In the stands, Oh So Sharp drew in a slow breath. The air already carried the first razor edge of autumn, but she paid it no mind. Her beautiful eyes were fixed tightly on Seiun Ryoka.
Not far away, Triptych—who had only recently announced her move to the Dream Trophy series—walked over at an unhurried pace. She said nothing, simply coming to stand beside Oh So Sharp, basking in the pale golden sunlight while watching Seiun Ryoka's race.
This was the final battle of the Triple Crown, and also the longest of the three classics—the one that demanded the most of a horse girl's stamina and willpower. Naturally, the two veteran British horse girls cared about it a great deal.
Oh So Sharp was the empress who had burst onto the scene in 1985. Though she had long since transferred into the Dream Trophy, her attention to the Flash series had not diminished in the slightest. When she heard that Seiun Ryoka was simultaneously challenging both the British and American Triple Crowns, she had been so shocked her jaw nearly dropped.
Because of Seiun Ryoka, they had taken the initiative to look into the history of Japanese horse girls, and in doing so they came across the saying:
"The fastest horse girl wins the Satsuki Sho. The luckiest horse girl wins the Japanese Derby. The strongest horse girl wins the Kikuka Sho."
As the original model from which all those imitated Classic Triple Crowns had been born, the St. Leger Stakes was naturally the true touchstone of strength.
Could Seiun Ryoka, running a long-distance race for the first time, win again and claim yet another crown?
Triptych, unable to suppress her curiosity, finally broke the silence.
"Sharp," she asked, "you won the St. Leger back in '85. What do you think?"
Seiun Ryoka had chosen to front-run. Was that really the right call?
Ordinarily, in a race that tested stamina this harshly, leading from the front was the last tactic one should choose. Whether it was stalking, closing, or coming from behind, all of them should have been better than trying to dictate the pace from the front.
Yet there she was—silver hair flying in the wind.
Triptych frowned in confusion. Had Seiun Ryoka's strength already reached the point where she could lead this sort of race from start to finish?
Horse girls like that existed, certainly—though not as rarely as Triple Crown winners. Still, surely they only did that after confirming their aptitude for long-distance races, after training for it specifically, after building up enough confidence in their stamina to make such a move.
Who entered the St. Leger without ever having run a long-distance race and immediately chose to front-run?
In Triptych's view, Seiun Ryoka should never have gone to Australia. She should have stayed in Britain and found some long-distance race to run first, just to get a feel for that kind of distance.
Oh So Sharp stood there in silence. She wore her black hair long, and her tall, elegant figure gave off a chill, untouchable beauty that suited her name perfectly—like a blossom on a high peak, something to be admired from afar but never casually approached.
Just standing there, she radiated a pressure that was hard to put into words. That, perhaps, was the dignity of an empress.
After a pause, she finally spoke.
"The starting point is at the beginning of a long straight. Visibility is excellent, but the distance is so long that every horse girl has to distribute her stamina with extreme care. Normally, front-running is not a good tactic. Especially when she isn't even using a full breakaway lead to open the race."
Oh So Sharp thought the shape of the race was strange.
Choosing an escape-style strategy was one thing—there was nothing inherently wrong with that. If she had blasted ahead in the opening stretch, opened a decisive gap, thrown the pack into a panic, disrupted everyone's rhythm, then eased off in mid-race while carefully managing the distance between herself and the field, and finally unleashed a devastating finishing kick in the last four to six hundred meters—that would have made sense.
If she absolutely had to use a front-running tactic, that was how Oh So Sharp thought it should be done.
And if other styles were on the table, then any of the remaining three would have suited her better.
Stalking was clearly the best option.
Closing from just off the pace would have been second-best. Given how much fear the others felt toward Seiun Ryoka, she probably wouldn't have met much resistance in that position, so functionally it would not have been far off from stalking.
As for dropping to the rear and coming with a late charge? That would have worked too. She could have pressured the entire pack from behind, forcing them to run beneath that crushing weight until they cracked—or else executed a perfect kill shot in the stretch.
"The pace has been steady through the opening straight," the commentator said. "Seiun Ryoka's break from the gate was flawless, but she seems to have something specific in mind. Her front-running rhythm is remarkably restrained, and the field has come through the opening straight cleanly. They're about to enter the turn."
The race was turning out nothing like anyone had expected.
Whether it was the host, the commentator, or the crowd, no one could make sense of Seiun Ryoka's choice. If you were going to run from the front, then run like you meant to flee to the ends of the earth—why was she setting such a mild, measured pace?
Out of respect for her monstrous record, not a single person dared to openly criticize her. At most, some quietly wondered to themselves if this was because she lacked experience in real long-distance races.
Surely she couldn't be doing this on purpose—deliberately letting the others conserve their stamina, just so they could challenge her in the final stretch?
That would have been audacity on an entirely different level.
Even Symboli Rudolf and Sirius Symboli—both of whom could be considered widely experienced even among Japanese horse girls—had fallen into deep thought.
What exactly was Seiun Ryoka trying to do?
The conclusion they had reached was exactly the same as Oh So Sharp's, which only made the whole thing even harder to understand.
Seeing those two great veterans looking so grave, Daiwa Scarlet instinctively tugged on Agnes Tachyon's sleeve and asked in a low voice,
"Agnes-senpai, what's wrong with Seiun-sama? Do you have any idea?"
As one of Seiun Ryoka's most loyal admirers, Daiwa Scarlet absolutely trusted her. She was certain Ryoka had her reasons for doing this—but she couldn't figure them out at all, so she turned to Agnes Tachyon for help.
Gentildonna was curious too, though she refused to show it. She only quietly pricked up her ears.
Faced with the two girls' obvious concern, Agnes Tachyon's lips curled into a deeply mischievous smile. Crossing one leg over the other, propping her chin on the hand hidden in her oversized sleeve, she said:
"Well, they've already entered the turn, haven't they? You'll see the answer very soon."
From the look in her eyes, the rare researcher clearly had figured something out. But instead of saying it outright, she had chosen to become a riddler, as if the girls' growing anxiety was providing her with a delicious kind of pleasure.
That was basically inhuman, wasn't it?
The other six horse girls on the track didn't understand Seiun Ryoka's intentions either—but they were delighted.
If they could preserve their stamina until the end, then maybe, just maybe, an upset might appear. Whatever Seiun Ryoka was doing, it was to their advantage.
As for the possibility that Seiun Ryoka simply lacked aptitude for long-distance racing?
Not one of them entertained the thought, not even for a moment.
They had entered this race with the determination to challenge the highest peak. And if Seiun Ryoka was that peak itself, then how could she possibly possess such an obvious flaw?
Holding fast to that belief, the field swept through the turn one after another—
And then, against the crystal-clear blue sky, a dazzling streak of silver unfurled itself beneath the rushing wind.
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