Midsummer training—a grueling gauntlet designed to prepare us for the next Maiden Race.
The results were undeniable. As I looked down at the stopwatch, I found myself squinting at the digital display, certain I must have misread it.
(She's in much better shape than I anticipated...)
I'd had Urara run the same distance as her debut race as a trial. Her time had plummeted by nearly seven seconds. Even if you accounted for the momentum lost during her previous mid-race accident, it was an effective improvement of about three seconds. To put that in perspective: the winner of her debut, Chief Purser, had clocked in at 1:16.62. Urara had just hammered out a 1:13.56.
Three seconds might sound like a heartbeat to a layman, but at an Umamusume's top speed, it's an eternity—a gap of nearly eighteen horse-lengths. In terms of distance, she'd closed a forty-five-meter deficit. It was a massive leap forward.
Granted, she was running without interference on a fair track in perfect weather, but to post those numbers in the energy-sapping heat of summer was a testament to how hard she'd pushed herself.
Refining her form to eliminate wasted movement, drilling the mechanics of the cornering, building raw stamina and speed—on paper, it sounded simple. But the accumulation of those small efforts was finally manifesting in the numbers.
Still, even this time wouldn't have broken any records back at her debut. Urara wasn't the only one peaking; the other girls would be sharpening their blades as well.
From here, shaving even a fraction of a second off her time would require months of sustained effort. As the body nears its peak condition, the era of dramatic, sweeping improvements ends. It's like a role-playing game: jumping from level one to ten is a breeze, but eventually, the experience required for the next level balloons, and the progress slows to a crawl. There are no "bosses" in this world to grant a massive experience boost—only the steady, daily grind, all while ensuring she stays clear of injury.
"Phew! I went zoom! That felt so, so good! Trainer! How was my time?"
Urara finished her sprint with a brightness she hadn't possessed before. Her newfound stamina meant she wasn't just finishing; she was finishing with energy to spare.
(At this rate, she might be able to handle a Mile, not just Sprints...)
I looked at Urara, her skin glowing under the summer sun. Perhaps Umamusume physiology was just built different, but while I had been burned to a crisp, she still retained a hint of her porcelain fairness. Yet, seeing the distinct tan lines on her upper arms filled me with a quiet, indescribable pride.
"Yeah... you did great. It's a fantastic time."
We hadn't even won a race yet, but knowing the sweat she'd poured into every lap, I felt a lump form in my throat. They say passion is the best teacher, and Urara proved it. She never complained, never whined about the workload; if anything, she seemed to find a way to enjoy the struggle.
I'd tried every trick in the book: making her run the seemingly endless stairs of a local shrine to build leg strength and grit; taking her to the public pool to let her swim to her heart's content for cardiovascular endurance; making her run dirt courses under the blistering noon sun; and even forcing her out into the rain so she'd learn to handle "Heavy" track conditions.
I was meticulous, of course. I watched for injuries like a hawk, made sure she stayed hydrated, and pulled her off the track the second I saw a flicker of true fatigue. Thanks to that, she'd stayed healthy and vibrant through the whole ordeal.
August was bleeding into September. I had intentionally skipped the late-August Maiden Race in favor of one in early September.
The dirt sprints are rare; there had been a month-long gap since the last one in July. I knew the other girls would be coming in with a terrifying level of intensity, their careers potentially on the line. I didn't want Urara caught in that crossfire. Furthermore, the August race was at Niigata—a long trip. Even if Urara was hardy, travel stress is never zero.
Instead, I chose Nakayama in Chiba. It was less than an hour by train—close enough to be a comfortable day trip. By September, the heat would break slightly, making it easier for her to breathe. That would be true for everyone, but I didn't believe for a second that any other girl in the field had out-trained Haru Urara.