Before an important race, it’s standard practice for trainers to gather intel on their opponents—watching their training, for instance—as long as you don’t interfere.
There were other trainers around the grounds too. Some observed openly and without shame; others still weren’t used to it and looked a little awkward, a little hesitant.
But not many did what Yasui Makoto was doing—bringing Kitasan Black along. Luckily, the whole place was packed with people training. The dull thud of feet on the track mixed with trainers calling out instructions, making the atmosphere noisy enough that the two of them didn’t draw much attention.
They watched a while longer, and it became clear that Sounds of Earth had moved on to the next drill.
Behind the railing stood her trainer—a shy-looking middle-aged man.
Beyond the rail, at the entrance to a bend, Sounds of Earth was lined up with several other Umamusume.
Once they were ready, the middle-aged trainer did something similar to Yasui’s cues for Kitasan Black: he counted down, lifted his hand, then dropped it.
The difference was—after that first signal, he raised his hand again and signaled a second time.
On the first drop, Sounds of Earth didn’t move. The ones who burst forward were the other Umamusume.
They’d clearly been briefed in advance: this time, they were Sounds of Earth’s pacers. As they cut into the corner, they held what was—at least in theory—the most textbook form.
Shortened strides. A deep lean. A line that hugged the curve as tightly as possible.
There were differences, though: each pacer kept a different distance from the inside rail, neatly simulating the kinds of front-pack formations that could happen in an actual race.
Only when the middle-aged trainer signaled the second time did Sounds of Earth launch.
At the start, her steps looked almost casual, and her expression carried that same relaxed, flamboyant swagger.
But every footfall landed exactly where it should.
Her body pitched slightly forward; her stride was shorter, her lean smaller.
And in a cornering situation like this, that was one of the best ways to accelerate.
Staring at the track, Kitasan Black frowned slightly, her fingers tapping the railing without thinking.
“Accelerating in the turn… Trainer, I feel like…”
Yasui had been watching the drill too. He asked automatically, “You feel like what?”
“I feel like Sounds of Earth-senpai’s cornering and acceleration… are way more nimble than mine?”
As she spoke, Kitasan Black raised her arms, set her legs apart, and tried to mimic Sounds of Earth’s posture.
“I think her lean angle is smaller than mine, her stride is shorter too, and the adjustments she makes through the corner aren’t as big… but I’m not sure if I’m reading it right.”
Yasui’s eyes lit up. He nodded, encouraging her. “Keep going, Kita-chan. That’s a really sharp observation.”
With that affirmation, Kitasan Black’s eyes shone. Her voice lifted as she continued,
“So I’m wondering—is it just a difference in running habits, or is it a special cornering style? Like building speed earlier in the turn, so she can carry it onto the straight and pass people?”
“Because in Super Creek-senpai’s notes, she mentioned some Umamusume use unique corner strategies to widen the gap.”
Super Creek had, in fact, written exactly that.
In a way, racing was simple at the macro level—especially compared to something like basketball or soccer, where the contact and interactions were far more complex.
But that very simplicity made perfection brutally hard.
Super Creek could do it. She was, in her own right, a “Professor of Curvature.”
To Yasui Makoto, her reactions to turns during races were close to flawless. Every entry into a bend, she’d subtly adjust her steps and ramp her speed into the optimal cornering state almost instantly.
Her cut-in angle felt like it had been calculated to the decimal—enough centripetal force to hold high speed through the turn, but never so much lean that it threw off her balance.
At the same time, her stride length and cadence meshed perfectly, so she barely lost speed in the corner—and came out even faster.
Not every Umamusume could do that.
More accurately, most couldn’t.
Most simply didn’t have Super Creek’s level of talent; they couldn’t shake the feeling of losing control in a turn. And when that happens, almost everyone responds the same way: slow down, or let the outward pull shove them wide to bleed speed off. But running extra distance is, in practice, slowing down.
If you’re worse than that, you might even lose your rhythm entirely.
But even if you couldn’t reach Super Creek’s level—if you had enough talent—you could do what Sounds of Earth was drilling right now.
Corner acceleration.
“Your idea makes a lot of sense, Kita-chan.”
Yasui thought it through, then spoke carefully. “Sounds of Earth might really be using that running style to set things up early.”
“It comes with risk, but I think she’s sharpening it right now—and she has the talent for it. A smaller lean angle and shorter steps can build speed, but in a turn it demands extremely high balance control.”
“If something unexpected happens in the bend—like interference from another Umamusume beside her—she could lose her balance and bleed speed. But there’s something you noticed that helps explain why she can pull it off.”
“She really is lighter than you. More nimble.”
Kitasan Black had been listening with dawning understanding.
Then that last line hit, and she froze. Her lips puckered; her cheeks puffed out, and she stared at Yasui with wounded resentment.
“Trainer… are you… saying I’m fat?”
“Of course not. I’m saying you’re—”
Yasui answered without thinking—then jolted and swallowed the word heavier before it could escape.
Kitasan Black was heavy—much heavier than the average Umamusume.
From the very beginning, Yasui had compared the numbers. At the same stage of development, Kitasan Black’s weight was roughly fifteen percent above average.
That was an absurd figure.
Between most Umamusume, even when weights differed, the gap usually hovered in the single-digit percent range.
Not just this year, either—it was the same in past cohorts.
Meaning Kitasan Black wasn’t just a little above average. She was above it by a lot.
Weight, of course, affected speed; it was one of the things you had to monitor and adjust in training.
But after checking every other metric, Yasui had come to one conclusion: Kitasan Black’s weight wasn’t something he could “fix.”
Her frame and muscle density were simply bigger than other Umamusume. It was the source of her outstanding strength, stamina, and physique—and also the source of that extra weight.
Still.
No matter what, telling a girl she was “heavy” was a catastrophically stupid thing to do.
“…More solid. More grounded. More… powerful—yes. That’s it. More powerful.”
He forced the pivot mid-sentence, waving his hands rapidly—while very carefully not looking at Kitasan Black, instead fixing his eyes on the track as if he were deeply, earnestly analyzing every detail.
—
T/N: huehuehue close call also when it comes to super creek i become a professor of curvature heuheue
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.