"Let's do our best on the Grand Live!!"
"Ha-yeah!!"
The reason I threw myself into the Grand Live—a project deeply unpopular among the board and trainers—was simple: money.
It all started with my pocket money problem.
Tuition and living expenses were covered by a special scholarship, so technically, everything was free. Uniforms, gym clothes, and swimsuits were provided regularly. There was even a time when my body grew faster than my wardrobe and I had to survive without proper underwear—but thankfully, that crisis had passed.
The real issue was everything else.
Scholarships only cover the basics. If I wanted to go out, I had nothing. Accompanying someone to a race meant paying for transportation. Food and drinks at the racetrack were covered up to a point, but beyond that, I was on my own.
I'd assumed I could coast until junior high graduation and start earning as a trainer afterward. But reality hit hard. Going out with Rice and the others cost more than I expected.
Rice-chan had been covering for me. Her parents even gave me passbooks with terrifying amounts labeled "contract fees." But I couldn't keep relying on them.
"I think you're too spoiled by Rice-chan."
"As a student, shouldn't you be grateful?"
"I want to work part-time, but I can't until high school…"
"If you could, you'd already be working as a trainer."
"So what do I do, Lovely?"
"Give up and marry Rice-chan."
That was Lovely's solution... It was NOT helpful in the slightest!
Besides, Rice-chan already liked someone. Me marrying her would just be a nuisance.
If Rice-chan and Thank You debut next year, I'll finally receive a trainer's prize and breathe a little easier. But until then, I needed a way to earn.
That's when Light Hello appeared.
"We should aim to revive Grand Live!!"
She pitched the idea at a trainer meeting. It was an external project—well-designed, conceptually strong, and clearly explained. But it didn't land.
Most trainers prioritize race wins. Events like this are seen as distractions. No one wanted the extra work. Hello-san looked crushed as she packed up to leave.
So I stopped her.
If I took charge of this "trouble," I could earn income from the event's revenue. Self-employed income. The odds of success seemed decent if executed properly.
It would take time. It might fail. But I figured—why not try?
In the end, it didn't go well.
But I learned something: if you've got even a sliver of greed, you're not hopeless.
Maybe the easiest way to earn is through private training sessions. But no one knows who I am yet.