The day before the Satsuki Sho.
Under the bright sun on the training field, Dream Weaver gulped down water, sweat from her workout trickling down her throat and soaking her collar. But that was the least of her worries—right now, the only dry part of her might've been her throat.
"Cough… cough-cough-cough!"
A sudden fit of coughing forced her to bend over, hands braced on her knees. The back of her training suit was drenched, clinging to her skin and outlining her shoulder blades.
Just then, a hand in black fingerless gloves patted her back gently. The touch was just right—not too heavy, but firm and comforting.
"Never seen you look so rough, Little Dream."
"Seems like the pressure's really getting to you this time."
A familiar voice came from behind. Dream Weaver turned to see a horse girl who looked strikingly like King Halo, but with more mature features and a taller, fuller figure. Dressed in a beige trench coat over a crisp button-up, she looked more ready for a business meeting than a visit to her daughter.
This was none other than Dancing Brave—champion of the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe, undisputed legend, world-class Uma Musume.
"Why is everyone showing up all of a sudden…?"
Seeing the one who'd indirectly caused her trainer troubles, Dream Weaver didn't show any anger. Her clash with King Halo was days ago; she'd cooled off since then.
Besides, what was done was done. Tomorrow was the Satsuki Sho. None of that mattered now.
"Besides Halo, who else has been by?"
As she spoke, Dancing Brave pulled a handkerchief from her calfskin bag and began wiping the sweat from Dream Weaver's neck.
"Narita Top Road, my friend. How did you know Halo came to see me?"
Dream Weaver instinctively turned her head away.
"Oh, everybody at Tracen knows. It was Trainer Oki who called me back, actually."
Dream Weaver fell silent. She'd made quite a scene with King Halo on the field a few days ago—of course word had spread all over campus.
But she never expected Dancing Brave to come over because of it. Was that Trainer Oki some kind of gossip?
As if reading her mind, Dancing Brave let out a soft laugh. "Now, now, no judging people in your head. I asked him to keep me updated."
"Seems like you asked a lot of people, then."
"If there's nothing else, I need to get back to training."
Dream Weaver nodded, indicating she'd heard, and turned to leave.
"What's one day gonna change?"
"You've already hit your limit, haven't you?"
But just as Dream Weaver turned away, the bombshell dropped from Dancing Brave's lips snapped her attention right back.
She stared wide-eyed at the smiling Uma Musume, squinting slightly. "You knew all along?"
"Well, your mother is a world-class racer, you know. I've got an eye for these things."
The smile on Dancing Brave's face was like a mask, hiding any true emotion. No matter how hard Dream Weaver looked, she couldn't decipher what lay behind those words.
"Curious?"
"Then let's talk. Know that café near Tracen? Mommy's a VIP there."
She pulled a dark gold card from her bag and waved it lightly.
True to her word, Dream Weaver's stats had capped out. More training wouldn't help. After a brief hesitation, she nodded in agreement.
Soon, Dream Weaver followed Dancing Brave off campus to the café she'd mentioned.
It was a cozy little place—green vines wrapped around a bronze sign, pots of blooming flowers decorating the windowsills. As Dancing Brave pushed the door open, a windchime jingled softly. A middle-aged woman in a brown apron smiled warmly when she saw them.
"My, it's been a while!"
"Oh, come on, I was here just a few months ago."
Watching them chat so easily, Dream Weaver felt a flicker of confusion. But before she could ask, Dancing Brave explained.
"Even though I raced in Europe, I was an exchange student at Tracen back in the day. This place was around even then."
"With your talent, you needed to come to Tracen?"
"Don't underestimate this place. If it weren't the real deal, why would I have Halo and you study here?"
"Really? I thought it was because neither of us had much talent."
By then, they'd reached a table by the window. Dancing Brave didn't answer Dream Weaver's pointed remark. Instead, she snapped her fingers playfully, winked at the owner, and turned back.
"What'll you have?"
"Iced Americano."
Dancing Brave's evasion didn't bother her. Dream Weaver ordered calmly.
"Still so mature, aren't you?"
Dancing Brave smiled, but Dream Weaver sensed something unreadable in her eyes.
"Compared to someone who's unbelievably bad at housework, maybe."
Dream Weaver took a sip of the iced coffee the owner handed her, her tone flat.
At that, Dancing Brave's stirring of her cappuccino faltered slightly.
"I thought you weren't mad anymore."
"I'm not."
Dream Weaver set her cup down, expression unchanged.
"Then what's with all the sarcasm?"
Dancing Brave drew out her words, sounding nothing like a world-class champion.
"Call it blunt honesty."
"So straightforward. That part of you hasn't changed a bit."
"No need to beat around the bush. You didn't bring me here just for small talk, did you?"
"In a hurry?"
"Just don't want to waste time."
"Fair enough…"
Dancing Brave's tone softened. She tapped the rim of her coffee cup lightly, the porcelain ringing clear.
"After all, you really don't have much time left."
The words hung between them, heavy and blunt, cutting through the silence. The background noise of the café seemed to fade, leaving only the faint hum of the air conditioner.
"I don't know what method you used to lock your body in this state."
"But it can't last forever."
As expected of a world-class Uma Musume—Dancing Brave saw right through her condition.
"There's no such thing as a free lunch."
"I've already made my peace with it."
Dancing Brave sighed, her voice suddenly rough.
"If you force yourself to break through the barrier in this state…"
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T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
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