Uma Musume: Slacking Professionally Chapter 141: Uma Musume: Slacking Professionally [141]

When the knocking sounded from outside, not only did Kitahara Sota jolt in surprise, even Agnes Tachyon's movents froze for a mont.

But after that brief pause, she continued—more serious, more intent than before, working hard to leave Kitahara no chance to make a sound.

As for Kitahara—knowing full well how sharp Umas' senses were, he understood that even if they stopped now, it was impossible to hide.

He thought a mont, then simply stopped struggling, ready to go along with Tachyon's actions, pretend the room was empty, and bluff it out.

…The two of them were indeed thinking alike.

But they had forgotten—there was a third person in the room.

Not long after the knock, footsteps sounded inside. Eclipse silently walked over, her face calm as she turned the lock and opened the door.

The two on the sofa, of course, noticed.

But after a brief hesitation, Tachyon, driven by her affection, steeled herself.

Even as the door opened, she did not stop—on the contrary, her movents only grew bolder.

And so, when the door swung wide, the scene on the sofa was laid bare to the eyes of the two who stood outside.

Or rather, to one Uma—and one ghost.

...

So ti later.

Kitahara's dorm.

Kitahara spent so ti explaining to Manhattan Cafe and Sunday Silence the "reason" why things had just happened that way.

And the two of them expressed understanding.

Because, really, Tachyon's "experint accidents" weren't anything new.

And Cafe and Sunday Silence had often been with her, witnessed plenty of them firsthand. So they accepted Kitahara's words quickly.

But accepting his explanation was one thing.

Their own judgnt was another.

Not everyone was as dense as Kitahara. And Tachyon's behavior—anyone could see. It was obvious enough that even a blind man would notice.

Maybe Kitahara really believed it was just an experint gone wrong. And Cafe and Sunday Silence didn't think he was lying.

But not lying didn't an he was right.

They trusted his mouth, but not his brain.

Frankly, Sunday Silence suspected that if not for the team mbers all restraining each other, keeping things balanced so no one could act freely—Kitahara might already have been tricked into bed by now, and still think nothing was amiss.

So, what he thought was an "experint accident"…very possibly was just an excuse soone used to sneak in a big move.

And even if it really was an accident, accidents could be natural—or they could be man-made.

This ti it was "just" a kiss. Next ti she whipped sothing up, who knew—it might jump straight past that…

Sunday Silence narrowed her eyes at Tachyon, who had curled up small after the potion's effect wore off.

She had always thought Tachyon was harmless, trash-tier even. But now… maybe she was far more dangerous than she seed.

As for Manhattan Cafe—she just sat quietly beside Eclipse.

Watching, but expression unreadable, who knew what she was thinking.

After explaining, Kitahara excused himself and went into the washroom to clean his face.

Because although Tachyon had very dutifully licked off all the saliva that had dripped onto his face—the act of licking itself left plenty of residue. Sticky, uncomfortable.

But as soon as he closed the door behind him, before he could begin cleaning, a familiar chill spread through the washroom.

Kitahara turned—and, as expected, there was Sunday Silence behind him.

"What is it?"

She pointed toward the door, then beckoned him over. Clearly, she had sothing to say privately, away from Cafe.

Puzzled but unguarded, Kitahara leaned closer to listen.

Sunday Silence leaned in to his ear and whispered:

"Let clean you instead."

Before he could react, she hugged him and pressed her lips to his. Her own attack.

Though as a ghost Uma, her strength was nothing like a normal Uma Musu's—barely stronger than Kitahara's—so in theory he could've broken free.

But the washroom was cramped, shelves filled with bottles and jars.

The door didn't block sound well. If he struggled too loudly, Cafe outside might notice. And that… there'd be no way to explain away as "just another experint accident."

But more than that—

Most of the bottles here were his expensive care products, bought with his wages, carefully mixed by his own hand. Break even one, and it'd hurt him for days.

So though he tried cautiously a few tis, and she didn't let go, Kitahara sighed and resigned himself, enduring Sunday Silence's "oral cleaning."

Unlike the others—being a spirit, her tongue felt unique.

Soft, but not warm. Unreal, like a piece of cotton candy roaming inside his mouth, lting sweet traces as it moved.

After a long mont, when they finally parted, she rembered her promise, and began licking carefully at the spots Tachyon's saliva had touched earlier.

At last, Kitahara could speak, his voice low and helpless.

"Sunday Silence, what exactly are you trying to do?"

She kept her voice low, licking as she answered.

"I told you. Cleaning."

"…You call this cleaning?"

"For , yes."

She raised her head a little, smiling, her eyes glinting with strange light.

"Cleaning off other won's scent from you—isn't that also a kind of cleaning?"

Kitahara gave her a tired look.

"Didn't we agree before…"

"That was before."

She pouted, then muttered:

"Besides, if you can do that much with that little girl, why can't I?"

"That was an accident…"

"I can be an accident too."

Her face leaned close again, whispering as she ca.

"Think of it as being assaulted by a ghost if you want. I already told you—I can't compete with your won, I don't even need you to take responsibility…"

"And if you don't want Cafe to find out, to make things awkward, you'd better bear it. Don't make any strange noises."

Then she kissed him again. Stronger this ti.

The assault lasted a long while, until footsteps sounded outside.

When she finally pulled back, she wasn't flustered at all.

Instead, she smiled slyly, pinched his cheek, and whispered:

"Not bad. You really held out. But I wasn't even serious. Next ti, I won't let you off so easy…"

The footsteps halted outside. Cafe's timid voice followed.

"Um… Trainer Kitahara, I think 'Friend' went in earlier, and you've been inside so long… nothing happened, right?"

Hearing that, Sunday Silence released him and stepped back.

But just then—

Click.

The lock slid shut.

And Kitahara's calm voice ca out:

"I'm fine. Just so stains hard to wash off. 'Friend' is helping ."

"I… I can help too…"

"No need. She alone is enough."

His eyes shifted to Sunday Silence.

At that mont, she felt it—the sa ominous premonition she'd had the instant the lock clicked.

"…What do you want to do?"

Kitahara's eyes were steady.

"Nothing. Just… the cleaning isn't done yet, is it?"

Her eyes widened, voice low with panic.

"C-Cafe is right outside…"

"Exactly."

He nodded. And before she could move, he pressed her down against the sink. His voice calm.

"So, if you don't want her to notice, please endure it. Sunday Silence."

And with that, he lowered his head.

In the washroom, a ghost's muffled whimpers echoed long and low.

When Kitahara ca out, he was perfectly calm. As though nothing had happened.

No regret. No needless worry.

For a long ti, he had silently tolerated Sunday Silence's antics.

Because she was a ghost. Because she had been lonely, with only Cafe to talk to.

Now she finally t soone she could touch, soone who could talk with her. So he had thought—being more tolerant wasn't so bad.

But tolerance wasn't bottomless.

And today—she had said what she said, and acted first.

Even rabbits bite when cornered. And Kitahara wasn't the dithering type. So he gave her a very direct response.

As for what to do afterward—

He still planned to follow what they had agreed before.

Yes, he had kissed her. But he had no intention of going further for now.

Even if she was a ghost, not an official Uma Musu, Cafe had told him her form shifted in sync with her own.

And Cafe was like Eclipse—already over sixteen, but not yet eighteen until next year.

So Kitahara assud the sa for Sunday Silence.

And even once she was eighteen—he wasn't planning to "jump the horse."

Not unless her affection hit the proper point, not unless life circumstances lined up.

And besides—Eclipse was right there watching.

The remaining three years of school would serve as a buffer.

He would honor his promise. Help her gain a body, research with her.

And three years from now—if she still felt the sa, if she still wanted to be with him, if she could accept Eclipse, if nothing else had gone wrong—then he wouldn't refuse.

Simple as that.

Later, Sunday Silence erged from the washroom, face faintly flushed, tail swaying.

She rembered his calm words spoken as she lay collapsed, thoroughly defeated.

She had agreed.

But she didn't intend to obey fully.

Because three years was far too long.

Kitahara might think three years would pass in a blink, easy.

But to her—even half a year might be too much.

So she would continue to push.

Otherwise, who knew what the world would look like in three years?

For now, though… recalling the washroom just now, her ears twitched. Best to rest a day.

And no, it wasn't because she was scared. Absolutely not.

But "resting" from Kitahara didn't an resting from others.

As soon as she stepped out, her eyes locked onto Tachyon, growing deep.

Tachyon, now recovered, noticed too. Noticed the faint new scent lingering on Kitahara's lips and face.

Her own eyes narrowed.

Long ago she had already suspected Sunday Silence.

Like with Nice Nature—though she couldn't see her, she could feel her presence.

And during training camp, that presence had always hovered around Kitahara.

Combine that with him being the only one she could touch…

Even if the ghost didn't think that way, it was probably close enough.

So Tachyon smiled faintly, eyes dangerous, as she stared into the air where Sunday Silence stood.

Neither of them would tell the others.

Because if their "sneak attacks" were revealed, it would only encourage the others to accelerate too. Which wouldn't benefit them.

So silence.

And silence ant—only they could block each other.

Interesting.

Both thought.

And as their locked gazes thickened the air—

Neither noticed a tiny shadow slip up beside Kitahara.

"Um… Trainer Kitahara."

Manhattan Cafe. Sitting close, her face shy, voice small.

Kitahara blinked at her.

"What is it, Cafe?"

"I… I wanted to ask you sothing…"

Her voice shrank softer and softer.

"…Could you… maybe…"

Kitahara leaned closer, straining.

After today—being tricked by Tachyon once, and then ambushed by Sunday Silence again—he was almost PTSD from whispers.

But looking at shy Cafe, rembering her nature—no, she wasn't the type to pull tricks. Not in front of everyone.

So, after hesitating, he leaned in.

And his guess was right. Cafe wasn't planning a sneak kiss.

But he hadn't predicted her actual words either.

"I…"

Her tail swished faster and faster. Her face reddened.

Finally, she mustered the courage, whispering:

"I want to date you, Trainer Kitahara…"

"Would that be okay?"