The Tracen Academy training grounds were vast, filled with the sounds of thundering hooves and shouting trainers.
But for Satou Kazuma, the area behind the old storage shed was a sanctuary of solitude—a place where no adorable horse girls could ambush him with snacks or innocent giggles.
Or so he thought.
He rounded the corner, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, eyes scanning the perimeter for any signs of “moe-related” threats.
Suddenly, he slammed to a halt.
Standing directly in his path was a tall, imposing figure with a mane of dark, sharp hair and an aura that screamed *predatory discipline*.
Narita Brian.
The third member of the Student Council.
The “Shadow of the Track.”
Kazuma’s cynical survival instincts triggered instantly.
*Oh no,* he thought.
*She’s a high-ranking member of the Council.
She’s probably here to inspect my management skills.
If I look weak, she’ll report me.
If I look cocky, she’ll crush me.
I have to remain neutral.*
He planted his feet and stared at her.
Brian, who had been on a patrol, stopped in her tracks, blinking once before her expression hardened into a mask of stoic intensity.
*Who is this guy?* she wondered, narrowing her eyes.
*He’s blocking my path.
Is this a challenge?
Is he trying to test the Student Council’s resolve?*
And so, the standoff began.
One minute passed.
The wind rustled the leaves of the nearby trees.
Neither moved.
*He’s not backing down,* Brian noted internally, her jaw set tight.
*He hasn’t blinked.
Is he waiting for me to make the first move?
If I walk around him, I lose the initiative.
I have to outlast this loser.*
*She’s waiting for me to blink,* Kazuma panicked, his heart hammering against his ribs.
*She’s testing my nerve!
If I look away now, I’m admitting defeat.
If I speak, I’m the weirdo who started a conversation with a glare.
I am a master of hiding my true feelings—I will win this battle of wills!*
Five minutes passed.
A stray cat wandered between them, meowed, and continued on its way.
*Why is he still looking at me like that?!* Brian screamed internally, her eyes beginning to dry, but her pride holding them open.
*Does he want to fight?
Right here?
Does he know who I am?
I can’t be the one to look away!
That would be a disgrace to the Student Council!*
*Is this a staring contest?* Kazuma’s brain was starting to fray.
*Is this some kind of Japanese culture thing I don’t understand?
Why is she so intense?
She looks like she’s about to eat me alive!
If I make a sound, I’m dead.
If I close my eyes, I’m finished!*
Ten minutes passed.
The silence had become a physical weight, thick enough to choke on.
Both of them were vibrating with the sheer intensity of their own misunderstandings.
Kazuma’s eyes were screaming for moisture, his tear ducts crying out for mercy, but he stood like a statue, sweating profusely under his green tracksuit.
Brian, meanwhile, felt like her eyeballs were turning into dried raisins, but she would rather retire from the track than let this eccentric, tracksuit-wearing human defeat her in a staring duel.
Fifteen minutes.
The air around them seemed to vibrate with the friction of their locked gazes.
They were both fully committed now, trapped in a prison of their own making.
Kazuma was convinced she was planning a physical assault; Brian was convinced he was some kind of bizarre, stationary combatant.
“I will…
not…
break…” Kazuma whispered to himself, though his lips didn’t move, his soul begging for the sweet release of a single blink.
“Just…
yield…” Brian thought, her vision blurring, her pride refusing to let her shut her eyes.
The deadlock of the century was shattered by a sound that could only be described as a distorted, high-pitched war cry from a different dimension.
“SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM, OPEN FOR MEEEE!”
*WOOSH.*
Gold Ship materialized out of thin air, tumbling through a gap in reality and landing with a comical *thud* directly between Kazuma and Narita Brian.
Mejiro McQueen followed a second later, looking exhausted, panting as she tried to catch up.
“Gold Ship!
Stop teleporting in public areas!” McQueen gasped, placing a hand on her chest.
The sheer shock of the intrusion broke the trance.
The moment Kazuma’s eyes finally closed, the excruciating pain of fifteen minutes of unblinking dehydration hit him like a lightning bolt.
“MY EYES!
MY SOOOOOOUL!” Kazuma shrieked, his hands flying to his face.
He collapsed, instantly losing his balance and rolling violently across the grass, writhing in agony, kicking up dirt, dust, and gravel as he blindly scrambled to find a dark place to hide.
“What is happening?!” Brian shouted, finally blinking as she stumbled back, her eyes streaming with tears from the excessive strain.
In his panicked rolling, Kazuma’s frantic thrashing sent a stray, sharp-edged pebble flying through the air with the velocity of a bullet.
It struck Gold Ship directly in the eyelid.
“GYAAAAH!
MY PRECIOUS SIGHT!” Gold Ship howled, instantly dropping to the grass and mimicking Kazuma’s frantic rolling, clutching her face with both hands, causing her to barrel into Kazuma’s side.
The two of them—the NEET Trainer and the Chaos Horse Girl—were now rolling in perfect, screaming synchronization across the lawn, a tangled mess of limbs, tracksuits, and frantic horse-girl chaos.
“What…
in the world…
is this?”
Daiwa Scarlet and Vodka, who had been strolling past on the path, stopped dead in their tracks.
They watched as their Trainer and Gold Ship writhed on the grass, locked in a bizarre, painful dance of agony, while Mejiro McQueen stood nearby, staring at the ceiling of the sky with a face that clearly stated she was finished with everything.
“Is he…
fighting Gold Ship?” Vodka asked, her voice filled with confused dread.
“I think they’re having a synchronized nervous breakdown,” Daiwa Scarlet whispered, gripping her own hair.
Narita Brian stood over the pile of rolling bodies, her eyes still red and watering from the staring contest, her expression one of utter, profound bewilderment.
She looked at McQueen, then at the rolling duo, then back at her own trembling hands.
“I…” Brian started, her voice cracking for the first time in years.
“I thought…
I thought he was trying to kill me.”
McQueen sighed, a sound of deep, aristocratic defeat.
“He’s just an idiot, Narita-san.
I assure you, no combat occurred.
Only…
whatever *this* is.”
Kazuma, still rolling and covering his eyes, groaned into the dirt.
“I can see the afterlife again…
it’s full of Gold Ships…
make it stop…”
“MY EYE!
THE PEBBLE OF DOOM HAS CLAIMED ME!” Gold Ship wailed, continuing to roll in perfect rhythm with Kazuma, creating a path of ruined grass behind them.
Vodka looked at Scarlet.
“Should we…
help them?”
“No,” Scarlet said, turning around and walking away quickly.
“If we help them, we’re part of it now.
Let’s just pretend we saw nothing.”