While Urara warmed up, several support staff rushed over carrying the starting gates and quickly set them up on the turf.
Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross arrived with their trainers, starting their own warm-ups for the mock race.
At the same time, a large group of Umamusume under military instruction arrived for training.
Hearing that Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross would be racing soon, they all begged their instructor to let them watch.
The instructor was reasonable enough to wave his hand and tell everyone to head to the stands and wait for the mock race to begin.
Instantly, the previously empty track filled with chatter, the air buzzing with the voices of Umamusume talking over each other.
One well-informed Umamusume spotted Teio sitting alone in the back row and whispered to her companion, “Did you see that?
Tokai Teio has a trainer now.”
“What?
Aren’t her legs worse than Mejiro Ardan’s?
Why is she forcing herself to race?”
“Who knows.
Maybe she wants to be the next Urara.”
Thanks to an Umamusume’s sharp hearing, Teio caught most of it despite their hushed tones.
Her expression grew colder, and her horse ears twitched in irritation, refusing to settle down.
Just then, Nakajima Shin returned to the track with mineral water and a borrowed camera.
Seeing Urara still trying to run, he quickly called her over and handed her a bottle.
“Rehydrate and rest for a bit.
The mock race starts in five minutes.”
“Got it, Trainer.” Urara replied, full of fighting spirit.
Shin continued, “By the way, your running style is pace-chasing, right?
Trainer White Lily set you up like that?”
“Yeah.
She said my start isn’t fast enough, and fighting for a good position drains my stamina too quickly.
So she told me to stay in the middle pack, chase from behind, and try to win with my late kick.”
Shin nodded.
He didn’t fault the strategy.
After all, anyone who’d watched Urara race knew her late kick wasn’t exactly powerful, but it was still one of her few advantages.
Rather than exhausting herself fighting for the lead, it made more sense to stay in the mid-pack and try to steal a win with a late surge.
Looking at her record, Urara might be terrible, but she had placed second a few times.
That proved this style had some merit.
But this wouldn’t do.
Shin’s expression turned serious.
“From now on, until the Arima Kinen is over, no matter what race or practice you’re in, your running style must change to front-running.”
“Front-running?” Urara tilted her head, completely lost.
“Yes.” Taking advantage of the spare time, Shin briefly explained why.
First, Oguri Cap and Tamamo Cross were pace-chasers who could also run mid-pack.
Both had devastating late kicks.
If Urara stuck to pacing in the middle, she’d be signing her own death warrant.
Her late kick absolutely couldn’t compete with those two red-and-gray legends.
Trading a mediocre strength against someone’s ace was something only a fool would do.
Second, in all of horse racing, there was only one running style that could realistically turn a weak horse into a winner.
Front-running.
A horse that could master front-running could easily disrupt the race’s pace.
It would force other horses to chase blindly, burning through their stamina inefficiently.
By the final stretch, they’d be too exhausted to sprint, allowing the front-runner to take the win.
This was the style that best neutralized other horses’ strengths.
Facing a field full of elites in the Arima Kinen, it was her best option.
In fact, it was her only option.
Shin had plenty of other reasons, too.
The Arima Kinen entry list lacked any natural front-runners.
Since she was used to short and middle distances, going front-runner wouldn’t trigger anyone else’s chase instinct.
It could lead to misjudged pacing and give her a massive advantage.
But seeing her already dizzy from just this short explanation, her eyes swirling with confusion, Shin stopped.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her back to reality.
“In short, from the moment the gates open in your future races, you run at full speed.
Understand?”
“Understood!”
Hearing the final summary, Urara, who’d been lost the whole time, finally got it.
Her eyes lit up, and she nodded immediately.
Shin’s mood actually soured.
He remembered Urara from the game as a rather simple-minded Umamusume.
His explanation was partly a test to see how much of his tactical planning she could grasp.
The results were not promising.
Could she even understand how to adjust her running posture next?
He had no choice but to push forward.
“Next, your running posture and footwork need to change,” he said.
“You’ve been running on dirt, so your footwork is used to slamming down like a sledgehammer and digging forward like you’re shoveling sand.
But now you’re running on turf.
Your foot strikes need to be light, like a feather gliding over grass.
Longer strides, less force…”
As he spoke, his voice gradually faded.
Because after just that much, Shin realized Urara was already completely zoned out.
Her head was swaying back and forth, as if the sheer weight of knowledge was about to crush her.
He rubbed his forehead, wondering how to teach her properly.
As a formally trained professional, he knew how to describe it and had a clear mental image.
But if he tried to demonstrate it himself, he’d fail miserably.
Humans and Umamusume had completely different physiques.
Trying to teach through physical demonstration would be awkward and might even cause an injury.
The same went for having another Umamusume teach her.
Their bodies were too different, and every Umamusume’s running style was unique.
Forcing her to copy someone else’s form would backfire.
Just as he was considering waiting until after the mock race to slowly teach her turf technique, a butterfly wobbled drunkenly into the air right in front of them.
“So pretty.” Urara’s gaze locked onto it instantly.
She stared unblinkingly at the black-winged butterfly with pale blue edges.
Seeing it try to fly away, she eagerly darted forward, jumped, and cupped her hands together to catch it.
Feeling the tiny pulse of life in her palms, Urara carefully cradled it.
She quickly walked back to her trainer, opened her hands, and revealed the butterfly resting quietly with folded wings.
In the soft sunlight, its pale blue wing edges shimmered with a golden glow.
“Trainer, look!
Such a beautiful butterfly.”
Urara held the butterfly up high, beaming.
As her hand rose, the butterfly seemed to launch from the motion.
It spread its wings, soared high, fluttered past Shin’s black hair, and drifted into the distance.
Watching it fly away, a sudden idea struck Shin.
He knew exactly what to do.
“Urara, try running like you did when you caught that butterfly just now.
Use your feet to gently ‘hug’ the turf as you run.”