After training, we lingered in the trainer's room, waiting for Hachiman to fetch the president. What could this be about? It must be serious, but I can't even imagine…
Hachiman: "Sorry for the wait, Sensei, Professor."
Rudolf: "My apologies for taking your time. Hachiman-kun said this is a confidential matter…"
Secretariat: "That's about right. Everyone's here, so let's begin. It's about Hachiman's reaction to injuries. You've probably guessed, but I'm the cause."
Secretariat: "It goes back to my active racing days…"
Back then, I was the talk of the town—first American Triple Crown winner in 25 years, setting records in every race. I wasn't arrogant, mind you; I was diligent. I had a few juniors I was proud of, like Affirmed, who visited recently. One of them was…
???: "Senpai, race me again!! I wanna get stronger—like you, smashing records left and right!!"
"Study harder, then," I said. "Your trainer told me you flunked your last test."
Her first impression? A delinquent. Rough, rowdy, always causing trouble. But she had a loyal side, devoted to those she respected. Her name was Ruffian.
She was the most talented freshman I'd ever seen. Only a handful of her peers could challenge her. She threw herself at me, the so-called greatest in American history, time and again. When she finally admitted she couldn't win, she declared herself my protégé, sticking to me like glue. I saw her potential and added personal training after her sessions with her trainer. She begged for it, and who can resist a spirited junior?
It paid off. Ruffian went undefeated—10 races, 10 wins, half of them G1s. She even swept the New York Filly Triple Crown, a flawless feat. Her joy after races is still vivid in my memory.
Then came a match race against Foolish Pleasure, a peer. Match races were big in America back then, drawing huge crowds. The race went as planned, two star Uma Musume racing shoulder-to-shoulder, thrilling everyone. I thought it'd be great experience for her.
But that hope shattered in an instant.
Uma Musume have sharper ears than humans. At around 800 meters, I heard it—a sound we dread.
Ruffian's stride faltered. I knew instantly what it was and raced to her side. She stumbled, leaning into me, then passed out. My gaze dropped to her right leg—twisted, broken, lifeless.
She was rushed to the hospital for surgery. It succeeded, but the diagnosis was grim: right sesamoid bone, pulverized. A fracture alone is severe, but this was catastrophic, the surgeon's gloves stained red with her blood.
Ruffian: "…Senpai, it's a pulverized fracture, right? Can I race again?"
"Of course," I said. "Focus on recovery. Don't thrash around—it'll only worsen."
Ruffian: "Senpai… I'm not that stupid."
But fate mocked us. Despite anesthesia and a cast, when the painkiller wore off, the agony overwhelmed her. She thrashed wildly.
"Ruffian, stop!! Hold on!! If you keep this up, you'll never walk, let alone race!!" I pleaded, restraining her.
But my words didn't reach her. That sickening crack echoed again—louder, duller, final.
Days later, her right leg was useless. No matter her will, it was just… there. Her parents and the doctor confirmed she'd lost all racing ability. They submitted her withdrawal from the academy. This world is cutthroat—past glory means nothing if you can't run. When she left, we said goodbye. Her smile still haunts me, squeezing my heart.
Ruffian: "Sorry, Senpai. I can't race anymore… Run for me, okay?" smile
"…I promise," I said.
She must've been devastated, screaming inside, yet she said only that. Her mother wheeled her away. As they turned, I saw tears streaming down her cheek.
"…That's what happened when I was a student," I finished.
"Since then, I've been hypersensitive to injuries," I said. "I never want to feel or see that again."
Rudolf: "…So you drilled injury awareness into Hachiman-kun?"
"Exactly," I said. "No one should endure that, especially my disciple. Hachiman's human, so he's unlikely to break bones, but I ingrained it so his Uma Musume never face that."
Hachiman: "That story changed how I see injuries. You're always one step from harm. I can't treat your injuries lightly."
"That's why Hachiman's so vigilant," I said. "It sounds noble, but it's just me imposing my fears. Yet Hachiman said anyone would feel this way after such an experience. He's too good a disciple." ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢~𝙣𝙚𝙩
Rudolf: "Not at all, Secretariat-dono. We'd say the same in his place. I'm sorry for making you relive this."
"I was careless," I said. "This story's too painful… I'm sorry."
Secretariat: "No need to apologize. I chose to share. But I have one request: be careful with injuries. That's all I ask. Will you promise?"
Fuji: "Of course. I'll watch for any sign of trouble. And when I'm stuck…"
Mr. CB: "…we'll talk to Hachiman, right?"
Secretariat: "…Yes, please."
I've never believed in gods, but if one exists, I beg: don't touch my disciple's Uma Musume. I can't let him endure that pain.
Secretariat's heart-wrenching tale of Ruffian's tragic injury shakes Air Groove, Fuji Kiseki, Mr. CB, and Rudolf, revealing the root of Hachiman's vigilance. The Yahari crossover deepens the trust and pain, with Ruffian's undefeated legacy—10 wins, New York Filly Triple Crown—cut short by a brutal fracture, ending American match races. A soul-crushing moment.