Chapter 9: You're Truly a Genius, Kitan!
So she had noticed it after all.
With that thought in mind, Makoto gave a firm nod.
"Your raw strength is outstanding—even among all the Umamusume. But that's also precisely why it's harder for you to control your own body. That's the main reason why most trainers see you as only suited for short-distance races."
He paused, then offered a comparison with a small shrug.
"To put it bluntly—it's like this: if someone else's punch weighs one ton, yours hits like ten. Sure, with proper training, your punch will be much stronger. But without it, it just becomes wild and hard to manage."
"My punch is ten tons? That's way too much, trainer!"
Kitasan Black lifted her small fists in front of her face, blinking at them for a moment before giving a sheepish laugh. Then, nodding earnestly, she added:
"But I think I get what you're saying. So how do I train for that?"
Makoto gave a small smile, pleased with her quick understanding.
"Good. That's what I hoped to hear."
He leaned back against the railing of the training grounds and began to explain with a patient tone.
"Control over strength isn't just one thing—it involves a whole range of factors. What I'm focusing on right now is just one of them: your gait and running posture."
Gripping the railing tightly, he lifted both feet off the ground in one fluid motion.
"I've been reviewing the footage these past few days, and I noticed that your gait is all over the place. The rhythm's a mess."
He landed lightly on his feet again, then started demonstrating slowly, his movements deliberate.
"Most of the time in races, Umamusume use a gait called the 'trot-stride'. That means: front foot down, back foot down, then again—front, back—followed by a short moment of lift-off. Rinse and repeat."
"As you can see—each cycle has four contact points with the ground, so it's called a 'four-beat gait'."
"But in training, you weren't just using the trot-stride. You were also running with a 'canter' pattern."
He shifted into another demonstration.
"Front foot, back foot, front foot again, then lift. That's the canter—a three-beat rhythm."
"The two gaits have completely different timings. When a normal Umamusume tries to mix them up, they either mess up their rhythm, slow down, or both."
"But you, my dear Kitan…"
Makoto landed from his demonstration and let out a quiet laugh.
"Even though you've been mixing three- and four-beat gaits like a scrambled music track, you still managed to get decent training speeds. Should I call you a genius? Or a lucky genius?"
Kitasan Black froze for a moment. Then scratched her head and chuckled awkwardly.
"Ehehe… Trainer, you don't really need to praise me that much..."
…Wait. Did she seriously not catch that he was mocking her?
Makoto felt a little exasperated and rubbed his forehead with a sigh.
His mind wandered back to his previous life—where advanced martial arts and combat techniques required deep understanding of anatomy, injury recovery, and body mechanics.
Applying that knowledge to training Umamusume might not make him the best trainer in the industry, but it gave him a unique edge.
Especially since, by his estimates, this world's time period lagged at least a decade behind his past life's. His concepts were practically cutting-edge here.
The Japanese Umamusume training world wasn't exactly high-level to begin with, meaning he had plenty of room to shine.
Take strength control, for instance.
If the academy's other trainers had known how to properly train Kitasan Black—if they'd seen through her potential and helped her master control over her abilities—she would've made waves by now.
But the reports still labeled her as "only good at short-distance races."
So clearly… they missed it.
Their loss.
Still, he had his own weaknesses.
In both past life and present, he had zero experience dealing with girls her age.
Being an extreme stunt performer and coach was not the same as being a horse girl trainer.
If he wanted to help Kitasan Black reach her full potential—to make her into a truly remarkable Umamusume—he'd have to learn and adapt, one step at a time.
Starting with this:
Now that he knew she was the honest, cheerful, and slightly clumsy type, he should probably stop using so many roundabout metaphors.
"I'm not praising you, you know. Don't forget—I said from the start your gait is a total mess. Switching between two different patterns mid-run isn't something to be proud of."
Now that Makoto had made up his mind, he spoke plainly. Watching Kitasan Black's smug grin freeze on her face was almost satisfying. Still, after a moment's thought, he softened his tone a little.
"But don't worry. If I can point out the problem, it means I have a solution."
He gestured for her to hand over the tablet and stopwatch she was carrying, then turned and began walking toward the school building.
Instinctively following after him, Kitasan Black glanced back at the training field in confusion.
"Trainer, aren't we... training here today?"
Still flipping through the tablet, Makoto replied casually,
"Not for now."
"You still have your regular training classes during the day. I'll be observing those as well."
"Right now, I'm setting up something a little more… specialized for you."
At Tracen Academy, the class schedule was similar to most other high schools. Mornings and early afternoons were filled with academic classes and some outdoor physical education.
Aside from the standard subjects like Japanese and Math, Umamusume were also taught foundational knowledge about racing—like track types, race formats, and the sport's history.
Outdoor classes focused on basic physical fitness—running, swimming, and the like.
But once a student signed a contract with a trainer, those general classes were followed by tailor-made afterschool training sessions based on each Umamusume's abilities and development plan.
It was currently after hours—prime time for that personalized training.
The track they had just left was filled with other Umamusume engaged in their own routines, and even along the way through the training grounds, Makoto and Kitasan passed several others practicing hard.
But rather than entering the school building proper, Makoto turned toward the Multipurpose Hall, heading straight for the Dance Studio.
The room was huge—big enough to fit over a hundred people doing group exercises without crowding.
Today, though, there were only about thirty trainees.
Three instructors, each leading about ten girls, were guiding them through dance steps. There was still plenty of open space.
Just as Makoto was about to greet one of the teachers, Kitasan Black suddenly leaned close and whispered with wide eyes:
"Ah! It's Crow-chan—!"
Makoto raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. She was covering her mouth and staring with sparkling eyes.
He followed her gaze—and spotted the Umamusume she was fixated on.
Long black hair. Deep green eyes.
Graceful movements, fluid footwork, a gentle smile playing at her lips as she danced.
She stood out immediately.
From the elegant arc of her arms to the precise steps of her feet, there was no doubt—among the trainees present, her dancing was clearly the most refined.
"...Crow? Wait—Satono Crown?"
The name triggered a memory. Makoto sifted through his mental archives and quickly recalled a profile.
"That Satono family heiress?"
"Yup! I'm in the same class as her—and her little sister too! Oh! And I share a dorm room with Satono Diamond-chan!"
Kitasan's voice rose slightly with excitement, and a trace of pride slipped into her tone.
"Crow-chan is amazing! She debuted last year and already has back-to-back wins! She's just so incredible!"