Racing against Kitasan Black was impossible—completely impossible, now or ever.
The girl beside him was undoubtedly a G1-level Uma Musume, meaning the speed she could reach was something only others at her level could match.
Forget about G1 standards—even ordinary Uma Musume were beyond Yasui Makoto's reach.
If he really raced against her, the only thing he'd be doing was choking on her dust.
Though that was what he truly thought, when Yasui laughingly rejected Kitasan's impulsive idea, he chose a different excuse:
"Quit messing around. Look at the truck in front of us."
"The truck...? What about it?" Kitasan stared ahead, confused.
After dropping Yasui off earlier and loading Kitasan's luggage, the small truck hadn't rushed straight up the mountain. Instead, it continued steadily ahead at a moderate pace.
"The drone camera mounted up there is currently recording."
Gesturing at a familiar backpack sitting on the truck bed, Yasui calmly explained:
"While you were busy with your final exams over the past month, I didn't just prepare this camp—I also upgraded a lot of our equipment. That drone now has thermal imaging, so we can accurately track your energy consumption and fatigue curve later."
"There are other functions, too—but my point is, we're training right now, Kita-chan."
Realizing her mistake, a flash of embarrassment crossed Kitasan's eyes. She scratched her head awkwardly, but didn't waste time apologizing.
Instead, quickly regaining composure, she slapped her cheeks lightly, straightened her posture, fixed her eyes ahead, tightened her grip on the straps across her shoulders, and strode forward purposefully.
Quietly watching this, Yasui nodded approvingly.
After more than half a year of intense training and racing, the Uma Musume he coached was still bright and energetic, yet she'd begun carrying herself with subtle maturity.
In the past, after such a gentle rebuke, she would've panicked, repeatedly apologized, and become flustered. But now, she simply refocused on what needed to be done.
Feeling satisfied with her growth, Yasui also turned his attention fully back to the training.
He was experienced with overload training, but for Kitasan, this was still the first attempt.
The basic principle was straightforward, yet the details were intricate, and the challenges numerous.
Yes, the main goal was achieving supercompensation, but the training was equally aimed at "optimizing the efficiency of physical exertion."
Using the same amount of stamina, differences in posture, step, and stride could dramatically affect efficiency.
By continuously refining these tiny adjustments during practice, the most efficient techniques would eventually become instinctive during races.
Yasui followed closely behind Kitasan, carefully observing her movements and regularly calling out advice.
"Shift your center of gravity slightly forward."
"Engage your hips and waist muscles like you're running—reduce strain on your calves and feet."
"Keep your breathing steady. Right now, rhythm matters more than speed."
"Remember our previous uphill training—hips up, hips up. Visualize energy rising from your feet, through your legs and hips, up to your head."
Heat radiated fiercely off the asphalt, distorting the air itself. Amidst the endless drone of cicadas, occasional instructions and affirmations echoed along the mountain path, footsteps tirelessly pressing forward.
For this first training session, Yasui didn't set the intensity too high—just five kilometers total.
The first 2.5 kilometers involved carrying their bikes uphill, wearing down their stamina. For the second half, they'd ride the bikes, attempting to break through their fatigue limits.
After reaching their goal, they'd climb into the waiting truck to end the training.
As he sat down in the truck afterward, Yasui could feel the effectiveness of this overload session firsthand.
Beside him, the girl's black hair and white-streaked bangs stuck messily to her forehead in sweat-soaked strands.
Her normally pale face flushed crimson, as if she'd just emerged from a hot spring or sauna.
In her hands was a large bottle of energy drink. But rather than her usual enthusiastic gulping, she simply bit on the straw, weakly sipping every now and then.
"This… This is way worse than Nakayama Racecourse…or Tokyo Racecourse…no, that's not it…"
She spat out the deformed straw, sighing softly, unusually drained. Turning slowly toward Yasui, she murmured in a weak, complaining tone:
"This is worse than all the races combined…"
"You're such a freak, Trainer…"
Are you sure about your phrasing there…?
Somehow feeling strangely accused, Yasui suddenly felt inexplicably guilty.
He rubbed his nose, scratched the back of his neck, and subtly glanced toward the driver up front. Seeing the man completely focused on the road, Yasui quietly sighed in relief.
"This is just how overload training works," Yasui explained gently, spreading his hands helplessly. "Otherwise, how else would we increase your stamina?"
"I know, I get it… I just wasn't prepared for it. First time, you know…" Kitasan weakly replied, before suddenly tilting her head slightly in thought.
"Oh, right, Trainer…what exactly did you do before all this?"
"Me?" Yasui paused briefly, confused. "What else could I have done? School, exams, then came to Tracen Academy… Well, ignoring everything afterward, that's pretty much it—school and exams."
"But…"
Kitasan stared closely at Yasui for a while, puzzled.
"Then why am I so exhausted, while you still seem completely fine…?"
"Oh, that's…" Yasui suddenly understood and chuckled lightly. "Like you said, it's your first experience with this type of training. There's a lot of technique you haven't picked up yet."
"When I was still a student, I often did this type of training—but certainly not at this intensity, since I hadn't yet reached my full growth."
"I mentioned it to you before, right? I used to be part of an extreme acrobatics club."
Kitasan knew about this.
Ever since she'd discovered how passionate Yasui was about extreme acrobatics, she'd asked countless curious questions and even done extensive research herself.
The club Yasui mentioned sounded familiar—apparently sponsored by a major beverage corporation, specifically recruiting talented young athletes interested in extreme sports.
She remembered hearing that gifted participants could enter competitions. Top finishers could earn impressive prizes and lucrative sponsorships, sometimes rivaling or even surpassing Uma Musume races.
"See that mountain path over there?" Yasui pointed enthusiastically out the window while Kitasan reminisced. "The one extending down through those trees."
"I had a competition on a road just like that. Raced downhill at full speed, then ended it with four huge jumps—each over ten meters high."
"I must've mentioned it before—it's called 'Hardline downhill racing.'"
"Before the results were announced, I genuinely thought I'd gone fast enough—not first place, maybe, but definitely top three."
"But then my opponents…oh, right. You have no idea—if you met those guys, you'd really see what a freak is. Compared to them, I'm nothing."
"I mean, that's real talent. Looking back, even though I loved extreme sports so much, I guess my talent was actually pretty ordinary."
Yasui was still chatting earnestly when suddenly a soft, amused murmur interrupted from beside him.
"That's not true…"
Reflexively, he turned to look, meeting a pair of sparkling eyes filled with warmth.
"To me…Trainer is really amazing, and definitely talented."