After finalizing Tony Bianca's recruitment, Sakuraba Ryo was in an excellent mood.
It felt incredible to blow all your load in one shot.
Just like that, this month's 800 million yen loss quota was done. Beautiful.
And when it came to the galactic superteam burning money, this was only Tony Bianca alone. If he pulled in a few more big-name Umamusume, wouldn't the losses feel even better?
Sakuraba Ryo felt like a genius. He immediately tried inviting Moonlight Lunacy too, only to get flatly turned down.
"I still have races to run back home. I'm not staying in Japan."
Since Moonlight Lunacy clearly had other plans, Sakuraba Ryo dropped the idea without hesitation.
Once that was settled, he sent word to Nishikino Academy that Tony Bianca had been recruited.
Now that he had brought Tony Bianca in, Sakuraba Ryo naturally intended to let her take it easy.
But considering how much money he'd spent to recruit her, if he had her doing absolutely nothing, Tony Bianca probably wouldn't accept that. By then, even if he tried to hand her the money directly, she most likely wouldn't take it.
So for Sakuraba Ryo, the ideal solution was obvious.
Just send Tony Bianca to Nishikino and let them find her something or other to do.
As for what that something was, he couldn't care less.
No matter what Tony Bianca did at Nishikino Academy, there was no way it'd be worth one billion yen. She could do whatever she liked.
With that in mind, Sakuraba Ryo casually told Principal Nishikino to just find Tony Bianca some cushy post or other.
Right now, he had to go find the next member of his galactic superteam.
"Tony Bianca!"
"I can't believe he actually brought in the European Champion!"
"Sakuraba-san really managed to invite her?!"
Back at Nishikino Academy, Principal Nishikino clapped his hands and burst out laughing.
Just as he thought!
His guess had been right!
Sakuraba-san had seen Nishikino Academy's predicament long ago, so he had gone to the Japan Cup and brought back reinforcements...
At first, he'd assumed that even if Sakuraba Ryo went to Tokyo, at most he'd be able to find a few veteran trainers.
But Principal Nishikino had never imagined that Sakuraba Ryo would actually poach this year's Arc winner!
Seriously.
Was Tony Bianca the kind of person you could just bring in as a teacher?
This was way too outrageous!
"As expected of Sakuraba-san! He can even pull this off!"
Once again, Principal Nishikino felt just how right he'd been to throw in his lot with Sakuraba Ryo.
Where else was he supposed to find an investor like Sakuraba Ryo—someone willing to spend big, pleasant to work with, and capable of thinking through the countermeasures before a project even ran into trouble?
A benefactor!
Sakuraba Ryo was his benefactor!
Principal Nishikino sighed that from the bottom of his heart.
Then he wrote Tony Bianca's name into the teacher slot for the international class.
"The homeroom teacher is an Arc winner..."
"Not even Central could put together a lineup like this!"
Principal Nishikino had an extremely strong feeling about this.
The international class was about to take off!
...
The afternoon sun slanted through the airport's enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, draping the Umamusume about to head home in a warm glow.
The boarding gate area was packed and noisy. Reporters from every major outlet had already set up their cameras and microphones, surrounding several of the foreign Umamusume who were about to depart. Microphones and recorders were thrust forward one after another, flashes constantly going off as everyone tried to capture their expressions and words in this moment.
Amid the crowd, Michelle My Baby stood out especially—tall, with healthy bronze skin.
With an easy smile still on her face, she casually parted the somewhat cramped crowd in front of her and faced the cameras without a trace of stage fright.
"Hey, guys, don't crowd me so much!"
She joked in Japanese tinged with a faint American accent, then straightened slightly and answered the reporters' questions.
"As for this Japan Cup... yeah, it's a shame I didn't win."
She shrugged, frank in a way that also carried a trace of respect for stronger rivals.
"But!"
Her voice rose sharply, and her eyes lit up with a bright spark—the kind of excitement and admiration only an athlete who had faced overwhelming opponents head-on could have.
"Tamamo Cross and Oguri Cap in the Japan Cup—wow... they left an unforgettable impression on me. I mean that!"
She gestured as she spoke, trying to describe the intensity of the race.
"The speed and grit they unleashed in the final turn and on the straight... it was unbelievable!"
"I looked over some data before the race, sure, but seeing it with my own eyes—feeling it for myself while racing against them—that's a completely different story."
"They were just that strong. Their execution, their willpower, and that... hmm, how do I put it? That way of running like they were burning everything they had!"
"Oguri Cap especially! She had a kind of strength even I couldn't shake~"
Michelle My Baby spoke with complete sincerity.
She looked around at the reporters and cameras surrounding her, and her smile grew even brighter with anticipation for the future.
"This trip was worth it! Sure, it's a little disappointing not to take the title, but getting to clash with opponents like that was an amazing gain all by itself. Next time I come back, I'll be even better prepared!"
With the interview over, Michelle My Baby followed the staff's guidance and wheeled her luggage toward the boarding corridor. Before leaving, she turned back and waved to the crowd, her tall figure gradually disappearing down the passage.
In a quieter corner near the gate, Ellerslie Pride leaned against a cold wall with her arms folded.
A few strands of pale blue hair had fallen loose by her cheek, making the scar there stand out all the more.
She had not gone out of her way to squeeze into the liveliest center of the press scrum. A chilly aura of keep-your-distance hung around her.
From afar, her gaze followed Michelle My Baby's tall, buoyant back—she had even bounced once at the entrance before finally disappearing—and let out a faint sigh.
The sound was so soft it was quickly swallowed by the airport's noise, but the few sharp-eyed reporters nearest to her still caught the fleeting complexity in her eyes.
It was not simple disappointment. It was more like quiet self-reflection, and regret that she had not been able to give more.
The strength and form she had shown in this race had been far from satisfactory.
A few reporters carefully gathered around and aimed their microphones toward her.
Unlike the fervent questioning Michelle My Baby had faced, they treated this sharp-auraed seven-crown queen from New Zealand with much more caution and respect.
Ellerslie Pride withdrew her gaze and turned toward the cameras.
Her expression remained as calm as ever, even somewhat stern, but her eyes were steady, and she did not avoid the question.
"As for this Japan Cup," she said in a level voice, her diction crisp and free of ornament, "yes, the result is regrettable. Not winning was my responsibility."
She paused, as if carefully reviewing the race, or choosing her words.
"My performance," she continued, frank and direct, without the slightest attempt to shift blame, "did not reach my best. There was room for improvement in my preparation before the race, my judgment during it, and my control of the pace."
She did not hesitate to dissect herself. If anything, that honesty in facing defeat only made her seem stronger.
"My opponents were strong. Tamamo Cross and Oguri Cap both delivered performances worthy of respect."
She nodded, acknowledging their strength.
"But that isn't an excuse. At the top level, victory and defeat are often decided by the smallest margin. This time, I was the one who failed to seize the chance."
Her gaze tightened slightly, sharp light returning to it—that fighting spirit belonged to the strong, and a single loss had not dimmed it in the least.
"Next time," she said, her voice not loud but carrying a decisive force, "I'll adjust my condition and return properly prepared. This stage, this level of competition—I will come back to it."
With that, she gave a slight nod, bringing the short response to an end.
There was no extra small talk, no smile. Picking up her simple luggage, she strode straight toward the boarding corridor.
The reporters watched her go. Her departing figure was so strikingly cool that for a moment, they forgot to ask anything more.
At the edge of the airport's clamor stood a figure who seemed completely out of place in the surrounding atmosphere.
Obey Your Master had wrapped herself in an oversized dark trench coat, the collar pulled high enough to cover most of the lower half of her face. Oversized sunglasses hid her trademark yellow starry eyes, now utterly devoid of sparkle.
A baseball cap was pulled low over her brow, wrapping her whole body in a deliberately muted, distant air.
Leaning against a cold marble column, she watched from afar the media farewell show for the "losers" by the boarding gate. The corners of her mouth dipped slightly, betraying a trace of indescribable boredom—and something deeper beneath it, impatience.
Third place.
For many Umamusume, that result would have been worth celebrating. Proof of strength. The honor of standing on a G1 podium.
But to Obey Your Master, it was like a tiny thorn. Not fatal, but stubbornly lodged in her heart, bringing an endless, nagging irritation.
What she had always wanted was only the very top spot. Only the view from above everyone else.
Second place was already the biggest loser.
So what was third?
More like some painless consolation prize, even tinged with mockery.
What soured her mood even more wasn't just the placing itself.
Tamamo Cross...
Oguri Cap...
The final stage of the race replayed in her mind against her will—the two of them tearing across the track like comets, erupting with a speed intense enough to make even her heart lurch, running in a way that burned their will and stamina to the absolute limit.
She had given everything she had, almost squeezed every last drop of potential out of herself, and still all she could do was watch their backs pull farther and farther away before they crossed the line.
A cold, lucid realization slowly surfaced beneath the restlessness churning in her mind.
That realization was the true source of her gloom.
She couldn't beat them.
If those two... if Tamamo Cross and Oguri Cap kept up this condition, this intensity, this... monstrous strength...
Then no matter how many times the race was rerun, the first one to hit the finish line probably still wouldn't be her, Obey Your Master.
This was not an excuse about poor form, nor regret over tactical mistakes. It was an almost cruel assessment of the gap in ability.
"Seriously... what in the world made them become this strong...?"
She hated this feeling. Hated the existence of a ceiling she could see clearly even after giving everything she had.
The image of Sakuraba Ryo flashed through her mind.
"So it really was because of that guy...?"
Her opponents' strength had far exceeded her expectations.
It made all her effort, all her calculations, feel like nothing more than the struggle of a cornered beast.
"Tch."
The sound slipped out from beneath her raised collar, so soft it was almost inaudible.
She tugged down the brim of her cap, hiding herself more deeply, then turned away, no longer looking toward the bustle at the boarding gate.
The airport PA announced boarding.
Pulling at her coat, she blended into the counterflow of people, leaving behind for the moment all the noise and regret surrounding the Japan Cup, along with that dull unwillingness weighing on her chest.
As for what came next, she needed to think carefully.
"Obey."
A voice suddenly called out to her, stopping Obey Your Master in her tracks at the airport.
"Are you really planning to leave Japan like this?"
Obey Your Master turned around. When she saw who it was calling her by name, her eyes widened slightly behind her sunglasses.
"Why are you here...?"
"Sakuraba Ryo?"
"I came to find you, Obey Your Master."
His tone was easy, as if he were saying something perfectly ordinary.
"As an investor, my eye tells me I can't just let a promising 'asset' walk off the stage like this... carrying frustration and confusion with her."
"What are you getting at? Here to laugh at a loser?"
A sharp edge crept into Obey Your Master's voice despite herself, turning part of the frustration in her heart into hostility toward this uninvited guest.
"No, quite the opposite."
Sakuraba Ryo shook his head. There was something extra in his smile, as though he had spotted an interesting possibility—or perhaps it was simply pure appreciation, completely free of pity.
"I just think it's a shame. Someone like you has top-tier strength, but after running into opponents even more unbelievable than you expected, you're starting to doubt yourself. For you to leave the stage like this... that's too much of a waste."
He paused. His gaze seemed capable of piercing through those dark sunglasses and looking straight into the irritation and unwillingness in her eyes.
"I can't stand that."
His voice was quiet, but it carried a strange certainty that allowed no doubt.
"I can't stand watching someone talented decide to crawl back into her shell after one setback, or try to stew in all those... well, unpleasant feelings by herself."
Then, under Obey Your Master's slightly stunned gaze, Sakuraba Ryo extended his right hand toward her.
It was a simple, direct gesture of invitation, palm up, open and unreserved.
Sunlight filtered through the vast glass ceiling and fell squarely across his outstretched hand, casting it in a warm glow that resonated strangely with his words.
"So, Obey Your Master—"
"Come over to my side."
"Let me realize your value."
What... is this guy even talking about...?
Staring at the hand Sakuraba Ryo had extended to her, Obey Your Master froze.
For some reason, the gloom weighing on her heart seemed to ease, just a little.
---
T/N: cute