Chapter 4: Watch Hill Claiming part 2

"Watch the gate."

The announcer's voice echoed across the stadium.

Every horse girl in the lineup fell silent, their focus sharpening to a razor's edge. The crowd's cheers dimmed beneath the electric tension.

Seabiscuit took one deep breath, eyes fixed on the gate ahead. Her heartbeat thumped in rhythm with the countdown.

BANG!

The starting gate burst open. Eight horse girls exploded forward in a thunder of hooves.

"Number one—Infidox—takes the early lead!" Commentator Two shouted above the roar of the crowd.

Seabiscuit's gaze flicked forward. Not far ahead, a brown-haired filly blazed across the track with confident strides.

So she's going for a front-runner strategy, Seabiscuit thought, narrowing her eyes. Guess being the top favorite inflated her pride.

She glanced around quickly. Four runners, including herself, had chosen a mid-pack pace. The rest had hung back, planning to surge later in the race.

Whatever their plans, Seabiscuit had only one.

No matter what—this race is mine. For the wish my trainer promised. I'll have it.

A chill rippled through the air. The other runners around her shuddered unconsciously, their rhythm faltering. Their strides grew uneven.

"Something's happening on the track!" Commentator One exclaimed.

"Indeed! Several horse girls seem to be losing momentum—something feels off!" Commentator Two added.

"But one runner isn't slowing down—Seabiscuit! She's the only one unaffected!"

"She's closing the gap on Infidox fast!"

The audience roared as Seabiscuit surged forward.

"However," Commentator Two continued, "this is a 2000-meter race. Can she really maintain this kind of speed all the way to the finish?"

Infidox's ears twitched at the commentary. So that's what that cold feeling behind me was... Seabiscuit?!

Damn it—what did I even do to her?

The top favorite pushed harder, shoes digging deep into the dirt, but that chill didn't fade. If anything, it grew closer and stronger.

Her pulse spiked. She risked a glance to the side—only to see Seabiscuit's steely amber eyes glaring at her, unblinking.

"…"

"…"

Neither said a word.

Infidox swallowed hard, her confidence cracking. Since when did horse racing start feeling like a horror movie?!

Meanwhile, Seabiscuit looked ahead again, expression calm but fierce. Nothing else mattered. Not the track, not the crowd- only victory. She wanted to win. To make her trainer proud. To claim that single, precious wish he'd promised.

A faint smile tugged at her lips. Hehe…

-------------divide---------------

Ren, sitting in the audience, suddenly shivered.

"What was that…?" he muttered, glancing around. The crowd's cheers vibrated through the stands, but his eyes quickly returned to the track.

Seeing Seabiscuit accelerate so early made him worried. It was a dangerous gamble. But… he trusted her choise. She was the one out there and he wasn't.

All he could do was believe in her.

"Are you the trainer of that horse girl?"

The sudden voice snapped him out of thought. He turned—and found two horse girls seated beside him.

One was petite, with long, coal-gray hair that flowed elegantly down her back. A small diamond ornament glimmered on the right side, while a pale white streak ran through the left. Fluffy ears with yellow pinnae twitched above. her lilac eyes framed by glasses.

Beside her sat a taller girl with bright orange hair and a bold white M-shaped streak across the front. A decorated ear cover rested on her right ear. Her sharp purple eyes held quiet confidence—and faint irritation.

Ren frowned. Why do they look so familiar…?

"Yes," he replied cautiously. "I'm her trainer."

"I see," said the smaller girl.

The orange-haired one, who had been silent until now, turned her gaze toward him and said flatly,

"You're a bad trainer."

Ren blinked, irritation flickering across his face. What did she just say?

He took a deep breath to steady himself. "And what makes you say that?"

Without hesitation, the tall girl pointed at the track.

"Even a beginner can see it. Changing pace that early before the halfway mark? That's terrible strategy."

Ren gave a dry, sarcastic chuckle.

"What's so funny?" she demanded, glaring.

"You're quoting from a textbook," Ren said, his tone calm but sharp. "Tell me—have you ever raced officially?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Not yet. But anyone with sense knows that's racing basics."

"Common sense, huh?" Ren leaned back, arms crossed. "On paper, sure. But once you're on the track, common sense doesn't always apply."

The girl with glasses tilted her head. "What do you mean by that?"

"Racing isn't something you can solve by studying it," Ren said, eyes fixed on Seabiscuit's figure on the monitor. "You can train all day, plan every step—but once that gate opens, the race becomes random. You can only prepare for so much. The rest… depends on what happens out there."

The petite girl nodded thoughtfully. "That's… an interesting perspective."

Her companion snorted. "Hmph. Even so, my opinion stands—you're still a bad trainer." She turned away, folding her arms.

Ren merely shrugged.

"My apologies for my sister's bluntness," the smaller girl said politely.

"It's fine," Ren replied, smirking faintly. "I can't take criticism too seriously from a horse girl who hasn't even debuted yet."

The orange-haired girl twitched, her ears perking. "You—!"

Ignoring her glare, the smaller girl continued calmly, "If I may—what's your name, trainer?"

"Ren," he replied.

"I see. Trainer Ren, then. My name is Dream Journey, and this is my sister, Orfevre."

Ren froze.

He looked between them slowly, recognition dawning like a cold sweat down his back.

Dream Journey… and Orfevre?

He'd now remember—they are original characters from Uma Musume game right?. And he'd just been arguing with the Orfevre, the future Tyrant herself.

A bead of sweat rolled down his neck as he turned his attention—very carefully—back to the race. He could feel Orfevre's glare stabbing the side of his face.

Dream Journey simply smiled softly, her lilac eyes following the race.

The crowd's cheers swelled again as the runners thundered into the next phase.

-----------divide--------------

On the dirt field, Seabiscuit’s pulse thundered in her chest.

For the first time since the race began, a strange anxiety gripped her.

It felt as though the path to her trainer—the finish line she longed to reach—was growing distant, almost unreachable.

She clenched her teeth and shook her head, forcing the doubt away. No. Not now.

“Five hundred meters to the finish line!” Commentator One’s voice boomed through the stadium.

“Seabiscuit still leads by five lengths!”

“Can anyone catch her?!” cried Commentator Two.

“Infidox is holding second—will she make her move soon?!”

Infidox gritted her teeth as she heard her name over the speakers. Her instincts screamed to surge forward, to push harder—but something held her back. Her legs felt heavy, as though invisible weights dragged them down.

What is this…? she thought. Could it be—the Zone?

Her trainer had told her stories about that fabled state—when a horse girl’s spirit burned so fiercely that it distorted the rhythm of the entire race. But… a Zone user in a mere G3 event? Impossible.

Except… she was wrong.

Seabiscuit hadn’t awakened any Zone at all. The suffocating pressure Infidox felt was simply the sheer force of Seabiscuit’s will—the burning determination of a girl racing for something far more personal than a trophy.

For my wish… for my trainer’s promise… I have to win!

“Three hundred meters!” Commentator One shouted.

“The rest of the field is accelerating! Can they close the gap before the line?!”

The crowd’s cheers erupted, a tidal wave of sound that shook the stadium.

Meanwhile, in the stands, Ren sat rigidly, drenched in the oppressive aura of Orfevre’s glare.

He could feel her eyes drilling holes through the side of his head. Please just let this race end soon, he thought. I want to check on Biscuit—not die under this girl’s stare.

Finally, Orfevre scoffed and looked away, folding her arms. Ren exhaled in relief.

But before he could even wipe the imaginary sweat from his forehead, a soft, white hand appeared in front of him—holding a folded handkerchief.

He froze.

Dream Journey, smiling serenely, gently dabbed the nonexistent sweat from his temple.

Ren stiffened, That gentle smile only made it worse. Dream Journey might look kind and polite, but Ren knew her type—the kind of person who smiled the same way while dismantling you piece by piece.

Still, manners demanded courtesy.

“...Thank you, Dream Journey,” he said carefully.

She simply waved her hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it.”

Ren blinked. Wait… how did she even know I was nervous?

That meant—she’d been observing him the whole time.
A chill crept down his spine. Being harassed by Gold Ship would honestly be safer…

“By the way, Trainer Ren,” Dream Journey said pleasantly, breaking the silence.

Ren quickly pushed away the thought and turned to her. “Yes?”

“I couldn’t help but ask…” She let her words hang for a moment, her eyes gleaming behind her glasses. “Are you, perhaps… from Japan?”

Ren blinked. “I am. How did you know?”

She smiled softly. “Just a feeling.”

“I see,” Ren replied, relaxing slightly. “Mind if I ask something too?”

“Of course,” she said.

“If you knew I’m from Japan,” Ren continued, “that must mean you two are from Japan as well, right?”

Dream Journey nodded lightly, adjusting her glasses. “Indeed.”

“Then what brings you both to America?” Ren asked, genuine curiosity replacing his earlier nerves.

“We’re traveling,” she said simply. “By coincidence, we arrived just as this event was being held. So, we decided to watch.”

Her gentle smile deepened, though her eyes seemed to hold something unreadable.
“Our meeting must be fate, Trainer Ren. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

Ren stared at her for a beat, unsure whether to feel flattered or wary. Still, he nodded politely.

“It wouldn’t hurt to know such promising horse girl,” he said.

“thank you” Dream Journey replied with a soft laugh.

Orfevre, however, only scoffed from beside her. Why is my sister wasting her time on this rude guy? she thought irritably. There’s nothing interesting about him besides that annoying mouth.

Dream Journey chuckled quietly, as if she’d read her sister’s mind.

“By the way, Trainer Ren,” she said, “would you mind exchanging contact information?”

“Sure,” Ren replied, retrieving his phone.

The two traded numbers. As their phones chimed softly, the roar of the crowd swelled again—the final 200 meters of the race beginning.

--------------------divide------------------------------

(A/n: 1721 word)