If I felt this much rage, her own trainer must be livid. But when I asked, she just sniffled.
"M-my trainer... he was just lending me his name so I could enter races. But the fans said such mean things to him... he got depressed and... and he's taking a leave of absence."
That clicked. The email I'd seen earlier about a trainer taking leave—that was him.
(They didn't just attack her, they went after her trainer too? Bourbon's fans are terrifying... no, it's just how much they expected of her.)
Unless Bourbon herself had incited it, it was a case of fans losing their minds. When a superstar stumbles, people look for a scapegoat to burn. I understood the desire to witness history, but as someone who raises these girls, I couldn't accept it.
(But if her trainer is already gone... hmm...)
That guilt was eating her alive. Even if he was just a "name-only" trainer, to Rice, he was the person she'd "burdened" and "driven away."
(...Wait. Hang on. I almost missed it because I was so angry, but if what she said is true...)
A cold sweat broke out down my spine. If her story was accurate, this girl was even more terrifying than I thought.
"Um, Rice Shower? You said he just 'lent you his name.' Then... who handled your training? Who did your race analysis? Your tactics?"
I'd instinctively switched to more formal Japanese. Because if my hunch was right...
"...? Rice... I did it myself. For the races, I've been marking Bourbon-san since the Satsuki-sho. I knew if it was the Kikuka-sho, I could catch her..."
She answered while wiping her eyes.
She had reached G1-winning caliber without a trainer. She had analyzed her rival for months and executed a perfect tactical strike on the grandest stage in racing, all on her own.
Was it raw talent? Effort? Or a willpower so stubborn it defied logic? Likely all three. If she'd had a proper trainer from the start, she might have been the one going for an undefeated Triple Crown.
"Whenever Rice runs, people get unhappy... no one is happy when I win. They just look disappointed. So... Rice is going to stop running..."
As I sat there, I wanted to protest immediately, but seeing her crushed spirit made the words catch in my throat.
"...Even though you won the Kikuka-sho?"
"Yes... I was going to run the Arima Kinen next, but I don't want to make anyone else miserable..."
"I see..."
Retirement is a Horse Girl's choice. Some girls stay at the academy for years despite never winning a race; others return from career-ending injuries through sheer grit. As long as they don't give up, the path stays open.
But if the girl herself gives up, it's over. Whether it's injury, a losing streak, or a broken heart—once the spirit snaps, standing back up is almost impossible.
But as I looked at her, I realized: her heart was wounded, but it wasn't broken. She was standing on the edge of the abyss, but she hadn't jumped yet.
"Rice Shower. You really are a magnificent Horse Girl."
"...Eh?"
"You said you'd make people unhappy. That means... you're confident you'd win the Arima Kinen, right?"
She was terrified that the result of the Kikuka-sho would repeat. Which meant she knew, deep down, that she had the power to make it repeat. That was a confidence born of thousands of hours of hidden effort. Even if she didn't realize it, her subconscious was screaming the truth: she was a winner.
"If you win the Arima Kinen, that's two G1 crowns. If you take the Tenno Sho (Spring) after that, you'll have a different kind of Triple Crown. It wouldn't be the Classic one, but you'd essentially be surpassing Mihono Bourbon, wouldn't you?"