After a brief discussion, Fujiwara-san decided to give it a shot. Following Mizuno’s advice, he just dumped out all his driving experience and techniques, leaving it up to Mizuno—this wheelchair-racing lunatic—to figure out what he could absorb and translate into action.
Though Fujiwara-san was still a bit skeptical of Mizuno’s confident promises, Mizuno proved he wasn’t all talk. With a learning curve just a notch above the average person, Mizuno picked up the techniques in less than half an hour.
With repeated practice, Mizuno could now pull off a corner drift every single time, as long as he knew the turn was coming ahead of time. Sometimes, he even guessed the perfect angle and nailed a textbook drift.
“Sharp turn, brake, adjust, and finally…”
“Boost!”
Whoosh—!
At just the right moment, Mizuno slammed the accelerator key. Flames erupted from the back of the wheelchair, trailing a faint blue arc as he whipped through the curve—smooth as chocolate, not a hint of resistance—then shot forward at full speed.
“Beautiful!” Fujiwara-san, watching from the roadside, was secretly amazed that Mizuno had mastered a technique in under an hour that most people would practice for days and still not get right. He couldn’t help but ask,
“Kid, has anyone ever told you you’ve got a real knack for driving?”
“Uh… I guess I’m okay,” Mizuno shrugged, keeping his tone calm and showing not a hint of pride.
Truth was, it wasn’t just driving—he picked up most things quickly. If you put Mizuno in a cockpit or behind the controls of a tank with no rearview mirror, he’d probably figure it out, too.
But he never let it get to his head. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses; he just happened to be decent at a bit of everything. No big deal.
That humility only made Fujiwara-san like him more.
Compared to his arrogant grandson, the old man much preferred a polite and unassuming youngster.
The more Fujiwara-san looked at Mizuno, the more he liked him, and he grinned,
“Kid, with talent like yours, are you interested in—”
“Stop!” Mizuno cut him off, waving his hands as if warding off evil.
“Please, whatever you do, don’t try to introduce me to some girl my age! I have absolutely zero intention of dating or getting engaged any time soon!”
Mizuno’s voice was adamant and a little terrified, as if he’d been traumatized by that sort of thing before.
“No, no, you’ve misunderstood!” Fujiwara-san laughed, seeing Mizuno so tense, then glanced away and muttered under his breath,
“I’m just a humble bus driver—who’d dare steal the Emperor’s bride…”
But he said it too softly for Mizuno to catch.
“Ahem…” Not wanting to linger on the topic and risk angering a certain big shot, Fujiwara-san coughed awkwardly, then voiced his actual suggestion: “I just wanted to ask if you’d be interested in becoming friends with my grandson?”
“Oh? Be friends with Jei Chou?” Mizuno’s eyebrow shot up—he was instantly intrigued.
Usually, Mizuno was suspicious by nature and rarely made friends lightly. Before letting anyone close, he’d want to see for himself what kind of person they were. If the guy turned out to be selfish, all it would take was a little pressure from an Uma Musume and he’d sell Mizuno out in a heartbeat—there were Trainers at Tracen who’d proven as much. So Mizuno never rushed into friendships.
But this was different. It was Jay Chou! Who wouldn’t want to be friends with him?
Even if Fujiwara-san’s grandson wasn’t the actual musical legend Mizuno remembered, it didn’t matter—he couldn’t help feeling some goodwill toward his parallel-world counterpart, and he wanted to get to know him.
Plus, with a kind and upright elder like Fujiwara-san raising him, the grandson probably couldn’t be a bad person.
So, after some serious thought, Mizuno nodded.
“Of course. No problem.”
“Great~!” Fujiwara-san’s face broke into a wide smile.
They say you become the people you surround yourself with—character is shaped by your environment.
The Fujiwara family raised their kids well; Jei Chou had been a model child growing up, listened to his mother, and even had the voice to become a star. But after getting mixed up with a bunch of wild street racers, he’d gotten a little out of hand—much to Fujiwara-san’s frustration. That’s why the old man suggested Mizuno befriend his grandson; spend more time with someone decent, and maybe Jei Chou would mellow out a bit.
“I’ll be counting on you to look out for my grandson, then.” Fujiwara-san chuckled.
“Not at all—chances are I’m the one who’ll need looking after.” Mizuno returned the polite laugh.
After exchanging compliments, Mizuno threw himself back into practice.
With Fujiwara-san’s careful coaching, Mizuno’s racing skills improved rapidly. Everything seemed to be going perfectly.
Yet as he practiced, Mizuno felt an inexplicable sense of unease, like he was being caught in the act.
Weird… Mizuno pinched his chin, eyes wary as he scanned the area.
There should only have been him and Fujiwara-san here, but Mizuno couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was spying on him.
All he could see was an odd cardboard box sitting abandoned by the guardrail—nothing else or anyone suspicious.
But whenever Mizuno rubbed his eyes and looked again, that box would disappear, as if it was just a hallucination from getting knocked around so many times.
Then, just as Mizuno began to relax, the box would reappear in some shadowy corner, silently watching him hone his skills.
Every time he tried to focus on finding it, it would vanish without a trace.
Am I just paranoid? Or is this some supernatural stuff? Mizuno frowned in thought.
There were definitely “ghosts” in the Uma Musume world.
From the ghostly friends in Manhattan Café’s teahouse, to the dark starry apparition in Shadowy Uma Musume, there was plenty of proof that ghosts were real here—so a haunting wasn’t out of the question!
But honestly, Mizuno wasn’t too scared of ghosts.
There’s a saying on the internet:
I fear ghosts, but ghosts have never hurt me. I don’t fear people, but people have left me covered in scars.
Mizuno figured there was another line to add:
I’m scared of Uma Musume, and Uma Musume really are out to Uma Pyoi me!
So, compared to ghosts, Mizuno was definitely more afraid of Uma Musume. At least ghosts rarely attacked people, while Uma Musume had been “eating men” since ancient times…
Ding-dong, ding-dong~
Just as Mizuno was pondering how to catch the mystery box spying on him, his phone vibrated with a string of messages.
It was only just after 6 PM—the sky barely dark—and already the girls from Tracen were bombarding him with texts.
[Chat with Air Groove]
[Air Groove]: Where are you? Why aren’t you back yet?
[Air Groove]: The bed’s already warm. All that’s missing is you.
[Chat with President Rudolf]
[Symboli Rudolf]: Where are you? Can you hurry up and come back?
[Symboli Rudolf]: I’ve got a surprise for you. Guess what it is?
[Symboli Rudolf]: You have one hour to get back or face the consequences.
[Symboli Rudolf]: Understood?
[Chat with Tokai Teio]
[Tokai Teio]: Happy birthday~
[Tokai Teio]: Isn’t today Trainer-san’s birthday? I saw the President buying a bunch of balloons. They’re waiting for you to come back and celebrate~
[Tokai Teio]: Weird, why won’t these balloons inflate?
“Ah, jeez…” Mizuno stared at his phone, twitching at the corners of his mouth, feeling even more grateful for his decision to rent a place elsewhere.
See? Uma Musume really are scarier than ghosts!
—
T/N: NOOOOO TEIO DONT TOUCH THOSE!!!!
This is a fan translation of 星穹铁道，骑士力量每周刷新 by 想吃手枪腿 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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