"What is going on? I was told Team Rigil was summoned to discuss the French exchange. I made time to come."
Rigil's trainer, Hana Tojo, a high-ponytail pro woman with glasses, glared at Ryu Nishizaki and Hushan Feihong on the sofa.
"Why are you two here? Isn't there only one slot?"
"Uh… I don't know either, Ah-Hua."
Ryu Nishizaki, trainer of Team Spica, shrugged, equally lost.
"Then it's your doing, Hushan Feihong. You're stirring things up again!!!"
With a thump, Hana Tojo's fist hit the wooden table. She pointed at Hushan—who was busy stuffing senbei in her mouth.
The three had been classmates in trainer school. They knew each other well.
Hana and Ryu were closer; Hushan had been a chaos gremlin since school, never doing anything by the book.
Sensing something off, Hana immediately locked in on Hushan as the culprit.
She snorted and leaned back, warning the pair:
"Whatever you're plotting, Hushan."
"I'm warning you: this exchange represents the honor of Japan's horse-girl world. It must be handled carefully. Our Team Rigil has the strongest collection of honors among current and retired runners. Choosing us is the rational choice."
"That's a bit much… Ah-Hua, our team isn't weak either. Special Week beat Noble Clan, you know."
Ryu was helpless. Hana had helped him a lot lately, so he had little confidence arguing back.
Hushan was another matter. She laughed and pointed right at Hana's nose, brow raised, pure villain:
"Hahaha! Obviously we, Team Draco, are going. You can train with each other, right?"
"Or go train with Ryu's team—either way, leave France to me~!"
Looking at that punchable face, Hana clenched her fists and held back the urge to swing.
"Don't joke. Draco has only two who can train and race; one hasn't debuted, the other debuted a month ago. With that level you want France? Impossible!"
"You'd disgrace Japan!"
Heh, fish on the hook.
Hushan cackled inside, but kept that provoking, lopsided grimace and continued to needle Hana, whose temper wasn't great to begin with:
"Oh? So you mean your team's runners are more suitable than mine?"
"Isn't that obvious?! Even Ryu's team is stronger than yours!"
She jabbed a finger at Ryu.
He wanted no part of the catfight. Seeing both look at him, he raised his hands high: neutral.
"Let's calm down. We can talk, Ah-Hua?"
Hushan sank into the sofa, smirking, and said:
"In that case, why don't our three teams compete first."
"A battle to claim the French exchange slot!"
——————————
"Run! Don't you want the Classic Triple Crown, Stardust Mirage? The Kikuka Sho is 3000 meters. With your stamina now, what can you even do?!"
Demon-mode Hushan chased Stardust Mirage on a balance scooter, barking through hill training.
"Mind your form, Stardust! How will you improve speed running like that?!"
"Control the swing of your arms—that's how you maintain greater balance while running, then increase push-off speed and power. Keep legs, hips, torso, and arms in a coordinated rhythm. Master every detail to improve!"
Gritting her teeth, Stardust Mirage adjusted her arm swing.
Hushan's words were harsh, but the technique worked.
In her paired runs with Oguri, she'd noticed Oguri's motions were far more coordinated.
Arm swing, upper-body stability, cadence and stride—they all starkly highlighted the gap.
But back then she hadn't realized it, only thinking Oguri's form looked beautiful. Now, pointed out, she added arm-swing reinforcement to hill training.
"Don't zone out, Stardust Mirage—look at me!!!"
Hushan shouted again, riding the white scooter to a spot fifty or sixty meters from the finish. She hopped off and ran alongside.
"Watch my movement! Use your shoulder as an axis—upper arm guides forearm—control every swing!"
As clothing whispered against itself, Stardust watched Hushan run lightly ahead, arms rhythmic, every motion standard. sportswear
"Your motions are too rough! That's not a horse girl's arm swing—it's a hen flapping! That's your body swinging your arms—pointless!"
At the finish first, Hushan spread her arms in an exaggerated pose to describe how ugly Stardust's motion had been.
"Your elbows are almost level with your shoulders. You aiming an elbow at your opponent?! That'll seriously hurt your speed!"
"Keep the swing controlled. Don't let your palms come past your chin. Got it?!"
Stardust Mirage finished the fourth hill session, legs jelly, mentally replaying every point.
This knowledge came from research by major organizations. Regular horse girls couldn't summarize it alone. That's why Central-level trainers were so coveted.
Although she hadn't fully corrected her running, even small adjustments gave a distinct boost—a new level. The feeling of daily improvement was intoxicating—enough to make her forget the grind.
"…I got it."
Seeing the trainer, likewise sweat-soaked from demonstrating standard movements for her sake, Stardust Mirage nodded.
"Good. Rest a bit. I'll brief you on other matters."
Hushan tossed her a sports drink and said:
"In a week, you and Miho Bourbon will race five current runners from Teams Spica and Rigil."
"From Rigil, the closers Hishi Amazon, Narita Brian with a pressing style, and mile king Taiki Shuttle. On Spica, Tokai Teio won't run after just recovering. Instead it'll be the mercurial closer Gold Ship and long-distance upstart Mejiro McQueen."
"Note: none are dedicated front-runners. So you and Bourbon have a natural edge."
Hushan opened a simulation plugin on her tablet. They looked together.
"The distance is 1400 meters. I picked it. Miles and middle-long are their turf. So you and Bourbon must cooperate—use your front-running edge—and crush them!"
As her words fell, the avatars of Stardust and Bourbon in the sim suddenly turned, pulled out Chicago typewriters, and mowed down the crowd behind them.
"C-crush?"
Stardust was dumbfounded. Are we going to elbow people on track? Real blows?
Hushan's villain smirk spread.
"We'll call this operation 'Cardiac Destruction.' Just follow my tactics. When we win, I'll roast that honor student Ah-Hua to ashes!"
——————————————
"Why do you fold to provocation so easily—and drag me in?" Ryu Nishizaki griped across a café table. "How many times has Hushan used that on you? Stop letting it work."
"Hmph. This is fine."
Hana Tojo, the elite OL, sipped coffee with her composure restored:
"The Emperor probably couldn't choose between our teams—so she put Hushan in and had her turn it into a competition. That way neither of us can complain."
"You mean Hushan's just here to stir the pot?" Ryu asked.
Hana wore a knowing look:
"Whether the Emperor asked her to push a race to decide the slot—or she has her own angle—doesn't matter. It's our duty as senior trainers to make those newbies understand the gulf in strength."
Ryu took a sip and cautioned:
"That Stardust Mirage—now called 'Oguri Cap II'—won't be easy. And you let Hushan pick short distance. Take it seriously…"
Hana curled her lip, dropped her spoon into the cup, and looked seriously at him:
"Trying to make me look past your team's two? Useless. Hushan thinks she can limit my runners with a short course. But Taiki Shuttle doesn't only reign at the mile. Add Brian and Amazon…"
"Whether it's your team or Hushan's newbies, Rigil will treat you the same—and beat you!"
"Hmph. I'm going to roast that overreaching idiot hard."
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