Chapter 150: Trainer, Don't Turn Around Yet
The race earlier had been visibly intense—staff members were already rushing onto the track to check on the situation.
Hearing Makoto's words and seeing the commotion on the course, the Umamusume exchanged glances before Tokai Teio, who had remained silent until now, spoke up.
"Makoto-san, you should go ahead first. We'll follow shortly."
"It might just be me overthinking, but… if we all go to see Kita-chan together right now, it might just put more pressure on her."
Makoto nodded wordlessly and turned to walk down the corridor behind the stands.
Watching his back, Mejiro McQueen tilted her head toward Tokai Teio and whispered, "Teio… what do you make of him?"
Tokai Teio paused for a moment.
"I can't really guess what he's thinking."
"It's not uncommon for Trainers to mentor G1-level racers right from their debut—but someone who reacts to a near win like that… it's like he's been through countless races himself."
"Honestly, I've never met a trainer like him."
"Neither have I," Mejiro McQueen murmured, thinking back. "But… that's probably not a bad thing for Kita-chan."
"Of course not," Tokai Teio replied, brightening up a little. "If anything, I'm convinced now, he's a perfect match for her."
"McQueen, I think it's about time we discuss overseas races with the two of them, don't you?"
…
Before even reaching the infirmary, Makoto spotted Kitasan Black walking out from inside.
She noticed him at the same time—and instinctively smiled, taking a small step forward.
But then her expression froze, her eyes darted away, and her feet came to an abrupt stop.
Sensing the subtle change in her demeanor, Makoto walked over and asked quietly, "How is it? The checkup didn't find anything wrong, right?"
The familiar voice above her made Kitasan Black's ears twitch slightly.
After a long pause, she lowered her head and nodded, her ten fingers fidgeting together in front of her chest.
Pretending not to notice, Makoto casually looked down the corridor.
"If there's no issue, take a bit of time to rest. There's still the winner's stage later… want me to go with you?"
Again, she stayed silent for a while before giving a small nod.
As they began heading toward the resting area, Makoto deliberately slowed his pace. Only after hearing her soft footsteps following behind did he resume walking normally.
The corridor was filled with other competitors from the race; he exchanged brief greetings with a few as they passed, and soon the hallway quieted down, emptying of others.
Then, at a turn—
"Trainer…"
"Hm? What is it—"
"W-wait… don't turn around yet."
Just as he began to turn, Makoto froze mid-motion and stayed facing forward as instructed.
He couldn't see her expression—only heard her voice, quieter and steadier than usual.
"I… I don't really know what to say."
"I thought about what you might say to me, too…"
"But… thinking about it now, this… this feels more like what you'd actually do, doesn't it?"
…What does that mean?
The thought barely formed in Makoto's mind before he suddenly felt something press gently against his back.
A moment later, a tense but warm body leaned against him, slender arms slipping beneath his elbows to wrap lightly around his torso.
Like a balloon slowly deflating—or like melted caramel—the tight, trembling body soon softened, sagging slightly against him, warm and clingy.
Then, from just beneath the nape of his neck, came a long, slow breath of warmth.
And as that heat spread, matching her touch, Makoto felt every muscle in his body lock stiff.
…So, what does this mean now…?
Before Makoto could even sort out his thoughts, a voice came from behind—soft and sticky like the warmth pressed against his back, yet different from her usual gentle tone.
"I don't know what I should say…"
Repeating those same words, the voice continued quietly,
"Comforting me, encouraging me… scolding me, yelling at me."
"I could've accepted any of that. I could've imagined it, too."
"But… that's not what you'd do, is it? Trainers like you… never say things like that."
"No, that's not right— You have encouraged me before, comforted me, too… but only during training."
"As for what to do after losing a race… this must be the first time you've had to face that, right?"
Makoto stirred instinctively.
He wanted to say that he'd lost before—but before he could speak, the arms wrapped around his torso tightened stubbornly, holding him in place.
"I told you… don't turn around yet…"
The pressure from both sides grew firmer; the warmth at his back deepened, softening until it felt like sinking into a hot spring.
Then came silence. For a long while, she didn't speak.
When she finally did, her voice was small and trembling, like a whisper caught in hesitation.
"I still don't know what to say… or how to say it…"
It was the third time she had said something like that.
Her arms tightened again, as if afraid he might slip away—so tight it nearly took his breath away.
"But… Trainer, we still have more races ahead, right?"
"I won't let anyone take you away from me, so… you'll keep training me after this, right?"
"I've always listened to what you said, always tried my best, and I've never forgotten the promise I made to you…"
"So, in the races ahead… Trainer—we'll still be together, right?"
"…Yeah. That's right."
Finally, Makoto heard something he could respond to—and he nodded without hesitation.
"As for comforting you… honestly, I don't know how to do that."
"Saying things like 'You did your best' or 'You got a good result'—to me, those words mean nothing."
"It's not like I've never lost a race before— I mean outside of the Twinkle Series, of course."
"When I lose, there's only ever one thing I think about."
"Winning it back next time."
"That's all competition is—winning, and winning it back."
"So don't worry. You told me you'd make me a G1 trainer—and you already have."
"So there's nothing for you to apologize for. If anyone should be saying sorry, it's me, as your Train—"
The arms around his chest suddenly tightened sharply, forcing the air from his lungs and cutting off the rest of his words.
The voice behind him mumbled something indignantly—and then, in an instant, every trace of warmth vanished.
When he blinked, the familiar figure was already standing in front of him.
"I said a bunch of weird things just now, didn't I? Anyway… from here on out, please keep taking care of me, Trainer!"
Her lashes still glimmered faintly with something transparent, but her crimson eyes shone with a blade-like brilliance.
Her smile was as bright and lively as ever—only, the curve of it seemed a little gentler, a little quieter than before.
Looking at that smile balanced delicately between cheerfulness and composure, Makoto swallowed hard and averted his gaze.
After a moment, he lifted his arm slowly and brushed aside a few damp strands of hair from her forehead.
"…Please keep taking care of me too, Kitasan."
<+>
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