The first rays of dawn filtered through the pale mist, scattering like stardust. Along the road, besides the early birds chirping, you could hear energetic Kansai-accented chants.
'One-two-one, carrot! One-two-one, squid skewers!'
Petite Tamamo Cross jogged down the Horse-Girl lane in her blue-and-white tracksuit.
The crisp air roused her sleepy body. Takeda Makoto trailed behind on a little scooter, the cool breeze in his face, utterly comfortable.
Hanshin is the collective name for the Osaka–Kobe metropolitan sprawl, and Takeda Horse Farm sits closer to Osaka. From there to Tracen Academy in the Central district is quite a haul.
Today was Day One of training; jogging halfway across the suburbs to Hanshin Tracen Academy served as the warm-up.
The academy offers free facilities: an endurance pool, strength machines, and a track built for Uma Musume. Best of all, other Horse Girls train here—perfect sparring partners for Tamamo Cross.
Though their bodies are small, Horse Girls pack superhuman power. A full-speed dash would shred an ordinary road; only a purpose-built track lets them run wild.
Their courses are a different species from human tracks, and the maintenance costs are worlds apart.
With no upkeep, the Takeda track is pocked and uneven—far too dangerous for speed work. A fortune would be needed to make it usable.
Borrowing the school's facilities is the only option.
Beyond the little woods fronting the Takeda track lies a small neighborhood. A handful of breakfast stalls dotted the roadside; after buying food for two, Makoto pressed on.
Past high-rises and alleys, across a rail bridge, the crowd thickened until a towering gate loomed.
'Whew, we're here.'
Tamamo Cross wiped the sweat from her brow, only slightly breathless, clearly enjoying the run.
'Here, your breakfast…'
He parked the scooter and, mouth full of rice ball, handed her a bulging bag.
Horse Girls burn energy at staggering rates—three to ten times an adult human, with some gourmands going even further.
That's why a Horse-Girl child is such a financial burden; those colossal legs only get more destructive with age.
Tamamo Cross is a light eater—less than third-year Kaya and picky to boot. She loves snacks, hates meals. Makoto suspects that's why she's still tiny.
He wolfed down his rice ball and sighed at the sight of her nibbling reluctantly.
'Tama, take your time. I'm going to check the track.'
She nodded, contentedly perched on a bench gnawing her rice ball.
Hanshin Tracen Academy outshines even Ritto Tracen; only Central is superior. Champions have graduated from its rigorous, hard-working program.
Half sunrise and the course was already alive with Horse Girls and Trainers calling cadences, the air thick with youthful vigor.
Across the vast track, clusters of twos and threes shouted slogans, the atmosphere electric.
The instant Makoto set foot on the turf, a pair of eyes locked on him.
'Hah? What are you doing here?'
A black-haired Horse Girl stretching on the parallel bars near the gate spotted him first, sauntering over with clear hostility.
Makoto smiled faintly and stepped past her onto the pristine grass.
'Still as lively as ever—nice to see.'
'Thanks to your old man, kid.'
A middle-aged man in a cap and stubble turned, voice dripping with sarcasm.
'Mr. Mikunami, I'm sorry about my father.'
More and more Horse Girls slowed to a stop, circling him with unfriendly eyes.
'If apologies fixed things, life would be easy, little prince.'
The girl he'd ignored caught up. In a white sports crop-top and black tights, her toned abs and curves on full display, she drummed his shoulder with languid, heavy-lidded eyes.
'Maybe your apology could have debuted me in Central instead of playing in the dirt with the hicks.'
T.M. Opera O—that's her registered Central name. She was the star Takeda Club once pinned all its hopes on.
Ready to debut in a blaze of glory that autumn, she was stripped from Takeda Club after its bankruptcy and forced to re-register for Local races; overnight, her beautiful dream shattered and she tasted the reality of rock bottom.
This genius who graduated from Hanshin Tracen Academy had joined Takeda Club for a sky-high signing fee, and now she felt the sting of betrayal.
Whenever she saw on TV those classmates of the same year—once less famous than herself—running on Central's lush turf, her resentment toward the Takeda Family grew one notch deeper.
Standing in front of Takeda Makoto was a baseball-capped man named Mikunami—her Trainer.
In a single night he went from Trainer of a championship club to a personal Trainer.
Because the Takeda Family was suspected of illegality, even he was shunned by countless clubs and could only become an individual Trainer.
Competing in Local races, his income and reputation plummeted; the A sense of disappointment left him haggard in an instant.
Naturally, he felt no goodwill toward Takeda Makoto, so he spoke coldly.
'People of the Takeda Family, you have defiled the dreams of Uma Musume with filthy means; you have no right to stand on this sacred track.'
It was summer vacation; most students had gone home, and those training early on the Tracen track were all individual Trainers and their Horse Girls.
So why were so many individual Trainers and Horse Girls without a club's private track forced to use the school's?
Apart from some personal Trainers born to hardship, the blame lay with the recently bankrupted Takeda Club.
A large number of Trainers and Horse Girls once under Takeda Club were now compelled to become individual Trainers and clubless Horse Girls, gathering in Tracen Academy's training grounds to sweat for their dreams.
That was why Takeda Makoto didn't want to come here—but he had no time to waste on a farther track; as the Takeda Family's heir, this was a problem he must face.
'Get out of here, kid of the Takeda Family!'
A bald middle-aged man suddenly rushed forward, shouting at Takeda Makoto.
Harada Kenpei, formerly a Takeda Trainer; the sudden unemployment had made the family's burdens heavy and his temper short.
His words ignited long-held grudges; they stared with cold eyes.
'Scram, you gambling scum!'
'You're not welcome here, Takeda Family!'
Takeda Makoto felt like a small boat in a storm, seemingly about to capsize, yet inside he stood unmoved like a reef, a stabilizing pillar.
He had foreseen all this the moment he stepped onto the track; that was why he came ahead of time.
When the tempest passed, Takeda Makoto wiped the spittle—he knew not whose—from his face and scanned the crowd; every pair of angry, indifferent, or mocking eyes was etched into his mind.
He must not, like his father, disappoint so many who trusted him—never.
He drew a deep breath and spoke, every word ringing clear.
'Takeda Club is now history; I come here only as an individual Trainer. I understand your resentment, and as a member of the Takeda Family, I accept it unconditionally.'
Takeda Makoto paused, fighting to keep his voice steady, then continued more firmly.
'But my Horse Girl has nothing to do with Takeda Club; like you, she runs for her dream. I hope she can use these training facilities normally.'
'Individual Trainer?'
Harada Kenpei's fleshy face flashed doubt, then he laughed to the heavens: 'Hahahaha, a Trainer? What Horse Girl would look at a greenhorn like you—especially one from the Takeda Family?'
'Hilarious—get out of the Uma Musume world.'
Beside Harada Kenpei stood a short-haired Horse Girl, arms crossed—Eishin Flash on the track, once of Takeda Club, notorious for her fiery temper.
'The Takeda Family's bankrupt—who'd be stupid enough to follow a disgraced rookie Trainer?'
Behind them, in the crowd, whispers drifted.
'Think what you like; every individual Trainer has the right to use Tracen Academy's track—that's enough.'
Takeda Makoto's temper flared; he had no patience left for these people.
Better take Tamamo Cross to the gym to rebuild strength; time would heal things.
With that thought, he turned his back on the crowd and headed for the exit—only to spot a familiar white figure at the entrance.
Tamamo Cross saw Takeda Makoto and trotted over.
'Trainer-san, I didn't keep you waiting, did I? Let's start our train—huh?'
Fists clenched in encouragement, Tamamo Cross was completely oblivious, but she soon noticed everyone staring and tilted her head to peek at the crowd behind Takeda Makoto.
'Torare-na-san, are these all your friends? Didn't know you were so popular.'
At first glance it did look like a welcoming party.
Tamamo Cross stepped to the side, making a grand entrance before them, and greeted in her loud Kansai accent.
'Hey there! I'm Tamamo Cross from Ritto Tracen Academy, and this here's my Trainer—pleased to meet ya!'