Horse Girl, Your Friend is Fighting Her Way Out of the Horse Racing Track

She followed the gaze of the woman who admired Orihime and looked at the sleeping bag.

The dark green waterproof fabric has neat stitching, a sturdy zipper, and a soft-looking fleece lining.

It's clearly equipment that was prepared carefully, not cheap stuff bought just to get by.

Poetry and Wine frowned, his fingers unconsciously twirling around his hair.

"No need."

Her tone was a little lower than before, with a hint of awkwardness.

"It would be a waste to tear it up."

"Then let's use them together."

Ai Mu's tone was already showing signs of impatience.

"..."

Poetry and wine remained silent.

The air quieted down again.

The night outside grew a little deeper, and starlight shone through the gap in the zipper at the tent opening, falling on the slightly awkward distance between the two people.

The wind began to change slightly, slowly pressing in from afar, as if something was brewing.

Poetry and wine remained in their original places, unmoved.

Her fingers were still twirling her black hair, struggling with what to do.

Poetry and Wine shifted their gaze slightly to the side, avoiding the lingering look of Orihime, and instead focused on the tent wall.

She was somewhat unsure of what to say.

Ai Mu, standing beside her, didn't urge her on, but simply watched her quietly.

After a while, it seemed that Orihime's patience had run out.

"Poetry and wine."

She spoke calmly.

Upon hearing this, Shi Yujiu subconsciously looked up at her.

Ai Mu looked straight into Orihime's eyes, her purple eyes exceptionally clear in the night.

“You were shouting something terrible in your dream just now.”

Poetry and wine didn't react for a moment.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden remarks from Orihime, whom she admired.

"……what?"

Poetry and wine made her throat a little dry, and she guiltily lowered her fingers from her hair.

"elder sister."

He spoke his love for Orihime slowly and deliberately.

After Orihime uttered this title.

The actions of poetry and wine came to a halt.

She seemed to have been put on pause, her fingers frozen on her knees.

The black-haired girl's breathing became slightly rapid, and she seemed completely at a loss.

Her gaze shifted directly to the side, first landing on the tent wall, then falling down to the ground.

He dares to look at poetry and wine anywhere, but he dares not look at his beloved Orihime.

Her face visibly warmed up, starting from her chin and spreading upwards to her ear tips, turning her entire skin a light pink.

"That is--"

She wanted to explain, but the words stuck in her throat, and she didn't know how to continue.

Even they themselves couldn't clearly define what poetry and wine were.

Why did that malicious little pony girl in my dream make me call her "sister"?

She didn't know why she just blurted it out.

Ah~!

How could this person be so wicked?

Poetry and wine went through these things in my mind, and then I realized that I couldn't explain them at all.

He admired Orihime without waiting for her explanation.

Seeing that Shi Yujiu looked visibly flustered, she twitched her ears slightly and unconsciously raised the corners of her mouth a little.

Then she spoke calmly.

"Since you've already called me that, let's just sleep together like sisters."

Poetry and wine were at a loss for words, unsure where to begin their rebuttal.

She stood still, her fingers resting on her knees, her mouth opening and closing briefly.

My mind raced, trying to find a suitable rebuttal, but all the words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

She found that no matter which angle she refuted, it only made the situation more awkward.

Poetry and wine fell silent for a few seconds.

Then--

Suddenly, another sound came from outside.

It was a scattered, very soft sound of water, drop by drop falling onto the tarpaulin, making a faint "plop" sound.

The sounds gradually increased, the rhythm became more even, and they began to grow louder.

It's raining.

It's probably just a light drizzle.

Poetry and wine instantly tensed up.

Her fingers clenched unconsciously, and her face, which had been flushed with anger and embarrassment, turned deathly pale in an instant.

Poetry and Wine first closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to suppress their reactions.

Then she opened her eyes, looked at the tent wall, and tried to make her expression look normal.

But it didn't work.

The sound of rain didn't get louder, but it still fell drop by drop onto the tarpaulin.

An unease crept into my heart, slowly climbing upwards. It rose from my chest to my throat, making it hard to breathe, even with poetry and wine.

Ai Mu Zhi Ji remained silent, looking at Shi Yu Jiu with some concern.

Although the other party was trying to remain calm, they could not hide their fear.

Seeing this, Ai Mu Zhi Ji said nothing, but simply pulled the sleeping bag open a little and tidied up the entrance.

"You can't hear the rain anymore once you're in your sleeping bag."

It was quiet inside the tent, with only the soft sound of rain falling outside.

A short while later.

Poetry and Wine's face turned pale, and she spoke with difficulty, her eyes lifeless.

"Go in."

Ai Mu looked at Orihime with admiration.

Without saying anything more, she nodded and then unzipped the sleeping bag a little wider to make it easier for the two of them to get in.

The two of them crawled into their sleeping bags one after the other.

The space immediately became cramped.

It was truly cramped; two people lay on their sides, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm.

There was almost no gap between them; the thin sleeping bag wrapped the two of them together.

The distance was so close that you could feel the other person's body temperature and even clearly hear their breathing rhythm.

You can feel your chest rising and falling with each breath.

Poetry and Wine visibly stiffened for a moment.

She placed her hands by her sides, her fingers slightly curled and pressed close to her body, trying her best not to touch the people next to her.

But the sleeping bag was too narrow, and no matter how I adjusted my position, my arm would inevitably press against Orihime's arm.

Poetry and wine are taut, neither daring to relax nor move.

She even subconsciously softened her breathing, afraid that making any big movements would make the atmosphere even more awkward.

The rain was still falling outside, but the sound was much quieter.

Strangely, the unease that had been building between poetry and wine seemed to have lessened.

Ai Mu was beside her and moved slightly, pulling her sleeping bag up a little to block the wind seeping in from the tent opening.

In this confined space, Ai Musashi's movements brought their shoulders even closer together.

The breath of poetry and wine paused for a moment.

Then, Ai Mu Shi relaxed her body, lay flat, and remained still and silent.

The tent was quiet for a while.

There were only two people breathing, their rhythms different, but both trying to keep it steady, attempting to pretend that the distance was normal.

Then, the love for Orihime paused for a moment.

She turned her head and glanced to the side, and saw that Shi Yujiu's still slightly cold hand was placed beside her, her fingers curled up and her knuckles slightly white, as if she was trying to control something.

She reached out and gently took his hand in hers.

The hand that adored Orihime covered her, and its warmth was transferred to her.

Poetry and wine have become even more rigid.

She turned her head to look at Orihime, her eyes filled with a little confusion, as if she didn't quite understand the meaning of the gesture.

Ai Mu Shiri turned her head to look at her, her purple eyes appearing deep in the dim light inside the sleeping bag.

She didn't speak, but just quietly looked at the poetry and wine, her hand still holding hers.

"fine."

"I admire Orihime," she said gently.

Poetry and wine's fingers slowly relaxed a little.

The two lay facing each other, holding hands, neither looking away first nor letting go of each other's hands.

They simply looked at each other, listened to the rain outside, felt each other's warmth, and waited for the night to slowly pass.

P.S.: I'm exhausted. I'm going to die from teaching all day and staying up late every night to write.

These chapters are like short stories. What are your thoughts?

Main character: Chapter 310 Who's with whom?

"Tick, tick."

The rain was still falling, but the temperature didn't seem as cold as it had been.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when this feeling of poetry and wine began.

It might have started when that hand grasped mine, or perhaps even earlier.

The faint sound of rain continued for a long time in the night.

The fine, continuous drizzle fell drop by drop onto the tarpaulin, its rhythm very even. If poetry and wine were not afraid, they would be nothing more than a hypnotic white noise.