Chapter 82: So Many Spectators for Just a Training Race?
"…Huh?"
Kitasan Black froze.
She had not expected such an answer at all, nor did she understand what that answer even meant.
"Fastest. Strongest. Supreme."
Duramente repeated herself, the coldness on her face gradually turning into a look of seriousness.
"In order to become such a racer, that is why I was born into this world."
"This is my mission, and also my destiny."
"Whether I succeed, or whether I fail—"
"To challenge the family's long-cherished wish, the supreme stage called the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe…"
"That is my only goal."
After saying this, she lowered her head and went back to eating dinner.
"Th—the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe…?"
Kitasan Black froze again, touching her chin as if lost in thought.
"I think Trainer mentioned it once, but… what exactly is that?"
Duramente's brown ears twitched, and with a hint of surprise she lifted her head.
"You… don't know what the Arc is?"
"Ahahaha~ w-well…"
Scratching her head and letting out an awkward laugh, Kitasan Black sheepishly rubbed her cheek.
"My… grades aren't all that great, so… the Arc, is it a really amazing race?"
Staring at her for a moment, Duramente suddenly frowned, pinching her chin and sinking into thought.
"True… if I had to explain exactly why it's amazing… I don't really know either."
"Ehh? You don't know either, Duramente-chan? Then what was with all that talk earlier—about destiny and dreams and stuff…?" Kitasan Black was dumbfounded.
After a moment of pondering, Duramente abruptly returned to her usual cold expression, picked up her tray, and stood.
"But it doesn't matter. My parents, Oneesan, everyone says it's the supreme stage for Umamusume—and that's enough."
"Oneesan, I'm finished eating. I'll be going now."
Those last words were directed at Air Groove across the room.
But just as she took a step, Air Groove's exasperated voice came ringing out.
"Stop right there!"
"You think that little bit of food is enough? Do you even realize how much training you did today?"
"Finish your meal properly—get the carbs and protein your body needs!
"And don't think I don't know what you're planning. I already told you, no sneaking off for extra training without my permission!"
Her footsteps halted, and a look of regret flashed across Duramente's face.
"Ugh… she found out? What a pity…"
'Hahaha~ Duramente-chan, you weren't exactly hiding it well in the first place…'
As Kitasan Black silently retorted, she suddenly realized that beneath her cold, aloof aura, her classmate and rival actually gave off a bit of an airheaded vibe.
After some thought, she stood up, gave a small nod toward Air Groove, and said:
"Air Groove-senpai, I'll just share my dinner with Duramente-chan. I can order more later. And I'll make sure she eats properly."
Saying this, she walked behind Duramente, pushed her back down into her seat, and began dividing portions of her own meal onto Duramente's tray.
At the same time, sighs drifted over from Air Groove and Makoto.
"Really… she's such a handful… I'm a little jealous of you, Yasui-san. To have such an obedient Uma like Kitasan Black."
"Ahahaha~ well… it's not that big of a deal, really…"
…
Even after agreeing to Air Groove's proposal, Makoto did not change the upcoming training schedule.
Duramente's special training before the Satsuki Sho was mainly focused on building strength. Aside from her usual running, she spent most of her time indoors—at the gym and in the swimming pool.
Kitasan Black also trained together with her in this area, while her sprinting special training was still carried out alone.
And so, in the days that followed, every afternoon on the field one could see her figure running with a parachute trailing behind her.
From the numbers alone, Makoto was very satisfied with the growth the special training brought.
Previously, Kitasan Black's training-level sprint speed was about 17.8 meters per second.
In an actual race—affected by environment, rivals, and her own condition—her practical sprinting speed tended to fall in the 17.4 to 17.6 range.
Now, her sprinting ability is steadily improving. In less than a week, she was already able to clock nearly 18 meters per second in training.
At first glance, an increase of 0.2 seconds didn't seem like much.
But converted into distance, 0.2 seconds meant around 3.5 meters—a gap that could very well decide victory or defeat in a race.
For Kitasan Black, whose weakness had always been sprinting, this degree of progress was an especially pleasing result.
That said, the special training period had been far too short. This growth would still need further adjustment, reinforcement, and stabilization.
And the scheduled practice race they had agreed upon beforehand happened to be the perfect benchmark for fine-tuning the results of this special training.
The race was set for Friday afternoon.
Since a race would require exclusive use of the track for a period of time, the rules required submitting an application in advance.
Daiwa Scarlet and the others had already agreed, so Makoto had put in the request to the student council a few days earlier.
Teio approved it without hesitation.
But come Friday afternoon, Makoto discovered something unexpected.
At this moment, the field that was usually filled with Umamusume and trainers was strangely empty—just a wide expanse of lush green stretching into the distance.
At the starting line stood the gates that the school staff had prepared in advance.
Like the empty field, the area outside the rails was also nearly deserted. Only Makoto, Kitasan Black, Daiwa Scarlet and Co, Tokai Teio, and Mejiro McQueen were gathered at the entrance.
But directly opposite, on the grandstands overlooking the track, the place was packed to the brim with Umamusume and trainers, buzzing with excitement.
A rough glance was enough to tell the number couldn't be less than two thousand—nearly the entire academy's students, trainers, and even teachers.
From afar, the cheers from the stands rolled across the field, and one could clearly see banners and pompoms waving in the air.
All the banners bore messages of support for Daiwa Scarlet, Vodka, Special Week, and Gold Ship.
And the cheers shouted out were also calls of encouragement for those Umamusume.
Staring at the scene, Makoto couldn't help but mutter under his breath:
"…Why on earth does just a practice race have to turn into something this big?"
Hearing him, Tokai Teio—who had been encouraging Kitasan Black—turned her head and answered:
"Normally, training races really aren't this big of a deal. But it's your fault, Yasui-san—you went and gathered so many big stars at once."
Mejiro McQueen nodded in agreement.
"That's right. Spe-chan and the others are all among the most outstanding Umamusume in the academy. And Golshi is one of the strongest active Umamusume in all of Japan."
"Countless students dream of seeing them in person. Many even became racers because of their admiration."
"And now, not only can everyone see them up close, they'll actually get to watch them run. Of course the excitement would be overwhelming."
Makoto let out a wry smile.
He hadn't expected this outcome.
It wasn't that he was unaware of how famous Special Week and the others were, but with little prior experience, he had never personally witnessed just what that fame could bring.
Still, he quickly pieced it together.
Outside of official races, each of these Umamusume was a star known across Japan and even around the world. Just one of them alone was enough to draw huge attention—let alone all of them gathered together.
Realizing this, he deliberately turned his attention to Kitasan Black's expression, curious to see how his Uma was holding up in this situation.
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