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"Trainer! I — I love you—"
"I'm sorry. I can't return those feelings."
I think I had some nostalgic dream. Also — where am I?
She noticed she was naked and lying in a bed. The unique interior of the room told her everything.
— Ah. Again.
Atashi retired from racing after the URA Finals. She quit modeling too. Now, recognized for her racing career and her achievements as a model, she'd received a recommendation from Tracen Academy and was living as an ordinary college student at university. Because of modeling work she'd been held back a year, so she was nineteen by the time she left Tracen Academy — and twenty by the time she entered university, since Uma Musume tend to be born early.
"You're awake, Shichi."
"...Just woke up."
A man with bad hair and a bad face emerged from the bathroom. Blond, with chin stubble, flashy accessories — the archetypal type. Not that he's her boyfriend or anything. It's just that at the freshman welcome party, Atashi had been talked into it while still raw from her broken heart, and she'd been drunk, and... she'd ended up in a group of four guys and three girls that she'd drifted into on autopilot for nearly three years.
"Still, Shichi, you're so cute for someone who used to model."
"...Good for you, but I'm not happy about being complimented."
"Ha ha, you're just being shy."
She turned her back to him to signal she was in a bad mood, and he clung to her back anyway. It's true she doesn't enjoy being complimented — not by anyone except the trainer. He didn't notice she was pinching her own ear, either. By the way — leaving Tracen and entering the real world taught her one thing: regular people don't know much about Uma Musume. Right now he probably thinks she's angling her ear to hear him better. She checked her watch, put on her underwear, touched up her makeup, put her clothes on.
"Oh — you heading out already, Shichi?"
"...I have class. Don't you? I heard you might be held back a year."
"Oh right? Whatever though."
"I'm not showing you my notes, just so you know."
She cut off the conversation by closing the door hard. There's nobody left who slams the door in anger at her. She stepped outside the hotel and took out a cigarette.
"Great. Just great."
Wouldn't you know it — only one left in the box. To calm herself down she lit the last one and inhaled the smoke. Maybe it's her lung capacity, but inhaling and exhaling repeatedly, the ember reached the filter almost immediately. She dropped the used butt on the street, pressed her foot down to kill the ember. When did she start littering? She used to carry a portable ashtray and be scrupulous about it, or take the butt all the way to the smoking area.
At the convenience store she bought another pack, immediately broke the seal and lit one. By the time she got to campus she'd already smoked half of them.
"Morning, Shichi."
"Good morning, Shichi-san."
"Morning. Both of you."
A girl who looked like a gyaru and a girl with black hair and round glasses who looked demure. The two of them had been Atashi's closest friends since she started university. She sat down next to them.
"Same outfit as yesterday — are you doing the morning-after thing again?"
"I don't do it because I like it."
"That's true! Shichi-san is just incapable of forgetting the guy she used to have feelings for!"
The friend she thought was on her side will stab her in the back sometimes. This girl says blunt things.
"You should just forget about the old guy already — there are nothing but idiots here, so I get that it's hard to move on, but..."
"Who're you calling an idiot?"
"You guys."
The remaining four male members of the group trickled in. The bell rang, but nobody got quiet, and during class it was nothing but chatting — she didn't hate it, but she didn't love it.
"That's all for today's lecture."
The professor's voice set the whole room buzzing. Makes sense — it was already lunchtime.
"Hey, everyone — wanna go to this place for lunch? Apparently it's amazing."
"Hmm — isn't that kind of far?"
While everyone argued about it, Atashi looked at her phone to check what the place was.
Wait, this is...
Near Tracen Academy.
In the end they headed for the restaurant, and on the way there she ran into someone she hadn't expected.
"Oh — Manager..."
The second person who'd helped her the most and caused her the most trouble. Walking beside her was what looked like a new model — eyes shining, talking to the Manager while they walked. That was me once. She was starting to drift into nostalgia when the Manager caught her eye. The Manager glanced at Atashi and at the group around her, and as they passed by, said something in a voice only Atashi could hear:
Shichi, I didn't want to see you like this. Honestly — I'm disappointed.
I didn't let myself go because I wanted to... Atashi thought, but she couldn't find words to argue back. She just clenched her fist and hurled insults in the back of her mind.
"Just like the rumor said — it was delicious!"
"I like it too, first time here."
A lie — she'd been to this place many times with the trainer. She'd recognized it as near Tracen the moment she saw it.
"What's everyone doing after? Karaoke?"
"I'll skip — I have somewhere to stop by."
"Aw, Shichi's no fun."
"Sorry, I'll make it up to you another time."
She said her goodbyes in front of the restaurant. And set off toward the past she'd kept running from.
"Tracen Academy hasn't changed, has it."
It'd be weirder if it changed drastically in two or three years. She added that in her head and walked through the familiar campus. First time since graduating. She honestly hadn't planned to stop by, but running into Manager made her want to come. She hated herself for the part that was hoping...
She'd thought about the trainer constantly — and couldn't stop.
By the way — the security guard remembered her face and she walked straight in.
She almost pulled out a cigarette unconsciously, then caught herself. She'd made the trainer quit while she was active — Uma Musume have keen noses to begin with, and smokers are a small minority. She pocketed the cigarette and looked around at various facilities.
The school building where she'd first made her contract with the trainer.
The turf where they'd done training after training.
The dirt track where she'd buried the trainer.
The pool where the trainer had helped her.
The cafeteria where they'd eaten together.
The library where they'd studied together.
The trainer...
The trainer...
The trainer...
Going through all the places had brought the day-same evening as that day. She wasn't expecting anything. But she couldn't fully let go either, and decided to go there.
The trainer's dorm rooftop.
"Since when was there a smoking area here?"
That was her first reaction when she reached the rooftop. There was a smoking area that hadn't been there when she'd last come. On the edge of the roof, where you could see the outside. But — perfect timing. She was starting to feel like a cigarette. She thought: if she smoked here, maybe she could finally cut off her attachment. Probably. She stepped into the smoking area and lit up. She stared vaguely at the Uma Musume making their way toward the dorms and the trainer's room, and feeling afresh that she couldn't return to those days made her a little sad.
"A model smoking in a place like this — that's a scandal waiting to happen."
"That voice—!"
She turned around. There he was. Her attachment. Her past. Her memories. ...The person who had been everything to her.
"Trainer...!"
"The security guard called me. I thought it was a joke, but you're really here."
"Oh — and smoking underage is a crime. You'll need to turn yourself in later."
He said it playfully, then leaned beside her against the wall and started smoking himself. The brand was the same — by coincidence. No — because she'd matched her brand to his.
"You idiot. I'm already 22."
"Let's see, 22 means... it's been three years since then. You've become quite a woman, haven't you, Shichi."
Even if it was a lie, those words made her happy. Her heart danced. She'd met the person she'd most wanted to see, and heard the words she'd wanted to hear. At the same time she felt sad — because she knew she'd keep being captured by this person's shadow for the rest of her life.
"What's that — are you trying to pick me up? Won't your girlfriend be upset?"
But she couldn't be honest, so she had to bluff as hard as she could. And she asked about the most important thing — obliquely. His girlfriend. The woman whose existence had made her give up. The outcome between him and that woman. He wasn't wearing a ring, so probably not married... though maybe he just didn't wear one.
"That girlfriend? We broke up a long time ago."
"...Huh?"
She couldn't understand what he'd said. She didn't want to understand — because understanding would only make her attachment even stronger.
"After she and I broke up... well, after Shichi graduated. Everything stopped working. I'd quit smoking for you, and here I am back on them..."
She was more interested in something else than his story. She cut in before the thread could slip away.
"You broke up with her? When? Where?"
"About a month after Shichi graduated. Want to hear the sad story of my breakup?"
"Tell me."
Then he stubbed out his cigarette and lit a new one, and told the story with a self-deprecating laugh.
To summarize: about a month after she graduated, he'd gone home intending to bring up the topic of marriage, only to find that she and all the furniture had disappeared. She'd apparently lost patience long before that — he'd always prioritized Atashi and work over coming home. The woman had bled him dry and then left with another man, taking the furniture too. ...It was awful. He'd told it jokingly, but his eyes were wet, and thinking about how both she and the trainer had been hurt because of that woman made Atashi feel a furious heat in her gut.
After that his training career had gone poorly too, and he spent months unable to get Uma Musume into the winner's circle at G1 or even G2 or G3 level, and was sneered at by fellow trainers as "the Gold City one-hit wonder." Stress drove him back to cigarettes. The Academy head, taking pity, had built the smoking area. There were other things he talked about too, none of which were pleasant to listen to, and making him recount them was painful.
"What about Shichi? The past three years?"
"I... was..."
His question pulled her back to reality. He was moving forward through something painful — and what about her? Just drifting on autopilot for three years. Manager seemed happy with a new model. The only one not moving was her.
"Sorry — my cigarettes ran out. Give me one."
She understood the kindness of that. Seeing she didn't want to answer, he changed the subject. She silently handed one over. She lit hers at the same time — his lighter seemed to be having trouble.
"Want to use my light?"
"Go ahead then."
He said that and pressed his cigarette to hers. Her ember slowly, slowly transferred to his.
Cigar kiss.
The warmth of the trainer lit a fuse in her, and the memories she'd tried to forget began to melt free.
Winter of her Junior year, mid-December.
She was on her way back from self-training. The period right after she'd freed herself from being caught between modeling and racing.
"Ugh... cold..."
She cursed herself from a few hours ago for starting an outdoor lap run in a short-sleeve shirt and shorts just because it had been warm during the day. After sunset the temperature plummeted, stealing her warmth. She wanted to get back and sink into a hot bath. She was mid-thought when she caught a strange smell. Put simply — it stank.
"What is this smell... where is it coming from... up?"
If something was burning somewhere it could be a disaster, so she followed the smell — and it seemed to be coming from the roof of the trainer's dorm. Lucky for her, or not quite, the trainer's dorm had much looser security than the Uma Musume dorms, so she walked up the emergency stairs to the roof without any trouble. There was a figure leaning against the fall-prevention railing, and squinting at them—
"Trainer?"
No doubt about it. That was the trainer's silhouette. And what he was holding — a cigarette? That explained everything.
"Trainer."
"Whoa — you scared me — Shichi?! Ah — I'll put it out now!"
For some reason, she thought what a waste, and grabbed the hand that was about to stub the cigarette out against the iron railing.
"You don't have to put it out."
"But it's bad for your body—"
"Same for you. I've never seen a man smoking up close, and I wanted to see it."
That was a rough excuse, but the trainer let it go. He put the cigarette to his lips, inhaled, let out a sigh. Smoke curled out of his mouth and nose. It was interesting.
So the trainer makes a face like that.
Until now his image had been intense, all willpower and grit. And he can make this kind of brooding face too.
"Cold—!"
She'd been so absorbed in watching him that she'd forgotten. She's wearing a short-sleeve shirt and shorts right now! Should she run back for her jersey? She was mid-thought when she was wrapped in the trainer's scent.
"This should make the cold a little more bearable. Sorry about the smell."
His suit, loaned to her, smelled of a man, smelled of cigarettes, and it was an honestly terrible (good) smell. With the difference in their shoulder widths the sleeves hung long past her hands no matter what, making it look like a moé-sleeve situation, and the length was too long for her so it looked almost like a coat.
"All right, I'm done — heading back."
He stubbed the shortened cigarette against the iron railing and dropped it in the ashtray at his feet.
"Ugh! Trainer! Smoke one more! I want to see you light one!"
"First time someone's ever asked me to smoke more... well. Fine."
He pulled out another cigarette from the pack — and Atashi didn't miss her window.
"Got it!"
She snatched one cigarette out of the box. Rolled it between her fingers, played with it.
"Give that back. That's dangerous."
"Light the trainer's cigarette first and I'll give it back."
"What do you even see in this."
He flipped open the lighter, spun the wheel, sheltered the flame with his hand and brought it to the cigarette between his lips. One smooth, practiced movement. No hesitation. She found it — cool.
The trainer makes that face when he does this.
"Phew — and your verdict? After watching me light up?"
"Um... that was cool..."
She didn't have time for an excuse and said what she actually thought.
"Ha! What's that. Most people who smoke these days are no-good layabouts, so don't go falling for me over this."
"Oh, shut up. Don't let it go to your head."
She fired back sharply at the trainer showing off with the cigarette between his fingers. But from this moment she was definitely starting to be aware of him. In her head she was frantically building the argument that the trainer wasn't a no-good layabout, completely absorbed.
She lowered her eyes to the cigarette in her hand. There'd been a similar scene in a drama she'd borrowed from Mayano. The heroine in it had... could she do that? There might not be another chance like this...
"Trainer, look over here for a second."
"Hm? ...Hmm?!"
She put her hand to his cheek and pressed her cigarette to his.
A burning sound, and she could feel the end of her cigarette slowly warming. They call this a cigar kiss, don't they?
"Shichi... where did you learn to do that?"
"I'm a good woman, obviously."
She tried to match his cool pose. She hadn't had the nerve to actually smoke it, so she just held it between her fingers — it had looked easy, but it turned out to be surprisingly hard.
"Want to try actually smoking?"
"Really? Can I?"
"If anything happens, I take responsibility."
She hadn't expected him to say yes. Nervously she put it between her lips and breathed in.
"Ugh?! cough! cough! What is that! It's not good at all!"
Something foreign entering her lungs — she couldn't take it and the cigarette dropped as she doubled over coughing. The trainer smokes this stuff without blinking? That's insane.
"Ha ha! That's what happens when a kid tries to act tough — learn from this and don't play with fire."
He stamped out the cigarette she'd dropped and tossed the remains in the ashtray. She'd been played with by the trainer? She was furious.
"Trainer! One more!"
"Absolutely not. When you're a truly good woman, come back for that. Let's go back."
He pocketed the cigarettes and lighter and walked away, and his back had that adult composure that made her unbearably infuriated, and unbearably — cool.
"Trainer... you're awful... why won't you let me forget you..."
She'd realized at some point that she had her face pressed into the trainer's chest and was crying. His hands gently stroking her hair only brought back more memories, pulling out more tears.
"I was trying so hard to forget you... today too... I came here to say goodbye to you... but this only makes it even harder to forget..."
"If you want to forget, stop buying the same brand of cigarettes."
He grabbed her wrist and pressed it against the ashtray — there was nothing but filter left anyway. She was annoyed to be answered with the truth. He's probably already aware that she'd been using the cigarettes as a way to stay attached to him.
"And while we're at it — quit smoking."
His hand went into her pocket and he started trying to take the rest of the pack from her.
Cruelly — with his own hands — stealing her memories away.
"No... don't take them... please... don't take my memories away..."
She resisted by hugging him more tightly.
"If you take them... then from now on... what do I live for..."
Cigarettes had been her only reason to keep going. Just seeing the cover of the pack, just smelling the cigarette, she could be transported into memories with the trainer. Through any awful moment, cigarettes alone had been the rescue for her heart.
"You don't need cigarettes — you still have plenty left, Shichi."
"I can't... there's nothing left for me... I can't run anymore... modeling is... probably over too..."
"You still have plenty of options. I'm almost thirty — there's no starting over for me now."
"...You wanted to start over?"
"Well — for now, let me break it off with that terrible woman and date Shichi."
"...!"
One thread of light in a sea of despair — the spider's thread let down from heaven. Atashi clung to that thread with everything she had.
"Then right now! Be with me! I'll do anything if I can be by your side!"
"Sorry, Shichi. That I can't do."
"...What... why..."
The thread cut by the Buddha's hand. Or maybe it wasn't the Buddha at all — but a devil wearing Buddha's face.
"Because just because the other woman turned out to be terrible — immediately switching to Shichi would be too convenient, wouldn't it?"
"I don't care! I don't mind being a convenient woman! If I can stand beside you, I'll be as convenient as you want!"
She didn't have the strength left to stand. She crumpled to the floor and clung to him and wept. The feeling swelled past containing. Three years of trying to suppress wanting to be with the trainer — it poured out all at once.
"Please... don't throw me away... please..."
"What do you mean? Shichi still has so much going for her. I'll always be at Tracen."
"...What?"
She couldn't understand what he was saying. She understood the words — but couldn't figure out what he meant by them. While she sat there bewildered, the trainer kept walking.
"Next time we meet, we'll both be a little more grown-up. Deal."
"Trainer! Wait—!"
He was already too far to reach, but she stretched her hand toward him anyway — hoping this was the moment he'd look back.
"Oh — I nearly forgot. A talented Uma Musume came to train with me. She hasn't even entered Tracen yet. But in a few years she'll definitely need a racing uniform."
With those words, the emergency stairway door closed. The steady rhythm of footsteps fading told her, unmistakably, that he had gone.
Trainer — that's way too roundabout, don't you think?
The next day, she dropped out of university.
She dropped out of university.
She deleted all her college friends' contacts.
She quit cigarettes.
She stopped drifting through life.
All for this day.
"Is the makeup... okay?"
She was standing right in front of the trainer's room. She checked her carefully set hair and makeup in the hand mirror again, confirmed there wasn't a spot or a piece of lint on her outfit.
Five years.
Five years since the last time she'd faced this trainer's room door. Back then she'd barged in on impulse and gotten scolded. She doesn't do things like that now. She's fairly confident she's become a little more refined.
She took a deep breath and made up her mind. Two light knocks, and almost immediately, from inside, that familiar voice gave her permission to enter.
"Excuse me."
She hadn't imagined there would come a day when she'd say that opening this door.
"Designer Gold City. I'm here for the racing uniform design consultation."
...I came, trainer.
"I've been waiting, Gold City-san."
...You really are too much, Shichi.
The trainer she saw again after years looked vivid and alive compared to then. Age had made him more dignified somehow.
And then — while the two of them were creating their private space together, an Uma Musume slipped between them. Ah... this girl. And those eyes — the same look. The same eyes she'd turned on Tazuna-san and Kiryuin-san once. If she were the same as back then she'd have been furious right there. But that would have wasted the two years the trainer had made her wait. So she let it go and held her hand out to the trainer.
"Trainer — I've got a hotel room. Dinner tonight?"
"I'd love to. You'd better put me to work properly though."
"I know."
The trainer gently took her hand. The thought of tonight put energy even into the work.
Tonight — she put energy into it fully.