If it was just about starting the training, Kitahara actually felt there wasn't that much trouble. Negotiations with Connie Academy and the Secretariat could conveniently be handed over to others.
It wasn't a problem that the equipment wasn't fully prepared yet. Just as Uncle had said, a professional trainer should possess the most fundamental knowledge and skills.
For example, when it came to physical conditioning, one needed a solid grasp of sports physiology and anatomy.
Muscle physiology, cardiovascular function, energy metabolism—those internal aspects—as well as visible factors like leg muscle mass and skeletal structure all had to be analyzed at a basic level with the naked eye.
For Kitahara, none of this was an issue.
So, while waiting for his uncle and the Kurokawa mother and son to finish their negotiations, he continued training as usual.
Unlike their previous trip to Europe, not every member of the team had come to America this time. This had been decided before departure.
And that left one particular Horse Girl rather curious.
"Hey, if I remember correctly, your team has more Horse Girls than just these, and more than just you as a trainer, right? Why didn't they come this time, bro?"
Standing at the edge of the training grounds, Kitahara was focused on the warm-ups on the track.
The ones warming up were Tazuna, Oguri Cap, Super Creek, and Mejiro Ardan—indeed fewer faces than back in Japan.
The one who asked was standing beside him.
Long black hair. Black horse ears. Black ponytail. Golden eyes. It was Sunday Silence, the one Musaka Ginjiro had mentioned before.
"They have race schedules. They couldn't make it this time."
Still watching the warm-up, Kitahara asked in return:
"But how do you know about them?"
Tamamo Cross and Inari One still had the Sankei Sho and Keisei Cup on September 20.
There were about two months left. It seemed long, but a trip to America would inevitably affect their adjustment.
American races placed more emphasis on dirt tracks—famous G1 events like the Breeders' Cup, Kentucky Derby, and Belmont Stakes were all run on dirt.
The training grounds here were mainly dirt as well.
There were turf courses, of course—Breeders' Cup Turf, Breeders' Cup Mile, Breeders' Cup Sprint—but the turf conditions differed significantly from Japan in slope, humidity, and moisture content.
Oguri Cap and the others had races in October, so even after staying in America for a while, they would still have enough time to prepare upon returning.
Tamamo Cross and the others, however, would be pressed for time.
So after discussion, those who came to America this time were Oguri Cap, Super Creek, Mejiro Ardan, Kitahara himself, and the technically-focused New Light.
Sunday Silence shrugged.
"That old man keeps muttering about you guys whenever he's bored."
"He replays your race footage whenever he has time and tells me what you handled well and what could be improved."
"He even tells me to learn from it. Tch. I'm not a kid—I already know I'm supposed to do those things."
"So after hearing it so much, I remembered."
She shaded her eyes and looked at the track.
"Let me have a look… ah, except for that big sister I don't really recognize, I know the rest."
"That gray one is Oguri Cap, right? Then the bay one is Super Creek. After that, the Dark Bay is Mejiro Ardan."
"Am I right?"
Kitahara glanced at her in surprise.
In the world of Horse Girls, bloodlines—just like racehorses in another world—were clearly defined and corresponded one-to-one.
For horses, someone knowledgeable could often judge lineage by coat color.
Gray horses were easy to identify. Their coats lightened with age, even turning white, but the dark base color remained visible where the leg hair was thin.
Bay horses were also recognizable—Brown mane, tail, and lower legs, with a reddish-brown body. Dark bay and brown had subtle distinctions.
But that method didn't apply to Horse Girls.
Their bloodlines were more like human blood types—you couldn't tell by hair or eye color.
Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross were somewhat obvious, since their hair, tail, and ear fluff were silver-gray.
Super Creek's brown tone also hinted at her bay lineage.
But Mejiro Ardan couldn't be judged that way—her hair and tail were blue.
Normally, unless you were someone like Kitahara who knew their backgrounds, you could only determine lineage through a medical examination.
Musaka Ginjiro might know the bloodlines of the Eisei group, but Sunday Silence didn't seem like the type to care.
Which meant her judgment likely came purely from her own ability.
Kitahara remembered she once said her eyes were different—she could see a Horse Girl's talent. Perhaps that included lineage.
It didn't affect him much; he already knew about such abilities. Many Tracen Academy chairwomen possessed similar insight.
Just as he was about to confirm her guess, a curious voice cut in:
"Eh? Wait—Ardan-senpai isn't from a blue-hair bloodline, but dark bay?"
That voice nearly made Kitahara choke.
Sunday Silence's already annoyed expression grew even more exasperated.
"Oh… my… God!"
She clutched her forehead.
"Bro, what is with this person who sticks to me like chewing gum?"
"I can tolerate her clinging to me, but—"
"She's way too stupid!"
"Chestnut, black, brown, gray, even chestnut with a blaze—I'd understand any normal bloodline—"
"But what the heck is 'blue hair'?!"
"Is that even a thing?!"
She spun around and roared at the figure behind her.
"Oh! I remember…"
"You are Special Week… but!"
"I think you should be named Special Stupid! That's appropriate!"
Sure enough, standing behind Sunday Silence was Special Week.
She had been looking at her curiously, waiting for an answer. Now she was stunned by the outburst.
A moment later—
"Eng… English is hard-desu, my English no OK-desu, but my name is Special Week, that's right-desu!"
With the most broken English she could muster, she gave Sunday Silence a bright thumbs-up.
Watching this "father-son" exchange—and Sunday Silence nearly fainting from frustration—Kitahara almost burst out laughing.
In another world, Sunday Silence was a famous "great sire"—in the literal sense. After being imported to Japan, his offspring spread across Tokyo, Hanshin, Kyoto, and other major tracks.
Special Week was one of his most famous sons.
In this world, as Horse Girls, they were about the same age and had no blood relation.
But perhaps because of the Three Goddesses, that inexplicable sense of closeness from another world still lingered between them.
Just as Tokai Teio felt drawn to Symboli Rudolf, Special Week felt strangely attached to Sunday Silence.
At first she simply asked endless questions. Then she invited her to eat together and asked her to show her around campus.
After being rejected several times, she shamelessly began tailing her everywhere.
Almost everywhere.
Under normal circumstances, such behavior would be annoying.
Sunday Silence seemed annoyed too, often telling her to stay away.
Yet she never truly drove Special Week off.
Perhaps that subtle "fatherly affection" was why Special Week could keep sticking around.
Still… calling your own "son" Special Stupid—wasn't that a bit harsh?
Kitahara reined in his thoughts.
The priority now was helping Oguri Cap and the others adapt to American tracks.
Thus, subsequent training was arranged on turf courses closer to Japanese conditions.
Another key objective was analyzing Tazuna's physical condition.
Whether for the "education race" with Oguri Cap or for when the Secretariat side agreed to participate, Tazuna's state and strength were the core factors.
That had to be confirmed before the race.
After the warm-up ended, Oguri Cap and the others approached under Tazuna's lead.
"Good work."
"While you're still in good condition, head to the starting line."
"We'll run 3000 meters at training-race intensity. Any objections?"
Three thousand meters.
The distance of the Kikuka Sho—the final leg of the Triple Crown—and the distance Tezuna had once been scheduled to run before her disappearance from history.
She had requested this distance herself.
Even if she could no longer run the actual Kikuka Sho, she wanted to prove herself once—if only to herself.
"I have no problem," Tazuna replied gently.
"I'm fine too!" Oguri Cap raised her hand immediately. "Miss Tazuna has always seemed amazing to me."
Super Creek and Mejiro Ardan agreed.
After a brief exchange, they headed to the starting point.
Kitahara raised one hand high, stopwatch and clipboard ready.
"On your marks… ready…"
"Start!"
At the starting line, there were no gates. But the instant Kitahara's voice rang out, four figures shot forward almost simultaneously.
Kitahara's eyes lit up.
He had considered the issue of adapting to American tracks.
Whether it was Oguri Cap and the other juniors, or Tazuna as their senior, his most conservative estimate was that they would need some time to adjust.
And that was only regarding the turf itself. The situation in America was different from Japan—one might even call it unique.
In Japan, turf could be roughly divided into "Western grass" and "native grass."
As the names implied, "Western grass" varieties came from overseas, along with their cultivation and laying techniques. Most originated from Europe, typically France, and were generally used in Hokkaido racecourses.
For example, Hakodate and Sapporo Racecourses used this type of turf and maintained it accordingly.
Most other Japanese turf tracks used a domestically cultivated variety known as "Equine" grass—commonly referred to as "native grass."
America, however, frequently relied on synthetic materials.
Not only dirt tracks, but turf tracks as well.
In terms of dirt, many natural dirt surfaces had been replaced over the years with synthetic sand tracks—made of sand mixed with rubber particles and other fibers, laid over an asphalt base.
Turf followed a similar concept: an asphalt foundation topped with synthetic technology supporting a "grass-like surface layer."
This was a typical example of American technological advantage.
Through data analysis and field testing, these synthetic surfaces were shown to have higher safety factors than traditional tracks.
Running on such surfaces significantly reduced the risk of injury for Horse Girls, as well as overall stamina consumption.
The stability of synthetic materials also meant fewer races were canceled due to extreme weather.
In terms of race results, the harder base made it easier to produce high speeds—another advantage.
Based on history from another world, Kitahara knew this American track-building philosophy would gradually spread worldwide.
But it would take time—and enormous investment.
Under these circumstances, even though synthetic tracks would eventually become mainstream due to their safety and performance benefits, for Oguri Cap and the others, this was still a "new" surface.
Yet judging from the start just now, the four runners didn't seem to be significantly affected by the unfamiliar track.
Hmm…
After their trip to Europe and continued training on varied surfaces, Oguri Cap and the others' adaptability had clearly improved.
Kitahara immediately began analyzing and jotting notes on his clipboard.
His Horse Girls had already experienced many types of tracks:
Japanese dirt, turf, sand, roads, and even some natural grasslands.
European dirt and turf.
They had adapted to all of them.
Adaptability wasn't only about speed levels on a single surface—it was also about how quickly they adjusted to new ones.
From his initial estimate, their speed had not changed drastically on this new track. That improvement was almost certain.
Even if precise instruments later showed slight deviations, Kitahara didn't think there would be any fundamental discrepancy.
What surprised him instead was Tazuna.
In his mind, he was already treating the chairman's secretary as a Horse Girl. His analytical framework assumed she was one.
Theoretically, even if she had once been overwhelmingly dominant, so many years had passed. Regardless of raw strength, her adaptability should have dulled somewhat.
Especially after living incognito for years—she hadn't undergone professional training, nor had she participated in any official races.
Yet Tazuna's performance rendered that theory meaningless.
During this training run, her speed and overall performance were just like in the warm-up—neither exceeding Oguri Cap and the others, nor falling behind.
It was as if she was deliberately controlling her pace—not intending to take the lead, but not allowing herself to lag.
If that was intentional…
Kitahara kept recording split times and observations with his stopwatch.
Her condition… her ability… was better than he had imagined.
And this was still her "human" state.
If she shifted into her "Horse Girl" state… would her strength increase further?
How had she maintained this level of ability? Or perhaps… how had she trained herself to this level?
Kitahara's gaze locked onto Tazuna's figure.
He began to suspect that this chairman's secretary had not truly stopped training all these years.
Otherwise, her ability bordered on terrifying.
So what exactly had she been doing…?
Just as he was deep in thought, he heard a slightly disdainful yet astonished voice beside him.
"…Such an incredible… and strange… Horse Girl…"
It was Sunday Silence.
Her hands were still in her pockets, and her left arm had Special Week clinging to it affectionately.
That probably explained the irritation in her tone.
Her surprise, however, was clearly directed at Tezuna. Her golden eyes followed Tezuna's running figure without blinking.
"Hi, bro. Are all Japanese Horse Girls this weird?"
Interest flickered in her eyes.
"If that's true… after my career ends, I might want to visit Japan."
"To see if there are more interesting Horse Girls like this…"
…Huh?
The reason this world's Sunday Silence wanted to go to Japan… was because she saw Tazuna?
Kitahara felt momentarily bewildered, then amused.
"You can tell something about Miss Tazuna?"
Like Sunday Silence, Chairwoman Akikawa Yayoi also had the ability to perceive a Horse Girl's talent. Kitahara had asked her before.
But Yayoi had said that although she had known Tazuna for many years, she still couldn't fully understand her condition.
Kitahara wondered whether Sunday Silence had sharper insight.
"I don't know if I can say I 'see through' her," she replied. "But her speed is definitely Horse Girl-level. And she doesn't look serious at all."
Her left arm, still burdened with Special Week, shifted slightly.
"But… she looks human right now. That's the weird part."
"Bro, that old man said that sister doesn't just have this state—she also has a Horse Girl state. Oh, no, that was you who said it."
"So can she go 'whoosh~' and transform into a Horse Girl?"
"If she does that, maybe I can see more."
"Bro" obviously meant Kitahara, and he didn't mind the nickname.
"She can," he said. "I confirmed it with her. She does have another state—the Horse Girl form. She's reverted to it before."
"But she can't really control it."
He had discussed this with Tazuna.
The conclusion—or speculation—was that only when her emotions and condition reached a subtle threshold would she occasionally revert to her former self.
Grow ears. Grow a tail.
The clearest example was the first time he and Oguri Cap met her.
Back then, she had noticed Opera O and Meisho Doto on the wall inside the academy.
When they nearly fell, she had sprinted over in an instant. She said she felt something familiar on her head and behind her at that moment.
But after hearing that someone on the other side of the wall had caught the two little Horse Girls, that familiar sensation faded.
Kitahara concluded that she only reverted under urgent emotional stimulus.
Artificially recreating such conditions was impossible—and too dangerous.
Still, whether based on his own analysis, confirmation from others, or Sunday Silence's remarks, he increasingly felt that even in her current state, Tezuna was already enough to handle Oguri Cap and the others.
She wasn't serious.
She wasn't using her full strength.
Her speed was precisely controlled to match theirs.
That level of control was only possible when one's ability exceeded a certain threshold.
When they had first done parallel runs with Maruzensky and Symboli Rudolf, those two could do the same.
Now, they could no longer manage it so effortlessly.
From that, one could roughly estimate Tezuna's true ability.
What puzzled Kitahara even more was how she intended to run this "education race."
He wasn't her trainer. She hadn't asked him to train her. Race strategy wasn't something he could decide for her.
Maybe she wanted to run it her own way, ignoring outside instruction.
Or maybe… she was waiting for someone else's instruction.
Kitahara leaned toward the latter, but Tazuna never discussed it, and subtly avoided the topic whenever it arose.
Still, perhaps it didn't matter.
As long as, in the coming days, they confirmed she could complete the education race.
After finishing the scheduled training—
"Whoa! That was such a satisfying session!"
At the edge of the field, Oguri Cap accepted a towel and water from Special Week and Sunday Silence. After drinking deeply, she clenched her fists excitedly.
"Running alongside Miss Tazuna feels really comfortable."
"I wish we could always run like that!"
"Mm! I feel the same," Super Creek agreed warmly.
Mejiro Ardan didn't speak, but her smile said enough.
Kitahara glanced over his three Horse Girls, then at Tezuna walking over slowly, smiling as usual.
She really hadn't exerted herself at all…
Perhaps that thought was exaggerated.
Training intensity was always carefully calculated to ensure sufficient exercise without over-fatigue.
Tazuna had sweated. She had hydrated. She'd eaten fruit.
But compared to Oguri Cap and the others, her condition was far too relaxed.
A quick wipe of sweat, smoothing damp hair—and she looked ready to train again.
For a moment, Kitahara even considered keeping her back for extra practice.
As if reading his thoughts, after everyone packed up and prepared to leave, Tezuna smiled at him.
"Um… this may be a bit sudden, but…"
She scratched her cheek lightly.
"Kitahara-san, could you stay and train with me a little longer?"
Not only Kitahara, but Oguri Cap and the others were surprised.
"Whoa! Miss Tazuna's continuing? Then I'll—"
Before Oguri Cap could finish—
"You three are not allowed. Go eat dinner and rest properly."
"Eh? That's not fair, Kitahara…"
Oguri Cap instantly deflated into her soft "mochi mode."
Since their relay loss, whenever she was dejected, she turned like this—ears drooping, cheeks puffed.
Super Creek and Ardan immediately began teasing her cheeks.
But Kitahara didn't budge.
"Your training plan is carefully calculated. Extra laps now will affect tomorrow."
He waved them off.
"Go rest. You'll get plenty of chances to run to your heart's content."
"And…"
He glanced subtly at Tazuna.
"I'm just worried you won't be able to handle it."
"Whoa! Don't underestimate me!"
Oguri Cap perked up instantly.
"Fine! I'll go eat a ton!"
"Tomorrow I'll train even harder!"
She glared at him dramatically before running toward the cafeteria.
After they left, only Kitahara and Tazuna remained.
"…I'm guessing you actually have something to say, not just train?"
Kitahara turned to her.
"I'm not good at beating around the bush."
"Yes, I know. And…"
Tezuna brushed damp hair from her temple.
"I've always been the type to speak plainly."
Then—
"Sensei… she's in America too, isn't she?"
"She's probably… not far from here?"
Kitahara froze.
By "Sensei," she meant Kurokawa Miyu—her former elementary teacher and later her trainer.
But how did she know?
The trip, accommodations, plans—none of it had been revealed to Tezuna at Miyu's request.
So how…?
"Is this… the bond between a Horse Girl and her trainer?" Kitahara joked weakly.
"I think it is."
Her smile faded. Her expression grew serious.
"You haven't trained that many Horse Girls yet. But years from now, Kitahara-san, you may feel it too."
"Even if you don't know consciously… if Oguri Cap is nearby, you'll sense it."
Then she sighed.
"I know what Sensei is worried about."
"She's afraid I can't forgive her."
Kitahara sensed that although she was speaking to him, the words were meant for someone else.
"I… truly couldn't forgive her."
"But it's different from back then."
"An undefeated Triple Crown means everything to a Horse Girl. You know that."
"So when I woke up… when I understood what had happened… I couldn't forgive."
"Not myself for failing to achieve it."
"And not Sensei… for failing to fulfill her promise."
"Maybe that sounds childish. But back then… I really couldn't forgive her."
She turned away, stretching lightly.
"I get angry. I blame people."
"When Maruzensky teased me for gaining weight, I chased her too."
"But after so many years… clinging to the past has no meaning."
"What I can't forgive now… is that Sensei forgot our other promise."
She brushed her hair aside.
"We weren't striving only for my victory."
"Weren't we working toward a better world for Horse Girls?"
"So all these years—even believing I might never run again—I never stopped trying."
"Day after day. Again and again."
"But…"
"Sensei, where are you?"
"If you made a mistake, admit it openly."
"If you made a promise, see it through."
"You taught me that."
"So… Sensei. Where are you now?"
She turned sharply.
For a fleeting moment, a brown shadow flashed behind her.
"Kitahara-san… you understand, don't you?"
"If I have to run again… to remind her of that promise…"
"Then I will run again."
"Just like back then."
She looked at him directly.
"Please tell her that."
"My speed… is already enough to fulfill that promise."
"So…"
"Sensei."
"What about you?"
The next instant—
She vanished from his sight.
Or rather, she left behind a lingering afterimage.
Though she wore Tracen Academy's red-and-white training uniform—
The afterimage in Kitahara's eyes was an astonishing, vivid green.
And within that green—
Two brighter emerald lights shone where her eyes should be.
Like twin flames burning in the deepest darkness.