Horse Girl, Your Friend is Fighting Her Way Out of the Horse Racing Track

Even a simple word of approval... is enough to prove oneself... perhaps, just like before... to save a life...

"not enough!"

Riko Kashimoto suddenly raised her voice.

Overcome with excitement, she coughed violently a few times, a tearing pain shooting through her throat.

But she still stared intently at the poetry and wine, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Poetry and wine, how far do you intend to degrade yourself before you're satisfied?"

Tears finally streamed down her pale cheeks uncontrollably.

The drop soaked into Riko Kashimoto's wrinkled clothes, leaving a dark stain.

I?

Upon hearing this, Poetry and Wine's fingers tightened suddenly, gripping the bedsheet tightly until his knuckles turned white and his veins bulged.

She turned her head, and a thin layer of mist began to appear in her dark eyes.

But the black-haired girl stubbornly held back her tears.

"spoil……"

She kept repeating the word.

"If I hadn't 'descended' myself to carry you here, you would probably be..."

She suddenly stopped talking halfway through.

Poetry and Wine found their voices trembling, trembling so badly that they couldn't control them at all.

"I'd rather have my brain fried!"

Riko Kashimoto yelled back, her voice trembling and clearly choked with sobs.

"I'd rather die in that room than see you torment yourself like this to save me!"

The blue and white figure I'm chasing is called Miracle: Chapter 122 What I Hate (Third Update, Happy New Year)

A brief silence fell over the room.

An invisible hand gripped everyone's throat.

Only the electrocardiogram monitor was still beeping.

The light outside the window grew dimmer.

The clouds seemed to have grown thicker and pressed down even lower, shrouding the whole world in a gray shadow.

Occasionally, one or two seabirds would fly past the window, emitting mournful cries, before disappearing into the rain and mist.

Time seemed to slow down incredibly.

After a long while, Riko Kashimoto finally spoke again.

Her voice lowered, filled with deep weariness and helplessness.

"...Do you think that the reason I've hated you for the past three years is because you made me lose my job?"

Poetry and wine pursed their lips, remaining silent.

Her fingers dug so tightly into the sheets that her fingertips were embedded in the white fabric.

"I don't care about any titles, nor do I care about what others say."

Riko Kashimoto's voice was clear and distinct.

“I relinquished all so-called power and wealth the day I left the URA committee.”

Riko Kashimoto turned her head and looked at the gray sky outside the window.

The rain stopped, but there was no sign of the sky clearing up.

"What I hate is that you have amazing talent... but you never take it seriously."

"It was like this three years ago."

Her fingers tightened, gripping the edge of the blanket.

"You'd risk your life for a debut match."

"It will still be the same three years later."

Riko Kashimoto withdrew her gaze, looking at the poetry and wine, her eyes slightly reddening, and tears finally streamed down her face uncontrollably.

"You're willing to risk your life to save me."

One after another, like pearls from a broken string.

"In your value system, is your body, your life, just a bargaining chip that can be discarded and sacrificed at will?"

"As long as the purpose is 'right,' you can destroy it without hesitation?"

Her voice began to choke.

"I understand, the weight of a life in the competition..."

"And...how fragile the bridges to dreams are."

Riko Kashimoto's voice grew softer and hoarser.

"The idea of ​​giving up everything to save someone is wrong in itself..."

The breaths of poetry and wine suddenly became rapid.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, each beat accompanied by a sharp, agonizing pain.

"All problems boil down to me."

Riko Kashimoto closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Whether I didn't notice your condition at that time... or I was just being stubborn during this training camp."

Her voice was filled with deep self-reproach.

"Managing the health of racehorse girls is the trainer's responsibility, but I... failed in my duty as a trainer..."

The black-haired girl opened her mouth, wanting to refute, wanting to say something.

But it felt like something was blocking my throat, and I couldn't say a word.

"For you who are not yet mature..."

Riko Kashimoto opened her eyes, looking at the poetry and wine with a sorrowful gaze.

"They have no idea the weight of life..."

The weight of life?

These words acted like a fuse, instantly igniting something long suppressed within the hearts of poets and wine.

This is…

Just kidding...

A huge, indescribable emotion mixed with the pain that had just returned to his body and was even more intense than before.

The turbid current began to surge in my chest.

Endless resentment, endless grievances.

From the beginning until now, everything—

It's always meaningless.

It's always meaningless.

Whether it's saving lives or dying oneself, in this world, in the eyes of these people...

It was all just a farce, a joke, a self-indulgent one-man show.

Everything……

Everything……

The girl suddenly grabbed the pillow beside her—

The movements were slow, as slow as churning in water, as slow as struggling in mud.

what.

Her hands were trembling, her whole arm was shaking.

Yes, life is ridiculous, isn't it?

My shoulders were trembling, my whole body was trembling.

At last.

She used all her strength to smash the pillow against the wall.

"boom!"

The pillow hit the wall with a dull thud, like something breaking.

Then it fell limply to the ground, raising a small cloud of dust.

This violent movement affected all the nerves in my body, and the pain that had just returned spread through my limbs and bones like an electric current.

Poetry and Wine's faces turned deathly pale instantly.

Beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead, dripping down his cheeks and soaking a small patch of the bed sheet.

She bent over and pressed her hands tightly against her chest.

The black-haired girl wished she could crush her unruly heart into a pool of blood and gore.

Breathing became extremely difficult.

Each breath felt like swallowing shards of glass, sharp fragments scraping across my throat, trachea, and lungs, leaving countless tiny wounds.

The scorching heat made my throat ache.

Each exhale felt like gushing out his own blood.

"That…"

"you…"

The sounds of poetry and wine were squeezed out intermittently from between his teeth with great difficulty.

"What do you want me to do...?"

She looked up, and tears finally welled up uncontrollably in her dark eyes.

The girl with delicate features, now pale and black-haired, did not utter a sound.

Tears slid silently down her cheeks, dripping onto the sheets, one drop after another, plop, plop…

"Cherish your health?"

Her fingers trembled as she pointed to her chest.

"Cherish life?"

The voice grew softer and softer, more hoarse.

"Do you know... what this feels like...?"

The light outside the window grew dimmer; night had likely fallen early.

The dark clouds pressed down even lower, almost touching the sea.

The world turned gray and black, with only the occasional flash of lightning piercing the sky and illuminating the distorted clouds.

"Yesterday... finally... the pain was gone..."

It felt like something was stuck in my throat.

The voices of poetry and wine suddenly choked with emotion.

"I thought... I thought it was finally over..."

"But because...because of saving you..."