The room buzzed with anticipation, a circle of curious eyes pinned on me. I leaned back, arms crossed, feeling like a suspect in some low-budget detective flick. All because of her—Takanotsume, the one who let my story slip.
"So?" I said, voice dry as dust. "You want my life story or what?"
Okino grinned, leaning forward like a kid about to hear a ghost tale. "Yup! Takanotsume spilled a bit about your mentor, and I'm dying to know more. That's why we're all here!"
I raised an eyebrow. "And why's that so fascinating?"
Tojo smirked, cool as ever. "Because it's interesting."
Aoi's eyes sparkled. "I'm super curious too!"
I sighed, trapped. "…"
Kuronuma's voice cut through, sharp and no-nonsense. "Hikigaya, you're cornered. Stop dodging and talk."
"Why am I on trial here?" I shot a glance at Takanotsume. "This is your fault."
She winced, hands raised in defense. "Sorry! It just… came up."
Minamisaka tilted her head, her tone gentle but probing. "Is it something you can't share?"
"It's not that," I muttered, rubbing my neck. "Fine. I'll talk."
Okino clapped, practically bouncing. "That's the spirit!"
I exhaled, staring at the ceiling. "Where do I even start…"
High school ended, and I drifted into college like a leaf on the wind, no real direction. Figured I'd just coast into some generic job, live the mundane life. But then I met her—an Uma Musume, though calling her a "girl" felt wrong, given her age and presence. That encounter flipped my world upside down.
"Hey, kid," she said one day, her voice casual but piercing. "Ever thought about being a trainer?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"
"Yeah, you." Her eyes glinted, sizing me up. "I get a vibe from you. Something special. So, what do you say?"
"A trainer… for Uma Musume, right?"
"Exactly. I see potential in you. Those eyes of yours—they catch things others miss. You've got a gift for reading people, Uma Musume, the world."
I scratched my head, skeptical. "Uh… sure."
That was my mentor. The one who set me on this path. I brushed her off at first, but she was relentless, pitching the idea every time we crossed paths. Eventually, I caved—just to hear her out. Before I knew it, I was hooked, dreaming of becoming a trainer. Under her guidance, I dove into training techniques, medicine, nutrition—the works. She was a brutal teacher, no sugarcoating, pushing me to my limits. But when I nailed something, her quiet pride felt like a medal, her rare smiles warmer than I'd ever admit.
Here's the kicker: she was a professor at my university, but she didn't teach classes. Only a select few caught her eye, and even fewer stuck it out. According to her, most of her students bailed, shouting, "I'm done with this hell!" as they bolted. I was the first to see it through—the first of her pupils to earn a trainer's license.
Her words still echo in my head sometimes.
"Hm, interesting approach," she'd say, brow raised. "But is this training necessary? Why include it?"
"Start over. This is garbage. You think a basic routine will cut it in the big leagues? Heavyweight races and G1s aren't that forgiving."
"There you go. That's it. You're doing exactly what I taught. Your observation skills are miles ahead of most. Keep sharpening that edge."
"…Fine, you're getting there. But it's still not enough. This wouldn't satisfy my standards, let alone anyone else's."
Four years of her tough love—scolding, praising, occasionally exasperated sighs—and I finally earned my trainer's license.
"You did it," she said, her voice steady but warm. "Well done, my student. Congratulations."
I shook my head. "It's thanks to you. Four years ago, without you, I'd just be drifting through college, living a boring life. So, thank you for these four years."
"You're not graduated yet," she teased, a rare softness in her eyes. "But… it's something, isn't it? Seeing a student I mentored carve out their path as a trainer. I'm proud."
Even after that, I'd swing by for her advice, balancing college life with her lessons. Fun fact: I was the first at my university to become an Uma Musume trainer, which caused quite the stir. By graduation, though…
"Professor…" I started, standing before her.
"Just for a moment," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Let me see you with that trainer badge."
I pinned the URA-issued badge to my suit and showed her.
She nodded, a faint smile breaking through. "It suits you. That badge, that look—it's proof you've earned this."
"Thank you," I said, voice thick.
"I'm honored to have taught you," she said, her expression softer than I'd ever seen. "No matter how tough the challenges or trials, I know you and your Uma Musume will overcome them. I'm looking forward to seeing what you do next."
In that moment, her gentle smile told me she meant every word.
I leaned back, shrugging. "That's about it."
Takanotsume raised a hand. "Um, Trainer Hikigaya?"
"One thing—what's your mentor's name?"
I shook my head. "Can't say."
Kuronuma frowned. "Why not?"
"She doesn't like her name being spread around."
Tojo's eyes gleamed. "Must be quite the famous Uma Musume, then."
"Don't go digging," I warned. "If you do, I'll take the heat, and I'll pin it all on Takanotsume."
Takanotsume gasped. "Me?!"
"You're the one who blabbed," I said, deadpan.
Okino laughed, waving it off. "Relax, we're not that nosy."
I shot him a look. "You're the most likely to snoop."
Kuronuma nodded. "Exactly."
Minamisaka chuckled. "Well said."
Okino groaned. "You guys are brutal!"
Tojo smirked. "You earned it."
Aoi giggled nervously. "Haha…"
Okino slumped. "No one's got my back, huh?"
Professor, I haven't picked my Uma Musume yet, but I swear I'll train one you'd be proud of.
Okino squinted at me. "Yo, Hikigaya, why're you grinning? It's kinda creepy."
I smirked. "Just thinking… I'll tell Gold Ship you said you're itching for a treasure hunt."
Okino paled. "Whoa, hold up, I take it back! Your smile's totally handsome!"
"I'll add it's a six-night, seven-day adventure."
"Dude, that's not funny!" Okino yelped.
Tojo laughed. "You just got owned by your junior."
Hachiman's journey to becoming a trainer began with a single Uma Musume who saw something in him. But just who was this mysterious mentor?