"Driver, I'm getting out."
Bang.
The Maybach's door slammed shut with force.
Inside the car, Mejiro Asama watched the man's back as he stormed away. A thoughtful look settled over her face.
Unexpectedly hot-tempered, that young man.
Originally, Asama had only intended to probe Fujimura Hikaru a little—to test his depth. She hadn't expected him to be a hair-trigger powder keg, rattling off an entire barrage at her the moment he was lit.
It threw her off completely.
"Ma'am, are you all right?"
The butler at her side saw Asama sitting there, momentarily blank, and feared the head of the Mejiro family had been frightened by Fujimura's reaction. He quickly asked after her.
"I'm fine. Just thinking, that's all."
Asama's fingers tapped lightly against the armrest. Her expression remained calm, even smiling.
"Looks like that child, McQueen, really did choose a good trainer."
Choosing his own entrusted horse girl over resources he could exploit?
A man who values bonds, then.
Asama did not doubt that Fujimura Hikaru could lead McQueen to victory in the Tennō Shō.
But that did not prevent her from trying to secure more advantage for her clan.
That proposal she had offered him—this was precisely what it was.
In her eyes, if Fujimura devoted himself wholly to McQueen, McQueen could achieve even greater heights.
So she had not hesitated to propose a trade: the Mejiro family's resources in exchange for Anmoku leaving the team.
"Still… looks like I stepped on a landmine."
Having lived as long as she had, Asama naturally understood what "trainers" were like.
Most trainers, when faced with the Mejiro family's preferential support, could not avoid wavering in conviction.
The reason was simple: abundant resources made it easier to cultivate more outstanding horse girls.
And the benefits to a trainer of raising more top-class horse girls had already been discussed before—there was no need to repeat it here.
In short, in the face of the Mejiro family's deep coffers and heavy temptation, Asama would bet good money that trainers who could remain unmoved were few and far between.
But Fujimura Hikaru was clearly an exception.
The instant she brought up removing Anmoku, she felt the shift in emotion coming off him—
Like a beast slipping off its muzzle and baring its fangs.
Haki-Hikaru had hissed hard.
It seemed that, in Fujimura's heart, matters concerning his entrusted horse girls sat at the very top of the priority list.
"If McQueen holds that kind of place in his heart as well… that might not be a bad thing."
Setting aside ability, at least his character seemed sound.
"Butler."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Return to the Mejiro estate."
The Maybach rumbled again, carrying Mejiro Asama away into the distance.
I'll need to prepare some compensation, she thought.
—
Night.
Still on the roadside in the deep hours near Tracen, Fujimura Hikaru—now transformed into Hiiro—ran like the wind.
He pushed his speed to the limit, extravagantly burning through the last of his stamina. He enjoyed the blankness that came when every system in the body hovered at the edge of collapse.
He was using running to clear his head.
Why had Fujimura Hikaru snapped at Mejiro Asama?
He didn't actually need to risk offending the Mejiro family's head by saying all that.
But he still said it.
Because he hated Asama's attitude.
Withdraw Anmoku so he could "fully focus" on training McQueen?
That was nothing but distrust in his ability as a trainer.
What—did training one more horse girl suddenly exceed his capacity? She really thought that little of him.
And what infuriated him even more was how Asama treated his entrusted horse girls as bargaining chips.
Whether it was Anmoku or McQueen, they were both his entrusted horse girls. Not chess pieces. Not currency. Living people—living horse girls.
When Asama spoke of "trade," her tone made it sound as if she could pinch and play with them like toys at will.
That was the true root of his anger.
In terms of competence, Fujimura was unquestionably a capable trainer.
But temperament-wise, he still needed polishing.
Maybe in the future, when faced with something so provoking, he could respond with a calmer, more advantageous approach.
But not now.
If given the chance again, he would still choose to curse Mejiro Asama out until she was drenched in it.
And so, as Hiiro, he poured all the frustration in his chest into his stride.
This run was not for training.
It was pure emotional venting.
He didn't even look at the system notifications. All he wanted was to drain every last shred of endurance from his body.
When he finally came back to himself, he had already run out of Central Tracen.
His heart thundered from the exertion, like a relentless engine pumping searing blood through every limb.
Cool night wind washed over Hiiro, sweeping away the pale mist that had gathered around her overheated body.
Running really was a good thing. When your mind was clogged with irritation, wringing your body to the limit could forcibly empty your brain—leaving no room for the thoughts that annoyed you.
Standing at the roadside, waiting for his temperature to settle, the oppressive frustration gradually faded.
Fujimura Hikaru opened the system panel.
[Cumulative Distance: 99 KM, Progress: 112 KM, Reward: 10 Attribute Points (+1)]
[Congratulations: Cumulative Distance has reached 100 KM]
[Hidden Task Complete: Run 100 KM within one week. Reward: Spatial Beacon]
Spatial Beacon? What's that?
Puzzled by the hidden-task reward, he tapped into the detailed description.
[Spatial Beacon]
[The host may set Spatial Beacons at two locations. Using the beacons enables instantaneous travel between the two points.]
Reading the explanation, he roughly understood what the item did.
In the bluntest terms, it was the ability to return home the instant you got off work.
So something like this existed.
He had thought that after running such a long distance, he would unlock a brand-new achievement. Instead, the system handed him this.
How was he supposed to use it?
Surely it couldn't be an item meant only to save commuting time.
That would be a ridiculous waste.
Just as he was thinking about what else a Spatial Beacon could be used for, the system kept updating.
[Spatial Beacon detected. Debut Task unlocked.]
[Please choose your debut region: Japan / Americas / Europe]
[Note: Task difficulty and rewards vary by region. Rewards scale directly with difficulty.]
…Huh?
Wait—so I'm debuting now?
Staring at the choices, Fujimura's mouth twitched.
He'd been wondering why the system handed him a Spatial Beacon—turns out it was trying to save him airfare?
"Rewards scale with difficulty…"
He closed his eyes and thought.
Among the three regions, based on what he knew, the easiest was unquestionably Japan.
Japan had plenty of strong horse girls, yes—but both Europe and the Americas had higher average strength overall.
If he cared purely about completing tasks with less risk, debuting in Japan would be relatively easier.
But if he cared about maximizing rewards, then choosing the Americas or Europe would be better.
Between the Americas and Europe, the overall level was similar—both were world-class. The main difference was likely the track environment.
In the Americas, tracks leaned more toward dirt. High-intensity dirt racing was the region's defining feature.
Europe, like Japan, was predominantly turf-based.
From Fujimura's perspective, choosing a higher-difficulty region was the better play.
If he could farm rewards in a tougher region, the probability of unlocking an epic-grade achievement would rise.
As for Europe versus the Americas…
He still needed time to weigh it.
"Wherever I go, this panel of mine won't cut it."
Looking at his stats—still not even an average of 200—he decided not to get ahead of himself.
With this panel, debuting in Japan would already be dicey. Going overseas would make him nothing but roadside fodder among roadside fodder.
It was known that Tracen freshmen averaged around 150, while the top students could reach 200.
Overseas freshmen should be around that level too—possibly even higher.
"At minimum, I'll need an average panel of 300 to contend with those monsters… To be safe, 400 wouldn't be unreasonable…"
All attributes breaking 400.
That would be his goal for the next phase.
Fujimura Hikaru decided to be cautious.
—
Elsewhere in Tracen.
On the training grounds, Manhattan Cafe was sprinting through the night.
Her golden eyes shone brightly against the darkness.
She was doing extra training alone.
Or rather—she wasn't alone.
On the track ahead of her, a shadow with a form nearly identical to her own raced forward at terrifying speed.
That was Manhattan Cafe's "friend," and also the target she longed to catch.
Black aura coiled around the figure. Each step that landed on the emerald turf seemed to make it even faster.
Moonlight couldn't catch her. The darkness she belonged to always seemed one beat quicker than the pale glow falling from the sky.
That jet-black, extreme-speed silhouette—belonging solely to the racecourse—was the very figure Manhattan Cafe admired.
Haa—
A cool night breeze rolled across her face. In the next instant, her shadow-friend crossed the finish line set on the training ground.
Another match between Manhattan Cafe and her special "friend" had ended.
And once again, it ended with Manhattan Cafe's defeat.
The shadow walked up to her, its shape warping slightly, as though it was saying something.
"…You're saying I don't look very happy?"
Understanding the meaning, Cafe blinked.
Did she really look that unhappy?
It wasn't the first time she'd lost to "her." She should be used to defeat by now…
She stared blankly at her palm, as if realizing something.
These past days, during camp, she had adjusted her running form according to Fujimura Hikaru's advice.
That had made her speed sharper than before.
And in her duels with her "friend," the gap had indeed narrowed somewhat.
Her strength had improved—there was no doubt about that…
And yet Cafe noticed something: in recent training, the distance between them did not seem to shrink further.
No matter how seriously she trained—no matter how hard she pushed—she still couldn't close the gap.
She… had hit a bottleneck.
Worse, she didn't even know which part of her had stalled.
At that moment, the shadow beside her warped again.
"You mean… I should talk to Trainer Fujimura?"
"But… he's not my trainer… Wouldn't it be rude to trouble him like that…?"
Hearing her, the shadow couldn't help making a gesture like rubbing its forehead.
"…Just ask him directly?"
Hearing her friend's suggestion, Cafe recalled what Hiiro had said to her before.
If you run into trouble, go talk to him.
Maybe… she really should ask.
These past few days, Manhattan Cafe had also been quietly observing Fujimura Hikaru.
He hadn't shown up again as that "KFC old man." He'd been completely normal. If his earlier impression hadn't been so intense, she would've thought that entire incident was a dream.
Maybe that appearance really was just an accident?
She hesitated—but in the end, the desire to run faster seized the high ground in her heart.
"…I should go ask him."
—
At the same time, in Tracen's dormitory.
Anmoku held a pen and scribbled on her calendar by the bedside.
"Sunday, buying shoes with Hikaru… Hmm, should I dress a little nicer before I go?"
"It's not a date, but dressing pretty is fine, right…? Maybe I can make Hikaru look surprised."
Imagining Fujimura showing a different expression because of her, a spark of eagerness flashed in Anmoku's beautiful eyes.
One downside of having him as her trainer was that, during training, he was always too serious—too focused.
Anmoku didn't particularly mind, but every so often, she wanted to see something else on his face—something beyond stern concentration.
"Hikaru, you'd better be ready to be amazed."
-------
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