Chapter 173: Something That's Twelve Parts Wrong out of Ten
Looking at Kitasan Black beside him, Makoto's lips twitched slightly.
Aside from the long ears on her head and the tail behind her, an Umamusume looked no different from a human girl. Kitasan Black herself looked exactly like a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl.
As she talked about becoming a magical girl, her long ears gently swayed, her fists clenched against her chest, her tail wagging nonstop, and her bright eyes were filled with earnest seriousness.
No matter how he looked at it, she should've already passed the age for magical girl fantasies. How could she still have such unrealistic dreams…?
Just as he was about to voice that complaint, Makoto suddenly froze, his mind flashing back to a distant afternoon—or perhaps a morning—from long ago.
Back then, he'd also been barely over ten years old, probably past the age for childish fantasies as well.
And yet, on that afternoon—or morning—he'd taken advantage of the time before class to argue with someone, with absolute seriousness, about an equally "unrealistic" topic:
Who was stronger—WarGreymon or MetalGarurumon?
The tips of his ears heated up unconsciously. He coughed lightly, then broke into a rueful smile.
Alright then. Having a bit of imagination wasn't really a problem. And besides…
So which was stronger, WarGreymon or MetalGarurumon?
That embarrassing topic resurfaced in his mind, making his face heat up again. Just as he was about to look for something to distract himself, he suddenly realized that some kind of warmth had been coming from his hand the whole time.
He looked over instinctively—and just like during that memory, his ears burned again. He coughed lightly and glanced around furtively, like a thief.
Kitasan Black was still vividly explaining her self-invented "magical girl transformation chant" to Almond Eye and Duramente.
A few spectators nearby seemed to have overheard, casting amused, baffled glances before shaking their heads with helpless laughter.
Farther away, everyone's attention was on the track and the paddock. After the Dream Trophy, there was still one final race to go, and the announcer was already reading out the list of participants.
Thank goodness no one noticed…
Muttering to himself, Makoto subtly pulled his hand back and let out a breath of relief.
Then he froze.
Wait—why was I acting like I'd been caught stealing…?
I didn't do anything, did I?
Yeah. I didn't do anything.
But…
After less than half a second of convincing himself, the hand he'd just withdrawn unconsciously rubbed against itself, and a strange feeling welled up inside him.
Something's wrong.
Not just wrong—twelve parts wrong out of ten.
This isn't like me…
Kitasan Black…?
Vaguely, he realized that the odd feeling in his heart was probably something beyond the usual trainer–trainee relationship.
The moment he became aware of that, he couldn't help but feel shocked.
It wasn't hard to understand how feelings could arise between a trainer and a trainee—after all, back home, his own parents were exactly that: his dad was a Trainer, and his mother is one of his Trainees.
But according to the association's regulations, the academy's rules, and public morality, romantic relationships during an Umamusume's active career were absolutely forbidden.
An Umamusume's competitive prime wasn't long—on average, only three to four years.
After that, unless someone possessed truly exceptional talent—on the level of a Dream Trophy contender—it was difficult to maintain competitive form. Physical abilities would decline earlier and faster.
And emotions were bound to affect training and race performance, inevitably delaying or even ruining a racer future.
On the other hand, setting aside the few exceptionally gifted trainers, most people were already quite old by the time they obtained a trainer's license.
By comparison, Umamusume who were still active competitors were not only much more innocent by nature than humans, but also far less mature in experience and psychological age. They were easily influenced on an emotional level.
That was why the relevant rules and ethical standards were aimed primarily at trainers. No matter how rigorous the professional screening, the human heart was far too complex—there was no way to completely rule out the possibility of something going wrong.
Makoto understood all of this very well. His parents had hinted at it openly and subtly before, and he himself had long planned to first make a name for himself in his career as a trainer before even thinking about romance.
What's more, in his eyes, Kitasan Black was indeed cheerful and lively, very likable—but interacting with her felt more like an easygoing familiarity with no real taboos, rather than anything between a man and a woman.
As for just how easygoing that was… it was probably like having a bro of the opposite sex.
Thinking of that, he couldn't help recalling scenes of chatting with Kitasan Black about extreme sports, their favorite movies, and playing console games together, which only strengthened his conclusion.
Yeah. Definitely a bro of the opposite sex.
So now…
A bro who is a waifu…?
Wait, wait, wait—why is this getting more and more confusing?!
Realizing that he'd meant to sort out his emotions but had instead made his thoughts even more tangled, Makoto quickly shook his head and looked around, trying to distract himself.
"—Trainer, you don't agree?" Kitasan Black's curious voice suddenly came from beside him.
"Of course I don't agree! How could something like that be possible right now—"
Startled like a thief who'd been caught, he raised his voice without thinking. Then, seeing Kitasan Black, Almond Eye, and Duramente all looking at him with startled expressions, Makoto froze for a few seconds before hurriedly coughing several times.
"S-sorry, I was just… right, thinking about training."
He tried to change the subject as casually as possible. "So I didn't notice anything or think anything weird—I mean, what were you talking about?"
"I see…"
Without the slightest suspicion, Kitasan Black gradually relaxed, her startled expression fading. Pointing at the track, she smiled and said:
"We were talking about the next race. Special Week-senpai and the others have already gone to rest. The parade for the next race is about to start, and we were guessing who would win."
"What do you think, Trainer?"
At that point, Makoto's attention truly shifted.
But not to the upcoming race in front of him.
He unobtrusively glanced at Duramente. What surfaced in his mind was this Umamusume's own "next race."
Race scheduling was no trivial matter—especially for Duramente's family, and for the association and the academy.
That family had produced one famous Umamusume after another, and Duramente was the most highly anticipated active racer among them. Planning her future campaign was undoubtedly the most important issue.
From what Tokai Teio and the others had mentioned, the association was far more conservative than the academy when it came to overseas campaigns, yet it still hoped to achieve world-class success in international races.
Combining that with Japan's attitude toward the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, and the expectations of the Duramente family, her next race was without question the Arc de Triomphe. That much was set in stone.
In that light, falling out with her family and trainer and running away from home wasn't completely incomprehensible—at least, emotionally speaking.
But reality had to be faced sooner or later, and in any case, Duramente couldn't truly stay away from home forever.
Which meant that Air Groove would probably contact him later, asking him to find a way to take her back—and the unexpected incident that might occur as a result…
Makoto thought it over briefly and soon came to a decision.
He didn't particularly care whether that mysterious "accident" could be avoided.
What he did know was that, even if Kitasan Black had never said it out loud, deep down she hoped to settle things with Duramente once and for all.
And that was exactly what he hoped for as well. Since that was the case, perhaps he could do something in advance.
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