Kitasan Black had clearly understood the preparations for the Spring Stakes.
However, she still asked Yasui Makoto to stay a bit longer, hoping to organize her notes and practice running through the strategy on the training ground, so she could promptly ask any questions that arose.
Yasui naturally saw no reason to decline such a request.
Before eting Kitasan Black, he hadn't trained any other Uma Musu.
However, based on his own past school experiences, he could tell this black-haired girl had the qualities of an ideal student.
She quickly grasped concepts, but even more importantly, she possessed a steady, diligent study habit.
At lunch one day, Kitasan had ntioned her own guiding principle:
"I'll train until I'm completely exhausted."
And she wasn't exaggerating. Whether it was training, studying, or pre-race instructions, she genuinely practiced sothing again and again until she mastered it—if once or twice wasn't enough, she'd do it ten tis; if that still wasn't enough, she'd practice dozens, even hundreds of tis.
Since eting her, Yasui had witnessed this repeatedly.
In Yasui's eyes, this definitely counted as an excellent student—but not the naturally gifted type who effortlessly says, "Oh, I can solve this easily."
Instead, she was the earnest, hardworking type who would humbly say, "I've practiced this before."
Even the next day at Nakayama Racecourse, Kitasan Black showed no signs of relaxing her attitude.
Her race, the Spring Stakes, was the 11th and final race of the day, scheduled for 3:25 PM.
In the morning, she completed the standard course preview and adaptation exercises. Afterwards, she sat in the preparation room, periodically reviewing her ticulously compiled notes from yesterday, confirming details with Yasui again and again.
After patiently and encouragingly answering her questions, Yasui carefully checked her physical condition. Seeing nothing amiss, he decided to leave the preparation room a bit earlier this ti.
Everything necessary had already been arranged. Staying longer would only risk repeating himself, possibly causing unnecessary anxiety for both himself and his Uma Musu.
Besides, based on previous experience, it was wise to head early to the spectator stands to secure a good seat—especially since Daiwa Scarlet and Vodka weren't around to help this ti.
After Yasui left, Kitasan picked up her notebook again, reviewing once more the track diagrams and notes Yasui had left on the whiteboard.
Then, changing into her indoor trainers, she approached the stretching bar in the preparation room.
"Hup, hup—one, two, hup!"
Her strong, long right leg, clad in white over-knee socks, rested firmly on the bar as she stretched. Making habitual breathing sounds, she switched legs, continuing her stretching.
Finished with legs, she placed her right hand on her hip and reached her left arm overhead, repeating the motion on the opposite side.
Still rhythmically humming "hup" under her breath, she perford several sets of side stretches.
Next were torso twists, arms folded across her chest as she rotated her waist repeatedly.
After that, squats, back stretches, standing jumps, neck and wrist rotations.
Finally, she lightly slapped her cheeks, clenched her fists, and took a deep breath.
"Alright! Perfect condition! Next is…"
Walking to the shoe rack, she took down her racing shoes along with a small hamr. She turned them over, inspecting the gleaming tal horseshoes before gently tapping them.
Ding-ding-ding.
The horseshoes produced clear, crisp sounds.
"Hmm! The shoes are in perfect shape too!"
Satisfied, she changed into the racing shoes, carefully tying the laces, and stood before the mirror, thoroughly inspecting her athletic shirt, shorts, socks, and jacket.
"Alright! Everything should be good this ti!"
At that mont, an announcent echoed through the speaker in the room.
"Participants of Race 11, the G2 Spring Stakes, please report backstage at the paddock. I repeat: Participants of Race 11, the G2 Spring Stakes, please report backstage at the paddock imdiately."
"Already? It felt like there was still plenty of ti…"
Surprised, she murmured to herself before smiling and taking another deep breath.
"Okay! You've got this, Kita-chan! Your first graded stakes race since debut!"
Cheering loudly for herself, she excitedly sprinted toward the door.
A mont later, she dashed back in, slightly panicked.
"…Ah! That was close, almost forgot…"
Muttering softly, she ran to the shelf and took down two red cloth squares, each displaying a white number "1" at the center—her race bib numbers corresponding to her gate number.
In the Twinkle Series, attire requirents differed according to race grade.
For races below G3—non-graded events—participants wore short-sleeved white shirts with red trim, red shorts, horseshoe-fitted racing shoes, regulation athletic socks, and white bibs with black numbers.
In G2 and G3 events, the clothing was similar, but the bibs changed to red with white numbers.
For G1 races, participants wore specially designed Racing Outfits.
Compliance was mandatory; failure to follow dress rules could lead to warnings from race officials.
"Seriously, first race I wore my shoes backwards, last ti my jacket zipper broke, and this ti I almost embarrassed myself again…"
Mumbling self-reproach in front of the mirror, Kitasan Black quickly pinned her number bibs in place and hurried out once more.
---
Both Uma Musu and trainers had dedicated underground passages: one direction leading toward the paddock, another toward the racetrack and spectator stands.
As Yasui approached the exit toward the stands, seeing the grass field outside, he suddenly sensed sothing off.
Discreetly glancing toward the bushes near the exit, he deliberately softened his footsteps, casually approaching.
Monts later—
"Excuse , are you staff? Why are you hiding here?"
Staring intently at the bushes, he asked quietly. Hearing no response, he frowned slightly.
"I already know you're there. Co out now, or I'll call security or even the police."
Still, no movent.
Furrowing his brows deeper, Yasui took out his phone, dialing three digits before putting it on speaker.
"Ergency services, fire or ambulance?"
"I'm at the Nakayama Racecourse, competitor-exclusive underground exit. There's a suspicious—"
Suddenly, a brown-haired Uma Musu with pinkish-white bangs and bright pink eyes burst out from the bushes.
"Wait-wait-wait-wait! Don't call the police! I'm not suspicious at all!"
Shrieking anxiously, she lunged desperately toward Yasui's phone.
Reacting instinctively, Yasui stepped back and dodged, causing the Uma Musu to flop heavily onto the ground, sprawled awkwardly.
After a brief hesitation, he hung up the call.
Slowly, groaning quietly, the Uma Musu rose to her feet, staring nervously and awkwardly back at him. As Yasui finally got a clear look at her face, he froze in surprise.
"Special Week?"
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