"Tamamo, what's wrong?"
Upon arriving at the racecourse and noticing that Tamamo Cross still seed sowhat off, Kitahara Sota asked gently.
Facing Kitahara's concerned gaze, Tamamo Cross was silent for a mont before averting her eyes.
"It's nothing. Just had a bad dream last night, that's all."
A bad dream, huh?
Kitahara nodded slightly, carefully examining Tamamo Cross again.
Confirming she was only a bit ntally exhausted but otherwise fine, he didn't press further.
After urging her to mind her health and to co find him if anything ca up, he walked away.
However, he failed to notice that after he'd left, Super Creek turned toward Tamamo Cross, worry clearly visible in her eyes.
"…Tamamo-chan, are you sure you're alright?"
Unlike Kitahara, Super Creek wasn't overly perceptive, but she interacted often enough with Tamamo Cross to notice clearly that sothing was off.
Tamamo Cross again paused briefly.
"It's really nothing. Didn't I just say it? It was just a bad dream."
She paused again, and as if trying to convince herself, repeated in a tone more serious and firm than she'd ever used before:
"It was just a bad dream."
It was just a dream. It has to be just a dream.
Clenching the worn button tightly in her palm, and repeating those words internally several tis, her expression gradually normalized. She then turned back to Super Creek, teasing lightly:
"Co on, Creek, don't stare at like that. Haven't you ever had nightmares yourself?"
Suddenly, as if realizing sothing, she took a wary step back, her expression becoming cautious as she looked at Super Creek.
"Wait a second—Creek, you wouldn't be using this as an excuse to 'take care' of , would you?"
Seeing Tamamo Cross returning to normal and distracted by her playful teasing, Super Creek's worries gradually faded. After chatting a little more, her attention shifted away from Tamamo Cross's earlier strangeness.
As they were about to enter the track, Super Creek suddenly rembered sothing.
"Oh right, Tamamo—about what I ntioned earlier… Have you thought of a good way yet?"
Earlier?
Tamamo Cross was briefly puzzled before quickly realizing that Super Creek was referring to the matter she'd discussed with her and Komata-san several tis before.
Caring for Kitahara Sota.
Not that Super Creek didn't know how to take care of Kitahara, exactly. Rather, due to Nice Nature's constant watchfulness and Kitahara's vigilance, despite Creek's increasingly passionate gaze toward Kitahara, she still hadn't found an opening.
Under normal circumstances, Super Creek might've just patiently continued caring for others as a substitute while awaiting a chance. But ever since the Decisive Victory Outfit incident and her conversation with Kitahara, her thinking had subtly shifted.
"One-sided caregiving and perfectionism can pressure others and create distance."
"To truly get closer to soone, you shouldn't just strive to beco perfect. Instead, while caring for others, you should also learn to depend on them, letting them feel needed."
Kitahara had rely said those words as a responsible trainer, wanting to help Super Creek with her struggles.
But unknown to him, although Super Creek indeed absorbed his words, the direction she'd taken them was… slightly different from his intent.
Depend on soone, huh...?
Reflecting deeply on Kitahara's words, Creek returned to her dorm.
After an entire night of consideration, she believed she finally understood Kitahara's aning.
Thus, the very next day, she approached Tamamo Cross and Komata-san and, under their horrified gazes, voiced her intentions.
"I have a favor to ask you two."
"Um, Creek-san, we have training today… The baby ga should wait until we have free ti—"
"It's not the baby ga."
eting their terrified gazes, Creek shook her head earnestly.
"I want you two to help find an opportunity to care for Kitahara-san."
This was how Creek understood Kitahara's advice.
As the famous Motherly Demon whose reputation echoed throughout Tracen, Creek genuinely struggled to think of any aspect of her life requiring others' help.
She excelled in everything, from daily chores to academics, and even in racing, Kitahara himself already provided plenty of support.
The only genuine, non-contrived area left where she could request help from others, she concluded, was caring for Kitahara.
Faced with Creek's earnest request, Tamamo Cross and Komata-san imdiately exchanged glances and enthusiastically agreed.
After all, if Creek directed her motherly gaze toward Kitahara, their own chances of suffering under her excessive care would drop significantly.
Moreover, Creek might indeed be dangerous, but her brand of danger differed entirely from other Uma Musu.
Sure, Kitahara would inevitably suffer from Creek's attentions—but if so other Uma Musu ever impulsively attempted sothing reckless, Creek's presence would beco the safest insurance policy imaginable.
Although they readily agreed, granting themselves breathing room, thus far their efforts had borne no fruit, largely due to Nice Nature's vigilance and Kitahara's ironclad defense.
But today, perhaps affected by the impact of that recent "dream," or perhaps intimidated by Creek's increasingly alarming gaze, a desperate Tamamo Cross suddenly hit upon a potentially effective plan.
"Wait, Creek, hold on a second—I might've just thought of a way…"
"…What kind of way?"
"It's simple," Tamamo Cross said seriously.
"If you openly say you want to take care of him, Kitahara-san and Nice Nature definitely won't agree."
"But if you approach it differently, asking Kitahara-san for 'help' as a pretext for taking care of him, he'll almost certainly accept."
"I don't have a detailed thod yet, but I've got a rough idea. You want to hear?"
Intrigued, Super Creek leaned in, listening carefully as Tamamo Cross outlined her rough plan.
As she listened, her eyes gradually lit up with excitent.
This could actually work...
...
anwhile, completely unaware of what awaited him, Kitahara Sota cheerfully took a seat in the stands.
He had no idea that, for the sake of his safety, Tamamo Cross had already completely sold him out.
Though oblivious to Tamamo Cross's plotting, Kitahara's relaxed mood didn't last long.
Shortly after settling into his seat, soone he found rather troubleso spotted him and hurried over excitedly, quickly sitting down next to him.
"Hello, Kitahara-senpai! We et again!"
Looking at Karai Risa, chirping energetically like a little bird beside him, Kitahara felt helpless but still nodded politely.
"Hello, Karai-san."
As Kitahara expected, imdiately after sitting, Karai began her usual routine of enthusiastically promoting herself, attempting again to persuade Kitahara to let her join his team.
However, after seeing Kitahara's increasingly obvious discomfort, she tactfully ended her recruitnt pitch and brought up another topic instead.
"Kitahara-senpai, have you…seen the recent news online?"
"You an on the Tracen forums?"
Karai shook her head. "No, I an the outside internet."
"I've been busy lately, so not really."
Kitahara glanced at Karai, noticing her hesitance.
"Is there sothing wrong online?"
"Well, how should I put it..." Karai paused. "Recently, there's been…so pretty harsh comntary about you…"
Harsh comntary?
Kitahara's interest piqued imdiately.
"Do you have specifics?"
"Yes." Karai nodded, handing him her phone. "It's mostly things like this…"
Kitahara took her phone, scrolling briefly through the ssages. Indeed, negative comntary about him had surged significantly.
Naturally, Nice Nature's peculiar running style was part of it.
Thanks to GraspVictory's operations and his own efforts, he'd successfully drawn all the bla for Nature's running style onto himself, so it made sense his reputation had worsened.
But unlike before, this ti criticisms extended beyond Nature, encompassing other incidents as well.
For example, Silence Suzuka's earlier fracture.
Having debuted a year ago and secured a G1 win, Suzuka was already sowhat famous externally—arguably among this generation's stars. Consequently, her fracture attracted considerable public attention, climbing to the top three trending topics.
Initially, comnts expressed worry, heartbreak, and wishes for a swift recovery.
However, after soone ntioned Suzuka's recent team transfer, discussions rapidly derailed.
Debates erupted over responsibility: so blad Suzuka's previous trainer's thods, while others accused her new trainer of ignorance, suggesting excessive training intensity led to her injury.
Initially balanced, the scales tipped decisively after soone dug up Eclipse's earlier base race footage—particularly highlighting her deliberate deceleration at the end.
They analyzed it fra-by-fra, convincingly accusing Kitahara's training thods. The disappearance of Eclipse from later races further fueled accusations he'd ruined a star Uma Musu.
Supported by seemingly logical evidence, Kitahara's reputation plumted online, casting him as a ruthless trainer obsessed with victory and profits, unconcerned with Uma Musu's health.
Special Week's previous deliberate slowdown was soon similarly blad on him, centing public belief that he alone bore responsibility for Suzuka's injury.
Finishing his reading, Kitahara felt sowhat stifled—not due to sadness, but because Karai was watching. Afraid she'd notice, he desperately restrained laughter, causing genuine discomfort.
Sadness? Frustration? Are you kidding? He was practically ecstatic.
Recently, even with GraspVictory's help, he'd struggled to maintain his negative public image. Just when he'd worried how to further tarnish his reputation, this delightful opportunity dropped right into his lap.
Best of all, this situation actually tied directly back to him. The fra-by-fra analysis blaming him originated from a post he'd personally made on the Tracen forums.
Effort really does pay off.
He returned Karai's phone, reassuring her sincerely that he didn't mind. Turning away, he caught sight of Tamamo Cross in the racecourse smiling up at him, cute little fangs glinting adorably.
Smiling warmly, Kitahara waved back, thinking fondly:
Tamamo's such a rare, reassuring ray of normalcy in this madhouse.
Yet unknown to him, at that exact mont, hidden within her pocket, Tamamo Cross gripped a button tightly—with no intention of ever letting go.
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