Chapter 26: The Day I Take Another Step as an Uma Musume

The opening straight of Hanshin’s 1400-meter turf track stretches over 400 meters. Figuring out how to handle that section is always a tricky problem. As usual, after the start, I ease my way toward the back of the pack to get a read on how the race will unfold.

I inhale slowly, then exhale, sinking into that quiet mental space between awareness and instinct—into the flow of the Uma Musume around me.

"An excellent start from Mihono Bourbon! As expected of Mihono Bourbon!"

"Indeed. You’d hardly think the outermost gate was a disadvantage for her, given how smoothly she’s running."

I keep my breathing controlled, conserving stamina while gradually shifting up through my gears. Once I spot the first furlong marker, I quietly lock my focus onto the nearest Uma Musume.

You first.

"Leading the race is Mihono Bourbon, a length ahead of Marifix. Behind them are Lead Essay and Ivory Chouchou."

"And at the back—Grand Feast… my apologies, the one at the rear is Mithialx."

I read the breathing pattern of the Uma Musume right in front of me—Grand Feast—slowly matching mine to hers, syncing my rhythm with hers. Bit by bit, I start to lead that rhythm, manipulating it without her even realizing.

It’s a technique that exploits the subconscious—a way to seize control of an opponent’s breathing and pacing. In short, a cheap trick.

But I don’t care. If it’ll make me win, I’ll use every dirty trick in the book. That’s the vow I made.

"Oh? Is Grand Feast getting worked up?"

"Looks like she’s lost her rhythm entirely. Hopefully she can settle down and find a breather somewhere."

"Yes—but that’s strange..."

Grand Feast’s pace collapses, and she starts accelerating uncontrollably. At that rate, she’ll never last until the end—but that’s fine. That’s exactly what I wanted.

I shadow her from behind, picking up speed little by little. But before she completely loses control, I switch my focus to another target. Unable to steady herself, Grand Feast plows straight into the middle of the pack.

"Oh! There’s chaos in the midfield!"

"Grand Feast’s sudden charge has thrown the group into confusion—what a mess right before the first corner!"

We reach the first corner. I shift my breathing again, this time to throw off the Uma Musume ahead of me. Along with that, I vary my hoofbeats—deliberately rattling her focus. The girl running in front, Sarasate Opera, unconsciously starts to accelerate.

But at that speed, she’ll never make a clean turn.

"Here they come around the corner! Sarasate Opera drifts wide! The middle pack too—several are swinging wide from over-acceleration!"

"At that pace, it’s hard to take the corner cleanly. And the inside rail’s torn up too—not many will dare approach it."

"It’s turning into a very high-paced race! We may see a conclusion sooner than expected!"

The group drifts outward, both to maintain their speed and to avoid the rough inner turf.

The only ones cutting neatly along the inside are Mihono Bourbon—and me.

My field of vision feels wider than usual. At the same time, I can clearly sense the breathing, footwork, and intentions of every Uma Musume around me.

I target those who try to slow down to save stamina and throw their pacing into chaos. Those who attempt to slip inside, I pressure relentlessly—forcing them to over-accelerate and bounce off the inner rail.

"The pace still isn’t slowing! Mihono Bourbon’s face looks a bit tense, doesn’t it?"

"When you’re leading and the entire field behind you is that fast, that’s a huge source of pressure. Whether she can keep her rhythm here will be the real test of Bourbon’s strength."

Hanshin’s course has sharp turns at both the start and end of each corner. In other words—it’s perfect for slipping inside.

At this point, none of the Uma Musume in that speeding pack can handle the corner without drifting wide. Under normal conditions, maybe some of them could’ve stayed clean at this speed—if it were their pace. But this pace? This one was created by me. There’s no way they can hold it.

"Oh! A shadow closing in fast out of the final corner! Who could it be?"

"An incredible surge from Mithialx! She’s moving up through the field with explosive speed! But there’s still a wall of Uma Musume ahead!"

I’ve been researching one thing for a long time—whether unique skills really exist in this world.

Symboli Rudolf’s running style was so extraordinary, it could only be described as unique.

Then came a stroke of luck. Thanks to the data I got from Agnes Tachyon, my research advanced by leaps and bounds.

"What’s this?"

"M-Mithialx is blasting through the open space along the inside rail! She’s tearing through the rough turf like it’s nothing!"

"I thought she was the type who hated tight packs and competition—this is an unexpected turn of events!"

Unique skills exist. That’s the conclusion I reached. And they’re manifestations of the runner’s very essence—their individuality made visible through their stride.

Which brings me to one more question.

Can unique skills be acquired?

And this—this is my answer.

"Several Uma Musume are trying to close in on the inside rail to block Mithialx’s charge!"

First target: one whose stamina’s already fraying from the forced high pace. As I pass her, I stomp my hooves harder, roughen my breathing just a little, and let my presence crash against her—a sharp, suffocating wave of intent.

The instant she realizes she’s being overtaken, the pressure and discomfort make her flinch. She gives up on cutting inside and instinctively slows down.

"But perhaps she’s wary of the rough inner turf—their movements look sluggish. Most seem to be choosing to maintain their rhythm rather than force a clash and lose speed."

Second target: one who falters when the first slows down. I lock onto her, unleash that same oppressive aura—heavy breathing, grating hoofbeats, a whisper of intent to break her focus.

Unable to withstand the pressure, she too slows down.

Two slowed Uma Musume are enough to drag the entire pack’s pace down with them.

"None of the Uma Musume in the pack can approach Mithialx! What a bold strategy!"

"Indeed—no one expected her to risk taking the inside route. And sure enough, not a single runner dared to follow."

"Did she take that risk because she knew the shortest path to victory lay inside?"

Target three. By now, the pack’s momentum is collapsing in on itself.

With the field thrown into chaos, I push forward into the final stretch. Once I’m ahead of the pack, there’s no need to stay on the torn-up turf anymore.

I channel power into my legs and dash across the smooth grass.

The thrill of manipulating the others like pawns—bursting through the field from the inside—it’s intoxicating. The rush sharpens every sense, heightens every fiber of my being.

"Mithialx accelerates! She’s closing in on Mihono Bourbon with the same explosive momentum that just tore through the field!"

"Her acceleration is as astonishing as ever. The question now is—will that burst be enough to catch Bourbon? That will decide everything!"

The goal is less than 400 meters away. I’ve been holding back all this time, conserving my energy, waiting for this exact moment—and now, I unleash everything I’ve got.

But the distance between me and Bourbon… isn’t closing at all!

"Bourbon’s pulling away! Mithialx is giving chase, but the gap isn’t shrinking! Mihono Bourbon proves once again just how strong she is!"

"Bourbon’s pace has increased! Perhaps she sensed Mithialx gaining and decided to push harder!"

"The gap between them remains three lengths! And three more lengths behind comes Shadow Stalker!"

The final furlong marker flashes by—200 meters left to go. And right there, the steep hill rises before us.

It’s a slope unlike anything else on this course. My legs and body scream in protest, but slowing down now isn’t an option.

I pour all my strength into my stride, driving my whole body forward. My signature acceleration skill—Sprint Turbo! I dig my hooves into the turf and charge up the hill with everything I’ve got.

"The gap between Mihono Bourbon and Mithialx is shrinking! Two lengths now! The finish line is right there! Will Bourbon hold on, or will Mithialx overtake? Whose hands will grasp the glory of victory!?"

In the end, what separates us comes down to our running styles.

I had focused on controlling the race and conserving as much stamina as possible in the early stages. Mihono Bourbon, meanwhile, maintained a perfectly even pace from start to finish.

But that steady rhythm came at a cost. Even for someone called a “cyborg,” Mihono Bourbon is still an Uma Musume. The high pace, the chaos of the pack—all of it chipped away at her strength bit by bit.

"They’re cresting the hill—only a few strides left! Mithialx is side by side with Mihono Bourbon!?"

"Bourbon’s accelerating again! She still has power left to spare!?"

Even so… the fact that Mihono Bourbon can still accelerate here—she truly is incredible.

But this race—this victory—is mine!

Agnes Tachyon once told me: your body is as if it were crafted by the heavens themselves. And that same body, she said, is remarkably resilient.

Sprint Turbo. Normally, it can only be used once per race. Normally.

I pound my hooves into the turf once more. Matching Bourbon’s acceleration, I surge forward again!

"Mithialx accelerates again! Who will it be!? Will Bourbon hold the lead, or will Mithialx snatch it at the wire!? They’re crossing the finish line—side by side!"

"What a breathtaking finish! But it looked like Mithialx might have edged ahead!"

The rush of wind against my body, the roar of the crowd surrounding me—

What happened? Did I… did I pass Mihono Bourbon in that final moment?

Easing my pace to lessen the strain on my legs, I glance up at the scoreboard. It’s still blank, holding my fate in suspense.

After several long seconds of silence—

The numbers light up.

And at the very top glows the number 3.

"The results are in! First place—Mithialx! Second place—Mihono Bourbon! Mithialx takes the victory in a stunning final surge!"

Cheers erupt all around the track. Every voice celebrates my win—and honors Mihono Bourbon’s brilliant performance as well.

Ah… I can barely see the board through my tears. Beating such a powerful rival—it feels… amazing.

"What an intense race for a Grade II!"

"Indeed. If this is a preview of this year’s classic sprint and mile races, we’re in for something special!"

I can’t hold back my tears anymore. They fall freely down my cheeks.

And then, Mihono Bourbon walks up to me. She offers her hand, her gaze steady and sincere.

"That was a magnificent run. With a performance like that, I have no choice but to accept defeat. Congratulations on your victory."

"Sniff… B-Bourbon…"

"Wipe your tears. My father always said—a winner should smile, and rejoice."

"Y-yeah…"

I take her hand and squeeze it tightly. I force my best smile through the tears and raise my arm high toward the crowd—declaring, I won.

"Status confirmed: ‘Frustration.’ Also detecting the desire, ‘I want to race again.’"

"Bourbon… Yeah, you’re right. This can’t be where it ends."

I grip her hand again, firm and certain, locking eyes with her as I make my declaration.

"Next time—it’s the GⅠ. See you at the Oka-sho."

We’re first and second. Both of us have earned priority entry into the Oka-sho, the next major mile race.

Releasing her hand, I head toward the winner’s circle—to fulfill my duty as the victor.

I’ll never forget this day. The day I defeated Mihono Bourbon. The day I learned the true joy of conquering a worthy rival.

On that day, I took one more step forward—up the staircase of what it means to be an Uma Musume.