March 20th.
It was the day of the Keihin Cup.
Kuroha arrived at Oi Racetrack with a well-rested Fujimasa March.
Though it was approaching evening, there wasn't a trace of sunset in the sky—only thick, leaden clouds stacked heavily atop each other.
The air pressure was heavy, wild winds surged—it was the very picture of an impending storm.
"Ugh, I hate rainy days the most!"
Inari One crossed her hands behind her head, grumbling.
"I told you it'd rain, but you still came," Kuroha said as he looked up at the ink-colored sky. For some reason, a vague sense of unease stirred within him.
"Fujimasa March is my roommate—this is her first race in Oi! Of course I came to cheer her on!" Inari One clenched her fists energetically.
Fujimasa March said nothing. She focused on her breathing, steady and rhythmic, to ease the nervousness inside her.
This was her first step in Tokyo. Whether it was for her own sake—or for her trainer's—she had to win!
Kuroha gave her space to adjust.
He understood her worries, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous too.
This was his first major race in over two months as a trainer.
The first stakes race of his career.
A race that would be crucial for both of them—to prove themselves.
The three of them arrived at the exclusive waiting room for participants.
It was a private space for trainers to give final instructions and preparations to their Uma Musume.
Soon, Fujimasa March emerged in her exercise gear. Kuroha laid out a sheet of paper.
A detailed map of the Oi racetrack.
Even though he'd explained it to her several times already, Kuroha decided to reinforce the details one last time.
"The Keihin Cup. 1700 meters, classic mile-distance G2 stakes race held at Oi Racetrack," he said, tapping the map with his pen.
"The weather is cloudy, with a high chance of heavy rain. The track is right-turning and requires strong cornering technique—something you excel at."
Fujimasa March nodded seriously beside him.
"Our original plan was to run as a pace chaser. Tuck in behind the others, let them cut through the wind, save stamina, and then accelerate earlier for the attack."
"But—today, the plan has changed." Kuroha narrowed his eyes slightly.
"The conditions on the track today are going to get much worse."
"If it starts pouring, the turf will become a muddy, heavy track—much harder to run on than in our usual training. And with the chaotic wind, drafting becomes more important. Tucking in behind others is a decent plan…"
"But more important than any of that—"
Kuroha looked at her legs and said in a low voice,
"—is safety."
"Nightfall, heavy rain, slippery terrain—it's not just about how hard it'll be to run. It's about how prone the other Uma Musume will be to making mistakes."
"If you get stuck in the second group, one slip-up around you could take you down too. That's something I won't allow."
"So run Front Runner style, Fujimasa March. From start to finish—leave them all behind."
Fujimasa March looked at Kuroha's serious expression, and a warmth surged in her chest.
Abruptly, she tensed, avoiding his gaze for a second.
But then, she pursed her lips, her cheeks slightly flushed, and met his eyes directly. "Trainer, I will win!"
Kuroha gave a satisfied nod. "That's the spirit!"
After giving her a few more on-track reminders, Kuroha folded the diagram away—only to find Fujimasa March fidgeting with a shy, hesitant expression.
"What's wrong, March? Got more questions?"
"It's just... um…"
She placed her hands behind her back, mumbling for a long while before suddenly slapping her hands on the table.
Bang!
"Trainer—if I win today, could I..."
"Could I get a reward?!"
Her cheeks were flushed, horse ears perked up in excitement, and behind her—barely out of view—her tail was swishing uncontrollably from side to side.
"A reward?" Kuroha blinked.
He'd thought she was still just nervous. Turns out, she was thinking about rewards?
Still such a kid.
Kuroha chuckled and grabbed his notebook, heading toward the door. "If you win today, March—anything within my power, I'll make it happen!"
Anything…?
Kuroha didn't see it—but Fujimasa March clenched her fists tight. Her pale red eyes burned with determination like never before.
"I have to win! I must win today!"
Meanwhile, in the corner, Inari One—who'd been third-wheeling through the entire heartwarming moment—stood there frozen with a dumbfounded expression.
...
Oi Racetrack.
The speakers were blaring with exciting music.
It was nightfall, and with the stormy skies looming, not many spectators had shown up.
After sending Fujimasa March off through the contestant's tunnel, Kuroha found an open seat near the front and put on a raincoat.
Beside him, the 1.39-meter-tall Inari One sat upright in her own raincoat—like a little sister.
The overly proper image made Kuroha glance sideways. "Huh. Rare sight. The great Inari One actually looks like a proper, polite young lady."
"Q-Quit it!" she snapped.
Her eyes darted nervously, and after a moment, she shifted her butt a little further away from him.
Kuroha had no idea what this girl was doing. He just shook his head and refocused on the race.
The music began to fade, replaced by the race announcer's voice echoing through the storm and wind.
The rain had started—light, but steady.
"The downpour has turned the dirt track into a heavy field—welcome to the final qualifying battle for the South Kanto Triple Crown: the 1700-meter Keihin Cup!"
"Today, 14 Uma Musume have stepped onto this course. Only two will walk away with the final entry tickets to the South Kanto Triple Crown! Who will seize glory?!"
"First up, please welcome our first Uma Musume!"
"Third favorite—!"
"Fresh off her win in the Shiratori Special—Haru no Hikari!"
"With a record of 5 wins in 8 races, she's riding a three-race winning streak and is full of momentum!"
The two announcers worked in sync, introducing each of the entrants.
A Uma Musume with long, cherry blossom-pink hair stepped onto the stage. Her tracksuit displayed a bold number: 1.
Meaning she was in gate one.
Haru no Hikari greeted the sparse audience cheerfully, waving energetically even though there weren't many people watching.
...
"Tenth favorite—Fujimasa March!"
Good draw, Kuroha thought as he watched Fujimasa March step forward.
Gate number four. For a Front Runner like her, it was ideal.
The announcers introduced each Uma Musume with clear, powerful voices.
And then—
The voice of the announcer suddenly paused, tone rising with sharp energy.
"Now, our next entry—!"
"The top favorite—Seiran Nichirin!"
"She utterly dominated the Yunokuni Sho and is undoubtedly the biggest contender to win it all tonight!"
As the words rang out, a striking Uma Musume with icy blue hair stepped onto the stage.
And the moment she did—an intangible pressure exploded outward.
Below the stage, the Uma Musume who had already walked off all felt it—their hearts sank as they instinctively looked up.
Seiran Nichirin looked back at them, eyes half-lidded and indifferent.
This victor of the Yunokuni Sho stood under thunderclouds streaked with lightning. Her short blue hair fell beside her pale cheeks—and in her cold, storm-like gaze was a frost sharper than even the roaring winds and rain.
Kuroha frowned deeply.
Now he understood the unease that had been gnawing at him all day.
This Uma Musume—Seiran Nichirin—was a horse who had over-trained into full development far ahead of schedule.
(End of Chapter)
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