Porter here:
Hello everyone, recently I'm kinda addicted to Umamusu's topic (ACG and Fanfiction). Then, I found this cool story so I kinda want to publish it here to share and find so reactions.
Therefore;
1. if you find another translation in webnovel with the sa topic please remind of it.
2. if you find this interesting, give a notice whether to continue or not.
Anyway here is the chapter, Enjoy :)
1. Dream
"Stacelita bursts out from the inside!"
"And Haiku Star still needs to make up six or seven lengths if he wants to take the championship!"
Though the young man was riding at full speed, the comntators' voices carried clearly through the wind.
"I'm going to charge here!" he realized aloud, tightening his grip on the whip. "Go! Let's accelerate now!"
"Stacelita has taken the lead—she looks poised to win!"
Just as the comntator declared that judgnt, the whip ca down with a sharp crack. Instinctively, the fine horse beneath him surged forward, erasing Stacelita's lead as if it were nothing more than a mirage.
"Haiku Star charges forward! He catches Stacelita—overtakes her—and he's still accelerating! The gap widens instantly!"
"Haiku Star! Flying like dust! Flawless! Magnificent! A horse of a lifeti!"
But the instant they crossed the finish line, the young man in the saddle suddenly lost balance and tumbled from the horse's back—
…!
In a modest dormitory, Shuta An sat upright in bed, jolted awake by the dream's sudden fall.
"Ouch!" He had risen too quickly and struck his head against the headboard.
"This ti I finally won the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe in my dream," he muttered, rubbing his forehead with one hand and pressing his chest with the other. His gaze dropped toward the floor. "But what are these dreams supposed to an? From my debut race to the Arc—what connects the horses I rode there with the Umamusu I've trained in reality?"
The questions lingered, heavy and unanswerable.
"For six months now, ever since I quit West Coast Tracen Academy, I've dread of this scene every night. Did the Student Council President curse for resigning and running away?"
Just as he grumbled under his breath, a strange voice echoed in his mind—
"Congratulations on perfectly clearing the novice dungeon Haiku Star. Reward: Basic Stat Viewer. Bonus: Jockey Ryan Moore's Riding Skill saved as a unique skill."
"What was that?!" Shuta An froze.
He glanced around the empty room; nothing seed unusual.
"Am I hallucinating?" He frowned, then shook his head. "Forget it—let's call it a hallucination for now. Ti to get ready for work. Tomorrow's the start of the new sester; I've got plenty to do today."
At least in appearance, he was a respectable office worker.
"But going to work just ans sitting around in an empty office," he muttered. "Umamusu here don't have any drive to improve—it suits the atmosphere of this place perfectly."
Umamusu—Racehorse Girls—were unique beings: long-eared, tailed, and capable of running far beyond human limits. Their fates were as mysterious as they were magnificent, sotis glorious, sotis cruel. Said to be blessed by three goddesses, no one could predict where destiny would lead any of them.
Shuta An's duty was to guide and accompany those who walked that path of fate.
His official title: Trainer.
A new Trainer, to be precise—assigned to Kasamatsu Tracen Academy, a rural school in Gifu Prefecture's Hashima District. He had been there less than half a year.
And already, he had plenty to complain about.
"This place really is hopeless…" he sighed softly.
The training facilities were crude—there wasn't even a slope course like those built at Arican academies. The Umamusu were more interested in fashion trends than in training; during races, they worried more about their accessories or muddy skirts than about running form. His fellow Trainers were, frankly, so unskilled he wondered how they had even graduated. Sotis he had to look away when they used outdated training thods—otherwise, he might blurt out his criticism as he had back at West Coast Tracen Academy.
Slapping his cheeks to chase away the irritation, Shuta An changed into casual clothes and headed for the shared washroom with his toiletries.
"How can I get out of here…" he muttered while walking down the narrow dormitory hall.
Kasamatsu was undoubtedly one of Japan's most rural towns. If he wanted to move to Central Tracen Academy in Tokyo—the nation's largest and most prestigious school—he needed an offer letter from them.
Central, in partnership with the URA Association, hosted the Twinkle Series, the pinnacle of racing. Ninety-nine percent of Umamusu dread of winning a G1 title there.
But for Shuta An, such an offer was impossible right now—and not because of lack of skill.
"I'm sorry, Shuta-san… I respect your ability, but I can't change the minds of the URA's upper brass. Please understand."
Even with his eyes closed, Shuta An could still recall the apologetic words of the "Emperor" in Central's Student Council chamber.
"Because I'm from Arica, they think I'll secretly use banned substances like those idiots on the West Coast…" he groaned. "I ca to Japan because I refused to join those scoundrels—and now their reputation's haunting . I can't even prove I'm not one of them."
He sighed deeply. "Still, it's not completely hopeless."
After half a year in Japan, he had devised a plan: if he could train an Uma Musu from Kasamatsu to win a major race in the Twinkle Series—using only legitimate thods—it would prove his skill beyond question. Then he could ask that sa Emperor for an offer letter to Central.
He had visited Central once before. The number of talented Uma Musu there easily dwarfed Kasamatsu's entire student body.
"Wait—zero can't be a denominator, can it?" he murmured.
It wasn't arrogance; the gap truly was that wide.
"So…" He splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection. "Is there anyone at Kasamatsu who even ets my minimum standard?"
Of course, he already knew the answer—and that knowledge left him weary.
"The gap between local and Central is like heaven and earth," he muttered. "It's the unshakable rule for every local academy."
Only once in decades had that rule been broken—by Haiseiko, the prodigy from Ōi Tracen Academy who had gone on to claim multiple G1 victories at Central.
"But that's Ōi," Shuta An shrugged. "It's in Tokyo—obviously their level's higher than ours. If only Kasamatsu hadn't been the only school that hired …"
"I really want to go to Central…" he sighed, trudging toward work.
"Yo~ good morning, An-san!"
A cheerful greeting cut through his thoughts. A man in a beret stood at the academy gate, waving.
"Good morning, Kitahara-san." Shuta An nodded politely, scanning the area. "Who are you waiting for? A colleague—or an Umamusu?"
"The forr aside, how could it be the latter?" Kitahara chuckled, grinning. "I'm waiting for you, An-san! Co to my place this afternoon with Shibasaki—we'll watch today's G2 Twinkle Series race, the Nikkei Sho at Nakayama! Mihono Bourbon's running—two-crown Derby champion!" (Note: if based on the irl tiline, Bourbon should win Satsuki and Derby in 1992. The Derby winner in 1987 was rry Nice. So for line, if you have any nas for who it actually is comnt it)
"A two crown Derby Uma Musu…" Shuta An blinked, then nodded. "Alright, I've got nothing planned this afternoon. I'll join you."
"An-san's always so reasonable!" Kitahara laughed. "Shibasaki gave grief about it—said he needed to prep for the Central exam—but I talked him into it. You're much easier to get along with."
"It's Sunday, yet we're still at work," Shuta An said, deflecting the conversation. Unlike Kitahara, who'd been at Kasamatsu for years, he had no desire for small talk.
"Well, I don't mind," Kitahara said with a shrug. "More hours an more pay. And tomorrow's the new sester—you might finally get your first assigned Racehorse Girl!"
He studied Shuta An with a teasing smile. "Still, for soone from Arica—with your education and skill—it's strange you haven't found a single Racehorse Girl in six months."
Shuta An's lips thinned. "After seeing Central's students… the ones here feel a bit lacking."
"That's Kasamatsu for you," Kitahara said plainly. "Every Trainers dream of working with a prodigy. But we can't change talent—we just make do and help even the weaker ones shine for their fans."
Then his tone shifted, expression sly. "But this year might be different."
"Oh?" Shuta An's curiosity sparked imdiately.
"New sester, new students!" Kitahara said, eyes gleaming. "Word is, Kasamatsu's getting a special transfer this year—a gray Uma Musu nad Fujimasa March. Supposedly, she's strong enough to challenge for the Tokai Derby."
The Tokai Derby—the pride of Nagoya's racing world. Many Trainers spent their lives chasing that title.
"From the sound of it," Shuta An said, "you're planning to recruit her yourself. I rember your last Racehorse Girl is retiring this year."
Kitahara blinked, realizing Shuta An had seen right through him. "Well… I might have that idea. But if you're competing for her, An-san, I don't stand a chance."
Then he frowned. "But you don't mind gray Uma Musu, right? In Japan, we say 'gray ones don't run fast.' I figured that doesn't matter for local races, so I was tempted."
"Oh? There's such a saying?" Shuta An's eyes widened. "In Arica, I've seen plenty of strong gray Uma Musu."
"Is there really a link between coat color and racing ability?" he thought, half amused. Such baseless superstition was probably one reason for Japan's lagging performance.
"If I train a gray Uma Musu who wins a major race at Central, everyone will credit my training skills," he mused inwardly.
Kitahara nodded, apparently missing the point. "As expected, —to have such powerful grays."
Shuta An could tell he hadn't truly listened, which only boosted his confidence.
"I'll observe this Fujimasa March first," he decided. "If Kitahara wins her over, I'll just change my target."
"Deal!" Kitahara said, already eager to move. "I'm going to dig up more info on that girl. Don't forget about the Nikkei Sho later!"
"Yeah, I won't," Shuta An said, watching him leave with a small smile. "Kitahara's really fired up."
Once Kitahara was gone, Shuta An turned toward his office to prepare for the new term. But then he froze.
Sothing caught his attention.
He turned and looked into the distance—
"Is that…?" He squinted. Far down the road, an Uma Musu was sprinting toward the gate. Even from here, he could see her gray hair shining in the sunlight.
"I can feel it," he whispered. "That's real talent. Could she be the one Kitahara ntioned?"
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