For a split second, Kitasan Black felt as if her heartbeat was about to stop.
Three uphills, four corners, accelerating, final sprint…
Months upon months of relentless effort were pouring out completely in this moment. She believed she hadn't slackened, not even for an instant.
But she knew it wasn't enough just to not slacken herself.
Every opponent on this track was equally relentless—something she'd seen clearly, both before and now.
She hadn't imagined, though, that just as she'd shaken off one pursuit, without a single breath to spare, another came.
No, it wasn't just pursuit anymore.
She'd been caught.
Her eyes slid involuntarily toward the outside lane, and met a pair of scarlet-lit eyes.
Her heart skipped a beat, and only in the next second did she recognize them as Duramente's familiar yet utterly unfamiliar eyes.
The pupils were still that unique violet-blue gradient she'd always admired—but now, blood-red veins densely covered the whites around them.
Those bluish-purple pupils had contracted to pinpoint-sized black holes, seeming ready to devour every speck of light ahead—including Kitasan's own figure.
The bloodshot streaks flickered endlessly like lightning, splitting everything apart. A charred smell filled the air, sharp and acrid.
Merely brushed by the edge of that gaze, an uncontrollable fear surged inside Kitasan Black—fear she'd never known before.
And not just those eyes.
Right now, Duramente's entire body radiated a familiar yet strange horror, overwhelming enough to stop anyone dead in their tracks.
Her short, forceful breaths scraped the air with a metallic screech, each gasp slicing through Kitasan's eardrums like knives.
Blue veins bulged on Duramente's pale neck, thrashing violently against her collarbone and chest with every forward lunge.
Every swing of her arms lifted and lowered her shoulder blades like sickles, every step propelled her forward mercilessly, slicing through the track ahead.
Suddenly, Kitasan recalled that training race, that dream.
In this instant, running alongside her wasn't Duramente anymore—but Deep Impact, the senior who once made her feel so powerless, and Tokai Teio, the idol she'd always revered.
Illusions of towering mountains and overwhelming glory resurfaced before her eyes, the insurmountable walls and the figures she'd endlessly yearned for returning vividly.
Then dizziness rushed in—the familiar sensation of endlessly falling from a chair—and her heart, already pumping at its limit, slid helplessly toward a bottomless abyss.
Yet this lasted only a brief instant.
My feet…are so heavy…
My legs…can't feel them anymore…
My arms…are going numb…
My lungs feel like they're about to explode…
But…
Like squeezing out blood and marrow, strength inexplicably flooded back into her body, which should've been drained by now.
Her heart once more stretched tight and then relaxed at its limit, pounding frantically enough to leap straight out her throat.
Her leaden legs and arms felt unbearably heavy with every movement, but they still carried her forward, still kept swinging.
Her lungs felt ready to burst, throat scraped raw and dry as blades, yet the wind still fiercely poured the taste of dirt and sweat into her mouth.
Vision had blurred long ago—but somehow, the finish line just ahead stood out with impossible clarity.
Kitasan Black roared under her breath.
"My rhythm…
"Isn't over yet—!!
"Duramente!!"
Beside her, those familiar yet foreign eyes and figure wavered slightly.
For just one moment, astonishment, admiration, and something inexplicably grateful flashed through those eyes.
Then that figure blurred like her vision.
Not just blurred—twisting as well.
Whether illusion or not, that distorted figure slowly, so slowly receded, tilting away.
But then suddenly it was ahead again, as the finish line flashed past and vanished—
Then it tilted further, dropping abruptly to the ground.
Eh…?
Stunned, confusion and sudden anxiety surged within Kitasan, just as the commentator's voice cracked sharply in her ears.
"The final 100-meter duel ensures this Japanese Derby's eternal legacy, and the one who ultimately triumphed in this life-or-death battle is—
"Duramente!
"2 minutes 23 seconds!
"A record-breaking Derby victory!
"At the same time! 2 minutes 23.1 seconds! Kitasan Black also shattered the previous record!
"A new era!
"An era defined by two unmatched rivals…has arrived!!"
...
...
......
Several times her mouth opened without producing a single sound.
She tried repeatedly to glance at the scoreboard, but her neck felt rusted stiff, refusing to turn.
Her eyes stung sharply, as if sand had flown in during the final dash.
Her nose ached badly, reminiscent of when she collapsed after her debut race.
After a long moment, she took a slow, deep breath, holding it tightly in her chest.
Another long pause, and her whole body softened from head to toe, the proudly raised chest slowly deflating.
"I… lost… huh…?"
Murmuring softly, her ears and shoulders, having unknowingly drooped, perked back up again. The confusion faded, but anxiety returned even stronger.
Looking ahead at the figure still sitting on the ground, Kitasan rushed over.
"Dura-chan! A-are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere…?"
Duramente sat motionless, as if in a daze, not reacting at all to Kitasan's worried calls. Her gaze wandered aimlessly like fog.
Only when Kitasan crouched beside her, frantically checking her legs and arms, touching her forehead, gently patting her cheek, did Duramente's eyes finally focus clearly.
"…Ah, I…"
She whispered softly, pressing against her knees, raising one leg slightly, attempting to stand.
Barely lifting off the ground, she immediately sank back down.
Only then did she realize that her palms, knees, calves—every single muscle in her body—were trembling uncontrollably.
Noticing this as well, Kitasan panicked further.
"W-wait! Dura-chan, don't move yet—I think…you should get checked by the doctors first!"
She jumped upright, about to sprint toward the medical team stationed off-track, when a hand suddenly grasped hers.
Startled, she looked back, meeting Duramente's steady gaze, lips trembling as they spoke.
"Next race… let's continue…"
Kitasan paused for a moment, immediately understanding Duramente's meaning without explanation.
She tried to speak again, lips moving silently, as if she'd just rediscovered her defeat once more.
Yet soon after, a strange thrill, mixed with joy, spread throughout her body.
Retracting her step toward the sidelines, she returned Duramente's grip, holding her hand firmly.
Watching her friend—who'd just beaten her—slowly stand up, Kitasan nodded deeply.
"Alright."
"Kikuka Sho, Arima Kinen, Tenno Sho, Takarazuka…"
"G1, G2, G3, whatever race comes…"
"The next race, and the one after that, and the one after that too…"
"I… won't concede so easily."
"And you better not think you can just run off after one win…"
"Duramente."
Duramente held Kitasan's gaze intently, earnestly, for a long while—before suddenly breaking into a quiet smile.
"I won't run off. No matter which race it is, I'll never run away…"
"The battle between us has only just begun—it's far from over…"
"Kitasan Black."