Chapter 123: Run, Wilm

Wilm was furious.

She resolved that she absolutely must capture that Trainer’s heart.

Wilm does not understand romance. She is a Central Uma Musume. She has lived her life running across turf, polishing herself alongside rivals. But when it comes to sensing the signs of NTR, she is exceptionally perceptive.

And so, late that night, Wilm slipped out of the dormitory, passed the dorm head and security, and made her way to the Trainer’s office about 500 meters away.

Wilm has no father, no mother. At present, she has no husband either. Of course, she also has no shy younger sister, so for all practical purposes, she is alone in the world. Honestly, it’s a little lonely.

However, Wilm fully intends to one day welcome a certain earnest Trainer at Tracen Academy as her groom. …N-no, isn’t “groom” a bit too soon? For now, boyfriend… maybe? Someone important? Let’s settle on that for today.

In any case, for that reason, Wilm has been spending her days indirectly confirming their mutual trust and feelings through everyday exchanges, living with quiet satisfaction.

Now then, Wilm has an adorable junior: Mihono Bourbon. She is currently a racing Uma Musume at Tracen Academy under Ayumu-san’s guidance.

Wilm and that junior are very close. During training, Wilm would teach her things like start dashes and cornering techniques, and in return Bourbon-chan would share advice on maintaining pace. …Well, to be fair, much of it came down to instinct for both of them, so whether it was truly instructional is debatable.

Outside of training, they would grab light meals together, and Wilm would listen to Bourbon-chan’s worries about navigating friendships—apparently she has been making more friends lately. They are close enough to share all of that.

Naturally, communication with her adorable junior was frequent. Bourbon-chan’s reactions were always straightforward, simple, and cute—something Wilm looked forward to very much.

However, as the days passed, Wilm began to suspect the relationship between her Trainer and Bourbon-chan. Not that there was anything particularly strange, exactly.

After all, Ayumu-san was practically already hers—there was no question about that—and yet… somehow, it didn’t feel like just the trust of a trainer-trainee relationship. Bourbon-chan’s feminine charm felt oddly threatening.

Even carefree Wilm was starting to feel uneasy.

(omitted)

Thus, being a simple Uma Musume, the moment she received word that Ayumu-san had returned, she dashed straight to the Trainer’s office in whatever she was wearing, determined not to let Bourbon-chan close the gap any further. Thud-thud-thud.

---

That’s the gist of it.

In short, it was time for a little intervention. In anime terms, this would be where they insert a swimsuit episode.

Of course, the bond between Ayumu-san and me is unquestionably unbreakable. I saved him, and he saved me. We have been together a long time—partners who understand each other without words. For someone like me, who has neither family nor guardian, he is the closest and most trustworthy person in this world.

But if “the bond cultivated over long years together” were truly an absolute advantage, then all childhood-friend heroines in the world would be top-tier, undefeated champions. The fact that they are so often labeled “losing heroines” proves that this is no time for complacency.

And so, I slipped out of the dorm and hurried briskly to the Trainer’s office.

Steadying my breath—ragged from nerves, excitement, and slight fatigue—I knocked on the door. From the other side came a familiar voice.

"Come in."

Just that alone nearly made my cheeks melt with relief. I steeled myself and pushed the door open.

Inside was—just as expected—Ayumu-san alone.

He had apparently spent the day away from Central Tracen, greeting Bourbon-chan’s parents. Now he was tapping away at his keyboard, hard at work. Tap-tap-tap.

Seeing no sign of her, it seemed Masa-san had already left. Or perhaps she had taken her work back to her own room. The other day she mentioned she had been insanely busy since the Osaka Hai.

Naturally, Bourbon-chan wasn’t here either—she had a full day off today.

At this moment, Ayumu-san was alone in the Trainer’s office.

Heh heh heh… just as planned.

…No, that’s a lie. This was completely impulsive, and I simply got lucky.

Ayumu-san looked up at me with visible surprise. Of course he would—I hadn’t made an appointment.

"…Wilm?"

"Good evening… um, I ended up coming."

"You ended up coming… It’s well past the dorm curfew."

He stopped typing and looked at me with a wry smile. He scolded me for breaking curfew, but… he didn’t seem bothered by my visit.

Honestly, I felt relieved.

Since around February, my work as an Uma Musume had calmed down. But after winning the Osaka Hai, it surged again. That meant not only Masa-san but Ayumu-san had more work as well.

Part of me worried that whatever he was doing now might be overwhelmingly urgent, and that my visit would be a nuisance.

…Though knowing him, he would probably prioritize me over most jobs. If I said, "May I have some of your time?" he might even drop important work on the spot.

…Now that I think about it, that’s a little worrying. Is that really okay?

"Um, do you have time right now? If it’s urgent, I can come back."

"It’s fine. What I’m doing isn’t that urgent."

"What are you working on?"

"Managing your rivals’ growth rates in Excel while watching overseas race footage."

"Ooh, overseas? That’s interesting. Any strong candidates for this year’s Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe?"

"Well… like last year, it feels a bit underwhelming. No real dark horse yet. The top candidate for now would be Witch Evening—the one you and McQueen ground down at last year’s Japan Cup. But she seems to have lost form this year."

Witch Evening… ah, the chestnut girl. The French Uma Musume who claims she can use magic and has a slightly narcissistic streak.

Honestly, during that Japan Cup, I was so focused on the highly motivated McQueen-san that the others barely registered.

Apparently she is highly regarded by both Ayumu-san and the public. Perhaps she is considered a powerhouse back in France.

But if she has lost form… I hope she’s okay. Even if we aren’t close, hearing that someone you once raced against is struggling makes you worry.

"Did something happen? During the Japan Cup, she seemed mentally fine, if not in her running."

"I suspect being ruthlessly crushed by you two took its toll."

"…Ah."

Back then… yes. McQueen-san and I pushed an incredibly fast pace together.

European turf is said to be deeper and more demanding, requiring greater power. As a result, their race tempo tends to be heavier. Japanese turf is easier to run on, leading to faster races.

So our pace was likely much quicker than what the European runners were used to—especially competing with McQueen-senpai, who excels at wearing others down with a relentless tempo.

For overseas runners unfamiliar with Japan’s high-speed races or my front-running style, that Japan Cup may have been especially harsh. Trying to keep up naturally drains stamina. Without fundamentally adjusting one’s running style to suit Japan, it can disrupt your rhythm entirely.

And narcissistic types tend to thrive while they are winning—but a defeat that shatters their confidence can trap them in a downward spiral.

Perhaps Witch Evening fell into that spiral.

I can’t say I feel no guilt, but that was the result of the race. I hope she accepts it, overcomes it, and grows stronger. After all, next time we meet, it will be on her home turf.

"…Wait, that’s not the point!"

I shook my head briskly and pulled the conversation back.

We can talk about that tomorrow.

Right now, I need to say something that can only be said one-on-one with Ayumu-san—something that requires this momentum.

"I actually came because I have something to ask. May I have some of your time?"

"Of course. I’ll make as much time as you need."

"Hehe… By the way, what if Bourbon-chan asked you the same thing?"

"I’d make time for her as well."

"Muuuu."

So no favoritism, huh.

Ayumu-san isn’t the type to mix personal feelings into work. He wouldn’t treat his trainees differently based on affection.

Still… just a little…

I fell for him because he’s like that—and yet part of me still wants to be favored. It’s a complicated maiden’s heart.

But that’s precisely why I came today.

"Then I’ll get straight to the point…"

I placed my hands on his desk and declared:

"I’m exercising my reward privilege. …Let’s go look at furniture for that house!"

---

Truth be told, I don’t have a home to return to. I suppose you could call me homeless. Well—technically I live in the dorm, so perhaps that’s not entirely accurate.

The house in Hokkaido where I once lived was sold along with the land when I entered Tracen. At the time, I couldn’t accept my parents’ deaths and couldn’t bring myself to touch the inheritance. I had mounting scholarship and supply debts. I needed money.

…But looking back, I think I unconsciously wanted to run from the painful past.

Now, I regret it. It feels terribly wasteful.

That house held memories of my parents and me. Painful ones too—my mother’s resentful gaze, my father’s hollow eyes. Those images still linger behind my eyelids.

But there were happy memories as well. Times when, in the warmth of family gatherings, I believed I could become a decent person in this life. Warm, joyful days.

To avoid recalling the painful memories, I had to erase the happy ones too.

From where I stand now, throwing all of that away feels unbearably wasteful.

I looked it up recently—the house has already been demolished. Regret won’t change that.

…Oops, I got a bit sentimental.

The point is simple. For various reasons, I don’t have a home of my own.

And perhaps mindful of that, on February 22—my birthday—Ayumu-san gave me an outrageous present.

A house.

…A house.

And not just a unit in some condominium building—a ridiculously large detached house.

I went to see it once with Ayumu-san. It’s a two-story, 8LDK.

It doesn’t have an outdoor pool or some absurdly massive garden, but it is more than grand enough to be called a mansion.

Seriously—who gives something like that as a birthday present?

Even if he comes from a distinguished family, isn’t his sense of money completely broken?

Or… could it be… that, you know… it’s meant as love?

…Yeah, right. As if it were that convenient.

Ayumu-san has always been someone who gives his all for his trainee.

He has pushed proposals through the board to bring in the latest training equipment. He has paid out of pocket to rent nearby practice grounds. For some reason, he once even bought a massive pile of roof tiles.

So this is probably just another extension of that.

He worried that I don’t have a home to return to—no emotional anchor to stabilize me. So, purely for the sake of his trainee and to ensure her performance is flawless, he did this.

…But really?

Would someone seriously, genuinely, without a single ulterior motive, spend tens or hundreds of millions just to perfect his trainee’s performance?

If so… you’re insane, Ayumu-san.

…Though I do love that overly earnest side of you.

Ugh. They weren’t kidding when they said love makes you weak.

Anyway.

In the end, I turned down that enormous gift—the house.

There were… various reasons.

I panicked at how absurdly large the gift was.

I was overwhelmed by the sincerity of someone I love.

…And, well, there was also just a tiny bit of selfishness mixed in.

As a result—

"Please let me live at your house, Ayumu-san."

…That’s what I said.

Embarrassing beyond belief.

In other words, a promise to live together. Or rather—cohabitation?

Let me live in the house you own and reside in.

And Ayumu-san accepted that request.

Did he just… promise a future with me? Something like that?!

…Ugh, I’m blushing again. My face feels like it’s on fire.

A-anyway!

On my birthday, I was given a house.

I turned it down, so technically it isn’t mine to control…

And yet, even now, Ayumu-san leaves the initiative for that house to me.

But both of us have been busy, so it has remained untouched.

It’s still brand new—completely unfurnished. Just sitting there, empty.

Apparently he’s hired a housekeeper to maintain it, though.

Still, it’s about time we started putting in things like tables, chairs… maybe a bed?

And once we do that… well?

If we’re going to live together, then naturally we need to discuss what furniture we like and what color schemes we prefer. That means going to stores together and choosing things, right?

I’m a racing Uma Musume, currently in the middle of the spring G1 circuit. Maybe I don’t technically have time for romantic comedy antics like this.

But I’m also a teenage girl. These are experiences you can only have at this age. Isn’t that important life experience? Surely it’s fine once in a while.

From Ayumu-san’s perspective as a trainer, this might throw off the training plans he has carefully built.

But that’s what my reward privilege is for. With that, I can push just a little.

That’s what rewards are for, right? Please allow this occasional bit of mischief.

---

And so.

I’m going furniture shopping with Ayumu-san!!

We’ll say things like, "Doesn’t this look nice?" and "Hmm, I’m not sure about the color…" while imagining our future together—spending a sweet, lovey-dovey little slice of time!!

With this, I’ll put a massive lead between me and Bourbon-chan and make sure she can never catch up again!!! Not that she was trying to compete in the first place, but still!

…Or so I once thought.

"Well then, how about this modern shelving unit? Its design is calm and its colors well-balanced. I believe it would bring harmony to the space. Here is the projected layout."

"Hmm… What about the width? I’d like to preserve a bit more walking space, if possible."

"It measures 50 centimeters in depth, 40 in width, and 80 in height. It comes with removable casters, so it can be relocated if necessary."

"I see. …Is it possible to adjust the height? I’d like to add about 20 centimeters."

"Understood. That should not be a problem."

"Thank you. Also… the color may be slightly too subdued for someone her age. Let’s increase the saturation a bit."

"Certainly."

Ayumu-san is discussing furniture—not with me, but with an older gentleman who is clearly an interior coordinator.

And for the record, we are not in some “unbelievably affordable” chain store or home improvement center. This is an office filled with extremely stylish, high-end interior designs.

…This is not what I imagined.

This is not what I imagined at all!!

"Wilm, what do you think?"

"Ah—um, I think it’s good…?"

Honestly, I know nothing about high-end interior design or optimal spatial layout. I can’t keep up with this unexpectedly serious discussion.

I was expecting something like, "Do you prefer light blue or beige?" or "Oh, this pattern is so cute~☆"

This level of intensity was not what I signed up for.

I suppose saying "(Date) I’ll leave the plan to you♡" when I used my reward privilege was my fatal mistake…

Actually, this situation was entirely predictable.

Ayumu-san’s sense of money is broken.

He gave me a house for my birthday.

Or maybe it only feels broken to someone like me with normal standards. Perhaps for a wealthy, distinguished family, this is standard?

…No, that can’t be right.

Masa-san was absolutely furious when he decided to gift me a house.

But when the topic of hiring an interior coordinator came up this time, Masa-san didn’t object at all. She nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe, including custom-ordered furniture, this really is standard practice for a prestigious family.

Once again, the power of a distinguished family is incredible. I can feel the cultural gap.

Can I really keep up with the speed of the world of money?

"Wilm?"

I had spaced out. Or rather, I was stunned.

This is the house I’ll be living in too. I need to pay attention.

"…Huh? Um—what were we talking about again?"

"Are you alright with a double bed?"

"A double bed!?"

"Whoa, that was sudden."

A double!? Not a twin, but a double!?

Which means… that means… that thing, right…? Two people sleeping together, sharing one bed?!

Eh, seriously!? W-wait, that’s so forward—and the interior coordinator is right here!! I’m not even thoroughly disguised today, and with my short, loli-type build to begin with—is this really safe to be overheard!?

N-no, that’s not the point—Ayumu-san… this, this! This counts as an invitation, right!?!?

My head feels like it’s about to boil over. I almost want to bolt. Actually, I’ve already unconsciously lifted myself slightly from the chair.

But… I can’t run away here. If I don’t gather my courage right now, I’ll lose the Derby of love for good!!

"It’s fine!! A double is totally fine! More than welcome!!!"

"You’re energetic today. Well, understood. Let’s decide on the material next…"

"I-I’ll leave that to you, Ayumu-san…! I’m not particularly picky!! Yes!!"

"Oh? Got it. …In that case, for her, we’ll go with this calm white-based frame. And for mine, this one…"

…Wait.

Wasn’t there a phrase in there that I absolutely should not have missed?

"Yes? Mine and yours?"

"Hm? …Well, since we’re at it, I thought I might make use of this house too, in one form or another. Is that not alright?"

"No, that’s more than alright—it was kind of the premise. I’d be troubled if you didn’t use it."

"Ah, good. That’s a relief. I was worried we’d had some miscommunication. Then to restate, the one being moved into my room will be this black one."

"………………???"

No. There really is a miscommunication here.

Wait, we said double, right?

Twin means two separate beds, and double means one bed meant for two people, right?

Two… doubles? A double twin? Turbo mode?

As my eyes spin in confusion, Ayumu-san speaks gently, as if to reassure me.

"Wilm, perhaps we should make it queen size instead? If you’re worried about your sleeping habits, bigger is always better. We can still change the size."

"…No, I understand. It’s about the size, right? I’ll be fine without that much space."

"Understood. Then we’ll go with double."

…Honestly, I figured it out halfway through.

Actually, if I’m being truthful, I knew from the start.

There’s no way Ayumu-san would suddenly suggest something like that.

“Double” simply referred to the bed size. We were ordering two of them—one for each room.

I knew that. Of course I did.

…But still.

Having the ladder yanked out from under me like that?

Yeah.

That stings.

---

And so, what was supposed to be my ultimate trump card—picking out furniture together—progressed without a single sweet moment and ended just as uneventfully.

If anything, I barely offered an opinion at all.

Because, you see, the coordinator had incredible taste.

As expected of someone personally commissioned by Ayumu-san—cool, elegant, harmonized pieces, and highly functional on top of that. Once we gave a general direction, everything came together beautifully without us needing to say much more.

Ayumu-san, for his part, also has a decent sense of style. He understands quality.

Though… there were moments when the coordinator gave a strained little smile and said, "Well… about that…"

Those suggestions were, frankly… ones I would rather he avoid too. Very Ayumu-san, in their own way.

And me? To be blunt, I have no real sense for this sort of thing.

Even in my previous life I wasn’t particularly strong in that area, and after coming into this life I’ve been focused entirely on running—no studying design trends or cultivating aesthetic taste. Naturally, I haven’t developed much of an eye.

So I couldn’t really contribute meaningful proposals or opinions.

As the layout was finalized with brisk efficiency, all I could do was vaguely think, Should I say something? or Wow, this atmosphere is actually really nice or Wait, I’m genuinely starting to look forward to living here, and quietly observe.

In the end, it looks like a wonderful house will come together, so that’s good at least.

"…Hmm."

But the main mission—raising Ayumu-san’s affection level—was a failure.

Well, in this case, my plan was simply too naïve.

Ayumu-san comes from a distinguished family; I’ve always known his sense of money and priorities differ from mine. If I had specified something like, "Let’s choose together at a shop," I could have at least prevented the coordinator—this third wheel—from entering the picture.

Or maybe trying to flirt while selecting furniture was flawed from the start. I treated it like a finishing move, but it lacked impact. Maybe I should have just asked him out on a proper date instead. …Though I have no idea what pretext I would use.

Still, unlike last time when our cohabitation talk ended vaguely, I did manage to secure that promise properly this time. That counts for something.

Even so… it feels like something’s missing.

For the time I spent, and the time he gave me, it feels slightly disappointing.

While thinking that, I looked over the finalized projection the coordinator brought.

And then something caught my eye.

There was a storage room, a guest room, an office-cum-workroom, my room, the room Ayumu-san would apparently use…

And besides those designated spaces, there was one room left conspicuously empty. No furniture placed. Clearly reserved.

"Ayumu-san, what’s this room for?"

When I asked casually, he hesitated for just a moment before answering.

"That’s… partly as a spare, in case something comes up. But its main purpose is for the future… for a family you might have one day."

"A family…?"

That…

That is…

Ah… yeah. I see.

I guess I’m not viewed as a romantic prospect after all.

A family I might have in the future.

Meaning… he assumes I’ll have one—with someone other than him.

I knew that, of course. But the difference in our perspectives still makes my chest ache.

I want to be with him. I want to remain by his side.

But for Ayumu-san, that future doesn’t seem to rank very high.

Still, I can’t force those feelings onto him.

"Ah, I see. Sorry for making you think that far ahead."

I shape a smile.

A perfect smile—one that reveals none of the sadness underneath.

I try to smooth it over, to pretend it doesn’t matter—

But… yes.

We’re long past the point where something like that can truly cover things up.

And yet, we still didn’t know each other well enough.

"…Do you, perhaps, have complicated feelings about children?"

"Children?"

Failing to grasp his meaning, I repeat the word back to him.

When I look up, I see Ayumu-san wearing a faintly pensive expression.

"It’s true… you might not have the best impression of parents. You might feel you lack the confidence to raise a child.

But… someday, you might find yourself wanting children. You might wish for a larger family.

You have a future stretching out before you—almost endless time. That time might change you.

So, just in case that day comes…"

"Ah, um, I don’t actually have a bad impression of parents or children."

"Eh, really!?"

The genuine shock on Ayumu-san’s face makes something click.

…Right.

I’ve never spoken about my feelings toward my parents since that incident. Not once.

Of course he would misunderstand. He never had the full picture.

"I’ve already settled things with my parents in my heart, so I don’t carry any lingering resentment. If anything, I just hope they’re somewhere watching my races and feeling proud that their child grew up strong. That’s enough for me."

"I see… that’s good."

He exhales in relief.

And as I continue, "As for children…" I realize something.

I’ve never once seriously thought about having children of my own.

…Well. Of course.

I’m an Uma Musume. Biologically speaking, I’m female. It’s not impossible that someday I could have a child.

In my previous life, I never came close to anything like that, so it still feels abstract.

But in this world, an Uma Musume’s abilities are strongly influenced by her bloodline. Second-generation talents are highly anticipated.

I hate to admit it, but given the results I’ve achieved, society would probably expect me to have children someday.

That doesn’t mean I would be forced into marriage—free love is still the norm—but…

In my case…

"Hm?"

When I glance over, Ayumu-san is tilting his head.

This man—awkward and uncool in so many ways, yet undeniably cool when it matters most. My dearest partner. And someday, with him… children…

Hot. My face is burning.

This is bad. This line of thinking is dangerous. My brain is going to overheat and explode.

Abort thinking. Abort. Change the subject immediately.

"Ah—um! Well! R-right… so! I mean, there’s a room for my, uh, f-future child? But not one for my partner, huh? Haha… I guess that’s obvious? Since you wouldn’t normally separate them? I mean, if we’re living together… or something… haha…"

W-what am I even saying? Just because I’m flustered doesn’t mean I have to verbalize every ridiculous thought that pops into my head.

It’s like my confusion is stacking on itself, and now every half-formed thought is spilling straight out of my mouth in a nonstop stream.

I’m so frazzled I’m practically vibrating. If this were a manga, there would definitely be little sweat drops flying off me.

The trainer watching this disaster of a girl in front of him freezes for several seconds after hearing my words… then buries his face in his hand.

"…Sorry. No, truly—my fault. That possibility was completely outside my awareness.

You’re right… that’s another outcome. Damn… how embarrassing of me…"

He mutters to himself under his breath for a while, sounding genuinely self-critical.

Then, perhaps noticing my worried expression, he gives his head a small shake, clears his throat, and speaks again.

"If you find a partner someday, I’ll personally take responsibility for remodeling the guest room. Would that be acceptable?"

Ah, no. That direction is a romantic red flag.

It sounds like he’s gently pushing me toward finding someone else. And that’s not what I want at all. I’m not looking for another romantic prospect—and I have no intention of doing so.

"Ah… well, um. You see. There’s also the possibility that… that won’t be necessary?

Not that I couldn’t find someone, I mean—it depends on the other person’s feelings, of course—but as one possible outcome, that could happen too, right? Right??"

My overheated brain keeps my mouth running at full speed.

I’m such a mess.

I thought after everything—my previous life and this one—I’d grown thicker skin, learned to wear a better mask. But the second I panic, I fall apart like this.

Couldn’t I have handled that even a little more gracefully?

And in response to this pathetic display… Ayumu-san says—

"…Ah. Well. Yes. That possibility… exists, I suppose."

He scratches his cheek, looking slightly awkward—no, embarrassed.

…Huh?

Wait.

What exactly does that mean?

Because I’m suddenly getting a very strong feeling that…

There might actually be a chance here.