At the airport, Fujiwara Chiya was there to receive the trainers arriving from Japan.
Most of them were familiar faces. He had seen them before during meetings.
"Pleasure to meet you, Trainer Chiya."
"Good to meet you all."
After a brief round of greetings, Fujiwara Chiya brought them to Paris Tracen. On the way, a few of them brought up the training program he had improved.
"Trainer Chiya, how much do you think an uma musume's innate talent affects her strength?" asked a trainer wearing glasses.
"That depends," Fujiwara Chiya replied. "Every uma musume who makes a name for herself on the world stage is talented, no exceptions. But if you're just aiming for race victories, late-stage training makes up the vast majority of it."
The trainers were, without exception, older than Fujiwara Chiya. They had also entered the profession several years before him.
And yet now, they were the ones listening to him explain.
Because the things this man had learned in Europe, and his understanding of training itself, had already surpassed theirs.
Even so, overtaking his seniors hadn't made him arrogant. If anything, he actively shared his ideas and discussed them with others. That alone made these veterans look at the young trainer with a little more respect.
There were rumors going around Tracen now that Fujiwara Chiya was the Director's younger brother. Whether that was true or not, nobody knew.
But either way, in terms of both identity and ability, Fujiwara Chiya had become someone these trainers respected.
"I think there are two things that should always come first in training," he said. "First, the uma musume's own wishes. Second, her physical condition. The trainer's opinion only comes third. You need to know what she wants, then help her achieve it within the limits of what her body can handle. So no, not every uma musume needs to be judged by innate talent."
"But if you want to win graded races, potential is important, right?"
"Of course. It's important. But aside from potential, an uma musume's determination matters even more. What matters in a race is the process."
"The process?" The trainers exchanged glances.
"Not the result?"
"That's the topic you'll be studying." Fujiwara Chiya stepped out of the car and clapped his hands. "Welcome to Paris Tracen Academy. I hope you all learn exactly what you came here to learn."
For their first time in Paris, the trainers' eyes were practically sparkling.
"I've almost had my wallet picked several times here already, so make sure you keep an eye on your belongings," Fujiwara Chiya warned them. "If you go out, come find me or Mei. Of course, if you know the way, you can go by yourselves too."
For the rest of the half-day, Fujiwara Chiya showed them around the academy, arranged their dorms, and dealt with all the little bits and pieces.
By the time everything was finished, it was already afternoon.
"Sorry for the trouble, Miss Montjeu."
Fujiwara Chiya hurried over to the training grounds and found Montjeu, who had been helping supervise the uma musume training in his place.
Then he froze.
Her face was covered in thick white powder. Her mouth was painted a vivid red.
"My god… what happened to you, Miss Montjeu?"
"Trainer Chiya."
Montjeu handed him the training schedule.
"Your face…"
"Gold Ship told me that Japanese upper-class people shave their eyebrows and wear white powder. She said that since I am also a person of status, I should try Japanese culture."
"Gold Ship…"
Fujiwara Chiya clenched his teeth.
That girl really couldn't behave the moment she got a chance!
And how many years ago was that?!
Who still dressed like that now?!
"I see… so people no longer do this…"
"Well, it's not like nobody does it," Fujiwara Chiya said carefully. "You can still see it during festivals or stage performances sometimes. But nobody dresses like that normally. You should wash it off first, Miss Montjeu."
"Very well. Then I will be going."
Montjeu had a good temper and did not make a fuss over it.
Once Montjeu left, Fujiwara Chiya called Gold Ship over.
"Gold Ship! You're causing trouble again!"
"How is that causing trouble?" Gold Ship said. "I was just trying to divide the social classes."
"Huh?"
"Generally speaking, upper-class people hire a few servants to stand beside them, right? You know what servants are called?"
"What?"
"Lower-class."
"You little… So you made Montjeu's face look like that just to take a roundabout shot at me?"
"Trainer, you left little old Gold Ship on the shelf for so long. What's wrong with letting me insult you a little? What, so you're allowed to have fun with Shirayuki and Orfevre, but I'm not allowed to play?"
"Don't… don't just say random stuff like that. I'm an upright man."
"Trainer, even with my personality, I wouldn't be able to say that if I were in your position…"
"Ahem. Sometimes my skin is pretty thick."
Gold Ship stared at him, speechless.
That tone. That attitude.
Anyone who didn't know better would think Trainer was chatting with his drinking buddy.
Sure, Gold Ship had always been in the "bro" position.
But if Trainer really treated her like a bro, that would be a huge problem for her.
"Hey, Trainer."
Gold Ship stepped right up in front of Fujiwara Chiya.
"Do I have to lock you in a room where you can't get out unless you do the baby-making thing before you finally get it?"
"What? Get what?"
"You only managed to have girls hanging off both arms because of me, Gold Ship, got it? With how passive you are, someone would have to shove meat into your mouth before you even knew to chew. I, the great Gold Ship-sama, have already fed you several bites of meat, and you still don't know how to show me a little consideration and let me have a sip of soup?"
"What? What are you even talking about?"
"Hmph. Foolish man. You're already carnivorous beyond belief, but you're still pretending to be some herbivore. That trick won't work on Gold Ship. One day, I'll make you submit to my irresistible charm. The man who holds half of Tracen in his arms is nothing but a pawn of the great Gold Ship-sama. That kind of thing… That kind of thing would be way too awesome! I'm gonna make everyone cry!"
Gold Ship burst into loud laughter.
Fujiwara Chiya quickly covered her mouth.
"Listening to you talk is bad for my blood pressure."
Gold Ship opened her mouth and bit down on his finger.
Seeing his face twist in pain, the corner of her lips curled into a smug grin.
"Trainer, there are a lot of things you won't understand until you reach that point. Even if the great Gold Ship-sama explains it to you now, you still won't get it."
"You're talking like you understand everything. Your mouth… Stop biting!"
"Is there anything in this world I don't know? The only thing I might not understand is that assistant called Darley. Oh, right, and that one called Byerley too. How did Trainer even run into people like that? I'm telling you, once we get back, you'd better cut ties with them."
"Darley and Byerley both helped me a lot. Don't badmouth them behind their backs."
"I sure can't see any 'help' in what they did. Actually, I can't see anything at all. They're not human. Those two are seriously not human," Gold Ship muttered. "Anyway, Trainer, you owe me a favor. No, not just one. You owe me big-time!"
"What big favor? Stop biting!"
"You still won't admit it? Then I'm not letting go."
Gold Ship grabbed Fujiwara Chiya's hand, biting his finger while she spoke.
"You only made it this far because of the great Gold Ship-sama's tender care. Even if I don't get credit, I still worked hard, right? Don't tell me you're planning to abandon me now, you heartless man. Hurry up and say you owe me big-time. Say it."
"It's gonna fall off. You're going to bite it off! Fine, fine, I owe you big-time. Happy now?"
"Really?"
Gold Ship finally released him.
"You said it yourself. If you dare deny it later, I'll flick your balls so hard they explode and make sure you can never have kids for the rest of your life."
Gold Ship flashed him a cheeky grin, then bolted.
Fujiwara Chiya looked down at the teeth marks on his hand. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his finger.
Yeah.
Gold Ship was definitely beyond saving.