Chapter 3: Stand Firm! Training Begins

“So this is the trainer’s office?”

The day after signing my contract, I visited Trainer Yokoshima’s room. Since I’m the only student he’s in charge of, the room isn’t particularly large, but it’s more than enough for the two of us.

What’s truly wonderful is that there’s space for personal belongings. The dorm rooms are so small that even if I brought my manga and games, a single shelf would fill up instantly. And here, I can hook things up to a TV and play on a big screen.

While I was busy imagining a grand plan to remodel the trainer’s office…

“Not bad, right? The trainer who used this room before me moved to a bigger one, and he left behind his TV and mini-fridge. If you’ve got anything you want to store, that shelf over there is open—feel free to use it.”

A very welcome offer. I’ll go home later and grab all the game consoles I couldn’t bring to the dorm.

On the wall next to the fridge hung a giant calendar—one that showed the entire year, not just a single month.

“Oh, that’s to make the race and training schedule easy to see. Of course, your official debut is next year, so we still have more than a year to go. No races until then.”

He explained after noticing me staring at it.

Training, huh… I don’t mind the racing itself—it’s not even five minutes of running—but training is another story. Hours of continuous exercise? Those might be some of the most terrifying words in existence.

Even in elementary school P.E., I spent most of my energy figuring out how to slack off without getting caught. So this is pure horror for me.

The documents we received yesterday said that training with an instructor was part of the curriculum.

But that’s for Uma Musume who don’t have a personal trainer. In my case, Trainer Yokoshima decides my entire program. Combined with after-school training, everything depends on my negotiations with him.

And despite my internal dread, the trainer kept speaking cheerfully.

“About the races you’ll be entering—do you have anything in mind, Wee? As your trainer, I’ll do my best to grant whatever you hope for.”

“Uh…”

Ugh. Even if he asks out of nowhere, I have no idea.

I know the names of big races—like the Derby and the Arima Kinen—but if he asks me why I want to aim for one, or what my dream is, I can’t answer that.

“Well, we still don’t know your full distance aptitude yet, so there’s no rush. Data from elementary school isn’t reliable for… obvious reasons. But with your talent, you can aim for any race you want. So don’t hesitate to choose whatever you like!”

Hmm. Honestly, as long as I produce results that don’t embarrass my recommendation slot, I don’t have much attachment to any specific race.

But since he says anything is fine, then there’s one—one very important thing I want.

And that is…

“…I’d rather not travel far.”

“Travel? You mean, you don’t want to race overseas?”

“No—I mean races that can’t be done as a day trip. If possible, I’d like to avoid races in the Kansai region. Traveling puts too much strain on the body…”

Think about it. Races usually happen on weekends.

That means the day before or the day after, I have school like normal. So either I travel home immediately after the race, or I race after going to classes and then travel. Those are the only options.

Honestly? Please spare me.

Once a year, maybe—maybe—it’s tolerable. But doing that multiple times in a single year? No thank you. I’d rather run three times at Tokyo Racecourse with no travel than once with travel.

“…All right. If that’s your wish, then it’s my job as your trainer to make it happen.”

“Thank you. For the rest, I’ll leave everything to you.”

When I think about it, having a trainer is an incredible luxury.

Choosing which races to enter, which races you need to win to qualify for another race—that whole roadmap. I only half-listened when he explained the routes, but apparently age, distance, and course category all require different strategies.

After being swept up in his passionate briefing, we settled on aiming for middle-range distances—mostly mile to mid-distance races in Tokyo. And that meant our big target race would be the Derby.

Even I know how impressive the Derby is. If I can run there, that should be more than enough to justify my recommendation slot. My parents would definitely be thrilled.

※

By the third day, I’d gotten completely used to the Tracen Academy uniform. I’d always avoided one-piece dresses because they made me too aware of being a girl, but surprisingly, this one was comfortable. Well, maybe it’s comfortable because there isn’t much… volume anywhere on my body.

After zoning out through classes, I went home after school, gathered my consoles, a few games, and some controllers. My mom was shocked I suddenly returned, but when I told her I’d been assigned a trainer the day after enrolling, she was delighted.

…Of course, once she realized I was taking my game systems out of the house, she had plenty to say about that.

※

“I was thinking we could start training today… but first, why don’t you go change into your tracksuit?”

When I headed to the trainer’s office, he immediately pointed out that I was still in my school uniform. Oh, right—during training, we’re supposed to change into tracksuits. Since I normally never exercise, all these basic steps tend to slip my mind.

Still… training, huh. Feeling gloomy, I began to change when—

“Witolum Pedes!!! Ah— um…”

The trainer quickly turned his face away and pointed toward the door. Ah, right… things like this are a hassle too. I hurried to the locker room, finished changing, and returned to the room.

“Alright, so about today’s training… but before that, there’s one thing I need you to follow. If you feel any fatigue or pain, I want you to tell me immediately. No matter what, if you feel either of those, we’ll stop training right away.”

“Yes!”

What a wonderful trainer he is. My gloominess from earlier cleared up in an instant. As expected of my trainer—only two days together, and he already understands the optimal answer. In other words: if I get tired, I can stop. What better training could possibly exist?

With my face practically glowing at this revelation, the trainer began writing today’s menu. They were all strange strings of kanji and kana—unfamiliar, or perhaps something my brain simply refused to process—but that didn’t matter. After all, I’d definitely get tired after the first one or two anyway.

Following the trainer’s lead, I went outside toward the track field. The grounds were lined with courses of all sizes, the pride of Tracen Academy, and here and there many horse girls were already hard at work. Under the bright April sun, they pushed themselves, sweating as they raced one another. Yup—if nothing else, it was clear this was not the place I belonged.

After finishing some light stretching—while being shocked at just how flexible my body was—the next step was apparently a light run. At the trainer’s signal, I took off along the inner rail.

When was the last time I ran like this? The wind cutting against me was much stronger than any cheap fan, yet the heat of my body from exercising still won out.

I tried not to think about how smoothly my arms and legs moved on their own and instead wandered into a philosophical question: in this modern age full of transportation options—from cars to motorcycles, trains to airplanes—why does a sport based solely on running even exist? Just as I was grappling with that paradox, I finally saw the trainer up ahead.

Slowing down bit by bit, I approached him. His expression shifted from stunned to immediately concerned. I had no idea what he was surprised about, but first, I needed to report something far more serious.

“Trainer, my legs feel a little tired. Is it okay if we end today’s training around here?”

As soon as I said that, he immediately agreed—of course. Training ended just like that. However, he also decided that when we got back to the trainer’s office, he would give me a massage. Naturally, I had no objections whatsoever. After being freed from exercise, there’s nothing more wonderful than playing games while getting a massage. If only I had a cola or a soda—that would make it perfect. From now on, I should definitely keep some stocked in the trainer office’s fridge.

※

And so, with the exact opposite mood from when I’d headed out to train, I practically skipped my way back to the trainer’s office.