Two weeks had passed since Oguri Cap's Japan Cup victory.
The buzz over Japan's Umamusume defending the Japan Cup had gradually settled back to normal levels.
At the same time, voting for the Arima Kinen had officially begun.
As Japan's most popular year-end Umamusume event, the Arima Kinen had also formally opened its selection process for this year's field.
Generally speaking, there were two types of runners who made it into the Arima Kinen.
The first were those who had delivered outstanding results over the course of the year.
For runners with that kind of strength and record, the organizers would personally extend an invitation. Whether or not to accept an Arima Kinen berth was then up to the Umamusume herself.
The second type were those whose results might not be especially strong, but whom the audience particularly wanted to see running at Nakayama Racecourse.
After the fan vote was tallied, the officials would send invitations to them as well.
But none of that really mattered to Sakuraba Ryo.
The two Umamusume he had invested in had no problem at all securing places in the Arima Kinen.
Tamamo Cross, the first Umamusume in history to complete the spring-autumn double.
And Oguri Cap, this year's Derby-winning Umamusume, the one who had broken the foreign runners' monopoly on the Japan Cup.
There was no reason the organizers would not invite both of them.
So Sakuraba Ryo was not worried in the slightest about whether those two would make it onto the Arima Kinen stage.
The only thing depressing him was precisely that fact.
After a full year of watching races, Sakuraba Ryo had come to one conclusion.
In the Japanese circuit as it stood now, Oguri and Tamamo were already at the top.
How to beat them had instead become the problem every other Umamusume had to think about.
And if that was the state of things, then unless something unexpected happened, the Arima Kinen winner would most likely come from one of those two.
As one of the most important races of the year, the Arima Kinen naturally offered an absurd amount of prize money.
The winner took home a full three hundred million yen.
Three hundred million!
He had only just spent five hundred million signing Obey Your Master, and before he had even had enough time to enjoy the feeling of that money going out, it was already about to crawl right back into his bank account?
Sakuraba Ryo felt cold all the way down to his bones.
Waaah... won't some heavy hitter please save me at the Arima Kinen...!
...
At Nishikino Academy, by the window along the second-floor corridor of the school building.
Sunday Silence sat quietly on a bench by the window. The afternoon sun streamed through the spotless glass, laying a soft golden edge over the tips of her black hair.
Outside were neatly trimmed lawns, and farther off, several Umamusume could be seen jogging across the training grounds. Everything looked calm and orderly.
It was utterly different from what she remembered of the American circuit.
Back there, the looks people gave her had been openly cold...
Because of the bad luck that seemed to cling to her, her classmates had kept their distance...
The air had been thick with silent competition and exclusion. Every training session, every test, she had faced alone.
But here...
"Silence! Look at this! The cafeteria's new pudding is super good! I brought you one!"
A bright, cheerful voice cut through her thoughts. A European sprinter bounded up to her holding out a little box, eyes sparkling.
"Ah... thank you..."
Sunday Silence accepted it, still not entirely used to such direct kindness.
"You're welcome! After training, want to go check out the new drinks stand together? I heard they have a special energy juice blend!"
"Mm... okay."
All around her were conversations in different languages—English, French, with the occasional bit of Japanese mixed in—talking about training, favorite snacks, weekend plans, even arguing over which trainer's guidance was the biggest headache.
There were no wary glances, no deliberate distancing. Everyone simply... gathered together naturally.
It was too comfortable.
So comfortable that sometimes it felt unreal, as though the soft carpet beneath her feet might vanish at any moment and she would fall straight back onto that cold, hard ground full of judgment.
The man who had pulled her out of that place and dropped her into this academy, so protected it was almost like a greenhouse.
He had given her top-class training conditions and a top-class place to live, and yet had never put any pressure on her to prove her value immediately.
Sunday Silence lightly squeezed the cool pudding cup in her hands.
There was an unfamiliar warmth in her chest, but mixed into it was a trace of fear.
She was used to running with every nerve drawn tight in adversity. Now, this excessive sense of ease only left her unsure of what to do.
She looked out the window, her gaze settling on the figures running outside.
Maybe... she should head to the training grounds too.
Not to prove anything to anyone, and not to escape anything either.
She simply wanted to keep running properly, in a place where she could run without fear.
So as not to waste this sunlight, bright almost to an unfair degree—and not to waste the kindness that had brought her here.
Just as Sunday Silence sat there with the pudding cup in hand, that subtle resolve inside her gradually settling into place, the classroom door was gently pushed open.
The female trainer who usually handled their basic instruction and training coordination stood in the doorway, wearing the same gentle smile everyone knew well, warm and lightly encouraging.
"Instructor!"
"Good afternoon!"
A few of the more lively Umamusume immediately greeted her, and the chatter in the classroom quieted a little.
The trainer stepped inside, her gaze moving softly across each face. It paused ever so slightly on Sunday Silence too, and her smile deepened just a touch.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
Her voice was as calm as ever.
"I came by today not just to check in on you all, but to let you know something."
She paused, as if choosing her words, but her smile never faded.
"Starting next week... well, to be exact, starting tomorrow, I won't be the one mainly responsible for your training guidance and class coordination anymore."
The moment she said it, the room fell silent for a second—then immediately filled with startled voices.
"Eh—?! Why?"
"Instructor, did something happen?"
"No way! You're such a good teacher!"
"Did we do something wrong? We can work harder!"
Even Sunday Silence lifted her head slightly, surprise flickering in her eyes.
They had not known each other for all that long, but this trainer's patience and care had genuinely helped her relax little by little after arriving here wound up tight.
A sudden change like this made the comfort she had only just grown used to seem to crack again.
Looking at all the young faces in front of her, full of reluctance and anxiety, the trainer shook her head. Her smile grew more reassuring.
"It isn't because of any of you. You've all been doing very well—wonderfully, in fact."
She explained it gently.
"This is just a normal adjustment in the academy's teaching arrangements. And..."
"From here on, a very special—and very outstanding—person will be taking over for me."
"She'll bring you a completely new perspective and a bigger stage. I believe she'll be better suited than I am to guide the current you toward somewhere even farther."
Her words did not completely settle the unrest, but the confidence in her voice—and the quiet admiration behind it—mixed curiosity into the girls' confusion.
Special?
Outstanding?
A bigger stage?
Sunday Silence silently crushed the empty pudding cup in her hand.
The change had come suddenly, yet the trainer's faith in her successor stirred no resistance in her. Instead, it was like a small stone dropped into still water, sending out faint ripples she herself did not notice.
Someone... even better...?
Even while the trainer had been speaking, Sunday Silence's gaze had already drifted, without her realizing it, toward the half-open classroom door.
For a while now, there had seemed to be a quiet figure standing out in the hallway. Through the frosted glass, the silhouette was blurred, yet carried a presence that could not be ignored.
Who was it?
The question had only just formed in her mind when the door gave a creak and was pushed open more firmly.
The newcomer did not wait to be invited, nor did she need an introduction. She simply stepped, as if by right, into the room made uneasy by this sudden personnel change.
The first thing anyone saw was a full head of chestnut hair, the ends naturally curled, gleaming like honey in the sunlight pouring through the windows.
Then came her eyes—clear green, like the finest jade. Calm, sharp, and carrying a faintly appraising air as they swept over every person in the room.
On her head sat an elegant tricorne hat. Its brim cast a shallow shadow over her refined features, only making the sense of innate superiority she carried seem all the stronger.
If one ignored the wooden cane in her hand, tapping lightly against the floor and sitting a little oddly with the rest of her dashing attire, it would have been almost the definition of an imposing entrance.
The classroom fell silent for a moment, every eye fixing on the unexpected visitor.
After that brief hush, a European Umamusume in the front row—clearly the sort who followed international racing news closely—suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going round as she blurted out in heavily accented Japanese,
"T-Tony Bianca?!"
That name landed like a bomb in still water, detonating an even greater wave of noise through the room.
"What?!"
"The one from the Arc?!"
"No way! That champion?!"
"Why is she here?!"
Gasps and whispers broke out one after another, full of disbelief and instinctive awe.
Tony Bianca—that name, in the world of Umamusume, especially to these young runners aiming for the top, was almost synonymous with the absolute ruler of European turf racing. An insurmountable wall.
Her record, her strength, her title—through race footage and news reports, all of it had long since been burned deep into countless minds.
Even if her Japan Cup performance had fallen short, the image of her as a queen was not the sort of thing that vanished easily from people's hearts.
Sunday Silence's brows drew together slightly.
Her eyes locked firmly on the chestnut-haired, green-eyed Umamusume at the door.
Tony Bianca... of course she knew that name. Even in America, the King of the Arc's reputation had been thunderous.
Why would someone standing at the top of the world appear at Nishikino Academy—at the door of an ordinary classroom?
Tony Bianca seemed utterly unconcerned by the commotion she had caused. Her gaze moved calmly across the shocked faces, and at last briefly met Sunday Silence's eyes in midair.
There was no provocation in those emerald eyes, no arrogance. Only an unfathomable calm, and a trace of scrutiny... almost like she were examining a specimen.
Then she turned slightly toward the female trainer from before and spoke in clear, standard Japanese. Her voice was not loud, but it carried easily enough for everyone to hear.
"Sorry for the interruption. I am Tony Bianca. Beginning today, I will be taking over as this class's primary training instructor."
She paused, her eyes sweeping across the room again. That invisible pressure in them instantly pushed the noise back down.
"I look forward to working with you."
Tony Bianca's self-introduction was like a block of heavy ice dropped into water, freezing all the air in the classroom in an instant.
Invisible pressure spread through the room, mixed with shock, awe, and helpless uncertainty, leaving these usually lively Umamusume so quiet they hardly seemed to breathe.
Was it because they were cowed by the King of the Arc's overwhelming aura and sheer presence? Or because the fact that she's going to be our instructor was simply too much to process?
Probably both.
An awkward, rigid silence settled over the room, so complete it felt like one could hear the dust drifting through the sunlight.
And just when the tension had drawn so tight that even the previous trainer looked as if she were about to step in and smooth things over—
"Oh, honestly~ Tony, that intro was way too formal. You scared the kids."
A bright, breezy female voice with a distinct American lilt came from the classroom doorway, like sunlight suddenly breaking through winter clouds and sweeping the heaviness away.
A tall figure stepped in with quick, easy strides.
Pale blond hair swayed lightly with her movement, and a dazzling, unrestrained smile sat on her face.
It was Obey Your Master.
Without the slightest hesitation, she walked up beside Tony Bianca and lightly bumped her shoulder against hers. That casual, almost intimate gesture made everyone in the room—including Sunday Silence—widen their eyes on instinct.
"Relax, everybody, relax~~"
Obey Your Master turned toward the class, hands on her hips, her smile infectious.
"Instructor Tony here? There's no questions about her ability—she's world-class. It's just that sometimes she isn't the best at dealing with 'ordinary people,' so she has a habit of making everything feel super serious."
She winked playfully.
"That's why she needs a friendly, dependable assistant like me to help out!"
With her words and easygoing manner, the suffocating stiffness in the room rapidly ebbed away like a receding tide.
Quite a few of the Umamusume quietly let out the breaths they had been holding. Shoulders loosened. Curiosity and interest returned to their eyes.
Tony Bianca did not seem the least bit displeased at Obey Your Master's cheerful undermining. She merely lifted a brow slightly and glanced sideways at her companion with those green eyes, offering no rebuttal. If anything, that tacit acceptance only made Obey Your Master's words sound more credible.
"Now then, a proper introduction!"
Obey Your Master cleared her throat and straightened up, still wearing that sunny smile.
"I'm Obey Your Master, from the American circuit."
"Starting today, I'll be this class's assistant instructor—or, well... Instructor Tony's special assistant?"
"Basically, Tony will be in charge of the training side of things. But if you've got any problems with daily life, your mindset, or you're too scared of Instructor Tony to ask her something directly, you can always come to me!"
She clapped her hands together, her voice bright.
"So, let's all get along from here on out, future stars!"
A queen with an unfathomable, commanding presence, and an assistant instructor as warm and open as the older sister next door...
That combination...
Was that Mr. Sakuraba's doing?
If it was, that was way too outrageous.
What kind of sentence was our instructor is the Arc-winning Umamusume?
Was that seriously something that could happen?
---
T/N: im starting to get a bad feeling for sakuraba...