The Kasamatsu Tracen training grounds were quiet today. It was a rest day for the academy, leaving only a few scattered figures on the dirt.
Among them were two people in tracksuits. Yuzuki and Fujimasa March.
"Fujimasa, from now on, I want you to use the pitch style. For everything. Training, racing, all of it."
"Trainer, what's a 'pitch'?"
Fujimasa March tilted her head, a literal question mark practically hovering over her.
"Every Uma Musume has a unique stride. Generally, we categorize them into two types: pitch and stride," Yuzuki explained. "Pitch is about high frequency and short steps. It's for the sprinters, the ones who need to seize a position in the blink of an eye. Stride is the opposite. Lower frequency, but massive steps."
He paused, letting the information sink in. These two styles weren't just about speed. They changed everything about how the muscles fired.
Pitch Style.
Pros: High frequency allows for explosive acceleration. It's perfect for short distances, fighting for position, and navigating tight corners. Because the feet spend less time on the ground, the runner doesn't sink into the turf. It's the ultimate counter to a Heavy Track.
Cons: You take more steps to cover the same distance. It burns through stamina like a forest fire.
Stride Style.
Pros: Lower frequency means the muscles use less oxygen. It's built for the long game. Once you hit top speed, you can hold it forever.
Cons: Slow acceleration. It's hard to break out of a pack or react to sudden shifts in the race. Because the steps are so wide, the impact on the ground is heavy. On a Heavy Track, it's like running through wet cement.
"So you want me to move my legs faster?" Fujimasa asked, her brow furrowing. "But that's going to drain me. I won't have anything left for the final sprint."
She had the basic common sense of a runner. Usually, she only cranked up the frequency when the finish line was in sight.
"You're right. The pitch style eats stamina," Yuzuki said, raising a finger as if adjusting a pair of invisible glasses. "But there's a reason more important than speed. A high pitch frequency reduces the risk of injury."
The biology of an Uma Musume wasn't that different from a human's. A slower frequency meant more "hang time" in the air. And more hang time meant falling from a greater height with every single step.
The higher you lift yourself, the harder you hit the dirt. Most nagging injuries were born from that constant, repetitive impact.
"Stamina can be built. Form can be fixed. Breathing can be mastered," Yuzuki said, his voice dropping an octave. "But an injury? That can end everything."
He looked her straight in the eye, his expression dead serious.
"If you got hurt because of my training... I'd never forgive myself."
Fujimasa's face flushed a sudden, dusty pink. She jerked her head away, her left hand forming a fist as she gave Yuzuki's chest a light, embarrassed thump.
"...You're a good Trainer. Too good."
She usually trained until she collapsed, focusing only on the clock and the results. No one had ever looked at her and worried about her bones and tendons first. It made her feel... awkward. Exposed.
Yuzuki, however, was busy trying not to wheeze. Even a "light" thump from an Uma Musume was like being hit by a padded sledgehammer. He'd been exercising lately, but his lungs still felt like they'd swapped places.
'Right. I forgot. This is a world where Trainers are basically supermen who can take a kick to the face and keep smiling.'
"Cough... anyway," Yuzuki managed, regaining his composure. "Let's get to work. I'm going to teach you how to minimize that impact."
He stepped onto the track to demonstrate.
"When you step, I want your feet to feel like they're rolling over the ground. Don't jump. Don't bounce."
He moved his feet in a fluid, circular motion.
"Don't plant your feet out in front of your body. That acts like a brake. It sends a shockwave through your legs every time you land. Let your feet fall under you. Keep them close to your center of gravity. You should feel like you're floating above your own legs."
He finished the demonstration and sighed.
"I know it sounds abstract. Running is more about feeling than words. All these techniques are just tools to help you find your most comfortable rhythm."
It was a philosophy from one of the greatest coaches in his past life. It had taken Yuzuki months of grueling practice to finally "feel" it.
"It's okay if you don't get it right away. We'll—"
"Trainer, I think I've got it!"
Fujimasa's voice was bright with excitement.
'Wait, what?'
'You got it? Just like that?'
"...If you're sure, show me," Yuzuki said, masking his shock with a professional nod.
Fujimasa March didn't hesitate. She stepped onto the track and began to run.
It was light. It was effortless. Her feet kissed the dirt and retreated instantly, her frequency noticeably higher than before. There was a grace to it that hadn't been there yesterday.
'Is she cheating?'
'This shouldn't be scientifically possible.'
Was this just the raw talent of an Uma Musume? Or was Fujimasa March something even more special?
'Wait... maybe it's that.'
"Good. Very good," Yuzuki called out. "It's still a bit raw, but you'll master it soon. Now, let's talk about the rest of your body. A good form makes you faster and saves energy. Everyone's 'perfect' form is unique, but the principles are the same."
He struck a running pose.
Fujimasa stopped and looked at him like a student watching a master. "How do I know if it's the right one? I feel pretty comfortable now."
"It's simple. When you run, I want you to feel like you're constantly falling forward. You're moving your legs fast just to keep yourself from hitting the dirt. Keep your head still. Look straight ahead."
He adjusted his shoulders.
"Your arms should feel like they're being pulled back from the shoulders. Keep them relaxed. Don't swing them too wide. Don't let your hands cross the center of your chest."
He mimicked the motion, his body leaning into the wind.
"Bend your knees. Lift your heels high. Your legs should move like you're pedaling a bicycle. Fast. Light. Effortless."
The Rhythm of the Track
The words had barely left his lips before Yuzuki bolted.
The fabric of his tracksuit hissed as he moved. He wasn't an Uma Musume, but his movements were startlingly fast and light. Every stride carried a distinct, rhythmic grace. His acceleration was instantaneous.
"Amazing... Trainer, there's something... something strange about the way you run."
Fujimasa March watched in awe as Yuzuki sprinted a dozen meters before looping back toward her.
Yuzuki ignored the praise, his focus remaining sharp. "Keep your upper body stable. Don't let it tilt. No swaying."
He was relentless, guiding Fujimasa March through every nuance of her form. He spoke of smooth power delivery and fixed joint angles, revealing professional secrets she had never even heard of.
'Where did he come from? How does he know all this?'
Fujimasa March had been trained by Shibazaki before, but she was certain that no Trainer in Kasamatsu... no, perhaps no Trainer in any Regional circuit, possessed this level of technical knowledge.
"Alright, stop asking questions. Get to work," Yuzuki said, waving her off. "Follow what I just told you. Find your own rhythm."
He turned toward the edge of the track, picking up a thermos filled with goji berry tea. He took a slow, deliberate sip.
"Widen the arc of your arms! Use your shoulders to drive your forearms!"
"Fujimasa, pick up the cadence!"
"Relax! Let your body go loose!"
"Yes, exactly like that! You're doing great! Keep it up!"
Fujimasa March adjusted her posture with every command. As the intensity of the exercise ramped up, she felt a strange sensation. Her body felt lighter. It was as if she were beginning to float.
With every swing of her limbs, her speed climbed. Normally, she would have been gasping for air by now.
'He's incredible. I don't feel tired at all!'
'Let's see what happens when I go all out!'
Fujimasa March tightened her focus. Her rhythm shifted, her cadence exploding in an instant. To a casual observer, the change might have been subtle, but to her, the world had transformed. She could feel the raw friction of her legs churning against the dirt.
Her feet tore through the soft sand of the track, the sound a rhythmic hiss. The wind roared in her ears. She had spent the last few laps merely familiarizing herself with the form at a steady pace, but now, at full throttle, the sensation was pure, unadulterated liberation.
Yuzuki watched her fly past, a silent realization settling in his mind.
"As I thought..."
~✦~ End of Chapter ~✦~
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