Once Mizuno had confirmed that Maruzensky's wish was for him to compete in a car race in a few weeks and win first place, he immediately started cramming everything he could about racing.
On Maruzensky's recommendation, Mizuno was even pulled into a group chat for an amateur racing league.
Though the group wasn't big—just over two hundred members—everyone in it was a true racing fanatic, not just a casual.
The race Maruzensky spoke of was actually organized by the core members of this group.
These core members weren't just fans, but also racers themselves. They'd set up a dedicated online ranking board, which was pretty fair and transparent—and Maruzensky herself was on it.
Maruzensky wasn't just a top contender on the track; she was a prodigy behind the wheel, too, and for a while she dominated the number one spot, with a lot of clout.
Whenever she spoke in the group or showed up at offline events, everyone respectfully called her "Boss."
But lately, since she'd been holed up at home, not joining races, her ranking had slid all the way to seventh place, which left a lot of people baffled and disappointed.
With that much skill, why wouldn't she compete anymore?
So only by letting me reach the same heights she once did—by taking first place—can Maruzensky find her courage again…
Mizuno stared at the rankings page, still unable to figure out why this was Maruzensky's heart's desire.
But it didn't really matter. All he had to do was focus on granting her wish. Once she broke through, the truth would come to light on its own.
Even if his useless legs couldn't hit the gas pedal, maybe he'd find some ridiculous new way to drive without his feet?
As Mizuno pondered ways around the problem and studied the skill level of these amateur racers, he suddenly discovered an account among the group members—someone else listed as official Tracen staff.
What's more, that account was actually ranked tenth among all the racers!
Mizuno stared at the familiar, weathered face in the profile picture and recalled all the mornings and evenings they'd spent shuttling to and from the Secret Boys' Dormitory. He was floored.
"So the old driver really is named Fujiwara?!"
...
The next day, after Mizuno sent an invitation, the old bus driver who used to ferry all the male trainers to and from Tracen happily agreed to meet with him.
Ever since the Secret Boys' Dormitory had been blown up by Uma Musume and needed to be rebuilt before it could house any male trainers again, the old driver had been on paid leave. He spent his days driving an old AE86 around, helping out at his family's tofu shop with deliveries, living a pretty busy life.
But even so, he still found himself bored.
After all, compared to hauling crates of tofu at full speed and making sure none of them broke, nothing could compare to the thrill of driving a bus full of delicious trainers while being chased by Uma Musume.
Just as he was getting nostalgic for those days, a young kid from Tracen messaged him in the racing chat, asking to meet and talk about racing.
That immediately piqued the old driver's interest. He hadn't expected that even the poor trainers, run ragged every day by their own Uma Musume, still had the energy to race cars—what a rarity.
Besides, he'd always had a good impression of Mizuno and liked his polite manner, so of course he didn't refuse.
So, bright and early, a white car with the words "Fujiwara Tofu Shop" painted on the side pulled up to the café they'd agreed on and parked right out front.
The door opened and out stepped a spry, sixty-something man in an old white undershirt, looking around for the person who'd invited him.
"Morning, old man, over here." Mizuno waved from a table outside the café, letting the old driver know where he was.
"Hey there, kid, long time no see."
The old driver spotted Mizuno and walked over with a spring in his step.
"How've you—huh?"
Just as he was about to ask Mizuno how he'd been, he spotted the wheelchair next to Mizuno's seat.
"Kid, did your pelvis get wrecked by too much Uma Pyoi?" The old driver's voice was suspicious.
Having spent every day shuttling the senior trainers back and forth, the old driver naturally assumed Mizuno had followed in their footsteps—laid up young after getting his legs broken…
But what really surprised him was that, besides Mizuno, one of Tracen's most famous Uma Musume was sitting right beside him.
"President Rudolf?"
"Hello."
Symboli Rudolf put down her coffee and nodded politely at the old driver.
"Hello, hello…"
The old driver nodded back. Of course he knew who Symboli Rudolf was—the emperor who ran all of Tracen. A change in staff was just a word from her. Anyone official at Tracen had deep respect for her.
Then, he looked under the table—and saw Symboli Rudolf's tail wrapped tightly around Mizuno's leg.
"?!"
The old driver's curious eyes darted back and forth between Mizuno and Symboli Rudolf, piecing together a huge, scandalous secret.
"You two aren't… you know… that kind of relationship, are you?"
"Yes," Symboli Rudolf answered with a nod.
"No, we're not!" Mizuno quickly denied it.
"I'm just normal friends with Luna! She only came along today to take care of me since I'm handicapped! It's not at all like what you're thinking, old man!"
The old driver's mouth twitched.
You're calling her "Luna" that intimately and you still claim it's just friends?!
In this world, besides the president's family or her closest confidantes, who would dare call Symboli Rudolf "Luna"?!
Not to mention, who else could get the Emperor herself to look after them like that, unless they were her consort?
At that moment, the old driver understood why Mizuno, a rookie trainer, had ended up in a wheelchair so fast. If your partner was Tracen's fastest Uma Musume, how could your pelvis survive?
And considering Symboli Rudolf had nodded to confirm it, the old driver was sure he'd uncovered the truth.
"I get it, I get it—secret sweetheart of the boss, right? My lips are sealed." The old driver smiled knowingly, pressing a finger to his lips, all the airs of an old workplace fox.
"Mhm~"
Symboli Rudolf was delighted at how on the ball the old driver was. "Very good. You'll get a raise when you're back."
"Shh!"
---
T/N: ITS THE BUS DRIVER!!!! PROFESSOR OF CURVATURE