Chapter 141: No One Understands Fear Better Than Me
He had said they'd talk about it tomorrow—but when Makoto finally saw Kitasan Black again, it was already Monday morning.
Apparently, she'd taken his advice to rest early seriously.
By the time they met, the girl had completely regained her usual bright and energetic self.
"I give up!"
That's the very first thing that came out of Kitasan Black's mouth the moment she saw her Trainer, and she said it with a burst of excitement and determination too.
"There's no way I could figure this out by myself! So things like 'risking it all' or 'winning no matter what'—I'll just leave all that to you, Trainer! I believe in you!"
It took Makoto a while to fully understand what she meant.
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he lowered his gaze in contemplation.
Though the wording was different, Deep Impact had said something similar when they reviewed the training match.
Not just her—Special Week and the others too.
Based on those insights and the data gathered from the mock race, Makoto had already formed a new idea for special training.
However, unlike the other plans that were already confirmed, he couldn't yet be sure how effective this one would be.
So, when he looked back at Kitasan Black again, he simply pointed toward the course and gave a straightforward instruction.
"Let's start with the usual drills."
In the practice race, although Kitasan Black had struggled in the first half, her handling of the slopes after the third corner had clearly shown the results of her earlier training.
A racecourse's incline was never purely vertical or flat—but after strengthening her vertical movement ability, handling smaller gradients had naturally become much easier.
Still, the inclines corresponding to the actual Japanese Derby course weren't yet fully mastered.
Now was the perfect time to strike while the iron was hot and build on what she'd learned from the race.
Curved positioning, gradient acceleration, airborne lead changes—she couldn't afford to neglect the techniques she had already mastered, and each needed to be fine-tuned according to the characteristics of the upcoming event.
It was no small task, but with about two weeks left before the Japanese Derby, the time was more than enough.
Soon, the early-morning course echoed with Kitasan Black's spirited shouts of "Hai!" as she trained.
. . .
That night—Tracen Academy Dance Hall.
Inside the empty hall, Makoto laid a large, square mat several meters across in the center of the floor.
At one corner of the mat stood a peculiar chair.
The top half looked like an ordinary high-backed chair with armrests, but the bottom had only one leg.
At the top of the backrest was a metal ring, through which a thick rope—roughly the width of a wrist—was tied.
The rope stretched over ten meters long, looping once around a ceiling beam.
Holding the other end, Makoto walked over to a pillar, where he installed a pulley system with a locking clip, fastening the rope securely through it.
Once everything was set up, he turned to the side and gestured for the curious Kitasan Black to come closer.
He pointed at the one-legged chair.
"Come. Sit."
"Eh? I… can sit on that?"
Looking doubtful, Kitasan Black obediently stepped forward and sat down.
Her feet first touched the ground, then rose onto her toes as she gripped the armrests and gave the seat a small wobble.
"It's completely unstable, Trainer…"
"That's exactly the point."
Nodding, Makoto spoke after a brief pause.
"To put it simply, this is… a rather unusual kind of training."
"Specifically—training for the zone."
"Zone?"
Kitasan Black's eyes sparkled instantly.
Her Trainer hadn't kept the concept a secret from her.
She had asked her senpai about it and knew that within that state, an Umamusume could unleash strength beyond her normal limits.
But whether they were racers who had experienced it, trainers, or researchers—not a single one could clearly explain how to awaken such a state.
She didn't seem particularly disappointed.
After all, her trainer had told her before that no matter how powerful a "zone" was, it wouldn't magically transform someone overnight. As long as her daily training was solid, as long as her strength was real, she could win even without one.
But what surprised her was how her Trainer, who not long ago had claimed he didn't know how to grasp a zone, now spoke and acted with such quiet confidence.
Not doubting him for a second, Kitasan Black's eyes lit up, her excitement bubbling over.
"Trainer, you know how to activate a zone?"
"Activate?"
Makoto blinked, then smiled and shook his head.
"Not quite that. It's a bit too complicated to explain—you'll understand once I show you."
"Remember the posture I taught you? Sit cross-legged on the chair, keep your balance, and look straight ahead."
That posture—one she practiced every morning and before bed—had long become second nature to Kitasan Black.
At his words, she obediently tucked in her legs and faced forward.
Her ears twitched, turning curiously toward Makoto, wondering what he was about to do.
Soon, she heard his familiar footsteps moving away, stopping somewhere near the support pillar—where the rope had been tied earlier.
'The rope…'
'Wait, don't tell me—?'
Her heart skipped. Instinctively, she glanced up toward the rope stretched across the dance hall's beam.
Before she could get a good look, an abrupt and overwhelming sensation swept through her body—one she had felt before.
It was as if her blood had been sucked away; a freezing chill raced from her fingertips up through her torso, then burst straight into her head.
This feeling—a zone?!
That thought exploded in her mind just as warmth returned to her limbs, and she realized she had been right.
As her Trainer had said, the one-legged chair was meant to be unstable.
The instability meant that when the rope loosened, the chair would tilt.
When it tilted, she'd fall without warning.
And that instant of free fall—that pulse of panic before the body reacted—reproduced the same sensation as entering a zone.
"Trainer, this…?!"
Having pieced it together, Kitasan Black scrambled up from the soft mat, eyes wide with shock.
"It's exactly what you just felt."
Makoto nodded, his voice calm but firm.
"I asked some of the veteran racers before. Every time the topic of zones came up, all of them mentioned the same word."
"Fear."
"I can't compete in the kind of races you do, so I could never truly understand what that fear felt like."
"But the last practice race reminded me."
"It doesn't matter why you feel fear. I still don't know how to teach you to grasp a zone."
"But I can teach you how to face fear."
"After all…"
He paused, eyes drifting toward the dark window outside the dance hall.
'Maybe… I'm the one who understands fear best in this world.'
For a fleeting moment, his gaze seemed distant, almost hollow—but then he looked back at her as if nothing had happened.
"In extreme stunts, most performances happen high in the air, on cliffs, or deep underwater."
"Fear of falling, vertigo, suffocation—these are terrors no living creature can ever truly escape."
"This training mimics the fear of falling."
"If you can adapt to that… no matter what happens in the Japanese Derby or any race beyond it, nothing will shake you."
"Because…"
He met her eyes squarely.
"You'll already have faced fear countless times before."
Kitasan Black stared back at him, silent.
That split second of terror, that blank white instant in her mind—memories of the practice race and the Satsuki Sho—replayed inside her head like film projections.
And among those flashes stood a tall, immovable figure—like a mountain she could never scale—a figure that filled her with regret and frustration.
'To face fear…'
'So back then, I wasn't just frustrated.'
'I wasn't just regretting.'
'I was afraid, too…?'
Kitasan Black fists slowly clenched, fingernails digging crescents into her palms.
Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled, long and steady.
Without a word, she set the toppled chair upright and climbed back onto it.
"…Please, Trainer. Let's do it again."