Kyoto Racecourse was already roaring.
As Kuroha drove with Fujimasa March toward the venue's parking lot, he seemed to spot something, let out a soft "Hm?" and tilted his gaze.
Amid a cluster of obviously East-Asian spectators were quite a few foreigners, and even several foreign Uma Musume with distinctly different airs.
There wasn't the slightest pre-race tension on their faces.
Instead they wore an easy curiosity, laughing and chatting with their teams like tourists, [?] into the flood streaming toward the arena.
The Japan Cup entrants?
Kuroha understood.
The Mile Championship and the Japan Cup were only a week apart.
These challengers from all over the world had, at the latest, arrived in this far-eastern country a month ago, [?] to fully acclimate to the tracks and turf here.
Because the dates were so close, the entrants of this Mile Championship could hardly threaten their performance in the Japan Cup.
So they could come here in the lightest mood, to enjoy this rare, leisurely time that gathered some of the Far East's top Uma Musume.
"Japan Cup..."
Kuroha murmured, then let it go.
Detailed info on the Japan Cup entrants was being collected and organized by Aoi Kiryuin.
All of his focus these days still had to be poured into the battle before him—into Fujimasa March.
Beside him, the silver-white girl sat with eyes closed, conserving her strength.
She wasn't shaken by the mountain-roaring enthusiasm outside; she was wholly sunk in her own world.
An intangible aura was slowly condensing and climbing around her, fiercer and fiercer.
It was the calm before a storm, the sheathed edge of a blade.
In this way, she was syncing spirit, will, and body into their most perfect state.
The moment of battle was about to arrive.
...
"Ladies and gentlemen who've come from afar! Welcome to Kyoto Racecourse!"
High above the venue, the commentator's ringing, passionate voice boomed like thunder through the massive PA system,
igniting the fever of tens of thousands in an instant!
"Uoooooo—!!!"
After the customary welcome for fans from across Japan and the world, and thanks for their support—
There was no more small talk. Straight to business!
"Now! The pinnacle showdown that will decide who wears this autumn's Mile King crown—"
His voice surged, contagious!
"—G1, the Mile Championship, pre-race parade begins!"
"Let's welcome the first Uma Musume to enter—!"
With the commentary, [?] in the collisions of form, [?] who had shone at mile and even middle distances filed in, one by one, to the cheers of the crowd.
...
Inside the competitors' tunnel.
Oguri Cap, in her familiar winning outfit, breathed in rhythm, adjusting herself again and again.
As the start drew near, [?] body began to tense, [?] blood began to race.
This wasn't fear—it was excitement!
It was the primal joy of a top Uma Musume at the fierce fight to come!
She was about to meet, after nearly two years, the powerful rival who had once beaten her in her debut—the rematch with Fujimasa March.
That strange, fated feeling set her body—and even her soul—[?] to a rolling boil!
"Mm."
Just then, a figure slipped up beside her.
An Uma Musume in a black-green outfit.
The trademark "Dream" hachimaki on her brow had been [?] replaced by three sharper black bands, [?] with golden bamboo stripes.
"I didn't realize when we met on the rooftop—so you're Oguri Cap."
Aotake Memory leaned forward slightly with a breezy grin and offered the first greeting.
"You are?"
Noticing the newcomer, Oguri thought for a second, then [?] remembered at once: "That... police officer from a few days ago!"
"Mm!"
Aotake nodded firmly, then smiled and added, "But my name is Aotake Memory."
Oguri blinked, then looked at her with utmost seriousness and repeated, solemn as a vow:
"Okay, Aotake Memory!"
Seeing not a trace of perfunctory air in Oguri's expression, that pure, earnest tone made Aotake pause.
Then she put both hands to her waist and let out a helpless, proud little sigh.
"So this is the 'strongest active'... impeccable in strength and character both."
"?"
The gray-roan girl tilted her head, puzzled at the sudden sentiment.
"Thank you—for remembering my name so seriously."
Aotake drew in a deep breath, flushing every stray thought away.
Then her eyes snapped razor-sharp, [?] flaring with a soul-grabbing light!
An astonishing will to fight burst and rose off her like prairie fire!
"I really do appreciate it..."
Her mouth curled into a challenger's grin.
"—But I won't hold back!"
"I will—win this race with everything I've got!!!"
Oguri watched this high-spirited opponent and simply nodded, calm: "Ah. I'll be waiting."
"The next to appear—"
Right then, the brisk, soaring tenor rang out again: "The Uma Musume trained by that [Demon Virtuoso] [?] rider-trainer—"
"Even after losing the Yasuda Kinen by three lengths to Sakura Chiyono O, she never faltered! Now she comes back even stronger to challenge for the autumn Mile throne!"
"Third most popular—Aotake Memory!!!"
"Uooooo—!!!"
From beyond the tunnel, a tidal cheer crashed in on cue, [?] answering the arrival of this [?] victor.
"Well then, I'll go first!"
Aotake waved to Oguri with a carefree flourish and strode toward the blazing light.
"..."
Watching Aotake's figure fade into the glow, Oguri was silent a moment; the smile dimmed from her face, [?] growing solemn.
She slowly turned to the deep dark behind her.
"Tap—tap—"
From the quiet end of the tunnel came steps—unhurried, crystal clear.
Each one [?] seemed to tread the drumbeat of a heart.
A figure emerged from the dark.
She wore a silver-white racing uniform. Her long silver hair flowed like moonlight; her ruby-crystal eyes were so calm they hardly rippled, and yet seemed to see through all things.
"Fwa—!"
Light condensed to the limit all but turned liquid around her, [?] with [?] force and swept out in a rush!
It was Fujimasa March.
Bmmm—
As if roused by that overwhelming power, black streams rose around Oguri as well.
The two locked eyes, [?] without words.
Air froze. In the tunnel, only their breathing remained, along with the increasingly rabid roar seeping in from outside.
They were so different—and so alike.
One "monster," born simply to run.
One "storm," running to answer every expectation.
Two years hadn't dulled their fate—it had tempered it sharper.
"I've finally waited for this day, Oguri."
Fujimasa March spoke first—her voice even, but absolute.
Oguri slowly clenched her fists.
"Mm."
One syllable held everything.
"Next up! It's her! Since transferring to Central from the local Oi track, she's swept the circuit like thunder!"
The commentator's cry shattered the hush between them!
"The triple queen of South Kanto! The conqueror of the Osaka Cup! With flawless strength she's proven that neither dirt nor turf can halt her stride!"
"She is the silver storm from Kasamatsu—who ravaged Oi, then descended upon Central!!"
"Second most popular—Fujimasa March!!!"
Fujimasa March drew back her gaze, [?] a lone silhouette gliding past.
"See you on the course."
She didn't look back—one step, another, steady toward the stage that was hers.
Now, in the long tunnel, only Oguri was left.
She could hear her heartbeat, louder and louder, [?] to all sides.
She shut her eyes and drew a deep breath.
Aotake's challenge. March's declaration. Berno Light's hope. Trainer Ginjirou's charge...
Everything boiled down to the purest desire.
—To run.
—To run freely with the strong!
"Last to appear—the legend who needs no introduction!"
"The Uma Musume who draws every eye, the one hailed as the strongest active—the Monster herself!"
"Most popular—Oguri Cap!!!"
Oguri's eyes snapped open.
In them rose gray tracer-light, enough to swallow all.
She stepped out—toward the arena where all eyes waited.
(End of Chapter)
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