Training can reshape a runner, but even the finest polish has its limits.
Yuzuki could teach an Uma Musume how to swing her arms, how to tilt her head, and exactly how her feet should strike the dirt. He could make her move like a machine, a perfected athlete carved from raw potential.
But nature always had the final say.
Instruction can only correct a natural physique so much. Some Uma Musume are born with the perfect stride, like the legendary Teio Step of Tokai Teio. Others have to learn to live with the hand they were dealt.
Oguri Cap was one of the latter. Born with fragile knees, she required constant massage therapy from a young age just to keep them supple. It was that very necessity that allowed her to develop her signature, aggressive lean... a style that looked impossible to maintain.
The mechanical harmony between limbs and torso is largely innate. In that sense, whether a race ends in glory or failure depends partly on the whims of the gods.
In his past life, someone once said that people run the way they do because they have no other choice. They run the only way their bodies allow.
Changing a natural style is a monumental task. It is never a quick fix.
That was why Fujimasa March's rapid mastery of her new form had left Yuzuki stunned.
"Her Body Awareness is off the charts..." Yuzuki muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
'I didn't think she'd be hiding a talent like this.'
Body Awareness was the subjective soul of a run. It was the ability to feel every muscle, every shift in balance, while at full tilt.
The hardest part of form training is consistency. Most athletes slip back into old habits the moment they stop thinking about it. It takes months, sometimes years, for the body to overwrite its own instincts.
But Fujimasa March could feel the errors in real-time.
In his previous world, professional coaches spent an eternity helping athletes build this kind of internal map. Fujimasa March already had it. Yuzuki only had to give her a few pointers, and she would snap her body into the optimal position. Even when her form began to fray under exhaustion, she corrected it instantly.
Without Yuzuki's guidance, this talent would have been wasted on her old, crude running style.
With him, it was a weapon. It wasn't just about form. Every technical maneuver, every micro-adjustment of her weight, required that level of control. Those tiny details, when stacked together, created a massive leap in speed.
"The form isn't perfect yet, but that's just a physical limitation," Yuzuki noted, scribbling furiously in his notebook. "Once we improve her flexibility and Core Strength, we can optimize it further."
He recorded the day's unexpected discovery with a sense of triumph.
"We can move the schedule up. Way up."
'I'm starting to look forward to this trip to Minami Kanto.'
-----------------
Evening fell over the Kasamatsu Tracen Academy cafeteria.
Three men sat around a table, a mix of tracksuits, business suits, and casual wear.
"What? An Uma Musume Heart Rate Monitor? Yuzuki, what the hell do you want that for?" Shibazaki asked, staring at him in shock.
Suddenly, Shibazaki's eyes went wide. He lunged across the table, grabbing Yuzuki by the shoulders and shaking him. "Did something happen to Fujimasa March? If she's sick or hurt, I'll never hear the end of it!"
"You're overthinking it. She's in perfect health... Shibazaki, let go of me!"
Shibazaki sheepishly released his grip, coughing into his hand.
"If she's fine, why do you need a Heart Rate Monitor?" Kitahara asked, poking at his food with a puzzled expression. "Those things are usually only found in Uma Musume hospitals."
Ever since Oguri Cap and Bravo Light had left for Central Tracen Academy, Kitahara had been burying himself in his studies. He wanted to follow them. He wanted to be a Central Trainer.
But since the Uma Musume Association reformed the exams, the Central qualification had become a nightmare to obtain. Some Regional (NAR) trainers spent seven or eight years trying and still failed.
Yuzuki, who was also preparing for the exam, knew how brutal it was.
In this world, a Trainer was a jockey, a coach, and a stable manager all rolled into one. The sheer volume of knowledge required was staggering.
Fortunately, Yuzuki's mind was a sponge. For him, these tests were nothing compared to the grueling mock exams of his past life.
He was going to get that Central license. Fujimasa March was moving forward, and he refused to be left behind.
"I'm going to use it to supplement her training," Yuzuki explained. "The hospital models are too bulky. I need something portable."
Shibazaki and Kitahara exchanged a blank look.
"I know heart rates are used for medical checkups," Shibazaki said slowly. "But using them for training? I've never heard of that."
"It's hard to explain right now," Yuzuki said, sighing. He couldn't exactly tell them it was standard practice in another world. "Do either of you know where I can get one?"
Kitahara tapped his chin, thinking hard. Suddenly, he clapped his hands together. "Maybe Uncle Six knows!"
"You mean Senior Rokuhei?" Shibazaki asked.
Ginjiro Rokuhei was Kitahara's uncle. He was a legendary Trainer from Central, and currently the man in charge of Oguri Cap's career.
"Exactly. He's a top-tier Central Trainer. If anyone knows about specialized equipment, it's him. I'll give him a call for you, Yuzuki."
"Oh? Heart rate... for training?"
At Central Tracen Academy, Ginjiro Rokuhei sat in his office, his desk buried under training schedules and race charts for Oguri Cap. He held his phone to his ear, listening to his nephew.
"Yeah, Oguri is doing fine," Rokuhei grunted, answering Kitahara's initial question.
"That's good. But about that thing I asked... do you have any leads?"
"I've never heard of it," Rokuhei admitted, his interest piqued. "Using heart rate to guide a workout... that's a new one."
"Really? Even you don't know, Uncle?"
"Idiot! How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Rokuhei!"
He barked the correction into the phone, but his mind was already racing.
The Mad Scientist of Central
Incorporating Heart Rate data into a training regimen...
Rokuhei had heard whispers of similar theories surfacing overseas. But as far as he knew, no one had actually dared to put them into practice yet.
That brat Kitahara's friend... they were something else.
"Actually, I know someone," Rokuhei muttered. "A 'person' who might just have the answers."
Deep within Central Tracen Academy, a mysterious laboratory stood in the shadows.
The heavy door was pulled to, but not quite latched. A sliver of light spilled into the hallway. Inside, a table sat at the center of the room, laden with steaming cups of black tea and coffee.
The rich, competing aromas swirled through the air.
Two Uma Musume sat opposite each other.
One was draped in midnight-black clothing, her long hair cascading down her back like a dark waterfall. The other wore the sterile white of a researcher's lab coat.
"Hmm?!"
"What's wrong, Tachyon-san...?"
"Oh, it's nothing. I just have the distinct feeling that someone, somewhere, is gossiping about me."
The Uma Musume in the white coat took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea. Her hollow, listless eyes drifted toward the window, staring out into the ink-black void of the night sky.
~✦~ End of Chapter ~✦~
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