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“Do you know of a place called the Graveyard of Dreams?”
That was what Dream Journey said when she appeared in the trainer's office one day, near the end of the three years we had spent running through the Twinkle Series together, with graduation just around the corner.
There was a small clink of porcelain as Journey sipped her tea.
“There's a place like that?”
“Yes. Apparently it's in the woods behind the high school building. It's a bit of a rumor among the students. They say... it's where you can give up on love.”
“...Huh.”
Why are you bringing that up to me? Was what I wanted to ask. Do you have someone you like too? I swallowed the words down along with a mouthful of tea instead.
The Twinkle Series is a sport-entertainment spectacle in which horse girl and human truly become one. Both Umamusume and trainer give everything they have for their own dreams. Some girls seize glory with their own two legs; others finish without ever achieving anything brilliant. Even so, they keep running. It is we trainers who support them, who at times become their staff and show them the way.
That is the relationship between horse girl and trainer—but because it inevitably brings the two close together, there are times when “mistakes” occur. Sometimes a trainer lays hands on the Umamusume under her charge, though most of them get beaten back for it. Sometimes, in the recklessness of youth, an Umamusume reaches for her trainer instead. Whether opposite-sex or same-sex, the scandals never seem to end.
Setting the Umamusume aside, the trainer is undeniably an adult. To look at these underage girls as romantic prospects—what shamelessness.
And I, as it happens, am one of those shameless people.
The relationship between trainer and trainee stands on a particular kind of trust. I was supposed to be the one who kept my eyes on her future, who supported her running—her, Dream Journey's running—and ran beside her with all I had so I could see what she wanted to see at the end of her journey.
And yet one day, I realized I had begun to look at her not as an “athlete,” but as a “girl.”
My heart had leapt at smiles whose true meaning I could not read.
The scent of the perfume she wore had unsettled me.
Watching her eyes as she moved through that journey called racing, I had thought something idiotic—what if I could make that brilliance mine alone?
The moment I understood that those feelings came from a “mistaken” kind of desire, I was so sick with self-loathing I ended up throwing up.
I had never meant for this to happen. I was a trainer. No matter how mature she might seem, she was still a minor, still my student. As someone in my position, romantic feelings were absolutely not something I should be allowed to have.
Because that's true, isn't it?
I am here to help make her dream come true. I am not beside her for the sake of my own desires.
If I told her how I felt, she would surely be troubled. No, more than that—such a relationship between trainer and Umamusume would never be allowed. It would mean not only disciplinary dismissal but likely arrest. I do not want to tell her, and I never will. I cannot narrow the future ahead of her.
And it was in the middle of drowning in that whirlpool of disappointment and shame directed at myself that I remembered this rumor I had heard once before.
After Journey's training ended, I sat alone in the trainer's office with the western sun slanting in, thinking.
I tried writing on loose-leaf paper a few times, but no suitable words came to mind.
I'd never written a love letter before.
“Dear, my precious you”—I had thought anonymity might be better, but even as I wrote it, I could only scorn myself. It sounded like a poem.
“I like you”—far too direct.
“I was captivated by your running as you aim for the end of your journey”—no, that just sounded like the opinion of a trainer about her athlete.
Everything I wrote felt unnatural.
Groaning, I wrote and crumpled the paper over and over, tossing each failed attempt into the trash.
Before I knew it, the wastebasket was overflowing with wads of paper.
“Haah...”
I sighed and set the pen down on the desk. No matter what I did, it would not come together. I'd started writing on impulse and momentum, but the whole thing was already beginning to feel ridiculous. Even if I wrote a love letter and left it there, would that really tidy up my feelings for her in any dramatic way? I doubted it. This was the kind of thing a sweet girl in the thick of youth ought to do, not a grown woman who had been an adult for years already.
“Maybe I should just go home...”
“—Trainer?”
“!?”
The sudden voice made my heart leap. I jerked my head up to find Dream Journey herself standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“N-nothing! Why are you here!?”
“I saw the light was on... I came to say hello.”
Panicking, I pulled the papers on my desk toward me. In front of me were several failed drafts of love letters. If she saw them, “this is bad” would not even begin to cover it. Disciplinary dismissal, arrest, a direct route to the courthouse—the whole miserable set would be guaranteed.
“I was j-j-j-j-just thinking about some things...!”
“—I see?”
Dream Journey narrowed her eyes slightly.
Her gaze drifted toward the wastebasket.
This is bad.
Before she could really see it, I quickly dragged the wastebasket over and hid it under the chair. If she saw, everything would be over. Trust—assuming I still had it. The things we'd built up over three years. All of it.
“You seem quite troubled.”
There was something probing in the sound of her words.
“Y-yeah. Well. A lot of things. I've got a lot on my mind.”
I tried desperately to cover it up, but she only kept looking at me.
“...I see.”
Journey looked as though she were thinking for a moment, then gave a faint shrug.
“Please don't overstrain yourself. If something is troubling you, do consult me as well. I will do all I can to be of help.”
With only that, she left the room.
The moment the door closed, I let out a huge breath.
That was close...
I opened the drawer and gently ran a hand over what lay inside.
If she learned about this, everything would be over.
“...What am I supposed to do with this?”
Ahh—this truly is a graveyard.
The bizarre sight made me shiver.
Deep in the thickly overgrown woods stood one especially grand zelkova tree. Crammed into the hollow in its trunk were more letters—more love—than I could possibly count.
Envelopes of every color.
Torn scraps of loose-leaf paper.
Whole bundles of stationery.
Some were new. Others were already faded, swollen with moisture, nearly falling apart. There was no way students alone could have built up a quantity like this.
Surely—
this tree had swallowed every unfulfilled feeling and kept them all.
Perhaps it was a kind of salvation. There was no scientific basis for it whatsoever, but if throwing a letter away here could become the first step in severing lingering attachment for people like me, then maybe that was enough. As if quietly swallowing the end of the dreams of dozens, hundreds of predecessors who had borne feelings like mine, the hollow went on holding letter after letter forever.
I stood there before it.
The hand clutching my letter trembled.
My chest hurt so much it felt as though the feelings inside me were being ripped away strand by strand.
“Idiot...”
I muttered it to no one.
Even so, I had not been able to stop myself from writing this letter. Which meant I was already beyond saving.
Slowly, I stretched out my hand and slipped my lingering attachment into the hollow.
As if swallowing down my guilt, I closed my eyes—
“If something troubled you, I told you to come to me.”
My spine froze. A hallucination, maybe? No—no, it wasn't.
I didn't want to turn around. I could only stand rooted to the spot as footsteps approached.
“...What are you doing?”
“I just so happened to see you coming this way, Trainer.”
A lie.
Even by coincidence, the timing is far too perfect. Besides, you were the one who told me about this place in the first place—
“...You knew.”
“Hehe. Whatever do you mean?”
A slender arm silently reached around me from behind and clasped the hand holding the letter. I panicked and tried to shake her off, but there was no way a human could beat an Umamusume's strength. The letter slipped from my grasp.
“‘Best wishes on your journey’... What lovely words. Though for an addressee, they do feel a little detached.”
“...”
I didn't know how much she had guessed, but in the end I had only ever been dancing in the palm of her hand. I wanted to disappear on the spot.
And yet—
“...Give it back.”
Even though I knew in my head that she was the one person I least wanted to read it, my body would not move. Just watching Dream Journey lightly trace the addressee with her fingertip felt like she was peering straight into the bottom of my heart.
“You're quite flustered.”
She's smiling, I thought instinctively. I couldn't see her face because she was pressed against my back almost like a hug, but I knew it.
“...Give it back.”
My throat was dry, and the words barely came out. But when I forced them out anyway, she laughed like a little bell rolling across the floor.
“Now that is troublesome. You're showing your fangs rather openly.”
“...Why are you laughing?”
“Because I thought you were very honest.”
Journey's voice was calm, but there was something probing in it. That composure irritated me. I knew I was being selfish. I knew I was in no position to be angry with her. And yet—
I couldn't let her toy with me any further.
Twisting my body, I tore myself out of her hold and reached for her hand.
“...!”
But she was faster.
As though she had known from the start exactly what I would do, she slipped past my grasp and, as I lost my balance, tugged me by the arm.
Thud.
The dry sound echoed.
Before I knew it, I had been pushed down onto the ground.
Soft grass.
And above me, Dream Journey's face.
Her hair draped over me like a curtain. The smoky scent of her perfume tickled my nose. Fear and tension made my heart pound so loudly I could hear it in my ears. I had to stay calm, and yet my heartbeat refused to quiet.
“...You do seem terribly desperate.”
Dream Journey gave a small laugh. It was not her usual serene smile, but something more searching, more testing.
Keeping one of my wrists lightly pinned, she glanced down at the letter. The thing called a letter was no more than a piece of loose-leaf paper I used for work folded into quarters, and our little scuffle had opened it slightly.
She picked it up and glanced at the contents.
It's over.
Everything.
Her trust in me. Everything we had built up. Everything we might have had from here on.
Because of my own shallow impulse and pathetic desire, I had broken it all myself. The thought nearly made me cry.
“I'm sor—”
“...Ahh. I see.”
Just as I started to apologize, the air seemed to change. It was different from before, something sharp enough to prick the skin. Dream Journey's eyes narrowed, and one brow drew together slightly. It was the face she sometimes made when she was displeased.
“...Anego... is it?”
The low voice that fell into my ear stole my breath away.
—Huh?
But no words came.
In the dim forest, only Journey's eyes shone, glittering.
“...Hehe, I see. So Trainer, you care for Anego...”
As she said it, I saw one of her ears tip ever so slightly back. As her trainer, I understood all too well what that gesture meant.
She's angry.
Journey, who normally never let emotion show in her ears or tail, was angry enough to pin her ears back.
I had written the letter with the possibility of someone else reading it in mind, so I had left out names and blurred any identifying details. I vaguely remembered overusing words like “journey” and “gold,” so if she mistook it for that girl, it was hardly surprising—
I hastily tried to deny it, but the words wouldn't come together.
While I was still in confusion, Journey gave a small smile and quietly released my hand.
“...I'm glad I was able to learn how you feel.”
Was it just my imagination, or did that line sound terribly cold?
Journey's cool hand moved toward my throat.
The instant she touched that vital place, I let out a small cry. With an Umamusume's grip strength, she could snap my neck with ease. That fear was real too.
“Certainly, Anego is a wonderful person. You could even say our meeting was thanks to her.”
“N-no, that's n—”
“However.”
The hand at my throat tightened.
Journey's face drew closer. Break it. Crush it. Strangle me. Possibility after possibility flashed through my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
A wet, ugly sound snapped through the air.
“Gh—!?”
I only realized she'd bitten me after the pain had already raced through my entire body.
“J-Jour—gh—!”
“...”
No matter how hard I resisted, she paid it no mind and kept biting at my throat. At times she shifted the angle, sucking greedily at the wound like a vampire drawing blood.
By the time my strength gave out and I stopped resisting, she finally lifted her face from my neck. The clear, glassy beauty of her eyes and the murky blood staining her mouth made such a stark contrast that my mind began fleeing reality altogether.
“...Why...?”
“If I had to call it something... perhaps a collar. You won't be able to leave, will you? Not while this wound remains.”
“...”
“...I am sorry. I did not wish to make that face of yours appear. But I needed you to understand. I could not bear the thought of your heart turning toward anyone but me. Even if that someone were Anego.”
Journey licked the blood from her lips.
Her face looked like that of a carnivore: eyes burning, fixed on nothing but the prey struggling for breath before her.
“I was careless. I spent all my effort exterminating the little flies around you, and yet... to think it would be Anego.”
“...Ugh...”
“Oh? You're trembling this much... and crying too... You truly are an adorable person. Lovely enough to be infuriating... and pitiable.”
“That's not it...”
“It is. In truth, I wanted you unbearably from that very day. You simply never noticed until the end...”
“No, not that... read the letter properly.”
“...You want to press the knife in deeper after being rejected? You can be quite cruel too.”
“That's not it! If it's you, Journey, then you should understand.”
Whether my feelings reached her or whether she kept misunderstanding them, this relationship was surely going to break either way. And if it was going to break, I didn't want it to end on a misunderstanding. With only that thought in mind, I held the letter out toward Journey, who was still on top of me.
Journey accepted it in silence and began reading it over again.
“...‘The three years I spent with you were truly like a dream... May your journey from here be filled with happiness... I was happy I got to be your trainer...’”
“Please don't read it out loud...”
It was too painful to listen to. Too embarrassing, too unbearable. So I fixed my eyes blankly on the dandelion bud right beside my face, and then I heard Journey laugh above me.
This time it wasn't cruel.
It sounded honestly amused—almost delighted.
“Heh... hehe. This is less a love letter and more a fan letter.”
“I couldn't help it... I've never written a love letter before...”
My ears were hot. My face was hot. My whole body was burning.
Journey watched me for a moment, then let her expression soften. Gently, she took my hand.
That hand felt warmer than usual.
“Then shall we exchange them? Not on paper like this, but properly written on stationery.”
Her voice was quiet, but clear.
At those words, my heart slammed in my chest.
Journey's ears twitched. Moonlight slipped through the trees and lit her jewel-like eyes.
And then—
“Not with a grave, and not with a collar. Let us swear here instead—to the fulfillment of our dream.”
Dream Journey's long hair flowed softly and brushed across the tip of my nose.
“H-hey, no, wait—at least wait until after graduation!”
“As if that is anything but a question of sooner or later.”
Her tail swayed lightly.
Those mischievously narrowed eyes were fixed straight on me.
The night wind wrapped around us.
And yet I didn't feel cold anymore. It was a gentle wind, the sort that carried the first budding breath of spring.
The feelings I had meant to cast away in the Graveyard of Dreams were now in our hands instead.
And that alone was enough.