Kitasan Black stepped out of the underground passage and squinted against the sudden brightness. The last conversation with her seniors still echoed in her mind—or rather, it was a question that had suddenly occurred to her two days ago.
"Um… Tokai Teio, I have a question. I had a dream, and it made me wonder—what were you thinking right before the Japanese Derby?"
At the time, not only Tokai Teio but the other seniors had been momentarily stunned.
"The Japanese Derby, huh…"
Tokai Teio smiled, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.
"The Winner's Stage, probably."
"Eh…?" Kitasan Black was caught completely off guard.
"Tokai Teio means," Gold Ship said with a laugh, "that even before the race, she was already picturing what would happen after she won."
"Well, something like that."
Tokai Teio clasped her hands behind her head, showing a playful side she rarely let outsiders see these days.
"And it wasn't just the Winner's Stage. I was also thinking about what I'd say when I met the President."
"Isn't that still about what happens after winning…?"
"By the way, Special Week, Vodka—what about you two?"
Ignoring Gold Ship's remark, Tokai Teio turned to the other two.
"Me and Vodka?"
Special Week tapped her chin thoughtfully, then pumped a fist.
"As for me… I was thinking about how to win."
"How to win the race?"
Kitasan Black's ears twitched. She couldn't help pressing further. "Then… what did you come up with, senpai?"
"It's just…"
Special Week grinned, using one hand to mimic the track and the other herself.
"Like, whoosh out of the gate, then swish and run, and finally, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh across the finish line. That's pretty much what I was thinking."
"Ah…?" Kitasan Black was stunned again.
"Typical of you, Special Week. Alright, my turn. Before the Japanese Derby, I…"
Vodka patted Special Week on the shoulder and pondered for a moment before smiling and pointing at Daiwa Scarlet.
"I must have been thinking that I absolutely had to beat her this time."
"Beat Daiwa Scarlet? But Daiwa Scarlet… didn't she not participate in that Japanese Derby?"
"Yes, but what does that matter?"
Vodka laughed. "I originally thought that if she won the Oka Sho, I would definitely win it back in the Oaks. But she caught a cold and couldn't participate, so I set my sights on the Japanese Derby. No Uma Musume had won this race in over sixty years. If I won, maybe I could turn things around. Anyway, that's what I was thinking."
To be honest, the seniors' answers had been completely unexpected. But after the initial surprise, Kitasan Black suddenly realized something.
The vastly different ways of thinking her seniors had described were exactly what she had just heard from Yasui Makoto.
No matter how the opponent runs, you must never forget your own rhythm.
She silently repeated the lesson in her heart, took a deep breath, and stepped onto the green turf bathed in the afternoon sun.
Instantly, the cheers from the stands mixed with the commentator's voice seemed to rush toward her as if they had taken physical form.
"The Japanese Derby is finally about to begin."
"Which Uma Musume will claim victory this year, and with what kind of running style?"
"Will it be Duramente, whose explosive final spurt at Nakayama Racecourse shook the entire venue? Can that speed erupt once more on the long final straight of Tokyo Racecourse?"
"Will it be Satono Crown, carrying her family's long-cherished wish for a G1 victory? Can she seize the championship in this heavyweight race?"
"Or will it be Kitasan Black, riding a winning streak and eyed as the potential undefeated dual-crown winner who stirred up a festival storm in the Satsuki Sho?"
The moment her name echoed across the racecourse, Kitasan Black's ears twitched involuntarily. The roar from the stands grew even louder, and her eardrums tingled slightly.
A faint shiver ran through her. She glanced over, her gaze sweeping across tens of thousands of spectators. For a moment her mouth hung slightly open before she finally looked toward the front, directly opposite the finish line.
Just as when she had walked toward the entrance of the underground passage, her seniors were already standing there, smiling and waving at her.
Yasui Makoto was waving too.
After waving, her trainer reached into the single-shoulder bag he never went anywhere without and pulled out a pair of binoculars. The motion was very familiar.
She smiled for no particular reason.
Nodding firmly toward those expectant, encouraging gazes, she took another deep breath just as she had when stepping onto the turf. Then she turned and walked toward the gate.
…
At 3:35 PM, the Japanese Derby's exclusive orchestral music played precisely over the Tokyo Racecourse.
The stirring music made the cheers swell as if they were fermenting, yet standing in the gate, Kitasan Black felt unusually calm.
No matter how the opponent runs, you must never forget your own rhythm… Respond to all changes with constancy.
Muttering the instruction, she slowly turned sideways, left arm across her front, right leg slightly back, settling into her starting posture.
Her eyes fixed straight ahead, quickly scanning the inner and outer track conditions, focusing on the upper edge of the closed gate.
Her ears twitched slightly and lowered a bit, filtering out useless noise as she concentrated on the commentator's cues.
"The most crucial race to determine the contemporary pinnacle—the Tokyo Yūshun, the Japanese Derby."
"Eighteen exceptionally talented Uma Musume, each carrying their own wishes, are poised and ready in the gates."
"Exerting every ounce of effort, waiting for the moment to claim honor with endless persistence…"
"Start!"
The instant the commentator's excited declaration rang out, her ear tips caught the sudden opening of the gate with perfect timing.
Kitasan Black's gaze sharpened. Every muscle in her body tensed, and her left leg—positioned in front—sprang forward like a released spring.
As her body launched ahead, she didn't forget to check left and right with her peripheral vision.
Her gate position for this race was number 17, the far outside—a noticeable disadvantage. Theoretically, cutting into a more favorable inner lane would require extra strides.
But there was more than one way to gain position right after the start!
In the blink of an eye, she assessed the situations of number 16 on her left and number 18 on her right. Without hesitation, she abandoned any attempt to cut inside and instead charged straight for the front from the outermost lane.
"Number 6, Personal Guard, had a slightly slow start, but the other Uma Musume had ideal starts."
The commentator reported the situation accurately.
"First to the stands: Number 1, Satono Rasen, and Number 3, Comet Mite quickly pulled ahead."
"Number 18, Tagano Espresso, and Number 14, Duramente simultaneously dashed toward the inside."
"Number 10, Ribbon Song bursts out! She chases Satono Rasen and Comet Mite… and overtakes them!"
"Currently, Ribbon Song is in the lead!"
"Kitasan Black has also surged forward! She didn't try to squeeze into the crowded inside; she charged directly from the outside!"
Cheers erupted from the stands, along with gasps of surprise at the chaotic start.
"Oh! Kita-chan's reaction is pretty good!"
Daiwa Scarlet nodded repeatedly.
"I was worried she wouldn't handle the far outside gate well, but I didn't expect her to choose to give up the inside for a positional advantage."
"Don't underestimate our junior," Vodka said with a laugh. "You haven't seen how hard she works every day. Besides, charging straight from the outermost lane is much cooler!"
"Cool… but…"
Silence Suzuka suddenly frowned.
"Kita-chan… doesn't look like she plans to take the lead?"