Chapter 17: Regret and Romantic Feelings

"G-Goal! Apollo Rainbow crosses the finish line in first place! And this is—a decisive victory with an overwhelming lead over second-place Fif Rhythm!"

"What a surprise... Even as the favorite, I never expected such a flawless race."

The unceasing buzz of the crowd. Though my body was exhausted from giving my all, my spirit felt utterly crushed. The bitterness of defeat and frustration somehow rejuvenated my body enough to walk again.

As I slowly made my way back down the homestretch, my eyes drifted to the electric display board. The word "Finalized" soon lit up, showing "Decisive Lead" between first and second place. Having been haunted by those phantoms, I couldn't even tell how far ahead I'd been. A "decisive lead" probably meant ten lengths or more. I'd have Tomio show me the race footage later.

Just as I was about to lose interest in the display—I noticed an unfamiliar four-character katakana word flashing conspicuously above the time.

"A-A record!? It's a new record! Apollo Rainbow has broken the junior class record!""1:58.5... Her potential is among the greatest in history!"

1:58.5—that was my time for 2000 meters. As the commentators gasped at the display, an even greater stir spread through the stands. Some spectators exchanged glances, others scrambled to check historical records on their UMAHOs, while a few smugly smiled about witnessing something special.

But setting a record did nothing to sway my emotions. If anything, the commentators' excitement and crowd's cheers only irritated me.

Because those rivals had left me in the dust so effortlessly. They'd ignored me completely, too busy fighting among themselves. Records meant nothing when those champions were still ahead of me.

Gritting my teeth hard, I raised a fist to hide my expression from the spectators. Deafening cheers enveloped me, tingling deep in my gut. Even Tomio greeted me with a beaming smile—one completely free of his usual sternness.

After briefly acknowledging the crowd and half-heartedly enduring the winner's circle interview, I quickly turned heel and retreated to the underground passage.

In the waiting room, Tomio welcomed me with open arms. Though usually gruff, today his smile held not a trace of gloom. I weakly smiled back and buried my face in his chest.

Had he meant it as a joke? He clearly hadn't expected me to actually leap into his arms, now flustered beyond belief.

"A-Apollo... What's wrong?"

"...Sorry. Just... let me stay like this for a bit."

Pressing my face tighter against my trainer's chest, I clenched his shirt. Noticing my unusual state, Tomio withdrew his joyful expression and began stroking my back.

"You're not... hurt, are you? Did something happen? Someone say something nasty?"

"...Nothing like that."

"Hmm, I see..."

I flattened my horse ears against my head in front of Tomio, silently demanding pats. Understanding my hint, he gently ran his fingers through my hair along the grain. A shiver of guilty pleasure ran down my spine. Occasionally his hand would brush my sensitive ears, sending electric tingles down my nape.

Drowning in love, crushed by visions—I wasn't myself. Before I knew it, vulnerable words kept spilling out.

"Tomio."

"Yeah?"

"...I'm weak."

"Haha, never seen a kid sulk like this after setting a record."

"The record doesn't matter. As I am... I can't beat Special Week or Seiun Sky."

"Why those two? They're top contenders, sure, but—"

"—It's not just them!! Grass Wonder, El Condor Pasa, King Halo... With this reckless frontrunning, I can't beat any of them! Tomio, make me stronger!!"

Clutching my trainer, I pounded his chest. Painful silence filled the room. I was frantic—about being left in the dust by those visions, about being effortlessly outclassed. Complaining after winning was beyond ungrateful. What a pitiful, disgraceful horsegirl. Yet the floodgates had opened.

Unbeknownst to me, Tomio's shirt where I'd buried my face was now soaked through. Apparently, I'd been crying. How pathetic. I hated myself...

My face must've been hideous. I couldn't possibly look at him. Pressing harder against his chest, I wrapped my arms around his back and squeezed tight.

My body—my heart—felt ready to break. I wanted to bask in victory, yet my focus had shifted to those formidable rivals, robbing me of joy for this win. I longed to celebrate properly—to leap for joy and hug Tomio with my brightest smile.

But all I could see were my flaws—distance compatibility, lacking speed and power against that legendary generation. Were those phantoms manifestations of my insecurities?

Tomio kept silently stroking my head with tender care, then lightly touched my ear.

"...Apollo. Do you remember the names of the horsegirls you raced today?"

"...Huh?"

The question caught me off guard. I let out a stupid-sounding noise and lifted my face—probably a tear-streaked mess—to look at him. Tomio gave a wry smile as he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

"Second place was Fif Rhythm. She’s good at pressing from just off the pace, but her lack of power makes her results inconsistent. Third place, Lovely Silhouette, came from a regional circuit. Specializes in middle distances. Fourth place, Royal Marine, loves parfaits—apparently she used to be overweight but fixed it with power training. And fifth place, Yam Yam Parfait, had been training specifically to chase down frontrunners like you."

"...What’s your point?"

With his left hand cradling my cheek, my trainer used the handkerchief in his right to wipe away my tears and snot. His touch was careful, deliberate—I could tell he was being extra gentle to avoid irritating my skin.

"Honestly? None of today’s rivals were that strong. But what if every single one of them had studied you inside and out? What if they’d all banded together to form an anti-Apolo Rainbow coalition?"

"Th-that’s... ridiculous."

"But not impossible. In this world, we do whatever it takes to win. That could’ve been our reality. And if it had been, would you really have had the luxury to obsess over Special Week or El Condor Pasa—rivals who weren’t even here? ...Ignoring the competition right in front of you to worry about others? Right now, Apollo, you’re disrespecting them."

"......"

His argument was airtight. I’d been so fixated on those champion phantoms that I’d completely overlooked my actual opponents. Today worked out fine, but if I kept racing like this, I’d have gotten tripped up sooner or later.

A sudden chill ran through me. What have I done? Now I understood why Grass got so furious at Spe-chan in the anime’s first season for only caring about Suzuka. I hung my head, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists in shame.

"...I’m sorry."

"Being able to reflect like this is one of your strengths. Let’s be more careful from now on."

As he spoke, Tomio ruffled my hair.

...This guy. He always finds a way to worm deeper into my heart.

"Apollo. From here on out, let’s get stronger—together."

"...Yeah."

"Strong enough to crush anyone. Let’s make you the ultimate horsegirl."

"Yeah."

"And I’m gonna drill you hard from now on."

"Pfft."

Of course chasing ideals is important—but you’ve gotta face reality first. Nestled in Tomio’s arms, I let him wipe away the last of my tears.

"Hey, isn’t the Winner’s Live next? Let’s show Kyoto exactly what Apollo Rainbow’s made of."

"...Oh. Hey, Tomio, are my eyes swollen? If they’re all red and puffy from crying, that’d be so embarrassing—"

"Wha—embarrassing? I thought you looked cute crying, but lemme check—"

Ugh, there he goes again, saying stuff that’d make any girl swoon.

Tomio bent down to inspect my eyes. His own—deep, jet-black—stared back. ...God, he’s so cool today too. My trainer—no, wait— A sudden wave of flustered warmth rushed from my cheeks to the tips of my ears. Having him stare this close was way too much.

"Hmm. A little puffy, but probably not noticeable from the stage. ...Hey, Apollo? Your face is red. Are you sure you’re not hurt—"

"Sh-shut up! Get away! Ugh, you’re the worst!"

"Wha—?!"

I shoved him lightly and huffed. Tomio scratched his head with a baffled chuckle. "I’m changing now, so get out! Perv!" I chased him out of the waiting room and slammed the door.

But I had to thank him properly. Even if embarrassment made me lash out, I was truly grateful.

"...Thank you, Tomio."

"...I’m your trainer. That’s my job. Looking forward to your live."

"Yeah... See you soon."

Once I sensed his presence fade, I leaned back against the door and slid down to the floor, burying my burning face in my hands.

"...I’m so screwed. I way too into Tomio."

A realization that came way too late.

After the Winner’s Live, we decided to return to Kantō that same evening. With school resuming Monday, we couldn’t afford to linger. I’d wanted to do some sightseeing… but that could wait for another time.

We hurried back from Kyoto Racecourse to our hotel, gathered our things, and boarded the Shinkansen. To put it mildly, we were both exhausted.

I’d been mentally honed to a razor’s edge right up until the race, and the physical toll of peak conditioning had left me dead on my feet. As for Tomio? Cooped up daily in the trainers’ office juggling who-knows-how-many tasks—he was probably more drained than me.

Honestly, the "waiting side" of racing is deceptively brutal. The frustration of being powerless to act, the guilt of "Could I have done more?" after a loss… It’s a stressful job.

And the proof? Tomio was out cold the moment the Shinkansen left the station.

Zzzzz… His cartoonish snoring practically had a snot bubble forming. What even is this guy?

"...Tomio."

I leaned against my sleeping trainer’s shoulder, pressing my horse ears flush against his skin to maximize contact. His body—warm and broad—radiated a cozy comfort that seeped straight into my chest.

"...Heheh."

Noticing his left arm sprawled limply, I traced my fingertips along it: down the forearm, over the elbow, across the wrist, until my fingers interlaced with his. The raised veins on his hand squished slightly under my prodding—a strangely nostalgic, endearing sensation.

Back when I was male… what had my own hands looked like? I couldn’t remember anymore. Hell, his hands left a stronger impression now than mine ever had.

After playing with his veins, I moved to his fingers—broad nails, knuckled and slender. Without hesitation, I entwined my right hand with his left. The so-called "lovers’ hold." With my weight against his shoulder and my tail unconsciously coiling around his thigh… we’d look disgustingly affectionate to any onlooker. Not that it mattered; the near-empty car meant we had this space to ourselves. The privacy felt illicitly comforting, and I exhaled softly, stifling a yawn.

This was our first time holding hands, yet my heartbeat stayed steady. Is this all there is to it? Just a pleasant thrumming in my chest, syncing with his breathing.

"...Mnn."

Just as his warmth lulled me toward sleep, Tomio twitched and let out a faint murmur.

"Ah, did I wake—?"

"...Ggrhbl…"

"...Still asleep, huh?"

"...Nnn… Apo…ro…"

"!"

I’d been about to check my UMAHO when his sleep-talking froze me mid-motion. Wait—is he dreaming about me right now?! My pulse spiked, eyes locking onto his parted lips.

"...Apo…ro… wi’n…"

"—!"

"...G’na… do it… Apo…ro…"

His mumbling threatened to shatter me.

I love Tomio—romantically, yes, but also with all the affection and respect I’ve ever held. That’s why his unconscious words brought me to tears again.

"...Obviously. I’ll definitely win."

I’d thought I’d cried myself out in the waiting room. Yet here they came—unstoppable.

And so, Apollo Rainbow ascended to the open class.

Her next race? The Hopeful Stakes.

What awaited her there—hope or despair?

The junior-grade G1 loomed on the horizon.