Chapter 37: Toward the shining dream of the future.

The morning after the Mainichi Okan, the moment I stepped into the classroom, everyone’s eyes immediately fixed on me. I blinked in confusion, wondering what was going on, when King-chan strode over.

She looked me over from head to toe, slow and deliberate, then let out a small sigh. After a brief pause, she suddenly wrapped her arms around me.

"Suzuka-san may have lost to you, but as expected of my rival."

She whispered it right beside my ear, in a tone so gentle it felt like she was trying to lull me to sleep.

I guess beating Suzuka-san really was that surprising.

But what worried me more was how off Grass-chan seemed. I really hope she didn’t hurt her leg again like last time. Maybe because of that, El-chan also seemed a bit less energetic than usual.

Stay-senpai praised me a lot for winning against Suzuka-san. According to her, Suzuka-san has this fragile aura—like if she ever lost the one she’s competing with, she’d just vanish into thin air.

I don’t really get it, but Suzuka-san does feel a little ephemeral. Though honestly, what I worry about more is her wandering off somewhere, getting lost, and never finding her way back.

Everyone was excited about me entering the Tenno Sho (Autumn) too. According to Stay-senpai:

"It’s a perfect chance to knock down Suzuka, you, and Bright all at once."

She said it with a grin while fiddling with her slightly oversized Rubik’s cube—the one she still has no intention of solving.

As for the Rubik’s cube she gave me for my birthday this year, I gave up after an hour and left it on my desk. But every now and then, I notice another side has been completed. It stayed stuck at four sides all summer, so I’d really like to see it reach five soon.

Once the Mainichi Okan ended—or rather, even during it—Tokyo Racecourse was already drenched in Tenno Sho (Autumn) excitement. Even people who don’t know much about racing can tell the Tenno Sho is something special.

Apparently, on the day of the Tenno Sho, so many people gather that the racecourse practically overflows. Funny, considering fewer than twenty people actually race.

As for that Tenno Sho, my trainer seemed extremely busy. They were discussing all sorts of things with the chairwoman and the student council president. I guess a big race comes with a lot of responsibilities.

Speaking of recent rumors, I’ve been hearing bits and pieces about some girls retiring from the Twinkle Series. Tracen Academy is basically a combined middle-and-high school system, so not everyone dedicates their whole life to racing. Choosing this time of year as a turning point makes sense.

Still, how does one even retire from racing? I don’t remember being taught the procedure.

I did some research, and it turns out that Uma Musume who have won a G1 race often retire with something called a “Last Run,” unless they retire due to injury. But I couldn’t figure out what actually makes a Last Run, so I decided to ask my trainer.

"Trainer, how do you do a Last Run?"

I asked directly. At first, they said it was still way too early for me to think about that, but then admitted that sometimes it’s good to race with the end in mind, and started explaining Last Runs.

They said something that sounded like an old proverb, but apparently, if you win the Arima Kinen with a record time, that counts as a Last Run. There are other methods too, but the Arima Kinen is the best option.

A “record,” it turns out, means running faster than any Uma Musume who has ever run that race before. When the race screen shows an R, that’s when it happens. I think I’ve seen that before, but I always assumed it just meant “nice job” or something. Now that I think about it, this was on a test question once.

And come to think of it, when I watched the Arima Kinen a while back, I remember the announcer calling it “the final grand race.”

So I looked up the Arima Kinen record, and it was 2:30.6 by an Uma Musume named Daisangen. Apparently, MacQueen-san placed second in that race. I didn’t know she ran the Arima Kinen.

Then I checked last year’s Arima Kinen—the winning time was 2:34.8. Nearly four seconds slower than the record.

Meaning, to set a record last year, you’d have needed to run almost four seconds faster than the winner. Uma Musume run roughly 100 meters in six seconds, so four seconds would put you about half that distance—or more—ahead of first place.

Hmm… is a Last Run really something this harsh?

But I’m not a fool. I’m an Uma Musume who understands long-term gains and losses.

With the right training, an Uma Musume can run far faster than before. In racing games, if you modify only your own car to run faster, that’s cheating. But in Uma Musume races, getting faster through training isn’t a violation at all.

You could practically call it a loophole cheat.

When you think about it like that, being a trainer is basically like teaching someone how to cheat in a normal game. What a strange profession.

Still, the training I’m doing now connects me to a hopeful future.

For now, I’ll sleep well tonight and tell my trainer tomorrow that I wouldn’t mind doing a little extra training.

Starting the next day, my training turned surprisingly fun. Or rather, my trainer prepared fun things for me to do.

Before I ever had the chance to get bored, something new would pop up one after another. Honestly, it was impressive.

My recent favorite is hitting rubber balls shot from pitching machines with a bat. Five machines shoot them at different speeds, and it really feels like it sharpens my reflexes.

The only downside is that even though they’re just rubber balls, my trainer makes me wear full protective gear “because it’s dangerous if you get hit.” Putting it all on is such a pain.

And then there’s that ridiculously huge tire—apparently a famous Tracen Academy landmark—abandoned in a clearing at the far end of the school grounds. When I tried pulling it, I was surprised I could actually move it.

The problem is that if I don’t think carefully about which direction I drag it, it gets caught on rocks. The rope is also shaped weirdly and hard to grip. It fits nicely around my waist, but when I try dragging the tire while moving, it gets insanely in the way.

Well, at least it feels like this will make me stronger.

One thing I’ve noticed is that my trainer comes alive during training, and honestly, their teaching is really good. But I also overheard them sighing to themselves, mumbling something like, “But how do I raise her guts and intelligence…?”

It sounded like they were treating me like a cowardly idiot. Rude.

Also, lately my trainer has refused every external interview request and stayed glued to my training full-time. So aside from sleeping and being in class, I’m with my trainer almost constantly.

Speaking of which, I found something interesting in a newspaper lying near my napping spot the other day.

It had a huge headline saying I wouldn’t be running in the Kikuka Sho.

It was so stupid—and the text so tiny—that I tossed it without reading further. Still, making news out of not entering a race is an impressive kind of creativity.

Maybe they prepared an article assuming I would enter and published it anyway, or maybe there was simply nothing else to report. Either way, the fact that something so silly becomes news just means the world is peaceful, and that’s wonderful.

The other day my mom asked me about the race too, but my dad immediately said something like, “The most important thing is that she runs the races she likes,” and she dropped the subject.

Honestly, being told to “run the races you like” is kind of troubling. I just nodded along randomly.