(But everyone she's facing now knows the taste of victory. Training is one thing, but her mindset is going to be the key...)
The hunger to win, the desire to stand on that stage again, the refusal to lose—that psychological edge was more important than ever.
Ping.
I was about to send the report to the Chairwoman when a new email popped up. It was addressed to all staff. I opened it, wondering if it was a school announcement.
The sender was a senior trainer I knew by name but rarely interacted with. She didn't lead a famous team, and she wasn't someone who came up in conversation with my peers.
The email was brief: she was taking an indefinite leave of absence for "personal reasons." Since she was a woman, I wondered if it was a "happy" reason—maybe she was starting a family.
I bet the female trainers will start a collection for a gift in a few days, I thought as I finally sent my report. I'd started the paperwork after Urara left, and by now, the sun had long since set.
I powered down the PC, gave a generic "goodnight" to the few trainers still in the lounge, and headed for the exit. When I first started, I always wore a crisp suit. Now, I lived in my tracksuits.
"Wow... it really does get cold at night this time of year," I muttered.
The daytime sun was a lie. Once it set, the temperature plummeted. If it was this cold in November, winter was going to be brutal.
I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Urara: Make sure you take a hot bath and bundle up before bed. Don't catch a cold.
The reply was instantaneous.
Urara: Got it! I'll just sleep with King-chan! It's super toasty!
"Who the heck is 'King-chan'... wait, she calls an actual 'King' by a cute nickname?"
I chuckled, realizing she meant King Halo, her roommate and friend. It was good she had someone to keep her warm.
I shoved the phone into my pocket and started thinking about dinner. I couldn't very well tell Urara to stay healthy and then get sick myself. Maybe a one-person hot pot? Something nutritious and—
I was rounding a corner of the main building when I heard it. A rapid, frantic staccato of footsteps.
My body recognized the rhythm instantly: an Umamusume in a dead sprint.
I realized it a fraction of a second too late to dodge. She was too close, and she either didn't see me or couldn't stop. She was coming straight for my center of gravity.
Having spent months bracing for Urara's high-speed "hugs," my body moved on instinct. I dropped my center, squared my shoulders, and prepared to catch her with a graceful—
OOF!
I caught her, but the sheer momentum was more than I expected. We went down in a tangled heap. I managed to tuck my chin and take the fall on my shoulder—thanks to the "Urara-proofing" I'd developed—but hitting the asphalt still hurt like a son of a gun.
"Ow, ow, ow... Hey! I know I didn't see you coming, but you can't sprint in the dark like that! What if you got hurt?!"
I started the lecture before I even saw her face. A trainer's instinct: an injury in training is bad, but an injury in the hallway is a tragedy.
The girl I was holding was small—not quite as tiny as Urara, but close. She had jet-black hair that seemed to swallow the night light, save for some unruly, flicked-out strands. Her black ears were pinned back, and a long, dark tail lay still on the ground.
She was in her school uniform, wearing a hat tilted at an angle. To my surprise, a single blue rose was pinned to the hat. I don't know much about flowers, but it was a stunning, delicate thing.
The girl blinked at me, her eyes wide with shock. Then, the realization that she had just steamrolled a trainer set in. Her face, which had been pale to begin with, turned a ghostly white.
"Ah... I-I'm... s-sorry..." she stammered, her voice trembling. "Rice is a... a bad girl. I always... I always cause trouble for everyone... hic... sniff..."
She started muttering to herself, a spiral of self-deprecation that felt dangerously heavy. I pushed myself up and helped her to her feet.
"Easy now... Come on, let's see. Any scrapes? Are your legs okay?"
I checked her knees and ankles. No blood. She was standing straight, so probably no sprains.
Satisfied she wasn't broken, I looked up at her face and froze. Her long bangs covered her right eye, but her left eye was bloodshot—as if she'd been crying for hours. And right now, a fresh wave of tears was spilling over.
"Wait—whoa! What?! Why?! Are you in pain after all? Did you hit your head?!" I panicked. "Okay, look, we're going to the infirmary. Right now. Can you walk?!"
I didn't know who she was, but I couldn't just leave a sobbing girl alone in the dark. She looked young—middle school, probably, like Urara. Even if she wasn't hurt, it was too dark for her to be out here in this state.
I didn't know what had happened to her, but the school infirmary stayed open late for the "overtime" trainers and athletes. That was the first stop. I needed to get this girl somewhere warm.