To Urara, her Trainer was a hero. He made her carrot-steaks, he made her legs faster every day, and whenever she was pushing too hard, he always seemed to know exactly when to make her rest. She couldn't fathom why he would owe her an apology.
"That race... if I had planned our strategy better, I could have given you the win. That's why I have to apologize."
"Hmm... really? I don't quite get it, but it's totally okay! Because I had a blast!"
Urara flashed him a bright smile, wanting to chase away his gloom. The Trainer smiled back, though his expression held a hint of lingering sadness.
"Listen, Urara. I want to see you get stronger. I want to see you take first place, stand at the center of the Winning Live, and celebrate. I don't want you to be satisfied just making the board. I want you to win."
"The Winning Live... yeah! I want to do that too! It looks like so much fun!"
Urara had heard of the Winning Live. She'd seen it in classes and heard her friends talk about it. She knew it was a special stage reserved only for those who finished in the top three. The idea of it appealed to her like a shiny new toy.
The tiny, "un-fun" feeling she had felt during the race was already a distant memory.
With a gap before her next race, Urara threw herself into a grueling midsummer training camp under her Trainer's guidance.
There were moments of levity—losing footraces to her Trainer, failing miserably at "image training," and running away from a certain Umamusume who was scaring everyone by smashing roof tiles with her bare hands—but the summer heat was undoubtedly forging Urara into a stronger competitor.
"Aren't you embarrassed? An Umamusume losing a footrace to a human?"
The comment came with a sharp edge. It was the day after Urara had lost a sprint to her Trainer. The girl speaking was a fellow dirt-track specialist who had run in Urara's last race.
Urara's face didn't fall; instead, it lit up.
"You think so? But my Trainer is super fast! He goes whoosh! I lost ten times out of ten, but it was so much fun!"
"But I won't lose in a short sprint next time!" Urara added, puffing out her chest. She then launched into a passionate monologue about how amazing her Trainer was.
He taught her how to run properly, how to lean into the corners, exactly where to start her final spurt, and how to build her stamina. She told her rival that running was more fun now than it had ever been.
As Urara prattled on with a wide grin, the other girl looked away, seemingly struck by something, and walked off without another word. Urara tilted her head in confusion, but the sound of familiar footsteps quickly pulled her attention back.
"Ah! Trainer!"
"Sorry I'm running late, I—woah!"
Urara launched herself at him in a hug, and the Trainer barely managed to steady them both. Seeing his helpless, gentle smile made Urara's heart feel warm and fuzzy.
The summer was hot, and the training was exhausting. But Urara kept going because she could feel herself getting faster. More than that, she could feel how hard her Trainer was working for her.
When he worried she'd get bored of the school track, he found new trails outside the academy.
When the heat became too much, he took her to the local pool on his own dime.
When it rained, he stood out in the mud with her so she could learn to handle "Heavy" track conditions.
Training with him was fun. It was hard, yes, but the joy of doing it together was what carried her through.
Then came her third race. Usually, the Trainer kept his advice brief before a start, but this time, his face was grave.
"Keep an eye on number nine, Castanet Rhythm; number five, Feudal Tenure; and number four, Duo Talica. The atmosphere in the paddock is off. They might try some rough play. Don't let them box you in or stay right on your heels. And as always, watch out for the sand."
As he whispered the instructions in her ear, Urara felt a bit ticklish, but she nodded seriously. To her, those other girls just looked "un-happy," but if her Trainer said to be careful, she would be.
She would soon learn just how right he was.
The race began chaotically, with no clear leaders. Urara found herself at the front, galloping happily down the dirt track. It was the first time she had ever been in the lead with nothing but the open air in front of her. She felt perfect. Her legs felt light. She maintained her pace exactly as she'd been taught.
I might actually win this, she thought. But then, the "air" of the race shifted.
At first, she didn't understand it. Then she felt the thundering hooves and the crushing pressure of the pack closing in from behind.