"Cheers!"
While some say the age of "nommunication"—bonding over drinks—is on the decline, you wouldn't know it from the trainer industry. Being an educator is a high-stress job, for better or worse. There's no better way to vent that pressure than by sinking into a chair with good food and even better alcohol. For the rookies, it's a golden opportunity; the casual atmosphere makes it easier to approach the veterans, and a little liquid courage often coaxes wisdom out of even the most tight-lipped, stoic senior trainers.
"Gizzards, liver, and another round of sake, please."
I was right there in the thick of it. Since I'm a trainer now, I'm expected to show up to these things. I sat there, nursing my drink with practiced ease. The trainers around me looked startled for a split second before remembering that I was, in fact, an adult. As if to prove the point, I drained a giant mug of beer in one go and immediately flagged down the server for a refill.
"U-Um… you really are of age, right?" a rookie trainer asked, eyes wide with worry. "We won't get in trouble for this later, will we?"
I shot the girl a look. "You're a suspicious one, aren't you? Fine, I'll pay my tab and go find an oden stall to drink at by myself."
"Why is your taste so… middle-aged?" Okino chimed in with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. I already cleared it with Tazuna-san. She's legal."
The other rookies, who had been assigned to the Central branch this year alongside me, finally let out a breath of relief. They spent the rest of the time sipping their oolong-highs tentatively. I suppose it's hard to shake the image; until recently, I was a Horse Girl at the absolute peak of her career. To them, I still looked more like a student than a colleague.
"Still, it's a trip… sitting at the same table as the legendary Mejiro Rampage," one of them whispered.
"Can't argue with that," another added. "The fastest, strongest Horse Girl in history."
"I'm just a trainer now," I reminded them. "And a sub-trainer at that. I haven't even produced a single result yet."
"Listen to the 'Aggressor Chief' acting all humble," Okino teased.
I might not have had a track record as a trainer yet, but my position was already firmly established. In the hierarchy of the Tracen Academy, I was already standing several rungs above your average veteran. Many trainers had been approached for the role of Aggressor Chief, but most had been rejected because they couldn't handle Sunday Silence's temperament. While there were certainly those who resented my rapid rise… they didn't dare say it to my face. I'd earned my place through sheer force of will, and besides, I had a reputation for being the type to gather evidence and file a lawsuit the moment someone tried to sabotage me from the shadows. Fear is a powerful deterrent.
"So," Okino leaned in, "you promised us some trade secrets from your time overseas to go with the sake. What've you got for us?"
"Let's see… How about the time Lady and Dyna's bodyguards turned out to be former SAS and Green Berets?"
"That's terrifying!" the table shouted in unison.
"Wait, like… the elite special forces?"
"The very same," I said, picking at my food.
The stories kept coming—the time I attended an exclusive gala in Ireland, or the fact that I'm still on texting terms with the Emir of Dubai. These were experiences only someone who had conquered the world stage could offer. Everyone at the table, despite the alcohol in their systems, leaned in with rapt attention, treating my 'drinking stories' like a masterclass in global racing.
"Man… that's some heavy stuff," someone exhaled. "I came for the gossip, but I'm actually taking notes here."
"Well, if you want to know about the overseas scene, your only other option is asking Sirius Symboli," Okino noted. "And good luck with that."
"I could just bring her along next time," I suggested casually.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" they screamed.
"I'll just give Su-chan a call. I'm sure she'd love to join us."
"PLEASE DON'T!"
The way I threw around big names like that was apparently a bit much for their hearts to handle. Besides, if I called her, Sirius would likely clear her schedule just to mess with them. She technically has a trainer's license, so she'd have every right to be here, which only made the prospect more daunting for them.
As the group resumed their rowdy shouting and "one more round!" chants, I turned my attention back to the plate of tail meat and gizzards I'd ordered.
"Everyone was so focused on your stories they stopped drinking for a minute," Hana said, sliding into the seat next to me. "I suspect the pace is about to pick up now."
"As long as they know their limits," I replied, taking a sip of sake. "If they overdo it, they're the ones who have to deal with the hangover. An adult who can't manage their own intake has no one to blame but themselves."
"A very logical point," she smiled.
Hana and I talked for a while. In the anime, she always seemed to be at a high-end bar, so seeing her in a noisy, grease-scented izakaya was a bit of a change.
"By the way," she asked, watching me refill my cup, "are you sure you should be drinking that much? You're going at a fair clip."
"I'll be fine. Probably."
"Well, you certainly don't look drunk… You must have a 'Hollow Leg' as they say. Or maybe it's in the blood?"
"Ah… now that you mention it, I think my mother was a heavy hitter."
Come to think of it, Mom was a legendary drinker. I never once saw her with a hangover, no matter how much she put away. Dad used to call her a Waku. If that's my lineage, it's no wonder I can hold my own.
"I expect the offer to form your own team will be coming sooner rather than later," Hana said, shifting the topic.
"You think so?"
"I do. The Chairman wants talented individuals to have their own teams so they can pass on their skills and philosophies as quickly as possible. It helps clear the backlog of girls waiting to be scouted, too."
The Chairman had dropped hints before. For the sake of appearances, I couldn't just jump into a leadership role without putting in the time as a sub-trainer, but my work as the Aggressor Chief was already proving I could develop talent. With that on my resume, the red tape would likely vanish much faster than usual.
"If you do get your own team… what kind of girl do you want to train?"
"I couldn't tell you," I said honestly. "I won't know until I see them. You can have an ideal in your head, but that girl might get scouted by someone else, or her path might change. It's a waste of time to dream up a perfect student and then get disappointed when reality doesn't match."
"I said if," Hana pressed, a playful glint in her eyes. "For someone so young, you're incredibly cynical."
"I haven't exactly had an easy life," I muttered.
I finished my sake and ordered a carafe of hot atsukan. I'd finally reached the age where I could drink; I might as well enjoy it. As I waited for the warm alcohol, I let the question simmer. What kind of Horse Girl do I want to raise? When I really stripped everything else away, there was only one answer.
"I want to raise a dream."
"A dream?"
"Yeah. My dream, and hers. If a girl has a vision for her future, I'll support her to the ends of the earth to make it real—even if that path leads all the way to the Arc de Triomphe."
"Coming from the girl who actually conquered that 'nightmare' of a race, that's incredibly reassuring," Hana laughed. "Ah, here's your hot sake. Shall we?"
"Cheers."
We clinked our cups together—not as legend and veteran, but as fellow trainers. I found myself feeling a genuine spark of excitement. Who will be the first girl I truly take under my wing?
So this is what it feels like to be a trainer, I thought, as the warmth of the sake spread through me.
The Next Morning
"Ugh… my head feels like it's in a vice…"
"I told you so," I said, looking down at the groaning mess of trainers. "If you can't manage your own body, you shouldn't be touching the bottle."
"Weren't you drinking ten times as much as us…?" one of them wheezed.
"It's fine for me. I'm a Waku."
"Is that what youth is…?" they lamented.
(Translator's Note: In Japanese drinking culture, there is a hierarchy of tolerance. A 'Sieve' (Zaru) is someone who drinks and it goes right through them. A 'Waku' (the Frame) is even higher—it means there isn't even a mesh to catch the alcohol; it's a bottomless pit.)
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