He mentioned only Cap, and yet never once mentioned March.
It wasn't because he forgot.
As March's very first trainer, Shibasaki understood all too well what kind of person that silver-haired girl really was.
If you only talked about the ceiling of physical potential, March was actually not particularly dazzling.
If she were truly a genius, then even Shibasaki at his peak wouldn't have been considered top-tier in that area.
And she definitely wouldn't have posted an "11 races, 2 wins" record at a backwater place like Kasamatsu, of all places...
If she hadn't met Kuroha, that "monster of a trainer" who could turn decay into miracles.
If she hadn't been given an encounter so extraordinary it could only be called miraculous.
Then on the normal trajectory, March would never have been able to run on Central's stage, let alone contend with that pack of historic, top-class elites.
But Cap was different.
That girl... was genuine heaven-sent talent.
Thinking of this, something complicated flashed through Shibasaki's eyes.
He thought of his close friend, who at this moment should have been at home cramming for the exam—Sakura Kitahara.
As a longtime friend, he didn't really want to judge her this way, but the facts were the facts.
Two years ago, Sakura really was someone with no ambition, and a bad habit of daydreaming.
Back then, she spent her days boasting in izakaya, dreaming that she would coach a horse girl who could win a local graded stakes, or even the "Tokai Derby."
But in reality?
She wasn't willing to study and build real professional knowledge.
She wasn't willing to sit down and patiently develop those average, unremarkable young horse girls until they could reach that stage.
Instead, she would complain over a drink, blaming her luck, cursing the world.
Saying things like Kasamatsu was the countryside, there were no stars here, and a place like this wasn't even worth investing effort into, let alone proper education.
Every time Shibasaki heard that, the veins on his forehead would bulge.
Because what else did she expect?
If there were some horse girl who looked like she was shining the moment you saw her, absurdly strong, obviously special...
Then first of all, she wouldn't be appearing at some remote local track in the first place.
And even if she did appear, why would she ever end up in the hands of some deadbeat trainer like Sakura, with no ability and no results?
And yet.
Fate was exactly that absurd, and exactly that full of dramatic irony.
In the end, she really did run into one.
Oguri Cap.
A raw gem that would drive every trainer mad. A block of jade that, with just a little polish, could light up an entire era.
But what happened?
After two straight years of failing the Central exam, trainers with "more love than sense" had gradually bowed out one after another.
Sakura and Cap, once partners, had already reached the end of their bond.
This year was Cap's fourth year since debut.
In the local circuit, where race intensity was lower and the tempo was slower, it was common for a horse girl to race for four or five years, even into a sixth.
But there—inside that battlefield called "Central."
Almost no horse girls could stay at peak condition into their fifth year.
Time didn't wait for anyone.
Even if Sakura passed this year and obtained the license...
By the time she finished her internship in Central and gained the qualification to lead a team independently, Cap would probably have already retired.
That was reality, so cruel it left you speechless.
Seeing Shibasaki's calm expression—like someone who had seen through everything and accepted everything—Kuroha understood.
His friend had truly figured it out, and truly had no intention of chasing Central anymore.
Everyone had their own way of living.
Not everyone needed to stand under the spotlight to count as "successful."
"..."
After a brief silence, Kuroha didn't press further. He only shook his head helplessly, and with a faint laugh in his voice, said:
"Alright."
"As long as you're happy."
...
After leaving the trainer office, Kuroha didn't go straight back to the dorms.
Since he was here, there was still one person he had to see.
"Ginjirou-senpai really loves making people do work. If he wants to see me, he should come himself. What's with dumping it on me..."
Kuroha carried a small bag. Guided by memory, he crossed past the classroom buildings and arrived at the staff dorm area.
He stopped in front of a slightly weathered iron door and raised his hand to knock.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Coming, coming! Who is it? It's the weekend for crying out loud..."
From inside came hurried footsteps, followed by a loud clatter of books collapsing, as if the person inside was in full panic mode.
Creak—
The iron door opened.
A man appeared in the doorway, hair in a chaotic mess, heavy dark circles under his eyes, stubble half-shaved and uneven.
When he recognized who was standing there, his cloudy eyes widened instantly, and he froze in place.
"... Kuroha."
"Yo, Kitahara."
Kuroha leaned on the doorframe and lifted the small bag in his hand.
"Long time no see. I brought you a gift."
"You damn..."
"Come in. The place is kind of a mess. Don't mind it."
Kuroha stepped inside and looked around.
The single dorm room was small to begin with, but now it was practically filled to the brim with piles of books and materials.
Uma Musume Training Theory, Fundamentals of Exercise Physiology, Adaptation Analysis for Turf and Dirt...
Seeing them, surprise flashed through Kuroha's eyes.
"Still grinding yourself into the ground?"
He casually picked up an open notebook. The pages were packed with dense annotations.
"No choice."
Kitahara poured Kuroha a cup of water, then dropped into the middle of the messy book piles. Her tone carried a self-mocking edge.
"I already missed it... If I don't even have the right to catch up and look at her one more time..."
"Then as her former trainer, I'd be nothing but a failure."
She said it lightly, but Kuroha could hear the unwillingness and obsession buried deep underneath.
"Here."
Kuroha didn't offer any grand comfort. He simply handed over the paper bag.
"What is it?"
Kitahara took it with confusion and opened it.
A brand-new Central trainer uniform lay inside.
Kitahara's hand trembled hard.
"This is..."
"The gift you and Shibasaki asked me for a few days ago. Even if you still haven't become 'king' yet."
Kuroha took a sip of water, his tone calm.
"But I figured hanging this on the wall would do more to wake you up than staring at dry text all day."
"..."
Kitahara stroked the smooth fabric. After a long moment, she lowered her head and let out a suppressed sigh.
"After getting helped this much... if I still fail this year, I really won't have the face to see anyone."
"Don't talk nonsense."
Kuroha found a spot on the floor and sat down casually.
"If failing after only two years means you have no face left, then Shibasaki would have to bury his face in the dirt. He doesn't even dare to take the exam."
"..."
Kitahara stared at him wordlessly.
"If you can't comfort people, don't try."
"But anyway, I'm fired up now."
She picked up the brand-new uniform and did exactly as instructed, finding a wall and hanging it up.
After hanging it, she admired it again, grinning wide.
"Haha. It really is cool."
"When I pass next year, I'm wearing this every day."
Seeing that Kitahara and Shibasaki shared the exact same sense of aesthetics, Kuroha could only smile helplessly, then asked:
"By the way, Cap is back. You're not going to see her?"
At those words, Kitahara's body stiffened, but she still forced herself to shake her head.
"No. I don't have the face."
She was no longer the thick-skulled kid from her first failed year, the one who talked big like, "If I can't pass in a year, I'll do it next year. I'll keep taking it forever."
She understood it clearly now.
She couldn't keep up with Cap anymore—not with that star in the sky.
"Forget it... Cap being with Uncle Ginjirou is good anyway..."
Kitahara sighed as if resigning herself to fate, walked to the fridge, opened it, and took out a bottle of beer.
She shook it toward Kuroha.
"Want one?"
"No. I still have to go to March's place later. Can't drink."
"Alright."
Kitahara nodded, came over to sit in front of Kuroha, and cracked the beer open, taking a long gulp.
"Besides, other than Uncle Ginjirou, don't you go give Cap pointers sometimes when you're free?"
"If that's the case, then I don't need to worry about Central at all..."
Even as she said it like self-comfort, she quickly followed with a shout of resentment:
"It's all because of that 'Emperor'!"
"Not only did she drag Cap to Central, she keeps adding new sections and raising the difficulty of the Central license exam every single year."
"Last year, aside from the new sections, I basically passed all the fundamentals from before. But this year, before I even finished wrapping my head around last year's additions, she added even more on top of it!"
"She's such a damn [Kasamatsu swear]!"
Kitahara's face was full of anger.
It was like she'd bottled it up for two years, and now that Kuroha was here to listen, she couldn't stop herself from letting it all out.
"..."
Kuroha listened with a slight frown.
Are you seriously drunk after one mouthful?
You should go ask Rudolf what she thinks, right to her face.
...
"Hachoo!"
At that very moment, far away at Central Tracen Academy, Rudolf suddenly sneezed.
"Strange. Is someone talking about me?"
The girl rubbed her small, delicate nose and huffed twice.
On the sofa, sipping tea, Maruzensky smiled warmly.
"Maybe it's Teio."
"Recently she's been saying every day—"
The brown-haired beauty struck a pose, mimicking the voice.
"'Perfect. I'm about to enter the Tracen Zone!'"
"Want to try it...?"
"... Is that so?"
Rudolf tilted her head, then shook it with a soft laugh.
Teio, huh...
Come to think of it, did Kuroha dump some annoying work on me again?
If so...
Maybe I should find time to go play at his place.
The thought suddenly surfaced in her mind.
(End of Chapter)
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