Yasui Makoto wasn’t entirely sure if Special Week had actually said something like “convey your feelings,” or even if he’d heard that phrase anywhere at all.
But it sounded like something Uma Musume would say—at least from his nearly year-long experience at the Academy.
Moreover, Kitasan Black was not the type to deliberately cause trouble.
Quite the contrary—this cheerful, helpful girl was beloved wherever she went, and he’d never once heard of her having any conflicts with anyone.
That meant even if she didn’t have direct experience resolving conflicts, at least her character and capability were suitable for handling them.
Perhaps once she calmed down after today, she’d understand how to approach this herself.
So, rather than a concrete suggestion, Yasui was actually just trying to help Kitasan Black clear her head.
“Understand… my feelings?”
Momentarily stunned, Kitasan repeated Yasui’s words softly, clenching the fist hanging at her side. “Yeah… you’re right. What I really want Musee-san to know is that I didn’t mean it at all…”
“But…”
Her hesitation returned. “Will she even listen? She’s already ignoring me, and if I wait until the St. Lite Kinen… won’t it be too late?”
Seeing Kitasan more hesitant than before, Yasui didn’t rush—instead, he felt more confident inside.
At least hesitation meant she was thinking it through, rather than spinning in endless anxiety like at first.
“Whether she listens is her choice; whether you say it is yours.”
Realizing his approach was effective, Yasui pressed further: “Just like a race, you can’t decide how your opponent thinks or how they’ll run, but you can control your own thoughts and your own running.”
“Do what you need to do first.”
“It’s true the St. Lite Kinen is two weeks away. But don’t forget, at that time you’ll definitely face Musee Alien directly—neither of you can run away.”
“Of course, if you really think that’s too late, you can always try something else.”
“Try something else…?”
Kitasan looked blank for a moment, before her eyes brightened again. “Trainer, do you have another idea?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it an idea, actually…”
Smiling slightly, Yasui glanced around the training grounds.
He hadn’t paid attention to the other Uma Musume earlier, unaware of Kitasan and Musee Alien’s issue. But now that he looked closely, he realized Musee Alien hadn’t appeared for training today.
She was probably avoiding Kitasan, training somewhere else.
After a brief pause, Yasui looked toward the dormitories.
“Even if she doesn’t want to see you now, she wouldn’t skip classes or sleep outside.”
“At night, she has to return to the dorm, right?”
“You’re both in Ritto Dormitory. Worst comes to worst, just block her door.”
“Besides, you’re strong enough. If she won’t open up, just break the door down.”
Kitasan froze for a moment before breaking into an annoyed laugh.
“What do you mean, block her door? Break it down? Trainer, what are you saying… Wouldn’t that just make Musee-san even angrier?”
“That’s why I’m just kidding.”
Looking back and seeing the worry slowly fading from Kitasan’s lightly pouting face, Yasui felt even more relieved. Smiling gently, he continued:
“Seriously speaking, if you really can’t wait, just go to her dorm tonight and give her a proper apology.”
“Of course, it’s true she might not open the door.”
“But don’t forget—the manager at Ritto Dormitory is your senpai, Daiwa Scarlet.”
“You’ve already gotten close with Daiwa-senpai, haven’t you? She’ll help you with something like this, especially since mediating disputes between students is part of a dorm manager’s—”
Before he could finish saying “responsibilities,” Yasui saw Kitasan’s eyes suddenly brighten.
The next second, a dark blur zipped away from before him, leaving only an excited shout that faded rapidly into the distance:
“I got it! Thanks, Trainer! You’re the best!!”
It wasn’t until her cheerful voice disappeared at the far end of the field that Yasui snapped out of his daze.
Glancing around instinctively, he noticed several nearby Uma Musume and trainers staring at him oddly, causing his face to heat up awkwardly.
“You’re the best…” That phrasing is really misleading, isn’t it?
Muttering silently, Yasui rubbed his cheeks, then smiled again, continuing to tidy up the training equipment.
Today’s training tasks aren’t finished yet… Maybe I’ll have her make it up tomorrow. That’s what he decided.
What exactly Kitasan had understood, and what she’d done after leaving the grounds, Yasui never asked.
Resolving personal conflicts required the person who started them. Especially when it came to everyday misunderstandings like this—he could comfort her, offer suggestions, but couldn’t fix everything for her.
Yet judging by her performance from the next day until the race, Kitasan seemed to have handled it well. At the very least, she was back to her usual lively self in training, no longer spacing out distractedly.
Noticing that, Yasui still refrained from following up about the conflict.
On one hand, he continued to feel the solution depended on Kitasan herself. On the other hand, he vaguely sensed she seemed slightly uneasy whenever Musee Alien was mentioned.
So maybe she’d partially solved things that night—but not entirely.
In that case…
Perhaps it really does come down to the race itself. It matches their personalities perfectly anyway. Well then, a race it is, Yasui thought.
…
September 21, Nakayama Racecourse, Kitasan Black’s preparation room.
“…Then we’re confirmed on a big escape as our main strategy, with front-running as the fallback.”
As usual, Yasui Makoto sketched diagrams on the whiteboard:
“You’ve never publicly used a big escape tactic before. Even if your opponents investigate your strategy beforehand, they’ll never expect you to take such a risky approach.”
“Besides, most of your competitors this time have primarily raced at fundamental distances. A 2200-meter race, being a non-fundamental distance, significantly tests their rhythm management.”
“You’ve already run two non-fundamental distance races before, and your natural sense of rhythm is a clear advantage.”
“So, seizing the lead position early should be much easier, making it simpler to execute a big escape successfully.”
In racing, “fundamental” distances referred to lengths that were multiples of 400 meters; all other lengths were considered “non-fundamental.”
Most major races in the Twinkle Series were fundamental distances, and daily training typically followed suit.
In comparison, non-fundamental distances required slightly different rhythm management. Apart from regular training, success depended heavily on an Uma Musume’s natural sense of pacing.
Kitasan understood all this. After jotting down Yasui’s instructions in a small notebook with her carrot-shaped pen, she raised her head, pointing toward one side of the track diagram.
“So… whether I switch tactics depends on the movements of these competitors?”
When she asked, a strange glint flickered in her eyes.
Catching this, Yasui glanced casually at the names and data beside the track diagram. After pausing briefly at “Musee Alien,” he nodded calmly:
“Based on previous race records, there should be three other front-runners besides you today.”
“Four front-runners out of 15 gates—that’s quite a lot. The competition for the leading position will definitely be intense.”
“So, even though it seems unlikely to me, if someone really guesses your intention to go for a big escape, front-running becomes our backup plan.”
—
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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