That day, after the training race ended, there were a lot of matters to handle.
First of all, there was Tamamo Cross. Judging from her performance in the race, her psychological issues had clearly improved significantly.
In the first and middle stages of the race, she had always been surrounded by Oguri Cap, Inari One, and Super Creek, exactly as Kitahara and the others had arranged.
According to the original plan, that kind of encirclement was supposed to continue for a while before Tamamo Cross could slowly adapt, then attempt a breakout, and eventually be able to race smoothly.
But this time, she directly broke through the encirclement, with no sign at all of avoidance. This indicated that at least this time, she had successfully adapted to the psychological shadow that had haunted her.
Psychological treatment has a certain characteristic: once you've adapted once, everything after tends to go extremely smoothly. Put simply, many psychological issues are like a "threshold" — before you cross it, it feels incredibly difficult; after you've crossed it, you realize it wasn't much at all, sometimes even feeling nothing in particular anymore.
The psychological scale results after the training ended also confirmed this for Tamamo Cross.
Handling psychological issues generally requires a variety of standardized assessment scales. Most scales adhere to indicators like differentiation, factor loading, internal consistency, validity, and reliability — tools that help determine whether there's an issue and how severe it is.
She had undergone such assessments before, including professional tools like the SCL-90 and the 16PF, which evaluate general and occupational mental health.
Compared to before, her current data had already returned to normal ranges. Only the "anxiety" index was still slightly high, but not at an "abnormal" level — merely a "tendency."
In other words, the progress in resolving Tamamo Cross's problems had surpassed expectations.
Another matter to address was how she had overcome it.
Kitahara and the others speculated it was related to what Tarō had mentioned — a "domain."
"The English word for 'domain' is zone. It's not a very complex concept. Internationally, there's already fairly mature research on it. I've encountered it a little,"
Inside the office, Tarō distributed documents to Kitahara and the others while explaining slowly.
"Put simply, it's kind of like what we casually call being 'in the groove' or 'in the zone' when exercising or gaming… Do you guys have any sports or games you enjoy?"
Komiyama was the first to raise her hand.
"I was in the tennis club at university."
"I was in the archery club," Miyamura Kyōko followed.
Kitahara thought for a moment.
"For me, it's mainly running — same as with Oguri Cap and the others."
"But I've played games before, too," he added, referring to his other world.
"That makes it easy to explain,"
Tarō nodded, lifting both hands slightly as if holding something invisible.
"I was on the basketball team in both high school and college. This 'domain' thing — I've actually experienced it a little."
"Once, during an inter-college match, I was completely out of form in the first quarter — my touch was off, my plays failed, and my mistakes cost the team opportunities and points."
"The coach and my teammates didn't blame me, but I felt deeply responsible. Maybe because of that mental state, in the second quarter I suddenly played beyond my usual level."
"It's hard to describe, but at that moment I just knew — or rather, I felt — when I should dribble, when I should shoot."
"And before I even released the ball, I already knew — that shot would go in."
"And sure enough, in that state, I was lucky enough to make up for my first-quarter blunders."
He smiled a little ruefully.
"Unfortunately, our opponent that day was too strong, and our department still lost in the end. But…"
He leaned back slightly.
"That state, without a doubt, was a domain."
At this point, Komiyama spoke thoughtfully.
"If that's how you put it, then I've had a similar experience… I think it was during a really crucial tennis match. I won that time. And what I felt then was very similar to what you just described, Tarō-nii."
"I've never experienced it, but…" Miyamura Kyōko pondered for a moment.
"In medicine — or rather psychology — there should be a professional term for it. Let me think…"
"Mental flow,"
Kitahara offered a term, glancing at Tsubakihara.
"That's it, right?"
"Bingo."
With a snap of his fingers, Tsubakihara nodded.
"Flow. What Kitahara-kun said — in Japanese it's translated as shinryū (heart-flow, or just flow)."
"A former Soviet scholar, Hanin, conducted specialized research on it."
"Based on field studies — measuring state anxiety before and after competitions — he proposed the hypothesis that 'every individual has their own ideal functioning zone.' He believed that when an individual's anxiety level lies within this zone, they can achieve their best athletic performance."
"This specialized term is called the Zone of Optimal Function — abbreviated simply as the Zone we're familiar with."
"Subsequent research confirmed this as well."
"The renowned psychologist Turner has a related paper — Anxiety and Performance. Besides data, it includes numerous introspective reports from professional athletes and Uma Musume."
"The literature describes that when entering mental flow — or the Zone — a person becomes entirely absorbed in the present moment, loses awareness of time and most external stimuli."
"Moreover, movement and consciousness merge seamlessly; no thought is needed — the body reacts automatically. Sensory, athletic, and cognitive abilities all improve dramatically; emotions become intensely pleasurable and satisfying, with a strong sense of accomplishment and positive feedback… These are all typical features of this state."
"According to what we learned from Tama-chan earlier, her sensations near the end of the training race were very similar to being in this domain state. I think that's precisely why she was able to adapt to her psychological shadow much faster than predicted."
"Kitahara-kun, what do you think?"
Everyone in the office turned their gaze toward Kitahara.
"Honestly, I didn't know much about domains before — my first encounter with the concept was through anime and games."
Kitahara gave a wry smile.
"Ah, yeah, anime does use the concept."
Tsubakihara laughed too.
"But those portrayals are way exaggerated. Real domains don't come with flashy special effects."
"Otherwise, with Tama-chan's strength, her special effects would be dazzling — all her future races would look like science fiction battles."
Because of Tsubakihara's joke, the office filled with cheerful laughter for a moment.
After the laughter subsided, Kitahara spoke thoughtfully:
"If I were to share my view… actually, I have a question."
He looked at Tsubakihara.
"You said there's mature international research. Then is there a hypothesis like this:"
"That this domain — can be controlled. In other words, that one can enter it voluntarily."
At this, Kitahara became a little excited.
He still remembered the situation in Oguri Cap's debut race.
In that race, Oguri Cap had a bad start, but in the final 200 meters unleashed terrifying leg power and snatched victory.
Back then, Kitahara had mistakenly believed it was something like a "unique skill" from the game — something like "Triumphant Pulse Lv5" or such. But now, combined with Tsubakihara's words, it might very well have been a domain-like state.
Why "domain-like"? Because Oguri Cap had said that at that time, she thought of others' expectations for her — that's what drove her to charge ahead. That doesn't quite align with the classic definition of a domain.
But regardless of how professionals might categorize Oguri Cap's situation, Kitahara believed that such cases — especially true domains — if they could be controlled voluntarily, would be enormously beneficial for all future training and races.
Tamamo Cross's performance in the training race had already demonstrated that a domain could greatly enhance all aspects of the body, especially speed. If mastered, it would dramatically increase their chances in any competition.
However, under Kitahara's expectant gaze Tarō shook his head with a look of regret.
(End of chapter)