Uma Musume: From Being Knocked Ten Meters Away

Chapter 598 The Marathon of Emotion
As soon as Yasui Makoto finished speaking, a strange silence fell over the office.

Neither the Emperor of the East Sea nor Megumi McQueen spoke for a moment.

They simply widened their eyes slightly, looking at the calm-looking trainer in front of them.

His words just now were devoid of flowery language or passionate emotion.

It is a straightforward narrative, yet it is like a meticulous fine-brush painting, depicting every detail of the daily life of the Northern Black Horse, including every smile and frown.

It's not just about knowing what kind of candy she likes or what songs she hums when she's happy.

Rather, it is a deeper observation and accumulation that comes from spending a long time together; it is a concern that silently takes in all of the girl's habits, efforts, vulnerabilities, and strengths, and engraves them in one's heart.

This calm yet profound understanding was more moving than any straightforward praise, and it truly amazed the two well-informed student council officers.

In the brief silence, the East Sea Emperor and Megumi McQueen almost subconsciously glanced briefly at the tilted display case.

Their hearts skipped a beat for no apparent reason, and a powerful thought uncontrollably popped into their minds:

What would the child hiding behind have been like, hearing the trainer's words—almost a confession in another form—how would they react? Would their cheeks be bright red? Would they cover their mouth in surprise? Or would they be completely flustered and at a loss for words?

And at this moment, behind the display case.

Beibu Xuanju leaned against the wall, staring at the heavy cabinet in front of him, completely motionless.

The expected embarrassment and panic did not overwhelm her like a tsunami.

On the contrary, as Yasui Makoto calmly and thoroughly narrated, she was surprised to find that the fear, shame, and tension that had troubled her for days, disrupted her training, and kept her awake at night, had disappeared without her noticing, like morning mist illuminated by sunlight.

Instead, an indescribable, deep and stable sense of security slowly welled up from the deepest part of my heart and flowed to every part of my body.

This sense of security is completely different from the kind of security she usually feels when she wants to help others, doesn't want to disappoint her supporters, and knows that she carries the expectations of many people, which makes her feel that she "must work hard."

It's a... more private, warmer, and more powerful feeling.

It's as if just knowing that there's someone in this world watching her like this, remembering all her subtle features, and understanding the effort behind her smile and the resentment behind her tears is enough.

So, even if something terrible happens in the future, whether it's losing a game or encountering setbacks, it seems like it doesn't matter anymore.

Because her running, her joy, and even her little flaws have already been so carefully and properly preserved by another person.

This feeling of being fully "seen" and "accepted" transformed into an unimaginable courage and a sense of security, steadily supporting her.

The office remained quiet, and she could clearly hear her own heartbeat gradually calming down and becoming stronger.

Just then, Yasui Makoto's voice came again. His gentle tone was slightly restrained, and he had a more familiar calmness that belonged to a trainer.

He subtly shifted his tone, his voice still calm, yet revealing a clear-headedness and restraint born of deep thought:

“But, President Emperor, President McQueen,” he paused, as if choosing the most appropriate word, “relationships are ultimately different from competitions.”

His gaze fell on a point in the void, as if comparing the two completely different trajectories: "The goal of the race is clear, the track is there, and the finish line is clearly visible."

"We rushed through with all our might, and the result was immediately clear, with victory or defeat evident."

"But feelings..."

He shook his head slightly, a barely perceptible hint of emotion in his voice:

"It's more like a marathon with no end in sight."

"What is needed is not explosive power during a sprint, but long-term patience, a heavy sense of responsibility, and perseverance that requires a lot of time to carefully nurture. Every step must be taken steadily, and one must have a long-term vision."

He paused here, refocusing his gaze on the two people in front of him, his eyes becoming exceptionally serious, and his tone unconsciously becoming more forceful:

"But now, at this stage, there are things that are far more important and urgent to accomplish than thinking about these things."

His back straightened unconsciously, a posture he habitually adopted when discussing his duties.
"Her dream is on the field, which is the goal to which she has poured all her sweat and passion."

"And my duty is to be her trainer, to protect her, and to support her as much as I can to get her there."

"In the face of this goal, any possible interference... even if it is only a potential possibility, needs to be treated with extra caution."

He sighed softly, a smile of mixed distress and helplessness appearing on his face, as if he himself was somewhat resigned to his overly rational analysis:
"Actually, I was in a hurry to find her today because I wanted to have a brief chat with her about what's been going on lately and see if she's encountered anything that's hard to talk about."

His tone softened, tinged with self-doubt:
"Of course, these thoughts might just be... me overthinking things, being too sensitive."

However, that slight doubt was quickly replaced by a stronger sense of trust; the helplessness in his smile faded, replaced by a gentle and resolute one.
"However, if she really has any thoughts, I will communicate with her properly, and I believe she will understand."

"She has always been very sensible, and she knows better than anyone what she should do in the moment and what is most important."

His words landed smoothly, without much emotion, yet they were filled with unwavering trust in the Northern Black Horse and a deep-seated restraint based on his professional identity and personal responsibility.

The office was quiet for a moment, with only the faint sound of the wind coming from outside the window and the indistinct noise from the training ground in the distance.

The Emperor of the East Sea let out a soft breath, and the corners of his mouth naturally curved upward, revealing a knowing yet somewhat sentimental smile.

She nodded, her gaze lingering on Yasui Makoto's face for a moment, then quickly glancing meaningfully towards the display case, and said in a gentle tone:
"That's true. Xiao Bei... she really is a sensible and good child."

On the surface, these words were a response to Yasui Makoto, but the slightly drawn-out tone and the glint in his eyes seemed more like a quiet confirmation and comfort being offered to the person behind the cabinet.

Yasui Makoto didn't notice the subtle hint and simply nodded in agreement.

The emperor's words were like a gentle breeze, lightly dispelling the last trace of lingering thoughts between his brows, causing his tense shoulders to relax imperceptibly, as if some unresolved knot had finally been untied.

The atmosphere was no longer as tense as before, as if some invisible barrier had dissipated with the words of the Emperor of the East Sea.

(End of this chapter)