(Up front: this story includes some personal headcanon, as well as the timeline chaos that tends to come with Uma Musume fanfiction. Thanks for bearing with it.)
"The race has reached the midgame! Still in the lead is—ah! Bursting out from the outside is Mr. C.B.!"
A gigantic racetrack stretching over 2,400 meters. Figures thundered forward at full speed.
So fast it was almost superhuman.
Look closely and you'd see they were all youthful, striking girls—except each had a pair of horse ears atop her head, and a horse tail swaying behind her.
The commentator's impassioned voice echoed from the speakers, and the spectators on the distant stands grew feverish with excitement.
"Today's qualifier is stacked!"
"Yeah—especially Mr. C.B.!"
"Looks like the usual feeding frenzy."
The trainers in the stands were flushed red, eyes locked on the lone figure tearing ahead with overwhelming dominance.
Which was normal. No trainer could see a gem like that and stay calm.
Except one.
The trainers turned, their gazes shifting to a figure seated a short distance behind them.
A young man, slightly slender, with a face that could charm anyone regardless of gender. His black hair was tied into a single ponytail, falling over a black coat. One hand propped his cheek as he sat with eyes closed and a faint smile—looking for all the world like he'd nodded off.
"How does someone fall asleep watching a qualifier?" a young trainer complained.
"Heh. Probably some trainer who'll never amount to anything," a middle-aged man beside him said.
But at the edge of the group, an elderly man in a kimono, cane in hand, swept them with a contemptuous glance.
"If you can get into Tracen Academy as a trainer, you're not a nobody."
One sentence shut them up.
This old man had once produced a well-known top-level Uma Musume himself—he carried real weight. And denying his point would have been the same as insulting themselves.
"Across the line! Across the line! Taking first is Mr. C.B.!"
The commentator's shout dragged everyone's attention back to the track.
A tall, gallant silhouette—she raised her right fist with a victor's smile, radiant and unstoppable.
The trainers practically cracked their knuckles.
Recruit her. No matter what it takes.
And then—
Tap.
A small, ill-timed sound.
They turned again, and saw the young man had stood up.
The sound came from the black mobility cane now in his hand.
Several trainers instantly wore guilty expressions.
Great. Now they really couldn't keep watching comfortably.
Who would've guessed he couldn't see?
The young man maintained the same faint smile, adjusted his collar, and walked off as if nothing had happened.
"Wait… I think I've heard of him," the middle-aged man suddenly murmured, his expression turning grim.
"Who?" the others asked in confusion, until the younger trainer voiced what they were all thinking.
The middle-aged man's face was complicated, like he wasn't even sure how to explain.
"He isn't human."
Before anyone could react, the elderly man spoke again, flat as stone.
"Huh?" The trainers stared at each other, baffled.
A moment ago he'd been praising the guy—now he was insulting him?
And this elder was a legend in the trainer world. He shouldn't be spouting nonsense.
"I mean he's so capable he doesn't seem human," the old man snapped, mustache bristling as he rapped his cane against the ground.
The group lowered their heads with awkward, pained smiles.
So that's what he meant. Could've just said it.
"You're saying he's that good?" a young trainer asked, steering the conversation back.
Instead of answering, the old man posed a question.
"In your minds, who's the strongest Uma Musume?"
They talked over one another, but in the end the conclusion was unanimous.
The strongest Uma Musume—Symboli Rudolf, the "Emperor."
Looking across history, she was among the absolute best: Triple Crown, Hall of Fame, a seven-crown legend, and now the student council president of Tracen Academy.
Yet oddly, her trainer's identity had always been the subject of rumors. No one seemed to know who it truly was.
"Don't tell me you mean—?!" someone realized, yelping.
Faces tightened. Eyes burned as they stared at the old man.
"That's right," he said. "He's the 'Emperor's' trainer."
A collective chill ran through them.
As trainers themselves, they knew exactly how terrifying that was.
If anyone else had said it, they would've dismissed it immediately—but this elder's word carried authority.
"But someone like that… why have I never heard of him?" the younger trainer blurted, genuinely bewildered.
The old man sighed.
"He got dragged into an accident because of his Uma Musume. Became blind… and left the industry."
"I see…"
They nodded, sympathy softening their faces.
A fallen genius—those stories always left a bitter taste.
Watching the young man's fading silhouette, the middle-aged trainer asked, "What's his name?"
After a brief pause, the old man answered slowly.
"Wu You."
…
"Cough, cough."
It wasn't even early autumn yet, and Wu You was already wearing a heavy coat.
He walked through Tracen Academy at an unhurried pace, coughing lightly.
He knew this place like the back of his hand. If not for maintaining the image of a "blind man," he didn't even need the cane he carried.
"Hah… didn't think anyone would still recognize me," he murmured with a wry smile.
He'd heard the conversation just now.
And that old man was right—about all of it.
Including the line: "He isn't human."
Because Wu You really wasn't.
He was a carrot spirit.
In this era, spirits taking human form wasn't exactly news. One Uma Musume he used to know could even see things like ghosts and other oddities.
As a carrot spirit born from the world's own natural essence, Wu You had only been conscious and walking in human form for a little over twenty years.
Spirits were usually brimming with vitality—so why had he ended up like this?
That story started two years ago.
That accident took a lot from him.
His identity. His eyesight. Even his once-healthy body.
Wu You didn't sink into despair. He simply retreated and recovered for two full years.
All for the sake of returning to the trainer world.
But…
He'd run into his biggest problem yet.
"No Uma Musume is willing to partner with me," he sighed helplessly.
To make a comeback, he'd created a new personal file.
Which meant his trainer record had been wiped clean.
With information locked down, almost no one knew what he'd accomplished back when he was active.
So in the eyes of the Uma Musume here, Wu You wasn't just a rookie trainer.
He was less than a rookie—so new it was suspicious.
"And two years…" Wu You exhaled softly. "The whole industry really did change."
These days things had warped.
There were fewer and fewer trainers, and the ones who remained—chasing results—almost all fixated on high-potential Uma Musume.
That wasn't wrong in itself.
But most of the time, a Uma Musume's talent came bundled with her personality.
In simpler terms: the more gifted she was, the more "eccentric" she tended to be.
Top-tier Uma Musume rarely found a trainer they genuinely clicked with, while trainers often looked down on ordinary Uma Musume.
Back and forth it went… and even though one trainer was allowed to take responsibility for multiple Uma Musume, the number of Uma Musume who actually had a trainer remained painfully small.
Wu You rubbed his brow, weighing his next move.
His profile looked too blank.
Even an average Uma Musume would hesitate before signing a contract with him—and he understood why.
A trainer could walk away and start over.
But an Uma Musume only had one youth.
"Tch… should I just ask them?" Wu You muttered.
There were still a few Uma Musume at Tracen Academy who were old acquaintances. If he spoke to them, he could probably secure a contract immediately.
And every one of those acquaintances was a "talent-and-weirdness package" too.
But Wu You had come back to start fresh. If he could avoid living off old achievements, he would.
Except nobody was signing with him.
No contract meant no return to the central circuit.
His comeback would either fail… or he'd have to accept being "kept."
In the end, Wu You decided—
He'd watch one more qualifier.
Right then, a breeze swept past.
Wu You's nose twitched as a strangely vivid scent drifted in.
Sweat blended with natural body warmth, wrapped in the clean sharpness of grass and soil…
If he had to describe it in one word, it smelled like freedom.
At the same time came hurried footsteps and a flustered girl's voice.
"Ah! My hat—my hat!"
Wu You lifted his head. His ears gave the slightest twitch, and a small smile appeared.
He tipped the cane forward, and a light weight landed on its handle.
His fingers turned.
The cane spun with the effortless precision of a practiced blade. Wu You swept his left arm out, stopping it neatly in front of him.
Perched on the handle was a small white hat tied with a green ribbon.
The breeze passed again. The "freedom" drew closer.
Wu You smiled and turned toward the sound.
"Is this your hat?"
A Uma Musume stood there, staring at him in surprise, speechless.
And she was the brightest star of the qualifier just moments ago—the genius every trainer in the stands had been desperate to claim.
Mr. C.B.
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My : pat*eon*com/RuneA
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