After saying goodbye to Artisan Bell, Dream Weaver headed to the teaching building to complete her transfer procedures with Principal Haibara. Hearing that classes wouldn't start until the next day, she found herself with nothing to do and decided to head to the track to test her skills.
Though it was called a dirt track, the surface was actually made of crushed gravel. Dream Weaver tapped her hoof against the ground and felt a distinctly firm, jarring sensation—nothing like turf.
Watching the dust kick up from just that small movement, she frowned slightly.
This was her first time trying out this kind of surface. If just a light step could stir up this much dust, she could hardly imagine what it would be like running at full speed.
A cloud of dust thick enough to obscure vision, every Uma Musume unable to tell direction, all crammed onto a track even narrower than turf—charging ahead chaotically like headless flies.
In conditions like these, trying to use a closing running style would be impossible.
From what Dream Weaver understood, closing tactics relied on a Uma Musume's ability to read the race—knowing when and where to weave through the pack and burst ahead. Before, without a trainer to gather intel on her rivals, she'd had to rely purely on focus and instinct to find openings mid-race.
But on a track where you couldn't even see your opponents, even her evolved intuition might not be enough to guide her.
Since she hadn't fully experienced the power of this intuition yet, Dream Weaver settled on a conservative assessment.
Closing—or at least front-running—might be the only way to come out on top in a dirt race. Based on this quick inspection and her own reasoning, she'd formed a theory, though it was still untested.
Enough speculation. Dream Weaver patted her cheeks, got into starting position, and shot forward like an arrow, kicking up a rare swirl of dust on the empty, holiday-quiet track.
"Hm?"
Just as Dream Weaver was experimenting with her dirt running form, a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties passed by the track. Dressed in plain athletic wear and carrying a plastic bag of snacks, she had dark hair hastily tied up, and eyes—shadowed by what looked like permanent dark circles—widened slightly in surprise.
She pulled out her phone, checked the date, and grew even more puzzled.
"Pretty sure Oguri Roman isn't back yet… And those slackers barely train even on regular days. Since when do they put in extra work on a day off?"
In the monotonous daily life of Kasamatsu Tracen, something had finally piqued Chizuru Haibara's curiosity.
Just who was that training on the track?
Her steps gradually veered from her original path as she walked straight toward the training grounds.
The closer she got, the fiercer the sound of hooves against the track became. Amid flying gravel and clouds of dust, a figure was running at a speed Chizuru had never seen before.
"That gait… it's all wrong."
"Too light. A stride like that'll just slip on dirt."
Chizuru narrowed her eyes. The observational skills she'd honed during her time at the central racing circuit told her something was off.
"That's the kind of stride you only see from turf specialists."
"But nearly all the local races here in Kasamatsu are run on dirt. Even if someone wanted to practice turf racing, there's nowhere to do it."
Knowledge she thought she'd forgotten after years of coasting through life was now rushing back at an astonishing speed. Even Chizuru herself was surprised she still had an eye for this.
"From the central circuit? Or some elite stable? What's she doing here?"
She kept her thoughts to herself as she watched Dream Weaver's unorthodox running style.
Just as Chizuru was observing her, Dream Weaver also noticed the figure standing trackside. After rounding the final turn, she slowed down and walked over.
"Hello?"
The moment she stepped off the track, a faint aura of pressure—an instinctive emanation of her Zone—washed over Chizuru. It was an unsettling, almost dangerous feeling that made her want to look away.
Shrouded in dust, Dream Weaver was little more than a silhouette, but her sharp, penetrating eyes were clearly visible. A faint red glow seemed to flicker within them, and for a moment, Chizuru felt like what stood in the dust wasn't an Uma Musume, but something far more intimidating.
"Are you a trainer here?"
When the woman in athletic wear didn't respond, Dream Weaver frowned slightly in confusion. She stepped forward and waved a hand in front of Chizuru's eyes.
Chizuru jumped slightly as Dream Weaver emerged suddenly from the dust, but she relaxed a bit once she got a clear look at her face.
So it really was just a Uma Musume after all.
After collecting herself, Chizuru finally spoke.
"I'm one of the trainers here. Are you from the central circuit or an elite stable? What brings you to Kasamatsu Tracen?"
Dream Weaver tilted her head, puzzled.
"I'm a student here."
"No way, I know all the regulars here, and you're definitely not—"
Chizuru cut herself off mid-sentence, as if suddenly remembering something, and asked tentatively, "You're that legendary transfer student? Didn't think the old man was actually telling the truth for once."
Dream Weaver's lips twitched. Just how many times had Principal Haibara lied about transfer students before? Why did everyone have the same reaction upon meeting her?
Chizuru was silent for a moment, looking Dream Weaver up and down carefully before speaking again.
"My advice? Don't study here."
"Tracen Academy in the central circuit, or joining a club under one of the major stables—that's where you belong."
"What do you mean? Have I done something to offend you already?"
Faced with such a blunt suggestion to leave, Dream Weaver's brows furrowed. She hadn't even started complaining about how unreliable Kasamatsu Tracen seemed, and already she was being looked down on.
Her tone was sharp, but Chizuru just shook her head and continued.
"You don't fit here. With your talent, you could compete in central circuit races—maybe even snag a major prize right out from under the elites."
"You've seen it yourself. There's nothing here."
Chizuru gestured around them: the long-neglected training equipment, the aging buildings. If not for the sturdy gravel track, there might not even be a proper place to train.
"This is Kasamatsu Tracen. It's a local branch—a shelter for those without dreams or talent."
"Those with promise have either already left or are on their way out. The ones who stay…"
Chizuru paused.
"Are just discarded leftovers."
--+--
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.
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