Chapter 7: Can you hear my singing voice?

March: the season of crappy games.

Which is why the Trainer tilts his head when I claim the smart way to buy games is to get them now, a month before release season hits. He probably wants to say something like, “How about training instead?”

Lately—maybe because he’s slowly realizing I’ve been slacking off—I can feel his growing determination to ramp up my program.

Up until just after last year’s mock race with King-chan and the others, he used to treat me like I was made of glass.

Was it because I got lazy and kept pretending to be exhausted after every lap? Or because he saw me doing that parallel-run Bonum visum thing with Suzuka-san?

Now he’s forcing mysterious upgrades on me: heavier horseshoes, tire-pulling, and other gimmicks supposedly to replace his usual errands. Sometimes he even suggests sketchy training like boxing, swimming, or running on dusty dirt courses.

Changing horseshoes doesn’t take long, so that’s fine. But swimming takes forever because of changing clothes; dirt is, well, dirty; and I have no idea what boxing even is—except that it involves getting punched—so that’s a hard pass. As for tire-pulling… yeah, I tried it once out of curiosity, got way more tired than expected, and immediately swore it off.

And since he figures out exactly how much load and fatigue I’m hiding during the post-training massage-and-condition check, I’m losing this battle badly.

Today too, while thinking about which game to play after training, I head to the Trainer’s office—only to find him staring down a whiteboard and a computer. Normally he’d be setting up some suspicious training equipment, so I call out to him.

“Trainer? What’s wrong?”

He must’ve been really focused; he didn’t notice me until I spoke. Startled, he turns and says:

“Oh, actually, I’m trying to finalize your race plan. You wanted Tokyo or Nakayama, so I’m sorting through those and thinking things over.”

A jolt goes through my brain.

Come to think of it, how many races do Uma Musume usually run?

Races are mostly on weekends, but surely they don’t race both Saturday and Sunday. Everyone talks about the big, flashy G1 races, but I’ve never heard what they enter besides those.

Maybe they run a warm-up race the day before? Or even on the morning of the big race?

Talking with King-chan and Spe-chan is basically like discussing the finals of a national championship. And I vaguely remember in class that there were qualifiers—something-Trials—before those.

There was a pyramid diagram with “OP” and “3-win” written on it, so maybe you go through five or six qualifiers before reaching a major race. That would be a ton of races.

But wait—pro soccer players can’t play every day, right? Though pro baseball players do. What about track-and-field athletes? The Olympics seem short; do they run every day?

Either way, I need to avoid a black-company-level club schedule. First objective: avoid racing both weekend days. Second: if possible, avoid racing two weeks in a row. Even as a recommended student, I should have at least that much human rights.

My proud—white? Black?—brain cells calculate all this instantly. I really don’t want a Saturday–Sunday back-to-back. Unless I get Monday off afterward… In that case, I’d totally race.

“T-Trainer…”

“Oui? What is it?”

I put on my cutest, most charming face as he turns to me gently.

“There’s… one more thing I’d like to ask. Um… I’d really prefer not to have races on both Saturday and Sunday.”

He replies quickly, looking surprised.

“Both days? You mean a race the day after a race? Of course not. I’d never make you do that. Don’t worry.”

Okay, I can push a little more.

“And also… if possible, I’d like the week after I race to be a rest week.”

“Of course. The week you race, and the week after, we’ll rest—including training—to take care of your legs.”

Rest from training…? Does that mean I get to skip two whole weeks of training for every race?

Isn’t that amazing!? Long live the white-company club life!!

If racing once buys me two weeks of laziness, I’ll run anytime. Training effort is impossible to measure anyway, but if I race a lot, the Chairman will be happy and my recommendation status will look good.

“Could it be… you prefer racing over training?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

?? Strange question. I don’t think anyone prefers practice over the real thing.

“I see. Then let’s plan your debut race for September 6th at Nakayama. Is that okay?”

“Yes!”

“Good. We’ll discuss what comes after that later. Although… I hate to bring this up while you’re in such a good mood… but I heard from the trainers of Silence Suzuka and Special Week that you’re scared of the Winning Live.”

“Eh.”

I can perfectly imagine Spe-chan innocently telling him that. I should’ve bribed her to keep quiet.

“I figured if you were practicing properly in class, we could start the serious prep about a month beforehand. But apparently, Wee, you’ve been skipping the Winning Live classes, saying you were practicing with your Trainer instead.”

Uh-oh. When I moved up a grade, part of training shifted to Winning Live practice, and I completely ignored it.

“Um, well, that’s, uh—”

And so, cornered by the discount ticket, I was dragged into a nearby karaoke shop by my tyrannical trainer.

BLAZE A TRAIL~! REACH OUT! TO THE GOOOAL~!

Even I had to admit my voice sounded beautiful. It was classic phrasing, but it truly was a bell-like singing voice. I knew what my speaking voice sounded like, of course, but hearing it as a song felt ethereal and otherworldly.

I want to see~ a shining future~ with you~!

As a warm-up, I was handed the mic as “Make Debut!” started playing. I’d never been someone who particularly liked singing, but singing with a beautiful voice was more thrilling than I’d expected. Maybe the reason I’d never enjoyed karaoke before was my old voice.

You can even make~ the goddess of victory fall for you~!
A special~ tomorrow is waiting~!
Make debut~!

I hate dancing, but just singing isn’t bad at all. Getting into the mood, I stood up without thinking and kept singing.

I’ll take that first step! The world is always open to you~!

I guess this is what they call a Umamusume’s instinct. I must be a natural-born idol.

Someday we’ll laugh~ Aiming for the very best~! Courage~!
I believe~!
All the way~ to our dream~!

I’d never gotten a high karaoke score before, but I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d cracked 95 points. Clinging to that hope, I stared at the screen.

Da-ta-ta ta-ta-ta-taa!

With a cheerful sound effect, the displayed score was 81.

Feeling unconvinced, I looked at my trainer.

“Maybe you should try singing with a little more restraint, Wee.”

That’s what she said.

According to her, the beginning was perfect—pitch, modulation, everything. But in an extremely gentle, cautious tone, she explained that the moment I stood up and started singing, both pitch and rhythm fell apart completely.

It seems that when my own will takes over, the natural-born idol retreats, and the tone-deaf element I was supposedly reborn with resurfaces.

After that, feeling somewhat deflated, I sang “Winning the Soul” and “Yume wo Kakeru,” both of which earned extremely high praise—from my trainer and the karaoke machine.