I couldn't help but wish Urara had even a tenth of that killer instinct. Urara had a "great face" when she finally won her Pre-Maiden, but she'd quickly reverted to her usual, bubbly self. It was cute, but as a trainer, it was a headache.
I really wanted Urara to learn from this girl. (Though, if Urara ever actually ran with that kind of demonic intensity, I'd probably think she'd been possessed.)
Who was Rice's trainer? I wanted to pick their brain. Her training methods would surely have a massive impact on Urara's growth.
I was still basking in the glow of the race footage when I noticed Rice staring at me with wide, stunned eyes. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat and put my phone away.
"Ahem... sorry about that. I should have said this first."
Rice flinched again, but I ignored it, giving her a bright smile and a round of applause.
"Congratulations on winning the Kikuka-sho, Rice Shower. You're a magnificent Horse Girl."
A winner deserves praise. When Urara won, I realized how much the cheers meant—how much they could heal. I directed that same heartfelt sincerity at Rice.
"...Ugh... h-hic... WAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
"Wait?! Huh?! Why are you crying again?!"
She lunged forward, clinging to me and sobbing her heart out.
It took ten minutes to calm her down. I can say without exaggeration that those were the longest ten minutes of my life.
Q: A male trainer is in an infirmary with a young-looking girl who is wailing uncontrollably. How does this look to an outsider?
A: Turn yourself in, buddy.
Setting the legal risks aside, the optics were disastrous. If it were Urara, I could claim "Trainer-Student relations," but I'd met Rice twenty minutes ago. An idol-tier handsome trainer might have looked like a scene from a drama; with my face, it looked like a crime scene.
"Good grief... you've got tears and snot everywhere. You're ruining that pretty face. Here, blow your nose."
My tracksuit jacket was a casualty of her breakdown. I didn't care; clothes could be washed. I focused on trying to salvage the girl who currently looked like a drowned kitten.
She's a high schooler, can I just treat her like Urara? No? Maybe? I agonized over the social cues before finally asking the big question.
"Why are you crying this hard?"
"B-because Rice is a bad girl... I stopped Bourbon-san's Triple Crown... The fans were so angry... and at the Winning Live, I-I was..."
"Whoa, slow down... what happened at the Winning Live?"
While she clung to me, I awkwardly maneuvered my phone to search: Rice Shower Kikuka-sho Winning Live.
"..."
I went silent.
I found a summary site that had archived comments from a massive image board. A user named 'Masuo' had posted photos of the live performance, sparking a toxic debate.
The photos showed the stage: Rice Shower in the center, flanked by Mihono Bourbon and Machikane Tannhauser. But in the darkened arena, the glowing Cyalumes were only two colors: Bourbon's red and Tannhauser's yellow. The center—the winner—was a void of darkness. The articles mentioned that the crowd had been booing.
While 'Masuo' argued that the winner should be celebrated regardless of the favorite's loss, he was drowned out by a sea of voices mourning the "lost dream" of an undefeated Triple Crown.
"A 'Booing Live'... it actually happened..." I whispered.
I'd heard the term when talking to Urara once, but I never thought it was real. I wished it wasn't real.
The Winning Live I'd seen with Urara had been a moment of pure, tear-jerking joy. Even if the other two girls retired afterward, it was a performance they could be proud of.
I understand the pain of seeing your favorite lose. But to harass the girl who won a G1 race—the pinnacle of her hard work—is unforgivable. If someone did that to Urara, I don't think I could stop myself from throwing hands. I'd probably get arrested for assault, but I'd go down swinging.
"Rice Shower... where is your trainer?"