The foreign man—no, Master Jin now—led Mizuno into the ramshackle factory.
Inside was a surprise: clean and tidy, almost eerily empty. Overhead lights flickered; cardboard boxes were stacked in corners like an abandoned warehouse. Supposedly a gun shooting experience center, yet Mizuno didn't see a single gun, not even a toy that blinked.
"Master Jin, did your gun center shut down?" Mizuno asked.
"Mm." Master Jin nodded. "Ever since some guy calling himself Graves assassinated the prime minister during his speech, Japan tightened gun control. I went out of business—now I'm thinking of selling hot sauce."
"Master Jin, you're American?"
"Yeah. How'd you guess?"
"You looked Western—plus I heard a little American accent when you spoke." Mizuno answered.
"Haha." Master Jin laughed, his voice bouncing off the empty walls. He led Mizuno deeper, opened a small door, and revealed a tastefully furnished room.
It was styled Western: a floor-to-ceiling window opposite the door, a dining table in the center, and a wooden bar along one wall stocked with bottles that shone under warm lights.
Master Jin sat first and gestured for Mizuno to take the opposite seat. "Please, sit."
"Thank you." Mizuno sat.
Master Jin opened a drawer, took out a cigar box, picked one and offered it. "Sorry, I don't smoke," Mizuno declined.
"Oh?" Master Jin returned the cigar, moved to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of '93 whiskey, and asked, "Then how about this?"
"I don't drink either." Mizuno refused again.
Master Jin frowned. "That's not right, kid. A real man drinks hard liquor! Smokes cigars!" He pulled two glasses, poured whiskey halfway into each, and pushed one to Mizuno. "If you don't drink, I won't acknowledge you." Saying that, he downed his glass in one go.
"Haah—now that hits." He stared at Mizuno as if daring him to follow.
Mizuno looked at the glass, hesitated, then shook his head. "A real man's definition is a bit different where I'm from," he mumbled. "We think a real man can restrain his desires for the people who matter to him—someone who can laugh off criticism and carve a steady path forward." In truth, by "people who matter," he mostly meant himself; he had no intention of picking up smoking or drinking.
"Nice line." Master Jin nodded approvingly and took back the glass. "Little Gou, you're a good kid." He peered at Mizuno and added on a whim, "You look like you're in your teens or early twenties—how about getting to know my daughter?"
"Daughter?" Mizuno froze. He remembered the dreadlocked master saying his brother had a daughter at Tracen—an Uma Musume. He waved his hands frantically. "No, thank you!"
An Uma Musume daughter was the last thing he wanted introduced to him.
"Back to the point," Mizuno said, clasping his fingers on the table, turning serious. "Is there really a technique for a human to wrestle an Uma Musume using only the body?"
"There is." Master Jin picked up the whiskey again and sipped. "But the conditions are brutal. You're up against Uma Musume whose strength is three to four times that of an average man."
"So I need to train my strength to match theirs?" Mizuno guessed.
"Nope." Jin shook his head. "Strength's secondary. The critical factor is incredible endurance."
"Endurance?" Mizuno rubbed his chin. He assumed Jin meant stamina. Mizuno could jog three kilometers without getting winded and might scrape through a 42-kilometer marathon if he pushed it—but this sounded different.
"How much endurance are we talking?" he asked.
"Not stamina—endurance to withstand pain," Master Jin corrected. "You need a body tough enough to take several full-force attacks from an Uma Musume." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹•𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖•𝗇𝗲𝘁
"Huh?!" Mizuno was stunned. One hit from an Uma Musume could seriously injure a normal human—Jin wanted him to take several?
"Is that possible?" Mizuno asked, doubting Jin's words.
"Of course—if you train specifically and learn how to disperse force. I did it once myself." Jin sat up proudly, gesturing to the ceiling. "With talent and a proper plan, about a year of training should get you there."
"A year…" Mizuno felt the words catch in his throat. That was a long time.
"There is, however, one much simpler trick that works on every Uma Musume," Master Jin said, standing. "It doesn't need that insane conditioning."
"And that is?" Mizuno asked.
Jin slapped his own buttocks and declared solemnly, "Pull her tail."
"Wait, wait!" Mizuno blurted, raising a hand. "Isn't pulling an Uma Musume's tail extremely dangerous?"
"It is." Jin nodded, one hand drifting to his kidney, a rueful look on his face. "I pulled one's tail once and that's how I ended up retired early and a father of several kids." He shook his head. "So unless it's absolutely desperate—never, ever pull her tail."