Chapter 1: Aim for…? Tracen Academy

There’s a phrase: “legs of glass.”

It means that for a racehorse, understanding how far your legs will hold—and at what point they will shatter—is essential.

Racehorses dedicate their entire lives to pursuing speed and strength, yet they always carry the risk of crippling injury as the price for it.

No matter how gifted you are, no matter how hard you work, an injury can wipe everything away in an instant.

“Staying sound makes a great horse” exists because so many talented Uma Musume were unable to become legends simply due to injury.

Here, we have one man.

He spent his entire life running away from putting real effort into anything.

Since childhood, he couldn’t focus on a single thing. Even the lessons his parents signed him up for—hoping to spark interest—were abandoned long before he could improve at them. Piano, swimming, painting… It wasn’t that he had no interest at all, but his laziness always outweighed it.

Middle school and high school were no different. No clubs, always going straight home. And he didn’t study either—his grades were below average, but he never cared. He simply drifted through each day.

His life, because he gained nothing, had nothing to lose.

His friends all worked toward their own goals, experiencing failures and setbacks along the way. But he had nothing he wanted to protect, nothing he needed to reclaim.

Living vaguely, dying vaguely. That was the life he led.

Even after entering society, nothing changed.

He tried to work at first with what little motivation he could muster, but his laziness always won out within months, leading him to quit.

His family couldn’t afford to let him be a NEET, so he bounced between jobs, unnoticed, barely interacting with coworkers.

He had no real hobbies, spending most days off lying around at home. Nothing special ever happened, and each day passed without event.

One day, he suddenly died.

There was no real cause—he simply stopped breathing quietly. No one noticed, and his death came as quietly as his life.

What did he think at that moment? Regret for accomplishing nothing? Hope for a life he’d never get to live? Whatever was in his heart, no one will ever know.

“Again…?”

In ancient times, in the medieval era, in the early modern period—life had been harsh, and even with so little, people still reached for something.

He knew nothing, and because he knew nothing, he built invisible worlds inside his mind.

But modern times are peaceful, prosperous.

All of that is upheld by stable systems, and as people’s passion becomes absorbed into those systems, the weight of individual will has diminished.

That’s why people like him have increased. Not resigned to despair, not self-destructive—simply content with “good enough,” with mediocre pleasure and mediocre satisfaction.

Neither clear hope nor clear despair.

“What should I do…?”

It wasn’t full-on depravity, but the spark and vitality of life had undeniably faded.

“I went through the trouble of raising him this far… starting over from scratch feels wasteful. Besides, at this rate, he’ll just repeat the same failure next time…”

He needs something to cling to—something that becomes irreplaceable the moment he loses it.

Very well. Let him have it. Even if his mind is ordinary, give him talent far beyond what’s needed to reach glory.

And give him legs so fragile they’ll break if he runs at full speed.

Thus, he was granted a new life.

.... 

By the time I realized it, I had become an Uma Musume.

I think it was around the time I turned six when I fully understood it.

I suddenly noticed that I had horse ears and a tail, and it felt… off.

From that day on, I(boku)—no, “I(Watashi),” still—didn’t really change.

My past self and present self had similar personalities, so the two identities blended together without much discomfort.

Apparently, even in this life, I’m still a slacker.

My sex changed, but I’d already lived in this body for years, so it didn’t bother me anymore. The fact that I sometimes glanced at the other girls in that way… is a secret.

Uma Musume are, by nature, a race that loves to run. But I wasn’t especially fond of it.

Whether that’s because of my past life or just how I originally was, I don’t know.

But—when I ran, I was fast.

I never trained or worked on my form, but once I started running, my body naturally optimized itself.

Combined with the raw strength that didn’t match my young frame, it produced incredible speed.

So this is the leg power of an Uma Musume, huh? I was impressed—but that didn’t mean I changed my lifestyle.

Being an indoor type, no one ever paid attention to my legs.

I only truly understood my speed for the first time during my elementary school sports festival.

In the 400-meter Uma Musume race, newly added for third grade, I ran with my usual lethargic vibe.

Feeling the wind cutting past me, the strength of my legs kicking the ground—the 400 meters ended surprisingly quickly.

My legs were on a completely different level, even compared to the other Uma Musume.

Running with only half my strength, I tore through the finish tape in an instant, leaving the adults around me shouting in shock.

After that, my speed became famous throughout the entire school.

Teachers and classmates started calling me “our rising star,” and I was suddenly the center of attention.

But I didn’t feel proud of it or anything. I just went through my days the same as always. Maybe it was my past life’s influence, but I simply couldn’t feel passion toward anything.

Instead, I craved far more mundane pleasures. I’d pester my parents for games and manga that kids normally couldn’t buy on their own.

My parents, in turn, made me participate in local races as a condition for getting them.

Maybe because we lived near Fuchu’s Tokyo Racecourse, there were lots of small tournaments for elementary school–aged Uma Musume.

The distances ranged from 400 meters to about 1000 meters—kid-friendly—but the number of spectators was far more than I expected. The enthusiasm for racing must have been different in this world compared to my previous one.

Since I didn’t understand things like pace management, I simply followed the girl running in front, then sped up a little in the last 100 meters to pass her. I repeated that same simple strategy again and again.

Back then, I didn’t think about what results that might lead to.

I was more concerned about next week’s shonen magazine or the new RPG coming out next month.

And so, every time a game I wanted was released, every time a new manga volume came out, I entered another tournament, spending my surplus elementary-school time fully devoted to gaming.

Then, one day—it happened.

That morning, my parents were unusually restless.

A tablecloth had been pulled out from who knows where and spread over the dining table, and all the miscellaneous clutter had been shoved into the spare room and locked away.

As I took out the new wireless Uma Musume earbuds they’d bought me—so the game sounds wouldn’t disturb anyone—my parents came over holding nice, dressy clothes.

Apparently, the visitor had business with me as well.

My parents had long since given up trying to fix my lazy streak, but they were still strict when it came to manners. They didn’t want me embarrassing the family in front of guests.

Thanks to my past-life memories, I’d at least mastered basic etiquette, so my style of laziness was… well, presentable enough. That must be why they judged it safe to let me greet someone important.

After slipping on the outfit, my hair and tail were brushed. Surprisingly, it felt really good. My past life had short hair, so I rarely experienced anything like this, but having someone do it for me wasn’t bad at all. Especially the gentle brushing along my tail—it was so pleasant I nearly drifted off to sleep.

Still, I needed to figure out what was happening.

When I asked what we were doing today, my parents looked exasperated.

“Wee? You… don’t tell me you forgot what I told you yesterday—no, you didn’t even listen in the first place, did you?”

My mother’s eyes were absolutely not smiling.

By the way, “Wee” means me—it’s the nickname derived from my Uma Musume name, Witolum Pedes.

It’s hard to memorize and hard to pronounce, so both classmates and teachers use my nickname instead. Even at races, the announcers misread my name a few times.

While I was busy retreating into my thoughts, my father held out an envelope, like he was offering a lifeline.

“Wee, it was written in this letter, remember?”

The moment I saw it, I realized I had seen it before.

It was the notice of acceptance from Tracen Academy.

Looking through it roughly, it definitely contained important-looking information.

In my past life, I think there was something similar from the local government when entering middle school, so for an Uma Musume like me, getting one from Tracen Academy must be the equivalent.

So… what about it?

Sure, most of the kids at my elementary school would probably go on to the local middle school, but it wasn’t unusual for kids around here to attend a different school because of entrance exams.

Maybe my parents were worried about me being separated from friends—but for some mysterious reason, I didn’t have any close friends to begin with, so going to another school didn’t bother me.

Could today be some kind of meet-and-greet with another girl who’d also be attending Tracen?

A mom-friend from their Tracen days bringing her daughter over—that sounded plausible.

Still, I regretted having Umatube playing through my new earbuds while half-heartedly responding to my mom yesterday. I probably agreed to something without understanding any of it.

Should I gamble on the “mom’s old friend” theory? No… judging by my parents’ overly serious expressions as I read the letter, that didn’t feel right.

It was like watching the Dursleys stare at Harry’s Hogwarts letter.

I mean, come on—both Mom and I are Uma Musume. It’s nowhere near as shocking as being told you’re a wizard. If anything, shouldn’t we be reacting like a wizarding family would? Not that I know what that looks like.

Sensing from my expression that I had no idea what was going on, my mother opened her mouth—
—and right then, the doorbell rang.

“Splendid! Absolutely splendid! Having such an extraordinarily talented Uma Musume join Tracen Academy—nothing could make me happier!”

A tiny person was standing there.