Time flowed like water, and soon, the day had arrived.
November 19, sunny, 8:00 a.m.
There were still seven and a half hours left before the Mile Championship.
Even with such a long wait ahead, the spectators had already turned into a surging human tide, pouring into the grand Kyoto Racecourse like tireless waves, one after another.
The Mile Championship, like the Tenno Sho (Spring),
If the Tenno Sho (Spring) decides the year's "Long-Distance Monarch,"
Then the Mile Championship is the pinnacle bout that decides the year's "King of the Mile."
Its prestige and pull are beyond doubt.
A 1,600-meter course is a perfect crossroads.
It's long enough for elite sprinters to test the stretch of their speed, and long enough for powerful middle-distance runners to probe the limits of their explosive force.
Thus, this race often gathers champions from every camp, clashing for this blinding crown of glory.
And this year's Mile Championship—thanks to the entry of several legendary Uma Musume—had already been dubbed by the media and the crowd alike as "the strongest ever."
...
At a rented training track near Kyoto Racecourse.
"Skrrrch—!"
With a crisp sound—grass and grit rasping together—Aotake Memory dug in to finish her warm-up steps.
Morning sunlight glazed the sweat along her cheeks, glittering back.
She took the water handed over by the assistant trainer, gulped twice, letting the chill slide down her throat and damp down that war-boiling heat.
"Pu-ha—!"
Letting out a satisfied breath, she passed the bottle back, then clenched both fists and, facing the empty track, shouted with everything she had:
"Fierce! Fight! Hot-blooded! Boiling!"
"Uwooooo! I'm in insanely good form today!"
Off the oval, Nase Eito held a tablet, calmly watching the figures scudding across the screen.
Hearing that from-the-diaphragm roar, he only flicked his eyelids up, then said in his flat, rippleless tone, "What's wrong—are you very nervous?"
"...Uh."
As if someone hit pause, Aotake Memory's blazing momentum froze.
She scratched her head, a touch sheepish, turned around, and showed a goofy, "you saw through me" smile.
"Haha... y-yeah, a little..."
She jogged over to her trainer, that outward-facing fervor reined in; in its place, a barely noticeable trepidation.
"Saying I'm not nervous would be impossible... because..."
She paused, her voice tinged with awe and yearning.
"That's Oguri Cap-senpai and Fujimasa March... both of them have G1 wins [while I]..."
Her voice dwindled to a murmur, a little unsure.
"...I don't have anything."
At that, Nase Eito finally lifted his gaze from the tablet. Those eyes—so calm they bordered on cold—rested quietly on her.
"A G1 record is historical data. It cannot determine today's result," he stated, plain as fact. "And also [you gui bai] 'don't have anything.'"
"Eh?" Aotake Memory blinked.
"In these six months, to catch up to them, you trained far beyond ordinary. And that 'King of the Mile' dream in your mouth."
Eito met her eyes and said softly, "Goals and dreams aren't forever out of reach. The power of the heart is an invincible prime mover~."
"..."
Aotake Memory stood there, dazed, staring at the trainer before her.
It was the first time this man—who believed only in data—had said something so... emotional.
"I..."
Her lips trembled. A heat hard to name welled up from her chest, blowing away every doubt and cloud.
She squeezed her fists tight. The flame that had guttered flared back to life in her eyes—hotter and clearer than ever!
Eito drew his gaze back, but added one more line:
"Besides, that Oguri Cap had no G1 laurels before last year's Arima Kinen either—and she still defeated Tamamo Cross, didn't she?"
Aotake Memory froze a beat, then snapped her head up. A sun-bright smile burst across her face.
"Thank you, Trainer! I get it now!"
"I'll carve my dream—my everything—into that track with my run!"
Watching his charge rekindled, Eito only answered with a light "Mm," and returned his eyes to the data.
But the assistant trainer nearby happened to catch, for the briefest instant, the legendary trainer's iceberg face curl at the lip—just a hair upward.
...
Elsewhere, inside a smoothly cruising sedan.
Oguri Cap had already changed into that familiar winning outfit and sat quietly in the back.
She looked out the window, watching the streets and buildings slip backward in a blur, but her gaze had no focus. Clearly, her mind was already elsewhere.
"What are you thinking about, Oguri?" came Berno Light's gentle voice at her side.
"...Hungry."
Oguri Cap came to, turned her head, and answered with the utmost seriousness.
"..."
Berno Light wore the exact "I knew it" expression, a helpless, doting smile softening her face.
"Okay, okay. After you run, I'll take you to that new all-you-can-eat yakiniku near the academy—eat to your heart's content."
"Mm!" Oguri nodded hard.
For her, that might be the best possible pep talk.
Up front, Ginjirou Musaka watched his proudest ace through the rear-view mirror.
"Oguri Cap, remember: don't think about any 'strongest active' labels, and don't shoulder anyone's expectations,"
Ever since talking with Kuroha, Ginjirou had worried about Oguri's mental state. He couldn't help repeating himself.
"You just do what you always do—feel the wind, enjoy the run. Then lay everything you have bare for everyone to see."
"...Okay."
She didn't fully get it, but Oguri nodded again and turned back to the window.
Far ahead, the grand silhouette of Kyoto Racecourse had come into view.
Through glass and insulation, it seemed she could already hear that mountain-roaring, sea-crashing cheer.
She slowly closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, all the haze and clutter were gone.
What remained was a clear, pure will to fight—something that looked ready to swallow everything whole.
March, I'm coming!
...
At the Nichihaku training ground.
Tatatata—!
Several Uma Musume pounded around the familiar lanes, running wild, splashing youth and sweat.
One sakura-haired girl looked a little tired. She eased down, walked to the rail, sat, and took a sip from her flask.
Sakura Chiyono O watched her teammates still flying along the track—their forms so poised, so brimming with hope for the future.
In her eyes, a complex shimmer rose—hard to name, harder to untangle.
Suddenly!
"Eep—!"
The pink-haired girl jolted. A warm, broad hand had stolen in at some point, gently catching her extra-sensitive horse ear, the pad of a thumb giving it a soft squeeze.
"Mm..."
Feeling that familiar, reassuring presence, Sakura Chiyono O's startle-tight body relaxed at once, [she shyly lowered her little head].
Beside her, Kuroha played with those cute, petite ears for a moment, then sat down at her side.
"Chiyono O."
"Ah—yes!"
At her name, Sakura Chiyono O straightened at once, [like a bashful, timid grade-schooler].
Seeing that adorable look, Kuroha smiled and reached out, ruffling her smooth, sakura-short hair.
"Have you been happy, these days?"
Sakura Chiyono O blinked, then nodded hard. A dazzling smile bloomed across her face.
"Mm! Training with Trainer and with Ardan and the others, [racing together], that's when Sakura's the happiest!"
"I see..."
Kuroha chuckled, rubbed her head again, then pinched her silky cheek.
Sakura Chiyono O didn't quite get why, but she still leaned into that warm palm, obedient and a little clingy.
Is that so...
Kuroha sighed in his heart. The smile on his face didn't change, but deep in his eyes, a light few could notice flickered.
The power of Body and Breath Perception rose within his gaze.
This time, he clearly saw what hadn't appeared before.
Around Sakura Chiyono O's body, [several ominous black streamers were coiling].
Like maggots at the bone, they were tightly bound to the seven-colored blessing of the Three Goddesses that should have been dazzling inside her.
Kuroha had seen this sight before.
On Sirius Symboli. On Noble Sovereign not long ago...
It was the sign that her peak period was about to end—[a precursor that the pending eruption was near]!
In the spring, when Sakura Chiyono O crushed the Yasuda Kinen with overwhelming power, Kuroha had made plans to seize momentum and vie for the supreme "Spring-Autumn Mile King."
But she surprised him by refusing, saying she only wanted to run the year-end Arima Kinen.
Before that, just run a few G2s or G3s to keep the edge.
Back then, Kuroha didn't understand why.
Now, he finally glimpsed the deep unease hidden under that radiant smile.
Last year's Derby "over-True Blooming" had nearly burned all of Sakura Chiyono O away.
If not for Kuroha's timely intervention, she would have had to retire on the spot after that race.
Even with his hand in it, the side effects of "over-True Blooming" hadn't fully vanished.
Power borrowed by spending the future returns cruelly—by brutally shortening an Uma Musume's competitive career.
Just like Tamamo Cross.
That horse girl, who once strictly controlled her race program, suddenly chose a mad string of G1s to close out her career.
Sakura Chiyono O was the same. [014810025飞卢003162420]
When that Yasuda Kinen was over, a primal premonition of "the end" nudged her to make that (Zhao de Zhao) decision.
...Only one race left?
Kuroha exhaled in his heart.
He let the power fade; the light left his eyes. What remained for the girl before him was
nothing but boundless tenderness.
He gently stroked Sakura Chiyono O's head. As she squinted happily, he suddenly said, "Chiyono O."
The pink-haired girl looked up with clear eyes. "What is it, Trainer?"
"After today's Mile Championship," Kuroha's voice was warm as water, "is there anywhere you want to go have some fun?"
Sakura Chiyono O blinked. She looked quietly at her trainer, at the unconcealed gentleness in his eyes, [and something wordless clicked in her heart].
She didn't press, didn't grow sad—she only smiled, as bright as ever.
"Mm! I have so, so many places I want to go!"
"Good,"
Kuroha smiled as well. "In fact—how about tomorrow!"
Just then, a silver-white figure walked over, wiping the sweat from her brow.
Kuroha turned his head.
"March, are you ready?"
Fujimasa March nodded, serious as a blade. [Full of confidence.]
"Perfect condition."
"Good. Then let's go." Kuroha stood.
Just as he was about to leave with Fujimasa March, Sakura Chiyono O spoke up behind them. She tilted her head, wore the most earnest smile, and called out:
"March, [you've gotta win]!"
Fujimasa March paused, then flashed back a confident, free smile.
"Relax."
"—I will take this victory!"
(End of Chapter)
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