Chapter 8: Phantom of the Final Corner

——Unconsciously fearing the accident from my debut race, I ended up drifting wide and slowing down at the fourth corner. That was the weakness Tomio had pointed out to me. Some kind of psychological block had made me incapable of executing a specific movement—in short, I was suffering from something like the yips.

A famous example of a horse that could no longer run as it wanted due to fear of injury or trauma was Narita Brian. The truth was unclear, but after her injury, Brian apparently began unconsciously hitting the brakes, unable to push herself to her full potential.

I’d heard that Brian had been invincible as a three-year-old. Yet after her injury, once she aged into an older horse, she suffered defeat after defeat. Even in her legendary match race against Mayano Top Gun in the Hanshin Daishōten, one could argue that "it became a close race because Brian had weakened."

At any rate, I was carrying a fatal flaw. If I couldn’t handle—or rather, couldn’t even compete in—close battles at the final corner, then racing was out of the question altogether.

Tomio had apologized to me over and over… but I wasn’t running just to see him bow his head. I was running to see him smile.

Once I’d made up my mind, I acted fast.

First, thinking "This is probably some kind of bad status effect, right?", I rushed to the local shrine. Since it was obvious this wasn’t the kind of thing the nurse’s office could fix, I tossed in some coins and drew an omikuji fortune slip. And what came out was a moderately lucky "Middle Blessing"—the kind you’d be pretty happy to get during training.

"Hell yeah, the bad status is gone now!"Or so I thought… until I tried running on the training course, saw that damn hallucination at the final corner, and promptly slowed down again.

"Ugh… damn it…"

……Shrine-based debuff removal plan: failure.

Next, I decided to turn to my best friend, Guri-ko. I checked her schedule for a free day, then went straight to her first thing in the morning and begged on my knees.

"Huh? ‘Pin me down from the outside in the final corner’… what the hell does that mean??"

"Please, Guri-ko! I’ll treat you to three cups of honey milk! Just give me some of your time!! Please!! I’m begging you!!"

"I mean, if you’re buying honey milk, sure, but… what’s going on?"

"…Just a little something."

What I asked of Guri-ko was this: chase me down from the wide outside at the fourth corner while matching my pace. Honestly, it was a tall order… but to fix my habit of drifting wide and overcome that trauma, this was the only way I could think of.

For a frontrunner like me, having someone perfectly match my pace would ignite my competitive spirit, making me push forward harder and harder. I’d use that instinct to bury the trauma under sheer desire to run! Mmm, if only it’d actually work…

To Guri-ko, who had no idea what was going on, this training session must’ve seemed completely nonsensical. But if there was even a chance it could break the trauma, it was worth a shot.

We waited for a time when no one was around and slipped into the track course. After some light stretching and a warm-up jog, we decided quantity mattered more than quality for this adjustment. We walked up to the second corner and got into starting position.

"Alright, Guri-ko—final corner’s all yours."

"Got it~"

"Like I said earlier… if it feels dangerous, bail out immediately."

"…So you’ve developed a habit of drifting wide, huh? Well, I’m good at avoiding loose horses, so leave it to me."

"That’s a relief to hear. Okay, let’s go… on your marks—GO!"

Since I’d given the starting signal myself, I launched into my usual rocket start. Smoothly pulling ahead, I opened up a two-length gap on Guri-ko. Up until the straight leading into the third corner, my performance was flawless. But what about the third corner itself?

I leaned tight against the inner rail, never easing off the speed. Keeping my posture low, I dug my horseshoes into the ground, converting centrifugal force into forward momentum. An absurd technique—accelerating while carving through a turn—a skill I’d honed through training with Tomio, modeled after the "Professor of Arcs" and the "Sommelier of Curves."

I refused to compromise on the cornering, widening the gap on the chasing pack. Guri-ko, hanging back in second, was now five lengths behind.

“……!?”

I could sense Guri-ko’s slight confusion behind me. She was probably—no, definitely—thinking, "Wait, she said she had trouble with the final corner, but she’s running perfectly fine?!"

…That’s where you’re wrong, Guri-ko. Even if I’m dominating now, the moment we hit the final corner, I’m weak. You’ll see soon enough…

I cleared the third corner and entered the fourth.

So far, so good. The real problem lay in the curve just before the final stretch—the spot where I’d taken those brutal elbows to the ribs. Up to this point, my body moved without issue, and I could focus purely on running. The results of my training with Tomio were showing.

But the reason that trauma locked up my body? I still didn’t understand it. Had the pain really carved itself that deeply into me…?

The familiar unease struck without warning. Just as the final corner was about to end—as the homestretch came into view—it happened.

Suddenly, someone slipped through the gap between me and the inner rail. A horse girl with Jararaja’s distinctive hair color. With unmistakable malice, she swung her arm sideways, aiming to smash it into my face.

No doubt, this was a hallucination. The real Jararaja would never do something like this. That day had been an accident, devoid of ill intent—yet my brain had dramatized it into this grotesque scene. I knew that, but the memory of that pain flashed back all the same.

“Gh—!”

I flinched as if I’d actually been punched. My speed dropped, my legs veering wide. Ah, not again— Just as my stride threatened to stall, my best friend’s voice cut through from behind.

“Apollo-chan!!”

“—Hah!”

Guri-ko surged up alongside me, slotting into the space beyond my wide drift. Our shoulders nearly collided as she closed the distance, physically preventing me from drifting further outward.

Instead, her presence pushed me back inward—and my fighting spirit ignited.

For the first time since my debut, I was locked in a battle down the homestretch.

But clawing back the speed I’d lost proved impossible—and victory went to Guriko. She crossed the finish line half a length ahead. As we slowed to a trot, she turned to me, panting.

“Hah… hah…”

“…Apollo-chan, what’s really going on? Up until the final corner, I didn’t think I’d catch you at all. You didn’t have this habit when we raced last time.”

Guri-ko studied my legs, her expression equal parts puzzled and concerned. Meanwhile, I trembled with the faint hope I’d glimpsed. Just a little more… I’m close to fixing this.

Honestly? I thought I wasn’t afraid of that accident anymore. I tried to run normally through the final corner. If anything, it felt like my body was the one scared—like the original Apollo Rainbow, the girl whose body I now inhabited, was still trembling deep inside. When I pushed to my limits, her subconscious would peek out, interfering with me.

Sure, getting punched hurts, but it’s not enough to make me stop running, right? That’s how I felt, but… maybe it’s some kind of horse girl instinct? As someone who still doesn’t fully understand their physiology, this was uncharted territory.

…Ugh. Maybe I can’t fix this alone.

“Guri-ko, can we go again?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. But don’t push yourself, okay?”

“I know—”

Her concern was valid, but right now? Pushing myself was exactly what I needed. We kept at it, repeating this unusual training, but the phantom in the final corner never faded.

---

Time flows on, and we reach mid-July. The rainy season ends, giving way to summer. Mornings now begin with stifling heat that saps your energy, and the incessant screeching of cicadas grates on your nerves—that kind of season.

For most students, summer vacation looms as the big event of the year. But for horse girls—or more precisely, for those at Tracen Academy—there is no summer break. Just day after day of relentless training. Promising horse girls head off to intensive summer camps for over a month, while those who stay behind sweat it out on campus.

Honestly? I wanted to go to camp. But Tomio, being a rookie trainer, couldn’t afford it. There’s only so much the budget can cover, so it couldn’t be helped.

Apparently, unless you’re part of an established team, organizing a training camp is next to impossible. And unless you’ve got serious achievements under your belt, going solo is completely out of the question. I’d been hoping for a change of scenery, so it’s a bit of a letdown.

But more than that… the real problem is that I still haven’t overcome that damn trauma.

I’ve tried everything.

• Dangling a carrot in front of me while running (I like carrots, but it wasn’t enough to distract me).

• For some reason, running with Tomio (needless to say, that didn’t work—though it was fun watching him struggle to keep up).

A few times, I felt like I was on the verge of a breakthrough. But every time, it slipped through my fingers. In the end, mental blocks are a personal battle. If only I could find that one trigger to make the phantom disappear…

"But I just can’t seem to grab hold of it…"

Tomio muttered under his breath, his short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned down to the second button. His work computer whirred loudly, pumping out heat. Ever since our loss in the maiden race, he’d been glued to the screen, analyzing data.

Against my better judgment, I peeked over his shoulder—only to find rows upon rows of my physical stats. Height, weight, measurements, muscle distribution in my legs, weight balance between my feet, arm swing—he’d been tracking everything.

Looking at it now, it’s clear how much Apollo Rainbow has grown. In terms of physical development alone, I could hold my own against any graded stakes horse girl in the junior division.

Not to brag, but… I’ve got abs now. Faintly defined, but they’re there. My waist has slimmed down too—I could show off my stomach in public without a shred of shame. My hindquarters have doubled in size since we first met, and my back and arm muscles have bulked up for better drive and stride.

I didn’t know this before, but apparently, it’s really hard for girls to get defined abs. The fact that mine popped up without me even realizing? Yeah, that’s just how brutal Tomio’s training is.

Come to think of it, when I told Guriko about our routine, she looked horrified. Turns out, what we cram into half a day would normally take three. No wonder I felt like dying at first.

These days, I’ve gotten used to it—even started laughing it off. But Guriko just stared at me dead serious and said, "Keep that up, and you’ll actually die." That stuck with me.

"…………"

Tomio was reviewing footage of my form on his phone, so I rested my chin on his shoulder and asked, "What’re you looking at?"

"Oh, this? Just comparing your form from the very beginning, right before your debut race, and now."

He turned back to his computer, typing away. A moment later, three clips played side by side.

"Left is your first attempt. Middle is pre-debut. And right now. See how rough the early stuff was?""Wow. That’s ugly."

The footage from back then was a mess—unbalanced, awkward, barely functional. How did I even run like that?

And now? Well, thanks to my trainer, my form’s flawless. Horse girls generally fall into three running styles—"pitch," "stride," or "other." Turns out, a pitch-based approach suits me best, so I drilled it until it became second nature.

"Hmm… but the middle and right clips aren’t that different. The only major shift happens right at the end of the final corner…"

Tomio muttered under his breath, lost in thought.

Over time, I'd not only perfected my form but also mastered accelerating through turns, learned how to weave through the pack if my start was slow, and gained the courage to hug the inner rail. Those improvements showed during my last training run with Guri-ko...

...But yeah. Like Tomio said, the only thing left was the mental block.

Still, I think that's my problem to solve. Tomio's already pushed my body to its absolute limit—that's more than enough. You can't force someone to understand another person's mind, and honestly, I'd rather he just kept focusing on my physical training.

Lately, he's been stretching himself too thin, trying to handle everything. He hasn't taken a break in ages. Maybe we both need to step away and recharge for a bit?

With that thought, I threw my arms around him from behind and yanked him away from his desk.

"Wha—?! H-hey, Apollo! What the hell?!"

"Tomio, you're pushing yourself too hard! Let's go out and refresh a little! C'mon, pleaaase?"

I nuzzled against his back with my best attempt at a cutesy voice. ...W-well? How's that? Cute, right? You'll stop working now, won't you?Seriously, Tomio's been going way too hard lately. Any spare moment, he's buried in books about equine medicine, and according to Tazuna-san, he's been staying up late in his office every night.

At my words, Tomio froze for a second. Then, after stroking his chin thoughtfully, he gently pried himself free from my grip.

"...Thanks, Apollo. Yeah, I guess I have been pushing it a bit too much."

He smiled softly and ruffled my hair. I flattened my ears to give him more surface area to pet. The rough texture of his fingers against my scalp sent a weird, ticklish shiver through me.

"Eheheh~"

A dumb noise slipped out, but who cares? So, where should we go? We hit up the shrine last time—maybe a date at the shopping district?

"Tomio, let's go to the shopping arcade! I wanna eat parfait!""Yeah, sounds good."

He grabbed his wallet and stood up, already heading for the door in such a hurry that I had to stop him.

"W-wait, Tomio! Hold up!"

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"Your buttons are undone."

I stretched up on my tiptoes and fixed his second and top buttons one by one, finishing with a firm pat on his chest.

Honestly, he's such a mess without me.

"Alright, let's go, Trainer!""O-oh, right..."

Tomio blinked, momentarily dazed, before following me out of the office.

I scooped up the best part of the parfait with my spoon and held it out to him. Tomio blinked, his eyes darting between me and the dessert.

"...Y-you're really okay with this? Me, a guy, putting my mouth where you ate—you don't mind?"

"Huh? Why would I?"

"......R-right. Well, in that case..."

"Here, open up! Aaaah~"

Still looking vaguely conflicted, Tomio obediently opened his mouth and let me feed him. As I slowly pulled the spoon back, I noticed his face had turned oddly red. Was he... flustered? Or maybe he had some kind of allergy? Nah, he'd have said something by now...

"That part’s super delicious, right? Don’t you think?"

"Y-yeah... it’s good."

"...?"

---

We spent the rest of the day happily exploring the shopping district—picking out casual clothes for me, helping Tomio choose an outfit, browsing accessories...

Before I knew it, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky in fading hues of orange. We sat side by side on a bench, quietly soaking in the moment.

"...I had a lot of fun today, Trainer."

"Yeah. Glad to hear it."

"Feel refreshed?"

"...Yeah. A lot better. Though I guess it’s pretty pathetic for a trainer to need his horse girl to worry about him."

"That’s not true! I know how hard you’ve been working for me!"

McQueen and her trainer live by the motto "Two as One"—a philosophy where trainer and horse girl move in perfect sync, as if they share a single will.

That ideal isn’t about hierarchy. It’s about partnership. Supporting each other, striving together toward a shared goal.

And that’s... what I want. To stand side by side with my trainer. To climb to greater heights together.

"Hey, Trainer."

As the twilight deepened, I met his gaze.

"Enter me in August’s maiden race."

"...! Apollo, that’s—"

"I know. But right now... I think the only way past my limits is to force my way through."

Somehow, I was certain—this mental block was something I had to break. If training couldn’t shatter it, then I’d find the answer in a real race. Playing it safe would only leave me stuck forever. To beat Spe-chan and the others, I needed to throw myself into the storm and break whatever held me back.

A drastic cure. By facing the full strength of my rivals, I’d blow that damned phantom away. There are things you can only learn in the heat of competition.

"...Please, Trainer. I will win this time."

I bowed my head. After a long pause, Tomio’s expression shifted—as if he’d finally understood my resolve—and he relented.

"—Alright."

He dragged a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly.

"...Apollo. I’m a terrible trainer. Even considering sending my horse girl into a race when she’s not at her best... I’d deserve to lose my license for this."

"Really? I think you’re the most capable trainer I could ask for."

"......"

"...Sorry for pushing you. But thank you."

If I lost this next race, it wouldn’t be me who faced consequences—it’d be Tomio. Letting a horse girl compete while psychologically compromised was unforgivable by the academy’s standards.

That’s exactly why I backed him into this corner. It’s cruel, I know. But by leveraging even his desperation, I’ve created a situation where I have to win. Where I have to push past my limits. Because unless I do... this wound inside me will never heal.

A crimson fire ignites in the depths of my heart.

Now that I’ve begged him like this, Tomio will enter me in August’s race. There’s no turning back.

All that’s left is for me—the horse girl—to run with everything I have.

I haven’t forgotten.

The tears he shed after my defeat.

I’ll never let him cry like that again.

Next time... they’ll be tears of joy.