Chapter 159: Longing Is the Emotion Farthest from Perfection

It is said that the upper speed limit an Uma Musume body can produce is 70 kilometers per hour.

Of course, that figure exists only as a catalog specification.

At present, the realistic maximum speed we Uma Musume can achieve—even with the finishing kick of one who has fully completed her development—is just over 66 kilometers per hour. That is the prevailing theory, as I understand it.

We Uma Musume are not mindless machines, but living beings with hearts. No matter how much training we accumulate, we cannot completely eliminate wasted motion or emotional fluctuation. Especially in official Twinkle Series races, where tension, impatience, and surging passion are inevitable, those inner emotions create inefficiencies in how our muscles move.

Even I, Mihono Bourbon—an Uma Musume trained by the exceptionally capable Horino Ayumu Trainer… my Master—am no exception.

No matter how thoroughly I calculate, no matter how faithfully I attempt to execute the plan derived from those calculations, it is impossible to maintain a perfectly constant velocity.

The tension of the race and the pressure from other Uma Musume introduce unnecessary movements.

There are times when I am influenced by others and accelerate prematurely.

Times when I am swept up in their pressure and begin my spurt too early.

Or times when, attempting to read the flow of the race, I ease my pace unnecessarily.

Because of these unavoidable variables, I either waste my legs or leave strength unused. Thus, I have never once succeeded in running at the exact planned speed from start to finish.

Even in the Japan Derby—the race in which I came closest to perfection, the one that opened a new world before me—there was still a maximum deviation of 0.4 seconds per furlong.

It is fair to say that I remain far from the goal Master and I pursue together: a flawless, constant-speed run.

Immature. Or perhaps simply incomplete.

My running is not perfect, and the wall before me stands impossibly high.

I still…

No.

I still cannot muster absolute confidence that I can defeat Rice Shower-san—she who carries that dark, oppressive presence—in the Kikuka Sho.

---

Mid-July. Wilm-senpai’s departure was imminent.

That day marked the final time I would receive direct instruction from Master before summer camp.

Even so, as an active racing Uma Musume, what I must do does not change.

From the sensation of the turf beneath my kicking legs, from the shock and pain rebounding upward, from the speed I perceive and the elapsed time, I calculate the gap between my current pace and the ideal pace, along with the power required to correct it.

Applying constant micro-adjustments, I ran across the training grounds of Tracen Academy.

"Hah… hah… hah…!"

My soles—already beginning to dull—gripped the grass and kicked it away.

A furlong marker passed through my vision. I had just crossed 2,400 meters from the start—the longest official race distance I, Mihono Bourbon, have experienced thus far, at the recent Japan Derby.

Beyond this lies the “long-distance” classification within the Twinkle Series.

In other words, unknown territory for me.

…Before I met Master, my former trainer once said:

"It would not be wrong to say Mihono Bourbon lacks the aptitude for distances beyond middle range. To perform at G1 level over long distance is out of the question."

At the time, in pursuit of the dream my father and I shared—an undefeated Triple Crown—I rejected those words and undertook independent training.

Now, however, I recognize that his assessment was not entirely mistaken.

Fortunately, I, Mihono Bourbon, possess somewhat exceptional physical ability. Leg strength capable of high speed output. Explosiveness to reach maximum velocity. Mental endurance to withstand the pain of training and strain in my legs. Precise internal perception usable even during a race.

The more I trained, the faster my abilities seemed to grow—at a rate that astonished even Master, who holds vast stores of historical data.

And yet… stamina does not increase so easily.

I can naturally handle short distances. Mile distances present no issue.

At middle distance, deficiencies can be compensated with technique.

At long distance… the shortfall would likely prove fatal.

As my former trainer said—and as Master has also told me—Mihono Bourbon’s optimal distance is the mile, at most middle distance. At least, if we exclude the variable of extraordinary effort, that is the truth.

Furthermore, beyond mere numerical parameters… even after several months under Master’s strengthening program, my long-distance aptitude remains at Rank C.

Master has stated that even a single-rank difference in distance or track aptitude can create a decisive delay.

Indeed, at last year’s Arima Kinen, one factor that allowed Wilm-senpai to outduel Silence Suzuka-senpai was her long-distance aptitude of Rank B. If it had been Rank A, Master claimed, catching her would have been impossible.

…Wilm-senpai puffed her cheeks in protest at that remark, but that detail is irrelevant at present. Memory recall suspended.

The Uma Musume who compete in top-tier G1 races have all honed their physical abilities to the limit. Differences in physique or technique between them are often minute.

Thus, familiarity with the relevant distance—how fully one can draw out her true potential—carries immense weight. The logic is sound.

In that sense, with my Rank C long-distance aptitude, I bear a significant disadvantage in the Kikuka Sho.

Rice Shower-san—and likely more than half the field—possess Rank A aptitude for long distance.

I stand two full ranks below.

…Even so.

I cannot give up.

"Tch… fuh…!"

Suppressing my faltering breath, I kicked off the turf once more.

The pain in my lungs. The heaviness in my legs. The blurring of my vision.

From these sensations, I detect my limit approaching.

Remaining stamina: approximately 7%. Further running is difficult. My entire body issues an emergency signal to my brain.

My stamina is spent. Long-distance aptitude does not favor me.

Even so… not yet.

I still possess the technique Master forged within me.

While hugging the inside line through the corner, I eased my legs for a single instant—

"Fwoosh—!"

Suppressing my ragged breathing, I inhaled deeply and accelerated once more. For the briefest moment, my legs felt lighter.

Still capable of running.

Just a little more.

Just a little… to that goal—!

"Stop!"

At Master’s voice ringing across the turf, I immediately shifted into deceleration.

"…Kuh."

As I came slowly to a halt, I confirmed the result.

Today’s training was the final test before summer camp: maintain a fixed pace and run until reaching my limit.

The outcome revealed my maximum sustainable distance—

2,800 meters.

Two hundred meters short of 3,000.

Maintaining the prescribed pace is Mihono Bourbon’s style. If I cannot accomplish that, victory in a G1 race is impossible.

Objective: not achieved.

As expected, the wall of long distance is high.

---

As I stood with my hands braced against my knees, regulating my breathing…

A voice called from beside me.

"Good work, Mihono Bourbon."

Before I noticed, Master was already at my side, offering a towel.

For an Uma Musume with hearing as sharp as mine not to sense his approach—perhaps it was due to the ringing in my ears, or because I was too deep in thought.

In any case, I cannot disregard Master’s consideration.

"Thank you… very much."

When I pressed the towel to my face, I felt the sweat peel away from my skin—moisture I had not even realized had accumulated.

Though I had only just finished warming up and begun my run, perspiration already streamed down my brow.

The stamina an Uma Musume expends increases exponentially with output speed.

My baseline of 59 kilometers per hour is not extraordinary for a front-runner at the start, but maintaining it constantly is an extremely high demand.

Fatigue itself was anticipated.

But the degree of exhaustion exceeded projections.

I have never neglected training. I have run diligently.

And yet 3,000 meters remains too long for Mihono Bourbon.

Moreover, in the Kikuka Sho itself, my true ability will inevitably decline. The slope at Kyoto Racecourse will stand in my way.

And above all, on that stage, Rice Shower-san will surely be there.

At this rate, victory in the Kikuka Sho is impossible. The conclusion is self-evident.

"Are you feeling impatient?"

At Master’s question, I initiated an internal status check.

I performed troubleshooting on my emotions, searching for unidentified irregularities.

The result came swiftly.

"…Yes. Status: impatience detected. I appear to be feeling impatient, Master."

"Hmm."

Master placed a hand to his chin and tilted his head slightly.

"You didn’t skip reading the materials, did you?"

"No. I have memorized the entirety of my development plan."

The training plan Master devised—tailored exclusively for Mihono Bourbon.

It details precisely when each ability or technique should be refined, and by what method.

Meticulously written, leaving virtually no gaps. More accurately, for every potential gap, there are numerous contingency plans and adjustment proposals—expanding the total volume to dozens of times the original core plan.

The finest work Master could perform as my trainer.

An enormous accumulation of data and documentation—almost like a prophetic text foretelling Mihono Bourbon’s future.

Naturally, I have memorized its contents.

At the very end, it states: Mihono Bourbon’s victory in the Kikuka Sho.

It accounts for Rice Shower-san, for Souri Cross, and for every other Uma Musume—anticipating their possible improvements, strategies, and race forms. An exhaustive projection.

Based on those projections, if I continue training without deviation and enter the race in peak condition, I can win the Kikuka Sho.

That was Master’s conclusion.

If so, then all I need to do is believe it.

I understand that.

And yet…

"…Hmm." Master studied my eyes carefully.

"So this isn’t a matter of logic, but of emotion. You’re concerned about Rice Shower, aren’t you?"

Though the matter concerns myself, my awareness of it had been indistinct.

…But Master’s inference is likely correct.

"…Affirmative. I believe I am unable to disregard Rice Shower-san’s presence."

In the recent Japan Derby, as Rice Shower-san closed in behind me, I felt heat rise in my chest.

Her presence was overwhelming. Her ability undeniable.

That is precisely why I opened my Domain and defeated her.

In doing so, I acknowledged her as a threat. As a rival. We vowed to each other that we would both win the Kikuka Sho.

…However, since then, Rice Shower-san’s aura has changed.

Sharper. Colder. Dark—like the moon on a winter night.

Her focus is fixed on me. More precisely, as prey.

During our joint training session, I felt that pressure clearly.

Even knowing, according to Master’s projections, that I could escape it without issue…

Even so, I have not been able to forget the agitation and impatience that flared within me at that moment.

In other words, I have not fully believed in my contracted trainer’s plan. In his projections.

As a trainee who has entrusted all planning to Master and should focus solely on running, that is unacceptable.

To doubt the one who supports me with his entire being—calling that disloyal would not be excessive.

Without realizing it, I lowered my gaze, watching sweat drip from my chin onto the turf.

…However.

"In times like this, as a trainer, I’m probably supposed to say something like ‘There’s no need to rush’…"

"…Yeah. Well. Of course you’d feel impatient. I get it."

The softness in Master’s voice was something I had never heard before.

When I raised my eyes, I saw him scratching the back of his head awkwardly, a faint, self-conscious smile on his face.

"Mihono Bourbon, let’s cool down a bit and talk."

---

"First of all, let me say this. The impatience you’re feeling is extremely rational."

After stepping off the turf so as not to obstruct the other Uma Musume, we leaned against the outer rail, watching the runners still circling the track.

"If a rival is improving and producing results, then the one ahead naturally feels pressure. In a sense, that’s the fate of those who lead."

"There’s nothing irrational about what you’re feeling. It’s not unnatural at all."

Master’s tone was calm—perhaps an attempt to steady me.

Yet beneath it, I sensed warmth that had not fully cooled.

It did not sound like empty reassurance, but like something drawn from experience.

"Are you the same, Master?"

"Me? No, I’m usually the one chasing everyone else—"

He cut himself off and gave a small shake of his head.

"…No. Sorry. That’s a bad habit of mine."

"I get impatient too. More often than I realize."

"Last year especially—I panicked when the rivals started catching up to the Will I trained… I panicked badly. And I made the worst mistake a trainer could make."

"That is…"

It was difficult to imagine.

From my perspective, Master is as close to perfect as possible.

Exceptionally granted a dedicated contract in his first year at Tracen Academy.

He discovered the hidden talent of Hoshino Wilm and raised her into an undefeated Triple Crown Uma Musume, fulfilling every expectation placed upon him.

He answered my plea for help when my trainer contract was severed.

He devised a training plan with virtually no flaws and now listens even to my concerns.

Horino Ayumu is a trainer of unparalleled ability.

A once-in-a-generation genius.

A man without shortcomings.

Just like my father.

That is what I believed.

And yet—

"There’s no such thing as a perfect person in this world… or any world."

"Will might be unmatched when it comes to running. But in exchange, she’s unconsciously arrogant, ignores me and sneaks off to train no matter how many times I warn her, gets carried away over the smallest things, drops verbal landmines in interviews without realizing it, and when her clingy switch flips, she won’t leave my side for an entire day."

…Hypothesis.

More than half of those behaviors likely stem from affection toward Master.

I considered proposing that theory.

However, I have not confirmed it with senpai, and speculation without sufficient evidence should be avoided.

Proposal deferred. To be fact-checked during my next meeting with Wilm-senpai.

While I expanded this line of reasoning internally, Master gazed up at the sky and murmured, almost nostalgically:

"I get impatient. I fail. I reflect."

"And honestly, it’s because we reflect that we’re able to move forward. It’s not a bad thing."

"What matters isn’t fearing failure. And it isn’t just regretting it."

"It’s reflecting on it—and making sure it doesn’t happen again."

His words sounded as though he were reminding himself as much as speaking to me.

My thoughts struggled to organize a response.

And then—

"…Was my father the same?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

…Perhaps, until now, I have been seeing my father in Master.

A perfect, flawless, admirable trainer.

A man I could place absolute trust in—someone who would raise and guide me.

I had been overlapping his back with my father’s.

But if Master, too, had made mistakes—if he had flaws—

Then perhaps even my father, who seemed perfect to me, had borne such imperfections as well.

However, it was likely a question with little meaning.

After all, Master had never spent long with my father.

"I don’t know your father well enough to speak about his character. So I can’t say for certain."

It was the expected answer. I nodded, about to withdraw the question aloud—

But Master spoke again before I could.

"Though… actually, that’s rather timely."

He murmured it absentmindedly, then looked at me, his tone softer than usual.

"This might be the first time I’ve told you this… but truthfully, I also thought my own father was perfect. As a trainer. And as a father."

"Your father… Master?"

"He was an incredible man. He achieved results as a trainer and elevated the standing of the Horino family even further. Even now, if I had to name the two people I respect most, he’d unquestionably be one of them.

…But apparently, he wasn’t incapable of mistakes either. I received an apology from him just recently.

Different abilities, different talents—but just like me, he wasn’t a flawless human being."

A small, natural smile escaped Master.

Aside from when he was interacting with Hoshino Wilm-senpai, this was the first time I had seen it—

A human expression.

…An expression my father never wore.

For no particular reason, I found myself studying it.

Master rested his hand against his chin thoughtfully.

"When I think about it, I suppose I’m similar to you in some ways.

I grew up admiring my father. Faced all sorts of hardships, but managed to get a head start ahead of others…

And then, when rivals started closing in, I panicked.

That’s exactly the path I walked last year."

Master had felt this same impatience last year.

Learning that fact stirred an unfamiliar emotion in my chest.

Before I could name it, Master smiled again—this time gently, differently from before.

"So you can relax.

Even while feeling pressured by a rival’s fierce pursuit, you do what you can, in your own way—and you win.

That’s a road I’ve experienced. And overcome.

Your impatience is natural. You don’t need to deny it. You don’t need to reject it.

Accept it. Then do everything you can. Face it with everything you’ve got.

If you do that, your effort will be rewarded. …Source: me."

As he said that, his hand came to rest on my head.

It felt nothing like my father’s hand.

And only then… did I finally understand one truth.

"…Master is Master."

"Hm? Well, yes. I am your Master—well, your trainer."

"No."

I shook my head while looking out at the turf, quietly redefining something within myself.

It was a small realization. One that might hold no meaning beyond my own understanding.

This person is someone who has lived his own life. A trainer who has already overcome a trial.

Someone I did not know at all a year and a half ago, yet now deeply respect.

And above all—

Not my father.

But my one and only Master Trainer.

…Therefore.

"Master."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Can we… win the Kikuka Sho?"

I had removed the filter that clouded my perception.

I had corrected my understanding of him as “my Master.”

And because I could finally acknowledge him as he truly is—

"…We will. The dream you and I share—we’ll make it come true."

At last, in his words, in his strength, in his heart—

I could entrust my back to him.

Master once said:

"Mihono Bourbon’s run is, in the end, not a battle against others, but a battle against herself."

Not swayed by race conditions. Not affected by the movements of the pack.

To run alone, in perfect condition—that would be my ideal state.

But I had misunderstood that meaning.

In the end, an Uma Musume cannot run alone.

One of the conditions for competing in the Twinkle Series is to be contracted with a trainer. That fact alone proves it—we always run under our trainer’s guidance.

Our running always exists alongside our trainers.

Our battles are always fought together with them.

Therefore, even as an individual, I am not alone.

Mihono Bourbon will fight herself—together with Master.

For four seconds, I held Master’s gaze.

Then I nodded.

"I will believe those words.

If it is the performance of ‘Racing Uma Musume Mihono Bourbon’ that we have built together—and that you believe in—then even the slope of Yodo can be overcome."

"Yeah. Believe in me. And let’s go win."

At Master’s confident words, I confirmed that my impatience had settled.

Nothing about the situation had changed.

There was no new evidence—only affirmation and conviction.

Ordinarily, that should not have been enough to reassure me.

…And yet.

Now, it felt more reliable than anything.

By trusting his words and judgment—even without tangible proof—

By entrusting the processing of this futile emotion to him—

I could focus entirely on running.

Even if I lacked confidence in victory, through Master’s belief, I could believe in myself.

"Yes… my Master. I look forward to your guidance from here on as well."

Two hundred meters.

One rank.

What had felt impossibly high just moments ago—

Now felt like something we could surpass.

Together.