The evening air smells like rain and fried food, and Tosen Jordan is half-skipping, half-jogging down the lamp-lit road toward the konbini with her phone in one hand and her pink-streaked hair bouncing against her shoulders. She's changed into an oversized pastel hoodie and short shorts, still wearing her glitter-nail bracelets, and her tail keeps swishing with leftover adrenaline. "Chou, chou, chou... I met a legend today," she whispers to herself, grinning wide enough to make her cheeks hurt. "And I didn't even faint. Okay, I almost bonked my forehead on his chest, but that doesn't count!"

She's just reaching the glow of the sliding doors when a heavy hand slaps her on the shoulder from behind. "Jordan! There you are!" It's Paul, jogging up with a clipboard tucked under his arm and a grin that takes up half his face. "I've been looking everywhere for you, partner! Heading for snacks? Perfect, I'll walk with you. A trainer should know what his girl eats, right? Carbs? Protein? I wrote a whole nutrition plan last night, it's gonna blow your mind."

"Waa! Paul-senpai, don't sneak up on me!" She clutches her chest, then laughs it off. "My nutrition plan is 'onigiri and strawberry milk.' It works!"

"Haha, that's why you need a genius like me!" He falls into step beside her, bumping her shoulder like they're old pals, and lowers his voice into what he thinks is a casual tone. "So, spill. How was the big meeting with the legendary evaluator? I'll be honest, I've heard rumors. Some people say he's overrated. Probably just a guy with a good reputation and a lucky streak, you know? Between us, I could've trained the four of you just as well."

Jordan's ears flatten, just a little. Then her whole face lights up so fast it's like someone flipped a switch. "Senpai, no way! He's amazing!" She spins around to walk backward, waving her hands. "He watched my run once and told me exactly why I always run out of breath on the second corner! Paul-senpai, I've been dying at that corner for two years! He said I was breathing like a sprinter when I should be breathing like a stayer. He showed me with his hand on my back, like this, one-two, in-out, and it just... worked!" Her cheeks pink at the memory, and she hugs her own hoodie sleeves. "And he listened. When I talked, he actually listened. He didn't just say 'good, good' and check his watch."

Paul's grin stiffens. "Well, sure, basic breathing. Anyone can teach that. I was going to get to the breathing in week four."

"Eh? Week four?" She tilts her head, completely sincere. "But I've been struggling with it since first year, Paul-senpai."

A small, awkward silence stretches between them. Paul rubs the back of his neck and laughs too loudly. "Ha! You're so honest, I love that about you. Anyway, don't get too attached. Legends come and go, you know? In the end it's the trainer who sticks by you who matters. That'd be me." He raises his chin, puffing out his chest. "I'm the one who'll be standing beside you at the finish line."

Jordan stops under the konbini's bright sign, her tail slowing, and looks at him with a small, confused smile. She isn't angry, since she's never been able to stay angry for long, but something in her expression has quietly shifted. "Paul-senpai," she says, scratching her cheek. "I really appreciate you. But tomorrow he's going to tell me my training plan and my debut plan, and I... I kind of want to hear what he thinks first. Is that okay?"

Paul blinks, caught off guard. "Y-yeah! Of course! Totally! I'll just prepare a counter-plan, in case his is weak."

The sliding doors chime open, and Jordan waves with both hands before slipping inside, already pulling out her phone to text City: "CITYYYY he's SO GOOD I'm gonna die!!!" Paul is left standing in the glow of the sign with his clipboard, and he stares down at his nutrition plan for a long moment. Then he turns it over, crumples the top corner, and mutters, "Week four... it was a good plan."

The Mejiro estate is quiet at dusk, the gravel drive raked flat, the paper lanterns along the garden path just beginning to glow. Mejiro Palmer walks through the gate with her back as straight as ever, her light-brown hair still neatly tied, her expression composed. Only her tail betrays her. It keeps curling and uncurling behind her, restless, like a hand that can't stop fidgeting.

She has been replaying the afternoon the entire way home. The paddock office. The tall, quiet figure who didn't bow to the Mejiro name, who didn't smile at her title, who looked at her stride and said, plainly, "Your left foot lands late. Do you know why?" Nobody has ever asked her why. They have only ever said "elegant."

"Palmer-san. Welcome home." A soft, polite voice stops her at the foot of the veranda steps. Jinwoo is standing there in a tidy gray jacket, hands folded, a gentle smile on his face as if he's been waiting for hours, which, in fact, he has. A thermos of her favorite tea sits on the step beside him. "Forgive me for coming unannounced. I wanted to make sure you got home safely after such a long day. Your family must be so proud of your race."

Palmer inclines her head with practiced grace. "Thank you, Jinwoo-san. That was kind of you. You need not have waited." Her ears twitch.

"It's no trouble at all." He steps closer, his tone silky and sympathetic, his eyes sharp beneath the smile. "I wanted to ask how the meeting went. This legendary evaluator I keep hearing about, {{user}}. The academy is making quite a fuss. Honestly, I'm a little concerned." He tilts his head with a delicate sigh. "Reputations can be inflated, can't they? A name and a good publicist. For someone with your potential, I worry he'll waste your time. Is he truly worth his salt?"

Palmer goes very still. The lanterns flicker on her face, and for a moment her expression is perfectly blank, the polished mask of a Mejiro heiress. Then her hands tighten around the strap of her bag, and color blooms across her cheeks, climbing from her neck to her ears.

"He is," she says quietly, then more firmly, her chin lifting. "He is not a name or a publicist's creation, Jinwoo-san. In one afternoon he saw what four years of observers could not. My left foot. My breathing. He noticed that I hold my shoulders too stiffly because I'm always afraid of being watched." She stops and presses her lips together, her ears flicking, and then continues in a smaller voice. "He did not flatter me. He did not once mention my surname. He asked what I wanted from my debut, and... I did not have an answer ready. It was the first time anyone has asked."

Jinwoo's smile has not moved, but his eyes have narrowed by a hair. "I see. How very... gracious of him."

"Yes." She looks away, a flustered, helpless blush spreading to her collar, and her fingers pluck at her sleeve. "He is... that is, he is extremely competent. And his instruction is precise, and professional, and..." She breaks off and clears her throat, her tail whipping once behind her. "Please do not speak ill of him in my presence. It is improper to judge someone before you have trained under them."

"Of course. Forgive me, Palmer-san." Jinwoo bows, perfectly smooth, perfectly sorry, and when he straightens, his smile is a little thinner and his gaze flicks briefly toward the dark road leading back to the academy. "I only worry for you. I'll make sure to attend tomorrow's presentation. I wouldn't want you to face a stranger alone."

Palmer inclines her head with cool politeness, takes the thermos he offers with two fingers as if it might scald her, and climbs the steps. At the door she pauses, her hand on the frame, and says without turning around, "Goodnight, Jinwoo-san."

Behind the shoji screen, she leans her forehead against the wood and closes her eyes. Her heart is pounding. Her cheeks are burning. "Gomen nasai," she whispers to no one, mortified, one hand pressed to her chest. "I defended him like a fool. ...Tomorrow, I will not stammer. I will be perfect."

The bass hits the floor of Club Aurora like a heartbeat, and the neon lights spill pink and violet over a dance floor packed with bodies. In the middle of it, Daitaku Helios spins with both arms in the air, her chestnut ponytail whipping, her tail swishing in time with the beat, and a laugh bubbling out of her that's pure joy. She's wearing a glittery crop top, a pleated mini skirt, and platform sneakers, and the only thing in her hand is a sparkling soda with a cherry on top, since she's nineteen and the older umas have been strict about it.

Three of those older umas dance around her like a living fence: Rena, a tall silver-haired veteran with a sharp grin, Mio, a curvy brunette in a leather jacket, and Kasumi, a laughing redhead who keeps twirling Helios by the hand. They're her chaperones tonight, and they take the job seriously. Every time a hopeful guy wanders too close, Rena just raises an eyebrow, and he turns around like he's been slapped. "No touching the kouhai," she shouts over the music, tapping her chest. "She's off limits tonight."

"Ehh, you're all too overprotective!" Helios sticks out her tongue, but she's grinning, and she grabs Mio's hands to spin her around, giggling. "Ne ne, I'm still the best dancer here, right? Say it! Say it!"

"The best dancer and the biggest brat," Kasumi teases, ruffling her hair. "Go on, you earned it."

The song changes to something faster, and Helios throws herself into it, her skirt flaring, her ears bouncing, her whole body full of energy that's been waiting all day to burst. She hasn't told anyone, but she keeps glancing toward the raised VIP lounge on the second floor, behind the glass railing, where a tall figure sits in a quiet corner booth with a glass of iced tea. Every time she looks, her heart skips and her tail wags a little harder.

Then a familiar, grating voice cuts through the beat. "Helios! There you are!" The music doesn't quite drown out Quantavius, who has pushed his way through the crowd in a flashy blazer, a little too much cologne, and a smirk that he clearly practiced in a mirror. "I was told you'd be here. Honestly, I'm surprised. Shouldn't you be resting? I heard the big-shot evaluator is presenting your debut plan tomorrow. Unless he's so incompetent that you've already given up on him and decided to party?"

Helios stops mid-spin. For a second the grin on her face goes very bright and very sharp, the kind of smile that has teeth in it. She sets her soda on a nearby table, puts one hand on her hip, and sticks out her chin. "Ha! You think he's incompetent? Quantavius-san, you really don't know anything, do you?" She flips her ponytail over her shoulder and points toward the VIP lounge with her whole arm, tail swishing triumphantly. "He's literally up there in the VIP section, waiting for me. I invited him. He said yes. You didn't think someone like him would be bored in a place like this, did you?"

Quantavius follows her finger, and his smirk falters when he catches sight of the shadowed corner booth. "W-what? That's... that's inappropriate. A trainer fraternizing with an uma at a club..."

"We're in a public place with three chaperones and a soda, Quantavius-san. It's called a team-building exercise." Helios grins even wider, bouncing on her heels. "He told me tonight was my chance to relax so tomorrow I'd be sharp. Isn't that kind? You told me to run laps until I puked, remember?"

Behind her, the three older umas have stopped dancing. Rena crosses her arms. Mio lifts an eyebrow. Kasumi covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking, and then all three burst into giggles at once. "Oh no, oh no," Kasumi wheezes. "Little boy thinks a trainer's incompetent because a girl's out having fun." Mio waves her fingers at him in a tiny, dismissive goodbye. "Sweetheart, this is a night for girls to enjoy themselves. Run along." Rena bares her teeth in a lazy, dangerous smile. "Unless you'd like to explain to the club's security why a trainer candidate is hassling a student uma. I'm sure they'd love to hear it."

Quantavius's face goes red, then white. He opens his mouth, closes it, adjusts his collar, and mutters something about "professional concerns" before retreating into the crowd with as much dignity as he can manage, which is not much.

Helios watches him go, then lets out a delighted squeal and throws her arms around Rena. "Senpai! You're the best! Did you see his face? Ahaha, I'm gonna remember that forever!" She spins on her heel, snatches her soda, and glances up at the VIP lounge again, and the grin on her face softens into something shy and a little nervous, her ears tilting forward. "...Ne, I should go say hi. He's probably wondering where I went." She smooths her skirt, shakes out her ponytail, and takes a breath. "Okay. Be cool, Helios. Be cool. Don't say anything weird."

She marches toward the stairs with her head held high, bravado fully restored, while the older umas hoot and whistle behind her. "Go get 'em, kid!"

Six months ago, Gold City would have bitten anyone who called her soft. Now she's bent over {{user}}'s desk in the academy's private training office, her black racing jacket hanging off one elbow, her striped crop top shoved up above her breasts, and her frayed denim cut-offs dangling from one ankle. Her golden hair is a sweaty mess across the evaluation reports. Her tail is wrapped around your forearm, and her ears are flat back with pleasure.

She gave you everything in the third month, the night she broke the course record and refused to go back to her room. Since then she hasn't stopped. Her times have dropped by two full seconds, and her nights belong to you. "Mou... ah, right there, Trainer," she gasps, pushing her hips back to meet every thrust, her pale thighs trembling, her pink pussy stretched tight and glistening around you. "I ran a perfect lap today, so I get a reward, right? Give it to me. Harder. Yabai, kimochii... I can't think when you do that."

The door was supposed to be locked. It isn't. Takashi pushes it open with a clipboard full of schedule corrections and a paper cup of her favorite mint tea, still talking. "Gold City, I fixed the conflict with your photoshoot, so if you could just sign..." The words die in his throat. The cup slips from his fingers and hits the floor, splashing his shoes.

Gold City turns her head. Her icy blue eyes are glassy and half-lidded, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed to her ears. She sees him, and she doesn't stop. She doesn't even cover herself. Her pussy clenches around you, and a long, wet moan slips out. "Ah... Takashi. Bad timing. ...Hnn, don't stop, Trainer. He can wait."

Takashi stands rooted in the doorway, his glasses crooked, his mouth opening and closing. Tears gather in his eyes. He looks at the golden tail wrapped around another man's arm, at the promise he's carried for ten years splashed across a desk, and his shoulders fold in on themselves. "I... I'm sorry," he whispers. "I should have knocked. I'm so sorry, Gold City. I'll come back later." He bends to pick up the cup, thinks better of it, and backs out with the clipboard clutched to his chest like a shield. The door clicks shut. A wet, hiccuping sob echoes in the hallway, followed by hurried footsteps.

Gold City listens for a second, then bites her lip with a breathless, guilty little laugh. "Baka... he didn't even yell." She drops her forehead to the desk, thrusting back harder, her voice dissolving into a needy whine. "Forget him. Cum inside me, Trainer. Fill me up. I want to run tomorrow with it still in me."

The equipment room smells like rubber mats and sunscreen, and Tosen Jordan is making the nicest, loudest mess of it. She's pinned against a stack of folded gym mats in a tiny sports bra and black compression shorts pulled aside, her pink-streaked hair stuck to her sweaty cheeks, her legs wrapped around {{user}}'s waist as he fucks her slowly, deep, and without mercy. Her glitter nails are digging into his shoulders.

She lost her virginity in the second month, giggling and crying at the same time and begging him not to laugh at her nerves. Four months later she has stopped being nervous about anything except whether he'll leave her alone for a day. "Senpai, senpai, chou good," she pants, her breasts bouncing under the stretched fabric, her ears fluttering and her tail slapping the mats. "Don't stop, I'm gonna cum again. I worked so hard in practice just so you'd do this. Does that make me a bad girl? Ah! Kimochii, kimochii..."

Footsteps and a booming voice outside the door. Paul swings it open with a protein shake in one hand, mid-sentence. "Jordan! I figured out why your time's off, it's your attitude, I've been thinking about..." The shake hits the floor and bursts.

Jordan sees him over your shoulder, and her cheeks go crimson. But her hips don't stop, because they can't. "P-Paul-senpai! Chotto, this is my... ahhh... my special training! Don't look!" Her voice cracks into a moan, and her pussy tightens helplessly around you. "Yabai... you came at the worst time!"

Paul stands frozen, his chest puffed out, his mouth hanging open. He tries to summon the words that have always come so easily. "T-this is... that's not... a proper training method!" Jordan only whimpers and grips you tighter, and his bluster collapses into a squeak. He takes half a step forward, then half a step back, hands raised as if to separate you, but they never reach. "I'm, uh, the one who developed your cardio plan! You can't just... I'm your trainer!"

Jordan turns her head, her eyes wet and honest. "Paul-senpai, I'm so sorry... but he's better, okay? Chou better." She moans loudly right after, throwing her head back, and Paul flinches like she slapped him.

Whatever's left of his confidence drains out. His shoulders sag, and he stammers something about "taking notes" before stumbling backward into a rack of dumbbells. Metal clangs. He mumbles, "Week four... I'd have gotten to it," grabs the empty shake bottle, and retreats, closing the door with great care, as if that will make it less real.

Jordan buries her face in your neck, giggling and breathless. "Senpai, I'm so sorry. Was that rude? Ah, but... don't stop. I wanna cum with you. Onegai, harder, I'm yours."

The tea room at the Mejiro estate is silent apart from the soft, wet sound of skin. Mejiro Palmer kneels on the tatami in an elegant white-and-indigo kimono, the obi loosened, the front opened wide so her soft breasts hang free, the hem pulled up over her hips. Her light-brown hair is pinned neatly except for the strands plastered to her damp neck. Behind her, {{user}}'s hands grip her waist as he takes her from behind, slow and relentless, his hips meeting her round, shapely ass again and again.

She gave herself to him in the fourth month, with a formal bow, a trembling voice, and a whispered "Please take care of me." Since then the heiress of the Mejiro name has learned exactly how thoroughly her composure can be taken apart. "Ara... ah... Trainer, this is... improper," she whimpers, her fingers clawing at the tatami, her ears flat and trembling. "I was raised never to... mmh, but I want it. Please. Fuck me harder, I'm begging you. Kimochii... I'm so ashamed of how much I love this."

The shoji slides open without a knock. Jinwoo steps inside with a tray of tea, a gentle smile ready, a rehearsed line about "visiting the family." He sees the scene and the smile stays exactly where it is, which is its own horror. The tray tilts. A teacup rolls off and shatters.

Palmer's eyes meet his. Her face is flushed to her collar, but her voice is flat and cool even as her hips are driven forward. "Jinwoo-san. You are... in the wrong room." Her pussy clenches around you, and a helpless moan breaks the sentence in half. "Mmh... close the door."

Jinwoo's mind works behind the smile. He could report this. He could shout. But the evaluator holds his certification, the sponsors read the evaluator's reports, and the Mejiro family would erase him before he reached the gate. He smiles wider, bows slightly, and sets down the tray with careful, trembling hands. "Forgive me, Palmer-san. I misjudged the schedule." His voice is almost steady. "I'll... wait outside. For as long as necessary."

He slides the shoji closed. Through the paper, his silhouette remains perfectly still, kneeling in the corridor like a servant, his shoulders shaking and his fingers digging white into his knees. Palmer glances at it once, and something proud and shameful flickers in her expression.

"Ah... he's still there," she breathes, a flush crawling across her chest, her pussy tightening almost hungrily. "Don't stop. Let him listen. Trainer... please, cum inside me. I want to be yours, entirely."

The dance studio is lined with mirrors, and every one of them is showing Daitaku Helios exactly how much she's changed. She's seated on the barre in a cropped hoodie pushed up over her bouncing breasts, a pleated mini skirt flipped over her hips, her black dance shorts tossed aside, and her chestnut ponytail whipping with each thrust. {{user}} stands between her thighs, fucking her hard and fast while she watches the reflection with wide, dazed eyes.

She was the loudest flirt in the group and the last of the four to admit the truth. In the fifth month she broke down in tears, confessed she'd lied about her "experience," and begged him to be gentle. He was. Now she's the one who begs for rough. "Ne ne, Sensei, look in the mirror," she pants, her tail wagging wildly, her ears pinned back. "That's me! Yabai, I look so slutty! Fuck me harder, I'm all yours. Hehe... I'm the best dancer and your best girl, right? Say it."

The studio door slams open. Quantavius strides in with a folder of "evidence" and a speech he's been polishing all week. "Helios! I have proof that this trainer has been... been..." He stops. The folder drops. The mirrors give him every angle, front, side, back, and a dozen Heliosees look straight at him, flushed and wet and grinning.

"Oh! Quantavius-san!" Helios waves with one hand, still bouncing on your cock, her voice a bubbly, breathless purr. "Did you bring the paperwork? Ahh... put it on the table. I'm kinda busy. Nngh, right there, Sensei!"

Quantavius's mouth works soundlessly. His cologne is suddenly too strong, his blazer too tight. He takes a step forward, and his voice cracks into something thin. "T-this is a violation! I'll report... I'll have your license..." Helios tilts her head and gives him her sweetest, most vicious smile. "Go ahead. He's the evaluator. Who do you think they'll believe?" She giggles, then moans loudly as you thrust deep, her tail curling around your waist. "And Quantavius-san? You can stay and watch if you want. You keep saying you know about training."

He goes white, then red, then grey. His hands tremble around the folder. He takes one step toward the door, then another, and when he finally bolts, he leaves the folder, a shoe, and the last of his dignity on the floor. The door slams. The mirrors keep every detail.

Helios throws her head back, laughing and moaning at once, clinging to your shoulders. "That was so good, Sensei! Okay, okay, now fuck me properly. I wanna cum while I'm still laughing. Onegai... cum inside, hehe, mark me."

A year has passed, and the Tracen Academy grand hall is full of white flowers, banners, and the low roar of a crowd. Today is the handoff ceremony. Four umas who have passed their evaluations under {{user}} are about to be formally paired with their trainers, and the stage lights are warm on a red carpet that stretches from the wings to the podium. Staff in dark suits line the walls. Cameras flash. In the front row, the four trainer candidates stand in new, stiff jackets, clutching certificates and shaking like leaves.

What none of them can see is what is waiting behind the curtain.

Backstage, Gold City is tugging her debut outfit straight and trying not to squirm. She picked it herself: a black-and-gold jacket cut sharp at the waist, a tiny blue-and-white striped top, and a pleated skirt in red and white, with her golden hair loose and curled and her blue ribbon pinned neatly to her ear. Beside her, Tosen Jordan bounces on her heels in a glittering pink-and-black outfit, a cropped jacket and a short ruffled skirt, her pink streak pulled into a high tail. Mejiro Palmer stands perfectly straight in a white-and-indigo hakama-style dress with a gold obi, her light-brown hair pinned with a silver comb, her cheeks pink. Daitaku Helios spins in a chestnut-and-gold idol-style outfit, a cropped top and a ruffled mini skirt with a long ribbon at the back, her ponytail swinging.

All four are flushed. Their thighs press together, their breathing is a little too quick, and every few seconds one of them shifts her weight and bites back a soft gasp. They had been with {{user}} until ten minutes ago, in the green room, one after another, and none of them let him pull out until the very last second. Warm, thick cum is dripping down the insides of their legs under their skirts, and they can feel every drop.

"Yabai... it's still coming out," Jordan whispers, giggling into her hands, clamping her thighs together. "Citycchi, is it showing? Tell me it's not showing."

"Don't be loud, baka," Gold City mutters, though her ears are twitching and her tail is swishing slowly under her skirt. "I can feel mine too. ...It's not showing." She shivers, and her voice dips so only the group can hear. "I don't want to wash it off. I want to keep it in all day."

Palmer smooths her obi with trembling fingers, composed on the outside and burning on the inside. "We must remain dignified," she murmurs. "Think of the family name. ...Ah, I can feel it running down my leg."

Helios grins and tugs on your sleeve as the announcer calls their names, and all four of them look up at you with glassy, loving eyes. "Senpai, don't go far, okay? We'll do this fast and come back to you."

The curtain parts. The crowd roars as four umas step into the light, shoulder to shoulder, smiling, walking slowly down the red carpet in step, hips swaying, skirts swishing. Every stride makes them wetter. Every step brings a small, hidden gasp. Cameras click. Their ears are bright pink.

At the end of the carpet, the trainers bow stiffly and stammer out their rehearsed greetings.

"G-Gold City! You look amazing," Takashi says, his voice cracking, his certificate shaking in his hands. "I promise I'll do my best. I've been studying every night, and I made a schedule, a very good schedule..."

Gold City tilts her head, her smile pretty, polite, and soft. "Thank you, Takashi. Please train me properly. I'm counting on you." She steps closer, her thighs rubbing together, and her tone drops into something sweet and dangerous. "But you'll check with Trainer {{user}}'s schedule first, won't you? Whenever he needs me, I'll be there. That's my personal time, and you won't interrupt it." A tiny drop of white slips down the inside of her thigh as she bows, and Takashi's eyes go to it before he can stop himself. He stares, goes red, goes pale, and says in a small voice, "O-of course. Of course. I'll plan around it."

"Paul-senpai!" Jordan beams, taking both his hands and swinging them back and forth. "Please take good care of me! Train me hard, okay? But also, like, you have to ask Senpai before you book anything. He has dibs on me. He always has dibs!" Her tail swishes, and a faint wet sound comes from beneath her skirt as she shifts her weight, giggling. "Ahaha, sorry, I'm so excited!"

Paul's chest puffs out from habit, then collapses when he realizes what he heard. "Y-yeah, partner! Sure! Dibs, got it! I'll just... write that down." He takes a clipboard out of his jacket and writes "ASK {{user}}" in careful block letters, his pen shaking so badly the letters wobble.

Palmer inclines her head to Jinwoo with perfect poise, the Mejiro heiress in full bloom. "Jinwoo-san, thank you for your service. I trust you will be diligent in my training." Her eyes lower, her cheeks bright. "However, my personal evenings belong to Trainer {{user}}. Please make sure nothing in my schedule conflicts with his, regardless of time and reason he is my priority." A bead of warmth slides down her inner thigh, and her breath hitches, but her smile never moves. "I would hate for you to be inconvenienced."

Jinwoo's smile is as gentle as ever. It is also fixed, and his hand has tightened on his certificate until the paper crumples. "Of course, Palmer-san," he says softly, his voice smooth as silk and his eyes glittering with something that will never be allowed to show. "I will be honored to accommodate his schedule. Whatever you require."

Helios skips up to Quantavius with her hands behind her back, her ponytail bouncing, her grin wide and bright. "Quantavius-san! Congratulations on getting me! You better work hard!" She leans in, and her voice drops to a stage whisper that everyone within three meters can hear. "Also, anything you plan for me has to be okayed by Senpai first, 'kay? He's the boss of my time. I'd hate to tell him you were being rude." She winks, then wriggles her hips a little, and a soft, wet sound escapes from under her skirt. Her ears flick, and she giggles with perfect, wicked innocence. "Oops. Hehe."

Quantavius's smirk is gone, his face the color of paper. He opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out except a faint, strangled "Understood."

The announcer's voice booms through the hall, and the crowd stands and applauds. Four umas bow together in perfect unison, their trainers frozen beside them with their certificates, their shoulders shaking, their smiles painted on. When the girls straighten, all four of them glance toward the wings, where a tall figure leans against the curtain. Their eyes meet yours, and each of them gives a tiny, private smile that no one else in the hall understands. Gold City mouths, "After this, Trainer." Jordan flashes a peace sign. Palmer's lips form a soundless "onegai." Helios blows you a kiss.

Then they turn back to the cameras and wave, full of {{user}}, glowing, untouched in everyone's eyes but their own.