Chapter Text
There is someone I love. And today, after all this time, I'm going to confess my feelings for her. I've been her secret admirer since the day I first walked through these gates... the gates of Tracen Academy.
To a young trainer like me, this place was everything - a dream job straight out of college. The Tracen Academy is undoubtedly the best institution in Japan when it comes to the education and training of uma musumes who wish to shine on both the turf and the stage. It has a track record of producing champions, generation after generation, who have not only won the races in the Twinkle Series but also successfully captured the hearts of an entire nation with their winning lives! Umadols have become a cultural phenomena not just in Japan but around the world. As a result, thousands of hopefuls from every corner of the globe, all dreaming of becoming the next Oguri Cap or Symboli Rudolf apply for admissions here. Each application is thoroughly scrutinized and only those uma musumes with extraordinary potential, the best talents and unrelenting ambitions get admission.
In a world filled with such dazzling stars, you'd think it would be one of the racers who captured my heart.
But for me, the true spirit of this academy, the calm center of this brilliant, chaotic storm, has always been her. Hayakawa Tazuna.
She’s Director Yayoi’s secretary, but that title doesn't even begin to describe her. I thought my top grades from the trainer school had prepared me, but you quickly learn that this job is more than just exercise regimes and diet control. It's about managing the delicate heart of a champion too. On a particular day, your trainee could be asking your permission for extra practice after the sundown, and the very next day, she could be suffering from sleeplessness or migraine. This not only affects their mood but also their training outcomes and race results. When my trainee—Rice Shower—fell into a downward spiral just before her debut, I was completely lost.
And somehow, she knew.
She didn't pull me aside for a lecture. She just... invited me to a movie night, saying I looked exhausted. On the way there, she spoke about racing and a runner's spirit, giving advice that felt so oddly specific it was as if she'd read my mind and seen Rice Shower's exact condition. I put her words into action the very next day. Rice Shower’s mood and performance turned around so fast it felt like a miracle. She made her debut a success.
That's when I understood. The true heart of this academy isn't the roaring crowd or the finish line. It's her quiet, impossible wisdom.
I later found out I wasn't the only one. Every trainer here has a story like that. A quiet word, a perfectly timed cup of tea, a shared moment of silence that somehow solves an unsolvable problem. She tunes the delicate heart of a champion better than any of us.
I have since been on many such ‘excursions’ with her, and with each successive trip, I feel myself being drawn to her even more. Like a top umadol, she has a quiet charm that can capture the heart of anyone she interacts with.
I’ve done my research—while you’ll rarely hear her talk about her private life, the general consensus is that someone as dedicated and workaholic as Tazuna cannot possibly be in a relationship. Nevertheless, my mind is made up. I am going to confess to her.
The trainee they assigned me after my orientation ceremony was Rice Shower. She's a gentle, sweet, and soft-spoken girl with a heart so big she just wants to make everyone around her happy. And that, I've learned, is the cruel irony of her immense talent. Her success on the track has inadvertently cast her as a “villain,” a “spoiler” who repeatedly shatters the dreams of fan favorites.
She's internalized that role, and when I first met her, she was terrified of even competing. I won't claim she's completely gotten over seeing herself as the spoilsport for others, but we're moving in the right direction. Since her debut, she's had dominant wins in both the Fuyo Stakes (OP; medium) and the Kyoto Junior Stakes (G3; medium), and a small but dedicated fanbase is starting to grow around her.
Seeing that meteoric success, I've decided it's time. We're enrolling her in the Hopeful Stakes, the first G1 race of her career. She's in peak condition right now, and you have to strike when the iron is hot. It's the perfect test for a runner like her—2000 meters on the Nakayama turf track is the gateway for any serious contender aiming for future classics like the Arima Kinen. This race will show the world what she's truly made of.
As I make my way towards the athlete lounge, feeling confident in our plan, an interesting rumor reaches my ears. A couple of other trainers are discussing a new uma musume. A ghost. Apparently, she is not affiliated to any of the big institutions such as Tracen and yet has an infallible racing record for a first-year student—first place in Chukyo Junior Stakes (OP; mile), Niigata Junior Stakes (G3; mile), Sapporo Junior Stakes (G3; mile), Shigiku Sho (OP; medium) and Asahi Hai Futurity Stakes (G1; mile)! My blood runs a little cold after hearing her record.
“If she has participated in these many races then when is she training or recuperating?”, I think to myself. “On top of that, she has a perfect record with a G1 win!”
Asahi Hai Futurity Stakes are an excellent stage for uma musumes with top mile aptitude, and if I remember correctly then Kiryuin-san’s Happy Meek must have participated in that race.
“And now this ‘black swan’ is participating in the Hopeful Stakes! Participating in multiple G1 races of different aptitudes back-to-back is no joke. This uma musume must be incredibly talented! Now I am even more interested in her! I wonder if I can meet her trainer if I wait around in the lounge?”
At some distance, I see Rice Shower and Manhattan Cafe awkwardly trying to hold a conversation. Rice Shower, on one hand, is a rather timid girl who would hardly ever strike a conversation with someone she is unfamiliar with on her own, and Manhattan Cafe, on the other hand, is rather…how should I put it? Let’s just say she likes to keep to herself. Seeing them trying to hold a conversation is like aliens trying to communicate with humans.
“What are you girls talking about?”, I interject.
“Umm, onii-sama, um, Manhattan-san was telling me about Love Never Dies-san…”
“Who is she?”
“Hehehe… she is the one who defeated Happy Meek by over 7 lengths at Asahi Hai Futurity Stakes… hehehe… my ‘friend’ told me about her”, Manhattan Cafe speaks with such enthusiasm that, for one second, I thought that I was talking to some other uma musume. I have never even heard her speak so many words together at the academy.
So that’s what her name is? ‘Love Never Dies’, huh?
“So you guys were talking about her too? Indeed, Love Never Dies has an impressive record—an undefeated record and a 7-length G1 win... this 'Love Never Dies' sounds like a monster. Since she is participating in this race too, are you guys ready to challenge her?”
“Onii-sama… Rice will do her best! Because Rice wants to change!”, Rice Shower answers, her voice filled with a surprising boldness. It's good to see she isn't intimidated.
“...”
Manhattan Cafe cracks her knuckles without saying a word, with a small, fierce smile playing on her lips. She seems to be in a great mood too! It's just these two representing Tracen in this race; I'm glad they're fired up.
“By the way,” I ask Manhattan Cafe, “do you know where your trainer Lloyd is?”
“Lost”
Guess we are back to one word answers now. Glad to know that he is lost… wait, LOST? What? Where is he? I swear, if he's off flirting with trainers and uma musumes from other schools again!
“Onii-sama! Should Rice look for Lloyd-san?” Rice Shower asks, sensing my frustration.
“No, no, no. You girls don’t need to worry about him. I am sure he has some important business to attend to right now.”
“Lloyd, womanizer, guilty”, Manhattan Cafe chimes in, damning her trainer once and for all, with a guileless smile. Rice Shower is utterly speechless.
“Now! Now! You girls should focus on maintaining your composure for the upcoming race. I will go and search for Lloyd.” I interject immediately, sensing Rice Shower’s mood was about to plummet.
With that, I walk down the corridor towards the cafeteria, leaving them to their preparations.
I consider Lloyd one of my main rivals. We both started at Tracen around the same time, and while he didn't attend my school, I can't deny his skill as a trainer. His methods, however, are another story. I've hardly ever seen him actively instructing Manhattan Cafe; he's usually playing hooky while charming someone new.
As if on cue, I turn the corner and see him holding court with another uma musume and her trainer, a jubilant smile on his face. My frustration boils over as I walk towards him. He spots me, gives a casual wave, but continues his joyful banter unabated.
“Ah, speak of the devil! Sherryl, Croix du Nord, let me introduce you to my most serious colleague…”
“Lloyd, where have you been this whole time?” I cut in, keeping my voice low. “Why did you leave Manhattan Cafe and Rice Shower alone in the lobby?”
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, my friend!”, he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Listen closely, Sherryl-san and Nord-san were telling me about ‘The Phantom’, aren’t you curious about her too?”
“‘The Phantom’?” I ask, my frustration momentarily replaced by intrigue.
“Love Never Dies,” the uma musume next to him replies. Her name is Croix du Nord, if I remember correctly. “That's what everyone on the circuit has started calling her.”
“Oh! She has earned herself a nickname already?” Lloyd remarked with intense excitement, clearly enjoying the chaos this stranger was causing.
“Not only that,” Nord continued, her voice lowering slightly, “she has no trainer or supporting staff accompanying her to the races. She just waltzes into a racecourse, participates in a race, wins, and disappears! She doesn't do interviews or Winning Lives.” I grew more anxious as Nord finished her story. “I would like to say that I had met her at the Shigiku Sho, but Love Never Dies-san didn't even exchange a small greeting with other participants.”
It is true that over the past few years, rules regarding mandatory participation in post-race interviews and Winning Lives have been reversed out of concern for the mental and physical health of participating uma musumes. But to abstain from both events—especially as a G1 winner—is virtually unheard of. Only in the most extreme circumstances does a first-place finisher opt out.
But what was truly shocking was the claim she managed herself. Does she genuinely not have a trainer, or do they simply never show up? Any responsible trainer will always be with their trainee before a race starts—after all, mood management is the key to performance. Why is she participating in these races alone? Someone with her talent would be immediately scouted by institutions like Tracen. Academies like ours provide the absolute best resources for growth, stability, and career longevity. Why would she willingly reject that? Why is she running solo?
My contemplation was instantly cut short by the sound of the loudspeakers.
“Ding-dong. This is the first call for participants to assemble on the racetrack for the inauguration parade. I repeat, this is the first call for participants to assemble on the racetrack for the inauguration parade.”
The announcement energized the lounge, replacing nervous chatter with focused movement. Trainers grabbed their gear; racers checked their silks.
Then, the heavy main doors swung open.
Every eye in the room followed the figure who walked in. I knew it before anyone spoke a word: it was Love Never Dies. She has shoulder-length, straight, dark brown hair parted slightly to her left. Her eyes are a striking emerald green, and she wears a calm, serious, or perhaps slightly melancholic expression. She dons an ornate, white and silver masquerade half-mask over her left eye. The mask is decorated with intricate, swirling filigree patterns. Her attire is a highly formal and elaborate ensemble, blending masculine and feminine elements reminiscent of Victorian or gothic aristocratic fashion. She wears a long, black tailcoat or frock coat. The wide lapels, cuffs, and entire hem of the coat are heavily embellished with intricate silver embroidery in a floral, scrollwork pattern. A single, vibrant red rose is pinned to the coat's left lapel. She also wears a pair of short, white formal gloves. Beneath the coat, she wears a light-grey or silver waistcoat featuring a subtle brocade pattern and a row of small silver buttons. Under the vest is a formal white shirt with a high collar and a white ascot or cravat. Her lower attire is layered. She wears practical black trousers, which are partially covered by a dark blue, pleated overskirt that is open in the front. This overskirt is also trimmed with the same detailed silver embroidery found on the coat.
All uma musumes are known to be peerless beauties. However, she clearly is a cut above the rest. Where was such a monster hiding until now? She radiated a silence that felt heavier than the ambient noise. Our eyes met for a moment but she quickly looked away. She didn't glance at the other racers or staff. Her path was a straight, uncompromising line toward the corridor leading to the track.
The Phantom had arrived.
“Whoa! Look at that gait! That muscle definition! She is the real deal. I wonder if I can scout her? Maybe get her number?” Lloyd exclaimed with pure, suicidal jubilation.
“What are you talking about? You already have…” I stopped mid-sentence.
Manhattan Cafe and Rice Shower had followed me. I thought they might have overheard, but who am I kidding? With their ears, they can hear a sugar cube drop from fifty feet away.
Rice Shower looked panic-stricken, her eyes darting between her friend and her trainer. Manhattan Cafe, however, was already pacing towards Lloyd. She moved like a stalking panther—silent, displeased, and terrifying.
Lloyd, completely oblivious, was still facing me, continuing to gleefully praise Love Never Dies’ beauty. With every exaltation, he was digging himself into a deeper, darker grave. It was going to be a bloodbath.
Don’t worry, Lloyd, I thought, taking a respectful step back. I will pray for your soul.
Lloyd suddenly paused. A shiver visibly ran down his spine. The survival instinct finally kicked in. He turned around slowly to see Manhattan Cafe standing perfectly still, staring a hole through his existence.
“Oh! Hi! Cafe-chan… and Rice-chan! Fancy seeing you guys here… I thought you both would be at the paddock right now? Did you not hear the announcement…?” Lloyd took two tentative steps back, spun on his heel, and suddenly bolted towards the emergency exit.
Imagine trying to run away from an uma musume. It’s a thought that belongs in a comedy sketch, not reality.
Manhattan Cafe didn't even blink. She tilted her body forward, dropping her center of gravity. Her right leg slid back, assuming a perfect, textbook starting stance. She took a single deep breath and lunged.
It wasn't a run; it was an explosion of speed. She closed the thirty-meter gap in just two seconds. Before Lloyd could even reach the handle of the exit door, a shadowy hand clamped onto his collar, halting his momentum instantly.
He was dragged, his shoes letting out a mellow squeak as they rubbed against the smooth floor, back into the abyss of the hallway without a sound.
I watched them disappear, shaking my head. I turned to find a perplexed Sherryl, a stunned Croix du Nord, and a Rice Shower who looked like she had just witnessed a murder.
“Well,” I stuttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “What can I say? We have a lively atmosphere at Tracen, haha…!” The awkwardness was killing me.
“Yes!” she concurred. “You know what? I think we should get going too. I still have to check a few things before the race. Let’s go, Croix! Also, please send my regards to Lloyd.”
"Y-Yes," Croix chimed in, looking relieved to escape. I waved my hand towards them as they both made their way towards the paddocks.
I turned around to see Rice Shower standing there, fiddling with the blue rose at the center of her racing outfit, her usual gentle composure frayed at the edges. But it wasn't just Lloyd's antics; her eyes were still wide, fixed on the corridor where the Phantom—Love Never Dies—had disappeared moments earlier.
“Onii-sama,” she whispered. “Did you… did you see her?”
“I did, Rice,” I answered, keeping my voice low and firm. I approached her and crouched down to meet her eye level, gently placing my hands over hers to stop the trembling. “She is a remarkable runner. But she is just that—a runner. A target.”
I met her gaze, blocking out the chaos of the lounge. “This is the Hopeful Stakes. It is your first G1. You trained perfectly for this. Every meter of that 2000m track belongs to you. Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?”
She blinked, focusing on my words. “...That I am not running to make others sad. I am running for Rice’s happiness.”
“Exactly. You are running for yourself. Don't worry about the legends, or the phantoms, or the drama. Focus on the ground right in front of your hooves. The pace you need to set is yours.”
I squeezed her hands one last time. “You are strong, Rice Shower. Others might have called you a spoiler in the past, yes, but today, you are a champion in the making. Go out there and make yourself happy.”
A genuine smile, timid yet determined, finally replaced the fear in her eyes. “Rice will do her best! Thank you, Onii-sama.”
She nodded, took a deep breath, and turned to jog toward the tunnel where Cafe had dragged Lloyd.
My job was over for now; all that was left was to watch.
I stood up, straightening my suit, but the knot in my stomach tightened. Why do I feel so restless? I had done everything I could. The strategy was sound. The training was perfect.
Yet, as the distant roar of the crowd began to bleed into the lounge, I couldn't shake the feeling that the Hopeful Stakes wasn't just a race. It felt like the world of racing was about to change forever.