Shwap!
Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, the girl sprang up from the sofa, flailing as she smoothed her rumpled clothes and hair.
That face that always wore a gentle, warm smile was now scarlet—so red it looked ready to drip.
"T-Trainer?! W-When did you get here?!"
"Ahem, Fumino."
Kuroha coughed twice. "Creek just finished her routine massage. She hasn't… quite switched gears yet."
"I… I see…"
Fumino gave Super Creek a sidelong glance, her expression a little odd.
"Trainer, Fumino went off topic! We… we were out of line just now!"
Super Creek straightened her attire, bowed deeply, and did her best to return to the prim, composed honor student she always was.
Only the flame-red ears betrayed the shy panic in her heart.
Uugh… why did sensei come this morning…
It's my fault. I've gotten too comfy these days and lost my composure in front of sensei.
How am I supposed to face him from now on…
In her mind, a tiny horse girl—basically a chibi version of herself—threw her head back and sobbed to the heavens.
Seeing her own girl like this, Fumino's mood loosened in spite of herself. She shook her head. "It's fine, Creek. Focus on healing."
She paused, turned to Kuroha, and her eyes grew serious again.
"Kuroha-sensei, I came to tell you something about my father… Trainer Nase Hideto."
…
After Fumino laid out what had happened, Kuroha sipped his tea and summed it up:
"So even the veteran Trainers who've been abroad are starting to study me now, huh?"
He'd heard the name Nase Hideto before: an outstanding Trainer from this Far Eastern island nation—seniority enough to stand beside Ginjirou Musaka.
He'd set out overseas long ago, chasing his dream with his girls. When he did return, it was mostly to scout those who likewise wished to shine on the world stage.
But after all those years abroad… to say his results were disastrous might be too harsh—yet "meager" was fair.
Kuroha meant no scorn—only that, in this era, the gap between overseas and domestic Trainer ecosystems was still large.
As one of this country's strongest, Hideto on the world stage had, at best, been a passing bloom. And Central's girls often struggled to adapt to foreign course rhythms and turf, so getting results there was a tall order.
It's a pity I'm just one Little Emperor away from going abroad myself, Kuroha mused.
Among his senior-year girls, few had a realistic window for an overseas campaign. McQueen's sights were anchored on the Tenno Sho.
Only Tokai Teio—that little dynamo—aimed to surpass Rudolf. Completing the overseas expedition Rudolf never achieved was an indispensable rung on that ladder.
But Teio's True Blooming still needed at least another half-year.
So even with overseas plans in mind, reality had its say.
After only a moment's thought, Kuroha chuckled, unconcerned. "Let them research."
"Race footage is public. I don't plan to hide our training approach."
"If they can actually discover something—and target us effectively off those 'weaknesses'—I might just have to thank them."
He wasn't bluffing.
Before, his roster was small, their race entries few, so PT points were painfully scarce and skill exchanges always stingy.
Now? After nearly a year of graded wars by six top girls, PT points were overflowing.
Left Turns, Right Turns; uphill and downhill handling; every distance and tactic; all weather and seasonal tags; acceleration lines for opening, mid, and closing legs; stamina recovery suites—most of the catalog had been bought and slotted.
His girls' skill sheets were weapons—fully loaded.
And when Inari One completed the Tenno Sho Spring & Autumn double, Kuroha gained the top-tier versions of the surface traits—Good Track Demon and Bad Track Demon—pushing the entire squad's course adaptability through the roof.
If a Trainer could uncover exploitable flaws in this state of the Chasing Light girls, Kuroha truly would give them a thumbs-up.
"If you're confident, that's enough."
Fumino nodded. Her main purpose today was to check on Super Creek—and to give Kuroha a heads up. Since he didn't mind, she wouldn't harp on it.
As for Trainers, Fumino had confidence in herself—yet facing this man, she knew better.
This Kuroha guy was a monster.
Compared to him, she might never catch up in this lifetime.
…
Back gate of Central Tracen.
A small sushi shop.
The place wasn't big; tasteful woodwork and a faint cypress scent told you it lived on regulars.
Behind the counter, a gray-haired itamae focused with calm precision.
In front sat two old men of very different air.
"Squid sushi. Please enjoy," the chef smiled.
"Every time we come back, the same place and the same sushi. We're three boring fossils," Ginjirou snorted, popping a glossy piece into his mouth.
Hideto spared his long-time friend a glance and replied in his usual placid tone:
"Every time we come back, you've aged a little more."
"…"
Ginjirou's jaw slowed. After a moment, he sighed long, blowing away the pleasant lift that good food brings.
"Ugh… I hate going out with someone like you. Out with it. What does a retired old man like me have that you need?"
"I hear your grey-maned 'monster' is entering the Mile Championship?"
"What 'grey-maned monster'—her name is Oguri Cap." Ginjirou shot him a glare. "Yeah. What of it?"
"My girl is entering as well."
"…Her name?"
"Aotake Memory."
Ginjirou thought for only a few seconds before he pinned it. "Second place to Sakura Chiyono O in the Yasuda Kinen?"
Hideto paused, then nodded. "Yes."
"She's an earnest, pure runner. Becoming Mile Queen has always been her goal—her dream."
"Losing to Sakura Chiyono O in the Yasuda focused every ounce of her resolve on this Mile Championship."
"Heh." Ginjirou let out a derisive chuckle. "So even a dull rock like you came out in person to gather intel—for her?"
"…"
Hideto blinked, a shade puzzled, but answered with a straight face:
"Whatever you think of me—gathering intel for your girl is part of the job."
Ginjirou stared at him, then gave up with a shake of his head. "Forget it. You wouldn't get it."
"I don't… get it…"
Hideto lowered his gaze and murmured under his breath.
He picked up a tamago, savored it slowly, then spoke again.
"Maybe. These years as a Trainer taught me one thing."
Ginjirou's eyes slid back to him.
"A horse girl's prime is short."
"When it's our turn to let them shine—we should let them burn, fully and without reserve. I believe that's our duty."
He raised his head; within those always-calm eyes flashed a knife's sharp gleam.
"What do you think, Ginjirou?"
"…What are you angling at?"
Hideto drew his gaze back, voice cool and objective once more. "Oguri Cap's raw quality is sky-high."
"Unlike Kuroha's girls, where you can clearly see the superiority of technique and wit, Oguri's is pure, overwhelming body—the athlete. Even on a world stage, she has the makings to stand on top."
"And the Japan Cup is one of the few chances for a girl to meet the world head-on."
"…Trying to goad me?"
Ginjirou narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sending Oguri to the Japan Cup."
"No. I just think—with that potential—I'd like to see it with my own eyes."
Hideto set down his teacup and dropped a bomb. "Aotake Memory will enter the Japan Cup—in addition to the Mile Championship."
"—!"
Ginjirou lurched, anger edging into his voice. "You're insane! Those two G1s are only a week apart!"
Hideto met his friend's fury with chilling calm.
"It's her decision."
A few words froze Ginjirou's temper in midair.
He stared at the man across from him. After a long spell, he stood.
"…It's Oguri's plan, too."
He turned toward the door. Just as he lifted the noren, he stopped without looking back.
"I got your dossier on Fujimasa March. I'll help you where I can."
"But—"
He set his voice like iron.
"—Only this once."
(End of Chapter)
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