Chapter 32: Heaven and Summer

The voting results showed that the Tenno Sho (Autumn) had slightly more support than the Kikuka Sho. After reviewing the numbers and summarizing the results in my own way, it turned out that only 20% of people thought I should skip the Tenno Sho (Autumn) and run in the Kikuka Sho instead, while a full 70% wanted me to enter the Tenno Sho (Autumn).
Yup—clearly, I’m a genius.

With this noble banner raised high, I strode confidently into the trainer’s room… and this time, everything went well. Apparently, the part where I said I wanted to enter the Tenno Sho (Autumn) really hit the mark. Since the Kikuka Sho is held the week after the Tenno Sho (Autumn), it seems it’s impossible to compete in both.

After that, Trainer-san drifted off into some philosophical monologue I couldn’t understand at all. I just kept nodding, and for some reason he ended up with this look of solemn determination.

I have no idea what he resolved himself to do, but—

"As long as Wee runs in the races she wants to run, that’s all that matters. Any race she doesn’t want to run—even if it’s a Triple Crown race—she doesn’t have to. It’s my job as the trainer to plan the training that suits whatever race she aims for."

I managed to get that statement out of him. Honestly, I don’t need the whole "I’ll plan the training" part. If he just pampered me in the trainer’s room, that would be more than enough.

Also, maybe the media interviews have finally calmed down, because he’s been totally absorbed in filling up this suspicious notebook titled New Training Methods day and night. He writes in it while peeking at my games or flipping through manga, so I’m pretty sure he’s jotting down something weird.

It’s probably a setting bible for some fanfiction he’s secretly writing. Labeling it “Training” is such a flimsy trick—he must think I’ll be too scared to open it.

Well, out of mercy, I’ll refrain from looking at his cringe-history notebook.

A month passes quickly when you’re a NEET.

Once July arrived, everyone in the academy left for their summer training camps. Some went to southern beaches, others to cool highlands, and some even to uninhabited islands—the destinations really varied. But regardless of where they went, apparently they still trained.

Wouldn’t it be easier to just stay at Tracen Academy? Traveling sounds like such a hassle.

By the way, Trainer-san also tried to send me to a summer training camp, but I convinced him to drop that idea. Sure, Hokkaido is cool, but a perfectly air-conditioned room is cooler.

The only ones who skipped training camp besides me were the race-obsessed Uma Musume who had recently become strangely resolute. Some even ran races two weeks in a row.

As for me—my days were devoted entirely to blissful laziness.

I sleep, eat, and occasionally get a massage. The rest of the time, I spend playing my favorite games.

What a truly wonderful life.

When I wake up, the sun is already high in the sky; at night, the moonlight and my blue-light screen illuminate my face. If it rains, I play games. If it’s sunny, I lower the AC temperature by one degree.

A philosopher once said that when nothing worth writing down happens, that is when the world is truly at peace. Times of spectacle and excitement only arise through countless sacrifices.

In other words, this uneventful month is the best time of my entire life. Surely you can see that this is the proper way for a true cultured person to spend her days.

These blessed days, however, began to dim once August arrived.

My nearly two-month stretch since the Derby—stress-free and training-free—was coming to an end. It seemed preparations for the autumn races required training to resume soon.

To reduce stress on the legs, I was told we’d be starting with either stamina training in the pool or power training in the gym. After about a full minute of struggling with the decision, I chose power.

This turned out to be a bit of a mistake.

Training involved smashing roof tiles, mysterious boards, or sometimes even watermelons. Aside from the watermelon splattering way too much, I didn’t really hate the training itself.

Maybe Trainer-san is starting to understand my tastes, because he somehow procured tiles and boards decorated with enemy characters from games. Pulverizing all those annoying mobs—the ones that keep pestering you on the road yet give miserable experience—was extremely satisfying.

But while my training was within acceptable limits, everything around it became a problem.

The gymnasium is a shared space, so naturally, other Uma Musume train in the areas I’m not using.

And because my training involves breaking tiles, it makes a considerable amount of noise.

At first, I was breaking the tiles properly, but controlling the force was tricky. They often didn’t break cleanly, so eventually I switched to punching straight through to the bottom. The impact sound from that is incomparable to a clean break—and sometimes I accidentally strike the metal plate placed underneath to protect the floor, occasionally shattering it.

Because of that, I constantly get death-glares from the Uma Musume training nearby, irritated by the massive noise I make in the shared gym. Even those who were originally working out with intense focus become visibly rougher and more aggressive, clearly annoyed by my noise.

The other day, one girl even leaped up and grabbed the basketball hoop, bending it out of shape. That was some serious power.

Since I was getting sick of that grim and cutthroat training environment, the second half of August shifted to pool training instead.

It seemed Trainer-san had put quite a bit of thought into this as well. Instead of simply swimming, the training involved collecting floating balls and throwing them at targets mounted on the wall.

At first, the idea was to throw them at Trainer-san himself, but after three throws, he quickly switched to the “wall target” system.

Well, that wall-target method was also banned when one of my wildly uncontrolled throws ended up cracking a window. Fortunately, that happened to be the final day of pool training, so we got away with it.

Once September arrived, the next race—the Keisei Hai Autumn Handicap—was drawing closer.

But apparently… this race caused quite an unexpected uproar.

I didn’t understand all the details, but supposedly, entering this race meant I needed to wear heavier horseshoes. Seriously? People are so bored that they’ll turn that into a hot topic? No doubt it’s just manufactured conversation fodder for people who desperately want to chat but have nothing in their heads worth saying.

Trainer-san said there was nothing for me to worry about, so it was probably fine…

When King-chan and Sei-chan returned from summer camp, they were shocked and a little exasperated. El-chan found it hilarious. And from Grass-chan, I received something that was probably meant to be encouragement—she smiled sweetly and whispered in my ear:
"If you lose, I won’t forgive you."

Meanwhile, Spe-chan looked kind of confused, so she’s likely on my side.

Since I’d be running with heavier horseshoes, training was switched over to heavier equipment as well.

I’d worn similar suspicious gear in earlier training, so it wasn’t exactly new, but maybe I’d grown—because the discomfort this time was noticeably smaller. Actually, with this amount of weight, it felt easier to push off the ground properly, making it almost more comfortable to run.

According to Trainer-san’s analysis, maybe because my base body weight is light, my leg angles become too shallow when kicking off the ground, causing my strides to slip slightly. Using heavier horseshoes apparently increases the efficiency with which my legs grip the surface.

Well, if that’s the case, then fine.

Still, why are races always so complicated?

Wouldn’t it be easier if we just used the same rules every time?

It’s not like there’s soccer where the size of the goal keeps changing, or baseball where the weight of the ball changes every game.