“I won’t charge you for this one. How was it?”
“…”
Sitting in a lounge chair in the foot-massage parlor, Obey Your Master looked utterly miserable, with none of the easy composure she had before walking in.
A closer look would have shown that the stars in her eyes had disappeared completely.
The air around her had changed too, from bubbly gal to icy beauty. Perhaps this was what she was really like with the mask off.
She was not nearly so lively, nor so effortlessly familiar.
But this was, without a doubt, the real her.
“Honestly, Sakuraba-san… who exactly are you?”
She had investigated plenty about Sakuraba Ryo beforehand, but even so, what he had shown her today had still gone beyond anything she had expected.
How did an investor end up with skills like that…?
Could it be that the secret behind Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross growing so much stronger was this massage technique of his—the kind that was almost addictive?
With both legs still feeling light and buoyant, Obey Your Master had the distinct sense that if she went for a run right now, she would absolutely beat her personal best.
“Oh?”
“What could I be? Just an ordinary guy who knows a little massage, that’s all.”
That was Sakuraba Ryo’s answer, but Obey Your Master did not believe a word of it.
She turned her head and looked at his profile as he stood up and put away his tools.
This time, there was no calculation in her eyes, no probing, no testing.
Only plain, undisguised curiosity.
“…Sakuraba-san.”
Her voice was slightly hoarse, but exceptionally clear.
“Hm?”
Sakuraba Ryo did not stop what he was doing. He only gave a casual response.
“I’m just going to ask directly.”
Obey Your Master stared at the ceiling, her tone so flat it hardly sounded like she was asking about a secret that might have everything to do with a dramatic leap in strength.
“How did you do it? How did you make Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross… that strong?”
She paused, then added,
“And don’t brush me off with words like ‘investment’ or ‘luck.’ I looked into it. The timing of their transformation overlaps far too neatly with the moment you showed up.”
Sakuraba Ryo folded up the warm towel and set it back on the tray, then turned to look at her.
The flush had not yet left the girl’s face, but her eyes were as sharp as ever. Without that lively disguise, she looked unusually serious.
You’re asking so seriously, but how am I supposed to answer that?
I feel like the biggest help I gave them really was investment and luck!
Everything else was their own hard work…
You ruled out my answer before I could even give it—how am I supposed to respond?
Damn it.
He fell silent for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts. In the end, all he said, quite plainly, was:
“I didn’t do anything special.”
Obey Your Master’s brows drew together, almost imperceptibly. She was obviously dissatisfied with that answer.
Meeting her gaze, Sakuraba Ryo continued calmly,
“At most… I just said a few things to them.”
“…Said a few things?”
Obey Your Master repeated it, her tone full of undisguised skepticism.
She propped herself up a little and stared at him.
“You’re telling me that just saying a few things can make an Umamusume’s strength improve by leaps and bounds? Sakuraba-san, if you want to keep it secret, at least come up with a more convincing excuse. That sounds like something you’d use to brush off a child.”
A wave of boredom hit her, and even a trace of disappointment.
Had she gone to all this trouble only to get back such an obvious excuse?
And yet when Sakuraba Ryo saw the disbelief and faint disappointment written plainly across her face, he showed no irritation at being doubted, nor did he rush to explain himself.
Only he knew the truth—he really had not been lying.
Those conversations that had seemed so simple, even accidental—the few scattered words he had let slip based on what he knew of the story—might just have happened to touch the right point, becoming the tiny fulcrum that shifted the course of fate.
But the cause and logic behind all of that was something even he himself could not fully sort out, much less explain to someone else.
To put it bluntly—how the hell was he supposed to know how they got stronger?
If he knew that, would he still be here agonizing over how to make them lose money?
So in the end, the only answer he could give was the one that sounded most like a brush-off, while still being closest to the truth.
“Believe it or not.”
That was all Sakuraba Ryo said in the end, wearing a helpless expression as he turned away and started tidying up, as though the subject they had just discussed were something completely unimportant.
He put the last towel back into the sterilizer. When he turned around again, his eyes happened to fall on Obey Your Master.
She was still leaning back in the lounge chair, her eyes slightly lowered. In the soft light, the lines of her profile looked a little distant, making her seem like a completely different person from the bright-smiling, lively girl she had been earlier.
He watched her for a moment, then suddenly let out a quiet laugh, breaking the slightly stagnant air in the room.
“But putting that aside.”
Sakuraba Ryo spoke, and there was a trace of relaxation in his voice that was hard to notice unless one listened carefully.
“When you talk more directly like you are now, you actually suit it a lot better.”
Obey Your Master raised her eyes to look at him. Without the starry sparkle, her clear yellow eyes seemed colder now, though there was a flicker of confusion in them.
Sakuraba Ryo walked over and sat down in the single-seat sofa diagonally opposite her, posture casual.
He paused, then met her gaze openly.
“It means I don’t have to sit there watching a girl who’s obviously still young force herself to keep acting ‘happy’ and ‘friendly.’”
“Watching that… looks exhausting.”
There was no accusation in his words. If anything, there was something almost flatly understanding about them. But that only made them feel like a fine needle, lightly picking open the balance Obey Your Master had been trying to hold together.
The fingers resting on her knees curled slightly.
She pressed her lips together, but did not answer right away.
After a brief silence, Sakuraba Ryo leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees, his fingers loosely clasped together.
He looked at Obey Your Master with a serious expression, but still kept a distance that did not feel invasive.
“Since you just asked me a question,” he said slowly, “can I ask you one too?”
Obey Your Master looked at him. She neither nodded nor refused. She only used those now-calm eyes to tell him to continue.
“Why?”
Sakuraba Ryo’s voice remained steady, his pace unhurried, as though he were carefully choosing every word.
“Why do you always put on that bright, cheerful, like-you-never-have-a-care-in-the-world act?”
“Is it to make it easier to get close to people? Or because you think that kind of personality is more likable? Or…”
He paused, and his gaze seemed almost able to see through that cool exterior and into whatever lay beneath it.
“…Have you simply gotten used to handling everyone and everything that way?”
The lounge fell quiet again. The only sound was the faint, almost imperceptible music drifting from somewhere far away.
Obey Your Master did not answer immediately. She looked away and let her gaze settle on her bare ankle, still faintly pink and still carrying that strange, lingering sense of lightness, as though she were thinking—or perhaps simply blanking out.
Sakuraba Ryo did not press her. He only waited in silence.
What he had offered her might not have been just a question.
It might also have been a small opening—a brief space where she did not have to keep acting, where she could face her real self, if only a little.
But the girl’s silence did not last long.
“The reason I act like someone I’m not?”
“The answer’s simple enough~”
Obey Your Master looked at Sakuraba Ryo with complete seriousness and made her declaration.
“The Japan Cup.”
“I’m going to beat Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross.”
“I’m going to win.”
“That’s all there is to it~”
…
Early winter in Hokkaido carried a crisp chill in the air. Inside Principal Nishikino’s office, the low hum of the heater drove back the cold beyond the windows.
Behind a broad mahogany desk, Principal Nishikino leaned into his high-backed chair, the lenses on his nose reflecting the cold glow of the tablet screen on the desk.
Displayed clearly on that screen were the results posted by the international class students after returning to their respective circuits to race.
The trend shown by those percentages and curves looked rather delicate in Principal Nishikino’s eyes.
Not high.
If anything, one might even say… disappointing.
Only a handful had managed successful debuts. Most of the Umamusume had stumbled back in their own circuits.
Compared with the academy’s other elite classes—especially the domestic classes that had already found their rhythm and were building strong momentum—the international class’s report card was not an impressive one.
There had been no breakout performance anyone could point to, nor any display of overwhelming potential. More than anything, it looked like a group still fumbling its way forward as it searched and adapted.
Principal Nishikino’s fingers tapped unconsciously against the smooth surface of his desk, producing faint little sounds.
Behind his slightly furrowed brows lay deeper thought—and a hint of understanding.
“The international class under Sakuraba-san has turned in results this… unremarkable?”
he murmured to himself, as if carefully weighing the wording. In the end, he only gave a light shake of his head.
“…Neither hot nor cold. That is… a little unexpected.”
Unexpected, yes.
But not necessarily a bad thing.
He knew very well what kind of person Sakuraba Ryo was.
That young man, who appeared easygoing and occasionally made decisions no one else could make sense of, possessed a strange kind of energy that could not be judged by common sense.
The transformation of Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross was the clearest proof of that.
That was not something that could be explained away with money or luck alone.
So then, this “less than ideal” set of results from the international class…
Principal Nishikino picked up the cup of tea at his side, already gone lukewarm, and took a sip. Then his gaze swept across the data on the screen once more.
This time, the corner of his mouth lifted very slightly, tracing out a faint, meaningful curve.
“But…”
He set the teacup down. His voice was light, but carried certainty.
“Would this really be Sakuraba-san’s problem?”
The answer was crystal clear in his heart.
Absolutely not.
This was not mediocrity born of a lack of ability. It felt more like… deliberate groundwork, or foreshadowing that had yet to be triggered.
Sakuraba Ryo’s methods had never been something that could be judged by the ordinary logic used to raise excellent students.
Perhaps this seemingly sluggish state was itself part of his plan.
Was it meant to temper their mindset?
Was he building up momentum before some future eruption?
Or was he filtering them, waiting for the true opportunity?
If their poor performance had come from lacking something, then what exactly were they lacking?
Principal Nishikino thought it over… and arrived at only one conclusion.
Trainers.
Nishikino Academy lacked truly excellent trainers.
Even with the high salaries and generous facilities they were offering, trainer talent was not the sort of thing money alone could buy.
Top-tier trainers were vanishingly rare in any circuit.
And the overwhelming majority of those outstanding trainers chose to stay and work at Central.
Even after spending a great deal of money, Nishikino Academy had only managed to recruit a batch of trainers of middling ability.
That was only natural. The truly top-tier ones were hot commodities anywhere, and not nearly so easy to find.
For the time being, Nishikino Academy’s trainer roster was still enough to get by, but if the academy continued to develop… then this damned shortage of excellent trainers would become the single greatest factor limiting Nishikino Academy’s growth.
“No…” He murmured to himself, then shook his head. The curve at the corner of his mouth deepened, even taking on a trace of understanding—almost admiration.
“How could Sakuraba-san possibly have failed to notice something that crucial?”
He almost immediately overturned the worry he had just had.
Given what he knew of Sakuraba Ryo’s way of doing things—always seeing one step and planning three more, always placing pieces where no one expected them—how could he have overlooked a bottleneck this obvious, one that could so clearly hold back the academy’s growth?
Sakuraba-san must have realized it long ago.
Behind those seemingly casual moves of his, there had to be a far deeper calculation.
At that thought, Principal Nishikino immediately set down his teacup and lit the tablet screen again with quick but steady motions, his fingers sliding swiftly across the smooth glass as he pulled up the limited internal records the academy had on Sakuraba Ryo’s recent movements.
His eyes swept across line after line of records before finally stopping on the most recent entry.
[Sakuraba Ryo (international class advisor/investor)]
[Itinerary Note: Flight booked. Destination—Tokyo. Departure time: three days ago.]
“Tokyo…”
Principal Nishikino softly repeated the name of the city, and the confusion in his eyes was instantly replaced by the light of sudden understanding.
Tokyo!
At this very moment, it was the focal point where the best Umamusume, trainers, and racing personnel from all across Japan—and the world—were converging.
Because the Japan Cup was about to be held there!
All the scattered clues connected in that instant.
The international class’s “unremarkable” results… the bottleneck in the academy’s trainer resources…
Sakuraba Ryo’s seemingly ordinary trip to Tokyo…
Principal Nishikino leaned hard back into his chair and took a deep breath. Shock, admiration, and boundless anticipation mingled together on his face.
“So that’s it… so that’s it!”
He was nearly tempted to slap the desk in praise.
“Sakuraba-san, this isn’t some simple trip to watch the race or handle ordinary business… he’s going to the Japan Cup to bring back reinforcements!”
After all, where better than a top-level stage like the Japan Cup to gather, display, and attract truly elite trainer talent in one place?
In that fierce race-day atmosphere, one could observe the on-the-spot command of outstanding trainers, their tactical arrangements, the tacit understanding they shared with their Umamusume—or even make direct contact with elite trainers who might be dissatisfied with their current situation and hungry for a bigger stage or a new challenge.
Sakuraba Ryo had gone to Tokyo looking almost casual and unconcerned, but in reality he had aimed straight at the heart of the problem, heading to that highest stage where experts gathered and fortunes converged in order to seek out—or even poach—the very person who could break Nishikino Academy past its bottleneck.
“Just as expected of Sakuraba-san…”
Looking out at the increasingly bright sky beyond the window, Principal Nishikino murmured to himself. The doubts and anxiety in his heart had already vanished without a trace, replaced by limitless anticipation for the reinforcements to come and for the future explosion of the international class.
“This move of his really is… farsighted and straight at the heart of the enemy stronghold!”
“Sakuraba-san truly is a master strategist!”
T/N: -_-
This is a fan translation of 亏钱赛马娘，什么叫你真的赢比赛了？ by 路边杂鱼 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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