Chapter 2: Deliver, my wish

The tiny person introduced herself as none other than the chairwoman of Tracen Academy.

Her design definitely looked familiar—something I’d seen on a certain SNS in my previous life. I remembered seeing her paired with the woman beside her… someone called Tazuna.

But still—why the chairwoman? In a normal Hogwarts-type situation, shouldn’t someone in the Hagrid position show up first? …No, wait, this isn’t Hogwarts to begin with.

While I was wrestling with those thoughts and answering the usual basic questions, the chairwoman suddenly grew serious.

"Excellent! Witolum Pedes, our time was brief, but I feel I’ve come to understand you well. Your responses are unusually articulate for an elementary-schooler. Physically too, you should have no trouble thriving at Tracen Academy."

"Thank you very much."

So it seemed I had passed. For someone like me, who understood what normal, non-problematic social responses looked like, this much was nothing. Well… not like I had anywhere else to go if she’d said no.

"But the path of racing is not something that can be conquered so easily. There are those who experience frustration and failure, and those who tumble from glory due to injury. The Tracen Academy you’re entering is filled with people like that. Even so, will you walk this path?"

The intensity was overwhelming.

She leaned both elbows on the table, eyes boring straight through me.

Even with my mind being half-adult, it was intimidating. But I needed to answer calmly.

Except—no suitable phrase came to mind. When she asked if I would move forward, it wasn’t like I had the option not to. I mean, do you usually ask this kind of question for entering middle school? Was she implying I could choose a different Tracen? But I lived five minutes away at a running pace—surely it was Fuchu or nothing. The curriculum wouldn’t change anyway.

Was this… pressure? Like one of those high-stress interviews? Is this even allowed? Doesn’t it violate some kind of harassment guideline? They say public schools vary wildly depending on the teachers, but what if Tracen is full of harassment instructors…?

"I… am an Uma Musume, after all."

Those were the words I managed to squeeze out after less than a second of frantic thinking. Honestly, that was the only answer I had.

"I see. Then it’s decided. I’m truly delighted to have such a promising star joining us. I look forward to the day we meet again at Tracen Academy."

"I’ll be looking forward to it as well."

So that had been the right answer. Her face flickered with surprise for a moment before turning into a beaming smile. And with that, I was set to attend Tracen Academy.

Tokyo, Fuchu City—standing along the banks of the Tamagawa River is Central Tracen Academy, a school dedicated entirely to training elite Uma Musume racers!!!

Um—what!? I honestly thought all Uma Musume went to Tracen by default, but apparently that wasn’t the case at all. Now that I thought about it, the Uma Musume girls at my elementary school talked a lot about which middle school they’d go to.

So going to a regular middle school was not only possible, but actually the norm…? For me, it was only a thirty-minute walk from home—five minutes if I ran on Uma Musume legs—so I never really thought about it. I’d basically gotten into the strongest sports school in all of Japan.

And since I got in through a recommendation, that meant I had to at least race a little and win enough to qualify. The chairwoman even put pressure on me, saying she had high hopes.

The shock of this revelation shoved everything else—how my new uniform felt, or the stiff entrance-ceremony speech by Student Council President Symboli Rudolf—right out of my mind. Even after the ceremony ended, as I zoned out thinking about it all, someone suddenly called out to me from behind.

"Witolum Pedes."

Startled to hear my name so abruptly, I turned around. Standing there was an Uma Musume with wavy bay-colored semi-long hair, her ears covered with simple blue ear-covers. Her reddish-brown eyes stared straight at me. If I remembered correctly—

"King Halo?"

Yes, I remembered racing against her several times back in elementary school.

"It is an honor that you remember me, Witolum Pedes."

"Just call me Wee. Everyone does."

I thought I’d get to see the other Uma Musume from my elementary school here at Tracen, but apparently all of them had gone to regular middle schools, so none of them were at the ceremony. The fact I hadn’t even known that until today showed just how shallow our connections had been—but still, not having anyone to rely on made me uneasy. So meeting King Halo now was incredibly fortunate.

"No, that won’t be necessary, Witolum Pedes. I came here to deliver a declaration of war. In elementary school, I lost to you again and again. Yes, perhaps you are stronger than I am right now. But in the Twinkle Series, I cannot afford to lose. For myself—and for my family line—I will defeat you. I will break through the glass barrier. Prepare yourself."

Striking a pose like that should have looked cool. But for some reason, her hands were trembling slightly, and fear flickered in her eyes. And what exactly did she mean by a declaration of war? Had I done something to offend her? We hadn’t talked much in elementary school, and we’d only just reunited today.

My mind was so busy trying to sort it all out that all I could manage was a simple "Got it." And what was that “glass barrier” supposed to be, anyway?

The day after the entrance ceremony, I finished my first classes lazily and was heading back to the dorm when someone suddenly called out to me as I stepped through the entrance.

"Nice to meet you, Witolum Pedes. I’m Yokoshima. I work as a trainer. Do you have a moment?"

The man who introduced himself as a trainer beckoned to me with a gentle expression. In his other hand, he held two bottles of soda. Curious, I followed him to a bench in the shade of a nearby tree, and he began to speak.

"Sorry to startle you like this. I wanted to talk to you about this matter."

He handed me a sheet of paper. A quick glance told me it was about trainer contracts for students admitted through recommendation.

"It’s not very well-known, so don’t worry if you haven’t heard, but Uma Musume who enter through recommendation are assigned a candidate trainer from the start. The school matches you with someone they believe suits you. Of course, it’s not mandatory—you can decline the contract. You can also compete in the selection races like the other students and choose a different trainer if you’d prefer."

Sure enough, the paper explained the school’s recommendation and included detailed notes. I hadn’t known about this system at all, but the idea that I wouldn’t have to participate in selection races sounded nice. When I checked the recommended trainer section, it listed Yokoshima.

"So that means—"

"Exactly. I’m your trainer candidate. When the recommendation was made, I reviewed all the races you’d run. Your talent is incredible. Without a doubt, you’re top-tier, and your form is exceptionally clean."

"Y-yes."

"You’ll learn race strategy and pace distribution as you practice. But the problem… is your legs."

"Excuse me?"

"Witolum Pedes, you’re fast. No—too fast. Your speed far exceeds what your body and running mechanics should be capable of. The school concluded that if your legs continue to endure training and racing at this rate, they will inevitably break in the near future. That’s why I was selected—because I specialize in leg protection. I take pride in this area, so leave your leg care entirely to me."

Yokoshima’s words hit me like a shockwave. I’d known injuries were common for Uma Musume, but apparently my legs were in far worse condition than I’d ever realized. I’d never had them professionally checked, but after every race I always felt a deep fatigue. I’d simply ignored it, and the accumulated stress must have built up significantly. He continued explaining with more technical terminology—how force was distributed through each motion of my stride, how my bones and muscles moved in detail. It was astonishing that all of this could be analyzed so clearly with just a single tablet.

After about thirty minutes of discussion, I agreed to a trainer contract with him. Honestly, I hadn’t cared much who my trainer was as long as they were kind, but if the school recommended someone, that was more than good enough for me.

"As your trainer, I look forward to working with you, Wee."

When he said that and gently patted my head, it actually felt… surprisingly good.