"Just like that. Keep your pace steady—don't push it, don't drop it. Don't tighten up, but don't get sloppy. If you feel like you can't maintain it, tell me immediately. You hear me? Immediately."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Rampage didn't waste a single hour; she began Suzuka's training the very day the contract was signed. The news that the legendary Mejiro Rampage had finally taken a student spread through Tracen Academy like wildfire, igniting a feverish curiosity. Who was she? What kind of girl could possibly catch the eye of the world's fastest?
While fulfilling her duties as the sub-trainer for Team Canopus, Rampage set specific menus for Suzuka and watched her every move with a hawk-like intensity.
"Ran! Is that the girl you scouted?" Twin Turbo asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Is she a new member of Canopus?!"
"No, I scouted her personally," I explained, not taking my eyes off the stopwatch. "She's my direct charge, so she isn't technically part of Canopus."
"But you're the Canopus sub-trainer, and she's your charge, so that means she's not in Canopus but she's… wait, huh?" Turbo's eyes began to spin in circles.
"It's a bit of a bureaucratic headache, isn't it?" Ikuno Dictus noted dryly.
Turbo was right—the situation was convoluted. Having a sub-trainer from one team take an independent student was a procedural oddity, but the academy was willing to overlook it for me. Meanwhile, all eyes remained fixed on the track where Suzuka was running. Everyone—students and trainers alike—wanted to dissect the girl I had chosen. They wanted to see her gait, her technique, her raw physical specs.
"Come on, Minamisaka, spill it," Okino demanded, cornering the Canopus lead. "What kind of Horse Girl is she?"
"I'm curious as well," Hana added, crossing her arms.
"Same here," Kuronuma grunted.
"Even if you ask me…" Minamisaka said, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture, "I don't know much more than you do."
The top trainers were genuinely rattled. They had expected me to remain a quiet assistant for at least a year, perhaps using the time to learn the ropes. To see me scout someone this early was a shock to the system.
"I'd like to know, too," a deep voice rumbled.
"Musaka-san? Even you?" Minamisaka blinked.
It was Musaka, the trainer of Oguri Cap. He had a deep respect for me after everything that happened with Oguri's career, and even a veteran of his stature couldn't suppress his interest in my first protégé.
"Rampage-san seemed to be wavering for a while," Minamisaka explained, "but once she made up her mind, she was firm. She said she was going to do exactly what she wanted to do."
"I see," Musaka nodded. "That's when a person is at their strongest. She understands that instinctively."
I want to do it. It was a reason far simpler than the quest for Triple Crowns or eternal glory. I scouted Suzuka because I simply felt the urge to see her grow.
"But why that girl?" Hana mused. "There were plenty of promising prospects in the upper classes."
"Hell, she could have picked someone from Nemesis and no one would have blinked," Kuronuma added.
"Maybe there's a reason she chose a freshman over someone like Trap or Genuine," Okino suggested. "Or maybe… it was just pure intuition."
"I… I can't maintain it anymore…"
"Alright, fifteen-minute break. Your stamina and grit are higher than I expected. Then again, you've been keeping up with my morning runs, so I shouldn't be surprised."
As Suzuka slowed to a stop to catch her breath, I began tapping data into my tablet. Now that I was looking at the numbers through the lens of a trainer rather than a rival, Suzuka's potential was staggering. I could see the minute details of her output, the way she translated energy into forward momentum.
"You're really something, Rampage-san…" Suzuka panted.
"You've got a captive audience, Suzuka. Any thoughts on being the center of attention?"
Suzuka looked over at the crowd of elite trainers and students watching from the fence. "Um… everyone seems to have a lot of free time on their hands, don't they?"
I nearly choked on my spit. "Girl, don't say that out loud."
Some of the listeners looked offended, others confused. I felt the same way, honestly—I couldn't tell if she was being incredibly bold or just incredibly dense. To call the top trainers of the academy "idle" just because they wanted to see my student… she had a spine of steel, this one.
"What's next?" she asked, already eager to go again.
"I want to test your explosive power and top speed. Basically, your acceleration curve."
"Understood."
"Sit down. You still have ten minutes of rest."
I had to physically restrain her from heading back to the track. Her thirst for running was identical to the Silence Suzuka I remembered from my past life. She was polite for now, but she was a "front-runner" to her very marrow. I had a feeling I'd be dealing with her stubbornness sooner rather than later.
"Don't worry about the spectators," I told her. "I guarantee the crowd will be ten times bigger by the time you debut."
"Ten times… okay. I'll just focus on the view," she said with a small, focused nod.
"That's the spirit. Now, get to the starting gate."
She stood up, stretched her limbs with a lithe grace, and approached the single practice gate I'd borrowed. I noticed her ears pin back slightly as she neared the metal structure. She hated the gate—another trait that carried over from history.
"Alright… and—START!"
The gate slammed open. She reacted to my voice, but there was a perceptible lag between the latch releasing and her first step. Gate training was going to be a long-term project, but that was fine; we had years. What mattered was what happened after the lag.
"Damn," I whispered. "That's some serious lift."
Her acceleration was monstrous. In just a few strides, she had shifted into top gear. She seemed to know exactly how to use her legs to find maximum purchase on the turf.
"How was it?" she asked, trotting back to me.
"Your acceleration is terrifying. Even I have to shift through the gears gradually, but you… it's like you're changing gears with every single step. It's the ideal form for a runner who doesn't need a lead-up. But," I paused, "there's a problem. First, your gate work is sloppy."
"Yes… I know," she murmured, looking down.
"That's fixable. We have four years. But the bigger issue is the toll that kind of acceleration takes on your frame. We're going to stick to the plan: build the foundation with basic training, and then I'll start hammering my technical style into you."
"I understand."
"And Suzuka? It's okay if you hate the gate."
"Huh?" she let out a confused little chirp.
She clearly expected a lecture on the importance of overcoming her phobia. For a runner, the gate is a necessary evil—a claustrophobic, suffocating box you're forced into. Suzuka clearly felt that more than most.
"You don't need to 'overcome' it," I said. "You just need to strike a deal with it. Call it a compromise."
"A compromise?"
"Think about it. You love the feeling of the wind, the open air, and the thrill of the lead, right?"
"Yes!" Her tail gave a happy, vigorous wag.
"Then look at the gate as the thing that makes that freedom feel even better. It's like the ice-cold plunge after a hot sauna. The tighter the gate feels, the better the explosion of the open track will be."
"...I never thought about it like that. Is that how you dealt with the gates, Rampage-san?"
"Nah. I never really minded them. I actually kind of like small spaces."
"You're joking…!"
"Why are you so shocked by that?!"
Near the edge of the track, a lone Horse Girl stood watching the training session in silence. Her eyes were fixed on the new freshman, tracking her movements with a complicated expression.
"Is something wrong, Air Groove?" a classmate asked.
"Nothing!" Air Groove snapped, her face flushing slightly. "Mind your own business and get back to your training, you fool! Look at my form, not the scenery!"
"Geez, I was just worried about you…" the girl muttered, scurrying away.
Air Groove didn't look away from the track. She watched the way I interacted with Suzuka, her jaw tightened. The "tyrant" had finally found a student—and the world was about to see what happens when the fastest woman alive passes the torch.
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