Chapter 29: Our Path Forward

After arriving at the university hospital, I immediately underwent a detailed examination of my right leg. Once the state of my leg muscles was checked with cutting-edge machinery, I was left waiting in the lounge for the results. Having my leg whirred and whizzed by that massive machine was terrifying in more ways than one—I swear I’m developing mechaphobia, no, hospital-phobia at this rate.

The discomfort had completely faded, but since stimulating the area might be risky, I was now confined to a wheelchair. My trainer was slowly pushing me along, so at least I didn’t have to walk—which was nice. Still, being treated this carefully somehow made me feel guilty.

Hospitals are just awful, no matter what. First off, the smell—alcohol or medicine or whatever it is… it’s strong. Every now and then, I’d get so dizzy I felt like passing out. Honestly, I’ve never had a single good memory in a hospital, and right now, I’m this close to full-blown misery.

Looking around, I noticed other horse girls visiting the hospital too. Most of them had bandages or casts on their legs, a painful sight. As long as there are horse girls who run in this world, there will always be those who suffer injuries, huh?

"I wish injuries would just disappear from the world."

"...Yeah."

I’d been trying to keep the conversation going with Tomio, who’d been acting off ever since we got here, but her replies were weak and listless. She was probably just weighed down by the hospital’s oppressive atmosphere. I really wanted her to snap back to her usual self soon… but then again, I was the reason she was like this in the first place. And depending on the diagnosis, things might only get worse. That thought stung.

I waited for the announcement, occasionally exchanging words with my trainer beside me. Eventually, an hour after the examination—we were called in.

"Apollo Rainbow, please proceed to Room 1."

Ah, yes!"

"Apollo, stay seated."

I instinctively tried to stand, only for Tomio to stop me. Whoops—almost got up out of habit.

Pushed along in the wheelchair, we entered the designated room, where a white-haired doctor greeted us, his back turned as he flipped through a chart. A nurse closed the door behind us, leaving just the four of us in the white-walled room.

The doctor swiveled his chair, his eyes flicking between me and Tomio. Our hearts pounded as we waited for his verdict.

"Regarding Apollo Rainbow’s right leg—it’s on the verge of a serious cosmi."

"…!"

"Apollo, have you been pushing yourself too hard lately? Overexerting in training, perhaps?"

"Overexerting… Well, I have been doing pretty intense training since around May last year. But it’s not like I’ve been forcing myself or anything!"

"…………"

The doctor glanced at my trainer, silently questioning. When Tomio nodded wordlessly, the doctor scribbled something onto a sheet.

"Momoizawa, Apollo—no strenuous exercise like running until February. And no training that puts strain on your legs, either. You won’t need a wheelchair for daily life, but you must rest completely. Also… the two of you need to have a serious discussion about the future."

He handed a document from his binder to the nurse, typed something into his computer, then smiled warmly. "Good work today." Just like that, it was over. Not that I wanted it to be something serious, but… well, after all that tension, at least it turned out to be a minor injury. Wait, is this actually minor? I’m not sure, but if it’ll heal quickly, then it’s not so bad, right?

Since I no longer needed the wheelchair, I stood up as soon as we returned to the waiting room. Tomio, who’d been hovering behind me this whole time, kept reaching out every time I so much as twitched.

"C’mon, it’s fine as long as I don’t exercise. You don’t have to worry that much."

The injury was mild to moderate. Not being able to train for a whole week would hurt, but I could use that time to study races instead. If I made the most of it, the gap between me and Supe-chan and the others wouldn’t widen… probably.

Still, I hadn’t expected this much muscle fatigue to build up over the past six months since junior grade. That doctor’s words—"talk about the future"—probably carried that implication, huh?

We took a taxi back to the hotel, then immediately hopped on the bullet train. There was still so much to do back at Tracen Academy. Things were about to get tough.

Holding my luggage close, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

A Few Days Later, in the Trainer's Office—

I found myself fidgeting under the unexpected gaze of a rather surprising visitor.

"Good afternoon, Apollo Rainbow. I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Momozawa over there."

"Uh, g-good afternoon, Trainer Amami… Nice to meet you."

Amami Hikari—a woman in her late twenties with black hair tied up in a loose side ponytail, carrying an air of absentmindedness. Yet in reality, she was a top-tier trainer, having once guided Mejiro McQueen to greatness.

After school, I’d barged into the trainer’s office with my usual careless knock, only to freeze at the sight of her. I mean, she’s elite—up there with Trainer Okino (Supe-chan’s trainer) and Trainer Tojo (El Condor and Grass Wonder’s trainer). Of course, a horse girl’s success ultimately depends on her own efforts, so a trainer’s skill isn’t everything. Chemistry matters too…

Anyway, Trainer Amami was none other than Tomio’s mentor. I had no idea why he’d called her here. I wasn’t doubting him, but I couldn’t help feeling wary.

"S-sorry, Apollo. I didn’t come here to spy or anything! Momozawa just asked for my advice on… your future."

Flustered, she waved her hands before deferring to Tomio. Honestly, her vibe was so unreliable that it was hard to believe she’d trained McQueen. No offense.

"You called Trainer Amami here, Tomio?"

"...Yeah. As a rookie trainer, I’ve hit my limits. If I don’t borrow her expertise, the same thing might happen again."

Tomio handed her coffee and snacks, and her eyes lit up as she dug in. "Momozawa, you remembered my favorites!" Ugh. Annoying.

"Apollo, sit down. We’ve got important stuff to discuss— Wait, why next to me?"

"What’s the big deal?"

"...Fine. Let’s get started."

I dragged a stool over and plopped down beside him, wrapping my tail around his back like a territorial claim. Our discussion began.

"Alright. For our future plans, we need to address two main points: our next race and training intensity/methods. Especially the latter—my lack of experience means if we charge ahead blindly, Apollo might get hurt again. That’s why I asked Amami here. Clear so far?"

"...Yeah."

"First, the next race. Let’s reconfirm our goal—this year’s big target is the Kikuka-shō (Japanese St. Leger). Right, Apollo?"

"Right. My dream is to be the strongest stayer—and I’ll prove it in the Kikuka-shō."

"Good. Our goal hasn’t shifted."

My ambition—strongest stayer—hadn’t wavered. But over time, a trainer and horse girl’s goals can drift apart. Verbalizing it like this was crucial.

Honestly, given I could now handle 2000–2400m races, it wouldn’t have been strange if Tomio’s goal had shifted to making Apollo a Triple Crown winner. Thank goodness it hadn’t. (Not that I’d ever gotten carried away thinking about it. Ahem.)

Trainer Amami silently observed us, munching on chocolate cookies between sips of coffee. Nodding along, all smiley. Kinda creepy.

Tomio pulled out a sheet of paper, eyes scanning it. He tapped his pen against his lips a few times before speaking.

"...So. If we don’t prioritize the Satsuki-shō or Japanese Derby and focus entirely on the Kikuka-shō… I’d propose this schedule."

He slid the paper forward. Scrawled on it was:Sumire Stakes (2200m) → TV Tokyo Cup Aoba-shō (2400m) → Japanese Derby (2400m) → Kobe Shimbun Hai (2400m) → Kikuka-shō (3000m).

This lineup minimized races under 2400m—effectively ditching the Satsuki-shō. I’d mentally toyed with similar schedules, and this one did seem best… except for one glaring issue.

"But with this schedule—""...Yeah. It’s just speculation, but we’d likely reach the Kikuka-shō without properly countering those five."

—The five horse girls I had to prepare for:

1. Special Week (overwhelming raw power),

2. King Halo (generational closing speed),

3. Seiun Sky (unpredictable trickster),

4. El Condor Pasa (race control that stifles challengers),

5. Grass Wonder (the chestnut wildcard).

And if the Kikuka-shō was our goal, the main rivals would be Special Week, King Halo, and Seiun Sky—especially Seiun Sky.

To beat them in a G1, I had to understand their racing habits. Ideally, I’d face them twice to analyze their tendencies and plan counters. But I’d never raced Seiun Sky before—no clue how she’d react in a race with a frontrunner.

That’s why (based on current projections), facing them only in the Japanese Derby wouldn’t be enough. Historically, Seiun Sky skipped the Kobe Shimbun Hai for the Kyoto Daishōten, too… Ideally, I’d also use the Satsuki-shō to study her.

"So, the ideal schedule for thorough countermeasures would be… this."

As he said that, Tomio pulled out another sheet of paper. Written on it were: "Wakaba Stakes (2000m) → Satsuki Sho (2000m) → Japanese Derby (2400m) → Kobe Shimbun Hai (2400m) → Kikuka Sho (3000m)." In a way, this was another version of the ideal rotation.

Let me say it as many times as it takes. We want to use the Satsuki Sho and the Japanese Derby—those glorious, prestigious titles—as a rehearsal for the real deal, the Kikuka Sho. That doesn’t mean we’re planning to slack off. It’s just that, given my distance aptitude, anything under 2400 meters is pretty tough for me. So we’ll go full throttle in those two G1 races, explode out of the gate—and see how everyone else responds. How will they try to snatch the G1 title they desperately want? That’s what we’re aiming to figure out.

Especially in those two races, everyone’s going to be running seriously, so you can bet they’ll bring every possible countermeasure to stop my runaway tactics. Which means, they’re perfect for gathering data. Even though the distances differ, I’ll get at least two solid opportunities to see how they try to stop me.

Of course, I’d be lying if I said I liked the idea of going into races expecting to lose—because that’s basically what data gathering means. Losing hurts. It’s frustrating. Empty. I want to win the Satsuki Sho and the Derby, no question. I’m not going in planning to lose. But if we don’t pick our battles wisely, there’s no way we’ll survive in this generation. It stings, having to chalk it up to being born in the wrong era.

El Condor Pasa and Grass Wonder don’t seem suited for 3000 meters, but who knows what’ll happen in the future? For now, our main threats are narrowed down to Special Week, King Halo, and Seiun Sky—the three who actually ran in the Kikuka Sho in the official history. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on El Condor Pasa and Grass Wonder too.

So, to put it simply, our next move comes down to two options: the Sumire Stakes or the Wakaba Stakes. In other words, to run in the Satsuki Sho or not. This year’s Satsuki Sho is expected to be packed with high-level Uma Musume. If we go with the Sumire Stakes—which doesn’t grant priority entry—even if we win, we might not earn enough prize money to qualify. If we do want to run the Satsuki Sho, we have to go with the Wakaba Stakes, where finishing in the top two earns us priority entry.

“…So, which one should we choose?”

“……”

Tomio asked. It was a tough question. Should we take the Sumire Stakes route, easing into the Derby and then smoothly aiming for the real goal, the Kikuka Sho? Or throw ourselves into the springtime wars, gaining counter-countermeasures for the Apollo strategy by showing up for every Classic race—the Wakaba Stakes route?

There was no way I could answer right away.

Because—it’s a once-in-a-lifetime Classic season.

A cruel reality. A merciless weight that comes with those words: once-in-a-lifetime.

If I’m being honest, I want to win them all. The Satsuki Sho, the Japanese Derby, the Kikuka Sho—every single one. And not just settle for the Kikuka Sho. I want to take everything, leave nothing behind. A triple crown Uma Musume who explodes out of the gate? That would be insanely cool. Legendary, even. I want to win G1 after G1—for myself, and for Tomio. Before I’m the strongest stayer, I want to be the strongest Uma Musume. But once you start chasing ideals, there’s no end to it…

This decision will be the guidepost of my one and only Classic season. I shrugged, knowing it would take time to decide. Tomio chuckled and said, “Take all the time you need.” Trainer Amami was smiling too.

“…Heh. You two have a good relationship, Momozawa-kun.”

“Haha, honestly, I owe everything to Apollo. I’m a pretty unreliable trainer…”

“That’s fine. I relied on McQueen all the time too. That’s what it means to be a team—‘human and horse as one,’ right?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it…”

Tomio scratched his head, humble as always. Trainer Amami turned toward me with a serious look in her eyes.

“Apollo-san, Momozawa-kun is a very good trainer. Though, as you can see, he can be a little hard to manage…”

“Who are you calling difficult?!”

“Fufu.”

Tomio’s retort broke the tension a bit. Trainer Amami took a sip of coffee and then offered advice to me, still unsure of my answer.

“Apollo-san. Momozawa-kun. If I may give you some advice as a senior trainer… I think you should choose the Wakaba Stakes.”

“…Can I ask why?”

“…Let’s see. It’s a bit of an old story, but is that okay?”

Tomio and I exchanged a glance. We nodded together, and Trainer Amami began to speak, slowly and thoughtfully.

“Uma Musume—or rather, all of us—can’t reach our full potential unless we have rivals to clash with.”

Her story continued.

She said that Mejiro McQueen wouldn’t have become a name written in history without rivals like Tokai Teio, Rice Shower, Mejiro Palmer, Ikuno Dictus, and others.

She said that it was because Rice Shower defeated Mejiro McQueen at the Tenno Sho (Spring), and because Tokai Teio made his miraculous comeback, that such incredible performances were possible—because they ran carrying the hopes and dreams of their rivals and so many others on their backs.

She said that for Apollo Rainbow to break through her distance limit and reach the next level of running, fierce battles with rivals were absolutely necessary.

In short, Trainer Amami was pushing for the Wakaba Stakes route. She declared that the Sumire Stakes route would be like soaking in lukewarm water, and that there was no way to win the Kikuka Sho without placing yourself in the middle of a life-or-death struggle.

“Fighting strong opponents is tough, painful even—but it’s a wall you’ll have to overcome someday. Winning a G1 where the best of the best gather isn't something that comes easy. It’s not that you were born in the wrong generation. Just throw yourself into it, run with all you’ve got, keep refining your tactics, and never stop challenging them. If you do that, I’m sure you’ll grow into someone completely unrecognizable from who you are now.”

“…That’s—exactly what I was trying to say…” Amami-san said with an awkward smile, then reached for a cookie, almost like she was trying to hide her embarrassment.

Having been fired up that much, there was no way I could back down.

After thinking and thinking it through, I finally chose the path for my one-and-only shot at the Classics. I exchanged a glance with Tomio—and we went with the Wakaba Stakes Rotation. Even if Amami Trainer hadn’t said anything, I’m pretty sure this is the choice we would’ve made.

…What stuck with me, though, were those words—the limits of distance aptitude, the next stage beyond how I run now. What did she mean by that?

“Alright. That settles our schedule. Thanks a lot, Amami-san.”

“It’s nothing~”

Tomio stood up and pinned the paper labeled Wakaba Stakes Rotation onto the whiteboard. He walked briskly back to his spot, and the conversation naturally shifted to the next topic.

“Now, next up is ‘Training Intensity and Method’… Apollo, listen up. Starting from the first week of February, you’ll be training with Amami-san for a while.”

Instinctively, I glanced over at Amami-san. She gave a little wave with one hand while munching on a cookie.

“…You’re saying we’re ditching the Spartan training?”

“‘Ditching’ might not be the right word. It’s more like, together with Amami-san, we’ll be developing a new, normal training method that’s just as efficient as the current Spartan stuff—only this one won’t build up long-term muscle fatigue.”

…Tomio’s training is built on a level of Spartan madness that even Mihono Bourbon would flinch at. It’s probably something he perfected back in his assistant trainer days, all self-taught. But honestly, he’s pushed my body too far. Just before the Wakaba Stakes, it finally caught up with me.

He gave me proper rest days, daily massages too, but apparently the fatigue had already sunk deep into my core and wouldn’t go away. Even my body—known for its toughness—ended up like this. At this level of intensity, it’s not something you could apply to any other Uma Musume. That’s why the time had come to revise Tomio’s training style.

That said, Tomio had admitted himself that Spartan training was all he knew. So it made sense he’d want to lean on his mentor, Amami-san, for guidance.

“Let’s do our best, okay~”

“Ah, yes, thank you very much.”

I gave a wave back to Amami Trainer’s laid-back gesture. Then Tomio said, “Well, I guess that’s it for today,” and things naturally started wrapping up. I took that as my cue—that it was okay for me to head home.

“As for the training theory, I’ll talk it through with Amami-san. Apollo, you head back and get a solid rest. Got it?”

“Ehh… but if I go home this early, I’ll just get bored. I wanted to watch some race footage and do a bit of study, so… can’t I stay here?”

Tomio looked at Amami Trainer, and she returned the glance with a soft, warm smile spreading across her face. “That’s totally fine~,” she said.

And so, I stayed in the room, watching race videos while listening in on their conversation.