Chapter Text
— Chuo Traincen Academy, second major crisis. Beginning.
"…What exactly is this situation?"
Both wrists pinned behind her, seated in a chair — the first thing that came out was entirely reasonable.
The location: an empty classroom. Curtains closed, a hand-made "No Entry" sign on the door. Desks and chairs pushed to the sides, a folding chair placed alone in the center — the whole setup resembling an interrogation room.
And before her, lined up: Fenomeno, carrying a cutlet bowl for some reason. Nakayama Festa, leaning against the wall shuffling cards. Gold Ship with sunglasses on and a candy cigarette between her lips. Dream Journey quietly poised with a notepad and pen. And Orfevre, seated in a chair like a throne, legs crossed regally.
"…Could I request an explanation?"
She said it, and Fenomeno pointed at her dramatically.
"That's our line!!"
"That's fair, but that's not what I'm—"
"Know what I know. Say everything you know. If you tell the truth nothing bad will happen to you."
"Don't threaten me."
Gold Ship clicked her candy cigarette back and forth like an old gangster film. Nakayama Festa immediately knocked the hat sideways.
Over their confusion, Dream Journey said calmly: "Then let's begin."
The dry sound of a pen. It rang oddly loud.
"What we'll ask is simple. Think of it as a brief interrogation."
"Did you just say interrogation?"
"Ignored."
So it was.
Dream Journey looked at her with a pleasant smile. But the depths of her eyes were as clear and cool as ice.
"The engagement — is a lie, isn't it."
…
…?
…!?
The classroom's air froze with an audible crack.
"…I see."
"WHAT?! Is it not true?!"
"Getting interesting now…"
Nakayama Festa detached herself from the wall.
"…Why do you think that?"
"A matter of process."
Dream Journey calmly closed her notepad.
"At first I thought — someone from outside central, not in the academy, a college acquaintance. What a hidden wildcard, I thought."
"You just called them a bug."
"So I had your academic social history, part-time work history, research lab assignment, and all SNS exchanges fully investigated."
"How thorough—"
"I had a certain connection that made it possible."
Smile.
The smile of someone younger than her. That was just frightening. Black market. Definitely black market.
"Based on data — there is no such 'person with a long romantic history' in Trainer's life."
"…Would you really go that far?"
"I beg your pardon?"
She said it reflexively, and Dream Journey tilted her head.
"Of course," she said pleasantly. "In today's after-dinner conversation tone."
"Because this concerns someone we deeply respect — Anego."
Fenomeno swallowed.
"…So, the ring is a dummy…?"
Gold Ship exhaled.
"Well, big sis really is something. Oh man."
No mockery in those words. If anything — something close to trust blended in.
"…A dummy, then."
Orfevre's eyes sharpened.
"What is the purpose."
The window outside — the wind blew once, hard. The curtain bloomed and fell. The old fluorescent light hummed faintly. She was the only one standing in the center of it — oddly left behind.
She let out a small breath. There's no choice but to give in.
"…Recently — we've been getting closer."
"To whom?"
Sharp eyes.
"…Stay Gold."
The moment she said that name, the invisible weight of the classroom descended. The fluorescent light's white glare felt suddenly colder. No one breathed immediately. That felt like an illusion — but barely.
"…Please continue."
"Before she left on her trip — gradually—"
Each word she chose stung in her throat. It wasn't just that night at the campsite. The boundary had been blurring for much longer. Looking back now — from later in the Twinkle Series — Stay Gold's physical affection had been getting noticeable. And she hadn't stopped it firmly. Telling herself it was nothing, telling herself it was just a whim—
"I had to be the one to draw the line."
Saying it, she realized — she couldn't say clearly where the line had been. Trainer and assigned Uma Musume. Adult and minor. The protecting side and the protected side. Had she adhered to that? The answer was hazy.
Dream Journey was silent. Her hand resting on the desk was still, not one fingertip moving. Just — her gaze wasn't wavering.
"So I thought — if I looked like I already had someone, it would all wrap up neatly. Ah, well — I guess it got found out. I knew if investigated it'd come apart instantly."
As casual as she could. As if it were a joke. But her voice came out dryer than expected. Even to her own ears — hollow.
"…That was somewhat thoughtless of you. Not like you."
The gentleness of the voice didn't dull the blade inside it. Su — straight to the chest, it went in.
"Anego is not someone who retreats for something like that."
Said plainly. Not an opinion — a fact spoken from certainty. The jury of five nodded with varying degrees of reluctance.
"That's right."
"She'd burn hotter, that one."
"The more obstacles, the more her fighting spirit blazes."
"Do you know Daddy's character song — Pride ○ Everything?"
"What's that — I don't know it."
— No. She knew. Just not about the character song. She knew those straight-ahead eyes. Eyes that wouldn't retreat. Eyes that wouldn't yield. Eyes that wouldn't give up.
"Liar" — the voice from that night in her ears.
She'd been pressing her left ring finger without realizing it. The ring's feel — pressing into skin. A stainless steel ring from an outlet store, bought for a little over five thousand yen. A little too small in size, leaving a red mark every time she took it off. But for a liar, it was a fitting pain.
"…You'll remove the ring, won't you?"
Dream Journey's quiet prompt. It felt like a final ultimatum.
She slowly shook her head.
"That I can't do."
"…Why?"
She turned her gaze to the window. The spring sky through the glass, palely overcast. That world through the glass felt somehow distant, and that steadied her a little.
Beyond it — a small shadow crossed, swift and clean. Wings spread, not a wingbeat, gliding on the current — no hesitation, no reluctance. At that height, nobody's hand could reach, she thought. And somehow her chest went quiet.
"I like birds."
Out of nowhere — she understood. But her gaze stayed on the window, tracing the path of that vanished shadow.
"Birds in the sky especially."
They choose the wind. They choose the course. Whether to rise, turn, recede — all their own will. Beautiful because unreachable. Safe not to break because untouchable. Without telling herself so, her heart's churn would find a name.
Nakayama Festa shrugged slightly. Her heel scraped the floor; a dry squeak rang out.
"And what does that have to do with this."
A blunt question. But straight eyes. Eyes that wouldn't let her run.
She laughed just a little. Only the corners of her lips — a smile without temperature. Something close to self-deprecation.
"That I'm the jealous type."
The classroom went quiet. Urrrrr. The fluorescent light hummed low and loud.
"If it got in my hands — I know I'd want to put it in a cage."
She stroked her ring finger without thinking. The ring's feel pressed against her skin. Cage.
"So that it couldn't go anywhere. So it would only look at me."
"And you want that."
She looked down. The ring caught light.
"If it couldn't fly — I'd probably make it unable to fly. Weaken the wings, or — maybe break them, so it can never leave."
Her throat was dry. She knew she could do it. She could make all the right moves of a responsible trainer. And close her in.
"I don't want that. You wouldn't want to see Stay Gold like that either, would you? Like a pet bird that's been kept until it dies."
Her gaze dropped. The ring glinted. Do I want to protect or do I want to bind. The line between them — she herself, most of all — couldn't trust.
So she kept her in the sky. Decided she was at an unreachable height — and the reason to reach out a cage disappeared.
"If I want her — I can't stop."
Words fell as the room grew heavier. Silence. More silence. More silence. Only time — strangely, vividly present.
At last Orfevre spoke quietly.
"…Egoist."
Low. Dry voice. Not condemnation. Not defense. Simply — the king's voice, naming a fact.
She closed her eyes.
"Yeah."
She didn't deny it. Couldn't.
If I'm going to cage her — better to decide from the start she's a creature of the sky. Drawing the line and saying she's unreachable — the desire won't be justified. If she doesn't come close — she can't be broken.
That was the cowardly, sneaking line she'd drawn for herself.
She clapped her hands together — deliberately, with a loud flat crack. A dry sound sliced the classroom air.
Everyone's shoulders jumped.
"But—!"
She said it bright and loud — the tone of someone who'd turned a page.
"I've already made the report!"
"Wha—"
"You — you mean—"
Fenomeno's eyes went wide. Nakayama Festa slowly closed and re-opened her eyes. Dream Journey's eyes were narrowing steadily — whether she could still see was questionable.
Gold Ship laughed dryly.
"You crazy?"
"Wow."
She waved a hand lightly. No big deal.
"I told her over an international call — 'by the way, I got engaged'…"
"What did Anego say?"
Dream Journey's question was fast. No room to escape.
"'Is that so, is that so.'"
Snap — the air froze.
"Gor-shi-chan knows a word for people like this. They're called death-wishers."
"That's terrible."
She shrugged dramatically. Overblown as a stage actor. But her shoulders' movement was just a touch stiff. In the classroom, every gaze was drilling into her. From the front. From the side. From diagonally. Nowhere to run.
Fenomeno opened her mouth carefully:
"W-was her voice… normal?"
"Normal! Really?"
"Right away. As always. Ah — quiet maybe? But she was traveling so she was probably tired!"
Brightly said. Voice lifting at the end.
Nakayama Festa gazed at her intently.
"That's…"
She swallowed what came after.
Dream Journey said nothing. Just watched. Recording — my breathing speed, my wavering gaze, the habit of stroking the ring finger without thinking — all of it.
"…I'm properly threading the needle, right?"
She said it lightly.
But the classroom laughed for no one.
Fenomeno went pale. Nakayama Festa covered her face with both hands. Between her fingers, eyes that truly couldn't believe it.
"Why would you do this on purpose…"
Gold Ship's voice — not teasing. Not enough room.
Dream Journey, finally, let her gaze shift. She looked at her quietly, calmly.
"And next?"
She spread a hand and tilted her head.
"Ah — a matchmaking meeting."
Pa-ka-riin. The air froze audibly.
"M-matchmaking!?"
"Roger, right. Matchmaking."
She said it flat and simple. Then:
"There's pretty wide connections among trainers. A proper one. Family is solid, job is stable. Same field, even. Age is within range."
Rattling off. Conditions. Specs. Market value. Words she couldn't believe came from her own mouth.
"I've seen photos. Looked kind — a gentle person."
She said it — and her chest rasped just slightly.
"When?"
Dream Journey asked instantly.
"Tomorrow."
Bang — a chair scraped. Someone almost stood up.
Nakayama Festa slowly lifted her face.
"Are you serious?"
"Who knows."
She shrugged. Half a joke, half a straight face.
Orfevre's eyes went thin. Stared at her with laser focus.
"…You cut off your own retreat."
At those words, her chest stung.
Retreat.
She laughed.
"Sooner or later the lie gets found out. Better to make it real."
Lightly said.
But no one in the classroom laughed.
Gold Ship looked at the ceiling. Everyone looked at the ceiling and then back at the floor, alternating busily. Was their neck not hurting? she thought distantly.
At last, Orfevre quietly said:
"…You drive yourself into a corner."
She closed her eyes.
"Yeah."
She didn't deny it.
Better the limit of a lie than something vague. Draw the line where it can't be reached — and the desire won't be justified. If she doesn't get close — she can't break her.
That was the cowardly, sneaking line she'd drawn for herself.
"Since you're determined — I'd appreciate it if you'd just make it real."
It fell out as if exhaled. She pressed her left ring finger.
"I think — a proper partner is just better."
She said it, and the classroom felt like it lost a layer of air.
Gold Ship lifted her eyes to the ceiling.
"Gorshi-chan Encyclopedia says — situations like this are called 'pouring gasoline on a fire.'"
Nobody laughed.
(She is sent off to the office. In the corridor, the juniors hold an emergency strategy meeting.)
"Objective — three things," Dream Journey said quietly.
"One. Don't let the matchmaking succeed."
One finger folded.
"Two. Give Trainer time to reconsider."
Another fold.
"Three—"
A pause. The wind called. The school yard trees shook.
"Buy time until Anego returns."
The last finger, slowly, folded.
That was not strategy. Not reason. Just — prayer, very close to it. They all nodded in silence. The golden light of sunset colored each profile. Long shadows on the floor, crossing.
(Late at night in the trainer's corridor.)
The trainer's block was nearly deserted. Of course it was. Working overtime on a golden Friday was for the eccentrics — no one but her.
She walked the corridor to her trainer's room. Worn heels clicking loud in the quiet. Past rush hour, the ordinary building felt this still. The half-lights of the block were dimmed; only the green of the emergency exit lamps cast a dim path.
"Haah."
She exhaled softly. Nobody around — so she let her shoulders down.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, hm.
Her fingers reached her ring finger without thinking. The fake silver ring — cool.
— Someday, it'll be real.
She'd said it that boldly — but now that it was tomorrow, her feet dragged.
Drawing her own line and then trying to cross it — she couldn't stop the shakiness in her legs.
Fine. If this could make both of them happy, no problem.
Tonight I'll get home fast, soak properly, maybe use one of those nicer face masks I keep for special occasions. I don't exactly use them regularly — might as well.
"Well — at least tonight, I should take care of my skin."
She murmured to herself, smiling — and stood at her trainer's room door. She hadn't locked it. Who's coming after all. She put her hand on the door.
Click.
She turned it.
"—!?"
Her arm was grabbed hard. She was dragged into the trainer's room before she could react. Slammed to the floor.
"Whoa — who's—"
Before she could cry out, her mouth was covered. A hard palm. A heat that closed off escape. The pain of her back hitting the floor knocked the air from her. She couldn't catch up with what had happened.
Warning bells ringing. Shadow above, pressing down. Both wrists pinned to the floor. Weight on her stomach.
In the darkness, someone was staring steadily down at her.
"…mm!"
She tried to struggle — pinned. Strong. No mercy. Her vision finally focused.
In the dimness — a familiar face.
"……"
Stay Gold.
My important, important, important—
"Hey."
That one word, into her ear, with warm breath.
"Welcome home."
"You've been busy."
Stay Gold's gaze, in the darkness, just looking at her.
"Planning a matchmaking. Getting engaged. Coming up with schemes."
She knew. All of it. The corridor conversation, that laugh, the habit of stroking the ring. All of it.
"What do you think you're doing."
The voice is calm. Not hysteric. Not yelling. And so — frightening.
"…Nothing to do with you."
She said it, meeting the gaze she couldn't escape.
"That ring — I told you."
"And I want to know the full story."
Stay Gold — waited.
She had a choice. She could keep lying, or she could explain. But Stay Gold's eyes said — she already knows. All of it.
"…Because the distance was getting close."
She exhaled. No more room.
"The night of the camp — and long before that. I'm the one who should have held the line."
Saying it, she recalled — the boundary line between them had never been clearly drawn. After the later Twinkle Series — Stay Gold's physical closeness had become noticeable. She had said nothing firm. Calling it nothing, calling it a whim. Lying to herself.
"So if I looked like I had a partner — it would wrap up neatly. Hmm. Get found out quick, though."
Stay Gold's eyes — listening.
Not accusatory, not cold. Just — watching.
"…It was shallow of me. Cowardly."
She stopped. Words wouldn't come out. She'd been saying brave things in the classroom — and with Stay Gold directly in front of her, her voice had no armor.
Then:
"…Because Stay Gold — you're a girl who flies."
She said it.
Something that had been sealed spilled out.
"Straight, strong. The more obstacles, the fiercer your eyes. Even into the wind you don't ask for help. You take the wind itself as your ally and go higher. The moment you kick off the ground — I've seen it so many times. The back of someone going toward a height I couldn't reach."
She looked away. The ring caught light.
"A girl with big dreams. So this old woman — is fine just sitting on the ground watching."
Said and yet the ache in the pit of her chest didn't go.
"If I get too close — I'll definitely cage her."
She brought her gaze back.
"I want to want her so badly I can't stop."
And her voice had — only barely — kept its form.
"Selfish, I know. Ugly. Even I know it."
Saying it clearly for the first time. For the first time, she put a name on it.
"But I can't not want her."
The classroom had heard it — but this was different. With Stay Gold here, it landed as the truest thing she'd ever said.
"That's why — from the start, putting her out of reach — means I don't have to reach for the cage."
She pressed the ring against her palm.
"It's a cowardly thing I did."
Stay Gold said nothing for a while. Then:
"…You idiot."
Low, dry.
"All that angsting over that."
She blinked.
Stay Gold's expression — helpless. Exasperated. Not angry. And then — her shoulders started to shake.
She was — laughing.
"You were worried about that?! And of all things — casting me as Desdemona?! AHAHA—!!"
"Don't laugh—"
Instinctively, it came out stronger than expected. Stay Gold's laughter stopped.
"I'm not laughing at you."
She said it, more clearly now.
"I'm — serious. It wasn't funny to me."
Her throat was tight.
"I want all of you."
She forced it out.
"I want to monopolize the smile. The gaze. The voice. The every movement of a feeling.
That glossy hair. Those eyes. Those legs. Those fingers. Every fingernail.
All of it — don't give any of it to anyone else — I want that too."
She pressed on before she lost her nerve.
"I can't stop it."
She could hear the grim truth of her own ugly impulse. Cage the jealousy. Lash out. She'd been frightened of herself.
"If this can't be — then I'd rather—"
The monster inside her.
"— I want to protect her. Be protected. Want her to fly high and far. Want her to stay always within my reach. Want her smiling. Don't want her smiling like that at anyone else. Want her shining most of all. Want to make that light only mine. Want her well and happy. Want that happiness to be because of only me. Don't want to lose her. Would rather break her before I could lose her—"
The words that fought each other — all from the pit of her heart. Clean wishes and ugly impulse — beating with the same pulse.
"I can't call this 'love.'"
She spat it out.
"Because I want to × you!"
— I don't want to call it love!!
Stay Gold went still for one instant.
Then —
"Haha."
A small laugh.
"I knew it."
Stay Gold's arms gently enfolded her.
"You're too much of a Desdemona yourself to play Othello. Though your green eyes would be adorable."
The warmth in her shoulders. Back to back, so — pulling her in. She was in Stay Gold's arms.
"Stupid."
A murmur at the crown of her head.
"But — loving that stupidity and finding it unbearably dear — that makes me stupid too."
Finally — I feel like I've really met you.
Her tears ran — not from sadness. Not from despair. She clung to those arms.
I've wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so badly.
After the matchmaking was called off. The fake ring removed. Weeks later, casually watching the sky together—
"So — fly with me. Inside the cage called Earth. Together."