Chapter 2:

By the time the orientation tour finally wound to a close an hour later, Ren had thoroughly blended into the background, his heart rate finally returning to normal. Standing in the back of the group, he listened intently as Tazuna wrapped up her presentation, listing the practical details of their employment.

The benefits were, frankly, staggering. Tracen Academy provided fully furnished faculty housing, a comprehensive meal plan at the campus cafeteria, and a base salary that made his jaw drop. It was a massive upgrade from the meager paychecks of his previous world.

No wonder Trainer Okino and old man Roppei can afford to take Team Spica and Oguri Cap out to those premium buffets, Ren realized, nodding to himself in silent appreciation. The budget for a Tracen trainer is absolutely insane. This job is a total blessing.

But as the initial wave of excitement faded, a sobering thought took its place. With heavy benefits came an even heavier weight of responsibility. A trainer wasn't just an athletic coach; they were the architects of a girl's entire future, carrying the fragile weight of her lifelong dreams on their shoulders.

Ren's mind drifted back to the lore he had read in his past life—specifically the tragic history of Ginjirou Musaka, the legendary Trainer Roppei from the Cinderella Gray manga. The old man had pushed his previous trainee too hard, failing to see her limits until her spirit broke completely, driving her into despair and forcing her to give up racing altogether. It was a dark, cautionary tale.

I can't let anything like that happen, Ren thought, a cold wave of sobriety washing over him. If I mess up here, it's not a 'Game Over' screen. It's someone's life.

Before dismissing the group, Tazuna clapped her hands together to deliver one final, crucial piece of news.

"Tomorrow morning, the academy will be hosting a Mock Selection Race for the newly enrolled and uncontracted Umamusume," she announced with a bright smile. "It will be your first official opportunity to observe the talent on the track and begin scouting for your respective stables."

Ren's ears perked up. A selection race meant he might see some of the iconic, high-profile runners he knew from the franchise. The sheer thought of recruiting a future legend made his pulse quicken.

But as the other trainers around him began eagerly discussing their scouting strategies, reality dealt Ren a harsh reality check.

[ Scouting Assessment: Ren ]

- Reputation: 0 (Unknown Background)

- Proven Track Record: None

- Political/Academy Leverage: None

- Status: Average NPC Trainer

He slow-blinked, staring blankly at the floor. Wait a minute. Who am I kidding?

In the game, players could just click a button to initiate training. But in this real, living 3D world, the Umamusume had free will, pride, and incredibly high standards. Why would any top-tier, named runner willingly tie her career to a complete nobody who looked like an average background character? They didn't know his stats. They didn't know he had an entire database of future racing knowledge locked in his head.

Even the generic, unnamed Umamusume would think twice before signing a contract with a rookie trainer who couldn't even explain his own credentials. If he walked up to someone like King Halo right now and offered to guide her to the top, she would probably laugh in his face—or worse, recognize his voice from the track incident.

Ren let out a slow, deflated sigh, adjusting the collar of his new trainer's vest. The dream was right in front of him, but the climb to get there was going to be an uphill battle against a mountain of skepticism. If he wanted to recruit anyone tomorrow, he couldn't just rely on a fancy suit. He needed a plan to prove he was worth their trust.

"Who am I kidding?" Ren muttered to himself, running a hand over his face. "I am so incredibly screwed."

The other trainers had already dispersed, eagerly heading toward the faculty dorms or the archives to research the upcoming runners. Ren remained anchored to the pristine floorboards of the hallway, a solitary figure radiating pure existential dread.

"Hello there."

The crisp, melodic greeting snapped Ren right out of his spiral. He blinked, his head jerking up to find Hayakawa Tazuna standing just a few feet away. She had a stack of orientation folders cradled in one arm, her signature green cap tilted perfectly as she regarded him with a warm, observant look.

Ren quickly adjusted his posture, offering a polite nod. "Ah... hello, Miss Hayakawa."

"If you are experiencing any difficulties, please let me know," Tazuna said, her voice carrying the practiced, gentle politeness of a seasoned administrator. "After all, we will be colleagues from now on."

"It’s nothing, really," Ren stammered, offering a weak, self-deprecating smile. "Just... a few nerves. Nothing worth noting, Miss Hayakawa."

Tazuna didn't look entirely convinced. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze assessing him with a look that felt unnervingly perceptive. "Almost every new trainer faces the exact same dilemma, Trainer..." She paused, her smile turning apologetic as she realized she hadn't caught his name earlier.

"Ah, my name is Ren. Just Ren," he supplied quickly.

"Trainer Ren," Tazuna corrected smoothly, her smile widening. "You must be worrying about what will happen if you fail to recruit an Umamusume during tomorrow's mock selection race."

Ren shifted his weight, feeling entirely exposed. Was it really that obvious?

"Please, don't be too discouraged," Tazuna continued, adjusting her grip on the folders. "Your entire batch consists of rookies. The Academy understands that it can be exceptionally difficult for a new face to convince a talented Umamusume to sign a contract right out of the gate. Because of this, the Director establishes a three-month grace period for all incoming staff."

She paused, ensuring he was taking in the information. "If you do not manage to secure a trainee within those three months, you won't be dismissed. Instead, you will be temporarily assigned to a senior trainer's stable. To put it simply, you will act as an assistant trainer, gaining hands-on experience and building your reputation until you are ready to scout a trainee of your own. Rest assured, the Director is not entirely heartless. Please, take your time choosing the right partner."

As Tazuna spoke, a massive wave of relief washed over Ren, nearly making his knees buckle.

Oh, thank god, he thought, exhaling a breath he felt like he’d been holding since he arrived in this world. I'm not going to be fired.

His hyperactive imagination had already constructed a grim future where, after failing to recruit a single runner, he was stripped of his crisp new suit, evicted from the faculty housing, and forced to sleep under a bridge, freezing to death because he didn't even know if he have legal identification in this universe. Losing this job would have literally meant cutting off his life support.

"Thank you so much for clarifying that, Miss Hayakawa," Ren said, his gratitude entirely genuine. The crushing weight on his chest had vanished, replaced by a manageable, cautious optimism. "You have no idea how much better that makes me feel."

Tazuna offered a casual, dismissive wave of her hand, treating the reassurance as a simple matter of course among peers. "I am glad I could be of assistance. And please, we are colleagues now—you can just call me Tazuna, Trainer Ren."

"Alright then. Thank you, Miss Tazuna," Ren replied, offering a more confident smile this time.

"You are very welcome. I shall take my leave now. Good luck with your preparations for tomorrow," she said, giving a polite, final nod before turning to walk down the grand hallway, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor.

Ren stood in the corridor, watching her green uniform disappear around the corner. He couldn't help but feel a profound sense of comfort.

She really is exactly like she is in the stories, he mused, a fond smile touching his lips. Reliable, kind, and always stepping in right when a trainer is about to lose their mind.

He adjusted the watch at his waist, his spirits thoroughly lifted. Tracen Academy was a terrifying, high-stakes, but knowing he had a three-month safety net meant he could actually afford to look for a trainee who truly fit his style, rather than desperately begging the first person he saw.

Then, a sudden, intrusive memory flashed in his mind the image of his digital smartphone screen, the fifth-place finish, and the cheerful text box reading: 'Your trainee seems to lack guts.'

Ren's smile twitched, a sudden drop of sweat tracing down his neck.

Well... she’s reliable as long as we're not talking about game mechanics. If she looks at my future trainee and tells me she lacks guts after I put everything into her stats, we're going to have a serious problem.

Shaking the absurd thought from his head, Ren turned toward the direction of the faculty dorms. He had a lot of studying to do if he wanted to success recruit Umamusume on the mock race tomorrow.

-------------divide------------------

The morning sun cut sharply through the window blinds, striking Ren square in the eyes. He groaned, shifting on the unfamiliar mattress, his mind still heavy with sleep. For a fleeting second, he expected to reach out and touch his cheap bedside table back in his old apartment.

Instead, his hand brushed against high-quality, polished oak.

Ren’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the pristine ceiling of his faculty lodging, the memories of yesterday crashing back into his brain. It wasn't a dream. I’m actually at Tracen Academy.

Then, his gaze flicked to the clock on the wall.

[ Current Time: 08:45 AM ]

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Ren bolted upright, his blanket flying across the room.

He was late. On his very first official day on the job, he had completely overslept. Sure, Tazuna had mentioned a three-month grace period, but showing up late to the very first scouting event was an express ticket to ruining his professional reputation before he even had one.

"This is what I get for staying up until two in the morning drafting recruitment pitches," he muttered frantically, throwing on his white shirt, pulling his tailored vest over his shoulders, and nearly tripping over his own trousers as he shoved his feet into his dress shoes.

Skipping breakfast entirely, Ren bolted out the door and sprinted across the campus. His chest burned, his stomach rumbled, and his tie flapped violently over his shoulder. He could only pray that the races hadn't already concluded, leaving him with an empty track and a bunch of smug, successful rookie trainers who had already poached the best talent.

When Ren finally arrived at the main grandstand, breathless and sweating, he let out a massive sigh of relief. The stands were packed with faculty, and the atmosphere was electric, but the electronic scoreboard indicated the first heat hadn't started yet. He had made it with just minutes to spare.

Smoothing down his vest and fixing his tie, Ren slipped into the crowd near the paddock railings, trying to look like a calculating professional rather than a man who had just escaped a tornado.

It was time to analyze the field.

He let his eyes scan the runners who were warming up. Most of them were generic, unnamed Umamusume talented, certainly, but none that triggered any specific memories from his past life's knowledge.

Then, a very distinct, theatrical laugh cut through the ambient noise of the crowd.

"Ohohoho!"

Ren's gaze snapped toward the center of the paddock. Standing there, radiating an aura of supreme confidence, was King Halo. She had her chin tilted upward, her hands resting proudly on her hips as she gave a textbook ojou-sama laugh that belonged in a fantasy anime.

So she’s participating in the mock races today, Ren thought, a wave of relief washing over him. At least she didn't get suspended or seriously injured by yesterday.

But as he watched her, he noticed he wasn't the only one staring. Dozens of rookie trainers had their eyes glued to King Halo, their notebooks open, their expressions hungry. Word traveled fast at Tracen; everyone knew who her mother was. To these rookies, King Halo looked like an easy, guaranteed ticket to a legendary career. Winning her over would require a masterclass in diplomacy and strategy, especially considering how many eyes were already on her.

Ren looked around the rest of the paddock to see if any other familiar faces were competing in this heat. He scanned the jerseys and the names on the roster. None. King Halo was the lone superstar in this particular bracket. The rest were completely unfamiliar prospects. If he couldn't somehow miracle his way into King Halo's good graces, he would have to test his luck scouting one of the undiscovered runners.

The chime echoed through the stadium speakers, signaling the start of the race. The Umamusume filed into the starting gates, their expressions turning deadly serious. Ren leaned against the railing, his eyes locked entirely on Gate 4. He couldn't afford to miss a single detail.

BANG!

The gates flew open, and the track erupted into a thunderous roar. True to her proud nature, King Halo exploded out of the gate, immediately seizing the lead and setting a blistering, aggressive pace at the front of the pack.

The crowd cheered, but Ren’s eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown.

Her posture is completely off, he noted, his internal gaming metrics translating the real-world physics before him. Look at the slight hitch in her left stride. She didn't recover from yesterday.

To the untrained eye, King Halo looked dominant. But Ren could see the subtle signs of physical exhaustion. Her muscles were stiff from the unmonitored over-exertion from the previous afternoon, and because she was pushing so hard to prove herself, her stamina management was completely nonexistent. She was burning through her reserves in the early stretch.

If she was in peak condition, she’d run away with this race easily, even with a bad tactical pace, Ren analyzed grimly. But like this? In the final stretch, her legs are going to turn to lead. She’s going to drop to second place, maybe even lower.

It was painful to watch. He understood her burning desire to prove her worth to her legendary mother, but watching a young girl actively sabotage her own body out of sheer stubbornness made his stomach turn.

"She’s overdoing it again, isn't she~?"

A casual, slightly drawn-out voice spoke up right beside him. Ren blinked, turning his head slightly to look at the person who had materialized next to him at the railing without him even noticing.

His eyes widened a fraction. It was Seiun Sky.

She was wearing her standard casual school uniform, leaning lazily against the metal bar with her chin resting in her hand, her eyes tracking King Halo’s position on the track. It made sense for her to be here; she was likely checking in on her classmate and friend.

What a good kid, Ren thought, a small smile forming.

But as he looked at Seiun Sky, he couldn't help but see the irony. King Halo was a visible fire—loud, intense, and overtly pushing herself to the brink. Seiun Sky, on the other hand, was a hidden current. She wore the mask of a lazy slacker who hated practice, but Ren knew the truth. In secret, when no one was watching, Sky put in extra, grueling hours of training, which was precisely why she always looked completely drained and sleepy during the day.

They were both running themselves ragged in entirely different ways.

Ren shook his head slightly, returning his focus to the track where the runners were entering the final turn. He briefly considered striking up a conversation with Seiun Sky—after all, having a connection with a brilliant strategist like her would be invaluable. But he reminded himself that he was a completely unknown rookie trainer. Throwing himself into a conversation unprompted might just make him look suspicious or overeager.

Unless she spoke to him first, he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut, maintain his professional composure, and watch the King Halo's final stretch unfold.