The world was largely the same—cars, skyscrapers, planes, politics—except for anything involving horses. Since Horse Girls existed, the entire gambling-heavy "turf" industry of my old world had been replaced by a much more idol-centric "Twinkle Series."
I didn't know much about real horse racing in my past life beyond the big names that made the evening news. Names like "Oguri Cap" or "Deep Impact" rang a faint bell, but I had no idea if they existed here.
The biggest difference was the gambling. People didn't seem to bet money on the girls; they simply came for the sport and the spectacle. And the spectacle was massive—over a hundred thousand people would cram into stadiums just to watch them run.
I realized then that this was my second chance. I had the knowledge of a twenty-something in a child's body. I could be a prodigy. I could have the life I never had.
(I've got this in the bag.)
At the time, I was certain a rose-colored life was waiting for me.
The "prodigy" phase didn't last long.
I sailed through elementary school, but by middle school, the "actual" geniuses started to overtake me. By my third year, I couldn't keep up with the kids aiming for elite private high schools.
I wasn't slacking. I studied, I went to cram school, I exercised. But no matter how hard I worked, I remained… average. An average guy with a head start is still just an average guy once the pack catches up.
The pressure began to eat at me. I was desperate to be "someone" in this life. That desperation narrowed my vision, turning my days into a blur of anxiety.
My parents, sensing my stress, took me to the Tokyo Racecourse on a holiday. They thought a Horse Girl race would be a good change of pace. I wanted to study, but I couldn't say no to them.
And then, I was floored.
The sheer scale of the crowd was terrifying. The stands were packed to the brim. Every time the girls tore across the turf, the ground literally shook with the force of the cheers. The spectators weren't just watching; they were screaming, pouring their very souls into their favorites.
The heat, the vibration, the raw electricity of the moment—it was nothing like watching it on TV.
This is it, I thought. This is the turning point.
Why else would I be reborn here with my memories? It was a revelation. A divine calling. Or maybe just a severe case of "eighth-grader syndrome" (Chuunibyou), but I didn't care.
My life plan clicked into place. I shouldn't be studying for the sake of grades; I should be studying for a goal.
I went home and scoured the internet for jobs involving Horse Girls. I wasn't a Horse Girl myself—I was a "Human Boy"—but there were plenty of support roles: Academy staff, track maintenance, farriers, costume designers, even specialized chefs.
Then, I saw the word.
Trainer.
Horse Girls run of their own volition, so there are no jockeys. But they need Trainers. Coaching, sports medicine, team management, scouting—it was a complex, high-status profession.
There were two tiers: Local and Central. Local was easy to get into, but Central? Central was the big leagues. The "Twinkle Series" held at legendary tracks like Nakayama or Tokyo was for Central Trainers. The pay, the prestige, and the talent were on a completely different level.
(The gap between Central and Local is insane…)
I looked at the salary of a top Central Trainer and my eyes nearly popped out. It was a stable, high-paying career with a massive "cool factor."
My motivation was about 20% admiration and 80% cold, hard calculation. I changed my career path immediately. I swapped my high school applications for a Trainer vocational school.
I studied until my eyes bled. I learned Horse Girl law, physiology, and training theory. I took the grueling Central License exam. I barely scraped by—I think my face turned white when I checked my self-graded score—but a pass is a pass.
I was officially a Central Trainer at Tracen Academy.
And then, I hit a wall. A massive, brick wall.
There are two thousand Horse Girls at the Academy. Every single one of them is an elite.
Question: What kind of Trainer does an elite Horse Girl want?
Answer: An experienced, legendary one.
I was a "chick still in its shell." I had zero track record. No reputation. No team.
Trainers have to scout girls to form a team of five or more. But Horse Girls want to join famous teams with proven results. It's their life on the line, after all.
"Ugggh… nobody wants to even talk to me..."
I slumped on a bench near the track. My dream of a smooth career was dying. I had been watching the mock races, trying to approach the top finishers, but they were always snapped up by veteran Trainers within seconds.
Even the girls who finished last wouldn't look at me. Why would they trust their struggling careers to a rookie who didn't even have a team?
"Am I going to be a corporate NEET? Is it my face? Is it my vibe? I'm gonna cry. I'm actually gonna cry."
I wasn't ugly, just… forgettable. In this world, talent talks, and I was a giant question mark.
I was starting to think about becoming a "Sub-Trainer" for a veteran just to survive. Most of my fellow rookies had already found their first charges, but most of them came from "Trainer Dynasties." They could say, "My father trained a Triple Crown winner," and the girls would flock to them.
"They have secret family training manuals… I have nothing. This is pay-to-win."
Just as I was about to give up for the day and head home, I heard a voice. A very, very energetic voice.
"Aww! Is today's race already over?!"
I turned around. Standing there was a small Horse Girl—maybe barely 140cm tall. She had cherry-blossom pink hair tied back with a red headband, and she was wearing the standard red-and-white Academy tracksuit. Her tail, the same soft pink, was wagging like a propeller.
"The mock races just finished," I said.
She perked up, her ears—covered by red guards with a little ribbon—twitching toward me.
"Really? Phooey… I wanted to run!"
She walked over to me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What are you doing? Taking a break?"
"Yeah… something like that. I should get back to scouting, though."
I sat back down anyway. I saw a veteran Trainer successfully scout a girl in the distance and felt the wind go out of my sails. The pink-haired girl hopped onto the bench next to me.
"Scouting? Are you a Trainer?"
"A rookie Trainer who just has a license and nothing else," I joked.
Her eyes turned into literal stars. "Whoa! Amazing! A real Trainer! Hey, hey! You should scout me!"
I blinked. "Scout you? Wait… really?"
I looked at her. She was beaming. She wasn't desperate like the other girls who hadn't been picked; she was just… pure sunshine.
"I run really hard, but nobody ever asks to be my Trainer!" she said, leaning in.
I wondered why. Usually, if no one scouts a girl, there's a reason. Lack of stamina? Bad attitude? But she seemed great.
"Before we talk about scouting… what's your name, kid?"
"Me? I'm Haru Urara!"
"That's a nice name… wait. Haru… Urara?"
A jolt of electricity shot through my brain.
Haru Urara.
I wasn't a horse racing fan in my old life, but even I knew that name. She had been on the national news. I couldn't remember exactly what she had done, but she was famous.
In my old world, horse racing was a multi-billion dollar industry. I remembered headlines about "The Golden Ship" sinking or some horse losing and turning billions of yen in bets into scrap paper.
To have the same name as a horse that made the national news? In an elite school like Tracen?
It was a miracle. She was a legend in the making, and for some reason, the other Trainers had overlooked her. This was like finding a winning lottery ticket on the sidewalk.
"P-Please! Let me scout you! Let me be your Trainer!" I shouted, nearly falling off the bench.
I wasn't going to let anyone else have her. I'd bow, I'd beg, I'd do whatever it took. This was Haru Urara!
"Really?! You'll be my Trainer?! For real!?"
She grabbed my sleeve, her face glowing with joy. I felt a surge of triumph and thumped my chest.
"You bet! If you're okay with a rookie like me, I'm your man!"
"I'm okay with it! Yay! Now I can finally be in a real race!"
She hopped off the bench and started jumping up and down, her ears flopping and her tail whipping with pure, unadulterated happiness.
I pumped my fist in secret. I had stumbled at the start, but I'd recovered. Even if it was just her, one legendary name was all I needed to prove myself to the Academy.
I hurried to the office to file the paperwork before she could change her mind. I was on cloud nine. I knew nothing about her actual stats yet, but I was certain she was going to be a superstar.
I didn't know that the President and Tazuna would call me in the very next day with looks of pure pity. I didn't know what kind of future awaited us.
I was just happy.
Because, come on—she's Haru Urara!