Chapter 8: Initial Testing
—— A few days later, in the afternoon, at the Tracen Academy track field.
Standing just outside the outer grassy lane, behind the safety railing, Makoto had a tablet in one hand and a shoulder bag slung over his back. His stylus moved quickly as he jotted down notes and tapped through data. Next to him stood Kitasan Black, her eyes gleaming with ambition and energy.
"Okay, all clear on my end," Makoto said, glancing up from the tablet.
He turned toward the girl beside him, who was already mid-stretch, practically radiating impatience.
"Alright, Kita, you—"
Before he could finish, a sharp "Hup!" cut through the air. In one clean motion, Kitasan leapt over the railing and snapped to attention in front of him, eyes burning with enthusiasm.
"I'm ready! I can start any time, Trainer!"
Makoto let out a short breath and gave her a small nod. "Good energy. We'll start with 1800 meters on grass."
He pulled a stopwatch from his pocket and gestured toward the starting line marked a few meters down the track.
"Don't overthink it. Just run like you always do. Got it?"
"Understood, sir! I'm all set, Trainer!"
She gave a firm nod, no hesitation at all.
"Right… then let's begin."
Makoto gave her form a quick glance as she settled into her starting position. Once satisfied, he raised the stopwatch high.
"Three... two... one—"
At the count of one, his arm dropped swiftly.
At that exact moment, the ground gave a faint tremble, like the earth had just exhaled. A dark blur tore through his vision, cutting across the field like a gust of wind. Kitasan's figure had already vanished from the starting line, replaced by a flicker of black shadow.
'…That power of hers really is ridiculous.'
Watching the blur streak down the track, Makoto's mind involuntarily wandered back to a few days prior. The same subtle quake. The same black-haired figure exploding into motion, closing the distance in a blink. It was surreal then—and it still felt surreal now.
But he quickly shoved the memory aside. There was data to collect.
Eyes locked on her form, he waited for her to pass a marked section of the fence, fingers tensing.
Click. He hit the stopwatch.
Approximately two minutes and change later…
Kitasan jogged back toward him, not a single bead of sweat on her brow. She wiped her forehead anyway—more habit than necessity—and tilted her head with a hopeful smile.
"So? Trainer, how was it? Pretty good, right?"
Makoto didn't answer right away. Instead, he balanced the stopwatch and tablet in one hand, tapping notes with the other.
"Rest for five minutes. Then you're running three more sets."
"Eh?"
Kitasan blinked, but didn't complain. Still smiling, she leaned in curiously.
Makoto held a stopwatch and a tablet in one hand, scribbling something on the screen with the other as he spoke calmly.
"When you're running, I'm guessing you don't really notice how far you've gone… or how long it's taken, right?"
"Huh? How'd you know that?"
Kitasan blinked in surprise, then scratched the back of her head sheepishly.
"Well, yeah… I just focus on running as hard as I can toward the front."
"The teachers always said to pay attention to the signs and markers," she added with a pout. "I tried a few times, but every time I did, I slowed down 'cause I got distracted. So eventually, I just stopped paying attention altogether."
She tilted her head.
"Is that… a bad thing?"
Makoto shook his head.
"It's not about good or bad. But one run gives me too little to work with. I also need to figure out your physical limits. We'll talk after the next three runs."
"Got it!"
No hesitation at all. She pumped her fist in the air, energetic as ever.
"Actually, I feel great! I don't even need a break! I can go again right now—if that's okay, Trainer?"
He gave her a look, studied her breathing, complexion, and posture. Then he shook his head again.
"I said five minutes. So… five minutes."
He caught the way her shoulders froze slightly at his tone. Maybe that came out a little too stern.
He cleared his throat.
"Besides, I need a few minutes to compile the data. Just wait, alright? Every round will be the same—run, then five minutes."
"Understood! Then I'll leave you to it, Trainer!"
She gave a bright grin and darted off to the side, careful not to interrupt his data review.
——About half an hour later.
"Hah… So, Trainer, how was that last one? Pretty solid, right?"
Kitasan Black was finally showing a hint of exhaustion. A light sheen of sweat glittered at her temple, but her eyes still sparkled with energy as she leaned on the railing, excitedly looking at Makoto after finishing her fourth 1800-meter lap.
'That stamina of hers… is kind of ridiculous.'
Even though Makoto had studied her physiological data before, seeing it in person still left him a bit stunned.
Racehorses—no, umamusume—were known for their incredible speed. But with that speed came equally intense stamina demands. In an actual race, most girls would need at least an hour of rest after just one lap, followed by two or three days of careful recovery to prevent hidden injuries.
Even if it were just practice, four consecutive laps of 1800 meters was no joke. Most umamusume would be wheezing and wobbling by now.
But this girl? She just looked a little tired. Her physical endurance really was in a league of its own.
At that moment, a memory floated back to him—of another world, another Kitasan Black. That version of her had undergone grueling, almost inhuman training even before her debut, laying the foundation for the astonishing records she would later shatter.
But Makoto had no intention of taking that route.
Back then, Japan's horse racing scene was relatively young, and their training methods could be… primitive. Many so-called "special training regimes" bordered on cruelty.
The other world's Kitasan Black had endured absurdly intense regimens, ones that even professionals in Japan's industry openly criticized for years. And aside from a rare few like her, no other horse survived such abuse.
There was no doubt about it—those methods were too cruel. And now, the trainee in front of him wasn't a horse, but a bright, cheerful young girl.
Makoto knew he wasn't the kind of trainer who would cast aside humanity in pursuit of victory.
Besides, he had better, safer methods.
"Excellent work."
He offered her a rare word of praise. The way her whole face lit up in response made Makoto smile despite himself.
Then, he handed over the stopwatch and tablet to her and turned toward the track.
"Trainer…? Are you… going to run?" Kitasan asked, tilting her head in surprise.
"I'm just going to jog a quick hundred meters. Don't worry about the speed—I obviously can't match yours."
He stopped near the railing, untied his necktie, and wrapped it over his eyes as a blindfold. Then he "looked" toward Kitasan Black, his expression serious.
"What I want you to pay attention to is my sense of distance and time."
"Distance and time… Got it! I'll watch closely!"
"Good."
Without further warning, he planted his foot and launched forward.
His vision was pitch black, but he focused purely on the rhythm of his steps, his breathing, and the beat of his body. Just as he'd done countless times during his own athletic days.
Roughly ten seconds later, Makoto slowed to a stop, breathing just a touch heavier. He pulled off the necktie and turned to Kitasan.
"So? Did you catch it?"
"Catch…? Ah! I get it now!"
Her ears twitched, and she pointed toward a marker by the fence.
"Trainer… You ran exactly 100 meters! Not a step more or less!"
"And you didn't look at the marker at all—no, you didn't look at anything! You were completely blindfolded!"
'Hmm. She's got pretty good instincts too.'
Silently pleased, Makoto re-tied his necktie and walked back to her side outside the track.
"It's crucial to develop an internal sense of distance and timing—whether or not you're watching the signs."
"This becomes even more important during real races. The higher the stakes, the more it matters."
"And if you can combine that with a grasp of your stamina and awareness of your opponents, you'll know exactly when to push forward… and when to conserve your energy."
He glanced over to her.
"That's why it matters. And the reason I said your earlier problem wasn't that serious is because…"
He paused for emphasis.
"…you've got an even bigger, more immediate issue."
"A bigger… more immediate issue…"
Her ears drooped slightly at the edges, and she fidgeted, nervously poking her fingers together.
"It's… my strength control, isn't it…?"