Fifteen minutes later, at the training ground.
Watching Kitahara Sota and Tamamo Cross chatting away, almost as if they were long-lost kindred spirits, Komata Haji's expression turned complicated.
She was Tamamo's trainer—so why did it suddenly feel like she was the outsider here?
At first, when Kitahara and Tamamo started talking, everything had been normal.
But as the conversation went on, seeing Tamamo a little nervous, Kitahara decided to ease her up by joking about Tracen's ridiculous quirks. Then—
"Why are the trainers' dorms and offices the sa place!? Why are Uma Musu allowed to wander freely into trainers' dorms!?"
"What's with that abandoned warehouse!? Why is this supposed to be a school but everywhere I look it's trainers dating Uma Musu!?"
"Wasn't Tracen supposed to be where Uma Musu run and chase their dreams!? Then why do trainers 'graduate' the mont their tantou graduates!? Don't tell Uma Musu's dreams are actually just trainers!?"
"Haaah—"
After venting, Tamamo sighed helplessly.
"But it seems like everyone else thinks this is normal. Am I the weird one here…?"
"No, Tamamo, you're perfectly normal. What's not normal is this academy!"
Hearing Tamamo's words, Kitahara was so moved he nearly teared up. Finally, soone sane!
He'd dealt with plenty of Uma Musu, and already had eight under his na. But if he tallied them up—
The gluttons, the airheads, the perverts.
The pressure monster, the Emperor's disciple, the mad scientist.
The shinai-wielding Yamato Nadeshiko, the ghost-seeing girl ready to join, the shaless ghost clinging to her…
And then that one inscrutable person who'd silently followed him all this ti, now officially listed as one of Tracen's Seven Mysteries…
Normal? His team was the least normal in the entire academy.
And now, standing before him was Tamamo Cross. Yes, her figure was underdeveloped, her face youthful—but her straightforward Kansai-accented words, her unembellished presence… it all gave Kitahara a sense of stability.
She was normal.
So normal she didn't even seem like a student of Tracen.
anwhile, Tamamo herself was astonished.
After entering Tracen, seeing its bizarre customs, she had been shaken to her core.
Tama, this place isn't a school for dreams—it's a marriage market!
And every ti she voiced this, people just gave her odd looks and told her it was perfectly normal.
Normal, my ass!
Bitter and frustrated, Tamamo had turned to Haji.
She'd chosen Haji as her trainer precisely because she thought Haji looked like one of the rare normal ones in this madhouse. Surely she'd understand.
And Haji's answer had been the killing blow:
"Oh, that? You're just not used to it yet, Tamamo. You'll get used to it soon enough."
Haji had been at Tracen for years. At first, she too had been bewildered, frightened even.
But after soaking for so long in Tracen's dye vat, she had gotten used to everything. She never participated in the madness, but she'd learned to accept it calmly.
Basin fractures, disappearances, strange noises in dark corners—she could now pass them all by without blinking.
So Tamamo had been left dumbfounded.
Even Trainer Haji thinks this is fine? Am… am I really the weird one?
From then on, she'd sunk into self-doubt.
Until today—when Kitahara half-jokingly joined her in complaining, uncorking the doubts she'd suppressed for so long. She forgot her nerves entirely and let loose a torrent of grievances.
And instead of looking at her strangely, Kitahara agreed with her.
Tamamo was overwheld. She had been ready to give up, convinced she was the odd one.
But here was Kitahara telling her the truth: you're normal. The academy is wrong.
"Tamamo Cross…"
"Kitahara-sensei…"
They stood there, gazing at one another with heartfelt emotion.
Finally, I've t a normal person…!
Then, a deliberately soft cough sounded nearby.
"Ahem… you two… perhaps this isn't the best place to discuss this sort of topic…"
Haji gave a tactful reminder.
At that, Kitahara and Tamamo snapped back to their surroundings, noticing the strange looks from others. Awkwardly, they cut off the conversation, though the regret lingered in their eyes.
Afterward, seeing Tamamo relaxed, Kitahara got to business, discussing with Haji and Tamamo how to address her problems.
Truthfully, Kitahara could have drafted a full adjustnt plan in half an hour and handed it to Haji to implent.
But Tamamo wasn't his tantou. Haji wasn't his subordinate. She was his senpai—a senpai who had helped him many tis.
So instead, he lowered himself, phrasing his guidance as gentle suggestions, preserving Haji's authority.
Of course, Haji noticed.
She wasn't stupid. She knew of his feats. She'd even covered for him once, so she knew firsthand how capable he was.
If he could singlehandedly craft a recovery plan for Tachyon, Tamamo's situation would hardly stump him.
But Haji didn't expose him. In fact, she rather enjoyed it.
Think about it. This newcor, more talented than her, handso enough, calling her "senpai" with genuine sincerity every ti—now deliberately playing the clumsy junior to protect her pride.
Watching his hesitant, careful deanor, Haji's senpai-desire swelled. She wanted to scoop him up and ruffle him like a plush toy.
But what really broke her was this:
As the discussion ended, she'd wanted to pat his shoulder. But being too short, she couldn't reach.
Kitahara noticed—and lowered himself slightly, allowing her to do it easily.
Her hand paused, then instead of his shoulder, she went straight for his head and ruffled it thoroughly. Kitahara gave her a helpless look, but let her.
How can a kouhai be this perfect…?
After that, Kitahara straightened again and finished wrapping up Tamamo's plan.
But instead of leaving, he asked Tamamo if she was troubled about her family.
Imdiately, Tamamo's joy dimd. Her eyes darted, her words faltered.
Growing up in such hardship, of course she had pride. Of course she didn't want to talk about it.
Especially since her family had even sold so of the food Kitahara had once left them—how could she face him?
But because she knew he already understood her circumstances, she hesitantly confessed, haltingly recounting her troubles.
Debt. Her parents' unease. Younger siblings to feed, clothe, send to school. Still no race inco. Still taking from ho.
Kitahara listened calmly, unsurprised.
He had seen poverty far worse.
It was, in fact, the very reason he had agreed to revive Black Forest despite knowing Kudou Kazuya might be behind it—because he wanted to do what little he could.
He wasn't a saint who'd starve for others' sake. But as long as he had enough, he didn't mind helping.
And that extended not just to villages, not just to Black Forest, but also to Tamamo before him.
He could see her sha, her reluctance. But he pressed gently until she spoke it all. Because sotis soft pity is just evasion. Sotis you must drag the words out.
And afterward, she looked lighter, as if a burden had lifted.
Her problems weren't truly dire. Her debt wasn't predatory. Neighbors weren't demanding. They even avoided ntioning it, knowing her family's struggles.
They weren't fools either. Tamamo had entered the main Tracen—specially promoted. In the future she'd surely succeed. Lending to her family was practically an investnt, a story to brag about later.
Her troubles were more in her heart than in reality.
Other trainers might comfort her, or hand her money.
But Kitahara knew poverty too well. Compared to his own days scavenging with Eclipse, Tamamo's family was practically comfortable.
…Wait. Is that really sothing to be proud of?
Regardless, he understood exactly what she needed. Not just money.
And he happened to have a solution.
"Tamamo, have you thought about part-ti work?"
"I have… but no one would hire …"
She was old enough to work, and Tracen didn't forbid it. Many Uma Musu held part-ti jobs nearby. So even worked several at once.
But Tamamo looked too young. Too childlike. It made employers wary, afraid of accusations of child labor.
Haji nodded heavily, all too familiar with such complaints thanks to her own appearance.
Kitahara continued, "That won't be a problem. I know a place that mostly hires familiar faces."
Then, after a pause, "But the shop owner's personality is… a little harsh. Can you handle that?"
He ant the elderly Uma Musu at the clothing store.
She had recently wanted an assistant. Specifically, a Tracen student she hadn't t before. She'd insisted.
Kitahara had found it strange, but now—with Tamamo needing work—it seed like fate.
As for pay, he knew the old lady wasn't short on money. She wouldn't exploit her.
Hearing Kitahara's suggestion, Tamamo agreed imdiately.
If it had been anyone else, she might have hesitated. But this was Kitahara Sota—the living legend. She still carried a button he had once dropped in her ho as a good-luck charm.
Even without the legend, his earlier "normal person" words had already secured her trust.
So she agreed, and promised to go with him tomorrow, Saturday, to interview.
And thus, her problem was solved.
After she returned to training, Kitahara prepared to leave—
When Haji, silent until now, suddenly spoke up, voice hesitant.
"Um, Kitahara-kun, there's sothing else I might need your help with… if you have ti…"
"What is it, senpai?"
"It's just… you know how it is at my age. Family pressure. I was so annoyed I told them I already had a boyfriend. I thought that was the end of it, but now they want to see him…"
A chill premonition ran down Kitahara's spine.
"Wait. Senpai, you don't an—"
"Mm… exactly that…"
"Would you… pretend to be my boyfriend?"
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