Thirty minutes later, Urara arrived for training. But something was wrong.
Usually, she's a sunbeam, practically vibrating with energy. Today, her expression was pinched and heavy. Her ears were flattened against her head, and her tail drooped, tracing a sad line in the dirt.
It was the first time I'd ever seen her look truly troubled. Moreover, she wasn't in her training jersey—she was still in her school uniform.
"Um... ah, Trainer."
She had been lost in thought as she walked, but she perked up slightly when she saw me. I greeted her with a wry smile and pointed at her clothes.
"What's up? You can't exactly hit the dirt in that, can you?"
Urara tilted her head, looking down at herself. She blinked a few times, her tail giving a little boing as she realized her mistake.
"Wha—! Oh no! Sorry, Trainer! I was thinking so hard I forgot to change..."
Her tail slumped again almost instantly. Seeing her so dejected, I led her over to a bench near the track. I'd intended for today to be a light recovery day anyway; depending on her state of mind, I might just send her home to rest.
I sat her down and walked over to a nearby vending machine. I bought a bottle of carrot juice and a can of coffee, then returned and slumped down beside her.
"Here. Drink this and take a second to breathe."
"Wow, carrot juice! Thank you!"
Her face brightened as she took the bottle. She cracked it open and took a long, thirsty gulp, letting out a satisfied sigh. I popped the tab on my coffee and took a sip. It was bitter and metallic—not a patch on Kiryuuin-san's brew.
Once she seemed settled, I broached the subject.
"So... how are you feeling about yesterday's race?"
I asked her after every race, but yesterday, the chaos had prevented us from talking. Urara touched a finger to her forehead and tilted her head back.
"Well... it was fun, but also... not fun?"
That was a rare answer for her. She'd mentioned being "not fun" when she was marked in her second race, but this was different. Her eyes told me she was truly unsettled. I checked her carefully for signs of trauma, but thankfully, she didn't seem to have developed a fear of the track itself.
"Not fun, huh?"
"Yeah... It was fun at first! No one was in front of me, and I thought, 'Wow, maybe I'll make it all the way!' I thought I was finally gonna do that... what did you call it? That Booing Live?"
"Winning Live, Urara."
A Booing Live? Good lord. Imagine winning a race only to have the entire stadium jeer at you. That would be a one-way ticket to a psychological breakdown.
"But then... Rhythm-chan fell, and it was scary. And then Tenure-chan and Duo-chan fell too..."
She gripped the hem of her skirt. She wasn't sad because she lost; she was sad because the girls she ran with were hurt.
That was Urara in a nutshell. Some would call it kindness; others would call it a fatal lack of competitive "killer instinct." I wasn't sure which it was yet. But the fact remained: she had lost. She'd had the lead, she'd had the training, and in those final meters, she had been overtaken.
She had been out-dueled by the sheer, desperate willpower of Feudal Tenure and Duo Talicar.
But how could I ask her to match that? I wanted her to win, but I could never tell her to gamble her life or her career for a single trophy.
As I struggled to find the right words, Urara looked up at me, her eyes searching mine.
"Hey, Trainer... what is a 'First Place' anyway? If they have to... go through that to get it? I want to win, but now I don't really get it."
Her ears were still flat. The usual spark was gone, replaced by a haunting sadness. I opened my mouth, hesitated, and then let out a deep, weary sigh.
"I'm not an Umamusume, Urara. I can't pretend to know what it feels like to want to win so badly you'd die for it... But I know that I want to be the one who gets you there."
I was honest with her. The girl wins the race; the Trainer makes it possible.
I thought about giving her a speech. Go win so you can find the meaning yourself. That was probably the "correct" trainer answer. But the words that actually came out of my mouth were different.
"You know, Urara... up until I hit middle school, everyone called me a genius. Can you believe that?"
"Huh...?" She looked at me, puzzled by the sudden pivot.
"In elementary school, I was number one in grades. Number one in sports. I was... well, I wasn't the most popular kid, but I was pretty high up there. I used to be a 'big deal.'"