Chapter 54: There’s No Way My Little Sister Is This Good

"When it comes to this year’s Arima Kinen, Seiun Sky, Silence Suzuka, and Special Week will all be running."

The reactions I received were nothing short of dramatic.

The smallest response came from Mihono Bourbon. Normally expressionless and emotionally flat, even she couldn’t remain completely unmoved by that fact. It was subtle—so subtle you might miss it if you didn’t know her well—but her eyes widened just slightly, and the corners of her mouth tightened.

Next was my younger sister, Masa, who as of today had officially become my sub-trainer. She usually carried a vaguely cool, detached air, but now even that vanished, her blank expression twisting into pure shock. For a long time, Masa had seemed to avoid Uma Musume–related culture altogether. Yet now she loved Uma Musume enough to aim to become a trainer herself… or so I believed. That was exactly why there was no way she wouldn’t know those names. No way she wouldn’t be stunned.

And finally… my very first trainee Uma Musume, Hoshino Wilm.

"...The promised race."

The words slipped from her lips as if she hadn’t meant to say them aloud—proof enough of just how shaken she was.

---

To begin with, the mere fact that Seiun Sky—the runaway-type Uma Musume—had returned sent shockwaves through the entire world. I say that as though it were someone else’s problem, but honestly, I was deeply shaken myself. I’d always believed that if anyone could pull it off, it would be Sky—but actually taking first place, surpassing the active Mejiro McQueen… that bordered on the unbelievable. Watching it live, I couldn’t stop myself from shouting my support.

As a general rule, when an Uma Musume stays out of official races for over a year due to injury recovery… it’s a cruel truth, but it usually signals the end of their success. Racing instincts dull. Muscle strength fades. Even fighting spirit erodes. Racing too frequently is dangerous, but racing too infrequently is just as harmful. Under those conditions, winning a brutally competitive G1 is practically unheard of. Before Sky, not a single Uma Musume had ever achieved such a feat after an absence of more than a year.

That was exactly why Seiun Sky’s Tennosho (Spring)—where she defeated Mejiro McQueen, the strongest active stayer of the era—was hailed by the public as nothing less than a “miraculous comeback.”

A fragment of the Golden Generation. A revived trickster. Countless fans were moved simply by seeing her race again.

…But she wasn’t the only one still standing in the Twinkle Series.

The Derby Uma Musume. The Spring and Autumn Tennosho double champion. Or perhaps—Japan’s standard-bearer: Special Week. Her name, too, remained etched into the Twinkle Series.

Special Week. Now in her third senior year, she was an Uma Musume who had survived and thrived in the hellscape known as the Golden Generation. Her fighting style was as orthodox as it comes: stalking and closing. With an absentminded, gentle demeanor, she would nonetheless unleash an extraordinary finishing kick once the race began, sweeping up victory with dignified ease.

Her record spoke for itself: ten wins in seventeen races, with an 82% top-two finish rate. She battled Seiun Sky and King Halo through the Classic races, claimed the long-dreamed Derby, and blocked Seiun Sky’s Triple Crown. After the Classics, she clashed head-on with El Condor Pasa, Grass Wonder, Air Groove, Mejiro Bright, and others—forming the backbone of the Twinkle Series in the years that followed.

And when speaking of her, there is one race that cannot be omitted—the Japan Cup of her first senior year.

Rewinding time slightly, to the Arc de Triomphe at Longchamp Racecourse in Paris—the ultimate turf battlefield to decide the world’s strongest. There, a Uma Musume said to be the greatest in the world forced El Condor Pasa, who had been undefeated domestically save for a single exception, into a narrow second-place finish. Her name was Montjeu. The strongest active Uma Musume of her era, the one who crushed both URA and Japan’s dreams by winning the Arc.

And so, with the Arc dream slipping away, time passed… until roughly one month later, at Japan’s G1 Japan Cup. Montjeu returned, joined by numerous overseas Uma Musume.

El Condor Pasa’s defeat at the Arc had been razor-thin. The gap between her and Montjeu was just half a length—and from El Condor Pasa to third place stretched a full six lengths. It was fair to call it a straight duel between two champions. Overseas media even reported that “there were two champions,” such was the intensity of their match race.

That spectacle ignited something among many overseas Uma Musume. The world had acknowledged Japan’s strength—and that was precisely why so many gathered for the Japan Cup.

Normally, races held in Japan favor domestic runners in popularity rankings. In betting terms, Japanese Uma Musume typically place higher among favorites. But that year’s Japan Cup was different. The top favorite was Montjeu. Seven wins in eight races. Three G1 victories. A perfect 100% top-two finish rate. Combined with her Arc victory, those numbers shattered Japan’s confidence.

…And yet.

The winner of that ferocious Japan Cup was the second favorite—Japan’s standard-bearer, carrying the nation’s hopes: Special Week.

With exceptional race sense and a devastating finishing kick, she demonstrated Japan’s pride to the world. For Japanese fans—and for how Japanese racing was perceived globally—her victory carried immense significance. That was why Special Week earned her title: the general who bore Japan on her shoulders. Simply put, Japan’s greatest Uma Musume.

Even now, nearly two years since her last official race, her popularity has not faded. Voices still call her the strongest active runner. Without exaggeration, she is a living legend of the modern era.

And yet—if Special Week is a legend, then what should we call her?

Perhaps… the protagonist of a dramatic story.

Another entrant in this year’s Arima Kinen. Possibly even more famous than Hoshino Wilm—the fastest extreme front-runner.

The runaway from another dimension: Silence Suzuka.

Her defining trait was her unparalleled, seemingly unique extreme escape. Even among front-runners—already a style defined by breaking away—she would continue widening the gap, blazing through the finish without slowing even at the very end. A dreamlike run.

Ordinarily, a race’s flow is dictated by stamina distribution. Front-runners spend stamina early; closers conserve it for the end. Where to spend and where to save—that tactical exchange is the beauty of racing.

…But that common sense did not apply to the “other dimension.”

She nailed the start, unleashed a runaway no one could follow, took the shortest possible line, and maintained—or even increased—her pace through the final stretch. Instead of distributing stamina, she burned it relentlessly from start to finish. An outrageously bold running style.

Common sense failed. Theory collapsed. She wasn’t even racing by the same rules. In other words, she existed on a completely different plane from other Uma Musume.

A truly otherworldly runaway.

…But strength alone wouldn’t have earned her this level of fame. Silence Suzuka’s career was marked by dramatic peaks and valleys.

During her Classic years, Silence Suzuka ran in the Japan Derby. Up to that point, her record stood at three wins in four races. She had finished a disappointing eighth as the second favorite in the Yayoi Sho, but she was still considered a solid G1-class Uma Musume. Accordingly, she entered the Derby as the fourth favorite.

The result was grim: eighth place. At Tokyo Racecourse, Silence Suzuka was seen bent over with her hands on her knees, staring down in frustration.

That was where her fall began.

Kobe Shimbun Hai: second place.
Tennosho (Autumn): sixth.
Mile Championship: fifteenth.

She could qualify for G1 races, but couldn’t quite deliver results there. A sad—yet common—G1-“class” Uma Musume. That was how the public viewed Silence Suzuka at the end of her Classic years.

…But then, in December of that year, she encountered fate.

Near year’s end, news spread that Silence Suzuka had terminated her contract with her trainer and signed with a new one. Generally speaking, G1-class Uma Musume rarely change trainers. Being able to compete at that level already proves compatibility. But Silence Suzuka refused stagnation. Even knowing it might all collapse, she chose the chance to break through.

In hindsight, that decision marked the beginning of her glory.

The reason she hadn’t been winning was simple: her temperament didn’t align with her trainer’s strategies. Her legs held overwhelming potential—enough to win G1 races—but her nature was wholly unsuited to restrained running. When she finally met a trainer who understood that temperament and could fully unleash her abilities, Silence Suzuka…

Awakened as the runaway from another dimension.

Valentine Stakes: first.
Nakayama Kinen: first.
Kokura Daishoten: first.
Kinko Sho: first.
Takarazuka Kinen: first.
Mainichi Okan: first.

An unbroken chain of victories. And among them, the most remarkable were undoubtedly the Kinko Sho and the Mainichi Okan.

The Kinko Sho—still spoken of as a legend today.

Her rivals included Machikane Fukukitaru, the Kikuka Sho winner, along with several Uma Musume riding graded-race winning streaks. Against a field strong enough to be mistaken for a G1, Silence Suzuka burst from the gate, unleashed a flawless runaway, and never once visibly eased up as she tore through all 2000 meters.

The result was overwhelming: first place by nearly two full seconds.

That was the moment her other-dimensional style was completed—an invincible strategy that left every Uma Musume behind her utterly helpless.

Then came another race etched into history—the Mainichi Okan.

Her opponents were the two peaks of the Golden Generation. At the time, both were undefeated across all races, including G1s: the invincible El Condor Pasa, and the equally flawless Grass Wonder.

Even against those two, Silence Suzuka dominated.

The margin to second place—El Condor Pasa—was a staggering two and a half lengths. …And ultimately, this race became the only one El Condor Pasa would ever lose on Japanese soil.

Defeating countless Uma Musume, including the strongest of the Golden Generation, she became—in both name and reality—Japan’s strongest front-runner.

An unremarkable Classic career, followed by a heroic resurgence in her senior years. The narrative was powerful. That was why Silence Suzuka burned herself into everyone’s eyes and hearts.

It was the absolute peak of her glory—the brilliant prime of Silence Suzuka.

Having captivated all of Japan, she naturally entered the Tennosho (Autumn). She stood as the overwhelming first favorite, holding a massive advantage over Mejiro Bright, the same-generation winner of the Tennosho (Spring). Everyone believed her victory was assured.

And then—a heavy silence fell over Tokyo Racecourse.

What would later be called “The Silent Sunday.” The accident that befell Silence Suzuka.

She slowed just before the fourth corner. At first, spectators thought she might be easing up—something rare for her. But instead, she continued to lose speed, staggering as she went.

…Silence Suzuka’s left leg had broken.

An injury so severe that, under different circumstances, even her life might have been in danger. Doctors gave a grim prognosis, stating that a return to racing would be extremely difficult. Each time those reports aired, Japan exhaled in relief that she had survived—and sighed in despair at the possibility that the other dimension might never be seen again.

…That was the deepest valley of Silence Suzuka’s career.

And yet, astonishingly, she returned to racing.

Her recovery was nothing short of miraculous: no lingering damage, the willpower to rebuild muscles weakened to the brink, and the mental strength to face racing again despite every reason to fear it. Without all of that, her comeback would have been impossible.

A true miracle.

But if there was one regret—

It was that Silence Suzuka eventually left Japan.

She kept her name in the Twinkle Series, yet departed overseas. It is said to have been her own decision, but the true reason remains unknown. Some speculated she had planned to go abroad since her first senior year. Others wondered if trauma tied to Japanese racecourses had driven her away. Countless theories circulated.

The truth remains buried in darkness.

There was only one thing everyone understood.

Within the Twinkle Series, we would most likely never again witness that other-dimensional run.

Silence Suzuka did not die.
She did not retire.

And yet, the sight everyone longed for—Silence Suzuka overwhelming the field on Japanese soil—would never be seen again.

That was precisely why attention turned to Hoshino Wilm, who displayed a Suzuka-like runaway in her Make Debut race. The successor to the other dimension. An early-blooming “other dimension” we never had the chance to see during Suzuka’s Classic years.

Maybe—just maybe—we could witness that invincible run as early as the Classic level… perhaps even in the Classic races themselves.

And Hoshino Wilm more than lived up to those expectations.

Not invincible like Suzuka, but more reckless than anyone else, she tore through her races with outrageous runaways and escapes, achieving an undefeated Triple Crown. With those results, she made one thing clear to every fan who overlapped her with Suzuka—

She was not Silence Suzuka.

She was a one-and-only Uma Musume.

Hoshino Wilm.

…However.

As time passed, as if waiting for Hoshino Wilm to fully establish herself as her own Uma Musume…

Now, three full years after Silence Suzuka left the Twinkle Series—

Defying everyone’s expectations, the other dimension descends once more upon Nakayama Racecourse.

The tragic protagonist who rose again has come to give her story a proper “happily ever after.”

---

Calling it terrifying would not be an exaggeration.

On one side stood the orthodox path: a standard-bearer who closed in during the late stages with superior tactics and an exceptional finishing kick. On the other was the path of conquest—an other-dimensional runner who built an overwhelming lead early and raced alone, far ahead of the pack.

The central figures of two different generations now stood in Hoshino Wilm’s way.

…I never imagined they would appear here.

That they would show up at the year-end grand finale—right when Hoshino Wilm was still at the Classic level.

This wasn’t interference by someone like me, armed with knowledge I shouldn’t possess—a cheap cheat. It was nothing more and nothing less than a miracle brought about by their own wishes and efforts.

For Hoshino Wilm, that alone would be more than enough of a threat. In fact, it would likely be an even greater wall than the one she faced at the Takarazuka Kinen.

Of course, the veteran Seiun Sky—whom Hoshino Wilm had fought at the Takarazuka Kinen—was an incredible Uma Musume in her own right. But… there was a fatal difference in compatibility between facing Seiun Sky and facing Silence Suzuka or Special Week.

Seiun Sky was at her strongest when she seized the lead and controlled the race herself. A runaway Uma Musume who charged ahead even faster than she did was, quite simply, her worst possible nemesis. By contrast, Special Week—who won through orthodox race development and a finishing kick—and Suzuka, with whom positioning battles were inevitable, would face Hoshino Wilm on far more even terms.

With no concrete data yet on just how deep Hoshino Wilm’s own “domain” truly ran, it was difficult to calculate precise odds of victory…

But one thing was certain.

This would not be an easy race.

For her, the Arima Kinen would be a massive—truly massive—wall to overcome.

…Even so, Hoshino Wilm would want to race.

Lately, she’d learned that the stronger her opponents were, the more fun racing became. She’d even begun showing signs of wanting to raise her rivals herself just to make races more enjoyable. At this point, she was a full-fledged berserker—no, a race junkie. That single-minded tendency to charge straight ahead once she got hooked on something… it was so very her.

There was no way the Hoshino Wilm of today wouldn’t want to face opponents who looked like the protagonists of their own stories.

I thought she’d still be there, eyes blazing with excitement—but…

"Hoshino Wilm?"

Contrary to my expectations, she looked oddly spaced out.

And if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, there was… a hint of unease in her gaze.

"Hoshino Wilm, what’s wrong? Are you feeling anxious about something?"

"Ah, no… it’s just… well… I am running in the Arima Kinen, right?"

"Do you not want to?"

"It’s not that I don’t want to… no. I’m just a little confused. Could you give me some time?"

I didn’t know exactly what Hoshino Wilm was struggling with, but… it didn’t feel like she was carrying anything dark or oppressive. And when she said she was confused, that matched what I was seeing. Her ears weren’t pinned back, and her tail looked calm enough.

It really was big news.

When I’d first heard it myself, I couldn’t think about anything else either…

Maybe it would be better to give everyone some time to sort through their thoughts on their own.

"So, let’s wrap up today’s meeting here. Hoshino Wilm, Mihono Bourbon—I’ve already put together your menu, so make sure you follow it exactly and stick to the schedule. …Do you think you’ll be able to focus properly?"

"I’ll be fine. Once I start running… my thoughts should sort themselves out."

"Alright. I trust you."

Hoshino Wilm’s reaction still left me with questions, but… given how she was right now, it was hard to imagine this turning into something fatal. She had juniors, friends, and seniors—and she had me, her trainer. If something was weighing on her, she should be able to talk to at least one of us. On that front, I chose to trust her.

…More importantly, there was something with a higher priority right now.

There were quite a few things I needed to discuss with the close relative standing there, looking perfectly composed.

"So, Masa… how about we talk a bit while you help out with some work, little sister?"

"There’s nothing I need to talk about with you."

"Then let’s say it’s a meeting about future duties with the main trainer."

"…Understood."

---

After seeing Hoshino Wilm and Mihono Bourbon off, it was just Masa and me left behind.

If this were the Horino family home, I might’ve thought, Man, this feels relaxing. But this was the trainer room assigned to me in the Trainer Building at Tracen Academy. And right now, we weren’t brother and sister—we were trainer and sub-trainer.

No time to relax. We got straight to work.

"Shouldn’t you be watching your trainees’ training?"

"I do when I have time. But right now, there are things I need to tell you, and I’ve still got a ton of work left. Oh, don’t worry—I’m thorough about physical condition management."

"Thorough… ah, that thing. You said you still have a ton of work left—does being the contracted trainer of an undefeated Triple Crown Uma Musume really keep you that busy?"

"Yeah. Honestly, for the first three days after the Kikuka Sho ended, I thought I was going to die from overwork."

"…You did? Almost died?"

"Huh? Yeah. …Yeah?"

Masa shot me a sharp glare, her eyebrows knitting together, then let out a sigh.

"…Just give me paperwork that’s simple to process. Tazuna-san already explained most of it to me."

"Ah, yeah—thanks. Then could you take these—everything from here to here—and transfer what’s written on them into Excel?"

"That’s too much. Half."

"What? Was it really that much?"

"That habit of yours—thinking ‘if I can do it, anyone can’—that’s one of your bad traits."

"I just thought you could handle it, Masa…"

"Never mind. I’ll do it. Give me all of it."

"What is with you…?"

At least she seemed willing to help out as a sub-trainer, which was a relief… but still. I twisted my lips into a wry smile, thinking about how unchanged she was.

She was pretty moody—or rather, like now, she could change her motivation and direction on a dime mid-conversation. If I were better at flattering her, things might go more smoothly, but unlike before, I honestly couldn’t tell what she was thinking these days.

She used to be this super cute little sister who’d run up to me shouting, "Big bro! Big bro!" …She’d gotten kind of rough around the edges. As her brother, I didn’t know whether I should be happy about her growth or sad about the distance that had formed between us. I should probably just be glad she’d become independent. Dropping out of university was… a bit much, but being able to make her own decisions was still something to be proud of.

"Alright then, I’m counting on you."

…Setting that aside.

Right now, she was a trainee trainer—an intern sub-trainer. I needed her to do her job properly.

Of course, I was taking the minimum precautions. I wasn’t planning to tell her, but the work I’d handed over was all low-priority. Even if she made mistakes due to inexperience, nothing would be irreparable. From what she’d said, she’d learned the general workflow from Tazuna-san over the past few days, but she didn’t seem to have much hands-on experience yet.

The reason Tazuna-san had assigned Masa as my sub-trainer was probably her way of saying, Please raise her into someone who can truly function as a trainer. For now, all I needed to do was make sure I could support her if she messed up.

"…What’s this?"

"What do you mean? Isn’t it written right there?"

"It is, but… scheduled entrants for next year’s Osaka Hai?"

"Yeah. Could you transfer it into Excel carefully? Oh, and once you’re done with all of them, the Tennosho (Spring) data is over there too."

"Wait… once I’m done? You want me to input next year’s data now? And this much of it? There are, like, fifty people listed here."

"Oh, right—sorry. You’re still not used to this. Um… here, if you read this, it should make sense. Don’t worry, as long as you finish in about two hours, it’s fine. You can do it, right, Masa?"

"…………I’ll do it."

She turned her face away with a huff.

My little sister, Horino Masa, is a hard worker.

She’s not like her brother, who doesn’t mind effort—she dislikes studying and physical training well enough. But just because she dislikes something doesn’t mean she gives up on it. Her motivation and condition vary day by day, sure, but she does what needs to be done, giving it her all within her limits. She’s earnest, straightforward, and someone I’m proud to call my sister.

That’s exactly why I trust her.

She’s far more talented than I am—at the very least, she’s capable of handling things at an average level. …Or rather, maybe I should say I’m the one with very little talent. On top of that, within her own limits, she has the mental strength to keep putting in effort. In other words, she’s an excellent person who balances talent and hard work.

That’s why, at such a young age, she managed to break through the absurdly narrow gate of the central trainer exam and earn her license. She’ll get used to this job quickly. Honestly, the day she outperforms me at work probably isn’t that far off.

…I passed the trainer exam on my first try too, but that was only because I carried memories from a previous life and had this whole “app reincarnation” thing going for me. With that kind of cheating advantage, only managing results on par with others is… yeah, I’m probably not very efficient.

Well, if I’m not good at it, all I can do is work harder.

While I was thinking that and continuing my own work, Masa—who’d been glaring at the documents—spoke up.

"Hey, brother, I don’t get this."

"Which part?"

"This. What’s this number?"

"Ah… see? I told you. I can see things."

"That ‘some kind of reincarnation’ thing?"

"Yeah. ‘App reincarnation.’"

"Then I just need to input these numbers here?"

"Yep."

…That’s right.

Masa is a hardworking, serious, kind little sister I’m proud of—but that’s not all.

In another sense, too, she’s special to me.

"Seriously… memories from a past life, being able to see Uma Musume stats as numbers… honestly…"

"A weirdo?"

"A weird brother."

…Horino Masa is the only person in the world who believes in Horino Ayumu’s previous life—me.

People, generally speaking, don’t believe in things they don’t possess themselves.

Something like having a sixth sense is a good comparison.

Even if someone says they “believe” in it, it rarely goes beyond half-belief. Unless something concrete happens—a disaster is averted, a prophecy comes true—they won’t fully take it seriously.

It’s the same with my memories from a previous life.

When I told my father and brother about it, one of them offered a faint smile, while the other furrowed their brow in concern.

A joke. Or maybe a mental illness.

That’s the usual reaction when someone says, “I have memories from a previous life.”

Even family isn’t an exception.

I immediately took it back and said it was a joke.

Part of it was because I didn’t want to ruin the harmonious atmosphere of my family. Another part was because I didn’t want to worry the two kind people I cared about. And… lastly, I didn’t want some strange misunderstanding to spiral into something like the tragic end of my previous life.

I know I’m the kind of person who’s easily misunderstood.

That’s why it’s better not to say things that might invite suspicion. Besides, even if I tell someone I have memories of a past life, there’s no real benefit. It’s better to build smooth, peaceful relationships first—and avoid saying anything that could jeopardize them.

That was the conclusion I reached as a child, and it hasn’t changed since. I have no intention of telling others, “I’m a reincarnator.” Never have, never will.

…But.

There’s one exception.

My sister, Masa.

She believed me.

“…Well, there’s no reason for big brother to lie. At least, I can believe him.”

Whether that came from pity or compassion… it doesn’t really matter.

Even if I suddenly said something ridiculous, she would believe it before doubting it.

That’s the kind of kind-hearted person she is.

…Huh?

Wait—now that I think about it… why did I tell Masa about my past life in the first place?

After learning my lesson with Dad and my brother, I thought I’d never seek understanding from anyone again…

I searched through my memories. The moment I told Masa.

…Night? Yeah, I think it was nighttime.

But why night? And somehow, it feels like it was very late…

No. I can’t remember. There’s no foothold—like reaching my hand into thick fog.

Well, whatever. It doesn’t really matter.

What matters now is this: Masa is the only person who knows that I’m a reincarnator with memories of a previous life.

On top of that, she also knows about the mysterious “App Reincarnation” observation ability.

When she confronted me after I perfectly predicted race outcomes and I admitted the truth, she said, “So that lets you predict race results? That’s cheating.” And yeah—it absolutely is. I have no excuses. I’m truly sorry.

She also wondered why it was called “App Reincarnation,” but I didn’t explain that there was an app extremely similar to this world. Honestly, I don’t fully understand it myself.

So with her, I don’t need to hide anything about reincarnation.

It’s not like I usually go out of my way to conceal it, but… it’s easier than usual. I don’t need to make strange excuses or lie and then feel guilty afterward.

While tapping on the keyboard and glancing at the documents, I spoke to Masa.

"Masa. Of course, you haven’t told the trainees about my past life, so don’t say anything about it."

"…Got it."

"Good. Also… well, you probably already know this, but don’t ever say things like telling Mihono Bourbon to give up on the Triple Crown. That would really hurt her."

"…Yeah."

"Hoshino Wilm has a delicate past. Especially when it comes to family or childhood stories, be careful. She seems fine around me, but you never really know."

"…."

"Also, we do joint training sessions with other trainers regularly. The next one’s Tuesday next week, and I’ll need to accompany the training, so keep that in mind. Are you coming too? If so, be careful how you interact with the other girls. Those two have a bit of low self-esteem, so don’t make comments that might poke at that. And then—"

"Ahhh, geez! Shut up!"

"Huh?"

Masa raised her voice—not loud enough to carry outside the room—and glared at me.

W-was I really being that bad…?

"I’m trying to focus on work! I’m not in a state where I can type with my left hand, organize documents with my right, and talk to other people at the same time like you, big brother! Get it!?"

"I-I’m sorry…"

"Write down all the notes you want me to remember later or send them through LINE! And what’s with this stuff—‘Gust of Wind’ and ‘Light Step’? What does that even mean? Are you mocking me!?"

"The first one’s a skill that accelerates rapidly on the straight, and the second reduces the burden of lane changes. Just put the names in the skill column as they are."

"Ugh… this brother…! Got it!"

Hearing that, I felt an unexpected tug of nostalgia in my chest.

“This brother…”

I’d heard her say that countless times back at the Horino house. It probably meant something like “you idiot.”

For some reason, being insulted in that familiar way after so long made me feel relieved.

I never expected to meet her again at Tracen Academy, and until now, it hadn’t felt real… but this was definitely Masa.

"Long time no see, Masa. I’m counting on you from here on out."

"…Haa. It’s been four months, big brother. I’ll be working as your sub-trainer from now on, so please take care of me."

Despite the sigh in her voice, she paused her work to respond.

…Really, she’s a serious and kind girl.

If she didn’t give off such a slightly rough edge, I swear she could get a boyfriend—or anything else—without any trouble. That’s the only small worry I have for her as a brother.