Chapter 245: The Calm Gold Ship
Amid the clamor of the commentator and the roaring grandstands, the runner thundered into the turn like a gust of wind.
Cleats struck the track with dense, resounding impacts, like rapid war drums beating against everyone's heart.
The afternoon sunlight poured down, illuminating their agile forms. Sweat glimmered like crystals on their hair and tails.
As they sped forward, the formation of the pack constantly shifted, their figures weaving together in a blur.
In the fierce contest, a black-and-gold figure emerged with a slight advantage of about one length, charging ahead at the very front.
Her strides were light yet rhythmically powerful. Every push against the ground carried tremendous force.
Her short black hair and the black-and-gold Signature Racewear fluttered wildly in the wind, like flowing flames or surging waves, radiating an indescribable aura of dominance.
The runners following close behind were just as determined, each with unwavering eyes and clenched teeth as they pushed themselves to keep up.
Their breathing was quick and heavy, the warm air they exhaled instantly condensing into white mist in the cold wind of late December.
Among them, one runner with long chestnut hair was desperately trying to close the gap with the runner ahead. The tense lines of her muscles could faintly be seen beneath her skin, and every swing of her arms carried explosive speed.
Another runner with long black hair moved flexibly through the middle of the pack, her eyes burning with unyielding determination. Using her excellent cornering technique, she tried to slip past opponents along the inside line.
Before long, the entire pack gradually stretched into a long line as they exited the turn and charged toward the straight directly facing the grandstands, under the excited gaze of more than a hundred thousand spectators.
Audience members who had still been seated sprang to their feet, joining those who had already been shouting and cheering. Their eyes followed the racers tightly, and the flags in their hands waved even more fiercely.
The commentator's voice grew increasingly passionate. Almost shouting himself hoarse, he cried out:
"The grandstand straight! The field has entered the grandstand straight!"
"Let's confirm the positions!"
"Kitasan Black is still in the lead. About one and a half lengths behind her is Lia Fail, who caught up on the turn!"
"Gold Actor is now in third place, following closely—almost neck and neck with Lia Fail!"
"Behind them is Sounds of Earth. She seems to be looking around, searching for a path forward!"
"But in front of her is Lia Fail, diagonally ahead is Gold Actor, on the inside is Lovely Day, and on the outside is Marialite!"
"She's completely surrounded!"
"But she doesn't appear anxious for now. Sounds of Earth is very patient. We've only just entered the middle stage of the race—only just passed the 800-meter marker—she still has many opportunities!"
"And the most popular runner, Gold Ship, is still at the very back of the pack, but…"
The commentator's voice suddenly rose sharply when he mentioned Gold Ship, almost turning into a roar:
"Gold Ship is showing great patience today as well!"
"She looks composed—she looks calm!"
"She… is slowly closing the distance!"
The grandstands instantly erupted into deafening cheers.
In the next moment, wave after wave of sound surged like a massive tsunami, as if it might drown the entire racetrack.
Countless people raised banners with the name "Gold Ship" written across them, vigorously waving posters printed with her image.
Their faces flushed red with excitement, their eyes shining with fanatical enthusiasm.
Fans dressed in Gold Ship merchandise—wearing themed outfits, silver-gray ear accessories, and red-and-white collaboration coats—were jumping and shouting at the top of their lungs, as if pouring every ounce of strength they had into cheering for their idol.
"Gold Ship-sama!"
"Gold Ship will win!"
"Gold Ship, go!"
The slogans overlapped and echoed across the racetrack.
Some particularly excited fans even threw their hats, scarves, and gloves high into the air, forgetting all about appearances as they expressed their excitement and anticipation.
The children were also swept up by the electrifying atmosphere. Some sat on their fathers' or mothers' shoulders, while others boldly stood on the railings, waving their little hands and loudly shouting Gold Ship's name in clear, ringing voices.
Meanwhile, the racetrack cameras—and the cameras and video recorders of media outlets from all directions—were all aimed at the same subject: Gold Ship.
On the massive screen facing the grandstand, which stretched across most of the width of the stadium, one-third displayed a full overview of the field, another third showed detailed views of the runners from different angles.
The final third displayed a close-up of the tall Umamusume with silver-gray long hair and bright red Signature Racewear.
And on the screen, just as the commentator had shouted, Gold Ship—positioned at the very back of the pack—wore a calm expression, her steady gaze fixed forward. From head to toe, she radiated nothing but composure.
At the very front of the grandstand, her ears pressed tightly against the top of her head, Gentildonna wore a faintly teasing smile as her gaze swept around like a searchlight.
"That girl… really is incredibly popular."
"You'd think after making such a fool of herself at the Takarazuka Kinen and the Japan Cup, people would lose interest. Yet she still has so many fans who support her so loyally."
Her tone was filled with undisguised mockery.
At that moment, from the corner of her eye she noticed Orfevre beside her roll her eyes, her lips moving slightly as if muttering something.
Gentildonna paused for a moment before straightening her ears slightly and speaking again, her voice carrying not the slightest hint of apology.
"Oh dear, sorry about that. It was too noisy just now, so I didn't catch what you said… Could you repeat that for me, Orf?"
Orfevre rolled her eyes again, clearly having no intention of replying.
She turned her head toward the racetrack, crossing her arms over her chest. Her brows knitted into a deep frown as she first stared intently at the very back of the pack.
There, Gold Ship was calmly following the runners ahead, running alone at an unhurried pace.
After a moment, her gaze quickly shifted to the very front of the pack.
Still leading was Kitasan Black. Her small face was tense, clearly giving it her all—yet she still hadn't managed to open much of a gap from those behind her, maintaining only a little over a one-length lead.
Nodding slightly and pinching her chin, Orfevre fell into deep thought.
Having been closely watching Orfevre's changing expressions, Gentildonna also glanced at the back of the pack before shifting her gaze to the front.
She studied Kitasan Black, the current leader, for quite a while before nodding and offering her assessment:
"So that's the junior you've all been paying such close attention to?"
"In terms of raw power… she's certainly not to be underestimated. She's probably no weaker than me, and compared to a certain someone, she wouldn't lose out either."
Then a trace of confusion flashed across her eyes as she continued:
"But the way she's using a Solo Front Running strategy right now… with only that small of a lead—can she really secure victory?"
"And from what I know, didn't she use a 'Burst Front Running' style in some of her previous races?"
"So why didn't she run that way in the Kikuka Sho, and why isn't she using it in this Arima Kinen either?"
Hearing these questions, Orfevre remained silent, still standing with her arms folded in deep thought.
Seeing this, Gentildonna chuckled lightly and shrugged.
Meanwhile, Deep Impact, who had been watching them from the side, spoke up to explain:
"Actually, Kitasan Black isn't really suited to the 'Burst Front Running' tactic."
"Her instantaneous explosive power is indeed extraordinary—there's no doubt about that. It might even rival yours and Gold Ship's."
"The problem is that she can't maintain that kind of explosive output for a long period of time."
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