After crossing the finish line, Kitasan Black habitually slowed into a jog. Only when her breathing returned to normal did she glance back with a faint pang of regret.
Gold Ship-senpai won after all, huh…? Thinking I could beat the seniors was really too naive.
She murmured softly, biting her lip and clenching her fists, then shook her head with a self-mocking smile. Nervously, she turned toward the commentary stand.
Ever since childhood, her grandfather had told her that many things in life were difficult, but as long as you persisted until the end, you’d surely see success someday.
She had always believed in that.
After months of hard work, her heart truly began to yearn deeply to become an Uma Musume as brilliant as her seniors—perhaps even surpassing them one day.
Before this training race, she’d briefly thought that, after winning three consecutive races, even if she couldn’t beat the seniors outright, she’d at least put up a good fight. She believed she’d have a chance.
Even if the chance wasn’t great, even if she ultimately lost, she thought she could have a standout performance.
But clearly seeing her seniors pass her one by one, each crossing the finish line before her, leaving her dead last…
No matter how reluctant she was to admit it, she had to acknowledge that compared to these incredible senpai, she was still a long way off.
I wonder what Trainer-san will say to me…?
Just as she anxiously muttered this, she noticed Yasui Makoto near the commentary stand, speaking briefly with Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen before turning in her direction.
Her ears twitched, and she instinctively lowered her head, scuffing the ground nervously with one foot.
Moments later, familiar footsteps approached. Torn for a few seconds between raising her head or keeping it bowed, she eventually kept her gaze fixed on her shoes and softly spoke.
“Trainer-san, I… I lost…”
Her voice faltered, and she lowered her head even further.
The instant the training race ended, Yasui Makoto exchanged a few quick words with Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen, then jogged toward Kitasan Black carrying a bag of drinks and towels he had prepared beforehand.
Seeing Kitasan’s downcast expression, he opened his mouth, then immediately closed it again.
He’d already noticed from afar how dejected his Uma Musume appeared.
Though it was hard to truly empathize completely—he still didn’t fully grasp the emotions of Uma Musume—he could easily imagine what Kitasan was feeling.
Before her debut, she’d received rather mediocre evaluations. Her training results and academics had been described, at best, as average—or at worst, as trailing far behind.
That wasn’t entirely her fault. Central Tracen Academy gathered the most outstanding Uma Musume from across Japan. Being “average” here inevitably meant being behind.
And given that the Japanese racing community didn’t pay much attention to short-distance events, Kitasan Black had been labeled as “more suited for shorter races,” a lukewarm evaluation at best.
He could easily picture the gap between the dreams she’d brought here and the harsh reality she’d faced.
But she wasn’t without talent.
Her greatest gift—or perhaps her strongest trait—was how earnest and grounded she was. Her potential wasn’t actually mediocre, merely difficult for many teachers and trainers to fully recognize or nurture.
After three months of intense training and three consecutive victories, her potential had finally started to shine through. Her past disappointments were gradually replaced by genuine hope and excitement.
Now, confronting the overwhelming strength of her seniors and tasting defeat again, perhaps some of her earlier disappointment had resurfaced.
Not to mention other emotions like frustration and guilt.
All in all, Yasui knew she must be feeling awful at this moment.
He thought through these things carefully as he approached.
When he heard her softly admit “I lost” in such a defeated tone, watching her bow her head as if awaiting punishment, Yasui quickly adjusted his own mindset and gently smiled.
“Here, banana flavor—I remember you like drinking this. First, replenish some energy.”
Maintaining a relaxed tone, he rummaged through the plastic bag and handed her a bottle.
Kitasan raised her head blankly, reflexively accepting the energy drink. “Trainer-san…?”
Yasui Makoto tilted his head slightly, pretending to scan the field thoughtfully as he stroked his chin.
“That race was pretty intense. You did well recovering with that jog earlier. Remember what I said before? This is exactly the best moment to restore your energy.”
Holding the bottle with both hands, she twisted it nervously, biting her lower lip. “…Yes, I remember.”
“Good that you remember,” Yasui nodded gently. “Losing must feel pretty bad, but don’t dwell on it too much. If you have to think about something, it’s better to focus on what you learned from the race.”
“From the beginning, we agreed this training race was just to test your special training progress and prepare for the Satsuki Sho.”
“Judging from today’s performance, your acceleration ability has clearly improved significantly. That’s excellent progress.”
Yasui himself knew he wasn’t very good at comforting others. His default method was always to divert attention—particularly toward the future rather than lingering on the past.
That was also his personal philosophy.
Success or failure, those things were already over, and obsessing over them was pointless.
What truly mattered was how much one learned from past experiences.
He believed Kitasan would accept this kind of “comfort” well.
After all, she was resilient, straightforward, and driven by her dreams. Surely she was more eager for future victories than preoccupied with past losses.
“E-excellent progress…?” Kitasan perked up slightly, her previously drooping ears starting to lift. “Thank you, Trainer-san…”
However, hesitation lingered in her eyes. “But… I didn’t really feel it myself. And besides, I still didn’t win…”
Seeing his approach working, Yasui pressed forward eagerly:
“I’m not just saying it to make you feel better. You’ll understand after watching the footage later. Your acceleration around that first turn exceeded my expectations.”
“In my original plan, you would’ve learned how to accelerate around corners after this training race—but you managed it early. Honestly, that surprised me.”
At that, Kitasan Black’s ears instantly shot upright.
“R-Really? Then…if I had used that technique again on the later corners, could I have won the race?”
Yasui chuckled softly.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not saying you had no chance.”
“It’s just that you clearly aren’t fully proficient in that technique yet. You still need more practice.”
“And besides, if you really want to win a race like this, there’s still plenty for you to learn—especially from your senpai.”
“I see…” Kitasan nodded vigorously, any trace of gloom now erased from her face. Moments later, she was back to her usual bright and enthusiastic self.
“Alright! Since more practice is needed, should I run another round with the senpai later?”
Yasui laughed quietly, relieved by her renewed spirit, yet silently thinking:
You’re really unstoppable, Kita-chan.
—
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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