Early that morning, Kitasan Black was discharged from the hospital after spending the night under observation.
The medical report said she was perfectly healthy, but she wasn't about to doubt what her own body had told her. Health came first—if she ruined herself just from racing, that would be trading something priceless for something far less valuable.
To her, the outcome of a single race wasn't worth gambling her well-being over.
She gave her body a light stretch after lying around for half a day, then decided to simply run back to Tracen Academy.
"If I head back now, I'll make it just in time for breakfast."
...
At the Tracen Academy dormitory, Satono Diamond glanced instinctively at the bed across the room the moment she woke up.
Getting into Tracen had also given her the chance to room with Kitasan-san, but since the semester began, the two of them hadn't had a single real conversation.
Satono Diamond had steeled herself to take the initiative—to play the long game if necessary—but Kitasan Black's sudden debut had caught her completely off guard.
Now Kitasan Black was a GI uma musume. Not just nationally ranked, but world-class.
The distance between them felt like it was only growing wider. Getting closer to Kitasan Black's world seemed harder than ever.
"Kitasan-san…"
The whisper barely left her lips.
...
The instant Kitasan Black set foot back at Tracen Academy, she made a beeline for the cafeteria. Hospital food was far too healthy for her taste.
The serving uncle behind the counter had just finished piling a fresh round of refills for Oguri Cap when Kitasan Black materialized at the window, tray in hand, like she'd teleported there. His expression shifted dramatically.
You're kidding me. Another one? His hand trembled on the ladle.
He wasn't just the server—he was one of the cafeteria's cooks, too, and he held a deep and reverent fear of the monsters that attended this academy.
"Hey, don't let your hand shake like that! Fill it up!"
Kitasan Black spotted his trembling grip immediately and voiced her displeasure without hesitation.
The uncle's face went blank, his movements mechanical but practiced, as he built a small mountain of food on her tray. Only then did Kitasan Black carry her breakfast off to find a seat, satisfied.
Before digging in, she pulled out her phone and checked her bank balance. The moment she saw the deposit, her appetite surged.
Winning races really was satisfying! Especially when you looked at that payout—this was the joy of competitive racing.
"Itadakimasu!"
Putting her phone away, Kitasan Black dove into her meal.
As she started eating, other students who'd just finished their morning training filed into the cafeteria. Spotting her, they couldn't hide their surprise.
Just recently, everyone had been worried sick about her condition. Nobody knew the details of her illness yet.
The doctor's examination had shown that Kitasan Black was in excellent health—but that was precisely why the results hadn't been made public. If that got out, people might assume Kitasan Black had faked being sick to dodge the Winner's Stage.
The doctor himself had reservations. When she'd first been brought in, Kitasan Black hadn't looked like she was faking at all. That deathly pale face, the cold sweat soaking her entire body—no ordinary acting could produce something like that.
That was exactly why, despite the clean bill of health, the doctor had recommended she stay overnight for observation.
But Kitasan Black had recovered remarkably fast. She'd been back to normal by last night and had jogged out of the hospital on her own this morning.
"Kita-chan, is your body really okay now?"
Haru Urara set her tray down across from Kitasan Black.
As Tracen Academy's little ray of sunshine, Haru Urara could get along with just about anyone on campus.
Kitasan Black didn't treat her coldly either—after all, Urara wasn't her rival. Sure, they might technically face each other in a race someday, but Urara-senpai was a legend of zero victories.
If anything, Kitasan Black felt that Urara-senpai approached racing with a resolve entirely different from everyone else's.
She swallowed the food in her mouth before answering. "Yeah, as you can see, I'm fine now."
"That's good to hear! When we heard you'd been taken away in an ambulance yesterday, everyone was really shocked."
"Is that so? Well, it really wasn't a big deal."
Kitasan Black didn't think much of it. Honestly speaking, she didn't have many friends at Tracen Academy.
Urara-senpai wasn't exactly a friend either—just a kind upperclassman, that was all.
As for Kobayashi Reki…
She hadn't seen that girl more than a handful of times since the semester started, and even those had been passing glimpses at the training grounds.
Probably because Reki had entered from a regular elementary school, her training schedule was packed tight.
And if Kitasan Black's guess was right, Reki was still looking for a trainer.
That meant Reki would need to put on a strong showing at the next mock race for newcomers—that was the only way to attract a trainer's attention.
Not everyone could get away with what Kitasan Black had done, grabbing some random placeholder trainer just to get through races.
The academy instructors could only teach so much. If an uma musume wanted to truly grow stronger, a trainer was indispensable.
A good trainer had access to a complete skill training manual and a wealth of racing experience.
That was precisely why Kitasan Black hadn't considered pulling Reki into her own team. She genuinely didn't know whether her own trainer had that kind of coaching ability.
Better to let Reki find the trainer who was meant for her. That was the best choice.
Not that Kitasan Black couldn't moonlight as a trainer herself—borrowing Teio-senpai's template would make that perfectly doable.
After all, Teio-senpai was a genuine genius. She'd lost to McQueen-senpai on the track, sure, but in life skills she was leagues ahead.
McQueen-senpai had a habit of learning things just well enough and then abandoning further improvement.
But Teio-senpai was almost obsessive—she wanted everything she did to be perfect, to be ultimate.
Still, Kitasan Black had no intention of doing that. It was exhausting, okay?
Mimicking the senpais' mannerisms and bearing was one thing—that cost almost nothing. But actually using their abilities was a different story entirely.
Even if it wasn't a racing ability—just some everyday life skill—the same principle applied.
To pull it off, she'd have to devote her entire being to replicating every detail of their movements.
...
While Kitasan Black chatted idly with Urara-senpai over breakfast, countless eyes in the cafeteria were fixed on them.
The stares were so dense that even Urara noticed, but Kitasan Black maintained her air of complete indifference.
"Kita-chan, you really are amazing."
"Hm?"
Kitasan Black didn't understand what Urara-senpai meant.
"I guess so. Nothing special."
She assumed Urara was talking about her racing strength, so her mind immediately went to her senpais.
Sure, in this world she was strong—no denying that. But compared to the senpais, she still had a long way to go.
"I'm going for seconds. Want to come, Urara-senpai?"
"N-No thanks!"
Urara-senpai declined the invitation with haste.
Kitasan Black shrugged and headed for the serving window with her tray. Compared to the self-service counter on the other side, she preferred the staffed window—it was more efficient.
The moment she stood up, Oguri Cap rose from her seat on the other side of the cafeteria.
Their eyes met in a silent collision, and both quickened their pace.
(I have to get to the window before her!)
The loser would have to wait for the next batch of food!
Behind the window, the serving uncle watched the two monsters approaching. The entire kitchen descended into panic.
Please, don't come over here!
And trailing behind those two, Special Week entered the battlefield.
Today's kitchen was destined to be another day in hell.
...
After breakfast, Kitasan Black had planned to skip class as usual, but she got caught by a teacher while passing the central fountain.
She skipped class often, but whenever a teacher actually caught her, she'd obediently go back. Faced with this problem child, the teacher honestly couldn't decide whether she was well-behaved or not.
On days when Kitasan Black showed up for class, the mood in the classroom mysteriously lifted—except for one girl in a cap.
(Ugh! Why do I have to sit behind this monster?!)
Takao Shuneichi's condition today: Worst Condition.
She kept thinking about how Kiwami-nee had locked herself in her room after that race, and it was like staring into her own dark future.
Before long, news of Kitasan Black's discharge leaked out through the student grapevine.
The official channels didn't release the hospital results—they simply stated that Kitasan Black's condition had improved.
And so the internet's chorus became unanimous: Congratulations to Kitasan Black on conquering the Tenno Sho and on her recovery!
Gentildonna, currently deep in special training, saw the news too. A blazing smile spread across her face.
She'd been worried Kitasan Black might miss the upcoming stage. That would have been disappointing.
But of course—Kitasan Black wasn't the type to be knocked out so easily.
"Hah…"
Gentildonna set down her phone and returned to her terrifying strength training.
She might look like an elegant young lady, but Gentildonna was a true power-type racer.
Even the Tyrant couldn't match her in raw strength. Back in their era, only Gold Ship's power could rival—or even exceed—Gentildonna's. But Gold Ship had never awakened ZONE, and that was the decisive gap.
Gold Ship's performance was also wildly inconsistent, swinging dramatically based on her mood. That was one of her biggest weaknesses.
Orfevre had a similar issue, but Gold Ship still took the crown in that regard.
At least Orfevre showed up when it mattered. Gold Ship, on the other hand, treated most races like a game.
That was exactly why Gold Ship had lost so many times. Their resolve was simply different.
...
In her own territory, Orfevre also saw the news of Kitasan Black's discharge. Her eyes were frigid enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.
She'd admit she lost the Tenno Sho (Autumn). But that didn't mean she was going to accept defeat.
As long as Kitasan Black kept racing, Orfevre's pursuit of revenge would never stop.
Kitasan Black's assessment of the Tyrant had been spot-on: Orfevre was a petty, grudge-holding uma musume through and through.
Back when she'd lost at the Arc de Triomphe, the moment she'd heard the champion might be coming to run the Japan Cup, Orfevre had immediately gone to claim her revenge.
It was only because Venus Paques hadn't entered the Japan Cup that time. Otherwise, Orfevre would have absolutely gone after her.
...
In Team Spica's activity room.
Okino wore a helpless expression as he registered Gold Ship for the Japan Cup.
"You really need to think this through. Kitasan Black has won every single race she's entered so far—convincingly. You understand what that means, right?"
As a trainer, Okino desperately wanted to avoid Kitasan Black's race schedule entirely.
That kind of monster couldn't be beaten through special training or sheer fighting spirit alone. She was already standing at the summit of all uma musume.
All Kitasan Black lacked now was fame—but no one questioned her ability anymore.
To produce those results in a GI race—and one where the Tyrant herself was competing—was nothing short of terrifying.
But he also knew: Gold Ship was absolutely not the type to listen to reason.
Sure enough, after a moment of contemplation, Gold Ship broke into a grin.
"Don't be so gloomy, Trainer. You should be happy for me! My condition really is bouncing back."
"…"
Okino had nothing to say.
Because Gold Ship was telling the truth. Her training performance today had been noticeably better than before.
The Tenno Sho must have sparked something. Okino couldn't understand how Gold Ship's condition worked, though.
She'd claimed she was in her decline period, but her body was physically fine. This wasn't the kind of decline he understood—the kind caused by old injuries and their lingering effects.
Still, recovery was recovery. He just couldn't comprehend why Gold Ship would voluntarily throw herself at someone who'd crush her.
But Gold Ship's real target wasn't Kita-chan at all. The one she truly wanted to beat was Gentildonna.
Everything she'd lost before—she was going to win it all back, riding this power that was growing more familiar by the day.
"Well, I can't say I don't understand how she feels," Mejiro McQueen chimed in. "Even when the opponent is overwhelmingly strong, seeing someone like that still makes you want to test yourself against them."
Tokai Teio and the others nodded in agreement.
True. Fear was natural—but the desire to challenge that towering peak burned even stronger.
Okino looked at the lot of them and couldn't help but sigh. "Give me a break."
If all of them wanted a crack at Kitasan Black, he could already picture how catastrophic the future would be.
It wasn't that he was underestimating his own racers. He simply had no confidence that any of them could beat Kitasan Black.
The gap in ability was just too vast.
...
Meanwhile.
A certain uma musume who had just finished her second race received a phone call from her master.
"Duramente, give up on racing in Japan. I'll ask my contacts in France to get you placed in races over there."
Duramente hadn't expected this to be the reason for the call. She fell silent for a long moment before answering.
"I'm sorry, Master, but right now—I want to stay here!"
"I see… Then do as you wish."
Duramente's master didn't push further. She knew it would be pointless.
After all, she'd been that age once. She understood exactly what her student was feeling.
"Then let me leave you with one last piece of advice, Duramente. Only the uma musume who's still standing at the very end is the truly strongest."
"…"
Duramente looked confused.
She didn't quite understand what her master meant by that. Not yet.
...
Without Kitasan Black even realizing it, she had become the eye of a storm engulfing the entire Japanese racing world.
The impact she'd created had grown into a once-in-a-generation tempest.
Even internationally, more than a few uma musume and fans had taken notice of her existence.
"So this is the Far East's new talent this year. She's strong."
And in the midst of all this—
The next race was about to begin.
...
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