Chapter Text
The artwork I made to go with this story is late. The story is now even later. My only excuse for that is that I have been delayed with certain life situations, including my career and hobbies outside of my service. While I am aware, this project should have been retired when I stopped writing my stories years ago, but after a few novels under my belt, I simply wish to go back and write things that go.... "back to my roots." I've pursued art for my novels, shared them on Pixiv and everywhere else I can think of. Now I want to go back and continue what I started in early 2014 (back when I only had a fanfic.net account) with the moniker "Shamastus."
"To those of you who always believed, thank you."
Maruzensky’s Santa Outfit Is Unfair
...
Snow fell in quiet persistence, settling across the neighborhood in a clean veil of white. Beyond the windows of Maruzensky’s home, the world seemed subdued and distant, softened by winter into something almost unreal. Inside, the warmth of her artificial fireplace filled the apartment, its gentle glow spilled across the floor, catching on polished wood and glass ornaments arranged with careful, almost ceremonial intent.
Maruzensky stood beside the Christmas tree in her apartment, her fingers adjusting the white faux fur trim of her Santa uniform. The red fabric was striking without being frivolous, tailored with the same attention that had been given to her race uniform. A small gold embroidery along her skirt, and a red ribbon with a golden bell rested neatly at her collar. It was festive, elegant, and sexy without effort. It suited her perfectly, and even more than that, it suited her plans for the night even better.
She looked around her home, regarding it in quiet satisfaction. She did not normally go to such lengths when she was alone. Her home was usually kept orderly, but it was just a place to return to after races and training rather than a stage for sentiment. She normally just left her clothes heaped up and even left boxes from deliveries haphazardly out. But tonight was different. Tonight, she had invited her trainer over. Normally, she would have cleaned up with him, just to take the opportunity to tease him when he stumbled across one of her carefully planted embarrassing clothing items. But now, more than that, she had allowed herself to care deeply about how this evening would unfold.
She loved having him over. But tonight… she didn’t want to just pick up clothes with him.
Everything was arranged as she had envisioned. From the decorations that she hung up, to the decorations that she had set aside. She hadn’t forgotten them. She had saved them. Some moments were better shared, and she saw no reason to rush them. Anticipation, she had learned, could be just as enjoyable as the moment itself. And tonight, her anticipation was at new levels. Everything, including the uniform she wore now, brought with it a faint, unfamiliar sense of self-consciousness. A keen awareness and reminder to her just why exactly she had planned all this and chosen to wear the costume at all. She turned her head slightly, catching her reflection in the glass window, just enough to see the red of the Santa costume looking back at her.
A small smile touched her lips.
The velvet conformed to her with effortless precision, neither restrictive nor careless, tracing a clean line from the red thigh-highs and skirt to the fitted top above that did little to hide her cleavage. It, however, revealed nothing by accident. Every choice she made had been deliberate. As she regarded herself, a faint warmth crept into her cheeks, less from embarrassment than from anticipation.
She was well aware of the effect it would have on him.
Years of observation had taught her what drew his attention, what lingered in his gaze even when he tried not to let it. Tonight, she had gathered those small truths together and presented them plainly, without apology. Tonight, he would see her in something for his eyes only. A moment between just the two of them.
If this was his gift, she intended for it to be unmistakable.
He’s gonna melt, the thought filled her head with a fluffiness, the idea already penetrating her deepest thoughts and taking over her entire imagination. So many thoughts filled her head, all of them welcome.
If there was anyone she trusted beside her, sitting in the passenger seat of Tata giving her companionship, zooming down the open roads long after the cheers had faded, it was him. The idea felt neither dramatic nor uncertain. It was just a fact.
Her gaze dropped to the mistletoe resting in her hand. A small tradition, lighthearted on the surface, yet undeniably suggestive. She knew exactly where she intended to hang it. Knew exactly what sort of reaction it might draw. Knew exactly what would happen between the two of them, as cliché as it was. She wanted it to happen.
Some traditions endured for a reason.
She checked the clock. As expected, there was still time. Not a lot, perhaps, but enough.
Then the sound came.
The doorbell rang, sharp and unmistakable, cutting cleanly through the quiet of the apartment.
For a brief moment, Maruzensky stood still. Then her lips curved upward, slow and genuine. Her pulse quickened, not with panic, but with anticipation and excitement. Even now, the sensation was familiar. A reminder that some moments, no matter how many races one had run and won, still carried their own kind of thrill.
He’s early! The thought pounded in her head on repeat with excitement.
The evening was about to begin!
She moved toward the door, then paused suddenly.
Her gaze flicked once more to the mistletoe in her hand. The moment she had planned for, measured and considered, had slipped past her in the mere seconds of thought that it took for her to fully process that he was already here and waiting. There would be no time now, not without turning the greeting into something clumsy.
Maruzensky exhaled softly, the faintest hint of amusement touching her expression. You always know how to keep me on my feet, huh, Trainer?
“So be it,” she said under her breath after her train of thought.
With practiced ease, she gathered her hair, fingers moving with the same calm precision she brought to any last-second adjustment before a race. The mistletoe was woven neatly, tied just around her right ear. It rested there, subtle but unmistakable, a quiet promise rather than a declaration. Now the trick would be getting him under it… and she had a few ideas how to do that.
She regarded her reflection once more. Different from what she had planned. But certainly not worse. Perhaps it was even better now.
The doorbell sounded again, insistent this time.
Maruzensky turned, smile composed and confident, mistletoe catching the warm light as she reached for the door at last, unlocking it and slightly opening it to confirm.
And there he was, standing, with a neatly wrapped present and a box of cookies of wide varieties and shapes.
Her tail betrayed her as it started fluttering with quiet insistence behind her, a steady rhythm that reflected what she tried to keep carefully contained. Outwardly, she remained mostly composed, posture relaxed, expression serene. But inwardly, her focus rested entirely on the man standing just beyond her threshold, the undeniable source of that restless energy.
She opened the door a fraction wider. Not enough to reveal herself, yet, but just enough.
Warm light spilled out across the snow and bathed itself against him, softening the edges of winter that was left clinging to his coat. Snow melted along the seams of the fabric, the droplets that formed catching the light as they fell to the ground below. For a brief moment, he remained where he was, framed by cold behind him and warmth before him, his attention fixed on her. And hers fixed on him.
The thought surfaced unbidden: perhaps she was the one in danger of losing her composure tonight.
His presence had a way of doing that to her. It always had a way of drawing her focus inward even as she appeared perfectly at ease and comfortable with him. The way his blue eyes reflected the glow from her living room was enough to make her pause, to let the moment linger just a second longer than necessary about having him in her room.
He was handsome. That much was undeniable. Fresh snow still clung to his uniform, slipping free as he moved, and it only served to draw her gaze more firmly toward him. His attire was simple, but chosen with care. Dress pants that fit cleanly, their dark color indistinct in the low light, paired with a red shirt that contrasted sharply against the winter still lingering at his edges. A black tie completed the look, neat and restrained.
Her eyes followed him without hurry, from the set of his shoulders to the quiet confidence of his stance. The way he carried himself, even when flustered by her teasing, was something she had always found attractive. She took it in with the same calm attention she brought to anything she deemed important.
And to her, he was very important.
“… Maruzensky?” he said at last, her name from his mouth grounding her more than she expected. She loved hearing her name spoken by him. Was it bad that she wanted him to say it more? “May I come inside?”
A faint smile curved her lips. Of course, he would ask like that.
Come on, Trainer~ saying it like that, how could I not tease you? The thought came naturally to her, and with it came the thought of something a bit lewder that she swallowed down. She would spare him… for now.
“Of course, Trainer! Please make yourself at home~” She chimed out in a small breath, taking an extra—but still careful—step back to allow him more room to enter.
He walked through the door, and she moved with him, quietly and deliberately. The door closed with a soft click and mechanical lock, sealing out the cold and preventing any form of interruption. His attention moved almost immediately to the room, to the decorations she had arranged with careful intent, and to the ones she hadn’t finished putting up, either. Exactly the way she had intended.
He hadn’t yet noticed the way she was dressed.
The realization sent her tail swaying faster this time, the movement brushing lightly against her skirt and ruffling it with a noise. She made no effort to stop it.
Her gaze dropped briefly to what he carried. A small, carefully wrapped gift that filled her with curiosity. A box of cookies, clearly homemade, with their uneven shapes and varied icing visible even through the lid. The sight stirred something warm and familiar in her chest.
“You really decorated,” he began, turning back toward her. “It looks amaz—”
The compliment never finished forming. His eyes had found her at last, and his words froze. His wild eyes traced her, unhurried, unmistakably focused, and she allowed it. She met his gaze with confidence that was far from calm, the smile and blush on her lips deepening quickly as he stared. A quiet shiver ran up her spine, not from the cold, but from anticipation.
He’s finally looking at me! Her thoughts raced faster than any race she had ever been in.
She had raced countless times before cheering crowds of thousands, but this was different.
She loved the feeling of his eyes on her, and relished the moment now more than she ever had before. She wanted to be seen by him tonight. Fully. Only him.
Maruzensky smiled, slow and knowing. It was time for their evening and night to finally start, and her excitement grew even more. She leaned towards him, the wide smile on her face reflecting in her eyes as well. She knew exactly what this angle would do to him. A thought crossed her mind.
Could he keep it hidden?
“You’re staring~” she observed, her words dancing with a teasing tone.
“I—” He cleared his throat, then laughed nervously under his breath. “You look… stunning.”
White-hot heat rose to her cheeks, vivid and unmistakable, and she let it linger there instead of hiding it. If he was going to be honest, then she would be too. Her smile softened, then curved upward again, slower now, deliberate.
So that’s how you wanna play it~ She thought with a start, stepping closer to him. One step into another until she was only a foot away from him, her stomach pressed against the containers of cookies and the present he held. They were close now, but not close enough to sate her.
“Stunning,” she echoed quietly, leaning in once more, just enough to close what little space she had so carefully measured before. “You say that like you’ve been wanting to say it for a while~.”
Her eyes searched his, playful yet intent, watching for the slightest reaction.
“Is there anything else you’ve wanted to do for a while~?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. The mistletoe in her hair caught the light as she moved, surely catching his attention.
She stayed close, close enough that he couldn’t pretend to notice her warmth, her presence. Her tail swayed behind her, unhurried and unapologetically reflecting her inner emotions.
“You know,” she continued, voice light but unmistakably teasing, “for someone who’s trying very hard not to stare, you’re doing a rather poor job~.”
She let the moment stretch, just long enough to be unfair as his wild eyes continued to take her in.
“Do you mind it?” He asked, a small smile curving on his own lips that sent her spiraling once more.
“…I don’t mind,” she added, more gently. More honestly. “In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t~.”
Her fingers reached up and brushed the sleeve of his arm, a touch that lingered half a second longer than necessary.
“Come on,” she said, moving past him toward the living room, letting her tail brush slightly against his legs as she went before glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Let's find a place to set those cookies and get comfortable~.”
Her smile carried promise, mischief, and certainty all at once.
Tonight, she had no intention of letting either of them keep their composure intact.
He reminded himself to breathe.
It was the first thing that he registered. Not the warmth of the house after the cold, not the soft glow of the Christmas lights, but the realization that he had forgotten something as simple as that while standing in front of her.
Maruzensky had always had that effect on him. She had always taken his breath away.
She moved ahead of him with an unhurried air of confidence, every step clearly measured, every motion deliberate. She wasn’t running now, yet the effect was the same. She set the pace, and he followed without question.
He had long known she was beautiful. It was impossible not to. The way she smiled when she teased him, the way her eyes brightened when they spoke about cars, the effortless way she pulled him into dancing during their karaoke nights. All of it had built quietly over time into something he no longer tried to dismiss.
But this was different.
Here, in her home, with the firelight tracing the line of her figure and the faint scent of winter lingering in her hair, the truth settled on him with sudden clarity. This was not the Maruzensky of the track or the training grounds.
This was Maruzensky choosing to let him see her like this.
The distinction mattered.
It made the moment feel precarious, balanced on the edge of something he could not name, only feel. It was… intimate.
He caught sight of the mistletoe woven near her ear. He had to do a double-take as he processed where and how it was placed. The way she cocked her head to the side and flashed it at him. The way her body pressed into him…
His attention lingered on the mistletoe too long. He knew it. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.
What was it she just asked? Something he wanted to do for a while? His brain was short-circuiting as he looked at her, his eyes darting between her beautiful eyes and lips…
Maruzensky noticed. She always noticed.
“You know,” her voice entered his ears, as sweet as sugar with just a little spice, “for someone who’s trying very hard not to stare, you’re doing a rather poor job~.”
The words were playful. The tone was familiar among them.
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Do you mind it?” he found the words leaving his mouth faster than his brain could process. He was always weak to her teasing, but now he felt weak in the knees as well.
“…I don’t mind,” she spoke. Her eyes left him for just a brief moment, wandering to another part of his body she had been touching, with a blush she was clearly fighting back. But just as soon as the embarrassment came, that fire formed once more in her eyes. That glint that always awoke something inside of him. “In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t~.”
He felt her fingers brush his arm, almost caressingly, even for how short it felt. He inwardly wished she had never pulled away from him. She moved with a gesture and words for him to follow. Her tail swayed behind her and brushed against his leg and inner thigh lightly as she moved away from him.
Her words reached him, but meaning lagged behind the sound. His focus remained fixed on her, on the quiet promise in her expression, the way her hips swayed. Her eyes held mischief and a promise for the night soon to come.
She was undoing him without ever laying a hand on him. Every movement spoke for her, subtle and unrelenting, and his wild eyes were unable to look away. His thoughts stalled, his hands trembling slightly at his sides, breath growing shallow as his attention followed the quiet sway of her hips. He felt so weak around her.
Was it bad that he didn’t see a problem with that?
Moment by moment, step by step, she was drawing him in, until the world around them seemed to narrow to nothing more than her presence before him.
“You’re very quiet all of a sudden,” she said lightly, glancing back at him once more with that same alluring smile. “Did the cold finally catch up to you?”
He shook his head once, trying to steady himself. “Just… taking everything in.”
Including you, he did not say.
Her smile told him that she heard it anyway.
He followed her shortly after, step after careful step. He had moved the cookies and the gift he wrapped for her a little lower, just below his waist, to… cover himself a little bit. The first thing he noticed about the Kitchen was how it was.
The kitchen felt hers unmistakably.
Warm light filled the space, gentler than the stark overhead lamps of the training facilities he knew so well. The light reflected off clean counters and neatly arranged shelves, orderly without feeling rigid. Familiar to him, yet different. She had gone further than usual this time. They had cooked together here before, cleaned together, and shared easy routines. But tonight carried a different intention. This was not preparation out of habit.
It was preparation with purpose.
A pot simmered quietly on the stove, releasing the rich scent of herbs and roasted vegetables. Beneath it lingered something sweet. Cinnamon, perhaps. The air itself seemed to welcome him in, easing the nervous tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding.
The table was already set.
Not extravagantly, but with care. Plates aligned, silverware placed with deliberate symmetry, glasses catching the light just enough to glow. A small evergreen centerpiece rested between the settings, trimmed with subtle ornaments she must have chosen specifically for this night. Thoughtful. Refined. Beautiful in its restraint, paired with the warm grain of the wooden table beneath it.
His gaze drifted, drawn to the walls.
A framed photograph of a classic red sports car. A neat stack of recipe books beside a tablet paused mid-guide. Precision and personality coexist without effort. And then something new.
Photographs.
Of them together.
Standing in front of Tata. Sitting inside her on a racetrack, his hand visibly clenched around the door handle as Maruzensky took a turn far faster than necessary. He smiled at the memory without meaning to. He was not a stranger to racing cars himself, but it was always more fun with her. Another photo followed his eyes along the wall—the URA Finale. Maruzensky, mid-victory, colliding into him in an unrestrained hug, the image captured at the exact moment she crashed into his arms.
His chest tightened. It felt like he was… home.
Not just warm. Not just inviting. But precious.
It wasn’t just a kitchen or a place to make and eat food.
It was her preparation made visible to him.
He smiled and set the cookies down on the counter with the rest of her prepared food, hands moving more carefully than necessary. It gave him something else to focus on. The table, the lights, the soft music playing in the background. Proof that this was real, that he wasn’t imagining the way the evening seemed to tilt around her.
When he straightened, he found her watching him.
Not openly. Not obviously.
But he knew the look. Calm on the surface. Focused beneath it. The same expression she always wore at the starting gate.
Only this time, it wasn’t a race she was preparing for.
“Is it too much?” she asked lightly.
He shook his head without hesitation. “No. It’s… perfect.”
The word carried more weight than it should have. Because he wasn’t talking about just the kitchen, he was seeing her effort. Her care. Her love. The way she had built this evening piece by piece, not for show, but for them.
The realization filled his chest with something warm and unfamiliar, something that lingered rather than burned.
“I’m glad you came,” she said with a smile.
The words were simple. The way she said them was not.
He met her gaze, steady and smiling. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said.
Something shifted between them at that. Quietly. Decisively.
Her expression softened, teasing giving way to something closer, more sincere. More intimate.
For the first time since stepping inside, he understood that he wasn’t being led forward at all.
She was inviting him in.
Whatever finish line awaited them tonight, he knew with complete certainty that he had no desire to slow down before reaching it. For once, he did not want caution. He wanted to be with her, to run to it together.
Because the truth had already settled into place.
He loved her.
Not as a passing feeling, not as something uncertain or fleeting, but with a quiet certainty that left no room for doubt. It was not a realization born in this moment alone, but one that had been building for years, shaped by their shared victories, late nights, and the steady trust between them.
It lived in the spaces between those moments. In the way he always looked for her first after every race, no matter the outcome. In the way her laughter lingered with him, like a beautiful song on repeat, long after the music faded on their late-night drives, in the comfort of the silence they shared, where nothing needed to be said because everything already had been.
He had carried it carefully, telling himself there would be time, that there was always another day, another season, another race. But standing here now, surrounded by the warmth she had created and the life she had chosen to share with him, the truth became impossible to ignore.
This was not the usual admiration a Trainer has for their Uma. It was not gratitude. It was not a habit.
It was love, steady and enduring, woven into every part of his life so completely that he could no longer imagine one without the other.
And for the first time, he allowed himself to accept it fully. There was no sense in holding it back any longer.
Some races were not meant to be run alone.
They stood there, facing one another in the quiet warmth of the kitchen, the soft music fading into the background until it became little more than a heartbeat beneath the silence. The world outside might as well have ceased to exist. Snow, schedules, expectations, all of it fell away, leaving only the space between them, which seemed to grow smaller.
He looked at her and found himself thinking of everything at once. The way she leaned forward at the start of a race. The way she laughed and smiled when she won. The way she always had fun and always took care of everyone around her. The way she trusted him without hesitation, again and again. The way she stood here now, close enough that he could see the faint rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
Maruzensky met his gaze and held it.
Her teasing expression was gone, replaced by something quieter. Something vulnerable, in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Her eyes searched his face with the same intensity she brought to the track, as if she were waiting for a signal only she could recognize.
Time slowed.
He realized, distantly, that his heart was pounding harder than it ever had during a race. Not from fear. From anticipation.
She took a breath.
So did he.
They opened their mouths at the same time.
“I—”
The sound of their voices overlapped beautifully, brief and startled, drawing a soft, breathless laugh from her before she stopped herself. Her hand lifted slightly, then fell back to her side.
“You go first,” she said quietly.
He took a deep breath once more. The words pressed against the roof of his mouth, heavy and urgent, threatening to spill out all at once. He had rehearsed them a thousand times in his head over the years, always telling himself it wasn’t the right time.
But standing here, with her watching him like this, he understood there would never be a more honest one.
“Maruzensky,” he began, voice unsteady but sincere.
She didn’t look away.
He thought of the proper way to say three simple words.
The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat. Some things were better expressed physically.
Before doubt could take hold, before he could retreat into caution as he always had and disappoint her, he stepped forward. The distance between them vanished in a single, decisive motion, driven by instinct rather than thought.
Her name was still fresh on his lips when he kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed, nor was it careful to the point of restraint. It was certain. A quiet urgency carried through it, as if years of unspoken feelings had finally surfaced all at once. His hands came up almost without realizing it, steadying himself as much as her, afraid that if he didn’t anchor the moment, it might slip away. His right hand rested gently on her cheek, the other placed firmly on her side.
For a fraction of a second, she froze.
Then she melted into it.
Maruzensky’s breath caught softly against his, surprise giving way to warmth as she returned the kiss with unmistakable intent. One hand rose to his chest, fingers curling lightly in the fabric, as if to confirm that this was all real. That which she had always dreamed of had finally become real.
The world narrowed again, but this time it did not feel fragile.
When they finally parted, it was only by inches. Close enough that he could still feel her warmth, close enough that their breaths mingled in the quiet space between them. His arms had found their way around her without conscious thought, holding her with a steadiness that even surprised him.
They looked at each other, blue meeting blue in a clash.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then Maruzensky’s lips curved, just slightly. Not teasing this time. Not playful. Something softer, more open. Her fingers tightened on the fabric at his back, as if to keep him exactly where he was.
Her voice was barely more than a breath.
“Again.”
It wasn’t a request born of impatience.
For a moment, he didn’t move. The word settled between them, quiet yet powerful, as if it had been spoken long before tonight and only now voiced.
Again.
There was no teasing in her voice. No uncertainty. Only trust and her genuine emotions.
He searched for any sign of her, as if to be sure he hadn’t imagined it. But her eyes were steady, warm, and beautifully unwavering. The confident poise she carried so naturally was still there, yet softened now by something deeply personal.
So he leaned in. This time, with no hesitation.
His lips met hers for a second kiss, this one slower, surer, shaped by the knowledge that neither of them was guessing anymore. It carried the weight of everything they had held back, the years of shared moments that had led them here. He drew her closer, and she met him halfway, rising slightly into his arms and pressing herself against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers resting there with quiet certainty before moving behind his neck and locking him in place. She combed her fingers through his hair gently, while the other hand roamed.
There was only warmth, closeness, and the steady understanding that this was no longer a question of if, but of when they had finally allowed themselves to let go of the wheel.
They parted only enough to breathe. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes slightly open, drawing strength from the simple closeness.
Neither of them moved. There was no need to. The space they shared felt complete, as if the world had finally aligned to allow this single moment to exist exactly as it was meant to be.
Maruzensky’s smile softened, and the faint color in her cheeks deepened as she leaned into him without hesitation. Her hands stayed at the back of his neck, steady and warm, anchoring him there.
“Maruzensky…” he said, her name softer than he had ever spoken it.
She opened her eyes, close enough that he could see how the light shifted in them, softened by the emotion she no longer tried to hide.
“I love you.” The words left him without hesitation this time. No rehearsal. No fear. Just truth, given voice at last.
For a heartbeat, she only looked at him. Her smile was small but radiant, her cheeks faintly tinted, her eyes bright with something that mirrored what he felt.
Her hands gently tightened at the back of his neck, grounding him.
“I love you too,” she said softly. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”
His chest tightened at the words. He smiled, a warm, unguarded smile, and pulled her closer, as if distance itself had become unnecessary.
He let himself get lost in her watery eyes as she spoke. “I have, too. I’ve loved you for a long time, Maruzen. I wish I’d said it sooner, actually.”
She laughed softly at that, the sound gentle and close, and then she kissed him again. A quick peck on the lips, almost teasing him and his desire for more.
“It’s rude to keep a girl waiting, Trainer~” she said, and the same familiar spark returned to her beautiful blue eyes, making him weak in the knees once again. “Won’t you… make it up to me?”
He should have been prepared for that by her.
The playful spark in her eyes struck him harder than any other tease. For a moment, he could only stare at her, caught between awe and anticipation, his heart still racing from everything she had already said to him. His eyes fell to the way her chest pressed against him.
Wait, she’s not wearing… The thought stuck in his mind with a start.
“You’re not exactly making this easy on me,” he murmured.
Her smile widened, clearly pleased with his remark. “That would be no fun,” she said.
She stayed close, close enough that he could still feel her warmth, close enough that retreat was no longer an option, even if he wanted it. Her hands remained light at his collar, neither pulling him in nor letting him go.
He lifted one hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing gently beneath her eye. The teasing in her expression softened at his touch, giving way to something quieter and more sincere.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he finally said. “I’ll make it up to you and then some.”
Her gaze searched his face, then settled, steady and bright. Her eyes went on stalk, filled with that pleased look of mischief he loved once more. He prepared himself for another tease from her.
But what he got instead was something different.
“Good boy~,” she replied softly.
His brain short-circuited yet again as he processed her words. Just what was she doing to him?
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Maruzensky (Uma Musume), Uma Musume Pretty Derby, Umamusume / サンタの衣装は不公平だ！！！ - pixiv
