After walking out of the room and back into the living room, before he even had the chance to greet anyone, Maruzensky heard words very similar to what he himself had just said.
"…Miss Tazuna should not have forgotten what happened back then. So I think that if Ms. Kurokawa has anything she wants to say, it would be best to say it to her face."
The one speaking was Kitahara. He was seated facing the guest room Maruzensky had just exited. When he saw Maruzensky come out, he nodded lightly in greeting.
Maruzensky returned the nod, then—together with Masato Kurokawa, who had followed him out—walked over and stood quietly to one side of the sofa set.
Kurokawa Miyu was seated opposite Kitahara. Earlier, Maruzensky had only been able to see her from behind. Now, he realized that the elderly woman's face was filled with hesitation and uncertainty.
"Using a movie as a means of apology is indeed a valid approach. And Miss Tazuna enjoys watching films—she wouldn't miss a work directed by someone as outstanding as you."
Looking sincerely at Kurokawa Miyu again, as if offering comfort and guidance, Kitahara continued:
"But using a movie… forgive me for being a bit blunt, I hope you won't take offense—but in my personal opinion, that doesn't truly count as sincerity."
"And as I mentioned earlier, Miss Tazuna likes movies. She has watched all of yours. I think that may be proof that she hasn't forgotten anything from back then."
"Maruzensky, you're closer to Miss Tazuna than most. Don't you think so?"
Although she hadn't expected Kitahara to suddenly ask her, now that she understood the whole situation—and as a fellow horse girl—Maruzensky felt she could understand Suruga Tazuna's feelings. She also agreed with Kitahara's point.
"Yes. Many times when I went shopping with Miss Tazuna, halfway through, she'd suddenly veer off into a movie theater for no apparent reason."
Kitahara and Maruzensky confirmed this together, yet Kurokawa Miyu still looked hesitant.
"…But she never said it outright to you, did she?"
Hesitating, the elderly woman spoke bitterly.
"She… she probably never told anyone that she remembers what happened back then, did she?"
"If she remembered, she should have… should have come to me. Scolded me. Hated me."
"Yes, I… actually, I've always thought—if she really remembered and did scold me, resent me…"
"That would all be what I deserve. And I would… I would actually be very happy."
Hearing this, Maruzensky—who had earlier been furious over what Hayakawa Tazuna, or Tokino Minoru, had suffered during her active years—was now left only with a sigh.
Anger wouldn't help. So many years had already passed. And even setting Tazuna aside, it was clear that Kurokawa Miyu herself had been tormented all these years by guilt over her past negligence.
After all, before her son succeeded her as company president, she had practically held up half of a business empire—especially in film and media.
She wasn't just a director. Kurokawa Miyu was also an exceptional producer, with many highly acclaimed films having been created under her supervision.
And yet now, this woman of immense power and influence looked like a child who had made a mistake. Even if Maruzensky wanted to be angry, she simply didn't have the emotional energy for it anymore.
Then, thinking of movies, Maruzensky's eyes suddenly lit up.
"Please don't say that, Ms. Kurokawa."
She walked over, sat down beside Kitahara, and spoke earnestly.
"Miss Tazuna truly loves the films you directed and produced."
"Setting aside the ones you personally directed—she told me herself that she's watched many of your produced films multiple times, and even wrote film reviews that she submitted to magazines."
"…I know that…"
A trace of a smile appeared on Kurokawa Miyu's bitter face, like a child being praised. Somewhat eagerly, she said:
"The magazine she submitted to happened to be one I managed…"
"She wrote very well… I specifically asked the editor-in-chief to put her review on the front page."
"Yes. Miss Tazuna told me too—she was extremely excited when she saw her review on the front page."
Maruzensky perked up.
"Doesn't that prove it?"
"It proves that Miss Tazuna hasn't forgotten what happened back then—and that she must have forgiven you. No… rather, she never blamed you to begin with."
"I'm also a horse girl. To be honest, when I first learned about Miss Tazuna's retirement… or rather, those misfortunes, I was furious."
The joy on Kurokawa Miyu's face faded, her gaze dimming.
"But—but I believe you must have done everything you could to train Miss Tazuna back then, didn't you?"
Maruzensky hurriedly tried to console her.
"In that era, no one wanted something like that to happen. But what could anyone really do in those times?"
"And after so many years, whether it's apologizing, forgiving, or confirming things—don't all of those require letting go of the past and meeting face to face first?"
At this moment, Maruzensky finally understood why Kurokawa Miyu, despite loving horse girls so much, had rarely visited Central Tracen Academy.
Because Tazuna was there, and Kurokawa Miyu had always felt guilty.
Realizing this, Maruzensky desperately wanted to persuade her to meet Tazuna and let all that guilt be dealt with afterward.
But perhaps influenced by the emotions she had just shown, Kurokawa Miyu suddenly became stubborn—like a child who never grew up.
"…If I really could meet her, I wouldn't have waited until now."
She clasped her hands together, covering her face. The elderly woman seemed to age several years in an instant.
"I… I admire your straightforward personality, Kitahara—saying exactly what you think."
"This old woman… I'll try to learn from you and say a bit more."
"I just… at the beginning, I only wanted to prove to my family that I could walk my own path without relying on them or listening to them."
"But at first… I didn't dare to."
"It was her. She gave me confidence."
Light shone through the gaps between her fingers. She didn't say the name, but everyone present knew she meant Hayakawa Tazuna.
"Victory after victory—she gave me more and more confidence…"
"So much that I thought it was all because of myself. That I was omnipotent."
"Wasn't that arrogance…?"
"If I weren't so arrogant, how could I have ignored her injuries…?"
"I should have noticed… noticed that behind her gentle smile and confident declarations, she was already covered in wounds…"
"I… don't deserve to be a trainer."
"And someone like me… what right do I have to see her again…?"
Faint sobbing could be heard from beneath her ten tightly clasped, dry, aged fingers.
Masato Kurokawa, standing nearby, darkened in expression. His body shifted slightly, but in the end he only stood still and bowed deeply.
Maruzensky panicked and instinctively moved to stand up, but before she could, she felt her sleeve tighten and subconsciously sat back down.
She knew it was Kitahara holding her back.
For some reason, Maruzensky trusted this young trainer. She felt that if it were him, he might really be able to persuade the woman before them.
But what he said next left her confused.
"Then, how about trying my other suggestion—attempting to achieve this reconciliation through a method other than film, Ms. Kurokawa?"
…Another suggestion? What new idea had Kitahara come up with this time?
Maruzensky felt that the confusion she'd experienced today might already exceed that of the past week combined.
Masato Kurokawa also looked puzzled, but his mother seemed to already understand.
After all, she had once been half the helm of a massive business empire. Her emotional lapse didn't last long.
She quickly lowered her hands. Though her face was exhausted and her eyes slightly moist, she no longer showed any further loss of composure.
"To witness 'Perfect' with my own eyes… to see her run again… is that it?"
She asked hesitantly.
…Perfect…?
Maruzensky froze for a moment, then suddenly remembered that in a script she'd seen before, Tazuna's nickname before her debut was "パーフェクト"—Perfect.
"Yes. I think that for a horse girl, no matter how much time has passed, there's no better catalyst than a run when it comes to saying what needs to be said."
Kitahara nodded firmly.
"For us trainers, it's the same."
"Of course, you may feel unworthy of the title of trainer—but you were once her trainer, so you should understand one thing."
"When you see your horse girl running again, in that moment, you'll be able to let go of everything."
Masato Kurokawa hadn't said anything yet, but Maruzensky's eyes lit up.
"That's right! And it just so happens that Kitahara needs Miss Tazuna's help on his side—leave persuading her to us!"
Maruzensky spoke excitedly.
As a horse girl who had seen many trainers, she knew that whether it was between horse girls themselves or between a horse girl and a trainer, the best form of communication was running.
Born to run, living to run—the best stage for a horse girl's true feelings was the track.
And the reason most people—no, everyone—loved horse girls was because of those breathtaking running forms.
Not bad, Kitahara. This way, both Oguri Cap's matters and Ms. Kurokawa and Miss Tazuna's issues could be resolved through the same race.
In her excitement, her voice rose too much. Realizing this, she quickly apologized.
"Ah, sorry—I got a little carried away…"
"It's fine, just…"
Kurokawa Miyu didn't mind her outburst much, but her hesitation now carried a trace of contemplation.
"Kitahara, you said earlier that Perfect still has extraordinary running ability—on par with any active horse girl."
"Is that really true?"
"If she no longer has the strength she had back then, I'm worried…"
She didn't finish her sentence, but everyone understood—she feared a repeat of the tragedy.
Maruzensky was also a little worried, but when she recalled teasing Tazuna about gaining weight and then being chased halfway across campus, she felt it was probably fine.
Even if she hadn't gone all out at the time, as the once eight-race-eight-win "Phantom Supercar," she wouldn't have been so easily chased down by a "human."
And that wasn't even a Triple Crown race—Tazuna might not have been giving it her all.
As she was thinking of offering proof, she was beaten to it.
"There's no concrete data yet, but there was a small incident that should be indicative."
When Kitahara said this, Maruzensky's heart stirred.
Right—that's it…
Kitahara clearly knew about what happened back then, but…
How did he originally discover Tazuna's true identity?
It shouldn't have been from the Kurokawas…
Was it… Tazuna herself?
Maruzensky grew curious.
"Before we came to Kasamatsu, I once brought Oguri Cap and Belno Light to Tokyo."
Kitahara recalled the past.
"By chance, we stopped by Central Tracen Academy."
"Then we ran into an accident. Two kids ignored curfew and returned late, trying to climb over the wall—and slipped."
Stretching out his arms to illustrate, he explained in detail.
"At the time, Oguri Cap and I were about this far away from them."
"You know Oguri Cap's strength. Even before entering Central, she already had G1-level potential."
"She dashed over in the blink of an eye and caught the two kids."
"But inside the academy, someone was moving at a comparable speed—no, perhaps even faster."
Drawing his arms back and looking directly at Kurokawa Miyu, Kitahara nodded firmly.
"That was Miss Tazuna."
"With that said, I think you understand."
Not only Kurokawa Miyu, but Maruzensky understood as well.
Even before coming to Central, Oguri Cap had already been extremely strong.
That kind of strength doesn't change based on location.
So if Tazuna's speed matched—or even surpassed—Oguri Cap's, there was no need to doubt her ability.
"Of course, with my training style, as long as I'm working with a horse girl or preparing for a race, I use scientific and systematic evaluations."
After seeing the elderly woman nod, Kitahara continued:
"In other words, if Miss Tazuna agrees to help Team Eisei, I'll analyze her condition using data."
"So please rest assured on that front."
"That won't be a problem. Team Eisei's strength is evident to all now—if it weren't you, I'd be worried instead."
It seemed she had finally recovered from her earlier emotions, or perhaps begun to look forward to what Kitahara described. Kurokawa Miyu gradually became serious.
"Then I'll leave this matter to you, Kitahara."
"As I said before—no matter the outcome, whether it's scolding, resentment, anything—I just want an answer."
"Thank you. Truly, thank you."
After expressing her gratitude, she bowed deeply, forcing Kitahara to hurriedly step aside.
He was confident he could help her, but accepting such a bow from an elder would be discourteous.
"Also, the care you've shown regarding my old affairs—I accept that kindness wholeheartedly."
Kurokawa Miyu turned to her son.
"About the proposal for Kitahara's club—has the company prepared any plans yet?"
The moment she said that, Masato Kurokawa, Kitahara, and Maruzensky all froze.
"There are some, Mother."
After a brief pause, Masato snapped to attention like a newly hired office worker and bowed.
"I'll bring them over immediately—"
"No need. They're probably all very conservative. I know the style of those old men on the board."
She waved her hand dismissively. In that moment, she seemed ten years younger, her gaze sharp.
"There's no need to hesitate. Some things—by the time you jump in after success, it's already too late."
"That's not how the Kurokawa family got where it is."
"Prepare an investment plan. Support the club Kitahara is establishing in all aspects, as a shareholder."
"With such a clear industry turning point ahead, I truly don't understand what they're waiting for."
Shaking her head, she waved again.
"Go handle that first. I'll talk with Kitahara about the race."
At this point, even Maruzensky—who wasn't well-versed in business—understood.
Kitahara had, without even realizing it, secured another massive investment for his team.
She knew the inner workings of families like the Kurokawas well—not just their influence, but their power structures.
After all, her own family was also a long-established powerhouse in the horse girl world.
In such families, the figurehead often doesn't have final authority.
Masato Kurokawa, for example, looked like the head of a major conglomerate, but in reality was still constrained by the older generation.
This was true in Japan, and in Britain as well.
Meaning that even if Seishin Corporation had been cooperating with Kitahara's team, it had only been at Masato's level.
Once his mother spoke, it was a completely different matter.
Maruzensky couldn't quantify the amount involved—but instinctively, she felt that if all that money were given to her, she could change sports cars every day and never repeat one in a month.
So… Kitahara just helped with one thing, organized one race—not even a Shining Star event—
And got an investment worth dozens of luxury sports cars?
In truth, her instinct was still underestimating it.
What she didn't realize was that Kurokawa Miyu wasn't investing merely out of gratitude.
She had shown emotion earlier, yes—but business was emotionless.
What truly drove the investment was the club.
If Kitahara could do what he promised at the press conference—create a club and related events outside the URA Shining Star series—it would mean the birth of an entirely new "series."
Investing now meant acquiring founding shares.
All future investments would require ceding benefits to the original investors.
The details would of course, be complex, but for Seishin Corporation, that wasn't a problem.
As for whether that initial "if" would come true, there was no need to wait.
In business, taking zero risk means eating leftovers—if you even get to eat at all.
Moreover, training, competitions, merchandise, film and animation, mobile games—Kitahara had already unconsciously demonstrated astonishing commercial potential.
The key was that he never personally pursued it, focusing solely on training.
And it was precisely because of that focus that Kurokawa Miyu felt at ease.
First, she trusted his professionalism.
Second, she wouldn't have to face a young man who didn't care about business yet possessed unfathomable commercial talent as a competitor.
Kurokawa Miyu saw all of this clearly.
She knew her son might not.
And the board might see it too—but internal interests would inevitably slow down decisive action.
Fortunately, she wasn't too old yet, and her words still carried weight.
Those were the real reasons behind her decision—reasons Maruzensky didn't fully grasp, hence her sense of abruptness.
Kitahara also understood those business principles and roughly knew Kurokawa Miyu's intentions.
No one understood the significance of a club and new race series better than him—and he had full confidence in making it happen.
He just hadn't expected the elderly woman to be so decisive.
"There's no rush. I mean—you don't need to have Brother Kurokawa busy himself just yet."
Seeing Masato about to leave, Kitahara raised his hand.
"Because this race will require cooperation from both of you."
"And the club matters can conveniently be advanced alongside it."
"Cooperation? Advanced?"
Kurokawa Miyu raised her hand, signaling her son to stay, then thought for a moment.
"Go on."
"At present, Miss Tazuna's ability is indeed outstanding, but after such a long break from professional training, she'll need time to adapt."
Kitahara pondered as he spoke.
"Beyond that, if it's only Miss Tazuna competing against Oguri Cap, Super Creek, and Mejiro Ardan, it might not be enough."
"Perhaps one—or more—horse girls of similar caliber would be better."
"And with rivals who can match her, I think Miss Tazuna's fighting spirit would burn even brighter."
"Mm… yes. Perfect may seem gentle, but she's the type who grows stronger the stronger her opponents are."
Thinking it over, Kurokawa Miyu nodded.
"I agree with your assessment, Kitahara."
"Then… do you want me or Masato to introduce some senior horse girls?"
"However, among those of the same generation as Perfect, none of them managed to retain their strength like she did. This…"
After hesitating slightly, she shook her head.
"This is probably a blessing granted by the Three Goddesses after Perfect was revived back then. Otherwise, she wouldn't possibly still have that kind of speed."
Kitahara agreed with this point.
Just as Kurokawa Miyu had said, the racehorse girls of the same generation as Tazuna had all lost their former strength due to age. Competing was simply impossible for them.
Looking across the entire racehorse girl world—at least in Japan—Tazuna was the only special case.
And like Kurokawa Miyu, Kitahara could only conclude that this was probably the work of the Three Goddesses.
"Then, if not racehorse girls of previous generations… those who came after Perfect…"
Kurokawa Miyu began thinking along that line.
Somewhat rudely, Kitahara interrupted.
"Perhaps we could broaden our perspective a little."
After saying that, and seeing everyone pause and look at him, Kitahara smiled slightly.
"For example—America?"
"America…? You mean—"
Kurokawa Miyu was still confused, but Maruzensky, who understood racehorse girls far better and was one herself, immediately grasped the idea.
"That is a good line of thinking."
Maruzensky suddenly clapped her hands.
"I get what you meant earlier by 'developing a club,' Kitahara."
"You're thinking of introducing American racehorse girls to Japan, right?"
"That would conveniently avoid URA Association regulations, help us understand the international scene, and prepare for future overseas expeditions."
"And your uncle went to America for similar reasons, didn't he? With him there, things would go much more smoothly."
"And there's also a very practical issue—Japanese racehorse girls…"
She sighed and gave a bitter smile.
"…are still behind the world level, especially compared to Europe and America."
"For example, like we said earlier—if we want to find a legendary racehorse girl as strong as Tazuna, Japan might not be able to produce one anytime soon."
"But Europe and America might."
"Honestly speaking, whether it's me or Rudolf and the others… yeah, there is a gap."
Sighing, she looked at Kitahara.
"Anyway, by using this race as an opportunity to go to America, a lot of problems could be solved all at once."
"Oguri Cap and the others—before, they went to Europe, saw world-class opponents, and became overly obsessed with victory, even to the point of neglecting other things."
"A trip to America might help balance them out."
"Tazuna could find opponents strong enough."
"And Ms. Kurokawa could see her at her strongest now."
"And bringing in racehorse girls would conveniently solve the most basic problem of the club."
"Seriously… sigh. I really don't get it anymore."
She looked at Kitahara with mock frustration.
"How is your brain even wired? How do you keep coming up with ideas that accomplish so many things at once?"
This sigh was clearly playful. Then she asked:
"So? I didn't get it wrong, did I?"
Sensing her mood, he couldn't help but smile.
"You already said everything—what's left for me to say?"
He joked back lightly, then turned to Kurokawa Miyu and became serious.
"What I had in mind is basically the same as what Maruzensky said."
"It might sound self-flattering to call it 'killing multiple birds with one stone,' but… that's honestly what it is."
"And what I hope you and Mr. Kurokawa can help with is arranging the America trip."
He scratched his head awkwardly.
"After all, I'm at least somewhat well-known in Japan."
"But in America, no one might know who I am."
"Even with my uncle there, a lot of things might not go smoothly."
"So I can only hope to rely on your influence to help make things happen."
"I understand. That's not a problem at all."
Almost as decisively as when she approved the investment earlier, Kurokawa Miyu showed none of the hesitation typical of elderly people. She even stood up and stretched a little.
"America, huh… I haven't been there in quite a while."
"Some old friends in Hollywood have invited me several times before, but I always turned them down. This time, I can finally go see them."
"Masato, prepare our luggage and arrange company affairs. You're coming to America with me."
Facing his mother's orders, Kurokawa Masato once again adopted the posture of a freshly employed office worker. Kurokawa Miyu nodded, then suddenly looked at Kitahara and smiled.
"Come to think of it, if I really go to Hollywood, it might be a bit embarrassing."
"I haven't had any works worth showing off in years. If I go now, I'll probably get teased."
"If only I had shown Phantom Horse to you earlier, Kitahara. Maybe I could've bragged a little."
Whether she was joking or not, the elder who had achieved so much in the film industry walked over and patted Kitahara on the shoulder.
"My son always says that if you ever became a businessman, he probably wouldn't be your match."
"But I think—you'd actually make a pretty good director, too."
"Maybe if it were you facing something like this, you'd casually pull out a good script and avoid the embarrassment entirely."
"You… hmm?"
Suddenly noticing Kitahara's expression turning strange, Kurokawa Miyu paused.
"You… don't tell me you actually do have a script?"
She said it half-jokingly.
As a director and producer, she knew very well that excellent scripts were rare.
Kitahara being able to produce racehorse girl films and anime, and adapt Phantom Horse, was already an incredible display of talent.
Coming up with a brand-new script on the spot—one that could be recognized by Hollywood-level directors and producers—was simply unrealistic.
Yet, to her surprise, Kitahara hesitated visibly… then nodded.
"I… actually do have a preliminary script concept."
That single sentence stunned Kurokawa Miyu, her son, and Maruzensky alike.
After thinking for a moment, Kitahara decided to explain his uncertain idea.
"This concept came up while I was thinking—if we were to find an opponent for Ms. Tazuna, who in America would be suitable…"
He spread his hands.
"Then I remembered that Ms. Tazuna is the chairman's secretary at the Central Tracen Academy."
"Secretary, in English, is 'secretary,' right?"
"So I… naturally thought of… Secretariat."
"The Secretariat of the chairman of the Federal Tracen Academy in America."
"Both are 'secretaries,' and strength-wise… for Oguri Cap and the others, she'd definitely be more than strong enough."
"So maybe… we could try inviting that chairman—to participate with Ms. Tazuna in an educational race for the younger generation?"
The more Kitahara spoke, the less confident he sounded.
After all, he himself had said that no matter how famous he was, that fame only extended to Japan.
Secretariat, on the other hand, was the chairman of the top Tracen Academy in all of America.
Her responsibilities alone would be immense—and she was already retired. There was no way she'd casually agree to race, especially not in a non–Twinkle, non–Graded race.
This would be an unofficial event at best—essentially an "educational race."
Even inviting Akikawa Yayoi to such a race would require careful consideration.
Inviting a similar figure from overseas? The chances were practically nonexistent.
"…Inviting the chairman of the Federal Tracen Academy… to help you educate racehorse girls…"
Maruzensky muttered in disbelief, covering her forehead.
"You… really dare to think big, Kitahara…"
She shared his doubts—status, responsibility, all of it made such an event seem impossible.
But as a racehorse girl, knowing Tazuna's strength—and long aware of Secretariat's legendary status—she felt overwhelming anticipation at the mere idea of those two standing together.
Then she suddenly understood why Kitahara had mentioned a script.
"Hey, Kitahara…"
She rubbed her chin and tilted her head.
"That script of yours—is it related to Secretariat?"
"Are you planning to use it as compensation for inviting her to race?"
She figured it out—and so did Kurokawa Miyu.
The latter looked at Kitahara, silent.
"Talk about the script a little."
"I imagine you don't have a written draft yet, but you must have a solid outline."
"Tell me about it. If it's good enough, then perhaps…"
She paused.
"…perhaps I can persuade Secretariat."
Kitahara's eyes lit up. Maruzensky looked shocked.
Seeing this, Kurokawa Miyu explained.
"America is different from Japan—or to put it another way, the racehorse girl industry and the film industry there are far more advanced."
"Japan learned both industries from them."
"As a result, in America, the bond between the racehorse girl industry and the film industry is extremely strong."
"Many American racehorse girls become film stars after retiring, and the movies they star in bring even more fame and profit back to the industry."
"The American URA Association values this cycle greatly. Many Hollywood directors and producers specialize in this theme."
"A lot of my own ideas and filming skills were learned from them."
"In other words, if your script is good enough—good enough to make a well-received movie—even Secretariat would owe you a favor."
This explanation made everything click for Kitahara.
He could have figured this out himself, but his daily focus had always been training and racing. Kurokawa Miyu simply had sharper instincts in this area.
Still, an uncertain idea was rapidly taking shape, and Kitahara felt a surge of excitement.
After all—copying a proven work, then refining it with someone of Kurokawa Miyu's caliber—how could the final result not be excellent?
Calming himself, Kitahara spoke.
"Yes. I understand."
After thinking for a moment, he said slowly:
"For now, the working title of the script is… Seabiscuit."
Seabiscuit tells the story of Secretariat's career—though from another world.
To be honest, from a box office perspective, the film had a budget of 37 million and a gross of 29 million, which wasn't outstanding.
But that wasn't the script's fault—it was the director and filming techniques.
The script was written by Randall Wallace, a nominee for Best Original Screenplay at the 1996 Academy Awards.
That same year, his nominated work—Braveheart—swept nominations and awards alike.
A script by a writer of that caliber didn't need questioning.
Though the film underperformed commercially, its reception was excellent—many rankings gave it perfect scores or ratings above 8, some even above 9.
It was a classic case of critical acclaim without box office success.
The poor box office was largely due to Wallace himself, directing his own script for the first time.
And also due to filming limitations.
That world couldn't properly convey the emotions of horse racing, severely hurting the theater experience.
But in this world, filming Seabiscuit would feature racehorse girls as the protagonists.
Hesitation, pride, struggle, perseverance, triumph, grace—all of it could be expressed without restraint.
It would be like bringing an Oscar-level script straight to Hollywood for evaluation.
Kitahara had absolute confidence it would receive massive recognition.
Moreover, he felt that Seabiscuit mirrored the relationship between Tazuna and Kurokawa Miyu.
"…I have some personal thoughts. They might be immature."
He continued.
"Secretariat's trainer back then was actually very similar to you, Ms. Kurokawa."
"She wasn't recognized by her family and was pressured to become a housewife."
"And her situation was even worse."
"After her father died, she was forced to take over a racehorse girl team without knowing anything about racing."
"But in the end, she learned everything from scratch, overcame it all, and achieved glory together with Secretariat."
"I think… perhaps when discussing this script with Ms. Secretariat and her trainer, you might find new insights—beyond the script itself."
He stopped there—saying more would verge on lecturing a senior, which would be disrespectful.
But Kurokawa Miyu understood perfectly.
"Penny Chenery…"
She murmured the name of Secretariat's trainer, nodding slightly.
"I met her briefly once, but we didn't talk deeply. By then, I was no longer a trainer…"
"But Kitahara—you're right. You're absolutely right."
She emphasized it twice, nodding firmly.
"Perhaps… I should ask Ms. Penny for advice."
After a brief silence, she took a deep breath.
"Write the script first. When it's finished, give it to me."
"I'll handle the rest."
"It seems… I still have many reasons to thank you."
She then looked deeply at Kitahara.
"You… well. Since you've chosen to focus on racehorse girls, then continue to focus on them."
"You can do even more, can't you?"
In Kitahara's mind, Kurokawa Masato was already decisive and capable—but his mother was even more so.
Setting aside those meaningful final words, everything else had neatly resolved all the ideas Kitahara had only just thought of overnight.
He had originally planned to seek help from other powerful figures—Akikawa Yayoi, the Satomi family, and so on.
But since everything was settled in one stroke, that was clearly the best outcome.
However, after lunch at the hotel, and after finalizing some details of the America trip in the afternoon, Maruzensky brought up something Kitahara hadn't discussed.
"Oh right—Mr. Know-It-All Chief… ah, no—Chairman Kitahara now, I suppose. Your club's basically about to be founded."
She teased him lightly.
"So have you already figured out which new racehorse girl prospects you want to pick up in America?"
She was joking.
After all, discovering racehorse girls was one of the hardest things in the entire industry—that was why clubs hadn't existed for so long, and simpler teams were the norm.
What she didn't expect was that what was hardest for everyone else was easiest for Kitahara.
"Oh, I do have some ideas."
Without thinking much—and without noticing Maruzensky's stunned expression—Kitahara said casually:
"You know Good Omen Symbol, right? From Rudolf's family."
"I checked—she's currently in Kentucky, America."
"So I took a look at the racehorse girls there, and two kids caught my eye. They seem very talented."
"El Condor Pasa—and Grass Wonder."
"They're both still in elementary school… about the same age as Special Week."
"I was thinking—if we're forming a club, Special Week and Opera O should definitely be invited."
"Opera O can wait a bit, but Special Week is older and easier to train."
"So we should find opponents around her level—otherwise, there's no way to race."
"Oh, and that's just America. I also have some candidates in Japan."
"I'll just name two for now."
"Seiun Sky—and King Halo."
"You should remember them, Maruzensky. They're both in elementary school in Hokkaido, just like Special Week used to be."
"I happened to look into them and felt they had great potential. I want to try contacting them."
"What do you think, Maruzensky—huh?"
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
[Bro is looking a lolicon]
(End of Chapter)