Uma Musume: It All Started When I Got Sent Flying Ten Meters

Chapter 10: Rhythm Training

Makoto fell into thoughtful silence for a moment.

There was something unique about Umamusume physiology—a stage known as "maturation bloom."

It was a period of explosive growth, where their bodies rapidly adapted to endure high-intensity training and professional races.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say: one week they still looked like elementary schoolers, the next they’d grown into graceful, race-ready maidens.

Among Umamusume, such drastic changes were not uncommon.

Each girl entered her bloom phase at a different time, and the duration varied as well.

From what he’d observed over the past few days, Kitasan Black had only just stepped into that stage.

Satono Crown, on the other hand, had clearly entered her bloom last year—and was now well into a period of fast, steady development.

"Satono Crown... If I remember right, her last race was the Tokyo Sports Hai."

Makoto glanced at Kitasan Black, who was still gazing at Crown with sparkling, star-struck eyes.

"Her debut was also over 1800 meters on turf—the same distance you were training on this afternoon, and also at the Tokyo Racecourse."

He recalled something else and added, "In an interview, she mentioned she wouldn’t race for a couple of months. In March, she’s scheduled to enter the Yayoi Sho."

At that, Kitasan Black's ears perked straight up.

"The Yayoi Sho… Isn’t that…?"

Makoto nodded.

"Yes. The prep race for the Satsuki Sho—the first leg of the Classic Triple Crown."

Then, his tone shifted—purposefully.

"If she’s running the Yayoi Sho, then she’s almost certainly headed for the full Classic path.”

“I haven’t submitted your race schedule beyond your debut yet… but if you’re aiming for the Triple Crown too, then that young lady from the Satono family—"

He paused, letting the weight of the moment settle.

"No. In just two months… she might already be your rival."

Kitasan Black stopped breathing.

Then, slowly—almost comically—she pointed at herself.

"Me?"

Next, she pointed across the studio at Satono Crown.

"And… Crow-chan?!"

Her voice shot up in disbelief.

"You’re saying I’m going to be Crow-chan’s rival?!"

Her shriek practically echoed across the dance hall.

Instantly, everyone turned to stare—the instructors, the other Umamusume, even Crown herself.

Annoyed and disapproving glares rained down like arrows.

Makoto sighed and looked away, making a silent vow.

—Next time she gets excited like that, he’s covering her mouth.

He’d experienced being the center of attention before—but never with this much judgment in the air.

Letting out a long breath, he muttered under it:

"Just focus on training, and no more shouting."

"R-right! I’ll be quiet, Trainer… I’m really sorry…"

Kitasan Black quickly covered her mouth with both hands, ears drooping slightly.

"You better remember that."

Makoto gave a small nod, then walked over to the instructors, apologized for the disruption, and explained that they’d be quietly training in a corner of the studio.

These things happened often at the academy, and though the teachers were initially surprised at his young age, they didn’t make things difficult.

After reminding him to maintain training discipline, they let it go.

Back with Kitasan, Makoto rummaged through his shoulder bag and pulled out a pair of wireless sports earbuds.

He gently placed them over her long, fluffy black ears.

"Remember when I told you about developing your sense of time and distance?"

She nodded rapidly.

Makoto nodded back.

"Consistent foot rhythms will help sharpen those senses. The 'trot-stride' has a fixed beat—once you get used to it, your timing becomes more consistent too."

"Once you get used to it," Makoto continued, "you’ll develop a natural sense of how long each cycle takes, and how far you’ve traveled—even without relying on a stopwatch or track markers."

"That way, you’ll know exactly when to conserve energy, when to go all out, and how to time your turns and bursts to break through the pack. That’s what this next special training is all about."

"As for the second part of your training… we’ll save that for later. For now…"

He walked over to the storage area of the dance hall, set down his shoulder bag, and began pulling out several training items:

A short ladder, a three-step exercise platform, a bundle of resistance bands…

"Ever heard of hip-flexion step-downs?"

"Hip-flexion… step-downs?"

Kitasan Black tilted her head, repeating the unfamiliar term.

Then she shook her head.

"Nope. Doesn’t even sound familiar..."

"So it hasn’t come up in class yet. Got it."

Makoto nodded to himself, then lifted what looked like a smartwatch strap from his bag.

"Stand up straight. Raise your arms. Then follow my instructions exactly."

Once she obediently lifted her arms, Makoto began strapping the monitor to her wrist.

Then he set the step platform in front of her and handed her a waist and shoulder harness. With practiced hands, he helped her put it on.

After securing the resistance bands to the back of the harness, he fastened the other ends to anchor points: one to the ground, one to the overhead support beam, and another to a pillar nearby.

From behind, it looked as if Kitasan Black was now tethered into a makeshift “resistance cross” in front of the training step.

"I’m going to play the music now."

Raising his tablet, he gestured to the wireless earbuds snugly fitted to her fluffy black ears.

"Each track has a clear, rhythmic beat. All you have to do is step up and down in time with it. Don’t forget to swing your arms naturally while doing it. Got that?"

With wide, curious eyes, Kitasan Black glanced at the step, gave the band around her waist a tug, and then nodded.

As she did, a crisp “tap, tap, tap” rhythm echoed in her ears.

Without hesitation, she instinctively stepped up with her left foot—only to quickly bring it down again and switch to the right foot, stumbling slightly as she tried to find the beat.

"Trainer, I think I just—"

She was about to say she missed the rhythm—but Makoto cut her off before she could.

"Don’t worry about mistakes."

His voice was calm but firm.

"You’ve never trained with this movement before. Messing up at the beginning is completely normal. Forget about being perfect—just focus on moving in sync with the beat. Oh—and fair warning: the tempo will gradually speed up until it matches your usual training pace."

"R-Right!"

With a quick nod and a breath to steady herself, Kitasan Black focused entirely on the rhythm and started stepping with renewed determination.

Watching her settle into the flow, Makoto gave a satisfied nod.

She was locked in, concentrating hard.

Now that she was following the beat, his job had only just begun.

Unlike her, who only needed to keep stepping, he had to monitor everything—from her posture to her form.

Any misstep could lead to strain or even injury, and he’d have to intervene immediately if something looked off.

That black “watch” she wore was more than just a band—it was a high-tech wrist-mounted heart rate monitor, capable of tracking her vitals in real-time: heart rate, breathing, VO₂ estimates, and more.

Linked directly to his tablet, it allowed him to adjust the training on the fly with pinpoint precision.

And this was only the first movement.

After hip-flexion step-downs, the regimen would continue with step-up knee drives, hip bridges, and power hip extensions, each in rhythmic sets, spaced with timed rests.

What all these exercises had in common was this: They taught an athlete to feel the tension and power of individual muscles and joints—to recognize and control their output.

Combined with rhythm-based music, it was the perfect solution to address Kitasan Black’s current weaknesses.