Chapter 17: The Day of Her Debut Race

Chapter 17: The Day of Her Debut Race

After gaining a clear understanding of his Umamusume's fighting spirit and resolve, Makoto decided to compare her with Satono Crown’s stats, just to get a sense of where things stood.

Satono Crown’s debut was on turf, 1800 meters. She finished in 1 minute 50 seconds, averaging 16.36 meters per second.

Her final three furlongs were completed in 33.5 seconds—almost 18 meters per second.

In her second race, also on turf and also 1800 meters, she finished even faster at 1 minute 47.9 seconds, a pace of 16.68 meters per second.

The final stretch in that one was a bit slower—38 seconds. Probably due to cruising too long in the middle phase, which sapped her sprint power. Otherwise, she might’ve shaved off even more time.

Still, for a fresh-out-of-the-gate Umamusume, those times were no joke—especially when compared to the past five years of the Satsuki Sho.

Purely going by finish times, champions in that G1 event had clocked in anywhere between 1:58 and 2:00 in recent years.

The slowest was two years ago, when Oguri Cap won it with a time of 2 minutes 1.3 seconds.

The Satsuki Sho runs 2000 meters, and in that race, Oguri’s average speed came out to 16.48 meters per second.

Now, Satono Crown ran Pre-Op races—entry-level—but was already putting up speeds like 16.36 and 16.68? No doubt, she was a top-tier contender for this year’s Satsuki Sho.

In comparison, Kitasan Black’s recent training speeds averaged in the 15s. Her best runs barely cracked 16.2.

Maybe she had sensed that he was secretly comparing her to Satono Crown. That might’ve been the source of the pressure she felt.

Still, Makoto didn’t bother explaining it to her.

Compared to training, actual races were on a whole other level of complexity.

Weather, track conditions, the crowd, physical condition that day, the quality of opponents, the atmosphere—everything played a part in the final result.

If races could be predicted based on data alone, then why even run them? Might as well hand out trophies based on the datalist.

If you really wanted to win, trainer and Umamusume had to be in sync—every step of the way.

With that thought in mind, Makoto finished registering her for a race and began explaining the upcoming schedule.

“Racing once a month—that’s what I think is the ideal pace. That’s why I planned things that way before the Satsuki Sho.”

“We’re entering the Spring Stakes because the Yayoi Sho is on March 8. That’s too early, we don't have enough prep time.”

“Spring Stakes, on the other hand, is on the 22nd. That gives us more breathing room.”

“As for the Wakaba Stakes, I’m not considering it because it’s at Hanshin, over in Kansai.”

“The Satsuki Sho is held at Nakayama, which, like Tokyo Racecourse, is in the capital region. The track conditions are a lot closer to each other compared to Hanshin.”

“So for trainers not based in Kansai, it’s normal to aim for Nakayama’s trial races—Yayoi Sho or Spring Stakes—instead of Wakaba.”

After dropping this crash course in classic race strategy, Makoto looked over and saw Kitasan Black’s eyes lighting up in realization.

That’s when he shifted gears.

“Still, all of that is more than two months away. What you should be focusing on now... is your debut race.”

“I—I’ll give it everything I’ve got!” she responded with a reflexive nod, then paused as something clicked.

“Wait… ‘now’ as in… soon?”

“You didn’t check the schedule? It’s this Saturday.”

Makoto pointed to the list of races and gave her a look.

“From what I’ve seen, your condition is good enough for a debut. No need to overthink it. So why wait?

“Tokyo Racecourse. Turf. 1800 meters. Fifth race of the day.

“That’s where you make your debut.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . 

The morning of race day.

As Makoto got out of bed, a strange thought crossed his mind—Maybe I really should move into the academy dorms for trainers.

No matter the world, Japan's obsession with seniority and rank in every profession never changed.

As a rookie trainer, Makoto had no right to live in the academy dorms. No matter how well he performed on his evaluations, the rules were the rules—the dorms prioritized senior trainers.

He never used to care. Living on or off campus made no difference to him. In fact, he preferred not having to interact with others too much.

But now, with his own Umamusume stepping into her very first race, it was impossible not to feel a little anxious—or excited.

He couldn’t wait to see how Kitasan Black would do today.

Still, excitement or not, he went through the morning carefully: washed up, ate breakfast, checked over the equipment they’d need for the race. Only then did he head downstairs, put on his helmet, and hop onto his motorbike.

The Tracen Academy and the Tokyo Racecourse were both located in western Tokyo’s Fuchu ward, only a few kilometers apart.

Unless you filed a special request, all participating Umamusume and their trainers were expected to ride the academy’s shuttle buses to the venue.

When Makoto arrived at the school’s parking lot, Kitasan Black was already waiting near the bus area.

Next to her stood another Umamusume, with light brown hair and pale golden eyes.

Makoto quickly recognized her from the files he’d read—another young lady from the Satono family and Kitasan’s roommate: Satono Diamond.

But then his eyes dropped down to Kitasan’s feet... and froze.

She was wearing her usual red athletic jacket and matching track pants, with a clean pair of running shoes on her feet.

The problem was—

“Hey, Kitasan,” Makoto called, eyeing her shoes. “You didn’t notice anything… odd when you put your shoes on?”

“Morning, Trainer! Hmm? Odd? No, I felt—ah?! W-Wait! My shoes are on the wrong feet?!”

Today was a race day at Tokyo Racecourse—twelve races total, with an average of fifteen contestants per race. That meant over 200 Umamusume from Tracen Academy would be participating.

More and more students were gathering now in the parking lot. The ones in full training gear were the ones racing today.

The others, like Satono Diamond, were mostly friends or roommates coming along to show support.

So when Kitasan Black shrieked in shock, it naturally drew some attention.

Several nearby girls glanced over, spotted the backward shoes, and promptly covered their mouths to stifle their laughter.

“H-How did this happen? I’m so sorry, Trainer! I-I’ll go find somewhere to fix it—!”

Blushing furiously, Kitasan turned to bolt.

Even Satono Diamond looked surprised—and a little guilty.

“I’m really sorry too, Trainer Yasui. I should’ve double-checked for her before we left…”

Makoto let out a long breath, part exasperated, part amused.

Sure, it was a little embarrassing, but honestly… he understood.

Technically speaking, his actual age was more than twice what he appeared to be, and he was still nervous for today’s race. How could he blame her?

Umamusume developed differently than humans, thanks to their full-scale adaptation process, but the emotional maturity could be roughly estimated.

Kitasan had only recently completed her adaptation—mentally, she was about the same as a 15- or 16-year-old human girl.

Given that, it’d be stranger if she wasn’t nervous before her first-ever official race.

“No need to apologize,” Makoto said quickly, turning to Diamond. “This one’s on me—as her trainer, I should’ve noticed first.”

Then he raised his voice.

“Oi—Kitasan! Stop running! Come back here!”

Even among Umamusume, Kitasan’s speed was impressive. She had already dashed nearly fifty meters in the blink of an eye.

But she skidded to a halt at Makoto’s words, turned with a sheepish look, and jogged awkwardly back—still wearing her shoes the wrong way.

“I’m back, Trainer, but… my shoes…”

“Just change them on the bike.”

With a gentle nod toward the parked motorcycle, Makoto gestured for her to sit. She obeyed without protest, face still red as a tomato.

Then Makoto knelt down in front of her.

“Wha—?! T-Trainer, wait! I-I can do it myself—!”

Ignoring her squeaky protest, Makoto calmly untied the laces, removed the reversed sneakers, and got to work correcting them—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

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