Chapter 118: Challenging the Limits
The warm familiarity of Kitasan Black's enthusiasm, coupled with Saburo personally inviting him over after performing an enka number as though on stage, quickly dispelled Makoto's earlier unease. Just like last time, he followed them into the banquet hall.
As before, the elderly man offered a string of heartfelt thanks before eagerly asking if there was anything he could do to help with the upcoming training and races.
Makoto hadn't held back the last time, and he didn't intend to start now.
It just so happened that his plans required some specially made equipment tailored for Kitasan Black—something only Saburo could provide.
These implements were essential for what he called "Extreme Stunts."
By making use of this unique style of training—designed around the demands of different races and the characteristics of the Umamusume he guided—he intended to create special regimens that pushed the very edge of possibility.
It was a concept he'd had in mind even before meeting Kitasan Black.
But only after actually working with her did he realize how far from simple it really was.
On the one hand, there weren't many precedents in this world. At best, there were a few vaguely similar approaches.
On the other, while Umamusumes looked human on the outside, their bodies were in fact quite different.
That difference meant actions nearly impossible for humans could be accomplished far more easily by Umamusumes.
Take free climbing, for example.
Scaling a rock wall barehanded, with only the most basic of safety precautions, demanded not only extreme physical ability but also keen judgment and ironclad nerves. For a human, it was next to impossible without years of conditioning.
But Umamusumes were born with the first requirement—their physical capacity was so far beyond humanity's that, given enough time to mature, they could far surpass even the best human athletes. With a little focused training, the rest fell into place easily.
Because of that disparity, many exercises that once represented the "limits of humanity" now held little meaning.
To design new drills that actually challenged a higher ceiling—and remained useful—he could only rely on direct experience with a Umamusume's body and performance.
After several months with Kitasan Black, he finally had that experience.
From her recent training data and her performance in the Satsuki Sho, her stats were right where he wanted them to be.
That meant it was time—time to attempt a brand-new form of special training that this world had never seen before.
. . . .
"So, what exactly is that 'special technique' you mentioned, Trainer?"
Walking alongside Makoto down the white-graveled path of the Kitajima estate's rear garden, Kitasan Black tilted her head curiously.
"It's called an Extreme Stunts."
For once, Makoto deliberately emphasized his correction, and a spark of fervor flickered in his eyes.
He glanced around, spotted a pavilion not far ahead, and brightened.
Rolling up his sleeves as he loosened his collar, he strode toward it without hesitation.
Blinking at his sudden seriousness, Kitasan Black quickly followed.
"In simple terms, it's a sport that challenges the very limits… though I mean the limits of humans, not Umamusumes."
Reaching the pavilion, Makoto tilted his head back to study one of its stone pillars. He rapped on it with his knuckles, brushed his palm across the surface, then turned back and nodded at her.
"For example—something like this."
The words had barely left his mouth when he suddenly stepped back a dozen paces, eyes locked on the exact spot he'd tapped.
Drawing in a sharp breath, his entire body coiled like a bowstring pulled taut.
Then—he launched forward.
Kitasan Black barely had time to realize what was happening. By the time she gasped, Makoto was already right in front of the pillar.
"Trainer! Caref—eh?!"
Her warning stuck in her throat, eyes widening in shock.
Planting his foot firmly on a chosen foothold, his leg bent into a sharp angle, Makoto sprang upward like a rocket blasting off.
In the blink of an eye, he was nearly three meters above the ground.
Shifting to the next foothold, he kicked again, his body rising another two meters straight up.
With a third step, then a fourth, his body climbed another meter or so.
The fifth step, however, no longer raised him higher.
The moment his sole struck the pillar, a sharp twist of his foot sent a resounding crack through the stone. Dust billowed from the weathered surface and the pavilion's eaves above.
Makoto's spine, coiled like a drawn bow, snapped open in midair, sending him arcing several meters across the air.
As he dropped back toward the ground, his last step's spin carried through, setting his body rotating.
"One… two… two and a half…"
He silently counted the revolutions. The instant his toes brushed hard earth, he pivoted, reversed his body, and crouched low as though about to lie down.
Knees bent, then extended—his arms swung backward and pressed into the ground, guiding the momentum.
With a fluid motion, he flipped, bled away the impact of the fall, and rose smoothly to his feet.
He was standing exactly where he had begun his run.
Glancing down, he saw the overlapping pairs of footprints. He nodded once, then shook his head.
"My sense of distance is still sharp, but only two and a half rotations… I've gotten rusty from not practicing."
With a trace of regret in his self-assessment, he turned to Kitasan Black and smiled.
"Well? You understand now, don't you?"
Her neck creaked like rusted hinges as she turned to face him, heart pounding just as wildly as when she had dashed for the Satsuki Sho finish line.
At first, she had been struck with sheer amazement watching him sprint up the pillar.
The very next second, disbelief.
Scaling a pillar—yes, she had seen that in stage performances before.
But unlike those, her trainer hadn't used his hands at all. With nothing but a running start and his legs, he had dashed upward six, seven meters like it was nothing.
And then, mid-fall, he'd spun two and a half times. She had seen dancers perform spins like that, but never anyone who could pull it off after such a move.
Now, realizing he had landed back at his exact starting point, she couldn't shake the sense that every step had been planned—rehearsed countless times.
And when her eyes met his, she saw something she had never seen there before.
It was the same gaze she remembered from her grandfather before a performance, or from her own reflection in the mirror before a race—intense, burning, almost holy.
Bulging veins across his arms, eyebrows lifted high, the curve of his lips pulled into a sharp grin—
This was a side of Makoto she had never known.
Like the chief priest of a festival, he radiated a strange mix of devotion and fervor.
But soon enough, that alien intensity vanished, replaced by the calm and rational air she was so used to.
"If you didn't follow all of that, it's fine. That was just a simple set of moves."
Casting a glance at the stone pillar, Makoto spoke with his usual light smile:
"On something this rough, the human limit for free climbing is around seven or eight meters."
"On a regulation climbing wall… the record's just over four meters. Those surfaces are too smooth."
"As for rotations, the max is about three and a half."
"Push the difficulty of the setup, and you can get even more spins—or combine other moves."
"But the details don't matter. What matters is that from now on, I'll be drawing on the ideas behind Extreme Stunts to shape your training."
His eyes fixed on her, calm yet alight with conviction.
"Umamusumes already surpass human limits. And you—you're stronger still. Now you're ready."
"Do you remember what I told you that day?"
"With unmatched speed… we can finally take our first true step."