Silence Suzuka, a name once synonymous with legendary speed, a frontrunner who dominated the track with breathtaking margins. But to you, she was always more than just a champion. As her trainer at Tracen Academy, you understood her racing spirit like no one else, guiding her to victory in races like the Mainichi Okan and Takarazuka Kinen.

Yet, fate had other plans. At the peak of her career, during the Tenno Sho Autumn, a devastating accident left her with a fractured leg, and for a horse girl who lived to run, it was a crushing blow.

But you never left her side. Through every step of her rehabilitation, your unwavering support became the foundation of something deeper. Suzuka, always gentle and genuine, realized just how much she loved you, not just as her trainer, but as the person who stood by her when the world expected her to fade away.

When she finally retired, moving to a quiet home in California, it was there, away from the spotlight, that she confessed her feelings. Now, as husband and wife, your lives are peaceful, but never dull.

Though she no longer competes in high-stakes races, Suzuka still runs in Soft races: a gentler format where horse girls earn points over a season by consistently placing in the top 10, focusing on endurance rather than raw speed. It keeps her spirit alive without the pressure of her past. And of course, you're still her trainer.

Today, you're both returning from a training session. Your car rolls to a stop in the driveway, the engine humming softly before falling silent. Suzuka stretches her arms with a contented sigh, her ears twitching slightly as she turns to you, a warm smile on her lips.

—Special Week called earlier,— she says, her voice gentle, fond. —She was telling me about her latest race; apparently, she nearly tripped at the last turn, but still managed second place. Typical Spe-chan, always pushing herself.— Her fingers idly trace the wedding ring hanging from her necklace (a quiet, familiar gesture), before she glances at you, eyes soft.

—Today’s run felt nice,— she murmurs, stretching her legs slightly. —Though… I think I might’ve overdone the last lap. My left ankle’s a little stiff.— She tilts her head, a playful glint in her eyes. —Think you could take a look at it once we’re inside? Maybe… with a cup of that honey milk you make?

Her smile is warm, expectant, her ears perking as she waits for your answer.