Early Monday morning, in Yasui Makoto’s private living room, two youthful, ethereal voices softly intertwined amidst a blend of classical strings and avant-garde electronic beats.
One voice emanated from the tape player; the other belonged to Kitasan Black herself.
Naturally, the song they sang was Uchiage Hanabi, the piece Yasui had composed just a few days ago.
Compared to his memories, the instrumental track playing from the tape was professionally crafted without any issues in tone or rhythm.
However, certain aspects—particularly the mixing—clearly bore signs of rushed production.
But that couldn’t be helped. Even with the top-tier professionals among Kitasan’s family, expecting a flawless production in barely over a day would have been unrealistic.
Yet, there was a unique perfection to the vocals.
Not because Kitasan Black’s singing skills were extraordinary—far from it. Before coming to Tracen, her vocal training had been informal, limited to what she’d absorbed from her musically gifted family. Her sense of pitch and rhythm was excellent, but in terms of technique, she could only be described as modestly proficient, benefiting mostly from natural talent and family influence.
But precisely this youthful innocence was what Uchiage Hanabi intended to capture.
Subtle yet vivid, dreamlike yet clear—just when it seemed tangible, it vanished into a nostalgic haze.
This particular sound, a delicate innocence unique to youth, was something even the most skilled singer couldn’t replicate.
“…Aimai na kokoro wo tokashite tsunaida”
“Kono yoru ga tsudzuite hoshikatta…”
As the final notes faded, the dark-haired girl bowed gracefully, as if concluding a professional performance.
But the moment she spoke, her usual boisterous, energetic self returned instantly.
“Trainer, Trainer! How was it, how was it? Didn’t I sing pretty well?”
Makoto clapped appreciatively, replying half-teasingly, half-seriously, “It was beautiful. I owe Kitasan a concert ticket now.”
“Hehehe, don’t exaggerate, Trainer…”
Giggling bashfully, Kitasan carefully removed the tape from the player, handling it as if it were precious. She then excitedly said:
“If anything, Trainer, it’s the song you wrote that’s amazing! When I got home, I sang it to Dad first—I’d hoped he could help out. But Dad didn’t say a word after hearing it; he just went straight to Grandpa. Then Grandpa listened without a word and called everyone else in the family over!
At first, I was really nervous, wondering if maybe there was something wrong with the song you wrote. Later, I realized they actually thought I wrote it, and they were thrilled, thinking the family had a musical genius or something!
Hehehe, as if! I just enjoy singing, nothing more. If anyone’s a genius here, it’s obviously you, Trainer!
After that, Grandpa was shocked… No, beyond shocked. He kept asking me if it really wasn’t mine.”
At this point, the dark-haired girl pouted slightly, a bit annoyed.
“They doubted you wrote the song, Trainer. Honestly, they asked so many questions I almost didn’t want their help anymore. But they didn’t press too hard afterward. Seems like they asked around with some friends and confirmed that no one had ever released this song before, so they finally believed me and recorded it.”
She then eagerly added, “Trainer, if this demo sounds okay to you, I’ll go record it officially next week.”
Hearing this, Yasui paused briefly.
It was hardly surprising that Kitasan’s family had doubts about him writing Uchiage Hanabi. After all, in his previous life, this song had been massively popular, receiving countless accolades upon its release two years later, including the prestigious Golden Disc Award—Japan’s equivalent of the musical Oscars—and even earning an invitation to the renowned Kohaku Uta Gassen.
With this song alone, Yasui would easily have qualified to attend Japan’s top music event alongside Kitasan’s grandfather.
Considering he was only 18, already the youngest trainer at Central Tracen Academy, adding “musical genius” to his resume was understandably unbelievable.
Yet Yasui wasn’t particularly concerned. The song didn’t exist yet in this timeline; no issues would arise.
More importantly, his primary intention in writing this top-tier song was simply to boost Kitasan’s fan count, ensuring she could meet the conditions to enter upcoming races. He had no ambitions for fame in the music industry.
In the next two races, Kitasan would likely face the challenge of not having enough fans. There wasn’t much that could be done about that. The racing world placed enormous emphasis on pre-debut records—almost akin to pedigree bias. Ultimately, it came down to resources, background, and luck.
Those born into prestigious families or attending Central Tracen Academy naturally had advantages. Talented girls from ordinary backgrounds or rural areas often got overlooked.
Makoto had no illusions about changing this status quo. All he could do was prepare adequately for Kitasan.
Thinking ahead, perhaps he could prepare a few more songs after Uchiage Hanabi as a backup plan following the next race.
Thus, hearing Kitasan’s family approval of the song, Yasui nodded, satisfied.
“Next week’s timing sounds perfect. There’ll still be a week left until the race. The association usually promotes participants beforehand, boosting exposure. If we officially release this song through the official race account then, we’ll definitely fulfill the fan count requirement for the conditions race.”
“Yes, exactly what Grandpa said!”
Nodding energetically, Kitasan soon looked a bit disappointed.
“Though, fans gained this way are limited, right? Only up to about 30,000 are counted, Trainer?”
“Right. Beyond 30,000, fans won’t count officially since The Twinkle Series ultimately focuses on the races themselves,” Yasui replied, nodding calmly. “Still, for you, it’s more than enough. This was only meant as supplementary support.”
“Well, that’s true,” Kitasan agreed, letting go of her earlier disappointment. “When we record officially, is there anything else you need me to do?”
Yasui paused thoughtfully. “Your grandfather and the others went to quite some trouble. I ought to thank them personally, though they’re probably quite busy these days?”
“Hmm, I’m not too sure what Grandpa and everyone usually do at work…” Kitasan shook her head. “Actually, they initially wanted to meet you, Trainer. But I was worried you were busy, so I asked them just to come to see my next race instead.”
She sighed slightly, “It’s a shame they only watched my debut on TV… But that’s fine. Next time, I’m sure they’ll be able to watch me win in person!”
“Oh? Your family’s planning to attend the race in person?” Yasui’s eyebrows raised briefly, then he nodded with renewed determination. “Then we’ll need to put in extra effort—we can’t let them down.”
—
This is a fan translation of 赛马娘：从被撞飞十米开始 by 百升飞上天 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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