that definition, I’m not popular at all. Everyone’s goodwill is directed at me not as a man, but as a trainer to an Uma Musume.

…Well, if you factor in how often other trainers consult me, or the sheer number of reverse-scouting offers I’ve received over the past month, maybe you could say I’m popular as a trainer.

I’m grateful to be relied on, but reverse scouting is something I have to turn down, which makes me feel bad. If I took on any more work, either my body or my mind would give out—and I can already imagine my brother and Masa tearing into me if that happened.

I really do want to look after everyone… but that’s not realistic. I only have one body, and there’s a limit to how much I can shoulder emotionally. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wished I could split myself in two over the past year.

As I typed away, lost in those thoughts, Masa continued to glare at me with that same cold look.

"…I just don’t get it. What do they even see in an idiot like you?"

"Well, maybe it’s that I’m surprisingly useful for a newcomer? Thinking my steadily built-up skills are being recognized does make me happy."

"That’s not what I meant."

Masa pouted slightly as she muttered under her breath, then suddenly tossed something my way. It was already at the edge of my vision, so I noticed right away and caught it… a paulownia-wood box?

"Uma Malt bitter chocolate."

Uma Malt. A fairly high-end food brand—even the Horino family favored it. They dealt in alcohol and upscale snacks; my father used to be especially fond of their products. Bitter chocolate from them, huh. Judging by the size of the box, probably nine pieces. It must’ve cost a decent amount…

"Uh… what’s this? Is it really okay for me to take it?"

"There’s no ‘okay’ or ‘not okay.’ It’s Valentine’s Day. And… well, giving chocolate to someone you’re grateful to isn’t strange."

…Oh. That’s rare. Hearing Masa say she’s “grateful” so honestly.

And bitter chocolate, too—that makes me especially happy. With the sheer amount of sweets piling up that I’ll need to get through, I was honestly craving something with a little bite.

"Thanks for being thoughtful, Masa. I’m really happy. You can look forward to your White Day gift."

"...Well. I’ll keep my expectations moderate."

Perhaps she’d exceeded her daily allowance for sincerity, because after saying that, Masa turned her face away with a huff.

…Lately, it feels like Masa’s been going easier on me. This conversation included. In the past, she probably would’ve said something like, “It’s just the bare minimum courtesy between family,” or, “I don’t expect anything, so do whatever.”

Her attitude likely started softening after the accident I had late last year. Having a close family member fall into a coma must have changed something in her outlook… Or maybe, as Sky once said, I’ve “relaxed my shoulders,” and that version of me is simply easier for her to deal with.

Either way, I think this change is a good one. Even if we can’t go back to being as close as we once were, I’d like to shorten the distance between us—even just a little.

Horino Masa is one of the few blood relatives I truly trust—and the only person I’ve ever told about my memories of a past life. If possible, I want us to have a comfortable, mutually positive relationship. …Well, she doesn’t seem to like me all that much, so it might not be easy.

After that, quite a few visitors continued to stop by—Masa included—each carrying chocolate. At some point, the desk drawer ran out of space, and I had no choice but to start stuffing the packages haphazardly into my work bag. Still, it worked out. Thankfully, I didn’t need to break out a second bag.

…If I don’t start eating these soon, the expiration dates might get dangerous.

---

Several more hours later—

"…Phew."

The sun had fully set, and the Trainer’s Room was quiet after sending Masa home. I finished compiling the references for my paper on running posture, body structure in Uma Musume, and the correlation between leg strain and injury rates, then let out a long breath.

I skimmed through it one more time… yeah, there shouldn’t be any oversights. Probably. I’ll check for typos tomorrow, send it to my father for review, and then maybe submit it to some competition or journal.

…Honestly, this kind of work should be handled by researchers, not Trainers working in the field. But no matter how much I searched, I couldn’t find anything sufficiently detailed, so I didn’t have much choice.

It all started when I began gathering data to closely examine the burden and effects of Wilm’s "Celestial Star Spurt." Since I was already at it, I figured I might as well organize everything properly—and before I knew it, I was writing a full paper.

…I won’t deny I may have gone a bit overboard. Still, now that it’s this polished, I hope it can help someone, even just a little.

"Fwaa…"

Relief finally setting in, I let out a yawn and stretched my body wide.

Man, that took a while… Since I worked on it alongside my main duties, it must’ve taken over two full months. If it turns out all of this was already well-documented and I just didn’t search hard enough… yeah. I’ll cry then.

Anyway, now I can finally feel at ease.

Hoshino Wilm’s unique running style—"Celestial Star Spurt." As long as it’s performed with sufficient nutrition, proper rest, and flawless footwork, it doesn’t place excessive strain on her fragile legs. Just confirming that hypothesis with near certainty makes this whole effort worthwhile.

…Though, honestly, that “flawless footwork” part should be outright impossible with normal cognitive ability.

Constantly reading the minute changes in the turf, identifying the optimal spot where the foot can land securely while fully accommodating her own footprint. Placing the leg down at the correct angle within fractions of a second, then pushing off with perfect timing—again, within fractions of a second. Controlling the body midair, managing the weight applied, and extending the leg toward the next landing point…

…Who could even do something like this? Put into words, it sounds simple—but in reality, it’s acrobatics. If I had to compare it to a human feat… it’d be like sprinting at full speed while throwing knives, continuously hitting apples placed on the heads of people standing ten meters away at one-meter intervals. That level of absurdity.

And the very first step—accurately reading the condition of the turf—is already an impossible challenge. An Uma Musume’s top speed is just under twenty meters per second, nearly seventy kilometers per hour. At that speed, perceiving subtle dips, unevenness, or torn grass in the ground rushing past… what kind of brain would it take to process that?

An Uma Musume’s body may be powerful, but their brain shouldn’t be all that different from a human’s…

And it’s not just mental processing that’s the problem. The sensory perception needed to grasp the turf itself would also have to be extraordinary.

Vision—which handles the majority of information gathering for both humans and Uma Musume—has unavoidable angular limits. Once fatigue sets in, the field of view distorts, shakes, and blurs. Relying on vision—or any single sense alone—makes that style of running practically impossible.

So that means… just like she said… Wilm is using her ears almost like sonar, reading the terrain through reflected sound… or so it would seem…

…No. If anything, that’s even more terrifying. What kind of ears does she even have?

Even accounting for Uma Musume ears being superior to human ones, the ability to distinguish such impossibly subtle differences in sound—and then process that overwhelming volume of information—

Seriously, what is she made of? At this point, hasn’t she already surpassed the biological limits of an Uma Musume?

…Hoshino Wilm’s so-called “cognitive amplification ability.”

The more I think about it, the more it feels like an absolutely broken, cheat-level ability—far beyond what I’d originally imagined.

In reality, she’s using that ability to fully master "Celestial Star Spurt."

An Uma Musume who rises from an unknown lineage all the way to an undefeated Triple Crown winner… maybe that kind of absurd advantage really is necessary.

Suzuka has her own special ability—being strongest when she’s leading—so it wouldn’t be strange for Wilm to possess some mutation-level talent of her own…

…Wait, no. Am I seriously comparing her to Silence Suzuka? Even top-tier elites like Spe or Sky don’t have abilities like that.

…Yeah. My sense of scale is completely warped at this point.

Damn you, Wilm. Thanks to you, my perception of Uma Musume—if not women in general—has gotten seriously distorted.

"Ah…"

As I was idly thinking all that over, buoyed by the sense of accomplishment from finishing my work…

There was a sudden knock on the Trainer’s Room door.

Still wrapped in the heavy lethargy that follows real exhaustion, I forced out a minimal, "Come in," and the door opened almost immediately.

Standing there was… a familiar bay-colored Uma Musume.

"Trainer."

"Wilm? What’s up?"

Hoshino Wilm stepped inside, holding two mugs in her hands.

She glanced lightly around the room, then—why, I couldn’t say—let out a small sigh of relief. Sitting down on the sofa in the corner, she held one of the mugs out toward me.

"Good work today. How about taking a short break?"

…Seems like I’m being summoned.

"Uh… yeah. I guess that sounds good."

I didn’t have anything urgent I was working on, and I could feel my focus completely scattered anyway.

Might as well accept her kindness.

I stood up from my desk for the first time in a while, took the mug from her hand, and sat down beside her.

"Thanks, Wilm. I just wrapped something up, so this really helps."

"Not at all. You’re always so considerate of us."

As she spoke, I tilted the mug.

At first glance, I thought it was cocoa…

But the moment I took a sip, I was surprised by the sweetness.

The gentle flavor seeped across my tongue and into my exhausted brain.

Ah… this is really good.

"Hm… wait, is this—"

"Eh-heh, Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m a bit late, but I figured you’d be tired, so I brought you some hot chocolate."

She cheerfully held up a small bag of mini marshmallows. That alone made me chuckle.

Most of the time, she carries herself with a maturity beyond her years—but moments like this remind me she’s still just a girl her age.

It feels unfair. …Though I’m not entirely sure what, exactly, is unfair about it.

I took another sip of the hot chocolate, now with a few marshmallows floating in it.

The mellow sweetness, the soft texture of the marshmallows, the warmth itself—it all soothed a body worn down by fatigue and cold.

…It’s really good. I feel like I could drink this forever.

"Yeah. Thanks, Wilm. This makes me really happy."

"I heard you were quite popular today."

She said it with a slightly teasing smile, and I couldn’t help but let out a wry laugh.

"Of course, this one makes me the happiest. It’s from you."

"...Heh… ehehe."

That familiar, utterly defenseless grin spread across her face as she added a few marshmallows to her own mug and took a sip.

"Mm. If I say so myself, it turned out pretty well."

"It did. It’s gently sweet and really good. I never pictured you as the cooking type, Wilm—but you’re surprisingly efficient."

"Well, I did train a bit with Bourbon-chan, Nature, and Rice-chan."

She puffed her chest proudly as she revealed the backstory.

Even knowing that, though, this was impressive. Simply melting store-bought chocolate wouldn’t result in this flavor. There was a distinct, precise accent here—something uniquely hers.

…Which means this isn’t just hot chocolate.

It’s hot chocolate Hoshino Wilm made for me.

The only one of its kind in the world.

And that fact alone made me irrationally happy.

"Also… my fingers were getting cold, so something warm is nice."

As I said that and dropped a few more marshmallows into the mug…

Suddenly, my hand was taken.

"Hm?"

Before I could react, the mug was smoothly pulled from my grasp.

Hey—wait. Wasn’t that my Valentine’s chocolate? I still want to drink it.

Looking over at Wilm in confusion, I saw her face was bright red, her hands still wrapped around mine.

…Is she cold, maybe?

I usually keep the heater low when I’m alone to save energy. Maybe I should’ve turned it up when she arrived.

While I was thinking that, Wilm murmured softly.

"...Your fingertips really are cold."

"Well, it is mid-February. Winter’s not over yet. And typing at night does that to you.

Anyway, can I have the hot chocolate back? I kind of want something sweet right now."

"Th-then, um… well…"

It seemed like she hadn’t heard a word I said.

She brought my hands together…

And gently wrapped them in her own.

"Sharing some warmth… or something like that?"

…Hoshino Wilm’s body temperature is high.

It’s well known that Uma Musume generally run warmer than humans—but what stands out about Wilm is her ability to retain that warmth even in cold environments.

Whether it’s strong homeostasis or an exceptional basal metabolism, I remember her fingers staying warm even in the dead of winter in Hokkaido.

So her hands that night were very warm…

And at the same time, slender and soft—unmistakably those of a young girl.

…That said, I really would like my hot chocolate back at some point.

"Yeah, it’s warm. But, Wilm, about the chocolate—"

"...This kind of thing is nice, isn’t it? Cold, but warm at the same time."

"Yeah. Feeling your body heat directly is nice. So, Wilm, about that—"

"W-wait, feeling my body heat directly!? Th-that’s… that’s embarrassing!"

She seemed completely unlike herself—clearly flustered—alternating between happy little noises, turning beet red, and then melting into a soft, slack expression.

Well, Wilm, you look happy, and that’s what matters. I have no idea why you’re happy, but still.

…But, Wilm.

I’m kind of tired right now, and I’d really like to drink a bit more of the hot chocolate you brought me.

Also, you’re starting to squeeze pretty hard. If you don’t loosen up soon, I might hear a crunch and be done for, you know?