Chapter 60: Whoooa! She’s like a Uma Musume thermal power plant.

Mid-November. Autumn had already passed, and winter was steadily deepening.

As the days slipped by—filled with training Hoshino Wilm and Mihono Bourbon, handling paperwork, and preparing teaching materials and lessons for Masa—time continued to flow onward. There was now only one week left until Hoshino Wilm’s Japan Cup, and at last, the day of Mihono Bourbon’s first official race since her debut had arrived.

The race was called the Pre-Open Begonia Sho.

In the Twinkle Series, classes—essentially rankings—were divided from the top as G1, G2, G3, then Open, with Pre-Open at the very bottom. In other words, the race Bourbon would be running this time was the lowest-tier race.

As its class suggested, the Begonia Sho wasn’t a race that drew much attention. To be blunt, just like the Habotan Sho that Wilm had broken through last year, for Bourbon it was nothing more than a stepping stone toward G1 races.

Winning was basically a given. If Bourbon ran with her current specs, it would honestly be harder for her to lose. Just like in her debut race, she could probably still win even if she had a terrible start.

I explained all of that, but even so, as a senior, she was probably still worried.

"What kind of race is the Begonia Sho?"

Looking out over the turf from the stands, Hoshino Wilm muttered, her restlessness plainly visible.

"I’d already drilled it into Bourbon’s head, but now that you mention it… I don’t think I ever explained it to you, Hoshi… Wilm. Are you worried about your junior after all?"

Ah—her lips loosened into a smile.

Ever since that day when we promised, “When it’s just the two of us, we’ll use nicknames,” I’d been sticking to it, but every time I called her by her nickname, she smiled just a little. Watching her expression peek out as her usual mask cracked, it was clear how happy it made her.

Nicknames were symbols of closeness. That she’d be this pleased over something so small meant she must truly be starved for affection. Considering her upbringing, it wasn’t hard to understand why.

To her, I was sometimes a guardian, sometimes a friend, and sometimes—though I could never truly replace it—something close to family. I had to do what I could to fill, even if only a little, what she had once lost.

…Anyway, that wasn’t the point right now.

We were talking about the race.

"A Pre-Open race held in November of the Junior class. Tokyo Racecourse, left-handed turf, 1,600 meters. For G1s, it’s the same course used for the NHK Mile Cup, the Victoria Mile, and the Yasuda Kinen. At 1,600 meters, you don’t pass through the first and second corners, so the course is effectively divided into three phases: a long straight, a corner, and then another long straight. Its defining feature is Tokyo’s exceptionally long final straight. It’s disadvantageous for front-running Uma Musume—or rather, it’s a course that favors those who can push up from behind or close hard late."

Tokyo Racecourse. The Japan Derby that Hoshino Wilm had run was held here as well.

In hindsight, it was the one race where the currently undefeated Wilm had been pushed to within a nose. Rainy conditions, a heavy track, the fact that she hadn’t yet mastered her Domain, Teio’s overwhelming finishing kick, and that excessively long final straight—because of all these factors, she’d been driven into a corner like never before.

Among them, the length of the final straight had probably played a particularly large role.

"A vast straight exceeding 500 meters, stretching all the way to just before the first corner. Excluding Niigata Racecourse, it’s the longest in Japan. As you experienced in the Derby, for front-running Uma Musume, it’s extremely long, and seeing it through requires enormous stamina."

I laid out that basic premise, but Wilm tilted her head, looking unconvinced.

"Is it really that harsh? I managed to run through it using pretty much my usual sense."

…She really was something else.

Given Wilm’s stamina and grit, maybe even a straight like that at a Classic-class pace wouldn’t be much of a burden for her.

Correction—of the factors I mentioned earlier, the length of the final straight might not actually matter much.

At least, not for her.

"…That’s because you’re a stayer by nature. For Bourbon, whose stamina isn’t quite that high, this final straight will have a much bigger impact."

"But she’ll win, right?"

"She will."

I’d said it would have an impact, but I’d never said she’d lose. For one thing, Bourbon’s stamina issues had already been mitigated to a certain extent. If it were 2,000 meters or longer, or a Classic-class pace, it would be a different story—but for a Junior-class Pre-Open at 1,600 meters, it was no longer a weak point.

On top of that, her condition was excellent, and to address the issues exposed in her debut, she’d acquired the skill "Focus."

…Well, saying “acquired” made it sound game-like. In reality, we’d simply drilled start practice relentlessly. Compared to Wilm, who had "Sharp Mind ○," it took more effort, but we managed to get it done in time.

With all these factors aligned, the odds of the current Bourbon losing were… maybe three or four times out of a thousand. The difference in base ability was simply too large. Unless something like a lightning strike or a fatal accident occurred, she wasn’t going to lose.

"…And it’s not like she’d crumble under the weight of expectations, either."

With her stats, skills, and condition all in place, the current Bourbon stood head and shoulders above the rest of this year’s Begonia Sho field. Even back in the paddock, when she appeared, a ripple of murmurs had gone through the crowd—and even now, conversations about her drifted in from all around.

"This race is basically Mihono Bourbon’s to lose."

"After seeing that debut, yeah…"

"At a mile or less, there’s no one who can beat the current Bourbon."

"And her trainer is… what was it again…"

"I heard the publicly known training’s insanely strict, and she didn’t look overly hyped earlier either."

Just as those voices suggested, Bourbon was the overwhelming favorite—by far the most expected to win. The unusually large crowd for a Pre-Open race existed entirely because of the sheer gap she’d shown in her debut.

Many people were placing their hopes in her.

That Mihono Bourbon would take this race, then win the Asahi Hai FS… and perhaps even make dreams that once seemed impossible come true.

That she might even overcome the wall of bloodlines and conquer the Classic races.

…Under normal circumstances, very few would believe in such an absurd dream.

But this year, a certain Uma Musume had proven that “there is no such thing as impossible in racing.”

Racing was full of dreams. Sometimes, “maybe” really did come true.

If so, then conquering 3,000 meters beyond one’s aptitude. Winning the Classic Triple Crown two years in a row. Or perhaps… something even more incredible might be possible.

The run of that chestnut runaway Uma Musume had made many people believe in dreams like those.

Thinking about Bourbon and Rice’s Kikuka Sho, that was a little frightening.

The greater the expectations placed on Bourbon, the more devastating it would be if they were shattered.

If… if things ended the same way as in the app from my previous life, and in actual history—

…No.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

I was Mihono Bourbon’s trainer.

What happened in this life, what happened in the app from my previous life—none of that mattered. For her victory, for her long-cherished goal, I’d use everything I had.

As I renewed my resolve, Wilm spoke again.

"What kind of strategy did you give Bourbon-chan this time?"

Strategy, huh.

It felt a bit anticlimactic to say this right after vowing to “use everything I have,” but there really wasn’t anything special this time.

I’d prepared every countermeasure that could be handled in advance. All that was left was for her to run as herself.

"Nothing complicated. Same as always."

"Maintaining her optimal pace from start to finish?"

"Exactly. Paying attention to lap times—what’s commonly called lap-based running."

Running styles—front-runner, stalker, closer—were determined by position relative to the pack.

For example, no matter how slow the pace, if you aggressively took the lead, you were a front-runner. Conversely, no matter how fast the pace, if you stayed at the very back, you were considered a closer.

In that sense, Mihono Bourbon’s real-life racing history from my previous life would certainly be classified as front-running. After all, she’d take the lead and maintain it.

…But it wasn’t the kind of front-running where you burned stamina early and forced your way ahead.

What Bourbon and I were aiming for was—put bluntly—a brute-force style that relied entirely on raw specs.

"Using Bourbon’s almost machine-like precision in rhythm and pace measurement to make her run at a constant speed from start to finish." That was the whole strategy.

The issue was that a balanced approach that didn’t emphasize either the early or late stages was still categorized as front-running.

In other words, that “constant pace” had to be fast enough to take the lead, and fast enough to compete with other front-running Uma Musume who poured everything into the opening stretch.

…Basically, it followed the same logic as Hoshino Wilm’s runaway strategy.

What counted as a middle pace for her was already a high pace for others. Maintaining that pace from start to finish became, from their perspective, a flawless run with no opening to exploit.

In the sense of “taking the lead early and never fading,” it could be considered an ideal form of front-running.

…If it could actually be pulled off.

"But Bourbon-chan hasn’t succeeded with that running style yet, right?"

That was true.

Bourbon tended to get carried away, and when another Uma Musume was ahead of her, she couldn’t suppress the instinctive urge to push forward. As a result, during the past week of side-by-side training with Hoshino Wilm, the lap-based running style hadn’t succeeded even once.

But that was expected—or rather, it was fine.

"Well, yeah. But that’s where—"

Just as I was about to continue—

"Brother, I bought them."

Right on cue, Masa came back.

She was wearing the same familiar suit as me.

…No, scratch that. It wasn’t familiar at all. I wasn’t used to seeing her with her arms full of this much stuff.

Neither Wilm nor I had ever used them, but racecourses were packed with fast-food stalls and takeaway shops. According to Masa, Tokyo Racecourse alone had close to a hundred.

The reason we’d never bothered with them was simple—we just weren’t that interested.

Neither Wilm nor I… well, okay, Wilm might be an exception, but as for me, I didn’t have much interest in food or flavor. Honestly, as long as I could quickly replenish the energy needed to move my body and brain, I’d be fine even with muddy water.

Wilm, on the other hand, seemed to have a moderate interest in food. However, in the past it had been suppressed by obsessive constraints, and now her desire to run took priority over everything else.

In short, for both of us, when it came down to gourmet food versus racing, racing always won.

When we came to a racecourse, we headed straight for the paddock and the turf, which naturally pushed those shops far down our list of priorities.

But my younger sister, Masa, apparently didn’t feel the same way.

After seeing the paddock, she’d said, “I’ll go check things out,” and set off on a racecourse gourmet expedition.

And after twenty minutes of exploration, what she returned with—cradled in her arms—were churros, donuts, popcorn, and a packed tray of yakisoba.

"…Masa-san, are you planning to eat all of that?"

It wasn’t just me who thought she’d bought too much. I was just too intimidated to say it out loud.

In response, Masa let out a small sigh.

"Hoshino Wilm-san, do you think I’m some kind of competitive eater? Of course, this is for you… and incidentally, for my brother too. I’ll have the churros, so you two can take the rest."

"Trainer, what will you have?"

"Uh, then I’ll… sorry, I haven’t eaten in a while, so can I take the yakisoba?"

"I bought that for you from the start. You’ve liked food like this since we were kids, haven’t you?"

"Ah, that’s embarrassing… Masa, thanks. I’ll pay you back later."

"No need. Hoshino Wilm-san, the popcorn is caramel, right? And I picked donuts that looked sweet. Here you go."

"Thank you very much."

Once again, I was reminded what a kind person she was.

She never missed in situations like this—sticking to her own principles while never neglecting consideration for others.

She’d always been like that… well, maybe not always. It was around the time she entered middle school that she began making a conscious effort in her interpersonal relationships.

In most things, defense tends to be stronger than offense. But when it comes to human relationships, taking the initiative is essential. If you don’t act first, things rarely move in the direction you want.

In that sense, Horino Masa was extremely aggressive. She was skilled at capturing people’s hearts through thoughtful gestures, small gifts, casual words, and offerings like this.

As a result—

"Nom… mmm, sweet."

"Is it good?"

"Yes! Would you like a bite?"

"Hehe, I’m fine. Please enjoy it slowly."

As you could see, Wilm’s stomach—and heart—had been firmly captured.

Even in her usual behavior, it was clear that Wilm interacted with Masa more casually than with others. It was safe to say the two had already formed a bond of trust.

That’s right.

Masa had built, in just one month, the same level of trust with Wilm that it had taken me nearly two years to establish.

She was a terrifying little sister.

As a trainer, her technical skill was still unpolished, and there was nothing particularly noteworthy yet. But when it came specifically to communication with Uma Musume, she was dozens of times better than I was.

Honestly, it made me proud—and just a little frustrated.

…No, not frustrated.

This was a skill Masa had worked hard to acquire. If I felt inferior, then I should simply learn it myself. Even if it took years.

As I mulled over what I should study next while bringing the hot yakisoba to my mouth, Masa spoke up.

"…So, I might have interrupted you, but what were you talking about?"

"Ngk. Oh—about Mihono Bourbon’s lap-based running."

"That ‘same pace from start to finish’ thing? Can she really pull that off?"

"That’s what we were discussing. Whether she can or can’t. Technically, her sense of pace and rhythm is precise enough, but the issue is during the actual race, when there are other Uma Musume in front of her—"

Just as I was about to continue, the fanfare signaling the runners’ imminent start echoed through the stands.

"…Well, let’s talk about the rest while watching the actual race."

Seeing is believing.

If my hypothesis and my sister’s theory aren’t wrong…

Then Mihono Bourbon’s lap-based running should succeed this time.

---

Now, when it comes to gate-in…

What immediately came to mind was Bourbon’s debut, when another runner’s delayed gate-in caused her to lose focus and start poorly. If that happened again, even Bourbon wouldn’t be able to do much, strategy or not.

This time, however, the gate-in was proceeding relatively smoothly.

"For now, that’s a relief."

"Yeah. If it were the same as last time, there wouldn’t be much for Bourbon to learn."

"…Ah, right. During her debut, the delayed gate-in caused her slow start. I read about it in the materials."

Come to think of it, Masa had joined us about a month ago—well after Bourbon’s debut.

Horino Masa was like a lubricant. And I didn’t mean that in some cliché interview sense—I meant it literally.

She slipped naturally between people, prevented relationships from stagnating, blended seamlessly into the group, and kept things moving smoothly.

Even after becoming my sub-trainer… well, she was still a bit sharp with me personally, but when it came to work, she listened properly and kept clear boundaries.

She’d built good relationships with both Wilm and Bourbon, and at the same time, she never interfered more than necessary—supporting them from exactly the right distance.

And precisely because her position felt so natural…

It was easy to forget that she hadn’t actually been here that long.

It had been nearly two years since I contracted with Wilm, three months since I contracted with Bourbon… and only one month since Masa became a sub-trainer.

The further along we went, the more time seemed to stretch—no, maybe that wasn’t it. Perhaps each day simply carried more information now. If anything, it felt like time was passing faster.

"We’ve done plenty of start practice. She probably won’t mess it up today."

…Alright. It was about time for the race to begin.

Once more, I turned my gaze toward the gates holding the Uma Musume.

Do your best, Mihono Bourbon.

『All gates are locked. The runners are ready.

…And they’re off!』

Before our eyes, the junior-class Uma Musume burst forward all at once. Among them, the ones who got the best start were… Bourbon, and one other front-runner. It looked like "Focus" had activated properly—she had a clean launch.

…But there was a small problem.

"Isn’t the girl over there getting fired up too much?"

"Yeah. She’s overdoing it."

The front-runner contesting the lead with Bourbon was clearly overexcited. She’d lost her own rhythm, trying to surge ahead—

And ended up forcing her way into the lead almost recklessly.

"…!"

"This might be bad…?"

Hoshino Wilm sucked in a breath, while Masa furrowed her brow slightly.

For Mihono Bourbon—who was prone to overexertion—having another Uma Musume nearby, especially directly ahead, was far from ideal. Normally, she’d try to catch up, get overexcited, and disrupt her own pace.

…At least, that was what the two of them must have thought.

『Mihono Bourbon is running in second. She looked like she was left behind slightly, but she’s moved to the inside and is keeping her composure.』

Mihono Bourbon didn’t overreach.

As the trailing runner, she fixed her gaze—not on the leading Uma Musume, but on the turf ahead. Maintaining a steady middle pace, she powered through the inner lane.

Seeing this, Wilm let out a quiet, surprised murmur.

"…Isn’t Bourbon-chan running surprisingly calmly?"

"Yeah. That’s the result of her recent training."

"Uh… but she was always overexcited before, right?"

"That’s because she was running against you."

…Exactly.

If she was running alongside Hoshino Wilm, there was no way she wouldn’t get fired up.

"The Uma Musume Mihono Bourbon trained with nonstop was the undefeated triple—no, quadruple-crown runner, Hoshino Wilm. Even if you weren’t going all out, your presence is on a completely different level from junior-class runners. Bourbon has been exposed to that pressure every day, to the point that it’s become her baseline. Which is why pressure from those girls doesn’t even register to her anymore."

"So, um… then all that training up until now was…"

Wilm speaks hesitantly, as if trying to piece it together. …Wait, didn’t I explain this already? No, I’m pretty sure I did.

"I told Bourbon to ‘keep running until you get used to intimidation,’ didn’t I? The goal was to make her accustomed to your presence, dulling her sensitivity to other Uma Musume… or maybe that’s a poor way to put it. It was about raising her standard—so she only reacts to truly strong opponents."

Mihono Bourbon’s tendency to overexert herself is a matter of temperament. It isn’t something that can be fixed easily. Even when I consulted my brother—who’s well-versed in Uma Musume psychology—he told me that fully resolving issues like this in just a few months is rare. A fundamental solution would normally take years.

But next year’s Classic races… and the year-end G1… there simply isn’t time.

Completely eliminating her tendency isn’t realistic. So the question becomes how to prevent her from overexerting herself even while that tendency remains.

"Having a tendency" and "actually overexerting herself" aren’t the same thing. There’s a narrow gap between the two. Breaking it down further, Bourbon overexerts herself only when three conditions are met: she has the tendency, she perceives another Uma Musume, and that perception triggers her fighting instinct.

Of those three, fixing the tendency itself is difficult. Blocking her perception of other Uma Musume is also unrealistic—and dangerous. Creating that deep a mental block would be hard even for my brother, let alone me, and if she failed to perceive others entirely, collisions would become a serious risk.

That leaves the final condition: her fighting instinct being triggered by the Uma Musume she perceives.

If that could be stopped—

If, even when she notices another runner, she thinks, "Oh. That’s all?" then it works. It sounds harsh, but it’s like noticing a stone on the roadside—dangerous if you trip, but nothing to fear, something you simply avoid.

That’s why I had her keep running alongside one of the strongest active Uma Musume. By constantly showing her an overwhelming back, an overwhelming presence, I distorted her sense of scale.

That was the purpose of the training over these past few days—and its result.

I’d discussed this plan with my brother beforehand, and judging from the race unfolding before us, it seemed to have worked. Mihono Bourbon wasn’t overexerting herself. She wasn’t even paying attention to the other Uma Musume.

This was her race alone. A battle against herself.

For Mihono Bourbon, it couldn’t be a more ideal situation.

But Wilm and Masa seemed more shaken by my explanation than by the race itself. The two of them spoke up, sounding stunned—almost exasperated.

"T-That’s…"

"…That’s honestly a pretty insane method."

Is it really that insane?

If there’s a goal A, and the means to reach it are B, C, and D—and B and C are impossible—then you use D. I don’t think that’s strange.

…Well, okay. Messing with Bourbon’s sense of scale might be questionable. But it was the only way to solve the problem within the time we had, and I confirmed with my brother that it wouldn’t cause any serious psychological harm.

More than anything—

She asked me for help.

"I ask for your cooperation in achieving the Classic Triple Crown," she said.

If someone asks for help, then you do whatever it takes to grant it. That’s only natural. So I chose what I believed was the safest and fastest realistic method.

That’s all.

"Mihono Bourbon wants to win. So I’ll guide her using the safest and quickest path I can think of."

As I murmured that—

Bourbon continued her rock-solid race. Or rather, she ran at her own pace, dragging the others along with her rhythm as the race entered its final phase.

『They enter the final straight, and Mihono Bourbon is pushed into the lead!

Four hundred meters remaining, the pack fans out for an exciting finish—but Mihono Bourbon stands firm at the front!

She’s pulling away! Charging up the incline, the gap keeps widening! Six lengths! Seven! Eight! Still increasing! And she crosses the finish line without letting anyone cast a shadow on her!!』

『As the others lose stamina and slow down, only Mihono Bourbon continues to hit her splits with flawless precision, displaying a clear difference in class! A commanding gap over second place!

She’s a strong contender for the year-end Asahi Hai! Will one of the Junior Class champion titles fall into her hands!?』

As if it were the most natural thing in the world—

Mihono Bourbon won.

To begin with, Junior-class Uma Musume are still inexperienced when it comes to racing. Over a distance of 1,600 meters, distributing stamina while reading one’s own running condition and the flow of the pack is, in truth, a highly advanced skill. For runners not yet accustomed to racing, it’s difficult.

That’s why, when someone surges ahead—or when a particularly strong runner is present—it’s common for others to panic and overexert themselves.

In such a race, Mihono Bourbon, who possessed clearly superior ability, ran through the course at a steady, unwavering pace. Whether others were pushing hard or trying to recover, she remained unchanged. Watching her, the others must have grown increasingly flustered.

"Mihono Bourbon is racing calmly."

"Mihono Bourbon has made her move."

Her very presence threw them off.

As a result, they burned through their stamina, and the final straight—over five hundred meters long—became nothing more than a stretch where they were relentlessly left behind by Mihono Bourbon.

And so, the race was decided.

This year’s Begonia Sho ended with Mihono Bourbon finishing first, holding an overwhelming lead over second place. As if chasing after Hoshino Wilm’s back, she moved onward toward her next battle.

"…Thank goodness."

When I glanced over at the murmured voice, I saw relief soften Wilm’s expression.

She really is kind to Bourbon—or rather, she genuinely looks after her juniors properly.

Thinking back to when I first met her two years ago, it’s hard to believe she’s the same person. Hoshino Wilm has changed that much. Something that had been stifled by her childhood—her true nature as a person… or as an Uma Musume—had finally begun to surface.

The fact that even a part of that had been drawn out—

…No. I can’t be satisfied yet.

From here on out, I need to keep supporting her—and them—as a trainer.

I was sinking into those thoughts when Masa beside me suddenly spoke up.

"So, big brother. When are we holding the victory celebration?"

"Huh? I wasn’t really planning on anything."

"What? Why not? They worked that hard—you should celebrate them."

"Well, they’re more of the ‘training comes first’ type…"

"But you did it when I came, didn’t you?"

"That was for Hoshino Wilm’s Triple Crown anniversary."

"A win is a win. There’s no difference between a G1 and a Pre-Open race. Shouldn’t you celebrate them all?"

"Well… I guess you’re not wrong, but…"

These girls really are the “training above all else” type.

If we threw a big party like last time, it would take an entire day just to prepare. Naturally, that would punch a hole in their training schedule. If it were something like Wilm’s first G1 victory, that would be one thing—but…

Still, Masa’s point that “a trainee’s victory is a victory” was undeniably true. Thinking about it, while I’d been imitating the Horino family’s old “reward rights” system from generations ago, it was also true that they hadn’t really been rewarded properly for their race results.

If they asked me for something, I’d probably try to make it happen anyway. Any supposed “absolute command authority” they had over me was basically nonexistent.

"…Hmm."

This was a serious issue. If handled poorly, it could even lower their motivation. Not that Wilm or Bourbon had complained—but if addressing this could raise their motivation even further, it was worth considering.

So then, what kind of reward should I give them?

…No, seriously. What kind of reward is appropriate? I had no idea.

Perhaps sensing my silence, Wilm—who had been waving to Bourbon—spoke up.

"Then how about we meet in the middle and go out to eat, just the four of us?"

"Hm. That sounds like an excellent compromise. Big brother, that works for you too, right?"

"…Yeah. That wouldn’t interfere with the schedule, and if that’s what she wants, I don’t see a problem. Thanks, Hoshino Wilm."

And so—

After Mihono Bourbon finished her winning live, the four of us headed to a rather high-end yakiniku restaurant to celebrate her victory.

While Masa and I consumed what would be considered a reasonable amount for humans, the Uma Musume, as expected, displayed truly astonishing appetites. Or rather… especially Bourbon, fresh off a race, kept repeating, "Energy replenishment required," grilling and eating, grilling and eating, without pause.

"T-This is… no way this can go on expenses…"

"…Big brother. I’m a sub-trainer too, and I suggested it. Let’s split it."

The fact that Masa was actually showing concern for me—a rare occurrence in itself—said everything about just how terrifying the outcome truly was.