Chapter 81: The End of the Classics

After the Winning Live, we immediately hopped into a taxi and headed to the hospital—a preferred facility affiliated with the URA. It’s well-known among horse girls for quickly treating injuries sustained during races. By the time we arrived, they had already been briefed, and my right eye was promptly examined and treated.

Fortunately, the injury was minor. As long as I wore an eyepatch to restrict movement and used the prescribed eye drops, I’d be fine. When I went to the hallway to reassure Tomio and my parents, all three of them let out a relieved sigh.

"They said it’ll heal completely in about a week."

Mom and Dad were visibly shaken seeing me with the eyepatch. Mom, especially—her tail and ears were way too expressive, and I almost laughed. Tomio, meanwhile, wore an incredibly complicated expression, caught between "Thank goodness it wasn’t worse" and "I’m so sorry I let your daughter get hurt."

Guilt seemed to win out, as the trainer bowed deeply to my parents.

"I sincerely apologize. The fault lies entirely with me—I was the one who told her to push herself to the limit in the inner lane."

"...Momoizawa-san, please raise your head. Everyone knows injuries are an unavoidable part of racing."

While Dad and Tomio talked, Mom pulled me into a tight hug. Having this happen in front of Tomio was embarrassing, so I tried to squirm away—but Mom was a horse girl too, and resistance was futile. I was locked in her grip.

My parents were kind of embarrassingly doting. They spoiled me, patted my head when I succeeded, and hugged me when I failed. No matter what, they just couldn’t stop showering me with affection. I thought they’d changed over the past year and a half, but apparently not much had.

"Apollo... I’m so glad you’re okay."

"You didn’t need to worry that much."

"Don’t be ridiculous. Every single one of your races is so all-out that it’s terrifying to watch. I get that you want to win, but please, take better care of yourself..."

"...Mom."

Hearing the pain in her voice made my chest tighten. The parents who raised me were trembling—just that alone felt like a stab to the heart.

...Sure, winning was the greatest joy, but if I got seriously hurt pushing myself to the brink, it’d all be for nothing. That much was obvious. I’d worry if a friend got injured too, and I’d feel conflicted seeing someone race recklessly. And if it were my own child constantly risking injury? Well, Mom’s reaction was probably the normal one.

Now I finally understood why Tomio always nagged, "The one thing I don’t want is for you to get hurt," and took such care with post-training recovery. Chastened, I hugged Mom back. Her body was as small as mine, but to me, she was enormous. I’d wanted them to celebrate my victory, but... considering how Mom felt, I could let this slide.

After that, Dad congratulated me on the Grand Prix win, I promised to bring Tomio home with me later, and we went our separate ways for now. My parents would do some sightseeing before heading back.

Since my injury was minor, Tomio and I returned to Tracen Academy before curfew.

The inconvenience of the injury became obvious the next morning. With my right eye covered by the eyepatch and still groggy from sleep, I ended up tumbling out of bed. The dull thud woke my roommate Guriko, and the ensuing fuss over whether I’d hit anything made for a chaotic morning.

By the time the Arima Kinen ended, Tracen Academy was already on winter break. No classes meant a mountain of homework, but as students committed to both academics and athletics, many finished their assignments early and spent their free time training.

Others went home for the New Year to rest. I was in the latter group, so I spent the morning and early afternoon packing lightly for the trip.

Not that there was much to pack—just casual clothes, spare uniforms, a portable charger, charging cables, and some race analysis books I’d borrowed from the library. Even so, my suitcase was stuffed full.

"Apollo-chan, you’re the type to go home for the holidays?"

"Yeah. What about you, Guriko?"

"Hmm... I couldn’t last year, so I figured I should show my face this time. Where’s your place at, Apollo-chan?"

"Up north~"

After packing, the evening was reserved for a private victory celebration with just Tomio and me. Thanks to my injury, direct interviews and photoshoots had been postponed until after New Year’s.

That meant the start of the year would be hectic, but I trusted Tazuna-san and the other skilled trainers to handle it. The insane workload of elite trainers like Tomio was one of Tracen Academy’s chronic issues.

I bought some snacks at the school store and headed to the trainer’s office. Sending a "On my way" via chat, I got a read receipt within seconds. "Waiting for you," the reply said, and I couldn’t help but smile as I clutched the plastic bag to my chest.

A party for just the two of us. The thought alone sent an indescribable thrill through me. We’d spent plenty of time alone before, but a party sent my excitement skyrocketing.

This was basically our Christmas party. Since our pre-Grand Prix meeting had been cut short, Tomio had gone all out—cake, a whole roasted turkey (seriously?), and even a belated Christmas present he hadn’t been able to give me on the day.

We’d talk, eat delicious food, maybe even feed each other... Ahaha...

"Ow!"

Maybe because my thoughts had taken a sinful turn, I stumbled a few times and even bonked my forehead on something weird, but I finally made it to the trainer’s office. Knocking and stepping inside, my eyes met a lightly decorated room.

Fluffy tinsel (or whatever that Christmas tree stuff is called) hung everywhere, though cleaning it up later would be a pain. The usual piles of paperwork and books were gone, and the small Christmas tree that had been on the verge of being packed away now glowed with lights, reclaiming its brief seasonal identity. And right in the middle of the table sat the silent centerpiece—the turkey.

"Heya!"

"Yo, welcome."

"Wow, you really went all out with the decorations."

"Yeah, well. Wrapped up work too."

"Seriously? That’s amazing."

"Thanks."

Tomio gestured toward the sofa. Following his lead, I plopped down at the table, wagging my tail excitedly. His gaze kept flickering nervously toward my right eye—even though the doctor must’ve already briefed him. Such a worrywart.

"I’m staaarving," I declared, immediately grabbing a fork. Tomio chuckled wryly as he carved the turkey, then held up a hand to stop me from lunging at the meat. Apparently, he wanted to say a few words first.

"Apollo. You ran your heart out in the Classics, just like you did in the Juniors. Really… you did amazing. Today, forget about weight management. Eat as much as you want and enjoy yourself."

"...Thanks. But mentioning weight was unnecessary."

"Can’t help it. Managing your weight is my job."

"Sexual harassment~"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway—let’s dig in. Itadakimasu."

"Itadakimasu!"

...Right. My second year in the Classics was already over. Only a year and change left with Tomio. Once the "initial three years" ended, our trainer contract would expire—and then we’d have to choose between renewing or parting ways.

Obviously, I had no intention of letting him go. But that was my selfish wish. Tomio was dedicated to his career as a trainer, and I was just one of the many horse girls he worked with. Realistically, hogging him forever wasn’t an option.

My mind drifted to Mom and Dad’s relationship. Trainer and trainee. Dad became a regional trainer young, while Mom threw herself into racing as a local Tracen student. Our situations weren’t entirely dissimilar.

The critical difference? We weren’t likely to naturally end up like them. I was a coward, and Tomio always kept things professional no matter what… If I didn’t make some kind of move by the end of our third year, this relationship would probably fizzle out without fanfare.

I stuffed my face with turkey and shoveled in rice (weird combo for a Christmas party, but whatever). Honestly, good food and sleep could solve most problems. As the rich flavors spread, so did a hazy optimism—things’ll work out somehow.

Tomio was happily alternating between turkey and rice too. I’m fine, but at this rate, I worried he’d have no room for cake later.

"Still can’t believe whole roasted turkeys actually exist. Only seen ’em in cartoons, so this is kinda magical…"

"First time for me too. Got overexcited and bought it on impulse."

"Nothing wrong with that sometimes."

"Yeah. Figured it’s justified—this is a celebration for the horse girl who swept the Derby, Kikuka-shō, and Arima Kinen. Doubt anyone’ll complain about a little extravagance."

The Derby. The Kikuka-shō. The Arima Kinen. Even hearing it listed out, it didn’t feel real. I’d just been desperate to win each race, to never lose to my rivals. I knew all too well how much I still lacked, how far I was from being "the strongest"—not that I’d ever admit weakness outright.

Tomio probably threw this party because he knew how relentlessly hard I was on myself. Strict as he was, he never hesitated to praise me when deserved. That balance kept me from burning out.

...God, I love him so much. We’re like two halves of a whole—perfect complements. I rein in his workaholism; he covers for my flaws.

Damn, we’re kinda iconic. People might even mistake us for a married couple. I wanna hug him. Hold his hand.

"...Apollo? Is your eye—"

"Huh? Oh! N-no, I’m fine! Just spacing out."

"Tell me immediately if anything’s wrong…"

"Y-yeah…"

He leaned in, studying my face. Why’s he only perceptive about the wrong things? On the flip side, how could he miss my feelings? I’ve dropped so many hints. Is he that dense?!

…But that’s part of his charm. Ugh, this is agony. I drowned my woes in turkey.

"Anyway, where’d you even find this turkey?"

"Oh, right. There’s this specialty shop nearby—walked past it a while back and did a double-take. Went inside, and yep, only turkey. Left such an impression I swore I’d come back for Christmas."

"Wait, seriously? A turkey specialty store? That’s not like a kebab shop… Do they even get customers outside Christmas season…?"

"Apparently, people buy them for birthday parties too. Especially horse girls—they love the visual impact, or so I heard."

"Narita Brian-senpai would so be into this…"

"Haha, probably a regular."

"Bet she’d say stuff like 'The dense juiciness and chewiness are irresistible…'"

"...Just don’t say that to her face."

After dinner, we unpacked the whole cake from its box—a belated Christmas cake, topped with a sugar Santa (who’d supposedly gone back to his home country post-season) and a snowman.

"Whoa, it’s adorable!"

"Snagged the last one. Smallest size, but…"

"Perfect for two, right?"

"...Guess so. I’ll brew coffee."

"I’ll handle slicing~"

"Thanks~"

With one eye patched, my cake-cutting skills were… questionable. The sugar Santa vaguely resembled Tomio, so I plopped it onto his plate. The snowman, radiating "uncharted territory" energy, got exiled to my plate’s corner.

The sponge was so fluffy it crumbled under the knife, but hey—it all ends up the same in the stomach. I shamelessly shoved the messiest slice onto Tomio’s plate. He returned with steaming mugs, took one look, and burst out laughing.

"Apollo, you clearly pawned the mangled one off on me! Brutal."

"Cut me slack—I’m half-blind here! You slice next time!"

"Fine, fine. Now, let’s devour this like we did the turkey."

"Thanks for the coffee! Itadakima~su!"

We bantered like always, laughing through mouthfuls of cloyingly sweet cream. A minor skirmish erupted over strawberry distribution ("That one’s bigger!"), and we agreed sugar decorations were more aesthetic than tasty. Verdict? A whole cake for two was overkill—even for a horse girl post-turkey.

Glancing at the clock, we groaned. An hour till curfew. Time was slipping away, but one mission remained: gift exchange.

"Oh! Presents!"

"Damn… Almost forgot."

Mine was a premium cushion from a high-end furniture store—a little "get well soon" for Tomio’s recent back pain, courtesy of his thoughtful trainee. Pricey, but my race earnings covered it. Tomio’s face softened as he untied the ribbon.

"This is… Thanks, Apollo."

"Hehe, you’re welcome!"

"Mine’s this. Here."

The small box contained a designer scarf—exactly the cute one I’d been eyeing.

"No way… Thank you—"

"Don’t mention it."

"…………"

"...What’s wrong?"

"Just… Last year, fancy ear caps. This year, a brand-name scarf. Kinda feel guilty."

"Are you kidding? You gave me my first win, then three G1 titles. I’m still in your debt."

"...Stop, you’re making me blush."

I buried my grin in the scarf. The air between us fizzed with something tender, nostalgic. Our gazes drifted to the shelf of trophies and framed photos.

The very first one caught my eye: my debut race last June. There we stood on the track—me in gym clothes, Tomio in a stiff new suit, awkwardly spaced like strangers.

Next to it, a post-maiden-win shot: me in generic live-show attire flashing a peace sign, Tomio mid-fist-pump, his tie practically vibrating with excitement.

Then the Shigiku Stakes at Kyoto—me forcing a smile, Tomio mirroring it uneasily.

Memories flickered like film reels. Shelf after shelf of paka-puchi shots and trophies: the Hopeful Stakes, the Wakaba Stakes victories, the Classic series.

The tense pre-Satsuki Shō photo. The unspoken losses and tears that followed. The frustration, the rallying after Seiun Sky’s rampage—all fuel for now.

Then, the fateful Derby. That iconic shot of us embracing under a rainbow still graced ads and magazines. Another frame captured us post-race, mud-smeared and laughing through tears, the Derby trophy gleaming dully between us. A joy I’d never forget.

Beside it, the Kikuka Shō trophies and photos—me with a hardened gaze, Tomio radiating relief. A record-breaking run we could never replicate.

Further down, the Stayers Stakes, a two-shot with Double Trigger…

At the end of the line: the Arima Kinen. A clean, post-race photo this time—no mud, just pristine racing silks and quiet pride.

Surrounded by grinning paka-puchi and polished silver, it hit me: our tumultuous Classics era was over. The Senior division loomed ahead, with overseas challenges and fiercer battles.

But that’s exactly why we’d keep charging forward—together, stacking victories like these trophies.