Chapter 89: Makoto's Way of Comfort
After crossing the finish line, she kept jogging out of habit. When her breathing finally steadied, Kitasan Black glanced back with a hint of regret.
"So the champion is Gold Ship-senpai… As expected. To say I could beat my senpai was far too naïve…"
Murmuring softly, she pressed her lips together, clenched her fists, then gave a self-mocking smile and shook her head. With a touch of unease, she looked toward the commentary stand.
When she was very little, her grandfather had told her that many things in this world are terribly difficult—but if you hold on until the end, success will surely come.
She had always believed in that.
And after months of effort, as she had once said herself, deep down she truly hoped that one day she could become a Umamusume like her senpai—perhaps even surpass them.
Before the training race, she had vaguely thought that after three victories in three races, even if she couldn't match her senpai yet, she should still have a chance in a training match.
Even if the chance was small—even if she lost in the end—she thought at least she would be able to put on a brilliant performance.
But what she saw was clear as day: one senpai after another overtaking her, one senpai after another crossing the line before her, leaving her in last place.
No matter how unwilling she was to admit it, she knew—compared to her senpai, she was still far behind.
"I wonder what Trainer will say about me…"
She muttered anxiously, and then, in her field of view, she saw Makoto at the commentary table. After saying something to Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen, he began walking toward her.
Her ears twitched. Without thinking, she lowered her head, one foot tiptoeing to scrape at the ground.
Moments later, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps drawing closer. Torn between lifting her head or keeping it bowed, she struggled for a few seconds before finally fixing her eyes on her toes and speaking in a low voice.
"Trainer, I… I lost…"
The moment she whispered those words, her head sank even lower.
When the training race ended, Makoto had exchanged a few words with Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen, then picked up a bag of prepared drinks, towels, and other things before jogging over.
Seeing Kitasan Black's downcast look, he opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again.
From afar, he had already noticed the sorrow on his Uma's face.
Though it was hard to truly feel the same way, and though he didn't yet fully understand the hearts of Umamusume, it wasn't too difficult to imagine what Kitasan Black must be feeling right now.
Before her debut, the evaluations of her hadn't been good. Her training scores and academic performance—charitably called "mediocre," bluntly speaking, they were "bottom-tier."
It couldn't be helped. Central Tracen Academy was where the most outstanding Umamusume from across Japan gathered. "Mediocre" here meant "falling behind."
What's more, Japan's racing world generally looked down on short-distance runners. Kitasan Black had even been stamped with the label "suited for sprints."
So it wasn't hard to imagine that after coming here with such high hopes, how much disappointment she must have felt when faced with the gap between dream and reality.
But she wasn't without talent.
Her greatest gift—or rather, her greatest strength—was her diligence. And when it came to racing, her talent wasn't truly ordinary.
It was just that, for most of the academy's instructors, teachers, and trainers, her particular strengths weren't so easy to draw out.
After three months of training and three consecutive victories, her ability had finally begun to surface. The disappointment of before had gradually been replaced by long-held anticipation. By now, she must have been so excited.
And now, after facing her senpai' overwhelming strength and tasting defeat, some of that old disappointment must have crept back.
Of course, there were other emotions too—feelings of helplessness, of guilt.
All in all, Kitasan Black was surely feeling awful at this moment.
As he walked over, Makoto turned these thoughts over silently in his mind.
Hearing her mutter "I lost" in a tone like she was confessing guilt, carrying such dejection, seeing the black-haired girl standing there with her head lowered as if awaiting punishment—Makoto quickly adjusted his mindset and let out a light chuckle.
"Banana flavor. I remember you drink this a lot. Replenish the energy you just burned."
Keeping his voice relaxed, he rummaged through the plastic bag and handed Kitasan Black a bottle of energy drink.
Somewhat dazed, she lifted her head and instinctively took it. Staring blankly at the bottle, she murmured,
"…Trainer?"
Makoto turned his gaze slightly away, pretending to study the field as he rubbed his chin in mock thoughtfulness.
"The intensity of that training race was pretty high. You did well to jog it out and recover first. Remember what I told you? Right now is the best time to replenish your energy."
Her fingers twisted around the bottle cap. Biting her lip, Kitasan Black nodded softly, "…Mm. I remember."
"Good."
Makoto nodded. "Losing always stings, but don't dwell on it too much. If you must dwell, then think instead about what you gained and what you lost."
"From the start, we said this match was to test the results of your special training, to prepare you for the Satsuki Sho."
"And from what I saw, your sprinting ability has clearly improved. That's a big positive."
Makoto knew he wasn't very good at comforting others. But the first method that came to mind was always the same: shift the topic—preferably toward what comes next.
That was just his nature.
Success or failure, it was already in the past. Wallowing in it was pointless.
What truly mattered was how much experience you could take away from it.
And in his view, Kitasan Black would be able to accept this sort of "comfort."
After all, his Uma had always been tough, had dreams, and was quite straightforward.
So rather than lingering on defeat, she should be looking forward to future victories.
"R-really? It was that good? Thank you, Trainer…"
As Makoto expected, her mood began to lift. The ears that had drooped until now were perking up.
Still, she hesitated.
"But… I didn't really feel it myself. And in the end… I still didn't win."
Seeing that the diversion was working, Makoto's spirits rose. He pressed on.
"I wasn't just saying that to cheer you up."
"When you see the replay, you'll notice it yourself. On the very first corner, your acceleration exceeded my expectations."
"In my original plan, you were supposed to grasp that cornering burst technique after this training match."
"But you pulled it off right away. That really surprised me."
At that, Kitasan Black's ears shot up straight.
"R-really? Then— if I had used that same technique on the later corners, could I have won this match?"
Makoto couldn't help but laugh.
"Of course not… Well, not that you couldn't win someday."
"But that technique was clearly unrefined—you still need practice."
"And besides, to truly win against this level of opponent, there's still a lot for you to learn—especially from your senpai."
"I see…"
She nodded, and the gloom was completely gone from her face. Moments later, the sparkle returned to her eyes.
"Alright! Since I still need more practice, how about I go run another race with the senpai later?"
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