At precisely 3:20 PM, as the parade ring ceremony began, the commentator's enthusiastic voice echoed through the clear skies above Nakayama Racecourse.
"Bathed in early spring sunshine, conditions at Nakayama are perfect today!"
"Fifteen Uma Musume are set to clash fiercely over 2000 meters on turf, vying for the title of their generation's fastest!"
"Fans have flocked here to witness this historic battle firsthand!"
"First up, a brilliant daughter from a prestigious lineage!"
"Entering the fray with a streak of three consecutive victories—"
"Gate 5, number 8, the race favorite: Satono Crown!"
Under the spotlight, Satono Crown stepped gracefully onto the presentation stage in her sleek Racing Outfit.
A sleeveless dark-green top paired with black shorts edged in pale gold, long black silk gloves, and elegant black boots atop sheer stockings; today she seemed even more dazzling than usual.
Cheers erupted from the grandstands at her appearance, and the commentator's voice rose in excitement.
Following her came Cheval Grand, the second favorite, then Duramente, the third.
And then—
"Also riding a wave of three consecutive wins!"
"Crushing every doubt from before her debut beneath her jet-black hooves!"
"A festival maiden full of energy and cheer—"
"Gate 4, number 7, the fourth favorite: Kitasan Black!"
Matching the volume given earlier to her rivals, the stadium erupted once more as the black-haired girl bounded onto the stage with sparkling enthusiasm.
At the front of the stands, Yasui Makoto observed through binoculars, smiling in relief.
"You did it, Kita-chan. You finally made it through a parade without any mishaps."
Beside him, a lively voice protested lightly.
"Trainer Yasui, you shouldn't be hoping for your Uma Musume to mess up, you know?"
"…I didn't mean it like that."
Turning helplessly toward Tokai Teio, Yasui lowered his binoculars with a sigh.
"It's just that in the first three races, Kita-chan always had a minor slip-up."
"The first race, she put her running shoes on the wrong feet. The second, her jacket zipper broke. The third time, she wore her number bib upside down."
"Honestly, if Special Week-san hadn't noticed it, even I might've missed that last one."
Tokai Teio knew about Kitasan's successive victories but was unaware of these little incidents. After a brief surprise, she quickly realized that her adoring junior would naturally never mention these embarrassing stories, only to have her own trainer casually reveal them.
A moment later, something else occurred to her.
"Special Week…noticed it?"
She turned to her other side, surprise and skepticism in her voice.
"Are you really talking about Spe-chan?"
Nearby, Mejiro McQueen, Daiwa Scarlet, and several other Uma Musume familiar with Kitasan laughed softly. Special Week herself looked embarrassed, holding up a phone and scratching her head.
"Teio, isn't that a little mean…?"
As she protested, a gentle, amused voice came through the phone speaker.
"That's right. Spe-chan can be quite observant sometimes. Teio, you really are being a bit unfair."
On the screen appeared a gentle-faced Uma Musume, serene and graceful, with flowing orange hair and emerald-green eyes reminiscent of a springtime lake.
Facing the screen, Teio's serious professional demeanor melted into playful ease.
"Come on, Suzuka. I was just kidding. Anyway, you're the one who missed Kita-chan's Satsuki Sho this time."
"I'm sorry. Things have been busy here in America lately," the girl named Suzuka replied apologetically, smiling softly.
"But I've arranged things so that I'll be back in Japan by the end of the month. I'll definitely make it in time to watch Golshi's Tenno Sho (Spring), Kita-chan's Japanese Derby, and Spe-chan's Dream Trophy. I'll cheer you all on!"
The gathered Uma Musume, here to support Kitasan, happily peppered Suzuka with questions. Earlier, when Special Week initiated the video call, Yasui had briefly asked about her.
The Uma Musume on the call was Silence Suzuka, a remarkable talent known for her famously fast-paced, front-running style. Even today, her iconic races were still frequently used as textbook examples for front-runner strategy.
After a severe injury forced her early retirement, she'd become a specialist in sports rehabilitation, currently working in the U.S.
"Alright, enough talk about future races!"
Suddenly, Gold Ship loudly interrupted their excited chatter. All eyes turned to the silver-gray-haired, towering Uma Musume who stood solemnly, raising her arms dramatically.
Facing forward, in the direction leading from the parade ring to the starting gate, Gold Ship assumed a strange posture, palms outstretched as if ready to fire off a kamehameha.
"Kita-chan's race is about to start! Right now, what we should be doing is cheering her on! Don't forget our tradition!"
"I'll start it off!"
"Begone Begone Evil Spirits Begone~!"
Muttering the strange chant dramatically, she stared intensely toward Kitasan as the girl approached the starting gates.
…What kind of tradition is this? And who cheers like that anyway?
Just as Yasui was privately chuckling in confusion, he witnessed something even more unexpected.
Whether it was the usually serious Tokai Teio and Mejiro McQueen, the frank Daiwa Scarlet, the carefree Vodka, even the innocent Special Week or gentle Silence Suzuka—they all earnestly copied Gold Ship's bizarre pose.
Standing midway between the start and finish lines, they faced the gates. Kitasan spotted them immediately, her face lighting up as she enthusiastically waved back.
Instantly, the dark-haired girl seemed infused with some mysterious boost of energy, her fighting spirit clearly elevated.
…So was that genuinely some kind of magical cheer or something?
Feeling his worldview slightly challenged, Yasui instinctively waved back to Kitasan. He was about to question the strange ritual further when the commentator's voice soared dramatically over the loudspeakers.
"The bell of destiny has rung!"
"The entrance music for the Satsuki Sho begins!"
"Each Uma Musume steps forward, ambition burning in their hearts, heading toward their own starting gates!"
As if someone had pressed pause or mute, the noise from over a hundred thousand spectators vanished into eerie silence.
Within that dreamlike quiet, fifteen Uma Musume—expressions confident or solemn—entered their gates one by one, as the commentator's voice announced each step.
Stepping into Gate #7, normally so familiar yet now somehow alien, Kitasan Black took a deep breath.
She leaned forward, left arm stretched horizontally in front, right leg positioned slightly back. Surprising herself, she found her heart unexpectedly calm.
A brief silence—
"And now, all competitors are ready!"
"The 75th Satsuki Sho, 2000-meter turf, Grade 1—"
"START!"