Next to Deep Impact stood an Uma Musume with long black hair. Although her hair color differed from Deep Impact's, their facial features bore a striking resemblance.
"I know Kita-chan is very talented, it's just..."
The black-haired Uma Musume laughed softly, concern threading through her voice. "This is the Japanese Derby, after all."
"And when she was younger..." she hesitated mid-sentence.
"Careless? Clumsy?"
Deep Impact continued for her: "Probably. But honestly, she's not like what you've described, Nee-san."
The black-haired Uma Musume blinked. Deep Impact gazed intently at the racers sprinting down the course and continued:
"She's actually pretty smart."
"Running on the outside track in the Derby does drain more stamina, but it's nothing compared to losing your rhythm. Keeping yourself steady matters most."
"And even more importantly..." She shook her head, dismissing the thought. "Forget it. That race is still five months away."
Taking a step forward, Deep Impact's eyes gradually locked onto the figure leading the pack.
"Any Uma Musume would stake their life in a race, wouldn't they…?"
"It might sound cliché, but when everyone is giving it their all, your real opponent is yourself."
"Understand this sooner rather than later, Kitasan Black…"
At the front, wind rushed against Kitasan Black, pulling her bangs back into a sharp line. Eyes long accustomed to such conditions gazed steadily forward, her ears flicking gently backwards.
The track stretched clear and open ahead. Surprisingly, the grass remained even and dry, unaffected by the earlier races today.
A hundred meters to the third corner. At her current pace, she'd reach the turn in roughly ten seconds.
Behind her, heavy breaths loomed close, just one and a half horse-lengths away.
The breathing patterns had grown ragged, betraying signs of fatigue.
No surprise there.
She'd run most of the first half on the outside, watching from a safe distance the intense battles unfolding on the inside.
Too fierce, too fast—such pace and fighting inevitably drained stamina to an extreme.
Now, past halfway through the race, merely maintaining speed had become a monumental task. Any further direct conflict had to wait until the final straight; otherwise, victory was out of reach.
In contrast, despite running longer distances around the first two corners, Kitasan had actually conserved a considerable amount of stamina.
If that's the case, then on this coming corner—
I'll pull away in one go!
Her vision curved sharply, sunlight slicing into her eyes. Suppressing the urge to blink, Kitasan fixed her gaze precisely on her entry angle through a mosaic of diamond-shaped sunspots.
Her horseshoes dug accurately into the angled grass, fresh chunks of turf flicking against her outer calf.
Left shoulder dipping slightly, left arm naturally reducing its swing—the abrupt pull of centrifugal force immediately eased.
Stride shortened, cadence quickened.
Weight shifted inward.
Enter the curve!
"She's moving! She's making her move!"
In the broadcast booth, the commentator slammed a fist onto the table with a muffled thud.
"Into the third corner! Kitasan Black leads into the third corner!"
"In an instant! Kitasan Black launches her attack precisely as she enters the turn!"
"The same impressive cornering skills seen in the Satsuki Sho are on display again—one length...two lengths...three lengths!"
"She keeps widening the gap!"
"But! Her rivals won't let her go easily! The relentless pursuers close in, the lead gap shrinking again!"
"Musee Alien! Komet!"
"Followed closely by Musee Sultan, advancing swiftly from stalking position! The competitor previously defeated by Kitasan Black is making a comeback!"
"Behind them come Tagano Espresso and Spirits Minoru!"
"The chasing pack forms a straight line along the third turn, every one of them aiming at Kitasan Black!"
"And what about the mid-pack?! Is the middle group still holding back?!"
"Now, onto the final corner!"
Kitasan Black's fur bristled uncontrollably.
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the distorted figures chasing behind—perhaps because of their explosive power, they seemed twisted, their vibrant race uniforms churning into a turbulent storm cloud closing in.
The abruptly dense hoofbeats turned into a terrifying downpour, each step ripping into the earth behind, cracks racing like lightning beneath her feet.
Their breathing grew increasingly chaotic, each ragged inhale magnified, shockingly audible, like floodgates bursting open behind her.
Equally shocking was the tangible, crushing wind pressure. As Deep Impact-senpai had warned, those behind had truly thrown themselves forward with desperate resolve.
The roaring crowd grew bizarrely clear, weaving into a suffocating net alongside pounding hoofbeats, labored breaths, and crushing wind, tightening mercilessly around her lungs.
Her temples pulsed violently, a suffocating pressure building from behind. Strangely, Kitasan Black smiled.
It's terrifying, really… this kind of chase…
But—
This is my rhythm now!
Her muscles burst like tightly coiled springs, all the stamina conserved from the start surging forward.
Sweat droplets drew glittering arcs through the air. Her nose filled with the scent of crushed grass and raw earth.
Swallowing pushed salty sweat into boiling veins. Amid the roaring in her ears, the heavy rainfall of chasing steps and breaths abruptly receded into the distance.
Ahead loomed the infamous final uphill straight at Fuchu, mentioned repeatedly before the race like a towering mountain.
In a moment of illusion, the mountain transformed into a raging ocean. She was like a swordfish piercing the waters, or a storm born from the chasing tempest behind, surging upstream.
"Kitasan Black...still leads!"
Even the commentator's voice penetrated the storm, screaming beside her ear.
"She seems to have limitless stamina! Still accelerating!"
"She's onto the final straight! She's out of the turn! She's reached the last uphill before the crown of the Japanese Derby!"
"The scorching turf at Tokyo Racecourse in Fuchu bears witness to a heated, no-turning-back battle unfolding along the straight!"
"400 meters left!"
"The previously closing leaders have run out of steam—Kitasan Black regains her advantage, opening a three-length lead again!"
"300 meters!"
"Kitasan Black charges ahead alone!"
"But—But!"
"The mid-pack Uma Musume are charging up!"
"Satono Crown is closing! Satono Rasen and Cheval Grand are tangled in battle, yet they're both closing in!"
"And then—from the far outside comes Duramente!"
"Duramente now runs alone on the outside path Kitasan Black previously held uncontested!"
"Kitasan Black still leads, still runs alone at the front, still accelerates—even uphill, still accelerating!"
"Can she hold until the end, Kitasan Black?!"
"It's still uncertain!"
"The final stretch at Fuchu is long. On this uphill straight of honor—no Uma Musume is willing to surrender!"
"200 meters left!"
"Satono Rasen has shaken off Cheval Grand, racing neck-and-neck with Satono Crown! From outside, Duramente has completely broken free, the three Uma Musume tearing apart Kitasan's lead step by step!"
"But! Duramente is even faster!"
"She's already one length ahead of the two Satono! Just two lengths behind Kitasan Black now!"
"Even closer! The final-stretch chase from the Satsuki Sho repeats itself again!"
"Once again—Kitasan Black's flight! Duramente's pursuit!"
"Can she escape, Kitasan Black?!"
"Can she catch up, Duramente?!"
"The last 100 meters!"