Dirt races. They never quite made it into the grand league of the eight major racing series. Even among graded stakes, they were a rare sight.
Their scarcity had nothing to do with the race's difficulty itself, but simply because people preferred turf.
But maintaining turf was notoriously demanding.
It wasn't just about the type of grass or how it was grown; the thickness and density of the turf were also crucial.
Sparse turf couldn't withstand an Uma Musume's hooves, while overly thick turf was difficult to run on and a nightmare to maintain later.
This led to exorbitant maintenance costs for turf tracks. Only the deep-pocketed Central Racing Association could afford them; local tracks simply couldn't shoulder the burden.
A few thousand meters of turf track were enough to bankrupt a local racecourse.
So, across the entire nation, only the Central Association had turf courses. What the local tracks used were dirt and dirt tracks—surfaces that required far less upkeep.
Rudimentary facilities, a simple track, sparse crowds.
But the races themselves… weren't necessarily simple.
Treading on the soft ground, the girl bent down and scooped up a handful of dirt.
"This kind of surface… it's really easy to slip on," she couldn't help but mutter to herself.
Even with four official races and countless training sessions under her belt, this was her first time on a dirt track.
The feeling was completely different from turf; it carried a certain desolate quality.
And the reason she was here, naturally, was because of those words:
'The Black Phantom will appear at the [Miyako Stakes].'
No context, no source cited for the information.
Was it just someone trying to fan the flames of her own situation, or was there another purpose?
The girl recalled what Agnes Tachyon had said.
She suspected this incident was connected to the Central Association.
But the girl had a different thought.
If it was the Central Association, their moves seemed a bit too small-scale.
They wouldn't need to choose such a niche platform, one hardly anyone would see.
If it was the Central Association, they'd absolutely make a grand spectacle of it, just like last time.
For example, publishing a fake advance letter in the newspapers for all to see.
With the Central Association's power, that would be easily done.
But the other party hadn't chosen that path.
It made no sense.
So the girl guessed it might be someone outside the Central Association.
Someone who kept close tabs on the 'Black Ghost' information.
Someone who found the website in its earliest days, quickly posted content, and created a small-scale buzz.
Someone with strong information-gathering skills and the ability to act swiftly.
Standing up, she let the dirt trickle from her hand.
Of course, it could just be empty talk online, someone writing a letter for kicks.
When the 'Black Phantom' failed to show on race day, people would naturally dismiss it as a boring hoax.
But if the other party did actually appear…
Brushing the dust from her hands, the girl gazed at the training track.
Well, then things would get very interesting indeed.
Pat pat pat…
The distinctive gritty scraping sound of dirt came from behind her.
Pulled by an invisible thread, the girl sensed her arrival, coming to stand by her side.
"I thought you were planning to leave it all to me," the girl said.
"How could I?" a voice murmured by her ear.
"Are you sulking?" Sunday Silence asked.
"No."
"Doesn't sound like it."
"Are you willing to tell me, then?"
"It's not time yet."
"Then just consider me sulking," the girl replied.
Sunday Silence let out a rare, soft sigh.
Last night, she and her other half had a disagreement.
The cause was simple: Manhattan Cafe.
Why had her spirit touched the other girl without being burned?
What exactly was their relationship?
Faced with the girl's questions, Sunday Silence hadn't answered.
In fact, the girl had asked before about her relationship with Manhattan Cafe, and she'd dodged the question then too.
Using the exact same reason.
The timing wasn't right yet.
Even though their souls were intertwined, they couldn't share every secret. That thought left the girl feeling a little sore.
It wasn't quite anger, but it had definitely put her in a mood.
She'd offhandedly said she was going to check out the track, and without waiting for Sunday Silence's response, she'd shaken her off and run out, her footsteps pounding the ground.
A somewhat cute way of sulking.
But as Sunday Silence said, it was still too early to tell her.
She hadn't anticipated that her usually cautious other half would accidentally touch Manhattan Cafe like that.
Before, no matter how close they got, she'd always managed to avoid it.
Truly, accidents happen most easily in the moments you let your guard down.
Fortunately, the tickling sensation on Manhattan Cafe's sole had distracted her, and she hadn't noticed the girl's strange reaction. Sunday Silence didn't even dare to think what might have happened otherwise.
And as for her other half's bad mood, Sunday Silence thought for a moment.
"I'm sorry, I can't tell you just yet. But to apologize, I can pat your head."
I see, so that's your answer.
The girl glanced sideways.
But I refuse.
"I'm not your 'little sister'," she said.
Don't try to fool me with tricks for coaxing children.
"Is that so…"
Just as the girl puffed out her cheeks and said this, a warm hand gently rested on her head.
Even though she couldn't see it, the girl could feel that hand slowly slide over her hair, finally coming to rest, wrapping around her shoulders.
"Now is not the time," a soft voice whispered by her ear.
"Wait a little longer. Soon, I'll tell you everything about me. So for now, don't be impatient."
The other's hand found the girl's, a warm feeling passing between them.
"You promise? Don't lie to me."
"Of course."
Fingers brushed against her palm, a slight pressure confirming her words held no falsehood.
Her mood lifting, the girl let the matter drop, refocusing her attention on the racecourse.
"Are you planning to compete?" she asked.
"No, I plan to watch. See what tricks the other party has up their sleeve."
No matter what others might think, she certainly wouldn't show herself for a fake advance letter.
"I see," Sunday Silence murmured.
"Dirt…don't you want to give it a try?"
Even though it was right there, inside the turf course, she'd never once practiced on it.
The girl's eyes shifted uncertainly.
"It'll give you a different feeling," Sunday Silence added.
The girl raised an eyebrow.
"And that feeling will help you find the answers."
"…"
"…"
"Should I go, then?"
"Go on."
The girl stepped quietly onto the track. At Sunday Silence's signal, she pushed off, launching into a sprint across the dirt.
Slippery—
The word popped into her head with her very first step.
The loose dirt offered very little friction. Most of the power from her initial push was absorbed, dissipated by the soil.
Just the starting motion was significantly slower than usual.
No good, completely no good!
Whether it was Narita Brian's powerful stance or Green Grass's running method, nothing worked here.
The ground was like a dry sponge, sucking away all her strength.
On this kind of surface, she couldn't generate any power at all!
It wasn't her problem. Even if Narita Brian or Green Grass themselves were here, they'd be just as helpless on dirt.
They didn't have the aptitude for this track either.
The knowledge of an Uma Musume wasn't enough.
But fortunately, she still had her share of trainer's knowledge and quickly began analyzing the contact between her soles and the ground.
"Found it."
"Mhm."
"The contact area is too small," Sunday Silence voiced the very thought in the girl's mind.
"Only the balls of your feet are touching the ground. For high-friction turf, that method is unquestionable. But for low-friction dirt, it just increases energy expenditure."
An observation no less professional than a dedicated trainer's.
This surprised the girl a little.
She'd thought the reason Sunday Silence had her taking all those trainer's exams was because she didn't want to learn the boring, tedious knowledge herself.
But it seemed… Sunday Silence's grasp of training wasn't inferior to her own at all?
Then why make her study so relentlessly, forcing her to learn things she already knew?
She could have just guided her from the sidelines.
Just as this doubt surfaced, Sunday Silence spoke again.
"My other half, what I'm about to say is very important for you."
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 2 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.