It was a bright day today, and most of us had found ourselves in one of Tracen Central Academy's many racetracks. But instead of training, we were doing something else instead.
"Ouch! Can you stop!?"
I smiled. "Nope." I said, before immediately lobbing another roasted bean at Kitahara's head. My aim was impeccable, and Kitahara cried out again as the bean smacked him right in between his eyes.
Belno giggled, before she too threw a bean at him. Though her aim wasn't as great, causing her to strike him on the chin instead.
"Oh, come on-, ouch!" He hissed as he rubbed the spot my thrown bean had hit him at. "Stop it. They're pretty-!" He quickly leapt to the side, causing the bean I threw to barely miss his ear by inches. "What is this even for!?"
"Well~" I smirked as I held up a bean. "It's said that throwing beans at demons will help ward off bad fortunes, and since we've all been injured, isn't this the perfect thing to do?" I said, before casually throwing another bean that struck Kitahara's forehead.
"And why me!?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You're the Demon King, remember?" I pulled out another roasted bean from the wooden box I'd been carrying. "You're the perfect target."
He scowled. "Oi, are you saying I'm the-, ouch!" His words were cut off when Belno's throw somehow hit him square in the nose. He turned his glare towards her, but Belno only giggled as she pulled out another roasted bean. "You two-!" Seeing the utter lack of regret on both his trainees' faces, he quickly ran towards his clipboard and used it as a shield as we continued to pelt him with roasted beans.
And all the while, Oguri stood next to the chair I was sitting on. She was supposed to join in as well, but in classic Oguri fashion, she began eating the roasted beans instead.
That aside,
It'd been a day since Belno's victory at the [Tokyo Daishoten], and with it, she accomplished her goal of winning the main 3 G1 Dirt races Central currently offered. There wasn't any Dirt Triple Crown for her to hold, but if the rumors I heard were true, then it shouldn't be long before Director Akikawa made that a real thing.
Of course, it wasn't that simple. Immediately after the race, we brought Belno to the nearest hospital to check if her nosebleed was some precursor to anything worse. Thankfully it wasn't. It seemed like the high-intensity of the race had ruptured a small blood vessel in her nose—a fairly common occurrence, especially for young athletes. Still, the doctors advised Belno to take a rest for at least a couple weeks, just to make sure that nothing worse crops up.
Not that she planned to anyway; we were all practically done with races for now, since our trip to America was coming up and all.
On that note,
"By the way, you'll be fine, right?" I asked.
"Hmm?" Kitahara cautiously lowered the clipboard he'd been using as a shield. "I'll be fine with what?"
"Going to America." I rolled around one of the roasted beans. "I mean, you're still an Apprentice and all. Don't you have classes to attend?"
Kitahara grinned. "Nah, I'm fine." He pointed a thumb to his chest and grinned. "I got a pretty good score for this year's exam, so Tazuna-san's letting me off the hook for a little bit." He sighed softly. "Well-, I can't stay with you until the end unfortunately. I'll still need to go back at the start of February." He shrugged. "But it can't be helped."
"Shame." I agreed, before I used his lowered guard to lob another roasted bean at his face.
But Kitahara had been ready from the start, and he used his clipboard to bat the bean away. He smirked at my slight surprise. "Ha! You think I don't know what you're planning, Hero!?"
I smiled back, narrowing my eyes in faux worry. "The Demon King is truly formidable…" I turned to Belno. "General, we must combine our strength!" Belno giggled, before she forced herself to nod. And together, we began throwing roasted beans at Kitahara.
Kitahara scoffed before he began batting them away, making exaggerated poses as he swung his clipboard like some sort of giant sword.
…
Meanwhile, looking from a distance,
Fujimasa March watched it all unfold from the other side of the track, before she covered her face with her hands. "What the hell are they doing…?" She whispered, her cheeks slightly red due to feeling second-hand embarrassment from watching our team descend into madness.
Musaka sighed in resignation. "Leave those idiots be." He tapped his cane onto the ground. "Focus."
"...I know." She said softly. She took a deep breath, and with a powerful kick, she burst forward into a sprint. She ran forward with all her might, aiming to cross the 200 meters as quickly as she could. She soon made it to the cone Musaka had set down earlier. And once she did, she stomped down onto the turf and immediately began running back.
Before long, she made it back to the line she started from. And once she did, Musaka stopped his stopwatch, humming slightly as he saw the time. "Not bad." He muttered.
March nodded, though her expression grew dark despite his seemingly encouraging words. Because she knew the truth;
She just wasn't fast enough.
A few days before the [Tokyo Daishoten], she'd undertaken her first graded race—the G3 [Turquoise Stakes], a Mile-length Turf race. It was the first time she'd ever raced on Turf, but she'd extensively prepared for it for weeks on end. She'd learnt from the best of the best, ran with and listened to the advice of seniors far stronger than she was--
And she still lost. She took 3rd place; a Nose behind the 2nd place, and a full length behind the 1st.
By all rights, it wasn't a terrible result. The fact that she'd gotten so close to winning despite it being her first time racing on Turf was quite amazing, and Musaka was confident that she'd take first place if she was to ever run in that race again next year.
But it didn't change the fact that she lost.
It was a blow to her confidence. She'd known from the start that she couldn't compare to the Generation of Miracles, especially the three core members of Team Kitahara. But she still at least believed that she had what it took to be above the other 'normal' runners in Central.
She was wrong. Sure, they couldn't be compared to the monstrous talents that defined this era of racing, but the racers in Central weren't to be scoffed at either. They were far above the runners she'd faced back in Kasamatsu, and now it was clear just how far behind she was.
It was frustrating, and humiliating. She'd brought shame to Team Kitahara, who'd so generously taken her-
"Enough sulking, girl."
"Wha-, I-I'm not sulking!" She said, though her protest only made her feelings clearer to see.
Musaka chuckled. "Look, this ain't the first rodeo I've done, girl." He took a step towards her, and despite being shorter than her, the usually gruff veteran looked quite imposing. "I've been a trainer even before you were even born, kid." He looked straight at her. "Don't beat yourself up. Your career won't end just from a single loss."
She scowled, and her fists clenched. "I know that, but I-!"
Musaka sighed. "Can I be straight with you for a little, March?"
Her spine stiffened. This was the first time Musaka had directly called her name. "...You can, sir."
He stared at her for a moment, before he turned at the rest of Team Kitahara at the other side of the track. "To be real, I'm more used to umamusume like you." He smiled wryly. "I ain't trying to demean you, but compared to those three over there? You're pretty damn mundane."
"And there ain't nothing wrong with that." He sighed deeply. "Training day in 'n out, pouring your heart and soul out, not knowin' if you'll ever get to be the victor." He turned to her. "Now that's normal. That's the sport I remember." He tilted his hat down, and though his eyes were covered by his sunglasses, she could sense a trace of melancholy weighing him. "It just ain't the same anymore."
"Musaka-san…"
He continued speaking. "But things're just changin' too fast." He glanced at the sky. "First it was the Emperor, then it was the Onyx Empress, and now this whole Generation of Miracles business-" He huffed. "I'm just an old fossil; I've already been left behind."
March was stunned into complete silence. Because what could she even say to something like that? She was likely the only one who'd ever heard Musaka's true feelings regarding this new era of racing.
But she also understood. Perhaps in a world where the Generation of Miracles never occurred, she would've been someone to keep an eye on. But this wasn't that world—and with the Generation of Miracles hanging over the entire era, it was impossible to escape their shadow.
At the end of the day, she was just unlucky.
They both fell into a contemplative silence for some time, left with nothing to do but to watch the rest of Team Kitahara at the other side of the track. Despite the short distance between them, it felt as if some great barrier stood between them. An impassable gorge that forever stopped them from ever stepping into the same world.
Eventually, Musaka sighed before he turned to her. "Anyway, don't compare y'erself to them." He reached up and patted her shoulder. "Focus on improving yourself. Your only enemy is yourself. Don't get caught up in others' business."
March took a deep breath. "I know." She said softly, before she turned back to the starting line. "May I have another try, Musaka-san?"
Musaka grinned as he held up his stopwatch. "Go wild, girl."
She smiled back, and taking a deep breath, she grit her teeth as she ran forward once more.