"Sorry, Minami-chan, keeping you swamped."
"No biggie. I was too idle before. Plus, I helped other teams during downtime—learned a ton."
"Oh, that's why you're tight with Hana-san and Kuronuma-san?"
"Yep. Learned loads as their sub-trainer."
In the trainer's office—not the clubroom—top performers get private rooms for data management. Canopus wasn't there yet, but Rampage's string of big-race wins earned this space. She's sorting foreign documents to help Minami.
"Still, it's relentless. Oaks, Derby, my Victoria Mile in May. Then June's Takarazuka, plus Rice's debut. Too much?"
"Manageable. Easier than my old gig."
"Central trainers are elite. What'd you do before?"
No ulterior motive, just curious. Expected a dodge, but Minami answered.
"Trade company. Big one."
"Trade, huh? Explains the slick English."
"Learned on the job."
Trade? Minami's shrouded past unveiled. What did she handle? Hitosoul, ex-corporate drone, is dying to know.
"What was the work like?"
"Customer complaints department."
"Oof… Say no more, Minami-chan."
Hitosoul got it instantly. Complaints? Brutal. Crazy folks—like demanding refunds for "scattered" jigsaw puzzles—hurl malice. Legit gripes mix in, so you can't brush them off. Rough.
"Minami-chan, I'm treating you to dinner. Oguri tipped me off about a great spot."
"Sounds fun."
"I'll drive you in the Impreza."
Already planning where to go.
"Ever wanna run dirt, Rampage?"
"Hell yeah. For experience, sure, but dirt's just… fun."
Dirt's thrill hits different from turf. The vibe, the grit of dirt-running Uma Musume—electric. Still chats with Dyna, who won the March Stakes, and Lady, who took the Antares Stakes, both sending pics. And best of all—
"'Emperor's Cup showdown!!'"
Their words lit a fire.
"Dirt next, then? After Victoria Mile?"
"Emperor's Cup, please."
"That skips Takarazuka. Cool?"
"Promised Dyna and Lady. First dibs."
"Got it."
More work for Minami, but she's unfazed. Rampage'll cover her.
"I can sub for Aoba Sho. Kyoto's a brutal trek after."
"Thanks, but I'm good. Not as jacked as Kuronuma, but I train."
Minami, training? Doesn't fit her vibe, but Ryan's trainer does it too. Makes sense.
"Why become a trainer?"
"No deep reason. Traveling for races was appealing."
"Whoa. You took the harder-than-Tokyo-U exam for that? How many tries?"
"One-shot pass."
"Minami-chan, who are you?"
Even Oguri's local trainer, Kitahara, flunked the central exam. One try? She's unreal.
"Secretly a tokusatsu hero?"
"Admired them, but no."
"Wouldn't shock me… Wait, what's this?"
Sorting, she found an envelope: Dear Mejiro Rampage in elegant script. Inside, a fiery fan letter.
"Another one?"
"Nope, race challenge."
English and near-perfect Japanese—unlike the rough Arc de Triomphe threat. This was polished.
"Summarized: 'I'll crush you at this year's Japan Cup.'"
"Bold move."
"No kidding. Can't lose on Japan Cup's stage. America, huh? I'll get there eventually—why not wait?"
Minami paused. American challenger? She'll handle it. Back to work.
"'I'll lock your eyes on me.' This Uma Musume's a subculture nerd. Should I chuck a fresh tomato at her?"
"Don't. That'd hit me too."
"Same."
"Can't wait till next year, huh? Oh well."
Guess we'll deal.
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