Pinned beneath the girl in such an ambiguous position, Sakuraba could clearly feel the weight of her body and the warmth coming through their clothes.
He smiled a little helplessly and spread his hands in a completely permissive gesture.
"A reward?"
He repeated the word gently, with a hint of reassurance.
"Of course there's a reward."
"I brought some top-grade nutritional supplements and recovery products from Japan. They're all meant for post-race exhaustion and muscle repair, and I guarantee they'll work better than anything they have here."
"I also prepared several sets of leg guards and horseshoe care kits from that brand you said you liked before... Would that be enough for a reward? Our Sunny worked so hard today, so you need to replenish properly..."
He did not get to finish.
Because Sunday Silence, still straddling him, had not stopped blushing at all. In fact, the flush on her face had only deepened.
Her golden eyes stared fixedly at him, churning with obvious displeasure—and a trace of almost aggrieved impatience at being misunderstood.
"Not that..."
She cut him off. Her voice was lower than before, but it carried an unmistakable stubbornness.
She leaned forward slightly, and the distance between them closed in an instant, their breaths nearly mingling.
"That's not... the reward I want."
She paused for a moment, as if organizing her words, or gathering her courage.
The night wind slipped in through the gap in the curtains, which had never been fully drawn, softly stirring the black hair over her forehead.
In the quiet hotel room, there was only the clear sound of their breathing and, beyond the window, the blurred final echoes of distant celebration.
Sakuraba looked up at those golden eyes, still startlingly bright in the dim light. His own outline was reflected in them, along with an emotional demand that was fierce, pure, unmistakably Sunday Silence—and far too familiar to him.
He suddenly understood.
Those material things, all that considerate care, certainly carried his feelings. But they were not the reward she truly wanted right now.
She had crossed the ocean, fought bitterly, stood at the summit, and brought all her glory and sweat before him. What she wanted...
Perhaps it was only a more direct, more intimate confirmation and comfort, something that belonged solely to the two of them.
A reward beyond words, one that could soothe all her exhaustion and carve the true meaning of this victory into memory—
A reward that belonged to her alone.
Looking into those golden eyes so close at hand, seeing the undisguised longing and nervousness within them, Sakuraba felt his heart thud hard.
He understood. This was not merely post-race dependence or a spoiled demand. It was a far more solemn, far more resolute appeal.
Sunny wanted to cross that line and brand the most intimate proof of their relationship onto them both.
Silence spread through the dim room. Only their breathing could be heard clearly.
Sakuraba inhaled softly, as if drawing the too-dense air and emotion around them into his lungs together, then slowly let it out.
He raised a hand. His palm was warm, carrying a soothing strength as he gently set it on top of her head and rubbed.
"Sunny," he said, his voice lower than before, carrying a rare blend of seriousness and tenderness. "Could you... get up for a moment first?"
Sunday Silence's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
The burning light in her eyes flickered, as if she had not expected that reaction from him.
That taut, almost aggressive posture born of anticipation showed the faintest crack, revealing a little confusion.
But she did not argue.
She only pressed her lips together. Her long lashes lowered for a moment, hiding the emotions surging in her eyes.
Then she moved as he asked, shifting off him and sitting properly on the other side of the bed, shoulder to shoulder with him, though with a little distance between them.
Her head lowered slightly. Her hands rested on her knees, her fingers unconsciously twisting together. The bold, almost forceful aura from a moment ago quietly receded, replaced by a silence like she was waiting for judgment. Only the still-red tips of her ears betrayed how unsettled she really was.
Had she been too forward?
Or did Sakuraba prefer being on top?
Would he hate her for this...?
While the girl struggled with herself, Sakuraba sat up as well and straightened the wrinkled hem of his clothes.
He did not speak right away. He only turned sideways, his gaze falling on her lowered profile.
The neon light outside slipped through the gap in the curtains, casting alternating patches of light and shadow across her face. Her expression seemed indistinct in that glow, and especially fragile.
He knew that what he had to say next was crucial.
This was not merely a response to her request for a reward. It was another solemn confirmation of the future of their relationship.
Since Sunny intended to take that final step with him...
Then he had to make everything clear to her first.
"Sunny."
He spoke, his voice clearer and steadier than ever before, each word seeming carefully considered.
"Before that, there's something I have to tell you first."
"It concerns you, me, and... what our relationship will be from now on."
He paused, as if gathering courage, or searching for the least hurtful way to say it.
"Do you remember when I came over for the Preakness Stakes?"
"What about it?"
Sunday Silence tilted her head slightly and looked at him intently, though her fingers quietly tightened around the fabric over her knees.
Sakuraba took a deep breath and stopped circling around it.
"During that time... Obey Your Master and I... had sex."
"Although it happened while I was drugged and unconscious, she and I did cross that line."
The moment his words fell, the room sank into dead silence.
The color drained from Sunday Silence's face at a visible speed. Her ears, which had only been flushed red before, instantly turned pale.
Those golden eyes, always sharp, always persistent, and now filled with expectation and unease, widened abruptly.
Her pupils contracted slightly, reflecting Sakuraba's candid, guilt-ridden face.
There was no furious outburst as he had imagined. No questioning. She did not even speak right away.
She only froze there, as if that one sentence had sealed every movement and expression in ice.
Second after second passed. The light in her eyes dimmed bit by bit, and that burning, reckless courage seemed rapidly covered and sealed beneath invisible frost.
Then Sakuraba saw an expression he had never seen on her face before.
It was no longer the sharp-edged ruler of the racetrack, nor the girl who occasionally showed dependence in private, but a nearly broken, abandoned blankness and fragility.
Her lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. She only stared at him with those golden eyes, misted over and unfocused, as though she did not understand what he had said, and as though she had understood far too much all at once.
"Ryo..."
Her voice was very soft, so soft it nearly scattered in the air, carrying a faint tremor.
"You're telling me this... because you don't plan to want me anymore, right?"
Her gaze lowered slightly, landing on the small stretch of empty bedsheet between them. Her fingers tightened unconsciously, her knuckles turning white.
"Because... you and her... have a deeper connection now... so I, the one who came later... am not needed anymore... right?"
Her voice grew lower and lower, until it was almost only breath.
That look, like an abandoned puppy's, mixed with disbelief and a terror so deep it was as if she had lost her entire world, was thrown at him without the slightest concealment.
She was afraid.
Afraid that this relationship, the one she had run with all her strength to protect and earn with every bit of glory and devotion she had, would be easily set aside—or even... discarded—because someone else had intervened.
Sakuraba's heart felt as if it had been seized hard by an invisible hand.
Looking at Sunday Silence's abandoned expression, at the wavering light in her eyes and the fear that had almost taken physical form, Sakuraba felt something hard inside his chest shatter.
It was not only the ache of seeing her hurt. It was also a heavy, almost desperate resolve.
He had brought her this unease. Then he would be the one to fill it in.
Maybe he really was... scum.
Even now, he still greedily wanted to hold on to both of them.
But that was precisely why he could not let Sunny bear this unease and suspicion alone.
Sakuraba took a deep breath, one that seemed to carry a resolve hot enough to burn his lungs.
He released the hands he had braced at his sides, shifted away from the edge of the bed, and stood steadily on the carpet in front of Sunday Silence.
Then he bent down and reached out with both hands, gripping her small, ice-cold hands—hands twisted tightly together, knuckles white—in a way that allowed no refusal, yet was extraordinarily gentle.
His palms were burning hot, carrying unquestionable strength and warmth as they enclosed and soothed her trembling fingers.
"Sunny. Look at me."
His voice was low, but unusually clear. Every word struck the silent air like a nail, and struck her trembling heart as well.
Sunday Silence was forced to raise her face. Her golden eyes were wet, dazed and fragile as she looked at him, reflecting the utterly solemn expression he wore.
"What I told you just now was not because I wanted to push you away, much less because I wanted to give you up."
Sakuraba looked straight into her eyes, his gaze not avoiding her in the slightest.
"Just the opposite. It's because I want you. I want you so much that... even knowing I might not deserve you, I absolutely don't want to let go."
He paused, his throat a little tight, but his words came out even more firmly.
"What happened with Obey was my fault. It's also a past I can't erase, and a responsibility I have to bear."
"No matter the reason, fact is fact."
"I can't pretend it doesn't exist. And I definitely can't use it as an excuse to run away from my feelings for you."
"So what I want to tell you is—"
He leaned forward slightly. They were close enough to feel each other's breath, and his gaze locked firmly on hers, as if he meant to carve every word that followed into her soul.
"I love you, Sunday Silence."
"It's not that because she exists, I can only 'also' love you."
"It's because I love you. That feeling, and the responsibility and entanglement she brought with her, are two weights that exist at the same time. Neither is something I can cut away."
"I know this is selfish. Greedy. Even... despicable."
His mouth pulled into a self-mocking curve, but the heat in his eyes did not fade at all.
"Making you accept this mess, accept a version of me who might not be able to promise you that you'll be the 'only one,' is terribly unfair to you."
"But..."
His grip on her hands tightened, as if he wanted to pass that resolve to her.
"I still want to tell you that I love you."
"I want to be with you. I want to answer all your expectations and all your efforts. I want to be the person you can show weakness to without hesitation, the person you can demand rewards from."
"This feeling is real. It belongs only to you. It is... the reason I want to keep going."
He let out a long breath, as if releasing the last of his hesitation, then clearly spoke the decision that was nearly outrageous—and that he had kept buried deep in his heart all this time.
"I can't give up Obey, because she is a responsibility I have to carry."
"And I can give you up even less, Sunday Silence, because you are the light I want to hold on to tightly, now and in the future."
"So... I can only choose the scummiest way."
His gaze was candid and blazing, carrying the courage of someone burning his boats. To the blank-faced girl before him, and almost to the struggling corner of his own heart, he declared,
"I will take responsibility for both of you at the same time."
"I know I've made a mess of a lot of things... but I'll work hard! Sunny, please... trust me."
When his words fell, only their interlaced, slightly hurried breathing remained in the room.
He kept holding her hands and waited.
But no matter what the result would be, he had chosen not to run anymore. Instead, he had placed this heavy, flawed sincerity before her in its entirety.
Sunday Silence slowly raised her head. Her damp golden eyes refocused, reflecting Sakuraba's nervous, earnest face.
She blinked softly. Her long lashes were still wet, but a complicated light gradually surfaced in her eyes.
"..."
Her voice was still a little hoarse, but it had regained its usual clarity.
She did not pull her hands back. Instead, she lightly hooked her fingertips against his palm, like a feather brushing over him.
"Actually... my temper isn't as good as you think."
She tilted her head slightly, and a very faint smile spread along her lips, carrying a dangerous curve.
"For that instant just now... I really was a little angry."
Her tone was very light, even gentle, but for some reason, Sakuraba felt a chill slide down his back.
"But..." Sunday Silence's gaze traced over his face in detail, from his tightly pressed lips to his trembling lashes. "When I saw that it was you... saw you looking so flustered, yet still forcing yourself to stay calm... that anger suddenly scattered."
She sighed softly, as if helpless, or perhaps indulgent.
"However—" Her tone shifted, and her fingers suddenly tightened around Sakuraba's wrist. "As my boyfriend, you failed to protect yourself and let another Umamusume... take advantage of an opening."
Her eyes abruptly sharpened, like golden blades quenched in light.
"I can't simply let that dereliction of duty slide."
"So—"
She suddenly yanked hard.
Caught off guard, Sakuraba lost his balance. Pulled by her, he fell backward into the soft bedding.
Before he could recover from the sudden movement, Sunday Silence had already propped herself up and was gazing down at him from above.
Her shadow fell over him, shrouding the deep, fierce emotions surging in her eyes until they were hard to read.
"This is punishment," she announced softly, and before Sakuraba could answer, she bent down and kissed him.
The instant their lips touched, Sakuraba's mind went blank.
It was not a gentle test, nor tender comfort, but a kiss with aggression in it, almost plundering.
She caught his lower lip between her teeth, her tongue parting his teeth, her scorching breath invading him as if she meant to confirm something, claim something, brand something.
Only after a while did she draw back a little, her breathing slightly uneven, her golden eyes startlingly bright at such close range.
"As for Obey Your Master..."
She spoke in a low voice, her fingertips brushing the reddened edge of Sakuraba's lips, the movement gentle.
"I'll naturally go and 'deal with' her myself later."
"But now—"
She lowered her head again. The tip of her nose brushed lightly past his cheek, and her warm breath drifted against his ear. Her voice was low and clear, every word like a brand.
"It's punishment time."
The moment she finished speaking, she kissed him again.
This time it was heavier, deeper, as if she meant to melt every possessive desire she had into that kiss.
The night slipped through the gap in the curtains, blurring their figures into hazy outlines.
The last echoes of the distant celebration had long since faded. Only their mingled breathing and the heavy rhythm of their heartbeats remained in the room.
The punishment had only just begun.
And she absolutely would not stop easily.
Sakuraba had never imagined that the supplements he had prepared might not have been for Sunday Silence to take...
Apparently, the one who needed them more was him?
He was—he was going to be wrung dry...
---
T/N: Gulp.
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