Chapter 158: Bun-bun hello, PakaTube.

Anyone who aims to become a trainer will inevitably hear a certain phrase somewhere along the long road leading there.

That phrase is:

"Will you quit being a trainer? Or will you quit being human?"

…Honestly, I think it’s a bit of dark humor. Still, I understand how the person who coined it must have felt.

At its core, being an Uma Musume trainer—especially a Central trainer—is an utterly brutal job.

And that makes sense. The role of a trainer is a complete melting pot of responsibilities.

You’re dealing with athletes in a globally beloved sport, idols admired by the public, members of a closely related yet fundamentally different species, and at the same time, children who are still young and pure at heart.

You must act as their coach, producer, diplomatic representative, and guardian—all at once.

Naturally, that turns the job into relentless overwork. Your free time practically disappears, and before long, you stop qualifying as someone capable of living a "healthy lifestyle."

…

Yeah, I get it. I really do.

It sounds absurd to place all of that on a single person’s shoulders. Anyone would assume it makes more sense to divide the work among multiple specialists.

However, there are very real reasons why all that pressure ultimately concentrates on one trainer.

…But before explaining that, you first need to understand the historical relationship between trainers and Uma Musume.

This might take a while.

Naturally, Uma Musume and humans are fundamentally different species, their genetics almost entirely unrelated.

Though the fact that two such different species can coexist—and even have children together—is mysterious in its own right. But setting that aside…

The shared history between humans and Uma Musume, and between trainers and racing Uma Musume, has been a long era of trial and error carried out in near darkness.

And people in the past weren’t idiots.

While supporting Uma Musume racing, attempts were naturally made to adopt a divided trainer system. In fact, most countries and regions tried it at least once. On paper, it seemed far more efficient.

…but in the end, those attempts always failed for two reasons.

The first reason was human error caused by weakened responsibility and poor communication once too many people became involved.

I forget the name of the psychological effect, but when responsibility is shared among multiple people, humans tend to think, "Someone else will handle it."

As a result, communication breaks down. Information sharing becomes sloppy. No one fully confirms what has or hasn’t been done—and gaps begin appearing in the management of the entrusted Uma Musume.

And as anyone can tell just by looking at my idiot brother, humans can never completely discard emotion.

If conflict arises between departments or positions, things quickly become disastrous. Instead of supporting the Uma Musume, internal factional disputes emerge.

The solution is simple: assign responsibility to one person instead of many.

Rather than entrusting things to multiple average individuals, placing everything on a single exceptional talent reduces mistakes.

You might think, Wouldn’t that simply increase management overload? Wouldn’t it become impossible to handle?

But the position of trainer is only granted to geniuses capable of minimizing errors despite that burden.

The trainer certification exam is, by far, the most difficult qualification obtainable in Japan. In every sense.

"Our job as trainers allows no mistakes whatsoever."

That’s practically my brother’s catchphrase.

Strictly speaking, humans cannot avoid mistakes—but realistically, the statement holds true.

You’re coaching elite athletes, producing top idols, serving as an interspecies ambassador, and protecting children.

If you fail under those conditions, the consequences aren’t minor. Public backlash would be the least of your worries—at worst, it could escalate into national or even interspecies conflict.

Compared to that risk, modern consensus holds that one trainer bearing the burden alone is safer, even if the workload is immense.

In that sense, trainers are almost a necessary evil.

A social sacrifice required to make the stars known as racing Uma Musume shine.

The darkness that exists so the stars may stand out.

Which means the slogan "quit being human" is… surprisingly accurate.

Now, while the first reason is rather grim, the second is brighter—or perhaps more fantastical.

A mysterious phenomenon has been observed:

A racing Uma Musume’s abilities are amplified through bonds formed with a specific human.

Yes, it sounds completely nonsensical.

But apparently, it’s real.

Historical data shows that Uma Musume trained by a single dedicated trainer—forming deep personal bonds—demonstrate higher average performance than those managed under divided systems.

As for why this happens… honestly, nobody knows.

There wasn’t any information about it in the Horino family archives, and even my brother—who supposedly retains knowledge from a previous life—just said, "Even I… have things I don’t understand."

There are still many aspects of Uma Musume biology beyond modern science. At some point, trainers simply have to accept it as one of those things.

Investigating it further is a researcher’s job, not ours.

Because of these circumstances, divided trainer systems are now considered inefficient and meaningless.

Only one trainer serves as the primary partner who builds a bond and walks side by side with an Uma Musume.

Sub-trainers merely assist the main trainer’s duties.

…Though in large teams, it’s apparently not uncommon for stronger bonds to form with sub-trainers instead. But that’s another matter.

We trainers—well, I’m still only a trainee sub-trainer—must shoulder total responsibility for the Uma Musume we support, devoting ourselves body and soul.

The pay is technically high, but in practice it’s performance-based depending on race results. Annual holidays barely reach thirty days.

As for me, despite more than half the year already passing, I doubt I’ve taken even five days off.

It’s a brutally demanding job you simply couldn’t survive without loving Uma Musume.

And so, I work in this absurdly exhausting profession, leaving me with virtually no time for anything else.

…And yet.

Even Horino Masa has personal hobbies.

After somehow finishing both scheduled and sudden work assignments, I secured a full day off on the Sunday just before Hoshino Wilm’s departure.

For the first time in ages—truly ages—I decided to devote myself to my hobby.

---

I started it back when I was in high school.

Most people—well, aside from exceptions like my brothers—are easily swayed by the desire for recognition at that age.

Embarrassingly enough, I was no exception.

Growing up with an overwhelmingly talented eldest brother and a second brother who compensates for everything through sheer effort left me starving for acknowledgment.

So while studying academics and trainer theory, I searched for something that could satisfy that need.

But I was still raised as a member of the Horino family.

I possessed basic internet literacy and knew to avoid actions that could become future risks.

Showing my face was out of the question. Even using my real voice risked identification—and that could eventually burden not only me, but even the Uma Musume I might one day be responsible for.

The Horino family, progressive as trainer houses go, takes education in those areas seriously.

So I avoided those paths.

And the result of that decision was…

Uploading videos.

Video and livestream content creation.

To be blunt, this is an entertainment field already completely saturated.

Unlike when I was born, anyone can now share videos through social media and streaming platforms. These days, even elementary school children becoming streamers isn’t unusual.

In other words, it’s a red ocean.

No one watches content that lacks appeal. Without charm, skill, or some clear advantage, viewers simply won’t come.

So back then, I decided to leverage the strengths I did have.

Horino Masa isn’t exceptionally gifted at anything.

Compared to my monster of a brother overflowing with talent, or the idiot who believes effort solves everything, being mildly versatile isn’t something worth bragging about.

But if there’s one thing I can claim—

…Well, it’s not really my achievement.

Still, I was born into the Horino family, a prestigious trainer lineage that easily ranks within the nation’s top ten—even by Central standards.

Our house may be old, but its philosophy is modern.

Trainer education wasn’t passed down secretly to a single heir. Every sibling was allowed to receive it.

So I should be able to say that… at the very least, I’ve mastered the basics.

…Though it really annoys me that I can’t confidently say, "I’m good at this!" in moments like this.

It’s hard not to feel inferior when I’m surrounded by monsters—one who somehow balances being both a doctor and a trainer, and another who turned their very first trainee into the strongest in history.

Still, even so, I should know more about Uma Musume than people from ordinary households.

And even if there’s something I don’t know, our family archives make research easy thanks to the preserved historical materials.

I don’t particularly believe I’m entertaining, and as for appearance… objectively speaking, I’m probably above average, but nowhere near exceptional.

Which meant the only real option was to make use of my knowledge.

And so, starting in high school, I secretly began uploading Uma Musume commentary videos—without telling my family.

That said, by the time you reach high school, reality starts to sink in.

I studied video production techniques and adopted trending styles, putting in effort in my own way—but a complete unknown uploading videos doesn’t suddenly go viral overnight.

No one watches a newcomer’s videos.

Because no one watches them, view counts don’t rise.

Because the numbers don’t rise, they never reach rankings.

And because they never appear in rankings, no one discovers them.

The sheer volume of videos uploaded every day is absurd. The idea that large numbers of people would somehow stumble upon mine by coincidence was unrealistic.

So I assumed this would end like many of my past efforts—producing little result before quietly fading away.

…Or at least, that’s what I thought.

"...I never imagined it would grow this much."

Displayed before me was my channel management page.

And there, showing the number of subscribers—

520,000.

Maybe not truly top-tier, but undeniably popular.

There were probably several reasons the channel grew this large.

But above all else—it was luck.

The sixth video I uploaded caught the attention of an expert, who commented online that it was "remarkably well done." That post spread across social media, becoming the turning point.

Apparently, my style—mixing humor with serious analysis—resonated with viewers. Instead of becoming a one-hit wonder, subsequent videos maintained their viewership.

Simple yet eye-catching thumbnails helped.

Short clips and highlight edits that were easy to watch also worked in my favor.

Gradually, both views and subscribers continued to climb.

At the time, nearly all my free time—aside from meeting friends—went into video production and studying content creation, so I remember feeling genuinely rewarded.

Looking back, the reason I managed to grow up relatively well-adjusted despite my overwhelming family environment might have been my mother’s support—and the positive response to those videos.

And, well… the ad revenue helped too.

The savings from that income were what allowed me to begin unpaid sub-trainer training last year.

That said, video production consumes an enormous amount of time.

Since I tend to obsess over details, producing a ten-minute video takes anywhere from four to eight hours.

Add research, fact-checking, studying editing techniques, analyzing trends, and watching other creators to refine new styles, and the total easily reaches twenty to thirty hours.

Naturally, maintaining that kind of hobby while working as a trainer is impossible.

Over the past year, my upload pace has dropped drastically.

Still—520,000 subscribers.

Half a million people waiting for my videos.

Even if uploads slow down, I have no intention of quitting.

So whenever I manage to secure a rare day off, I continue posting at roughly one video every six months.

---

"Well then…"

Inside my private room at the women’s trainer dormitory, where I moved this April—

I closed the curtains, turned on the air conditioner, changed into comfortable clothes, removed my contacts, and put on my glasses.

Then I powered on my personal editing computer.

It wasn’t quite on the level of the machines in the trainer offices, but it was still a high-end model.

…Though technically, a high-end model from several years ago.

I bought it to celebrate surpassing 100,000 subscribers, but lately it had started behaving unpredictably.

It still worked—but I probably needed to start thinking about replacing it soon.

With that thought in mind, I sat down in my wheeled chair, interlocked my fingers, and stretched deeply.

"…Let’s do this."

I launched my editing software and began assembling the prepared materials.

My channel primarily features commentary videos about racing Uma Musume.

More specifically, I focus on lesser-known history—forgotten stories, past champions, and racecourse characteristics that many people aren’t familiar with.

Information about active Uma Musume is easy to obtain nowadays. With social media, anyone can follow them closely.

But Uma Musume from over thirty years ago—before the internet became widespread—are much harder to research.

…and frankly, many people aren’t uninterested because those stories don’t directly connect to modern races.

Still, the reason interest remains low is simply lack of exposure.

When viewers casually browsing stumble across an intriguing thumbnail, quite a few end up becoming interested.

That’s the demand I’ve been targeting.

…But the video I’m making this time is different.

The materials I’m using aren’t old or faded.

They’re clean, recent images.

The references I gathered aren’t from thirty years ago—

but from just two or three years ago.

And unlike usual, I didn’t need to hunt through secondhand bookstores.

This time, gathering material was dozens of times easier—everything was available online.

The subject I’ll be covering this time… is an Uma Musume right beside me.

The strongest champion in history—featured by nearly every Uma Musume commentary channel over the past year.

The Ashen Dragon.

Or perhaps, the brightest star shining in the night sky.

Hoshino Wilm.

Originally, I had no intention of making a video like this.

I’m a trainee Central trainer.

Compared to ordinary people, I have far easier access to information about active Uma Musume.

If I truly wanted to, it wouldn’t even be difficult to leak information that only a racing team should know.

…Which is precisely why I never planned to cover active racers.

Professional confidentiality isn’t uncommon in this line of work, and even when something isn’t formally restricted, spreading information the public cannot verify is never a good thing.

When I first started this channel, my goal was simply to be acknowledged by someone.

But now, I want more people to become interested in Uma Musume—and in their races.

That’s why I refuse to rely on leaks or unfair advantages. I make my videos strictly from the same perspective as ordinary fans.

That has always been my policy.

Of course, I have no intention of leaking anything from our own team this time either.

Everything in this video will be compiled solely from information available to fans.

Even so… there’s no way this can be a perfectly impartial video.

No matter what I do, it will inevitably feel biased toward Hoshino Wilm.

I’ve watched her efforts from closer than almost anyone—second only to my brother.

Trying to fulfill everyone’s wishes.

Trying to live up to every expectation.

And above all, running with pure joy to satisfy the instinctive desire within herself.

She is, quite literally, the embodiment of the Uma Musume species.

More than anyone, she genuinely enjoys running, competing… and winning.

There are very few backs that make you want to cheer for them as strongly as hers.

If I feature her in a video, there’s simply no way I could speak badly of her.

And yes—off the top of my head, she does have flaws.

Despite having the ability to back it up, she can sometimes be overly arrogant.

She shows almost no interest in people who don’t personally interest her.

She frequently ignores my brother’s instructions to do extra self-training.

And, incidentally, she’s absolutely hopeless when it comes to romance.

But even so… her brilliance outweighs all of that.

Like the one and only first-magnitude star shining within the Twinkle Series, dazzling enough to leave you momentarily blinded.

That light has already burned itself into my retinas.

At this point, I couldn’t bring myself—even falsely—to speak ill of racing Uma Musume Hoshino Wilm.

Which is why, despite receiving countless requests, despite standing closer to her than most, and despite fully understanding how much attention such a video would generate…

I had never made one about her.

…So then, why now?

Why make a video about her despite knowing it cannot be completely fair?

The answer is simple.

Most of the video was already finished.

Only the closing scene remained.

I tapped at the keyboard, typing the final lines onto the screen.

"Hoshino Wilm is scheduled to compete in the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe on October 4th this year! Let’s all witness together the moment Japan’s long-cherished dream is finally fulfilled at the forefront of her legend!"

After typing that, I murmured quietly to myself.

"…The more expectations you carry, the more strength you gain for the race… huh."

Those were words I’d heard directly from her.

The more fans watch.

The more expectations placed upon her.

The more dreams she carries—

the stronger an Uma Musume becomes.

It sounds unrealistic. Almost like sheer willpower theory.

But…

"…Those eyes didn’t look like they were lying."

At the very least, I believe Hoshino Wilm truly meant it.

Horino Masa serves as a sub-trainer supporting the Uma Musume under Horino Ayumu’s supervision.

My role is to assist Hoshino Wilm—and Mihono Bourbon—helping ensure their performances improve even further.

But honestly speaking, when it comes to managing Hoshino Wilm’s training and physical condition, my brother alone is more than enough.

As for mental care… I used to think she lacked support there, but lately I’ve come to realize that simply being with my brother is probably the environment where she feels most at ease.

Even their work and training schedules are managed down to the minute by him.

He jokingly says he’d "borrow even a cat’s paw for help," but in truth, he already manages both of his trainees perfectly.

Apparently, around last year’s Derby, he was so overwhelmed that he even collapsed from exhaustion.

But just as I’ve gradually found breathing room in my own trainer duties, my brother has grown accustomed as well.

Even while handling two elite champions, he now manages to secure proper rest.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but from a purely practical standpoint, I’m not truly necessary to their team.

If anything, I’m the one constantly learning from all three of them.

And starting this summer through autumn, Hoshino Wilm will be competing overseas—far beyond my reach.

During that time, there will be nothing I can do to support her directly.

…But that doesn’t mean I can afford to feel discouraged.

I just have to do what I can do.

My brother may be a monster when it comes to practical work, but that doesn’t mean he can do everything.

I have my own way.

There must be a way for me to support her—one he cannot.

So that Hoshino Wilm can continue giving her all…

People who still don’t know her need to dream about her too.

"…All that’s left is encoding, then."

I don’t know how many people this video will reach.

But if even one more person begins believing in Hoshino Wilm—if expectations for her grow even slightly—

then surely, that will help push her forward…

as she competes for supremacy at the very summit of the world.