After Yasui Makoto finished speaking, it took a long moment before Kitasan Black let out a stunned gasp.
“T-Trainer, you… aren’t joking, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking right now?”
Without answering directly, Yasui quietly equipped himself with protective gear from the truck, carefully fixing a mountain bike onto his back.
Helmet, waist guard, elbow pads, knee pads—specialized nylon straps wove tightly around the bike frame, metal buckles clicking into place across his chest and waist.
Once everything was secured, Yasui casually spun the bike’s rear wheel hanging beside his hip, listening to the spokes whir gently through the air. He then turned back to Kitasan, whose expression had frozen into astonishment.
“Your stamina and endurance are exceptional, but you haven’t fully tested them yet at truly long distances—do you know what’s the greatest challenge in a race like the Kikuka Sho?”
“What… is it?” Kitasan repeated blankly.
“Here.”
He tapped his temple lightly, indicating his mind, and spoke solemnly:
“With every additional hundred meters—or even just one meter—the physical toll doesn’t simply increase. It multiplies.”
“Perhaps after races, you recover faster than most. But at the very limit during the race itself, your brain will still fail you, like you’re starved for oxygen.”
“The true test of a long-distance race is who can still perceive and judge clearly even when their consciousness fades and vision blurs.”
“To judge exactly where the finish line is, what state your opponents are in, and how you should move next.”
In an instant, scenes from past races and training flashed vividly through Kitasan’s mind, along with the sensations she’d felt at those moments.
Forehead gripped by an iron band, throat sliced raw as if by knives, chest crushed under a boulder, suffocating. Uncontrollably, her mouth fell open, inhaling deeply several times.
“You felt it, right?”
Noticing her reaction, Yasui gave a faint smile, quickly resuming his serious tone.
“You’ve had endurance training before, but now you clearly know the difference between practice and a real race.”
“So far, your longest race has been 2500 meters. Now, imagine pushing yourself another 500 meters…”
“Go ahead, get the bike down. I’ll help you secure it, and explain the key points while we start.”
Though confusion lingered in her expression, hearing Yasui’s instructions, Kitasan obediently jogged toward the truck.
As she lifted the mountain bike down, she murmured softly in surprise:
“This thing… it’s heavy.”
She said it was heavy, yet no strain appeared on her face.
Imitating Yasui, she began trying to strap the bike to her back. Yasui came over quickly, adjusting the gear, heart-rate monitor, and other strange-looking straps around her body.
Once the bicycle was secured, Yasui gestured to the truck driver, who then slowly drove up the mountain road ahead. He waved at Kitasan to follow, explaining the details of today’s special training as they moved.
By artificially inducing extreme physical fatigue, their bodies would adapt to even greater intensity.
In sports, this approach was called “overload training,” or more specifically, “post-fatigue endurance training.”
Yasui had regularly practiced this during his time in extreme acrobatics.
He hadn’t introduced this method to Kitasan before, partly because her physical development hadn’t fully matured, and partly because it required extensive data on how Uma Musume adapted to such training.
The principles behind overload training weren’t complicated. When the body continued exercising despite fatigue, muscle fibers, cardiovascular function, and metabolic systems experienced fatigue, recovery, and then “overcompensation.”
After enough training, mitochondria counts, capillary density, muscle glycogen storage, and lactate thresholds would all significantly improve.
All these factors were vital for endurance.
However, humans and Uma Musume had vastly different thresholds for such training.
Before arriving at Tracen Academy, Yasui had tested himself. Human limits here were similar to his original world, with roughly 80 kilograms as the upper limit for load-bearing training.
Exceeding this significantly risked cardiovascular strain or rhabdomyolysis—unless one had exceptional genetics.
Uma Musume could handle roughly three times the load of humans.
Specific data had appeared in research documents, but none included anything relating to extreme acrobatics.
Additionally, Uma Musume—like humans—had substantial individual variations.
Their general upper load limit was around 200 kilograms, but differences between individuals could reach several dozen kilograms.
Kitasan Black, particularly, had extraordinary physical strength. Only after months of meticulous testing had Yasui finally determined exactly how much weight she could safely bear.
The mountain bike on her back was specially custom-made—heavier than the standard model Yasui himself carried.
According to the training plan, under this load, she would reach her fatigue threshold around halfway up the mountain.
From that point on, they’d continue their ascent by riding bikes, accomplishing the next phase of overload training.
Initially, this training would happen twice weekly. They’d continuously monitor heart rates and blood-lactate levels, adjusting intensity to avoid injury from overtraining.
Once more precise data was gathered, all aspects of this specialized training—alongside other exercises—would be further refined.
After Yasui’s detailed explanation, Kitasan’s expression cleared into understanding. But soon, she curiously glanced at the bike strapped to his back.
“Trainer, something just occurred to me—why are you carrying a bike too? Don’t tell me you’re also running the Kikuka Sho?”
Stunned into silence for several seconds, Yasui eventually laughed helplessly.
“…Exactly what kind of logic did you use to imagine I’d recklessly attempt running the Kikuka Sho, Kita-chan?”
“Oh, you’re right…”
Holding onto the thin straps running from her shoulders to waist, Kitasan laughed sheepishly, quickly clarifying:
“What I meant to ask was—Trainer, are you doing this training too?”
“You could say that.”
Yasui smiled slightly. “Part of a trainer’s job normally involves keeping up with your physical training to a certain extent.”
“We follow your regular routines, and especially in training camps like this, we have to keep up. Having poor physical fitness isn’t acceptable.”
“But more importantly, I wanted to train together with you.”
“Together…with me?” Kitasan’s eyes widened.
Nodding, Yasui gazed ahead as he spoke.
“I’ve had this idea for quite some time.”
“Back when I was a student and training myself, my coaches and teammates lived and trained together.”
“I didn’t do this sooner only because most of your exercises were beyond me.”
“For example, running 1000 meters in one minute—my fastest would still take three minutes at least, right?”
“But for extreme acrobatics…”
He turned back, smiling warmly.
“I think I can be quite confident.”
“Even if my overall training volume can’t match yours, in terms of professional skill, I won’t fall short.”
Staring blankly at Yasui’s bright smile, Kitasan suddenly found herself smiling back.
“You really love extreme acrobatics, huh, Trainer… Ah! I know!”
Her eyes sparkled eagerly. “Why don’t we have a little race, Trainer?”
“Our goal is—that ‘Unkaisou Inn,’ right?”
“Let’s race! First one to reach it wins!”
—
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!
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.