Fujiwara Chiya was invited to a café by Nase Hideto.
He hadn't expected to receive another invitation this close to the race.
As Chiya sipped the rich, fragrant English coffee, Nase Hideto said, "I received notice from Tracen. In a few days, Japan will be sending trainers over to study here. I'll be acting as their group leader."
"That fast? I thought it would take a while for both sides to work everything out."
"It would have. This is a rare opportunity, so I wanted to ask what you think."
"What I think?"
"If you're willing, I can speak with Paris Tracen's Director and arrange for you to stay here." Nase Hideto's calm, razor-sharp gaze settled on him. "The resources here are richer. The teaching environment is better. You could refine yourself further. Once the race ends, you could remain here directly as a dispatched trainer."
"I feel like you said the same thing last year, Mr. Nase."
"I did. But after all this time, I thought perhaps your answer might have changed." Nase Hideto folded his hands. "I heard from Montjeu that you've already touched the threshold of becoming a veteran. If that's true, then you should understand what races mean to uma musume. Becoming an excellent trainer and helping them achieve their dreams, that is our duty."
"True… I understand that now."
"I'm glad you do. You're still young. Your future is wide open. There will be no shortage of talented uma musume ahead of you. When that time comes, you can become their trainer and lead them into a new era."
"No, that's not what I meant." Fujiwara Chiya shook his head. "What I understand is this, Mr. Nase. You are an excellent trainer, but only within the limits of being a trainer."
"…What do you mean?"
"Put training aside for a while. Step back and look at them again. Not as an instructor, but as an ordinary person. Spend some time being a friend to uma musume. Don't always stand above them as an educator."
Nase Hideto frowned.
Across from him sat a clean-cut young man, straightforward to a fault, saying things most people would never dare say.
"Fumino told me that after you returned to Japan last year, all you did was train. Nothing else. Honestly, I admire how steady you are, Trainer Nase. I can't do that. I'm always getting dragged into one mess after another. Sometimes, I wish I could ignore everything except training and just be a pure trainer."
"But little by little, I realized those messes aren't always bad. Through them, I got to see everyone's other sides. Uma musume are living, breathing people. Racing isn't all they have. Trainers are the same. Is a trainer who only knows how to train really the best kind of trainer?"
Nase Hideto said nothing.
Fujiwara Chiya continued, "I understand you, Trainer Nase. I've seen how much you've given. But please forgive me. I don't intend to become you. Rather than chasing efficiency and creating the perfect uma musume, I want them to keep their humanity."
"…"
After saying that, Fujiwara Chiya finished his coffee.
The air fell silent.
"Once, I said something similar to another man," Nase Hideto said, gazing out the window. "Right here, in this very seat. He was different from me. He retired early. He once asked me what it took to educate an outstanding uma musume. I answered that she needed sufficient strength."
Nase Hideto turned back and looked at Fujiwara Chiya.
"But that man gave me a different answer. He said the difference between a horse girl and a racing uma musume wasn't the strength of her body, but the quality of her heart. An outstanding uma musume possesses a brilliant heart. Noble. Sacred. Brave. Unafraid of hardship…
"He didn't train many uma musume, but every single one of them was special. Even long after they retired from racing, that man's influence continued helping those uma musume.
"As for me, I was never walking the same road as him. Nor am I walking the same road as you, Chiya-boy."
Nase Hideto took out a pack of cigarettes.
"I thought you'd already quit smoking."
"I still have one now and then on occasions like this."
"Then I'll be going, Mr. Nase."
"Go on."
"I paid for my own coffee."
"Do whatever you want."
Watching Fujiwara Chiya leave, Nase Hideto lit the cigarette and walked into the restroom.
The sharp, acrid smoke flooded his lungs.
He slowly breathed out a pale stream.
Maybe I should take a break once in a while and go home.
For the first time in a while, Nase Hideto suddenly felt old.
Thirty years had passed in the blink of an eye. The last time he heard words like those, it felt like yesterday.
Looking at the cigarette in his hand, Nase Hideto remembered Fumino as a child, pinching her nose and pointing at his clothes as she shouted, "You stink!"
He crushed the remaining cigarette out.
Then he left the café.
Once this race was over, he would request leave from Paris Tracen and go home for a visit.
As for the group leader position?
That was no longer his problem.
…
The next day, Satake Mei dragged a handcart into the room.
"Chiya, the goods you wanted are here."
"That fast?"
"They heard you needed them urgently, so I had them work overtime to rush it out. As expected of Paris and its unique sense of relaxation. These people only work six hours a day, and their overtime fees are insanely expensive."
Satake Mei strained to lift one of the boxes.
Once.
Twice.
It did not move.
Fujiwara Chiya walked over, grabbed one box in each hand, and set them on the floor.
Inside the opened boxes were thick protective weights, all made from solid steel.
"Are you sure you're using these things for training?" Satake Mei asked, sounding less than convinced.
"Yeah. Orfevre requested them."
Not long ago, Orfevre had suddenly declared that she wanted to increase her training intensity like Shirayuki and forge her body until it was as hard as steel.
Of course, a large part of Shirayuki's "hardness" came from technique, and that wasn't something you could learn overnight.
But Orfevre had demanded it anyway.
Fujiwara Chiya had no choice but to satisfy her.
This protective gear was the same model Shirayuki had used back then, only thicker, made with better materials, and lined with a skin-friendly inner layer.
"I'm sure she'll be happy."
"…It's ugly."
After Orfevre was called over, that was the very first thing out of her mouth.
"Trainer, couldn't you have made it look a little better? What even is this? It looks like a barrel."
"The bikini-style version has uneven weight distribution, and it's too light. It wouldn't have any training effect."
"I never said it had to be a bikini style… Wait. You actually wanted me to wear something like that?"
If weight hadn't been an issue, Fujiwara Chiya would absolutely have wanted to make the armor look like something a female knight would wear.
Unfortunately, that kind of armor was all style and no substance.
When it came to training, wearing less did not mean better results.
"I now understand Trainer's preferences." Orfevre curled her lip.
She could already picture it.
After they got married, Trainer would probably make her dress up in all sorts of costumes to serve him.
Just imagining it was humiliating enough.
This man wasn't just into feet and legs.
Trainer was practically a walking museum of fetishes.
The look Orfevre gave him gained a few extra points of pity.
In the future, they absolutely could not let the child see this.
It would have a bad influence.
As a father, you have already lost points.
"I'll put it on and try… Shirayuki used to train in this thing, right?"
"Right."
After much struggling, Orfevre finally got the protective gear onto herself.
Thus, Iron Orfevre stood before Fujiwara Chiya.
"How does it feel?"
"Trainer… are you sure Shirayuki trained while wearing this?"
"Of course. Her old set is still stored here. You can try it too."
"Forget it. I have no intention of using something Shirayuki wore."
Orfevre lifted her heavy leg.
"I'll go out for a run and see how effective it is."
"I'll come with you."
And then Fujiwara Chiya saw it.
Orfevre, smashing the training field full of craters and rolling around like a muddy ball.