Like the chaotic prelude of an epic, in the brief ten seconds after the gates flung open, eighteen figures shot forth like arrows loosed from the string, their paths crisscrossing in a frenzy.
Sunlight shattered into fragments where hooves struck turf, sparks bursting from the collision of iron and grass. Over a hundred thousand eyes in the stands turned into high-speed cameras, capturing every collision, every surge, with feverish intensity.
The once-flat formation compressed visibly, mud and grass flying from the inner lanes.
Behind the fastest leaders inside, the ground already bore shallow grooves plowed into the track.
Charging forward at full tilt, Kitasan Black felt relief stir faintly in her chest.
Just as her senpai and Yasui Makoto had said, the Japanese Derby was truly different.
She couldn't see everything happening across the track, but her ears and peripheral vision told her enough—the battle on the inside lanes was fierce.
Had she gone in there like usual, she doubted she could've escaped so easily, let alone thought about winning.
Thank goodness… thank goodness I burst forward on the outside while everyone else was tangled inside.
Breathing that relief, her gaze swept left and right before fixing on the first corner looming ahead.
But the outer lane still meant a heavy disadvantage. And soon…
The corner. An uphill corner…
"They're entering the immensely difficult first turn!"
The commentator's voice jumped an octave.
"Following Kitasan Black, Number 15 Musee Sultan seizes her chance to break free, now up into fourth!"
"In the lead it's still Number 10 Musee Alien, clearly determined to front-run."
"Close behind is Number 18 Tagano Espresso, third is Kitasan Black, and fourth is Musee Sultan!"
"These four make up the vanguard, pulling the huge pack uphill into the first turn!"
"Oh?! Kitasan Black is accelerating!"
On the turf, excitement surged uncontrollably in Kitasan's chest.
Maybe it was Yasui's influence, maybe—as he said—she truly had a gift for Extreme Acrobatics.
Whatever the reason, among all her training, this had always been what she loved most, what she learned fastest.
Running horizontally up a 90° wall no longer fazed her. Even if it was only sideways running, by now it felt just like Yasui's joke had said:
Maybe we should ask the Association to build the Derby track along a wall. You're born for Extreme Acrobatics. Running on walls is to you… just like fish swimming through water.
Yes. Right now, on this uphill bend, she felt as if she really were swimming.
Swimming on the slopes of the Japanese Derby.
Not just swimming—
Gradient acceleration.
Arc positioning.
Airborne lead changes.
Every technique carved into her bones through endless days of training.
If Extreme Acrobatics let her glide like a fish, then these were the extra fins she carried beyond the rest.
Feeling that strange exhilaration, the silhouettes ahead of her drew closer, closer—
"Kitasan Black…look at her form! Her body's pressed extremely low!"
The commentator's voice trembled with surprise.
"Reports said she underwent special training before this—this must be the result!"
"She's cutting inward at high speed! So that's why she gave up the start battle—to unleash it here!"
"She's closing on Musee Alien—"
"No, wait! Not closing yet!"
"Noticing Kitasan Black's pursuit, Musee Alien quickens again, stretching the lead back out!"
"The rest aren't yielding either. The vanguard's positions remain unchanged… No, wait!"
"The speed—they're running insanely fast!"
"Through the first two turns, the 1000-meter split is 58.1 seconds!"
"But Kitasan Black seems to be slowing—she didn't take the corner cleanly!"
"She's been pushed three, four-wide, now running fifth or sixth!"
"Perhaps she's changed her strategy for the Derby, leaving the real contest for later."
"What hidden move is she saving? Let's see!"
As the commentator's words spread, over a hundred thousand eyes followed the black-haired girl—first closing, then drifting outward again, seemingly wasting energy, slipping back.
"Fi—fifty-eight point one?!"
Special Week sucked in a sharp breath. "That pace…even for the Derby, isn't it too fast?!"
"Forget the pace for now!"
Gold Ship clung to the rail, staring hard at Kitasan while glancing sidelong at Yasui Makoto, silent as stone.
"Isn't Kita-chan strongest as a front-runner? Is it safe for her to stalk like this?!"
"Golshi, calm down."
It wasn't Yasui who answered, but Tokai Teio.
Arms folded, eyes never leaving Kitasan's figure, Teio pressed her lips together, then said:
"Yes, Kita-chan's best style is front-running. But don't forget—she can stalk too. Her stalking level isn't bad."
"More importantly…"
A light of admiration flashed in Teio's eyes.
"She hasn't let her rhythm be broken."
"Rhythm…?" Gold Ship blinked.
"Exactly. Golshi, stay calm."
Mejiro McQueen soothed her gently. "Every race demands careful stamina management. Right now, the front is running much too hot. Burning out chasing them would be foolish."
"Kita-chan hasn't been thrown off—she's still running her own rhythm. That means she's in excellent condition."
"And besides…" McQueen added softly, "she may not have given up the lead at all."
As she spoke, like Gold Ship before her, McQueen cast a glance toward Yasui Makoto.
Yasui remained wordless.
Through his binoculars, he never once took his focus off the black-haired girl. The lens shifted briefly, then settled again.
The second uphill… it's coming.
Unheard by anyone, he murmured under his breath.
"The field stretches into a long line, entering the back straight."
"The leaders remain solid. Let's confirm positions—"
"Still leading is Musee Alien. After the fierce early battle, she holds fast to first place."
"Second now is Number 3 Komet, third is Number 16 Spirits Minoru."
"Tagano Espresso, once second, has dropped to fourth. And the one who had been third, Kitasan Black—"
"Wait!"
"As they climb the uphill again, Kitasan Black surges forward, back into fourth…"
"Third, second—she passes them!"
"She's in the lead! Kitasan Black takes the lead by half a length!"
"Incredible! Using that unorthodox running form again, Kitasan Black storms to the front in seconds, seizing the lead on the backstretch!"
"Her performance is like a festival, dazzling, full of thrills!"
"Once again—is the Festival Storm from Nakayama about to sweep across Tokyo's Fuchu Racecourse?!"
The stands erupted in cheers like festival fireworks exploding into the sky. Whether it had been worry, doubt, trust, or reassurance before, Teio and the others all exhaled in relief together.
Meanwhile, high at the very back row of the stands, another calm voice spoke gently:
"You see? I told you this girl was special."
With that reassurance, Deep Impact turned her eyes toward the figure beside her.
"I wasn't wrong, was I…Nee-san?"