Mid-May arrived, two weeks after the mock race between Urara and Happy Meek.
The seasons were shifting from spring to early summer, and the daytime temperatures were creeping upward. Classes at Tracen Academy were scheduled to end early today, which meant—in theory—that I'd have more time than usual for Urara's training.
"Where is that girl? She's late…"
It was past 3:30 PM. It was still earlier than our usual start time, but I'd already been waiting at the practice track for thirty minutes.
Urara had told me beforehand that since her classes ended before noon, she was going to grab lunch and then head to the shopping district near the Academy to buy carrots for her afternoon snack. While the Academy had its own convenience store, Urara insisted that the carrots from the local greengrocer were much tastier.
Based on that, we'd scheduled training to start at 3:00 PM. I thought I'd given her plenty of buffer time—an hour for lunch and two hours for shopping—but she was still nowhere to be found. I tried calling her smartphone, but it just rang and rang until it went to voicemail.
The students of Tracen lived in dorms right across the street from the main gates. From what Urara told me, she shared a room with another girl. The dorms were split into the Ritto and Miho wings; Urara was in Ritto. Even if she'd stopped to drop off her bags, she should have been here by now.
My initial annoyance at the delay was quickly being overtaken by a cold prickle of anxiety.
I hope she didn't get into an accident... I thought. No one in their right mind would try to kidnap a Horse Girl, but then again... if a stranger offered her a carrot, she'd probably hop right into their van with a smile.
If you ignored the ears and tail, Urara looked like a petite young girl. But Horse Girls possessed the athletic capability of a speeding car. Beyond their leg strength, their bodies were incredibly hardy to withstand the sheer force of their own velocity.
Trying to abduct one would be a life-threatening endeavor. A full-force kick could turn a human head into a burst pomegranate. I'd heard legends of veteran Trainers who could take a G1-winner's dropkick to the face and walk away with nothing but a bloody nose, but those were the exceptions. A kick like that would kill a normal man like me instantly.
The problem was Urara's personality. I couldn't see her kicking anyone, even a kidnapper. Conversely, she wasn't the type to run away if someone approached her with a smile.
"Hey kid, I've got carrots, come with me," a stranger would say, and she'd probably reply, "Wow, really?! Let's go!"
"Dammit!"
I ruffled my hair in frustration and took off running. I headed toward the shopping district, retracing the path she usually took.
I lived in a small apartment near the Academy and usually walked to work. I had a driver's license and even a motorcycle license for fun, but I didn't bother using a vehicle for a commute that only took a few minutes. I figured walking would make it easier to spot her if we crossed paths.
If I don't find her soon, I'll have to call the Academy and report her missing... No, maybe I should call now? But she's only thirty minutes late...
I reached the Academy's main gate and looked toward the dorms.
Maybe she's just taking a nap? It's Urara, after all. But Trainers aren't allowed in the dorms without a permit from the Housemaster.
I pulled out my phone and called the Ritto Dorm's internal line. Since she wasn't answering her cell, I had to ask someone else to check. The girl who answered was the dorm head—a student named Fuji Kiseki. I explained who I was and asked her to check Urara's room, but the result was a bust. She wasn't there.
I thanked Fuji Kiseki and sprinted for the shopping district, peering into every alleyway and side street along the way. Nothing.
"Phew... hah... Excuse me!" I burst into a shop the moment I hit the main street. "Have you seen a petite Horse Girl with pink hair? Her name is Haru Urara!"
I figured someone as distinctive as Urara would have left an impression.
"Huh? Urara-chan?" The shopkeeper, a woman, looked at me with surprise, which quickly shifted to a suspicious squint. "And who might you be, young man? What business do you have with her?"
She clearly knew Urara, but her tone suggested she thought I was a stalker.
"I'm her Trainer at Tracen Academy!" I blurted out, frantically flashing my official license.
The woman's eyes went wide. "Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry. You're Urara-chan's Trainer... She's just down the way at the greengrocer's."
"...At the greengrocer's?"
I was confused. She didn't say she went there; she said she was there. As I stood there blinking, a loud, masculine voice echoed from further down the street, followed by a very familiar chirp.
"Step right up! Carrots are on sale today! These are the ones Urara-chan recommends!"
"They're on sale! And they're super yummy!"
"Bell peppers are cheap, too! Five for a hundred yen! Five for a hundred!"
"So cheap! But they're bitter!"
"Hey! Urara-chan, don't say that!"
I followed the voices and found a crowd gathered in front of a vegetable stall. Elderly couples, housewives, and kids were all gathered in a semi-circle, laughing at the exchange between the shopkeeper and the girl.
Urara's ears twitched at the sound of my approach. She spun around, her face lighting up.
"Oh! Trainer! What's up? Are you here to go shopping?"
It was her. She was safe. More than safe—she was wearing a shop apron and waving a carrot at me like a baton.
"Urara, you... I..."
A wave of anger fought with a massive surge of relief. Relief won. I let out a long, shuddering sigh.
"...Urara, do you have any idea what time it is?"
Urara tilted her head and glanced at the wall clock inside the shop.
"...Huh? Wa-wah?! I'm late for training!"
Her tail shot straight up in a panic. As I wiped the sweat from my brow, she realized exactly why I was standing there.
"Uuu... I'm sorry, Trainer."
She didn't offer a single excuse. She just bowed her head, her ears—hidden under her signature covers—flopping dejectedly. Her tail went limp.
As it turned out, Urara was a regular in this district. In the short month and a half since she'd arrived at Tracen, her natural charisma had turned her into the neighborhood mascot. She'd come in to buy a snack, started chatting with the owner, and decided she wanted to try being a "salesgirl." The owner, charmed by her enthusiasm, hadn't had the heart to say no.
"Sorry about that, Trainer-lad," the shopkeeper said, scratching the back of his head. "Urara-chan is like the idol of this street. When she said she wanted to help out, I just couldn't say no."
His apology sounded genuine, though he clearly didn't think she'd done anything "wrong" per se. I sighed again and knelt down to look her in the eye.
"Next time, at least call me... I was worried sick."