A few days later, in the afternoon, at Central Tracen Academy's training grounds.
Standing just outside the grass track's outer fence, Yasui Makoto adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag and scribbled notes continuously on his tablet, while beside him stood an enthusiastic Kitasan Black.
"Alright, everything's set on my end."
After double-checking the track data, Makoto glanced sideways at Kitasan, who was busy warming up.
"Kita, you—"
Before he could finish, she eagerly vaulted over the fence with a spirited shout, snapping to attention in front of him.
"I'm ready! We can start anytime!"
"Mm, good energy. Let's start with a 1,800-meter run on the grass."
Taking out the stopwatch from his pocket, Makoto pointed towards the track's starting line.
"Don't overthink it. Just run as you usually do. Ready?"
"No problem at all! I'm totally ready, Trainer!"
"Good… alright then."
Quickly checking her starting posture, Makoto raised his stopwatch.
"Three, two… one!"
As he dropped his arm, the ground trembled slightly beneath his feet, and a shadowy blur flashed past his vision.
This strength… really is something else.
Watching the distant figure, Makoto unconsciously recalled that afternoon a few days earlier, the same faint tremor followed by a short-haired figure rapidly enlarging in his field of vision.
But he quickly refocused, closely observing Kitasan's movements on the track and pressing the stopwatch with precision as she passed each distance marker.
About two minutes later.
Running back to Makoto expectantly, not looking the slightest bit winded despite having just completed an 1,800-meter run, Kitasan wiped non-existent sweat from her forehead and blinked eagerly.
"So? Trainer, how was my run?"
"Rest five minutes, then run three more laps."
Without offering a direct evaluation, Makoto calmly jotted down notes on his tablet, stopwatch still in hand.
"When you run, you're probably not fully aware of how far or how long you've been running, right?"
"How did you know that?"
Kitasan looked startled, then scratched her head sheepishly.
"Well, yeah. I usually just look ahead and run as hard as I can. The teachers always said to keep an eye on the markers, but whenever I tried, I slowed down because I got distracted. So I eventually stopped paying attention to the distance entirely."
"Trainer, is…is this a big problem?"
Still withholding judgment, Makoto shook his head.
"The data from one run isn't enough, and I also need to assess your stamina limits. Let's finish these three laps first, then we'll talk."
"No problem!"
Kitasan nodded without hesitation, energetically pumping her fist.
"But honestly, I feel like I don't need to rest at all. I could run again right now! Can I, Trainer?"
Makoto glanced at her eager expression and felt her breathing, then shook his head firmly.
"I said five minutes' rest, so five minutes it is—"
Seeing Kitasan's enthusiasm wilt slightly at his stern tone, he softened immediately.
"You should at least give me time to sort through your data, right? Just wait five minutes for me, and we'll do the same after each lap."
Kitasan instantly brightened up again.
"Got it! I won't disturb you then, Trainer!"
Half an hour later.
"Phew… How was it this time, Trainer? Did I do okay?"
Finally showing a hint of fatigue, sweat glistening slightly at her temples, but still full of spirit, Kitasan stood beside the fence, eagerly awaiting Makoto's verdict after completing four full 1,800-meter laps.
This stamina… Isn't this a little absurd?
Even though Makoto had thoroughly examined Kitasan's physical data before, witnessing it firsthand still shocked him.
Uma Musume were undeniably fast, but maintaining such high speeds usually burned through stamina rapidly.
If these had been race conditions, most Uma Musume would have needed at least an hour's rest after just one lap, with several days of recovery afterward to avoid injury.
Even in practice, four consecutive 1,800-meter laps was grueling—enough to leave most Uma Musume gasping. Yet Kitasan stood before him looking only slightly tired, her extraordinary stamina clearly beyond normal limits.
At the same time, Makoto vaguely recalled from his past life's memories: Kitasan Black in that world had similarly incredible stamina, enduring brutal training before her debut, laying the groundwork for her astonishing achievements.
However, Makoto had no intention of subjecting his trainee to similar harsh methods.
The Japanese racing world in his previous life had developed late, with outdated methods often criticized for pushing racehorses to their limits. Kitasan Black's training in that world, especially, had sparked controversy for its severity—something even Japanese professionals frequently criticized.
Aside from a handful of horses like Kitasan herself, no others could have survived such harsh conditions.
That sort of training was unquestionably cruel—and the trainee now was a bright, cheerful girl. Makoto wasn't about to imitate his former "colleagues" by pushing such extreme methods.
Besides, he had safer and more effective training methods available.
"You did well."
After briefly praising Kitasan, Makoto found himself smiling as her face lit up instantly.
He handed the stopwatch and tablet over to Kitasan, then entered the track himself through an opening a few meters away.
"Trainer… what are you doing?" Kitasan asked, puzzled.
"I'll do a simple 100-meter run… don't pay attention to my speed, though. I certainly can't match yours."
Standing near the inner fence, Makoto loosened his necktie and tied it over his eyes, turning his blindfolded gaze toward Kitasan.
"What you need to watch closely is how well I sense distance and time."
"Distance and time… Got it! I'll watch carefully!"
"Alright then."
Makoto nodded and without another word, kicked off from the ground and sprinted forward, darkness filling his vision.
About ten seconds later.
Breathing slightly heavier, Makoto removed his makeshift blindfold and turned back toward Kitasan.
"Did you notice?"
"Notice…? Oh—I see!"
Startled at first, Kitasan's ears suddenly perked up as she pointed excitedly at the distance marker near the fence.
"Trainer… You ran exactly 100 meters—no more, no less!"
"And without looking at the markers at all…"
"No—without seeing anything!"
Hmm. She picks things up quickly.
Quietly praising his trainee's perceptiveness, Makoto fixed his tie, walked over to Kitasan, and explained calmly:
"Whether or not you look at the markers, you should always have an intuitive sense of how far you've run, and how much time has passed."
"That awareness is crucial during races—especially intense ones."
"Combine this awareness with a clear understanding of your stamina and your opponents' condition, and you'll know precisely when to accelerate or when to conserve energy."
"That's undeniably important, but the reason I said earlier that it's not the biggest problem is because you currently have another issue—one that's more obvious and direct."
"A more obvious, direct issue…"
Kitasan's ears drooped slightly, and she anxiously wrung her hands together.
"Is… is it my strength?"