Let's go back in time to the moments just before the Maiden Race began.
Just as I had during her debut, I was perched in the very front row of the stands, my heart thumping as I waited for the gates to fly open.
Since today's race was held at the Fukushima Racecourse, we had arrived the day before to get settled. We'd made the trip in a car provided by the Tracen Academy; despite the long drive, Urara's spirits never flagged. She spent the entire trip chirping happily from the passenger seat, completely unfazed by the journey.
We stayed in a budget inn—the kind that barely fits within the school's expense account—but Urara treated it like a luxury vacation. I couldn't help but admire her nerves of steel; nothing seemed to faze her. It was, I realized, one of her greatest strengths.
And so, we prepared for the Maiden Race. Naturally, she was entered in a dirt sprint, but Fukushima's short-distance track is a unique beast—1,150 meters, slightly shorter than the sprints at other venues.
To make matters more complicated, the layout is irregular. It starts on a turf straight before transitioning into a dirt course mid-race. While the total distance is shorter than average, the opening straight is long, followed by a right-hand turn that leads into a punishingly short final stretch. Compared to the sprawling Tokyo Racecourse where Urara made her debut, Fukushima felt compact and claustrophobic.
Because the race was in Fukushima, the crowd was smaller than in Tokyo. Even so, over thirty thousand fans had packed the stands. Their collective cheers and sighs of disappointment are a universal language in the world of racing.
I pulled out the racing program to check the details one last time. Unlike her debut, Urara was starting from Gate 6 in the 6th bracket—a bit on the outside. It would be easier to run than the inside rail, but it was still a precarious position.
Then, I looked at the betting odds and let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle.
(Even after finishing ninth in her debut, she's the third favorite… People are rating her higher than I expected.)
Mini Daisy, who had finished fourth in that same debut race, was also running today, yet she was ranked lower as the fifth favorite. It seemed the public had noticed Urara's potential; they believed that if it hadn't been for the accident in her last race, she would have taken first.
I waited, lost in thought. A few minutes later, the fanfare echoed across the Fukushima Racecourse, and the announcer's voice boomed over the speakers.
"Grey skies hang over Fukushima today, but the rain is holding off for now. The track is officially declared 'Firm.' Race 4: a 1,150-meter dirt sprint. Nine runners are at the gates for this Maiden Race. We are moments away from the start."
I looked up at the sky. The weather had been beautiful for her debut, but today, heavy, suffocating clouds blanketed the horizon. There was no harsh sunlight, but the temperature hovered near thirty degrees Celsius, and the rising humidity sent a trickle of sweat down my brow.
It was a stroke of luck that the race was starting before the rain fell. Once dirt gets wet, it becomes heavy and cloying, turning a difficult surface into a treacherous one. Moreover, after Urara took a faceful of sand in her last race, I was worried about mud. Sand in the eyes is bad enough to cause a veer, but a direct hit from wet mud would end her race entirely.
I had warned Urara to be careful, but in racing, you never truly know what will happen until the gates open.
As I watched the sky, the announcer moved on to the introductions.
"Bracket 6, Gate 6. A bit of a surprise in the odds: the third favorite, Haru Urara. She's entering the gate with a bright smile for the cameras."