Chapter 71: Dreams

Only six horse girls in the long, storied history of the British Twinkle Series have ever achieved the British Long Distance Triple Crown.

Isonomy, Alycidon, Sowepi, Le Moss (two years in a row), Longboat, and Double Trigger—legendary horse girls whose names are etched into history. And now, at the invitation of one of them, Double Trigger, I found myself in a certain restaurant.

"I must apologize for my harsh words the other day."

"Oh, no, it’s fine—"

"Tonight’s my treat. Order whatever you’d like."

"Thank you."

The night after I met Double Trigger, I received a DM on UmaStar, the worldwide horse girl app. The message, likely auto-translated into awkwardly phrased Japanese, read: "I wish to apologize for my rudeness today. Would you join me for a meal?" The sheer unnaturalness of it made me laugh, and I immediately agreed.

As a result, on my day off three days before the Stayers Stakes, I ended up having dinner with her.

At first, I wasn’t sure how things would go with just the two of us, but Double Trigger made a conscious effort to speak slowly, so conversation wasn’t much of an issue. Of course, it wasn’t like our first meeting, where she’d been seething with open hostility. She is a horse girl with common sense, after all.

"Given how rude I was, I’m surprised Mr. Momozawa allowed you to dine alone with me."

"He’s very understanding."

"Hah! What’s with that ‘He gets me’ vibe? You’re flaunting it now, huh? Is this what you Japanese call ‘seisai’ or something? Eh?"

She’d been like this the whole time—leaning forward with a smile, fingers laced, staring intently at me. Her questions relentlessly dug into me and everything related to me. It seemed she genuinely wanted to get closer to me, a horse girl like her.

But surely there were others with better records or pedigrees. Why was she so fixated on me? I’d have to ask her later.

"I’m dying to know—just how far have things gone between Mr. Momozawa and you, Apollo? Hmm?"

"…………We’re just a normal horse girl and trainer."

But wow, Double Trigger really pushes boundaries. Is this the European way of bonding? Or is it just her personality? Either way, I’m happy, but her interrogation hits way too close to home.

Even though we were talking across a table, her leaning in made our faces uncomfortably close. I was so flustered I could barely keep my cool. Trying to hide my nerves, I took a sip of water—only for her to clap her hands in sudden realization.

"Ah-ha! I’ve just confirmed it. Apollo, you’re in love with Tomio, aren’t you?"

"Ghk—cough wheeze—ack!"

"Oh! Sorry, sorry. This is supposed to be a secret, right? Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep it under wraps."

"……Why does this keep happening? How do people figure it out the moment they meet me? Is my heart that easy to read?"

"Since I can understand Japanese, I’ll just say—you’ve been obvious since the day we met. Your ears twitch, your eyes dart around, your fingers fidget, and your tail wags way too much. Not to mention how you wrap it around his leg. Honestly, only the blind wouldn’t notice."

"Uh—uh—"

"And the coup de grâce? Your face when you’re riding his bike. Absolute gold. Even from a distance, anyone could tell—that was the look of a girl head over heels—"

"Aaaaah! Stop! I get it, okay?!"

"Such a cute reaction. Makes me want to tease you even more."

……This woman is the worst. If she’s paying, maybe I’ll order the most expensive dessert on the menu.

—Or so I thought, but seeing Double Trigger’s face pale at my ordering spree (she is still a student, after all), I reluctantly held back on the dessert.

"…Anyway. It’s unfair to grill you about yourself. If you have any questions for me, ask away."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Well… do you not have a trainer? I haven’t seen anyone like that with you."

"Ah, no trainer. We terminated our contract a while ago."

She said it so casually, but I mentally winced. Had I stepped on a landmine? I could’ve sworn I saw a flicker in her green eyes.

"…Did I ask something I shouldn’t have?"

"Don’t worry. I was just reminiscing."

According to her, her trainer retired due to old age the same year she won the British Long Distance Triple Crown. They still meet up for tea occasionally—apparently, they’re on good terms.

"This is my sixth year as an active racer—fourth in the senior division. I know my body and training inside out, so I don’t need a new trainer now."

"You handle your own race prep too? Wow… I could never."

"In Europe and America, many retire after the Classics. I hear Japanese trainer contracts usually last three years, but here and in the States, the standard is two."

From a racing perspective, European horseracing is heavily business-oriented. The biggest money comes from stud syndicates—breeding stallions. European purses are small, but the profits from breeding dwarf Japan’s. That’s why few horses risk running past their Classic years.

Meanwhile, Japanese racing is competition-driven, with far higher stakes. That’s why you see five- and six-year-olds still racing.

Breeding vs. racing—that’s the core difference. And those real-world norms carry over into the horse girl world, hence the contract discrepancies.

But in this world, it’s not like they can just go "Alright, time for stud duty! Syndicate, go!" So what do retired horse girls do here? Maybe they become trainers or have other roles unique to Europe. Might as well ask.

"In Japan, retired horse girls have things like the Dream Trophy League or TV appearances. What about European Twinkle Series retirees?"

"Most become trainers or coaches for young girls—often on a large scale. Some do the Dream Trophy League or TV, but many return home to nurture the next generation. The URA provides subsidies based on race wins, so that’s the baseline."

Huh… So that’s how it is. Wait, the URA is a global organization? I knew Europe, America, Hong Kong, Dubai, Australia, and Part 2 countries had similar systems, but I never realized it was all under one umbrella.

"But Apollo, that’s the problem. Horse girls teach based on their own experiences. And that’s why long-distance racing’s popularity keeps declining."

"Huh?"

"Whether in Japan or Europe, true long-distance competitiveness only emerges in the senior division. While sprint-mile-middle races have G1s year-round, long-distance runners wait until the Classics. Plus, there are fewer major races. Is it any wonder horse girls flock to shorter distances? With fewer experienced long-distance mentors, fewer newcomers receive proper guidance… and the cycle continues."

"Exactly."

Late bloomers, scarce rewards, limited race options—who would willingly walk such a brutal path? Even if outliers like me or Double Trigger exist, it’s obvious why horse girls and fans flock to the spotlight and prize money of sprint-to-middle distances.

"Fewer mentors for stayers mean fewer voices to champion long-distance racing. If stayers lose popularity, TV and streaming coverage will vanish too. It’s a downward spiral. If this continues, the value of long-distance—the discipline I love—will crumble to nothing. I can’t let that happen."

As our conversation lulled, the food arrived. Silence hung between us, leaving me scrambling for words.

The one to break the tension was Double Trigger herself, her gaze lowered. Long bangs shadowed her face, hiding her expression—but her clenched fists trembled. They were white-knuckled, trembling with a pressure so intense it bordered on the Unknown Zone.

"Apollo. Do you have a dream? I… had one I couldn’t surrender."

"…Had?"

"The revival of long-distance racing—once a crown jewel of the sport. For years, that was my dream. But it was futile. When I won the British Long Distance Triple Crown, no one cared. All eyes were on the King George, the Arc, the Champion Stakes, the Queen Elizabeth II Stakes. The world had forgotten long-distance races. My victories at Goodwood, Doncaster—even the Triple Crown itself—meant nothing to them."

"That’s not—"

Her anguish painted itself across my mind: a girl standing under vast skies, clutching glory in one hand and despair in the other. The quiet roots of helplessness, a feverish longing for past prestige, the gnawing fear of her aging body and the next injury lurking around the corner.

This storm of emotions birthed the Unknown Zone swirling around her. She must’ve sensed it creeping in during her long-distance battles—awakening fully when she chased the Triple Crown. I remember her unleashing a monstrous sprint in that year’s Gold Cup. Had she been refining this power ever since?

…Double Trigger’s called a veteran, but she’s only three years older than me, Apollo Rainbow. Mature as she looks, she’s still a high schooler—barely 20. For her to sound this jaded… How deep did her wounds run? European long-distance racing’s decline might be worse than I imagined.

"…Don’t bother comforting me. When I came to Japan, no one knew my name. That’s answer enough. Though I suppose being a ‘has-been’ doesn’t help."

"Double Trigger…"

"…………"

Unable to bear it, I grabbed her hand. Her chestnut bangs shifted, revealing a sliver of emerald eyes—waiting, hoping for my words.

But I couldn’t speak. My mouth opened, then shut, teeth gritting.

"Let’s revive long-distance racing together!"

"You’re not a has-been!"

Countless phrases flickered through my mind, yet none felt right. They’d ring hollow. Her despair ran deeper than I could grasp. No words would reach her.

And right now… my own dream is wavering. I can’t remember something fundamental—the name of the horse girl who inspired me to become the strongest stayer, and the precious thing tied to her. This gap in my memory bred doubt, then fear, until it shattered the very core of who Apollo Rainbow is.

How could I, adrift in my own crumbling dream, possibly lift someone else up?

Seeing me choke on my silence, Double Trigger smiled faintly. She swept her bangs aside, forced a bright grin, and squeezed my hand back.

"…Well, Apollo. You’ve got a dream too, right? Something bold enough to cut through this gloom?"

"…I…"

"Every horse girl who thrives in this harsh world has a fierce dream and spirit. Le Moss wouldn’t take interest in someone aimless."

"…I want to be the strongest stayer."

"Ha! Now we’re talking!"

"But—"

"……But?"

"I don't know why, but I feel like I've lost confidence in my dream. Even though I just won the Kikuka-shō and took my first step toward becoming the strongest stayer, I feel uneasy somewhere deep down... scared."

"Hey now. It's not like you've been running series after series and gotten jaded like me. What's really bothering you?"

"……I don't know."

"…………. It might sound strange coming from me, but Apollo's right in the middle of adolescence. It's natural to have worries—nothing to be concerned about. Everyone goes through it. At that age, it's a painful period when doubts about your dreams, goals, and way of living start creeping in, along with all kinds of anxieties."

Now that I thought about it, this unpleasant feeling might resemble the moment when you first start seeing reality. Back when I was just a brat of a boy, "I" used to dream of becoming a baseball or soccer player. But I wasn't putting in desperate effort like I do now. I was only captivated by the handful of wildly successful stars in the world, vaguely thinking, "I'll be like that someday," with a child's heart—never once doubting I'd become a world-famous superstar.

Yet, as reality wore me down, I gave up on those dreams and started focusing on studies. I wouldn't become a soccer player. I wouldn't become a baseball player. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even become a game developer—something I’d casually listed as my "third-choice future career." Without knowing how to make it happen, it all slipped through my fingers. Like a minor setback, or an inevitable realization. That strange resignation, only heavier—this inexplicable sensation was washing over me.

Even though the moment when my dream of becoming the strongest stayer would turn into reality wasn’t far off. Even though I’d long since stopped seeing it as just a dream and had set my sights on it as a concrete goal. Even though I’d sworn to myself I’d never give up—and then won the Kikuka-shō. Yet the wavering of my spirit was tearing my world apart with ridiculous ease.

The self-awareness from when I was just an ordinary human and the self-awareness of now, as a horse girl, were chaotically jumbled together, as if they were negatively influencing each other. Until now, both versions of myself had coexisted and interacted smoothly, but at this moment, all I could feel was their mutual toxicity.

"What can I say—maybe it's just the nature of horse girls and humans. Having worries that torment you to death."

"Out of nowhere, this anxiety appeared. It's the worst."

"Heh. I get it. Yeah, it really is the worst."

Double Trigger laughed cheerfully before digging into her completely cooled gratin. Meanwhile, I couldn’t even bring myself to touch the food I’d ordered. My appetite had vanished entirely, and I could already tell this would be a reluctant meal.

Double Trigger turned her compassionate eyes toward me and began enjoying her food with mature grace. I stared at the spoonful of omurice I’d picked up, etching her words into my mind.

"If you're feeling anxious, scared, or suffering... if you ever feel like you need to rely on someone, try talking to Mr. Momozawa. We tend to cherish our relationships precisely because we like and care about the other person. But even when you share a bond where you can bare your deepest feelings, treating it too preciously—like a treasure—can sometimes poison it. This is advice from someone who’s failed before: it’s important not to avoid these heavy, painful topics. If you muster the courage to confront them, I’m sure he’ll listen seriously—as an adult, as your most important partner."

I thought, I want to be a kind person like her. Tucking her words gently into my heart, I thanked her from the bottom of mine. I let the "arigatou" stay in Japanese. Double Trigger smiled warmly, covering her mouth with a hand as she said, "Japanese food really is delicious."

It was painful, but also a happy time. Confiding my struggles as a fellow stayer made me feel just a little lighter.

Still, I’d crush them mercilessly in the Stayers Stakes—that much, I vowed.