Chapter 9

It was the evening rush hour. The sun, suspended above the blue roof, streamed down onto the vast racetrack. On the grass, surrounded by white lines, stood a solitary ash-colored girl.

With each stride, the seemingly inhuman girl moved forward at breakneck speed, her tail whipping violently around her rear end. Her silver hair, also ash-colored, whipped around wildly, creating a blurry, shimmering image from afar. The wind around her crackled and whistled.

The girl, who had maintained a brisk pace throughout the race, gradually slowed as she crossed the finish line.

"2 minutes and 18 seconds... How fast! And although she must be tired, she's steadily improving her time."

Tamamo clutched her knees, catching her breath. Takahashi watched her intently as he recorded the time on his stopwatch. Perhaps it was the result of intensive training, but perhaps it was her innate talent.

2 minutes and 18 seconds over the 2,200 meters on the grass racecourse. For a rider with no prior experience in graded racing, this is an impressive time.

"But..."

It's not enough to win the graded racing league. Perhaps in the G3 class? It's woefully insufficient for the G1 class. And even more so considering that this is training, not a real race. Because in a real race, several variables get in the way. Racing isn't simply about vying for a time record. Takahashi and Tamamo Cross's talent is anything but. They should have recorded times far superior to this...

"One more lap, flat out."

"How much more do you have to make me do this to satisfy me?"

"Again... again? I'm exhausted! How much?"

"You still haven't figured it out?"

"What the hell!"

It's already the twentieth lap. The acrid taste of blood rises in my throat, and my legs feel like they're about to collapse. I'm already at my limit.

Tamamo, who had endured thanks to the hellish training of the past few days, rebelled at the repeated and inexplicable orders to sprint. Her hair, drenched in sweat, stuck to the Volga.

Takahashi shook his head, sighing deeply as if the ground might give way.

"Why do you keep braking on the home stretch?"

"That's..."

"Come to think of it, you also slowed down on the home stretch of the last conditional race, right? You could have pushed yourself harder. Why?"

Tamamo's breath hitched at Takahashi's calm words. Tamamo averted her gaze and kicked the ground.

"It's nothing. It's just... I have a bad memory from before."

"Bad memory?"

"Yeah, a while back, I hurt my leg when my horseshoe broke while I was sprinting on the home stretch," Tamamo continued, looking down at her leg. Luckily, it wasn't a serious injury, but at the time, it really did feel like the end of the world. Because he felt like he'd never be able to run again.

"I don't know if it was trauma or something, but after that, I just couldn't regain my strength in the final stretch..."

"You call that an excuse?"

"What?"

Takahashi frowned and put his hands to his forehead. His furrowed brow and sharp gaze fell on Tamamo's stunned face. Shouldn't it be normal to offer comfort or encouragement in a situation like that?

"You can't run at full speed just because of that... It's a really lame excuse."

"W-well, I don't have any after-effects, but I was hospitalized because of it!"

"No matter what excuse you come up with, you're just afraid of running at full speed. How can you aim for the GL Championship with that mindset?"

"But if you practice a little more..."

"I don't have the freedom to wait for your ridiculous trauma to fully heal."

"Should I send you to a mental hospital?"

The vicious venom tightened in his chest, but he couldn't think of a retort. Tamamo lowered her head in silence, her clenched fists trembling.

"This is the last time. Run one more time. If this run leaves you without hope, you're out!"

"That... all of a sudden?"

"I've already scheduled your run. I don't have time to relax. And if you fight for such a pathetic reason, your determination will be nothing more than that."

"You..."

"If you're angry, run. Run and prove that what I'm saying is nonsense."

In an instant, their gazes met tensely.

Finally, it was Tamamo who turned first. She trudged to the starting line and silently stretched her legs. Takahashi also silently raised the stopwatch.

"3... 2."

A ragged breath escaped her throat as she pushed through the initial effort, slower than usual. Suppressing the tension burning through her, Tamamo assumed a ready stance. Focusing her gaze ahead, she saw a stark contrast to the scene of the race.

Moments before, she had nearly lost her temper and flown into a rage, but upon reflection, the man's words made sense.

"You're afraid of getting injured, you're afraid of running, so you can't give it your all."

For a runner who runs for a living, those words were no excuse. She had a desperate reason to run—no, to win. She wasn't running simply to please someone, like before. On reflection, it was simple. She just had to forcefully squeeze out the energy she'd always saved. It's not someone else's body; it's yours. What could possibly be difficult?

";1... Start!"

So you sprint without a second thought, with all your might. It's that simple.

"Hmph!"

The tension in your muscles suddenly relaxes. Your entire body surges with strength, and you launch forward at a breakneck pace. This is truly explosive straight-line acceleration. The technique, honed through rigorous training, turns Tamamo's body into a gust of wind.

Tamamo's strong suit, her core skill, is pursuit. It's a strategy of observing the situation from behind and then attacking with lightning speed. She's not one to sprint like this from the start. But now, she's focused solely on improving her time. A little faster, a little more precise than usual.

With her cornering significantly improved, she minimizes corner loss and lands with power. Even practicing solo, a 2,200-meter run isn't short. But with the stamina she's cultivated over the years, even this high pace is more than enough. In fact, it's brimming over.

"There isn't much left."

In the blink of an eye, the final turn, the fourth, was before us. He stayed focused, threatening to fall, and dug his toes into the ground. He used the shallow hole created by the ditch as a springboard for his sprint.

Tendons bulged in Tamamo's thin calves. She kicked hard, kicking up a spray of dust and dirt, along with stray grass. As always, it was time to attack.

But...

"Why... why isn't my speed increasing?" she complained, pushing herself to her limit, but her speed wasn't increasing. She had clearly kept going, but it didn't increase at all. It wasn't that she lacked stamina. She had been running nonstop since morning, but her breathing was still relaxed, and her legs were no different. So why?

Her breathing became labored, and she looked down at her legs, groaning.

"The doctor said it would take four weeks to fully recover. Luckily, there won't be any after-effects, but I almost got into trouble."

"Then why didn't you check the condition of your horseshoe right before the race?"

"Meantai."

"Seventh place? Because of that, your long-awaited debut was ruined. I thought you were definitely going to be the new ace of the Ladder..."

"Ugh, shut up, Old Lady!"

A memory crossed her mind, and she shook her head violently. It was a horrible memory that still haunted her dreams sometimes, but the past is the past. It has nothing to do with her present. Unlike back then, when she'd simply given up, she'd already checked the condition of her horseshoe. As if saying to herself, she muttered to herself, "No problem."

"Only 300... no, maybe 200 meters left."

Luckily, she's still keeping up the pace, but it's not enough. She's dissatisfied with that man, and neither is she.

Why am I running right now? Simply because I love horse racing? Because I want to see my father's happy face? If it were only because of that, I wouldn't even have agreed to that man's grueling training.

Ah, there's a much more sinister reason than that innocence. A reason to race. A reason to keep racing even now. A reason to go out and win the race. A reason to push your limits right now. The choice between enjoying it or losing was abandoned from the start. A determination to win at all costs.

Remembering that, I dig the soles of my shoes into the ground again. K...This is a disaster.

The home stretch. Watching the girl struggle to gain speed, Takahashi found himself blurting those words out. Had he been putting too much pressure on himself prematurely? Trauma doesn't lessen with time. In fact, sometimes it hardens. The more negative the memory, the harder it is to dispel.

So even though he'd deliberately turned up the pressure, even going so far as to challenge her, that didn't mean he'd actually intended to. After all, he couldn't let his first teammate, whom he'd barely managed to sign, walk away like that. And the diamond he'd finally found after months of digging through the mud:

"K... I just bought it, what's your excuse?"

There were 200 meters left. Takahashi's fingers, crossed, nervously tapped his other forearm. It was too late to sprint. If he was going to sprint, he should have done it sooner. He should have built up a lead of several lengths by now. And then he blurted out that if he didn't put together a good sprint at the end, he'd be expelled.

Cold sweat was running down Takahashi's forehead. Should she ignore her coach's prestige and say it was all a lie, that she just wanted to test her limits?

As she bit her lip and watched anxiously, the wind suddenly changed. A thud, as if crushing the earth. The next instant, a dense cloud of dust rose up around Tamamo. It was like the first time he'd seen her run. No, it was the same as back then, but something was different.

If that had been a simple thud, this thud was a leap forward, a kind of jump.

"Whaa..."

Tamamo, completely collapsed on the ground, exhaled the breath she'd been holding. Her sweat-drenched face turned to Takahashi.

"What's the record?"

...2 minutes and 16 seconds, a fantastic time.

"I didn't think I'd fail, but I was damn close."

Takahashi, who had run so many times, knew. From the initial run-up to the corner work, and even her pace distribution, everything was more refined than anything she'd ever displayed before. She'd always had talent, but it was astonishing how much she'd grown in such a short time. Especially that last effort.

"This girl will be a monster! Incomparable to her current form, unmatched, a true monster..."

A satisfied smile spread across her lips as she saw the championship trophy before her eyes. Suppressing the excitement welling up in her, Takahashi quickly cleared her throat.

"Um... In a week's time, there's a conditional race with a prize of 4 million yen at the Kyoto Racecourse. I've entered you."

"Kyoto... a race on grass, Isabel? I've only raced on dirt, haven't I?"

"That's why I've been having you race on grass lately. Your running style, which maximizes bounce off the ground, is completely unsuitable for rough terrain like dirt. It'll only put unnecessary strain on your legs."

The sunlight beat down harshly. He pulled his hat down to hide his expression. He already had a rough idea of the girl's limitations. So he didn't expect anything more than expected.

However, if it was the talent he had chosen,

"First place, any other result is acceptable. You understand, right?"

"Ah."

A conditional race, which is only a step toward a bigger prize, would be a problem if it didn't overwhelm her.