Although they hadn’t yet signed an official contract, Kitasan Black had already begun referring to Makoto as “Trainer,” arriving at his apartment with a sizable stack of folders and videotapes—the materials he’d asked Tokai Teio for earlier in the afternoon.
Unlike other schools, Tracen Academy gave its student council president considerable authority, allowing them to manage many affairs without seeking approval from the board or principal—including access to internal student and training records normally off-limits to outsiders.
Being a newcomer, Makoto himself couldn’t access these archives yet. However, with Teio’s explicit approval, there was no issue.
“Thanks for your hard work, Kita,” Makoto said casually after opening the door, gesturing toward the living room. “Just set them anywhere. I’ll get you some water.”
“Oh, uh, okay! But there’s no need for water. President Teio treated me to several honey drinks earlier, so I’m not thirsty at all.”
“Well then, just take a seat wherever you like,” Makoto said, pulling out his phone. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Not yet…” Kitasan shook her head, then quickly perked up. “Oh! I told President Teio that I’d look after you for the next few days, so if you need anything, please just let me know!”
“I don’t need anything in particular, so just make yourself at home.” He glanced up from his phone. “Want me to order some takeout for you?”
“Do you always eat takeout, Trainer?”
Kitasan paused, eyes wandering curiously around the apartment.
The entrance was tidy aside from a few pairs of shoes. The living room, by contrast, was stacked high with books and tapes related to Uma Musume and training methods, alongside numerous handwritten notes, documents, and a laptop placed atop the coffee table.
Despite the quantity, everything was orderly—aside from the sofa covered with scattered books. The only real clutter was the overflowing trash can, filled with crumpled papers and discarded takeout containers bearing the label “Gray House.”
“Cooking for myself takes too much time,” Makoto replied lightly, sitting down on the sofa and casually flipping through the documents Kitasan had brought. “Besides, there’s a really good restaurant near the academy. They’re fast with delivery, so I just got used to ordering from them.”
He set his phone down beside him. “But if you’re not into takeout, I’m afraid you’ll have to eat somewhere else.”
“Eh? No, no, it’s fine!” Kitasan waved her hands hurriedly, pulling out her own phone. “I can order for us! The restaurant you mentioned—it’s Gray House, right? It’s pretty popular at the academy. Everyone who skips the cafeteria usually eats there.”
She brightened enthusiastically. “Oh! By the way, some of our senpai run that place! I wonder if you’ve met them before—eh?”
Just as she opened the delivery app on her phone, she noticed Makoto already had his laptop on, along with the television and a video player, and her curiosity sparked immediately.
“Trainer, what are you…?”
“I’m watching footage of some races at Tokyo Racecourse and comparing them with your data.”
Makoto selected a tape and slotted it into the player before leaning back on the sofa. He arranged a pile of folders beside his laptop, explaining as he set things up.
“There’s no video footage of your training sessions, so I’ll start with this to get an idea of your condition.”
“The footage from the archives has multiple camera angles you won’t find online or anywhere else, plus detailed competitor data unique to each race. It’ll give me a clearer picture of your situation. But once we officially sign the contract, I’ll need to personally observe your running.”
As he spoke, Makoto noticed Kitasan had already become fixated on the race footage playing on screen. He silently approved.
Running was both an instinct and a passion for Uma Musume—but even among them, there were differences.
For instance, among the Uma Musume he’d encountered back home, many hadn’t shown particular enthusiasm for racing—certainly not to the extent Kitasan did, captivated by every race she saw.
This indicated she already possessed an excellent competitive instinct.
Currently, the tape showed pre-race interviews—not particularly important—so while quietly appreciating her enthusiasm, Makoto glanced briefly at Kitasan’s phone still clutched in her hand, picked up his own from the sofa, and ordered two meals himself.
He then began carefully inputting data into his computer, comparing it to the racing footage on the screen.
For races, the most intuitive performance metric was speed, primarily divided into three categories: starting speed (gate reaction), cruising speed, and final burst speed (also called the “closing three furlongs”).
Starting speed measured reaction time from gate opening; theoretically, the human reaction limit was about 0.1 seconds, with the average around 0.25 seconds. Even slight differences here could significantly influence race positions early on, affecting strategic options later.
Cruising speed was maintained throughout the majority of the race, typically averaging between 15 and 17 meters per second, varying with distance, competition level, and track conditions.
The final burst—maximum speed—usually determined the race outcome in the last 600 meters, fluctuating within roughly a 200-meter margin depending on race strategy and unfolding events.
Compared with the official race data he had on-screen, Kitasan’s training records from the files were unremarkable—her peak and average speeds were both considerably lower.
But Makoto wasn’t surprised. The former figures were from official competitions, whereas hers were merely from training sessions for a not-yet-debuted Uma Musume.
His main concern was variance—the fluctuations within each data set.
Smaller variance indicated consistency, whereas a larger variance meant instability. After calculating and double-checking multiple times, Makoto saw clearly: Kitasan’s current training speeds were highly unstable.
This instability could be partly attributed to poor strength control—but strength alone couldn’t fully explain the issue. Speed was merely a surface indicator. Other underlying factors such as oxygen uptake (VO₂ max), body fat percentage, stride characteristics, and running posture also significantly affected performance, both in training and actual races.
After applying several more analytical methods and comparing data, Makoto quickly came up with a theory unrelated to strength alone.
“Kita, have you received specialized training in the racing technique known as ‘stride shifting’?”
“Go! Go! Keep going—eh?”
Kitasan, absorbed in the race footage and enthusiastically cheering as though she were at the track herself, blinked in surprise.
“Stride shifting…? They mentioned it briefly in class, but…”
She scratched her head sheepishly. “I haven’t had a trainer until now, and none of the senpai back home taught me either…”
Makoto fell silent in contemplation.
He remembered, both from his earlier research and these current records, that Kitasan was from a large family with several other Uma Musume—but none of notable distinction. Thus, it wasn’t unusual that no one in her household had addressed this issue directly.
“Trainer, if I haven’t mastered stride shifting yet, won’t that affect my future races…?”
A sudden knock at the door interrupted Kitasan mid-sentence, simultaneously accompanied by the ringing of Makoto’s phone.
—
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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