“First place is!
Silence Suzuka!
She crossed the line with a gap of over ten lengths to second place!
An overwhelming victory!”
The commentators’ excited calls announced the end of the race.
First place naturally went to Suzuka.
Hana Tojo was still reeling from shock.
Suzuka’s performance in the latter half had completely blown her away.
Not only had she mastered dual-leg adaptation, but she’d also boosted her stamina enough to maintain top speed until the very end, and even accelerate before the finish line.
Plus, judging by how calm and sweat-free she looked post-race, she still had plenty of energy left in the tank…
If she was at this level, then yes, she could absolutely stick with a pure front-running strategy without risking injury.
But there was one thing Hana Tojo couldn’t wrap her head around: How did Kenji pull this off?
“In just over a month… What kind of magic did he use?”
“Hehe, it’s definitely the magic of trust!”
The guy who spoke up had curly brown hair tied in a ponytail, was sucking on a lollipop, and looked like a total flirt.
He was Ryo Nishizaki, trainer for Team Spica.
Hana Tojo and him were old acquaintances, they shared an office and constantly bickered.
“Oh!
This new guy’s impressive!”
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s Suzuka’s first race after transferring!
Of course I’d come watch!
I had high hopes for her myself!”
Nishizaki scratched his head, feigning regret.
“Man If the academy hadn’t assigned her to this rookie, I totally would’ve pulled her into my squad What a shame~”
Hana Tojo frowned at that.
This guy constantly tried to poach from her team.
His racers were all weirdos, but their strength was absolutely top-tier.
You had to admit Central Tracen trainers knew what they were doing.
Nishizaki looked unreliable, sure, but he had a sharp eye and tons of experience.
Just… annoyingly so.
And his emotional intelligence left much to be desired.
“I’m also in favor of Suzuka using a pure front-running strategy, but if it were me, I don’t think I could’ve gotten her this far.
She looks way stronger than at her debut race.
The instability while running is completely gone.
She even overcame the issue of fading on uphill slopes and conserved enough stamina for that final sprint… It was so cool!
I’m genuinely moved!”
“Hmph!
Even if he’s just a rookie, he’s still better than you half-baked third-rate trainers.”
“Ahaha, Miss Tojo is as harsh as ever~”
While Hana Tojo scolded him verbally, deep down she agreed with his assessment.
If it were her, she wouldn’t have been confident she could develop Suzuka to this level in just over a month either.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have forced her to abandon the front-running strategy under the excuse of leaving the team.
The fact that another trainer had achieved what she couldn’t, and done it far better, was embarrassing for someone like Hana Tojo, who led one of the strongest teams, Team Rigil.
Kenji’s name was now burned into her mind.
On the other side, Symboli Rudolf stood up after watching the entire race and prepared to leave.
Air Groove followed behind her, noticing the president was in a good mood.
“How was it?
President?
Has he passed your test?”
“We’ll need further observation before jumping to conclusions… but…”
As student council president, Symboli Rudolf always chose her words carefully, but she had to admit: for the academy’s first trial set on Kenji, he’d submitted a perfect score.
“I’ll admit it, Air Groove.
Your judgment was more accurate this time.
Kenji’s skills as a trainer are legit.
I underestimated him.”
Symboli Rudolf closed her eyes with relief and smiled brightly.
A gentle breeze brushed past her cheeks, the fresh wind blowing into Tracen Academy thanks to the trainer named Kenji.
“How exciting… ‘A new era.'”
After the race, Silence Suzuka accepted interviews from reporters.
“Miss Silence Suzuka, you used the same running style as your debut today and showed us a spectacular front-running performance!
Do you plan to keep using this strategy in future races?”
“Yes.
My trainer told me that if I like this running style, I should stick with it until the end.
He’ll support me so I can run freely.”
“What an outstanding trainer!
By the way, your debut race trainer was the famous Hana Tojo, correct?
We heard you were originally part of Team Rigil, but today’s pre-race interview featured a different trainer.
Have you changed trainers?”
“Yes… My current trainer…”
Suzuka looked toward the stands and instantly spotted that cheering figure in the crowd.
But the moment she found him, her smile froze.
Her gaze sharpened.
Spe-chan?
Why are you hugging Kenji-kun?!
Even if you’re excited, there’s no need to hug like that!
The person who wants to hug him right now is me… It’s me!
[Dominator], Special Week felt something off over a hundred meters away in the stands… Uh, Suzuka’s gaze feels kinda scary.
My body just went rigid…
Only then did Special Week realize she’d grabbed Kenji out of excitement.
She quickly let go, blushing and bowing her head while awkwardly fidgeting with her skirt hem.
It’s a misunderstanding!
Suzuka!
I was just too happy seeing you win that I accidentally… It’s not what you think!
But there was no chance to explain now, so Special Week just hung her head and played dead.
This dark aura even affected the reporter interviewing her, making her shiver for some reason… Weird, why did it suddenly get cold?
Fortunately, Suzuka was a gentle girl who wouldn’t explode in front of reporters.
She kept smiling warmly and praised Kenji instead.
“His name is Kenji.
He’s a rookie trainer who joined Tracen this year, but I’m sure he’ll become a legendary trainer someday.”
No… It should be said that I will make him a legendary trainer.
I’ll bring all the glory to him.
For the first time, Kenji’s name entered public awareness.
Meanwhile, Kenji himself wasn’t affected by [Dominator] since he wasn’t an Uma Musume.
Plus, his face had just been buried in Special Week’s chest, depriving him of sight and breath.
Who knew this girl was so well-endowed?
Did all her nutrition go straight to her chest?
Kenji was genuinely happy, but not solely because Suzuka took first place.
It was the result of multiple good news stacking up.
First, the system task completed smoothly.
[Congratulations on completing the task: “Lead your charge Uma Musume to victory!” Reward: 100 Uma Coins.] [New Task Acquired: “Qualify for Open Races!” Reward: 300 Uma Coins.]
With 100 Uma Coins hitting his account, system resources were finally starting to cycle.
The next task required Suzuka to win the upcoming two condition races and advance to Open race level.
The reward tripled to 300 Uma Coins.
Learning a basic skill cost about 10 Uma Coins.
With 300… Could he buy thirty skills for her at once?!
Of course not.
Completing tasks took time; finishing three had taken a month.
Thirty would take nearly a year.
Plus, greed bites you back.
Instead of cheap basic skills, it was smarter to invest in advanced ones and convert key abilities into guaranteed passive triggers.
So Kenji’d need to carefully study Suzuka’s skill combinations later.
The second reason he was jumping for joy… He had money.
Real money.
Not just system coins.
During her debut race, he wasn’t officially her trainer yet, so prize money didn’t touch him.
But this time, a portion belonged to him.
Debut races paid 4 million yen.
Non-winners’ races: 3 million.
One-win condition races: 5 million.
Five million yen was what an average household’s breadwinner earned in a year.
In Uma Musume racing, even one-win condition races matched that figure.
The racer took the lion’s share.
One-fifth went to the academy, and half of that portion was given to the charge trainer.
Meaning trainers received 10% of their racer’s prize money.
Kenji would get 500,000 yen from this alone, equivalent to two months’ salary for a regular office worker.
And this was just condition race level!
The next two condition races paid 7 million and 9 million respectively.
At Open race level, prizes started at tens of millions.
Grade races (G3/G2/G1) climbed even higher: G3 around 40 million yen, G2 between 50–70 million, and top-tier G1 races broke into the hundreds of millions.
The highest-paying events like the Arima Kinen and Japan Cup each offered 500 million yen.
First-place prizes plus select Grade race bonuses accumulated into total “Earnings,” which was the key metric for qualifying for higher-level races.
Keep winning, climb to the top tier, and you’d secure both fame and fortune.
The real prize behind Grade races?
“Where there are big purses, brave racers gather.”
Those numbers looked insane, but an Uma Musume could only run about a dozen or two over three years.
Winning every race was impossible anyway.
Still, events like the Arima Kinen added fan-vote bonuses for participating racers.
Top three in popularity got 20 million yen each.
Achievements like the Triple Crown, Spring Triple Crown, Autumn Triple Crown, and Fillies’ Triple Crown came with special achievement bonuses, also measured in hundreds of millions.
(TL: GET THOSE TRACKBLAZER EPITHETS AWAY)
That’s why a saying circulated among professional Uma Musume: “Money is buried on the racetrack.”
The professional racing world was terrifying and ruthless.
Injury here meant game over.
A literal goodbye to a life of wealth and glory.
Unlike other athletes, Uma Musume didn’t get signing bonuses or annual salaries.
Instead, Tracen Academy covered all expenses after enrollment: tuition, housing, meals, all free.
Full benefits from day one.
But if you failed to place highly in races and couldn’t save enough money for your future during those three years, graduation meant returning to ordinary life.
Those three years at Tracen were the best chance an Uma Musume had to turn her life around.
By the way, only first-place finishers didn’t get prize money, top five did.
First place got 40% of the main purse, second 25%, third 15%, fourth and fifth 10%.
Even if you finished sixth to ninth, there was a participation bonus worth 8–2% of the winner’s purse.
In this race alone, ninth place still earned 100,000 yen as a consolation prize.
Racers finishing lower than that… Sorry, try again next time.
Anyway, top nine meant money.
Some racers from less privileged backgrounds didn’t race purely for glory, they raced to finish in the top nine or five, just to secure prize money or participation bonuses.
Kenji didn’t think those racers were impure; if anything, they were the backbone of the racing industry.
While the most dazzling Uma Musume was always the one who took first place, many others might never have their names recorded in racing history.
But working hard to make a living wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
Aside from race prizes, post-race concerts came with performance fees too.
If you weren’t center position, pay was similar to background dancers, around 50–100 thousand yen depending on event importance.
Barely anything, but better than nothing.
That’s exactly why Tracen Academy emphasized general education: it left a fallback option for racers who didn’t perform well.
In contrast, trainers had steady careers.
Though they only took 10% of prize money, they received base salaries and pensions.
Many kept working into their sixties or seventies, career longevity was insane.
As long as you trained at least one notable Uma Musume, joining Tracen smoothly meant climbing the social ladder.
That’s why Central Tracen Academy’s trainer bar was ridiculously high: despite low base pay, everyone rushed to apply.
The real money was in prize pools anyway.
If you trained a racer who won first place at the Arima Kinen, 10% of 500 million was 50 million, enough to buy half an apartment in Tokyo’s cheaper outskirts.
No wonder famous trainers made bank and didn’t need to live in academy-provided dorms anymore.
Kenji originally aimed to become a trainer for money anyway.
At the time, he didn’t know what kind of system he’d get after joining Tracen.
If it wasn’t one that boosted his physical stats, financial security was his only way to stay safe.
In this world, most problems could be solved with money.
With enough cash, hiring ten or twenty bodyguards for personal protection… would he still fear being attacked by a horse-faced auntie?
Top-tier bodyguards included Uma Musume too.
After switching to combat sports, their overall strength surpassed racers who only focused on running.
But now, Kenji wanted both physical growth and financial gain.
Nothing beat self-improvement for security, but extra money never hurt.
Right then, rookie trainer Kenji had secured his first pot of gold.
Anyway… First thing to buy with this cash?
A foot bath tub.
Later, he could use “helping you wash your feet” as an excuse to secretly trigger skills and check racers’ stats.
While Kenji was lost in thought, the victory stage performance began.
With his trainer ID pass, he sat in the front row of the audience.
Beside him, Special Week waved her glow stick so hard it left afterimages.
On stage, other racers forced stiff smiles while moving awkwardly, clearly still crushed by defeat.
No matter how hard they tried, there was no way to beat the girl at center stage.
They must’ve felt that level of despair.
Only Silence Suzuka wore a genuine smile from the bottom of her heart.
Her eyes never left Kenji; everything around him was automatically filtered out.
Trainer is watching me dance…!
Look!
Kenji-kun!
I followed your teachings and took first place!
I’ll win every future race too, standing right at center stage to receive your blessing… So please keep looking only at me… From now on!