Chapter 122: I must trust them as well… otherwise it would be discourteous.

Mihono Bourbon, one of the Uma Musume under my care, hails from a rural area in Kyushu—far south of the Training Center, beyond the length of Honshu. There is a regional Training Center in Kyushu where my older brother works, but her hometown lies even farther beyond that.

It’s the kind of countryside where modest houses sit among fields and rice paddies—not packed tightly together, but scattered generously across the land. If I had to describe it, I’d say it’s a place where paved concrete roads and dirt-packed paths exist in roughly equal measure. That alone should give a fair picture of the environment.

In the gradually warming air hangs a thick, almost choking scent of soil and grass. The green of the surrounding mountains—something I rarely saw after coming to the Central region—lies washed in a pale haze, and the clear air feels good against the skin.

There are far more slopes here than flat ground. The terrain is uneven and awkward to traverse, but perhaps ideal for strengthening one’s legs, if nothing else.

It’s a quiet place where time flows gently and warmly—somehow familiar, as if stirring a sense of déjà vu.

…So this is where Mihono Bourbon was born and raised.

The emotions welling up inside me were different from when I visited Hoshino Wilm’s cool, solemn hometown. This place felt happier—almost moving—yet complicated all the same.

…That said, for me, this scenery is actually pretty familiar.

"For those unaccustomed to it, walking here may be somewhat difficult. Please watch your step and be mindful of the uneven ground."

From the airport, we took a train and then walked for quite a while. Before long, the pavement grew rough, and even the drainage covers began to rattle underfoot.

From Bourbon’s perspective, she was probably just being considerate by pointing that out. But there’s really no need to worry.

After all, I’m not one of those “unaccustomed” people. I grew up in places like this.

"No problem. I grew up in the Kyushu countryside too, and my house was up in the mountains. I’m used to roads like this."

"I see. New information acquired. Saving to archive."

"Well, it’s not really something worth memorizing, though."

I gave a wry smile at Bourbon’s earnestness and turned my gaze back to the scenery—unfamiliar, yet somehow deeply familiar at the same time.

That feeling of being close to abundant, living nature. I thought I might lose it after coming to the Central region, but it turns out you never really forget the sense of your hometown.

…That said.

Given the circumstances, I can’t afford to stay relaxed forever.

"Alright, Bourbon. Let’s go over today’s purpose again…"

"Yes."

Walking beside me, she gave a single nod before speaking.

"I would like you to formally greet my parents."

---

Bourbon’s family home was a small, single-story house.

…No, wait. That’s not quite right.

If I dig up my increasingly faded memories from my previous life, this place is actually on the larger side for a typical household. My sense of scale has just been warped by spending too much time around distinguished families. That’s not great—something I need to be careful about.

From what I heard not long ago, Bourbon’s father used to be a regional trainer himself. Compared to the Central region, the position may not carry quite the same prestige, but Uma Musume trainers are still specialized, well-paid professionals. Financially speaking, her family should be doing just fine.

Standing in front of the house, I took a small, quiet breath—careful not to let Bourbon notice.

…Yeah. There’s no avoiding the nerves here.

I was nervous when I visited Will’s parents’ graves too, but back then I was still wearing the mask of “Horino the Trainer.” I don’t think the tension hit quite this hard.

The second time… thinking back on it, maybe it was because I was with Will that I didn’t feel as anxious.

More importantly, Will’s parents had already passed away, so that “greeting” was really just a report at their graves.

Come to think of it, this is my first time ever meeting the parents of an Uma Musume I’m responsible for.

No wonder I’m tense. It’s a first.

I don’t need to be liked at all costs, but I do need to make sure I’m not disrespectful. With that thought in mind, I steeled myself once more.

"Master."

"Yeah."

I nodded back as Bourbon looked at me, then she knocked on the front door three times in a precise, steady rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Yes, just a moment please."

The reply came immediately—a voice that sounded like it belonged to a middle-aged man. After a short wait, the door unlocked, and a man appeared before us.

"…It’s been a while, Bourbon."

"Yes. It’s been a long time, Father."

He was Mihono Bourbon’s father.

My first impression upon seeing him was simple: he reminded me of my own father.

It’s not as though we’re related by blood, and it’s not like they look alike—though I wouldn’t say they’re complete opposites either. My father had relatively softer facial features, whereas Bourbon’s father’s features were more sharply defined. Compared to my father, he was also a bit slighter in build… though, considering average Japanese height, it might just be that my father is unusually tall.

There were plenty of other small differences too. Visually speaking, they were clearly different people.

And yet…

There was something about his presence that felt similar.

Strict with himself and with others. Always dignified and stern. But beneath that, awkwardly kind at heart.

In that sense, he felt a little like my father.

Perhaps because he reminded me of someone I knew well, the tension I’d been holding began to ease. Without forcing myself, I was able to speak calmly.

"Hello. My name is Ayumu Horino. I’m the trainer currently responsible for Mihono Bourbon."

Maintaining his stern expression, he looked me over briefly, as if appraising me, then gave a single nod.

"Welcome. Thank you for always taking care of Bourbon."

His manner was polite and formal—impeccable, even. Still, I could tell he was directing a fair amount of caution my way.

Well, that’s only natural.

This was the first time he’d properly spoken with me. From his perspective, his precious daughter was being entrusted to someone whose background he barely knew.

My hope for today was to deepen our mutual understanding through conversation, to build even a little trust and sense of solidarity. Ideally, I wanted to earn his confidence.

Whether my approach would sit well with him, however, remained to be seen.

"Please, come inside. …Bourbon, show your trainer the way."

"Yes. Master, please follow me."

Leaving me with the feeling of stepping onto a battlefield as a trainer, Bourbon entered her family home with slightly more energy than usual.

She normally doesn’t show much emotion—or rather, her emotional fluctuations aren’t very pronounced—but being able to see her parents again after so long must have made her happy.

Seeing this rare, age-appropriate side of her, I felt my cheeks relax into a small smile.

Honestly, I get it.

When I went home last year and saw my father for the first time in a while, I was pretty happy too.

The house you grow up in inevitably becomes special. Familiar furniture. Walls marked with well-known scratches. A cup that fits your hand just right. Flavors you remember.

Wrapped in all of that is an absolute safe zone—a place where you can’t help but let your guard down.

Even Bourbon, who usually seems so mechanical and composed, must have a home like that.

A family waiting for her here.

…If only I could prepare a place like that for her as well.

---

Now then.

Shown into the sitting room, I took a seat beside Bourbon and faced her father across from us. He looked at me with a stern expression, likely trying to judge whether I was a trainer worthy of his beloved daughter.

To him, Mihono Bourbon was not first and foremost a promising racer or an elite Uma Musume.

She was his daughter.

That was precisely why he couldn’t allow just anyone to act as her guardian at the Central Training Center.

If he decided I wasn’t someone worthy of trust… then, in the worst case, it could even affect my work as Bourbon’s trainer going forward.

…Even so, what I needed to do didn’t change.

I wouldn’t put on airs.

I would be myself.

I am the trainer of Hoshino Wilm and Mihono Bourbon—the one who guides them, the one they place their full trust in. For someone like me to doubt my own methods or wear a façade in front of others would, in a sense, be a betrayal of them.

What I must do is always give my best, and have confidence in my approach and its results. I need to be able to say, with pride, that the Uma Musume I’ve trained are in the best possible condition.

That’s why I mustn’t belittle myself or deny the way I do things—if only for their sake.

…All of that was borrowed straight from a lecture I received from Masa some time ago.

Back then, the idea never even crossed my mind. But once she said it, it made perfect sense. Lately, I’ve been trying to put her advice into practice, feeling a bit embarrassed about how slow I was to realize it.

That said, confidence is built on accumulated success. Someone like me—lacking in talent and prone to stumbling—can’t acquire it overnight.

That’s something I’ll just have to keep working toward.

If I keep giving my all for my girls, and if they continue to win safely… maybe one day I’ll be able to have confidence in myself too.

…Honestly, Masa always thinks things through so well and points out things I never notice. Technically speaking, I should have over a year and a half more experience as a trainer than she does, but even so, I still end up learning from her.

It’s probably a testament to how capable she is—and how clumsy I am.

So with that in mind, I’ve forbidden myself from putting on a false image as a trainer in front of others.

That hasn’t changed, even now, as I sit face to face with the father of the Uma Musume I’m responsible for.

Maintaining a good relationship with an Uma Musume’s guardians is certainly important. From that perspective, flattering him or playing to his mood might be one possible option.

…but I can’t afford to get my priorities wrong.

What matters most to me is the Uma Musume herself.

If it would amount to betraying them, then putting on a façade is unforgivable—even if the person in front of me is their father. Even if there’s a risk I might be disliked.

All I can do is give my utmost, in my own way, with sincerity.

So, with that in mind—

"Once again, thank you very much for inviting me today. Please accept this."

I bowed toward Bourbon’s father seated across from me and offered the gift I’d brought.

Above all else, courtesy comes first.

Courtesy is a declaration that we share common ground—that we are capable of speaking, understanding, and reaching mutual recognition. Without it, conversation itself cannot exist.

And this time especially, my counterpart was the father of an Uma Musume under my care.

I am entrusted with his precious only daughter.

In both words and actions, I must show respect.

"Thank you for your consideration."

Bourbon’s father responded in kind, his manner just as polite and formal. I’d like to think he felt the same way—but more likely, his caution as a parent evaluating the person entrusted with his daughter simply ran deeper.

As that thought crossed my mind, he briefly glanced at Bourbon seated beside him. Then he turned back to me and began to speak.

"So then—how has Bourbon been lately?"

"In terms of training, I believe Mihono Bourbon has been working extremely hard. As someone who has been a trainer yourself, you’re likely already aware, but she has a very receptive constitution when it comes to external stimuli. Combined with her strong self-discipline, her abilities are currently improving at a steady pace."

I added, “Here are the data,” and handed over the documents I’d prepared in advance.

They covered just under a year of Bourbon’s progress since we signed our contract. Of course, presenting her raw status values outright would have been far too suspicious. Instead, I compiled her times and distances. Alongside those, I included various datasets that had once been half-forgotten in the Horino household, reorganized and arranged for easy comparison.

At a glance, the conclusion was obvious.

Bourbon’s growth rate was exceptional.

As mentioned earlier, this was likely the result of both her innate growth potential and her proactive attitude toward training.

Bourbon’s father flipped through the pages in silence for several minutes.

Then—his hand twitched, and stopped.

Judging by the page count, he had reached data from several months ago.

"She certainly has improved rapidly, but… the middle to long distances are still—"

"Yes. Compared to her mile performance, it’s true that her growth in that area was somewhat slower."

Mihono Bourbon is undoubtedly an exceptional runner. But no matter how gifted one may be, there are limits—aptitude, or rather, the wall imposed by bloodline.

Her mother isn’t here today, but I’ve heard she, too, was a racing Uma Musume. She competed on a regional circuit, primarily in short-distance to mile races. In other words, her natural aptitude leaned toward sprinting.

As her daughter, Bourbon inherited that tendency.

Which means—strictly speaking—middle and long distances are not her natural domain.

If Bourbon hadn’t dreamed of the Classic Triple Crown, I would have recommended a path better suited to her strengths without hesitation. Not the Triple Crown, but perhaps the Triple Tiara—or even setting aside the three-crown races entirely to focus on events like the Sprinters Stakes or the Mile Championship.

Choosing the stage where an Uma Musume can shine brightest is also part of a trainer’s job.

But in reality, we chose a different path.

The path of the Classic Triple Crown—one where there was no guarantee Bourbon could succeed.

Perhaps he was questioning that decision even now. Bourbon’s father narrowed his eyes slightly and looked straight at me.

"Trainer Horino… what do you think of Bourbon’s goal of achieving the Triple Crown?"

…I couldn’t help but smile wryly inside.

That was a difficult question.

It was one without a correct answer—much like asking what the “right” way to be a trainer is. If I said I supported Bourbon’s goal, that meant forcing her into hardship and strain. If I said I didn’t, that meant disregarding the will of the Uma Musume I was responsible for.

No matter how I answered, some negative aspect was unavoidable.

…Let me reaffirm this.

From here on, I wouldn’t lie about my way of doing things. I wouldn’t belittle or disguise my approach, my decisions, or the future I was aiming for.

At the same time, I wanted—no, I needed—to earn this man’s trust as much as possible. At the very least, I had to avoid the outcome where he decided I was unfit to be a trainer.

That was the destination.

And the route to get there… was mostly laid out already.

I closed my eyes once, ran through the simulation in my head, then spoke my true feelings.

"To state my position first, as a matter of personal policy, I place the wishes of the Uma Musume I’m responsible for above all else. I believe a trainer’s role is to support the dreams each of them holds—to prepare, pave, and maintain a realistic path toward achieving those dreams, and to put them in a condition where they can run it."

It was a philosophy similar to the one I held back when I was still ‘Horino the Trainer.’ Back then, I believed a trainer should discard the self and devote everything to their Uma Musume.

I don’t hold such an extreme view anymore.

Even so, I still want the feelings my girls carry to be fulfilled.

The Twinkle Series is a radiant stage longed for by tens of thousands of Uma Musume across the country. In any given race they wish to win, only one out of eighteen can claim victory.

And those brutally intense battles—where weather, track conditions, and the lineup all align—can only be experienced once in a lifetime.

"The winner’s single drop of sweat, and the losers’ tears like a sea—that is what makes the Twinkle Series shine."

My father’s words from that day still echoed in my ears, and they were never a lie.

Seventeen losers are born for every one winner. And the chance to run the same race never comes again.

This is a cruel world.

…So at the very least, I want to grant their childhood dreams and hopes as much as I possibly can. Even in this cruel world, as far as my hands can reach, I want as many Uma Musume as possible to keep smiling.

Distorted or selfish as it may be, that is one hope I’ve been able to hold onto.

It’s Horino Ayumu’s new philosophy—my new ideal.

"I see. So because it is Bourbon’s wish, you resolved to walk the path toward the Classic Triple Crown together."

"No. That’s not all."

Sensing a note of understanding in his voice, I slowly shook my head.

Put that way, it sounded as though I intended to martyr myself for her wish alone. I had no intention of doing that.

"You haven’t looked through the final pages of the materials yet, have you? Please—see Mihono Bourbon’s results on the track through to the very end."

"…Very well. Please excuse me."

With that, he lowered his gaze to the documents once more.

…

And a few minutes later, his dignified, narrowed eyes widened—just slightly.

"…This is…"

The data recorded there were Mihono Bourbon’s running metrics from the past month alone.

And what those numbers signified was—

"Mihono Bourbon has already overcome her concerns regarding middle-distance aptitude. At the very least, up to a distance of 2,499 meters, she will no longer be at a disadvantage."

That’s right.

To my eyes—eyes shaped by this so-called “app reincarnation”—it had been clearly visible.

About a month ago, Mihono Bourbon’s middle-distance aptitude had risen from B to A.

As a direct result, her training times had begun to shrink—sharply, and visibly so.

She herself described the sensation as “gears finally meshing together inside me,” or “like oil being poured onto rusted gears that hadn’t been able to turn.” Most likely, by repeatedly running distances classified as middle-distance, she had accumulated an internal sense of pacing at that range. Once that accumulation crossed a certain threshold, she advanced to the next stage—or so one could reasonably infer.

In any case, Mihono Bourbon’s middle-distance aptitude had reached A—a value generally considered the highest, setting aside Wilm’s exceptional case. With this, it was fair to say that the greatest potential causes of defeat in the Satsuki Sho and the Japan Derby had been eliminated.

All that remained was to refine her various stats, address her tendency to overaccelerate, explore the deployment of her Domain… and, while doing so, raise her long-distance aptitude in preparation for the Kikuka Sho.

If she cleared those hurdles, victory would be right in sight.

This was no pipe dream by any means.

Mihono Bourbon’s achievement of the Classic Triple Crown was far more realistic than the public believed.

"…I see. Just like with Hoshino Wilm, you enabled Bourbon to overcome the wall of bloodline. From your perspective, Bourbon’s dream is well within the realm of possibility—is that correct?"

At her father’s words, I quietly shook my head.

"No. As I said earlier, all I did was lay down the road. The one who actually ran that harsh, painful path was her—and the strength of will that drove her forward."

This wasn’t false modesty.

It was true that I had devised what I believed to be the most effective training plan possible for her growth—one that I was confident would improve her aptitude.

However, that plan was critically lacking in consideration for her mental well-being.

"I will exercise my ‘reward right.’ Please make my training plan as demanding as possible. If it’s for achieving the Classic Triple Crown, I will endure any level of hardship."

Those were words Bourbon herself spoke to me right after the Begonia Stakes last November.

She had predicted that achieving the Classic Triple Crown would require extraordinarily harsh training. And for the sake of realizing that dream, she would endure anything. She said it with her usual expressionless face—but with unmistakable resolve shining in her eyes.

That, she said, was her wish.

What Mihono Bourbon truly wanted.

Once she said that, there was no room left to argue right or wrong.

I followed her words and assembled an extremely high-load training menu—right up to the brink of causing injury. Something approaching even Hoshino Wilm’s regimen. Something no ordinary Uma Musume could endure.

To minimize strain on her legs, I increased the frequency of pool training to build stamina. I had her run the slopes she was already accustomed to multiple times a day, and even imposed light exercise at night—when she should have been resting. To prevent information leaks, I reduced her workload during joint training sessions. In fact, those sessions were nearly the only times she could give her legs any rest at all.

I forced her into days that could only be described as hellish.

To raise distance aptitude—which even Silence Suzuka could only improve once every two years—by a full rank in under a year required training that severe.

I trusted that she could withstand that burden. And telling myself it was “just in case,” I even prepared a contingency plan…

But in the end, Mihono Bourbon completed the entire program flawlessly.

She never once complained about the severity of the training, nor did she ever lose form because of it.

At last, she surpassed the wall of her own limits.

"She has overcome her concerns about stamina and her lack of aptitude. Her will—to realize the dream she once saw with her father—pushed her physical limits even higher. That is why I believe her Triple Crown is not a fantasy, but something that can, and will, be achieved."

"Bourbon…"

He looked at the Bourbon seated beside him, eyes filled with surprise.

But Bourbon shook her head.

"Master, I would like to make one correction."

"Hm? Is there a difference in interpretation?"

Honestly, I was a little nervous asking that, wondering what she might say.

But she placed a hand over her chest, her eyes reflecting clear trust as she spoke to me.

"The Classic Triple Crown is a dream I once shared with my father, and at the same time, it is a goal I now pursue together with my master. I recognize that I am running while bearing the expectations of both my father and my master. Therefore, a more accurate expression would be: ‘I made my efforts for the dream I shared with my father, and for the goal I strive toward with my master.’"

I heard her say that—and without meaning to, I froze.

She was saying she was running for her goal alongside the father she revered… and alongside me.

Honestly, I had never imagined that Bourbon trusted me enough to place me on the same level as her own father.

If this were Wilm, I could still understand it. Her relationship with her now-deceased parents had been strained, and deep down, she unconsciously sought to be loved by someone. That compensatory desire turning toward me—the older man who happened to be closest to her—was, whether acceptable or not, at least understandable.

But Mihono Bourbon has no such emotional margin.

Right now, she is sincerely facing the Classic Triple Crown. It’s safe to say that the mental resources she devotes to anything else are kept to an absolute minimum.

And what I’ve done for her amounts to nothing more than what any trainer should do: drafting training plans, managing her condition, replenishing consumables, listening to her concerns about running.

That’s all.

I never thought that would be enough for a Bourbon whose mind is completely occupied by the Triple Crown to place trust in me comparable to that given to her own father.

If anything, considering how harsh the training has been, it wouldn’t have been strange if she’d disliked me instead.

"Bourbon… you really do trust him, don’t you?"

As if voicing my thoughts for me, Bourbon’s father asked.

In response, Bourbon gave a small nod and spoke.

"The trainers who have previously been responsible for me, and the few friends I have… all of them wished that it would happen, but none of them truly believed, from the bottom of their hearts, that I could achieve the Classic Triple Crown. Even Hoshino Wilm-senpai said that while the Satsuki Sho and the Japan Derby might be possible, she couldn’t say anything about the Kikuka Sho…"

…Perhaps that is the normal reaction.

Mihono Bourbon, viewed objectively, is not suited for long-distance races. As her bloodline indicates, she is a horse girl built for sprint and mile distances.

And even setting aptitude aside, the Classic Triple Crown is never an easy path.

In the long history of the Twinkle Series, only five have achieved it—including Hoshino Wilm. That alone speaks to how severe the road is.

Certainly, the wall standing in the way of her Triple Crown is high. Finding it hard to believe is not unreasonable.

And yet—

"However, Master created a realistic plan—within the range of what is possible for me—and laid out a path to victory in the Kikuka Sho. Because he believed that I could complete that demanding training, and that at its end, I could win the Kikuka Sho."

If it’s Mihono Bourbon—if it’s her, with her wonderfully supple body and her overwhelmingly strong spirit… if it’s my trainee, who showed me the finest run imaginable at that Spring Stakes—then she can do it.

She can claim the Classic Triple Crown.

No—she can even claim an undefeated Triple Crown, second only to Wilm.

I learned this at the Takarazuka Kinen.

A trainer’s job is to support their horse girl—to pave the road and make it easier to run on—and then to believe in the one who runs that road, and wait.

That’s why, even if it’s difficult… even if it’s an almost unbelievable wall… even if fate itself seems to deny it…

I believe in her achieving the Classic Triple Crown.

"And I was once taught by my father that trust should be repaid with trust. Therefore, I judged that I should trust the Master who believes in me."

"…I see."

Bourbon’s father, seated across from us, considered her words for a few seconds, then nodded. He turned his gaze to me and spoke.

"Trainer Horino. What is Bourbon to you?"

It was a deeply ambiguous question—and not an easy one to answer.

…But if the person asking was a former trainer, someone who had sincerely faced horse girls, then answering this way should convey how I feel.

"To me, she is…"

In a sense, it was an obvious answer—merely stating a plain fact.

And yet, for us, it was a single designation that surely carried great meaning.

"Mihono Bourbon is my trainee horse girl."

---

After that final exchange, Bourbon’s father’s attitude toward me seemed to soften—if only slightly. Maybe I earned a bit of his trust. I’d like to think so.

With that, as we talked about Bourbon’s life at the academy, the horse girls she gets along with, theories of training, and whether grit-based approaches are valid, noon arrived in the blink of an eye.

We ended up staying for lunch.

And as dishes prepared by her mother—who had been away—were set out on the table, Bourbon suddenly spoke.

"I have something I would like to ask both Father and Master."

…Somehow, I sensed her true intention in those words.

To begin with, why invite me to her family home now, right before the Satsuki Sho? If it were only to introduce her contracted trainer to her parents, January or February would have been sufficient. It didn’t need to be immediately before such an important race.

So most likely, the reason she used her “reward right” at this timing was that some issue had arisen—something she couldn’t resolve on her own.

And if her words were to be believed, she wanted to consult the two people she trusted most about it.

She probably wanted to clear that lingering concern before the Satsuki Sho.

Seeking an answer from her respected father, a former trainer—and from me, her “Master,” whom she trusts.

So I straightened my posture, resolved to face her question sincerely.

"How can I learn to enjoy running?"

It was a question so very like her—yet so profoundly difficult—that I found myself at a loss for words.