Chapter 55: Hot Summer Training Camp, Part 2

Morning arrived as I woke up. However, it always takes me a while to actually get moving after waking. Staring blankly at the wooden grain on the ceiling, I lay sprawled out like a starfish, waiting for my consciousness to fully return. Well, "waiting" might not be the right word… Maybe "searching for a reason to get up" would be more accurate.

"I can't eat anymore…"

"Apollo-senpaaai…"

Sleep talking...Not only was Su-chan (Special Week) clinging tightly to my waist, but Vodka had also wrapped her arms around me, making me feel zero motivation to get up. Even in midsummer, the early morning seaside was pleasantly cool. The comforting warmth of Su-chan and Vodka only lulled me deeper into drowsiness. Their snug, toasty presence was like a hot water bottle, utterly ruining my willpower. Sigh… Maybe I should go back to sleep.

I propped myself up slightly and saw everyone else still fast asleep, breathing softly. None of the usual competitive fire they had during races. It vaguely reminded me of early mornings on school trips. Surely, I wasn’t the only one who found something special and amusing about seeing friends’ sleeping faces—something you’d never normally see.

After lightly running my free hand through Su-chan and Vodka’s hair, I noticed something odd. Silence Suzuka was missing. The futon where she should’ve been sleeping was already folded, and the sliding door to the large room was slightly ajar.

After somehow freeing myself from Special Week and Vodka’s grasp, I changed into my track suit and decided to follow Suzuka. The sun hadn’t been up for long, breakfast wasn’t ready yet, and the surroundings were still dim. She was probably out running, but something about her behavior nagged at me.

Stepping outside the inn, I spotted Suzuka on the track course, running endlessly. Watching her silently was Trainer Okino in his aloha shirt. Not wanting to intrude, I turned toward the beach instead.

Thanks to yesterday’s thorough cleanup, the shore was spotless—no trash from the water’s edge to the dry sand. I noticed Trainer Amami in casual attire and called out to her.

"Trainer Amami, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, Apollo. Shouldn’t I be asking you the same?"

"I saw Suzuka was up early, so I followed her out of curiosity… but it looked like she was busy with the trainers, so I didn’t want to interrupt. Thought I’d kill time collecting seashells or something."

"Fufu~"

Suddenly, Amami turned her closed left hand toward me, flipping it open to reveal a palm full of beautifully shaped seashells, their damp surfaces glittering with grains of sand. "Wow!" I couldn’t help but stare. Each shell was so distinct, I was mesmerized. Puffing her chest proudly, she carefully placed them into a small box.

"I didn’t know Trainer Amami had such a cute hobby."

"McQueen says the same. 'What a cute hobby,' she teases. Is collecting seashells—or having hobbies like this—really that strange?"

"I don’t think it’s strange. Maybe a little childish, though."

"Ahaha, hearing that makes me feel all sorts of things."

"?"

"I spent my childhood buried in studies, so now, as an adult, I’m trying to reclaim my lost youth, you could say… Never mind. Apollo, you should do the things you want to do while you still can. Training and studying are important, but following your heart matters just as much. Things you couldn’t do as a child… they leave a deeper mark than you’d think."

"You mean, like hobbies and preferences?"

"Well… yes. It might be meddlesome of me, but when it comes to things you can only do now… Hmm, like with Momozawa-kun, for instance."

"Wha—huh!? What do you mean by that!?"

"………… It’s not good for a trainer to say such things, so forget I mentioned it. Now, shall we head back for breakfast?"

"W-wait! What was that about!? Hey!"

And so, I returned to the inn with Trainer Amami, where everyone was starting to wake up. Breakfast was being served in the dining hall, with Su-chan and the others already digging in. As for me? My mind was too preoccupied with Amami’s earlier comment to even touch my food.

First Spica, now even Amami is meddling in my relationship with Tomio? Just how obvious is it? The thought alone makes my face burn. If my feelings are this transparent, then why hasn’t Tomio noticed yet!? Yesterday was proof enough.

Seriously, how dense can he be…? Infuriatingly, hopelessly, oblivious trainer. The only time he hugs me is before or after races, that dumb, dumb trainer. I’m putting in all this effort—someone as cute as me is practically throwing herself at him! The least he could do is catch on a little!

At this point, it’s not about avoiding misunderstandings—this calls for a full-on "romantic conquest." According to him, he spent his entire youth studying for the trainer exams, so maybe he’s just inexperienced when it comes to romance. That might explain it, but still…

Ugh… I bought a swimsuit and everything, but now that I think about it, will that even be enough to fluster him? I’ll probably just get a "Oh, how cute~" and that’ll be it. Maybe the only way to get through to him is to… s-s-say… I like him…? But saying that to his face is impossible! I’d die of embarrassment!

"Apollo-senpai?"

"Eek!? Wh-what is it!?"

"Nothing, but your food’s getting cold."

"Ah! Ahaha, right! Let’s eat!!"

Scolded by Daiwa Scarlet, I shoveled down my meal before heading out for morning training.

Today’s session was under Trainer Okino. We’d be running along the shoreline where we’d picked up trash yesterday. After changing into school-issued swimsuits at the inn, we slipped on sandals and headed to the beach.

"Listen up! Today’s training is all about endurance—running on the sand! For those who forgot or never knew, you’ll be running in pairs along the water’s edge. Push yourselves to outpace your partner! Momozawa Trainer’s spot marks 500 meters, and Amami Trainer’s is 1000 meters. Round trip makes it 2000 meters—we’ll do multiple sets with breaks, so pace yourselves! That’s all!"

Following Okino’s instructions, we kicked off our sandals under the watchful eyes of the three trainers. Something about needing bare feet for better grip. At the signal, Silence Suzuka bolted out first, with Special Week hot on her heels. Their figures quickly shrank into the distance, reaching Tomio’s post in no time.

My partner was Gold Ship. Sticking her tongue out as if tasting the wind, she muttered, "Salty." …Yeah, no idea what that’s about. After a brief pause, Okino suddenly gave the signal. Gold Ship shot forward, and I immediately chased after her, kicking up sand as I ran.

"ORA ORA ORAAA—!"

Gold Ship exploded off the starting line with unbelievable force. I tried to match her speed, but the shoreline was nothing like dirt track training. The crashing waves and receding tide threw off my balance and ruined my form.

Ahead of me, Gold Ship charged through the surf like a battering ram, slicing through the water without a care. Instead of being slowed by the waves, she kicked them aside, sending up massive sprays as she accelerated. I wanted to do the same, but compared to her raw power, my legs just couldn’t fight the resistance. The water dragged at my thighs like lead weights.

Think about it—when you’re in a bath, do your limbs move as freely underwater? Of course not. Even at full effort, it’s like wading through wet cotton. Your motion slows. Your trajectory wobbles. Your form collapses. That exact phenomenon was happening to my legs now.

And the moment I tried to push off the sand, my feet sank deep, destabilizing me further. Of course, that instability also reduced strain on my legs—a devilishly well-designed training method.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

"Whoa!? You’re actually keeping up with me, Gold-sama!?"

"Obviously! I’m not losing to you!"

"Damn, Golshi-chan, I might just fall for ya!"

I leaned forward, kicking through the heavy surf. The resistance was insane—like shackles snapping around my ankles with every step.

Finally passing the 500-meter mark, I heard Tomio’s voice shouting encouragement. "The endurance you build here will save you in races!" Or something like that—I was too desperate to listen properly.

But he was right. When stamina fails and your legs lock up mid-race, it does feel like this. To replicate that pressure so perfectly… scary stuff, Okino. I never fully appreciated the depth of his training expertise until now.

Side by side with Gold Ship, we fought for every inch of the 1000-meter stretch, our rivalry igniting the same fire as my dead heat with Seiun Sky in the Satsuki Sho. Whether it’s training or a real race, I hate letting anyone stay ahead of me.

By the time we blasted past Amami at the finish line, Gold Ship and I were gasping, glaring at each other. A near tie—but technically, her win. Grinning like a gremlin, she flashed a peace sign.

Not bad, I thought, wiping sweat away. But the return 1000 meters was still ahead. This time, we’d race on dry sand—no water resistance, just the struggle of fighting the unstable ground. It felt closer to dirt track conditions, but natural sand was far less forgiving than groomed turf.

Power and sheer grit were the only way forward. The lack of solid footing made it hard to generate momentum—Gold Ship, with her long strides, seemed to struggle even more here than in the waves.

This is my chance. I shifted to a quicker stride, pushing the pace until I crossed the finish line a full length ahead. This time, I won. Glancing at Golshi, I caught her staring back with a "Oh, you little—" look.

"Alright, five-minute break for those who finished! We’re running this drill multiple times, so stay sharp!"

And so, Day 2 of camp became a relentless series of seaside battles, with Gold Ship and me going head-to-head over and over. One by one, the others dropped out, until only Silence Suzuka, Gold Ship, and I remained standing by the end.

Then came the afternoon’s "training"—digging holes in the sand and burying each other. A very Spica-style workout that left our legs and arms screaming. (Okino nearly got buried alive in the chaos, but no casualties.) By bedtime, we were so exhausted we collapsed into sleep like corpses.

Day 3 of the training camp was under Trainer Amami’s supervision. Arriving at the track course ten minutes early, we obediently began warm-up stretches as instructed. But after that… no further orders came.

The first—and only—directive had been given four hours ago, at 8 AM. Meaning, we’d spent the entire morning warming up. And I wasn’t the only one who found that weird. Even Mejiro McQueen seemed skeptical. Wasting half a day of precious summer camp on stretches? That wasn’t just wasteful—it was suspicious.

We bombarded Tomio and Trainer Okino with questions, but all they said was, "Treat this like pre-race adjustments. Take it seriously." Way too cryptic. By this point, even Gold Ship was grumbling, "If this keeps up after lunch, I’m punching someone."

After a quick meal, we regrouped at the track—only for a cheerful Amami to arrive, clapping her hands apologetically.

"Sorry, everyone! Our special guest got stuck in traffic! They’ll be here soon, so just keep warming up, okay?"

With that, she dashed off toward the parking lot.

"Special guest?"

"Now that you mention it, she did say something like that…"

"Anyone know who it is?"

"We weren’t told, no."

"Should we go check?"

"Let’s."

"Yeah! Let’s all go!"

"Aye-aye~!"

Muttering among ourselves, we followed Amami. Our bodies were plenty warmed up by now. Time to see who this "special guest" was.

In the parking lot sat a familiar crimson sports car—so high-end that even Vodka, a motorcycle enthusiast, gaped at it. The driver’s door swung open in an absurdly extravagant wing-style motion, and out stepped a chestnut-brown horse girl with wavy, waist-length hair and gentle, droopy eyes—

"Hiiii~! Apollo-chan, eating any nata de coco lately? Big sis’s advice: When things get tough, pair it with Italian food! ☆"
"Maruzensky!? Why are you—!?"

No mistake. My idol, my mentor—Maruzensky. She was the special guest? Even retired, her legendary speed was undoubtedly world-class. So that’s why Okino and Tomio treated warm-ups like pre-race prep…

Just then, Amami opened her mouth to explain—but Maruzensky silenced her with a finger. Before I could wonder why, the sports car’s passenger door opened.

And from it emerged—

A chestnut-brown horse girl radiating overwhelming pressure, her signature crescent-moon forelock unmistakable.

The undefeated Triple Crown winner.
The conqueror of seven G1 titles.
The strongest of all time—

Symboli Rudolf.

"I take it no one mentioned Maruzensky and I were invited as guests? Apollo Rainbow."

"Eh—!? P-President Rudolf!?"

—We were not prepared.

(Well, except for Tokai Teio and Gold Ship. Teio-chan immediately bounded over and clung to Rudolf’s side like an excited puppy.)

How many times had I seen Rudolf in her track suit before? Maybe once or twice in passing—but never up close like this. She was otherworldly. Where Maruzensky exuded warmth, Rudolf’s aura was pure steel.

And then it hit me.

I cracked a stupid pun at her on UmaSta.

I am going to die.

Not only did she remember my name—she addressed me directly. This was it. I should’ve never made that joke. Uwaaaah, I hit the almighty Rudolf-sama with my cringiest wordplay… Why did I have to smirk like an idiot back then!? Worst mistake ever. I want to vanish.

"Kaichou! So YOU were the special guest!? You and Maruzensky are gonna train with us!?"

"Indeed. Today, you’ll be racing against us."

"Rudolf, we’re behind schedule. Let’s warm up quickly."

"Right. Teio, could you step back for a moment?"

"Ehh~! Fine…"

As Teio-chan reluctantly untangled herself from Rudolf, I felt the president’s gaze lock onto me.

This was bad.

Sure, she’d replied politely on UmaSta—but what if she’d actually been furious at my lame joke this whole time!?

I started trembling. My teeth chattered. My legs spasmed. Behind me, Suzuka sucked in a sharp breath.

Then, as Rudolf walked past me—

"Apollo. I’ve been looking forward to racing you."

—She smiled.

And with that, I was utterly defeated.

Yep. I’m gonna die.

Mom, Dad… I’m sorry.