Nakayama Racecourse. Rain. Good track.
Rain fell like silver needles through the gray sky, splashing into fine droplets on the turf of Nakayama Racecourse. A gentle breeze brushed against the spectators' faces, carrying the cool, damp air mixed with the scent of earth and grass.
Even though the rain had soaked their sleeves, it could not extinguish the fire of passion burning in their hearts.
This was the Satsuki Sho, the opening act of the classic Triple Crown, a stage set by all the geniuses of this generation. The beginning of the story, the start of the legend—everything about glory was about to officially begin today.
So, how could the audience not be filled with passion? How could their blood not boil?!
"A stage built by geniuses, yet only one winner can be decided! Let us witness it, the true glory of this generation!"
"Welcome to Nakayama Racecourse! The Satsuki Sho, the prelude to the classic Triple Crown, is about to begin!"
An energetic female voice echoed throughout the racecourse, sending ripples through the damp air and adding fuel to the already blazing fire of the audience.
"Ooooooooooooh!"
Cheers and shouts, a massive wave of human voices, seemed powerful enough to shatter the curtain of rain.
"Will her undefeated streak since her debut continue today? Will she inherit her mother's glory and avenge her sister's shame? The next contestant to enter is—"
"First favorite! Number three, Celestial Weave!"
"Let us witness your brilliance!"
With the commentator's passionate introduction, the already excited audience grew even more ecstatic, erupting in a tsunami of cheers. Some leaned out, ignoring the rain, waving their support flags. Some clenched their soaked hands, their knuckles turning white. Children sat on their fathers' shoulders, their clear eyes reflecting the glistening track. Some even stepped out from under the cover of the stands just to get their cheers a little closer.
Their passion transformed into a tangible wave of heat, causing the falling raindrops to evaporate into a hazy white mist.
In the crowd, Saint-King Halo stared blankly at the black and red figure on the track, her hands gripping the railing. She didn't even feel the cold metal through her gloves. Looking around at the crowd screaming for her sister, she was shocked.
Having not been to one of her races in a long time, she was only now realizing just how much expectation and attention her younger sister had garnered. As a sister who also carried expectations, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry for her. But as a fellow horse girl, she was also inspired by such cheers. The primal desire to race, etched into her very being, made her want to witness firsthand what kind of shock this horse girl, who had caused such a thunderous roar, would bring.
"So... you've already come this far."
In her heart, the little Celestial Weave who was once anxious in a new environment, who looked up to her surrounded by her followers, who was happy to receive a gift—that little sister had grown into a powerful horse girl in a place she hadn't seen.
Her fingertips dug deep into the railing, her knuckles turning white. She suddenly leaned forward, half her body breaking through the barrier of rain. The cold water instantly soaked her hair, running down her cheeks and neck, drenching the fabric on her shoulders.
"Yume—!"
"You have to win!"
The shout tore through the noise of the stadium like a blazing meteor, piercing the gloomy curtain of rain and the roaring crowd. Her pupils trembled slightly, her gaze locked on the black and red figure in the center of the track.
In the distance, Celestial Weave seemed to sense something and suddenly looked back. The rain blurred their vision, but Saint-King Halo could have sworn she saw the corners of her sister's lips curve into a slight smile as she gave a firm nod in her direction.
Standing behind her, Isami Mai smiled. Her daughter had finally come to terms with herself. That was one less thing for a mother to worry about.
But...
Her gaze shifted to the track, to the figure that seemed sharp enough to cut through the rain, and her brow furrowed with worry. As a world-class horse girl, she had seen her daughter's talent early on. As a mother, her only wish for her was to live a peaceful life. And she had the ability to provide that for her.
But that stubborn child seemed to have had her own ideas from a young age. No matter how much she tried to dissuade her, it was always in one ear and out the other. Even after she personally asked the trainers not to select her, she had still made it this far on her own, to the stage of the Satsuki Sho.
Isami Mai slowly closed her eyes, listening to the tide of cheers. She had heard such cheers many times before, but the fervent passion had not diminished in the slightest. It was like fuel, reigniting the heart that had gradually cooled since her retirement.
In a daze, she seemed to return to the era when she was still racing on the track. The 2000 Guineas, the Eclipse Stakes, the Arc—those days bathed in glory were the most brilliant of her life as a horse girl.
"There are no weaklings on a G1 stage," she whispered, her voice trembling. But this time, it was not out of worry for her daughter, but the primal excitement of a horse girl for the racetrack.
"Some of them carry the hopes of many, some the love of their families, and some their own expectations."
"Everyone has a reason they cannot lose."
"However, one horse leads, ten thousand horses are left in the dark."
"According to the rules, there can be three on the winner's stage. But for all the horse girls on the track, there is only one glory."
"Only the most brilliant horse girl can stand out and bask in it."
She slowly opened her eyes, a fire seeming to burn in her crimson pupils. Her scorching gaze seemed to pierce the rain, reaching the center of the track.
In this moment, she was no longer the worried mother, but the legendary world-class horse girl, Isami Mai, who had once dominated the Arc.
"Let me witness it—" Her voice was low and firm, like the beating of a war drum, each syllable carrying the glory of the past and the intensity of the present.
"—your brilliance!"
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