Chapter 3:

"Don't you think so too, unknown trainer?"

Seiun Sky’s voice was as airy and casual as a passing breeze. Ren, who had been completely locked into the tactical disaster unfolding on the track, blinked and turned his head slightly toward the green-haired girl.

He pointed a finger at his own chest. "Are you talking to me?"

"No, I’m talking to the railing," Seiun Sky replied with a lazy, deadpan smirk, not even looking up from her arms.

"Oh. I didn't know railings could talk back. My bad," Ren said simply. Without missing a beat, he turned his gaze right back to the track, maintaining a perfectly straight face while he waited for her reaction.

Beside him, Seiun Sky’s lazy smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She blinked, staring at the side of his face. Wait... is the script supposed to go like this? Usually, rookie trainers practically tripped over themselves trying to impress an Umamusume, especially one who already had a bit of a reputation like her. They would get excited, flash a flashy smile, and try to launch into a practiced recruitment pitch.

But this guy? He just accepted the sarcasm and went right back to ignoring her. Maybe he's trying to play hard to get, Sky thought, letting out a soft, amused hum. Well, it’s not like it matters to me anyway.

"You know, the Umamusume leading the pack right now is my friend," Sky said, her voice dropping back into its usual sluggish rhythm, though Ren could catch a faint, subtle trace of pride tucked beneath her words. She tilted her head toward him. "What do you think? She’s totally going to win, right?"

Ren watched King Halo’s form for a long, quiet moment. Then, he looked down at Seiun Sky.

"Is it fine if I speak completely honestly?" he asked, his tone shifting into something more professional.

Sky gave a casual nod. "Feel free~"

"She's going to lose," Ren said flatly.

Right on cue, as the pack crossed the halfway marker, King Halo’s stride visibly faltered, her lead shrinking by a fraction of a second as the chasing pack began to close the gap.

Before Sky could snap at him or offer an indignant defense of her classmate, Ren cut in smoothly, his eyes locked on the track as he laid out his analysis. "And the reason she's going to lose is something you already know. You said it yourself just a minute ago: she’s overdoing it."

"I..." Sky stopped, the words catching in her throat.

She turned her head sharply back toward the race. If she told herself she was completely fine with his blunt assessment, she’d be lying. No one likes hearing a total stranger predict their friend’s failure. But as she watched King Halo’s shoulders rising and falling with increasing weight, a heavy realization settled in her chest. She knew how hard King Halo had been pushing herself in secret. She knew about the unmonitored laps, the stubborn refusal to rest, and the crushing weight of expectation the proud girl carried.

The analytical side of Sky's brain the brilliant tactician hidden beneath the lazy exterior knew the trainer was statistically correct. King Halo was running out of gas. But as a friend, she still desperately wanted him to be wrong.

Ren glanced down at Sky's quiet, tense profile, and an internal sigh echoed in his mind.

Great. Look at me go, running my mouth again, he thought bitterly. There goes any microscopic chance I ever had of recruiting Seiun Sky in the future. She probably thinks I’m a heartless cynic now.

Of course he wanted King Halo to win. He knew her story; he knew how much this meant to her. But as a trainer—even a completely unproven one—he couldn't lie to himself or to the girl standing next to him about the cold reality of sports science.

He just hoped that whatever trainer eventually scouted King Halo would prioritize her health and well-being over a shallow desire for an early trophy. Because if she kept running like this, she wouldn't just lose a mock race—she was going to break herself sooner or later.

On the track, the illusion of dominant control finally shattered.

The thunderous roar of the crowd seemed to dim as King Halo’s early, blistering speed began to decay. Her legs, heavy with the accumulated lactic acid of yesterday’s brutal unmonitored workout, refused to respond to her frantic commands. Behind her, the rhythmic, predatory thud of racing shoes grew louder. The chasing pack was closing in.

No... just a little more! King Halo gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached, her ears pinning back flat against her skull.

The white line of the finish banner was visible now, tantalizingly close. Just a few more seconds. She just needed her body to hold together for a few more strides. But the laws of sports science were entirely indifferent to her willpower.

The runners who had paced themselves carefully throughout the middle leg began their final kicks. They erupted into their last spurts, their forms fluid and full of stored energy as they effortlessly surged past her. King Halo had completely spent her reserves. Her reckless early lead had left her bankrupt for the final stretch; her "spurt" was nonexistent, her pace a agonizingly slow crawl compared to her opening sprint.

I am a King! I will become a first-rate Umamusume! I cannot lose here!

Through sheer, terrifying obstinacy, she managed to force her legs to twitch a fraction faster, squeezing out a final, desperate burst of momentum. Her vision tunneled. The roaring stands vanished, replaced entirely by the ragged, desperate sound of her own gasping breath.

Huff... huff...

The finish line was right there. She reached for it—

A shadow flashed to her left. King Halo’s red eyes widened in horror as the girl who had been lingering in third place effortlessly sailed past her. Then another jersey blurred past on her right. And another.

By the time she crossed the line, King Halo had plummeted to a dismal fourth place.

She slowed to a halt on the track, her hands resting heavily on her knees as her chest heaved violently. She stood completely numb, staring blankly at the track beneath her running shoes.

She had lost.

A heavy, suffocating weight settled in her throat, but she fiercely clamped down on it. I can't cry. A first-rate Umamusume does not show weakness to the crowd. I am first-rate... I am...

As she forced her chin upward to maintain her dignity, her eyes inadvertently drifted toward the VIP spectator box in the grandstands. A familiar, elegantly dressed figure was already standing up, turning her back to the track, and walking away without a single backward glance. Her mother hadn't even stayed for the post-race announcements.

A sharp prickle of tears stung the corners of King Halo’s eyes. Her breath hitched. But before a single drop could fall, she aggressively wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, threw her head back, and forced out a loud, theatrical laugh that lacked any real warmth.

"O-Ohohoho! A mere minor stumble! A true King simply uses such trivial matches to test the waters!" she proclaimed to the empty track, her voice trembling slightly beneath the bravado as she tried to bury her breaking heart under a mountain of pride.

Up at the grandstand railing, the silence between Ren and Seiun Sky was heavy.

Sky’s usual lazy, detached demeanor had completely evaporated. She leaned over the metal bar, her fingers gripping the steel tight enough to whiten her knuckles, her eyes locked onto the tragic display of her friend's desperate pride. There was a profound, quiet worry in her gaze—the look of someone who wanted to help but knew their friend’s pride was a fortress that wouldn't let anyone in.

Ren stood beside her, his expression deeply complicated. He let out a long, quiet sigh, the sound heavy with frustration and empathy.

Seeing it happen on a 2D phone screen was one thing. Seeing the raw, agonizing reality of a young girl breaking her own spirit on a real track, watching her mother abandon her from the stands, and hearing that hollow, forced laugh... it turned his stomach.

"She has the engine of a champion," Ren murmured softly, his voice barely carrying over the ambient noise of the crowd, though he knew Sky could hear him. "But even the best engine will seize if you refuse to put oil in it. She doesn't need to be scolded, and she doesn't need people to pity her. She just needs someone to show her that resting isn't the same thing as giving up."

He looked down at his watch, his grip tightening around the plastic casing. He knew he was an unknown rookie. He knew his chances were slim. But watching King Halo stand alone on that track, desperately trying to convince the world she was fine, made something shift inside him. He didn't just want to survive his three-month grace period anymore. He wanted to help her.