Chapter 44. A New Business Platform
Shuta Trainer had not been mistaken. After they were seated, the staff quickly recognized Silence Suzuka once she removed her mask. Still, they behaved professionally, offering no disturbance and waiting patiently for the group's order.
Tokai Teio chose a Korean hot plate chicken–flavored hamburger steak set, adding a summer peach parfait without hesitation. Silence Suzuka considered briefly before ordering a hamburger steak with pickled carrots and a Hokkaido lactic acid bacteria drink. Although Mejiro Dober had rarely left the hotel, she had often imagined what she would order if she dined out; she decisively selected a cheese-and-bacon hamburger steak with fries, along with the limited-edition white peach parfait.
Shuta ordered last. Having eaten only toast for breakfast and a simple bowl of cereal for lunch, he was by far the hungriest. He requested a hamburger steak, fried shrimp, a bowl of mixed rice, and a cherry-flavored non-alcoholic beer.
"Trainer's appetite alone matches the three of us combined," Tokai Teio remarked.
Shuta An did not reply directly, only muttering, "If you were serious, even Suzuka—with the smallest appetite—could probably out-eat me."
As for why the three Uma Musume ordered relatively modest portions, he did not need to think hard. It was common for girls to eat lightly in public. He, however, had no intention of indulging such restraint.
"If it's not enough, just order more," he said to Mejiro Dober. "Don't hold back. Oguri never worries about what others think—she eats until she's satisfied."
At the mention of Oguri Cap, Mejiro Dober mumbled, "Even among Uma Musume, Oguri-senpai's appetite is something I've never seen before—No, never mind."
She abruptly swallowed the rest of her sentence, recalling a certain gray-haired member of her own family.
"I won't stand on ceremony with Trainer," Tokai Teio said cheerfully, though in truth she was not very hungry after eating on the plane.
Silence Suzuka's attention, meanwhile, rested more on the young man seated across from her than on the menu. If she were still hungry later, the hotel offered late-night snacks.
Before the dishes arrived, Shuta An shifted the topic.
"Dober, I asked you to design your own winning uniform, didn't I? How is it progressing?"
"The family has already prepared one," Mejiro Dober replied softly, lowering her gaze as she sent the design via Line.
The outfit featured a sleeveless top and knee-length skirt in the Mejiro family's signature green and white. It was elegant but understated—surprisingly simple for a girl of noble background.
"Is this enough?" Shuta An studied the design, then looked up at her. "I imagined something more elaborate would suit you better."
"No, this is fine," she answered, shaking her head. "I'm very satisfied."
He remained unconvinced; true satisfaction would not have come with eyes that avoided his. Still, he respected her choice. Moreover, an Uma Musume in the Twinkle Series was not limited to a single winning uniform.
"If there's an opportunity for a second one," he said calmly, "I'll ask a designer I know to create it for you. And let the Mejiro family know they needn't worry about the next design."
"Okay." Mejiro Dober blinked in surprise before nodding. A second winning uniform was not something every Uma Musume could obtain. Even Silence Suzuka, despite her popularity, had yet to qualify.
"I'm still one G1 victory away from earning a second uniform," Silence Suzuka noted, then added softly, "When that time comes, may I trouble you as well, Ann?"
"Of course," Shuta An replied with a confident thumbs-up. "Leave it to me. I'll make sure it satisfies you."
"Mhm." Suzuka lowered her gaze and took a quiet sip of her drink.
After dinner, the four stepped back into the night air outside Bikkuri Donkey. The moonlight stretched their shadows along the pavement as Shuta An spoke again.
"This year, including Dober, only eight Uma Musume have registered for the Hakodate Nisai Stakes. It's unlikely that number will increase."
The three behind him listened attentively.
"The first major race of a debut year typically draws fewer participants. Eight is normal. Your strongest opponent will be Meiner Max. She won her maiden race by 0.7 seconds and led from the front in both starts. If she controls the pace again, the tempo will be hers."
"So I need to unleash a final burst she can't anticipate—overtake her at the end?" Mejiro Dober ventured.
"It's a solid idea," Shuta An replied, lips curving faintly. "But not the best one. If that's your limit, then we would simply train your explosive power."
"Then what's your plan, Trainer?" she asked.
He stopped walking and turned under the moonlight.
"How about adopting a Senko strategy? Apply pressure from just behind her, then overwhelm her in the final stretch with superior acceleration. Show her the difference in talent."
His smile, clear and unwavering beneath the pale glow, made Mejiro Dober momentarily lose her composure.
"Can I really do that?" she asked, pointing at herself.
"Of course," he answered without hesitation, as though the outcome were already decided.
Earlier in the restaurant, he had impulsively checked her status panel. Her adaptability for the Senko tactic had risen from B to A. The reason was unclear, but the improvement was undeniable. With that rating, transitioning now would not jeopardize her performance.
In his judgment, mastering Senko was far more reliable than gambling everything on a late chaser burst. Most of his skills synergized better with a forward-positioned runner.
For this Hakodate Nisai Stakes, he no longer intended to play conservatively.
Over the following week, Mejiro Dober was practically dragged across Hakodate by Tokai Teio, who treated the city like an enormous playground. Silence Suzuka followed a few steps behind, calm and watchful, ensuring Teio did not overexert herself while quietly keeping an eye on Dober as well.
Meanwhile, after entrusting Teio to Suzuka's care, Shuta An remained in his hotel room working. Although he had told Mejiro Dober that Meiner Max was the only rival truly worth cautioning against in the Hakodate Nisai Stakes, he had no intention of allowing complacency to cost them the race. Every registered competitor would be analyzed. With only debut-race data available publicly, most Trainers would be forced to rely on guesswork—but he had no such limitation.
He contacted Nishizaki Ryu's Spica Team and requested assistance in obtaining training footage of the opposing Uma Musume. The materials soon arrived in his inbox.
"That social terrorist Gold Ship really has frightening talent when it comes to information gathering," he muttered as he reviewed the files. "Expensive, but absolutely worth it. A long-term partnership would be ideal."
At that very moment, Gold Ship sneezed loudly.
"Who's talking about me?" she grumbled, rubbing her nose. "Did that Sadalsuud Trainer think my intel wasn't cost-effective?"
"What intel?" Mejiro McQueen immediately turned alert, spoon paused midway to her mouth. "Gold Ship, what have you done this time?"
"Relax. I was helping the Mejiro family, technically," Gold Ship said innocently. "He wanted training footage of several runners. Probably for Mejiro Dober-senpai."
McQueen quietly exhaled in relief. With Gold Ship's personality, disaster was never far from possibility.
—
Among the teams entered in the Hakodate Nisai Stakes, Mejiro Dober was likewise under scrutiny. However, because Shuta An had sent her to Hakodate early and limited her to low-intensity sessions in the hotel gym, no one else had an accurate grasp of her current condition. Other Trainers could only speculate.
In another week, once she began beach training openly, observant competitors would inevitably gather information. But teams with resources comparable to Sadalsuud were rare at Japan Central Tracen Academy. Even Spica Team, fresh off a Derby victory, held its summer camp in the mountains of Gunma. Beach access was a luxury. Aside from Sadalsuud, only Rigil Team possessed similar means.
Most opponents could not afford to arrive in Hakodate two weeks early. Domestic travel expenses were not reimbursed by the Academy, and such "expeditions" strained budgets considerably.
After completing his tactical breakdown of Meiner Max, Shuta An stepped onto the terrace to clear his mind. The sea breeze cooled his thoughts. He took several photos and sent them to Oguri Cap and Berno Light. Within minutes, both replied—with swimsuit photos taken in Okinawa.
"After retiring from the Twinkle Series, their race intensity dropped, and life became far more relaxed," he reflected. "But that was the point. Striving for glory was meant to secure a comfortable future."
Just as he turned to return inside, a message from Symboli Rudolf appeared.
He skimmed it, frowning slightly. "Is this a suggestion… or an invitation on someone else's behalf?"
Symboli Rudolf proposed expanding Sadalsuud Team's presence onto Twitter while continuing updates on the official blog. She outlined the platform's advantages in detail—instant interaction, streamlined interface, editing flexibility, and a rapidly growing user base already surpassing traditional blogs.
"No one at the Academy seems to use it," he murmured. "Still, maintaining one additional platform isn't burdensome."
He replied politely that he would comply, though he needed to register an account first.
The follow-up message confirmed his suspicion.
"The account has already been prepared. I submitted it for verification on your behalf."
"She definitely received compensation for this," he thought dryly. "But fine. I'll consider it giving her face."
After logging in with the credentials provided, he contemplated his first post.
A self-introduction would suffice.
One minute later, he published:
"This is the official Twitter account of Sadalsuud Team, Japan Central Tracen Academy. We will be sharing updates regarding our team's Uma Musume. Please look forward to it."
He closed the page and returned to his race analysis.
Only that evening, as he prepared to head downstairs for lunch, did he remember the account again. Based on his experience with blogs, a few dozen replies would already be impressive—manageable enough for meaningful interaction.
When he reopened the page, however, his eyes widened.
Hundreds of replies. Nearly two thousand retweets. Tens of thousands of likes.
For a moment, he simply stared.
"This…" he muttered, lips twitching slightly, "is impossible to respond to individually."