Shuta An remained unaware of the reputation he had earned at West Coast Tracen Academy. For him, what truly mattered was training Oguri Cap properly and guiding her toward greater growth.
Yet, one matter weighed heavily on his mind: the stark contrast between Trainer Sagami Masayuki's plans for Oguri Cap in the Dream World and his own strategies in reality. Their approaches could not have been more different—and that discrepancy troubled him deeply.
'If only he had arranged for Oguri Cap to challenge Nagoya directly, as I would have' he thought, brow furrowing. 'The difficulty would be higher, yes—but the rewards would be far greater. Instead, she's gaining nothing but intimacy every day. Can that really improve her performance?'
Lost in thought, notebook in hand, Shuta An wandered the academy grounds, ready to record Oguri Cap's split times. It had already been a month since her triumphant debut at Kasamatsu Racecourse. Unlike many Trainers, however, he had deliberately avoided letting her race too frequently. This unconventional decision soon drew attention—even from the administrators of Kasamatsu Tracen Academy. The Academy Director himself summoned Shuta An for a conversation.
"The academy and Kasamatsu Racecourse share an inseparable bond," the Director said. "Now that we finally have a promising new star, the audience deserves to see her race more often."
But the young Trainer stood firm. "To maintain an Uma Musume's health, the minimum safe race frequency must be once every half month," he replied. "Surely, the academy wouldn't ask me to endanger the very Uma Musumes I'm entrusted with by making them race every week?"
"Once every half month would be perfect," the Director answered with a smile.
Shuta An's expression sharpened. "Then tell me, Director—do your expectations for Oguri Cap end with her performing at Kasamatsu, like every other Uma Musume before her? Don't you wish for Kasamatsu to produce someone who can make its name known to all Twinkle Series fans?"
The Director's smile faded, replaced by a grave expression. "Do you truly believe Oguri Cap could be that existence? Kasamatsu Tracen Academy has never produced an Uma Musume capable of challenging the Central. Not even Nagoya succeeded."
"She's still inexperienced," Shuta An admitted calmly. "If she were to challenge the Central now, I wouldn't be confident. But if I wish to make her Kasamatsu's number one idol, what I need most is time."
"How long?" the Director asked, adjusting his glasses and leaning slightly forward. "Uma Musumes don't have long active careers."
Shuta An raised one finger. "One year."
"One year from today," he declared with unwavering conviction, "I guarantee that Oguri Cap will become a Central Heavy Prize-winning Uma Musume."
He paused briefly, then added, "In my plan, Oguri Cap will attempt a regional exchange Heavy Prize in the latter half of this year. If she wins, her chances of capturing a Central Heavy Prize next year will be extremely high."
Even as he spoke, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. For Shuta An—who longed to reach the Central through Oguri Cap's achievements—she was the first light he had glimpsed in six long months. He would never allow external pressures to extinguish that light. Convincing the Director, then, became his top priority.
"I cannot promise Shuta-kun a full year outright," the Director finally said. He looked up at the young man once entrusted to him by the 'Emperor' of the Central. "But since you are confident Oguri Cap will win a regional exchange Heavy Prize in the latter half of this year, let us wait and see."
"Then I ask only that until the end of this year, you permit me to freely arrange her training," Shuta An countered.
"That is natural," the Director replied. Saying "until the end of this year" amounted to granting half a year—an acceptable risk. If Oguri Cap could win even a single regional exchange Heavy Prize, it would be an unprecedented milestone for Kasamatsu Tracen Academy.
Perhaps one day, the Director thought, we might even hold an 'Oguri Cap Memorial' at Kasamatsu.
Since reaching this quiet agreement, Shuta An felt a weight lift from his shoulders. For the time being, he no longer had to worry about the rumors circulating among his colleagues—claims that "Oguri Cap is too weak, so her race appearances were reduced to hide the problem," or that "she overexerted herself in her debut and is still recovering from minor injuries."
For a debut-year Uma Musume racing only in Kasamatsu, the prize for an ordinary victory was merely 850,000 yen. To challenge higher stakes, one would have to wait until the Youth Crown Heavy Prize in early October, whose top reward was 2.4 million yen. By contrast, the Wakakoma Sho—a regional OP race for which Shuta An had entered Oguri Cap next week—offered a winner's prize of 3 million yen.
"Winning that one race is equivalent to three regular victories," he murmured. "If we take it, perhaps I should buy gifts for Oguri Cap and Berno Light."
He had not told his team about the agreement with the Director. To him, it was unnecessary—Oguri Cap would continue striving toward the regional exchange Heavy Prize regardless of such knowledge.
She's already giving her all, he thought, stopwatch in hand as he timed her laps.
Oguri Cap, who was preparing for her first OP-level challenge, had not seen her training intensity increase in recent weeks. The only adjustment was that her Slope Road training at the shrine had gone from once to twice a week; otherwise, her routine was identical to last month's.
Jogging steadily—twenty seconds per 200 meters—Oguri Cap felt uneasy. "The Wakakoma Sho is coming soon," she muttered, "but my training hasn't gotten harder… Is this really okay?"
From the sidelines, Shuta An noticed the hesitation in her form. Cupping his hands like a megaphone, he called out sharply, "Oguri Cap! Focus! Don't get distracted!"
Startled, the gray filly straightened her posture and resumed her pace.
'Trust your Trainer,' she reminded herself. 'If he isn't raising the intensity, he must have a reason.'
Though the Wakakoma Sho was a prerequisite for entry into the Hokkaido Yushun Himba, Shuta An had already analyzed the field. None of the competitors particularly stood out. His priority was ensuring Oguri Cap's victory with minimal strain.
"This lineup is underwhelming," he said, shaking the printed participant list. "Nagoya's new generation seems to lack real talent this year."
Even though Oguri Cap had yet to run a 1400-meter mile race, Shuta An, with his attribute viewer, knew she would handle it effortlessly. 'If her Mile adaptability were poor, I'd hesitate—but as it is now, there's nothing to fear.'
In the Dream World, Oguri Cap maintained a steady rhythm—one race every half month. Each time, Shuta An had hoped for post-race rewards beyond mere intimacy increases. But fortune never favored him; perhaps because all her races were local and ordinary, her only reward remained the deepening of her bond.
Now her intimacy level stood at 180, yet in his view, their relationship had grown only slightly—Trainer and Uma Musume, nothing more.
'I wonder what the maximum value is—and what happens when it's reached' he mused, closing the stats viewer.
Elsewhere, Oguri Cap finished her training for the day and gratefully accepted a bottle of sports drink from Berno Light. The drink, purchased outside the academy and reimbursed personally by Shuta An, wasn't covered by academy funds.
"Thank you, Berno." Oguri Cap twisted the cap open and drank it down in one breath.
"Hey, slow down—you'll choke," Berno Light scolded gently, patting her teammate's back. "No one's going to steal it."
"I'm fine," Oguri Cap gasped between breaths. "It's just… the Wakakoma Sho is next Thursday, but Trainer hasn't increased my training volume."
"Then just ask him," Berno Light suggested. "Trainer has no reason not to tell you."
Oguri Cap hesitated. "Whenever I see other Uma Musumes ask their Trainers questions, they always get brushed off… And since Trainer's plans have worked so far, it feels wrong to question him."
"But our Trainer isn't like theirs," Berno Light countered with a smirk. "Come on, Oguri—be brave. He won't get angry."
"…Then I'll try." Setting her bottle down, Oguri Cap rubbed her cheeks for courage and walked toward her Trainer.
Upon hearing her question, Shuta An answered succinctly, "Because it's not needed." Unlike his usual detailed explanations, this one was brief.
"But didn't you increase the intensity before my debut race?" Oguri Cap pressed. "You said this race is important—it decides whether we can go to Hokkaido, right?"
"In your debut, your strongest rival was Fujimasa March," Shuta An explained, handing her the entry list. "Frankly speaking, Fujimasa March could also win this Wakakoma Sho."
"Then you're saying these opponents aren't worth taking seriously?" she asked, eyes narrowing. Oguri Cap took a step closer.
"Yes." Despite her gaze, Shuta An forced a steady voice. "It's better for you to rest well."
The June wind carried the heat of early summer across the training grounds, but to Shuta An, the warmth of her breath felt even hotter. The faint scent of detergent from her sportswear filled the air between them.
He instinctively stepped back but held his ground verbally. "Oguri Cap, are you dissatisfied with my arrangements?"
She said nothing—but her expression said everything.
'She doesn't like this answer' he realized. Oguri Cap was terrible at hiding her emotions.
He sighed softly and raised both hands in surrender. "Fine. Rest well today—tomorrow we'll increase the intensity."
It wasn't worth arguing over something so minor.
'If it were something truly important, I wouldn't be this lenient' he told himself, even as he gave in.
The next afternoon, after warmups, Oguri Cap ran seriously across the academy's track. Shuta An watched her times carefully.
6F 83.0 – 67.9 – 52.8 – 37.6 – 23.8 – 11.7. (6 Furlongs, 1F=201 m)
Excluding track conditions, her times rivaled some Central G1 Uma Musumes. Yet he knew better than to take the data at face value.First, Oguri Cap was taking this training as seriously as an actual race.
Second—
He crouched, scooping a handful of mud and sand from the track. Rubbing it between his fingers, he murmured, "The moisture content feels high today."
In Japan's so-called "dirt tracks," higher moisture usually meant faster running conditions. The term was misleading—"dirt" didn't necessarily mean "slow." Factoring these in, her results weren't as astonishing as they appeared. Still, for a Kasamatsu Uma Musume, they were remarkable.
Closing his notebook, Shuta An looked up and smiled brightly at the gray filly who was gulping water nearby. "Beautiful data. Keep this form next Thursday, and victory will be ours."
Oguri Cap raised a hand in acknowledgment, determination gleaming in her eyes.