Chapter 57: A Midsummer Love-Fruit Harvest Operation (And Some Accidents!)

From the second to the third week of August, the Prix d'Elite Week was held at the Deauville Racecourse in France. This period featured a concentrated lineup of over five prestigious races, ranging from junior-class restricted stakes to senior-class restricted stakes.

Among them, two G1 races stood out as the main attractions: the Prix Jacques Le Marois and the Prix Maurice de Gheest—both reigning as the pinnacle of mile and sprint racing in France.

The ones who boldly challenged these legendary races were Taiki Shuttle and Seeking the Pearl. As they stormed into France’s most elite competitions as representatives of Japan—while we cheered them on from the ryokan’s TV—they achieved glorious victories. Both accomplishments were historic.

When the Jacques Le Marois and Maurice de Gheest were running, the atmosphere in front of the TV was like a festival. Everyone from Spica was there, of course, along with all three trainers, shouting at the top of their lungs. Thanks to the time difference between Japan and France, we ended up staying awake well past midnight.

The URA seems intent on keeping the Uma Musume within domestic races to maintain their value, but I’m all for overseas challenges. When they compete abroad, it becomes Japan vs. the world, so even rival Uma Musume you’d normally oppose become ones you can wholeheartedly cheer for. It’s exhilarating.

But more than anything, I love the sense of unity when everyone rallies behind the two challengers. It’s indescribable. Social media was flooded with support for Taiki Shuttle and Seeking the Pearl. How do I put it…? It felt like all of Japan’s fans were behind them. And that’s just… incredible.

Now, with the Maurice de Gheest and Jacques Le Marois over, the summer training camp was finally coming to an end.

This camp had transformed me beyond recognition. Before it, my biggest shortcoming was power, but over this month, not only did my power improve—I felt like all my base stats had grown.

Speed-wise, I’d finally reached a point where I could almost keep up with Silence Suzuka’s pace. Given her front-running style, I still couldn’t snatch the lead from her, but even this much was huge progress. If I could mimic a watered-down version of her running in long-distance races, I’d already be pretty strong.

Stamina had reached a level where I could rival Mejiro McQueen. Since we hadn’t run anything over 2500 meters during camp, I couldn’t say for sure, but… maybe I’d even surpassed her? Gut feeling told me I could barely last through a full-throttle 4000-meter heavy turf race now. Of course, in an actual race, pressure and intimidation would make things harder.

As for power, since I’d been so lacking before, I’d improved a lot. I still couldn’t match Gold Ship or Special Week, and forcing my way through a packed field was out of the question… but at least the steep slopes of Nakayama Racecourse, which had tormented me during the Satsuki Sho, didn’t faze me anymore.

Thanks to sand training, my legs and core had strengthened, and my already-decent heavy turf aptitude had apparently improved. Tomio looked satisfied, saying, "With this, you could handle Europe’s deep turf, no problem."

…The one thing that hadn’t improved at all was intelligence. Wait—don’t get me wrong! I’m talking about quick thinking during races, okay? My grades are fine—I always ace my tests. So far, lack of smarts hasn’t caused many issues. If anything, my reckless stubbornness has pulled out more wins. My growth is clearly reflected in my times, so overall, this summer camp was a massive success.

And so, the final day arrived. For refreshment, we were given a full day off. The plan was to enjoy swimming and a barbecue during the day, then take the bus home in the evening.

………….

Ah… It’s finally time.

The beach trip was here—the moment I’d been dreading. The time had come to wear that swimsuit—the one I’d bought (been forced to buy). I plucked it from the depths of my suitcase and sighed. It was so not my style.

A pale high-neck bikini with a sky-patterned pareo wrapped around the waist… I didn’t hate it, but it was still embarrassing. If this were just a girls’ trip, fine, but I had to show it off to Tomio? No way I could do that…

But I wasn’t some high school boy who could just strip down to his underwear and dive into the sea. That’s the kind of impulsive decision you regret later. The only other swimsuit I’d brought was the school-issued one, so, grumbling all the way, I finally resigned myself and changed.

Struggling with this unfamiliar style, I somehow managed to get it on. My back felt way more exposed than in my school swimsuit or racing uniform. Honestly, this was basically topless, wasn’t it? I spun in front of the mirror, staring at the near-total exposure.

…Okay, no pimples or blemishes. But my tan lines were kinda noticeable… I did use sunscreen, but after hours outside every day, some burning was inevitable. The faint lines from my school swimsuit stood out, but from a distance, they probably wouldn’t be obvious.

Adjusting the pareo around my waist, I nodded to myself. Damn, my abs are looking sharp. Not a full six-pack, but definitely sporty.

Wearing this made me realize how much more careful I had to be compared to regular outings. Also, back when I was a guy, the beach was just for swimming—but now I understood girls didn’t go all-out for that. No way you could do freestyle or butterfly with a pareo. And swim goggles? Not cute.

"Apollo-chan, let’s go!"

"Ah, yes!"

Tokai Teio peeked into the changing room, calling for me. I slipped on my sandals and stepped outside. Apparently, I was the only one who’d hesitated—a little base had already been set up on the beach around a parasol. Pulling the straw hat (also forced on me) low over my eyes, I trudged across the scorching sand.

In the distance, trainers Okino and Amami were chatting while setting up the barbecue. Tomio was fiddling with a cooler a little ways off. Instinctively thinking "Don’t look!", I ducked behind Teio-chan’s back, avoiding his line of sight.

"You bought that swimsuit for Momozawa Trainer, right? What a waste if you don’t show him!"

"I-I know, but… it’s just too embarrassing…"

"Ehh~?"

Teio-chan shrugged at my response, exasperated. "I don’t get you at all," she muttered, heading toward the rest of Spica. I followed, keeping a safe distance from Tomio as I reached the parasol.

"What’re you doing, Apollo? Hurry up and show your beloved Tomio-chan!"

"She’s right, senpai! It really suits you—I’m sure Trainer will love it!"

Gold Ship and Scarlet chimed in, but I just hung my head and shook it firmly. A chorus of exasperated sighs rose around me.

"B-but… it’s a swimsuit? It’s embarrassing…"

"What’s the difference between this and your school swimsuit? Just give it up, Apollo."

"You’re being way too stubborn about this."

What set me apart from the rest of Spica? I couldn’t put it into words, but everyone else had their own color—a distinct style that matched their personality. Gold Ship and Scarlet wore daring crimson swimsuits, the kind you’d see on tall models. Their confidence and figures made them stand out, embodying the essence of Gold Ship and Daiwa Scarlet.

Special Week and Teio-chan sported lively pastel-colored swimsuits—another perfect match for their vibes. But me? I’d bought a cute swimsuit, sure, but it felt like the swimsuit was wearing me. It wasn’t that it looked bad… it just didn’t suit Apollo Rainbow’s color. Maybe it was low self-esteem, but compared to Spica’s members, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

Would Tomio even like someone like me? Maybe he preferred bold, confident girls. While I was lost in thought, that trainer—the one draped in a beach cover-up—approached.

"Hey, have any of you seen Apollo? I’ve been looking everywhere—starting to worry."

Tomio asked around, but everyone just grinned and played dumb. "No idea~!" Scratching his cheek, he muttered, "This is a problem…" He’d even put on sunglasses, like he was genuinely excited for the beach. Normally, I’d tease him for it, but right now, all I could do was hide behind Gold Ship’s tall frame.

"Apollo-chan’s right here, ya know."

"Huh?!"

Gold Ship suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me into full view. Clutching the brim of my straw hat, I stared at the ground as she cackled before being dragged off by Mejiro McQueen toward Trainer Amami. Whether out of tact or barbecue curiosity, everyone else left—leaving just me and Tomio.

"Apollo, I was looking for you."

"……"

"……Apollo? You feeling okay?"

His gentle voice made it impossible to look up. I could only shake my head like a child, leaving him bewildered.

"Did something happen? You can tell me."

"……N-no, it’s nothing."

"That’s not convincing… Hmm."

My vision was filled with my own body—stuffed into this ill-fitting swimsuit—and Tomio’s bare feet. When he took a step closer, I flinched back, accidentally meeting his eyes.

His hand reached toward my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled in on myself—only to feel my hat being lightly lifted. Fingers brushed through my bangs, and a warm palm pressed against my forehead. My heart nearly exploded.

"No fever… seems fine."

"W-wait, what are you—?!"

"Ah, sorry. Thought you might be sick. That was kinda pushy, huh?"

"Eh?"

"Well, glad I found you. I’ll be over there if you need anything."

"Ah—"

Maybe because I’d swatted his hand away, Tomio gave an awkward smile and turned to leave. Of course he would—I’d rejected him. Panicking, I grabbed his sleeve. He looked back, startled.

"……Something wrong?"

First I push him away, then I stop him? I’m the worst. But… I hadn’t even gotten his opinion on the swimsuit yet. If I didn’t muster courage here, how could I ever move forward? Steeling myself, I looked up and faced him properly.

Back at the mall, everyone had drilled it into me: First, make the trainer react to your swimsuit. Gauge his interest. No point confessing if there wasn’t a shred of romantic feeling. And honestly… I’d never even checked before.

R-right… Love is like a race. No matter how strong the horse girl, victory isn’t guaranteed. Even the most beautiful can lose due to disinterest or circumstance.

Would I ever meet someone who understood me better than Tomio? For love, I could endure this shame. Go, Apollo. You can do this.

With trembling courage—or maybe desperate hope—I forced out the words:

"Um… so…"

"Yeah?"

"M-my… my swimsuit…"

"……Y-Your what?"

"My swimsuit... does it look good?"

"……Huh? Sorry, could you say that again?"

"……!"

For just this moment, I hated Tomio. What kind of guy misses a girl’s teary-eyed, upward glance and trembling voice? Okay, fine—my volume was too low. So I grabbed the collar of his beach cover-up and yanked him closer. Yanked him.

Naturally, our faces ended up way too close. His dark eyes widened in shock, his usually downturned brows shooting up. If I puckered my lips just a little—we’d kiss.

My brain short-circuited. The world spun. Wait, why did I do something this bold?! Now I’d never string words together properly. God, I’m such an idiot—

Tomio’s face looked kinda red too. Probably my imagination. Probably. Either way, this was bad. Talk. Say something. What was it again? Right—the swimsuit verdict.

"Y’kno—"

"……Kno—?"

"Don’t miss it this time."

"Huh?"

I bit his collar—point made. Leaning into his ear (ignoring how he stiffened—Uma Musume strength kept him trapped), I whispered loud enough to hear:

"M-my swimsuit... it’s cute, right? Got anything to say?"

—Look at me harder, my voice hissed against his ear.

A desperate provocation? A cover for embarrassment? My ears burned scarlet, but the effect was instant. Tomio’s own ears flushed red as he scrambled back.

"A-Apollo! You can’t just—do that!"

"……Why can’t I?"

"…………"

Watching him fluster, I puffed up triumphantly. Tomio averted his eyes, mumbling, "It... really suits you." Then, softer:

"That kind of swimsuit fits you. Looks... really mature. If you wore it to the beach, you’d probably get hit on nonstop."

That last part was unnecessary. I wore this for him. My mood dipped, but Tomio’s never been smooth with words. This was his awkward attempt at praise. Smirking, I giggled—and his smile cracked through.

"Hey. Am I cute?"

"Yeah, yeah. Super cute."

"Ugh. Mean it properly!"

"You are cute."

"More!"

"I said it! You’re seriously cute!"

His frustrated tone sent prickling warmth down my spine, pooling near my tailbone. Combined with my exposed back, the sensation spread uncontrollably.

"Ah—ahaha! It’s getting hot! I’m gonna go!"

"Oh, uh—okay."

Then it hit me: Tomio had genuinely been flustered. Which meant—maybe the swimsuit helped, but—there might be a chance. Even as a love-struck amateur, that conclusion sent me soaring. I sprinted toward Spica, where everyone (except clueless Trainer Okino) wore knowing looks. But none of it mattered—my love had inched forward.

And so, the summer camp ended, giving way to autumn’s Twinkle Series.