On the track, Nearl and Fujimasa March were stretching, doing a brief warm-up—both approaching this trial race with serious focus.
As she warmed up, Nearl noticed something off about her own body: 'My legs don't feel as strong as usual. Has the fatigue from training not fully faded yet?'
With that thought, Nearl glanced discreetly at Fujimasa March and saw her still jogging intently, her expression concentrated, completely undistracted. So Nearl withdrew her gaze, not wanting to interrupt.
"I'm sorry, March," she murmured inwardly. "We agreed to give it our all, yet here I am, racing you in a tired state. I hope you can forgive my carelessness."
Her eyes lowered regretfully, and she sighed softly, disappointed that she couldn't face March at her very best.
Even so, Nearl kept walking at a gentle pace, trying to recover just a little more stamina.
In the distance, Kitahara Jo had found a volunteer from the spectators to stand in as the finish line. Since the practice field didn't have a proper finish marker, he'd asked a bystander to help out.
The volunteer Uma Musume agreed excitedly, hurrying to the spot Jo indicated. She stood straight, feet together, arms pressed tightly to her sides, doing her best impression of a pole.
Once the finish was set, Jo ran over to Nearl and Fujimasa March, slightly out of breath, and explained the details of the trial race.
His eyes swept over the two Uma Musume warming up, and his expression turned serious.
"I've set the distance for this trial to 1600 meters—a middle distance, common in many local races. The track is dirt, condition good, turning right."
As he spoke, he pulled a coin from his pocket. "When this coin hits the ground, that's your signal to start. Sorry we don't have starting gates—this was arranged on short notice."
Seeing his apologetic tone, Nearl quickly responded, "It's not your fault, Trainer. This race was supposed to be just parallel training—we're the ones who decided to turn it into a match. You've done more than enough."
Fujimasa March nodded beside her. "Nearl's right, Trainer Kitahara. There's no need to apologize."
"Thank you for understanding," Jo said, relieved. He pointed toward a spot not far away. "Go line up over there, and keep your eyes on the coin toss."
"Understood, Trainer."
"Got it."
Nearl and Fujimasa March acknowledged and made their way to the spot Jo had indicated.
As they settled into their starting stances, the atmosphere grew tense. The noise from their classmates watching on the sidelines, the rush of the wind—everything seemed to fade into silence. All Fujimasa March could hear was Nearl's soft, steady breathing.
In the moments waiting for the coin to drop, a thought crossed March's mind: 'I wonder what Nearl is thinking right now? What's hidden in her eyes?'
She glanced sideways, and in that narrow, blurred field of vision, a golden figure stood out—proud and vivid, commanding attention. It was a stark contrast to the calm, gentle Nearl she knew. This version was dazzling. Brilliant.
Fujimasa March was puzzled. Could one person really leave two such different impressions?
If the Nearl she'd spoken with earlier was like the warm winter sun—gentle, unassuming, caring—then this Nearl was like the blazing sun itself: fierce, intense, overlooking everything from above.
Which one was the real Nearl? Or were they both part of her? March wondered.
Ting~~
A metallic ring made March's ears perk up. Her scattered thoughts snapped into focus. Her eyes turned forward just in time to see a coin falling rapidly through the air.
'Here it comes. Get ready to run.'
She lowered her center of gravity, pressed her back foot firmly into the dirt, leaving a clear imprint. Every muscle tightened like a fully drawn bow. Fujimasa March was coiled with power, waiting for the moment the coin hit the ground.
'Perfect condition. I won't mess up the start this time!'
She roared inwardly, feeling even better than she did in actual races.
But for some reason, a sense of unease lingered deep inside—one she couldn't shake.
March didn't understand where it came from, and not knowing only made her more anxious. Without realizing, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
The coin was about to hit the ground. To March, time itself seemed to slow—nothing existed but that slowly falling coin… and the long, calm exhale beside her.
That breath was so clear, it was as if it had been whispered right in her ear. And suddenly, Fujimasa March understood the source of her unease.
Nearl. Margaret Nearl.
It was as if she'd vanished from March's senses. That overwhelming presence from moments before had withdrawn completely. She couldn't feel her at all—yet when she focused, she realized Nearl was still right there. She'd simply merged into the environment, formless like a breeze, elusive like a passing cloud.
Tap.
The coin landed.
Fujimasa March burst forward on reflex—perfect timing, perfect form, perfect start. Anyone watching would have praised, "As expected of Kasamatsu's strongest Uma Musume."
But this time was different.
A flash of gold shot out beside her, pressing forward ahead of March.
--+--
Skill Activated: [Farewell to the Past, Radiance Unfading].
--+--
In that first instant, Nearl exploded with power. A tremendous force propelled her forward, leaving everything else behind—all except that distant, tiny, yet clear finish line.
Faster, faster, faster!
Nearl's strides quickened. The dirt scattered behind her. Her forward-leaning posture looked less like running and more like a charge—trampling everything underfoot, shattering every obstacle in her path. The figure dashing across the field with such imposing momentum lived up to the title of Knight, commanding the course.
Fujimasa March wasn't having an easy time. Nearl was speeding up. If March didn't keep up now, any chance of winning would vanish. But if she accelerated too early to catch up, her rhythm would be thrown off—she might even risk losing speed before the final sprint.
"Tch!" In the end, March gritted her teeth and pushed harder, chasing after Nearl. She could see it now—Nearl was going for a front-runner strategy. She couldn't let her control the pace.
--+--
Silence had fallen over the edges of the track. Every spectator was staring intently at the race, as if stunned. Several seconds passed before one Uma Musume finally spoke up.
She said, somewhat uncertainly, "That golden-haired Uma Musume… is she ahead of Fujimasa March?"
As soon as the words were spoken, the quiet spectators snapped back to reality, and a wave of noise erupted.
--+--
T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.