Trainer’s Notes

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that finding her was pure coincidence.

It all started when I overheard a rumor—there was a certain Uma Musume who always trained by running alongside others.

At first, I figured she must be lonely or something. But after seeing her run, that idea vanished completely.

“Damn it, this is insane!”

“Heh! You’re still a long way from beating me! Come on, try to catch up!”

“Whyyyy?! How can you be that fast while acting so casual?!”

The first strange thing was her running partner. A junior-class Uma Musume—seriously? If I remember right, her name was T.M. Opera O. With that level of performance, she could secure promotion in a single race. She was that good.

And the second strange thing—was her own running.

It was painfully awkward.

“Haa… haa… ugh, this is… bad…”

“U-um, are you all right…?”

“I’m fine… probably fine…”

Even a child Uma Musume could run better than that. It was a miracle she’d even been accepted into Tracen Academy.

It looked like she’d only just learned how to run a few days ago. I tilted my head back and sighed. Should I report this to the academy? At this rate, she’d destroy her body.

“Whew… I think I’m getting a little better.”

“I-if it’s too much, I can walk you to the nurse’s office…”

“No, never mind that—would you run with me next?”

“Eeeh!? M-me!?”

Looks like she’s already asking for another partner. But that girl doesn’t seem like the running type either… Come to think of it, her partners always seemed rather unremarkable. T.M. Opera O was the same, but every one of them was the type who didn’t stand out.

And yet, every time, they ended up performing far better than expected—completely blowing past her.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorryyy!”

“Don’t apologize while you’re running!!”

Again, her partner this time was Meisho Doto—someone who, by all appearances, shouldn’t be able to run that well. And yet, she was keeping pace.

What on earth was going on here…?

“Ugh… this is… not good…”

“I-I’m so sorry…! I’ll take you to the nurse’s office right now!”

“Forget the nurse’s office… just let me… rest…”

I couldn’t make sense of it. But maybe—just maybe—there was something special about her, something hidden beneath all that clumsiness. I pulled out my notebook and wrote her name—Mithialx—under the list of new students to keep an eye on.

From then on, I started seeing her more often.

But as always, she was getting wrecked in her pair runs.

“Ugh… this is impossible… how can she be that strong…”

Something was definitely off. After observing her several times, I finally understood—she somehow knew who the truly capable Uma Musume were.

Even those whose talents hadn’t yet spread among the trainers.

I didn’t want to believe it, but… could her instinct for recognizing talent surpass even that of us trainers?

“Sigh… who should I ask next…? Ah—there’s someone over there…”

She muttered that and jogged off again.

Her running had improved somewhat, I guess? But still, there was that persistent discomfort. Watching her run felt like having a fishbone stuck in my throat—something just wasn’t right.

What exactly was it?

“Th-thank you very much…”

“That was fun! Let’s run together again sometime!”

“Y-yeah…”

Her latest partner was a mid-distance Uma Musume.

As for Mithialx—she lost steam halfway through. Maybe her distance aptitude didn’t match?

No way… could she really not even know what distance suited her best?

While I was mulling that over, someone called out from behind me.

“Got a minute?”

“You’re… King Halo, right?”

“That’s right! I’m the one and only top-class Uma Musume, King Halo! But never mind that. You’re one of those trainers scouting new students, aren’t you?”

One of the “Golden Generation” Uma Musume—King Halo. A genuine G1 runner, without question.

But why was she here?

“That girl… Mithialx, was it? She’s a very dangerous Uma Musume. Could you… keep an eye on her for me? Just a little?”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re curious about her, aren’t you? And besides, her running’s awful. She’s probably got the same rear-runner style as me.”

“Huh?”

That couldn’t be right. …Actually, wait. Thinking about it that way, things started to make sense. The mismatched distances, the awkward running style—those two factors clashing could easily explain her painful form.

But still, could someone accepted into the central academy really be that unaware?

“I only realized it by chance,” King Halo continued. “The other day, I saw her dash in just before curfew. The way she accelerated—it was clearly suited for a short-distance rear-runner.”

“So she’s been running this whole time without even understanding her own style…”

“Exactly. That’s as far as I can tell. The rest’s your job, trainer.”

She had a point. Understanding the problem is one thing—but finding a solution is where a trainer’s true skill lies.

In any case, nothing could begin until I saw her in an official selection race.

After checking through the list of new students, I waited for race day.

Now then—Mithialx…

“They’re rounding the final corner—now all horses burst onto the straightaway! Whoa, what’s this? Mithialx is slowing down!”

“Oh, come on…”

She’d been leading the pack, but the moment she hit the final straight, she lost all speed. And that kind of slowdown—it wasn’t just a stamina issue.

Looking closer, her ears and tail had shrunk back in fear. No way…

“Is she… scared of the other Uma Musume…?”

No, no, no—that’s a serious problem.

Fear of others on the track is fatal. If she couldn’t handle close competition, there was no hope for her as a front-runner or a closer.

I buried my face in my hands. She was beyond my reach. Unless she had some extraordinary talent to make up for that flaw, there was nothing I could do.

I started to draw a line through her name in my notebook—but stopped halfway.

“Wait a second… She’s never once run as a rear-runner… has she?”

Thinking back, even during her paired training, she always ran as a front-runner or escape type. She hadn’t even tried short-distance races.

She wasn’t running in her optimal distance, nor in her optimal style. And yet, she still managed to keep up with top-tier Uma Musume in the selection races. You could call it abnormal.

“T.M. Opera O took first place, Meisho Doto came in second… and this one here finished first, too…”

This time, Mithialx ran a middle-distance race. Judging by her stats, that distance should’ve been too much for her. With enough training, she might hold her own in a GIII or an open race, but first place should’ve been impossible.

“…Maybe I should keep an eye on her a little longer.”

And that turned out to be the right call.

The next day, she was training alone—something rare for her. But her running style was clearly strange. She wasn’t a front-runner, nor was she a chaser or a late closer. Yet calling it “escape” didn’t feel right either.

A great escape…? No way. Wait—could it be that she’d realized her weakness in pack running and decided to switch to a solo runaway style?

That’s not something a Uma Musume can just pull off alone. Changing your racing form takes countless hours of work with your trainer.

“Hmm, if I can run like this, I might be able to hold the lead…? The average time for the selection race shouldn’t be a problem, and next time I’ll pick a mile race…”

Mithialx ran while holding a stopwatch in her hand.

She looked so natural—it almost seemed like she didn’t need a trainer at all.

But what was driving her that far? King Halo once told me—she’s a very dangerous Uma Musume.

“Could it be…”

Maybe she wasn’t running because she wanted to. Maybe she was running because she had to.

I went through the proper channels to get her enrollment documents and flipped through them. Key information was missing—her background, her grades upon entry… it was as if her past didn’t exist.

But now I understood. Whatever her circumstances were, she must have nowhere else to go. Maybe she’d been cast out by a noble family—or abandoned altogether.

“This is definitely dangerous… but even more than that, she’s fascinating.”

She’d been practicing her great escape strategy, but her pacing was off. Her lap times didn’t match what she’d planned, and she looked visibly flustered.

And then—I saw a shooting star.

“Yaaaahhh! Like hell I’ll lose to any front-runner!”

Mithialx burst forward with explosive acceleration, sprinting down the straightaway. That leg power…

“Huff… huff… crap, I pushed too hard…”

Now I understood what King Halo meant. She had an extraordinary finishing burst—perfect for a closer.

And the moment I saw it, I’d already made up my mind. I would scout her.

Then came her second selection race. Her performance was abysmal—dead last again.

Her stamina failed, her focus crumbled, and she dropped through the ranks until she was barely staggering along. No one even considered scouting her after that.

“Haha… maybe I really am done for…”

I gently called out to her.

Still, there were a few things I wanted to confirm, so I used the opportunity to ask her some questions.

And this is what I got:

“I want to win! I have to win! But when other Uma Musume run seriously, it scares me so much that my body just—just moves aside on its own! And then I can’t win, and—uuhhh… waaahhh!”

I hadn’t expected her to break down like that. Mithialx sobbed uncontrollably, like a child with nowhere to put her feelings. I rubbed her back and listened quietly.

She clearly had her own circumstances—but that wasn’t a reason to stop scouting her.

That’s why I extended my hand to her.

“Would you become my Uma Musume?”

Her face lit up instantly, and her tail started wagging back and forth. She must’ve been overjoyed.

After a few exchanges, I finally got to hear the words I’d been waiting for.

"I, Mithialx, will run the Twinkle Series as your Uma Musume—until the very end."

Those words, filled with conviction, made my own heart surge with determination.
And that’s how our journey in the Twinkle Series began.

Of course, debuting right away wasn’t possible. First, we had to drill the right racing style—one that truly fit Mithialx—into both her body and mind.

“Phew… How was that, Trainer?”

“Yeah, not bad. Let’s try adjusting your spurt timing next.”

But during that process, one thing caught my attention. She was putting on an act. She referred to herself as “watashi” and spoke politely to everyone. Honestly, it reminded me of an office worker or something.

Still, there shouldn’t be any walls between a trainer and an Uma Musume. Trust and unity—that’s what it’s supposed to be about.

That’s why I wanted her to open up. But right now, that was probably too much to ask. At the very least, she needed a tangible result first.

And so came her make debut—the result, an unfortunate second place.

“Uu… ngh…”

“Lux, that was a good race.”

“Hic… what do you mean, a good race…? I didn’t win…”

Watching her cry, all I could do was speak gently and pat her head, reassuring her that she wasn’t a failure.

She probably had never been acknowledged for the way she ran before. That’s why, as her trainer, it was my job to recognize her effort properly.

One day, after we’d built up a bit of trust, I finally decided to ask her the question I’d been holding back.

“…You know, Lux, I still don’t really know much about you. What kind of Uma Musume are you?”

“Uh, well… I’m a short-distance closer-type Uma Musume.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I want to know about you—your personality, what you like, the things that make you who you are.”

I wanted to hear it from her directly. That was all.

And the words that came back from Lux were enough to make me smile.

“Ah, fine, fine. Is this what you wanna hear? I’m Mithialx. And what I like is… Uma Musume.”

“I’ve been wondering—why did you use ‘watashi’ and act so formal all the time?”

“Well, it sounds better that way, right? I really wanted to get scouted, so I figured I’d make a good impression.”

…Yeah. She really was a bit naïve. She must’ve been some kind of sheltered daughter from a well-off family who ran away on her own just to race.

Still, this felt like her true starting line.

Feeling happy, I couldn’t help but pat her head again.

“Hey, Trainer—your hand.”

“Oh—sorry. Did you not like that?”

“It’s not that, but… why are you patting me? Do you do that to everyone?”

Of course not.

She didn’t notice it herself, but whenever she was happy, her tail would wag so hard it looked like it might come off. Normally, Uma Musume can control it a little—but not her. Not at all.

Seeing her like that just made me want to spoil her even more.

“Geez…”

“Sorry, sorry. Here, take this—carrot jelly, as an apology.”

“If you think something like that’s gonna fix everything, you’re dead wrong.”

Even as she said that, her ears twitched cheerfully, and her tail swished side to side again.

And her quirks didn’t stop there.

She was unbelievably lazy. Didn’t even own casual clothes or accessories for her ears.

No hobbies besides training and watching races. She never even went out on her days off.

Her only real friend was her roommate, Bridge Comp. Well, maybe you could count Mihono Bourbon as a “rival-friend”…?

Anyway, she thought about nothing except racing. That’s why, when Bridge Comp took her out on a little shopping trip once, I was genuinely happy to see it.

“Look, Trainer! She’s got the looks for it, so she needs to dress up once in a while! Isn’t she cute!?”

“Yeah, she really is. You look adorable, Lux.”

“Wha—uh—ahh…”

She turned red and looked away, but her tail was as expressive as ever.

Lux was shy, but she was also weak to pressure. I figured I’d just have to use that to gently teach her little by little.

Thinking that, our days together continued—peaceful and steady.

And then, she finally made it to a GⅠ race—finishing in second place.

Sure, Mihono Bourbon was strong. But my Lux was not inferior in the slightest. That’s why, next year, I had to make sure she was the one who won.

With that conviction burning in my chest, I began drafting her next training plan as the temple bells rang in the New Year.