Chapter 153: You're a Freak, Trainer
There was no way he could ever win a race against Kitasan Black. Not in this lifetime.
The girl now undoubtedly possessed the strength of a G1-level racer—in other words, she possessed the kind of speed Uma who are at her level could even hope to catch up to.
Not to mention, setting aside the whole "G1" thing, even an ordinary Umamusume was leagues beyond what Makoto could keep up with.
If they really tried to race each other, he'd just end up eating her dust from way behind.
Still, when Makoto turned down Kitasan Black's sudden suggestion with a laugh, he gave a different reason instead.
"Don't mess around. Look at the truck up ahead."
"The truck…? What about it?"
Following the direction of her Trainer finger, Kitasan Black blinked in confusion.
After dropping Makoto off at the foot of the mountain and loading up Kitasan Black's luggage, the small truck hadn't sped off. Instead, it was moving steadily ahead of them, neither fast nor slow.
"The drone camera on the back is on."
Pointing to a familiar-looking backpack strapped to the truck's cargo bed, Makoto explained:
"While you were busy with your final exams over the past month, I was preparing for the training camp—and I also upgraded a lot of our equipment. Of course, that's all part of the preparation."
"The drones now have thermal imaging functions, which will make it easier to monitor your energy consumption curve later."
"There are other functions too, but what I mean is—this is training, Kitasan."
A flicker of guilt flashed in her eyes. Scratching her head awkwardly, Kitasan Black didn't try to apologize.
Instead, she reined in her earlier cheerfulness, clapped her cheeks lightly, focused straight ahead, and tightened the straps on her shoulders before striding forward with determination.
Seeing that, Makoto nodded to himself.
After more than half a year of training and races, his trainee personality was still just as bright and lively, but her aura had grown more composed and mature.
If this had been before, a reminder like that would've made her panic and blurt out apologies. But now, she just shifted her focus to what needed to be done.
Pleased by her growth, Makoto collected his own thoughts and focused on the special training.
He had plenty of experience with overload training—but for Kitasan Black, this was her first time.
The theory behind this type of regimen was simple, but there were many difficult parts—all buried in the complex details.
For example, while the main goal was indeed to trigger the supercompensation effect, another aim was to optimize energy efficiency.
The same amount of stamina could be used more or less efficiently depending on posture and stride mechanics.
By constantly adjusting these details during training and building the habit of optimal movement, one could later perform them instinctively during a race.
Trailing slightly behind Kitasan Black's side, Makoto watched her every motion carefully and offered frequent corrections.
"Shift your center of gravity a little more forward."
"Just like when you run, engage your hip and waist muscles—take the strain off your feet and calves."
"Don't forget your breathing rhythm. Speed doesn't matter yet—focus on keeping your rhythm steady first."
"Think back to the uphill training before—lift your hips, lift your hips! Imagine the power flowing from your feet to your legs, up through your hips, and shooting straight to the top of your head."
The asphalt shimmered under the sweltering heat, the cicadas on both sides of the road calling in chorus. Amid their cries, the mountain path echoed with his steady instructions and her short responses, along with the rhythmic sound of two sets of footsteps moving forward.
Since this was her first session, Makoto hadn't set an intense load—just a total of 5 kilometers.
The first 2.5 kilometers were to be covered while carrying a bicycle to deplete her stamina; for the second half, she would ride the bike, aiming to push past her limits.
And after that stretch of mountain road, she would hop on the truck—marking the end of today's training.
When Makoto finally sat down in the truck, he could tell that the overload training had definitely produced results.
On the seat beside him, the girl's black bangs and the white streak in her hair were drenched with sweat, strands sticking messily to her forehead.
Her small face was soaked, her normally fair skin flushed pink—like she'd just come out of a hot spring or a sauna.
She held a big bottle of energy drink in her hands. Unlike usual, when she would tilt her head back and gulp it down in one go, this time she was just lazily chewing on the bent straw, taking slow, absentminded sips.
"This… compared to Nakayama… or Tokyo Racecourse… no, wait…"
With a puff, she spat out the misshapen straw and turned toward Makoto with a rare look of exhaustion.
"Compared to all the racecourses combined, this is still…"
"You're a total freak, Trainer…"
"That's what overload training is like," Makoto said with a shrug. "Otherwise, how are you supposed to build endurance?"
"I knooow… it's just… it's my first time trying this kind of thing, so I'm not used to it yet…"
Kitasan Black replied weakly, tilting her head to the side.
"Oh yeah, Trainer… what were you before all this?"
"Me?"
Makoto blinked. "What else could I have been? School, exams, then Tracen. Before coming here it was just… school and exams, honestly."
"But still…"
Kitasan Black gave him a once-over, up and down, her expression puzzled.
"How come I'm this exhausted, but you don't look tired at all…?"
"Ah, that."
Makoto chuckled. "Like you said, it's your first time doing this kind of training. You don't know the techniques yet.
"When I was still in school, I used to do this kind of overload training all the time… though not at this level of intensity, of course. My body wasn't as developed back then.
"I told you before, didn't I? I used to be part of an extreme sports club."
Kitasan Black remembered that.
When she first found out that her Trainer was really into extreme sports, she'd been full of curiosity—asked him tons of questions, even did her own research.
The club he mentioned was familiar to her; apparently, it was sponsored by a large beverage corporation and specialized in recruiting young people who loved and excelled at extreme sports.
Those with enough talent could enter real competitions through the club.
If their results were good, they'd earn prize money and sponsorships—top champions were treated almost on par with racers, and in some elite events, they even surpassed them.
"See that mountain road over there?"
While Kitasan Black was recalling all this, Makoto pointed outside the window, excitement lighting his voice.
"The one that stretches down from the forest?"
"I had a race once on a road just like that—rode all the way down from the mountaintop in one go, and there were four aerial jumps, each over ten meters high."
"I think I mentioned it before—it's called a hardline descent."
"Back then, before the results came out, I thought I'd done pretty well. Maybe not first place, but definitely in the top three."
"But my opponent… oh, right—if you'd seen people like that, you'd know what true monsters look like. Compared to them, I was nothing."
"That's what you call a real genius. Thinking back now, even though I loved extreme sports, I guess my talent was just… average."
He kept rambling on for a while, until a quiet voice beside him cut in, soft and teasing.
"No, you're wrong."
He instinctively turned toward her—and met a pair of eyes that were smiling gently at him.
"I think… you're amazing, Trainer. You're really talented."
<+>
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