"Trainer Chiya, here are the new materials."
In the office, Hayakawa Tazuna placed a stack of documents on Fujiwara Chiya's desk.
"Thanks, Tazuna-san."
"Not at all." She smiled.
"By the way, about that exchange event… how did you feel about it? The changes to future races."
"It was alright, I guess. Not something I can't accept." Fujiwara Chiya put down his pen.
"But increasing the competitiveness of races also means a higher risk of injury for Uma Musume. If they rely on physical contact to fight for position, someone could fall and get hurt. That's something no one wants to see."
"Compared to race results, do you value the Uma Musume's well-being more, Trainer Chiya?"
"Of course. I want every one of them to race happily, win without arrogance, lose without discouragement, and live healthy lives."
"That's… quite a simple and sincere outlook."
"Of course, that being said, I'm not planning to have them back down either." Fujiwara Chiya picked up the training plan he had just revised. "If the opponent attacks, we just avoid it. There's no need to take it head-on."
"So what you mean is…"
"I'm going to max out their evasion," Fujiwara Chiya said.
"If they try to forcefully take position or box us in, then we'll yield to advance. I'm going to focus on countermeasures, train them to read race tactics, analyze opponents' running styles before the race, and act ahead of them."
In short, stack intelligence and play the information game.
Fujiwara Chiya planned to observe how other trainers were training their Uma Musume over the next few days and thoroughly study the competition Shirayuki and Rice Shower would be facing. That way, no matter what tricks appeared on the track, they wouldn't be caught off guard.
Faced with the challenge from Central, Fujiwara Chiya had his answer.
If the enemy advances, we retreat. If the enemy camps, we harass.
"It seems you've developed your own training philosophy during this time, Trainer Chiya." Hayakawa Tazuna nodded in satisfaction.
"In that case, I won't disturb—"
"Onii-sama!"
Before she could finish, a small figure rushed into the room.
She was holding a small basket.
"Onii-sama… oh, Tazuna-san is here too?"
Seeing the green-clad figure in the room, she stopped.
"Good morning, Rice Shower."
"Good morning."
After returning the smile, Rice ran over to Fujiwara Chiya.
"I made some sweets for Onii-sama!"
She placed the basket into his hands. Inside were cakes and cookies.
"Thanks. Did you make these yourself?"
"Yes. Rice worked hard on them last night." She smiled like an angel.
"Let me try… these are great. Rice, you should have some too."
Rice closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
Seeing her small pink tongue, Fujiwara Chiya paused for a moment before feeding her a cookie.
"Onii-sama's cookie… hehe."
"You made them yourself."
"They have Onii-sama's flavor." Rice smiled sweetly.
Every time he saw that expression, Fujiwara Chiya couldn't help but pat her head. Today was no exception. Just as he reached out, he suddenly stopped, realizing his fingers were still greasy from the cookies.
Rice blinked.
Then she opened her mouth and gently took his fingers in.
"Rice… will clean them for Onii-sama…" A soft, muffled sound followed as her warm, soft tongue moved over his fingers. After a few seconds, she pulled away, satisfied. "Rice has cleaned them."
Then she placed his hand on her head.
The series of actions left Fujiwara Chiya completely stunned. His mind was still stuck on the image of Rice licking his fingers. That expression… like a child savoring a piece of candy.
"Uh… thanks, Rice." Fujiwara Chiya said blankly.
"Hehe~"
Even more stunned than him was Hayakawa Tazuna, who hadn't managed to leave yet. From the moment Fujiwara Chiya fed her, she had been watching. When Rice licked his fingers, it felt like something in her mind had burned out.
If she had to describe it, it was like a flower she had carefully nurtured for a year being picked right before it bloomed… and the person who picked it even showed it off in front of her, saying, "What a beautiful flower. I'll take it."
"Um… Trainer Chiya…"
Still patting Rice's head, Fujiwara Chiya looked at her.
For some reason, her smile seemed a bit strained.
"What's wrong, Tazuna-san?"
"Nothing, just… it seems you and your Uma Musume are very close."
"I guess so."
Fujiwara Chiya looked at Rice, who was clinging to his hand like a cat, her gaze hazy as she rubbed against him.
Truthfully, he was only this close with Rice. The others, like Gold Ship or Meisho Doto, weren't nearly as clingy.
Gold Ship would occasionally drag him out on adventures, like hiking or exploring, but his stamina wasn't even close to hers. He'd be exhausted before half a day passed, and the next day he wouldn't even be able to get out of bed.
As for Meisho Doto, she didn't make unreasonable requests and would sometimes make sweets for him. Aside from her clumsiness, she was relatively easy to manage.
Though it would be better if she could tell salt from sugar. The last time he ate her sweets, Fujiwara Chiya nearly didn't survive. For a whole week afterward, even water tasted salty.
Rice was the closest to him, the most obedient and gentle. Every time she came by, she brought him a sense of comfort.
In training, he treated all Uma Musume equally. But outside of it, he did tend to favor Rice a bit. Buying her snacks, taking her out for walks, things like that.
And Rice loved being by his side.
"A close relationship between a trainer and an Uma Musume is a good thing," Hayakawa Tazuna said with a smile, a strange glint in her green eyes. "But you should be careful. If things go too far, it might end up hurting both of you."
"I understand. I'll be careful."
Not noticing her gaze, Fujiwara Chiya replied casually.
"Then I won't disturb you any longer."
"Take care, Tazuna-san."
"You too, Trainer Chiya. Enjoy your time."
Hayakawa Tazuna left the room.
Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath. A vein pulsed on her forehead.
She had thought her fiery temper was long gone. Apparently not.
"What a naughty little cat…"
She glanced back at the door and let out a cold huff before walking away down the hallway.
The sound of hooves echoed beneath her steps.