Chapter 37: Do Not Believe Ayumu’s Story

June 30.

That day was, for me, just a little special.

After all, for the past year and a half, Hoshino Wilm—who had almost always been at my side—wasn’t here.

Around me, people passed by in suits and casual clothes alike, a jumble of styles flowing endlessly through the streets. The Uma Musume I was so accustomed to seeing everywhere were now scarcely in sight.

Which made sense. This place was far, far away from Central Tracen.

I had stepped away from my workplace and was on my way back to my old home.

Normally, with her injured, this was a time when I should have stayed close and supported her. However, the Horino family home holds an enormous volume of records—materials that would surely prove useful for her rehabilitation and eventual return.

I already carried a fair amount of that knowledge in my head, but it wasn’t as though I remembered everything perfectly. I needed precise documentation related to injuries and comebacks.

…And there was also something I needed to deal with at my parents’ house.

Something important. Something I would have to face sooner or later.

Hoshino Wilm’s condition had stabilized considerably, and her full-scale rehabilitation hadn’t begun yet. If there was ever a moment when I could leave her side, it was now.

Even so, I couldn’t simply ignore her for an entire day.

So I called her while I was on the move, and…

"So, did you know, Trainer? A few days ago, Master Jet came by to visit me, and she did the most beautiful moonwalk for me. When my leg heals, I’m going to practice it too. If I do it well, make sure you praise me, okay?"

…Good. At this rate, she really does seem stable.

Well, in another sense, she isn’t exactly stable—but that’s probably just her being in high spirits.

The fact that she doesn’t seem anxious or frightened is, for an Uma Musume after an injury, a sign of a healthy mental state.

"It’s about time. Alright, let’s stop here for today."

We had talked for about ten minutes, and since the bus I needed had arrived, I ended the call.

"I’m lonely, so please come back soon. …No, really—come back soon, okay?"

"…Yeah. I’ll definitely come see you the day after tomorrow."

With those words, I ended the call.

…Lately, Hoshino Wilm had sometimes stopped using polite speech with me.

I couldn’t say for sure what kind of psychological change lay behind that.

But maybe, in her own way, she was trying to close the distance between us—even if only a little.

Or perhaps that was simply her true self—her genuine, unguarded face.

…Either way, one thing was certain.

Hoshino Wilm trusted me.

"She really… does believe in me."

I was certain I had been as sincere as I possibly could with her.

But receiving this much trust still felt unreal. Almost startling.

In the end, just as she had said, my self-esteem was probably low.

No matter how much trust she placed in me, it was difficult to accept.

I couldn’t believe I was worth that much.

But precisely because of that…

I want to treasure the trust I’ve been given.

I’ll do what I can, in my own way, for her sake.

…Even if that decision ends up betraying everything else.

That, at the very least, is the responsibility one should bear—as someone who once trained her, or as a trainer who was captivated by her running.

---

The Horino family home lies far from Central Tracen—about two hours by plane, followed by several train transfers into the countryside.

Why is it so far away?

Well… to put it simply, the Horino family originally raised Uma Musume in the regions.

Some time ago, there was an Uma Musume named Oguri Cap who competed in the Twinkle Series.

She raced at a regional Tracen, but her overwhelming strength led to her being scouted to the Central circuit. Together with Super Creek and Inari One, she formed the so-called Three Strongest. With her extraordinary talent, she went on to claim four G1 victories in the Central leagues—a true mutant monster.

Alongside Tamamo Cross, who belonged to the generation just before her, she shattered the superstition that “gray coats don’t run,” becoming an Uma Musume who defined her era.

Simply put, the Horino family was a similar transfer case to Oguri Cap.

Quite some time ago, Horino worked as a trainer in the regional leagues.

Her achievements there were recognized, and she was invited to the Central circuit.

…It’s a harsh truth, but the regions and the Central circuit are worlds apart.

The Central Twinkle Series is where even the most carefully selected geniuses from the regions gather.

No matter what it was called in earlier times, that gap has never changed—the level of racing between the regional and Central circuits is decisively different.

Because of that, the Horino family is often seen as unable to compete with the ultra-elite houses that have thrived in the Central circuit from the very beginning.

Compared to veterans who have raised Uma Musume in Central for decades—or even centuries—Horino inevitably falls behind in the accumulated knowledge and experience that only time can produce.

That said, in terms of overall results, the Horino family is unquestionably top-tier. After arriving in Central, they racked up an absurd number of graded race victories.

Then again, if they hadn’t been that good, they would never have been invited to Central in the first place.

…Still, where there is light, there is shadow.

If I had to name the Horino family’s greatest flaw, it would be the relatively frequent breakdowns in relationships with their assigned runners.

Unlike other prestigious families born and raised in Central, Horino was an outsider.

They were a family that never knew when they might be pushed out unless they constantly proved their worth.

That pressure likely led them to rush things.

At one point, the Horino family took meritocracy to an extreme.

They prioritized training over the hearts of the Uma Musume—imposing excessive workloads, forcing them into unwanted races, and apparently even crossing lines they never should have crossed.

Naturally, this led to contract terminations and even assault incidents.

A dark chapter in the Horino family’s history.

Once it reached that point, it was no longer possible to speak of them as trainers—let alone a prestigious family.

Their reputation continued to fall, and their predecessors were forced to change course.

…Or rather, it seems a particularly outstanding head of the family carried out sweeping reforms.

They shifted Horino’s core training philosophy away from ruthless meritocracy and toward an approach that emphasized the mental state of the Uma Musume.

There was confusion at first, from what I’ve heard, but by now this method has become firmly established as “the Horino way.”

And, strangely enough, their results improved compared to the old, results-only era.

The Horino family came to understand firsthand that Uma Musume possess a kind of latent strength that cannot be measured by logic alone.

Thanks to that realization, no Uma Musume found themselves trapped in tragic circumstances anymore, and the Horino family was able to move forward.

And that concludes your three-minute history of the Horino family.

Now then—back to the story.

As mentioned, the Horino family estate sits in a ridiculously remote rural area, far from Central Tracen.

After transferring trains several times, you arrive at a town that feels halfway between countryside and city. From there, you walk for about twenty minutes, then head into the mountains and climb a paved road—fallen leaves neatly brushed aside—for another ten.

Then, without warning, the lush greenery thins out, and the view opens wide.

And there stands the Horino main house.

To be blunt, it’s an absurdly massive plot of land—far too large to manage without housekeepers—and an enormous gate that even an Uma Musume would struggle to clear. A vast, immaculately maintained turf stretches out before an equally oversized mansion, flanked by several detached buildings and storage houses.

That is the full scope of the Horino estate.

I enter a series of numbers into the keypad installed at the gate, open it, and begin walking toward the largest building.

This time, my destination is, of course, the main house.

Built in a traditional red-brick style, it is… perhaps a little small for the principal residence of a prestigious family.

Originally, the Horino family had few ties with other Central houses. Even now, at most, they host branch family members a few times a year. There is little need for an excessively large home.

Apparently, in the past, when there were many children, the house was much larger. But in modern times, families usually have only three or four siblings.

Between freedom of career choice, tensions between regional and Central circuits, and various other factors, the current Horino main household has a population comparable to an average family—and a correspondingly smaller residence.

That’s simply the flow of the times.

…Well, “small” is relative. By any normal standard, it’s still a massive mansion.

Compared to the trainer dorms at Central Tracen, it’s hard to say which is larger.

"I feel like it’s been a while since I came back."

As the red-brick building looms before me, a wave of nostalgia washes over me.

It has been more than two years since I left this place.

The home where I spent so much of my life in this world greets me as it always has—cold, unchanging, and impersonal.

…I’m a little nervous.

This is the place that gave me my goal in this life. The place where everything began.

That’s why I’m attached to it, I suppose. I never imagined I would return carrying these feelings, and my chest tightens uncomfortably.

Am I really still a trainer worthy of this house?

That familiar question crosses my mind once again.

"…I guess I’m here because I’m not."

I let out a single sigh.

…Steeling myself, I take out the key to the front door.

---

Each time I pass the longtime housekeepers who maintain the estate, I exchange greetings and head toward the living room.

This is my second home—one I know like the back of my hand. I don’t hesitate, and no one stops me as I open the door separating the interior spaces.

"Welcome back."

The room is filled with refined furnishings and a solemn, tranquil atmosphere.

…And seated deeper inside is a single man.

A man with a perpetually cold, expressionless face, dressed in elegant attire.

He is past forty now, yet still robust.

He is my father—the one who guided me onto the path of becoming a trainer.

My mentor, who taught me how a Horino trainer should live.

The owner of the steel mask that became the model for the one I wear myself.

The greatest trainer I have ever known—and the man I respect more than anyone.

When his sharp gaze turns toward me, it feels as though he can see straight through to the depths of my heart, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

He worked as a Central trainer for less than ten years, until the previous family head retired.

And in that short span, he led his assigned Uma Musume to four G1 victories.

To my father, someone like me must look like a literal child.

No matter how carefully I try to conceal my feelings, they must be transparent to him.

"…I’m home. I’ve returned."

I bow deeply as I speak.

The ideal I chased. My goal. The guiding star of my life as a trainer.

And now… I’m about to betray him.

As I hesitate, unsure of what to say first…

"Lunch has been prepared. We’ll talk after you eat. Put your things away first. Your room has been left as it was."

With that, my father turns and walks toward the dining room.

---

After finishing a quiet, tasteless meal,

my father begins to speak, his tone solemn.

"Now then, formally speaking.

First, let us celebrate your victory in the Japan Derby. You are the first Derby-winning trainer in the history of the Horino family.

Furthermore, a Classic-class Uma Musume winning the Takarazuka Kinen is a first in history.

Congratulations, Ayumu."

For my taciturn father, it’s an unusually long speech.

As the current head of the Horino family, these two victories must mean a great deal to him.

In the long history of the Horino line, they had never once won the Japan Derby.

And now, a first-ever Takarazuka Kinen victory achieved at the Classic level.

These accomplishments undeniably add prestige to the Horino name.

As the family head, how could he not be pleased?

But I can’t simply accept those congratulations.

"No. As I’ve said before, this was all due to Hoshino Wilm’s strength.

Please, celebrate her efforts and her victory."

"…That’s not entirely true, but that aspect certainly exists.

You found a good runner. Treasure her."

"…………"

She’s an incredible Uma Musume—far more than I deserve.

And precisely because of that…

Because I want to support her…

"Father. …There’s something I have to tell you."

"Go on."

As expected, my father doesn’t waver.

He may already have a sense of what I’m about to say.

And when he hears it… how does he intend to respond?

…This is a brutal betrayal.

After everything he’s done to raise me and guide me, this is repaying a great debt with treachery.

But I can’t keep lying to this man—or to the Horino family.

The Horino data is something Hoshino Wilm needs right now, and…

More than anything else, I genuinely care about everyone in the Horino family.

That’s why I have to say it.

"I’m thinking of quitting as a Horino trainer."

The room goes completely still.

My father’s movements freeze.

His eyes lock onto me, probing—trying to read what’s happening inside my head.

A chill runs down my spine, but I meet his gaze head-on.

Time seems to stop as we stare at each other.

I don’t know how long it lasts before my father’s lips finally part, heavy with tension.

"That is—"

"Hold it."

A woman’s voice cuts him off from the entrance to the dining room.

Clear, composed, and all too familiar.

"Masa…"

"Long time no see, big brother. You still look as gloomy as ever."

It’s my little sister.

Besides our parents, there are three children in the Horino household: the eldest son, the second son, and the youngest daughter.

As far as I know, Horino Masa is the last child born into the Horino family.

She’s currently attending university while diligently studying to obtain her trainer’s license.

Today is Sunday, so she must have had the day off. Instead of her usual contacts, she’s wearing thick-rimmed glasses and casual clothes.

She has wide, double-lidded eyes, a youthful baby face, and undeniably cute features… yet the cool, sharp air she gives off suppresses all of that.

When she was little, she was cheerful, affectionate, and clingy—a genuinely adorable little sister.

At some point, though, she began keeping her distance and grew prickly and defiant.

Still, the kindness at her core hasn’t changed. She’s the type of delinquent girl who can’t ignore a stray kitten caught in the rain.

"You were just thinking something rude, weren’t you?"

"…No, I was praising you. It’s been two years, hasn’t it, Masa?"

"Two years and two months. Some heartless person never comes home."

"When you’re working as a trainer, you don’t really get free time."

"And yet our older brother manages to visit regularly."

"Well—he’s not a trainer, after all."

"Don’t you think Dad should show his face more often too?"

"………Well, yes."

"See?"

"Didn’t you just put a ton of pressure on him?"

…And I’ve always been weak against this sister.

It’s the fate of being born an older brother—you can never win against your little sister.

In fact, the true hierarchy in this house puts Mom at the top, with Masa right below her. To be honest, no one but Mom can beat Masa. She’s an invincible little sister.

And in this case… she kind of has a point.

Masa has always been on the lonely side.

With two close family members gone from her daily life, she might have felt that loneliness even more strongly.

That part really is on me.

"Think something weird again and I’ll hit you."

"I’m very sorry…"

I bow my head obediently. I have no desire to get hit.

Masa sighs and drops roughly into the chair beside me.

"So… what was it again? ‘Quitting as a Horino trainer,’ right?"

"Y-Yeah. That’s right."

"What do you mean by that? You don’t mean you’re resigning as a Central trainer, do you?"

"…? Resigning? Why would I?"

I’m only quitting as a Horino trainer. I have no intention of quitting as a trainer altogether.

Honestly, the idea of leaving Hoshino Wilm at this point is unthinkable.

To begin with, I don’t even want to quit being a Horino trainer.

But I fell in love with Hoshino Wilm’s running. I let something extra—something personal—take root in my heart.

That change is irreversible. There’s no fixing it.

As a Horino trainer, I’ve become fundamentally flawed.

So… as pathetic as it is, I concluded that I had no choice but to give up being “a Horino trainer.”

I feel truly sorry toward my father, who raised me to be this.

I was born to become a Horino trainer, raised to become one.

And now I’m abandoning that role, insisting on training in my own selfish way.

For a child of a prestigious family, this is unforgivable—the worst kind of folly, discarding the history entrusted to me.

And on top of that, I’m asking to use this family’s data for my own runner.

Ungrateful. Shameless.

An arrogant request worthy of being disowned—if not cut off entirely.

But even so… I want to support Hoshino Wilm.

As her trainer, I want to watch her run from as close as possible.

That’s why I brought this up fully prepared for the worst—even if it meant being severed from the family here and now.

…And yet.

The reactions from the two of them are completely unexpected.

My sister props her cheek on her hand, wearing an expression that practically says, “Yeah, yeah.”

And my father… for some reason, looks relieved.

"Did you relax, Dad?"

"Yeah… I thought my lifespan just shortened."

"Lifespan!? Are you sick!?"

"Big brother, you’re in the way. Can you be quiet?"

"Oh. Okay."

Apparently, I’m a nuisance.

"…Honestly. Sure, my brother’s at fault here, but Dad, you’re not blameless either.

Isn’t it about time you actually talked things through properly?"

"Hmph…"

Masa and my father exchange a conversation I don’t quite understand.

Talk things through…? Is there some shared understanding I’m missing?

…Wait, they’re not about to say another sibling was born or something, right?

What if I don’t come home often enough and stop counting as family altogether?

"Big brother, could you stop with the weird delusions?

And don’t act like this has nothing to do with you—you’re at fault too.

I told you this before, didn’t I? Stop starting conversations with conclusions that are easy to misunderstand and make no sense."

"You did say that… but—"

"But?"

As far as keeping a conversation running smoothly goes, stating your conclusion first is basic common sense.

The real issue is probably that the conclusion itself is so wildly out of left field that it invites misunderstanding—but still…

"Were things really that out of left field this time?"

"…………Start by organizing what information the other person already has. Then think, ‘If I say this, how will they take it?’

Do that first—if you actually intend to talk to people like a normal human being."

This is exactly why big brother is hopeless…

Masa presses a hand lightly to her forehead.

…Ever since my misunderstanding with Hoshino Wilm, I’d thought I was being extremely careful about communication.

But organizing what information the other person already has, huh.

…Isn’t that quietly difficult?

"So? Can I ask again—what exactly do you mean by ‘quitting as a Horino trainer’?"

"Ah, yeah… alright. I’ll explain properly."

Over the past two years, there’s one thing I’ve come to understand with painful clarity.

I’m not suited to be a Horino trainer.

Even when I try to devote myself to an Uma Musume with purely selfless intent, my own desires inevitably seep in—wanting her to win, wanting her to run more, wanting her to be happy.

On top of my fundamental lack of finesse, I can’t maintain the proper distance from the Uma Musume I’m responsible for.

I even went so far as to be captivated by the running of a single Uma Musume, and failed to step back when I should have.

…I lack the aptitude to be a Horino trainer.

Just like with Uma Musume themselves, I believed that if I kept working hard, I could overcome the wall of aptitude. That belief is what carried me this far.

But… even so, I still haven’t reached it.

And “not yet” isn’t good enough anymore.

Hoshino Wilm needs support right now.

Being “a Horino trainer” isn’t enough.

As I am now, I can’t take responsibility for Hoshino Wilm.

With my current ability, on my own, I’m not fit to support her.

Which leaves only two options: terminate the training contract, or delegate her training to someone more suitable and entrust her talent to them.

And so… paradoxically—

If I want to be the one who trains Hoshino Wilm, then I have no choice but to abandon being “a Horino trainer.”

That was the conclusion I reached after agonizing over it for so long…

A decision to choose Hoshino Wilm, at the cost of betraying everything else.

By the time I finish speaking, my gaze has naturally fallen to the table.

It’s a conclusion that deserves any amount of condemnation.

The hundreds of years of history the Horino family has built.

The ideal form of “a Horino trainer,” refined, honed, and perfected over that time.

To throw it all away is, in effect, to betray the entirety of Horino’s history.

I think I really did love this house—this family.

My father, stubborn in his own way, yet a trainer worthy of deep respect.

My mother, who treated her children with warmth and understanding.

My brother, strong and compassionate, with a profound sense of altruism and an unrelenting work ethic.

My sister, kind-hearted, always looking out for others no matter what she said.

Even if my days were filled with study and training, living among them was… honestly, almost dazzlingly enjoyable.

So realizing that I can’t return to that life anymore is a little lonely, but…

Even so, there are fates you simply have to accept.

Between the Horino family and Hoshino Wilm, the current me chooses the latter.

In the end, that’s all there is to it.

"Big brother."

"…Yeah."

"You’ve made your declaration."

Huh—what—ow, that hurts!

Just as I thought she was standing up and walking over, Masa brought down a fairly solid fist onto my head.

Ugh… that one actually really hurts.

Why? Did I really do something that bad?

Well—okay, I definitely did. I did say it. But did it really warrant violence?

After hitting me, Masa immediately turned and started walking toward the dining room entrance.

"Dad, this is on you. You’re the one who needs to clear up the misunderstanding."

"M-Masa?"

"Well, I’ve got studying to do.

…Oh, and one more thing. Congratulations on your runner’s success, big brother."

Without even looking back, Masa walked away.

…If she had studying to do, why did she even come here?

To say hello? And if so, why now—at this exact moment?

That said, her stepping in did help move the conversation forward, so I suppose I should be grateful.

Well, anyway.

She’s working hard to get her trainer’s license.

At the very least, I should cheer her on.

"Do your best. You’ll definitely pass, Masa!"

"That’s annoying. Seriously annoying."

It didn’t work.

Annoying, huh… What went wrong, I wonder. Haha…

"Ayumu."

My father called my name.

When I turned around, he was staring straight at me.

"There’s something important I need to tell you. Listen carefully."

"Yes."

…It’s finally starting.

Probably… something painful. Something meant for me.

As I instinctively stiffened, my father spoke in a calm, steady voice.

"First of all, you’re not wrong. In fact, it would be fair to say that you’ve taken a new step forward as a trainer. ‘Being a Horino-style trainer’ is nothing more than a goal—one ideal among many. You should walk the path that you believe is right."

…?

What does that mean…?

"I made a mistake in how I raised you. I pushed Horino’s ideals onto you too strongly. An ideal is just that—an ideal. You don’t have to become it. Simply aiming for it often leads to growth, that’s all. …You’re too stoic. You mustn’t force yourself to change. Reconsider everything: the feelings you sensed from your trainee, what you want to do, and what you believe a trainer should do. Then do what you think is right."

…So, in other words—

"I, um…"

"You’re not wrong. As long as Hoshino Wilm wants you, and you want Hoshino Wilm, stay by her side. The relationship between a trainer and an Uma Musume—taken to the extreme—that’s what it is. …There is no single correct way to be an Uma Musume’s trainer. There are as many right answers as there are trainers. That’s why you must find your own answer."

So.

I’d been harboring a massive misunderstanding all along.

Being a “Horino-style trainer” was closer to a moral framework—an ideal to strive toward, but not something that became correct simply by following it. It was an aspiration, not an absolute truth. What truly mattered was choosing the path I believed in, while keeping that ideal in sight.

"Originally, a family should not bind its children. Just as your brother chose his own path, if you can see a path you believe in, you should follow it. Horino… no, I will support that choice."

…And so, Horino Ayumu was set free.

At the same time, he lost the guiding light that had illuminated his path forward.

---

"…Ahh."

A low groan escaped my throat in my own room—a place that still felt familiar despite the time away.

After that, I greeted my mother when she returned home, helped my reluctant younger sister study after pushing her a bit, asked my father for advice about being a trainer, and dug through rehabilitation materials in the archive…

I spent the day at my parents’ house for the first time in a while.

It was fun. I think it was a fulfilling day.

And yet, what occupied my mind was still—

The flaw in my understanding of what it meant to be a trainer.

"What do I do now…?"

I’m clumsy.

To put it bluntly, I lack talent.

In my own theory, a person’s ability is built from three factors multiplied together: talent, effort, and the correctness of that effort’s direction. Since I have very little talent, I can only reach an average level by combining effort with a clear goal to guide me.

And today, I lost one of those.

By treating the Horino-style trainer as absolute justice, I made it this far. I might never become top-class, but I became a competent trainer.

But now that one of those guiding rails is gone, what happens to me…?

"No. I have to do it. I just have to."

I repeated the words out loud again and again, trying to convince myself.

No matter how lacking my ability may be, as long as I am Hoshino Wilm’s trainer—and as long as I want to be—I have no choice but to keep going.

…Even if that causes her trouble? Even if it ends up limiting her potential?

Is it really the right decision to cast a shadow over her future for the sake of my own ego?

Am I going to make the same mistake again?

"…Again? No… I can’t. I’m confused."

Of course I’m confused. The thing I’d been using as the path of my life has disappeared.

It’s already late at night. I should sleep. I need to go to bed early and reset my mind…

Once I slipped under the covers, exhausted from the long journey, my consciousness quickly sank into darkness.

---

…It was probably a mistake to dwell on that last thought.

I wondered whether, having lost the “Horino-style trainer” path, I could do anything at all.

That sense of helplessness… was really, really bad.

That night, I think I had a terrible nightmare.

Not one of those vague dreams about someone I’d seen before.

It was a dream buried deep in my consciousness, from long ago—my own dream.

Like a river swollen after heavy rain.

A torrent of emotions dredged up memories I didn’t even want to recall.

But…

"Ugh, I’m sweating so much. Even just from a nightmare…
…Huh?
Wait, what was the dream about again?"

By the next morning, I had already forgotten.

Trying to grasp memories that had already passed felt like groping through mud—unpleasant and futile.

I couldn’t remember anything.

All I could do was seal it away at the bottom of my mind, dismissing it as nothing more than a bad dream.