"But isn't this exactly how I looked before... just a few years younger?" he thought.
In Nakagaki Kazuma's memory, he was only thirty-two when he died. The version of himself in the reflection looked to be about twenty-three or twenty-four... It was quite nostalgic.
Twenty-three was exactly when he found his first job—as a host. It was the period when he literally lived off his face. However, due to his personality, he didn't last long in the profession. He couldn't be bothered to cater to wealthy women, listen to them drone on about family crises or their husbands, and he was too lazy to upsell drinks... He was kicked out of the club pretty quickly.
—You should be grateful we could replicate the only good thing about you: this skin of yours.
"But I... don't really need it, do I? Weren't you seizing me to be a trainer? You don't need looks for this job, surely?"
—...
The Goddess went silent. That silence gave Kazuma a subtle chill.
—Not necessarily. It might come in handy.
After the Goddess finally answered, Kazuma felt even more afraid.
"Is this a 'proper' training job... It won't be something 'improper,' will it? You literally said a Trainer is a combination of a breeder and a jockey. Both those terms involve 'breeding' and 'riding'..." He couldn't help but let his mind wander.
—Nonsense. Clean up the filthy waste in your head.
Amidst their banter, Kazuma had unknowingly walked to the edge of a vast grass field enclosed by a green wire-mesh fence. The field was immense, laid out in the shape of a circular track... with a dirt track inside the turf loop, and another patch of grass in the center. Aside from the missing iconic large zelkova tree, everything looked remarkably familiar.
Fuchu Racecourse. The moment he saw the turf, Kazuma understood. As a gambling horse-racing fan in his past life... he had spent plenty of time at racecourses watching live events.
—This is Tracen's training ground, but its design is a one-to-one replica of Fuchu Racecourse.
"I see..." Kazuma nodded at the Goddess's explanation. Knowledge of the four major Central Racecourses was something he carried over from his past life. It seemed the two worlds shared many similarities... like parallel... parallel...
—Parallel worlds.
"Exactly." Kazuma wasn't well-read and couldn't think of the term immediately, but Byerley Turk filled in his thoughts.
—You can understand it that way. But the world you are in now is more than just a 'parallel' variation of your original one.
But Kazuma couldn't wrap his head around all that complexity. If he couldn't understand it, he wouldn't think about it; after all, he was just here to scrape by. Giving up on deep contemplation, he walked along the training ground fence until he finally found the main entrance. He went inside and climbed up into the spectator stands.
The stands were already quite crowded. Most of the people were adult men and women in uniforms—trainers belonging to Central Tracen, just like Kazuma. They were gathered here for the Selection Race scheduled for this afternoon.
—A Selection Race is a race set before a debut. For a Horse Girl, it's an opportunity for self-display, to attract a Trainer to sign a contract. For a Trainer, it's a prime opportunity to scout Horse Girls, picking those with potential to train into stars.
"I see... thanks," Kazuma thought, thanking the Goddess in his mind.
—...What's this? Your attitude has certainly shifted. Why so polite all of a sudden?
He was being polite because he wanted to make a snarky comment and didn't want to provoke her. Seeing that her attitude had softened, Kazuma thought: Don't you think the mechanism of Selection Races in this Horse Girl world feels a lot like a talent show at a matchmaking event?
—...
The Goddess responded with silence again. She didn't refute it, which surprised Kazuma.
—I can only tell you that the probability of a trainee Horse Girl and her Trainer ending up at the altar is quite high.
After a long pause, she finally responded.
"I see. No wonder the Goddess told me my face might not be useless..." Kazuma felt a sudden moment of clarity.
This is just a host club after all! Except the 'rich ladies' have been replaced by Horse Girls!
—That is why we brought you to this world.
When the Goddess mentioned this, the thought finally hit him.
Right... why was I brought here? When normal people die, do they all go to an afterlife like this?
He had never thought about what happened after death in his previous life... maybe he had, but he didn't really remember his past well, so he assumed he hadn't.
—This world needs a new bellwether... otherwise...
Otherwise what? The world will end? Have I been entrusted with such a grand mission? Kazuma felt a strange sense of destiny. However, the moment the Goddess finished her sentence, that destiny vanished instantly.
—If every Horse Girl marries her Trainer, there won't be enough Trainers left in this world. Conversely... the number of orthopedic surgeons is increasing too rapidly.
"...Oh."
Dammit. I thought it was some grand mission, but I'm just here to alleviate a skewed employment crisis?
4. The Silhouette of Glory
—Your current mission is to find a trainee as soon as possible.
After leaving that sentence in his mind, the Goddess's voice went silent. Even when Kazuma tried calling out "Byerley Turk" in his head, there was no reply.
I guess... the Goddess doesn't stay in my head all the time, the man thought.
With the Goddess gone, Kazuma felt a sudden wave of helplessness. He had died, been reborn in a strange world, and given a weird mission... he felt like a cat sent to a cat café to "host" guests. But Kazuma wasn't a cat, and since he was reborn, life had to go on.
He found a seat in the stands and waited for the so-called Selection Race to begin.
In this world, horses—or rather, Horse Girls—lived as equals to humans. They weren't commercial commodities bred specifically for racing like thoroughbreds. Therefore, a "sale" or "auction" style event was impossible... trafficking people was a crime, after all.
Combining what he saw with the knowledge the Goddess had bestowed... Kazuma concluded that there were likely no "horse owners" in this world either. Every Horse Girl participated in races of her own independent will. Thus, the Selection Race... despite his joke about it being "matchmaking," did have a genuine purpose.
Creating the opportunity for a Horse Girl and a Trainer to meet—that was its reason for existing.
It's still matchmaking... Wandering through idle thoughts, Kazuma sighed.
But then, the sound of hooves echoed. The sound he had heard countless times at the racecourse—
He immediately looked up toward the track.
The race was about to start. Since Tracen's Selection Races didn't use starting gates, it was a simultaneous start at the sound of a pistol.
There were ten girls in total. The starting line was on the diagonal straight at the outer edge of the curve. In other words... it was a replica of the Fuchu 1800m track. The iconic race for this layout was the Mainichi Okan, the precursor to the Autumn Tenno Sho.
"Phew..."
A brown-haired Horse Girl took a deep breath. Before the start, she gave a final adjustment to her bangs, which featured a white blaze shaped like a crescent moon. She lowered her center of gravity and settled into a starting stance.
1800 meters... I might not be able to run to my heart's content. But to begin the 'King's Path,' victory is more important than satisfaction.
The pistol fired. The race began. Every Horse Girl burst from the starting line; she was no exception. The Fuchu 1800m has a short straight of about a hundred meters after the start before entering the end of the second curve. The curve doesn't last long before transitioning into another straight.
In the opening phase of such a track, a Horse Girl starting on the outside has two choices to adjust her position. First, use speed and positioning to sharply cut into a desired spot immediately after the start. Second, maintain position and wait to make a move after clearing the curve. The former requires high positioning awareness and raw speed, while the latter wastes stamina by running the wider outer path of the curve.
This girl chose the former. In truth... for her, wasting a bit of stamina likely didn't matter. She had the composure and confidence to win regardless. But she chose the former for one reason: she pursued perfection.
The characteristic of Japanese turf is that it is hard and thin; while it isn't easy to display raw power, it's perfect for speed. Immediately after the break, she exploded with speed, cutting with surgical precision from the side of the pack into the middle, taking the fifth-place spot. This move instantly drew praise from the trainers in the stands.
"How bold... but that move represents truly superior quality."
"Well, that Horse Girl is..."
The whispers broke out, piquing Kazuma's curiosity. Sitting in the corner, he couldn't hear the other trainers' conversations clearly. Every time he tried to move closer to them, they would offer a polite smile and move away with obvious reluctance...
Just how disliked is the persona the Goddesses gave me? he sighed.
However, the chatter and thoughts of the trainers in the stands were unknown to the girl currently flying across the track. For a Horse Girl, there was only one goal: self-display to earn a trainer's favor.
The brown-haired girl in the middle of the pack was different.
There was a girl to her front-right and one to her back-right, with two more watching her from behind. The girl at the very back seemed to have missed the start due to nerves and was now panicking—she could be crossed off the list of contenders... Well, it didn't matter. Call it arrogance if you like, but the brown-haired girl truly believed that while the other competitors were respectable, they were ultimately inconsequential.
Etiquette and arrogance coexisted within her.
"Alright... let's go."
The pack had gradually passed the uphill climb at the end of the straight; next was a downhill section. Most girls who had just finished the climb would relax and conserve strength to maintain speed on the descent, but not her. She intended to display an overwhelming victory, and so she made her move.
"Hey, hey—is she going for a long spurt?"
"Is she serious? Even for her, that's too bold, isn't it?"
A trainer in the stands offered his evaluation. If the girl could hear him, how would she respond? She probably wouldn't care. She was about to show every observing trainer the meaning of true strength.
The moment she turned toward the outer lane, the girl stomped hard onto the turf, the force of it kicking up a small clod of grass. Using that firm footing as a foundation, her speed and stride frequency increased visibly to the naked eye.
Utilizing the psychology of most girls who try to stay as close to the rail as possible during curves, she chose to pull outward instead. She slipped through the gap between two girls on the outside and began her sprint along the outer track... One step, two steps. The first person ahead was overtaken. The second was no trouble. The third was taken with ease. In the blink of an eye, the girl had come from the side to the very front, running neck-and-neck with the leader. But she didn't stop there; she continued to accelerate.
The sound of wind tearing—the girl was flying through the air like a bullet. Yet she was no bullet, for every step she took was steady and powerful, devoid of any weakness. Choosing to overtake from the outside and launch a long-distance sprint on a track modeled after Fuchu was a reckless decision, but looking at her nearly perfect running form, one couldn't find a single flaw...
It had essentially become a solo performance—an exhibition of this one brown-haired girl's glorious silhouette.
5. The Name of the Emperor
"She's strong..."
In the corner of the stands, Nakagaki Kazuma rubbed his chin. Looking at the strategy she used and the immense sense of power displayed in her steady footfalls, he felt an unexpected sense of déjà vu. He had seen this once in a race he watched live in his past life, and once in historical records... the Kiku-sho of Mr. C.B. and the Kiku-sho of Orfevre, respectively. Pushing from the uphill, rounding the curve already at the front, and charging to the finish in one breath...
But those two races shared a common trait: the track was the Kyoto 3000m. The long uphill at Kyoto is a slope that saps speed from horses—or Horse Girls—with insufficient power, allowing powerful runners like Orfevre and Mr. C.B. to use it as an opportunity to overtake. Furthermore, the Kyoto straight is about four hundred meters... while not short, it isn't as long as Fuchu's five-hundred-meter-plus straight. In other words, in such a race, choosing a long spurt to leverage power was actually a calculated move. But here, on a track modeled after Fuchu, the long spurt this girl chose was nothing short of reckless.
However, reckless as it was, she executed it perfectly. He had to admit that for this girl, recklessness was simply her bold way of showcasing her strength.
Oh, right... whether it was Mr. C.B. or Orfevre, they both shared another trait.
They were both Triple Crown winners... uh, horses. Horse Girls.
The girl running on the track now... perhaps she could achieve such a feat as well.
But regardless of what Kazuma thought, the race continued.
By the time she turned into the straight, she had already passed the 400m pole, with the other girls trailing three or four lengths behind. Once on the straight, the gap between the brown-haired girl and the others only widened. By the time she passed the 200m pole, the lead had grown to six or seven lengths. And she wasn't finished. More—she wanted to win by more. She wanted to etch her shocking power and speed into the hearts of every trainer watching.
By the time she crossed the finish line, counting the lengths of her lead was meaningless. It was an undisputed, overwhelming victory (Dai-sa). Without giving the girls behind her even a moment to shine, she stole all the attention, branding the image of a sovereign ruler into the trainers' minds.
"This is supposed to be a 'Selection' Race...?" Kazuma sighed helplessly from the stands. There was no need to "select." She had stolen every gaze; no one was looking at the girls behind her. It was a cruel, absolute victory.
To Kazuma's surprise, even after witnessing such a perfect performance, not a single trainer in the stands moved toward her. Normally, shouldn't this be the part where they chat and sign contracts? Shouldn't a girl like that be the darling of the era that everyone was scrambling for? He was full of confusion.
"She feels... way too strong."
"Yeah... strong enough to make you afraid to scout her. Partnering with a Horse Girl like that would be exhausting, wouldn't it?"
Kazuma heard these voices coming from the group of trainers nearby.
I see. He thought he understood. There are cases where being "too strong" makes someone unapproachable. Like... the sun itself. Icarus pursued the sun, only for the wax on his wings to melt, falling to his death. If you sign a girl like that and something goes wrong... you'd become everyone's target.
"Space Superman, you shouldn't get any closer to the sun. If you enter the sun's gravity, you're finished, Space Superman," Kazuma muttered some nonsense to himself.
But I'm not Space Superman, he thought at the same time.
Nakagaki Kazuma had always been a shameless, nonchalant freak. When everyone else avoided something, he found himself drawn to it. The man stood up from his seat, got into position, and ran across the rows of tiered seats. He vaulted over the railing at the edge of the stands, flipping in the air to land on the ground—reaching the trackside in a flashy, parkour-like display—and jogged straight toward the brown-haired girl.
"You!"
Because his entrance was so conspicuous, the girl who had won by an absurd margin noticed this lone Icarus heading toward the sun immediately. However, before the Horse Girl could speak to him, Kazuma seized the initiative.
"You're amazing. How about it? Want to sign a contract with me?"
The girl, her initiative stolen, opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words. The man before her was different from other trainers; his bold, almost arrogant manner caught her completely off guard, and for a moment, she couldn't help but laugh.
"What? Is it funny?"
"Ahem... no, no. My apologies." The girl shook her head. She rested her chin on her left hand and looked down slightly, but her eyes were turned upward, scrutinizing Kazuma carefully. "You... must be Trainer Nakagaki? I've seen your information on the academy's trainer list."
Regular Horse Girls can browse the trainer list? Kazuma wondered if he should ask the Goddess later how to protect his personal privacy in this world. The brown-haired girl then reclaimed the conversation, posing a question to the only trainer who had come to scout her.
"Then, Trainer Nakagaki must know who I am and what goal I am aiming for—"
"Ah, no. I have no idea who you are."
"What?"
The dominant position the girl had just regained was instantly shattered.
"Is it strange? Can I not sign you without knowing who you are?"
Her reaction confused Kazuma. In his understanding, the Selection Race was a stage for trainers and Horse Girls to meet and choose each other—with such a stage provided, there shouldn't be a need for prior knowledge, right?
"Ah, no, it's not that..."
"Then it's fine."
The man spoke and extended his hand toward the Horse Girl.
"So, let me ask again. Are you willing to sign a contract with me as my trainee and challenge a grander stage together?"