Chapter 38: The True Winner’s Stage

Chapter 38: The True Winner’s Stage

After Kitasan Black’s race ended, there were still five more events to go, but Makoto didn’t stay to watch them.

While the announcers and audience could already tell that this race was noticeably faster than usual for its class, Makoto knew it even more clearly.

He had calculated it the moment the race ended—compared to her debut, Kitasan Black’s speed this time had increased by 0.4 meters per second. That might not sound like much, but in the world of high-speed Umamusume races, that was a significant improvement.

Not only that, the track this time was 200 meters longer than her debut race, meaning it demanded even more stamina.

Even though he knew his Umamusume had exceptional physical prowess, he still couldn’t help but be concerned. So the moment the race ended, he headed straight from the stands to the medical wing.

Tagging along with him were Scarlet and Vodka.

They had come specifically to cheer for Kitasan and, with their experience, could also tell just how much energy the rookie must have spent in that race.

However, when they arrived at the medical wing, the three were surprised to find that Kitasan Black wasn’t there.

Just as they were wondering what was going on, an Umamusume happened to walk out of the examination room.

“Daiwa-senpai? Vodka-senpai?”

She paused briefly, then quickly bowed.

“Hello, senpais. And hello to you as well, sir. I’m Satono Rasen. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

After introducing herself, Rasen tilted her head in curiosity. “Did the three of you come to the medical wing for something?”

“Oh, so you’re Rasen. Nice work out there—the way you finished that race was really sharp,” Vodka said with a smile.

“Honestly, it’s a bit of a shame. If you had started your kick just a little earlier, you probably could’ve passed Kita-chan.”

“Kitan… you mean Kitasan Black?”

Rasen’s eyes widened slightly. She bit her lip, unconsciously clenched her fists… then relaxed them quickly.

“Are you here to see Kitasan Black?”

As she asked, her gaze instinctively drifted toward Makoto.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’m her trainer, Makoto Yasui. Pleased to meet you.”

Noticing the way she was looking at him, he added, “Has Kitasan finished her check-up already?”

A flash of surprise crossed Rasen’s face.

So he is Kitasan’s trainer… He really is as young as Crown and Diamond said...

“…Yes. The doctor said she’s in excellent health, there are no issues at all,” she replied, still stunned.

As she spoke, she once again clenched her fists, then let them go quickly. She raised her arm and pointed down the corridor.

“She took a phone call after the check-up and headed that way.”

“I have some things I need to take care of, so I won’t be able to walk you over.”

“Please excuse me.”

With a graceful bow, the Umamusume turned and left decisively.

Watching her retreating figure, Makoto let out a quiet sigh.

At the same time, two other sighs rose from beside him.

Exchanging glances with Scarlet and Vodka, he immediately understood—they were probably thinking the same thing he was.

He sighed again, then spoke nonchalantly:

“Let’s go. She went that way.”

The two Umamusumes didn’t say anything, only nodded silently and followed Makoto toward the lounge.

They’d expected to have to search a bit once they got there—but before they even reached the doors, a familiar, spirited voice rang out.

“Aa——matsuri da——aa——matsuri da——aa——hōnen no matsuri da——heiya heiya heiya—!”

The lyrics were simple and folksy. The voice was ethereal yet youthful. The melody, powerful and driving.

Normally, those elements together might sound a little awkward—but right now, the song radiated an energy that stirred the heart.

It was unmistakably Kitasan Black’s voice—and the song she was belting out was one of the most iconic tunes in Japan: Matsuri「まつり」.

Makoto knew this song very well. 

From childhood to now, every New Year’s Eve, whenever he watched the Kōhaku Uta Gassen with his parents, this song always came up as one of the finale performances.

In a way, the Kōhaku show was like Japan’s version of a New Year’s gala—and this song was absolutely on the same level of tradition as “Unforgettable Night.”

After Kitasan Black finished the first verse, the next line didn’t come from her—but from an old man.

He looked to be in his seventies, yet the strength in his voice was completely unlike what you’d expect from someone his age.

If Kitasan Black’s singing was like a songbird—clear and crisp—then his voice soared like an eagle: powerful and resonant.

And it wasn’t just the strength of his projection. Even someone like Makoto, who didn’t know much about music, could immediately tell—this man’s vocal mastery was on a completely different level. It wasn’t even close. He utterly outclassed Kitasan Black.

But Makoto wasn’t surprised. After all, this old man was none other than the original singer of Matsuri—a towering figure in the Japanese music world who had appeared on the Kōhaku Uta Gassen for 50 consecutive years: Saburo Kitajima.

As Makoto recognized him, so did the two Umamusumes beside him.

“That’s Kita-chan’s grandfather?” Scarlet blinked. “Why’s he—Oh! That’s right—she mentioned during lunch that her grandpa was coming to watch her race today.”

“That’s amazing!” Vodka beamed, practically bouncing in excitement. “I’ve only ever heard him sing on TV—and now I get to hear him live? This is incredible!”

Hearing that, Makoto could only nod in silent agreement.

When he was researching Kitasan Black, he’d naturally come across information about Saburo Kitajima as well.

Even without a deep understanding of music, it was impossible not to feel respect for the man.

It was thanks to pioneers like him—and his generation of artists—that enka, the soul of Japanese folk music, not only blossomed domestically but also reached global stages. Matsuri was one of its greatest representative works.

But it wasn’t just the music—Makoto was deeply moved by the man’s life story as well.

According to interviews, the old singer was born in a poor little fishing village in Hokkaido. His family made their living at sea.

From a young age, he loved singing. Chasing that dream, he left for Tokyo alone after graduating high school.

He never gave up. Step by step, he climbed to where he stood today.

Even if those interviews didn’t cover every detail, Makoto could imagine the hardship behind each step of that journey.

In one particular interview, when asked about the secret to his success—whether it was talent or genius—this is what the old man said:

“Me? I’ve never thought I had any kind of gift or talent. I’m no genius.”

“There are so many people out there with more talent than me. Over the decades, I’ve seen countless of them.”

“Compared to those true geniuses, all I’ve done is sing—day after day, over and over, without stopping.”

“Sometimes, I’ve even felt angry. Angry at those people with more talent, more energy, more time—wasting it all without care.”

“Why couldn’t they give some of that to me? I had so many things I still wanted to create with my voice.”

“But then I realized—‘talent’, ‘gift’, ‘genius’… all of that is something you dig out of yourself, bit by bit.”

“If you don’t, it’ll just be buried forever, no matter how much of it you have.”

“So I kept singing.”

“And one day—maybe by pure chance—I looked back.”

“My old friends, my rivals… I don’t know when they disappeared.”

“All that was left was this old man standing on what people call the peak of Japanese music.”

“And those same lazy, self-indulgent folks? They sit at the base of the mountain, pointing at me and muttering:

“‘Well of course he made it. He’s a genius.’”

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