Chapter 24 - Super Creek POV
How does he even know me?
That's the first thought that pops into my head when I hear my name spoken without hesitation, without doubt, without that pause people always make when they're not sure someone is worth remembering.
"Super Creek."
I almost pretend I didn't hear it.
Not because I'm shy. I'm not, really. I'm just… used to being invisible in very specific ways. The kind where people see you standing there, tall and healthy-looking, and assume the numbers tell the whole story.
They don't.
They never do.
I've been sick most of the time. Not dramatically sick. Not hospital-bed sick. Just enough that my body never quite cooperates when it matters. Enough that stamina vanishes early. Enough that I hide it, smile through it, insist I'm fine when I'm not.
That habit ruined my pre-debut.
Pre-debut results are supposed to be simple. Run. Show time. Show promise. Get noticed. Fujimasa March did it perfectly. Oguri Cap probably did it by accident while thinking about food.
Me?
I ran while sick.
I didn't tell anyone. I never do.
The result was… bad. Not catastrophic, but weak. Flat. Disappointing. The kind of number that makes trainers nod politely and write you off without saying it out loud.
So now here I am.
Rejected. Again.
"That one's big, but inconsistent.""Too risky.""Health concerns."
"looks strong but can't actually run well."
That last one hurts the most, because it's half true.
People joke about it. Say I only run well if I feel like someone's bigger than me in some way. Stronger. Kinder. Worth leaning toward. Like, I need permission to believe in myself.
Maybe I do.
Which is why this feels unreal.
He approaches calmly, like he's not afraid I'll disappear if he looks away.
"You ran sick," he says.
I freeze.
Not accusing. Not judging.
Stating.
"I… what?" I say, ears twitching.
"You hid it," he continues. "Your stride dropped after the first third. Breathing pattern was off. Recovery time didn't match your build."
He looks at me, finally. Direct. Not sharp.
"You shouldn't have been on that track."
My throat tightens.
Most trainers only look at results. He's talking about me.
"I didn't want to wait," I mumble. "If I waited, I'd miss everything."
"You did wait," he replies gently. "Your body just forced you to."
I don't know why that makes my eyes sting.
By the time I was healthy enough to try again, no one was looking.
Except him.
"Why do you know this?" I ask quietly. "Why do you know me?"
He doesn't answer right away.
Instead, he gestures toward the screen nearby. Race footage. Tamamo Cross, dominating mid to long distances, calm and confident. No frantic mile runs. No reckless overextensions. Clean victories.
"You told her to avoid miles," I say, recognizing the pattern.
"Yes."
"So she wouldn't rack up losses," I realize.
He nods. "She didn't need them yet."
My chest feels warm. And heavy.
"That means you planned for her," I say. "A long time."
"Yes."
"…Then why are you here now?" I ask. "With me?"
"Because timing matters," he says. "And because you don't lose potential just because you got sick."
No one's ever said that to me.
Most people talk about missed windows. About falling behind. About how the system rewards momentum and punishes pauses.
He talks like pauses are part of the race.
"I heard you couldn't find a trainer," he continues. "Even after you recovered."
I nod, embarrassed. "They say I'm unreliable."
"You're cautious," he corrects. "And you hide pain instead of managing it."
That one lands clean.
"I… didn't want to be a burden," I whisper.
He smiles a little. Not amused. Understanding.
"Good runners learn to push," he says. "Great runners learn when not to."
He kneels slightly so we're closer to eye level.
"If I take you on," he says, "you don't race sick. You don't hide symptoms. You don't chase results just to prove you exist."
I stare at him.
"And if I don't win right away?" I ask.
"Then you don't," he says simply. "We wait instead."
My ears flick forward before I can stop them.
"That's… allowed?"
"It is with me."
They look like stars already in motion.
I feel… behind.
"I'm not like them," I say.
"I know," he replies. "That's why I came early."
Early.
Not late. Not afterthought.
Early.
"You're not behind," he continues. "You're just on a different curve."
I swallow.
"If you're my trainer," I say slowly, "I'll probably need more time."
"That's fine."
"And I might stop mid-training if something feels wrong."
"Good."
"And I won't always be confident."
He chuckles softly. "Neither am I."
That surprises me into a small laugh.
The joke about me floats back into my head. That I only win if I feel someone is bigger than me.
Standing here, listening to him talk like my health matters more than my timing, I realize something strange.
He doesn't feel bigger because he's louder or stronger.
He feels bigger because he's steady.
"…Okay," I say, before I can overthink it. "You can be my trainer."
His smile widens, just a little.
"Good," he says. "We'll start slow."
For the first time in a long while, slow didn't sound like failure.
Name: Super Creek
Nickname: Mama Creek
Trainer Type: Stamina Anchor + Soothing Leader
Personality
Gentle Caregiver: Has an instinctively soothing, motherly aura, she comforts, forgives, and encourages others before she seeks her own success.
Warmly Supportive: Loves nurturing both teammates and trainers, making them feel capable and cared for rather than pressured.
Playful Comforter: Quirky traits like carrying candies and band‑aids or calming others with her tail reflect her nurturing side.
Relentlessly Resilient: Despite her soft demeanor, once she focuses on a race, she transforms into a taut, determined competitor with iron stamina.
Encouraging Champion: Her presence lifts the morale of those around her; teammates and rivals alike feel steadied by her calm strength.
Balanced Competitor: Not driven by ego or intimidation. she competes with grace, endurance, and quiet confidence.
Physical Traits
Tall, Stable Build: 168 cm with balanced proportions suited for medium and long distances.
Smooth, Efficient Stride: Her motion emphasizes sustained speed and energy conservation.
Relaxed Demeanor Off‑Track: Calm posture and gentle presence reflect her nurturing personality.
Distinctive Ribbon: Wears a blue bow symbolizing her namesake's racing sash and heritage.
Strengths
Unmatched Stamina:
Built for medium and long distances, able to maintain high speed deep into the stretch.
Front‑Runner / Stalker Versatility:
Can set pace near the lead or maintain a strong position to unleash a late charge.
Mental Resilience:
Calm under pressure; her soothing presence turns tension into composure.
Supportive Leadership:
Inspires teammates through encouragement more than dominance.
Adaptive Strategy:
Reads race shape and adjusts pacing intelligently rather than reacting abruptly.
Weaknesses / Limitations
Hides Low Condition: Will race even when in bad condition and lose.
Constast stomach issues: In the start of the classic year she often has stomach issues that were reoccuring causing her to lose a lot of races.
Gentle Nature: Her nurturing side can sometimes delay her competitive edge until late in a race.
Not the Flashiest: Relies on stamina and pacing over explosive bursts, meaning short sprint races are less ideal.
Emotion‑Linked Drive: May push herself harder when concerned for others' well‑being, potentially risking overexertion. (Narrative inference from her caring trait.)
Racing Style
Stamina Anchor: Maintains a sustained, efficient pace that wears down rivals over long distances.
Balanced Stride: Less about sudden speed, more about lasting speed that rewards smart positioning.
Quiet Assassin: Competitors may underestimate her early, only to find her strength overtaking them late.
Strategic Calmer: Her racing rhythm can settle the field, not through force but sheer steady motion.
Trainer Relationship
Best with trainers who emphasize confidence building, pacing strategy, and emotional support.
Responds well to encouragement and structure, she blossoms when her trainer believes in her strength and gives her space to lead with heart.
Often "chooses" trainers she feels can grow with her rather than simply directing her.
Symbolic Representation
The Stamina Matriarch: A horse who wins not by intimidation but by steady, compassionate dominance.
Bridge Between Strength and Heart: Shows that power and kindness can coexist at the highest levels of competition.
Inspirational Anchor: Her presence reassures others and forces rivals to respect her endurance.
Taglines
"I will carry you through the long road."
"Strength isn't loud, it's steady."
"Run with heart, finish with grace."