A month into summer camp, time had flown by like a sprinting Uma Musume. Training in this unfamiliar terrain yielded rich rewards—new insights into Air Groove's limits. She wasn't at her best in summer's heat, I'd learned. A month-long camp was enough; next year, we'd dial it back. But this time, with the Triple Tiara on the line, we'd push through the full duration.

The sweltering air reminded me of last year's Sapporo—cool breezes, fresh seafood, and killer ramen. A stark contrast to this heat. Focus, Hachiman. For Air Groove's future, I'd skip the September trial races and go straight to the Shuka Sho. Show off her post-summer strength, that was the plan. Plus, limiting races would preserve her stamina. She wasn't heat-exhausted, but summer wasn't her ally. A trial race flop could echo her Ouka Sho scare, and we'd agreed on this strategy together.

I sighed, shutting my laptop. "PC work's a pain. Handwriting's easier, but digital's clearer and saves better. No choice." Tasks done, I stood. "Time to prep."

At the camp kitchen, I called out, "Hey, I'm here to borrow the space."

"Yo, Trainer!" a cook replied. "Heard you were coming. Back kitchen's free—go for it!"

"Thanks," I said, heading in.

Air Groove had powered through my brutal training this month without a break. She deserved a reward. Like a coach buying ice cream for the team after practice—same vibe.

Problem was, I didn't know her appetite or tastes. She's high-class, but that's all I've got. I'd bought ingredients to whip up what I could. The menu was set—no point overthinking now.

"Alright," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "Time to get serious."

"What's he up to?" a voice whispered outside.

"Dunno," another said. "Better stay sharp."

"Cooking, probably," a third muttered. "But it's kinda… worrying."

The day's training left me drained. "Ugh, I'm beat," I groaned.

"Same," another Uma Musume said. "Let's eat, bathe, and prep for tomorrow."

Symboli Rudolf chuckled. "Summer camp's thriving. Everyone's making the most of it."

"Yes," I said. "No major incidents—smooth sailing so far."

"Good," Rudolf said. "Everyone's back at the lodge. Let's head in."

"Understood, President," I said.

In the lodge corridor, Rudolf frowned. "The facilities are aging. We'll need inspections and quotes."

"I'll join you for that," I offered.

"Thanks," she said. "Hm? What's that noise? The dining hall's awfully crowded."

"I'll check," I said.

What's going on? Why aren't they going inside?

"Hey," I called, pushing through. "What's the holdup? You're blocking the way."

Fine Motion turned. "Oh, Groove-san! Your trainer's cooking in the kitchen, so everyone's curious and watching."

Him? Cooking? I blinked. Is this a joke?

"Let me through," I said, stepping into the dining hall. My eyes locked on Hachiman in the kitchen. Gone was his usual laid-back slouch—he was focused, almost… gallant. Only compared to usual, mind you!

I stared, silent.

He glanced up. "Yo, Air Groove. You're here. Hang on, it's almost ready."

"What?" I said, caught off guard.

"I'm making you dinner," he said. "Don't worry, it's all edible, and I've checked the flavors."

"I didn't ask for this," I said, frowning.

"It's a reward," he said. "You crushed my hardcore training this month without missing a day. I don't know your portion size, so I made enough for an average Uma Musume."

"Uh… right," I mumbled.

What do I do with this? His kindness was new, disarming. I sat, trying to stay composed. Calm down. I'm already calm. Why? Because…

Oguri Cap drooled in the distance. Super Creek's eyes glistened hungrily.

Those two's gluttony would cool anyone's nerves.

Minutes later, the dining hall remained frozen—no one sat, no one ordered. A clatter broke the silence, accompanied by an enticing aroma.

"Here you go," Hachiman said, setting plates before me. "Summer camp special: your reward dinner. Just for you."

I stared, speechless.

"Wow…" someone gasped.

"Looks amazing…" another whispered.

"Smells so good!" a third exclaimed.

Oguri Cap edged closer, drooling. "I… I want it…"

"No way, Oguri!" Tamamo Cross yanked her back. "That's Air Groove's!"

Super Creek reached out. "Ahhh!"

"Stop, Spe-chan!" Silence Suzuka grabbed her.

Narita Brian glared, eyes blazing.

"Cool it, Brian!" Super Creek snapped. "It's not yours!"

Hachiman listed the menu. "Bifuteki, amadai carpaccio, carrot and potato cheese bake, seafood Caesar salad. Rice or bread, your choice. If it's not enough, say so—I've got extra portions. Enjoy."

How am I supposed to eat with everyone staring!? Their eyes pierced me, ravenous.

Hachiman turned to the crowd. "Yo, you lot, quit gawking at Air Groove's dinner. Time's ticking—get your own food."

"""""Right!""""" The Uma Musume scattered, scrambling for their meals.

Finally, some peace. I exhaled.

"Oh, Air Groove," Hachiman added. "When you're full, let me know. Got dessert too."

What!? I glared. I just got calm, and you pull this!?

Mejiro McQueen's eyes widened. "Dessert!?"

"No, Mac!" Mejiro Ryan said. "Not for you!"

"Calm down, Mac!" Mejiro Dober urged.

"Not you, Mejiro Pack-Queen," Hachiman said, smirking.

Afterword

Talk about a feast! Hachiman's surprise dinner for Air Groove turns the camp dining hall into a zoo, with Oguri Cap, Super Creek, and McQueen practically drooling! Air Groove's flustered, Hachiman's playing chef, and the Triple Tiara's looming. With the second-trainee buzz still simmering, what's next for this chaotic crew? The turf's sizzling—bon appétit!

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