After leaving the Student Council office, Kuroha went straight to Academic Affairs and officially filed Sakura Chiyono O's retirent paperwork.
She was a world champion horse girl, one of the brightest stars of that spring. There was no way her curtain call would pass unnoticed.
Stepping out of the Academic Affairs building, Kuroha wore only a shirt with a light jacket thrown over it.
In December in Tokyo, only the most energetic horse girls—and Kuroha—would dress like that.
He breathed out a faint wisp of white, moved under a nearby tree, and pulled out his phone to scroll a bit.
He tried to soothe his heavy mood with the flow of outside news.
On-screen was a live et-and-greet for so of the overseas horse girls who had run in yesterday's Japan Cup.
The guest list was short, though.
Asked whether she regretted her loss in the Japan Cup, a voice ca through—cool, proud, a touch muffled by the mic.
"Hmph! You amateurs—what race were you even watching?"
She tilted her chin, sneering. "If that race was exciting, it was thanks to and Ibuki lighting it up."
"Who actually won? Details. Trimmings."
Folding her arms, the pirate queen of swagger laughed wide. "Winning's great, but making a race—that's greater."
"And by the way, since I beat Ibuki in the end, I'm the strongest!"
"…"
Reporters and pundits were stunned into silence by the audacity.
A flustered reporter, sweating, turned to Ibuki beside her and asked, "I-Ibuki, what do you think? How would you rate your Japan Cup run this year?"
Under normal circumstances, asking the fifth-place finisher that would earn you an offended snort.
But this year, the entire top five broke the Japan Cup all-ti record, so—fair question.
"?"
Ibuki grabbed the mic, eyes sparkling.
You'd never guess this bright bundle of British energy had just fought an international G1 and a deathmatch with that pirate bird yesterday; she looked fresh as a spring breeze.
"First off, thank you to all the fans who cheered for ! I'm honored we gave you a once-in-a-lifeti, edge-of-your-seat race!"
"As for what Ravenhawk just said… sure, the ones who create a race are amazing—but the ones who win it are amazing too!"
"And—"
Ibuki paused, then flashed a hot-blooded battle grin, thumb cocked at her chest.
"I was still leading at the 2000 m mark! I only lost it in the final 400!"
"In other words, I won five tis the distance—basically like taking the 'Century Crown' five tis!"
"…"
Silence again.
"Hey! I'm the one who won!" Pirate Ravenhawk protested, planting a boot on the table.
Two world-class horse girls bickering on a press stand, with scribbled "animator doodle lines" practically popping in from the edges—
and the interview wrapped in a chorus equal parts laughter and tears.
The live chat flew by: "Two world-class thick skins."
Kuroha, on the other side of the screen, closed his phone with a wry, knowing smile.
Maybe because they weren't in his camp—
for Pirate Ravenhawk and Ibuki, a race that burned was more important than whether they won.
Sliding his phone away, Kuroha wandered the paths of Tracen Academy. Without quite aning to, he stopped before a familiar door.
The first room he'd ever entered at Central Tracen.
Ginjirou Musaka's trainer's office.
His girls were in class, and with year's end near, there wasn't much that required his direct hand.
Bored, he raised a knuckle and tapped.
Knock, knock.
"…Co in."
A steady, seasoned voice ca after a few seconds.
Kuroha smiled, opened the door, and stepped in.
The old man was brewing tea in comfort, the mountain of paperwork that once buried his desk nowhere to be seen.
He looked as if he'd truly entered the unhurried season of his life.
"Yo, Ginjirou-senpai. Long ti no see."
Closing the door, Kuroha slid into a chair with practiced ease.
"So it's you, little Leaf," Ginjirou said with a sideways glance. He rinsed a cup, set it before Kuroha, and filled it.
Kuroha didn't answer right away. He lifted the cup, took a light sip, then smiled.
"I've only got two races left this year. New Year's is coming, nothing much to prep. I was passing by and thought I'd drop in on you, Ginjirou-senpai."
"You're the relaxed one these days," Ginjirou chuckled.
"Relaxed?"
Kuroha shook his head with a strained smile. "You look far more relaxed than . You're not even prepping for the year-end races."
Ginjirou rolled his eyes. "Prep what? In Arima Kinen, your Chasing the Light is fielding everyone except McQueen."
"This old man cleared his calendar weeks ago; I can't even be jealous. What do you want to do?"
He paused, then continued.
"Besides, with Oguri Cap at your place, I don't even have to train her. How couldn't I be relaxed?"
"…"
Kuroha had no coback.
He hadn't planned it that way.
Three days before the Japan Cup, Oguri Cap had already recovered completely.
But in those three days—besides her dear friend and rival Fujimasa March—who knows how she and Kuroha's other five ended up playing together like they'd known each other forever.
Naturally, she started joining the Shirahato training group as a regular for joint runs.
Kuroha didn't schedule any special nu for her, but Berno Light had absorbed Ginjirou's thods to the bone and took the initiative to pass them along.
So instead of falling behind, Oguri Cap was sharper than before, thanks to those five Domain girls cycling pressure on her.
After one on-site look, Ginjirou had happily… stopped worrying.
If it were anyone else's grounds, he might fret. If it was Kuroha—no problem.
Kuroha, though, had a thornier worry.
Ginjirou slid his shades down a touch, revealing eyes that had seen it all. "Kid, got sothing on your mind?"
Kuroha wasn't the type to hide things. He knocked back the rest of his tea and asked plainly:
"Ginjirou-senpai, what ran through your head when your girls retired?"
"Retire?"
Ginjirou straightened at once, scanning Kuroha's face. "After Arima? One of your girls is hanging it up? Obey Your Master—or Inari One?"
In his estimation, among Kuroha's girls—
McQueen had just debuted.
Fujimasa March, Sakura Chiyono O, and jiro Ardan had only just completed three years of True Blooming and were finishing their first Senior Year.
On paper, they should have a stretch of pri left.
Only Inari One and Obey Your Master had already been at full burn for a year.
If anyone was likely to retire, it'd be those two.
Kuroha only shook his head.
Ginjirou glanced at him, didn't push, and leaned back, eyes drifting as if watching years that weren't there.
"When my girls retired, I…"
He thought for just a mont, then said it in a light, almost breezy tone that still hit hard.
"It hurt. I cried under the covers. Nothing to be ashad of. First ti as a trainer—most of us go through that."
"…"
"…"
Uh…
Not that far, surely.
Kuroha's expression turned a bit odd as he looked at the venerable elder of Tracen.
He hadn't expected such a sentintal side from him.
But the point stood.
Your first stint as trainer: you live together in grind and glory for at least three years.
Then you watch with your own eyes as she fades and has to leave the stage—regretful, unwilling. It cuts deep.
But…
There was one more layer between him and Sakura Chiyono O, beyond trainer and charge.
No, he wouldn't be hiding under blankets.
And it wasn't life-or-death.
These days, they still t about once a week, chatting for hours till they drifted off.
Whatever bad feelings lingered burned off after a few fierce rounds.
The gloom earlier? That was just because he'd filed the paperwork alone and got hit by a wave of mory. A few hours, tops.
No need for cathartic rituals. Once afternoon training ended and he could hug his little cherry blossom—he'd be fine.
"Ahem."
Realizing he might've stumbled onto sothing spicy, Kuroha cleared his throat.
"Mm?"
Ginjirou eyed the junior across from him, then lay back again.
"So—what do you make of the current Central environnt?"
"Central's environnt?"
Kuroha thought for a mont, unsure where Ginjirou was going, and shook his head.
The elder sighed. "Right… those whispers wouldn't make it to your ears."
After a brief hesitation, he went on. "People are labeling the Central climate with two words now: 'Chasing the Light'… and 'The Maestro.'"
"They think no matter how hard they work, they can't beat that pack of monsters."
"Even Oguri Cap and Super Creek are only at the top of the rest."
"A lot of folks—trainers, and the girls themselves—are starting to think…"
Ginjirou paused, then said softly, "If only Chasing the Light didn't exist."
"They say—'We were born into the worst era.'"
(End of Chapter)
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