The trouble with psychic disturbances is how they affect everything around you—whether you mean them to or not.
It's a phenomenon; it can't be controlled, not even by the spirit causing it.
It might be as small as a cup shattering, or as big as a house shaking.
And when there's a malevolent spirit behind it, the effects are even worse.
Deafening noise, heavy objects moving on their own, even steel beams snapping in two—none of it's off the table.
After they'd sent Silence Suzuka to the infirmary and confirmed she was out of danger, the group finally let themselves relax.
Copano Rickey was already deep in self-reproach—her impulsiveness had dragged an innocent person into things and accidentally caused an injury.
Even though she'd temporarily backed off from confronting the girl, before leaving she'd made sure to leave a warning:
'As a feng shui master, I'll be keeping my eye on you—'
Maybe it was because she was a ghost—unbound and unrestrained—but her very existence seemed to run counter to everything Copano Rickey stood for.
A bringer of misfortune.
The girl herself didn't feel it.
Maybe, being a spirit, she brought some measure of calamity to those around her, whether she wanted to or not.
But that wasn't a good enough reason to make her hide her name, vanish from the world like some true ghost.
She would set foot on the track, and she would keep climbing higher.
Oguri Cap, Narita Brian, Hishi Amazon…
Facing powerhouses like these, she could feel it—a seedling called 'will' taking root and growing inside her.
Up to now, as Sunday Silence's other half, she'd studied her style, her attitude, and done her best to mirror them on the track.
But now, what had started as simple imitation was slowly becoming part of her very soul, merging into her being.
Little by little, she was growing strong enough to carry the weight of that name.
And someday, she'd make sure the whole world knew—that in the world of Uma Musume, there was a figure in black, standing at a peak no one else could reach.
Like the speed of light.
A byword for absolute speed, etched into everyone's minds.
Life can't last forever.
But will… will endures.
"So you've decided on your next race already."
Sunday Silence posed it as a question.
But her tone already gave the answer away.
It had been decided long ago.
That battlefield—the top tier of graded stakes, swarming with elite runners, a demon's den where champions went to fall.
The final race before the school league.
In autumn. The [Tenno Sho].
After her victory in the [Mainichi Okan], no one would expect her to pass up this stage.
So far, the confirmed entrants included Maruzensky, Oguri Cap, Tamamo Cross, and Sirius Symboli.
Who the remaining spots would go to was still unknown.
But just those names alone were enough—this was going to be a G1 like no other.
More fiercely watched than any race before, a true clash of titans.
"No way I'd let it slip by."
But unlike before, she wasn't approaching this race the same way.
She wanted the Central Association to understand—this wasn't just a race anymore.
It was war—
--+--
The office phone wouldn't stop ringing. The moment one call ended, another would come through.
Everyone was busy at their posts.
Reporter Fujii was used to this—it happened every year when a major graded stakes race was on the horizon.
Races like the [Japanese Derby], the [Kikuka-shō], the [Tenno Sho], the [Japan Cup]—the real marquee events.
In the days leading up to them, all sorts of bizarre stories would surface.
Like con artists claiming to have inside info on which Uma Musume were running, trying to extort money from news outlets in exchange.
Or people insisting they'd been barred from entering by the Central Association, begging the media for exposure, when they weren't even racers themselves.
And then there were the truly outlandish ones.
Like the caller who complained that watching these races wasted too much of his time, and demanded compensation from the Association and the broadcasters.
In short, working long enough as a reporter taught you just how strange the world could be.
It was amazing the kinds of twisted logic people could come up with.
Of course, the company rejected every one of these requests—listening for even a second felt like an insult to your intelligence.
Originally, Fujii felt the same way.
But now, he was starting to think his company wasn't much better than those cranks.
Whether it was for compromise or for clicks, media firms weren't spreading objective truth—they were pushing their own biased speculation.
Just like the loose-lipped public, there wasn't much truth to any of it.
Leaning back in his chair, Fujii folded his arms behind his head.
That afternoon, after he'd cooled down, he'd gone to interview Oguri Cap.
Faced with a crowd of reporters, she hadn't looked pleased.
It wasn't that she disliked attention—it was that these journalists were approaching her under the guise of a 'winner's interview,' and it rubbed her the wrong way.
She gave rough answers to their questions, and when it was finally Fujii's turn, he asked her this:
"If you had the chance to do it over, would you still choose to run in the [Mainichi Okan]?"
Oguri Cap blinked at the question.
After a moment's thought, she gave a firm nod.
"I don't regret entering that race for a second," she said. "Even if the result wasn't what I hoped, the race itself meant a lot to me."
"She showed me a peak more towering and terrifying than any chasm."
"If I could run it again, I wouldn't hesitate to climb that mountain one more time."
That was Oguri Cap's answer.
Only those who set foot on the mountain trail can understand the indescribable weight underfoot.
How could those watching from a distance ever grasp the awe that climber inspired in her rivals?
Her words comforted Fujii immensely.
The more you knew, the more you understood her true stature.
After Fujii's turn, the next reporter asked:
"I've heard that the black Uma Musume who raced against you, Oguri Cap, committed several rule violations during the race. Did you notice anything unusual during the competition?"
The ill-timed question instantly lit the already tense atmosphere. Fujii wondered if this guy was deliberately trying to sabotage the interview.
Even Musaka, the trainer observing from the side, gripped his cane so hard his knuckles went white, muttering, "Reporters these days will ask anything!"
He saw Oguri Cap's fists clench with a sharp crack, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably for a few seconds.
Her voice shaking slightly, the girl struggled to keep her emotions in check.
"No, I didn't notice any misconduct from her at all. If you claim there was, please point it out to me. Otherwise, keep those baseless rumors to yourself."
Her sharp glare made the clueless, careless reporter shiver on the spot.
He stammered, "I—I see, right, of course…"
Ugh…
Just remembering it made Fujii's blood boil again.
Dammit, he needed a smoke.
Just as he pulled out the damp, sweat-soaked cigarette pack from his pocket, his cell phone rang.
Who? This was his personal number.
He answered, and a familiar voice came through.
"Reporter Fujii? We met in the park—I'm that student from Tracen Academy."
The man froze.
"There's something the ghost girl wanted me to tell you."
--+--
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.