Late May, Tokyo Racecourse.
The early-summer breeze carried a trace of sultry heat as it swept across the stands, brushing over the flushed, exhilarated faces of tens of thousands of spectators. Their fervor converged into a tidal roar that engulfed the entire venue.
"Victory like a raging tempest! The champion of the Japanese Derby is—Mejiro McQueen!"
The commentator's hoarse bellow detonated through the loudspeakers in every corner.
"A clean sweep to a G1 triple! Hopeful Stakes, Satsuki Sho, Japanese Derby!"
"With absolute strength, she has declared her rule! In this generation, is there truly no one who can stop her great undertaking?!"
The turf beyond the finish line was a mess.
More than a dozen Umamusume lay sprawled on the track, chests heaving as if they were fish hauled from the water. A few others could only barely stay upright with hands braced on their knees, hair in disarray as they tended to scrapes on their cheeks.
They clenched their fists, eyes full of frustration and unwillingness, staring at the figure ahead—like someone who stood alone above all.
At this moment, the Mejiro dynasty's reigning queen stood casually before them. Her elegant victory outfit was spotless, and she had not even shed a single drop of sweat.
With an indifferent expression, McQueen raised her right hand, then extended two fingers and lightly traced them against the sky.
Unbeaten—two Classics. A fearsome omen.
"OHHHHHHHHHH!!"
In an instant, cheers shook the stadium.
All the spectators, in that very moment, recalled the peak era from years ago—an era that belonged to Symboli Rudolf.
"Mejiro! Mejiro!"
"Chasing Light is the strongest!!"
"March toward the Triple Crown, Mejiro McQueen!!"
From the stands, countless voices screamed toward that dazzling figure below, the sound soaring beyond the clouds.
…
Down on the track, Ines Fujin, Mejiro Ryan, and Shiro Taisei and the others all wore dim, complicated expressions, shaking their heads with bitter smiles.
"There's just… no way to see a path to victory…"
Ines's hair was soaked through with sweat, plastered to her skin, and her whole body looked like it had been rubbed with ash.
In the original history, she should have undergone True Blooming in this race—pushed past her limits and seized the crown in a fierce back-and-forth duel with powerful rivals like Mejiro Ryan.
But now, her body showed no such sign.
Which made sense.
In the original history, the reason she crossed into True Blooming was because she was forced into it by competition against equally strong opponents—the suffocating pressure of teetering on the brink, and the tremendous will to win that drove her body to evolve.
But now…
Before the race had even reached its final phase, all they could see was McQueen's figure pulling away into the distance.
Forget competing. They could not even "eat her exhaust." And without that, how could they possibly have the unrealistic fighting spirit of "I'm going to beat her"?
"Heh, looks like nobody here can touch her right now."
Ryan rubbed her nose, then, without caring how dirty the ground was, plopped down on the turf and spread her hands helplessly.
"Only thing we can do is wait for the second half of the year, or next year."
"Next year…"
Hearing that, Shiro glanced toward the white figure in the distance—surrounded by flowers and applause—then lowered her eyes and murmured softly.
"I was prepared for this, but it still feels… so unfair."
…
In a private box at the very top of Tokyo Racecourse's grandstand.
A brown-haired girl with her lower leg wrapped in thick plaster casts was clapping excitedly, her gentle eyes brimming with relief.
"That was amazing! McQueen ran beautifully! Now she's got her unbeaten two-Classics title in the bag!"
Because of her "fracture," Super Creek could only sit in her chair, with a pair of crutches resting beside her.
But that did nothing to stop her from cheering for her junior's victory.
Nearby, Naise Fumino folded her arms, staring down at that spotlight-stealing figure with dead-fish eyes. Then she glanced at the calm-looking man beside her.
"So? You specifically called me over just to watch McQueen win?"
"Mm…"
Fumino closed her eyes, her sigh carrying a few strands of impatience.
"Don't rush. We'll talk in the car, Fumino."
Kuroha lightly patted her shoulder, then walked straight over to Super Creek and extended a hand with a gentlemanly ease.
"Creek, do you need me to help you?"
Creek blinked, looked at Kuroha, then looked at her own Trainer. Then, all at once, she broke into a radiant smile, those eyes that seemed capable of embracing anything curving into crescents.
"Sure. Then I'll be in your care, Trainer Kuroha."
"…"
Fumino stared speechlessly at the doorway—at the sight of him supporting her own 담당 Umamusume, and even turning back to wave at her—and couldn't help grinding her teeth.
In the end, though, she could only sigh and follow after them.
…
After the winner's stage ended, they reached the underground parking garage.
A thousand understated black sedans silently flowed out from the noisy racecourse.
Kuroha kept a steady grip on the steering wheel. Fumino sat in the passenger seat. In the back were McQueen and Creek, both changed into casual clothes.
"McQueen, you ran wonderfully today."
In the car, Creek nestled gently against McQueen. As she softly praised her, she also helped tidy McQueen's slightly messy hair.
That expression—glowing with a motherly warmth—felt strangely rare, and oddly familiar.
"Y-yes… ahem. You flatter me, Creek-senpai."
McQueen awkwardly averted her gaze, the tips of her ears faintly red.
While the two long-distance queens—one passing the torch, one receiving it—shared a quiet moment in the backseat, the two Trainers in the front began discussing business.
"Wasn't it you who told me earlier that, for Creek's fake injury, it'd be best if she 'went abroad for treatment' after the summer break, and only then announced she'd recovered?"
Kuroha looked ahead and spoke softly.
"Do you have somewhere in mind?"
Fumino shook her head, fingers lightly tapping along the edge of the window.
"I'm still picking good places right now. Some tourist destinations, that sort of thing."
"We'll treat these two months as a vacation with Creek. Let her relax, too."
"Then what about Creek's rehab training?"
"At overseas tourist resorts, it's hard to find training facilities that are stable, professional, and discreet."
(End of Chapter)
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