Try changing your running style. Otherwise, the strain on your body is just too great.
That was Sunday Silence's suggestion.
Lying on the grassy riverbank, bathed in starlight, it took a full two nights for Sunday Serenity to recover from her depleted state.
During that time, she had to endure being pestered by the nearby ghosts. It seemed like the dark mist emanating from her was some kind of exquisite delicacy to them.
Still, these ghosts never actually did anything out of line; they just stood there, watching quietly.
Even so, their eerie stares were seriously annoying. Now Sunday Serenity understood why Sunday Silence wouldn't hesitate to throw a punch whenever she encountered them.
They were just like bugs.
If she had to go through a recovery process lasting several days after every race, then she really should follow Sunday Silence's advice and change her running style to reduce the strain.
It wasn't just her. Based on her observations at the training grounds recently, every Uma Musume seemed to be searching for the running method that suited them best.
For example, there's the front-running style: sprinting to the front of the pack right at the start and leading all the way until the finish, also known as the 'Great Escape'.
Then there's the prominent position style: running near the front, sticking close to the leader, and fighting for the lead.
Besides these, there's also 'stalking', where you maintain a position in the middle of the pack and accelerate for the final sprint before the last turn. And 'chasing', where you stay at the very back of the field, saving all your strength for an all-out sprint down the final straight.
The first two styles lean more towards speed and endurance, while the latter two require conserving energy, waiting for that explosive burst.
As for which running style suited Sunday Serenity best, Sunday Silence had actually given her the answer long ago.
When the race starts, take the lead with extreme speed and hold it until the end.
Classifying it, Sunday Silence used a 'front-running' style.
But after watching her run twice, Sunday Serenity knew perfectly well that it couldn't be summed up so simply as a tactic or a style.
Her movements... it was like she had entered some kind of state...
Currently, the gap between Sunday Serenity and Sunday Silence was vast. She needed to keep experimenting and gradually change.
At the very least, she needed to reach a point where she wouldn't be such a wreck after a race!
"But if the upper limit for a spirit is entirely determined by skill... that's a really difficult way to improve."
In her not-particularly-long life, Sunday Serenity had learned a few things.
The body determines the lower limit of one's ability; skill determines the upper limit.
Why is it that with the same ten fingers, some people can play the piano, while others can only pound on a keyboard?
That's the difference skill makes.
Just keep training, and the body will grow accordingly; the payoff is direct and straightforward.
But training a skill... that's a completely different story.
Like how to run fast without making a sound, or how to wield various weapons—sticks, clubs, knives, spears.
Since ancient times, people have practiced endlessly, developing countless variations for a single weapon to adapt to complex battlefield conditions.
Anyone can use a blade, but those who can use it to block, counter-thrust, or restrain are as rare as phoenix feathers.
Training a skill is far more complicated than training the body.
Sunday Serenity knew well the time and effort required behind it all.
Now, as a ghost, her lower limit was locked in place, impossible to raise further.
That left only one path to break through her limitations.
"Is that really true?"
Noticing Sunday Serenity's silent contemplation, Sunday Silence suddenly spoke.
"The spirit is forever in a fixed state, unable to grow, unable to change. That's what you think, right?"
Isn't it?
What could this fleshless body possibly rely on to grow?
If it's starlight, once her body has recovered, there are no extra special effects.
At most, it gives her a soft, comfortable feeling.
But beyond that?
She couldn't possibly act like some plant, absorbing the essence of heaven and earth, the essence of the sun and moon, to achieve a breakthrough, could she?
Even for a ghost, that's stretching into fantasy territory.
She didn't possess any particularly special abilities.
"Is that really true?" Sunday Silence asked again. "Haven't you noticed that Manhattan Cafe has been training much harder than usual lately?"
Perhaps stimulated by her race with Narita Brian, feeling the distance from her 'friend' growing, she'd channeled that fear of drifting apart into motivation, pushing herself to the limit.
Even during their nightly practice sessions, Sunday Serenity could sense a fiercer determination than before. Manhattan Cafe wouldn't stop, even when sweat blurred her vision.
In the end, Sunday Serenity, afraid she'd push herself too far and get hurt, had to force her to stop.
She was well aware of all this.
But why bring up Manhattan Cafe?
"She's faster than before."
"Manhattan Cafe?"
"Not just her. 'Me' too."
Sunday Serenity frowned.
She didn't really understand what that meant.
"Just as she wishes, forever chasing the figure ahead of her, growing stronger and stronger... 'I' am doing the same."
"Through her efforts, 'I' keep running forward, continuously, endlessly."
"Until the very end."
"That is her wish, and my wish as well."
The words echoed in her ears.
"A wish... making a soul without a body stronger than before," Sunday Serenity said slowly. "Are Manhattan Cafe and 'me' really just 'friends'?"
"They are 'friends'," Sunday Silence replied.
"They are 'friends' who absolutely cannot be replaced by anyone."
Sunday Serenity fell silent.
The morning sun began to rise.
Standing on the riverbank, she looked towards Tracen Academy and, in the face of those unwavering words, nodded.
She chose to believe.
Perhaps there was no need for a deliberate explanation. Someday in the future, she would understand the nature of her relationship with Manhattan Cafe.
Until then, she would wait quietly.
So she thought.
"By the way, since it's still early, I'd like to try out different running styles," Sunday Serenity said, tucking the matter away in her heart.
"Such as?"
"'Chasing'. It sounds pretty interesting."
"Then let's set the destination as the station. The contestants will be you and me. How about it?"
"Wouldn't have it any other way. Wait for me to go back to my room and change into training clothes."
"Speaking of which, I think she found out about me borrowing her clothes last time..."
Muttering to herself, the black-clad girl walked into the river and vanished from the phosphorescent surface.
Click—!
A crisp camera shutter sound came from the bank.
A reporter wearing black-framed glasses, clutching a large telephoto lens camera, lay hidden in the lush grass, thrilled.
Looking at the photo in his camera—a dark shadow drifting on the river's surface—he could no longer contain his excitement and yelled out with all his might:
"Wahoo—! Big news, this is absolutely huge news—!"
He had found her. That black Uma Musume standing at the center of the racing world's news.
It was a ghost! A living ghost!
As if he had obtained some incredible treasure, he hugged his camera and rushed towards his company.
--+--
Ding-ding-ding—
Tokyo-to, Fuchu Station.
The train pulled to a stop. Two figures wearing blue-and-white school uniforms stepped off.
"Finally, we're here," one of the girls said.
"So this is... the Central District?"
The dapple-gray girl marveled at the layers of towering buildings.
--+--
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!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.