Chapter 10: New Year’s All-You-Can-Eat Wanko Soba Tournament

One quiet afternoon.
The tapping of my keyboard echoed through the Trainer’s Room at Tracen Academy.

What I was doing was data collection.
The upcoming Yayoi Sho, and then the Satsuki Sho beyond it—I was pulling every piece of information I could find on the potential entrants: lap times, final three-furlong splits, recorded race footage, anything that might matter.

…By the way, today is a full national holiday, and I’m not getting paid for any of this. In other words, classic unpaid overtime. Actually, no—this isn’t even overtime. It’s unpaid holiday work? Ahaha, whatever.

Tazuna-san scolded me for it, but apparently a lot of trainers give up their days off to work, so she still handed me the key pretty easily.
The defeated look on her face stuck with me.

That said, gathering numbers and typing them in nonstop is more than a little tedious.
If all I needed was data on the strongest Uma Musume, this would be easy—but relying solely on that would get us blindsided sooner or later.

It’s not unusual for a seemingly unimpressive runner to pull off a major upset, and the whole race dynamic can shift drastically depending on how the pack moves.

So I gather information on every Uma Musume who might enter the Satsuki Sho. I save every official race video. Even rumors matter.

If I don’t go that far, I can’t guide my own runner to victory.

…Well, that’s also about the only thing I can do, though.

“Hmm… mmm…”

Ugh, my eyes are getting fuzzy. The heater’s running, the room is warm, and I feel like I could yawn at any moment.

If I could just flop onto a clean, fluffy bed right now… man, that would feel incredible. Not that it’s happening.

…Nope. Yeah, I’m done. My concentration is gone.

For a change of pace, I skim over the data I’ve already organized.

The list of names slated for the Satsuki Sho.
Among them, the one that inevitably catches my eye…

“Yeah… the one we really need to watch out for is… Teio, no surprise.”

Tokai Teio.

Anyone who’s played the app—more specifically, anyone who’s tried raising Nature—knows exactly how terrifying she is.

She’s basically a forced early-game encounter: high stats, stacked skills, a built-in “you’re supposed to lose here” vibe.

Once you’ve collected strong support cards and gotten used to training, you can beat her… but even then, it’s unreliable.

The way she uses her absurd flexibility to effortlessly slip through the pack and unleash that insane final sprint—honestly, it was scary.

If I remember right, her Unique was one of those “super high speed” types. As long as it activated, it was extremely strong. …Probably. I’m going off memory.

She was a powerhouse in my previous life’s app, but in this world she’s every bit as strong—no, strong enough that I’m grateful the app had balancing to keep things fair.

Her record so far: two starts, two wins.
A four-length victory in her debut, then a two-length win in an open-class race.

Just looking at the numbers, you could argue she’s a slightly weaker version of Hoshino Wilm…

But the issue is that Teio wasn’t even trying in those races.

I’ve been keeping tabs on her, and for some reason, she’s been training half-heartedly.

She’s never lost a race before, so she’s gotten complacent… or rather, she genuinely believes, “If I enter a race, I win.”

It’s typical for undefeated local-prodigy-type Uma Musume, but in her case, she actually has the talent to make that mindset reality.

Blessed lineage, perfect environment, and raw talent.

Tokai Teio had all of it. She was insanely popular even before debuting.
Every time she entered a mock race, trainers would swarm her… and she brushed most of them off without hesitation.

“I’m going to win no matter what. It doesn’t matter who trains me.”

She had the power to say that without it being empty arrogance.

So naturally, the common belief among trainers was that this generation belonged solely to Tokai Teio.
Some even said her goal—the Classic Triple Crown—wouldn’t be difficult for her.

…But then, in June of her junior year, the situation changed.

A sudden dark horse—Hoshino Wilm—appeared and turned the generation from a one-horse era into a two-horse rivalry.

And the finishing blow was the performance she gave right after her debut race.

She tapped her feet in place, pointed upward with a challenging glare—
…Apparently she just “came up with it on the spot,” but the public interpreted it as a direct challenge to Teio.

At first, Teio’s camp didn’t think much of it.
But when Hoshino Wilm went on to win a G1 by a massive margin, they finally started seeing her as a real rival.

Four months remain until the Satsuki Sho.
Now that Teio has found someone who can genuinely compete with her, her growth may skyrocket.

I feel bad for that budding talent of hers, but honestly, I’d prefer she stayed dormant for a while longer.

…And personally, if possible, I don’t want to clash with Teio.

Her bratty attitude in the app was fun to watch, and she was one of my favorites—though I never managed to pull her.

But if she enters the Satsuki Sho, either Hoshino Wilm or Teio will be forced to kneel.

Just imagining that makes me feel awful.

Of course, as her contracted trainer, I’m going to train and support my runner.

…But I still like Teio. Her personality, her ability—everything.

I don’t want her to lose. I don’t want either of them to lose.

Yeah, I know. It’s a selfish wish…

“Trainer, preparations are complete.”

A voice called through the door, pulling my head up.

I glanced at the clock on the wall—it was already mid-afternoon. The time I had agreed on with her.

“Got it. Let’s go. Give me a moment.”

Honestly, I had hit my limit with data entry anyway, so this was perfect timing.

Save, close… done.

A big yawn almost slipped out, and I swallowed it down at the last second.

…Seriously, me? Being this careless? My own trainee is literally on the other side of the door.

Lately, I’ve been letting my guard down around Hoshino Wilm.
Maybe it’s the relief of clearing the G1, or the lack of any “new year” tension… or maybe—

That night—the night she cleared the Hopeful Stakes.
When I patted her head, I felt… something.

Hoshino Wilm is usually expressionless. Her ears and tail hardly move, and her emotions rarely show on the surface. When she smiles once in a while, it feels purely impulsive…
That was my assessment of her.

But back then, she was… how should I put it…

She had an expression I couldn’t describe: like a young, innocent child, yet also like a composed, mature woman.

Maybe… and I really mean maybe…
Hoshino Wilm isn’t emotionless.

Maybe her emotions just don’t show up.
Or maybe she’s choosing not to show them…

And if that’s the case—if she’s wearing a mask just like I am—then why?
And why has she recently begun showing me glimpses beneath that mask…?

I still don’t know.
The girl named Hoshino Wilm is complex and mysterious. She isn’t someone I can understand overnight.

…But.
I’ll understand her someday.
I’m her trainer, after all.

With that thought set aside, I lightly slapped my cheeks to reset my focus and opened my mouth.

“All right, that’s it. Let’s go.”

I shut down the computer and stood up.

Today was January 3rd.
The day I was going to the first shrine visit of the year with Hoshino Wilm.

It feels silly to explain something so obvious, but…
Hatsumōde is a New Year’s ritual.
People visit shrines or temples—the places where gods reside in Japan—to express gratitude for safely making it through the past year and to pray for safety in the coming one. It’s a national custom.

And as the saying goes, Do your best and leave the rest to fate.
For those of us whose work is deeply entwined with luck, events like this are no joke.

Which is why Hatsumōde is a major event at Tracen Academy.
Even those who aren’t devout still go, and pray for success in the races.

I’m no exception.
If attending boosts Wilm’s chance of finishing the year uninjured by even 1%, then I’ll keep showing up every year.

So on January 1st—after exchanging New Year’s greetings with her—I asked, “I’ll be going to Hatsumōde the day after tomorrow. What about you?”

Her answer was: “May I accompany you as well?”

…Wait, wasn’t going together supposed to be a senior-year event?

“Well, you’ve bundled up, right? Make sure you don’t catch a cold.”

“I feel a little guilty using your precious free time for something like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. This is part of a trainer’s job.”

“…It is? Truly?”

Accompanying your trainee to Hatsumōde is just as important a task as daily training.
Source: the app-version trainer. No matter which Uma Musume you trained, you always went to Hatsumōde. So I’m certain it’s correct.

It’s not mentioned anywhere in the trainer manuals or contract documents, but it must be one of those unspoken rules.

I’d like to think I’m not dense enough to miss something that obvious.

“Still, I’m surprised at how many people are heading to the shrine.”

“Yeah. Especially around Tracen. Apparently fans come to pray for the victory of their favorite Uma Musume.”

“I see… so it is for one’s ‘oshi’. Understood.”

“Oh? So you know what an ‘oshi’ is. Didn’t expect that, honestly.”

“………… I met someone recently who said I was their oshi.”

“During your early-morning run, I take it? Hm. We should be grateful for the local supporters.”

Talking like that, we walked toward a nearby shrine under the cloudy winter sky.

A grown man and a middle-school girl walking side by side in the afternoon would be suspicious anywhere else, but around Tracen it wasn’t unusual.
People we passed saw her ears and my trainer badge, understood the situation instantly, and politely avoided staring too much.

…Well, we still got some attention—but that was simply because of Hoshino Wilm’s rising fame.

Uma Musume racing isn’t just nationally beloved—it’s globally dominant entertainment.
Of course, Japan is no different. The Classic Triple Crown is a nationwide event.

In that world, she’s known as one of “the two prodigies” of her generation—the exceptionally strong pair everyone is talking about.

She wore a deep navy coat, fake glasses, and a hole-patterned newsboy cap as a light disguise, but even so, she’s one of the most famous figures in Japan right now.

Of course people recognized her. Of course they looked.
That’s the price of fame—and after everything we’ve accomplished, it’s something we simply have to accept.

…Well, she doesn’t seem to be thinking about me at all—it’s just me being self-conscious. In my previous life I was just an ordinary office worker; I can’t help but worry about how people look at me…

This world has, in addition to Japan’s eight million gods, three other deities.
The so-called Three Goddesses—mysterious beings said to be the progenitors who guide the Uma Musume.

As a former app player, my image of them is mostly tied to the “inheritance event.” But in reality, they’re widely worshipped here. The general idea is that they grant good relationships, good health, and victory. Uma Musume, trainers, and especially devoted fans apparently pray to them nonstop.

There’s even a statue of them on campus, and one of Tracen Academy’s Seven Wonders claims that if you pray there, you’ll occasionally be granted a mysterious blessing.

…Isn’t that just factor inheritance? Could she get Mid-distance S with this? Thinking that, I once had Hoshino Wilm visit it, but unfortunately nothing happened.
Maybe the timing is limited, or maybe certain conditions are required. Currently under investigation.

…Anyway, back to the main point.

I’m a trainer, and Hoshino Wilm is an Uma Musume. Naturally, the place to pray is obvious. So we headed to the shrine near Tracen where the Three Goddesses are enshrined…

“…It’s more crowded than I expected.”

“Yeah. I didn’t think it’d be this bad either.”

January 3rd—the last day of the New Year festivities. I figured the crowds would thin out a bit by now, but clearly I was wrong.

The place was absolutely packed to bursting with people and Uma Musume.

Well, this is the closest shrine to Tracen. Of course the visitors would be plenty… Guess I underestimated it a little.

“…We’re supposed to line up for this, right?”

“We’re lining up. …Bear with it. Consider this part of your guts training.”

Hoshino Wilm’s ears drooped just a little.

For a training junkie like her, waiting in a line this long is probably torture.
After all, a crowded space means a tiny personal bubble—meaning no room for squats or sit-ups.

…On the flip side, if there were space, she’d actually start doing them without caring about the stares. That part of her is terrifying. Mostly in terms of public decency.

“Running races isn’t the only part of your life. It’s a long-term matter, but you should learn to get used to a little boredom.”

“…That may be true.”

She still didn’t look convinced.

It’s easy to forget, but she’s still a first-year middle-school girl. There’s only so much you can suppress your feelings with logic.

…No, the old her wouldn’t have shown even this much dissatisfaction. She used to follow orders with a blank expression—and often ignored them anyway.

This little display of “I’m not happy about this” might actually be a first. Maybe she’s gotten a little more comfortable around me. If so, that’s the highest honor a trainer could ask for.

“Then we’ll count this time as rest. When we get home, I’ll assign extra training to make up for it—so make sure you rest properly now.”

“Understood. I’ll rest.”

…So she is a bit mercenary after all.

After killing about an hour playing word-chain, we finally reached the offering box.

I’m used to waiting, so I was fine, but Hoshino Wilm looked slightly drained—she’d been suppressing her urge to do self-training while being jostled around in the crowd.
Well, “drained” for her still meant a blank face—her motivation had simply dropped from “Excellent” to “Good.”

Maybe she’s not great with crowds. Something to keep in mind.

“…Um, the procedure is…”

“Offer the coin, ring the bell, then two bows, two claps, one bow.”

“You’re very knowledgeable.”

“I looked it up earlier.”

Among modern Uma Musume, it isn’t unusual for some of them to skip New Year shrine visits—at least among the undeclared ones.

As for me—Horino’s family was a bit old-fashioned, so I used to go every year. But I never really believed in gods or Buddha; I just went through the motions.

…But once I started training Hoshino Wilm, I found myself wanting to rely on anything that might bring good luck.

So this year, I’m here to do the whole ritual properly.

“How much should we offer?”

“Five yen is standard. ‘For good ties,’ and all that.”

“Understood. …Trainer, you’re offering five yen as well.”

“Something funny about that?”

“…I pictured you casually tossing in a thousand or ten thousand yen, assuming it was part of your job.”

“It’s bad manners to put paper bills in the offering box. Even I wouldn’t—
…Wait. Oh, you mean it that way. Don’t worry—I’ve already submitted a separate 500,000-yen prayer fee. The Three Goddesses should keep you safe this year.”

“…Five… hundred… thousand… yen…”
Hoshino Wilm murmured faintly.

Maybe because she’s from a humble background, or maybe because she no longer has parents, she’s surprisingly frugal—or rather, extremely tight with money.
Seeing someone casually toss half a million yen into a prayer of questionable effectiveness must be a cultural shock for her.

As for me, I simply consider it returning a portion of the money we earned thanks to the blessings the Three Goddesses granted Hoshino Wilm.

There’s no direct prize money in races, but revenue from tickets and merchandise returns, in part, to the Uma Musume. A portion of that then flows to the trainer.
And when your runner wins a G1 race, her popularity skyrockets, and merch sales explode.

As a result, trainers sometimes receive staggering bonuses at irregular intervals.

Honestly, we’re basically being carried by our athletes.
If I were stingy even with prayers, the Three Goddesses themselves would probably be disappointed in me.

Now then—ring the bell, two bows, two claps, one bow. I closed my eyes and gave thanks for having safely made it through last year, and prayed we could make it safely through the coming one.

I don’t pray for Hoshino Wilm to win.
I only pray that she can run through this Classic season safely and without regret.

And also… that before she someday becomes an undefeated Triple Crown champion and an absolute legend, she can learn to genuinely enjoy running.

“…I’m finished.”

“Good. I’m done as well. There’s a saying that wishes won’t come true if you tell someone, so keep quiet about yours.
Alright, let’s go. Since we’re here, let’s draw a fortune slip too.”

“Yes. …I won’t lose, even in a fortune slip.”

She lets out a small, amused smile.

Lately, Hoshino Wilm loves turning anything into a competition.
Her natural competitiveness—the one you glimpse in races—seems to have finally started targeting me too.

Honestly, the thought of her aiming that icy, murderous aura at me is a little scary…
But apparently that “cold” expression only surfaces when she’s racing another Uma Musume, so for now, my peaceful life remains intact.

Compared to last year, when our conversations were purely businesslike, it feels like we’re much closer now.
I’ll keep to myself how happy that makes me—such emotions aren’t something a trainer like Horino should show.

The omikuji results: Hoshino Wilm got Excellent Luck, and I got Slight Luck.
…Yeah, well, no surprise there. There’s no beating someone riding a winning streak like hers.

“Well then, I’ll go begin my training.”

“Stick to what’s written in the schedule. And if you feel anything strange, contact me immediately. Break the rules and it’s three days of no self-training.”

“Understood. Excuse me.”

Apparently she’d reached her limit; Hoshino Wilm practically bounced her way out of the shrine grounds.

All that was left was to buy amulets before heading home, but the line at the shrine office was pretty long. When I saw her ears flatten a bit at the sight, I decided to set her free.

I’d already written out her training rules and schedule in a notebook and handed it to her, so she shouldn’t overdo it.

…Shouldn’t.

…Probably.

…………She’ll be fine, right?

“…I should get home quickly. This is dangerous.”

Now then, which amulets should I buy?

Victory prayers are a given. Then health, warding off misfortune, longevity, and travel safety considering the long-distance trips…

Well, I’ll just buy every good-luck charm money can get. If it improves Hoshino Wilm’s fortune even slightly, it’s worth it.

“…Hm?”

While standing in line, I noticed a commotion.

This shrine has a back entrance in addition to the main one, and it looks like something is happening over there.

And not a small thing either—crowds of onlookers were packed so tightly I couldn’t see inside.

It didn’t feel like a fight. And on a celebratory day like this, I doubted the area’s security had collapsed enough for a brawl.

So maybe an accident or an incident…?
Or just some idiots getting overexcited—though the voices sounded more cheerful than rowdy.

Some kind of event? At a shrine? …No, it was outside the grounds, so maybe one of the food stalls was doing something?

That was where my thoughts were headed… until a certain voice blasted them all away.

“Just as expected of Japan’s General Champion, Special Week! What an incredible late surge!”

…Why is Spe-chan HERE!?