"Chiya, I finished all the paperwork you asked for."
Satake Mei set the documents down on the desk.
"Thanks, Mei. I'll pour you some tea. Wait, no, you like coffee, right?"
"When in Rome, hehe."
Satake Mei plopped herself down onto the sofa, then glanced at the thick stack of documents on the table.
"So what are you doing now, Chiya? Still training uma musume?"
"Training. And investigating."
"Found anything?"
"More or less. I've started to get a feel for it."
"A feel…?"
"Yeah. Their habits. Their movements." Fujiwara Chiya brewed her coffee as he spoke. "Different uma musume have different ways of accelerating. Their sense for distance and timing all varies. Some like to lock onto a target first, then move based on their opponent's actions. Others decide on an acceleration route beforehand, then wait until they reach the right position to break in."
"And all you have to do is interfere with that route a little, and their whole battle plan gets thrown off. It can even affect the rest of the race. The stronger their momentum, the harder the backlash when it's broken."
Fujiwara Chiya placed the coffee in front of Satake Mei.
"At the top level, races aren't just contests of raw ability and technique. Mental state matters just as much."
Satake Mei blew on the steaming coffee, then took a sip.
"That puts a lot of pressure on the uma musume, doesn't it?"
"No. It puts a lot of pressure on the trainer. Before the race, I'll tell them the plan, then have them spring it on everyone when no one expects it. That'll shatter the opponents' momentum and weaken their mental strength."
Hearing that, Satake Mei's eyes widened.
"Tokino Minoru, I'll tell you the plan before the race, then have you spring it on everyone when no one expects it. Can you do it?"
"Yes! Trainer, I'll defeat all of them!"
It really was exactly the same…
Satake Mei's lips curved into a smile.
She remembered those days, when that trainer led his uma musume across the battlefield of racing. That had been the golden age of the entire Japanese racing industry. It was also the era when Tracen began to rise with unstoppable force.
And now, that man's child was about to inherit his mantle and open the door to a new age.
"Chiya, how did you become a trainer?" Satake Mei asked.
"Me? Hmm… I saw a certain uma musume's race, fell in love with it, and decided I wanted to become a trainer."
"Did you study everything on your own?"
"Yeah."
"I see…" Satake Mei set down her cup. "Then that really was fate. You were destined to become a trainer."
"Was I? I feel like coincidence is more likely."
"When countless coincidences come together, that's what we call fate."
Satake Mei licked her lips and stood up.
"Let me know right away if you need help with anything else. I'll be over at the racing association."
"Got it."
"Well then, see you later, Illusionist of the Racetrack."
Satake Mei waved and left.
Illusionist of the Racetrack?
Was she talking about me?
Fujiwara Chiya scratched his head.
That name sounded familiar somehow.
By his count, there were less than two months until Orfevre and the others' prep races. And until the final Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, there were less than three months left.
There was no way he could research their rivals and handle training at the same time. Fujiwara Chiya needed an assistant. Someone who understood training at least a little, could catch the key points, and happened to have a lot of free time.
Mei knew absolutely nothing about training. If he asked her to record footage, she would record everything from beginning to end, and he would waste a massive amount of time scrubbing through it afterward. The efficiency would be awful. Even someone who understood a little would save him plenty of time.
Just as he was wondering who to pick, there was a knock at the door.
An uma musume stepped inside, her curled sidelocks swaying, a hooded hair ornament resting on her head. Her beautiful eyes, painted with vivid crimson eyeshadow, turned toward him.
"Bonjour, Trainer Chiya."
"Miss Montjeu."
Fujiwara Chiya stood up.
His mother's junior had come to visit.
"Are you busy?"
"I just took a break."
She smiled and sat down on the sofa.
After they exchanged a little small talk, Montjeu finally said, "Trainer Chiya, the truth is, my child has been in terrible condition lately."
"Treve?"
"Yes. Not only in class, even during training, she's completely distracted."
"Did something happen to upset her?"
"If I had to say… yes, something did."
Montjeu lifted her head.
"Your little sister, Shirayuki. She seems to be leaving early and coming back late recently, doesn't she?"
"We've been training at the suburban track. We haven't been at school."
"I believe that may be the cause. When you were away, Treve waited every day for Shirayuki to come back. But once Shirayuki finally returned, the number of times Treve actually got to see her could be counted on one hand. That gap may be what drove Treve into this depressed state."
"What?"
Treve got depressed because of Shirayuki?
Was it that serious?
"Right now, Treve's training efficiency is plummeting. I hope you can give Shirayuki some time and let her keep Treve company for a while. It should help ease that child's anxiety. If she keeps going like this, I'm afraid her race…"
Fujiwara Chiya nodded.
Right now, his greatest opponent was Treve.
For her sake, Fujiwara Chiya had prepared for so long. And now, because of Shirayuki, Treve's condition had fallen so badly that she might not even be able to race. To Fujiwara Chiya, that was nothing short of a massive blow.
From a trainer's perspective, Treve being in poor condition was a good thing.
But for an uma musume, there was no glory in defeating an opponent like that.
He would never take pride in beating someone who was practically sick.
Giving everything. Fighting to the very end.
That was what an uma musume was.
That was the existence Fujiwara Chiya had fallen in love with.
As someone who had once defeated him, Treve was a winner in his eyes. Fujiwara Chiya did not want things between them to end in such a pathetic way.
"I understand. I'll have Shirayuki go talk to her. I still have a grudge to settle with Treve, after all. I won't let her run away like this."
"Thank you, Trainer Chiya. I know this isn't exactly a good thing for you…"
"No, Montjeu."
Fujiwara Chiya shook his head.
"Victory and defeat are only records. What matters most in a race is the process."
The act of racing Treve had already become something that went beyond the result itself.
Montjeu's pupils suddenly shrank.
"I once heard that same sentence from Trainer Nase. Because of those words, he became a senior trainer. Trainer Chiya, have you already grasped what that sentence truly means?"
"I have. I understand it completely now."
"I see. Then congratulations. You already have the qualifications to become a senior trainer."
Fujiwara Chiya smiled.
"But I really would feel bad letting you take care of me like this. No matter how you look at it, you're making your own final race harder. If there's anything you need help with in training, I'll do whatever I can."
"I actually do have something I'd like to ask of you, Miss Montjeu."
Fujiwara Chiya handed her a camera.
"Could you be my assistant for a while? I need a helper right now."