"Absolutely extraordinary! Kitasan Black dominates the race once again with an outside placing over the entire field!"
The commentator's excited voice echoed through the broadcast.
"Second place goes to Kiwami. A heartbreaking loss of speed in the final stage cost this queen her last chance."
No one could have predicted this before the race began — the Mile Queen, defeated by a newcomer, and in such utterly decisive fashion.
If Kiwami hadn't faded at the end, she might have crossed the line within ten lengths. But there was no room for "if." Kiwami's final result was twelve lengths behind first place.
A devastating loss for the Mile Queen.
Kitasan Black had used this queen as a stepping stone to prove herself once more. Even against a proven, first-rate veteran uma musume, she could run times that shattered course records.
All anyone could do was bow their heads and admit it: Strong. Kitasan Black, you are terrifyingly strong.
Kiwami crossed the finish line.
Her hair fell across her face, hiding her expression.
The rest of the field trickled in behind her. Because of her late-stage fade, she'd nearly lost second place entirely.
The Mile Queen had been crushed on her home turf.
Anyone with eyes could see it — Kiwami and Kitasan Black weren't even in the same league.
Kiwami braced her hands on her knees, hair tangled and plastered across her face. Sweat poured off her like rain. A fire seemed to burn inside her chest. Each ragged breath came out hoarse, as if she couldn't quite get enough air. Her entire body trembled.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Her body had been pushed to the absolute limit.
But the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish in her heart.
The stands were filled with cheers — all directed at Kitasan Black.
"Kitasan Black, you're incredible!"
"I adore you, Kitasan Black!"
"I'll be at your next race too! Keep it up, Kitasan Black!"
Listening to those voices, Kiwami felt something she hadn't felt since that day years ago when she'd lost to Gentildonna in the Graded Stakes — that feeling of having to clamp her teeth together with everything she had just to keep from crying.
She'd lost.
On her best track. At her best distance. Even after breaking through her own limits — total, complete defeat.
Was there anything more painful than this?
She'd never imagined that in her semi-retirement, a spur-of-the-moment decision would lead to such a miserable ending. Could she even still call herself the queen of this track?
It hurt. It hurt so much.
She'd thought she was used to losing by now — that even in defeat, she could pick herself back up right away.
But knowing that Kitasan Black was a newcomer from the same generation as her little sister, a debut-level racer who hadn't even been active for a full year... she simply couldn't contain this feeling.
Regret flooded her heart.
Why did I even enter this race?
The question echoed in her mind over and over.
If she hadn't entered, maybe she wouldn't have suffered such a humiliating defeat. Maybe she could have graduated from the Flash series with a record she could be satisfied with.
(Shut up!)
It was her own arrogance. Her own failure to see where she really stood. That's why she'd lost.
(Shut UP!)
Kiwami couldn't stand the voice inside her own head.
Losing this race was agonizing — painful enough to bring tears, painful enough to suffocate her.
But what she truly couldn't accept was the cowardice of her own inner voice.
What do you mean, she shouldn't have entered? What do you mean, she could have graduated with a better record?
That kind of thinking—
That kind of thinking—
She absolutely refused to accept that as her true feelings!
She'd lost the race, yes. But she hadn't lost her pride as an uma musume!
Sure, but can you still run? Can you still chase her down?
(Who do you think I am?!)
Kiwami challenged that voice within herself.
(How many times do you think I've lost? How do you think I've made it this far?!)
She'd win next time!
And if not next time, then the time after that! Or the time after that!
As long as she could still run, she would never give up!
That was Kiwami's way!
That fierce resolve showed her the location of "the door" — and standing there, she saw her younger self.
I've been waiting for you.
(...)
Kiwami stepped forward and pushed the door open.
She needed power. Greater power.
To reach victory!
A dark blue flame surged from Kiwami's left eye.
In that instant, the queen finally arrived in the world of the Supreme Domain.
(So this is...)
The world where those two lived.
She thought of her generational rival.
Only after truly entering this realm did she finally understand the gap that had always existed between herself and them.
But her rivals were no longer limited to those two. There was also—
Just as Kiwami raised her head to look for her opponent—
She saw Kitasan Black walk past her with a completely indifferent expression.
Those cold eyes hadn't even registered her existence.
(—!)
She... didn't even notice me?
The joy and confidence of having just entered ZONE went cold in an instant.
Kiwami tilted her head back.
Her frantic breathing had calmed.
But her heart was anything but calm.
The moment she'd seen Kitasan Black's demeanor, she'd understood — her opponent hadn't even been serious.
"Damn it!"
...
The competitors filed out in silence.
No one knew how many runners' confidence had been shattered by this race. More than a few trainers wore dark expressions, already worrying about how to rebuild their charges' spirits.
Up in the stands, the uma musume spectators watched with complicated expressions. It had been a spectacular race, certainly — but they couldn't share in the crowd's excitement.
Because Kitasan Black was simply too strong.
If they were ordinary spectators, all they'd need to do was cheer along with everyone else. But they weren't ordinary spectators. They were uma musume — competitors who would have to face that monster on the track. And that made it impossible to stay calm.
Seriously?
They were going to have to race against that?
Wasn't that just guaranteed defeat?
...
Up in the stands.
Tokai Teio asked: "McQueen, what do you think?"
Mejiro McQueen didn't answer.
Her mind was still stuck on the skill Kitasan Black had used at the very end.
What was that?
Why had she seen what looked like... another version of herself?
Was that her skill?
But that couldn't be right. She did have a skill that looked similar, but it wasn't like that.
Something was off. Very, very off.
But if it wasn't her skill, then it was far too similar to be a coincidence — like identical twins.
And if Kitasan Black had copied and learned her skill? That didn't make sense either. How could an imitation be stronger than the original?
Tokai Teio gave her friend a puzzled look. "McQueen, I'm talking to you."
"I'm using my eyes, don't bother me! Let me think!"
Mejiro McQueen had absolutely no patience for conversation right now.
If it were just a matter of someone else using her skill, she could let it go.
But the real problem was that it looked like an upgraded version of her signature technique. Who could possibly stay calm after seeing something like that?!
How is that fair?
You plagiarize my skill and I'm supposed to deal with it — but you went and developed an upgrade behind my back?!
You have got to be kidding me!
McQueen's mental state was no better than the competitors who'd actually lost the race. The agony was unbearable. A mask of suffering settled over her face.
If Kitasan Black had truly imitated her and then produced this enhanced version... McQueen felt she might genuinely be too distraught to eat sweets.
But how could she learn the truth? Ask Kitasan Black directly?
No — did she even want to know?
"This is infuriating!"
McQueen's teammates stared at her shifting expressions in bewilderment. What's gotten into you, McQueen? Kiwami lost, not you.
...
On the other side of the venue.
Orfevre watched Kitasan Black's retreating figure.
After a long silence, she turned and walked toward the exit.
Her clenched fists told the entire story of how unsettled the Tyrant truly felt.
She'd looked down on Kiwami, believing she could beat the Mile Queen without even trying seriously. But she wasn't confident she could dominate to this extent — and that realization was hard to swallow.
She was a king.
She was supposed to be the one who was challenged.
How could she allow herself to feel this way?!
For one brief, terrible instant during that race, she'd felt fear. Fear that she might lose to this newcomer.
Ridiculous!
She was meant to reign supreme. Fear was unacceptable!
Even when she'd lost at the Arc de Triomphe, she hadn't felt anything like this. That loss had brought only regret — regret at not performing her best. Deep down, she'd always believed that if she truly wanted it, she'd win next time.
But just now, for the span of a heartbeat, she'd thought she might not be able to beat this newcomer.
What kind of joke is that?!
(I was... afraid?)
Unforgivable!
Both the cowardly thought — and the newcomer who'd inspired it!
Know your place!
She was the challenger! I am the one and only king!
I will not lose!
Never!
If that newcomer truly dared to challenge the king's glory, she would make absolutely certain that girl never walked away in one piece!
(I am the strongest!)
Nearby, Gentildonna watched the commotion on Orfevre's side. Her smile became radiant.
"Ara~ It seems someone's getting anxious."
Others might not have noticed. But she and Orfevre knew each other too well — they'd been rivals for too long. There was no way she'd miss the fact that Orfevre was shaken.
And rightfully so.
If Kitasan Black had merely been a junior before this race, then after it, she was unquestionably their rival. A powerful enemy capable of putting immense pressure on both of them.
Gentildonna admitted it: even if she had run this race, she probably couldn't have beaten Kiwami this effortlessly. She could win, yes — but to win by this margin on Kiwami's home track? She couldn't be confident of that.
Like Orfevre, Gentildonna had entertained, just for a moment, the possibility of her own defeat.
But her mood remained relaxed. Enjoying the race, believing in herself at all times — that was her way. She wasn't as easily rattled as Orfevre.
"Hehe. I never got to see your face after the Arc de Triomphe, but it looks like I'll get to see that adorable expression of yours after all, Orfevre."
She'd originally wanted to be the one to do this — to push Orfevre to the edge herself. But she hadn't been fully confident she could beat the current Orfevre. Her trainer had also advised against a direct confrontation — ZONE clashing with ZONE was simply too dangerous, especially when both of their ZONEs were the aggressive-offensive type. One wrong step and both of them could end up injured.
Gentildonna respected her trainer too much to force the issue. She'd been ready to give up the idea of settling things with Orfevre.
But now...
After watching this race, she wasn't sure she could hold back any longer.
"What a dilemma. I wonder if I can convince my trainer."
If all she could do was watch Kitasan Black and Orfevre settle things without her, that would be unbearable. A race this thrilling — she wanted in.
...
"That girl's strength is truly frightening."
Maruzensky stood beside Symboli Rudolf, shaking her head.
Rudolf stood with arms crossed. Beneath her seemingly calm expression, her thoughts were anything but steady.
She knew Kiwami's level well enough. When she'd first seen Kiwami's name on the entry list, she'd expected a tight, exciting race between the two.
But this?
Kiwami had been suppressed from start to finish, never once lifting her head above the pressure.
In the final 200 meters, Kiwami couldn't even maintain her speed — an extremely rare sight in a mile-distance race.
Yet in both of Kitasan Black's races at this level, she'd successfully pushed every other competitor to their physical breaking point. And the method was simple: she smashed the course record by such a wide margin that anyone trying to keep pace had to sprint at full power.
It was like a marathon runner going all-out in a 100-meter dash — even with their superior endurance, that level of exertion would drain them completely. The underlying principle was the same.
Kitasan Black had simply accelerated the tempo of the entire race. So fast that anyone who wanted to compete with her had to run at their absolute limit just to stay in contention.
"..."
Rudolf didn't even know what to say anymore.
She'd seen every kind of uma musume imaginable. But one like this? Never.
No flashy arsenal of skills. No ZONE.
And yet — overwhelmingly, absurdly powerful.
...
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