Chapter 14: Crushing Rock Barehanded

Chapter 14: Crushing Rock Barehanded

Early the next morning, when Makoto met up with Kitasan Black once more, he immediately noticed that his Umamusume seemed more spirited than usual—visibly more vibrant than just a few days ago.

After a quick inquiry, he learned she had received some encouragement from a close friend. Giving her a few words of praise himself, he then led her straight into that day’s morning training.

They began with a light jog to warm up. Afterward came a review of last night’s homework—going over basic gestures and sitting posture drills.

Once he confirmed everything looked solid, he moved on to introduce a few new hand signs and a fresh standing posture.

“Trainer... this pose feels so weird...”

Kitasan Black was balancing on one foot, the other leg bent behind her in the air. Her hands dangled awkwardly in front of her chest, elbows bent like a kangaroo’s. Her back was straight, her neck and head stretching stiffly forward.

Held in that odd stance, she felt like she looked less like an elite athlete and more like a cartoon thief sneaking around.

Their morning training took place on the academy’s outdoor track. And naturally, the two of them weren’t the only ones there—other trainees filled the area, all in their own routines.

With Kitasan Black standing there in her bizarre pose, it was only natural that a few nearby students turned their heads and stared. Some giggled behind their hands. Others just raised their eyebrows in confusion.

“It is kind of weird,” Makoto admitted casually, not at all denying the awkwardness of what he’d asked her to do.

“But so what? Are you thinking of quitting just because it looks funny?”

“Or what, are you planning to go into a race with your eyes darting all over the place like this?”

That last line hit home.

“Ah! You’re right—during a race, I have to stay totally focused!”

She snapped upright, her voice filled with determination.

“I understand now, Trainer! I’ll train seriously!”

Makoto gave a subtle nod of approval and, seeing that her focus was locked in, quietly flipped open his tablet. He opened the trainer-exclusive interface—a system synced with each Umamusume’s racing profile.

The trainer panel also connected to the public event accounts of the Umamusume themselves. Among other features, it showed real-time changes in their fan numbers.

“501, huh… about a hundred more than yesterday.”

So the numbers were growing… just not by much.

Still, it was clear that Kitasan Black wasn’t making a huge splash—not with professionals, and not with the fanbase either.

According to URA protocol, once an Umamusume signs a contract with a trainer, the academy submits her info immediately to the association. The URA then creates her official racing profile within a day or two.

At the same time, their partner media networks blast out promotional content about the Umamusume across various platforms.

If the Umamusume makes a good impression—or already had some popularity beforehand—fans can choose to follow her, leave comments, vote in polls, and otherwise boost her standing through engagement.

But when Makoto compared Kitasan’s numbers to her peers, the gap was painfully obvious.

Take, for example, that young lady from the Satono family.

Though the Satonos had only recently stepped into the world of “Shining Series” racing, they had the wealth and influence to pour resources into their Umamusume without hesitation.

They’d already produced a few successful racers in the past—and that momentum carried over.

Even before her debut, Satono Crown had over 10,000 fans. And after just two back-to-back victories, her total had already surged past 100,000.

That number wasn’t just for show either. 100,000 fans was the minimum threshold to qualify for OP-level events. Below that, an Umamusume was restricted to Pre-OP exhibitions, local derbies, dirt track races, or even obstacle events.

Compared to that, Kitasan Black’s numbers were nothing.

Still, Makoto didn’t look discouraged as he examined her modest following. Instead, he nodded to himself, closed the shared interface, and opened up the training panel again.

Kitasan Black wasn’t the kind of Umamusume who dazzled at first glance.

If you were talking about true genius, that title probably belonged to someone like Tokai Teio—who debuted as the nation’s number-one rookie, won hearts and races alike, and blazed a trail straight to the Japanese Derby.

Kitasan wasn’t that kind of star.

But Makoto Yasui knew—

Sometimes, brilliance wasn’t something you started with.

It was something you carved out with your own hands.

Even if it meant crushing stones barehanded to get there.

It wasn’t that his Umamusume lacked talent. In fact, many trainers had already taken notice of her exceptional strength and robust constitution.

The real issue lay in converting that raw ability into racing power—and that was far from easy.

Which was exactly why, ever since enrolling at Tracen Academy, Kitasan Black had failed to earn high marks or glowing evaluations.

In that context, it was no surprise that she hadn’t gathered much fan support either.

But Makoto Yasui… he was different.

He knew exactly how to bring out her potential.

He had vision that outpaced the current age.

And his methods? They weren’t anything a conventional trainer could match.

So when it came to things like fan count? He wasn’t worried in the slightest.

“All right, hold it there.”

As he made a few adjustments on his tablet, Makoto kept a close eye on Kitasan Black’s posture. This time, he’d set a specific timer in advance. The moment it went off, he gave the signal to stop.

“This pose, along with the one I taught you yesterday—same training method,” he instructed calmly.

“Do it three times a day. Morning, noon, and night.”

“No more, no less.”

“I’ll gradually teach you the full routine. Once you can perform the entire set, it’ll take about thirty minutes.”

“And once we get to that point, I’ll revise your training schedule accordingly.”

As soon as Makoto gave the command, Kitasan Black obediently stood up straight and lightly shook out her arms and legs. A hint of surprise appeared on her face.

“Trainer, this training style of yours… it’s really strange.”

She tilted her head, expression full of curiosity.

“At first, it felt super awkward and uncomfortable, but after a little while, I kinda got used to it.”

“And I’ve been holding that pose for so long, but I’m not even tired! What kind of method is this…?”

She trailed off, blinking at him inquisitively.

Makoto had never actually explained what those poses were for. And to be fair, he hadn’t expected her to ask.

Those stances were from a unique set of drills—one he had undergone in his past life. They weren’t the sort of training that showed immediate results. Only long-term, consistent practice would bear fruit.

Still, he had already prepared an answer for this exact moment.

“You could think of it… as a kind of special cultivation,” he said offhandedly.

Then, after a quick glance around, his gaze settled on a flowerbed nearby. He beckoned to the puzzled Kitasan Black.

They walked over together. After rummaging through the decorative stones for a bit, Makoto picked up a flat river rock—about the size of a clenched fist.

“Can you…” he held the stone up in front of her, carefully considering his phrasing, “…smash this rock with a punch—or maybe a kick?”

“…Trainer, are you joking right now?”

She stared at him, utterly confused.

But when she saw the serious look in his eyes, her confusion turned into concern.

“I-I mean, if it were a roof tile or something, sure, I could probably kick through it… but this kind of stone…”

“I see. Then, watch.”

Without waiting for a reply, Makoto knelt beside the flowerbed and set the stone on the edge. He crouched low, lining up his palm with the center of the stone, and focused.

Then—

With a deep breath, he struck.

“Trainer—wait, you’re serious?!” Kitasan Black yelped in alarm, stepping forward as if to stop him.

But it was too late.

CRACK!

The stone split cleanly in two.

“Ah—?! It broke?! You actually broke it?!”

Her voice cracked into a full-on squeal of disbelief.

“Mhm. Split it right down the middle,” Makoto replied, now holding a piece of the stone in each hand.

“My physical strength is nowhere near yours—but my control over it is in a whole different league.”

“There are a lot of little tricks behind breaking a stone like this, of course… but you don’t need to learn any of them.”

“What you need to understand is this.”

“The postures I’m teaching you—they’re to help you control the power you already have. That monstrous strength of yours…”

His tone grew calm—but intense.

“The day you learn to fully control that strength, to channel it all into your legs and feet…”

He met her gaze squarely.

“…that’ll be the day no one on the track can catch you.”

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