Bang!!
The lights shifted, and the gates snapped open.
That sharp crack of metal and spring sounded like a fuse being lit. In the next instant, the pent-up frenzy that had been building for who knows how long finally detonated across the Nakayama Racecourse.
Sixteen horse girls shot onto the track like arrows loosed from a bow.
"They're off! Nakayama, 2,500 meters, and the year-end showdown begins!"
The commentator's voice was stretched taut against the roar of the crowd.
"Let's see the fight for position in the opening, and-"
"Huh?! Trouble at the start! Number 10, Nirvana Rebirth, botched the break badly and drops straight to the rear!"
At the back of the pack, a girl dressed in black stumbled a half-step, her face frozen in disbelief as she watched the field pull away by several lengths in a blink. In a race like the Arima Kinen, missing the first scramble for a good lane and rhythm was the kind of mistake that made people's blood run cold.
And in that same heartbeat, another figure, startled but gritting her teeth hard, surged all the way to the front.
"Damn it…!"
On the turf, Wakaba Tobo felt the wind scream past her ears, and her mind went blank for a split second.
She was a natural Pace Chaser, the type who lived for claiming a comfortable forward spot and letting someone else break the air for her. Who would have guessed that several Front Runners, Nirvana Rebirth included, would all stumble out of the gate?
Instead, she'd become the awkward "lucky" one stuck in front.
In a 2,500-meter war of attrition, was she really going to try a Front Runner strategy she'd never trained?
There wasn't time to hesitate.
Wakaba's eyes hardened as she lowered her center of gravity. "No choice… At least I can stabilize the tempo!"
"Oh! An unexpected development!"
The commentator practically shouted. "Wakaba Tobo! Wakaba Tobo has jumped into the lead!"
"Wakaba Tobo is out in front! She's changing tactics on the fly at the Arima Kinen?!"
"In second is Yaeno Muteki, and half a length behind her, Mejiro McQueen is tucked away in third… Mejiro Ryan sits in sixth and doesn't look eager to chase yet."
…
At the very top of Nakayama Racecourse, inside the VIP observation room, a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the track.
"So relaxed, huh?"
The door had opened without anyone noticing. A neat, pretty girl with brown hair and blue-green eyes, a delicate hat perched on her head, strode in with a light, playful step.
She glanced down at the steady early pace, a hint of amusement curling her lips. "McQueen's really just sitting in that spot."
Everyone blinked and turned.
"Oh, Mr. C.B.? You came too?" Maruzensky's eyes lit up.
Symboli Rudolf didn't look away from the track. She watched Wakaba running out front and spoke evenly.
"I think she simply didn't expect to end up there."
"Looks that way."
"But she reacted fast and chose to hold the pace. That decisiveness deserves credit."
Mr. C.B.'s tone carried a faint nostalgia. "Somehow… seeing her from behind reminds me of an 'ace.'"
…
At that name, Symboli Rudolf's eyes narrowed slightly, and she fell into a long silence.
It was the only shadow in her undefeated legend.
Back then, in the Japan Cup, a horse girl named Katsuragi Ace had unleashed a world-shaking, all-or-nothing Great Escape when no one believed in her, blasting every so-called powerhouse off the track of destiny.
Even the "Emperor" at her peak could only watch that black silhouette tear through the finish-line glory.
Ace…
Just as Symboli Rudolf's thoughts sank deeper, a clear voice rang through the room.
"Or maybe the ACE of this race is someone else entirely."
They turned.
Kuroha stood there with his arms folded.
He wasn't looking at anyone. His gaze stayed locked on the course below, and a clean, almost airy smile hung on his face, the kind that somehow made it hard to breathe.
Mr. C.B. paused, her bright eyes flicking thoughtfully. With a grin, she leaned in, playing along. "Oh? So Trainer Kuroha has other ideas?"
Kuroha didn't explain.
Deep in his pupils, a transparent blue interface, visible to him alone, quietly unfolded.
[Mejiro McQueen]
[Surface Aptitude: Turf A, Dirt E]
[Distance Aptitude: Short G, Mile F, Medium S, Long S]
[Style Aptitude: Front Runner S, Pace Chaser S, Late Surger D, End Closer F]
[Unique Skill: The Duty of Dignity Calls Lv.5]
[Domain: End of the Sky!]
[Skills: Prudent Positioning, Concentration, Wet Conditions ◯, Professor of Curvature, Hydrate, Spring Runner ◯, Stamina Keeper, Lead Keeper, Mountaineer, Long-Distance Straightaways ◯…]
[Speed: 1284, Stamina: 1395, Power: 1218, Gut: 1265, Wit: 1342.]
"Just watch," Kuroha murmured.
Watch closely. This is what "unmatched under heaven" really means.
…
On the track, the wind hit like a wall.
Wakaba Tobo held her breath and gauged how her stamina was being spent. Before they even reached the first turn, as the improvised leader, she had to decide immediately.
She couldn't let it become a fast tempo.
Mejiro McQueen's stamina was monstrous. If Wakaba tried to grind her down in a battle of attrition, she'd only be digging her own grave.
Wakaba's mind spun at full speed.
Her only path to victory was to drag the pace down as far as it would go.
Save strength, then gamble everything on the final stretch. Bet on that one-in-ten-thousand miracle.
Yes. That was it. Press down the cadence, hold it, keep it-
Thud!!
A footfall like a muffled thunderclap exploded beside Wakaba's ear with no warning at all.
"You're too slow."
A cool, distant whisper, as if drifting in from the edge of the sky itself.
Wakaba's pupils shrank, her whole body jolting.
Purple hair whipped violently in the wind. A pristine race outfit, blue as the open heavens, gleamed brilliantly under the sun.
Too fast.
In a single instant, Mejiro McQueen became a streaking meteor. Before the bend, she surged past Yaeno Muteki with almost savage speed.
Then she didn't even spare Wakaba a glance.
From the outside lane, she cut in and ripped the lead away by force.
The gentle, measured rhythm was shredded in one stroke by that violet figure.
"What?!" The commentator's shout cracked.
"Mejiro McQueen! She didn't stay tucked in, she's launched an assault in the opening! She's taken the lead! Is she going to run at the front for the entire race?!"
On the turf, Wakaba stared at the violet back that opened a full length in an instant, disbelief trembling in her eyes.
That refined, elegant young lady was showing something far more aggressive than anyone expected.
The posture of a conqueror.
(End of Chapter)
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