Chapter 140: About to Hit a Tree
At night, walking along the tree-lined path of the academy, Makoto occasionally glanced to his side.
Beside him, Kitasan Black walked with her head lowered, ten fingers tangled nervously in front of her. She didn't notice his gaze at all.
After the hot spring therapy and a chat about the practice race, they'd had dinner together. The other Umamusume had already said their goodbyes and left.
Makoto had planned to walk Kitasan Black back to the dorm and then return to his rented apartment to review the day—but she stopped him with a quiet, "Let's take a walk, Trainer."
So, he stayed.
He figured there must be something she wanted to say.
Normally, Kitasan Black wasn't the type to hide her feelings. Whatever was on her mind, she would say it outright.
But after wandering aimlessly for an hour or two, she still hadn't said a single word.
It seemed not only did she have something to say, she had something weighing on her heart.
And indeed, Kitasan Black did.
What kept replaying in her mind at the moment were Deep Impact-senpai's words from that afternoon.
After talking about "staking everything," Deep Impact-senpai had added that she was no longer in her peak form.
If she had to put it into words, the only time she could reach something comparable to her former self was during that final sprint—when she entered the so-called "zone" state.
But if one couldn't handle or surpass the early and middle phases, then talking about "zone" meant nothing.
She'd also said one should be careful with that state.
It was an elusive, almost mystical thing, even for those who had experienced it. But everyone who reached that level had one thing in common—they all had something they desperately wanted, something they'd risk everything to obtain.
Like the Japan Derby championship, for instance.
"She said a lot, huh," Kitasan thought to herself. "And she said I must be under a lot of pressure. But compared to the race itself, none of that really matters—at least, that's what she said."
Then Deep Impact-senpai had added:
"I'm not very good with words. If you're confused about anything, I'll try to explain. You can also ask Special Week or the others. But I think your trainer's already taken all this into account—you can ask him too. As for the rest… that's probably just tactics and technique. I'll talk with your trainer about that."
So… was she supposed to just leave everything to her trainer and senpai again?
Was there really nothing she herself could do?
"Risking everything… wanting to win no matter what…"—that should be her wish too, shouldn't it?
Hadn't she always worked so hard for the Classic Triple Crown, to become an Umamusume like Teio-senpai, to live up to everyone's expectations?
Then—
"You're about to hit a tree."
"—Huh? Ow!"
A voice laced with amusement sounded beside her. She responded reflexively—then a sharp pain bloomed on her forehead before she even turned her head.
Her eyes stung with involuntary tears as she clutched her forehead and looked up in a daze.
In front of her stood a massive tree, so thick it would take several people to wrap their arms around it. Its crown rustled softly, scattering a few leaves that fluttered to the ground.
On the dark brown trunk, about a meter and a half from the ground, the bark had splintered and fallen away with a crack-crack, revealing a patch of pale wood beneath—shaped exactly like a forehead.
"Wait, you actually ran into it? You seriously didn't see it?"
The amused voice from earlier now sounded panicked. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she met a pair of worried eyes.
Makoto cupped Kitasan Black's face in his hands, leaning closer under the moonlight and the streetlamp's warm glow, carefully inspecting her.
The soft light fell diagonally across her forehead, highlighting a faint red mark at its center.
A few strands of her bangs swayed in the night breeze, brushing against the tears clinging to the tips of her eyelashes—tears that slowly merged with the reddened spot.
Frowning, Makoto reached out and gently brushed the edge of the bruise with his fingertip.
"Does it hurt—hss!"
Before he could finish his question, pain shot up his wrist. He sucked in a sharp breath.
He tried to pull back, but his wrist was caught as if in a vice, completely immovable.
"I'm fine… but this tree is really hard."
Kitasan Black murmured absentmindedly, her ears twitching as she suddenly realized that she was still gripping Makoto's wrist tightly.
Meanwhile, Makoto was sucking in sharp breaths, his brows and eyes scrunched together in pain.
"S-sorry! I— I didn't mean to—!"
Panicking, she immediately let go and, just like how Makoto had examined her forehead earlier, anxiously leaned closer to inspect his wrist. Her words tumbled out in a rush: "Trainer, are you—are you okay? Does it hurt?"
Makoto took a few steadying breaths, pressed on his wrist for a moment, and after feeling no real swelling or sharp pain, he relaxed a little. Looking at her, he said with a wry smile: "I'm fine. Seems like my wrist is pretty hard too."
Kitasan Black froze for a second—then realized he was teasing her with her own words. A mix of embarrassment and irritation welled up inside her.
"Trainer, honestly… this isn't something you should joke about!"
Her tone was unusually firm. She bit her lip, reached out, and gently took Makoto's hand in hers. With a light tug, she pulled it closer and examined it under the moonlight.
Through the gaps in the swaying leaves, the silvery light spilled down, revealing five faint red marks along the edge of his palm and wrist—her own finger marks.
"It's… swollen, isn't it?"
She spoke uncertainly, then cautiously ran her fingertip along one of the marks, tracing the reddened outline before pressing lightly at the center.
"See? It is swollen, right? Trainer…?"
She looked up for confirmation—then suddenly froze.
It hit her all at once. She had been distracted earlier… and had literally run headfirst into a tree.
A tiny, half-resentful thought flickered across her mind: He was right next to me—why didn't he stop me sooner?
But almost as soon as it arose, she dismissed it. After all, she had been the one walking, and he had warned her. He probably just didn't have time to stop her before she hit it.
And then—she remembered how worried he'd looked.
Now, he was looking at her again—or rather, they were looking at each other.
There was still concern in his eyes, but beyond that… there was something else. Something faint, unfamiliar.
The moonlight reflected through the tree branches, scattering across his eyes like fragments of starlight. The silvery shimmer danced within them, and suddenly, warmth began to pulse through her veins—the same heat she felt when surging toward the finish line.
The warmth of his hand seeped into her fingertips. The distant sound of the fountain splashing became strangely vivid, like the whole world had gone quiet except for that one sound.
Her ears twitched, and her breath seemed to catch on the breeze.
She quickly looked down again, her gaze falling to the faint crescent-shaped mark she had just pressed into his skin.
And that was when she noticed—her thumb was gently rubbing that crescent shape, almost of its own accord.
I… I…
W-what… is this?
The question echoed in her mind before she hurriedly pushed it away.
She didn't know why, but instinct told her it was something she wouldn't be able to figure out right now.
And if she couldn't understand it… then it was better not to think about it at all. That was how she'd always handled things.
As she was lost in thought, she suddenly felt a finger tap lightly against her temple. A soft laugh came from above her head.
"Looks like today's practice race really wore you out. You've been spacing out all evening."
"Get some rest early tonight. Whatever it is, we can talk about it tomorrow."
<+>
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