"That's what happened the day I left West Coast Tracen Academy." Shuta An set down his empty flat white cup with a soft clink.
Miesque rested her chin on her hand. "That Baffert person doesn't sound pleasant at all. He even kept trying to convince me to transfer when I went for the Breeders' Cup Mile."
Her lips curled in a pout. "My intuition was right. But, he wasn't the only one dabbling in drugs, was he?"
"The team I interned with was his," Shuta replied with a shrug. "I'd heard rumors before, but they were vague enough that I ignored them."
He rubbed his right wrist with his left hand, remembering. "So when I saw it with my own eyes, the anger hit me instantly. Maybe I should thank my mother's blood for that. Once I started swinging, Baffert couldn't fight back at all."
Miesque chuckled. "Mr. Shuta is the sole descendant of a great senior—Alice. Baffert might come from a family of Trainers, but he doesn't have a drop of Uma Musume blood. Even if he had a weapon, he wouldn't stand a chance against you."
"Let's stop talking about that unfortunate man," Shuta sighed. "Even though I beat him up, he still struts around the West Coast. My punch only solved the problem for a moment—it didn't fix anything."
"So," Miesque asked, touching her cup lightly, "are you going to gather fame and resources first, then return to the West Coast?"
"How could something as small as that be enough?" Shuta smiled. "As if beating one Baffert would make everything disappear."
That silenced her. She knew well—if one roach showed up, an entire nest was already thriving behind the walls.
"Then, does Mr. Shuta have any ideas?" she asked quietly.
"Ideas?" He waved his hand. "Right now, all I'm doing is training the Uma Musume who relies on me. And if possible, surpassing my father."
He leaned back and smiled at her. "But yes. Eventually, I'll return to the West Coast and uproot Baffert and the rest."
He stood. "Just because something can't be completely erased doesn't mean we should give up on fixing it. Anyway, that's all."
"Thank you." Miesque placed her cappuccino down and rose with him. "From what I've heard, you're entering your Uma Musume in the French 2000 Guineas?"
"That's correct. Though we're treating it as a trial run. Our main target is still the French Derby."
"You want to become a French Derby–winning Trainer yourself?" Miesque blinked, genuinely surprised. "But, that Gray Uma Musume of yours looked more like a natural miler to me during morning training. Can't you see it?"
"And is that because Miss Miesque herself is a Mile specialist?" Shuta asked bluntly. "If a 2000-meter specialist saw Oguri, they'd insist she was suited for 2000."
"Fair enough," she admitted softly.
"I came back to France this time for the Prix d'Ispahan at the end of May," she continued. "It's also at Longchamp, but slightly longer—1850 meters."
But the next thing she said nearly made Shuta leap out of his seat.
"Since Mr. Shuta shared such a private past with me, I should repay you somehow. I imagine your Uma Musume still doesn't have a sparring partner here in France, does she?"
She narrowed her eyes, smiling. "How about letting her train with me?"
Shuta fully understood the overwhelming dominance of the Uma Musume in front of him. Yet he still shook his head.
"Thank you for the offer, but I need to oversee Oguri's training myself. I cannot entrust her entirely to Miss Miesque."
"I'm not asking to take over," she replied calmly. "But the biggest issue for her right now is learning how to run the Longchamp turf, isn't it? Do you have a method ready for that?"
"My father once told me his idea," Shuta answered while heading toward the exit. "I'll try it this time."
Miesque followed him out of the café. "Even so, I feel bad hearing your story without giving anything back."
She clapped her hands lightly. "So let me teach your Oguri how to handle Longchamp's turf. Consider it my repayment."
Shuta stopped and turned.
"Hmph! Don't underestimate me." Miesque puffed her chest proudly. "I'm four-for-four at Longchamp right now—all G1 wins! You won't find anyone more familiar with that course than me."
Shuta hesitated. He weighed two options:
Trust Miesque with a slice of training vs. Increase Oguri's chance of achieving a miracle in France
"Alright." He exhaled, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I accept. How long will you need?"
"Not long at all." Miesque beamed. "About a week should be enough."
"A whole week, huh" Shuta glanced toward the direction of his hotel. "Then we'll start on the 25th."
"Oh?" She blinked. "Not tomorrow?"
"That won't do." His tone softened. "I promised Oguri a full week of rest. That's non-negotiable."
"I see." Miesque shrugged. "Then the 25th it is. That gives me time to prepare as well."
"Thanks, Miss Miesque." Shuta waved lightly. "Oguri might look a bit spaced out most of the time, but she's remarkably sharp when it comes to racing."
Miesque raised an eyebrow. In her mind, a country girl from Japan—no matter how gifted—was talented only by local standards.
But she kept that thought to herself.
In the following days, Berno Light quickly adjusted to the time difference and began taking Oguri Cap around downtown Paris during the day. Every evening, she returned to Shuta An's room to continue her training lessons.
"After formal training starts next week, Miss Miesque and I agreed that she'll teach Oguri how to adapt to the turf at Longchamp Racecourse," Shuta An said. "If she picks it up quickly, and if Miesque's method matches what I'm aiming for, then afterward I'll shift Oguri's training toward building strength."
"Not focusing on speed?" Berno Light blinked, surprised. "But the Twinkle Series is about who runs faster, isn't it?"
"To handle European turf, the speed Oguri has right now is already enough." Shuta An shook his head. "Focus on the current race first. We can adjust her speed training after we return to Japan."
"European races don't emphasize speed?" Berno Light leaned in immediately.
"Here, what matters most is power—power to withstand heavy turf, steep climbs, and long stretches," Shuta An answered without hesitation. "If European Uma Musume raced on high-speed Japanese tracks, some of the ones who struggle here might shine even more."
He didn't bother bringing up Japanese Uma Musume; even with their home-track advantage, only a handful could match Europe's top Uma Musume.
"I hope Oguri can learn all of it smoothly," Berno Light said, carrying Oguri Cap in her arms like always, offering sincere encouragement.
"I don't know what method Miss Miesque will use yet, but I'll be there to observe." Shuta An tapped lightly on the table. "Now, back to the main point. Berno, continue learning how to read a Uma Musume's physical condition."
"Okay~" The chestnut-haired horse girl dragged her chair closer with both hands, carefully inching toward him. He considered moving away, but in the end, he remained still.
He had seen all of Berno Light's gestures over the months. He also knew she her feelings. But until Oguri Cap won the French Derby, neither of them would say it out loud.
"I can't—and won't—avoid Oguri." Without speaking, both Trainer and Uma Musume acknowledged their shared, silent understanding.
Time passed quickly. Throughout the week, Shuta An spent his days walking, swimming, or enjoying the hotel facilities. At night, after teaching Berno Light, he showered and went to sleep—to continue his "work" in the Dream World.
After many nights of effort, he still hadn't found a way to improve Oguri Cap's turf adaptability. But he had triggered a new quest: ride Oguri Cap to victory in any G1 race within the Dream World.
The reward? "All of Oguri Cap's current skills upgraded."
His gaze fell on "Senko no Oni," still sitting stubbornly in the "Teachable Skills" list. His eyebrow twitched.
"Great, she has to learn this thing before the quest even counts."
But he had no idea how to trigger it. He had taught Oguri everything—the technical core of Senko strategies, rhythm judgment, derived tactics—yet she still hadn't grasped "Senko no Oni." He strongly suspected there was a hidden condition he hadn't triggered, but the inflexible skill viewer refused to offer clues.
For now, he could only leave it to time.
Meanwhile, with his approval, Miesque had become quite familiar with Oguri Cap. The Gray Uma Musume already understood the situation and knew that this French champion possessed immense strength. Naturally, she approached her humbly and asked countless questions.
Miesque welcomed every one of them. What began as a favor to repay Shuta An gradually shifted—because Oguri's talent genuinely impressed her. Even with only two G2 victories so far, the Seven-Crown Uma Musume found this junior increasingly pleasing to the eye.
"No wonder Mr. Shuta favors her," Miesque thought, a year older but treating Oguri as a true junior. "She's far sharper than most academy students."
On the 25th, the day arrived for Miesque to explain how to handle the turf at Longchamp Racecourse.
"Can we use the training ground at Molitor Paris - MGallery?" Shuta An asked the moment they met in the lobby.
"No problem!" The lobby manager answered before Miesque could. "Guests pay to rent the facility, so of course we maintain it at full value. Our turf is kept at 100% Longchamp standards!"
Miesque smiled and added, "That's why I decided to stay here instead of returning to the academy. For prepping at Longchamp, this turf is better than the academy's."
"I see." Relieved, Shuta An nodded.
"Then I'll leave her to you," he said, gently nudging Oguri Cap forward. "Oguri, make sure you learn well. Once you can handle Longchamp turf, Chantilly won't trouble you."
"I will," Oguri Cap replied softly—then immediately wrapped herself around his right arm and rubbed her cheek against him, right in front of Miesque.
Miesque let out a small, awkward laugh and looked away. The lobby manager, already used to such scenes, simply pretended not to see anything.